#how much they had to cut off in order to stop the tissue from dying naturally
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i miss when we all interpreted shigaraki’s quirk as true decay rather than just reducing things to dust. i remember fics that had him rot things as he touched them and it was so much more visceral
#when he decayed aizawas elbow thats what it looked like a slow decay and death of flesh#we see when hes a kid he doesnt turn things to dust theres still blood and body left behind#so as his quirk grew it became the complete decay#but a slow rot feels more thematically poignant#the way heroics and hero society has rotted from the inside until an entire city can walk passed a little boy covered in blood#i get that being reduced to dust immediately is scarier bc theres no escape#but the idea that even if you manage to get away from it hes taken a chunk of you with him and left dying flesh behind#there was a fic that did this with bakugou really well i read it like two years ago but its stuck with me bc of how intense it is#i also think its why we feel so betrayed that aizawa doesnt have a scar#his elbow was decayed#the skin and top layer of muscle was killed and dropped off#and youre telling me that doesnt leave a scar? i call bullshit#imagine if the skin around the injury was rotted the stench it would leave behind#how much they had to cut off in order to stop the tissue from dying naturally#bc even if he stopped shigaraki’s quirk nothing stops rot once it’s begun except to carve it out#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#go beyond plus ultra#mha#bnha#shigaraki tomura
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Postscript. Part 1 of 3.
Loki x Sylvie "Our divorce never went through" Modern AU. Angst with a happy ending, Rated T. For Sylki Week day 7: Free day @sylkiweek
Masterlist of my fics here.
The last thing he wants to do is call up the woman who tore his heart into pieces. But it has to be done. His business partner and his lawyer both insist on it.
[[MORE]]
And he agrees. They are about to land a huge contract that will put them at the top, and he has no intention of letting the woman who left him broken claim any share of his upcoming financial success.
Not that he thinks she would. But he didn't think she'd leave him either, so what does he know?
It's been ten years, but he remembers her number all too well. He wonders briefly if she has changed it by now, but he dials anyway.
Six rings later, she picks up. "Hello?"
It's the familiar voice, warm and irritated, but older, mature, and more jaded. It is clear from her tone that she has forgotten his number, and it stings a bit. "Hi. It's me, Loki."
There's silence, and he has to check to see if she hung up on him. When she recovers, she speaks softly. "Loki? Hi... How are you? I wasn't expecting your call."
"I wasn't expecting to call either", he says matter-of-factly. He called her so many times over the first one year, left her so many messages. But she never replied, and he eventually stopped, vowing to never call her ever again. "But it couldn't be helped. It's an urgent matter."
"Okay?" She asks, confused.
"Do you remember your lovely divorce lawyer?"
Sylvie grimaces. That divorce was a complete mess. She wanted out, Loki didn't, and it dragged on for months. They both had rich parents, but they had married hastily against their wishes, and they were not going to take their parents' help and hear the "I told you so". They were both college students, barely in their 20s, barely married for a few months. They both relied on their limited funds to find lawyers that best represented their interests. Sylvie's was particularly cheap, and particularly inefficient. "Yes, Lacey. What about her?"
"Oh, nothing much." Loki says in a taunting voice. "It's just that, she messed up the paperwork. It turns out our divorce never went through."
She's silent again, and he waits for an outburst, for an accusation that this is his doing, since this is what he wanted. Instead, her reaction is shocked, but controlled, far from the woman who used to fight with him on everything in those last few days. "What? How is that possible?"
"You'll have to ask Lacey that." He replies. "But my lawyer has confirmed that we are indeed still married."
The silence returns, and Loki grimaces. It was better when she had a retort for everything he said. "This time, I do have a competent lawyer, and he will make sure the divorce goes through, I promise you. I just need your signature."
"Okay", she says quietly.
"If you can just send me your address, I will mail the papers over." Then he adds, because his lawyer insists. It's been ten years, surely you're over her, he has said. "Or we can meet and do it in person, make sure this time the process actually goes through properly. Whichever you would prefer." He would prefer never to see her again, but it can't be helped.
"We can meet." Her voice is shaky, something that's rare. "Where are you, these days?"
"I'm still in London." He says casually. "But I'd be happy to drive to wherever you are."
"I'm in London too."
Convenient. At least he won't have to undergo a long trip now.
"Perfect". He says smoothly. "Let's set up a meeting and get this over with then."
---
"I don't believe you." She tells him bluntly.
Tears rolls down his cheek, and he clutches her hands helplessly. "I promise you from my heart, this isn't about your money."
She snatches her hands back from his grasp angrily. "What was I thinking trusting you? Has this whole marriage been a con?"
Something in him breaks, and it shows on his face. "Really? That's what you think of me... after all this time? Sure. Why not? Evil Loki's master plan comes together. Well, you never trusted me, did you? What was the point?"
