#it’s her deep fear of everything that gave me CLINICAL anxiety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ancient-reverie · 6 months

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people don't seem to grasp how much stress I'm under so here's a list so I can show it to them:

Cat that has asthma needs a pill every other day. occasionally needs an inhaler at night.

Cat that has kidney disease and had a seizure Friday night.

rabbit with permanent head tilt and balance issues with an eye issue prone to uti's that takes daily medication

rabbit that suddenly started having stomach problems tonight out of the blue. rare but happens and then i have to syringe feed her every four hours until she's eating on her own again

I'm the only one on top of flea meds and vet check ups for the entire house ( 6 cats, 2 dogs, 2 rabbits)

I need to double check my dentist appointment is on the 10th and if not schedule one (I am bad at this, talking to people is hard and I have anxiety attacks on the phone. the only way to really know is via phone call)

made an appointment for an hrt related checkup which is easy but I now have to decide if I want to tell them if I wanna continue hrt or go off it (the reasons are unrelated to my gender identity)

waiting for said Dr from said gender clinic to approve refill on said hrt because I'm out. because they charged me full price but only gave me half of my refill last time.

need to move furniture in my room and clean before it makes me and the kids sick. there's rabbit pee soaked into the floor under a cat tree and under a cabinet and I just haven't been able to clean it.

also need to rearrange to give my rabbits areas more conducive to their and my existence

and to make space so my cats feel more included

feeling guilt that my oldest cat with kidney disease is dying and I haven't spent time with her like I want to because of my two other cats and her not getting along. but she's dying so what do I do

she dying what do I do? I don't want her to die in a vet office. I want her to be able to be asleep on a bed in the house and I don't know how to do that vets don't make house calls anymore

nicotine addiction

gotta give all my kids the love and affection they deserve bc any of them could get into something or have a sudden health problem and die at any moment

no one to talk to about it

have to clean my room. have to take dishes down before they grow mold. some of them I'm sure already are. this is a common occurrence.

need to do laundry. have no more clean sheets.

think the cat peed on the foot of the bed. haven't been able to really check. just keep ignoring it. it's not by my face and the cat still lays in that corner. (cat box in room makes me nose blind to cat pee a lot of the time and)

cats pee in random places of room and on their scratchers. regularly smelling cat pee in specific spots around room. sometimes it is just a hallucination.

no one can stand to listen to me list everything I have going on.

closet needs to be cleaned and sorted. things to give away and go into storage need to be hauled downstairs. (i am weak and physically not good but no one is able to help)

fish tank got a water change recently but I fear it won't last longer than a week and I'll need to take everything out and deep clean which takes me 4 ish hours bc I'm slow and it hurts

trying to find meaning and purpose in life. is art the career path I want or just a hobby? should I be writing? should I be making friends?

can't leave the house without having anxiety attacks.

not seen as myself by those around me (family) just as a conglomerate of actions. not seen for my actions and struggles by the people around me (family)

intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intru-

oh I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* oh right I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* fuck I'm loading a bowl *loads bowl* *distracted for 15 mins* *takes hit* *distracted for 15* *takes a hit* *distracted for 15* ADHD having ass

dissociation derealization depersonalization dissociate derealize depersonalize dddddddddddddd error

someone inside my head actually screaming and tearing at their skin with their claws

someone inside my head deciding to verbally and emotionally and physically abuse someone else in the system

someone doing drugs in the mindspace and all the issues that come with it

someone having flashbacks after being triggered

friends aren't going to text me. I keep my phone on silent. it's been silent since the beginning of the year. it's currently april. I'm used to it being silent now. it hasn't caused me to miss anything.

I have no one to talk to and therapy isn't what I crave. therapy is a fake version of what I need. I need someone to want to listen to me without being paid to do so

who has time to eat in this action economy

want to finish my games. want to finish bg3 before everyone else. before it gets spoiled. want to finish stray. want to finish doom. want to start doom eternal

want to be into vrchat more and work on my anxiety

want to finish at least the two books on my desk

who has the energy to shower and brush their teeth everyday? not this bag of bastards.

want to trim my hair. want my friends to see my long hair though

need to finish two paintings for two besties. one I don't know if I wanna continue it or start over (again for the fifth time). and one I haven't even decided on the pose for but tried to start.

one of the alters needs glasses but as you can see we are better off being in denial until we really genuinely need glasses because there's more pressing issues

relationships with family members is all we have but it is bad and idk if the family members have any idea. I think they think it's fine and have no idea that I really don't get along with them and living with them is killing me but I can't move out

gotta hide the self harm ! which is second nature to me but still a stressor

I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods.

I need a new ps4 controller so I can use my expensive console taking up room on my desk and all the games I paid for and spent hours downloading

I just wanna buy new sex toys but I don't need them and we just laid off all the credit cards and I don't have money to blow on needed things. I donated to a lot of people this year instead

it's getting hotter and I'm going to have to run my AC constantly soon but it has black mold growing in it. and you don't have to be allergic for that to be an issue but I do happen to be allergic and one of my cats has asthma. and idk how to clean take it apart, let alone do it by myself but it looks like that's gonna be what happens.

trash and recycling needs to be taken out before I go back to throwing everything on the floor like I was doing for a little bit bc it's all too much

need to pick up the mess siruss made from tearing up semi important lists we need in a fit of stress and being overwhelmed

remember to put the night guard in before laying down so you don't crush your teeth in your sleep and have to get a 3rd (4th?) crown where your molars are supposed to be

can't even be addicted to weed in so goddamn stresses but watch out! forgetting to smoke is forgetting meds and the IBS, acid reflux, ADHD, chronic full body pain, chronic specific body pain, depression, anxiety, existentialism and fatigue will getcha!

just picked up meds from vet. god it's expensive. but that's off the list now........ until it's back on the list again.

don't ask for help. they are busy, you're literally watching them be busy or have downtime to relax after being busy. oh you got the courage to ask anyway? ah they're not interested. ah yes it's too dirty/hard/inconvenient/simple and maybe you should just do it.

and now feel the many emotions associated with asking for help and being told no again. become unable to do thing you needed help with at all. or can't do it without help at all to begin with so fuck me I guess.

do whatever it is they ask you to do. even if you just asked for help and they said no, if they need you to do something you go do it and if you don't you are a bad person and will be made out as selfish and lazy and forced to feel guilt.

that dragon adoptable game luckily only needs to be kept up with every three days. unless there's an event and then at least casual grinding and dailies must be kept up with.

pokemon sleep is an addiction and I want to quit it but I'm struggling and don't know what to do bc if I have raikou I want the other two but I could literally quit right now and it wouldn't matter and I'd be a little more free please help

my oldest cat needs to be brushed more bc she can't groom herself as well nowadays and my brother can't stand having hair on him. he'll pet her and wipe is hand off and not really scratch her and I hate it so much. she has small mats here and there and I feel like a shitty parent

my rabbits need to be brushed constantly until all their mats are out from winter coat that just hasn't come out completely yet. the head tilt rabbit can't even reach most of his body to clean it.

I also have to clean their butts for the same reason

one of my cats keeps leaving small poops OUTSIDE of the litter box

my oldest with the kidney issues and my middle child cat both throw up a once or twice a week and I don't know why. the oldest has always been that way. my middle child has nothing else up with him thank fuck but this and eye gunk

I have to remember to drink water or tea or liquids more than just a few sips a day. I HAVE. TO. or I'll get a UTI. and bc I dissociate from my body sensations I won't notice the UTI until it starts hurting my kidneys and then it's crunch time to get antibiotics before I end up in the hospital which is a valid fear bc it has happened before and it almost happened a second time

can't physically do what I need without feeling sick. probably bc I can't take care of myself. which is probably bc I can't do anything without feeling ill. which is probably bc I don't take care of myself. which is probably bc i-

I'm so overwhelmed that I don't do anything I need to and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds

and I'm so overwhelmed that I start new projects and come up with new and more things to do and look for the old things I never did and never finished as well

and I'm so overwhelmed that I want to write again because nothing is in my control because there's no such thing as control because nothing matters and it's chaos and that's beautiful and I love life but I don't know what to do when I just want to pause everything but I can't pause everything and taking a break doesn't make me feel better it just lets everything build and makes me feel more on edge

dissociating isn't taking a break

and I wonder if being on Lexapro again would help but I know it wouldnt last

and I wonder if I should trip on shrooms bc it's been nearly an entire year. but I have such a limited amount and I need them for when I need them (I don't know when that is but I'll know when it happens) and the friend I got them from hasn't spoken to me in months

my go-to anxious intrusive thought is that he's dead. unfortunately that thought... well it's not as delusional as I'd like it to be. we dated for a little over a year, and then some more on and off and we even had sex this year. he is the only friend I have that lives close to me. (close is an hour and a half away)

my bestie who lives in the same state is 3 hours away. she's in school. she also has mental health struggles. she's not good at texting and she says this herself often.

I have other friends that live in the state but... I haven't spoken to them in years and I didnt ever let them in fully, and I'm afraid (I don't know what I'm afraid of)

my other besties live out of state. one is in Cali. the other is in North Carolina. I am in Texas.

the one in Cali I met online and have only met in person once. she's engaged. idk when the wedding is but im going, I'm invited of course. she's busy with work and mental health also. she used to have alters that we talked to. Sy was married to one of them

siruss dealing with pain of past relationships and trauma and everything

the NC bestie also used to have alters. siruss used to date bestie though. she's busy with work and mental health. and though we've never talked about it I feel like there's something off between us that neither of us want to touch. or maybe it's just me.

or maybe it's siruss wanting to let go and not being able to

and maybe we need to meet new friends who will see us and give us something new to think about and someone we can share stories with who won't agonize over hearing old names.

idk how to make friends anymore Im so tired and I distrust people

I'm so tired we fall asleep with the vibrator and don't even get to jerk off which trust me is not great. the nighttime endorphins dose is quite necessary to function the next day. TMI we're not a morning masturbator bc the pussy ends up wet all day and it's not sexy when there's no one to appreciate it and you're horrified about getting a UTI

I miss my chickens...

I want new tattoos before I die of stress and my body is thrown in the ground more bare than it should be.

I want to gain weight so I feel and look healthier and maybe it'll help me not feel sick and weak and in as much pain

but the kids are dying as the seconds pass and the dust is building on the shelves and the dishes are piling up and the trash is starting to smell sour and the recycling is overflowing and my desk is too cluttered to set anything down and I need to love them more and be around them more and I need to stop watching YouTube and I need to start drawing and I need to travel and I need to live life but everything costs money and nothing lasts and I'm too much for everyone that I've met but I will still love them with all my heart and I don't think it's their fault they are only humans and I'm an unspeakable amount of divine/demonic/cosmic/paranormal entities with their own traumas and lives and backgrounds and intricate details eating up my insides- do you know how long it takes to get to know one person? the answer is you never know one person- imagine that but for 6 people all vying and deserving of being known and seen

and there's genocides and wars all over the planet. and there's deforestation and poachers. and there's puppy mills and inbreeding. and there's capitalism and heteronormativity. and I can't stop thinking about Nex Benedict and Aaron Bushnell. I can't stop thinking about the BLM protests. and I can't stop thinking about the Hong Kong protests. and I can't stop thinking about China. and human trafficking. and polution. and how the news and media that most people see don't say anything important and fear monger and emotionally manipulate for views and clicks. and nothing is real and no one tells the truth and even if it is the truth no one knows for certain. you never know what really happened unless you see it with your own eyes.

and it's all a stupid game we could all decide to stop playing and simply give people food and shelter and wifi and safety and medical attention. money doesn't have to exist we can just do things for each other but everyone forgot what reality was. which is about being outside and talking with people you love.

and I'm not suicidal anymore, although I do wish to lay at the foot of a tree until it grows around and envelops me. turning my being into immortality itself and sending my consciousness into the fabric of roots pulsing across terra until im one with the gods

#hell o void #hell o hadal #hell o popsicle #hell o pyro #this post #.nola

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment.

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

“You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

“Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

“Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

“Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

“If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

“Dean, look at me.”

He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

“Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

“I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

“It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

“And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

“I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

“Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

“It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

“We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

“She’s going to wake up.”

And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

“She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

“DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

“What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

“Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

“I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I’ll be fine. Please?”

Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

“Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

“I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

“You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

“Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

“Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

“You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

“Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

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buttonso · 3 years

Text

Teamwork: An Aura/Harvey short

AKA: Buttonso Very Unsubtly Projects FEELINGS Onto Poor Aura.

I am going to put this below a cut both for length and because the whole thing concerns fears/anxieties around pregnancy. If you like it and want to reblog it, you may, but I will not tolerate any form of judgmental commentary. I'm prepared to block people if needs be.

2,685 words. Contains a few swears. Forgive any typos ^^*

So. Ok. Well. A few weeks ago, I learned that I was pregnant. I did not think it was in the cards for me, for various reasons, so it's been a surprise, and while it's a good surprise, I have found it to be more than a little overwhelming. My husband has been amazing and has been doing a good job of keeping me off the ledge, and this whole thing is based on one of the many pep talks he's given me in the last few weeks.

This clearly would take place after Breathe With Me is over. It may or may not be considered canon, as I could end up contradicting it in the future sequel of Breathe With Me...... which may be a long time coming now that my life is changing.

Maybe this is TMI, and if I've made anyone uncomfortable, I do apologize.

Teamwork

Harvey whistled under his breath, a cheery tune befitting the sunny day and his sunnier disposition. No matter how busy he got at the clinic, nothing had been able to dampen his spirits for long over the past several weeks. It was a lovely spring and promised to be an even lovelier summer. His home and his wife were lovelier still… and he was going to be a father. Oh, not for a awhile- Aura was nearing the end of her first trimester, but everything seemed to be going well so far.

It seemed that having everything he wanted in life agreed with Harvey.

His last appointment of the day had cancelled on him, and he’d decided to close the clinic early and head home to surprise Aura. He’d stopped by the General Store for a few things, the plan spinning out naturally as he shopped. He would draw a bath for her so she could relax after she came in from the fields while he cooked a nice dinner. He harbored vague, hopeful notions of offering her a massage after dinner, but that would be dependent on her energy levels after- it was entirely possible she would want to go straight to sleep.

Aura, of course, stubbornly insisted on continuing to do all the work she was accustomed to doing, and despite Harvey’s misgivings, he’d yielded to the judgement of her OB, who had said she could continue to work as long as she felt up to it. Well, the doctor was right, and he himself would have said the same thing to a patient, but that didn’t stop Harvey from worrying.

He did not see Aura anywhere near the farmhouse as he stepped up onto the porch, but that was not unusual. She might be in the far fields, or the barn, or the woods… she might well even be inside, working on something in the kitchen. But she always came home at 6:30 for supper, so he would be ready when she arrived. Harvey’s cheery little whistle became a contented hum as he set the groceries down on the kitchen table, then headed towards the bedroom to change clothes, loosening his tie as he walked. The living room and kitchen was empty- even the cat was nowhere in evidence.

The hum died in his throat as he pushed open the bedroom door and he saw her. Aura was lying on the bed, fully dressed on top of the covers, curled on her side. Her back was to him, and her body was shaking with soft, hopeless little sobs. Alarm shot through him- he couldn’t help the automatic, instinctive lunge towards the bed.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asked, as she jumped, clearly startled, nearly lurching off the bed as she turned to face him, eyes wide as she hastily wiped at her tear-streaked face. Murphy, who’d been hidden from Harvey’s view by Aura’s body, scampered off the bed in alarm, his tubby body hitting the floor with a thud on the opposite side of the bed, claws scrabbling on the floor as he scampered off.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!!” She exclaimed, one hand pressed to her chest and the other held out towards him, her finger pointing at him in accusation. “What are you doing home so early?!”

“My last appointment was canceled, and I thought I’d surprise you. Please… tell me, what’s going on…” He fought down the panicked, instant assumption of utter disaster, but he’d never seen her like this before. “…Did… did something happen? Are you well?”

“I-I’m fine…physically, anyway.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before rubbing at her eyes and cheeks again with both hands. “I’m just… having some feelings. Dealing with feelings was never my strong suit and it’s harder than ever these days.”

“What sort of feelings?” Harvey moved cautiously towards the bed, sinking onto it beside her.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Aura sighed, but she leaned into his touch when he reached out and put a hand on her cheek.

“It’s not nothing, you were in tears.” Anxiety made his voice tight and his tone a bit sharp. She flinched, biting her lip as she avoided his gaze. His hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder. “Sweetheart… please… tell me.” His heart raced and he felt himself trembling a little, despite his need to be brave. “Please,” He repeated, when the silence stretched between them, and he felt her shoulder beginning to tremble again.

“I-I…” she took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m scared, okay?” She blew out a frustrated breath and covered her face with her hands. “I’m… scared and I feel stupid, immature, selfish… I…I hate myself for feeling this way…”

“Why? What are you afraid of?” He slid his arm around her carefully, but she stiffened, rather than relaxing into his embrace as she always did. Dread crept up his spine, and panic made another attempt at clawing its way out.

“…I…I should be happier than I am. About the baby.” Her tone was extremely reluctant, her silver eyes downcast as she continued to avoid his gaze. She put a trembling hand on her stomach as the other hand came to rest on Harvey’s thigh. “But once the excitement of telling you wore off… every day, every week since… I’ve only gotten more and more worried.”

“Oh.” Harvey released the breath he’d been holding in a trembling sigh. “…Is… that all.” She still had a long way to go in her pregnancy… but still, that meant she’d been agonizing for several weeks in silence. It didn’t speak well for his attentiveness as a husband. “I’ve been floating around here like a happy fool, and I never noticed you were in distress…”

“You didn’t notice because I hid it from you,” She sighed. “I…I didn’t want to rain on your parade. And your excitement was definitely contagious at first, but now…”

“…Now?” He made another attempt at sliding his arm around her, and this time she did lean into him, to his relief.

“Everything… is gonna change, Harvey,” she said softly. “Everything. And I… I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.”

Harvey ran his hand up and down her arm slowly in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m of the firm belief that there’s nothing you can’t handle, my dear.”

“But… don’t you see…” Aura paused as she seemed to try to compose herself, only to have her voice break. “I’m… I’m not good enough, Harvey.”

“Not good enough?” He echoed, biting back the automatic impulse to deny it. “Why do you think that?”

“There’s… there’s no doubt in my mind you’re going to be the best Dad ever. I mean… baby, you practically have nurturer tattooed on your forehead. But me? I’ve spent my entire adult life just doing whatever I wanted to do. I’ve learned how to be considerate of you, and to accommodate you in my life, but… a baby… I don’t… I don’t know how to be in a normal family. I just can’t see any way I’m not going to totally fuck this all up.”

“Sweetheart…” He tightened his embrace and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s perfectly natural to have concerns about impending parenthood… I know I’ve been all smiles since you told me you were pregnant, but I’ve been worried too… I grew up without a father, so I have no example to look back on. But we’ll learn together. We have friends with experience to draw upon, and we’ll be just fine. All three of us.”

“No, no it’s not… not just that…” Aura shook her head and gestured with one hand, as if she were shaping a lump of dough while she worked through her thoughts. “It’s not just worrying about doing a good job… even though I am… but I…” Her hand tightened into a fist, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “All this worrying I’ve been doing… I’m thinking about myself. How my freedom is going to be curtailed. How my relationship with you may be affected, may even suffer. How… how much I am not enjoying feeling the changes in my body.” Her cheeks reddened as her voice wobbled. “I hate feeling low-key sick all the time… my clothes are getting uncomfortably tight… my breasts feel too big, I’m not sleeping well... I mean, do you hear this? It’s all me, me, me, I, I, I… what kind of fucking self-centered monster am I? Instead of worrying about whether or not my baby is healthy I’m only thinking about how uncomfortable I am and how scared I am of all this change.” Her voice broke at last, and she began to sob again.

“Oh… my darling…” Harvey had never seen her in such a state, and he wasn’t quite sure how to react for a moment, but hugging her seemed like a safe bet, and he used both arms to do so, pulling her against his chest. “I wish you’d told me sooner…” He was no obstetrician, but Aura’s doctor was a friend of his, and he’d read quite a lot on the subject of pregnancy ever since they agreed to try for a baby. This felt like mere reassurance wouldn’t be enough. “You know… I meant it, earlier, when I said there’s nothing you can’t handle,” He said after a few moments of simply holding her.

“I know you think so, but…” She sniffed and he shook his head.

“No but.” He put just enough sternness into his voice that she blinked at looked questioningly at him.

“When you first came here… I was so in awe of how confident you were. You came here all by yourself and resurrected your grandfather’s dying farm. You ventured into those dreadful mines and fought monsters… and you told me once that you were not going to stop taking risks if you had a shot at something better. I remind you of all this not to dismiss your concerns… but to tell you that I have every confidence in you,” Harvey told her, doing his best to be calm. He hated seeing her this way, but he knew he needed to be the strong one now, even if that was normally her role.

“How can you not be… disgusted by what I just told you?” She asked damply, sniffing again, and wiping her face inelegantly with the back of her hand, blinking several times to clear the tears from her eyes.

Harvey fished a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “Because you’re my favorite person in the world, and I love you so very much.” He smiled, feeling a bit shy and awkward. “I think you should talk to some of the other mothers in town… or if you aren’t comfortable with that, find a support group online. You cannot possibly be the only woman to feel this way. I of course cannot know what it feels like to be pregnant, but… it is not surprising at all that the physical changes may be disturbing. I’m no obstetrician but I have treated pregnant women before.”

“…I… thought about reaching out to Doctor Delecroix… I hadn’t talked to her in a while, but she always makes time for me if I need it…” Aura admitted, hesitantly. Aura’s therapist was a big believer in the power of the internet and was more than willing to have video chats with patients if they couldn’t make it to her office in Zuzu City, even a patient she was no longer seeing regularly, such as Aura.

“If you think it will help, then you should.” She’d stopped trembling, at least. “You’re not doing this alone,” Harvey added. “It will be a big change, it’s true… but it’s a change we’ll navigate together.”

“Just… just admitting how I’ve been feeling… It does help, a little…” Aura said slowly. “I’m still scared, but…right now, at least… I feel… I feel a little better… I…” She hesitated a moment. “I do want this baby, you know… I just… I didn’t expect to have all these mixed feelings.”

Harvey pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’re doing this together,” He repeated. He’d say it as often as he had to. “We’re not just a team, we’re a family. No matter what happens. You, me, the little one…” There was a soft thud and a little “mrrrp” as Murphy returned to the bed, making his way to Aura’s lap and purring as Harvey stroked his head. “And him,” Harvey added. “We’d never forget you,” he said with a chuckle as the cat shoved his blocky head up into Harvey’s hand.

“I was so afraid that you’d be hurt if I admitted how I’ve been feeling…that… that was the worst part…” Aura said quietly, rubbing at her cheeks again. “I’m sorry if you were…”

“I was only worried about you,” Harvey said as they took turns petting the cat, who settled into a happy loaf on Aura’s lap, reveling in the attention. “Please don’t ever suffer in silence… our little one has a lot of growing to do yet, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep her mother happy.”

“Her?” Aura chuckled. “We can’t possibly know the sex yet. Besides, I thought all men wanted sons.”

Harvey shrugged. “Whenever I imagine it… I see a girl. Someone who will grow up as strong and beautiful and brave as her mother.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Though I wouldn’t say no to eventually having an assortment.”

She snorted and tilted her head a bit so she could kiss him lightly. “How about we make sure everyone survives this one before we talk about assortments… I’m still not loving the physical side of all this. I’m afraid I may be difficult to live with the next several months…I’ll… I’ll try my best to not be a complete monster.”

“Just be honest with me about your feelings, and I’ll extend you the same courtesy.” It was Harvey’s turn to initiate a kiss, brief and tender though it was.

“I…I should get back out there…” Aura said reluctantly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Got a few things that need doing before the day’s over.”

Harvey wanted to argue, to insist that she stay in and rest, but he didn’t have the heart to try to cage her now. “Go and do whatever you need to do… just be careful, please… and I’ll have a bath and dinner waiting for you when you get back.” He caught her hand as she nudged the cat off her lap and stood up. “And as for whether or not the baby will hurt our relationship… of course I can’t see the future, but… I can’t imagine any outcome apart from loving you more.” Harvey felt his cheeks heating in the familiar old blush that she could manifest in him with little more than a smile.

“I…” Aura gave a brittle little laugh and pulled his knuckles to her lips, giving them a brief kiss. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“I’ve told you before that you should let me be the judge of that.” Harvey answered as she quickly wound her hair into a loose braid.

“And you’ll… you’ll tell me if you have things you’re worried about, right? Or if I do or say something to hurt you? You won’t suffer in silence either?” She asked pointedly.

“I promise,” Harvey answered as she headed towards the door. “I love you, Aura.”

