#she really really did not want to go through chemo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

julieloves074 · 1 year

Text

Everything (Conrad Fisher x Y/n)

Summary: Y/n had won the battle against cancer at the age of ten but no one expected it to come back. When the truth comes to light the perfect summer crashes down around them. Especially for Conrad, Y/n is his love, his life, his everything

Warnings: Cancer, sadness, swearing, angst

Words: 7.4K

(Not my GIF :))

Summer in Cousins was the one time of year I felt truly free, nothing really mattered there. Then again, everything mattered there. Belly liked to say nothing existed outside of summer, all the other seasons were just a pass by for it, and I couldn’t argue with her.

This was exactly why I wanted one last perfect summer. Mom told me that I wasn’t being fair, that this was going to be worse for everyone but wasn’t I allowed to be selfish? For once? I knew she couldn’t see it the way I did. I wanted Belly to have her first summer of real fun without having to worry about me. I wanted to see Jeremiah and Steven act stupid all summer without feeling like they needed to slow down for me. I wanted to see Conrad to be happy for one more summer, with me.

And everything was going so well, for the most part. Just like any other summer there was drama: Belly with her new friend Cam Cameron and Jeremiah, Steven with Taylor and Shaila but it was our kid problems, nothing more than that until tonight.

“Y/n you are not allowed to go!” My mother shouted as I made my way downstairs at eight o’clock.

“Stop babying me for God’s sake! I’m telling you I feel fine, I’ll be back in a couple of hours!” I screamed back, I just wanted to go to a party with my friends, I knew I had limits now and that I had to be careful. Still, I couldn’t stay locked in forever.

“Y/n you are getting weaker, are you trying to give your father and I a heart attack?” she asked, her voice still raised but there was a falter, it made me turn right around on my heel. There she was, standing on the top step with tears in her eyes. I could feel my own gloss over. I took a deep breath and looked up in an attempt to stop any tears falling, I was only wearing waterproof mascara but still-

“You’re our little girl and we just want to protect you,” Mom said, face flooded now, lowering to sit on the top stair, she was getting more tired now too.

“Mom I’m eighteen, I don’t know if I will make it through chemo this time and I can’t let it make me live in fear. I won’t let it make me hide around my room if this is my last summer,” I said with urgency and plea.

“It’s going to be a long program Y/n, and it’s going to take lots of strength, both physical and emotional but don’t you dare say you are not going to make it. You will beat it. We just don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” Dad’s voice echoed gently as he came out of our kitchen and pulled me into a hug.

“I know-” I paused looking between both of them, my cardigan in one hand and phone in my other, “I’ve signed up for the program and I will fight this cancer again but there’s nothing I can do now but wait around until the first round of chemo begins again, and who knows what I’ll be able to do after it?” I asked, I didn’t know whether I would live, and if I did how long I’d be weak, I didn’t want to miss out on these teenage years.

I felt dad brush his hand down my arm with a sigh, he looked up to mom who shook her head and couldn’t lift her gaze.

“I know, I’m sorry honey, but you know that if anything happens you call us right away, no matt-“ she began, standing up, but I cut her off.

“No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing and there will be no questions asked,” I finished off for her, she smiled weakly and started making her way down to dad and I.

“Or you call for medical help first depending on what’s happening,” she informed me, at this point she’s said this to me so many times that I have the words tattooed inside my brain.

“I love you guys,” I said as they both squeeze me tightly just before a car horn sounds outside.

“Tell Connie we said hi and ask him to tell his mom we’ll bring that extra table for the barbeque party tomorrow when we come over for dinner,” Mom relayed to me as I slipped on my shoes.

“I will do,” I said quickly opening the door to slide out. I saw him first, Conrad Fisher, sat behind the wheel, his contagious smile and beautifully messy hair. Then I saw them, Belly, Jeremiah and Steven sat in the back all looking at Belly’s phone who sat in the middle, they were all laughing. I couldn’t believe the summer was nearly at it’s end and I got to spend it these wonderful, and slightly annoying, people.

“Omg Y/n you have to see this video Tylor filmed! This girl just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend so both she and the best friend chucked milkshakes at him! I’m so glad Taylor filmed this!” Belly exclaimed the second I opened the car door, pushing from up from her seat and shoving the phone in my face, I didn’t even get time to look before she leaned back and sat down muttering “Damn, Harry is not gonna have fun at school this year,”.

We all broke into a laughter, I turned to Connie who had his eyes on me since the moment I got in the car, I started relaying my parent’s message about the chairs and he leant over to kiss me.

“Okay we get it, you guys are in love but we have a party to get to!” Jeremiah exclaimed grabbing on my headrest to lean his body forwards into our space. I let out a laugh pulling away from Conrad.

“I love you,” he mouthed to me, I did the same back before he turned to his focus to the car and reversing in my driveway. The journey to the house party, I didn’t even know who was hosting this one, was filled with laughter and teasing to the point that Belly had actual tears running down her face.

“I am so glad you made me invest into waterproof mascara Y/n!” Belly said running her fingers under her eyes wiping away the tears. I loved having Belly around, another girl was great to have around, her being like a little sister to me. Even though it came with both its ups and downs of siblings like all the clothes she would ‘borrow’ and never give back, but she’s a good kid.

The party is looking well underway when we arrive, there’s flashing, changing lights to be seen through the windows and the music is echoing down the street. Some new trending song is blasting as we walk through the door. Belly quickly runs off to meet some friends she made at the country club, Jere was dragged away by some good looking guy whom he looked more than friendly with leaving me, Connie and Steven to head to the drinks table.

“Are you actually gonna drink with us tonight Y/n/n?” Steven asked leaning a cup in my direction. I really wanted to, I couldn’t express to anyone how much I wanted to fully let loose, drink away my worries for the night. But I couldn’t.

“Nah I’m good,” I tried to play it off cool, but he started play arguing with me.

“Alright let it go Steven,” Con said after a minutes, I lay my hand on his arm in a silent thanks.

“Okay well I’ll leave you loser to it I’ve just spotted Shayla coming in,” he announced already walking backwards to the beautiful girl.

“Are you alright?” Con’s voice pulled me away from the vision of Steven wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he had whispered something in her ear which made her erupt into this blooming, true laugh, they made each other so happy.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, pulling on a big smile, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I felt fine, more than fine standing here with him right next to me.

“It’s just you’ve not been wanting to drink, and not to pin you as an alcoholic or anything,” he defends quickly, “But you’re usually first to call shots,” he laughs pulling me closer as some guys come to the drinks table, it still swells my heart, his little tics of jealously and protection.

“I told you, it’s been really bad for my skin recently and I am not sacrificing this,” I reassured pointing to my face, “Plus it’s kind of funny being sober and watching everyone else make fools of themselves,”

“Can’t argue that,” he says, we settle into a comfortable silence, Con wasn’t drinking tonight he was nominated DD, so the two of us had to entertain ourselves sober. We weren’t standing around for too long when Getaway Car by Taylor Swift came on and I dragged him to the little makeshift dance floor in the living room.

We sang to each other as he led our little dance twirling me around every once in a while. Loads of the girls including Belly joined us screaming along to the bridge.

“God you’re perfect you know that? I think I’ll be crazy about you forever,” Con half shouted over the last chorus and I just shook him off with a gentle shove

“I love you,” I said pulling him into a massive hug. The second the song ended we noticed Jere and Steven stood in the doorway calling Con over, some kid was doing flip tricks on the trampoline and in their words ‘It was so sick! He’ll probably actually be sick if he doesn’t take a break!’

Connie was hesitant to leave me for a second, but I pushed him to the boys, they deserved his time as much as I did. I turned to the girls, and we danced to whatever song came on next, and the next and the next. By the fourth or fifth song I started to feel lightheaded.

“I’m just gonna find a bathroom real quick,” I shouted over to Belly tapping her shoulder, someone had turned the music up. She nodded and gave me a thumbs up before tipping the rest of her vodka lemonade in her mouth.

The bathroom downstairs had too long of a cue so I headed for the stairs in the entryway. Was someone turning up the music again or was it just the sound echoing in my head? I held onto the railing, but my legs were starting to feel heavier with each step. I had just managed to reach the landing, I wasn’t sure which door led to the bathroom, so I ambled to the closest door, it was a bedroom. A double bed in the center surrounded by deep blue wallpaper. It felt as though I was in the ocean somewhere, drifting away.

The bed frame was not giving me much support, I lowered myself to the ground, there was a small thud as I hid the wooden panels. I don’t think I let out a sound but before I knew it someone was rushing into the room.

“Y/n what’s going on?” the voice asked, I looked up but my sight was hazy, “Y/n?” the voice repeated, it was Steven taking a few careful steps towards me.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine just a little tired, I think I overheated a little downstairs I should have been drinking more water,” I said attempting to shoo him away with my hands, but in reality, I didn’t want him to leave, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get up without him.

“Y/n you’ve been off all summer so cut the bullshit, since when do we lie to each other?” he asked coming closer, his honestly sounded sober.

“My,” I start and feel something bubbling within me, I cried for an hour when I was diagnosed again, then I told myself I wasn’t allowed to again until after summer, I was allowed to be happy and excited for the summer without thinking about- “My cancers back Steven, and I-”

“I’m sorry you what?” Steven asked cutting me off, as if an animated character his jaw actually dropped, he was kneeling next to me in seconds, pulling me into a hug. I shut my eyes wishing that I had left earlier or taken a night off and rested like mom had suggested, “Conrad! Get in here,” Steven shouted repeatedly brushing a hand through my hair.

“What? Y/n? What happened? Steven what happened?” Conrad asked manically flinging himself to meet his body to mine, “Are you okay?” He asked again as he got no answer to his first lot of questions. He brushed his hand down my arm.

“I’m so sorry,” I let out with a sob, shaking my head from side to side, I saw Belly run in confused with Jeremiah behind her. Others seemed to be crowding at the door but Jere quickly shut it firmly, announcing “Nothing to see here! Go grab some alcohol and make out or whatever,” before turning his attention back to me.

Now this was truly my worst nightmare, they were all looking at me, apart from Steven who had curled up and looked at the floor next to me.

“I’m sorry that I ruined our last summer together,” I said

“Y/n what are you talking about, what happened?” Belly asked brushing some hair out of my face.

“It’s back and I- I don’t think it’ll go away this time,” I whisper as if saying it out loud would mean that it was true, that I was hurting everyone around me once again.

“What’s back?” Jere asks nonchalantly at first before a realization hits him “You don’t mean-” at this Belly burst into a wail.

I looked up at Conrad, he was just staring at me, I couldn’t read his reaction at all. I brushed my hands up and down his arms, it was as if he was frozen it time. I needed him to say something, just that action was wearing me out.

“Come on let’s get you home,” Jere said, his eyes red, he was trying to be a voice of reason, be the one who doesn’t break down so he can support the rest of us. When had he become this grown up? “This isn’t a place for a conversation like this,”.

I can’t quite place what emotion was flowing through me as I was basically carried out of the house with one arm around Con the other around Steven. The whole thing seemed in slow motion to me, all the faces in the crowd of my friends and drunk strangers. How many of them realize what’s actually happening and how many of them simply thought I’d gotten hysterically drunk?

The ride back to my house was quiet other than Belly’s phone call to my mom and then Susannah and Laurel letting them know where they were all going. I was ushered into bed by mom and listened to the heartbroken whispers downstairs in the living room under my bedroom.

Mom and Belly were crying, and dad was trying to calm them down. Conrad was adamant to stay with me whilst dad offered to drive everyone else home as they’d all been drinking. When the front door shut, I heard the footsteps that shuffled upstairs.

“Connie,” I said as he walked into my room, his expression filled with sorrow and with the limited lighting of my bedside lamp I could swear he too had tears rolling from his eyes and down his beautiful face.

“You’re okay, you’re going to get better,” he said repeating in quiet whispers, whether he was trying to convince me or himself I was not sure but I let him. I pulled up my duvet and moved slightly to give him space.

He touched my hair, my face, my arms gliding his fingers as if I was made of porcelain. The first time I was diagnosed and fighting cancer I was 10 and whilst everyone was gentle with me then now it felt like a different kind of touch. A mixture of so much love and pain that I would do- give anything to make him better.

“I love you, so so much,” I whispered, pulling one of his arms around me, I wanted to feel him, all of him here in this house, our summer place. I was surprised he hadn’t run, when Con got overwhelmed he always ran, hiding was his protection. If I did anything in my life, helping Connie learn a better way to cope, or to start to was the best thing that I did.

“Don’t say it like that,” he whispered back, his eyes were closed tight shut.

“Like what?” I asked cautiously, somehow, I knew what he was going to say, I brushed my fingers through his soft hair, his pre-summer haircut was always my favorite. It wasn’t too long, not too short, just enough to outline his face and perfectly highlight his eyes.

“Like it’s one of the last times you’ll ever say it,” his voice cracked and I kept running my fingers through his locks, soothing him. It’s funny how I’m the one who this has happened to yet I’m the one who’s been reassuring everyone that everything happens for a reason. Maybe it was because I’d lived enough to know what the purest of happiness was and that I’d experienced honest love even though some never do.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I kept repeating as if I was counting stars up in the sky or the little sheep jumping over the fence in hopes of falling asleep. I’d said it so much my mouth had started running dry but if that was the price for having this boy, this kind, loving boy in my arms until my end I’d pay it over and over and more.

Unfortunately, the underlying sour mood was carried into the next morning, when I woke up to the glimpse of summer that danced in through the half open curtain Conrad was still asleep. He usually looked peaceful when he slept but this morning even in his most fragile states his brows were creased and his breathing was heavy and uneven. I watched him, when we get back to Boston nothing will ever be the same, and we only have a week left here in Cousins.

I untangled from his arms. I tended to have more strength in the morning but today I gripped onto the white wooden rail as I ambled downstairs and into the kitchen. Walking past the living room I noticed figures asleep on the couch. I smiled to myself when I saw Jeremiah and the Conklin siblings, they never left last night.

The clock hit seven when I walked into the kitchen, mom sat there with her kindle in hand, cup of coffee in front of her, but she stared unfocused at the device The lines under her eyes were darker than last night, she looked exhausted. Dad was at the kitchen counter prepping some eggs, bacon and sausages, the good old English Breakfast. He too looked as though he hadn’t slept.

“Morning sweetheart,” mom said looking up, her whole expression changed from worry to love, and though she tried to hide it the worry was still there, rooted deeply in her skin. I took a step towards her and she rushed out of her chair to grab me into a tight embrace.

A thousand things I wanted to say sat there pooling in my head because I simply couldn’t get them out.

“Your dad went out last night to get some more breakfast supplies, we’re feeding some unexpected- but most welcome mouths this morning,” she conveyed and I just nodded, my head resting in her neck, “I’ve called Princeton this morning and explained the situation, they said depending on how long the treatment is going to take they may move your enrollment to next year just so you don’t fall too far behind,” mom explained and I watched my dad’s feet shuffle towards us. College was the last thing on my mind, everyone here was.

“We also called the hospital and they’ve decided to start your sessions earlier,” dad said, this forced me to pull back.

“What do you mean?” I asked frantically, “We’ve had the date set for the day after we get back! How can I start my treatment earlier if we’ll still be here?” I questioned.

“We’ll be heading back to Boston tomorrow Y/n” mom conveyed, I took another step back. No! I needed this last week here with these people.

“But we agreed-” I tried to reason, to argue.

“I know sweetheart, but your health is more important to us, the doctors were already weary of letting you have the whole summer here anyway,” dad leaned against the kitchen counter with one hand and the other travelled to his forehead, an attempt to brush the physical signs of fear and worry away.

“We’re your parents Y/n, we just want what’s best,” mom reassured, and I knew they were right, they usually tended to be but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

“The moms have organized a day full of fun and the celebratory barbeque dinner tonight,” Belly, who was now leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen, said.

“We’re all leaving tomorrow Y/n, we’re going to be there with you every step of the way,” Jeremiah said, his stunning ocean eyes expressing the purest admiration, his one hand was around Belly’s waist. A side of my mouth twisted up in a sly smile. I had predicted this years ago, Con owed me fifty bucks now.

“Oh my- come here the both of you right now,” I demanded, I took a few steps towards them but they did most of the work.

“I want in too!” Steven, voice all groggy and half asleep, demanded as he jogged towards us. We stood there hugging for longer than we ever have, it was nice and warm.

We all sat around the table playing a round of uno as dad started to make breakfast, mom offered to help to give us the space, she knew we got far too competitive when it came to this game.

I had two cards left, the least out of all when Jeremiah spoke up from next to me, “Connie isn’t taking it well, he went outside at around three in the morning and he just sobbed, I thought you needed to know” his eyes with sympathetic and glossed over.

“I just don’t want him to shut everyone out now,” I said knowing that the boy had a thing for bottling up his emotions until they finally explode. He stayed last night but who knew which was his mood would sway today.

“He’s going to be around, he’ll be here for you, we all will,” Jeremiah reassured.

The day went by faster than anyone wanted, Conrad came down perfectly in time for breakfast, he pulled a chair to sit next to me. Just like his usual self he wanted to be near me, touching me at all times, whether it was his shoulder brushing mine, a hand on thigh or his head on my shoulder. After breakfast we when back to Susannah’s house and sat on their private stretch of beach. Then we competed in a murder mystery game that us kids created when we were twelve. It was actually pretty intriguing even for the moms and dad.

“I can’t believe you kept stored away for six years mom,” Jere said to which Susannah replied with a knowing motherly smile and pulled another clue card.

Then we went to the pier, had ice cream and I absolutely crushed everyone at the arcade games winning most of the challenges, the great showdown occurred yet again even though Laurel banned it all those years ago. Then we headed back for dinner at the beach house, Jere and Steven operated the grill, we all sat around talking and I managed enough energy to play a quick round of water polo in the newly upgraded heated pool.