Sylvie takes a step back. She heard the rumors from a friend who heard it from a friend, and of course she didn't believe them. There is no way Loki married her for her inheritance. But she found her mother's expensive pen hidden in his pocket one night after dinner with her parents, and he didn't have a good explanation for why he had it. He said he didn't recall slipping it in, but there was no way that was true.
The pen isn't everything, but it is the last straw. Combined with all the fights they have been having lately, and all the ways she feels suffocated in the marriage, unable to do the things she wants to do, the pen is what seals the last nail in the coffin.
"Why aren't we seeing this the same way?" She asks desperately.
"Because you can't trust", he says with the saddest smile and the saltiest tears, "and I can't be trusted."
Her hands grip the handle of her suitcase. "Then I guess we're in a pickle."
"Sylvie, wait." He begs, but she's already at the door. "Wait!" He screams, but she's hailed a cab. "Sylvie. Sylvie!" He calls out as her cab disappears around the corner.
And that's it. That's the end of their marriage.
---
They decide to meet in a small cafeteria on their old campus ground on Saturday evening. Neutral location, safe, and with the comfort of familiarity, it is the perfect meeting spot.
Loki gets there early and waits. Every second is tortorous, everything around him bringing back a memory that he wishes he had forgotten. He feels himself tapping his feet restlessly as he orders two coffees. He wonders if her preferences have changed, if he should have waited and asked her first.
"Hi". There's her voice, followed by a burst of blonde. She has cut her hair short, into a tidy little bob, dyed it back to her natural blonde instead of the dark black from her goth days, and her make-up is quieter now, in neutral tones. She would be hard to recognise now, if he hadn't spent countless nights worshipping every inch of that face.
"Hi". He says politely, and hands her a cup. "Two sugars, extra cream, no milk. Is that alright?"
"Yes, perfectly." She says just as politely, with a hint of surprise in her voice. "You remembered."
He tries to brush it off like it's not a big deal. It really isn't. When you spend so much time learning every single thing about a person, all that information doesn't just leave your brain when it's no longer useful. It all stays, and it comes back in unexpected ways, from words of strangers and friends, every little thing triggering a memory he pretends to have forgotten. He shakes his head, willing the inner monologue away for another time. "I remembered the papers too." He swiftly transitions into the matter at hand. He digs into his briefcase, and pulls out a bundle of papers, placing them into the table.
"Right." She says, a little taken aback at how quickly he wants to get this over with. The Loki she remembers from ten years ago wanted to stretch every brief conversation into hours, in the vain hope that she would change her mind. She didn't.
She takes a seat next to him, and glances down at the papers. A question forms in her mind, one she shouldn't be asking, because she's not sure whether she can deal with the response. "Why now? Why the sudden need? Are you getting married?"
He wants to say yes, just to spite her, just to show her he has moved on and found happiness. But he has never been able to lie to her, and he can't start now. "No." He doesn't explain further, has been warned against it by his lawyer.
The man who never shut up is talking so little. It baffles her. She reaches inside her purse to pull out a pen.
Loki shakes his head, his face suddenly contorted in veiled rage. "Don't. I might steal that one too. Use this." He supplies her with a pen he brought himself.
It stings. She didn't expect him to forget about it, but she had hoped nevertheless. She owes him an apology about it, about everything. "I'm sorry I accused you of stealing." She says sincerely. "Dad told me later that you were doing crosswords that night, and you must have mixed up your pens. But at that point, I just really wanted out of the marriage. I just couldn't-"
"Sylvie." He doesn't raise his voice at all, but it's so commanding, that it makes her stop abruptly mid-sentence. "I don't need you to recount the ways I suffocated you. I just need you to sign the papers."
"Right." She says, a little unnerved and suddenly parched. She reaches for her cup, feels her fingers shake, and then-
"Shit!"
There's coffee spilt all over the divorce papers.
"I am so sorry." She says quickly, wiping at the papers with tissues desperately.
He takes in a deep breath to calm himself. He's never going to hear the end of this from his lawyer, is he? "It's okay." He assures her. "I'll get fresh papers ready and get them to you."
"I don't want to inconvenience you again." She says apologetically. "Maybe I can meet you this time? At your place? Or maybe at work?"
"No, that's not necessary." He says in a measured tone. "I will meet you here again when the papers are ready."
"Okay." She says quietly.
He gets up, and she follows. She reaches for his hand, then hesitates when she sees the cold look in his eyes, and just smiles. "It's really good to see you again, Loki."
He nods, doesn't return the compliment, and he leaves, not even bothering to walk her to her car. Why should he, anyway?