She paused at the doorway and blew him a kiss with a weary chuckle. “I love you, too, Harvey. Thank you… for being you. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

Harvey smiled as she left the room, listening to her footsteps fade. Murphy shoved his head against Harvey’s arm, and he gave the cat a stroke. “Well, boy… life isn’t simple even when you do have everything you want,” he said to the cat. “But we’ll just have to do our best and look after each other… it’s all anyone can do, I suppose.”

#my fic #farmer aura #stardew harvey #pregnancy cw

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elizabethemerald · 3 years

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Jim is Honest; Chap 7

Barbara watched Jim anxiously pace around the kitchen, putting the last of the dishes away. The meal he had just made her was beyond anything she’s had recently. Jim had really pulled out all of the stops. Now she was watching him fiddle in the kitchen.

“Hey mom I wanted you to have this.” He said. She arched an eyebrow, then her heart dropped as she saw the sealed letter in his hand.

The grandiose meal. A letter addressed with just her name. Jim’s anxiety throughout the night. This was someone preparing to say goodbye. If she didn’t know better she would say the letter could contain a sucide note.

“Jim what is this about?” Barbara forced herself not to snap at him. She ignored the letter as her own fear drowned anything else. When he didn’t respond right away she tried again. “Jim, please, talk to me. Remember? We can talk about anything together?”

Jim sighed and put the letter down on the counter. She could see his grief echoing in every line of his being.

“I have to fight Draal tonight. I think he is going to kill me.”

Barbara grabbed her son’s shoulders pulling him into a tight hug. Her boy. Her boy was on the edge of a break down. She held him as tightly as she could, squeezing him against her, surprised that she could still rest her chin on the top of his head. He still had so much growing left to do. So much of his life left to live. She stepped back to look at him, he had no tears in his eyes, but she could see his grief nonetheless.

“Let’s run, Jim. I can quit my job and we can leave Arcadia tonight. You won’t have to fight this Draal. The trolls wouldn’t be able to find us. If you pack you bags quickly we can be across state lines in only a few hours.”

“I can’t leave mom!” Jim’s voice cracked as he said it. “I’m the Trollhunter. I have to fight.”

“I don’t care about that stupid amulet!” Barbara’s voice rose. “You are fifteen years old! I will not sit by and have you get beaten to death! We will leave! Tonight!”

“What about everyone else?” His words made her pause long enough for him to gather his thoughts. “What about Toby? Or Claire? What about their families? What about everyone at school?”

Barbara felt frozen. The grief-stricken boy who had tried to hand her a letter was gone. Before her stood the Trollhunter. A fighter and a warrior.

“We saw Ms. Nomura working on the Killahead Bridge. If they open that… Gunmar will kill everyone in Arcadia. If we run… if I don’t fight Draal and win then who will keep them from opening the bridge? We have to stop them. I have to stop them.”

She hated it. She hated every word. And she hated the most that she couldn’t think of an argument. She had only believed in the trolls because of the trust she had in her son, the only proof she needed was the injuries he sustained from fighting them. No other human would believe they even existed, much less work to stop the release of a tyrant.

And the trolls were even worse. If what Jim had told her was true, the only trolls who even knew about the bridge were Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, neither of whom were particularly popular down in Trollmarket. And if Jim ran there was no way Draal would actually take the time to look for the bridge, instead she bet he would spend all his time trying to hunt down her son. All that without the complexity of the changelings and where their loyalties lay.

Jim stood staring at her. She realized she had been silent for too long. She took a deep breath, straightening her hair and Jim’s clothing. Then she nodded.

“Very well. If you have to fight him, then fight him. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’ve beat him.”

She wanted to say more. She wanted to shout and scream and argue. He was her son, he shouldn’t have to fight some troll to the death. All she could do was wait.

He gave her another tight hug, then left, running to Toby’s house across the street. Barbara felt sick to her stomach as he ran. She stood there in the living room watching the far house until she saw the two boys leave for Trollmarket.

Barbara waited a few minutes before sending a text to Toby.

[Toby, I need you to call me as soon as the fight’s over.]

[Whatever the result. I need you to call me.]

His response took some time. She felt like he was trying to come up with some lighthearted joke to make but like herself was struggling to come up with any light in their current tunnel. In the end his response was a single word.

[Understood]

As soon as she received his text Barbara got to work. Whatever happened she wanted to be ready. She cleared the dining room table and put a clean sheet on top of it. She carefully arranged her medical supplies on the counter, including all the tools and meds she had stolen from work for the past week. She set up her living room as a field hospital. Whatever shape Jim returned in, she would be ready to try and save his life.

When she was done with that she opened and read the letter he had left. It wasn’t as vague as it might have been had she not known about trolls. It was filled end to end with Jim’s love, about how he didn’t want to leave her. She set it next to her tools and ran her fingers across the paper every time she triple checked that everything was set up accurately.

She was almost at the point of tearing her hair out when her phone started ringing. She practically dove for it, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely answer Toby’s call. When she could finally get her fumbling fingers to hit the green phone she was so scared she almost didn’t put the phone to her ear.

“He did it! He did it!” Toby cheered, his voice still heavy with anxiety and now excitement. “Jim won. He didn’t even have to kill Draal to win. Now we’re going to go get tacos!”

Barbara only barely caught the last part of his statement, as her own relief swamped her senses.

“Tobias Domzalski! You will not go and get tacos. You will bring my son home to me so I can make sure he does not have any internal bleeding or a concussion, and then I will order tacos to be delivered.” She tried to keep the harsh tones out of her voice, but right now she needed to see her son, to see with her own eyes that he was safe and ok.

“Of course Dr. L!” She could practically hear his salute.

She made one last catalogue of her hastily assembled clinic. There were some improvements she could make. She made note of each thing she could think of. Now that she wasn’t terrified that her son would die and she would never see him again, she spent some time making sure that she would have a perfect area for him to recover at.

A few minutes later Toby helped Jim limp into the living room. He raised his eyebrows at the changes she had made, but it seemed his energy to question it was gone. She helped him lay down on the kitchen table and set to work. She gave Toby her credit card to order tacos delivered.

Jim may have won, but she could tell it had gotten much closer than either of the boys were currently saying. She guessed that Jim was still in shock from the beating and Toby was trying to recover from almost being forced to watch his best friend die. Still he was alive. And she was going to make sure he stayed that way.

There was little enough she could do for the significant amount of bruising on his face and chest other than ice it, but she could clean and bandage the numerous cuts from his rough treatment in the arena. He also had a bad sprain that seemed to be the cause of his earlier limping, that she carefully wrapped.

By the time she was done, tacos had arrived and Toby was already eating. She helped Jim to the couch so he could eat as well. While the two boys talked and laughed, the high of victory now crashing Barbara cleaned up her field hospital. She kept her tools and supplies near to hand and threw the sheet into the wash immediately. She was going to keep her house ready to go at a moment’s notice to keep Jim in the fight.

When she finally had the dining room reset to her liking she collapsed on the couch next to the boys and grabbed a taco herself. Toby was already fast asleep on the other couch. Jim looked like he was fading fast, the exhaustion from the fight dragging him to sleep. Before he fell completely asleep Barbara had something important to tell him.

“Jim. I love you. I need you to know, I love you so much.”

“I love you too mom. I’m glad I’m able to tell you that again.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

#jim lake junior #Barbara Lake #jim is honest #tales of arcadia #writing emerald

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honeypwark · 4 years

Text

[ Riverside ]

↳ Gone Days era

↳ Xiang interrupts Chan and Jisung. She and Chan take a walk. She finally tells someone.

Note: Maybe reread Quitter and Turbulence before reading?

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a detailed explanation of how Xiang developed and lived with her eating disorder. Please do not read if this is triggering for you.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Chan sits at his desk with Jisung beside him, explaining how different chords in the same spot will change the feel of the song and he should choose based on what vibe he wants the song to have.

“I kind of want it to not just cut off. Like it’s leading to more even after the song’s ended.”

“G7 might work better then.”

“G7...?”

Chan plays the chord on the keyboard to his left.

“Oh, got it.”

“As opposed to G.” He plays said chord.

“Alright. And for the second verse I wanted to-“

There’s a soft knock on the door, “Chris?”

Chan turns in his desk chair, his attention immediately going to the girl that walks into the room.

“Hey, Sophie.”

It’s been three days since Xiang’s breakdown in the bathroom at four in the morning. The next morning, Xiang had promised she’d talk to Chan about what caused it but she’d need time. He gave her time, not even mentioning what had happened. Of course, without any kind of explanation, Chan has been left to worry about every little thing and see all the worst case scenarios for the last few days.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“What? Is he your dog or something?”

Xiang’s eyes land on Jisung, who she hadn’t noticed when she’d entered, too tunnel visioned on finally growing a pair and talking about her issues. It took her nearly an hour to knock on Chan’s door and ask to go somewhere to talk privately. Her momentary false bravery crumbles visibly on her face as she realizes Chan is busy.

“Oh, sorry. You’re busy.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chan says quickly, stopping her from leaving. He turns to Jisung, “We’ll finish later, alright?”

Jisung is confused but nods slowly, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Jisung watches as his leader saves everything on his computer without his usual attention to detail, scrambling out of his chair after Xiang as she walks back out of the room. He blinks after him confusedly, rolling his eyes before packing up his laptop to return to his own bedroom.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After taking a bus to Han River and walking along the riverside for about five minutes in silence, Xiang is still struggling with beginning to lay it all out for Chan. She squeezes the linings of her jacket pockets, the joints of her fingers aching from the strength behind it.

“Do you want to sit?” Chan asks, pointing toward a bench they’re approaching.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Xiang takes a deep breath in. She breathes it out slowly. She relaxes her hands in her pockets.

“I have an eating disorder.”

Chan wishes he could say that her admitting that makes everything fall into place. That he can say he’s noticed her acting strange. That he can admit he’s been worried about her weight loss. But he can’t. Because he didn’t notice those things. He’s aware of her weight loss (she‘s trended on Naver a few times because of her light weight) but he never thought of it as the outcome of something terrible. Dammit, he should have.

“Y-You do?” he stammers.

“Yeah. It probably started when our manager told me the company wanted me to lose weight. I don’t blame him, I really don’t. He was just doing his job. But... it got me thinking and I decided to eat less and work out more and that’s where it all started. It wasn’t that bad to begin with. I had control of what I was doing and it was like being in a diet. I’ve never been the most mentally sound person; I have clinically diagnosed anxiety, depression, and depersonalization but that’s a whole other can of worms.”

Now that she’s started, it’s easier to lay it all out.

“After I decided to eat less, I started skipping meals. In my mind it made sense. To lose weight, eat less. So I did. I started lying to you and the others about eating, saying I had when I hadn’t or that I wasn’t hungry when I was. It went on like that for a while, just not eating and working out a lot more. But I felt so guilty when I did eat. When I couldn’t avoid it.

“So I started making myself throw up. It all piled on top of each other and I barely ever ate and kept it down. I probably started eating a meal or two every three or four days. For a while that’s what I did. I lost so much weight. It was so unhealthy. I weighed myself before we left for tour in America and I was 37.6 kilograms.

“I felt like I was going to pass out during the entire performance in New York. I only woke up at six in the evening the next day. I was scared that the next time I went to sleep, I wouldn’t wake up. That my body would just give out on me. So I went and ate pizza with the younger boys. I started eating at least once a day because I had to do my job. I still didn’t eat enough but... it was something.

“And that should have been good. I should have been proud of myself for starting to take care of myself but I wasn’t. I hated myself for eating. I started gaining weight. I realized one night that what I thought I had control of I didn’t because I can’t control how much I hate myself.

“I went out with Yeosu one night and I ate more than I had in such a long time. I felt so guilty and I started rambling to her about my problems. But I ran away before she could even respond. I tried to stop on my own because Yeosu is so amazing and so famous and she’s mentally fine. And I got a little better. But then the company asked for an update on our weights and they told me not to get heavy again.

“It felt like doing what was best for me wasn’t what I needed to do. Like maybe this is the cost of being who I am and doing what we do. I just spiraled and I got worse than I’d ever been. That’s when you found me. I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was so hungry but I couldn’t make myself keep what I’d eaten down. I don't know how to stop doing this to myself and I want to stop but I just can't.”

Xiang takes a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

Chan is impressed with how well Xiang has handled her emotions while explaining everything to him. Simultaneously, his heart is aching from the story she has told him and how well she’s handled her emotions. Chan can’t help but wonder how many times she has felt like the world is crashing down around her and he was none the wiser.

“When did this start? When did our manager- When did the company say you should lose weight?”

“... Late June?”

Nine months. Nine months Xiang has been dealing with her eating disorder. And before that, anxiety, depression, and personalization. Chan has his own qualms with anxiety and depression occasionally but he’s not even sure what depersonalization is. But as Xiang said, that’s a whole other can of worms.

“It’s just-,” Xiang looks for the right words to continue. “I’ve developed so much self-hatred. I never feel good enough. I never feel pretty or talented. Even with the mess my mentality has always been, I used to be able to be content with the music I make or the performances I give. Now, I just hate everything about myself. I wish I could just deal with this on my own and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this mess. But believe me I won't hold it against you if you want to back out now-"

"Sophie.”

Chan steps in front of Xiang to face her.

“I don't know how to prove to you that I will always be here for you.”

It hurts more than he would have thought when she lets out a tiny, humorless breath of a laugh, disbelieving. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the overcast sky.

“I‘m so tired of everything.”

She closes her eyes.

“I just want it to stop.”

“It will,” Chan says. “And you’re not going to deal with this alone anymore. Know why?"

When Xiang lowers her head, Chan can see she’s barely holding back tears. She gives a minuscule shake of her head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nearly two and a half years ago, Xiang stood in front of Chan in a recording studio. She’d come to tell Chan she should leave the group. He’d called her a quitter and wouldn’t let her walk out on the group.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” she asked, not understanding how Chan can’t see the problems she’s causing.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he responded.

Xiang swallowed, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Chan stood and wrapped her in a hug.

“And I’m not gonna let you give up on me.”

Xiang hesitated but looped her arms around Chan.

“We’re in this together, understand?”

Xiang smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I understand.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Because I'm not giving up on you."

At the riverside, Chan pulls Xiang into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders.

“And I’m not letting you give up on me. We’re in this together, understand?”

Over two years later, Chan has kept his word. Before she’d started starving herself, before her mental state depleted further than it had ever been, he’d told her that they are a team and he won’t let her quit on him. And he’s kept to that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the plane ride home to South Korea from America, Chan had comforted Xiang when she’d been anxious and fearful during turbulence. She’d thought about Chan. What he’d done for her and how he’d treated her.

Despite her self-loathing and her anxiety. And the way she’s convinced herself she’ll never be good enough. Or how she can only ever feel pretty on an empty stomach, hunger clawing at her insides in a painful way she’s grown fond of. Amidst it all, being next to Chan makes her feel safe. Chan makes her feel safe. Safety is something Xiang has been having a hard time finding for months now.

She realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Here, beside Han River in Chan’s arms, she feels safe. She feels... loved. And the idea- the fact that Chan cares for her and has been by her side, even unknowingly, through all of this brings her to tears.

Xiang buries her face in Chan’s shoulder and wraps her arms tightly around him, crying hard into the material of his jacket. And Chan lets her. He holds her tighter against him and lets her cry, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head comfortingly. She’s safe here. She’s safe with Chan.

And she realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

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ashenburst · 4 years

Text

Enough of Our Disease

Cioccolata x Reader, uh... no real genre, 9845 words. Consider this a prolonged, realistic interaction with the psycho.

tw: manipulation, degradation, abuse, slight violence, blackmail, slight gore

However, just so you know, this isn’t as grim as some Cioccolata stories out there.

A new intern who had just been transferred to the clinic. Nothing more but a stranger. That was (Y/N).

And she was also a student. A brave little student who got a scholarship in Italy, and had the opportunity to work side by side with Rome's greatest doctors. Something she could've only dreamed of, and yet... it became reality.

The new surroundings were quickly conquered by her. She studied hard and long, and she had all that experience behind her to guide her to her bright future. And it wasn't just the mind that she had trained, but the charm as well. She gained favors of both other interns and doctors. It wasn't too hard – the method she used was old, but a trusted one.

She would always assume the best, and from that point onwards, the stranger would slowly diminish their unknown. So did this one. His name was Cioccolata – a sweet one, as (Y/N) humored. He was a surgeon, an excellent one, as she also noted on multiple occasions. A compliment or two would do no harm. Even in professional surroundings such as this one, where doctors were expected to operate almost mechanically, empathy was needed. Luckily, the atmosphere in this clinic was relaxed – and everyone inside was keen on keeping it that way. At least, between the workers.

The interns were welcomed warmly. The doctors, although they certainly had much to do, managed not only to pay attention to the students. Rather, they succeeded in meeting them better; they genuinely cared and dedicated themselves to meeting them better. Something (Y/N) could hardly believe...

The stress and the worry! A doctor had no option but to lose their connections with their patients, for not every life could be saved. And not every disease could be cured, and not every symptom could be eliminated. What could a doctor do, but their best? Even when a surgery would fail, and the patient would live on sick, and even when a surgery would result in death –

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Cioccolata lifted his head, evidently snapped out of deep thought. "I am...? Why are you asking?"

"I just... had to check," (Y/N) told, "it must be horrible, losing a patient like that." She sighed. She didn't know much of him at the time, but his expertise seemed unparalleled. She had seen it with her own eyes, on multiple occasions. This must've been a low blow to his career... and psyche, she believed.

The green haired male forced a chuckle. "I can handle it. Don't worry."

His antics were odd. Unusually calm, somewhat regal. Fitting to a doctor, one would believe, but certainly not typical in reality. This solemn approach of his remained intact in every situation, except, perhaps...

"You've got an interesting taste, dottore," Cioccolata pointed out one day. He had the habit of calling her dottore, for she acted like one more so than his colleagues. During break, he caught (Y/N) reading a particularly grim book. She raised an eyebrow at him, already grinning.

"You're a fan of Dostoyevsky's?" She would love to talk with one.

"I don't think I am, but I did enjoy some of his works. Especially the one you're reading right now," he stated, allowing himself a small smile.

"The Notes From The Underground surely has its appeal. I find it oddly... releasing, despite the book's theme," she began. She simply had to discuss it.

"You emphasize with the man?" The older surgeon inquired, still bearing that smug expression of his.

She shrugged. "I'd say I do. Don't we all?"

"Not all of us are equipped with the proper mindset."

"Or heart."

"Mind rules over the heart. You, an aspiring doctor, should know that of all people," he remarked, hitting a string he shouldn't have. Per se, mocking one's own life work would be a bad thing, let alone tampering with a topic so familiar to the other party. And it just so happened that it was that period of the month. The intern knew what to say.

"I don't think we're on the same page," (Y/N) countered, noticing the opportunity. "We've both started using metaphors and they don't mean the same to us, so it's pointless to lead this discussion any further."

His expression darkened. He was far from pretty – it would be easy to describe him as a repulsive man, even.

He lifted his face, gazing down to her. "Why impress me, dottore? I might tell on you and everyone will find out you're arrogant."

And she regretted ever trying to poke at his ego, just for a bit. Which is why her response was tamer. "You wouldn't do that," she said, stifling a laugh. Maybe he'd realize she didn't really intend to insult him.

"Indeed, but I could." With that, he abandoned her, in a state she'd dub as anxiety. She was never keen on making enemies, not with people like him – people who were intelligent.

Not only intelligent, but dangerous. Authority was in his grasp. He was one of the many people (Y/N) simply had to by liked by. Strangely, he turned out to be amused by her outbursts of boasting – she toned them down nevertheless.

She felt before she knew. A discomfort, creaking softly whenever she'd step on the wrong ledge. And oh, how sensitive she was to the sound. It would alarm her entire being, stiffen her whenever he was nearby. Her intuition would beg her to stay away, and she wanted to stay away – safely – for she wished no stress, no additional bothers in her life.

It was wondrous, whenever she'd look back at it. The way it started off, and the way it developed. Admiration, distance, provocation – and lastly, fear, laced with respect. In the spur of the moment, she found herself wanting to be liked by him. Just like her student self, meeting a new teacher. She wanted to leave a good impression, for it could only benefit her.

Did it benefit her, now? What did she get in return?

"This is Secco, my trusted assistant," Cioccolata introduced her to the young man. His wide, violet eyes stood out to (Y/N) – she could see how nervous his gaze was. And that was all she saw, for the remainder of his face was covered with a cap and a surgical mask.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Secco," she warmly spoke.

"Mm, same," he responded in his so, so unpleasant tone. (Y/N) couldn't believe it was him talking at first. It was as if – as if gravel was being pressed against her skin. It caused her much discomfort, but... she gave him an awkward smile. Then, continued with whatever job was at hand –

She couldn't remember the rest. The memory of the event faded along with that horrible stench of Secco's.

But Cioccolata's voice... steady as the torrents of his elaborating. She loved it. He'd point at the graphs, explain a correlation or two, then pose a hypothesis. (Y/N) was just one of the many interns, and she didn't want to believe she stood out – but by all means, she made it. In the hall, whenever a respected doctor would offer his guidance to the interns, she was one of the few who knew and understood.

It didn't come without a price. She'd been burdening herself with random facts and sublime methods for ages now. Not only did she stay longer at the clinic, just to linger around and do additional work... and talk with people there, too. Every day, a documentary would be watched or a book would be read. Her brain, buried even deeper into her profession. It gave her headaches. Plenty of them, in fact. But she knew she'd been doing the right thing.

This was the prime of her lifetime. All the sweat and tears she'd wasted so far were worth it. She loved her life, the life she earned. And she was loved because of it. Her parents would message her every now and then. She knew she didn't fail them.

And every morning, she'd wake up, look into the mirror and – smile, no matter how bad she looked. With all the circumstances the present was overlapped with, how couldn't she? Everything was good. Her job, her studies, her family and her friends – who she rarely contacted, for all of them were in a similar situation. She was overjoyed, for she knew they would succeed. Her heart was full... every aspect of her life was complete. She couldn't ask for more.

And so the daily routine continued. A bliss, simply put.

In retrospective, (Y/N) truly had no complaints. Objectively speaking, she had no right to ever dare complain. Which is why she'd beat herself to remain quiet whenever the slightest inconvenience would occur. Be it a bellyache, a quarrel, or additional work. Yet...

She loathed when people told her things she already knew. She loathed when people insisted on repeating the same formula over and over again, as if she were dumb – or as if she were ignorant enough not to know it already. She hated when people underestimated her and didn't let her prove otherwise.

But Cioccolata allowed her to.

"Your take on the symptoms, dottore," he tapped the chart. (Y/N) couldn't believe what she was looking at. The symptoms displayed were horrible – nausea, paralysis, loss of hearing – just what...

She blabbered the first ideas that came to her. "Brain tumor? No. Late stage of syphilis?"

"Indeed." She felt her heart fill with pride at Cioccolata's approval. "The universe is certainly unfair towards this patient, hm? He's a homeless man, the ambulance brought him in after some guy spotted him lying on the streets. I'm surprised someone even bothered..."

"Truly... horrible. No comment," (Y/N) muttered, not knowing what else to say. The day was long and she was tired beyond measure –

"Do you no longer care about your patients, dottore?" His question threw her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head lightly, all while staring at him.

"I do care about them? Of course I do?" Why was he asking those intrusive questions again? Outrageous.

"Oh. It's kicking in sooner than the usual," he nonchalantly stated.

(Y/N) kept staring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The indifference. Or numbness. Whatever you want to call it. You simply stop caring... it's normal. In fact, it's an imperative, if you want to stay sane."

How could he say something so provocative? She understood where he was coming from, but talking about it openly was something else. It meant multiple things, and those things were... invasive. She remained silent, and luckily, Cioccolata let her.

This was why she felt uncomfortable at times. This man knew of no boundaries. But... that didn't have to be a bad thing. He was brave enough to talk about the things most people would consider morbid. Yet intelligent. Unique, rare – name it however you want, but (Y/N) enjoyed. Not to mention he was her superior. And he didn't treat her like she was beneath him. Almost as if she was his equal.

She was respected like never before. Not only by him, but by his colleagues as well. It would be an understatement to say she adored it.

One particular, fateful day, she forgot her wallet at the clinic. She hadn't realized it until night fell – she wasn't the most perceptive person, and she disliked this trait of hers. She'd have to get ready and go back to the clinic, which was a bother... and it simply went against her plans. Although she had none.

She was lucky. The lights were still on, and there were people inside, so she didn't attract much attention.

She tried to remember where she had been that day. What was her routine like? They'd been checking some patients, yes, in a more distant wing. She had to do some walking to reach it, and once there... she had to check all the rooms.

Strangely, there was nobody around. This meant she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, at least. But it certainly didn't make her feel too comfortable either. Being alone in those hallways, opening empty rooms – all of that made her feel as if she was doing something wrong.