Through the whole day Conrad was never more than a few feet away from me. He managed to upkeep a smile most of the time, but when he thought I couldn’t see it faltered. I always knew he was a good one.

At around eleven mom and dad headed back home whilst the rest of us cuddled up on the couches to watch some romcom on Netflix. About halfway through Belly decided she wanted popcorn, so we took a pause and Susannah said she wanted to brush my hair. She loved doing both mine and Belly’s hair, we were her honorary daughters so of course I let her. One of the many things I love about her is that no matter the weather, or what was going on she was a ray of sunshine. I don’t mean that she was always happy, but she always held out hope and guided everyone to the other side of any storm cloud.

After the movie had finished and we got a good hour into the titanic most of us were dozing off, Susannah started shooing everyone off to bed. She too went upstairs leaving Conrad and I sat on the sofa. I looked at him as soon as the whole floor was clear. My eyes asked the quiet question, begged the questions.

“Are you sure? Do you feel like you have enough strength?” he asked, and I smiled, my brain scanned through images of this boy as we grew up, side by side and through all of it he stayed true just like his mom.

“What have we been doing for the past four hours if not sitting and laying around?” I asked lifting my brows in a giggle.

He shook his head slightly and half a smirk managed to make it onto his face, “It’s been a long busy day, that’s all I’m saying,” he defended himself.

“I know, but I’m fine I promise, let’s go!” I encouraged lifting from the couch and pulling him up by his arm. It didn’t take much convincing, when he stood, he gave me a long, slow kiss before resting his arm around my shoulder. We fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle finally put together.

We walked down the sandy path towards their private part of the beach, nudging each other and giggling just like the night Conrad first kissed me, just like the night he had asked me to be his girlfriend. Most, if not all our important milestones happened here at the beach house.

“Do you know what?” He asked breaking the silence, even just the sound of his voice was enough to press my body and mind into total peace but also force my heart to beat at an ungodly speed, still after being together for two and a half years.

“What?”

“One day, the day we get married, I’ll scoop you up like this,” he pauses turning to me, I look at him confused for a second as he coddles me in his arms like a princess, I let out a giggle, “and I’ll carry you into this house,” he pointed to the summer house, “then I’ll carry you out back and all the way to the beach and kiss you until the sun goes down and the moon hangs up high in the sky like tonight and never let you go,” he whispered into my ear as we neared the beach.

“Connie,” I began but he shushed me

“I know, I know you don’t like planning that far ahead, but this is non-negotiable, you said we’re allowed one non-negotiable each. You have yours and I have mine,” he said in a manner of fact way, I just laughed and leaned up to kiss him.

“You do know, I know that was all a ruse so that I didn’t have to walk,” I said and he just smiled, “You’re amazing and I love you but please put me down,” I asked, not because I didn’t love to be treated like a princess but because I felt good and I wanted to experience this with him in the way it’s always meant to be.

When we got onto the open part of the beach it was much windier, Con took off his coat leaving him in his jumper and wrapped it around my arms. We listened to the song of the water and watched the waves.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he announced into the night, he’s sat half leaning on his legs.

“Why’s that?” I asked, there were so many things both of us had to be thankful for.

“That I met you, that I have you, that you chose me and let me hold and love you, I think I’m the luckiest man on the planet,” he says, his gaze drifting to the stars above us. Not a single cloud in the sky tonight.

“Do you know what I think is lucky?” I asked laying my head on his shoulder, my eyes getting tired now.

He finally turns to me and smiles, “What?”

“That we both live in Boston,” I said and he shook his head, clearly not what he was expecting. But it was true, our grandparents met at the Cousin’s country club years ago, our grandmothers were friends which then meant our moms were friends, they went to collage together, it was both of their dreams to live in Boston so they moved out there together not expecting to both live in that city for so long but I was so thankful they did because that meant that I got the Fisher boys and Susannah all year round.

It was around the time that we could see the first shades of yellow and orange of the sun that we decided to head back, his sheets were cold but his arms around me were more than enough to keep me warm in the breezy summer night.

The next day mom and dad came round for breakfast, it was a feast ranging from cereal and toast to pancakes with fresh fruits and muffins which Jere and Belly had gone for a morning run for. Just as fast as the breakfast had disappeared, we were all packing up and getting ready to leave.

As I watched the scenery leaving Cousins, I felt guilty that everyone was cutting their trip short, no matter how much they tried to reassure me that it was okay and that they didn’t mind. Still Laurel, Belly and Steven had agreed to say in Susannah’s house in Boston for the week which meant we still got to have that time together before everything went back into motion in September.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

It was a week after the Conklin’s left that I was told I would be better off shaving off my hair now with it being earlier in the process in order to avoid more emotional highs later on which could affect the medication.

I’d agreed on the terms that Susannah would be the one to do it, together we supported and acted for a hair donation charity which turned hair into wigs for children with cancer, so that’s exactly where my hair was headed.

It was a Friday night, which is always Pizza night, whether ordered in or homemade, one week at our house one week at the Fisher’s. It was that night that I was going to shave all the hair off, the thought wasn’t as scary as I remember it being from the first time around, but I would miss it.

I sit with a towel around my shoulders looking at myself in the mirror of the master bathroom, the boys were both sat in there with my mom, Belly was facetiming us and Susannah stood behind me with the scissors, this was harder for her than for me.

Mom held my hand and dad stood in the doorway with a tight smile. Susannah had braided my hair into two braids and after a nervous laughter and whispering ‘I love you’ she cut the first one, the snip of the scissors was loud in my ears as she worked through the thick of one braid. A breath escaped my lips and quickly enough we were on the second braid. Now Conrad held onto my other hand, the corners of his eyes creasing. And then the other was gone too.

In a way it felt like a weight was lifted off me, I mean it literally had been, my head felt lighter, and I was left with uneven scraps all over my head.

“Hey I dig the short hair!” Jeremiah says hand extended to fist bump me, I felt obliged saying, “Now we know I could steal your hairstyle and still be cooler than you,” I remarked and he pulled a smirk.

“Listen up Y/n/n at least my cut isn’t so uneven,” he laughs

“Well, mine’s about to be more smooth than yours, what you gonna do?” I play intimidated as mom placed my braids into the zip lock bag ready to be posted.

“Some little girl or boy is going to be really happy when they receive that hair you know that Y/n” Susannah said squeezing my shoulders after plugging in the razor. This time I closed my eyes and squeezed Connie’s hand tighter.

When half my head was done, I felt a bit of a breeze but I didn’t want to open my eyes yet, I’ve said many times that hair wasn’t a determining factor in my life but at the end of the day it was a part of me.

“All done,” Susannah said and I could hear a fragile smile in her words, I nodded with my own smile.

Then after a second the sound of the razor when off again and my eyes shot open, before I could stop it I saw Connie’s soft, brown hair falling from his head. He has run a strip right in the middle of his hair.

I leaped out of the stool. But it was too fast, everything around me started spinning slightly and my knees had gone weak. I grabbed the counter in front of me and both mom and Jeremiah leaned forward for support.

“I’m okay,” I say after a second, I closed my eyes and steadied myself, what was actually a matter of a minute felt like hours, but then I was stood again with another reminder: slow.

“Connie what were you thinking?” I asked incredulously and he was just shaking his head smiling, a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

“I’m in this with you, I told you I would be here every step of the way and I will,” he stood right in front of me, his deep blue eyes staring right into my soul, how had I been so lucky to have been granted the love of this boy and everyone else in this room. I pulled him into a tight embrace, retaining his warmth, his touch.

Jere jerked taking the turned off razor out of his brother’s hand and worked it through his own hair. This time everyone gasped, Jeremiah loved his hair.

“Never have I ever thought I’d see that happen. Jere, you obsess over your hair, you love it!” Belly expressed through the phone, now Steven was leaning over her shoulder.

“Yo- you lot are brave!” he exclaimed with laughter; this was how he processed grief. He made jokes and laughed because otherwise it was much too bare, I didn’t blame him, in fact I found it comforting.

“I love my hair but you mean much more Y/n” Jere announced turning back to me and I couldn’t help but let the tears roll down my face now, pulling Jere to join the hug. He will be exactly the one for Belly, he’ll treat her well. I was sure of it.

Now it was my turn to sit on the edge of the tub, Susannah’s arm around me as we watched both her boys get their heads shaved by my mom.

“Well now we’re all gonna look like weirdos every time we leave the house,” I laughed looking at dad.

“And we’re gonna look like some cult parents who forced their kids to shave their heads,” he added back laughing

“I mean we could shave yours too David,” Susannah added, “Then we’ll confuse the narrative,”

“Only if your hair is next,” he challenged and I squeezed Suze’s hand, I would never let anyone come near her beautiful, golden hair.

“I think we’ve shaved enough heads for one day,” mom announces pulling the razor momentarily from Jere’s head, “Remember we have that dinner reservation in like two hours and I’d like to get changed from these sweats and t-shirt,” she goes back to Jere’s hair but before she’s able to make any progress she turns back around again, “Actually that’s a lie I could live in this outfit for the rest of my life I’m just not sure the people at the restaurant would appreciate it,” she says and every in the room laughs.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

The hospital room I’d been in for the past week and a half has become a familiar sight, considering that I’ve only left it to go to other similar looking rooms in the hospital. I look at the clock, its five in the afternoon, I must have fallen asleep again. The November chill was visible outside by the frost on the other side of the glass.

On the other side of the room behind the wall I hear mom talking to someone, dad has gone to work for the day, they’ve started switching days, so I can only guess it’s Susannah or the boys.

“It’s been getting worse,” her voice quivers and a part of me wishes I could mute her out, still be asleep. I know the truth, a part of me has known it since I found out the cancer came back those couple of weeks before we departed for Cousins that summer, I wasn’t going to get better.

“There must be something they can do,” another voice said, this time my body hauled me up a little. Conrad. I’ve been letting him visit me, he wanted to be here all the time but I asked Susannah to pace him. He was here this morning. It was meant to be one visit a day.

I know that makes me sound horrible, and it makes my own heart shatter piece by piece but it wasn’t because I didn’t love him or because I didn’t want him to be here. I knew there would be a time where he would have to move on, life would continue and he has such a bright future ahead of him, so many people to meet and experiences to be had. In my head if the distancing started now maybe it would be easier for him, even still the image of him with any other girl made me feel sick.

“Is she awake?” Is what I hear when I break out of thought.

“She wasn’t when I left to get changed and grab some food, but it’s been a couple of hours so she should be waking up soon if you want to go in,” mom said and I silently battled with the thought of pretending to still be asleep.

Before I had the time to make the choice the door was opening and then Conrad’s and my eyes met and he was coming to sit next to my bed, quickly pulling his hand into mine.

He bought a bag of games with him, we started with some card games, then snake and ladders, then four in a row and so on for a couple of hours. I was glad he came for the second time today.

“What?” He asked, I was staring at him but it wasn’t like he wasn’t staring back

“No nothing, just wondering how I managed to score such a hot boyfriend,” I say fanning myself with one hand, “And he’s a teddybear and sweetheart.” I added and watched him cringe at my words.

“I’m the one who should be asking how I managed to get a girlfriend as stunning and kindhearted as you,” he said but I just rolled my eyes. As much as we did this over the top thing as a joke we both knew we meant the words.

We talked and talked that night, he held my hand through it all. I didn’t realize how late it was but mom had come to sit in the corner of the room, she’d been having trouble sleeping recently but she’d managed to snooze off.

“I love you so much Connie, I’m thankful for you everyday, never ever change,” I whispered holding back a sob, he was half asleep on his chair next to my bed too.

“I love you too,” he said leaning up to kiss me gently. Then Connie and I whispered to each other until I too was fading away into sleep.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Conrad’s POV:

I never thought I’d be stood here, looking at all these people and her picture in front of a casket. I took that photo the day I asked her to be my girlfriend on Cousins beach, all her teeth were shining pearly white and her hair was blowing in the wind framing her face like a masterpiece statue or a goddess.

“I think you all know that Y/n meant more to me than anything and anyone in my life, alongside my family. We grew up with each other. We were there for each other in the good and bad times even before we were together romantically. She is- was- one of the most integral pieces of the puzzle of our lives. I think I can speak on behalf of our families,” I pause, tears rolling down my face, and a sob building up in my throat, “I don’t know how I will be able to go day by day without seeing her, hearing her voice and her passion. She inspired me more than anyone and I will love her until the day I die and even further into whatever comes after death, I will do everything in my power to make sure all her goals for the many charities and organizations are complete, I will build a new charity in her name, I will make sure she gets the remembrance she deserves, because- because more than anyone I know she deserved all happiness and love. She will be missed more than I could ever have the words to express” I finished and turned to the casket, “Please don’t leave me, come back to me,” I whispered.

There was more I wanted to say, I could speak about her for days and nights on end, about how wonderful and bubbly and kind she was and yet I couldn’t. These faces in the crowd, some knew her better than others but no one like our little families, Belly, Jere and Steven were all sat next to each other crying. Mom was holding her arms around Y/n’s mom and dad as they stared at me, thankful for my words.

I broke into tears too, leaning onto the stand in front of me for support. Mom rushed towards me now, holding me close and helping me down to the seats. There I sat numb, tears flowing as the pastor finished the ceremony after which we all filed out and watched her get lowered into her grave. It read ‘Y/n L/n. Daughter, friend, love. An inspiration to all’

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I was holding her hand the night she passed. Two weeks since I’ve lost my everything.

Masterlist

#The Summer I Turned Pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty x reader #TSITP #tsitp x you #tsitp fanfic #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #Jeremiah Fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher x you #tsitp jeremiah

2K notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Eleven: [The Man]

Summary: When Jake and Jensen go head to head over who means what yo you, things escalate to new heights, so much so that Jake lashes out and says something that may not be forgiven.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.6K

Author Note: This chapter brings the total word count of this series to 50k....I cannot believe that an idea that began as a one-shot has turned into this. Thank you all so much for your support on this one. xxx

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There was a brief moment right before your shower where Jake was able to step out into the hall to call his sister Jasmine. He knew the call he was about to make was going to be neither short, nor pleasant. But he also knew that deep down, you weren’t mentally prepared to tell your children you were sick. But the pair of you had to start somewhere. And that somewhere was Jake’s sister.

“What the FUCK is going on!” One single ring. One dial. That's how long it took Jake's sister to answer, hell, Jake thought it would have been sooner but he gave her a little good grace for potentially having to step out of whatever family dynamic she found herself in. “Mum said Y/n’s sick?”

“Did she say it like that?” Jake replied unamused as he found an empty chair to sit on in the waiting room area down the hall. He didn't want to stray too far away from your room. Although he knew that you were with the nurses, he couldn't find it inside himself to leave. If Jake tried hard enough, he could still see your bed socks at the end of your hospital bed.

“Uh–” Jasmine's apprehensive silence confirmed all Jake needed to know. “She may have said it with a little hope in her chest, mentioned the words dropped and dead in the same sentence of wishful thinking.” Jake couldn’t say he was surprised after the way Janeen had spoken so poorly about you directly to his face. He couldn't really imagine what she’d been saying to other members of the Seresin family. “But what's going on? I'm keeping an eye on the kids as much as I can but holy shit mum's just on a warpath–”

Fuck: Jake knew leaving the kids behind was a bad idea on his behalf. The guilt of running off on his children in the middle of the night was beginning to eat him alive. The idea of lying to them about your condition only made that guilt harder to rationalise.

“Okay, can you just promise me you won’t tell the kids?” Jake groaned into the phone. “Y/n doesn't want them to worry so she doesn't want to say too much.”

“Jake–” Jasmine's voice changed, the serious nature of the conversation at hand was beginning to shine through with ease. “She's alright, isn't she?” Jasmine asked as Jake let his elbows rest on top of his thighs. This whole situation, the newly found world of which you were living in was begging to give Jake the head spins. Keeping up was exhausting, but this wasn't about Jake now was it. “This is Y/n we’re talking about, she has to be alright.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had been reading all your files, all your reports, everything and anything he could get his hands on about your diagnosis. After all, he had been named your emergency contact not long after showing up. He’d made a convincing case. Jake knew a lot about your current situation. He knew the odds, chances, risks and possibilities.

“She's been diagnosed with Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” Jake explained to his sister who on the other end of the call, sat watching his youngest try to eat the sand from the sandpit Jake himself used to shit in as a child. “The oral chemo they had her started on caused a stroke, apparently it's a common side effect, to me they shouldn't be pumping people full of that crap if its gonna cause a fucking stroke forty percent of the time.”

Jake knew the silence on the other end of the line was due to an overload of information getting caught in his sister's cerebellum. It was a lot to take in, hell Jake still hadn’t really been given an opportunity to take it all in. since he found out he’d been go go go. He knew an impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion was coming. When that moment would come he wasn't sure.

“You’re lying–” Was all Jasmine said. Jake wished more than anything he could say he was.

“Fucked up thing to lie about Jas–” Jake responded softly as he listened to the hustle and bustle of the hospital wing his sat in. “She hadn’t been feeling well for a few months, Doctors say it's aggressive, feeds off her hormones and stuff.” Jake didn't understand a lot of it, but he was trying his best to navigate a field he wasn't an excerpt in. “She's in for a preventative double mastectomy on Christmas Eve. It would've been earlier but the strokes kinda set her back a few days.”

“Jake– I don't believe you, the kids–what about the kids, what do I tell them?” Jasmine couldn't comprehend the devastation this would cause on the already struggling family dynamic. You and Jake were meant to be, everyone knew that. But this whole separation, the miscommunication and overall fractures within your marriage were all major contributing factors as to why love just couldn’t be enough.