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[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 11 (Part One)
🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒
I’m focusing on the interactions between Gavin and MC, not the plot (because the latter requires extensive time and effort that I can’t spare). So the less essential parts are in bullet-point form :>
Phone calls: First l Second
To investigate an issue related to pathological changes in Evolvers, MC heads to a hospital to talk to the director (who is a genuinely kind man)
While they’re discussing the issue, the alarm suddenly goes off, and two Evolvers barge into the office and bring them to the main lobby
Cutting the drama short: Five Evolvers have taken everyone in the hospital hostage. They don’t have weapons, and are subduing everyone with their Evol. The person leading them is a 43-year-old man called Yang Ping, who has a compression Evol. This means he can exert pressure on surrounding objects at will, and can even destroy a person’s organs
Yang Ping releases the Evolvers, but MC decides to stay because she wants to figure out his plan
MC notices a little girl crying, so she controls her own trembling and comforts the girl:
Girl: T-they suddenly barged in! And they said all of us would become hostages... and that they wanted to negotiate with the STF!
A man without a left hand offers the girl a tissue (this fact sounds really random but it’d make sense later!)
MC tells the girl not to worry because her boyfriend the STF will never lose to someone who isn’t on the side of justice:
MC: As long as that person is around, STF will never cower, and will definitely protect everyone’s safety.
The STF arrives at the scene, and Yang Ping uses a row of doctors as a meat shield while he negotiates with the STF
Gavin is in complete Commander Mode™:
Gavin: Your actions have amounted to “endangering public safety”. Release the hostages right now, and the STF will take this into consideration for leniency in punishment.
The moment I hear Gavin’s voice, I finally heave a sigh of relief.
He seems to be standing among a small formation towards the front. Even though I can’t see his face clearly, I know he’s there.
At this moment, it’s as though all the fear is gently pried open by a gust of formless wind, and the leaves outside sway slightly.
As though it’s saying - Don’t be afraid.
Yang Ping states that the recent series of Evolver assassinations and Evolvers going missing shows how they aren’t being protected sufficiently. He demands for the STF to promise to change the way Evolvers are managed, and to give them better privileges and protection. If the STF refuses, they’d start dealing with the hostages one by one
MC spots Gavin with his team, and thinks he can’t see her from where he is
The little girl starts crying again, and it annoys one of the kidnappers. MC is worried he’d harm the girl, so MC speaks up, admitting that she’s an Evolver and that she fully agrees with what Yang Ping said. She tries to reason that hurting a civilian would be ruining the entire plan because they’re the bargaining chips to negotiating with the STF. If any of the civilians were to be harmed, STF would never listen to their requests
The kidnapper recognises MC as a suspect of the assassination incidents, which makes MC think that there’s more to this kidnapping situation than merely waiting privileges and protection
After all, aside from a few people in STF, no one should know that she’s a suspect i.e. there might be a spy in STF PLEASE DON’T BE TANG CHAO LOL
-
Now, we switch to Gavin’s perspective of the same events
He has received surveillance footage of what's going on in the hospital, and is discussing the issue with Tang Chao and Eli while figuring out how best to get the hostages out...
All of a sudden, Gavin’s pupils widen slightly, eyes focused on one spot, and he freezes.
In the footage, after a stream of Evolvers have left, a girl remains at the same spot. She glances around her surroundings, then smiles as she says something to a little girl, and appears to be consoling the other party quietly.
At this moment, he feels as though his heart has stopped.
What’s she doing here?!
Gavin realises that his right hand is trembling. He clenches it into a tight fist, fingertips buried in his palm, silently turning white.
His mind is a complete blank. All he wants to do is rush in and bring the girl out safely.
Gavin closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. When he opens his eyes again, they are filled with an even colder aura.
The sound of his beating heart in his chest gets louder with each beat, as though questioning his forced facade of calmness.
He watches as MC talks to the kidnapper, and realises that MC is using this method to show that she has faith in him
At this point, a call from the “other side” tells him to give up on negotiations and rescue the hostages using force
But Gavin refuses because there’s still time to negotiate, the hostages would be put at great risk, and STF will only use force when truly necessary
The “other side” says it’s an order. So Gavin says that the STF will handle problems using its own ways and hangs up LOL
Tang Chao: Captain Gavin, no matter what you say, the Special Operations Team will only listen to your orders.
Eli: Same for the STF.
A chilly wind brushes the faces of everyone on the scene, but the trust and determination in their eyes remain resolute.
Eli: Also, we aren’t the only ones in this battle.
Gavin smiles, returning his gaze to the small figures in the footage. The girl is standing before the man firmly, reminiscent of a flower that can never be destroyed.
Gavin: She’s always been very brave.
The smile on his lips is abruptly tucked away. Gavin leans in closer to the screen, and sees that the girl is being brought closer to the entrance by one of the kidnappers.
--Every nerve in his body tenses up once again.
-
And we return to MC’s perspective
As the negotiations progress, Yang Ping tells the kidnappers to bring all the doctors back inside, except one
MC figures out that all this time, the real objective of the kidnappers is to test the STF
Gavin steps forward:
Ever since Gavin and I parted ways at the STF the last time, I haven’t seen him again.
Even though I’ve been asked to report my activities to STF at regular timings, Gavin has been very busy during this period of time, and I haven’t seen him much.
Looking at Gavin in front of me, it seems as though everything else in the world are kept outside a screen, and I can only see his eyes.
