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heliads · 3 years

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The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

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Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her.

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mycosmicparadise

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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sis leiii, can i please have a piece where instead of bill flying back home to be with tiger, she's the one who's flying to see him because he's travelling to film a movie or do a photoshoot or something but he's feeling homesick and maybe having a fever and tiger flies immediately to whatever he is to take care of him, but she surprises him and he lets himself cry when he sees her there?

Oh my sweet, soft Bill. Tiger is, without a doubt, no stranger to rescuing her Big Dude.

And you know, maybe it’s a multitude of things. Maybe Bill really isn’t jiving with the producer or the studio or something, but he’s learning in his older age that sometimes you can’t just...flip your shit and walk away from projects. Maybe the project itself still really interests him, but the people carrying it through are being insufferable dicks. Bill has an extremely low tolerance for people who think they are above anyone else, and if the set he’s on is rampant with egos, he has a really hard time...but he also can’t necessarily walk away.

Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s just a gruelling shoot, one where actors’ unions and the studio are constantly in a battle because the actors are somewhat being forced to go through with scenes or go through in conditions they have no business going through. On Bill’s second day on set, he spent 14 hours submerged in an indoor pool that was way below the temperature it should have been. His acting contract, his union, probably states that he can spend up to 3 hours maximum in the pool and then he needs a one hour break to dry off, have a warm drink, raise his body temperate back to normal and then he can continue.

But the producer was always almost just getting the right shot, and maybe just one more take, and okay that was great but let’s do another one just in case and suddenly, it’s 14 hours later and Bill is shivering, his body temperature is dropping dangerously low, and his lips are blue. The doctor on set finally puts an end to it.

The next day, a cough had set in deep in his chest. One of those coughs that started off small and then just couldn’t stop, one of those ones that ached in your lungs, a cough that had you gasping for air after you just couldn’t make it stop. His entire day was scrapped, every take he did cut short when his breath would catch and it would set off this hacking cough, one that rattled deep in his bones. He was exhausted. He was out of breath. The first week hadn’t even wrapped yet, and he was already wrecked.

Tiger heard it the moment she picked up the phone when he called her that evening--the middle of the night for her. She picked it up and mumbled a groggy hello before a deep, uncharacteristic wheeze had her eyes widening.

“Hi kid,” he rasped, “Sorry I’m calling so late.”

“...Bill?” She had to ask to be sure. His voice was so rough, so strained, and she winced as a terrible cough sounded down the line.

“Yeah,” he wheezed, “Sorry, give me a second.”

He sounded terrible. His voice sounded thick and rough, strained as if he was trying to control it--and his cough sounded even worse. Wet and rumbling, it seemed to go on forever before she heard a soft sip, clearing of his throat.

“Sorry,” he croaked, “Having some issues.

“You sound terrible bud,” she said, “What’s going on?”

“Just caught a bit of a chill,” he mumbled.

A bit of a chill turned into pneumonia a few days later--and still, he worked. He would call her when he could, but tiger was getting increasingly more worried--she knew her Good Dude. And it seemed that every time she talked to him, he was coming off a day on set that was seeming more and more insane. A night shoot, where he had to run through freezing cold temperatures and snow in nothing but a bathrobe, barefoot--and he had to do it over and over and over again, because the director wasn’t happy with the shot. More water scenes. More hours spent in subzero temperatures, in soaking wet clothes, already sick as a dog.

Tiger had a feeling that there was a reason why he was sticking to regular calls instead of video ones, and at one point she insisted on it--and it only confirmed her suspicions. He looked terrible--gaunt and pale, his big eyes sticking out of his head even more, his skin a sickly pallor, and he was at the point where he couldn’t even get two words out without either having to stop to catch his breath, or launching into a coughing fit. The wheeze in his chest was even more prominent, there was a permanent wince in his features from the pain, and his eyes had deep bags under them.

“Bill,” she said sternly, “Have you seen a doctor? Are you taking meds for this?”

“I’m on a round of antibiotics,” he brought a pill bottle into the frame and shook it to show her, “But it just needs to run its course.”

“My ass it does,” she snaps, “You look awful.”

“Careful,” he warned, but it lacked all of its usual malice when he launched into a coughing fit after.

As soon as tiger hung up the phone, she booked her ticket to his location. She wasn’t going to sit by and watch this happen. The kicker was when she was browsing her instagram and just happened to stumble across a story that one of Bill’s co-stars posted--a goofy photo of the dude in the make up chair--but there in the background, a little blurred but tiger could spot him anyway--was Bill, curled up in a lounge chair, an IV drip in his arm. Tiger screen capped the photo and sent it to Bill, with a very curt message.

Call me. Now.

Seconds later, the image disappeared from the costar’s stories and Bill’s name popped up on her screen.

“Don’t freak out,” he started, “It’s fine, kid.”

“An IV isn’t fine Bill,” she snapped, “What’s happening?”

“It’s just some nutrients and vitamins and a lot of hydration--” a pause for a gross-sounding coughing fit--”I’m having a hard time shaking this thing, so it’s just to give me a boost.”

“You can’t shake this thing because you’re exhausted and this gig is killing you--”

“I’ve gotta go tiger, they’re calling me back to scene,” he mumbled, “Please don’t worry about me. I’m okay, I promise.”

Tiger moved her flight up to the earliest one she could find.

And listen, when she got there? She gave his agent strict instructions not to tell him shit, but to help her find a way to get into his apartment. She was exhausted from the flight and the time difference, but she was on a mission--she found a grocery store, was able to pick up a few staples. She stocked up on green tea, honey, managed to find some warm blankets, was able to somehow figure out how the sauna on the back deck worked. Tiger had a bad case of whooping cough as a kid, and she remembered that Granny used to spend hours in a steamed out bathroom holding her, trying to ease the pain and break the cough. Extreme heat was good to try and clear out the lungs, and if Bill didn’t have a fever, she planned on manhandling him into the sauna for a few hours tonight.

She got everything she could. Medicine. Lozenges. A thermometer. A hot water bottle. She spent the rest of the day cooking--big pots of soups and stews, hearty things with a lot of vegetables that would be easy for him to digest.

And listen, when Bill got home in the wee hours of the morning? Tiger was on the couch reading, and she stood when he entered the doorway. He hadn’t seen her yet and she watched as her Big Dude stepped in, closed the door behind him--and then slumped against it. His back leaning on it, his head fell forward and she heard him exhale a rough sigh--or at least part of one, before he started coughing again. Pushing himself off, he wearily raised his head and that’s when he saw her--and he froze.

“But you’re fine eh?” she said sarcastically. The house was mostly dark except for a few dim lights, but she saw his eyes widen and the shock register on his face.

“...Tiger?” he rasped after a long pause. He shook his head as if he might be imagining it, but tiger took a few steps forward.

“This ends now Bill,” she said lowly, “Do you hear me?”

She stopped in front of him, but he still hadn’t blinked yet. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Tiger...” he mumbled. Reaching a hand out, his fingers brushed her hip as if he was afraid she was just a mirage--but then a few fingers turned into a whole hand, then both hands.

“Tiger,” he croaked, and then he crumbled. Reaching for her, she pulled him in as his knees buckled under him. She caught his weight as best she could, and he buried his nose in her neck. His shoulders shook and he clung to her, and she could feel the rumble in his chest as he struggled for air.

“Okay easy big guy,” she said, “Just try and stay calm and breathe through it.”

The cough started off small as he tried to suppress it, but eventually his whole body shook as he wheezed and his knees gave out. He knelt down, trying to get air in as he heaved, and she soothingly rubbed his back.

“Enough,” she said softly as she patted his back, “I’m here bud, and I’m not leaving. Just try and calm down a bit so you can get your breath back.”

His hand still reached for her just to make sure she was real, and it took him a long time to be able to catch his breath. Tiger held him the whole time, right there on the floor, until he could at least get some air in again.

Once he was able to breathe again, I’ll bet she put her foot down. Told him that she was worried, and that she was there to take care of him--because he was sick. Really sick, and that if he didn’t take the time he needed to heal, that he would only get worse. He finally caved because it was her you know? And for as well as he takes care of her, he trusts her to do the same for him. Halfway through the call with his agent, tiger had to take the phone from him because he was struggling for air again and couldn’t get the words out. Tiger told her, in no uncertain terms, that Bill wouldn't be able to work for at least two weeks.

And listen, for two weeks--Bill wasn’t allowed to move an inch unless tiger told him too. His fever was too high for the sauna that night, and even though he shivered most of the night, she made sure he was only draped with one blanket so he wouldn’t overheat. She filled him with fluids to try and help break the fever, and when it was a little better the next day, she started working on his lungs. She dragged him to the sauna and sat there with him to sweat it out. He was miserable--cranky and in pain, the dry air burned his already sensitive chest, but tiger just sat there and held him. She held him as his body wracked with heaves, she rubbed his back when a coughing fit took over and left him gasping, and she wouldn’t let him leave no matter how much he protested. Only after they had been in there for two hours did she pull him back upright, take him inside and get him to drink another ungodly amount of water, followed up by some of Granny’s tea. She gave him all the head scritchies until he was able to sleep at least a little, and even then he was only able to with his head propped up against her chest.

It was agonizing. It was the sickest she had ever seen him. And it was a long process--if she didn’t like the way he looked after two weeks, then she wasn’t going anywhere for at least another two. And neither was he.

#bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #sick bill

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jawritter · 4 years

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When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 6

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2203

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Hurt!Dean, description of injury, blood, swearing, John is a dick, regret. I think that’s it.

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Sitting in the chair that was facing the window that looked out on the dark lawn below from Dean’s room, you shove the peppermint tea that Jess had brought up to you a little further away. She was just trying to make you better, and you knew that, but you didn’t think there was anything anyone could do to make you feel better. Especially when none of them knew what was really wrong with you. They all thought that you were just nervous about Dean’s job today, but that was so far from the truth.

Dean’s little revelation before he disappeared in the bathroom was the last thing he’d said to you last night, and when you finally cried yourself to sleep, you were pretty sure he’d just chosen to sleep in the bathroom and not come out to talk to you.

He was so angry that you were scared to go and try to talk to him, and when you woke up this morning, Dean and John were already long gone.

A knock on the door and Jess’ entry pulled you from your thoughts as she made her way to sit down on the chair next to you.

“Hey you. How are you holding up?”

You shook your head and tried to stop the stinging tears that threatened to spill over the surface from falling.

“I’m okay, just stressed.” you lied, pulling your blanket up to your neck like it could hide your shame. If something happened to Dean today, you’d never forgive yourself. He’d done and given so much to keep you safe, and you pretty much told him last night that you hoped he died. God how you wanted to take it all back, do it all different.

“John and Dean will be just fine. High table meetings are always stressful and dangerous, because the Campbells will be there, and they like to cause problems with John.They still blame him for Dean and Sam’s mom’s death in that house fire, but this isn’t like it’s something they haven’t dealt with before, and by tonight he will be here, safe and sound.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat you nod your head. You hoped with everything in you that she was right, and that they would make it home. You didn't understand all of this stuff, but you knew that if you became John’s you were probably fucked in ever since of the word, if you even lived through the guilt of never giving Dean the chance he deserved.

You made a promise to yourself, that if he lived through this, and everything worked out okay, you’d give him that chance. Let yourself fall for him like you were doing before you were forced to move in here. Maybe even get to be happy with him.

Jess put a comforting hand on our shoulder and stood from her seat.

“Sam and I are about to have a Friends marathon in the living area. Want to join us?” she asked, and you forced a smile in return.

“Maybe in a little bit. I think I’m gonna try and take a shower, see if I can scald away some of this stress.” you tell her, and she gives you a warm smile before leaving you to your thoughts.

Unwrapping yourself from your cocoon of blankets, you wander your way to the bathroom. You didn’t even have time to start the shower, when you heard a blood curdling scream from the down stairs part of the house.

Your heart stopped in your chest, and you ran towards the staircase, coming to the landing just in time to see John and Sam hauling a very bloody Dean through the front door, and towards what they called the medical area of the house.

For just a moment you were rooted in your spot, unable to make your feet move, as absolute horror gripped you.

You don’t even know really what made feet move, but you numbly made your way towards the yelling, not even really paying attention to what they were saying or the man in a suit that ran past you toward him, though you did note that they were calling him Nick.

When you entered the room the horror that greeted you made the bile rise in your throat.

They had Dean stretched out on a table, his shirt ripped open, blood pouring from his stomach in a way that you couldn’t really even see the injury, but you knew it was bad. Nick circled the table, yelling commands at Sam that you didn’t even hear over the ringing in your ears.

Nick's British accent was cut off by John’s deep voice, bringing you back to your senses.

“Y/N! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, AND COMFORT MY SON! KEEP HIM CALM!”

Your attention snapped from the long, deep gash in Dean’s stomach, to the green eyes that were boring into yours.

Violence isn't something you were accustomed to. You had never seen anyone hurt that bad in real life, but aside from the blood, and the gore of the cut, it was the hurt in his eyes that made your heart shatter.

He was staring at you, his eyes almost as red as his stomach, the piercing green duller than normal, eyes wet as if he wanted to cry, but wouldn’t allow himself to.

You staggered a step towards him, and Dean lifted his hand shakily in our direction. That just made it all hurt worse.

Grabbing his hand in yours, you card your fingers through his hair, keep your eyes locked on his, as Nick and Sam move around behind you, keeping your back to the wound on Dean’s stomach, and focusing on his face, John standing over your shoulder, watching everything closely.

“Dean, oh my God, I’m so, sorry.” you said in almost a whisper, shock evident in your voice.

Dean didn’t answer, just gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes against the pain radiating through his body.

“Gonna have to stitch him up here John. He’s not going to make it to a hospital, but it doesn’t look like anything internal was damaged.” Nick said, and John just nodded above you.

“You...You’re not going to put him to sleep?” you ask as Nick and Sam prepared needles full of brown liquid.

“Can’t do that. He’s lost too much blood, but don’t worry sweetheart, we’re gonna numb him up real good.” Nick said, Jess made her way to the other side of Dean’s head across the table.

“Nick’s the family doctor of shorts. Everything’s gonna be fine.” she tries to assure you.

You try and keep the horror and trembling under control. Focusing on Dean’s eyes, you see one large tear roll down his face as Nick and Sam move closer to his wound. His grip tightens on your hand, but he didn’t scream at what surely was the unbearable pain of the needles entering his wound before the numbing medicine could spread. Sam worked at putting an IV in his free arm next to Jess.

Once the shots were done it seemed like it took them forever to stitch up him, and Dean’s eyes were getting heavy. Nick assured you it was just the morphine, and not the blood loss.

“What went wrong out there?” Sam asked, helping Nick wrap his brother’s wound once the stitching was done with thick antibiotic ointments, and gauze

“Believe it or not, that didn’t happen at the meeting. We stopped to get gas at a station just outside of town, and some of Sammual’s boys jumped him. They weren't all that happy about the high tables approval of Y/N here, and they thought they’d take it out on Dean.”

Sam gritted his teeth and nodded his head.

“Don’t worry son this isn’t over, they will pay for this.” John assured him, and Jess put her hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“You on the other hand,” John said, leering at you as Nick finished up Dean’s wound, “clean up my son! Make sure he’s taken care of! He is your responsibility. If something happens to him, I swear to God your next.”