“Don't tell them anything, please, for the love of God Jas don't tell them anything, I just–” Jake let out a sigh of frustration as he ran his hand free hand through his hair. God he needed a haircut. “We just need a little time to process what's going on and Y/n–she's been doing this for too long on her own, I can’t keep letting her down so just, take a moment to breathe for me.”

“Holy fuck you aren’t kidding about any of this are you?” Jasmine with all her good graces and problematic marital issues of her own, looked over at where her husband sat with hers and Jake's father. The sight was enough to send a shiver down her spine. The man who raised her was not someone who Jasmine ever wanted her brother to become. Losing your wife to such a disease that was as unforgiving as it was inhumane could potentially be an origin story bubbling under the surface of Jake's skin.

“Jake–You don't get to turn into dad if this ends anything less than Y/n walking away from this cancer free Jake, your kids deserve to have a dad that won't treat them like burdens and mistakes.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Watch your step alright?” Our skulls are designed to cushion our brains. Our rib cages are specifically moulded to guard our hearts. The human body is built to protect our most vulnerable parts. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

The way in which Jake helped to guide you out of the bathroom with his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back made your heart skip a beat. You held tightly onto his forearm with one hand and in the other? Was your IV poll, still pumping you full of antibiotics and fluids.

“I got it.” You tried to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. That's what this whole thing was about right? This battle, this fight. It was all about putting one foot in front of the other. With Jake by your side, albeit with some underlying resentment still to be discussed, you felt as though those steps, small but meaningful in their own right, were made with intent and purpose to keep fighting. “Shit the air-con feels so weird on my head.” You chuckled to yourself as Jake shut the bathroom door behind the both of you.

“Yeah holy shit it's like–” As Jake's eyeline faltered from you to the figure standing over near the door, his heart sunk into his stomach. His face turned to stone as the green in his eyes, usually an emerald colour, darkened to something more pine-like. The half finished sentence that left your husband's mouth and tailed off into complete and utter silence was what got your attention the most. It wasn't like Jake to not say what was on his mind.

“What's up?” As you turned your head slowly, you saw the man who had been nothing but a pillar of support for you to lean on since your diagnosis. It was the man who had kept you above water when you felt like you’d been drowning in a sea of unprecedented mortality. “Jensen–” The shock and excitement in your tone was something Jake couldn't miss no matter how much he wanted to. “You came?”

Jake made no attempt to move as you shuffled forward, he stood still with his heart hammering inside his chest. He stood completely still as his thoughts carried him away into a world where nothing made sense to anyone. Into a world where he didn't have you, a world where for the last year he’d tasted of that very misery and hated every last second of it.

“I uh–” Jensen held out the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies he’d brought for you. The overwhelming colours and signature scents captivated the entire room with their freshness. “I wanted to stop by, see how you were doing, hope I'm not intruding?”

The body tends to adapt quickly to new circumstances and pressures it’s put under. It knows how to protect itself. But it can’t close off completely, or well—we’re not really living are we? Biology tends to override our fears, so we leave the door open, just a little…hoping like hell that it's worth the risk.

“Oh no, no we just finished up some DIY haircuts.” You beamed, the smile that ignited across your face was a smile Jake hadn't seen in years. A smile so pure and full of love that it couldn't ever be faked. “Jake, this is Jensen.” You introduced the two men who had played significant roles in your life, having no clue that they had both already met one another in the hall. “We met at the doctors office, as unfortunate as that sounds, it's been really nice to have someone who just, knows.” Jake slowly but surely aided you over to your bed before he made his way over to where Jensen stood watching idly. Assessing the situation unfolding before him. “Jensen convinced me to go to a few of those CCA meetings, although not my cup of tea–it's nice to know that that support system is there.”

Jake eyed Jensen and his bouquet of flowers off as he stepped closer and closer with a look Jensen couldn't quite read in his pine green eyes. The betrayal of love often has boundaries that people end up living with for the rest of their lives. For Jake, his betrayal and the consequences of his emotional ineptitude inside his marriage was starting to play out right before his very eyes.

He saw the potential that there was in fact another man. And oh boy did he hate it.

“And Jensen, this is Jake, my husband.” Jensen took subtle notice of the way you introduced Jake to him as your husband, not your ex-husband like you'd been referring to him as since the two of you first met. Something had changed, Jensen could sense it. But for as much as Jensen could sense the chemistry between you and Jake, Jake could see the way your eyes lit up with overjoyous surprise when you realised that the flowers Jensen held in his hand were in fact for you. “Are those, are those for me?”

“Oh–yeah.” Jensen beamed as he walked a little further into your room. “I thought they might bring a little light into your room but it seems that you have it pretty well decorated.” It was the small nod to the Christmas lights that hung around your room that made you smile even brighter as Jake made his way back over and helped you into bed. You could tell there was tension brewing just from his quietness alone. “And the new haircut suits you, good thing you don't have a weird ass head huh?”

“Hey Jarred–” Jake interrupted before you had a chance to reply, the way he intentionally called Jensen by a different name rubbed you the wrong way. The frown that cast itself across your face left little to Jake's imagination, but as he made sure you were as comfortable as could be in your bed, he kept going. “Nows, probably not a good time–”

Jensen looked around your room carefully, he knew the system well and what times were more common than not for nurses to do their daily rounds and check-ins. He knew that by the looks of things you had just showered and were probably settling in for the afternoon. If Jensen was correct in his assumption as he looked back towards where Jake stood at your bedside, he would assume that he couldn't have picked a better time to drop by.

“Seems like a pretty good time to me man, besides, why don't we let Y/n here make that call.” Jensen replied calmly as he went about finding a place for your flowers to go. Jensen could have played the safe card, he could have chosen to be the bigger person and not mention it, but he didn't really have a hell of alot to lose. After all, he was a dead man walking. What was the harm in stirring the pot a little where he still could. “Honestly, I didn't expect you to be here if I'm being completely honest.” Jensen smirked as he turned back to face Jake. You felt like your heart was about to explode right through your chest as you looked back and forth between the two men who had seemingly gotten into a mines bigger than yours contest on either side of your bedside. “Didn't think you knew your wife was sick–”

The silence was deafening as Jake thought about all the ways he could kill a man in one single motion. The rage he felt inside his chest was red hot jealousy. Jensen could practically see the steam spewing out of Jake's years.

“What my wife decides to share with me has nothing to do with you–” Jake growled, you could just see the way he was grinding his teeth. Jake's jawline had never seemed more profound. His knuckles were almost entirely white as he leaned against the railing of your hospital bed. Lowered down for convenience of getting in and out.

“It does when I’ve been the one listening to how much she wishes you loved her the same way she loves you.” Jensen shrugged. “Come on man, don't play this game, don't pretend that I don't know what been going on–”

“Enough!” You couldn't have shouted it slider if you tried. “Both of you, my god we’re all supposed to be adults here?” You sighed as you looked at Jake and then over to Jensen. Something was off with him, this wasn't the Jensen you knew. He seemed off, very off. “Can you two just back up, let's start over.” However, it was a plea that fell on deaf ears.

Remember that impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion Jake mentioned earlier? Yeah– about that. Guess it was coming around the corner sooner rather than later.

“Nah–” Jake shook his head as he let out a sigh. This was bullshit, you really had him fooled. He really did think that there was a possibility here that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could fix what he had unintentionally broken while focusing on your health. “Nah, I'm not gonna put up with this dickhead.” Jake hissed as unclenched his hands from the railing on your bed. “I'm gonna go get a coffee, try not to catch each other's cancer cells while I'm gone.”

“Jake, don't leave!” You begged as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. “Please—“ The panic that followed was something otherworldly as you watched Jake round out of the hospital room that had become your home away from home. “Please!”

Jensen was if anything, enraged. He hadn’t helped the situation but he never would have left your side after making a remark so thickly lacquered with jealousy. He didn't think Jake would react the way he did, so quick to make assumptions. The small gift Jensen still held in his hand was quickly placed on your bedside table.

“I’ll go talk to him—“ Jensen pressed his lips together as he let his hand fall gently to your shoulder. “My fault, I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm sorry.” Jensen didn't pretend to not see how upset you truly were. He understood what it was like to feel the weight of the world crushing your spirit. “He didn't mean what he said Y/n.”

“He did–” You sighed as you wiped away your tears. “He asked me when he came to take the kids to his mum's house if I was seeing anyone–”

Ah, Jensen thought to himself as he stood by your bedside and listened.

“He wants to get back together, fix what's broken, change.” You sighed as you looked over to the open door that Jake hadn't long before walked out of. “He probably thinks you're more than a friend.” In another life, perhaps Jensen could have been more than just a good friend. In another universe somewhere he hoped that maybe you never had this unforgiving disease. But this wasn't another reality, this was right now.

“All the more reason to fight for his girl.” Jensen cooed as he leaned in to kiss the top of your now very smooth head. “I'll go talk to your husband.”

You caught onto the not so subtle subtlety of the way Jensen teased that title. Husband. Jake Seresin was still very much your husband. He was the very definition of a man who was supposed to be at your side through thick and thin. But right now? You were doubting his ability to fully comprehend what was happening to you. Jake’s focus shouldn’t have been on Jensen and who he was to you. But yet you couldn’t not defend him.

“He’s not a bad guy, he’s really not—“ There was an awkward silence that lingered in the room as Jensen chose to take in what you’d said. “This is all just so much for him to take in.”

“You don’t need to explain your relationship to me.” Jensen wanted to say that if Jake was such an alright guy, then you wouldn’t have left. He wanted to remind you of all the conversations the two of you had had over the past few months. All the times you’d cried about the man who didn’t value your time, your energy, your love. “But a woman like you should never have to beg a man to stay.”

“I left him.” You felt the need to remind the man who stood at your bedside with an ora surrounding him you didn’t recognise. “I stopped begging him to love me a long time ago and you know that.”

Jensen could have thrown the fact you just called out after Jake back in your face, that you’d begged your husband not to leave. But he wasn’t that mean. He was just looking out for you. Someone had to. Someone had to make sure this Jake guy had his priorities in check and that you were at the very top of that list where you belonged.

“I know—“ Jensen pressed his lips together into a fine line. “But that guy just walked out the second things got a little more complicated, what’s gonna stop him from throwing in the towel if your health declines more than it already has?” Jensen shrugged his shoulders like he wasn’t being nasty. It was his version of tough love.

“I’m sorry—“ You scoffed as your face contorted into that of a frown mixed with frustration. “Are you, are you testing Jake?”

“Cancer is one of the world's most leading causes of divorce.” Jensen added like it was a statistic you should have known. He knew you knew it. “I just wanted to see how well he handled a little external pressure.”

“You’re—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Jensen was smiling down at you from ear to ear.

“A menace, I know, but I’m a menace that only has your best interest at heart.” Jensen explained as he sat down beside you for only a brief moment. “Your fight isn’t with Jake right now, he shouldn’t be fighting you or anyone else in your life that may come and go.”

“Jensen—“ You knew Jensen hadn’t been well, but he hadn’t explicitly told you how bad it was. There was something in his eyes though, the way he looked at you like he was looking at you for the last time that had you worried. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just making sure if you’re letting that man back into your life that he’s gonna stick around when things don’t go the way he wants them to.” Jensen smiled softly as he picked up your hand to bring towards his lips. He left a fleeting kiss upon the palm of your hand and let out a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “I’ll go track down your sook of a husband, make sure he’s aware that you’re hopelessly devoted or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Please be nice—“ You pleaded gently as Jensen stood from your bedside. “Please.”

“Anything for you Y/n.” Jensen replied, he knew that this would be the last time he ever saw you apart from in his own version of heaven. “Anything for you.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Jake Seresin had never been a fan of hospitals. That mentality first started when he broke his leg in kindergarten and needed a full cast, but it grew with him well into adulthood. Jake had never liked hospitals, even when all three of his children were born he still hated them. Not even the love he had for his children could override the hate he felt towards the sterile environment that gave far too many infections to people to be considered ‘normal’

“Seresin.” But Jake had never hated hospitals more than he did the second he heard his last name being called from just a short distance down the hall. Called by a man who Jake would happily like to never see again. “The hell is your problem?” Jake caught the sight of the man who’d brought you flowers coming right towards him with a fire burning in his eyes. The man you had kept somewhat a secret from Jake. Much like your diagnosis.

“My problem is asking me what my problem is.” Jake groaned as he took a sip of his shitty ass hospital coffee. “Don’t you and my wife have things to talk about?” Jake asked as he took a few steps away from where Jensen had stopped in his tracks. “Things I’m not privy to as it seems? Like her health or new love life?”

“You don’t even know who I am to your wife!” Jensen barked loud enough to have Jake stopping in the middle of the hall. The six foot something aviator turned slowly on his heels to give the almost matching in height bald dude the time of day he seemed to crave. “But I know all about you, because I’ve been there for Y/n while you’ve been busy playing part time parent across the country.” Jensen had nothing to lose, he was just a dying man who had no time left to cherish.

Jake wasn’t about to stand here and take this. He didn’t need some guy who’d stepped into your life to tell him what to do. You were the mother of Jake’s children, you’d always be that to him regardless if he could fix what he broke.

“Get out of my face before you need a plastics consult.” Jake growled through gritted teeth all the while Jensen grinned. He was standing his ground as Jake continued on his defensive. “Because so help me god, you may feel like god right now with your self-righteous heart and knight in shining armour attitude, but you sure as hell won’t feel all high and mighty when you meet him.”

Jensen didn't want to fight with your husband, but he did want to make it known that time was forever fleeting, and if Jake kept going the way he was there would be no time left to fix what he broke. You needed someone to be there for you, Jake had to be that person.

Because Jensen couldn’t be that guy for you anymore, he had no fight left to give you. He had no fight left in himself.

“You know I sympathise with you Jake, I do, it must be hard being the guy who broke your own marriage to a woman who loves so fiercely and so much.” Jensen started as he let his elbows rest atop his sweatpants clad knees. “And now having to deal with the fact that said wife is dying must be a lot to work through.”

Jake remained speechless as his eyes lingered down to the man who was almost out of breath from his walk through the halls. He held his half drunk coffee cup in his hand with enough rage coursing through his veins that Jake was actually surprised he hadn’t crushed the flimsy cardboard vessel.

“But you know what the worst part of all that is? Is that your priority isn’t your wife, or fixing your marriage—“ Jensen continued on. “No, it’s on the guy who your wife chose to confide in when you were nowhere to be found.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake replied with a hiss in his tone that mimicked the deadliest of snakes. “I couldn’t give a shit who you are to her or what you want, because she’s my fucking wife—mine!”

“And yet here you are arguing that point with me in the hall when you could be at her bedside appreciating all the small moments you’ll be lucky to look back on one day.” Jensen grew more heated as Jake took a few strides his way, towering over where Jensen sat. “You threw a fit the second I stepped into that room without using any critical thinking skills you aviators claim to have in the heat of the moment.”

“She told me she wasn’t seeing anyone! Come to find out that that’s—“ Jake didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Jensen intervened that train of thought.

“She’s not! You’re wife fucking love’s you!! She kept her prognosis from you because she was so scared you didn’t love her back enough to fucking care! And you’re hung up on the idea she’s seeing someone? Me!?” Jensen scoffed as he stood, the few strides he took towards Jake were made with intent behind every single one. Enough to have Jake stumbling back every so slightly. “Here’s a concept for you man.” Jensen pressed his index finger into Jake’s sternum. “Maybe, just maybe, if I was sleeping with your wife, she’d remember her worth.”

“You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake sighed, there was no way he was entertaining this delusion any more than he already had. “I think you should leave.” The idea of you being with another man sent Jake into a blind rage of jealousy that saw no reason. But at the end of the day, he was the one who walked out on you. He’d strayed too far from your hospital room and couldn’t see your bed socks anymore.

Fuck….

“Maybe, maybe I should—“ Jensen agreed. “And hell I don’t even know you at all, but from what I’ve managed to piece together? it’s that you're a crap husband who doesn’t have the emotional capacity to handle the fact his wife could lose this battle.” Jensen retaliated with a stone cold expression. “But something I do know is that no amount of prayer or candles or begging will reverse time, so put your ego side and focus on the fact your wife needs you now more than ever before and if you leave her side the way you did today ever again, trust me when I say you’ll regret it every day of your life.”

“Y/n isn’t dying—“ Much like Jensen was taking his fear of the unknown out on Jake, Jake was just about ready to let loose on the guy who was picking apart his very character. Sure, Jake recognised he wasn’t the best husband, but he also knew you weren’t dying. Not right now, not while he wasn’t by your side.

“I wasn’t either, but as it turns out we all have an expiry date.” Jensen replied. The atmosphere and energy surrounding the two men who were going head to head suddenly shifted. “Some sooner than others, but we all have one, and when yours is up yours is up and there ain't nothing you can do you extend it.”

“You’re—“ Jake couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“A walking corpse.” Jensen finished the sentence he knew Jake was trying to speak into existence. Although he didn’t care to beat around the bush. “So trust me when I tell you that wishful thinking does shit when your body decides it’s had enough.”

“Does Y/n know?” Jake's first worry was how this news, how this detrimental turn of events, would affect you. His heart forgot how to beat inside his chest when he watched Jensen shake his head in response.

“She needs to focus on her own journey, and before I go I need to make sure she has a support system because for a while there I was all she seemed to have.” Jensen explained. There it was, the truth of the matter.

Jake saw it clear as day, the care, the worry, the intention to make sure you had someone there for you because Jensen wasn’t going to be there anymore. You may not have slept with the guy standing before Jake but if Jake knew anything, it was the look of a man who was unequivocally in love with you. He saw his own reflection of Jensen's eyes.