His hair is a little fuzzy, but he still looks unstoppable. It’s just that while his eyes have always been determined, they now carry an almost imperceptible worry.
I smile, wanting to tell him that I'm fine. Gavin’s gaze lingers on my face of a few seconds. When he sees my smile, he blinks, then shifts his eyes to the man.
The man and Gavin exchange glances for a few seconds. The corners of his lips simply tug upwards, pushing me around five metres away from Gavin.
Even though it looks like I’m a supporter whom he has incited, I know that I’m just another hostage.
Yang Ping gives Gavin a choice - If Gavin pushes that one doctor out of the window, the kidnappers will release everyone in the hospital and will turn themselves in. But if he chooses to save the doctor, he’d blow up the entire hospital
Basically, the kidnappers are trying to stir hate towards STF because no matter which option he picks, it’s going to cause public uproar
Gavin is quick to point out that the kidnappers haven’t directly hurt any of the civilians. Because they are representing Evolvers, they can’t hurt anyone or it’d give all Evolvers a bad name
Gavin, who represents the STF, has to find a perfect way to resolve this matter - no one can die, even the kidnappers
What he says are actually hints on what MC should do
MC gets it - she pretends to fall to the ground, and cuts her own arm with a dagger she’s hidden
The reason for this is because Yang Ping’s plan rests entirely on his status as “helping Evolvers”. If MC manages to show that Yang Ping would hurt Evolvers too, his plan would fail
While Yang Ping is shocked, Gavin rushes forward and flips Yang Ping onto the ground. The Special Operations Team rush out and arrest them using Evol-neutralising handcuffs
Gavin arrests Yang Ping:
Gavin: Evolvers and humans - neither will be sacrificed, including you. If you think there’s only a superficial peace and balance now, and that you can’t see normal civilians and Evolvers walking down a common path, just open your eyes and look. I’ll walk down that path.
It dawns on MC that she barely made it out of this situation alive, and she shivers. Then, she’s drawn into someone’s arms:
Lifting my head, I see that Gavin’s handsome eyebrows are scrunched up. His hand is holding bandages he took from the medics.
Gavin: You were supposed to pretend. Why did you actually cut yourself?
MC: Doesn't this have a greater impact? It’s more realistic.
He sighs slightly, holding my wounded arm gently and bandaging it meticulously.
Watching as Gavin leans over as he helps me with the bandage, the fear I had suppressed earlier suddenly pour out from my heart like a tidal wave.
MC: I won’t be this rash next time.
Gavin: There won’t be a next time.
When our eyes meet, I see the worry and earnestness in Gavin’s eyes.
MC: Okay, there won’t be a next time.
Thinking that the matter has been settled, MC waves at the hospital’s director from afar, and he smiles at her
A red dot suddenly appears on his forehead, and Gavin tries to rush to the director... but he’s too late, and the director is shot by a sniper... T^T
MC is dumbfounded as she takes in everything that’s happening - shrill cries from the crowd, the STF members who are once again on guard, and the director on the ground
Gavin kneels behind the director. Perhaps if he made it a second earlier, he could have prevented this tragedy.
The STF uniform, which has always been white, is now dyed completely red. There are specks of blood on his face, and droplets of blood roll down the sides of his face slowly.
He kneels in place, and doesn’t turn back for a very long time. The hands at his side tremble slightly, and he quickly balls them into fists.
After a long while, Gavin turns his head expressionlessly, looking at a shocked Yang Ping.
Yang Ping shakes his head repeatedly, muttering softly as he backs away.
Yang Ping: No... this isn’t right...
He stops backing away, as though something dawned on him. Then, he suddenly bursts out laughing.
Yang Ping: ...looks like the people from GRAY RHINO are even better.
In the next second, the sound of a gunshot once again fills the air.
Yang Ping is standing in position, and I watch as blood spatters from his temple.
His eyes are wide open, is in a daze for a moment before toppling to the ground.
Another patch of crimson spreads on the ground. Yang Ping’s twitches slightly, as though saying something, yet no sound comes out.
His eyes remain open till the end, staring at Gavin.
I’m in a state of shock as I take everything in, and feel unsteady on my feet.
An incredibly icy aura exudes from Gavin’s body. He stands up slowly, like a silent volcano.
Gavin: Who was it... who fired the gun?!!
I seem to hear something which had been crumbling finally caving in.
-
MC gets home somehow and falls asleep LOL same
At the STF office, the Special Operations Team are gathered and there’s a really heavy atmosphere in the air
Tang Chao verifies that the bullet that shot Yang Ping wasn’t from the STF’s sniping team. Another member pipes up and adds that even so, it belongs to STF
Gavin asks for further details, but another officer reports that there are no leads. There’s a possibility that an Evolver did it
Gavin orders them to investigate properly
And sounds really fierce (つω`｡)
Afterwards, Gavin walks along the street and some random man without a left hand steps out of an alley and greets him with: “Captain Gavin, this is the first time we’re meeting.”