Maybe she truly was doing something wrong. She barged into a room where lights were turned on.

"My apologies, I wasn't –"

Of course she wasn't aware. She wanted to vanish, erase her memory of the sight – she didn't want to be involved, she didn't mean it to happen, yet –

There it was, the massive crimson protruding through the clinical white, clawing at her sight. Organs, splattered around, begging to be forgotten and shoved into oblivion. Their owner, a man reduced to a hole, laying sprawled on the bed... long dead, long mutilated. And the two of them, her colleagues. The culprits and the criminals, all in one – a pair of monsters.

(Y/N)'s vision distorted. She saw it all clearly, and once the realization hit her, she froze, just for a second. She couldn't believe it. But all of her senses spoke otherwise, and the very moment those two monsters looked at her, their eyes – screaming shrill danger... they would get her.

So she slammed the door and began running. She didn't feel anything at all. Her feet were propelled forwards just like that.

But she was too slow. Far too slow. A shadow appeared in front of her – no, a man – leapt from inside the floor and rammed straight into her. By instinct, she tried to push him away from her – and she was successful. He fell... into the wall?

That was when she processed what she had seen. The man leapt from the floor. And that man was Secco.

Her one moment of hesitation cost her much; suddenly, something hit her legs, and she fell with a shriek and a loud thud. She would've continued screaming if a hand hadn't been pressed against her mouth. An oppressive weight shackled her to being immobile – she didn't even know what was happening. She just kept struggling, desperately, against it all.

Then, a firm voice that echoed throughout the hallway. "Dottore! There's no need to run. We're equipped to deal with these arbitrary intrusions, so it's no point."

These words imbued her with even more resistance. She swung her head, and managed to somehow set her mouth free for a moment. "Let me go – " (Y/N) tried to scream, instinctively, but she was muffled by Secco's hand. She bit on it, hard, making him whimper like a hurt dog. In her mouth... she felt his blood. It riled her up, and she tried to kick back and somehow escape Secco's grip – but she failed. How could a skinny, anorexic being like him keep her in check? This enraged her even further, and she tried to elbow him. In vain. As if he couldn't feel pain.

Then a specific object was brought to her attention.

A scalpel, right in front of her, in Cioccolata's gloved hand. She bit her lip till it ached. She knew she was done for, and this defeat... it was unimaginable, but she was going through it. Her own body turned lax as the realization washed over her. Lastly, she teared up, for she was utterly, completely, powerless.

"Shh, I'm not willing to send you to the other side just yet. Be good now so that you could talk back later," the surgeon spoke calmly, as if to ease the tense air.

She remained put. Her frame, a cage to her wild heart. Yet she was as still as a corpse.

"Calm yet? Wonderful. You are now allowed to speak," he said after observing her for a while. He slowly retracted the scalpel, as if to widen the distance between (Y/N) and her death. She knew he was in complete control, that her life was on the line, yet...

She didn't believe this was happening. To add to that, her emotions were late. She didn't feel anything a person should be feeling at the moment – or so she believed. She perceived her state to be too calm, to the point she got afraid of it.

"What was that," she asked. A stupid question, she immediately thought. But was there anything else she didn't know?

"You're getting curious all of a sudden," he spoke with inhuman vigor. "Be careful. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," she stated, bold, for she had nothing to lose. Her heart skipped a beat – she was still far too calm about it all. Too focused, to sharply keen on living through her death.

"But intern, you'll be far from satisfied." His mask scrunched up, signifying the change of his expression. It was seen in his eyes, that glint and the wrinkles – he was smiling. (Y/N) redirected her gaze, wondering, just how much did he find it... empowering? Moreover, was his ego big enough to let her live? She prayed, oh, she prayed it was. But her prayer... dripped of hatred. The bold type of fear.

She gazed back at him, so insolent and so stupidly brave. Her expression must've portrayed cold fury, but her tone...

Her family. She needed to be there for them. How would her mother handle her death?

"I'll do anything," she pleaded, her voice meek.

"I don't need you to do anything at all," he answered, deafening all that was left of her hope. And in that moment, she thought –

She loved her life. She didn't regret anything. If this was her end... she had fared well.

Which is why she made peace with the guillotine of his scalpel. She even lifted her head to ease the blade's entrance. All while staring at her soon to be murderer with defiance unknown to her. Secco, behind her, let out a wheeze.

"It's a shame you aren't recording this, Secco," Cioccolata cooed, visibly satisfied. He didn't break eye contact with the intern beneath him. "It's a rare sight. Dottore, you might regret rushing into death like that. It isn't your time, not yet." He snapped his fingers, and with his other hand, he spun the scalpel in a teasing manner. (Y/N)'s gaze lingered on it just for a bit; she found it harder and harder to keep this façade going. It was evidently buying her time, so...

"So, the decision is on you," she said, although she had so much more to share – but her voice was weak, growing thinner with every word. If one part of her mask would fall apart, she knew, she would panic. Oh, the refined delicacy!

Every moment was wagered, as if it were a play of sorts. And she had to impress Cioccolata again. "Absolutely. I have complete control over your life. Both your status, whether you're deceased or not... and your job, as well as your freedom."

"What will you do with it?" (Y/N)'s question came out firm, luckily.

"Nothing. In fact, I believe it would be right to let you go. Wouldn't you agree, Secco?"

"Uwah," he responded in a breathy, low voice. It sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine, for he... he didn't sound human.

And once that thing let go, (Y/N) got on her feet, rose to Cioccolata's level, and with the last ounce of strength, asked, "what will be of me now?"

"That's your choice," the surgeon responded. He lowered his mask with one finger, revealing an ugly grin. "Why aren't you running like a scared little girl you are?"

(Y/N) couldn't turn her back to danger. She simply couldn't. Facing her back to him, not seeing him, seemed like death to her – for something unpredictable could happen. She could imagine his long arm extending once again, and that scalpel being jabbed into her back. She felt the pain vividly, as if she was already en route to her demise. A ting in her back, annoying her already strained senses...

Why was she scared all of a sudden?

"I'm not scared," she told him, glaring daggers at that vicious visage of his. He merely gave her a mocking laugh. It did manage to belittle her.

"Whatever you say. Today must've been stressful, so I believe you should go home now," he dismissed her.

Could she really walk away? Was that what he was insinuating? Forget and walk away? Or did he want to follow her home and kill her there? No, no – he could've killed her already, if he wanted to. Then... was he toying with her? Certainly, and she hated him for it.

"Dottore? You should go home," he once again said, his tone darkening, "stress isn't good for health. See you tomorrow."

Her ears picked his annoyance easily. That was the moment when she actually got terrified – because she felt she got on his nerves and – he could get unpredictable – and it simply felt horrible. Her heart ached as it picked up its pace, her chest expanding for a brave inhale, and she finally took a step backwards.

She felt her expression twitch at last. She gave in. Cioccolata won, and he nodded in approval. The same way he'd nod at her whenever she'd answer correctly during his lectures.

Another step backwards. Her vision distorted once more, on its own – she was so sore, so tired of it all. Never in her life was she forced to handle such... terror. Once her vision cleared, she saw him gaze back at her, pale moonlight sharpening his ruthless features. He had never been uglier.

Third step backwards. She felt her eyebrows droop. She couldn't keep it up.

She turned around and ran. Nothing came after her. Never in her life had she felt such relief when she reached the doorstep to her apartment.

"Signorina!"

(Y/N) halted as soon as she heard that voice call out. Throughout the night, nothing caught her attention, yet this voice –

She turned around. It was a cop, running towards her. A laugh of pure joy escaped her. She was far too lucky.

"Signore, I have to tell you something – "

"Uh-huh, wait a moment," he said as he stationed himself before her, panting heavily. He hid something behind his back, (Y/N) noticed. An alarm went off inside her mind. But... she prescribed it to her state of panic, and steadied her train of thoughts.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said, lifting his head. One of his eyes was thus revealed from the shadows, and it peered curiously at the girl. She got nauseous at the sight.

He gave her the wallet she had forgotten in the clinic. She reached out to take it, hands trembling, as many slow realizations came to her. Only to be proven by the cop's statement.

"The court is no stranger to them, their connections are everywhere, and you will show up tomorrow, unless you want to die. That's what he wanted me to tell you."

She expected to die, once again. And she didn't dare blink, so she could witness her own demise. But the cop waved, smiled, tipped his hat even, and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

She went to bed that night, knowing she didn't do anything about it. Though... she did prepare herself. Took a knife and a phone to message her parents that she's in danger. And she didn't close her eyes once during that fateful night.

She wrote a paragraph to her parents. About everything. She couldn't believe the words she typed – everything was far too surreal. But there she was, reliving the entire horrid event as she explained it to her parents. They were both asleep, luckily... she didn't want to bother them, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, but she truly didn't want to be a burden. Having finished the entire story, she felt guilt creeping up to her. They shouldn't stress over her. She shouldn't stress them.

And from these thoughts she spiraled down to numerous justifications on why exactly she should bother them. But the first, original idea that reached her – that she was a burden – didn't abandon her nevertheless. No matter how hard she wanted to defend herself.

She was well aware that she was entering a nightmare. The only way to survive it for now... was to obey. Because they wouldn't hesitate to murder her. Not only because they wouldn't be punished for it... but because they just weren't human. They had those – powers, surely. Secco sprung out of the floor, and grabbed her, she saw that clearly. And if Secco could've moved like a ghost, what kind of power would Cioccolata have? The surgeon was fully capable of controlling Secco, as far as she had seen. So, he must've had something even worse...

The morning caught her off guard. Her mind must've been a wreck, then. Time passed way too quickly... and so neared her departure to the hospital.

For the first time in a while, she couldn't smile at the mirror. She couldn't even look at it. Somehow, she got ready, albeit sloppily, and left to her hellish internship.

She had checked her phone multiple times before she left. Her parents hadn't responded yet. Wonderful, that was one thing less to stress about.

Strangely, this clinic she entered... she didn't feel afraid of it. Not in the least. She expected she'd tremble at its sight, but now... she didn't feel anything. Once again, she began worrying if she was, so to say, functioning well. This was yet another one of those moments where she'd know what was the normative behavior, and her behavior wouldn't match. How could her heart remain so bleak...?

There they were. The interns. The perfect distraction. Now, if only Cioccolata would disappear from the face of the Earth...

She kept thinking about him while she chatted with other students. And she couldn't handle the anxiety that welled up inside her being. She began stuttering while she talked, so she stopped. Simple as that. But Cioccolata, that goddamned surgeon, where was he? Why did he need her alive?

More importantly, why was she so keen on living? She finally realized the paradox she was in. In the face of death, she was indifferent, but everything she had done so far was in order to keep her alive. She responded to that in no time. An absent smile found its way on her face. She was a coward. And when she saw she couldn't win against Cioccolata... her cowardice guided her to stay calm. Or was it egoism?

The lectures began soon after. And her wondrous superior appeared amongst other doctors. She felt her insides boil, twist and turn whenever he'd speak up. She wanted to kill him right on the spot. That monster. That... she couldn't even think of how to describe him. Yet the word God seemed to fit. He was a psychopath; he must've had an inflated sense of self.

What to do, what to do... what did he intend to do? Why was nothing happening? He didn't speak to (Y/N). In fact, he didn't pay attention to her at all. This only fed her worry, her... restlessness. And patience wasn't a virtue in this situation.

So she walked up to him some time afterwards. Faced him with a tough expression that she mustered out of hatred.

"Signore... what are you going to do," she asked him in a hushed voice.

"What are you talking about?" He feigned confusion.

"Last night you murdered someone and you almost killed me – "

"Are you insane?" He furrowed his eyebrows in visible shock. "What are you even talking about?"

"L-last night... you... and Secco... murdered that guy in..."

"Is this a joke? If so, you can do better," Cioccolata grumbled.

"I just wanted to know – what do you – what will you do with me." She stopped herself, noticing she was tripping on her own words. Dammit.

"I'm... going to give you a lecture today, just like every other day, and we'll have our coffee during lunch break. Just as usual. Unless you want me to be the subject of your nonsensical jokes."

That was when (Y/N) understood. He played dumb, so that the both of them could just... forget it. But he was probably aware that she couldn't forget it as simply. (Y/N) knew this, and she couldn't handle this... even worsened anxiety that was building up inside her. Because she had no idea what to do. But he, on the other hand...

He must've had a plan. And what was it?

That day didn't offer her the response she was looking for. She found herself practically glued to surgeon Cioccolata throughout her stay in the clinic. She was particularly observant of his actions, and he, somehow, allowed it. This made her feel even worse. He had nothing to hide.

She got home, and she lived through yet another sleepless night. This time, she talked with her parents all night long. They would figure something out. Even the police in her homeland was already involved. When it came to the Italian police, her parents insisted that (Y/N) contact them as well.

She said she will, but she couldn't. Cioccolata controlled them. He controlled the court. He... he had to be involved with the mafia. Even if he weren't... he was dangerous enough on his own. Secco... (Y/N) remembered it all too vividly. They weren't human.

The next morning, she was at the clinic once again. The reason: pure fear. Nothing was out of the ordinary except her eyebags... and unusual tiredness. She was completely unresponsive. She didn't utter a word during any lecture. Other interns made sure to point that out. Not out of spite, rather, out of sheer surprise.

Naturally, she wasn't keen on going home either. She knew she wouldn't sleep, again. Yet she decided to leave earlier than usual. She just couldn't handle it anymore.

"Dottore! Could you come with me for a moment?" She heard a familiar voice call out. With an exasperated sigh, she turned on her heel. She didn't have a choice. She began walking back to the building. At its entrance stood Cioccolata, waving to her, much to her displeasure.

"Signore Cioccolata, that woman is an intern," one of the doctors pointed out as he was leaving the clinic. Cioccolata smiled at him, whereas (Y/N) tiredly gazed upwards, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"But I'm certain she'll become a great doctor someday. No harm done in boosting the intern's confidence, after all," the green haired male explained. He was met with approval.

Oh, how fake his words sounded, only to her. She hated the fact she could see right through his acts, his psychopathic charm, whereas other people would just...

"Eh, I presume you're right. This one deserves it," the other doctor responded with a polite smile and bid his farewell to his colleague. Thus, only (Y/N) and Cioccolata were left at the entrance. And her stomach was already doing barrel rolls.

"What do you need me for?"

"Something that will earn you extra internship points. Follow me."

And she did. Not that she had a choice. Besides, this time, there were actually some people in the clinic, so he couldn't do anything shady.

But as he led her through the sterile atmosphere, her fears grew. He brought her to the less used wing of the hospital, and from there, reached the door that lead to the basement. He opened it. Down below... a somber line of staircase. Nobody else in the vicinity.

(Y/N) could've ran. Whenever she wanted to. The alarm wasn't enormous enough, not now.

"Coming, dottore?" Cioccolata beckoned her.

"No. I'm not going in there," she responded with a scowl, already on her tiptoes to turn around and run.

"Or what?"

She didn't get the opportunity to answer, because she was harshly pushed – and fell down the stairs with a shriek. Pain erupted all across her back, and her head – it pulsed hard once she finally landed, no longer tumbling. She couldn't even see for a bit, and the aches made her hiss, her jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the sensations. She looked up, and Cioccolata was once again above her.

His demand echoed against the desolate hallway. "Disobey once more, and I won't hesitate to make better use of you." His words imprinted in her memory with ease. She curled herself up into a ball, her gaze stuck on the mad doctor's descend. She prayed he'd let her live through her pain, the pulsating agony... but would he?

With every step he took, her eyes widened. And once he reached her, she expected him to kick her in her guts so hard that she'd vomit – and she could feel the phantom of this hit in her belly already. But he never did so. Instead, to her absolute shock, he offered her a hand.

And to her even greater shock, she took it. Got back on her wobbly feet, and firmly stood, thanks to him. She stared at him, her vision already blurry from the upcoming tears. Should she... thank him?

She didn't. Just in case. And he liked that.

He let go of her hand. Then, he pointed at the long underground hallway they had just entered. "Go in there and clean up the mess in the last room. That's your job. Secco over here will keep you company." All of a sudden, the mentioned young man protruded through the wall and made another one of his disgusting sounds. (Y/N)'s stomach twisted even more. She had so much cramps... and such an urge to vomit.

"Goodbye," Cioccolata chirped and left, walking up the stairs. She didn't respond – she put a hand on her mouth. She was moments away from spilling her lunch all over the floor.

"Go, clean the room. Kehehe."

She felt an acidic tang in her throat. Then in her mouth. In an instant relief, she vomited, making yet another disgusting sound.

She looked at her barely digested meal that now laid sprawled across the clean tiles. She was so weak. And Secco was laughing at her because of it.

"What was that?"

She felt her heart sink as another voice was heard. It was Cioccolata. The very moment she thought she got rid of him.

She backed away. She couldn't face him. Not again.

Her legs gave in. She no longer felt them. She could only watch as his shadow reappeared down the stairs, approaching her, about to...

"Eh? Secco, clean that up."

Secco didn't react positively to that. He whined and shook his head. This, Cioccolata noticed, and walked closer to (Y/N) and his assistant. But he neared his assistant instead, much to (Y/N)'s relief.

What happened next shocked her. The surgeon slapped Secco hard. The hit resonated against the walls, echoes filled in the silence, as well as (Y/N)'s drumming heart. She was terrified beyond measure. Her being was in such delirium that it would soon... it would soon... she couldn't even think about what would happen. The aggressor was still in her vicinity, and her focus was solely fixated on him. He could do the same to her. Nothing held him back.

But the green haired man soon left, not sparing a single glance on the intern.

(Y/N) didn't even realize how hard she was shaking. She looked at her hands, and they weren't trembling, no, they were violently shaking. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Disgusting. Bleh." She heard Secco grumble. Everything about this situation was ridiculous.

"You go clean the room. Come on."

His irritable voice got to her. Somehow, she managed to stand up, and make her way to the designated room. Inside, she was supposed to...

Clean up chunks of meat? Before she knew it, her gag reflex was activated again. She threw up a clearer vomit this time... it spilled and stuck itself on the floor. Another reek joined the already thick air. At least it would be easier to clean up, she thought to herself sarcastically.

Before her, on a table, stood, indeed, chunks of geometrically cut... undoubtedly, human body parts. She didn't want to spot any further details. Plenty of blood was there as well. How to... handle that? She spotted some bags on a tray to her right. Never in her life had she performed a more disgusting, degrading act than that day.

That was all. He didn't have her do anything else. In fact, he dropped some bitter words of praise as she was leaving. As well as some advice.

"Remember, alarming anyone will only make you bigger problems. I've got my own strings to pull."

Did he know? Her eyes widened in pure shock, and he merely smiled with one of his generic gross smiles. She remembered, of course. She remembered who she alarmed. So she nodded to her superior and finally went to her apartment in the dead of the night.

The shower she took afterwards revealed her all the bruises she gained that day. All she could do was exhale and acknowledge them.

She was offline all day, so once she got to use her phone, she saw that she had a bunch of missed calls and texts of her parents. She skimmed through them – no time to waste, after all – and she... she hated herself for doing that, but... she texted them that everything was alright. That she only had a nightmare that she thought was real, and decided to... yes, to test her parents. She wanted to see how they'd react.

Her parents didn't react positively at all. She called them (a video call, because they insisted to see if she was intact), and the tantrum that followed ruined her. They were worried sick, of course, and they'd already contacted (C/N)'s authorities and media... only to find out their daughter tricked them. Wonderful, truly wonderful. (Y/N) felt horrendous, beat, bad in every possible sense.

The numbness was kicking in.

She took the next day off. Called her parents. Somehow, they didn't respond. So, she called them again, and again. Nobody responded. Christ, what was going on...? They were online all the time, and the one time she needed them, they weren't there. The coincidence was too great...

No. Cioccolata couldn't have possibly reached out to them. They were in another country. If Cioccolata was that powerful, he wouldn't be dealing with (Y/N) like that. Unless – why, of course, he was a psychopath. Psychopaths don't make any sense. But still...

(Y/N) gave up. There was nothing she could do, except... run away? And let those two men do whatever they wanted to? Oh, she was in no state to bash her brains about it. Her head was too heavy, she couldn't burden it with more thoughts.

She was hopeless. She spent the entire day in a heavy slumber, akin to none before. Once she regained her consciousness, she realized, horror etched into her senses... that she didn't wake up in her room.

The light was too strong. Too... harmful to her sensitive eyes. They shot open, focusing quickly on their surroundings, all thanks to newfound panic. She was in one of those white rooms. She was on the surgical table. She was, she recognized quickly, she was in the hospital, and –

"Hello, dottore."

It was that voice. The one melody she despised more than any other. Right next to her. But she couldn't move her head, no, for some reason she was paralyzed –

"And goodbye."

The blade entered her sight just an instant before it landed on her heart. The agony forced out an inhuman wail from her. The shriek was a frail attempt of hers to cover up the pain. The sheer ache that took away her life. It made her limbs tense up, whitened her vision, forced her to wake up –

And she woke up. In her own room. And her heart was intact, alive like never before.

How long could she keep on living like this? It had only just begun, and she wanted to die already.

She got out of her bed and began packing her possessions. It took her only several hours to get ready. She had to leave this cursed place once and for all.

But all of her determination vanished.

This couldn't be happening. She closed the door to her apartment, and on the doorknob, there was a sticky note. On it, with an elegant handwriting, in – oh, the cliché – red letters, was written:

Come to the clinic as soon as you see this. I also urge you to take a look across the street, and spot a pair of young men seated in that restaurant. Their appearance is quite unusual, so you'll have no trouble spotting them in the crowd. Those are the hitmen who will take you out in case you don't come.

Take care, Cioccolata

She read every single one of those words with pure, unfiltered rage. What angered her the most was the ending note – take care, he said. He must've been smiling to himself, that bastard, as he was writing that. He must've been enjoying himself! (Y/N) wanted nothing but to see him die.

She turned around, her hair flipping as it followed her quick movement. Indeed, there, in the restaurant, were two particularly... odd men. One of them had long blond hair, and darker skin, and the other one had red, shorter hair. Both of them wore striking suits. And the both of them waved at her.

She clenched her fists in disbelief. So this truly was happening. She truly, once again, had no other choice.

Although it probably meant nothing, she threw a glance full of hatred at the two, opened her door and put the coffer inside. Slamming the door shut, then locking it, she was on her way to that hellhole of a clinic.

She turned around. The two men were following her. So, they really were keen on knowing where she'd go? Her sarcastic thoughts were so much louder than her heartbeat. Again, she was too calm –

And she stopped walking. Stared at that pair, even, with squinted eyes and an overwhelmingly hostile expression. How far could her spite push her? What did she even want to do?

She continued walking. What did she even do? She didn't know –

Her feet slammed against the pavement. Her aggression seeped all around her. She was turning senseless from the rage.

Even when she entered the clinic, the clean tile wasn't spared of her forceful steps. There weren't many people inside, she noticed – the night was coming. But where was that one psychopath she'd been looking for?

Someone tapped her shoulder and she turned, wide eyes, expecting to see him. Instead, the man who did so was one of the two who were following her. His visage radiated with tranquility, the tranquility she was in desperate need for. It shocked her, brought her rage to a halt.

"Strange, Cioccolata isn't here," he simply stated. His voice bore a calming note to it, something (Y/N) was sure to sense and luckily – take in.

"I don't really want to meet him either way," she responded with a forced laugh. She had to laugh. It released her of at least some tension.

"As for us, we didn't really want that guy to waste our time. And he's wasting it right now. Right, Tiziano?"

The other man, presumably Tiziano, nodded.

"But since you can't really go away, we'll have to wait here together," the red-haired man in front of (Y/N) explained. She nodded. They were so relaxed, and their relaxation got to her. The idea of escape seemed more... approachable, at that moment.

But before she could even figure her first step, he came. Forced her back into that state of –

Calm? Why was she so damn calm?

"Tiziano, Squalo, you didn't have to go that far, but your help is appreciated nevertheless," Cioccolata greeted with regality. The pair didn't seem too satisfied – and they even left without a word. Leaving (Y/N) alone.

She could run...! Right now! But those two, could they – yes, they could get her, dammit. She couldn't leave. But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were people all around her...

"Follow me," Cioccolata ordered, not bothering to hide his coldness.

It took (Y/N) all her strength to fight the embarrassment, but she began screaming. In the lobby, in front of everyone. As loud as she could. And everyone reacted.

The next thing she knew, she was falling. Then everything turned black.

Her consciousness slowly woke up her senses. Again, the white of the hospital, so assaulting and aggressive. This time, however, it was very real.

Secco and Cioccolata were in front of her. The assistant was meddling with some object in his hand, whereas the surgeon did something to the apparats beside a patient's bed.