“Go back, apologies, and you fix your marriage man because that woman? That electrifying woman who sees the good in everything doesn’t deserve to go through this alone—and you turning your back on her the second someone made things a little difficult for you isn’t a good representation of the husband she deserves.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Jake asked as he took a second to truly take in Jensens whole argument. The world seemed to go on around them, with doctors and nurses carrying out their daily duties and rounds. Family members walking to and from rooms visiting loved ones. But for Jake and Jensen? The world stopped when it came to you. “You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake couldn’t hide the pain in his voice. “Tell me you love her, then this all makes sense.”

“Maybe—“ Jensen tried to play his love for you down into something that was just a social construct. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.” Jensen was truly trying to hide the pain in his eyes, but Jake could see it all too easily. Jensen knew that. “So if not for yourself, for her, pull your head out of your ass man—“

“I never stopped loving her though.” Jake sighed out in frustration as he sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs that lined the hallway. Jensen followed soon after, both men decided that the heat of the argument was settling into something more valuable. “I just—I lost sight of what I had.”

“That’s just not a good enough excuse.” Jensen replied as he let his head fall back against the wall. “Listen, I don’t plan on coming back after I leave today.”

Jake didn’t respond, he simply waited for Jensen to explain. But the explanation never came and Jake never pressed. If anything he was kind of relieved in a selfish way.

“If you truly want to fix what’s broken, if you really want to fight for her and be by her side when she needs you the most, you’ll get up and you’ll go back in there and you’ll be the guy who gets to hold her like no one else does.” Jensen pauses momentarily before he continued on. “Because there’s better guys out there Jake, and she shouldn’t have to settle for one who doesn’t appreciate what’s right under his damn nose.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a better man than me?” Jake asked cautiously, a part of him didn’t want the answer to be yes. But Jake needed to know what the man sitting beside him truly thought. You saw something good inside him, inside both of them.

“I’m not a better man than you Jake—“ Jensen sighed as he stood from his chair. It was getting late, he had said his peace, he had put the fear for a dying man inside Jake Seresin. There wasn’t much more Jensen could contribute to your life besides what he had already given.

“I’m just a man who’s run out of time and has nothing left to lose.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine

277 notes · View notes

eponymous-rose · 4 months

Text

Mother's Day is always rough. (discussion of grief, cancer & parental death under the cut)

I think it's because it was the last holiday we had together - back on Mother's Day 2020, I wrote up a series of powerpoint slides (true to form) with memories from each year we'd shared, along with some candid pictures I'd taken on a trip we'd had together that I'd never shown her. At that point I think we both knew the treatment wasn't working, and I think it was pretty clear that this was going to be the last one. Five months after diagnosis, she was gone.

I always want to be a person who is Considerate, and part of that is desperately not wanting to be affected by things like the nonstop barrage of "gifts for Mom!" stuff in the week leading up to Mother's Day. And usually it genuinely doesn't get me, but I noticed a real nosedive in my mood this week and blamed it on everything but those constant, constant e-mails and banners and sponsored ads. It wasn't until I deleted the six billionth one from my inbox tonight that I thought, "Wow, maybe this is part of why I've been so weepy this week" and promptly burst into tears.

For the first time since she died in 2020, I dug up the letter she left for me on her computer. It's just a page long (she was deep into chemo treatments by then and didn't have much energy), but it says everything that needed to be said, and it's such a calm and silly and wry summation of our closeness and love that it instantly made me feel better than the cathartic crying-through-a-full-box-of-Kleenex did.

Grief hits you at weird times! I'm doing extremely well, for the most part, and even though I, like everyone else, felt like, "I'll be the one person in the universe for whom time will not salve this wound", it really has. I'll take this particular night as a reminder to just always be a little gentler with myself... and as a reminder of how incredibly happy and lucky I am to be surrounded now with so much love.

#eponymous family tag #parental death tw #cancer tw #grief tw

59 notes · View notes

ordinaryschmuck · 10 days

Text

Full Family AU Part 21

"She's so adorable!" Shouted one of Camila's older coworkers, a stout, gray-haired woman named Krystal Katz. Within seconds of walking in with Vee, all eyes from Camila's coworkers went right to the little girl clinging to Camila's legs. Krystal was the first to run over and give Vee's cheeks a little pinch, much to Vee's discomfort.

"Could you take it easy, Krystal?" Camila asked nicely. "She's...skittish with new people."

"Oh, sorry, Cami!" Krystal backed away, with Vee looking much more relaxed now. "Who is that little cutie?"

"And why is she with you?" asked Tanya, an intern with a blue dyed hair.

"Well, uh..." Camila put a hand on Vee's little head and rubbed it for comfort. Whether it was comfort for herself or for Vee, she wasn't sure. "She's...my daughter--Or, at least, she will be. Eventually."

"That...leaves me with more questions," Tanya noted.

"You see, me and Manny were planning to...adopt," Camila explained. "We always wanted a second kid, but after all the chemotherapy his...little soldiers, you could say, all called it quits. So adoption was the only way to...have more kids."

"Really?"

"Really," Camila said.

'Sort of...' She thought. 'The chemo did affect him that way and we were discussing adoption...'

Camila looked down at Vee, who looked back up at here with an unreadable expression.

'We were just aiming for someone younger...'

"Aw, so you've adopted this nice little lady?" Krystal asked.

"Yes--Well, sort of." Camila returned her attention to her coworkers. "I mean, yes, we're adopting her, but we're just...finalizing some things. It's a whole, long, and emotionally draining process that's...too complicated to go through now. So, instead, I'm taking Vee here to the break room so she can color and doodle. Just like Luz does when she visits. So if you have any more questions, please save them for later. I am just...so tired from this whole thing."

She then took Vee's hand and walked off to take her to the back.

"Okay, bye, Cami!" Krystal called. "And bye, you little darling!"

Camila only waved as she and Vee walked out. After coming to the break room, a nice place with a single table, counter, and a fridge, Camila sat Vee down right at the table.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stay right here for me, okay?" Camila calmly told her. "If you need me, or if you feel unsafe, just scream 'CAMILA,' and I'll be right over. I promise."

Vee didn't say anything. She just wrapped Manny's jacket around her some more.

"Vee? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for making things emotionally exhausting," Vee quietly said.

"You've got to stop apologizing, Bebé," Camila said with a sigh, patting Vee's shoulder. "Not everything is your fault, least of all this situation. And don't mind what I said earlier. I was just...playing things up so they could hopefully stop asking so many questions. I'm not so good with creativity. That's Manny's department. So coming up with what to tell them all was...difficult. I just said stuff that's mostly true."

"So it's mostly true that you're exhausted?"

"I'm exhausted in a lot of ways, not just with you." She gave Vee a quick hug. "I pinkie promised, remember? You're never going to be a problem, and you definitely aren't one now."

Vee let out a calming breath, feeling lighter. And, once again, warmer. Camila then stood up and went to the counter, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sheet of paper and some colored pencils.

"You can use these to entertain yourself," Camila said, handing the pseudo art supplies to Vee. "I'll check in on you every ten minutes and there's a TV we have right up there."

She pointed at the top left corner of the room, where a small TV, dusty was hung up.

"It's old and doesn't play sound but I can still turn it on if you ever want to watch something."

"I'm good for now..." Vee took one of the colored pencils and the paper. "Thank you."

"Enjoy yourself, Mi--Bebé," Camila said, quickly correcting herself on the fly. And instead of focusing on what was almost said, Camila chose to ruffle Vee's hair a bit and walk out to start her shift, leaving the little one to her art.

#the owl house #full family au #camila noceda #vee noceda #fan fiction

20 notes · View notes

do-it-for-the-fandom · 2 months

Text

Saturday September 29th, 2012.

He had told his doctor he was sleeping better.

He had lied.

Sleeping more wasn't the same thing as sleeping better.

"It's not a side effect of the treatment so it doesn't matter," he snapped when Beckett had gently stated that maybe lying to his doctor wasn't the best idea.

"It does matter."

His responding glare was enough for her to drop the conversation. Days had passed in a blur, she hadn't mentioned it again.

They hadn't really talked much at all since then.

Each morning, he was still asleep when she left for work. And by the time she returned in the evenings, he'd be practically falling asleep on the couch or in his office.

To his credit, he had been trying. He managed to pull himself from bed each day to make it to the hospital for his standing 9am appointment. According to Martha, he would fill the rest of his day by plodding around the loft and keeping himself busy with small, menial tasks that wouldn't consume too much of his energy. He didn't want to waste the day in bed, didn't want to give into the fatigue that plagued him. He was doing exactly what he needed to: fresh air, light exercise, sleep routine. Unfortunately, with her roster, that meant their time together had been severely limited and when they did manage some time alone, he was tired and irritable.

And anxious. Even if he tried to hide it, she could tell.

He was officially halfway through his first round of treatment. The first week had been fine: he was handling the drugs well and managing to stay positive about it all. The week had played out like a picture of domestic bliss. Beckett would come home from work to a full house, Alexis would talk excitedly about all of her Freshmen moments and Castle would keep them all updated on how his sessions were going: the nurses were nice and the hours he spent at the hospital allowed him plenty of people watching time. Considering their world had been rocked, everything seemed... fine.

Until it wasn't.

Week two of treatment introduced a handful of side effects.

The nausea came first. Some days, it was unrelenting. It would hit without warning and as the colour drained from his face, he rechannelled his focus into the simple act of breathing: in and out, slowly. If he was lucky, his slow breathing would be enough for him to ride out the wave of nausea. Most of the time, however, it merely bought him a few extra seconds to rush off to the nearest bathroom.

Beckett would spring into action: fresh bottle of water, clean hand towel from the linen closet, disposable gloves and a sealable bag for possible clean up. Then, she would wait outside the bathroom for him. He had insisted - several times - that she didn't have to witness this part, but she refused to leave him alone in this.

The good and the bad, we do it together.

Pain and general discomfort, loss of appetite and something his clinical nurses referred to as Chemo brain followed soon after. Slowly - but entirely too quickly - the up-beat, positive Castle that had existed for too short a time was beginning to fade. Most days he was too tired to fight off the confused and frustrated man trying to replace him.

No one could blame him.

Still, he was trying.

It was not long past 6pm, but Castle was already in bed for the night. The sun was still high in the sky, warming the streets to a comfortable 72 degrees. Beckett longed to be outside but the thought of being any further from Castle made her tense. The couch already seemed too far away. Most nights she would head to bed not long after Castle and read a book but tonight - after he'd been particularly surly this afternoon - she had decided to curl up on the couch, save accidentally bothering him with her book light or something.

"Here."

An over-filled glass of red wine appeared in Beckett's line of sight, followed by an exhausted looking Martha. Beckett accepted the glass with a gracious smile, but placed it on the table without taking a sip.

"Thanks but I quit."

"It's the one you like," Martha informed her as she lowered herself onto the couch.

Alexis joined them, curling up beside her grandmother. "Dad won't mind," she assured Beckett.

Castle had told her as much before he started treatment. He had insisted, even, that just because he could no longer enjoy a nightly glass of wine with their dinner, that didn't mean she couldn't either. To prove his point, he had poured her a glass of this very same wine on their first officially not a secret date, while he sipped water instead. She had sipped slowly, savoured the taste of her favourite red wine because, despite his assurances, she was determined that that would be the last time she'd taste the robust flavours for the foreseeable future.

"Besides, you look like you could use it," Martha added with a sympathetic smile.

Beckett closed the book she was reading and let it drop to her lap. She scrubbed her hands over her face and let out a heavy sigh. "That bad?"

"Have you gone home at all in these past few weeks?" Alexis asked.

Beckett opened her mouth to answer but Martha raised her hand, silencing her before she even had a chance to speak.

"Other than to pick up more clothes," the older woman clarified.

"I want to be here."

Silence fell upon them and Beckett felt scrutinized under the near-identical stares from the redheads.

"You need a break," Alexis said decidedly.

Frustration flared as a wild defensiveness coursed through Beckett's veins.

"Why? Because I can't handle this?" she said bitterly.

The shame and regret that instantly washed over her seemed to mirror that of Alexis's.

The girl deflated, dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry that I said that. I didn't mean-" She sighed. "Honestly, I don't know what I meant. I just... I'm sorry."

"We all know that you are one hundred percent in this, Katherine," Martha assured, her hand on Beckett's knee. "And even if we didn't, you sure as hell would have proven us wrong," she added with a huff of laughter.

"Balancing the long work days while still managing to be by dad's side as much as possible-" Alexis paused to swallow the lump of emotion that clogged her throat. It didn't work. Tears welled in her eyes and her voice shook as she whispered, "Thank you."

In that moment, any hostility that may have been lingering between the pair had completely dissipated.

Beckett rose to her feet and held out her hands. Without hesitation, Alexis took them and - in an act so uncharacteristic of the guarded detective - Beckett pulled the girl into her arms. Mere seconds passed before Martha joined their embrace.

The three women stayed that way, silently comforting one another, for just a few short moments but as they all pulled away with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces, Beckett realised that this - the tension and the snipes, the tears and the smile, the wordless comfort - this was family.

#kate beckett #richard castle #martha rodgers #alexis castle #my fics #my drabbles #when forever falls apart

27 notes · View notes

zeroducks-2 · 1 year

Text

I was thinking of something my gf said about Under The Red Hood, about the whole "did Bruce hit Jason in the neck or shoulder" conundrum.

I hadn't really wondered about it too much previously, I just assumed Bruce is a fucking asshole because he threw a batarang at this boy who supposedly was like a son to him, after getting him back from the dead, at the very high risk of killing him. Like idgaf of the circumstances okay? Fuck off Bruce. So it's not like I really cared if that was the shoulder or the neck (even if it does look like the neck) because it's the principle that's fucked up.

But anyway, recently my gf said something and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went back to UTRH and looked for panels and GODDAMNIT SHE'S RIGHT-

So, the answer to the question "did Bruce aim for Jason's neck or shoulder when he threw that batarang?" can be answered with BOTH. Let me explain.

The scene is Bruce and Jason's last confrontation in UTRH, and they just started to fight. It's a brutal fight made even more desperate because chemo has just been dropped on Bludhaven and Bruce cannot physically go check on Dick because Jason is preventing him, so they're both desperate, no one is pulling the punches.

it starts out like this:

With a batarang thrown behind Jason that bounces back from a close distance, and which allows Jason to choose his wound, because it's aimed to his shoulder and head.

Sounds familiar? Basically this blow is thrown in a way that takes away someone's balance, forcing them to move from a spot if they want to avoid a potentially fatal blow.

Jason dodges of course and gets hit on the side of the shoulder, giving back with one of "his tricks", and the fight continues.

Now take a look at how the fight ends:

with the same opening blow, a batarang thrown behind Jason, aimed at his shoulder and head. Clearly aimed to destabilize Jason and make him let go of the Joker, but Jason does not move and does not let go until after he's been hit.

The implications of this are huge. It's a known fact that Jason does not think he's going to walk out of this alive, but here he actively chose to let Bruce hit him in the neck, solid on his position until the end.

There's also a bit, a few panels prior, regarding how both Jason and Bruce wouldn't fall for the same trick twice:

Never twice.

Bruce used the same move twice with that batarang throw, and again it implies that Jason should have seen it coming and he did.

Bruce won, in the sense that he managed to not do what Jason demanded - shoot him through his face or watch the Joker die - he "managed to find a way to win" and keep his conscience relatively clean because he didn't shoot a gun, and it was Jason's decision not to move and to let that batarang hit him in the neck when he could have dodged it.

And everybody still loses.

DC writers do have a tendency to depict Jason having suicidal tendencies. I'm pretty sure at this point that it comes from this, and that whatever the fuck happens in RHATO when Bruce beats the living hell out of him, and Jason does not defend himself, is supposed to be some kind of parallel to this particular dyamic of UTRH (a bad parallel but still).

I rest my case.

#my meta

212 notes · View notes

vivalas-vega · 1 year

Text

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part five

I wanted to get this one out quickly for y’all!! here is the much needed relief we all needed after that last chapter. as always, lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part five

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two - three - four

word count: 4.3k

warnings: language, angst, basically another grey’s anatomy ep so... medical inaccuracies and drama !!!

Sitting in one of the imaging rooms in your own hospital, a room you’d previously spent countless hours in and would go on to spend countless more, brought you a small bit of peace. You were surrounded by familiar faces and doctors you trusted and respected, and that made a world of a difference in your confidence for Mary’s outcome. Despite how close you were to the case no one was excluding you from conversations or keeping you out of the loop on anything, you were given just as much of a voice as Dr. Lewis in dictating her care as you looked over several of her scans and brainstormed a game plan. If this was truly your case you would have kicked your own ass to the curb several hours ago but the patience and grace everyone was extending you didn’t go unnoticed.

“What if you try coming in through here?” you asked, and Dr. Lewis pondered your suggestion for a moment, trying to visualize before shaking his head.

“If I insert the probe here,” he said, illustrating the path with his fingers, “I’m going to disrupt something here,” he circled around Broca’s Area. “Do that and she’ll lose the ability to speak, she’s a teacher right?”

“Third grade, and she’s damn good at it,” you sighed.

“Then we aren’t taking any risks, I think our best course here is to go in this way,” he said, outlining a new pathway and you nodded.

“It’s still tricky but I think that’s going to be the best approach,” you agreed.

“Why did you end up leaving neuro? You’ve clearly got a knack for it,” he asked suddenly, looking you over curiously.

“I loved neuro, did Dr. Adams tell you he used to call us the Brain Buddies?” you asked and he shook his head laughing. “He’d go around the hospital saying it like we were some superhero duo… I used to think there was no high like neurosurgery, but then one day there was this massive train crash. Most people were too unstable to move so we went to them. When we got there most had already died and the ones who hadn’t were one slight breeze away from following suit. There was this girl, about my age, who was bleeding out faster than I could control. Nothing was working and I began to panic… trauma is quick and dirty, there’s no time to gameplan or even think, you just have to figure it out as you go and be resourceful, so I used dirt,” you chuckled though it really wasn’t funny. “I just scooped a handful and packed the wound and it worked… we had to load her up on so many antibiotics she got C. Diff and the poor thing needed a fecal transplant but she made a full recovery,” you said with a smile. “That was a high unlike anything else, and I just never looked back. Trauma is where all the fun is.”