-
By the time I’m roused awake from the heavy downpour, it’s already late at night.
With a sigh, I get up from the sofa and decide to draw the curtains.
Large droplets of rain continuously pelt onto the ground. I stare outside the window in a daze. When my eyes focus, I see a familiar figure downstairs.
MC: ...Gavin?
Taking an umbrella, I rush downstairs. Gavin’s profile enters my vision -- and my heart is tugged.
I have no idea how long he’s been standing in the rain, and his entire self seems to be soaked in it.
The rain has soaked his entire body. Drenched hair sticks to the sides of his face, water droplets continuously sliding off his chin.
The STF uniform is in a mess, sticking to his body. The organisation’s emblem on his chest has been washed till it has lost its metal shine.
I step out of the apartment building slowly, rain pouring down.
I suddenly recall the night he spent accompanying me in the rain a very long time ago.
--it’s as though he’s lost his drive, removed all his defences, and it gives one heartache and sadness.
I have no idea why Gavin is standing here right now, but across the curtain of rain, I seem to once again see that careful heart.
Gavin seems a little surprised by my appearance. His unfocused pupils constrict slightly, and his shoulders tremble imperceptibly.
Gavin: ...why aren’t you asleep?
MC: ...if I were asleep, were you planning to stand in the rain for an entire night?
I walk over slowly, lifting the transparent umbrella over our heads. Rainwater patters against the surface of the umbrella, becoming the only sound in this silence.
Gavin doesn’t speak. His eyes, which have always been shining with light, seem to be layered with the colour of the gray clouds overhead, and an unspeakable dullness.
There’s neither grief nor anger in them. All that’s left is helplessness.
Very slowly, his lips finally twitch slightly, breaking the silence.
Gavin: Aren’t you going to ask?
MC: Nope. If you want to talk, I’ll listen and resolve the problem with you. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll keep you company as we stand here, then...
Gavin: Then?
MC: Trust you.
I smile as I reach out, brushing the drenched fringe in front of his forehead, revealing his beautiful amber eyes.
MC: No matter what happens, I’ll always trust you.
Gavin’s eyes widen slightly. The hands beside him are clenched into fists, trembling slightly.
Gavin: ...you once said that every single one of my bullets are for justice. If you were to find out that perhaps I can’t really do that...
Gavin: ...what would you think?
I’m stunned.
Gavin’s voice is faint, a solid darkness hidden in his words.
His entire self seems to be encumbered by a layer of thick sheet of iron. His back is straight, as though waiting for a final judgment.
MC: I’d look for the truth behind it.
Gavin purses his lips and doesn’t say a word. But I know that he’s waiting for my answer solemnly.
MC: Even if there was really such a bullet, I’d want to further verify why that bullet strayed from its course. And whether, at that point of time when the situation happened, there was really a violation of justice?
Gavin watches me quietly, and I smile as I look at him.
MC: No matter what reason you had for standing there, and for shooting that bullet, you would have done so based on what you saw, heard, and the result of thinking. And I believe in it, and I believe in your judgment at that point of time. That bullet definitely has its meaning.
I say these things instinctively, hoping to give him even the slightest bit of support and courage.
The dim streetlights meld into the water droplets, reflecting into Gavin’s eyes.
The rain gradually lightens. The air Gavin breathes out turns into a white patch of mist in the air.
Gavin: I’ll find the truth behind this matter. I can’t use “I don’t know the true state of affairs” as an excuse. If it’s something I’ve done, I should take responsibility.
Gavin takes the umbrella in my hand, his eyes carrying with them resoluteness and certainty.
Gavin: I don’t want to fail to live up to your trust, but I... have to face up to the truth. To give you, and to give those who no longer have a voice, a genuine explanation.
-
Two days pass after that rainy evening
Even though MC doesn’t know what Gavin is up to, she can tell that it’s something important and dangerous
She’s at STF to give her regular report, and Gavin walks into the room. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks thinner and more pallid, and she knows that he’s been working very hard to live up to that promise
I think of comforting him, wanting to tell him not to overdo it, and to take care of his health.
However, the moment I open my mouth, all my emotions morph into a dry greeting.
MC: Gavin, have you been really busy lately?
Gavin doesn’t respond. He simply places his palms on the table between us, his expression solemn as he comes closer to me.
Gavin: Are you investigating the Evol assassinations?
MC: Of course. I’m still a suspect, so I need to think of ways to clear myself of suspicion.
Gavin: This matter could be even more serious than you imagine.
Looking at Gavin’s somewhat resigned expression, I smile.
MC: Things have already reached this stage. What could be even more serious than this? Don’t worry, I know what I'm doing. But are you going to do something dangerous again? You’ve got to take care of yourself. If you need my help, just say it. After all, I’m Nox from Black Swan!
I deliberately use a light-hearted tone, and the corners of Gavin’s lips tug upwards as well.