(Y/N) screwed her eyes shut. She didn't want to be there... she wanted to postpone this, whatever it was, she just didn't want to witness it. There was a patient present, and he... he would probably die soon. (Y/N) recognized him to be the homeless man they once spoke about.

She moved her leg, making a massive mistake. She realized she was restrained, and that one slight movement made a sound – cluttering sort of sound – for she was tied to a metallic chair. Goodbye to her intentions, goodbye to her stolen time, Cioccolata and Secco now knew she was back.

The older man lifted a syringe, looking at its contents against the light. He then spilled it into the IVs that were attached to the docile patient's hand. (Y/N) observed him carefully; what was he doing?

He then asked Secco of the cameras were ready, to which the assistant responded with a weird sound, akin to his usual vocations. Sadly, that was when surgeon turned his attention to (Y/N).

"How long do you think he'll endure?"

"I don't know," she said. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Then, a different question. Do you think he would want to die?"

"If you intend to cut him..."

"No, before I get my hands on him. Do you think that he'd want to die, right now? While in his baby sleep?"

Did she hear him right? Her head was pounding, she couldn't focus on his words, let alone figure an answer. "If he wanted to die, he would've done it until now."

"You've got too much faith in his spirit, dottore. Maybe he's just a coward and he's scared to end it all."

She sighed. Why was he so damn insistent on talking? "...How would you know?"

"I don't know. Let's ask him, shall we?"

All of a sudden, he slapped the patient, successfully waking him up. The old man began making incoherent sounds, completely shocked because of the hit.

"Do you want to live?" (Y/N) could see the sadist's lips curl up in his newfound pleasure as he asked.

"...Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Panic slipped through his tone. "What are you going to do...?"

"It won't change the outcome of your state, surely. Does the intern disagree with her superior that this man has contained the urge to die?"

"If I were you... I wouldn't be so sure, because of... existentialism," she recklessly responded, only to be laughed at.

"Likewise, for I'm certain I can thwart your oh-so educated mindset," he discriminated, only to turn to Secco and tell him to start recording. The patient was oblivious to what would happen.

Before she could realize it, he was cutting. He began the operation. And the man... he was fully aware of it. Awake, conscious, his senses functioning perfectly. Therefrom came his screams.

A long cut across the stomach. Ghastly red came from the wound. His bodily liquids ran free down his stomach, painting it warm tones of life being spilled. The larger the gash, the stronger his screams. He was in such agony that (Y/N)'s very guts tumbled.

The doctor continued his surgery. He opened the cut, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The same hands he had once used to save countless lives, the same hands (Y/N) would once kill for. And he began his work, enjoying the desperate cries of his patient. This only resulted in...

Pulsating intestines. Their crimson coating glimmered underneath the cold hospital lights. Each and every drop of blood that descended, hit the drums of polished tiles. Lifting the organ upwards was Cioccolata, who rejoiced at his trophy: the man's deafening screams, and his contorted face – amorphous out of sheer pain.

The sight remained implanted in (Y/N)'s mind. She forced herself to watch it, even though she could've closed her eyes. She simply gave in to suffering. She no longer cared.

And oh, Cioccolata was a skilled surgeon. He knew where to cut to keep his patient alive. He knew what to do in order to maximize the experience.

But a human body had its boundaries. The patient's spasms died down, and his throat turned dry. Until he convulsed one last time, marking his early departure with one final wail.

"You..." (Y/N) was speechless. After the realization found her, after she understood the gravity of this entire event – she regained her loathing. "How dare you... do that... You're a monster. You're the worst man on this planet," she muttered. It was satisfying to admit that, but at a cost too high.

It took Cioccolata only a couple of steps to reach her, lift his hand and slap her hard. Throughout the dizziness, the ringing in her ears and the sharp pain that faded from her face, she made out his words.

"I'll advise you, not as a colleague, but as a friend, to stay silent. If you thought you were aware of the consequences, I've proven you wrong. Something you very much dislike, don't you, dottore?"

He glared down to the pits of her very soul, and what he saw was right. He perceived her numerous faults; he knew her better than her very parents, and unlike them, he knew how to beat them. "...true."

"So don't talk unless you're talked to. It would be wonderful to have you too quiver and crumble on the table," he commented, earning no reactions from the intern. He chuckled once he realized that. And (Y/N), she was aggravated.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Those venomous eyes of his widened. "Aren't you? You partake in a newer form of research. You may deem it however you want, but it is, essentially, uplifting man above all norms. A borderless, maladaptive curiosity. Quick to devour, quick to digest. You will always be left with an insatiable hunger for more."

She understood him. And she would forever bear the heavy knowledge of that fact.

"But what of morals? What of society and its rules? Would you like to answer?" He questioned carefully, as if he was probing her. As if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. And (Y/N) got to be listened to, for once – but she had nothing to say.

"You avoid those," she bluntly responded.

"I was hoping for something more poetic. You're always keen on making things different, outstanding. A pity, truly. You won't be able to do that anymore."

He would get rid of her. At last. She felt disgusted because she found solace in the fact, even for a moment. "You'll kill me. Is there anything –"

"You could do to live? No, you're in my hands, and I am an excellent doctor. Your own words."

She smiled at him. She had never felt such hatred toward another being.

"I promise I won't say anything," she mumbled through her clenched teeth.

"You will stay silent. I know you will." And he turned around.

"Secco. Bring her to room 79 and leave her there. We'll get to her once we clean this mess."

"Oowhooaa," the being gargled. It approached (Y/N) and released her of her confinements. She spotted the skin on her wrists to have turned dark, and once it was set free, she could feel it ache.

She couldn't resist Secco. Cioccolata was right in front of her, and Secco... Secco had his power that rendered him unbeatable.

So she let him, she let him guide her to her umpteenth death. She was as obedient as she could get. She just wanted this to get over with, for once – that was what her manic mind was currently telling her.

He pushed her in a dark room. There were no windows, for it was the basement, so once the door was closed and locked – (Y/N) was left in pitch darkness.

Every sound killed her. Gave her a heart attack, over and over again. Be it a footstep, be it the sound of instruments clinking, be it their voice. Every single thing impaled her eardrums.

She waited for it to get over. Waited long and patiently, shivering as her body grasped its final hours. She lived through her life all over again, multiple times, bid her farewells to her beloved ones. Prayed, that someone on the heavens above would hear her messages, and send them to the people she cared. Her monologues were pathetic, as she intended them to be. There was no need to hold back. She would soon die.

Then she started begging for something to occur. She could swear her ears would bleed soon – for she couldn't handle the announcements of the sensations. Always nearby, but never there. And she yearned for them to finally end, for her to live through her final agony, and finally die.

It was unbearable. She didn't want to die, she wanted it all to just end. But death was her only escape. Yet it wouldn't arrive...! For some reason, she was still waiting, for hours, for hours she'd been twitching and foaming, accepting her defeat over and over again.

And during the period when her thoughts died down and her body turned still, light entered her room at last. The foreign, the unpleasant light, that hurt her eyes – it would guide her to heaven, soon. Her mind enlisted a long line of metaphors, some of them making way into faint hallucinations. But all of them disappeared once he appeared.

"Dottore? What are you doing in here?"

Cioccolata's voice resonated with confusion. This in turn caused (Y/N) some confusion as well.

"You..." She croaked, and only then did she realize how dry her throat had been. How thirsty she had gotten.

"Yes, it's me," he responded leisurely. She saw his shadow enter and enlarge, coming closer to her. He helped her stand up, and (Y/N) noticed his nose scrunch up because of something – oh no. She realized once she heard she stepped into a puddle. Despite that, he seemed rather... peaceful. Cooperative even.

"Why am I alive?" She couldn't help but ask as he dragged her outside the dark cell. The air outside was so much better to breathe...

"Ah, getting overly curious again, are we, dottore?"

His tone. She didn't feel her legs for an instant. "Pardon," she answered reflexively. Her heart ached at this humiliation. It was slowly becoming integrated into her being. She wouldn't have it that way – or so she revolted inside her mind.

"That's no bad trait, mind you, dottore. I find myself indulging in my fantasies far too –"

(Y/N) landed a hit on his jaw. Pain shot through her arm – punching wasn't the most pleasant, but seeing Cioccolata in pain, hearing him wince, that was what gave (Y/N) life. He stumbled backwards, placing a hand on his jaw, and he glared at (Y/N) who showed zero emotions for his trouble.

"Is this assault, dottore? You're doing something illegal, you might get arrested," he warned, his calm voice a contrast to his bewildered expression.

How dare he, how dare he – (Y/N)'s mind turned into a whirlwind of protests, deforming her face into that of pure rage. She would see him pay. She walked backwards, fists balled up, ready to run away and grab anything to murder that monster.

"I won't fucking regret it, and I'll get you to jail with me, you monster," she growled, "or even better, I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you. I'll – kithl –" Saliva began dripping from her mouth, interrupting her tantrum.

Cioccolata took the opportunity to speak up. "It appears you've forgotten. There's two of us."

That was when she felt something heavy on her back. It had to be Secco. The very moment she felt something on there, she elbowed him multiple times, hitting his ribcage, and hopefully his face as well, for she was aiming there. She wanted to see him suffer.

"Go away – knock it off, go away," she began, then roared, "FUCK OFF!"

The struggle wasn't in vain. Her elbows hurt, but she managed to get him off her back. Secco staggered backwards and fell with a wince – into the ground, vanishing. (Y/N) noticed in the corner of her eye, Cioccolata, approaching with steady steps.

"Don't fucking touch me, don't you fucking dare," she wheezed, hands in front of her to defend herself. And that was all. She was paralyzed, because...

Because she had never seen an expression so grim, so monstrous. He relished in his own apathy and it ruined him. Scarred every bit of his already hideous face. It was far too overwhelming for her.

Then came his turn to be shocked. His brows twitched, eyelids spasmed, as his gaze went above (Y/N). She was quick to follow it.

Behind her stood a... robot, as it seemed, donned in golden and similar colors. Similarly, a bright yellow aura radiated from it – and from (Y/N)... as well?

She felt his clawed hand land on her shoulder. "Run," the figure ordered... in her own voice?

"I've had enough of you," Cioccolata then said, each and every word of his stressed with undivided hatred.

But (Y/N) trusted this being. The instinct was quick. It was a solution deus ex machina, but at least it was there. So... she gathered what had left of her strength, and she ran upstairs. She kept on running. Outside, into the peaceful morning. Somehow, she didn't know how, but nobody interrupted her escape. It was fine. She made it.

She collapsed in the middle of the street as she dialed the police. She couldn't help but wonder if she was burying herself into something even worse.

No. The quiet beeps ticked against her ear while she waited for a response. It couldn't get any worse.

#cioccolata #cioccolata x reader #secco #cioccolata and secco #vento aureo #jojo #jjba #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jjba part 5 #jojo part 5 #cioccolata headcanon #tiziano and squalo are here too uwu

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

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🐾Green Tea & Cherry Blossoms Are a Good Mix (Part 2/2)🐾