“You sound exactly like one of my buddies who’s a doctor with the Army… you ever considered that path?”

“Briefly but… Jake, Mary’s son, is in the Navy. Every deployment crushes both of our parents and they worry, I couldn’t do that to them… I think they’d all lose their minds if they lost both of their kids to that life,” you said and he nodded.

“Well, let’s go give her some good news, let her know what the plan is.” Mary was surprisingly calm throughout the whole thing, she didn’t even blink when Dr. Lewis briefed her on all the risks (stroke, paralysis, loss of speech, death), all she had said was well, if I can’t speak there’s always sign language and death is better than a painful year of chemo. Really she didn’t care about any of it, she asked if you agreed with his approach and she’d said that was all she needed to know when you’d answered yes. She’d truly put all of her trust in you, she let go of the whole thing and just accepted that because you said it would be okay that it would… and that terrifies you beyond belief. You were a confident doctor, always had been, but right now with her looking at you with such pride and peace you felt sick, knowing that no matter how good a patient’s outcome looks going into surgery that can always change at the drop of a hat.

“That’s the attitude, Mary, keep that up… patients who go in with a positive outlook are much more likely to come out the other side,” Dr. Lewis said. You oversaw the interns in charge of her pre-op care and she had watched through amused eyes as you ordered them around and even called you a hardass… much like Jake had done when he’d visited you in Boston.

“It seems mean now but Dr. Stevens will tell you his skills have improved since I came around to knock some sense into him. If you put the fear of god in them they’re much more malleable,” you joked.

“It must be working because they are terrified to disappoint you,” Mary said and you didn’t miss how proud she sounded.

“Jupiter is very tough, tougher than any of the attendings but I’ve learned a lot from her,” Dr. Stevens confirmed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “And she makes a mean chocolate chip cookie, I heard that was your recipe.”

“Stop kissing my ass and bring me her updated labs,” you said and he nodded quickly as we went to leave the room, “and just because I’m off duty that doesn’t mean I’m not doctor to you!” you called after him and Mary just laughed.

“I like seeing this side of you,” she said, looking up at you appreciatively and you gave her a warm smile. “If I’m being honest I thought wanting to be a surgeon at twelve years old was just a crazy phase… thought you maybe saw a cool doctor in a movie or something but looking at you now… I couldn’t imagine you doing anything else,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you said, giving her hand a squeeze and you noticed Jake enter the room without saying a word.

“You’ll be in the surgery?” she asked and you nodded.

“I’m not allowed to be involved in the actual operation… it’s too much of a conflict of interest, but Dr. Lewis has graciously agreed to let me be in the room with you.”

“That makes me feel better… knowing you’ll be there,” she said and you gave her another smile before you excused yourself to step into the hallway when Dr. Stevens flagged you down and you looked over her labs in relief.

“What do these tell you?” you asked, handing the paper back to him and he looked at you curiously for a moment, “I taught you better than this, Dr. Stevens, I know you can read labs,” you said.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to be teaching right now,” he said and you watched as he looked over the paper and processed the information. “These all look good, she’s in optimal shape to be heading into surgery,” he said and you nodded.

“Exactly, let Dr. Lewis know and page me when you’re taking her up.”

“Didn’t expect you to be teaching right now either,” you heard Jake say and you turned around to face him with a sigh.

“Your mom’s case is an incredible teaching example and Dr. Stevens shows promise within neuro. Your mom understands that, she’s thrilled he’s getting to learn from her and she wants me to take the opportunity to teach when I can, it’s my job.” you said.

“But you’re not working right now,” he said and you gave a soft nod.

“You’re right, I’m not… I’m just doing everything I can to make sure she receives the best standard of care and teaching when I have the opportunity to ensures that, not just for her but for everyone else’s mom that comes in after her.” He just nodded and you could tell that he was annoyed with you. “Jake, just talk to me.”

“We’ve already gone through the procedure, I don’t need to talk about it anymore,” he replied and you furrowed your brows.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I need you, J. I need you and you’re not here,” he said in a hushed whisper, trying to avoid the nosy ears of your interns at the desk just a few feet away.

“I’m right here,” you said but he just shook his head.

“You’re not. You’re making calls and teaching interns, or holed away in an imaging room and you’re talking to me like I’m just some patient’s family member. There’s enough doctors around here, I just needed you… I needed you to be my Jupiter through this and you were just another doctor,” he said with a disappointed look before stepping back into his mother’s room and any tension that had eased after setting the plan in place with Dr. Lewis was back in full force. Your heart ached and you wanted to go after him but you knew this wasn’t the moment… he was angry and scared and he didn’t understand where you were coming from and that was all okay. There was no way to rationalize with his mother heading into brain surgery in less than an hour and you chose to believe that when the dust settled and she came out the other side things would level out but as selfish as it was… you needed a moment. A moment to clear your head and think so you wandered down to the emergency department, you let your eyes rake over the space as you took stock of how things were holding up in your absence and while you stood in front of the patient board you jumped when the Head of Trauma, Dr. Fowles approached you.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, looking at you apologeticly as you placed a hand over your heart.

“Needed a breather,” you said and he laughed.

“So you came to the pit for a little relaxation?” You nodded with a sheepish smile. “Want something to take your mind off it?”

“Please, I’ll take anything,” you said and he led you over to Bay Three and opened the curtain to reveal a beautiful laceration just begging for you to suture it. You introduced yourself as you gloved up and made small talk with her as you worked, taking your time to ensure she had as little scarring as possible.

“One minute you’re making lunch for your boyfriend, who is incredibly ungrateful by the way, and the next you’re in the ER because you zoned out wondering what your old college boyfriend was up to and sliced right through the avocado and into your hand,” she sighed and you chuckled.

“Never go down the college boyfriend rabbit hole, it’s never worth it,” you said. You finally felt like yourself, sure you’d been acting like a doctor nonstop for the past three days but it was all so deeply personal. This was cut and dry, you’d patch her up and send her on her way and likely never see her again. This was medicine without baggage and it felt so good. You hoped Jake was still somewhere on the other side of the hospital, if he saw you right now with that sparkle back in your eye hunched over this patient's open palm it would only make matters worse.

“You got lucky, I’m looking at the tendon here but you didn’t cut through… could be a sign… or a wake up call,” you suggested and she nodded.

“A sign to dump his sorry ass and find someone who will actually drive me to the ER instead of making me get blood all over my brand new car? Yeah, I’m one step ahead of you,” she said and you let out a soft laugh.

“Well, you’re all good. Take the antibiotics, make sure you’re eating things with lots of good bacteria and fully finish the course even if it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything… and please, don’t let him reel you back in the way they’re always so good at,” you said with a smile as you pulled your gloves off and went to the desk to update her chart.

“You’re a junkie,” Dr. Fowles said and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Takes one to know one,” you said, handing him the chart as your pager beeped and he wished you luck as you ran towards the elevator. You texted Jake to let him know you’d come out with an update once you had one and were on your way to meet them in the OR. Standing in the scrub room and overlooking them prepping Mary through the window you took a deep breath, you knew things would move quickly the second you got her here but it truly felt like one minute you were at the Hard Deck laughing with your friends and the next you’re here… about to step into surgery on one of the most important people in your life.

“I know you can’t tell through my mask, but I’m smiling right now,” you said as you approached her.

“I know, honey,” she replied and the anesthesiologist looked at you to let you know they were ready when you were. “Promise me something,” she said and you just shook your head.

“I’m not making you any promises, Mary, you’re not on your deathbed.”

“Promise me that when I’m out of the woods you are going to put me and John and your parents out of our misery and finally kiss that son of mine,” she said and you let out a shocked laugh.

“You are about to go under for brain surgery and that’s what you’re worried about right now?” you teased.

“You two drive me nuts! Just give me a wedding already.” she said and you shook your head.

“I’ll see what I can do… I’ll see you after, okay?” you said, nodding to the anesthesiologist. “Countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten… nine… give me a wedding… eight… seven-” she slurred as she fell under and you just chuckled to yourself as Dr. Lewis entered the room.

“Alright, Jupiter… I have been patient with you all day as you made me run through my surgical plan a dozen times and all but demanded to be in here, and I was happy to oblige because I like you, however there will not be a peep out of you from here on out, are we understood?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good, because I will throw you out so please don’t make me have to.” You watched as he began, your eyes intently flitting between his hands and the monitor that was displaying an aerial view of the surgical field and you felt nausea begin to creep in. You listened as Dr. Fowles narrated everything he was doing to Dr. Stevens, who you wanted to throw a bedpan at when they got eyes on the tumor… really you couldn’t be mad, his reaction was warranted and it was cool, but it would be a hell of a lot cooler if that tumor wasn’t in Jake’s mom’s head. You listened as Dr. Fowles changed his surgical approach, this was always a possibility. The scans give you a lot of information but any plans are just loose ideas until you actually get in there and see what’s going on, and you bit your tongue as you let him make his best judgment call on how to proceed. You were now two hours into the surgery but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Alright, I think we’re ready to pull this sucker out, Dr. Stevens would you like to man the cautery?” Dr. Fowles asked and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“Absolutely not,” you said before your mind could catch up and tell you to keep your mouth shut.

“Are we forgetting you’re not to speak in this OR?”

“With all due respect sir, as promising as Dr. Stevens is, one wrong move with that cautery and all of this will have been for nothing.” you said and you watched as his hands stilled on the monitor.

“It seems Jupiter doesn’t want you to learn today,” Dr. Fowles said and Dr. Stevens looked between the two of you, clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“If it’s alright with you sir, I’ll just observe. She’s right, I’ve never cauterized before and I still have a lot I want to learn from her… I’d rather not jeopardize that by sending her best friend's mom to the vegetable patch.” he said and you nodded in satisfaction. You would personally see to it that Dr. Stevens scrubbed in with you on every one of your surgeries for the foreseeable future to make up for the learning opportunity you’d just robbed him of. Things seemed to be progressing smoothly until the monitors started beeping frantically and you watched as her BP suddenly tanked and you felt your stomach drop as Dr. Fowles started barking out orders that weren’t quite registering in your ears.

“No… no, no no,” you muttered, a tidal wave of panic crashing over you as you ran out into the hallway and braced yourself on a wall, trying desperately to get your breathing under control. You quickly hunched over a trash can and let the nausea take over, vomiting onto the pile of discarded gloves and trauma gowns as the door opened to reveal a scrub nurse.

“Dr. Fowles is asking you to come back in,” she said and you shook your head, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. “Come on, just come see,” she said and you placed your mask back over your face as you tentatively followed.

“You missed the good part, Jupiter… the tumor is out.”

“Her vitals?” you asked, taking a small step closer as you looked at the monitors but you didn’t trust your eyes.

“She’s a fighter,” he answered and you sighed in relief. “I’m about to pack with gelfoam but it appears we are out of the woods. Would you like to go update them as I close?” he asked but you were already halfway out the door, ripping off your mask and sprinting down the hallways until you burst into the waiting area. Jake and John jumped up, looking at you expectantly and as they took in your tear streaked face and rapid breathing you watched as their faces fell.

“No! No no no,” you said, taking in a sharp breath. “It’s good, it all went good, they’re closing now, she’ll be in recovery within the half hour,” you said and they both exhaled in relief.

“Oh thank god,” John whispered, pulling you in for a bone crushing hug. “Thank you,” he pulled away to place a kiss on your forehead. “There will never be enough thank you’s for this,” he said as he wiped his own tears. You looked over to Jake who had sunk into one of the chairs with his head hung in his hands and you crouched on the floor in front of him and gently placed a hand on his knee.

“Jake? She’s going to be okay,” you said and he lifted his head to look at you with glassy eyes, “it went as well as we could have hoped. We won’t be certain until she wakes up but I have a very good feeling.”

“J…” he started, but was cut off by his own tears and you pushed him back in his seat to perch on his legs and pull him into your chest.

“I know…” you soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you just sat there as you held him, whispering reassurances into his ear. You hooked a finger on his chin, softly tilting his head to look up at you before resting your palms on his cheeks. “I’m going to call my parents, let them know… and Rooster too, everyone’s been really worried,” you said and he nodded. You placed a kiss on his forehead as you slid off his lap and you stepped away and pulled out your phone. Your mother had cried, sobbed really, and your dad told you to pass along their well wishes for recovery when he took over the call, you could hear the relief in his voice as he told you how proud he was of you.

“Please tell me she’s okay,” Rooster said as he answered and you let out a breathy laugh.

“She’s good… we’re in the wait and see portion, but I think we’re in the clear. Can you talk with Mav? She’ll be out of here in a few days but this whole thing has him pretty rattled. I know I don’t have the authority but I’m not clearing him for work just yet,” you said and Rooster chuckled.

“Doctor’s orders,” he said and you let out a soft laugh as well. “Mav said to take all the time he needs, there’s no rush to get back.” You thanked him as you hung up, telling him to pass it along to the rest of the Dagger’s as well for how supportive they’ve been throughout. Your pager went off as you approached the two of them and you gave them a reassuring look.

“She’s in post op now, I’m confident everything is fine but I’m going to head up and just be sure, okay?” you said and they nodded as you made your way to the elevator and you all but ran into the room, eyes immediately scanning the brain activity monitor.

“How’s it looking?” you asked a bit frantically.

“Looking good,” Dr. Fowles answered as you grabbed her chart from him to look it over. “You know as well as I do we won’t know for sure until she wakes up but I don’t think we should expect any deficits.” You dropped the chart into its place at the end of her bed and threw your arms around him.

“I know this is unprofessional but just go with it,” you said as you started crying again and he chuckled as he reciprocated and rubbed along your back. “I owe you big time, thank you for everything… I am available for any and every pro-bono surgery you need me for from here on out,” you said.

“I think I’ll hold onto my favor for a little while,” he teased as you pulled away and you laughed as you wiped your cheeks and asked an orderly to grab Jake and John.

“Well, whatever it is it better be big, I owe you a lifetime's worth of thank you’s.” He slipped out of the room and let you know he would check back later and you felt the dark cloud that had been hovering over you the past few days begin to dissipate and with it brought the crushing weight of every feeling you’d been fighting off. You let out a broken sob and immediately turned to leave the room, not noticing Jake walking down the hallway as you hurried the opposite direction and shut yourself into an on-call room. He poked his head into his mom’s room, making sure everything was okay before chasing after you and he found you sitting on the floor with your back against a nightstand and your head between your knees as you tried to regulate your breathing. He was silent as he sat beside you and you lifted your head slightly.

“You don’t need to be here,” you choked out, “I know you’re mad at me, and it’s… I’m okay, really, go sit with your mom.” He didn’t respond, instead he reached around you to grip underneath your arms and pulled you to sit between his legs where he wrapped himself around you and it was the final straw to push you over the edge. You leaned back against him as he held you tight and fell apart in his arms… you’d tried to say something but nothing would come out around your cries, and Jake just let you get it all out.

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally said when your breathing started to even out. “I was but… I was wrong. I didn’t-” he stopped himself for a moment, taking a deep breath as he fought his own tears. “Not once did I stop and consider what this was like for you, I was selfish. You.. I mean, god Jupiter,” he let out a humorless laugh. “You swept in and had this handled in less than three days. I was so wrapped up in what you weren’t doing that I didn’t think about what you were doing, and that was everything… you held it together for all of us, you made sure she would be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you sniffled.

“Yes, I do. I thought you weren’t there for me, but you were. You always are, even if I don’t see it at first. I’m so sorry that I made this harder on you,” he said, giving you another squeeze and you melted against him. “I was mad at you for who you are, and that’s… I say how proud I am of the doctor you’ve become and in the moment that you were doing everything you could to help my mom I was an absolute asshole.”

“You weren’t an asshole… I treated you like a patient’s family, and you reacted the way family does.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “Do you want to go check on your mom?” you asked and he shook his head.

“No. I want to just sit here with you for a little while if that’s okay,” he replied and you nodded, letting your head fall against his arm.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

previous / next

taglist: @mamaskillerqueen @clancycucumber230 @the-romanian-is-bae @dempy @alldaysdreamers @zzsloth @emma8895eb @novagreen04 @classyunknownlover @olliepig @purplevortexx @mayhemmanaged @ohgodnotagainn @smoothdogsgirl (if your username is struck through, I couldn’t tag you - sorry!)

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fan fiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin fan fiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman fan fiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fan fiction

215 notes · View notes

wyn0rrific · 2 months

Text

Vitus/Fulgrim Character Study Drabble

idk how to caption this but i wanted to write a lil piece that goes a little bit in depth about Vitus and Fulgrim.

for context this takes place a little bit after reflection crack'd but before angel exterminatus (its... a very weird spot i know)

putting it under a cut bc it's really odd but yea!

Perfectly imperfect.

It's the first phrase that comes to mind as Vitus watches Fulgrim from behind, silently taking in the primarch's presence.

It had been awhile since his return to the Pride of the Emperor after being sent to Chemos. It had also been a moment since he was tossed into battle without explanation, leaving him to watch the horrors and betrayal occur right before his eyes.

One betrayal in particular had struck a chord in his mind, his brain refused to let it go as he pondered it's existence. He had to get some sort of clarification.

But seeing a Lord Commander get decapitated just for asking a simple question made Vitus fear her curiosity.

Sucking in air, he braced himself for the worse, tapping his usual pattern on the door frame to signal Fulgrim of his presence.

Fulgrim, who had been sitting at his vanity knowing of Vitus' silent staring, tilted his head up to look at the apothecary through the mirror.