Gavin: Proudly saying that you’re from Black Swan in the STF - you don’t want to leave, do you?
MC: ...
I freeze. Only when I see the teasing glint in Gavin’s eyes do I realise that he’s toying with me.
At the same time, I release a sigh of relief. At least Gavin is still in the mood for jokes.
Gavin: To be honest, what I need to do is indeed very dangerous, and I need more people whom I can trust completely. With your help, my investigation will definitely progress much more smoothly.
He lifts his head to look into my eyes directly. The light in his amber eyes reveal trust and sincerity.
I’m left astounded. Receiving such an invitation from Gavin for the first time makes my mind lag a little.
MC: Gavin, what you're saying is... that you’re letting me help you?
Gavin: You didn’t mishear.
The faint scent on his body fills my surroundings. In my trance, I even think that a gentle breeze brushed my cheek.
Gavin: ...of course, from my personal perspective, I wouldn’t want you to be involved in such matters. So, you’re free to reject.
MC: Why would I reject! I’m really happy to be of help.
Gavin stares deeply at my smiling face. After a long time, he reveals a somewhat relieved and resigned smile.
Gavin: Thank you, MC.
Part two: here
#mlqc#mlqc cn#mlqc spoilers#mlqc gavin#I split this into two because Tumblr tends to eat my screenshots if there are too many HAHA
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Out Of Time ~ 102
MASTERLIST
< previous chapter
Word Count: 4,000ish
Summary: A group goes to Korea. Tony convinces Bruce to help finish putting the Stone in the body.
Y/N was walking out to the quinjet with Fury, dying to ask a question.
“Are you going through with Theta Protocol?” Y/N asked, quietly.
“I am,” Fury answered. “I believe we’ll need it. Don’t you?”
“As much as I want to believe we can end it in Korea, I have a feeling it won’t end there.”
“Coulson contacted me. Tried to get me to convince you to stay out of this. Any idea why?”
“He’s worried.”
“Nothing to do with the sudden ability to create portals?”
“Nick—“
“I’m just saying, I don’t usually sit people out. But you should think about sitting this one out.”
“It’s too late. I’m already in this.”
“Alright, just… stay safe.”
~~~
Steve and Y/N were dropped off a few roofs down from Cho’s lab, for safety measures. They headed towards the edge of the roof and looked towards the lab.
“Two minutes,” Steve told Nat and Clint, who were on comms. “Stay close.” He glanced at Y/N before looking back at the lab. “You know, I really wish that you could just open a portal into the building.”
“You and me both,” she replied.
Steve jumped from roof to roff as Y/N used her portals to get to each roof. When they reached the lab building and entered, it was clear that Ultron and been there but also wasn’t there anymore. They found Helen on the floor, wounded.
“Dr. Cho!” Steve exclaimed as they ran to her. They knelt beside her.
“He’s uploading himself into the body,” she stated, clearly in pain.
“Where?” Y/N asked.
“The real power is inside the Cradle. The gem, its power is uncontainable…. You can't just blow it up… You have to get the Cradle to Stark.”
“First we have to find it,” Steve said.
“Go.”
They ran out of the lab and towards the highway. They began to climb up the ladder to get to higher ground.
“Did you guys copy that?” Steve asked through the comms.
“We did,” Clint responded.
“I got a private jet taking off, across town, no manifest,” Natasha informed them. “That could be him.”
“There. It’s the truck from the lab. Right above you guys. On the loop by the bridge. It’s them. I got three with the cradle, one int he cab. I could take out the driver.”
“Negative!” Y/N quickly said. “If that truck crashes, the gem could level the city.”
“We need to draw out, Ultron,” Steve stated.
Steve jumped down onto the truck, getting Ultron’s attention. Y/N rolled her eyes and formed a portal above the truck, accessing it that way. Trying to get through the doors of the truck, Steve and the doors are blasted back by Ultron.
“Well, he’s definitely unhappy!” Steve commented, hanging onto the door as it got dragged. “I’m gonna try and keep him that way.”
“You’re not a match for him, Cap,” Clint said.
“Thanks, Barton.”
Ultron blasted at Steve as he tried to enter the truck. Steve hit the windshield of the car behind them. Y/N ran and flipped into the truck, dodging a blast from Ultron by creating portals. The blast came through a portal behind Ultron, hitting him in the back.
Steve found a way back onto the roof of the truck, Y/N appearing at the same time to avoid a blast. Ultron hovered at the end of the truck’s roof.
“You know what's in that Cradle?” Ultron asked. “The power to make real change, and that terrifies you.”
“I wouldn’t call it a comfort,” Steve commented.
He tossed his shield at Ultron. It hit Ultron and he started firing back. Y/N used the portals to use the blasts against Ultron, once again.
“Get in and protect the gem!” Steve ordered.