John left the room his heavy footsteps echoing as Nick and Sam lifted Dean carefully in front of the table they’d been working on him on. Making their way up the stairs, and into your shared room they laid him down carefully on the bed, before Nick hooked up the bags of fluid and a bag of antibiotics to his IV.

Dean barely moved, or acknowledged what they were doing to him, which scared you, but no one else seemed concerned.

“I’ll be back in four hours to give him another round of Morphine. I’ll go grab some Ambian to help him stay asleep. He needs the rest. Don’t worry sweetheart, he’s going to be just fine.” Nick said, giving you a pat on the back before disappearing to go and get the sleeping aid he’d referred to, returning only long enough to give it to him, and leave.

Crawling carefully in the bed next to you, you carded your fingers through Dean’s tousled hair, his green eyes fluttering open to look at you.

“I’m sorry Dean, this is all my fault, and I’ve treated you horribly. I wish I could take it all back.” you tell him, tears falling freely down your face as his hand reaches for you like a scared child that has been hurt, looking for comfort.

“S’Okay, I shouldn’t have snapped at you last night. This hasn’t been easy for you, I know that. I’m just glad I didn’t die before I got to see you again.” he mumbled, his eyes heavy as he fought against the medication.

Carefully as possible, you slip your arm around his head, pulling him close to you as he loses the battle against consciousness.

You had a second chance with Dean, and you were determined not to fuck it up this time, this time you would be everything he deserved.

The sound of your bedroom door opening caught your attention as light flooded the dark room where Dean and yourself were laying. Sam’s overly tall figure slipped inside, and shut the door behind him before making his way to the bed with the small desk chair in tow, sitting it next to his brother's side of the bed, before flopping down in it.

Dean was not a small man by any means, but next to his “little” brother, he looked so small, especially laying on the bed with his stomach sewn shut, and an IV leading from his arm.

“Did you finish getting him undressed?” Sam asked, and you suddenly felt stupid. You didn't even think about his slacks and shoes that were still on his feet.

“Oh God, I didn’t think about that.” You said, ripping the cover off of him as gently as you could, and working to take his shoes off as Sam stood and help you undo his slacks, slipping them down his long bowed legs, leaving him just in his tight, black boxers before the two of you covered him back up, and you settle back down next to him.

“You know, John catches you in here, it's my ass. You heard what he said.” you tell Sam in a hushed whisper, and Sam chuckled darkly.

“Don’t worry about John. He better not tell me shit about coming to check on my brother.” Sam said darkly, and that for some reason was laced with a promise more lethal than anything John had said downstairs.

“Why did they do this Sam, why do they hate him so much.” you ask, watching as Dean shifted closer to you in his sleep, unconsciously seeking comfort from you, even through all the drugs they had him on.

“Because Samual Cambell is a narcissistic dick who can’t let the past go.” Sam said darkly.

“He still blames your dad for your mom’s death?” you ask, settling Dean’s head back on your shoulder.

“Yep, that’s some of it. Some of it is he’s just a heartless dick, who wants to have all the power. He hated my dad even when my mom was alive from what I’m told. I don’t really remember as she died when I was just a baby. I can tell you this, no man in his right mind would put a death order on his own fucking grandson, much less the son of John Winchester. He will pay for this Y/N, I promise you. Just worry about getting Dean better. We will take care of the rest.” Sam said, standing up from his chair, and making his way towards the door, stopping just short of opening it.

“You know, Dean really does love you, I’ve never seen him like this before. I just feel like you needed to hear that.” Sam said, before disappearing into the hallway.

God, you hoped he was telling the truth, because right now, you were pretty sure you had fallen from him the moment you climbed out of his SUV, and you were too big of a coward to admit it to yourself, until you almost lost him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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mamawolfblood · 3 years

Text

Total drama Surprise

14 Brunch of Disgustingness

Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island… A note from a secret admirer got Gwen and Bridgette up in each other’s business. DJ accidentally knocked his boy Trent off the airplane, sending him deep into the Earth’s crust. Leshawna showed everybody how to hang on for dear life on the moose ride. Harold showed himself to be an ace flag-catcher, until he caught sight of Heather’s… unmentionables, causing him to crash his way right off the island, but not without a little canoodling time with the fair Leshawna. And now, let’s see what’s in store for our campers on this week’s episode of Total. Drama. Island!

Iris found it odd that Chef did want her help today for breakfast. Walking and sat on the dock looking at the moon. It was calm a peaceful just the gentle sound of water. "You couldn't sleep either?" Duncan said making the teen jump. He chuckled sitting behind me. His arms wrapped me into a warm embrace. His chin ontop of her head. No words needed to be spoken they just watch the sun rise.

It was something she didn't want to end but nothing lasts forever. The campers made their way to the mess hall. Before Iris could enter Duncan grabbed her arm. "Duncan what is it?" She asked looking up at him. But the carage he gathered soon turned to cold feet making him let go. "Nothing let's see what your dad has up his sleeve today." Damb so close but no big deal. The girl thought stepping inside sitting with her team.

Iris pov

My dad Was acting weird whenever someone tried to ask about food. Chef would snicker and laugh along with him. " OK seriously enough, what is wrong with the two of you?" I asked making them look at me. Its no secret I get cranky when I don't get food.

Chris: Congratulations to the remaining ten campers for reaching the halfway mark in the competition! You’ll all be on the jury for the final episode.

Geoff: We got the power! Yeah!

Chris: The two teams will become one next week. But first, all the girls will be moved to the Gopher cabin and all the guys will stay in the Bass cabin. This week’s challenge is as old as history itself. A battle of the sexes [Lindsay blows a raspberry at the guys] After everyone is settled in, I’ll announce the challenge. And then, you’ll have an uh… bite to eat.[He and Chef snicker] Ready for a little good news? This week, no one will be kicked off. [everyone cheers] It’s all for reward and it’s a good one. Okay, time to relocate. Let’s move! [He and Chef snicker]

Heather started kissing up to Bridgette. It was sickening to watch so I got up and left.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I was a bit worried about being the only new girl on the team. Then I figured it can’t be that bad. I don’t buy that hype about how well guys get along and how catty girls can be.

(Confessional Off)

I was sitting outside when Bridgette walked over. "Hi Bridgette have fun in the lions den." I said before laughing.

Leshawna: Nobody’s leaving until I find out who ate my pudding pockets!

Heather: I ate them. So what?

Leshawna: Whoa! Pump the brakes a minute! You’re “so what”ing me? That’s my food. No one touches my food!

Heather: Whatever, deal with it. It serves you right for leaving your junk everywhere, especially that. That is bugging me.

Leshawna: Yeah, it’d bug me too if I didn’t have anything in the front or in the back to shake.

Heather: Yeah? Well, you’ve got so much junk in your trunk, your jeans should come with a trash compactor!

Leshawna: Ooh! You want a piece of this?

Bridgette: Uh-oh.

Heather: Bridgette! It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in! Welcome to our cabin. We’re like a big family in here.

Gwen: Big and dysfunctional.

Heather: Anything you need, just yell.

Bridgette: Thanks for the awesome welcome, Heather.

Lindsay: Welcome to the club! It’ll be so much fun! As long as you do everything Heather says. Ow!

Heather [after she laughs] : Yeah, we love joking around here at girls cabin. I made sure your bunk was next to mine–

Lindsay: Hey! That’s my bed. Ow!

Heather: So we can talk and share and really get to know each other.

Bridgette: Okay, yeah! Hey, thanks everybody, I can’t wait to get to know all of–

Heather: Okay! Plenty of time to chat later! Let’s unpack.

Lindsay: This is great! I bet we’re getting along way better than the guys.

I honestly hope things are going well. This den of vipers is about to explode. If on cue I heard this.

Bridgette: Let’s build bridges, not walls!

Heather: Take your pick.

dramatic music plays as Bridgette picks Gwen and Leshwana's side

Heather: You just dug your own grave.

Bridgette: Let’s try to get along, okay? Otherwise, the guys are going to cream us, don’t you get it? Tough room.

[Chef and Chris snicker]

Heather: Stop doing that!

Chris: Let’s just tell them… Today’s challenge is… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You’ll be getting a nine-course meal. Each member of each team must finish each dish. You will not know if the next dish is grosser than the last, not as gross, or just as gross. Just that it’ll likely be… gross.

Chef: Tell them what they’ll get if they win, Chris!

Chris: The winning team spends two days at a local five-star resort where they’ll be pampered, eat gourmet nosh, and be given antibiotics against anything they may have caught while participating in this challenge! The losing team will go hungry tonight and spend the next two days here. On Total Drama Island. With Chef.

The first round was bull testicles and the point went to the girls. Oh those boys could handle a little meatball.

Chris: The score now stands at one for the girls and zero for the guys! And now, the next course in… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You guys like pizza?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: Anything? How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Ok even I thought it was gross please do let me get sick.

Leshawna couldn't eat it giving the guys a point making us tied. The girls freaked on her but honestly not a big deal. "Guys its not a big deal. We will win the next round so stop complaining.

(Confessional: Chef)

Chef: I was excited about the next dish. I made it from scratch.

(Confessional Off)

Chris: All right, who’s ready for the third course? Spaghetti! Well, actually, Earthworms covered in snail slime sauce and hairballs.

I barfed when it was placed infront of me.

(Confessional )

Iris- WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?! THIS SHIT IS FUCKING DISGUSTING!

*static *

(End of Confessionals)

The guys got another point and now I am getting aggravated.

Chris: All right everybody. Time for course number four. No nine-course meal would be complete without soup. Today’s special is French Bunyon soup with hangnail crackers.

(Confessional: Geoff)

Geoff: I think they just use stuff from Chef’s bathroom floor.

(Confessional Off)

Bridgette gasps

DJ strains to eat

Trent gags

Lindsay: I didn’t even taste it.

Chris: The girls win again![Gwen, Heather, Leshawna, and Lindsay cheer] The score’s now tied up at two.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I think the girls really made a breakthrough as a team.

(Confessional Off)

The rounds continue and the barfing too. But we made it to the final round.

"Oh god I think I'm going to be sick." I said trying to hold it down but I dont think I can.

hris: Wow, it’s still tied up. We’re down to the last course in the challenge. It’s delicious dolphin wieners. Hot dogs made of dolphin.

Bridgette [after she gasps] : But dolphins are our friends!

Heather: What are you waiting for? It’s already dead. If you don’t eat it, we don’t win.

Bridgette: Ooh, I can’t! I’m a surfer! I swim with dolphins!

Heather: Eat it!

Bridgette: No! I’m not doing it. You can’t pressure me.

The hell we can't grabbing a hot dog off the plate, and then proceeded to shove it down her throat.

"I'M NOT LOSING THIS BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GROW A PAIR! THE DAMB THING IS DEAD SO SUCK IT UP AND STUFF YOU FUCKING FACE!" They all looked at me Bridgette had tears in her eyes. She coughed it all up.

DJ: I’m with you sister. I’m not eating no dolphin.

(Confessional : Chef)

Chef: I slave over a hot stove cooking dolphin. No appreciation!

(Confessional Off)

Chris: Okay, enough. We’ll solve this by having an eat-off. The one who can drink the most shot glasses of fresh, delicious blended cockroach will be the winner. This unlikely satisfying blend of eight different cockroaches is vitamin rich for your balanced lifestyle. On your mark, get set, go!

Owen and Leshwana drink the cockroaches.

Leshawna groans two times

Chris: Owen wins!

DJ, Duncan, Geoff, and Trent cheer

Leshawna groans

Heather: Leshawna, you are completely useless!

Leshawna: Oh, uh-oh, something’s coming up. [puking]

DJ pukes

Trent:pukes

Chef: Grr… [retches]

Chris retches

Duncan and Geoff Puke

The “elimination” music plays.

Chris: The guys are the big winners today. And the girls go their separate ways. Two definitive cliques have been cemented. [Heather grunts and the door rattles] For now. What shocking surprises are in store for our campers next week as they head for the big merge? Tune in on Total. Drama. Island!

#romance #original characters #oc #jealousy #fanfiction #td heather #td gwen #td chef #td trent #tdi chris #total drama #total drama leshawna #total drama island

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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noocturnalchild · 4 years

Text

Of Thieves and Poets

Paterson X original female character

warning: bad language, mention of abuse, mention of death, light depiction of violence.

Summary: The night falls on Paterson City, A mourning bus-driver-poet saves a thief from her victim’s clutches, Will that simple gesture of kindness change the course of both their lives?

All the passages in italic are from a William Carlos williams poem : These.

Chapter 1

The bus exhaled a death rattle. The stars twinkled far above the cloudy night sky, unperturbed in their eternity. His eyes scratched the deep purple of the firmament and his tired lungs liberated a shaky sigh.

The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night.

It still happened; the face floating before his eyes, in the crowded streets, the hem of her dress in the wind, the tinkle of her laugh, the sparkle in her brown, warm irises. All six feet under.

It still happened when he set the table for two, when he dusted her nightstand, hung her dresses in her wardrobe, ironed and still smelling faintly like her, cupcakes and paint.

Paterson’s hands squeezed the wheel.

“Stupid bitch!”

A slap.

A strident scream.

All six feet under.

It had been a while since Paterson had applied the brakes with such force. With panicked eyes he followed the scene unraveling through his rear-view mirror. What seemed like a serious dispute broke out in the rear of his bus; a dozen of passengers circling someone, beating someone up, insulting someone Paterson couldn’t see but only hear.

Sky piercing mewls of an abused animal.

Six feet under. Paterson’s eyes hurt. Paterson wanted to go home.

“Stop the bus! Are you deaf? Stop the fucking bus now!”

His hands stiffened around the wheel, it was slick with his cold sweat. He stood up and the noises ceased. Long strides, clean shoes, stopped right above where her head rested.

She was clutching to the Rolex for dear life. Fragile little fingers shaking, blood on her knuckles and on her nails and on the bus floor.

“Dirty little thief!” The man shouted, eyeing Paterson with disdain and pride “about to dash off the next station.” “Right in the-”

“You broke her wrist.” Paterson cut off the bragging man, kneeling already at the side of the little sack of bones, wailing in pain.

“She stole my Rolex, sir, what was I supposed to do!? Thank her maybe?!” The man fumed, high pitched voice from hell.

The crowd hummed in agreement, Paterson closed his eyes.

“Please, I think it’s best if everyone regains their seats now. I… I have this in hand” Paterson gently slid the Rolex from a cold trembling grip as the other passengers dispersed. Noses returned to phones, fingers furiously tapping the screens, eager to tell, to collect. Pity and compassion for sale.

“Here sir, your watch” He didn’t spare a glance to the man who appeared to still have many things to say.

Paterson stared at her bloody hand. The little thing sobbed quietly, curled on herself, head inside her arm, broken wrist on display. A damaged, cheap porcelain doll.

Dirt and stains on her pale blue jeans, holes and scratches on her thin white crop top, ribs like knives, hair like a sad abandoned willow nest. No, a chiffon doll, crumbling under old garbage in a basement, where no child would ever find her again, alone to rot and disintegrate. Paterson’s eyes hurt.