"Ah, Vitus, hello my dear." Fulgrim smiled, beckoning Vitus closer with his delicate but sharp finger.

Vitus approached cautiously, taking sight of the many different things strewn across the room. Smashed sculptures, torn paintings, clothing and ripped fabric. She made a mental note to offer to clean the primarch's space at a later time.

Vitus stood next to the sitting primarch, it had always humored her that even in this angle Fulgrim still towered over her. The primarch's head cocked towards the bedside behind him, motioning for Vitus to sit down.

"Have you come seeking my attention? My... knowledge perhaps? I would tell you anything you know, I have a lot of trust in you." Fulgrim hisses, his smile growing wider as he shifts in his chair to face Vitus.

Vitus grimaces at the statement before nervously signing, "I have a question to ask you."

Fulgrim's eyes scan Vitus' hands, taking a moment to register before verbally replying,

"Oh? And what is it, darling?"

Although Vitus' hearing is muffled, the primarch's words still snake their way into his skin, melting him down.

He shivers with hesitation before straightening his back.

"It's about Lord Ferrus and his current whereabouts."

Vitus can feel himself grow smaller as he watches Fulgrim's face contort. The primarch's smile fades a tad bit for a moment, but it quickly grows even wider as he slowly stands up.

"Vitus," He begins, his hand reaching for her, "What ever do you mean, my dear? I am... unsure of what you're talking about."

Vitus' eyes meet Fulgrim's as he scans his face, staring dumbfoundedly for a moment before being hit by a wave of realization.

Fulgrim knew exactly what he was referring to.

Vitus bites his lip, his eyes darting to the floor as he struggles to answer,

"On Istvaan, I saw you. You had him in your arms, he was dead. Did-"

She pauses nervously, the room growing immensely larger as she feels Fulgrim looming over him.

A hand slips over Vitus', it was ice cold in comparison to his, Fulgrim tightens his grip before leaning into Vitus' ear,

"Finish. Your sentence."

Vitus gulps loudly, his hands shake underneath his grasp. He slowly pulls them out to obey his primarch's wishes.

"Did you kill lord Ferrus?"

Vitus looks up at Fulgrim, the primarch's eyes glued to her hands, she waited in fear as his face contorted once more.

And then he smiled.

Fulgrim hummed softly, his hand grasping Vitus' chin as he tilted his head up gently.

"I didn't think putting you back onto the front lines would set you back this far."

Vitus' eyebrows furrow, staring at him with a look of worried confusion, but before he could even think of a response Fulgrim chuckles softly and speaks again.

"You've become so... docile without me. I should've never sent you away like that. You need me to stay strong it seems. Your mind has become so lost without me it has begun to play tricks on you!"

"Did I kill Ferrus?" Fulgrim repeats the question mockingly as his grip on Vitus tightens, "Oh my sweet boy, I love you so dearly but, you are very foolish sometimes."

Vitus stood perfectly still, he could feel his face growing hotter by the second as Fulgrim's face was merely centimeters away from his own. He couldn't help but gaze in awe at how beautiful the primarch looked, even in this close distance.

It had been awhile since they were this close. With Vitus being gone and Fulgrim attending to the duties of a primarch they grew apart slowly.

A pit grew in Vitus' stomach, even though she knew how much Fulgrim was degrading her in that moment, she was oddly enjoying every minute of it.

And he hated himself slightly for that.

With the amount of restriction Fulgrim had on Vitus, he was left to attempt to verbally answer the primarch.

"I-I... I'm... S-Sorry." Vitus croaks, hoping that he was able to understand his broken speech.

Fulgrim hummed in approval, leaning to kiss Vitus' forehead before stroking his cheek softly.

"Oh you don't need to apologize my dear, though it is very sweet of you to use your words for once." Fulgrim cooed, "You just need to... stop listening to your silly conscience. Just leave all of your thoughts to me. Only I know what's right for you, do you understand?"

Vitus looks at Fulgrim's eyes, now half open and filled with an indescribable emotion, nodding slowly as he leaned into the primarch's palm.

"Good boy, you're always so obedient for me. I adore that about you." The primarch whispers as he peppers her face with kisses.

Vitus tensed at the gesture, unable to collect his own thoughts or even move. Intimacy wasn't a new feeling for him, especially when it involved Fulgrim. And he surely never understood the comments about how gaining his attention was like conquering the world since he has known Fulgrim for many years and has seen sides of the primarch that even the Brotherhood has yet to even hear about.

But yet, here he was, his hearts rapidly beating as Fulgrim touched and spoke to him in the same way he's always done. It felt different this time, it was almost... hypnotic. Like a serpent attracting its prey before going in for the kill.

Vitus was so worried about becoming snake food that he hadn't noticed his robe was messed with until he felt the cool sensation of Fulgrim's hand meeting with his bare chest. Her eyes dart to his hand and then back to his eyes. Fulgrim was eerily quiet, an expression of satisfaction painted his face as he started darkly at Vitus' exposed chest.

"You look so... clean. I think I prefer this on you, though a few... internal adjustments would make you even more perfect," He prods Vitus' chest with his sharpened nail, dragging it upwards until he reaches her forehead and taps it lightly, "I'll make a note to mention this to Fabius at a later time."

They were both still for what seemed like forever until Fulgrim moved his finger away, tapping Vitus' cheek lightly before sitting back down at his vanity.

"I believe Fabius needed you to help with his studies, I've held you long enough I think. Besides, I can always have you whenever I want, right?" Fulgrim glares at Vitus, like a predator eyeing his next meal, as she gives her typical slow and submissive nod of approval.

"Good," Fulgrim hums in satisfaction, "Leave me be for now. I wouldn't want you being reprimanded for my own doing."

Vitus slowly stands, bowing in acknowledgement before heading towards the door.

"Oh and Vitus? One more thing my darling,"

Vitus freezes as the rest of Fulgrim's words don't register in his mind. He attempts to adjust his hearing unit before static floods his mind followed by a low, almost possessive voice,

"I own you. You will never leave my sight."

Vitus quickly turns, his mouth opening slightly as he stares in worried shock.

Fulgrim was still sat perfectly at his vanity, a smile painted his face as he preened himself.

He had never said a single word to Vitus.

#i most definitely mischaracterized fulgrim ACK #also this technically is more of the “what if vitus stayed and fell to chaos” au #but i decided to use this au to explore their dynamic bc its canon (in a way)#also lmk if yall want more i have a couple of these little drabbles sitting in my notes app loll #warhammer 40k #fulgrim #vitus #warhammer oc

20 notes · View notes

idontlikeem · 6 months

Text

i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

#personal

34 notes · View notes

riddles-n-games · 4 months

Note

Can you please make absolutely soul crushing Jameson Avery angsty hcs? Thanks

Okay, you asked for this. If you aren't ready, I was even less.

Jameson held Avery's hand often when he visited her after the plane accident. There were times where the dark intrusive doubtful thoughts got really bad, taunting him that she wouldn't wake up, her condition would get worse, that she would die in the end. Holding her hand was one of the only things that grounded him in those moments.

One time, in the middle of the night, after the fight with Gray, he start literally getting a panic attack and actually cries, thinking something happened to her after he woke up.

Sometimes he would lean over her to press his ear against her chest to hear her heartbeat because he wasn't convinced that the sounds he was hearing coming from the machine were real.

Some months after they get together, Avery tells Jameson what truly happened during the encounter with Sheffield as even though she did tell him a lot after the coin toss, sealing their relationship, she wasn't quite ready to process the trauma aloud yet.

Jameson gets very angry at the news and gets fiercely protective of her which shocks Avery. It affects him so deeply that several nights, he can't sleep at all; nightmares are catching him, setting in a new bout of insomnia for a while but he can't bring himself to leave bed so he just holds her tight.

He helps her start self-defense classes and practices with her every day, teaching her different martial arts and kickboxing techniques. It helps keep him calm and to redirect his thoughts to something productive, knowing he's proactively helping his girl.

During the final months of Jameson's senior year, he and Avery spend more time together at school, however rumors arise. A lot of them turn the tables against him; that he's dating her to get his family's money back, because he wants to tap that, a last hoorah before he leaves for his gap year, that he's going to use her to get into a prestigious college even though he's basically done nothing to become acclaimed for himself, and so the list goes on. But the worst one is that he's going to get her killed because his last girlfriend did. That one actually penetrates.

Avery notices that he's been more quiet than usual despite his attempts to remain unaffected. At first, he's reluctant to talk about it but after a while he asks her if she truly believes that he's going to get her killed.

She is shocked by this as she truly thought he was handling the rumors and accusations pretty well and they weren't bothering him. Then, she vehemently says that she doesn't believe it for a single second and reminds him that if she truly had those kinds of doubts, she would have never been with him in the first place. And her honesty helps him cope.

This gives Avery a rare glimpse into his vulnerability regarding such topics and appreciates his rawness to just admit it especially after holding it in for a while.

Post graduation and into the start of the summer, the anniversary of Hannah's death is coming up. Avery is as a result getting a bit restless and anxious about it. She closes up and Jameson knows something is up. He tries giving her space but realizes she seems even more down and goes to Libby for comfort instead. So, Jameson decides to ask her sister what's happening and Libby explains.

He decides to tell Avery he knows what's coming up, why she's like this and that if and only if she wants to, that she can talk to him if she pleases. Avery nods and for a few days, she continues being withdrawn but then she talks about the struggles, the late nights, her ear pressed up against the door when the doctor was talking to her mother, the failed chemo, the fact it was a late stage tumor. Everything. And halfway through, Avery breaks down sobbing. She is inconsolable.

Jameson can hear her soul weeping. He knows that she hasn't likely truly processed the grief in so long and this is her truly letting herself be open with him and herself. After this encounter, Jameson comes up with their code Tahiti and it was first it was more so used during really bad quiet periods for each one but then they became better at using it when they know the other is likely too emotionally constipated.

Hope this suffices in soul crushing? 😵‍💫

44 notes · View notes

skippyv20 · 25 days

Text

Our Prayer List🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend. She is feeling lost and weak in her faith. She does want to fast and pray tomorrow but is really lacking strength. She needs prayers for faith and strength.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s niece. She just had a healthy baby girl, but she is having some medical issues still.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has had foot surgery and is in my pain. Also has faced trials of emotional, financial stress. Also her husband is not well and having problems with his kidneys.

Prayers and good thoughts for @bobbydoguk husband who is not well, and for @bobbydoguk who we know is worried. We pray for her husband to be pain free. We also pray for them to feel God’s presence during this time.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s niece who is expecting in 4 weeks. She has had issues during this pregnancy and is doing much better now…so we will pray for healthy, and happy baby. Prayers and good thoughts for our friend. She is having cardiac issues and will be having many tests. Also her blood pressure is very high. Her mother had many heart issues and this has frightened our friend. She is very anxious and scared.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend. She is going through a difficult time. She has had a rough 12 months and is feeling burnt out. She also is dealing with a narcissistic father, and taking care of her elderly mother with no support from family members.

Prayers and good thoughts for Kylee who is missing. It has been months since her mother and grandmother have heard from her. Today is Kylee’s 18th Birthday. We pray Kylee is safe. We pray for her mother and grandmother as they are so worried. (This will remain until we hear Kylee is home safe and sound) June 15 Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s 22 year old nephew who is struggling with anxiety, depression & panic attacks.

Prayers and good thoughts for The Princess of Wales as she continues her battle. We pray for The Prince of Wales and their children, and Catherine’s family during this time.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s mother. She is battling gall bladder and liver cancer and had an ischemia that obligedi the surgeons to remove 70% of her intestine. She will have to live with a colostomy bag permanently. The doctors are waiting for her to be strong enough to submit her to chemo and immunotherapy to reduce the liver tumors. She is still young (78 years old) and also because she spent her life taking care of her children and their father who now has Alzheimer's

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is suffering from ringing in her ear. It is constant and she can’t sleep. Neither her doctor or dentist can find the cause.

Prayers and good thought for our friend’s brother who was just diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, secondaries in his liver and lungs. We pray for our friend and her sister to have their trip go smoothly as they plan their trip to be with their beloved brother. Also, we pray that their brother will be pain free and that he will be at peace.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s mother who is feeling a bit confused at this time.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is having suicidal thoughts, and having difficulty finding employment. Praying she finds employment soon.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s son and husband. Her son has spinal fractures and they don’t know why. Her husband is having issues with his back as well.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend whose husband had a mental breakdown and they are now facing financial hardship. He is bidding on numerous jobs and needs prayers.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s oldest daughter. Her daughter is on dialysis now. She did test positive for drugs, and her boyfriend is a known drug dealer. This is of great concern. Mar 27

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s treasured son-in-law. He has been diagnosed with esophageal cancer with mets to the liver and lymph nodes throughout his abdomen. He has a very poor prognosis - less than a year, probably just a few months. He is only 48 years old. Our friend is heartbroken, her son-in-law has been in the family for 17 yrs, and he is so very loved. He is scheduled for a PET scan next week.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s nephew who is struggling.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s nephew who has been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.

We pray for our friend who for 36 years has suffered from a progressive, painful, debilitating neurological illness that has her housebound, and she is tired.

12 notes · View notes

courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 6,200

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: None really, just some references to violence

Chapter Index

Thank you to @hellskitchens-whore, @lazyxsquirrel, @pokemonandcatsmostly, @infinityisbright, and @dorothleah for some of the ideas💜

When you were younger, still in the hormone-infused chaos they called high-school, your mother was diagnosed with cancer.

You spent countless hours by her side, accompanying her to chemo sessions after class, skipping school to take care of her when your father couldn't quite get away from work, staying up far too late to finish homework because your mother had a strict routine of meds and care she needed before she fell asleep. You rearranged your entire life to help her, and not once did you regret a single second.

And through every appointment, through every bad day your mother had, you stayed by her side and kept hope alive, naïve but exceedingly helpless as she wilted away in front of you, doing your best to ignore the rings around her eyes and gray hue that settled underneath her skin.

Her death hit you hard, in ways you were still trying to process, every day adding a brick to the foundation you’ve been trying to build back up since she left. Months of praying and taking care of her blew up in your face, all your hard work and missed classes tossed down a drain as she took her last breaths. You were there when she passed, her perpetually cold, dry hand in yours, your heart begging her to stay while your mouth told her it was okay for her to rest, desperate to give her a sense of peace in her final moments, even as you shattered from the inside out.

You'd spent so much time hoping for a better outcome, selfish in your prayers to keep her with you, a naïve sense of achievement every time she finished a chemo round with a smile on her face. You know now that those smiles had been solely for you, solely for your comfort, and that she hid her pain from you as long as she could, fully aware that she was not going to live to see you go to your senior prom or graduate from high school.

Years later, the agony still hits you, still festers inside of you, lying in wait to remind you that life could be cruel and unforgiving. You hadn't been prepared for your mother's death, even though you had months to accept the possibility, and though you’ve tried to to push it away, sometimes it still feels like you're back there with her, holding her hand as she slowly fades away.

The betrayal of your hope and prayers had left you feeling hollow, left you feeling bitter, the pain sharp and acidic.

And while the shadowed pain of the past has little to do with whatever mess is currently feeding on the streets of New York City, finding the collapsed entrance to the subway station offers a similar feeling of betrayal and helplessness in the face of your dwindling chances of survival.

"Fuck," Matt swears as the entrance comes into your view, somehow aware of the situation before you can open your mouth to tell him . He runs over to the staircase that has all but disappeared in a pile of rubble, the brick and stone from a semi-collapsed building effectively sealing the entrance shut. A rock goes flying across the street, angrily kicked into the air by a dress shoe that has obviously seen better days. The man growls under his breath, shoulders stiff and face twisted in a snarl you’ve yet to see. He stands off to the side, and you watch as his hands clench in fists as he raises them to rest on his hips.

It claws at your throat, this surge of powerlessness, and you can do nothing more than bend over and place your hands on your knees, panting with adrenaline as it courses through your system, the feeling of barbed wire scraping along the walls of every vein. The adrenaline has been helpful thus far, pushing you despite the ache in various parts of your body, but now it chokes you, your lungs trying and almost failing to drag air in as you stare at the haven that’s simultaneously right before you and somehow still out of your reach.

Your torn hands reach up and pull at your hair, head tilting upwards as panic threatens to spill tears down your face.

"We need–we need a new game plan," you tell him quietly once you've regained a semblance of composure, taking in the form of the man that stands a few feet away from you, his frame simultaneously defeated and agitated. You walk over to him on shaky legs, avoiding the stone that litters the sidewalk, and grab the hand that's resting on his hip as he tilts his head downward and continues to frown harshly at the cement he can’t see. At your touch, he snaps his head back up, and just like that, determination settles back on his face, and the expression helps you steel your nerves. “Let’s…let's get away from the street.”

He gives a sharp nod, the motion almost mechanical, and without a word of protest, he lets you pull him quickly into the nearest alley that sits halfway down the block. It won’t offer a ton of shelter, the buildings are only a few stories on either side, but it’s worth the effort of movement if it means keeping you just slightly safer and out of view than being so close to the street. The jog is a short one, and your shoes clack loudly on the concrete with every step, but the sound barely registers over the noise of the city. Once you're deep enough into the alley, you drop his hand and lean against the brick.

Matt stands on the opposite side of the alley as you, lithe and broad-shouldered, and lets his body fall back into it, resting against the brick wall of the building with a heavy groan. He crosses his arms over his chest and twists his face into a glare of frustration. A crash sounds from a few blocks away, and you can’t help but flinch even as you keep your eyes trained on him.

“So what do we want to do?” you ask, cutting to the chase, knowing a decision needs to be made, and fast. You watch as his head lulls against the wall behind him. “Either we find somewhere to stay inside–”

“No.”