Y/N nodded. She appeared in the truck, where two Ultron bots were guarding the cradle. They began shooting at her. She used the portals again to her advantage, but she could feel her energy being drained. Natasha was now on a motorcycle, chasing after the truck. She noticed Y/N fighting off the two bots by herself while Steve was fighting off the main Ultron bot on the roof.
“Clint, can you draw out the guards?” Natasha ordered through the comms.
“Let’s find out,” Clint responded.
He flew the quinjet lower and fired at the main Ultron bot. That put the other two into protective mode, going after the quinjet.
“Thanks, Barton,” Y/N panted.
She went over to the cradle’s control panel, to see what she could do, as commotion continued through the comms.
“Heading back towards you,” Clint warned. “So whatever you’re going to do, do it now.”
“I’m going in,” Nat said. “Cap, can you keep him occupied?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Steve responded.
Nat jumped into the truck as the Ultron bots lifted it off the ground.
“I can’t access the panel,” Y/N stated. “I can’t stop whatever’s happening. Unless…” Y/N looked at the Stone. “I could—“
“No,” Nat stated. “Not here. Don’t you dare and try to do something that could kill you in this truck.”
“But, Nat, I could protect the—“
“I said no, Rogers!”
“Okay, package is airborne,” Clint stated over the comms. “I have a clean shot.”
“Negative,” Nat responded. “Y/N and I are still in the truck.”
“What the hell are you—“
“Just be ready, we’re sending the package to you.”
“How do you want me to take it?”
Nat cut through the straps holding the cradle in place. “Uhh, you might wish you hadn’t asked that.”
“I lost him!” Steve suddenly yelled over the comms. “He’s headed your way.”
“Guys, we gotta go,” Clint said, lining up the back of the quinjet with the back of the truck.
“Nat, get on the cradle!” Y/N ordered. She slipped a small bomb she had from her belt and placed it on the wall.
“What?” She responded.
“Do it!”
Natasha did as she was told and laid on top of the cradle. Y/N pushed it towards the opening. It slid out of the truck and into the quinjet. Y/N portaled herself out of the truck and into the quinjet just as the truck exploded. Suddenly, Nat was grabbed by the Ultron bot.
“Nat!” Both Clint and Y/N screamed.
“Cap, you see Nat?” Clint asked, panicked.
“If you have the package, get it to Stark!” Steve ordered. “Go!”
“Steve, do you have eyes on Nat?” Y/N asked.
“Go!”
“Damn it,” Clint muttered as he reluctantly took off in the quinjet.
“I should have portaled both of us in here,” Y/N shook her head. “I should have done something to save her.”
Clint was silent, but his thoughts were loud and clear, “Yeah. You should have.”
~~~
Y/N portaled the cradle and Clint into the lab, but not herself. She wanted time to feel the guilt, and she didn’t need the looks of blame from Bruce and Tony just yet. She was also tired. She had been practicing forming portals but she hadn’t used them in combat like she had today. Leaning her head back against the seat, Y/N closed her eyes and tried to calm the noise in her mind. It failed as the loudest mind of all drew near.
“She can’t be blaming herself over this,” Tony thought. “He would have grabbed one of them to prove a point anyway. And, sorry Nat, better you then Y/N.”
Tony came up and set a caring hand on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb.
“Heard what happened over the comms,” he said, spinning the captain’s chair around. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Clint blames me,” she replied.
“You don’t kno—“
“But I do! I know it because I heard it. Yes, he didn’t say it out loud, but in his thoughts he was blaming me. I—“ Y/N gripped her hair. “I can’t do this! This burden is too much! I don’t want it anymore!”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Tony’s hands flew to Y/N’s wrists. “Honey…”
“I can’t do it!” She cried. “I can’t do what they’re expecting of me. They should have let me die!”
“What are you talking about?” Tony tried to pull Y/N closer to him. “No, they shouldn’t have.”
“Stop! Don’t touch me!”
Tony’s hands suddenly flew off of Y/N. His eyes widened at the action that he had no control over.
“Sweetheart….” He gently called. “What did the Maximoff witch show you?”
A loud, painful sob ripped through Y/N throat as the vision she was shown flashed through her mind. So much death and destruction. Crumbling in on herself, she slipped onto the floor. Tony’s heart broke as he watched the strongest woman he knew fall apart. He slowly knelt down beside her, carefully reaching out to touch her. When Y/N didn’t flinch away from his touch, Tony gently guided her hands out of her hair.
“Y/N… please tell me what you saw.”
“Dust,” she replied, barely a whisper. “Screams… so many screams…”
“It wasn’t real, Y/N, remember?”
“It felt real…. So real…”
“I know the feeling…” Tony slowly pulled Y/N up and into him, cradling her softly.
“I shouldn’t have been saved….”
“Whatever those alien objects are making you feel, I’m grateful that they’ve been saving you… or else I wouldn’t have ever met you… and I can’t imagine my life without you.” He held a kiss to her head. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll get through it… we always do…”
~~~
Y/N gripped Tony’s hand tightly as he led her back to the lab. Bruce was entering as well as Clint tried to open the cradle.