A/N: Hey guys, not dead! I’m sorry this part 2 took so fucking long to make, I had to rewrite it like six times because I could never really write something I genuinely liked. Each time I thought of a plot line for this thing, I would get half way through it and realize I hated it. But eventually, I was able to settle on something I thought continued the story nicely. So thank you for your patience, and without further ado, here is part 2!

~~~ The atmosphere was so tense it was almost palpable as Izuku and his friends and family stayed in the waiting room, praying that everything was going to be alright. It seemed as if almost the entirety of Class 1-A was in the waiting room of the hospital, the nurses originally a little frazzled by the appearance of so many pro-heroes in one place. But it was to be expected with two of the most popular heroes getting ready to become a family.

Despite his gratitude at his friends being there for him, Izuku paid them no mind as he paced restlessly along the length of the room, his breaths coming out in short pants. He should be in there with her, she was probably terrified, wanting someone to comfort her, but he couldn’t.

Izuku’s head snapped up when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the large metal doors leading to the delivery room, only to slump down again when the nurse ignored everyone in the room and moved through another set of doors to their right. Izuku loosed a shaky breath and started pacing again, clenching and unclenching his fists. He so desperately wanted to know what was going on. Everything had been going smoothly until a short while ago, the sound of the monitors flatlining ringing in his ears. Ochako and their baby were in distress.

Izuku had of course been worried when his wife had let out a panicked shriek that evening, only to find her water had broken, but even Ochako had comforted him and told him everything would be fine. He had been able to calm himself down and drive her to the hospital, believing in what she said despite her loud groans of pain and labored breathing. When they had reached the hospital, Izuku had flown through the paperwork so he could be by Ochako’s side, letting her crush his hand as she screamed. The doctors and nurses had even commented on how things were going smoothly, helping to appease some of Izuku’s nerves.

Until, it suddenly wasn’t going smoothly. The loud flat ringing of the monitors had caused Izuku’s fear to spike, but he had almost lost his mind when the nurses ushered him out of the room, only telling him that the woman he loved and the child they had made together were in distress, leaving him alone with his nearly crippling fear.

His friends had already been in the waiting room to support Izuku and Ochako, and had been surprised when Izuku had come into the room with them, expecting him to be with Ochako until he shakily explained what was going on. Ever since then, Izuku had not rested, constantly pacing as thoughts of the worst case scenario filled his head.

What if his wife and baby died? The thought had Izuku fighting for breath as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t lose them, not them. Ochako, the woman who had helped him from the very beginning when he had almost fallen flat on his face in front of U.A. all those years ago. The woman who inspired him every day and worked by his side, watching his back so they could both return home safely. The woman who made him feel like he was worth something, like he deserved to be loved no matter what happened. The woman who loved him when he couldn’t love himself, comforting him when he couldn’t save a life or when he felt he was not good enough. And their baby, the little bundle of joy they had been eagerly waiting for for nine long months. The baby that Izuku never thought he would have, making his heart burst with joy whenever he pictured his son or daughter crawling around the house, or standing on his feet and holding his hands when learning how to walk, or looking up at their parents with shining eyes while calling them “Mommy” and “Daddy”.

Izuku’s blood ran cold at the thought of losing them, of having the lights of his life ripped away from him. He began to hyperventilate as he paced, his mind running wild. What would he do if they didn’t make it? They were his sole reason for living, the people who breathed life into his heart and soul every day. He knew that if they died today that he would become a shell of himself, completely giving up. He was nothing without them, couldn’t go on without his family.

A hand on his shoulder stopped his plummeting thoughts and Izuku turned around to see Iida standing behind him, supporting him. Izuku’s eyes slid away from his friend’s concerned gaze. He knew he was acting like a crazy person, pacing and panting and clenching his fingers over and over again but he just couldn’t help it. Not when his wife and baby were on the line and he could do absolutely nothing to help.

“Izuku…, she’s the strongest person we know, she’ll make it,” Iida said.

Izuku nodded woodenly in response and kept pacing, gently pulling away from Iida’s grasp. Another nurse came into the room and Izuku nearly injured his neck with how fast he looked up, only to once again hang his head when he kept walking. He wanted so badly to help Ochako, to take some of her pain away. He would do anything to trade places with her, to take away the dangerous stress her body was under, anything to keep her with him. He grit his teeth and scoffed to himself, at his title of Number One hero. How could he be Number One when he couldn’t even save the ones closest to his heart? He felt so helpless in this situation and it was tearing him apart.

Another hand made him stop in his pacing but this time, the person who was standing behind him made his brain short circuit for a moment, temporarily dashing all of his negative thoughts. Bakugo growled at the look of surprise on Izuku’s face but gave the other young man a firm squeeze where his hand was resting on his shoulder.

“Listen here, nerd. Four-Eyes over there was right. Round Face is very strong and she will not go down without a fight. Don’t have so little faith in her, you know she will do everything in her power to come back to you, right? She’s never been helpless, and she would never just give up, not on you, herself, or this brat you two are having, you got that? So stop panicking so much and be brave, for the sake of your family.”

Izuku stared at Bakugo in shock at his impassioned speech but eventually pulled himself together enough to nod and let out a strangled, “Right!”

Bakugo grunted in response and moved back over to his seat beside his husband, Kirishima, who flashed Izuku the most comforting smile he could muster. Izuku nodded at Kirishima’s smile and managed to force himself to walk over to the chairs his friends were sitting in. Momo immediately stood from her spot and offered Izuku her chair, moving to stand beside her husband Todoroki, who stood behind the stroller that held their twin sons.

Izuku thanked Momo and sat down beside his mother, who immediately embraced her son in a gentle hug, her hand stroking his hair as she murmured words of comfort, fighting the tears that sprung in her own eyes at the sight of her son in so much distress. She was worried for Izuku. Inko knew how much he loved the absolutely amazing woman he had come to call his wife, knew it would destroy him if she didn’t make it. Her own heart throbbed at the thought of that sweet girl in pain, more tears spilling from her eyes as she thought about the life slowly ebbing from the normally strong woman. She had loved Ochako the moment she walked through their door all those years ago with Izuku, the girl acting like the daughter she never had. Inko’s love for her had only grown as her son had gotten closer to her, immediately bursting into tears when they announced their engagement. She couldn’t have asked for a better woman to be with her son, and the idea that she might not make it made Inko feel as if she were losing a piece of herself.

“It’s okay, Izuku. She will make it. She will be just fine. You know how strong she is, you know she always has your back and has always put you as her top priority, she will not leave you,” Inko murmured as she rubbed her son’s back, trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to reassure Izuku.

Izuku nodded and forced himself to take deep breaths and focus on what Bakugo and his mother had said. He could feel himself calming down a little, but the anxiety still reared in his chest like a tsunami, his leg bouncing as he held his face in his hands, trying his hardest not to lose himself. He could hear his friends offering him words of comfort and gently touching his back and shoulders, but his head felt like it was filled with static, his ears clogged with white noise as his panic continued to rise. He managed to force it down again, Bakugo’s words acting as a shield to prevent him from going completely insane, but he still couldn’t escape the dark thoughts that swirled in his mind.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Izuku muttered suddenly, standing from his seat and making his way through the clinic, his friends watching him in anguish as he left.

Izuku didn’t know where he was going as he walked through the halls, ignoring the nurses and doctors that passed him, just letting his legs take him wherever they wanted to.

‘Please, whoever is up there, please,’ Izuku begged in his head. He didn’t pray often, mostly because he just wasn’t a very religious man, but he knew he had to make an exception here. Even if nobody was there to help him, he had to try. No matter how far fetched the solution seemed, Izuku was willing to try anything to help his family. ‘Please don’t take them from me. You can have anything you want, take anything from me and I will be fine, but please spare them. Take anything but them.’

“Any news?” a deep voice suddenly made Izuku whirl around to find Ochako’s mother and father sitting on a bench in the hallway he was walking down, his despair keeping him from noticing the two people he had come to know as his second set of parents.

“Not yet,” Izuku said in a strangled voice, shaking his head as he spoke.

He saw the couple look at each other, tears in their eyes as her father nodded woodenly in response. Ochako’s mother was trying hard to choke back a sob, swallowing thickly as she looked at Izuku, who was shifting from foot to foot nervously. The sight made a small watery smile steal across her lips.

“How are you feeling, honey? Have you gotten enough water?” Ochako’s mother asked, making Izuku blink at her in surprise.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess,” Izuku lied. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I haven’t asked you before now, I didn’t even consider how you two must be feeling.”

Izuku’s response made Ochako’s father chuckle softly. “Son, you don’t have to apologize, it’s obvious you have other things on your mind. If you weren’t out of your mind with worry for our daughter right now, I would’ve wondered why the hell she married you. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Izuku relaxed a little and stopped shifting at her father’s words, the man providing Izuku with a little bit of comfort. It was funny to Izuku how he had once been scared of this man, intimidated by his sharp glare and tall figure when he first started dating Ochako, constantly worried about being beaten to a pulp if he did anything wrong. It had taken a while, but he had eventually warmed up to Izuku, relaxing around him when he realized how much Izuku cared for his daughter, revealing his lovable personality and boisterous laughter.

“Thank you,” Izuku mumbled, hanging his head as the weight of the situation suddenly made him feel drained.

Izuku gasped when he suddenly felt two pairs of arms wrap around him, the older couple pulling him into their embrace as they cried together.

“Whatever happens, Izuku, just know that we don’t blame you. We know how much you love our Ochako, and we know that you would do anything to protect her. When we gave you our approval in having our daughter’s hand in marriage, we meant it. We could not have asked for a better person to take care of her,” Ochako's mother whispered, her tears dripping onto his shirt as she pulled him closer. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

Izuku cried harder at her words, hugging them both back. He really was so lucky. He felt he didn’t deserve their trust, not when their daughter was lying in a bed, knocking on death’s door because of him, but he couldn’t deny that he felt better at their words of trust. They eventually parted, the tear tracks on his face mirrored by the two people in front of him.

“Come on, son, let’s go back with everyone else, see if there is any news we might have missed,” Ochako’s father said, placing a hand on Izuku’s shoulder to gently steer him back to the waiting room where his friends and mother were sitting.

Izuku nodded and led his in-laws back through the maze of the hospital, pushing open the doors to the waiting room with Ochako’s parents in tow. Inko immediately stood and met with Ochako’s family after quickly checking on her son again, embracing Ochako’s mother in a hug to consol the quietly sobbing woman. Ochako’s father took a seat along the wall of the waiting room, away from everyone else while Izuku made his way to a chair in between Iida and Kaminari, flashing them both grateful looks when they each grabbed one of his shoulders.

Suddenly, the large doors leading to the delivery room opened and Ochako’s doctor came into the room carrying a clipboard.

“Mr. Midoriya?” She asked, peering around the room at the various heroes and other families waiting for the birth of their new babies to be announced.

Izuku gulped and stood up as Iida and Kaminari on either side of him took his hands, while his other friends sitting around him grabbed ahold of his shoulders and arms, all of them touching him, grounding him so that no matter what news he received, he knew he was going to be taken care of.

“The surgery was a success and your wife is exhausted but otherwise completely fine,” the doctor said with a bright smile. “Congratulations Mr. Midoriya, you are now the father of a healthy baby girl.”

Izuku barely had enough time to release his held breath before his friends erupted into ecstatic cheers of joy. Izuku’s knees buckled and he felt himself fall only to be caught by Iida and Kaminari, who hoisted him back up to his feet. Izuku was showered in hugs and pats on his back as his closest friends celebrated around him, their eyes brimmed with tears and their faces split with beaming smiles. Inko and Ochako’s mother were sobbing against each other, their tears now of happiness they held each other. Ochako’s father had tried to stand only to fall back onto the bench, his hand running through his hair as his chest heaved, the weight of the situation falling away from their shoulders to leave everyone breathless with relief.

Izuku stumbled in the doctor’s direction and rubbed away the tears in his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.

“C-Can I see them?” He asked.

“They are in Room #3,” the doctor said with a smile, moving to the side to let him pass.

“Thank you,” Izuku said breathlessly before scrambling his way through the doors, leaving his friends and family to celebrate without him as he made his way to the door with the large #3 plastered on the front.

Shakily grasping the doorknob, Izuku opened the door and peeked his head in. There were still a few nurses bustling around the room, cleaning up the supplies and finishing up but it was otherwise quiet. Izuku finally turned his gaze to Ochako, and couldn’t hold back his sob of relief at the sight of her. Slipping into the room, Izuku shut the door behind him gently, not wanting to wake her. He knew that despite how much he wanted to hug and kiss her, she was dead tired and needed the rest after everything her body went through to bring their baby into the world.

Izuku nodded at the nurses in gratitude as they each made their way out of the room, giving the new family some privacy. Carefully approaching the bed, Izuku’s eyes scanned all over his wife’s face, convincing himself that she was indeed still with him. After he was able to clearly see her chest rising and falling with even breaths, the steady beeping of the monitor above her a further testament to her health, Izuku finally turned his attention to the bundled up babe on her chest, wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket.

He felt the air fly out of his lungs at the sight of the baby. Their baby. He wanted to hold her but was afraid of moving her. He honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to do in this situation and he was worried about messing up. He didn’t want to scare her, or worse, hurt her; he knew he was sometimes a little careless with his strength. He was so caught up in worrying over his situation that he failed to notice Ochako open her eyes.

“You don’t have to look so afraid, ‘Zuku, she won’t bite,” Ochako said with a bright, tired smile.

Izuku’s eyes snapped to hers and he immediately felt knee-wobbling relief course through his system. “Oh my gods, Ochako,” Izuku said in a strangled cry, moving to her side of the bed.

“Hey handsome,” Ochako murmured, closing her eyes as Izuku leaned down to shower her face in kisses, leaving no part of her skin untouched as his fear melted away into relief and joy.

“I thought I lost you,” Izuku said, tears streaming unchecked down his face.

“You’ll never lose me,” Ochako said with a smile, raising one arm to shakily cup his cheek. He immediately grasped her wrist and held it, nuzzling into her palm and pressing kisses to it with a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“Oh gods, Ochako, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

A sudden coo made Izuku look down to see that their baby had woken up, blinking up at him with dark chocolatey brown eyes.

“You can hold her, if you’d like,” Ochako said, watching Izuku as he took in the sight of their daughter.

“You think I should? What if I-”

“If you say that you think you might hurt her, then I’ll bust your balls,” Ochako said, making Izuku chuckle.

“You know me too well, don’t you Ochako?”

“Yes I do. Now, she is your daughter too and I want you to hold her. She needs to bond with you and I know that you would never, accident or no, ever in a million years hurt her.”

Izuku met Ochako’s determined gaze for a moment before hesitantly nodding. Listening to her carefully as Ochako instructed him on how to hold her, Izuku eventually learned how to lift her from Ochako’s chest and bring her into his arms.

He was a little stiff at first, still worried about carrying something so small, so fragile, so precious, but with Ochako’s encouragement, he eventually relaxed, staring in awe at the little life in his arms.

She was absolutely adorable. She had Ochako’s brown eyes but she had Izuku’s hair, a little tuft of dark green sitting on the top of her head. Izuku knew in that moment as he held her that he would do anything for this baby. She already had him completely wrapped around her finger and she hadn’t done more than look at him. He knew that he would give his life to protect her as he stared at her adorable chubby face, his protective instinct going into overdrive. This baby was his, his and Ochako’s, and he wouldn’t give her up for anything.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m your father,” Izuku murmured. “I love you so much.”

Izuku was sure his heart was going to explode when his daughter gave a happy gurgle and curled up tighter into his embrace, snuggling into his chest.

The sound of the door opening quietly made both new parents look up, to see their best friends quietly filing into the room.

“The doctor said we could come in just so long as we gave you two space and stayed quiet,” Kirishima said in response to Izuku’s silent question as they came in. Izuku nodded and looked back down at the life in his arms, his heart completely melting when she gave another coo.

“Wow…,” Kaminari said, his gold eyes wide with wonder. Jirou snorted at her boyfriend’s reaction but seemed no less enamored either.

Tokoyami was standing with Tsu at his side, a smile gracing both of their features while Dark Shadow cried silently in between them. Kirishima was smiling the widest he had ever grinned, his expression lighting up the entire room at the sight of the new family. Even Bakugo had a soft look on his face, mumbling, “Cute brat,” affectionately under his breath. Iida was holding back an eager Hatsume, but even the energetic engineer was silent as she used her quirk to get a closer look at the baby in Izuku’s arms. Mina and Hagakure were quietly squealing in the back corner of the room, their eyes wide with fascination.

The last people to file in were Ochako’s parents and Inko, all three of which were looking at their children and new grandchild with wide, tear-filled eyes and huge smiles. Izuku and Ochako knew their parents would want to talk to them privately eventually, wanting to greet Ochako after the whole ordeal and meet the newest member of the family one on one, but they were willing to wait for a moment, letting their friends be there for the new parents before they had time alone.

“Heh, thanks for coming, everyone,” Ochako croaked, her throat still sore from overuse.

“Oh my god, thank you for letting us be here!” Mina said as everyone else nodded their agreement.

Ochako smiled at them and managed to sit up a little with Izuku’s help. Izuku then gently handed their baby back to her mother, his face practically glowing as he stared down at their bundle of joy.

“She’s so beautiful, Ochako,” Izuku said, leaning over to kiss the top of his wife’s head.

“She sure is,” Ochako said with a sleepy sigh, gazing down at their now sleeping daughter.

“What are you guys going to name her?” Momo asked softly, tears in her eyes at the sight of the new family.

Izuku and Ochako looked at each other with bright smiles before looking back at their friends.

“Her name is Sakura Nana Midoriya,” Izuku said proudly. “Our little cherry blossom.”

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bitch-banshee · 5 years

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Goner

Prompt: Reader finds Derek on a hike while he's been wounded from hunters. She doesn't know about supernaturals so she thinks there's a serial killer. She takes him home and tends to his wounds.

This has been sitting for so long....sorry y’all.

Masterlist

Living in a town where the main attraction is the woods was a blessing and curse. Hiking was always fun, finding new places all the time by a simple veer of the beaten path.

Until today.

I had just passed a small creek when i heard a sharp shout and a thud. Against my better brain waves and ignoring every movie ever. I decided to venture even further to see what was going on.

"Uhh hello?" The gentle English tilt to my voice slipped out in my fear. "Is there someone there" i continued treading as lightly as i could. If it was an animal that was hurt the last thing you wanted to do was scare it. I came around a large tree slowly, it wasn't an animal.

"Oh my god!" I whispered and fell to my knees. It was a man, and he had 4 long slash marks on his bare back. "A-are you okay, oh my god, who did this to you, can you stand, oh my god" my hands trembled as they reached for him. Too many questions Olivia.

"Okay okay okay, i need you to stand, can you do that for me?" A grunt, we were getting somewhere. "Alright, wanna tell me your name?" He leaned heavily against me, and i was thankful for all the months I'd been hiking.

"Mm Derek" he slurred, his head lolling to one side. "Okay! Derek, I'm gonna bring you to my car okay? Is that alright?" Another grunt. Not a man of words i see.

"It's just over the hill, can you make that Derek, i need you to tell me, or else I'll call an ambulance to help" at this his eyes snapped open, "no hospital " it was clear, free of the slur from before. Okay, "cool, no hospital, i can work with that, you're lucky I'm a doctor, not for people but i don't think that matters" a dry laugh slipped from my lips.

I was rambling, and i knew it. More than once i was all to aware of his slipping consciousness, and the blood sliding over my fingers. But by some miracle we made it to my truck.

"Okay Derek, can you lean here for just a second, I've got a towel in the back" incoherent words slipped from his lips, an agreement i think. I'll never know.

Still with shaking hands, i draped the towel over his back. He hissed, I'd drenched it in water, because putting a dry towel on an open wound was stupid. "Sorry sorry" somehow i got him in my passenger seat. He didn't lean back.

Okay, so he's aware enough to not get blood on my seat. Great. With a shut of the door and a sprint to the other side. The car ride was filled with shuddering breaths and soft apologies. Someone had tried to hill him. With a knife it looked, I'd been paying attention to the news.

Animal attacks, and half found bodies, someone was slaughtering people so bad the only explanation was an animal. My mind churned, i wouldn't be going back into the woods until they caught that lunatic. If i found Derek, that killer could find me. I looked over with frantic eyes "still with me Derek" a soft hum slid from his chest to my ears.

When we pulled up to my house, getting him out was way harder than getting him in. "Okay Derek just lean over like that, I've got you, Oh shit" he slipped and i caught him twisting before we both fell.

"We're not doing that again, agreed" i didn't expect him to answer. His face was ashen, it made me nervous. With fumbling fingers and hot breaths i busted through my front door. We didn't make it to the garage where i had a table for this sort of thing. The kitchen it was.

With quick hands i sent everything onto the floor.

"Sorry Ana" i whispered to my housemate that wasn't in. "Derek, you there, i need you to lay on your stomach,I'm gonna clean you up okay?" I whispered, he flinched anyways.

Once he was laid down i ran to the garage. Pulling antiseptic and hydrogen peroxide. I heard a deep groan and raced back. He was moving, pushing his arms from the counter. "No no no no no" i pushed him back down.

"This isn't gonna hurt, but it won't feel good either, you ready?" A nod, halfhearted and heartbreaking. I pursed my lips in concentration, trying to still my wiggling hands. "Cmon liv" i admonished myself and tending to his wounds.

The cuts were long, deliberate and they weren't the only ones. Through careful cleaning and inspection there were bruises under all the blood. "Jesus. You still with me" i ran my fingers over his head, like i could a dog before snapping it back.

This was a person, flesh blood bones and brains. A muffled "yeah I'm here" and i almost cried out of relief. "AH words! Yes okay" i pulled out a needle and thread and stared "I'm gonna gave to stitch these, okay" a deep sigh, "okay"

After several deep breaths and some winces and grunts I'd put in about 150 stitches. "Don't move, I'm gonna get bandaids" i placed my hands softly on his shoulders, a drowsy murrp came from his mouth. Minutes later he was bandaged and lying on my couch. "Are you allergic to any pain medication?" I squatted before him.

"Derek, i can't give you anything for the pain if you don't tell me." The assertion in my voice surprised even me. "No, no meds, m'ok" he groaned and went to stretch before his face screwed up and his eyes popped open. Wide and scared.

"Don't panic, you're fine, you're okay" i soothed slightly "are you allergic?" I asked again. He shook his head, probably annoyed with my pestering. I nodded and stuck him with some morphine.

Maybe 20 minutes later Derek was fast asleep. I was thankful for the open floor plan because i could see him from the kitchen.

"No Ana i didn't go out looking for an injured man" i hissed over the phone. "Why did you bring him back?" "You've seen the news, people are dying, i couldn't leave him here. He looks like escaped from someone. You know what whatever, are you staying with Brenton tonight?" She humphed "i could be" i rolled my eyes, hearing her smug smile. "Do" was all i said before i heard Derek groan. "I'm gonna check on him, i call you later" "okay liv, be careful" i sighed and hung up.

Rounding the couch i saw he was still asleep but sweating. I put my hand on his head and he was burning up. "Shit" he was going to sweat the pain meds right out. I went to the fridge and took out some frozen corn before placing it on the back of his neck. He blew out a long breath, before settling against the chocolate brown couch. At that moment my stomach grumbled. "Let's hope you're alright while i cook" i said to his sleeping form, pulling my hands through my hair.

30 minutes later I'd made tomato soup and a grilled cheese when Derek moved. It took me all of four seconds to be in front of him. "Derek, hey, take it slow you're gonna rip your stitches" his green eyes were frantic, swiping over the unfamiliar room before landing on me.

"Who are you" he mouth settled in a scowl, eyes blazing green fire. "I-I'm Olivia, i found you in the woods. Y-you were dying" my voice trembled out, words flying from my mouth. I recapped the whole story of finding him and bringing him here and stitching him up.

His face softened, but not enough to not look intimidating "thank you, but i should leave" he made moves to get up. My hands slapped down on his still bare shoulders.

"LEAVE? You can't leave, you shouldn't even be able to stand. Your pain tolerance must be though the roof. You shouldn't be moving around for a few days Derek. Then we should go to the police. I wanted to take you to the hospital but you said very seriously in your blood loss haze no to that. I'm sorry, I'm talking a lot, but you can't leave." I kept shaking my head, hands squeezing his shoulder involuntarily at my hasty speaking.

"Okay" was all he said. Gruff and annoyed.

"Okay" i responded "i made soup, do you want some" he nodded slowly, his gaze so alert and sliding over my face it made me shiver. I made him promise not to move while i got his food.

Derek needed to leave. He needed to get out of this house with this strangely nice and gorgeous woman. His eyes slid over her face and he'd wished he'd remained on her eyes. The baby blues were captivating enough. But when he let his gaze wander to the small nose and full pink lips being worried by her teeth. He felt his nostrils flare when she walked away from him.

She smelled like rain and honeysuckle. Not to mention the unintentional way of her hips made him weak and willing to do anything for her. When she set the steaming food in front of him with an easy smile and an earnest nod he knew he was a goner.

"What were you running from?" She inquired, smelling of anxiety atop her natural scent. He didn't answer, he couldn't, clearly she didn't know anything of his kind or the hunters hellbent on ending his life.

"Cmon Derek, it's okay, someone tried to hurt you, no doubt a serial killer that would've cut you up and scattered you around the woods" her voice lilted in a way that proved not only did she know nothing about supernaturals she also wasn't from here.

"How did you know what to do" he asked a question of his own. She faultered, caught off by such a question.

"I'm a vet, i moved here a few months ago, and I've been unable to catch up with the clinic owner here" she shrugged and nibbled at her sandwich. Derek caught a whiff of sadness and immediately felt bad.

"Sorry, thank you for not letting me die" his voice was stiff, he knew the slashes had already healed. Unless they hadn't, by the twist of his back and the ebbing pain that bloomed being any indication. She was immediately up, swathing him in her scent again "don't do that, God you're going to rip those open" she was behind him.

Soft fingers searing over his back, warmth flowing from her to him. He humphed "you're a good cook" he tried to appeal to her, to ease her strong feelings of anxiety and lingering sadness.

"Liar, I'm a horrid cook, you got lucky we had the only thing i can cook in the house" she laughed and it was like windchimes. Floating through the air, she was so soft spoken it didn't hurt his werewolf ears.

Like stiles did when he rambled, getting louder and louder. Her voice thinned and quieted as more words flew from her mouth. He realized he hadn't been listening to what she was saying. Her mumbles quiet as she continued to look over and slide her fingers over his back.

Yup he was a goner.

———————————

@dylinski @terminallygenius @parker-potter @just-jordie-things

#alpha derek #derek hale #hale #derek #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf #teen wolf au #derek x oc!#tyler heochlin #tyler hoechlin #derek is such a dumb soft boi #someone tried to kill him and liv is gonna figure out who.#i just need someone to care for derek #i deserve hale babies

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

Text

Core Drive - Clean 1.02

A/N: Logan is adjusting and making progress in some aspects of his recovery, but needs a push with others. (I originally thought Stage One: Clean could be wrapped up in three parts, but I was wrong. 1.03 and 1.04 are already in progress)

Warning: this series will deal with drug use, depression, addiction, violence and other such topics. *please read responsibly*

Word Count: 4,393

Logan stood in front of the floor to ceiling window, shoulder pressed against the cool glass as he looked out over the Pacific. The calm surf swept over the hard packed shoreline in foamy swaths before receding back into the sea as the ripe orange sun sank slowly beneath the surface to paint ripples of color and light over the water.

You always wanted to get to the end of the rainbow… This looks like the place…

He stiffened, straightening his spine and clamping his eyes shut against the view before it could morph into the dry desert that he thought would be the last thing he saw on Earth. Breathing shakily in through his nose, he focused on the muffled crashing sound of the waves. I’m not in the park, I’m… He swallowed, turning to press his forehead to the pane, right hand coming up to grip the frame. I’m home, he convinced himself, the detached tone of the man who had tried to kill him retreating back into his memory. Opening his eyes he tore them away from the window to take in his new surroundings. This is home.

A knock at the door startled him, and he flinched even though he’d been expecting it. It’s just… He let out a slow breath as he combed a hand through his hair and crossed the room, socked feet silent over the tile. Three more knocks sounded in rapid succession followed by the call of his name. “Logan?” There was a hint of concern coupled with confusion. It’s okay… I’m fine. He twisted the lock as the call came again. “Logan, are you-“