“It’s not over, scumbag, I’m pressing charges. Next station, she’s going with me.” The man puffed his chest, over checking his Rolex, disgusted and haughty.

“She is not going anywhere” Paterson stood, mimicking the man attempt at “Mr Menace”. But Paterson was a natural; the man quickly understood that, retreated in his fake fur mantle. You’ve either got big mouths or big balls.

“Sir, you have your watch, she has a broken wrist. I think you are more than even”. Paterson didn’t even has to rise his voice.

The man chewed insults but, like the others, regained his seat at last. The bus driver poet, knew always how to keep discipline in his wheeled kingdom, a natural gift he was barely aware of.

Now silence was only cut by quiet sobs, muffled hip hop notes, neon lights whirring, and Paterson’s gentle rustling as he tried to gather the little woman. One big hesitant hand on her back, the woman shuddered, recoiled, and her injured hand jolted, another sob of agony.

“I’m not gonna hurt you”

The poet’s eyes softened. She sensed kindness, maybe, because now her head straightened up, and Paterson looked at himself. Eyes so watery he could see his reflection, dark golden beryl, just like his. Bleeding little nose and chapped plump lips, little high cheekbones and a greasy dark fringe swallowing a sweaty forehead, and for a moment, Paterson wondered if he looked just like her, if people could see how he truly looked like, if people could see the tears of his soul and the bleeding of his heart. If they could see all the bruises and the wounds and the decay. If when they closed their eyes, they could see her name on the grave stone, like he did.

“…It’s all good, just try not to move your wrist… there, let me just help you a little” Paterson muttered as he gathered her like she was nothing. Not even the weight of one of his blue tip matches… It was a bit of a surprise, the complete absence of resistance, she was yielding, completely defeated. Empty stomach and empty pockets. He sat her far from the others, far in the back. Not a sound emitted from her. The bus emptied little by little, he took off his jacket, covered her. She looked like she could fit all her puny self inside the warm wool of it. From time to time he stole a glance at the dark shape through his rear-view mirror.

Finally, the last passenger got off the bus, and finally she spoke.

“No hospital, don’t take me to the hospital” Her words came scattered, little voice uneven, like her hair, he noticed now. It was short, wrongly cut, as if someone had taken a handful of it and started slicing, with a knife, with anger, and a desire to do harm.

The bus was quietly parked in its nest of steel and red bricks, and Paterson could attend to her, at last.

“Your wrist is broken” He stoically stated, hands in pockets, considering his options in the back of his mind.

“I said no hospital, you dweeb” Her eyes sparkled with defiance. It was a strange way to thank someone, to say the least, but Paterson didn’t flinch.

White plastic bags rode with the wind, like mad ghosts. The crime rate rocketed in town, Paterson had before his eyes one of the little thugs that populated the underground, the run-down warehouses and the bridges flanks.

“I’ll ignore that. It’s the hospital or the precinct” He sounded sorry.

Paterson had bad bags under his eyes, fruit of many sleepless nights. After her passing, he refused to spend the night, alone in the blue bed. He changed his shifts to night hours. Sleeping the few hours before dawn on his sofa, their room a shrine to her memory.

“Fuck you”

“It’s the hospital then”

The ER wasn’t flooded that night. Paterson sat quietly, in the waiting room orange plastic chair, while a diligent doctor wrapped her wrist in a cast, scribbled antibiotics and painkillers, asked the routine questions, did the routine job.

Laura would be proud of him. Laura was smiling, sat beside him in her polka dotted dress, she was taking his cold hand in hers, her warm brown irises thanking him silently. Laura.

Now Paterson was standing behind the pharmacist counter, prescription in hand and she was the one sitting, quiet, wrist against her heart.

Mina. 24.

Just that. Cold black on white.

He forced himself not to imagine her lonely two syllable name carved on a gravestone.

“Where do you live?”

The warehouses, the subways, the streets, the basements, the bridges flanks. The rat holes.

The silence became awkward once out on the wet tiles of the sidewalk. Paterson switching his weight from one long leg to the other, still holding the bag of medicines, Mina looking at the orange flickering of signalization lights, his vest still on her shoulders. She looked like a kid from a dystopian future, from the 80’s science fiction novels he used to read.

“None of your business” She extended her valid hand, waiting, impatience in her big amber eyes.

“You need to eat, and a bath, and the doctor said—”

“I know twat! You’re not my dad, gimme the fucking bag and fuck off!”

Her chin was wobbling. Paterson spun on his feet and walked away. Stoic and tall. Damn him.

“Hey!”

She knew she should run to catch his wide strides.

Mina rarely realized a mistake when made, and as she tugged on his sleeve to make the gentle giant stop, she wasn’t sure either. Her judgment wasn’t to be trusted. Her mind was a mess, just like everything, just like her life and her wrist and her hair, just like her heart.

“Your… vest”

“I know, you can… you can keep it, my place is just ten minutes away”

“Ok, let’s go then.”

She smiled.

to an empty, windswept place without sun, stars or moon but a peculiar light as of thought

“Wouha! Dude your place is cool”

Mina was everywhere, inspecting the living space and the kitchen with round curious eyes.

He laughed.

Dude. No one called him dude since the campus days. Dude. That was different.

“I… I have chickens wings… some broccoli, apple pie…”

He fetched the leftover boxes from his fridge and proceeded to put them in plates to reheat, but the little sack of bones jumped on the apple pie first, two bites and only crumbles were left on the counter.

“Mhm…goohd” Mouth and cheeks still full, she slid the cold chicken wings plate into her lap and attacked the tender flesh like a starved panther.

Paterson stood there like a stranger in his own house. A bit out of breath by the chain of events. The situation starting to sink in his lonely mind.

His routine was all shaken. He felt funny. Didn’t know if it was good or bad or just…ordinary. Laura was looking at him with surprised eyes. Laura was looking at the girl with amused questioning eyes. Paterson shrugged.

She deserves another chance, everyone does, don’t they, honey?

#paterson #adam driver fic #paterson 2016 #fan fiction #paterson needs a hug #paterson is a sweetheart #paterson is so kind #thief needs a hug too #she's a mess #adam driver #angst #mourning #some poetry #william carlos williams

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coreastories · 4 years

Text

The Morning Before

Part 11 of Days and Nights of Forever

The morning before she let him go, for what could well have been forever.

Companion to the first part of The Thirteenth Rule

I love Episode 15. So much tenderness there, and so much heartbreak that it's my first time rewatching certain scenes when I finally decided to flesh out THIS outline.

This is for Patty @pateetsie, who sent me a bucket of joy, and wanted some fluff. There's fluff here. :)

I've been cussed out told that there is no fluff in this chapter at all AT ALL. 😅

It was raining. Soft rain. The kind that washed away sleet if any had come in the cold night, the kind that spring asserted against any last vestiges of winter. And she was warm, so very warm with Gon spooning her and breathing onto her hair under their shared blanket.

She wiped her eyes and swallowed the sniffling that had woken her up. He was here. There was no need for this.

Gon tightened his arms around her--gently, without disturbing her wound--and kissed her on her hairline. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She turned in his arms and she saw love and… something else in his eyes. She focused on love. Focused on how he looked like he wanted to kiss her. Focused on all the affection in that gaze. So she smiled at him and smiled wider when she saw that other thing recede from his eyes, even if just for now.

His eyes brightened even more when she stroked his arm, clad in the sleeves of hospital pajamas. “What happened to your clothes? You didn’t get stabbed too while I was asleep?”

“Your nurse happened. She gave me this to wear and took my clothes to the laundry. She felt sorry for me trying to fit into this bed in those clothes.”

“Oh yeah. That jacket certainly wasn’t for sleeping in.” She made a face. “Were they filthy?”

He grinned. “I don’t know. Probably. Frozen time and space also worked on my entire excretory system but I did go out of that place several times. Did I smell when you saw me in 2016? And last night? I’ve showered before getting back in here with you.”

She shook her head, laughing.

The rain continued in the background, falling a little harder, but still a soft, pleasant background as he kissed her.

Tae-Eul sighed into that kiss, loving the feel of his lips and tongue against hers and ignoring the tears that spilled from her eyes again. He had also kissed her last night, but she was already half asleep by then, exhausted from everything, her adrenaline and her brain shutting down the moment Gon was finally there beside her, promising he wouldn’t leave her.

So now she focused on that kiss. And nothing else. The sound of the rain helped.

He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks and eyes, and kissed her eyelids and forehead, his hand a warm, solid weight on her cheek and neck. She placed her hand over his, wrapping her fingers around his thumb.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She shook her head again. “Don’t mind me. I’m just glad you’re here. Don’t go.”

They both ignored what returned to his eyes.

She moved to get up and he nimbly jumped off the bed and rounded it to help her sit up without straining her middle.

She usually had to roll to her right side and then use her elbow and arm to lever herself up. But he made things simple, wrapping his arm around her and simply lifting her up.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. Can you help me? My hair wash day was supposed to be yesterday. But I was busy.”

His expression said he wasn’t happy about that, but he grinned all the same. “Of course. I can help you wash everything.”

She slapped him on the arm and left him to laugh at his own dorkiness, pushing him aside to go to the bathroom.

Having him there helped. Instead of struggling over the sink and getting the front of her hospital gown wet anyway despite covering it with a towel, he held a wash basin under her chin so she didn’t have to bend over to wash her face.

They did the same thing when she brushed her teeth.

Then he used the already damp towel to cushion the rim of the sink. He helped her position her head on that towel cushion just so, and he washed her hair, digging his fingers into her scalp, his eyes warm and attentive. Watching for any discomfort. Watching, period. She held his gaze for the first minute, then closed her eyes because the sight of him just...filled her so much and made her spill over with tears. It was ridiculous.

But was it only yesterday that she didn’t know if she was ever going to see him again?

Only yesterday when she felt both sad and relieved that she wasn’t--

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to dwell on any of that today.

They had today and she hoped it was going to be a long day.

She opened her eyes and he was still looking at her, now with one hand guiding the handheld shower over her hair and the other on her forehead so the water from her rinse wouldn’t run down her face.

“You’re really good at this. You can go professional.”

“No one would hire me. Everyone else would lose their tips because the customers would flock to me.”

They both laughed. She loved seeing him laugh. She had missed that laugh so much.

He wrapped her hair in the towel, tucking everything carefully so she wouldn’t drip, and then helped her get up again. Once she was on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her against him.

Her arms were already around his waist, her hands stroking his back. She loved how warm he felt under the thick cotton pajamas. Loved the solid feel of him enclosing her. Loved the weight of his head as he pressed his cheek against the towel securely knotted around her hair.

Loved that he was there for her to hold.

They stayed like that, just holding each other, until they heard someone enter her hospital room outside the en suite. He took her hand and they went out together. The nurse paused on her way out the door. She looked at them and smiled.

“I left your clothes there for you,” she said to Gon, then turned to Tae-Eul. “They’ll send breakfast in a bit. I’ll make sure it’s enough for two. Then I’ll come back with your IV and check on your wound.”

She just smiled again when they both bowed to thank her.

Tae-Eul looked at Gon. “What did you tell her? Why does she love us so much? She wasn’t happy with me last night.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled in that half-smug, half-self-deprecating way only he could pull off. “Maybe we just look good and romantic?”

“Romantic is not the word in my head right now, but it rhymes.”

Breakfast was quick. She just wanted to start the day. Maybe they could sneak out now that the rain had stopped and the sun was out. She was already done with her bowl of dakjuk before it occurred to her that she could have made Gon feed her. Ridiculous thought. But maybe later.

The nurse came back and scolded Tae-Eul for removing her IV while she redid it all. Tae-Eul didn’t flinch, but Gon did. When the nurse left, Tae-Eul said, “You’re not scared of needles, are you?”

“Of course not. But this is the second time I’m seeing you with an IV. That’s two times too many.”

“I’ll take an IV over a cast any day.”

He rolled his eyes but only shook his head in wry amusement.

He changed back to his black pullover and trousers in the en suite and then they were back to staring at each other while he blow dried her hair.

She wanted to ask him what he was thinking of, but she already knew, so she took hold of his pullover between her fingers, and it was enough to quiet her rising panic.

“I bet you take longer getting your hair done.”

“Not really. It’s fast when you have the right tools and two people doing the work,” he said with a straight face. He laughed at the look on her face. “It’s really just mousse and gel, you know.”

“Why don’t you just slick it back like Jo Yeong does with his hair?”

“Too easy. And he’s been doing it since he got tired of his bowl cut. So I can’t exactly copy him.”

“He had a bowl cut?”

“Yeah. It looked ridiculous. You were so cute as a kid. I saw your pictures at your house, of course, but seeing you in person was different. You were probably so cute as a baby.”

“No, no, I wasn’t a pretty baby.” This wasn’t a subject she wanted, though she applauded herself for being able to say the word baby now. She was going to be fine. “Let’s go downstairs for my checkup so we can go outside.”

She was glad Gon didn’t have to be there when her bandage was changed. The wound was clean but still angry, and it was going to leave an inch of scarring despite the good stitching. She took her antibiotics and the nurse injected another dose of pain meds in her IV.

She wondered how long she could stay awake with those doses in her bloodstream, but she managed. Oh, she managed.

That morning was beautiful, even if she was warned against straining herself and had to be wheeled around, even if Gon was already steeling himself against that regret and unassailable decision she’d seen in his eyes, even with her barely hanging on to composure by touching him all she could.

He fed her bibimbap, and she fed him his bowl of instant ramyeon in return. When one noodle was too violent and broth splashed all over both their faces, they wiped each other’s cheeks and mouths with their hands, laughing hard enough for her wound to twinge and remind her it was still there.

He helped her wash up, and then he helped her lie down because it was probably so obvious that she was fighting sleep.

She curled up facing him in his seat, and she memorized everything about him, that ridiculously perfect hair, his beautiful eyes, that nose, that cheek that hid her favorite dimple, those lips she knew could turn her breathless and mindless and boneless.

And his hands, both clasped and completely enveloping her hand. Those big hands that could deftly handle chalk, shoot hoops, fix cars, knock men down with a single stroke from his sword or his crop, hands that commanded the manpasikjeok and yet were also trapped by the manpasikjeok.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t cry again. “You’ll probably leave when I sleep.”

“No.”

All right. She’d take that. She smiled. She wanted to say, “Don’t go.” But that was no longer right to say now, not when their morning was fast turning into evening. She would sleep, and then maybe when she woke up, she would have a better argument than simply telling him they should just… not save the world.

She opened her eyes to drink him in, one last time. “Saranghae.”

He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to hers for several long moments. “Nado.”

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #TKEM fanfic

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i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind · 4 years

Text

To Forgive and Forget - Chapter 10

😱😱 Well here it is!

I’ve finally finished! It’s only taken me nearly a year. Thank you to everyone who has been patient and stuck with me for the duration of this fic. I’m sorry for any pain I may have caused 😂

Big massive thanks to @lurkingwhump. Without you I never would have managed to complete a fic like this. Thank you for the hours of research and plotting. I glove you.

Please let me know what you think ❤️

It had been a week since Jane had woken up in the ICU, a fortnight since she had been shot. Her levels had remained steady, the doctors happy with her progress. She had slept most of the time, trying to rest as much as possible to regain her strength. She and Kurt had spoken a little more about their argument, trying to clear the air as best as possible.