“--or we find a new subway station, if that’s the route we want to go. I think there’s one around here somewhere, but I’m not exactly sure where. I do know that there’s one off of 57th, though.”

“That’s six blocks from here,” he quickly objects with a subtle shake of his head, still frowning. “Would you be able to make it there in those shoes?”

Your chin lifts up, the motion somewhat defensive. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

Matt stands up straighter, something about your tone pulling him out of his head. “Of course,” he immediately agrees. “I didn’t mean—I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. Six blocks is normally nothing, but now we’re literally walking through a war zone. Things are bound to catch us off guard.”

“Right,” you mumble, because honestly, the shoes are a concern, and you can’t fault him for worrying about it. “But I’ll make it work, so don’t worry about me. Like I said, I’m not exactly sure where the nearest station is, and I don’t think wandering around looking for it is the best move. Do you?”

“No, you’re right,” he responds with a nod of his head. A brief ray of sunshine lights the alley, peeking out from the heavy dust and smoke littering the air of the city, and you catch a quick glimpse of the red tone that exists throughout his dark hair. “Normally I’d have a better idea of where one is based on…,” he inhales sharply, seemingly thinking about something before shaking his head abruptly and continuing, “based on the sounds and vibrations of the subways underneath the streets, but they’ve–they’ve stopped running.”

“You can hear the subways underneath the street?” you ask incredulously. Your eyes widen drastically as you take in the new piece of information. Hearing something coming from a few blocks away was one thing, but hearing through layers of concrete and asphalt was completely different.

How on Earth…?

The look on his face is slightly pained, as if he can’t decide if he should have told you or not, but he pushes forward anyway, the information already out there and not something he can retract. “Yes,” he says slowly, hesitantly, and again you get the feeling that he’s just given you a key or hint to whatever puzzle exists inside his mind. “But it’s not helpful right now. Not if they’re not running.”

“Jesus,” you say with a loud exhale, eyes still wide as you consider the way his body seems to be somehow defensive, as if nervous of what you’ll think and already pushing you away. “That’s amazing, and I–and I am interested in hearing more, but…it’s definitely not the right moment.”

“Not at all.” The grimace has shifted into a wry grin.

“Great.” Your agreement is swift, acknowledging the quick awkwardness that had settled and washed away within the span of a quick second, before lifting yourself up from where you’re leaning against the scratchy brick wall. “You said after all this, so I’ll bombard you with questions after.”

“Yes. After.”

The confirmation sends a quick thrill down your spine, but you do your best to ignore it.

You don’t let the silence drift on, still needing to fill the space with a desperate plan for survival. “Anyway,” you begin as you begin pacing up and down the alley, just a few steps in each direction, “the station is off of 57th. I think it’s six blocks up and two blocks east, but hopefully getting further away from Stark Tower works in our favor. I don’t–-I wish I knew where the other ones are, but I think this might just be our best bet. We’ll just…have to make it work, I guess.”

Matt takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling as he considers the idea. His hands return to his hips, a position you’ve noticed he takes frequently when he’s thinking, the color of his shirt dirty beyond redemption. Your left hand throbs underneath the tie he had given you, the color a molted blue and black that’s been soaked with red.

Somehow, he’s able to track the way your left hand clenches slightly, and you wonder if he has a way to sense your grimace, too. “How’s the hand?”

“Sore,” you tell him honestly because there’s really no reason to hide the discomfort. “Throbbing, actually. Feels like it’s still bleeding.”

Matt winces. “It is.”

“Great,” you respond weakly, sucking in a breath, not bothering to question how he knows. You cradle your hand to your chest and glance down at it with a frown. “That’s…great. How’s the head?”

“I’ll live,” he says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding the side that’s been cut. The motion still appears to be agitated, but the look on his face no longer seems so severe, and it puts you more at ease. “‘Tis but a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

You can’t help the choked laugh that bursts out. “Did you–did you just quote Monty Python?”

For just a brief moment, something so fleeting you’re not sure if you saw it right, a wicked smile slides across his face. It’s gone before you’re able to capture the image in your head, but it was there.

“You’re just a sarcastic little shit, aren’t you?” you ask rhetorically with a shake of your head, unable to hide the amusement despite the situation. “In the middle of a goddamn alien invasion and you’re cracking jokes.”

Matt gives a simple shrug of his shoulders, another small grin lighting his face before it changes into something more serious, head shifting slightly so that his left ear is more firmly aimed in the direction of the alley’s entrance. With a quiet and pronounced exhale, you turn your attention back to the matter at hand, letting go of the quick moment where Matt’s wicked smile had briefly distracted you from the city that reeked with terror.

As if on cue, a sound of a loud explosion soars across the buildings in midtown, and though it’s too far to feel the heat of the flames that have erupted, you immediately see the plume of smoke that begins drifting into the sky. It’s enough to draw the fear back in and under your skin.

“Right,” you say after a moment, clearing your throat loudly and stepping towards the entrance of the alley way. The thought of being open and on the street still makes you nervous, it has since you left the bookstore, but it’s not really something that can be helped at this point. “Are you ready?”

“Is this the part where you ask me to come with you if I want to live?”

“Jesus, Matt.”

“I’m starting to think that’s your standard response to things that scare or surprise you.”

There’s a strangled noise that starts in your throat and hisses out between your teeth as you swing your head to look at where he's standing just a few feet behind you. “I don’t—”

“As a Catholic, I feel like I should be offended,” he tells you with a quick upturn of his mouth as he steps up to your side. “But I suppose I’ll let it slide.”

You stare at him in surprise, unsure of where the attitude had suddenly come in. “How…gracious of you,” is all you can think of to say, mouth still gaping slightly. You’re fairly positive he’s joking, his sense of humor dry and sarcastic, but you’re still unsure. “I think we should…” Your voice trails off, and before you can start your train of thought again, there’s a large flash of light and the distant sound of roaring thunder.

Jaw hanging open, you look up, eyes aimed far above the surrounding skyscrapers as what appears to be multiple flashes of lightning strike across a sky that’s darkened suddenly. It startles you, the image unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, multiple bolts streaking up towards the gaping hole in the sky. The things pouring from the open wound in the atmosphere are only stalled slightly, a few disappearing back into the hole, but nothing seems to change or ultimately slow their entrance into the space above New York.

The source of the lightning seems to be a building far off in the distance, because there’s no way it’s been caused by a storm, but it’s too far away and too far out of sight for you to tell exactly where it’s coming from. It rocks you to your core, the event yet another reminder that what’s happening is completely out of your control, just a helpless citizen forced to react to a situation that you never would have thought was possible in a million years.

“What the hell?” you whisper, body frozen and eyes wide. While you had been staring up, Matt had appeared directly behind you, and you find yourself leaning slightly into him, your back to his chest, one of his hands on your hip as if in effort to keep you still and upright. You’re grateful for the support, feeling slightly woozy from the sight and a racing mind trying to make sense of it all.

“Was that lightning?” Matt asks incredulously, the voice in your ear rough and sounding increasingly alarmed. “I didn’t hear a storm come in, but I felt the electricity. I don’t understand.”

“There isn’t a storm,” you respond in confirmation. The small motion of you shaking your head brushes lightly against the man standing behind you, the sound of your hair sliding against the suit jacket miniscule. “The sky got slightly darker, but there aren’t even any clouds out right now.”

Matt shifts so that he comes to stand at your side instead, though his hand on your hip doesn’t entirely disappear. “It’s so fucking bizarre,” he says as tilts his head upwards, facing a sky that’s under such chaos you’re unsure how it’ll ever seem normal again. “Everything about this is so…”

“Yeah,” you whisper in quiet agreement, because even without the words being said explicitly, you know what he’s trying to say. Your eyes drift back down, grimacing again at the scene of the street and the subway entrance that’s been all but erased by fallen concrete. “We probably should–”

Matt’s face turns from puzzlement into something grim, the weight of the next stage of the journey sliding back into the front of his mind. “Right.”

“Is it safe to leave?”

He cocks his head and frowns in concentration, the image of his intense focus making you shiver slightly, curious about what it would feel like to have his complete laser-like focus on you instead. But before you think on it further, he nods. “It’s safe. Let’s go.”

You find yourself trailing behind him again, though this time he stays closer, and the pace the two of you keep is similar to the first time. Fast enough that the journey shouldn’t take too long should no interruptions come, but not so fast that you’re at a huge risk for falling. You’re relatively clumsy by nature, unfortunately, and while you’ve mastered the art of walking leisurely in heels, this faster pace is much more difficult. He’s still there to help you regain your balance should you stumble, and you’ve long since stopped flushing every time you do, simply clutching at his forearms briefly before continuing to move forward.

There’s no room for heated cheeks in the end of the world, especially for a man who can’t see them anyway.

Every street corner you step off of, every block you walk through, looks exactly the same as the ones stretching out behind you. Scorched concrete and compounded cars, shattered windows and crumbling brick, devoid of life with the exception of the two of you. At one point, you swear you see a few faces looking down at you from the third floor of a brownstone, but Matt pulls you along swiftly enough that you flash your eyes back down to watch each step you take carefully, if only to keep you from tripping.

Each step you take seems to burn more and more, even while the overall movements blend together in your journey to the subway station. The two of you stay as close to the sides of the buildings as possible, if for nothing more than to be able to duck into a shop’s entrance should you need to. You’ve been keeping track of the street signs for obvious reasons, each green sign both taunting and encouraging you on, white lettering telling you you’re close while also reminding you just how far away you are.

Something crashes into a building somewhere blocks behind you, but you hardly have time to react or process the sound. Your mind is still focused on your feet, still focused on the fact that you’re halfway between 54th and 55th and therefore only two blocks away from the station, when Matt lurches to a complete stop for the second time today.

This time you’re unable to dip around him, having only been half a step behind him, and you crash straight into his back. His body doesn’t move an inch under the force alone, the collision of your body abrupt though otherwise unharmful. His form is seemingly glued and frozen to the ground, but he does shift slightly to help steady you. He lets go abruptly, hands falling limply to his sides, head turned to something across the street.

You move so that you’re in front of him, eyes drifting over his face in confusion. Just like before, his skin has lost most of its color, his black rectangular lenses and the blood on the side of his face a sharp, almost unwelcome contrast. His lips part as he takes in a deep breath, one that seems entirely too shaky for your liking.

“Matt?” you ask quietly, knowing he’ll hear the near whisper even above the sounds of the city. “What’s wrong? Do you hear something?”

He doesn’t answer your question, merely blurting out one of his own. “The building across the street. What–what does it look like?”

“What?”

“The building,” he repeats, the sound dry and in the beginning stages of something that’s bordering panic. “Is it—tell me what it looks like.”

Frowning, you turn so that you’re facing the street, even as you grab his hand and pull him closer to the building behind you, wanting to keep as close to the brick as possible and out of the way of something flying by. You’ve entered a block that seems to be made up of small shops and buildings that are only a few stories high, different from the towering office buildings that exist just a little further away. It’s an interesting little section of Hell’s Kitchen, seeming older than other parts of the neighborhood, but it’s no more or no less shaken up by the events of today.

Your eyes land on the building that sits directly across from you, taking in the fading paint and the cracked window. Eyeing the door that looks run down and its rusted hinges, you briefly think about what it might have looked like in its youth. It’s certainly nothing impressive as it is, and you wonder why it's caught his attention so suddenly, even if he’s unable to see it.

Your eyes drift back to Matt’s face. “You mean Fogwell’s?”

He nods, and the motion is so stiff, it’s almost like the muscles in his neck have lost the flexibility to move.

“I mean…it’s old,” you say honestly, turning your face back to the building, utterly bewildered at the conversation. “Could use some paint, but–”

“No, I mean…is it damaged? Still there, mostly intact? Or is it–” he asks, licking his lips, hands shaking at his side, his words rushed and seemingly difficult to force out, if the halting speech is anything to go by. Your mouth parts into an oh as you realize what he had been needing from you. “I can’t–I can’t be sure, and–”

“It’s fine, Matt,” you say gently, hating the look of panic that’s been crossing over his face, the expression pretty foreign on the man who has been practically dragging you to safety, spine made of steel and frame made of immovable stone. “There’s a crack in the window, and it looks like maybe a few bricks were knocked loose, but it’s there. Still standing.”

You’re unprepared for the way his body seems to sag in relief, and you let out a startled yelp as you wrap an arm around his shoulders. You push him into the wall you’ve been standing next to, hoping the brick will at least help you in your effort to keep him from tilting over. He lets the outside of the building keep him up, as you’d been hoping, resting his body weight against it and breathing harshly as his head tilts forward, mouth open as he takes in a gasping breath.

Shifting so that you’re standing in front of him rather than off to the side, you step as close as possible without plastering yourself to him, hands bracing against his shoulders should he tip forward. It’s like the fight has temporarily drained out of his body, nothing left but torn ligaments and bone, a heavy frame without muscle to keep it standing.

A shaky hand comes up to your side, fingers ghosting over the fabric, before he’s got the silk of your blouse wrapped in his hand. The warmth of his palm by your hip is almost startling, because while it continues to be a bright and warm spring day, nothing will ever compare to the heat of someone else’s skin pressed against yours, even from over the fabric of your shirt.

“You okay?” you ask after a moment, your eyes trailing over his face as his head shifts so that it’s now resting against the wall behind him. He nods in answer, tongue once again running itself over his bottom lip briefly. “Do you need a few moments?”

Matt shakes his head slowly, and you don’t miss the way his hand further tightens around the fabric at your side. “We should keep moving.”

“Sure,” you agree quietly. “But if you need a minute to just…we can stay for a few, Matt. We can just slide a few feet to the left, there’s an awning we can hang under to keep us out of sight.”

The man in front of you doesn’t move an inch, other than to take a deep, shuddering breath. Making an executive decision, you pull away slightly, moving your arms down from his shoulders to his upper arms to help pull him with you as you slide the three feet between open sky and the dark green awning.

He pants, though certainly not from physical exertion, and it makes you feel like whatever battle he’s fighting, or whatever he’s running from, solely exists in his mind, some sort of festering wound that’s been triggered by the block you’ve been walking down. You have a history of panic attacks, a history of your mind and body freezing to the point where no rational thought or movement can get out, so you’re well aware of what one feels like. You’re not necessarily used to seeing them on others, though, so it takes you a moment to figure out what’s going on.

The man has managed to keep himself together far better than you have since everything started, offering his hand and pulling you along like it had become his sole focus in life to keep you safe. You aren’t quite sure how to handle someone’s undivided attention, often shying away from the spotlight and those who might get too close, but even with all the chaos going on around you, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s taken your life in his hand, as if getting you through this is just as important to him as his own fate.

His shoulders have hardly wavered since you met him, and you’re not entirely surprised that something has finally managed to knock him over, even if only for a few minutes.

You’ve seen his anger and frustration and sadness, but you haven’t yet seen him mirror the same level of panic on his face that you know has been on yours the entire time. And while now certainly isn’t the best time to have a breakdown, exposed and on the sidewalk with nothing but cloth covering your heads, you don’t feel like it would be fair to ignore his panic when he has done nothing but try to soothe yours. He deserves every little piece of care and consideration he’s given you, and you want nothing more than to give it to him, regardless of how inconvenient.

Reaching up, mind resolved, you brush a lock of dark hair off of his forehead, careful to avoid the small gash that hasn’t yet stopped bleeding completely. “Hey,” you say, trying to draw his attention to you, but you can tell easily it doesn’t really work. His head stays tilted down, mouth parted, as his hand shakes lightly at your hip. “Matt. Matt.”

He shakes his head, and through the dark lenses of his glasses, you can see his eyes darting around wildly.

“Matt,” you try again as your hand trails down the side of his face. His skin is suddenly cool to the touch despite the heat outside, and you can’t help the way your eyes widen slightly in alarm. “The building is fine.”

“You–you promise?” His voice sounds so broken, so child-like, that it unsettles you.

“I promise.” You slide a finger under his chin to raise it up, but the movement must startle him because he jerks his face to the side with a gasp.

Unwilling to cause him any further distress, you bring your hand back down to his shoulder, hoping the pressure will both keep him standing while also grounding him. You’ve been through this before, a thousand different thoughts and fears racing through your mind, and sometimes the things that have brought you back are the most subtle ones. Wind on your face, a certain cloth or texture beneath your fingertips, really anything and everything to center your focus back to the present and out of your head.

Matt gradually pulls himself back together, and while in any other setting you may have wanted to give him more time to process, you know time is of the essence, so you don’t question or argue against his need to snap back. Whatever control he’s displayed since you met him creeps back into his features, but there’s a level of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, one you get the impression he hasn’t shared with many others.

“You ok?” you ask quietly, watching as he slides back into himself more and more by the second, the panic slowly receding from his face and his breathing evening out.

“I’m…fine,” he responds, his voice barely a whisper before he clears his throat. “I’m good.”

You can’t help the way your hand reaches back up to brush a piece of hair back, noting with satisfaction the way his skin has regained some of its heat and color. He doesn’t shift away from the movement, so you allow your hand to linger for a second before falling back down.

You’re all too aware of how long panic can stick around, long after the physical symptoms have left, and you’re one hundred percent sure that whatever had just happened, whatever had left him so panicked, has a long history rooted somewhere inside his head.

“The building…does it mean something to you?”

The man nods reluctantly as he swallows. His head lifts so that it rests against the brick behind him, dark hair clashing with the red that’s been covered in a sheen of dust. “I…we should really get going, it’s not important.”

As if trying to prove his point about the building’s lack of value, he abruptly tries to push you back, ready to continue on with the trek up to 57th. The movement is gentle, despite its apparent urgency, but you press your hands back into his shoulders when he shifts to push off of the brick. Interestingly enough, he doesn’t really fight against you, simply allowing himself to fall back, as if he’s still struggling to regain some strength.

“Seems to me that might be pretty important, though.”