He pulled the door open and away from your balled fist, poised to rap at the hard wood again. “Hey,” he ignored the worry that was spilling from your eyes, reaching for your hip to hook his fingers through your belt loop. I’m fine. This is all I… I just need her. He gave a small tug to pull you inside and into a kiss, closing the door quickly so that he could press you up against it. You gasped his name in surprise as his lips covered yours, your hands falling hesitantly to his shoulders, but you kissed him back, didn’t try to stop him. His heartbeat quickened, but for the first time in two weeks it wasn’t due to fear or panic or frustration or pain, and it spurred him on. Just need her, everything else is… He didn’t hold back his hunger, rolling his hips into yours, tilting your head with one hand at the base of your skull to deepen the kiss. His lungs began to burn but he had no intention of ending it, gladly willing to suffocate to stay locked in that moment with you.

But you had other plans, your hands flattening against his chest and gently pushing him back.”Hey, wait.” What? No, I- he shook his head, dipping back down to resume the kiss. You let him, just for a second, before pulling away again. “Logan, wait,” your breathing was uneven, your cheeks flushed and your lips slightly swollen from the way he had devoured them. “Are you…” you drew your eyebrows together and looked up at him, eyes skating over his face. Your right hand slid from his chest up the side of his neck, fingers brushing a patch of still raw skin before reaching the hair that covered his jaw. “Logan, are you okay?”

No. He flinched at your question, covering it with a smirk. “You tell me,” he leaned in, again capturing your lips and pinning you between his body and the door. Before he could take it too far though, he felt your palms cup the sides of his face. Your left thumb slid towards the corner of his mouth as you eased him backwards.

“Logan.”

He narrowed his eyes and swallowed. I can’t pretend with her. “Yeah?” He tilted his head to brush the tip of his nose behind your ear before lightly closing his teeth around the small diamond stud that you wore. But I can try.

You let out a small whimpering breath, dropping your hands back down to his shoulders and gasping out his name again. His little victory was short lived, though. You twisted away from the temptation of his mouth, again placing your palms on either side of his chest. Looking up at him, you wet your lips and reached up to rake his hair back and away from his eyes. He closed them under your touch, blinking them open and exhaling through his nose. God, that feels… Your lips twitched into a frown as you started to speak. “What’s going on, Logan, huh?” You shook your head, then raised one hand to gesture around the place. “Why are we here? Why...why did you ask me to meet you here, I don’t… I don’t understand, and you’re…” I’m what? “Why are we here?”

He’d only given you an address when he texted you, asking you to come when you could, giving you nothing else. You’d responded almost immediately, telling him that you were on your way without question, and within 25 minutes there you were. She just came without knowin’ anything… He cleared his throat and cast his eyes around the furnished but still empty space without really seeing it. Answer in the least amount of words possible. “This is my new place. Wanted you to-”

“Your what?” Your voice was laced with confusion, features displaying the same. You shook your head again and he watched your eyes flick over his face. “Logan, what do you mean? You… you moved out?” He nodded, silently begging you to leave it at that. You didn’t, raising one eyebrow and tilting your head. “Is that…” you chewed your bottom lip, fingers flexing to bunch in the material of his shirt. “Logan, is that a good idea right now?”

The fear that had been constant since he realized the severity of his situation in the desert plucked at his heart. No, of course not. It had been only twelve days since he’d left the medical facility at the Mesa, and while the topical salves and medicated soaps that he’d been given had sped up the healing process on some of his more intense burns, it was clear to anyone paying attention that the rest of him was healing at a much slower rate, the psychological damage of what he’d gone through making it nearly impossible for him to get a good night’s sleep and causing creeping bouts of anxiety at all times of the day and night. “It’s…” He closed his eyes, his father’s deep cut wrinkles set in a scowl flashing behind his lids. “Jim thought so. Said he’s…” Fuck, I don’t want to… He hadn’t wanted the evening to go this way, had just wanted to drown everything in you- in your hands on his skin, in the sweet sighs and breathy groans that you made, in the way that your body moved with his and the way that it felt to be with you. He sniffed. Too late, I’m drowning anyway. “Said he’s done dealing with me.”

A rush of air left your lungs and he saw your eyes swim as tears gathered atop your bottom lashes. “He didn’t...still doesn’t believe you. About… about what happened, he…” You took a shuddering breath as a droplet fell from your eye to roll down the soft curve of your cheek. “Oh, Logan, I’m… how can he… and Juliet? She-”

He nodded, averting his eyes. Can’t watch her cry for me. “She’s still gonna marry him. She-”

You cut him off again, your arms winding around him, the fingers of one hand spreading wide to slide up through his hair. “I’m sorry, Logan, I’m so sorry.”

Please, I just need… He closed his eyes and sighed, forehead rolling against the door over your shoulder. He hadn’t taken his hands from your body, though he slipped his fingers from the denim loops on your shorts, moving them up to the thin strip of skin visible between your waistband and the bottom hem of your top. They curled over your hip bones and traveled around to your back to gently press you closer. Please. He felt you take a breath as you turned to lay your cheek against his chest. The simple act broke what was left of his facade and he turned his head to bury his face in your hair.

Please.

“Please what?” You whispered, tightening the arm you had around his midsection, fingertips of your other hand still moving soothingly against his scalp.

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud and he silently cursed himself, curling his upper lip against the tears forming behind his eyelids. He didn’t answer, just clutched you more tightly. Please, I don’t want to talk about this anymore… You pressed your lips to his throat then, and he knew he didn’t have a choice. “Please just...stay.”

He hated the way he sounded, weak and broken… dependent. But he knew it was nothing compared to what would be left of him if you chose to walk away from him right now. Everyone does, they always do but I can’t...

His thoughts were cut short as you spoke. “You have me, Logan. I’m here as long as you-”

He didn’t let you finish your sentence. He didn’t want to know if you were going to say want or need, didn’t know if there was one that he preferred over the other. Want seemed to imply that the way that he felt about you was fleeting, easily satisfied and easily forgotten. Need felt too clinical, like you were only there to serve a function. Instead of either option coming out of your mouth, he covered it with his own, kissing you in place of trying to find the right word, even though he thought he knew what word that was. Don’t. Logan relied instead on the language that he knew best, using his entire body to tell you what he couldn’t articulate, telling you with each long, slow thrust, each grip he made on your thighs and throat and hips, each sigh and moan just how much it meant to know that you were there for him. That you’d stay.

“You have me, too.” He whispered it against your temple as the two of you collapsed into bed, tangled in one another, a pleasant breeze drifting in through the open window to lift your hair where it was splayed out over his chest, the soft strands lightly tickling his skin as you both gave in to exhaustion.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

A hot, dusty wind dragged through the valley, spinning the feather between Logan’s fingers like a weather vane. I think your father’s going to need someone a little more stable to take over. With a tilt of his head and a menacing quirk to his lips, William raised his hand and slapped the horse on the rear, palm smacking hard and loud against the animal’s muscles.

Logan jolted awake as the sound of the slap echoed in his ears, breaths coming in rapid bursts and heart racing to get far away from the desert in his dreams. It’s, I’m not… he panted in shaky gasps.

“Hmm? Logan?” He felt you stir next to him as he blinked in the cool, dark room. “S’okay,” your arm was draped over his abdomen but you brought your hand up, fingers walking their way until your palm could rest in the center of his chest. He quickly grasped it with his own hand, his long fingers sliding over your knuckles. “Shh, s’okay,” you said again, voice weighty with sleep but clear and present. “Listen,” your lips found a rough, dry, peeling patch of skin next to your stacked hands and you kissed him gently. “Listen to the waves, you’re home.”

The soothing sound of the ocean drifted in through the open window, and he focused on it’s steady cadence and the distinct pressure of your touch. Home. Your right arm was tucked behind his back, wedged between his shoulder blade and the pillows. Shifting yourself slightly, you extended that arm so that it ran the length of his spine. He let out a slow breath as your fingers reached for the hair at the nape of his neck, curling it around your knuckle before raking through in lazy patterns. I’m home and I- he flexed the arm that he had around you- I have her. Logan whispered your name as he closed his eyes again, tilting his face to press the bridge of his nose against the curve of your forehead before dragging it upwards and replacing it with a soft kiss. I have her.

You both lay quietly in the dark, fingertips moving against one another’s skin as you held each other, the whoosh and rumble of the waves carried in on the cool breeze. Logan concentrated on the warmth of your breath as it hit his skin and the beat of your heart pressed against his side, and you chased away the residual traces of the dream. He sighed into your hair and pulled you even closer, holding you even more tightly. “G’night, Logan,” You mumbled, lightly squeezing him back.

The thought he had the night before his trip, the first night you’d spent wrapped up in him until daylight, entered his mind as he felt your body ease back to sleep against his own: maybe she could love me… “‘Night,” he curled his fingers around your hand atop his chest until the tips of them brushed the cup of your palm. And maybe I could love her.

The waves and the sound of your even breathing pulled him back towards sleep but he opened his eyes to look down at you before giving over completely.

Not maybe…

.. .. .. .. .. ..

Why can’t I answer this question?

Logan liked getting results. He liked when numbers trended in the green, when investments paid off, when deals were made. He liked percentages and graphs- quantifiable data that illustrated the rewards of his hard work or pointed out places where more attention was required. He liked having clear objectives and receiving transparent feedback so that he could make the necessary adjustments to get the desired result. Analytical. Measurable. Calculable.

There were certain aspects of his recovery that applied to this way of thinking. By the second week the worst of his withdrawal symptoms had subsided. He still had a near constant headache, though it had dulled, aches and chills that came and went, and sudden plummeting depression coupled with irritability. But the shakes that had turned up on the third day were gone, and it had been at least 5 days since he’d been sick. Though thinner than he’d ever been when he arrived, he’d lost a few more pounds while his body revolted against the absence of poison in his bloodstream. But now that he was able to hold down food and actually had some semblance of an appetite again, he was back up 3 pounds. He could walk the entire loop in the courtyard without having to stop to catch his breath or wait for his head to stop spinning. Most of the track marks that dotted the crook of his elbow had faded, only the few that had been responsible for his last overdose remained. Weight. Distance. Numbers.

Everything else was like a minefield for Logan, and he had no idea of where to step. He liked solving problems, didn’t mind having to work through obstacles or scale walls when they cropped up. But these walls were invisible and he didn’t trust his footing so he stayed on the ground. The woman who led the Yoga sessions was always encouraging meditation and deep breathing, but Logan focused only on the physical attributes, improving flexibility by increments of inches or balance by an increase in the length of time that he could hold a pose. The minute he tried to open his mind to find clarity, only the darkest images came rushing in. Art therapy wasn’t his forte either. On the line of consumption versus creation when it came to art, he had a firm stance on the side of the former. He’d tried, dipping a brush in inky black paint only to drag it across his canvas and feel nothing but frustration over his lack of artistic ability.

The group sessions and talk therapy were no different in his mind, for that reason alone; any results that he may or may not be getting would only be in his mind. They wouldn’t be represented by numbers on a print out or compared to any set of standards. It was unclear what he had to do to achieve them, so he focused instead on maintaining minimums- answering questions without elaboration, and never volunteering anything on his own- and on changing the things that he could see. By the end of the third week he hadn’t made any headway on answering Ezkiel’s question about his goals for recovery. He stared at the low pile carpet, one fiber that was longer than the others catching his eye. What’s the answer? Arms crossed loosely over his waist, he listened to a woman named Dawn talk about her four year old son and wondered what she’d come up with- what were the things she wanted to challenge herself with? What do I want to change? He frowned at the frayed piece of carpet as though it could solve the riddle for him.

Dawn had finished speaking and the room had fallen into a lull following the clearing of Zeke’s throat. Oh, shit, guess we’re done. Logan picked his head up, figuring that he’d just lost track of how long he’d been staring at the rug. Instead of the shuffle of feet and chairs as people stood, he was met with the expectant eyes of all those in attendance. What..?

Ezekiel seemed to understand the confusion, and smiled. “I said, we haven’t heard from you in a few days, Logan.” No, you haven’t. He held up one hand, palm to the sky in invitation. “How are you doing? Is being here helping?” His hand fell back to the clipboard that he balanced on his crossed knees. It teetered precariously, but the man’s free hand was faster, jutting out to catch the board before it fell, his eyes trained calmly on Logan the whole time. Another set of eyes, Miguel’s, bore into Logan with heightened interest as they waited for his response.

“Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. Canned response at the ready, he answered Zeke’s question. “I’m havin’...” He shrugged. “I have good days and bad days, you know? But I’m gettin’ better.” It’s not a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either, and he wasn’t the only one that knew that.

Miguel clicked his tongue and waved his arm in a dismissive gesture. “Come on, man, when you gonna fuckin say somethin in one’a these things?” He leaned forward in his chair, legs spread wide, elbows perched on his knees. Logan glared at him from his seat across the small circle, fingers clenching tightly around his arms where they remained crossed over his lap.

Ezekiel set his clipboard down on his lap and turned to the man seated next to him. “Ortiz, go easy, alright?” Miguel met his eyes temporarily before they darted back to Logan. The rest of the group shifted uneasily in the tense silence that hung between Miguel’s spiced honey eyes and Logan’s dark chocolate ones, fidgeting and uncrossing their legs as they waited to see what would happen next.

Miguel ignored the warning, still honed in on his target, and Logan silently pleaded with his roommate to drop it. Leave it alone. As though he could hear his thoughts, Miguel’s eyes flashed and the urge to push the red button became too strong. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before digging in. “When you gonna say somethin ‘bout your fuckin nightmares, huh?” Logan felt his eyes widen and his nostrils flare as 6 heads swiveled in his direction, a cold clammy feeling creeping down his neck. Fuck you, Miguel. “Cause they’re not gettin’ any better man. You’re-”

“Miguel,” Zeke held up his hand, palm facing Miguel as he pumped it twice to calm him down. “Take it easy, brother.” Miguel heeded the warning this time, sitting back as he drew his arms into his lap, mouthing the word ‘fine’ and mumbling about ‘trying to help’ but keeping his eyes on Logan. Once Ezekiel was sure that he was done, he turned back to ask, “That true, Logan? What he says?” He adjusted his glasses and scratched at his coarse beard with the end of his pen. “You’re havin’ a hard time sleeping?”

Logan looked from Zeke to Miguel and shrugged, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, I,” he brought a hand up to comb through his hair. “I have...dreams sometimes.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few heads nodding, heard a few mumbles of ‘yeah’ and ‘me too’. Is that...normal?

“Psh, sometimes,” Miguel chimed back in, jutting his chin out as Zeke tried to silence him again. “It’s like every night, man, come on be real.”

He’s right. Logan’s pulse picked up and the migraine he’d been wrestling with since breakfast sharpened. Fuck. A bead of sweat made its way down the center of his back. I don’t want to talk about this.

“Sounds like your roommate’s concerned about you, Logan,” Zeke tilted his head towards Miguel, the bundle of dreads secured at the nape of his neck falling over his shoulder. “If you’re not sleeping well you’re not gonna be as healthy as you could be, not gonna get as much out of your time here.”

No shit. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose as another white hot flash of pain cut through his head. “Yeah, look, if I could control it I would, I just-”

“You could just...talk about ‘em, man.” Logan turned to face his roommate. The younger man was almost always in jovial spirits, always cracking jokes and leaving laughter in his wake. But his tone and the serious look in his eyes made Logan take note, realizing that he was genuinely trying to offer help. “Look you don’t have to go into detail or anything, but...shit I dunno, man, anythin’s better than nothin’.” He bounced his knee then and pointed at Logan, a brightness in his expression that boasted of an idea. “Last night’s wasn’t so bad, didn’t seem, least not after you opened the window and…”

And listened to the waves. The window in the bedroom that he shared with Miguel was farther from the water than his back at home, but the soothing sounds of the Atlantic and the humid, salty breeze that came in with them were enough to calm him, enough to get his breathing back to normal, enough to wash away the images that came rushing back now.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Logan walked down the beach beside you as the night set in and stars began to litter the sky the way shells did on the shore. Despite the cool temperature, he felt a warmth in his chest that only grew as your hand found its way into his. I have her...

You’re wasting your time. The voice came from behind the two of you, exasperated and tinged with annoyance. You know that, right? I mean-

Shut the fuck up. Logan tightened the hold that he had on your hand, fingers laced as securely as he could get them. You looked up at him questioningly, unable to hear the phantom following your footsteps along the sand.

- I mean, how long do you think it’s gonna be before she realizes?

Realizes what? Cold water rushed over his feet to lick at his ankles, indicating the quickly rising tide, the surf becoming noticeably more choppy as restless breakers crested and crashed atop one another. Logan turned to look over his shoulder to see the other man trailing about 2 yards behind.

The platinum light of the full moon reflected off of the inky black ocean to make the blue of his shirt stand bright against his pale skin, dark eyes shining like stars. That she doesn’t want you; that you’ll never be enough. He swirled the ever-full contents of his glass before lifting in it a toast with a self-satisfied smirk. So don’t bother.

Another icy wave washed up the shore but the chill in his veins came instead from the center of his chest as you dropped his hand. No, wait… His heart thumped hard enough to echo in his brain as he tried to reach for you. Wait, please, please just… a thunderous crash swallowed his pleas and his fingers closed around empty air as you pulled further away. Please, please… stay.

Listen to you, Delos. Look at yourself. He clicked his tongue and scoffed. Pathetic. His top lip curled as though he’d tasted something sour. I told you, you were supposed to die in that desert. Logan fell to his knees in the sand as you melted into the night. His own ghost bent down to take a seat next to him, so close that Logan could smell the vanilla notes of his bourbon as he took another sip and sighed. You should have listened.

He’d woken with your name on his tongue, mumbling it over and over. As though you’d heard him, as though you were right there in bed with him and had simply rolled over, your sleepy voice filled his ears, and he could almost feel your palm in the center of his heaving chest.

It’s okay, Logan. Listen to the waves. You’re home.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Later that afternoon, Logan thanked Miguel for outing him in front of the group. It was the first time since he’d gotten there that he’d opened up about anything that wasn’t skin deep, and while he hadn’t shared anything about what William did to him, how his family had turned their backs on him, how he’d fallen back into the patterns he’d found after losing his mother, it was a start.

And he didn’t think it was a coincidence that he’d started with you.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @lexxierave @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @drinix @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman @malionnes @bicevans @qhostboyyy

(if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know! )

#core drive #CD #logan delos #logan delos au #logan delos westworld #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #clean 1.02 #law school logan #logan delos law school au #please read the warnings #i am very proud of logan #and i hope you are too #miguel comin in clutch again #Logan's in good hands #logan delos deserved better

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fizzyxcustard · 5 years

Text

The Dream Walker (Part 1 of ‘Got Vampire?!’ Series)

Fandom: Sleepwallker

Summary: Part 1 of the Got Vampire?! series. Various characters interpreted as vampires. You are staying at Dr White’s sleep clinic after suffering from night terrors for most of your life. However, your dream takes a rather unusual and erotic turn. Will you find out who the stranger in your dream is?

Pairings: Scott White x Fem!Reader, Vampire!Scott White x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, night terror references, flashbacks, sexual references, smutty dreams.

Word count: 2292

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be added to my tag lists for a particular fandom, character, or even everything, please send me an ask or a private message and I will add you. This is the first part of an ongoing series; more characters will be added if the series shows to be interesting.

Music inspiration/listened to for this piece: Thunderstorm sounds (I know it’s not music, but I always have something on to help me get into the zone for writing)

Masterlist of fan fiction here

You could feel the nerves rising in you. Tonight would be the night you visited Dr. Scott White’s clinic to be properly tested during an overnight observation. The night terrors had been something you suffered from now since you were a child, and due to the severity and frequency, they had contributed to anxiety and depression as an adult. Your therapist, Dr. Holland had encouraged you to seek out Dr. White and book an appointment regarding your terrors.

What if you had one of your terrors in the clinic and woke all the other patients? Surely you would all have your own separate rooms. What if you fell out of bed again, and this time did something worse than break your wrist? The terrors and dreams left you exhausted every day and with the constant feeling that someone was watching you. Managers at the lawyers’ office you worked in were only so accommodating and understanding, and had gradually become annoyed at your level of sickness from work and late turns ins on a morning.

The evening was still humid as you walked across the car park and into the clinic; your clothes felt as though they were sticking to you and the air was becoming unbearable to breathe. Thankfully, cool air hit you as you walked into the centre, past the automatic doors and down the hall to the reception area.

“I’ve come to see Dr. White. I’m due to sleep over tonight,” you announced, smiling at the grey-haired woman sat down behind the desk. She looked up at you over her glasses, seeming a little put out that you had disturbed her from completing a filing task.

“Name, please?” she asked, her tone unmoving and without any emotion.

You gave over your details of name, date of birth and address, confirming your identity.

“Dr. White’s assistant will call you through shortly,” the receptionist told you. “If you could take a seat over there. It shouldn’t be too long.”

Why were you so nervous? You could feel your hands shaking and the small bag you had brought with your clean clothes and hygiene products felt like a lead weight on your shoulder. You backed away from the receptionist’s desk and sat down on one of the seats. Magazine covers looked up at you from the small tables situated between groups of chairs. Models with pure white teeth and perfect hair gazed out, making you feel inferior.

Soon you heard your name called and a young, smiley woman, barely out of her teens came walking down the sterile hallway. Her shoes squeaked on the floor and you noticed her blonde ponytail swing in time with her happy approach.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” the assistant said, grinning at you. “We’ve had a long day today, but thankfully, you’re the only over night stay. We can have a bit of a breather.”

All of your belongings were put into a locker for safekeeping firstly, and then you were taken into Dr. White’s office. There, behind an oak desk, was a good looking man, with short dark hair, a beard and wearing an open necked white shirt under a black suit. Instantly you felt your heart speed up again, and then as he looked up at you from his seat, offering a smile, you felt a blush hit your cheeks.

“I’m Dr. White,” he said, offering his hand. He had a deep, baritone voice that wrapped around you like silk. “Please, take a seat.”

You sat down, holding your hands tight between your knees and tried not to look at him too much. You would have assumed Dr. White would have been much older, easily gaining years into his sixties, but no, he was only around forty, the very first hints of his age showing at the edges of his eyes.

Dr. White opened a file in front of him which clearly had your name on the front and date of birth. “So? In your notes I can see you’ve suffered from night terrors since you were a child, and your therapist, Dr. Holland, believes this has led to anxiety and depression. Do you remember your dreams?”

“Ummm, sometimes, yes,” you said, chewing on your thumb nail. “But mostly I wake up screaming, scratching at my window or in a different part of my house.”

“And what do you normally see in your dreams? Anything re-occurring?”

“There’s a man in the shadows, and I know he’s after me. He won’t give up, but I never see his face. Sometimes I feel something painful on my neck.”

As you explained the scenarios of your dreams, Dr. White remained silent. The only other sound apart from your voice was the gentle scratching of his pen on paper as he updated your prior appointment notes.

“I just don’t know what he wants from me,” you whispered, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. “He won’t leave me alone, and then when I’m at work or walking to get the bus, I feel like he’s still there, watching me. I don’t know who this man is but he’s become so real and I want him gone.”

Dr. White sighed and dropped his pen on the table. “Your dream sounds like an archetypical scenario of you running from your problems. In your subconscious there’s something that you fear or you’re trying hard not to confront and it’s coming to you in the form of a man. What are your views of men?”

“Excuse me?” you coughed.

Dr. White smiled. “You won’t cause any offense here. What do you think of men?”

“Umm…” you began, feeling the most nervous you had done since walking through the clinic doors. “I get intimidated by men; I always feel like they’re never bothered by me because I mean so little to them. I’m overshadowed, dismissed by them.”

“When you say that you see this man, does he always appear in shadow? You mentioned never seeing his face.”

“Yes, he’s always in shadow or darkness.”

“Is your father in your life?”

“Yes, I have a decent relationship with him. I’m closer to my mother, but my father has always been there for me, supported me. Why are you asking me about men?”

“It’s the fact that this person who comes to you is a man. Most chase or stalking dreams are completely unknown characters. How about your personal life? Do you have a partner?”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything, Dr. White,” you replied, becoming quite anxious and frustrated at his questioning.

Dr. White noted your behaviour, sensing shame behind your movement. You had barely looked him in the eye since first contact, and the question about partners seemed to be making you extremely uncomfortable.

“I came here for help with night terrors, not you asking about my personal relationships,” you countered.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Dr. White replied softly. “I’m merely trying to understand what’s happening in your mind. Your therapist was unable to release your notes to me because of confidentiality, even between health professionals. So everything is a blank slate here. I can’t help you if you don’t open up to me. I’m in no way judging you.”

A lump stuck in your throat, and you looked away at the white wall. “I’m still a virgin,” you whispered. “I’ve just never met the right man.”

“And do you feel shame in that?” Dr. White’s tone was now softer, more concerned.

“I’ve always felt shame around myself,” you replied, crossing your arms for comfort and defence.

“Does this man ever talk to you?”

“Sometimes, and when he talks to me, I know that he’s not going to hurt me…”

Your words trailed off and you began imagining him, standing behind you. Sometimes you would feel his hands brush down your arms and a warm breath would waft across your neck. There was a tenderness about the man, a want and a need. But the terror became overwhelming, the terror of losing control.

Dr. White said no more, and escorted you through to the room that was to be yours. “There are three cameras in the room and a panic button next to your bed should you need us or there’s an emergency. Treat this like your bedroom; so if you fall asleep to music, put your headphones in. There’s a television should you find that that soothes you to sleep.”

“I normally have a shower and a hot drink before bed,” you told him.

“There are showers just down the hall and we have a kitchen where drinks can be made. We want to replicate everything exactly like a normal environment you sleep in. The only difference is, we will attach electrodes to your scalp which will read your brain waves through an electroencephalograph, or EEG.”

***

By the time that you had showered and drank your hot mug of tea, you bid goodnight by Dr. White’s assistant. They had even allowed you to wear your own pyjamas. You got into bed, noting that it was just like a normal hospital bed. It was fairly comfortable, although the electrodes dug into your head when you turned against the pillow. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be exactly ‘normal’.

It took you about half an hour longer to fall asleep than it normally did. Being in strange places always made you nervous, thus sleep didn’t descend quite so swiftly.

However, the dream began the same. You were walking down a street, darkness surrounding you. Small pockets of light shone from the street lamps, highlighting houses. You walked further, noting that you had no shoes on.

***

Scott sat in his office, comfortable in his high backed leather seat. There was a smile between his lips, a content smile. He closed his eyes, resting back into the comfort and allowed his mind to drift, sailing away to where he knew his lover would be. His untouched, pure, lover.

Hunger was rising in his belly, for both energy and to sate the rising lust. He whipped through darkness, his eyes burning through the shadows, until he saw a figure bathed in white. “My love,” he whispered. “You found me.”

Normally his lover was scared, unable to turn to face him. She would remain with her back to him and there he would feed, sinking his teeth into her warm, inviting flesh. That energy, that life force, it kept both of them alive. Her life force and blood ran through his veins. Connection, forever.

Tonight was different. She was dressed in white, unlike the usual dark colours. An aura was bright around her. And as Scott got closer, she turned. Finally, he saw her face. And she saw his.

“My love,” he whispered again, cupping her cheek. Oh, that warmth. He could hear and smell her delicious life force, pulsing. He kissed her, drawing his arms around her where they both felt their energies pour into one being, and they disappeared from the darkness.

***

You were lying on a bed, encased in the stranger’s arms. But he wasn’t a stranger any longer. His silver eyes would not leave you and his hand began to drift up your inner thigh towards your womanhood. “You’ve waited all this time for me?” he whispered.

“Only you,” you whispered in response and kissed him, pulling him down to you.