Kurt had said “clean slate” but Jane still worried that their insecurities would lead them to destruction.

She apologized again for sleeping with Clem while she had been on the run. Knowing how badly she had hurt Kurt by cheating on him, she wanted nothing more than to heal his pain, especially when it had taken her a couple of years to actually say how sorry she was.

It was morning, Jane sat up in bed, a pillow between her ribcage and elbow for support. She was picking at her breakfast, waiting for Doctor Thompson to come in on his morning rounds.

Kurt sat next to her side, frowning at her lack of effort on the food in front of her. She was yet to regain her appetite, still complaining of nausea and stomach upset. She was on antiemetics four times a day, but they barely seemed to scrape the surface.

The first time she had tried to eat anything, she had ended up in a vortex of pain and sickness, as her stomach rejected the food. She had never felt agony like that before, and she was too anxious to try again.

Doctor Thompson entered the room at that point, his own face mirroring Kurt’s concerned expression.

“How’s my favourite patient this morning?” he asked, sitting on the end of the bed.

Jane shrugged, wincing slightly at the gesture. She was still in a lot of discomfort, especially when she made any sudden movements.

“Still not eating?” the doctor asked kindly, yet rhetorically.

Jane chewed on her bottom lip, before shaking her head softly.

“Jane, you really need to eat to regain your strength. You’re not going to heal if your body doesn’t have the fuel it needs.”

Jane sighed, feeling defeated. She wanted to get better, truly, but she was so worried that her body would reject the food again. The severe onslaught of pain that had come with the vomiting, had lasted a couple of hours. She just wasn’t sure she could handle that again.

“I’m still just feeling sick.” she said in a small voice.

The doctor reached out and placed his hand on her shin. The three of them had grown quite friendly over the last week, so the gesture was acceptable.

“Jane if you don’t start eating, I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you on a feeding tube.”

Jane grimaced at that. The thought of how intrusive that would be had her shuddering internally.

“I had come here in the hopes you had gotten your appetite back… your levels are remaining strong… you are showing a remarkable recovery rate. I was hoping to kick you out to gen pop today.” the doctor joked.

Jane’s eyes widened at that. She knew that she would be in hospital for a while yet, but she desperately wanted to get out of the ICU. She wanted to be able to go outside, maybe go for a short walk - have a fricken shower.

The doctor looked at her plate expectantly.

Jane sighed, before picking up a piece of dry toast, and bringing it tentatively to her mouth.

“Your stomach is going to be irritated for a start.” Doctor Thompson warned. “The more you eat, the less unwell you will feel.”

Jane took a small bite, chewing slowly. The toast tasted like saw dust in her mouth. She swallowed thickly, allowing the food to hit her stomach before taking another small bite. She did this until she had finished a whole piece of toast.

Her stomach grumbled unhappily at the sudden intrusion of substance.

She let out a long breath of air, trying to control her sudden queasiness.

“Have some water.” the doctor said, handing her the cup. “It will help.”

She took a couple of mouthfuls, before laying back against the pillows, one hand resting on her upset belly.

“You ok baby?” Kurt murmured, holding her other hand.

Jane didn’t answer for a moment, before nodding.

“I don’t think it’s going to make a reappearance.” she said, her voice relieved.

The doctor nodded and then smiled.

“Good. If you manage to eat your lunch without any mishaps, then I’ll look at moving you into the Progressive Care Unit.”

Jane reached out and took another drink of water.

“Thank you.” she whispered, her exhaustion taking over.

“Get some rest.” Doctor Thompson instructed, patting her on the leg again. “I’ll be back to see you this afternoon.”

Kurt stood and shook the Doctor’s hand.

“Thanks doc.” he said, relieved. No amount of coaxing had encouraged Jane to eat, so he was thankful the doctor had found a way.

He sat back beside his wife, taking her hand.

“Do you feel a bit better now you’ve eaten?” he asked softly.

Jane nodded. The initial queasiness of ingesting her first solid food in days, seemed to be passing.

He smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.

The nurse came by at that point to administer her pain relief, antibiotics and antiemetics.

He watched her eyes grow heavy - as they always did after her medication.

“Rest, Jane.” he said softly. “Hopefully when you wake you’ll be able to move out of here.”

Jane smiled at that, before allowing herself to fall into a healing sleep, feeling better than she had in days.

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Kurt watched his wife sleeping, feeling proud as punch. She had managed to eat a light lunch and Doctor Thompson had happily transferred her to the Progressive Care Unit. She no longer needed to be in the ICU, but she still wasn’t quite ready to be moved to a standard surgical ward. She still needed to be monitored closely, and any sudden change would land her straight back in the ICU.

He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. They had removed the humidified oxygen, switching it for a standard nasal cannula. She looked peaceful in her sleep, her expression one of relief.

Kurt knew that being transferred from the ICU had lifted the weight off of her chest. She liked to be able to see progress and this was a positive step forward.

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out he looked at the caller ID, before quickly leaving the room to allow his wife to sleep.

“Patterson.” he answered the phone. “What have you got for me.”

“Hey Kurt.” she replied. “First off, how's Jane doing?”

“Better.” Kurt said, and couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth started lifting again. “They’ve transferred her out of the ICU, and she managed to eat something.”

He heard Patterson’s sigh of relief.

“That’s great news.” she said softly.

Kurt heard her hesitate on the end of the line.

“What is it?” he asked, going into agent mode.

“I know who did the cover up on Anna Lee.”

“Ok?” he asked. He didn’t like the nervousness in her voice.

“It was Mayfair.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up.

“Mayfair?” he asked incredulously.

“It was because of Daylight. I speculated at the start and from the intel I’ve gathered, Mayfair was using Daylight to gather information on the Mob. She was trying to get one up on them.”

“So what happened?” Kurt asked, pacing up the hallway.

“Well when Daylight went bust, all the information she had gathered on Anna Lee could no longer be used… she had to clean everything up, fast. The files got redacted and Anna Lee was set free.”

Kurt exhaled slowly, sitting on a chair in the hallway and hung his head sadly.

“I honestly think it was just bad timing.” Patterson replied quietly, hearing his sigh. “The system went down before she had gained enough legitimate intel to pin anything on her.”

Kurt sighed.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

“I thought you deserved the truth.” Patterson said softly. “Give my best to Jane.” she said, before hanging up.

Kurt pocketed his phone, running his hand over the scruff of his face. He needed a shave. The toll of the last few weeks was beginning to show. He could feel the fatigue settling like lead in his muscles.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. So it had been Mayfair all along. He knew when he had seen Patterson’s face that morning that something had been up.

Shaking his head, he decided he would deal with those feelings later. Right now he needed to get back to Jane.

He walked back up the corridor, his blood running cold as he entered her room. The bed was empty, the blood pressure cuff, nasal cannula and monitors strewn across the bed.

“Jane?” he called, moving further into the room. When he received no answer he felt his heart rate start to pick up. “Jane?” he said again. He walked across to the adjoining bathroom, opening the door quickly.

Jane was lying unconscious and unmoving on the cold tile floor.

“Jane!” he yelled, rushing to her side. He hit the emergency button on the bathroom wall before collapsing to his knees beside her.

He reached out and cupped her cheek, trying to elicit a response from her.

“Jane.” he murmured, stroking her eyebrow.

A team of medical staff came pouring into the room, Kurt moving out of the way to let them work.

“I don’t know what happened. I left the room to make a call and when I came back she was like this.” he relayed. What the hell had she been thinking, getting out of bed for the first time without assistance?

The doctor leading the team shone his penlight in her eyes.

“Pupils are even and reactive, let's turn her on her side and raise her legs. I think she’s just fainted and is having a bit of trouble coming back to us.”

They turned her gently into the recovery position, being careful not to pull at the suture sights. A nurse crouched on the ground, elevating Jane’s legs.

A couple of painstaking moments later, Jane’s face contorted in pain. She groaned, before her breathing accelerated and she let out a wail of anguish.

“Push 10mg of morphine.” the doctor instructed. “Jane? Can you hear me?” the doctor asked, leaning over her.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to curl in on herself as her abdomen pulsed with pain. She had fallen onto her suture sites, the impact sending tendrils of white hot agony up her side.

The nurse injected the morphine into Jane’s upper arm. Kurt watched in horror as she writhed on the floor, screams of anguish escaping through her clenched teeth.

He ached to go to her, but didn’t want to get in the way of the medical staff. He saw the doctor leaning over her, urging her to slow her breathing down and try to relax.

It was a few painstaking minutes later, that the morphine finally seemed to start taking effect. Her wails died down to whimpers, and her body seemed to calm down a little, her muscles not so rigid.

“Ok let’s get a transfer sheet under her. I’m not comfortable with her standing again so soon.” the doctor instructed his team.

Kurt stood back in the room, watching the staff roll Jane onto the sheet.

“On my count.” the doctor said, coming to a standing position. “Three, two, one.”

In unison they lifted Jane from the bathroom floor, before manoeuvring her back into her room.

She cried out in pain at the movement, before her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

They lay her on the bed gently, shuffling the sheet out from under her. The nurse helped prop her up on the pillow, before tucking the blankets back over her.

“Alright Jane, we’re gonna take some obs, ok? After that if your pain hasn’t calmed down, we can give you a little bit more morphine.”

Jane nodded, before finally opening her eyes. “Kurt!” she whimpered, her eyes begging him to come closer.

Kurt took that as the opening he had been waiting for, rushing to her side. He stepped up to her face, smoothing her hair back gently.

“I’m here… I’m here.” he soothed.

One nurse got to work, taking her blood pressure and temperature, while the other hooked her back up to the monitors and inserted her nasal cannula back into her nose.

“What were you thinking?” he asked softly.

Jane’s chin wobbled slightly, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I n-needed to use the bathroom.” she got out in a small voice.

Kurt frowned at that. She had had her catheter removed before being transferred to the PCU, in the hopes her body would start performing normal functions again.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked tenderly, though he already knew the answer.

“I didn’t want to call the nurse for something so trivial.”

Kurt shook his head.

“Oh, Jane.” he whispered. “They’re there to help.”

One of the nurses nodded in agreement. “He’s right you know.” she said kindly. “Anything you need, you just need to ask.”

Jane sighed, before grimacing in pain again. A small sob escaped her throat, making Kurt’s heart constrict.

“Your vitals are a little high.” the doctor told them. “No more unassisted trips Ms Doe, or you will end up back in the ICU.”

Jane agreed by silent communication, trying to breathe through the pain. She couldn’t speak, the agony in her side throbbing with every beat of her accelerated heart.

“Do you feel you need the second dose?” the doctor asked.

Jane nodded, making eye contact with Kurt. The expression on his face broke her heart. She had yet again caused him pain by her own stupid actions.

The nurse injected another, smaller dose of morphine into her IV.

“You’ll hopefully be able to sleep the brunt of the pain off with that many painkillers on board.” the nurse said kindly, before capping the needle and moving off.

Once Jane seemed to have settled down, the doctor checked her heart rate again.

“Good. It’s a little lower. You just rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” he said, before making eye contact with Kurt. “Call if you need anything.” he said, giving Jane a pointed look.

Kurt nodded his thanks, before returning his attention to his wife.

Already, the second dose of painkillers seemed to be taking effect, her face still contorted in pain, but her eyelids heavy.

Kurt sat gently on the bed, the adrenaline seeping from his body, leaving him feeling a bit shaky himself. He continued to stroke her hair off her forehead, hoping his ministrations were helping to relax her.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, before she let out a long breath of air and drifted off to sleep.

Kurt closed his eyes in exhaustion and concern.

What the hell was he going to do with her?

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Jane slept through the rest of the afternoon and through the next night, her body completely exhausted from the faint.

Kurt stayed by her side all night, managing to get a couple of hours sleep in the armchair next to her bed. After her ordeal with the bathroom floor, there was no way he was going to let her out of his sight, until he was confident she was actually going to ask for help.

She woke up the next morning, blinking against the morning light.

“Hey.” Kurt murmured, leaning forward to kiss her good morning.

Jane grimaced, her body still tender from falling the day before, but she managed a smile for her husband’s benefit.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, though he could already guess by her pale complexion and the drawn features to her face.

“Sore.” she admitted, shuffling on the bed to try and get more comfortable.

“You’ll be due your meds shortly.” Kurt informed her, looking at his wrist watch. “And then you really need to try and eat breakfast. You missed dinner last night.”

Jane groaned at the mere thought of food. Her insides had started churning again after the onset of pain, reminding her of the agony she had felt the first time she had eaten and vomited.

“Jane… you need to try.” Kurt encouraged. “I know how badly you don’t want to end up back in the ICU.”

Jane sighed, before meeting his eye.

“I’ll try.” she rasped quietly. Her throat was raw, her voice husky from screaming the day before.

A nurse came round, administering her medication into her IV line. Jane exhaled in relief when the pain meds and antiemetics started working.

Her breakfast came shortly after and Jane couldn’t help but pull a face at the food in front of her. Her belly lurched, sending her into a fit of panic.

“I don’t think I can.” she admonished. She looked up at Kurt with big sorrowful eyes.

Kurt sighed, before standing.

“That’s it.” he murmured, before walking to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jane sat in her bed feeling dumbfounded. Had he really just walked out on her? She knew that his patience was starting to wear thin, but she never thought he would actually leave because she felt too unwell to eat. She knew he wanted her to get better with all his soul, and she did too, but the thought of eating with her already unsettled stomach, and then possibly being sick… she shuddered.

Jane sat staring at the TV, flipping through the channels for what felt like hours. She had kept her promise and notified the nurse when she needed to use the bathroom. To her horror, because her blood pressure was still low, the nurse had brought her in a bed pan. They didn’t want her walking with her vitals the way they were and potentially passing out again.

But she breathed through the embarrassment, knowing that if she didn’t, Kurt would probably kill her himself.

It was almost midday when he arrived back in her room.

“Kurt… I…” she cut herself off when she saw the two little visitors traipsing in behind her husband. “Fletcher!” she beamed, grinning from ear to ear. His little face made her heart swell. Peeking out from behind Fletcher, was a little girl, one who she had only seen in photographs. “You must be Tyler.” she said gently.

The little girl nodded, before smiling back at Jane.

“I thought you could use a little cheering up.” Kurt admitted.

Jane looked up at her husband, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. “Thank you.” she mouthed, before turning back to her small visitors.

“I gots you something.” Fletcher said proudly, before placing a takeaway mug on Jane’s bedside table. “Broth.” he said proudly.

“Oh… Fletcher… thank you. Maybe I’ll have it in a little while.” she said before looking up at Kurt. “Low blow.” she muttered at her husband. The fact that he had used a six year old to get her to eat, had her both wanting to laugh and cringe at the same time.

Fletcher shook his head.

“No… Mr Kurt said you have to eat it all up while we are here. He said you’re sick…”

Jane sighed. Of course Kurt would have told him that. He was using all the ammunition at his disposal.

“Yes… my tummy’s just feeling a bit yucky.” she said softly, directing her attention back to the little boy.

Fletcher looked up at her thoughtfully.

“My mommy always used to make me broth when I was sick too… she said that even if I didn’t feel like it, I needed to eat it… so I could get better.” He scratched his head. “You need to get better… so you need to eat the broth.”