The face he gives you is extremely pained, mouth twisted into a frown that looks like he’s almost pleading with you not to say anything more. But when you don’t move from in front of him, he all but wilts again with a sigh. “I used to spend a lot of time there,” he says quietly after a few moments of hesitation. “It was important to me, important to my dad. I’d hate for it to just be…gone.”

The pain of losing a parent is something you can relate to, and the sad tilt of your mouth relays the ache you feel inside, though it’s an image no one is around to see. It’s been years since you last saw your mother smile, last heard her voice, and the loss is something a person never really heals from, despite the amount of time that’s passed.

You know exactly why the potential loss of this building hit him the way it did.

“It’s one of the last things you have of him.”

“...yeah.”

You twist your head to look back over your shoulder, eyeing the fading paint and the brick that has certainly seen better days. The building is in unassuming, almost an eyesore compared to the newer buildings on either side, but there’s a certain charm to it, despite the way its been run down by the decades it’s likely been there.

“I…with everything going on, I somehow skipped that we were going to run right by it,” Matt whispers, and you turn your head back around just in time for him to slide a hand down his face as he sighs in some sort of acceptance. “I’m glad to know it’s okay.”

You’re quiet for a moment before you open your mouth to respond. “When this is over, I’ll come back with you,” you tell him softly. You’re not quite sure what makes you offer it, nor are you sure why your hand lifts to his shoulder to rest gently on his cheek, but you refuse to resist both impulses. “When it’s all over, we’ll come back and I’ll describe every single brick for you.”

He stills.

Matt has barely moved since he collapsed against the wall in relief, just the slow instances of tangling his hand in your shirt and half-heartedly trying to continue the journey north, but somehow, this halting of movement is much more pronounced.

It seems like he isn’t breathing, the rise and fall of his chest stumbling to a stop, his eyes motionless and not flitting blindly over the street behind you. It’s dramatic, the stillness of his body, and it immediately makes you feel like you’ve overstepped.

You begin pulling back, eyes wide. “Sorry, we don’t have–”

“Yes.” The word is said so quietly, especially with the sounds of destruction and chaos in the background, but you feel like you hear all three letters said individually. “Yes. I’d…want that.”

“You’re…sure?”

“Yes,” he repeats, and you can’t describe how the brief moment of elation floods through you, because what is there to be elated about while the city that homes over a million people is destroyed around you? But it doesn’t stop you from having that moment, that one beautiful moment, or joy. He’s not saying yes to coming back here, or at least that’s not all he’s saying yes to.

In some weird, twisted way, you get the impression that maybe he's saying yes to…you.

In what capacity, you're not sure, but the idea is out there in the open, now. It's not the right time to talk about it, not while it feels like New York is crumbling all around you, but it doesn't stop the savage uptick in your heart.

“Okay,” you say, clearing your throat and ruining the moment intentionally because you know it’s time to continue the movement to 57th. You’ve only a few blocks to go, but they still feel like an entire lifetime away. “We should get going. Are you ready?”

He nods his head, hands suddenly settling on both your hips and pushing you backwards gently as he completely lifts himself off of the brick. Once he’s up, he still doesn’t increase the distance between you, so you’re left staring up at him slightly as he settles back to his full height.

Eyes trailing over the fact that’s slightly covered with dust and blood, you take a step back, watching as he rolls his neck. Something about his posture indicates that he’s ready to go, so you turn on your heel and start walking, knowing he’ll catch up and soon pass you. Before you can even make it three feet, Matt suddenly yanks you back, and with a surprised cry, you fall into him.

“Matt–”

“There’s someone in there,” is all he says as he steadies you, his head facing the buildings on the other side of the street, lips parted in confusion before settling in a hard line. “I can hear their heartbeat, they’re–they’re hurt.”

“Hear their heartbeat–”

And then Matt, who has hardly left your side since this all began, pushes you back against the wall and bolts across the street with nothing more than a “Stay there!” shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back!”

Stunned, you stare at his back as he makes his way around the abandoned cars and random bricks and concrete that’s been thrown onto the asphalt.

Heartbeat?

He can hear a heartbeat?

You’re frozen for just a few seconds longer, mind twisting this way and that, trying to take in, trying to understand this new tidbit of information he’s given you. But you don’t think there’s a way to even begin understanding what he’s said, not without a proper explanation on his end, so you rapidly shove it to the side.

“It’s…not the weirdest thing that’s happened today,” you say under your breath, and, as if on cue, a sudden ball of fire soars through the sky from a goddamn flying alien proves your point. The ground shudders and a not-so-distant building rumbles, the sound telling you that it’s just one or two fireballs away from crashing to the ground altogether.

The thought of being in or near a building when something falls is terrifying, the memory resurfacing of diving under the sink while the bookstore groaned around you, protected by nothing more than a slab of concrete and a hand covering your head. But the idea of not being at Matt’s side, the thought of going through any of this without him, is more terrifying, and so before he has even made it to the entrance of the Fogwell’s, you’re following behind him.

#matt murdock #Daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #battle of new york

187 notes · View notes

isa-ah · 1 month

Text

sure why not. nightmare rankings with context lets go

the first one ive had by far the most times.

the second was the most disorienting thing ive ever experienced.

the third the most emotionally devastating.

and the fourth the most physically reactive ive ever been to a dream.

the short of it: my mom got knocked up at 15 so i was raised by my grandparents exclusively. my grandma had breast cancer and my grandfather had really bad diabetes so i was raised to be a caregiver. i dropped out of school at 13 to be home fulltime and then a few weeks before my 18th my grandma died and a few weeks after my 18th my grandpa died.

we lived in a tiny rotting house, holes in the walls and ceiling that would let in snakes, bugs and wolf spiders, with no heating or cooling way out in the sticks. like 45 minutes outside of the nearest town which had 1 stoplight. we were living off of a single disability check every month which meant we only got to grocery shop once a month and my grandma had to give up on chemo after her cancer spread all over her body.

my grandfathers family has a history of suicide so ig it wouldnt surprise anyone to know he wanted to die before my grandma and tried to achieve this thru doing no physical therapy, eating like shit, & staunchly refusing to Ever go to the doctors or hospital. he would have huge outbursts when it was just the two of us about how hes dying too and no one cares and no one loves him and he wants to die. my grandma would likewise have outbursts where shed lock herself in the bathroom right across from my bedroom and wail that she was ugly now and no one loved her and she was dying.

as their caregiver i took a LOT of personal responsibility in trying to keep them alive. i would sleep in 30 minute intervals and wake up at the slightest noise in the house. they would stumble or fall and id have to scoop them up despite being smaller than either of them. bc my diet consisted almost completely of food i couldnt digest (that kept me in severe agony and lead to an insane nutritional deficit) i was going through one to two 32 packs of soda a week to fuel myself.

we would attempt to hire nurses but as they both got treatment in richmond almost 3 hours away the nurses would only ever come once or twice before quitting. the last one we ever had taught me how to access my grandmas port, clean it, administer the medication, and then properly close it again.

my grandma died around 4am the day we were planning to go see her. my grandfather was in the hospital at the time so we went to tell him as a family, to his face, but everyone else left the instant he started crying so i had to crawl into his hospital bed and hold him while he wailed into my neck. it was visceral.

when he came home, he really did his best though. he went to all of his doctors appointments, changed his whole diet & started doing physical therapy every day. we decided we would get through this together. we would be unstoppable. we could make it. my grandmother died in november, i turned 18 in december, and so as we hedged on new years we decided we could figure this out in the coming clean slate. we would be okay.

until i went out 4am new years morning and found him sweaty and despondent. i made a series of phonecalls promising all the while he would be okay and holding his hand as he went thru several seizures. finally, despite the emergency squads best attempts, he died right there in our living room. right in front of me, my new future was gone.

now, because i had turned 18, no one in my family was obligated to do anything with me after that. they left me in that house for months, alone, in the dead of winter with no heating or cable or anything to keep me sane.

our house had been set up so that i, the caregiver, could check on my grandparents from my bedroom door. it was muscle memory. i step out to use the bathroom across the hall and i glance left (my grandmas hospital bed) and then i glance right (my grandfathers recliner). and it didnt stop just because they were dead and i was alone.

occasionally someone would drop off pity groceries but that was it. i had no job, no license, no prospects. i was wracked with grief and guilt. this was my fault. i was their caregiver. i should have done better. i should have been better. i should have reacted faster. i should have advocated more. (i should have been an adult).

as you can imagine, those elapsing months were BAD. i think i spent most of it asleep. without cable, i had no one i could listen to speak to fill the silence of our house so i put on the first two hobbit movies- i had them on dvd- with my xbox and i played them. and played them. and played them. the entire time. i know both of them verbatim.

this is where the first nightmare were going to talk about comes in.

i would wander, late at night, out of my dark bedroom to the living room. because our house was so small, the living room was also the dining room, and had both the front and back doors in it. my grandpas tv would be on, shining a blinding blue white light into the living room that would be the only light.

our back door was a wall of glass on old sliding tracks. i would run to it, to the featureless black void beyond it, and lock it. and then i would hear the front door begin to creak open and bolt across the living room to slam the door shut and lock it too.

behind me, the back door would slide ajar.

and then again, the front door.

the locks were futile, they didnt work, and while i never saw what was outside i knew it wanted in and i knew it was bad.

isolated, that nightmare isnt anything really. its not very memorable, and from an outside perspective, its not very scary. it felt like it to me though, alone out there like that, alone in all the world and wracked with guilt and fear. it was immense to me then.

no.. beyond that, what makes that nightmare unique, is that i had it again. and again. and again. and every single time i fell asleep for the next 3 years. it didnt matter if it was one of my 30 minute overnight shift naps (because those didnt just go away when my grandparents died, that was hard wired from doing it my entire life), if it was broad daylight and i was napping in the passengers seat of a car, or if id just briefly dozed off at the keyboard.

every single time i fell asleep, i would have the same nightmare.

it would change marginally, in that sometimes my grandparents (one or both) would be sat in front of the tv. they both wore glasses so their eyes were entirely obscured by the bright white reflection of the flickering tv, and their skin would be slate blue-grey. entirely unreactive to me, or anything i said or did. sometimes id know they were dead, and others id beg them to see me. it never made a difference.

after months of being in that house, my aunt decided because shes a saint, she would take me in. but because i was 18 i was a legal adult and she had no responsibility to make sure i was okay or seen to. in the depths of manic depression, i had no idea which way was up, but she truly could not have cared less.

i lived there for two years, and while my cousins were a salve on my loneliness, their mother was horrific to me. she gaslit me so consistently, so entirely, that i would believe anything she told me. id spend five hours a day doing a list of chores shed given me, then shed come home and reveal a trap shed lain to catch me slacking off and tell me i was a useless lying piece of shit and needed to stop bullshitting that i had done anything and actually do it. so i would agree, and spend another 5 hours cleaning again. every single day i had off.

as you can imagine, i started lying about my work schedule and found excuses to spend hours upon hours at the local target, just milling around waiting until it was late enough to go home and go to bed.

it hit a head when she put her hands on my neck and demanded i thank her for being so gracious, tell her i love her, and then hug her. i called my mom after that (useless woman that she is) and begged for her to come get me.

here, at my moms house, is where the next nightmare comes into play.

as you can imagine, after two years of having the same nightmare every time i shut my eyes, i was getting wary. i didnt WANT to sleep anymore. i didnt want to keep having that dream. so armed with 2 brothers on different sleep schedules, i would waste as much time as i possibly could staying awake.

except, did you know sleep deprivation just makes nightmares worse? and avoiding your problems doesnt actually fix anything?

after months of this, i finally collapsed exhausted into bed, and experienced a new nightmare entirely.

i woke up, from my brothers bed where id fallen asleep, and wandered out into the house. it was still daylight, just like when id laid down, and i heard my mom call and ask me to do the dishes. sure. easy enough.

except, as i stand there at her sink washing the dishes, i begin to experience this creeping unease. this unreality, this shift on its axis that makes me nauseous and scared. and i call for my mom, "somethings wrong! mom! somethings wrong please come here! mom!"

to my horror, the spoon in my hands begins to melt and bend at my every touch and i stumble back from the sink. in horror, my knees give out, and i sink to the kitchen floor screaming for help, please please help me. somethings wrong with me please help me.

in a jolt, i wake up. im on the couch and its dusk out. i slept later than i meant to- way later. i check the time and its the tail end of when i was scheduled to work today. i panic, jumping to my feet and hollering at the family around me watching tv- "i work today! i was supposed to be at work! you guys know that, why didnt you wake me up!" my panic and frustration rose as i was entirely ignored and in a raw screaming instant, i jolted myself awake.

i was sitting in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep. exhausted, but relieved the nightmares were over, i sat there with my feet planted on the floor trying to put them into words. my mom, sensing my unease, knocked on the doorframe and came to sit beside me.

"have you packed?" packed? for what? "youre going to be late." late? "youll miss the bus." what bus?

"to go visit grandma."

wait.. what? no thats- what?

"you need to pack, or youll miss the bus to go visit grandma."

thats not right. shes dead. mom- mom what are you saying? theres no- thats not-

as my unreality and fear bubble up bright in my chest, i heave myself off of the bed, and in an instant i jolt awake. laying in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep.

i lay there, silent, still, panting. am i awake? am i awake now? what the fuck is happening to me?

slowly, i sit up on my elbows, just barely obscured by the headboard i notice something. a leathery spider egg. and as im realizing what it is, it bursts, and ten thousand tiny spiders come spilling out of it. terrified, for some idiotic reason my first response is to grab for my phone and whip out my camera. but as i bring it up, the spiders vanish. and its just me, alone in the room again.

and i realize with a horrible bottoming out that i dont know if im awake or not.

that feeling didnt go away for weeks.

id woken up drunk off of the nightmares and hallucinated the spiders- but i had been awake that time, really. it was difficult to convince myself of that, though, and the unreality just waiting to rip me up and into another false awakening plagued me for ages thereafter.

it was a really good way to make me stop depriving myself of sleep though lol ive never gotten that bad again since.

time moves on, and so do i. my mom kicked me out of my brothers room and made me sleep on a mattress in their filthy kitchen between the litter boxes and under the ants favorite window, which was my cue to leave. i moved cross country with my then-boyfriend and finally, finally, began to heal.

these last two are far more recent. one was from last year, and the other just a few nights ago.

i dreamt i was in my childhood home. my grandma had just died and it was me and my grandfather, lit only by the cool grey of an overcast sky outside. i was in the kitchen, asking what he wanted for dinner, when he began to stagger in the living room. i whipped around the corner to catch him, and before my very eyes his skin began to bruise.

theres a way, when a person dies, that the blood begins to settle wherever their skin meets the ground. dark ugly red-purple bruises, veins visible, mottled skin.

before my eyes, he was beginning to look just like he had that morning when the hospital finally let us see his body. i asked him what was wrong and he said he just needs to use the bathroom. he just needs to get to the toilet. so i walked him down the hall and into the bathroom and once the door was firmly locked between us, he told me,

"i did something i shouldnt have. those poisonous mushrooms- i ate them. im going to die."

and i realized in that moment that his insides were being liquified by the things. that his "need" to use the toilet was about to be a complete and utter disembowelment.

instantly, i reacted, trying to throw the door open with my shoulder, twisting the knob, begging him to open it. please please please. how could you do this. how could you do this to me. this isnt fair. please. we can fix it. please please we can fix it let me in.

please at least let me cook you dinner first. please.

please dont leave me.

i screamed myself hoarse and cried so hard i woke myself up. ive never had a dream make me cry so hard, for so long. it sat on my shoulders for weeks, weighing me down, putting me on a hairpin trigger for tears i hadnt been on in years. it felt like grief, raw and new, all over again.

and finally, this last one. it is in the ranking for the most physically id ever been effected by a dream. good god.

i was perched on the edge of a chair in a hospital room, staring at my grandmothers corpse. she was laid back, slanted somewhat to the side. bald, skinny, purple. i sat. and i stared.

the window over her head was pitch black, slate just like the old nightmares, and i was only ever vaguely aware of it. in a blink- literally- she was up. sat up, smiling, chubby with her wig on and her glasses perched on her head. she had done her makeup and the window behind her was lit up in the cool greys of dawn.

"well dont look at me like that- i just got here!" and with a laugh she gestured me over.

i threw my head back and called for a nurse, but when i turned back, already lifting myself out of my seat to run to her, she was again bald and slumped and darkness prevailed.

the nurse came through and sucked her teeth. "shes still dead, darlin'. i dont know what you want me to do about it." and with a sneer, she was gone again.

my eyes searched my grandmothers face, and after a few seconds of held breath, her eyelids began to roll and her lashes fluttered open. and again, she smiled at me and beckoned me closer.

collapsed onto her, exclaiming i missed you i missed you i love you. and she laughed and said the same. she gave me a kiss, then gestured me in for a hug and of course i complied. i missed her more than life and here she was, she was back, of course of course id hug her.

but as my arms scooped beneath her armpits to lift her into me, the face against my throat went cold, and hard, and the arm i had propped up swung stiff with rigor mortis and bounced off of me.

when i say that nightmare left me in a daze, im not sure how else id even put it. i was shaking head to toe, on the verge of vomiting, vision tunneling and blurring continually as i stumbled through the house. it was early- around 5am when i woke up- so i was alone. i sat down at the kitchen table and lost an hour to it.

around 6 i woke my husband up in much the same state, tear drenched and trembling, curling into myself to stay standing, and by seven he had managed to bring me back down to earth. ive never had a physical reaction like that at all, nevermind so long, and so severe. it was fcking awful.

#i did NOT reread this so if its insane and full of typos sorryyyy #i just need to talk about it or ill die i guess #now that ive wasted an hour i should really make some breakfast and start work huh

10 notes · View notes