The heat was rising as he kissed down your body, his beard tickling your flesh. Over your breasts, your stomach, navel and down to that place you had kept pure, just for him. You arched your back as waves of pleasure crashed through you. To think that all those years of terror had come to this. If only you had turned around sooner to see his face.

Then his lips began caressing your neck, his tongue licking over your vein. He could feel the pulsing, jolting through the tip of his tongue. If there was one thing he wanted, it was you. To be part of him for all eternity, turned and cleansed by him.

“I’m yours,” you told him. He was still nuzzling hungrily against your neck. “Take what you want, my love.”

He drew back, looking upon you. “Are you sure? There is no turning back once we have gone this far.”

“I would never want to turn back and be without you,” you replied.

Your hand caressed his cheek and he leaned in to your touch, his lips just touching your palm. “I’ve waited for you for so long and now we can be together,” he replied, a tear falling down his cheek.

The pain stripped through your neck and caused fire to roar in your veins. His teeth pierced through your skin, releasing the energy that would keep you alive for eternity. His hard, heavy body remained against you as a shield and as a guard, making sure you could not move from his hold. But you gave yourself freely this time.

Then complete darkness.

***

The next morning, Dr. White’s assistant knocked on the doctor’s door. Nothing. He should have been in his office, examining your results. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and proceeded to walk into the office, only to find that he wasn’t there. “Dr. White?” she called.

Suddenly a nurse shot into the room. “Kayleigh, the patient from last night is missing.”

Both the nurse and assistant raced into your room, astonished to find that you were not there. No one had seen you leave and the door had been locked all night.

“What’s that?” the nurse asked, approaching the empty bed. The electrodes were splayed across the pillow and just below them, in the spot your neck would have rested was a small droplet of blood.

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#fanfiction #vampire #night terrors #dr scott white #sleepwalker #dr Scott white x fem!reader #Scott white x fem!reader #vampire!Scott white x fem!reader

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starblazerm31 · 4 years

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Azalea/Imalia Apprentice April Asks #2

Man, I did myself in on this one! It only took me the whole week! So many "Whoa...I haven't come up with that yet..." But that's the point of these asks! To develop characters! Thanks so so much to @samjmorgan, @mechaspirit, and the several anons for sending me asks! I hope you like my answers! Once again, novel below the cut. XP

1. What does your character feel when they see their LI for the first time each day?

Julian: He's always awake before her, but won't move until she does. As soon as her bleary eyes see him, she smiles; that warm blossoming feeling filling her chest. Her beautiful disaster is alive, well, and right where she left him. She wraps her arms and legs around him and pulls him in tight for a full-body hug. "Good morning, angel," he whispers to her.

Lucio: Their connection usually has them waking up at the same time. Even with a messy bedhead, Lucio makes Azalea's heart flutter the moment she lays eyes on him. His skin is warm and soft, and it gets cute little goosebumps as soon as she touches him. Lucio. Her Lucio. *Que make-out session.* Morning breath? Meh, who cares.

Her sleep is sporadic due to her nightmares, and she wakes up multiple times during the night. Every time her eyes land on Asra next to her, her heart rate slows down and she drifts back off to sleep. When it's finally time to get up, however, she will whimper and pull him close, letting her deep emotions and love spill over to him. He's been the longest constant in her hellish life, and she's just so happy to have him next to her. To be able to call him hers.

2. What things does your character love about their LI?

Julian: She LOVES how smart he is. She feels like she can have an actual intelligent conversation with him about absolutely (well...almost) anything. He askes intellectual questions about magic and she is more than happy to go on a spiel about the little intricacies and science behind magic. And she loves to ask him about medicine and how the human body works. It ends up benefitting both of them in their respective professions. She also loves how he towers over her but will fall to his knees in an instant.

Julian loves Azalea’s stubbornness. Once she gets her mind set on something, it’s gonna go her way. (she snagged him, didn’t she?) He absolutely loves it when she throws off all of her inhibitions and goes on a night run across the rooftops. He can’t keep up with her when she’s elevated. The sky is her playground, and it makes her look even more angelic to him. He adores the way she speaks to him and holds him when he’s feeling stressed. She’s so soothing and comforting, and she won’t let him go until he asks.

Lucio: She loves his energy and excitement. He's not the smartest pickle in the jar, but he can match her when it comes to being active. Running races, playing sexy hide-and-seek, sparring...he's the only person in the world who can wear her out. And he has been the most encouraging person to her. His wonder and awe when he watches her do magic makes her feel as awesome as he says she is. And he loves it when she reads one of her new stories to him. He sits there, riveted by the images she's weaving with her words.

Lucio loves how completely and utterly kind she is to him. She actually listens to him and encourages him, believes in him. No one has ever done that before.

Imalia loves everything about Asra. She loves how beautiful his magic is. Watching him cast leaves her utterly spellbound. The glowing swirls, the glittering lights, the musical trills his magic makes. It is unlike anything Imalia has ever experienced. She loves how she can talk about anything and Asra immediately seems to understand. Magical theories, sacred geometry and leylines, blessed and cursed artifacts, enchantments, ancient incantations...he is just as invested and curious as she. She can teach him a new spell and he can get it right almost immediately as well as understand it. And he is the most calming presence she could be around. If her anxiety is flaring up or if she had a particularly nasty nightmare, Asra can calm her down within minutes.

Asra loves how giving and encouraging Imalia is. She spends so much time learning new things only to turn around and share her knowledge with even more enthusiasm. She simply can't keep knowledge to herself. And she would gladly give her life to save someone she loves.

3. What things about their LI annoy them?

Julian: He can still be a spastic dumbass. And sometimes he will go on these long tirades about how he just doesn't deserve to be with her. She will let him get his grievances out, and then calmly explain WHY he is wrong. And he has this really annoying habit of leaving his dirty socks right beside the laundry hamper. And Julian tends to leave cups of cold, unfinished coffee just lying around the place. As for Azalea herself, she tends to think that he doesn't always understand what she is talking about, so she will spend too much time re-explaining a concept he already knows. And sometimes she can be a little to micro-managey when it comes to stuff around the shop.

Lucio: As above, spastic dumbass. He also has absolutely NO idea or sense of money management. And he can be lazy. And if she's spending too long on her shop's expenses/cleaning, or if she's reading and not paying enough attention to him, Lucio will start to whine and flop around like a little kid. Azalea herself still has a few trust issues with Lucio on certain things like money. He’s so used to lavish things and sometimes needs reminding that Azalea’s shop doesn’t bring in THAT kind of revenue. Azalea KNOWS Lucio doesn’t understand what she’s talking about sometimes, so the re-explaining isn’t so bad. But it does bore Lucio. He can’t help but feel put-out with Azalea’s micro-managing. He wishes she would just sell the shop and move them back into the Palace since she is Court Magician.

Asra still likes to run off on his own without giving any specifics about where/what he's doing. The running off is fine, but Imalia would at least like an idea of what he's planning. Just in case he might need some help. Her worst fear is for him to get in trouble and need her, but she isn't there.

4. Who does what chores?

Julian: Azalea handles the cooking, laundry, and cleaning the floors. Julian handles the dusting (putting that height to good use!) and the dishes. They both do random little fix-its around the shop, but Azalea is better at it since she had spent three years randomly alone. Azalea loves Julian's expressions when she climbs on the roof and hangs upside down to fix a shingle or the shop’s sign. He’s trying to catch a glimpse of his favorite boob.

Lucio: (assuming he is no longer Count and lives with her at the shop) OMG this lazy bum. It took Azalea a while to get him used to the idea of washing his own clothes, and even longer to teach him how to do it right. She still takes care of cooking (he is NOT allowed!) and the floors, but they share dusting duty. And she taught him how to fix things. The first time he got a chair to stop wobbling, she had to stop him from throwing open the windows and yelling "I AM THE FIX-IT KING!!!" to the entire neighborhood. She also gave him a job as shop courier. He needed to learn how to earn his living. Also took him a while to figure out how to deliver orders without breaking anything. 😒

Well, Imalia has servants at her estate, so she doesn't really NEED to do any chores. But she's not the lazy type, and will at the very least cook for herself and the entire household. She likes seeing their faces when they taste her latest atroci-uh dish. In seriousness, she's a pretty decent cook. Asra will usually gather reagents and ingredients they will need in their magical research. As far as household chores, he keeps the windows clean. He loves how the sunlight filters in through the stained glass.

5. Do they prefer to stay at home, or do they like to go out?

Julian: Being the working stiffs they are, they will usually stay at home. But a few times a week they will head down to the Rowdy Raven for a good time, or visit with their friends. Azalea does eventually become Imalia's apprentice again and gets tutored three times a week; they will usually go out somewhere as a group afterward.

Lucio: Lucio, being the exhausting booger he is, has to go out and mingle with people. So they will typically go out when the workday is done. When Azalea becomes Imalia's apprentice again, Lucio is encouraged to do ANYTHING else but come along. (Imalia and Lucio dated for three years, and that ended badly; so she tries to steer clear of him) It doesn't always work, however, because Lucio is nosy and he remembers how well Imalia's head-of-household Ben made desserts.

Since she and Asra both like to travel, they typically go out somewhere. Even if they stay at home they will be traveling the Magical Realms.

6. What are some little things they do for each other throughout the day?

Julian: She will make him coffee and prepare him lunch to take to the clinic with him. She will leave him little notes in the lunch telling him how amazing he is and how much she loves him. If he is working late, she brings him dinner. He will tie little notes to Malak's leg for her to receive, or bring her flowers when he gets off work. He has also become the new bearer-of-pumpkin bread. When he gets home, she will sit him down in a chair and give him a shoulder and back rub or draw him a nice hot bath.

Lucio: She keeps a full cookie jar for him. She keeps the pantry stocked with food he likes and will cook it just perfect for him. She also whispers dirty little nothings in his ear and will give him sneaky butt pinches. He needs to know he's wanted, after all! If his prosthetic is bothering him, she will help soothe the irritation. He will give her random shoulder rubs and neck nibbles and will make sure Corva's food and water are always full. He also likes to blow most of his money on random gifts for her.

She will paint Asra's nails while telling him lots of "no shit, there I was" stories. Smoking green with him while reading, going on long walks with him, and constantly praising him. Asra will wash Imalia's hair when they bathe together and give her amazing scalp massages to ease away tension. He also loves to brush her hair and come up with new braid configurations for the top of her head.

7. What are some private jokes they share?

Julian: There was this one time when they were adventuring overseas and they wanted to grab something to eat before they set out to investigate this temple that Imalia had told them about. It was supposed to have this magical jar that could hold a human soul. The only vendor in the town they were in sold this strange grilled fruit on a stick that smelled absolutely awful. They still ate them and it didn't taste too terrible. But it strangely filled them with energy and they made it through the temple just fine. Now when they see kebabs, they look at each other and snicker. Also, when they pass a haberdasher and see a nice pirate-style hat, Julian will pass Azalea a quirked eyebrow and grin.

Lucio: Whenever Azalea hears a goat bleat, she will glance to Lucio and snicker because his laugh sounds exactly the same. Lucio will laugh like a madman when Corva will imitate Azalea's frustrated "Fucking hell!" He also taught her how to say "Mama's ass" in his accent. Lucio: "Ey, Corva, what's the solution to this problem?" Corva: "Mama's ass!" Azalea: "OMG!!!" *blush* Corva: "Fucking hell!"

She and Asra have run afoul of a few bandit gangs with the most ridiculous names. So now when they hear of bandits causing trouble, Asra will say "Is it The Fighting Dragon's Blood Macho Men again?" Imalia: *snarfs her drink* "It might be the Serpent's Hand." Asra: *laughs out loud* Faust: ?

8. What are some embarrassing couple stories?

Julian: One time Azalea was bringing him lunch at work, and the thank-you kiss became rather intense. A patient came in, and Julian realized that he had gotten...ahem...excited. He had to come up with a lame excuse to give himself time to calm down.

Lucio: One time he and Azalea were toking up in the loft of the shop when Nadia came in. It was a new strain that was really potent, and Lucio couldn't hide the fact that he was high as hell. When he tried to follow Azalea down the stairs, he lost his balance and tumbled the rest of the way down, ending up in a pile at Nadia's feet. He instantly blurted out in a loud exaggerated whisper: "Azzie, don't tell Noddy that I'm high!!" Nadia: "Don't worry Lucio, I will never find out." Lucio: "Good. Hey, Azzie, are we gonna screw when she leaves?" Azalea: "....Omg...I am so sorry, Nadia." Nadia: "It's alright, you took him off of my hands after all." (I'd draw this if I could XD)

One time she and Asra started "getting down" in her study. They were so focused on each other that they didn't notice Ben come in and set down a tray of refreshments for them. When they were done, Imalia noticed the tray and said "How long has that been there?" Asra: "I don't know...I swear it wasn't there before...we..." Imalia: "...Shit, Ben, why do you have to be such a ninja?" They couldn't look him in the eye at dinner that night.

9. Is their relationship open or exclusive?

Julian/Lucio: Exclusive. Azalea gives her heart to one person only. Her love envelopes her lover and all she longs for is them. More than one person would feel mediocre and cheap because she would have to divide her love. She loves with everything she is. And it turns out that both Julian and Lucio get really jealous at the thought of sharing her.

Imalia and Asra are exclusive and deeply committed to each other; but they would have a threesome if they met someone who struck both of their fancies. That hasn't happened yet, however.

10. How often do they need to be intimate?

Julian: They need to be intimate at least twice a week. Jobs can be stressful, and they need to relieve that stress. Azalea is all too happy to indulge Julian's desires, and he is happy to service her needs in return. He's amazing at following direction. ^_~

Lucio: Sex is a daily occurrence with them. Rarely, they will have had such an exhausting and busy day that sex just wasn't in the schedule...but rarely. More often than not, it's vanilla sex. But they make an effort to have several spicy sessions a week. There have been weeks where they went at it a little rough at the beginning, and they were too sore to keep up their normal routine. Those were sad weeks.

At the very least they have sex once a week; however sex can happen at the drop of a hat with these two. Anywhere, anytime. The longest sessions happen in the Magical Realms where they can explore and experiment for as long as they want.

11. Have they ever fought?

Julian: Over little things, more than most. Things get tense with two people trying to be in a committed relationship. Something as stupid as “geez, dirty socks on the floor AGAIN?! The laundry basket is right here!” can, unfortunately, escalate into a rather heated argument about something entirely different. But dammit, we are COMMITTED!!! (I’m NOT leaving this bitch/bastard because I LOVE them, and we have been through WAY too much SHIT for something as amorphous as emotions to drive a wedge between us!) Cue some time apart to get their thoughts and emotions together and a very teary-eyed snotty apology.

Lucio: Yeah, mainly over money management. Lucio always thought the word "budget" meant "cheap." He didn't understand that you can't use the money for shop repairs to buy that gaudy cloak he saw in a store window. He also didn't know that shops had to buy the things they sell. He thought store wares just...appeared.

Asra gets irate at the risks Imalia is all too ready to take at a moment's notice. He wants her to stay safe and it's quite hard when she suddenly decides that she has to drain a quarter of her blood as a reagent for a spell that will lift the curse on a village. She thinks that she will be alright since she merged with the Lord of Nightmares. But Asra reminds her that Lon is a chaos goddess and might not save her.

12. Describe their perfect date

Julian: It's been busy at the shop and the clinic, and Azalea and Julian have been wanting a date night for a while now. Azalea closes the shop early and prepares a picnic for the two of them. Meanwhile, Julian closes his clinic and hauls ass down to the Rowdy Raven to pick up a special bottle that he ordered from Barth. He gets back to the shop just as Azalea is tucking everything away in a basket. Arm in arm, the walk to the hidden garden. They spread out a blanket and set everything up. Under the glow of the Deadly Starstrand, they feed each other and enjoy that entire bottle. They giggle and snuggle together, talking about the "remember whens" of their first meeting. Azalea then pins Julian against that crumbling wall and enacts her secret desires of that night long ago.

Lucio: Lucio got permission from Nadia to set up a special rendezvous in the palace garden. (She adores Azalea and helped him come up with the idea) A table with a magnificent spread was set out for them with a chilled Golden Goose. They spent the evening laughing and talking, Lucio telling Azalea stories of his past glories. Azalea confesses that she didn't think much of herself or her talent until he came into her life. Lucio spends a while kissing up and down the length of Azalea's arms, showering her with praise. He then takes her up to his old wing via the portal in the garden and gives her the full Count experience. ^_~

There is a meteor shower tonight. Imalia sets up a tent (looks small, but is huge inside) in a clearing in the Dark Forest that has all the trappings. A magician's feast, different types of drinks and wine, and big fluffy bed covered in tons of vibrantly colored pillows. Outside, they lay in the grass and stargaze. Imalia tells Asra the history and mythology behind the constellations overhead and what significance they have to different kinds of magicians and mages. Asra already knows all this, but he loves to hear Imalia talk. They watch the shooting stars flit by overhead, and both exclaim when a particularly bright one passes by or makes a loud popping sound. They then retreat into the tent where they eat and weave light magic in the air to entertain each other. Then Asra pulls out a stick of that special incense and the rest of the night is spent rolling in those pillows.

13. Do they have an evening routine?

Julian: When they are home for the night, Azalea will make some tea for them and Julian will pick out a good book. They will sit and read together for a while before drawing a hot lavender bath. They will wash each other and cuddle until the water gets cold. Then a cup of chamomile before going to bed. Fun times may occur at this point.

Lucio: Azalea will spend some time teaching Lucio how to read for as long as she can keep his attention. She will then reward him with some intimate time followed by the lavender bath. She will pour him a glass of wine and tea for herself, and they will talk and tell each other jokes and stories until they fall asleep.

They don't really have a routine; the only routine thing about their evenings is the fact that they go to sleep. They are usually working on experiments together, exploring, reading, drinking, or playing games.

14. Describe a "paid scene" with your character and their LI

Julian: Julian and Azalea are getting ready to attend a soiree at the palace. Azalea helps Julian button his cuffs and slips in some sweet kisses to his wrists. She then tells him to hold his arms up and don't move. She slowly buttons up his shirt, leaving smoldering kisses up his chest as she fastens each button. Julian is a blushing mess, each kiss making him hotter and hotter. When she closes the final button at his neck, she gives him a mischievous love bite right below his collar. She then tells him to help her fasten the back of her dress. He gets a wicked glint in his eye and does as she says, but throwing in a little bit of the temperature magic she had been teaching him. Icy touches make her shudder while hot touches make her groan. He finishes off with a blazing kiss to her shoulder which he drags up her neck and ends with a playful nip to her earlobe.

Lucio: An aerial dancing troupe had performed in the palace earlier that evening. Azalea talked to Nadia and got the troupe to leave their rigs up. The room seems to be littered with draping curtains and ropes. Azalea easily coaxes Lucio into the room and ties a blindfold around his eyes. She tells him to count to ten and then come find her. He does as she asks, but pouts when all he can see are the curtains and ropes swaying. He creeps around each one, listening for her. He hears her giggle and sees some of the curtains move. He dashes forward to find her, but she isn't there. She leads him around the room like this for a good while until finally she spins down from one of the curtains and hangs upside-down in front of him. She gives him that classic Raimi Spider-Man upside-down kiss. He asks her what else she can do from that angle. She replies by sensuously touching him while swaying from the fabric. Eventually, all riled up, he plucks her down from there and hurries off with her to her room.

Imalia tells Asra that she respects the Arcana, but doesn't really hold much reverence towards them since they seem rather useless to her. Asra pulls out his deck and offers to give her a reading. Imalia sighs, but agrees. He lays out three cards and flips one. Just as he suspected, it's The Empress upright. He listens to the card and tells her what it says. "Of all the opportunities you've had, there is one you have wanted more than any other. It scares you, but it's embedded so far down inside you that it's part of who you are. You want more than anything to be a mother." Imalia starts, her face turning a deep red. "It's expected of you," Asra continues, "so a large part of you wants to reject the idea. The idea pins you down to your royal bloodline. But that isn't why you want it. You want it because you want to share the bond that you had with your father with a child of your own. You want to teach them, encourage them, and watch them grow into something amazing." He puts the cards away and looks at her mischievously. "What do you think of the Arcana now?" Imalia grimaces and says "I think they talk too much."

15. Would they go on a double date?

Definitely! Azalea/Julian and Azalea/Lucio have gone on double dates with Imalia/Asra many times! (However, with Azalea/Lucio, Imalia and Lucio typically end up trying to outdo each other with stories of their badassery)

16. Who pops the question?

Julian: They propose to each other!! They both wanted it, knew they did, but weren’t exactly sure how to go about it. They snuck around each other (the only time in their relationship that this happens) and bought rings. Then, on the night each had planned, Julian goes to the kitchen to make them tea and get the ring he’d bought. When he turns around, Azalea is already kneeling in front of him with the ring she’d bought. He’s flabbergasted, and kinda numbly holds out his ring. The next day was full of them guffawing and telling the story to everyone else.

Lucio: He did. It was not at all what Azalea was expecting. She always thought he would propose at a party, in front of everyone in Vesuvia. But no...he waited until they were alone and comfortable, lounging in the grass of the palace garden. He just...asked her. No flourishes, no showy display. As for the ring...he did really well. It wasn't some huge gaudy thing that wouldn't look right on her at all. It was a simple silver band with three gorgeous moonstones set on it. He really thought about what she would like.

She does. They are on holiday together in Nopal during the Painted Daisy Festival. While sitting next to each other at a bonfire, Imalia stands up. She proclaims that she has had the vast fortune of traveling the world, having many adventures, performing great deeds, and teaching some of the brightest minds the world has ever seen. But it all pales in comparison to the person she has fallen in love with. She simply can't see herself doing anything greater than spending her life with him. She kneels down in front of him and produces a golden ring etched in magical runes. She says that he has been there longer than anyone else in her life. Would he mind keeping that bad habit up for a while longer? Say, forever?

17. Describe the wedding

Julian: It takes place at the Palace (at Nadia's insistence). Julian is a nervous wreck, thinking that surely Azalea will change her mind and leave him standing at the altar. Portia smacks sense into him, reminding him that she was part of Azalea's bridal party and had JUST seen her. Imalia is Azalea's maid-of-honor, and is bossing people around like a drill sergeant, accompanied by Mazelinka; they wanted to make sure Azalea could just enjoy this day and not be bothered by the minutiae. When Azalea walks down the aisle, she is a glittering spectacle of white pearls, moonstones, crystals, and feathers from Corva. (she had been saving Corva's shed feathers for this occasion). When they exchange vows, Corva perches on Julian's shoulder, and Malak on Azalea's. They present them with the rings. Que smooches and a hell of a reception with lots of table dancing!

Lucio: Same as above, at the Palace. Nadia and Azalea arranged everything, but kept Lucio's tastes very close in mind. Azalea wanted a nice wedding, but not anything as huge as the Masquerade. The palace was littered with white roses and moonflowers. Imalia actually tended to Lucio in this one. His mother was invited and actually showed up, which made Lucio nervous as hell. Imalia assured him that everything was going to go smoothly, and if Morga did anything, Imalia would do something worse. Despite her choice of groom, Azalea was still her best friend and this day was going to go PERFECTLY. Down the aisle, Azalea was escorted by Mercedes and Melchior. They looked amazing, all clad in white. Azalea’s dress was the same as above, but she actually wore diamonds (even though she hates them). The rings were tied to M&M's collars...which could have been a horrible decision if the dogs got riled up, but Imalia had Balthazaar at the ready to pursue and snatch, should that happen. With the final kiss, sealing the deal, M&M tore out of the sanctuary to chase birds. The reception was a big party, just like Lucio wanted. He never left Azalea's side for a moment, showing her off to everyone in the kingdom.

She and Asra elope. Something to spring on Azalea randomly. XD Plus, Imalia is exhausted with royal and court life; arranging a royal wedding would cause so much headache, and she just knew she would be sending a few nobles to the infirmary with their murmurs about Asra's social standing. Better to just say "Oh, by the way, this is the person I married. Suck it."

18. Any babies?

Julian: Two kids: Nora and Rylen. They both inherit Azalea's premature greying so they enchant their hair like their mother. Auburn at the roots, but Nora's fades into gold. Rylen's fades into deep green. Nora is tall and has the same proclivity for acrobatics that her mother does. She also has a tendency to get into fights. Rylen is shorter and is a bookworm who wants to be a doctor like his father.

Lucio: Two kids: Darien and Etoile. As with the previous two, they inherit Azalea's greying. But they don't enchant their hair. They both like how the blonde roots fade into silver at the ends. Darien is a sweet kid who is just really unlucky. He gets into jams, his magic goes wild, and he tends to lose important things. This is due to whatever deal Morga made when Lucio was a baby. Etoile is an overachiever who is headstrong and bulletproof like her father. She inherits Azalea's smarts which makes her even worse as far as being headstrong because she is, unfortunately, always correct. She does deeply care for her older brother, however, and will knock someone out if they mess with him. She ends up helping him with his crappy luck by making him MANY good luck charms to counteract. The two of them become an adventuring duo, furthering magical research and discovery.

She and Asra have one child (at first; I want to create two more), a daughter named Celestia (Lessie). She is slightly darker of skin tone, with Asra's beautiful white hair and Imalia's crimson eyes. She is coy and mischievous, but can also turn on a dime into a yelling ball-buster. She is best friends with Azalea's kids (both versions) and they get into all sorts of trouble together. She is very good at inventing new magic spells. Mainly good for pranks. She eventually follows in her mother's footsteps and becomes a Magister as well as a potential heir to the throne of Seiruun.

19. Do they stay in Vesuvia, or eventually move somewhere else?

Julian/Lucio: Vesuvia is home. It's where her heart is and it's where she learned all of her greatest lessons in life. She could never leave.

Imalia and Asra set up a portal to Imalia's home country of Seiruun. They have dual citizenship there, and Asra is given the title of Prince since he married Sairuun's only Princess. As such, they have to make appearances at court functions. But Vesuvia is home. Until (or if ever) Queen Dreen Suval has children of her own, Celestia is named the heir to the throne of Seiruun.

20. Talk about that family life. What's it like?

Julian: Azalea continues to run the shop and Julian his clinic. But since the family got so large, they had to move out of the loft and buy a house (they found a nice one close by). Azalea teaches Nora and Rylen how to make potions and tinctures, as well as nurture their magical talents. Rylen wants to be like his father, so Julian takes him on as his apprentice at his clinic and teaches him everything he knows. Azalea has to come to get Nora from the guards after she gets into fights on a somewhat regular basis. She decides that Nora should get a proper "schooling" from Imalia. So Imalia keeps Nora nice and busy and helps her channel her energy to more productive means than fighting. Meals are always spent together as a family.

Lucio: Azalea continues to run the shop, and Lucio actually steps up to help in raising Darien and Etoile. They move into a fancy house. Morga steps in every so often and insists on taking the children out on hunts. When she sees how horrible Darien's luck is, she spends more attention on Etoile. Azalea isn't pleased with this. So she makes Darien her helper and apprentice at the shop and teaches him ways to counter his awful luck. Etoile is the one who figures out exactly what he needs and makes him a LOT of luck charms. They need to be re-energized every so often, but they seem to do the trick and Darien's true potential starts to shine. Morga is forced to eat her words on one hunt when he slays a bear larger than any Morga has ever seen. She begins to piece together Darien's condition and realizes who is actually at fault. Her. So she sets about to rid Darien of the curse of bad luck. Lucio and Azalea love spending time with their kids, reading, telling stories, and playing with magic. Meals are a family event with everyone taking part.

Imalia tries her best not to dote on Celestia, but she just can't help it sometimes. The child is so amazing, and she loves how much like Asra she is. She and Asra take her on family trips the the Magical Realms and help her construct her own Magical Gateway. Asra introduces her to several of the Arcana, and the Magician absolutely adores her. At one point, Celestia manages to slip into the Devil's realm and paints a penis on the frozen Arcana's face. Imalia is immensely proud when Celestia agrees to take on the massive responsibility of becoming heir to Sairuun, but she doesn't put off her education either. Through her own effort and hard work, she becomes a Magister.

BONUS. Petnames.

Azalea calls Julian "Beautiful Beanpole" and "my darling doctor" and Julian calls Azalea "Angel," "darling," and "dearest"

Azalea calls Lucio "Hot Stuff" and "babe" and Lucio calls her "Azzie" (sounds like Ozzy) and "baby"

Imalia calls Asra "Starlight." Asra calls Imalia "Professor." Imalia also calls Lucio "Shitiot" (Shit/Idiot)

#apprenticeapril #imalia gabriev #azalea nevra #imalia x asra #azalea x lucio #azalea x julian #the arcana apprentice #the arcana mc #the arcana oc #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #the arcana lucio

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heaven-asunder · 4 years

Text

Rune Factory Ficlet

Forte/Dolce: Pre-Relationship