Jane eyed her husband wearily, before picking up the takeaway mug. “Alright then…” How could she say no to that face? Though she was incredibly concerned that things may go pear shaped. She didn’t want to scare the children if her body was to reject the food and send her into a screaming fit of torment.

She opened the lid with shaky hands, before bringing the mug to her mouth. She took a sip, before swallowing thickly, stifling a groan as the broth hit her stomach and started bubbling.

“You have to drink more.” Tyler piped up for the first time.

Jane sighed, bringing the mug back to her lips. “If this goes wrong, you need to get them out of here quickly.” she muttered to Kurt, before taking another sip.

“You’ll be fine, Jane.” Kurt murmured, raising his eyebrows at his wife. He felt guilty that he had used the kids as a form of blackmail, he knew Jane wouldn’t be able to deny them, but he couldn’t see her going backwards, not this far into her recovery.

Jane managed to drain, half of the mug, before Kurt saw her face turn three shade paler, a green hue tingeing her cheeks. “Drink some water.” he told her gently, handing her the cup.

She looked incredibly uncomfortable, breathing shallowly as she tried to keep the broth inside of her.

She took a couple of sips of water, before laying back onto the pillows, her eyes closed. “I’m done for now.” she said gently, not wanting to scare the kids, but also letting Kurt know that in no way was she going to try and consume more of the broth with her belly roiling the way that it was.

“Was it nice?” Fletcher asked, reaching out to touch Jane’s arm. He started tracing the tattoos on her skin, making her smile. She opened her eyes to look at him, her nausea momentarily forgotten.

“The best I’ve had.”

Both Fletcher and Tyler broke out into massive grins.

“We helped make it!” Tyler beamed, jumping up and down excitedly.

“You did?” Jane asked, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She was growing tired, but seeing these two, made her feel happier than she had in days.

A nurse entered the room at that point, holding a kidney fish full of vials.

“Just here for a bit of blood.” she told them.

Fletcher looked worriedly up at Jane.

“Do… do you want me to go first?” he asked hesitantly, remembering how Jane had gone first when he had to have a test.

The corners of Jane’s mouth lifted, before she shook her head gently.

“No it’s ok. Thank you though! You’re very sweet.”

Fletcher beamed, turning to Tyler and whispering something in her ear.

She looked up at Jane with wide eyes.

“The lady that looks after us, told me I have to say thank you.” she said gently. “But I can’t remember what for.”

Jane felt a mound of tension, that she didn’t even know she was holding, release from her shoulders. So Tyler really was none the wiser. She had been treated well enough while she had been kidnapped, that she had just thought she was just in another foster home. She sighed softly, smiling gently at the little girl.

“You are most welcome.”

She eyed her husband wearily, indicating that she wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer.

“I like Miss Rebecca.” Fletcher piped up. “I hope we get to stay with her forever!” he said, jumping excitedly.

“Me too!” Tyler giggled.

Fletcher returned to tracing the lines on Jane’s arms, still just intrigued by the “drawings” as he had been the first time.

“How about we say goodbye now, hmm?” Kurt suggested, seeing his wife’s eyes starting to droop.

“Aww.” They both whined. Jane smiled in amusement. The innocence on their faces was so refreshing.

“How about you come and see me again in a few days?” she suggested, knowing that it was going to be their little faces that helped her get through her recovery.

“Ok!” They both said eagerly.

“Goodbye Miss Jane!” Fletcher said loudly, before Tyler followed suit.

“Goodbye.” Jane replied softly, waving at them. “Thank you for the broth.”

Both children grinned back at her, before waiting by the door for Kurt. Kurt leant forward, giving his wife a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you.” Jane said sincerely. Their visit had truly managed to cheer her up. She watched them leave, laying back into the pillows with a contented sigh.

She drifted off quickly, the anxiety in her belly finally calm.

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

One week later.

Jane and Kurt sat outside in the hospital gardens. She had slowly built up the strength to be able to walk around the hospital corridors, and today Kurt had surprised her by taking her outside for the first time in three weeks.

They had walked out of the hospital slowly, Kurt pushing a wheelchair in case she got too tired. She had made it out to the garden without a hitch and was now sitting in complete content, with the sun on her face, the breeze running through her hair.

She let out a peaceful sigh, before opening her eyes, to see her husband looking at her.

“What?” she asked self consciously.

“Nothing… you’re just really beautiful.”

Jane felt herself blush. Even after all these years, he could still get a rise out of her, just by paying her a simple compliment.

“I’m so thankful that you are ok.” he added seriously. “I don’t… I don’t know what I would have done if…” he choked on the words, suddenly not able to speak.

Jane reached out and took his hand.

“But I didn’t.” she finished. “We are both ok… Fletcher and Tyler are ok… everything worked out.”

He took a shuddering breath in, before releasing it slowly. “I’ll never take anything for granted again.” he said gently.

Jane hung her head. “I’ll never take you for granted again.”

Kurt cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Clean slate remember. Forgive and forget.”

Jane smiled softly, bringing her hand up to rest against his own.

“Forgive and forget.” she repeated, moving their hands down so they were covering her heart. “Now… when do I get to go home?”

Kurt chuckled at that. “Soon, my love. Soon.”

He pulled her against him, holding her close. He was so thankful he would get to take her home at all, that he wasn’t in a great rush to get her there. He needed her to rest and to heal, so they could continue their lives together.

They needed to continue saving the world, by solving as many cases as possible and taking down one bad guy at a time.

This was their second chance… and neither of them would forget it.

fin

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #Fic: to forgive and forget #jane doe #kurt weller #jeller #whump #epilogue

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

A Hopeless Fight

Yandere Levi x Reader

Warning: this story contains blood, gore, and suggestive themes such as kidnapping, murder, non-consensual touching, forced sex, and drug usage. You guys have been warned! Now all of you who wanna read! Please enjoy! :D

Chapter Two: Betrayal

“Thank you, nurse (Y/N)!”

“Wow! You draw so good!”

“You’re my favorite nurse!”

All of the ill little kids ran around me happily with pictures of themselves I had drawn for them just moments ago. Their happy laughs warmed my heart, a feeling I would never forget. “Well, I hope to one day become your doctor. Sadly my little brother passed away from Lung cancer. I’ve made it my goal to help those with similar issues. Someday... I hope to find a cure for the diseases, and help people just like you guys, live a long and happy life.” The beautiful sparkle in their eyes spoke a million words to me. Admiration, happiness, enthusiasm, and most of all... hope. I kneeled down and smiled, opening my arms for the sweet kids to embrace. They came to me with happy smiles and childish giggles before enveloping me in a warm hug. I wrapped my arms around as many as I could, before grinning playfully. “Oh no... what’s this? Oh no! The tickle monster has escaped! Everyone run to the beds!”

The children energetically ran to the beds shouting and laughing happily while their small bodies climbed up into their hospital beds. It was getting close to their treatment time, and I need all of them to be good while the other doctors came in and administered their chemotherapy or steroids and antibiotics. “Alright now, you guys be good. I trapped the tickle monster for now, but if he hears another peep... or complaint by the doctors...” I pulled my hand up with a smile and moved my fingers towards them, wiggling them wildly like a spider. The kids laughed and shouted a flurry of protests to my hand. I brought up my other hand and took a step forward wiggling both my hands and fingers. “I may just let him go to tickle all those naughty children!!” I smiled warmly at their small giggles and childish protests and pleas for me not to bring the tickle monster back. A short laugh came fell from my lips hearing them so happy, so cheerful and lively. Just how my brother was until his last moments. “Goodbye, children. I’ll see you all later, alright?”

“Ok! Bye Nurse (Y/N)!”

“A-Ah! Nurse (Y/N)!” I turned hearing the familiar voice of Dr. Zöe’s assistant, Moblit. Poor man seemed like he hasn’t slept in what appeared to be days. Dark droopy circles were under his eyes, but I could tell by the way his pupils were dilated he had most likely been chugging caffeine like crazy. “Oh, hey Moblit! What’s up? You seem in a rush.” He looked quite frantic, I wonder if something happened?he had an entire box full of medical supplies in his hands. I took a peek inside and realized it was the medicine for the children. Ah, so that’s why he looks so frantic. Before he could open his tired mouth I stopped him. “The children should be all good now, Moblit. I’ve put them in their beds and they should behave while you and some other doctors give them their meds.”

He sighed in relief. “You’re really the best, (Y/N).” He caught a few other doctors in the hallway and called them to help him administer the medicine faster. I only gave him a smile and waved goodbye as the dirty blonde and a team of lower ranked doctors walked calmly into the room. I turned on my heel to start down the hallway towards my next task, before Moblit stopped me. “Oh! I forgot to tell you! Hanji would like to see you in her office.” I tilted my head a bit in confusion. Just an hour ago at lunch she had assigned me a couple tasks to do before I went home. Maybe she needed my help with something? Or a new task for me to complete. “Oh ok! Thank you, Moblit! And get some sleep tonight! You need it!” He just smiled sheepishly and waved bye as he disappeared behind the sliding glass doors.

I began my journey towards Hanji’s office, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit paranoid walking down the hallways. After learning that a serial killer was evident in town from the news, I couldn’t help but feel extra cautious. No one has seen this suspicious and stealthy individual. Is it a man? A woman? All I know is, they knew what they were doing. There was no evidence whatsoever linking anyone to the crimes at all. Nothing. The wave of paranoia washed over my body like a tide coming in during the night. Rough, unexpected, and dangerous. The tides have been known to drag people into rip currents and drag them far below the surface. These currents also known as curiosity. You couldn’t help but wonder the motives of the person behind all of this. Pleasure? Revenge? A sadistic nature? It was all confusing. Taking a human life, even thinking of the heinous crime made vomit rise in my throat.

I shook my head firmly and swallowed thickly, pushing the repulsive thoughts to the back of my brain to be revisited at a possibly later date. My eyes trained on everyone I passed by. Any one of these people could be the murderer, playing a façade to trick innocent people. You could never be too careful, however, I would soon pay the price for my carelessness. I finally arrived at Hanji’s office and gave three firm knocks, awaiting a response from the messy-haired brunette. A faint reply came from the other side of the wooden door, and I carefully pushed it open, closing it behind me before I made my way to the chair opposite of her mahogany desk. She looked quite distressed, which was unusual for the eccentric woman.

“Hey Hanji, what’s up? You seem a little out of it. Are you okay?” I noticed a thin layer of sweat graced her forehead, and her muscles were oddly tense. Her hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting, whether it be with each other or anxiously pulling at loose hangnails. During my studies at med school, I quickly identified the signs. Nervousness. It was very out of character for Hanji. In all honesty, it made me more paranoid than I already was. “I’m fine, (Y/N). I promise you. There’s an ambulance coming in a few minutes with a couple bags of blood. It’s not like we need them, but it’s always good to be over prepared right?” I hesitated before I nodded. Why was she acting so strange? Is she just as bothered by the news earlier than I am? At lunch she seemed fine, why now? “Would you mind assisting me?”

“Oh! Sure! When’s the ambulance coming?”

“Soon. We should head down now just to ensure that we’re there in time so we can get that blood cold.”

I have her a small fake smile and nodded. Her fingers calmed for a brief moment before she began to type on her computer, pushing her glasses up to her head. Usually l could always see what she was doing from the reflection off her glasses. It was never anything bad, usually writing up reports or checking on patients. It was almost like she was hiding something. “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes, (Y/N).” I perked up hearing the sudden compliment come from her. The last click of the keys was heard and she closed her laptop, slipping her glasses back over her eyes. “Pardon?” I questioned, a bit taken aback by her sudden compliment about me smart. She smiled with a laugh and skipped on over to me, patting my back harshly as if I were choking on something. “I said you’re smart! I’m incredibly lucky to have such an amazing med student going to work for me in the future!”

“Ow, that kinda hurt a little! But thank you Hanji! I’m very excited to finish up and come back to work here full time.” Maybe I was just being too paranoid. There was no way Hanji could be worried. She’s a bit scary when she wants to be. Maybe she’s just having a bit of a stressful day? We strolled down the corridors towards the East wing of the hospital, talking about nothing in particular. When we reached the stairs Hanji had grown painfully quiet. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Why was she being so quiet all of a sudden. “Geez... I’m so tired. Maybe I should finally get some sleep tonight!” She turned back to me and showed me a tired and lazy smile. I nodded in agreement, flashing a kind smile back towards her. “Yeah. You work yourself to death here Hanji. It’s very admirable, but you’re still human too.”

“Guess you’re right! Here we are!” She opened the doors to the loading area where nurses and other hospital staff were usually down here loading boxes, stocking shelves, and collecting deliveries. However, it was empty. I tilted my head in confusion. “Where is everybody?” Hanji waved off my question with a sly grin as she waited now enthusiastically for the ambulance to arrive. Her mood swings were a bit alarming. Maybe she really is just too tired and she’s trying to act like her usual self. Not the first time I’ve seen it, but this time her kids swings were more frequent and clear. “Ah, I let them go home early half an hour ago. This is the last shipment for today that called last minute. Didn’t wanna call them back! We’re strong, confident, independent women! We can do this by ourselves!”

I roll my eyes and smile patiently waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Soon, the square looking vehicle had rounded the circular pavement and stopped right near the door. A man got out of the front of the car, rather short I had to admit. He wore a hat that covered a majority of his face, and dark sunglasses. He wore some scrubs, which was very uncommon for someone in an ambulance. Usually they would wear similar outfits as policemen, however there would be differences in the patchwork on their shirts. The man approached us and nodded, tipping his hat to Hanji as a silent greeting. I placed a fake smile on my lips while Hanji went to grab the clipboard from his hand.

“(Y/N)! Could you go grab the boxes from the truck!” I gave her a firm nod and opened the doors of the ambulance, my eyes instantly falling upon a couple styrofoam boxes. I hopped up into the chilly space of the square-like space and made my way to the boxes. The boxes were a bit heavy, but I assumed there were at least 10 pints in each. Only three boxes in total. I made my way out of the ambulance and watched Hanji and the man from the ambulance talk. “Thanks, (Y/N)! I’ve gotta talk to my friend for a minute so keep working without me!” I placed the box down near the door and walked back towards the two. The man quickly snapped his head towards me and I couldn’t help but flinch in surprise. “Oh sorry! Don’t mind him! He’s a hit on edge from all the murder talk...”

“Oh! No I totally get it, sorry if I startled you sir.” I smiled at him and went back to work grabbing the last two boxes. During those few minutes, I could feel a pair of eyes penetrating my skull with every move I made. I took a couple glances and noticed a pair of dark covered eyes following me whenever I moved. A chill went down my spine. Something seemed off, something just wasn’t quite right. When I picked up the last box, it wasn’t even the least bit heavy. I tilted my head in confusion before I turned around. I took a blind step forward before I came to my senses and saw the short guy in scrubs standing and blocking my way out of the car. “Ah, excuse me, sir.” I said politely and smiled towards him. The man still refused to move. Now it was getting suspicious.

I stepped forwards a bit and attempted to get past him, but suddenly something sharp stabbed my neck. I jerked quickly away in pain and dropped the box, noticing a syringe in the mans hand, without any liquid in it. My body began to feel woozy, and I stumbled a bit feeling my body going numb. “What... did you do... to me...?” The man caught me swiftly when I began to fall, and he easily threw me into the back of the ambulance. I groaned in pain and gasped weakly at the sudden pain that erupted from my side. My vision was beginning to blur, but I could focus just enough to make out their faces. Hanji and the man stood at the foot of the ambulance, both just staring at me. “Well done! I didn’t think you would actually be able to hit her correctly with the needle!”

Hanji...? What’s going on?

“Tch, shut up shitty glasses. The main thing is that she’s in the truck.” Why? Why Hanji?! Why are you doing this?! Suddenly, I could barely feel the edge of the ambulance dip as they both climbed back in to come to me. The man took off the hat and glasses, and revealed his face to me. It was Corporal Levi, the man who was supposed to be solving the case of the serial killer. Wait... does that mean?! “Gotta hand it to you, brat. You’re not as stupid as you look.” He grabbed my hair and tugged my face up. I winced weakly and felt my vision slowly start to fade. I could still hear faint voices, but they seemed so far away. Hanji’s regretful face was the last thing I saw. My friend... or so I thought. “I’m really sorry, (Y/N). But... like I said earlier, you’re just too smart for your own good.”

And I lost consciousness, with a heavy burden on my heart. Sadness bubbling in my chest. My mind was plagued with one singular thought.

The reasoning behind my friends betrayal.

#yanderelevi #leviackerman #levixreader #attackontitan #erwin smith #hanji zoë #horror

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habibialkaysani · 4 years

Text

The Old Guard (Laurel/Nyssa; M) - Part II

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel Lance and Nyssa Raatko are happily married - and have been for centuries. Along with Helena Bertinelli, this immortal army follows their equally immortal leader, Dina Drake, in the fights that they think are right.

But after one of their comrades makes a fatal lapse in judgement, Laurel and Nyssa find themselves trapped in their very worst nightmare - captured, as nothing more than lab rats. Luckily, the team has also just found its newest member, Sarah Diggle, so maybe all isn’t lost.

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! Gonna start out 2021 with a new chapter of this, and then all that will be left is a bit of smut :D

Read at AO3

At Fuller Pharmaceuticals, Laurel breathed a sigh of relief when the scientist finally walked away, frowning at his clipboard and adjusting his glasses with one gloved hand. Turning a little on her side, she looked across her to the bed next to hers, and even though Nyssa was hooked up to a million machines just like Laurel, it was a relief to see her awake again.

"Hey," Laurel said softly.

"Are you okay, hayati?" Nyssa asked with concern in her eyes. "Laurel? What are you thinking about?"

"Honestly, I was, uh, thinking about - simpler times. When it was just the two of us, and the biggest thing we had to worry about was reconciling being from wildly different worlds yet still finding each other…"

"Dearest," Nyssa said with a smile, "it is like I told Ms Diggle. Some people are just meant to find each other. One way or another. And I realise, Laurel, that we are in hellish circumstances right now. But you have to know - I made you a promise, to spend however many centuries, or decades, or weeks, or days, or hours or even seconds I have left in my life with you. I swore an oath to you that I don't plan on breaking. Not now. Not ever."

Laurel smiled back, revelling in how Nyssa’s face lit up as she did so. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do, my love, but I will never tire of hearing it.”

“Remember Malta, habibti?”

“What time in Malta?” Nyssa asked, and Laurel met her gaze and arched her eyebrow. Laurel couldn’t help but chuckle because she could pinpoint the exact point when it dawned on Nyssa what she meant. A faint rosy blush coloured Nyssa’s cheeks and Laurel sighed - because even where they were, with the flecks of blood scattered on her forehead and her mussed up hair there was no doubt that Nyssa Raatko was the most beautiful woman Laurel had ever seen. “Ah. That time in Malta.”

“I could really use that Hilton honeymoon suite right about now.”

“That would be nice. What was it you said? Or did I say it - that we weren’t gonna stop till we passed out?”

Laurel laughed. "It was me, definitely. I think we must have lasted… sixteen hours, if I recall correctly.” Nyssa smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “What if… what if we said that - if we get out of here -”

“When we get out of here,” Nyssa said firmly.

“When we get out of here,” Laurel said softly, “we… try breaking that record?”

“You promise?”

“You want me to cross my heart?” Laurel was probably deflecting a bit now, to fight off the emotion that threatened to break over her at any moment with a shaky smile that she knew Nyssa could see right through.

“I love you,” Nyssa whispered, “and we will be fine. I promise.”

Laurel held onto that confession from her beloved as tightly as she could in her mind, as the scientist returned with even more invasive and painful tests. She kept in her screams for as long as she could, not because she was afraid of showing weakness but rather because she knew Nyssa couldn't bear to hear them - only after the fifth extraction, this one from Laurel's brain, there was nothing she could do to curb her agony as the needle pierced her temple. Laurel's screams prompted Nyssa's, prolonged when the scientist kept the needle in long after she had collected the tissue she needed.

It was only when Laurel's lungs felt like they were being rubbed raw from the inside that the scientist finally seemed done with her. But then Laurel was filled with horror at the sight of the scientist raising a fresh needle and looking for the right spot on Nyssa.

Desperately, Laurel wanted to tell the evil woman to fucking take her again, not to touch Nyssa, not to lay a hand on her or so help her God - but nothing came out of Laurel's mouth except for a strangled croaky sound.

Suddenly the double doors nearest them burst open, and Laurel was shocked to see Dina, a gunshot wound at her side, unconscious, and Helena, who looked shaken but otherwise unhurt.

"Shit," Laurel croaked.

"Dina!" Nyssa shouted.

Ignoring both of them, the soldiers manhandling Dina and Helena strapped them into the beds next to Laurel and Nyssa. The scientist was at Dina's side in an instant.

"I want her alive," said another voice, and Laurel squinted as Max Fuller stepped into her line of sight.

"I'll need an IV in her, and some antibiotics," the scientist said.

"Good," Fuller said, clapping his hands together like he was a child. "Good. Work fast - I expect results. Even from the dying one. Even if you have to carve slices from these fuckers to do it."

"This is not what was agreed," Helena said hotly. "None of this is -"

Laurel was sure in that moment that her heart thudded to a complete halt. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I can explain," Helena said, but the pieces were already falling into place in Laurel's brain, and clearly in Nyssa's too.

"Oh, Helena," Nyssa said in a hushed tone. "Helena. What have you done?"

"I'll let you ladies talk this out while you still can," Fuller said with a smirk. "As for what was agreed - even if it wasn’t between you and Ms Waller, do I really strike you as a man to keep to my word?"

With that, Fuller sauntered out of the lab, and Nyssa struggled against her restraints. "You selfish piece of garbage, Helena!"

"Nyssa," Laurel said, "don't."

"No, Laurel - I will not sit here and watch you be tortured because our friend decided to betray us!"

"They tortured you?" Helena said, and while she spoke, Dina began to stir. The scientist was still in the midst of changing Dina's bandage, before hooking her up to an IV bag.

"Did you think Doctor Evil over here would make me a cup of tea?"

To her credit, the scientist did not comment on this, instead pulling off his gloves and walking away. Helena grunted and tried to sit up. "I'm sorry, okay? This wasn't how it was supposed to go -"

"Damn right it wasn't," Nyssa said. "I thought we were your family."

"I just wanted a way out, okay?"

"And in the process," Laurel said bitterly, "you found the boss's instead."

"I didn't know she wasn't healing," Helena said. "I wouldn't have shot her if I knew that -"

"You shot her? As if being a traitor isn't enough on its own?"

"Stop it," Dina said weakly, and she was clearly groggy and not fully lucid, but it was enough to quieten everyone for a moment.

"Boss, you still with us?" Laurel said. "Boss?"

"Still kicking," Dina said faintly. "But everything really fucking hurts."

"You're going to be okay," Nyssa said, as she always did - but Laurel wondered if that was possible given their circumstances.

"Oh, Nyssa," Dina said with the tiniest trace of a smile on her dull lips. "I say this with love, but you are a really shitty liar."

"I'm sorry, boss," Helena said. "If I knew -"

"- it wouldn't have changed a goddamn thing," Dina panted. "We both know that. More than anyone in this room."

Laurel took this in in silence. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You and Nyssa always had each other," Helena said. "From the beginning it was you and her. Always and forever. But me - all I had was my grief. And Dina too -"

"Don't you fucking dare bring her into this," Laurel snarled.

"I did want a way out," Dina admitted. "I was tired too. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Helena. Not with people who see us as nothing but lab rats. Just because I wanted an end doesn't mean I wanted it to be this messy. Or that you’d get our family involved. I can't believe you came to these people for answers."

"I made a mistake." Helena looked at Laurel pleadingly, but Laurel had no sympathy now towards the woman she would have died for mere hours earlier.

"Quelle fucking surprise."

“It just got out of hand. Waller didn't say anything about anyone getting hurt. And it was just meant to be me. None of you.”

“Shut up, Helena,” Dina said tiredly.

“Hear, hear,” Nyssa said.

“No, all of you, shut up! Listen!”

When they all quietened, Laurel could just about make out the sound of a scuffle in the next room, and it was only then she realised who was missing.

“Where’s Sarah?” Laurel said.

“She wanted out, got cold feet, so I gave her the car,” Dina said, panting and struggling to catch her breath as she groaned in pain. “But now I’m thinking -”

She was interrupted, though, when the double doors burst open and the soldiers guarding them fell on their faces in a haze of bullets - and in their wake was Sarah fucking Diggle.

Laurel was so grateful to see Sarah that her face broke into a smile, to the point that she practically forgot she had been scowling two seconds earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Nyssa said.

“Not that we’re not thrilled to see you, of course -” Laurel interjected.

“I figured we’re not gonna be family until I get to save your asses, right?” Sarah said with a grin, putting a gun in Dina’s hand. “You don’t look so good, Dina.”

“No shit,” Dina said, deadpan, but then she raised her gun and fired two rounds at the soldier that was about to run inside the room.

“You’ve still got it, boss,” Nyssa said with a wink.

“How did you find us?” Helena asked, with something of a pained expression on her face.

“Someone called Waller,” Sarah answered. “She said she’d made a huge mistake.”

“Seems to be going around,” Laurel muttered.

Sarah just shrugged. “Anyway. She helped me get in here.” Then, as she unstrapped Dina’s other wrist, Sarah asked, “You okay to move?”

“I was ready yesterday, kid.”

Next to Dina was Laurel, who Sarah freed from her restraints, and then Laurel jumped up to do the same for Nyssa. The two of them found their shirts underneath their beds, hastily pulling them on and buttoning them up.

When Sarah started to undo Helena’s restraints, though, Helena shook her head. “Just leave me here, Sarah.”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind,” Sarah said firmly.

“First time for everything,” Nyssa said, but Dina held up her hand.

“No. She’s coming. We’re gonna end Fuller and then will all walk out of here in one piece. Same as always.”

“She sold us out, boss!”

“I’m aware,” Dina said, grimacing in pain and scrunching her eyes shut as she got to her feet. “But she’s still one of us. Just like I am. Even though both of us have lost our way a bit.”

“Boss -”

“You and me, Helena, we’re still in this shitty game together, all right? Maybe I believed you all the times that you said that all we had was our own grief -”

“What are you talking about?” Nyssa demanded sharply.

Dina didn’t answer, though - Helena did. “You wouldn’t understand, Nyssa. Sometimes I wonder if you even see anyone in the world beside your wife -”

“Don’t you fucking dare start on her,” Laurel warned, but Dina held up her hand in finality.

“You’re gonna have her back and she’ll have yours, Laurel, Nyssa, and that’s an order,” Dina interrupted, and after glancing at Nyssa, Laurel nodded resignedly, accepting the handgun Sarah handed to her.

“Copy that.”

“All ready to roll?”

They moved out, and despite their fractured state as a team they still worked well together - they fought using the muscle memory that came with decades and centuries of being on the front lines flanking and protecting one another.

But this time one of their number was injured, and that slowed them in a way they weren’t used to. Sarah took three bullets for Dina, shielding her, and Nyssa, getting the same idea, followed her lead, doing the same by covering Dina on her left. Laurel brought up the rear, following the team into the reception area of Fuller Incorporated - but they were then hit by tear gas, making their formation scatter.

Faintly, Laurel could hear Helena saying that they were moving out, and Laurel reached around blindly in the gas clouding the air, searching increasingly desperately for her beloved’s wrist. When she found it she breathed a sigh of relief, but she then had the wind knocked out of her as two soldiers wrestled her to the floor and the bang of bullets sounded. Laurel felt a surge of adrenaline, white-hot with rage, as she kicked her assailants with such force that they were knocked off their feet; for good measure Laurel stamped on their throats, before the gas cleared and she could just make out Nyssa lying on the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Laurel whispered. Nyssa was motionless, a bloodied wound on her head where she’d been shot, and all of a sudden and all at once, it hit her: she started to understand Helena’s forlorn expression as she spoke of loneliness and grief. “Nyssa. NYSSA! Awaken, my love. Please. Please don’t leave me. Not now. I can’t. I can’t do this without you, habibti. Habibti, please wake up. Habibti -”

With a gasp, Nyssa came back to life, and in a way so did Laurel, her intake of breath so sharp it was like Nyssa had breathed life into them both. Tears dripping down her cheeks, Laurel cradled Nyssa’s face, her jaw, her fingers meeting blood and dirt.

“Nyssa,” Laurel said reverently, and her love’s name tasted like a prayer on her tongue. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay, ya Laurel. Let’s go - Dina needs us.”

In the end, their day only took one more strange turn, when Sarah defeated their enemy by running him out of a sixty-seventh storey window, crashing into a car. Nyssa helped Sarah to her feet, along with Helena, and they piled into a car and drove away.

So much went on in such a short period of time that Laurel, in the passenger seat beside Nyssa, only realised her legs were shaking when her wife's hand found her knee to still it.

#laurel x nyssa #lauryssa #femslashrevolution #scififemslash #laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #mine #my fic

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andiandyandee · 4 years

Text

Run from What’s Comfortable

Virgil gets his first tattoo, and Logan is not pleased. (Oh and we get some Logan Tragic Backstory)

This is part of my Parental Logince Punk AU! Which exists now lmao.

I’m gonna tag @princemesscharming and @datfearlessfangirl since they seemed very interested in this but if y’all don’t want tagged in future stuff let me know. If anyone wants tagged ALSO let me know :)

He’re the links to other works in this AU

Last Words: Part 1 and Part 2

And here’s the series on Ao3

3321 words

Okay here’s the fic

Virgil and his Papa had their first actual fight when he was fifteen. They had plenty of small, meaningless fights in his life, but this was the first one that didn’t end with an apology, a coffee, and a quiet conversation.

“What does it even MATTER? I’m fifteen, it’s not like I’m a child anymore. YOU had tattoos when you were fifteen!”

“Yes, I did, and it was stupid when I DID IT TOO.”

“So what, I’m stupid then? Just because none of us are as smart as you doesn’t mean we aren’t smart, Logan.” He said the name like it was an insult. There was an anger reflected in the blue eyes the two shared.