SFW

A continuation of this

The sun rose lazily over Selphia, kissing the stone of the town in bright reds and oranges as it woke. Forte had been awake for hours. She watched the sun rise as she sharpened her sword, the sound of steel on whetstone the only sound except for Kiel’s snoring in the other room. It was almost time for her to do her morning rounds, but that wasn’t the cause of her anxiety this morning. There was a gift, just beside her, that she needed to give, but she knew the words that accompanied it would be the hardest part.

She swore under her breath as she sheathed her sword. Morning rounds. Nothing more. She needed to be vigilant, not let her heart get the best of her. But even as she thought it, her heart beat a symphony in her chest. Just the thought of what she may say sent blood rushing to her face. How would she confess? How could she possibly say the words in her heart?

With a deep breath, she left her house, closing the door softly as to not wake Kiel. The town had not yet woken, and she took her time on her walk, checking everything to make sure nothing was out of place. She first crossed over to the castle, and said hello to Ventuswill as she passed. Usually, she’d stop to make conversation, but today she just wanted this to be over. So she could give her gift. So she could stop panicking.

She told herself she wasn’t afraid of rejection, but she was lying. Dolce was a hard person to read on a good day, and although she had a feeling that she at least liked her, she didn’t know if she had feelings for her. The distinction was enough to send her reeling in self doubt and fear.

The rest of her rounds passed in a haze, a fact she’d stress about later. For now, she stood in front of the clinic, her gift trembling in her hands. This was ridiculous, she told herself. She was a Dragon Knight. A protector of Selphia. She could confess to her crush. It wasn’t like she was up against an enemy. Dolce was her friend, at the very least.

She adjusted her helmet, and entered, smiling at Nancy as she came in.

“She’s upstairs,” Nancy said, knowingly. She motioned with her head at the gift in Forte’s hands, and winked. Forte felt her face heat. Had she been obvious? She didn’t want to know. She thanked Nancy and took the stairs two at a time, up to Forte’s room. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came Dolce’s voice beyond the door. Forte pushed it open.

“Dolce?” she said. Dolce looked up from her embroidery. Forte always thought her breath taking, but especially when she crafted. There was something elegant about the way she held her hands.

“Forte,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Ah, no,” Forte said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop by unannounced, but...”

“Hm? What’s that in your hands?”

“It’s uh,” Forte started, “it’s for you.” She held it out. It was a small doily that Forte had spent days on. It was unwinding in places, and there was more than a few dropped stitches, but Forte had worked her hardest on it.

“You gave me something homemade, so I figured...” Forte’s face heated. This was dumb, she thought. She should have gotten something for her.

Dolce stood. “You made this for me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very sweet,” she said, taking it from Forte’s hands.

“And--”

“And?”

“And I just. I wanted to say.” Forte looked to the floor, her face red and her heart stammering. “I just wanted to say, I think you’re beautiful, and kind, and I wanted to know if... if you wanted to go out. With me. Sometime.”

Dole placed the doily on her nightstand. “Are you asking me out?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this why you made this for me?”

“Yes.”

Dolce sighed. “Well, we’ll have to teach you to do better. I guess we can discuss it at dinner. Will you meet me at Porcoline’s around six?”

Forte stood stunned. Was that a yes?

“That sounds fantastic,” she said. Dolce smiled.

“Very well. I’ll see you then.”

Forte nodded. She turned to leave, but as her hand fell to the doorknob, Dolce’s voice stopped her.

“One more thing,” she said. Forte turned, and Dolce was there right behind her. She leaned in, and before Forte could process what was happening, she opened up to her, like a summer flower blooms, and they kissed.

It was a sweet, chaste thing, lasting no more than a moment, but it sent Forte’s heart soaring.

“That’s all,” Dolce said, softly. Forte let out a breath.

“Porco’s at six?”

“Wear something besides your armor.” Dolce winked at her. She nodded, and left, her heart still beating a staccato beat in her chest.

Porco’s at six. She’d be there. And without her armor.

Maybe, she thought, maybe she could get another kiss.

#my writing #rf forte #rf dolce #forte x dolce #rune factory 4 #rune factory

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omegas-spaghettios · 4 years

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Dear A,

I do my best to not be a vindictive person. I have had a history of being vindictive to multiple people, and it's never ended well for anybody involved. But there are a lot of things you do that hurt me, even though you can't know why. That's why I'm writing here, to get my words out there without harming you.

I know you moved here within the last couple years and you are struggling to make friends, and I think you are a genuinely nice person. I've done all I can to talk to you and ask about your interests, and i agonized at Wal-Mart trying to find you the perfect gift. This isn't to guilt you, i happily chose to do all of that. And I believe your company is fun. I wouldn't really search it out much, but when I have it in the group it has mostly been pleasant.

Until recently.

Let me tell you some things I have gone through, A. I have grown up in LDS Utah as a closeted Bisexual. I have been through hell, and I know I have had it easier than a lot of LGBTQ+ people in that religion. Since 8th grade I have consistently had depression and anxiety, clinically diagnosed, with therapy and meds and everything due to living here, the social hatred is incredibly intense. During that time up till now, just finished 11th, I have also had multiple self harm and suicidal stretches. This isn't asking for pity, most kids my age unfortunately have had to go through this. This isn't new.

I started dating a mormon girl 10th grade year. It was good for a long while, but starting 11th year it got bad. She had awful anger management issues, and was incredibly vindictive. Not to mention that she guilted me into supressing my problems so I can help hers. For months I endured passive aggression and my own repression and fights and anger because I truly loved her. But last month I decided enough was enough. I cut it off. I am not of the LDS faith anymore, and that was a major part of the decision as she still is, but that wasn't really why.

Not to mention the hallucinations. For the last year I have had infrequent hallicunations of Wendigo's, i'm sure you know what those are, as well as paranoia. Just yesterday I got diagnosed with anxiety and depression induced psychosis. I took my meds for the first time today for the hallucinations and begin therapy Monday.

The point is, add all of this together with what has been happening in the world and the stress of me being asthmatic when a respiratory disease is running rampant, and i believe you can see why I am struggling. I have turned to our friend group of 7, A, to finally talk to my peers in healthy ways about my struggles and not face my ex's wrath. I'm really struggling and for once I feel like I have a good support network, one I only kind of get at home.

So why am I upset and hurt? Well, a lot things. A, I know you believe in witchcraft and paganism and that creepypastas like Slenderman and Jeff the Killer are real. Personally, I think it's not real in the slightest as it can't be empirically proven, but that isn't why I'm upset in these scenarios. I think your beliefs are a bit ridiculous, but I respect everyone's beliefs. You do you. It is how you have used your beliefs to inadvertently harm me.

I came out to the group as Bisexual. The deal is, 4 of the 6 of you gals all knew already. You didn't. The ones who already knew came out in support, and you were silent. No harm done, really. Felt kind of off, but oh well, I don't really care. You weren't vindictive and haven't been about it. The issue is, you came out as a witch to your parents and gave us the play by play expecting our comfort. The comfort you never afforded me. I still gave it, i remember the hell I went through when I came out as Bi to my parents and you shouldn't go through that alone. But it hurts, knowing it's one sided.

But that isn't all. Your parents wouldn't let you use a dating app, so you came to the group chat and said we needed to find you a boyfriend. That's my my place, find your own damn boyfriend. I am fresh out of an awful relationship and now a single Bisexual. Even if I wanted to think about anyone's relationships much less my own, do you think i would set you up with people I think were interesting? And not try to date them myself? But I was polite and told her the truth: I only talked to that friend group and one other person. A couple of others also respectfully declined to find you one. Then you had the fucking audacity to send in the chat a picture of you scowling and leaving at that. Not an emoji, no words, a picture of your actual face in pure disgust. That's when I got angry. How dare you demand I find you somebody. How dare you be that lazy and demand me, in my fucking disaster state, to do it for you.

Well then, let's address the mental issues I have. It isn't your fault, I want you to know. And any one of these instances is excusable, but together I don't think it is. I had a full on panic attack sitting two feet away from you and another friend, let's call her E. My paranoia was shooting through the roof, i felt like I was about to be killed and I couldn't breathe. E kept giving me concerned looks and mouthing if I was okay, in which I gave many half hearted thumbs up. She knew it was bullshit, but guess why she didn't say anything? Because you, A, were running off about how Slenderman is stalking you. You even said that paranoia and fear means he is around. Not that you believe that, that it is FACT. It was incredibly dehumanizing of you to tell me what I was experiencing in that exact moment was because some 2000's fictional monster was around. I didn't say anything, granted because I physically couldn't, but it's not your fault. But everyone I have ever met will tell you I wear my heart on my sleeve. So how you could sit next to me, who was silent and fighting tears and quietly trying to gasp for air and was shaking and was being quiet as to not bother you (thanks, ex), you ignored me. Not only that, you dehumanized the very reaction I was having. That really hurt, A. Unintentional or not, it hurt.

Not to mention when I made a meme of my full name on Kermit jumping off a cliff to commit suicide, I made that very clear in the meme. I posted it in the group chat. I know that is not a good way to reach out, but I haven't reached out to anyone in months, so it's better than I have in a long time. A, you just said "yeah" and moved on to some asinine topic. Others tried to bring it up but you steamrolled overthem with your rocks or Jeff the Killer or something. A very clear cry on my behalf for help, and you said "yeah". Thank you.

Then this morning. Last night I woke up around 1 AM absolutely panicked. Not able to breath, shaking, world spinning, sweats, everything. Like I was dropped right in the middle of my worst panic attack ever. I was sure SOMETHING was about to kill me. It took hours to feel safe, and i haven't slept since 1 AM. I posted in the chat that I couldn't sleep and needed to talk to somebody. It was late, but I needed somebody. I was vague, but I don't want to drop that i am psychotic in the middle of a group chat. Then you woke up around 9 and said "oh, I can't sleep most nights so I get your pain. I felt really sick last night and threw up." I don't mean to diminish your experiences, A. I don't know how hard it is for you. But I went through hell last night without any of my friends in the chat, I eventually got ahold of my sister. Then you have the audacity to come to me and say "I get it. I was ill last night, so I get it." Again, it could have been miserable for you. But you just ignored my cries for help AGAIN, and you tossed my pain out of view so you could go on about yourself AGAIN.

I've done so much to make you feel welcome. I wouldn't choose you as a friend, but you are in the group and as such have worked to make you feel like part of it. But you don't care about me. At least, it doesn't seem like you do. I have made it very clear multiple times that I am not okay (did I mention the time I posted things in that chat about me experiencing hallucinations and you didn't say a damn thing?) and you don't care.

I write this out here because you don't know what I'm going through, so I can't hold it all against you I guess. But with how dismissive you are I don't trust you with it. We will be nothing more than superficial friends, if that. I typed this out, so I'm going to take a deep breath and move on, I'll be civil and jovial with you. But you have hurt me deeply, and thus have lost my trust.

- Bryan

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chain-unchained · 5 years

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October 3

The sound of a gong rang out over the din of the Fair, as Alex smashed the strength tester yet again; with a grin, he held out his hand to the game operator, who forked over his winnings for ringing the bell. To his dismay, Haley—who he thought had been watching—had long since lost interest and was currently over at the fishing tent with Pam. His disappointment was all but forgotten as Gus walked by, carrying a platter of burger patties waiting to be cooked up for, of course, the all you can eat buffet.

Yes, it was that most wonderful time of year again: the Stardew Valley Fair. Countless visitors from far and wide traveled to Pelican Town, which seemingly overnight had transformed into a grand county fairgrounds. Game booths were set up throughout the town center, offering star tokens as prizes for winning, while a little kiddie coaster had been put up smack dab in the center. Up to the north was the buffet, where Gus was now grilling away not just burgers, but hot dogs, barbeque chicken and ribs as well, filling the air with a mouthwatering smell.

“Thank you, Mr. Gus~” Jas was all smiles as she accepted the bag of fresh spun cotton candy from Gus, wasting no time in tearing a piece off and popping it into her mouth. “Thank you Shane~” She added, as her godfather slipped Gus a fiver for giving Jas some extra.

“You’re welcome, squirt.” Shane ruffled her hair with a grin; he had been worried that the lure of the alcohol on offer would be too much for him to ignore, but it wasn’t so hard since he was focusing on Jas. “So, what do you think? Is this year’s fair better than last year’s?”

“Hmm…” Jas gave the question serious contemplation, tearing off another chunk of spun sugar while she mulled it over in her head. “… Yeah, it’s better.” She answered with a sage nod of her head. “I wish that there were other rides besides that dumb kiddie coaster, though.”

“Whaaaat? You love that coaster, though.”

“Not anymore. It’s for little kids, and I’m not a little kid anymore.” Jas paused, still looking thoughtful as she ate another clump of cotton candy. “… Vincent still likes it though. He’s too scared to ride by himself, so I guess I’d be okay with riding it to make him happy.”

Trying not to laugh at how obvious it was that she still enjoyed the ride, Shane ruffled her hair with a grin. “That’s pretty big of you. Might as well enjoy it while you can still fit in the cars.” He checked his wristwatch and saw that it was already nearing noon. “Well kiddo, I better go and switch places with Marnie so she can work on her grange display. You got enough pocket change to get what you wanna get?”

Jas held up the small purple purse hanging at her side with an affirmative nod of her head. She had been saving and saving all year just for this fair, so she was quite set for the day. Still, that didn’t stop Shane from digging into his wallet and handing her another fiver for good measure.

“You remember the rules, right?” He asked, kneeling down to her level with no small amount of effort. Pelican Town was safe pretty much every day of the year, but the influx of visitors meant that the Fair was perhaps the most dangerous—everyone could still remember the disaster that was known as the ‘Jockstrap Incident’, loathe though they were to recall it.

“Yes, I remember.” There was more than a slight hint of exasperation in Jas’ voice. If there was one thing in the world she didn’t care for, it was being treated like a little kid. “Hurry up and go help Aunt Marnie alreadyyyy.”

She moved behind her godfather and gave him a good push towards the petting zoo to really get her point across, drawing a half-laugh from Shane as he followed the momentum granted to him. For some reason, he got the impression that Jas didn’t want to be babysat very much. ‘Damn, do kids grow up fast these days.’ He thought with a grin, winding his way through the somewhat oblivious crowds to relieve Marnie of her duties at the petting zoo.

With hands that trembled from the sheer amount of nervous energy flowing through them, Ashe painstakingly placed his selections for his grange display into the bin, silently fretting to himself as to their layout and orientation; to his right, Marnie too was hard at work making her ranch display look its best, with a massive and admittedly impressive cheese wheel as the centerpiece. To her right was Willy, who was piling high the freshest of fresh fish caught at dawn that morning, and to Ashe’s left was Percy, surrounded by an air of confidence while his own was put together. There were other grange displays, too, being set up by various visitors from throughout the valley—all of whom had similarly intimidating offerings.

Up until last night, Ashe had nothing but the utmost confidence in himself; he had been toiling endlessly ever since he’d learned about the competition, secure in his belief that he was going to win. Yet now that he was surrounded by his competition, beholding their entries with his own eyes, that confidence was evaporating faster than ice beneath the blistering summer sun. Compared to Marnie’s animal product focused display, and to Percy’s all encompassing one featuring the very best finds from the mines alongside pristine farm and ranch products, Ashe’s crops, eggs, milk and gems looked like amateur hour.

‘Maybe I tried to do too much…’He found himself thinking, anxiously fussing with the arrangement in the faint hopes that somehow changing the layout would make it seem more impressive. Would he have done better if he’d narrowed his focus to just one or two areas?

He was so caught up in fretting over his chances that he didn’t notice Marnie had finished preparing her display and was now taking a good gander at his. For a first timer, she thought he had done a fantastic job. “Looking pretty good there, kiddo.” She spoke up, making him nearly jump out of his skin from fright. “Nerves getting to you?”

“M-Maybe just a little.” Pressing his hand against his chest, Ashe took a deep breath to calm himself; hearing her voice helped to bring him back down to Earth for the moment. “Thank you. But I’m pretty sure that cheese wheel of yours is going to win.”

They both took a moment to gaze upon the magnificent artisanal creation taking up most of Marnie’s display, and Marnie couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it. “I’m pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself. Those eggs you brought are sure gonna give me and everyone else a run for our money, though.” She gave the young farmer a reassuring smile. Though it had been close to ten years since her first entry into the fair, she could still recall that almost strangling fear that she had felt, and she felt more than a little pity for the kid. A little confidence boost went a long way in situations like that.

Truth be told, he didn’t really believe what she said, but he didn’t want to let it show just how much he was doubting himself at this point. So he pushed a smile onto his face. “Haha, you really think so? If anything, it’s thanks to you and Shane. Honestly…” The smile began to slip away; perhaps because of his anxiety, perhaps it was something else, but… it felt like there was an icy cold tendril winding its way around his heart. “I owe a lot to you guys. All of you. I want to be able to say that I could have made it this far on my own. But that’d be a lie.”

Turning away from Marnie, whose expression had fallen a little at the oddly somber, melancholic words coming from him, he looked to the display that seemed so paltry to him now. Even still, he relied so much on others—to farm, to learn, to just exist. How long… how long would he have to depend on them? When would he be strong enough to stand on his own two feet? “…. I really do owe everything to you, and Shane, and Jas.” He murmured, turning to look at Marnie with another smile. “Thank you for putting up with me for all this time~”

“Kiddo…” Marnie didn’t like the feeling that she got as she listened to him speak. It reminded her far, far too much of the way Shane used to be, the same sort of language, the same undertones of loathing, anxiety, doubt, hopelessness. “C’mon now, you should know by now that there’s nothing to put up with. You’ve been an angel of a neighbor to us. Heck, you’ve been a literal angel for Shane.” She wrapped her arm around Ashe’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Besides, you’re what? 19 years old? You can’t just expect yourself to have everything figured out right out of the gate.”

The sensation of being drawn close brought a measure of comfort to Ashe. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to stop and breathe; the scent of lavender and lilac filled his nostrils, and suddenly he found himself in a clinical white room, heard the beeping of machines, felt his mother’s cold hand in his own as the scent of her perfume overwhelmed him. It was only for the briefest of moments, with the sound of the gong going off as Alex smashed the strength tester again pulling him back into the present. But that moment, to him, felt like an eternity…

“Ashe?” Marnie snapped her fingers in front of his face, more than a little concerned with the way the color had drained from his face; she practically felt him come back to reality, his entire body giving a shudder. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Seeing how concerned she was, Ashe really tried to pull himself together. “I…. Y-Yeah, I’m alright.” He assured with the best, most sincere smile he could muster. He didn’t want to worry her. “Honestly.”

“You sure don’t look alright.” Wholly unconvinced, Marnie gave his shoulders another squeeze. “… Why don’t you go and talk a walk, get away from the crowds for a bit? The competition’s not gonna start for awhile yet.”

“That’s….” Ashe’s voice trailed off; after a few moments’ contemplation, he nodded. “You know what, I think I will actually.” He glanced longingly over to the petting zoo; what he really wanted to do was go over there and play with the cute animals on display, but there were so many people and children crowded around it that there was just no way it was going to happen. Especially not when he was a mess like this.

Marnie smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he headed off down towards the beach. It had been half a year since Ashe moved to the valley, and she had never seen him like that before. As much as she wanted him to open up to her and be able to let out whatever it was he was bottling up, she knew it wouldn’t happen. The only person that he would do that with was Shane. Deciding that this was more important than her display, she squeezed her way in and around the oblivious tourists piling into the town square, gradually making her way to the petting zoo while marvelling at how rude people were these days.

“Hey hey—HEY! The animals have to stay in the pen!” Shane’s voice cut sharply over the din of the crowds as he pried a poor little lamb from the hands of a kid who thought they were free to take. “This isn’t an adoption pen.” Yoba, he didn’t know if this was better or worse than his time working Black Friday back when he was a floor associate at Macy’s in college… At least there wasn’t a Karen demanding to see his manager for daring to tell her little darling to keep his hands off the merchandise.

…Maybe things weren’t so bad, though. Aside from the kid with the sticky fingers, most of the folks were just enjoying the petting zoo, lavishing affections on the baby farm animals. Shane was never fond of children, if he was honest. He didn’t know how to handle them, and deep down there was a part of him that was afraid of somehow breaking them. It was only when Jas came along that he finally got why people had children—to marvel in their achievements, to laugh at the silly things they said, to watch as they learned about the world around them and grew up… So, yeah, maybe he didn’t completely hate kids like he used to anymore. Still wasn’t super keen on them, though.

A finger lightly tapped him on the shoulder, making him realize he’d been completely lost in his thoughts for the past few minutes; turning around, he relaxed a little when he saw Marnie standing behind him. “That didn’t take long. Got the display set up how you want it?”

“Yes, the display’s all set to go.” There was something in Marnie’s tone that worried him. “Ashe could really use your company right now, I think.”

“Did something happen?”

“I have no idea. To be honest….” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them to look back up at her nephew. “Well, to be honest I think you should get your butt down to the beach and talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m going.” Shane stepped around her briskly, practically pushing his way through the crowds in his haste towards the south. He had no idea what was going on, but that wasn’t going to stop him from finding out.

The roar and din of the fair quieted to a low hum, nearly drowned out by the ocean waves as they gently lapped against the shore and the cries of the seagulls who soared overhead. It was calm, and peaceful; despite the cold air blowing in off of the ocean, Ashe stood silently at the water’s edge, gazing out at the endless blue. Lost in a world of his own.

He didn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him. It was only when Shane came to stand beside him that he came back down to earth. “Shane…?” He asked, his voice soft enough to nearly be drowned out by the waves.

“I’m right here, bud.” Shane tucked his hands into his pockets as he briefly glanced to him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a long minute, Ashe didn’t say a word. “I don’t know.” He simply admitted. “I just… I don’t know. When I was setting up my display, and I saw what everyone else had brought, I…. guess I realized that I’m not some wonder farmer who’s gonna sweep the competition. I talked so much bullshit to Percy about beating him, but everything he put out there looks better than anything I could hope to produce. And not just him. The stuff that Marnie had from your guys’ ranch looked so high quality. Everything on display from everyone looked wonderful.”

There was a long pause. “… What have I been doing all this time?” He whispered. “If I can’t win a stupid competition, what hope do I have to save Grandpa’s farm?”

“Bugaboo.” Shane reached out and took hold of his hand. “It’s just a fair competition. This isn’t some be all end all judgement of your farming skills.”

He knew what Ashe was feeling. Back before they met, that was how he used to drive himself into the ground with anxiety—the constant questioning of his worth, wondering why he was even trying, comparing himself to everyone else around him. He got that feeling. “You’re still a kid. Sure, you don’t act like it most of the time—hell, sometimes I forget that you can’t even rent a car yet—but you’re still young. Everyone overestimates themselves when they’re young. That’s just a part of growing up. You fall, you pick yourself back up, and you move on. Well, you’re supposed to anyway. You and I both know it’s not so easy… you get what I’m trying to say though, right?”

“… Not really.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m trying to say either.” Shane sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “… Whatever the outcome of the fair is, there’s always next year. And I know for a fact that next year you’ll crush the competition no matter what.” He looked to Ashe and gave his hand a squeeze. “And besides, they haven’t even judged the displays yet. You’ve still got a shot.”

Ashe managed to smile. “Shane, you haven’t even seen my display. I really don’t think I’m going to win.” He took a breath and looked back out to the ocean stretched out before them. “… But you’re right. It’s just a competition. I went and talked myself into a panic over something that doesn’t even matter again. But at least I know how much farther I have to go to save the farm.”

“Uh huh.” Shane shifted closer and loosely wrapped his arm around Ashe’s waist. “And what about how far you’ve come? I ain’t gonna let you just overlook all that work you’ve put in so far. You have every right to be damn proud of that farm.”

“Hehe… it does look pretty good these days, doesn’t it?”

“Better than what I could do.” Shane gave him a gentle squeeze. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah… Can we stay here for a little longer? I don’t feel like dealing with the crowds right now.”

He didn’t need to ask. Shane didn’t mind staying at the beach for the time being. They couldn’t stay for much longer, though; the bite of the chilly wind soon drove them back towards the town center, back towards the throngs of people and the noise they brought with them. The crowds had migrated towards the buffet area by then, drawn in by a pie eating competition with a nice fat 5k G first place prize. Thanks to that, the petting zoo was far less crowded; Ashe was able to finally get all those anxieties out by petting the baby animals like he’d wanted to.

Before long, Lewis announced over megaphone that the grange competition judgements had been made, asking all the contestants to return to their displays so the awards could be handed out. The butterflies made a comeback in Ashe’s stomach at the announcement, but they weren’t as bad this time around.

It came as both a surprise and a letdown when Lewis called his name for third place. There was still a part of him that had been hoping for first place, even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen. And there was a part of him that didn’t think he’d even place at all, so he couldn’t help the tiny bit of pride as Lewis handed him the third place ribbon and congratulated him.

Second place rightfully belonged to Marnie and her awe-inspiring cheese wheel, and she graciously accepted the silver ribbon placed into her hands by the mayor. And no surprise to anyone present, the gold first place ribbon was awarded to Percy, who had never doubted that he come out victorious in the end.

“Well, at least he’s not rubbing it in your face.” Sebastian commented, having made his way over to Ashe with Sam and Abigail as the competition wound down and the displays were being packed up. “Easy to be gracious when you’re the winner, though.”

“Hey, third place is still pretty good though!” Abigail elbowed Ashe with a reassuring grin.

“Yeah, especially considering how long you’ve been doing this whole farming thing.” Sam draped his arm around Ashe’s shoulders and gave him a grin of his own. All three of them had seen their friend disappear onto the beach earlier; they could tell that he was stressing out and wanted to support him the best they could.

To their surprise, Ashe nodded with a smile, turning the bronze ribbon over and over in his hands. “Yup. Percy earned the win, and Marnie deserved second place, so I’m happy with third.” Seeing the way they were all trying to lift his spirits up, he realized how much he must have worried the people that cared about him. He didn’t like knowing that he’d done that to them, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit happy that they cared so much. “Congratulations on second, Marnie!” He called, as Marnie pulled the cart carrying her entered goods off.

“Hey, how much for that cheese wheel?!” Sam inquired enthusiastically; he loved cheese more than was healthy, and there was something novel about the thought of owning a cheese wheel that weighed more than his kid brother.

Marnie laughed and stopped to look at the teens. “Not for sale, kiddo!” She rebuked with a grin of her own. “She’s going into the cellar to age for a few years. You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.”

“What would you even do with a cheese wheel that big?” Sebastian asked his friend as the portly woman resumed walking.

“Brag about it, duh!”

Ashe fell quiet as he and Seb and Abigail all began to debate the ethics of owning that much solid cheese. After several minutes, he slipped away from his display, walking slowly over to where Percy was packing up his. “Congratulations on winning, Percy.” He praised with a slightly forced smile, making the posh farmer pause and look to him in genuine surprise. “You knocked the competition out of the park.”

“… Well, thank you.” It took Percy a few moments to regain his composure. He certainly hadn’t been expecting his rival of all people to come and congratulate him. “I have to admit, yours was quite impressive as well. Not that there was ever any doubt that I’d win,” he resumed packing up his display, “but I wasn’t expecting you to pull something that refined together.”

It was Ashe’s turn to be surprised. He… was talking to the same Percy that lived next door to him, right? Because it didn’t seem like it right now. “… Thank you. Next year, I’m going to win for sure.”

He expected Percy to point out how he’d made that claim this year; to his surprise, Percy just chuckled and smirked to him. “I expect you to give me a run for my money. Victory tastes much sweeter when you’ve worked to earn it.”

It had to be something in the water. Ever since he’d come to this backwater place, Percy had changed. Seeing these hicks and hillbillies live their lives, work and toil for the little they had and be happy for it, really had gotten him to thinking. Not that he’d ever say anything to them, of course; after all, he was there on a job of his own, and in the end, he had to emerge victorious just like he had today. But damn if he didn’t feel a little bad about what was going to happen when he won…

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