“Excuse me? I have never once said you, your brother, or your father were anything of the sort. You’re right. You’re fifteen years old, and you need to stop acting like a CHILD. You don’t get to throw a tantrum every time you don’t get your way. And you certainly don’t get to SNEAK OUT and do whatever you want when your father and I tell you NO.” Logan could feel the dull pounding at the back of his head, indicating this particular conversation was going to give him a migraine. “Go bandage that- whatever it is- and go to your room, Virgil. I am not having this conversation right now. You can speak with Roman when he gets home.”

Virgil deflated at that. Papa very, very rarely used his actual first name. It was something they had agreed upon when Virgil had turned 13. He wanted a nickname, something that felt less formal and nerdy. Papa hadn’t understood, but agreed anyway, and had called him nothing but ‘Virge’ or ‘Vee’ since. He was too mad to see the way Logan has started to go pale.

“You know what? No. I won’t go to my room. Either stand here and have this conversation now, or I’m leaving. I’ll go stay with Dee or something.” Logan winced at that.

“Virge-”

“NO. Either talk to me or I’ll go! I’ll call him right now.” Logan closed his eyes for a second, then nodded.

“If you’d rather stay with your cousin than cease the conversation, then by all means, go pack a bag. I’ll make the call and drop you off.” Logan turned to his phone, sitting on the table. He didn’t want Virgil to see the way tears were welling up in his eyes, or the way his hands shook when he dialed the number. Virgil stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, then nodded slowly and went to his room. He grabbed the pile of clothes that were folded on his bed- probably Papa’s doing- and shoved them in his bookbag. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket and hoodie off the door, and stomped back down the stairs. He didn’t look up when he passed Logan, who was still on the phone, and went to sit in the car. When Logan came out, still in his work clothes, his eyes were red. His jaw was set as if he knew if he opened it he would say something he would regret, and he started the car with the only words he said being, “Seat belt. Now.” Virgil complied. Nothing was said for 25 minutes, Virgil staring at his phone, so he was surprised when they pulled up to a tattoo shop. Not the one Virgil had gotten his tattoo at, which was more like someone’s garage, but an actual, proper tattoo shop. Logan got out, went inside, and was talking with the person at the desk, who looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties. Much too young to have been one of Papa’s friends, but possibly Dee’s age. The person behind the counter gave Logan a bag, and Logan handed them some money, and they both laughed at something. Logan’s smile was gone by the time he got back into the car, settling into the stoic, neutral look that Virgil knows is reserved for when he’s trying to avoid any emotions whatsoever.

Logan dropped the bag and a sheet of paper onto Virgil’s lap. He said nothing, and pulled back out onto the road and drove the rest of the way to Dee’s house in total silence. Virgil didn’t look at the jar until after Logan’s blue sedan pulled out of the driveway. Dee was standing next to Virgil, a hand on his shoulder, and wasn’t saying anything either. The jar said Hustle Butter, but there was also a bottle of the same brand that said hustle bubbles.

“Dee, what the hell is this stuff?” Virgil asked, finally cutting through the very stiff silence. Dee looked at it, snorting a bit.

“It’s for your tattoo. There’s probably a care sheet, too. You need to take care of tattoos differently than you would regular skin. That’s a good brand, you shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Why would he buy these for me? He didn’t want me to get the thing anyway.”

Dee pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just get you cleaned up and find something to eat, Virge.”

***

Once Logan got home, he collapsed onto the floor next to the front door. He tucked his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. He didn’t hear his younger son approach, but he could see the shiny holographic boots that had become a staple of the kid’s fashion for the last decade. “Hello, Patton. Am I in your way?”

“Papa, what happened?” The teenager asked. Patton, who was 14, spoke much softer than his brother. “Virge isn’t texting me back, Dad sounded really mad when I called him, and you look terrible.” Logan laughed a little at that.

“Unfortunately, that is my fault, Pat. Virgil came home with a tattoo today, after sneaking out last night to get it, and we may have gotten into a bit of an argument.” Logan sighed. “I lost my temper and yelled at him, and he told me he wanted to go to your cousin’s house, so I dropped him off there. You know Dee has a thing about using cell phones all day, so Virgil’s phone is likely off. Roman is angry with me, not with you.” The front door slammed open, and Roman stood there, looking livid.

“Damn right I’m angry with you. How could you just LET HIM GO TO DEE’S HOUSE”

“Dad, I don’t think-”

“No, Patton, it’s okay, he has a right to be angry”

“But Papa-”

“Puffball, can you go to your room? We need to talk about this.”

“Wait- will you just-”

“Patton, please just-”

“WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?” Patton screeched, much to the surprise of both of his fathers. They nodded. “Virgil needed to be away from the house. While maybe Papa shouldn’t have agreed to it so quickly, Virge was going to end up there one way or another. You both behaved irrationally today, and you can both apologize tomorrow. For now, Papa, you need to go get a shower, take your migraine meds, and change into more comfortable clothes. You look like you’re going to pass out. Dad, you need to put your work stuff down and call Dee, and make sure Virge is alright. And I need to work on homework, so if you could avoid yelling for like, 45 minutes, that’d be very helpful.” Patton smiled at them. “Okay? One-two-three- BREAK!”

***

“He called me STUPID, Dee. To my FACE”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what he said, Virge.”

“He had tattoos when he was my age!”

“The tattoo that almost cost him his hand, or the one he got covered up three years later? Oh, wait, both of those he got when he was your age. How peculiar that he wouldn’t want you to get them, then.”

“He did not almost lose his hand because of a tattoo.”

“Yes, he did. He told me that story when I got my first tattoo. His first tattoo was on his wrist, you’ve seen it, I’m sure. It’s that weird faded grey bit of skin that pokes out from behind his watch that looks a lot like a bunch of scar tissue. It got infected, because he got it done by some rando in a garage somewhere, and he didn’t tell anyone. By the time Uncle Roman and Dad convinced him to see a doctor, the Staph had basically eaten all of the ink, and it took like, nine rounds of antibiotics before it went away. They were worried the scar tissue would permanently make his left hand impossible to use without pain. He’s very lucky he didn’t die.” Dee sighed and adjusted his beanie. “I know what it’s like to be a fifteen-year-old and want to rebel, but Uncle Lo was right that this was VERY STUPID. Not that YOU are stupid, but that you did a stupid thing. And I know, that you hate yelling or being talked down to, but I really do think you were in the wrong, here.” Dee sighed.

***

“Virgil is okay. Dee showed him how to wash his tattoo with the stuff you bought him.” Roman sat down on the bed, next to Logan. “That was a smart thing to do.”

“My arm still hurts from mine. I wouldn’t want him to go through that if it can be avoided.”

“Lo-”

“No, Roman. I was in the wrong. Virgil may not be a child, but he isn’t an adult either, and I treated him unfairly.”

“You were worried, and you have a temper when people ignore you. Virge knows that, I know that, and Patton knows that.” Logan laughed a little

“God, Patton today. He’s going to have my temper too, isn’t he? You should have been the one to sire those little monsters.”

“Remus and I have the same DNA, and he made Dee. You really think if they were biologically mine they’d be any better?” There was a knock on the door, then, and Patton stuck his head in.

“So, If we’re airing out things we did without permission should I mention I have a belly-button piercing?” Logan slammed his head into his pillow and screamed for a second before mumbling,

“I absolutely did not hear that.”

Patton giggled and lifted up his shirt, showing a noticeably non-pierced navel to Roman with a wink, mouthing ‘little monsters’ with an eye-roll. “Papa, do you want a coffee? I’m going to run across the street.

Get him an iced caramel whatever. Take a long time, will you?” Roman grinned at the teenager who immediately turned red and sprinted out of the room.

“Great, now you’ve traumatized him.” Logan deadpanned, laying his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Please tell me my fourteen-year-old did not get a back alley piercing.”

“He didn’t. I’m guessing that was his revenge for you ignoring him.” Logan groaned and laid down, his head in Roman’s lap. “Lo, you know Virge loves you, right? This isn’t going to change anything.”

“I.. don’t want to be like them. Like.. my parents were.” Logan admitted quietly. “I never want our kids to resent me like my brother and I resented them.”

“Woah Woah Woah. You got in ONE fight with Virgil. He’ll stomp around Dee’s house for the weekend, and when he gets home, you will drink coffee and apologize, and he will too, and you will both be fine. This isn’t the same, Lo. You aren’t like them.”

“I hope not,” Logan mumbled. Finally letting himself cry. “I miss him, Ro. I know I shouldn’t have let Virgil go. But the whole thing was just like-”

“I know, starlight. This isn’t going to end like that, though.”

“Okay.” Logan’s voice was small and scared. “Can you go get Patton? I don't like him being out of the house.”

“Of course. I’ll be back soon.”

***

Virgil was playing music loudly in Dee’s basement, pretending like he was justified in his anger. He was in a ratty old misfits shirt, one he had probably stolen from Dee years ago, and a pair of basketball shorts, and was about 45 minutes into a workout that he knew would leave him aching and too tired to be angry when it was over. He kicked the bag again, singing along to the Dead Kennedys song and pretending like it wasn’t something Papa had shown him. He went to swing at the bag for what was nearly the hundredth time when someone snickered from the stairs. Virgil missed the bag completely, throwing himself forward and landing face forward on the mat. The person on the stairs howled, and Virgil turned to glare at them. Standing on the bottom step was Remus, who had a book under one arm and a towel in his hand.

“Okay kid, time to stop the workout. We’re having a chat .” Virgil rolled his eyes and was promptly hit in the face with the towel.

“What do you want? I know, Papa was just trying to protect me from doing the same dumb shit he did. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t care. Hence, the chat.” Remus said with a sigh. “Come sit down, you goddamn emo nightmare.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Virgil did as he was told. Remus opened the book he was holding, which Virgil now recognized as a photo album. “Why are we reminiscing? I already know the story about the stupid tattoo he got.”

“No, you don’t. And that doesn’t matter, really. But actually, I wanted to show you them first.” Remus turned to a dog eared page towards the middle, and suddenly, staring back at Virgil was a punk kid with his exact face, save for this kid had a black eye, and a garbage bag taped around his wrist. The kid had a smirk Virgil would recognize anywhere. This was unmistakably Logan, at fifteen years old. He was wearing a social distortion tour t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, black jeans, and what looked like the most worn-out pair of Doc Martens Virgil had ever seen. The picture below it was of the tattoo itself, crudely done with poor linework and blown-out lines everywhere. It said ‘Do better’. That was it. Virgil raised an eyebrow at his uncle, who had a small smile on his face. “He was so pleased with himself when he got that stupid tattoo done. He wanted a reminder to not be like your grandparents.” Remus nodded, to himself obviously, and turned the page. There were seven photos on the spread, the first being Logan flipping the camera off from a hospital bed, pale and looking like he was about to keel over. The second was Logan with his shirt off, and some guy tattooing his shoulder. The pictures didn’t look like they were taken very far apart.

“He got another tattoo after almost dying from the first one?” Virgil asked incredulously, looking at his uncle for confirmation. Remus snorted.

“As a celebration for not dying from the first one. He took much better care of that one, to be fair.” The tattoo was of what looked like a bird, probably a crow, but it was hard to tell.

“He doesn’t have a bird tattoo there. Isn’t that where he has the tree?”

“Ro and I paid for him to get it covered up for his 18th birthday. He took good care of it but it still looked like a flaming bag of garbage.” Remus laughed

“Why are you showing me these, anyway. I know he doesn't like his parents and I know he picked a shitty artist and got sick. That doesn’t change that he literally just let me leave because he didn’t want to deal with me. It didn't change that he called me stupid.” Virgil crossed his arms.

“I’m getting there, kid.” Remus bumped his shoulder into Virgil’s and turned a few pages forward in the book. There was Logan again, now in a misfits t-shirt and what looks like the same jeans as before. Sporting a gnarly bruise on his jaw and a split lip. He had a grin and a backpack slung over one shoulder, and from the way he was holding his arms apart, Virge could see the scarring on his wrist, meaning this was taken after the tattoo incident. Virgil looked at the t-shirt he was wearing. It was almost certainly the same one, with the same bleach stain on the left sleeve. “This picture was taken about an hour after Logan ran away from home,” Remus said quietly. “For the first time, anyway.”

“Did he do that a lot?” Virgil asked with an eyebrow raise

“No. He only ran away three times, the last time he left home was because they kicked him out.” Remus shrugged. “But this time was important because he left after having the same argument with his dad that you just had with him. Well, kind of. Logan’s dad somehow didn’t know about the tattoos until he walked into Lo’s room while Logan was changing. Pretty hard to hide a big ink stain when you’re topless.” Remus shrugged. “His old man told him it was irresponsible, he was too young, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Of course, Logan was an asshole as a teenager, so he argued that he wasn’t a kid, that he was old enough to make those decisions, whatever. His dad told him he wasn’t going to have this conversation, that he could take it up with his mother- you’ve met her, she was definitely the worse of the two. Logan told him off, and when his dad still wouldn’t talk, he left. He stayed with us for probably three weeks before he got the call that his brother-”

“Papa has a brother?”

“Had. He had a brother. He was older, and had the same sort of temper you and your Papa share.” Remus sighed. “When he had found out why Logan had left, he got pissed and went to go pick Logan up from our place. He wrapped his car around a tree, and never made it out of the O.R. Logan went home after that.”

“Oh god, did his parents blame him?”

“No, no, of course not. Your grandparents weren’t good people, Virge, but they knew that argument was as much their fault as it was Logan’s. But Logan blamed himself, and that was enough.” Remus sighed. “I know it doesn’t excuse his actions, but I think, maybe, that the argument you two got into probably brought up a lot of difficult and angry feelings. Logan isn’t a robot. And when he gets upset, he says things that he doesn't mean, and the things he says don't always come out the way he intends them.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I acted like a jerk and I need to apologize.”

“Nah. You acted like a teenager. You DO need to apologize though. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re watching all of the Saw movies and eating way too much pizza.”

***

Eventually, Virgil went home, and apologized, and pretended to not notice how puffy Logan’s eyes were, despite the fact that it had been two days, and made him and Papa coffee. Logan apologized too, and told Virgil the tattoo did look cool, even if he should have waited another 9 months to get it done professionally, and they talked about what Virgil had done with Dee, and Logan pretended to not notice the way Virgil kept glancing at the scar on his wrist that was for the first time in years not covered up by his watch. And when Virgil hugged him and whispered. ‘You are better, Papa.’ Logan most definitely did not cry, and Virgil did not cry, and Roman did not give Patton the $15 he now owed the kid, and Patton did not snap a picture to add to his own photo album.

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harvestleaves · 4 years

Text

Sick Day

Summary: Carter comes down with a chest infection and his childhood asthma makes it worse, cue Peter trying to mother hen him.

A/N: This fic was inspired by @alienfuckeronmain‘s Carter/Benton fic. You can also read this on AO3 here.

Rating: T (for brief swearing)

Word Count: 1,498

Carter shivered with a deep cough as he made his way into County General on a Tuesday morning in late September. Despite the fact that it was still pretty warm in Chicago, 75 degrees to be precise, Carter felt that he had spent the night in an icebox. Making his way into the lounge, he gave a small nod to Doug as he grabbed his coat and stethoscope from his locker, stifling another round of wheezy coughs.

“You sound like shit Carter, have you taken anything for that cough?” Doug asked curiously as he turned to the younger doctor, frowning at his flushed cheeks, dark under-eye circles, and how his shoulders heaved with every wheezing inhale and exhale.

“I took some over the counter cold medicine, and it helped a little with the fever, but I still can’t really catch my breath,” Carter admitted with another round of coughs, moving to sit down on the couch when he was left struggling to take deep breaths.

Doug frowned as he sat next to Carter and slipped his stethoscope on to listen to the other’s chest. “Take a few deep breaths for me.”

After a minute, Doug slipped his stethoscope around his neck and ran a hand up and down Carter’s back to soothe the next round of coughs that wracked the younger man’s body. “You’ve got deep wheezing and you’re congested. Do you have any pre-existing conditions that would be making this worse?”

“A-asthma,” Carter coughed heavily again, as he brought a hand up to rub at the tight spot in the center of his chest, jumping a little when the door to the lounge opened and Benton popped his head in.

“Carter, you’re late for rounds. You okay?” Benton asked, a frown appearing on his lips when he finally noticed the state of his friend, moving to crouch in front of Carter to check his pulse. “How long has his breathing been like this? Did you take your inhaler?”

Doug raised an eyebrow at the interaction between the two and moved to Carter’s locker to check for an inhaler.

Shaking his head, Carter struggled to take a breath before he squeezed his eyes shut with a wince. “It r-ran out last night, I c-called a n-new script in for today.”

“Well, without meds, those lungs of yours won’t open up. Peter, can you help him to Exam Room 1? I’ll grab a chart to start and some albuterol for a breathing treatment and meet you two in there with Carol.” Doug smiled as he helped Carter stand, making sure that he was safe in Benton’s arms before he held the door to the lounge open for the two of them before he headed to the reception desk.

Carter leaned into Benton’s embrace as the other wrapped his arms firmly but gently around his shoulders, cherishing the soothing touch as he was manhandled to the exam room and helped up onto the bed. Grabbing a nasal cannula, Benton slipped the tubing under Carter’s nose and over his ears, the cool touch of the other’s fingers immediately calming to Carter. Finding himself leaning into the touch as Benton’s thumb caressed his cheek, Carter blushed before he immediately pulled back.

“C’mon, let’s get your coat off, I’m sure Carol is gonna want to get an IV in your arm,” Benton smiled wryly as he helped Carter with the article of clothing, taking his stethoscope off as well to place at the foot of the bed before loosening Carter’s tie and undoing the top few buttons of his dress shirt, his fingers lingering on the front of Carter’s shirt before moving away quickly when there was a knock.

“Hey, I heard Carter wasn’t feeling well,” Carol smiled gently as she walked in, Doug in tow as she moved to roll up Carter’s left sleeve to start an IV.

“Yeah, chest infection exacerbated by asthma, so we’ll give him some prednisone for the inflammation and an antibiotic through his IV,” Doug explained as he started to put together the nebulizer, watching Benton sit in the chair next to the bed, his hand resting on Carter’s leg for moral support. “Did you wanna get to your rounds? Let them know Carter won’t be in today?”

“Huh? Oh yeah. I’ll be back down to check on you in a bit, okay?” Benton whispered to Carter, squeezing his shoulder gently before he headed out of the exam room, fully prepared to take a personal day to keep an eye on the other.

Carter watched Benton leave, a dopey smile appearing on his lips as he did so. Doug pressing the nebulizer into his hand to guide it up to his lips drew him back out of his thoughts and he looked over at the older doctor with a blush.

“So...you and Benton? When did that start?” Doug asked with a smirk and a wink as he moved to listen to Carter’s lungs again, raising an eyebrow curiously when the younger male shrugged.

“Nothing’s started. I don’t even think he realizes that I have feelings for him,” Carter wheezed as he pulled back from the nebulizer, surprised that he’d admitted his feelings out loud to another person, only having just admitted it to himself the week before.

“Even if he doesn’t know your feelings, he’s completely smitten with you,” Carol piped up from his other side, causing Carter’s eyes to widen when he remembered she was in the room as well.

“You think?”

“We know. Because we have exchanged those same looks so many times ourselves,”Doug laughed with a smile over at Carol as she finished putting the meds into his IV line.

“It’s pretty slow right now, do you want one of us to stay with you until Peter gets back? We all know he’s gonna take a personal day, he won’t be able to concentrate with you down here,” Carol smiled, reaching up to push some hair off of Carter’s damp forehead with a smile.

“No thank you, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Carter wheezed with a kind smile, settling back to finish the breathing treatment.

“If you’re sure. I’ll be back in fifteen when that treatment is up. Don’t do anything to try and exert yourself. Got it?” Doug smiled as he ruffled Carter’s hair before heading out with Carol to leave Carter with his thoughts.

In all honesty, Carter knew that he’d had feelings for Benton for a few years, but he knew that as long as the other was his direct supervisor he wasn’t able to do anything about said feelings until he was fully switched over to emergency medicine. Just the thought of kissing his mentor made Carter’s breath catch in his chest and caused him to start coughing around the nebulizer once more. Squeezing his eyes shut at the tightness in his chest, he felt a hand on his back to soothe his coughs and at first thought Doug or Carol had come back in until he heard Benton’s deep voice.

“I leave you for five minutes and you’re still hacking up a lung? C’mon, you know the drill. Slow deep breaths,” Benton said gently as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Carter, continuing to rub circles on his back to ease the soreness that was most likely present. When he felt Carter start to melt under his touch, a smile graced Benton’s lips.

“Wh-what’re you doing back down here? Y-you’ve got rounds.”

“I took the shift off. I never use my vacation time, and you’re too damn stubborn to ask for help. Did Doug say whether or not he’s gonna have you on continuous nebs? Or how long they’re gonna keep you? Or what meds he’s going to prescribe when you leave?” Benton asked as he pressed the back of his hand to Carter’s forehead.

“You’re worrying too much. J-just sit with me. L-let Doug do the doctoring, you just be here for me. Please?” Carter wheezed as he looked up at Benton with puppy eyes, a look the other man couldn’t resist.

Benton raised an eyebrow in surprise at Carter’s words before he nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to the other’s forehead before moving the neb to press a second to the other’s lips gently. “Alright. You scared the shit out of me though. You know that, right? Don’t ever do it again,” he whispered, voice low as he pulled the smaller man in for another hug before glancing out the window to the exam room where Doug and Carol were talking.

“Called it. You owe me twenty, I knew they’d kiss by the end of the day,” Doug grinned as he held out his hand to Carol for the money from the bet they’d made after leaving the room.

“Oh shut up, you just got lucky,” Carol rolled her eyes, grinning however when Doug leaned in to whisper that she’d get lucky too after their shift.

#ER #er fanfic #er nbc #nbc er #peter benton #john carter #doug ross #carol hathaway

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nurfhurdur · 4 years

Text

Hard Enough Left Modern AU

Because I miss Ruth

There hadn't been activity on that particular channel in weeks. Every few days Emily would log on, only to be dissapointed to see that nothing had changed. The only activity being comments from other viewers asking when to expect another video.

It had gotten to the point where she had checked to make sure she was still subscribed, and she edited her settings to make sure she'd get a notification the next time there was anything uploaded. It was another three weeks after that, that she had checked the time on her phone to see the banner across the screen.

Rushing through the last of her course work, she threw her backpack on the floor and reached for her tablet. She tapped a fingernail against the screen impatiently as YouTube finally loaded, hitting pause quickly so she could dig her headphones out of the nightstand drawer.

She'd binged Ruth's videos in the span of a few days. She didn't know how girls on YouTube did it, especially with a DIY channel. Starting back from the first videos posted a few years before, the video quality had improved, the girl's editing had improved, and she'd become more comfortable in front of a camera. From cooking, and baking, to personal desk size succulent gardens, or organizing and purging a closet, somehow the girl had made a name for herself on the internet and the most mundane of tasks seemed more interesting when discussed and explained on this girl's channel.

Comfortable in her bed, she finally pressed play and tilted her head as the personalized graphic of a constellation came on screen, which the girl had done a tutorial on also....

When did she have the time to do all this?

She was pulled from her thoughts, and rather startled, to see an exhausted looking version of the girl who ran the channel. Ruth's dark hair was pulled in to a messy bun, circles under her eyes and she looked like she hadn't taken the time to get out of her pajamas. What was most startling, was what looked like a medical oxygen tube beneath her nose.

Looking up into the camera, she waved vaguely with her usual greeting before continuing.

"I've never really shared this, because I never had any reason to-" She held up the small tank of oxygen sitting beside her and grinned flatly. "-but now I do.....so today's video is a bit of a PSA."

Her expression dulled and she stared at the screen a moment. "Get out of the shot."

"I'm not in the shot," came a low response from the corner.

Ruth addressed the camera again. "I have help today."

A few clips were edited in of Ruth and....was that Jesse Hudson?

The Piston Cup driver?

The two were figuring out where to stage Ruth's things, and Ruth watched in exasperation before telling him to leave her stuff alone and let her do it.

"I'm just trying to help."

"This isn't my first video or anything-....no, leave the tank there-"

"Wh-"

"Because that's where I keep it when I'm working here-"

The clip cut back to Ruth's slightly more professional expression and she reached for the camera. "For those of you who keep up, yes, that was Jesse Hudson. Jesse, say hello."

"Hey." He muttered with a glance up from his phone.

"We're twins. Before you flood my inbox, I'm older, it's not that exciting to have a celebrity sibling and-....." Ruth paused and stared at the screen again. "Did you just kick the footboard of my bed?"

Just barely in the frame, Jesse's Nikes could be seen as he kicked off from the bed again, spinning the chair slowly. "Yeah, cause you lie."

"I do not lie. You're- you know what, this is my video, and I'm not spending ages editing it so now the world can see how sulky you are."

The chair rolled further in to frame and Jesse only shrugged a shoulder before going back to his phone.

Ruth took a slow breath, for effect or because she needed it, it was hard to tell, before launching in to a lengthy explanation of why she had been absent for so long.

"I don't have an actual diagnosis, no one can give me a specific name for it-"

The more she spoke, the more emotional the video became. The natural lighting of her bedroom made the video a little surreal, the way it picked up the threatening shine in the girl's eyes wasn't staged, or planned, or even wanted. It was apparent that a portion had been cut. She looked like she had been crying, and instead of lazing in the background, Jesse was sitting beside her at her desk, chin rested on his hand as he looked between her and the screen silently.

"Some of you wonder how I have time to do any of this, some of you are very rude in your questioning of how I have time-"

The clip had been edited again and a more composed looking Ruth stared at the camera before speaking and glancing over her shoulder. "Our older brother thought there was a problem and I'm sure Jesse is getting lectured for something...."

She'd edited captions in, and color coded them for each brother. They appeared at the bottom of the screen while she made a show of her impatience on camera.

"Can you for once in your life-"

"She asked me to help-"

Ruth made eye contact with the camera a moment before continuing, explaining that her illness started back in the early 2000s. Doctors had originally treated her for bronchitis, then walking pneumonia. X-rays, blood tests, screenings and different antibiotics had all been tried with only mininal results. There was the possibility of an autoimmune disorder but they hadn't started that round of tests yet.

"I don't always have an oxygen tank, this is a bit of a new development...." She eyed the small cylinder beside her and it was obvious to see that she was still trying to wrap her head around it. With a shaky and watery smile she looked back at the camera.

"It's extremely hard to be looked at the way people do when you have something like this basically tied to your side."

She ignored her twins' return to his chair beside her.

"For some it's an insulin pump, for me it's an oxygen tank, for others it's chronic pain. We know we have it, while the general public tends to look at us like we're looking for sympathy or leaching the system. Just because it's an invisible disease doesn't mean it isn't there."

She looked at her brother before leaning back in her computer chair. Drawing her knee up, she wrapped an arm around it.

"Where had we gone the other day? Was it the grocery store-"

"Doctor appointment."

"Oh, yeah. It was." Ruth frowned. "I've been issued a handicap sign for the mirror of my car....they haven't sent the new license plate yet. I didn't even want to use it but it was a really bad day for me. My family convinced me to use it to park as close as possible, and then wanted to get me a wheel chair."

She pursed her lips, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and looked in to the camera.

"Some middle aged woman came right up to me and told me she thought it was horrible that I would do such a thing for a closer space. That as a young woman in my twenties, I was more than capable of walking the extra hundred feet and had no right to be using my grandparents' issued sign like that."

She looked away from the camera and swiped a tear from her eye. Barely seen on camera, it looked like Jesse might have nudged her chair with his foot.

"I was so upset I showed her my signature on the back, and then my driver's license. Just because I'm in my twenties doesn't mean-"

She shook her head and sighed while rubbing her forehead.

"It's hard enough for people like myself to be so restricted when we're supposed to be 'enjoying our youth'...don't be that person. Just.....take a moment to realize that we're not always how we appear. It's a smack of pride to even have to use that handicap sign. I just stared at it hanging from the rearview mirror, convincing myself not to take it back down for some complete stranger to then treat me that way?"

"That was the appointment they gave you the tank." Jesse muttered lowly.

"It was." She agreed. "Like that wasn't a hard pill to swallow already...."

There was a brief pause, and it was obvious she was mentally shaking herself. She diverted the topic somewhat, sitting up straighter and getting composed.

"So that's where all my time comes from. This started as a hobby a few years ago and because of you-" she gestured to the screen. "-faithfull viewers and subscribers, I've networked with a few different small businesses, I work from home. I have my Etsy shop, I've been able to review different products and be sponsored by those companies. If you haven't visited, be sure to check the links in the description. There's my Etsy shop, Instagram, Twitter, and links to my favourite channels."

As an afterthought, she added. "Maybe I'll do more videos on this, I'm not really sure. Leave your thoughts in the comments."

It was her usual send off, but for some reason it meant so much more after a fifteen minute video explaining something so personal.

"Remember guys, there's always a reason to smile. Until next time."

The personalized LittleDipperCo. appeared on screen alongside the subscribe button and list of links before the next video in the playlist began to buffer.

She hit cancel and set the tablet aside, trying to digest the last fifteen minutes. She'd ordered from the Etsy shop, LittleDipperCo. before and had recieved a little handwritten note alongside all the little items she'd ordered.

Stickers, bookmarks, a personalized mug for her dad, the earrings she was currently wearing....because she'd ordered so much and had been so patient, Ruth had added a few small items and a personal thank you card.

She was her favorite shop, there was something unique about LittleDipperCo.-creations by RuthAnne- that had always stood out to her.

Grabbing her tablet, she went back to find the link and glanced up at her open doorway in surprise when her brother appeared.

"Did you see what he's saying about me?"

"What who is saying-"

"Hudson thinks he's being funny-"

"Get off of Twitter, Alexander."

Alex held his phone up and read the time stamp. "An hour and a half ago-"

Emily glanced back at the upload time of Ruth's video. It was only about half an hour old.

Jesse Hudson was apparently roasting her brother in that video.

She blinked a few times and hid a smirk, busying herself with reaching for a hair tie. "Don't you have some kind of conference to get ready for?"

Another alert popped up as he made a show of leaving her doorway and Emily shook her head while clicking the link.

Let's lighten the mood! PSA- BLOOPERS AND REAL TALK.

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