“Anything on Nat?” Bruce asked.
“Haven’t heard,” Tony answered, giving Y/N’s hand a light squeeze. “But she’s alive, or Ultron’d be rubbing our faces in it.”
“This is sealed tight,” Clint stated.
“We’re going to need to access the program, break it down from within,” Bruce explained.
“Hm,” Tony hummed. "Any chance Natasha might leave you a message, outside the internet, old school spy stuff?”
“There’s some nets I can cast,” Clint responded. “Yeah, alright. I'll find her.” And he headed off.
“How about you sit here?” Tony guided Y/N down into a seat, kissing her forehead. “Does that work?” She nodded.
Bruce eyes were laced with concern, but moved on, not wanting to say anything that would set anything off. “I can work on tissue degeneration, if you can fry whatever operational system Cho implanted.”
“Yeah, about that…”
“No.”
“You have to trust me.” Y/N furrowed her brows.
“Kinda don’t.”
“Our ally? The guy protecting the military's nuclear codes? I found him.” Tony pulled up a consciousness.
“Hello, Dr. Banner, Agent Rogers,” JARVIS greeted.
“J?” Y/N gasped. She didn’t realize how much she could miss an AI.
“Ultron didn't go after JARVIS cause he was angry. He attacked him because he was scared of what he can do,” Tony explained. “So JARVIS went underground. Okay? Scattered, dumped his memory. But not his protocols. He didn't even know he was in there, until I pieced him together.”
“So, you want me to help you put JARVIS into this thing?” Bruce asked, pointing to the body inside the cradle.
“No, of course not! I want to help you put JARVIS in this thing.” Bruce shook his head. “We're out of my field here. You know bio-organics better than anyone.”
“And you just assume that JARVIS' operational matrix can beat Ultron’s?”
“JARVIS has been beating him from inside without knowing it. This is the opportunity, we can create Ultron's perfect self, without the homicidal glitches he thinks are his winning personality. We have to.”
“I believe it’s worth a go,” JARVIS added.
“No, I’m in a loop!” Bruce exclaimed. “I'm caught in a time loop, this is exactly where it all went wrong.”
“I know, I know. I know what everyone's going to say, but they're already saying it,” Tony said, moving to standing next to Bruce. “We're mad scientists. We're monsters, buddy. You gotta own it. Make a stand.” Bruce shook his head again. “It's not a loop. It's the end of the line.”
Feeling the sudden need to try something, Y/N stood up, the men eyeing her. She pressed her hand against the glass above the Stone and closed her eyes. She began searching it, as it searched her.
“You’re the only one,” it told her. “There’s no other option.”
“But what if I don’t want to?” She responded.
“Then half of the universe will die… I will be safe in this body, as long as JARVIS is in control and not Ultron. And I will help guide and protect you.”
“Y/N?” Tony called, growing concerned as the Stone had began glowing. “Y/N, what’s going on?”
“Just tell me one thing, when?” Y/N asked. “When does this all happen?”
“Soon,” the Stone replied. “But there are several things that must happen before then… You will be prepared though. We would not have chosen you if you weren’t going to be.”
“Y/N,” Tony called louder, coming up beside her.
With a light gasp, Y/N removed her hand and looked at Tony. “Do it,” she said. “Do it.”
~~~
“This framework is not compatible,” Tony stated. The men were experimenting with the cradle, trying to upload JARVIS.
“The genetic coding tower’s at ninety seven percent,” Bruce informed. “You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes.”
Suddenly, Steve and the Maximoff twins appeared in the lab.
“I’m gonna say this once,” Steve warned.
“How about ‘nonce’?” Tony retorted.
“Shut it down!”
“Nope, not gonna happen.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“And you do?” Bruce asked, clearly angry. “She's not in your head?”
“I know you’re angry—“ Wanda said, stepping up.
“Oh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.”
“Banner,” Steve called, “after everything that’s happened—“
“That’s nothing compared to what’s coming!” Y/N shouted, surprising Steve.
“You don’t know what’s in there!” Wanda responded.
“This isn’t a game, Y/N,” Steve scolded. “How are you taking his side?”
“His side?” Y/N repeated. “This isn’t about sides, Steve! This has more to do than just us!”
“The creature—“ Wanda started but was cut off by Pietro using his speed to destroy the lab equipment.
“No, no. Go on,” Pietro taunted. “You were saying?”
Suddenly, the glass floor Pietro was standing on shattered, sending him to the floor below. Barton was there, being the one who had shot the floor.
“Pietro!” Wanda yelled.
“What? You didn’t see that coming?” Clint taunted.
The computers in the lab and the cradle began beeping. The sudden power loss was going to destroy everything they had done.
“I’m rerouting the upload!” Tony said.
Then a bang. Steve had thrown his shield at the equipment, trying to stop Tony. Tony called the suit to him, it quickly forming around him. He shot at Steve, throwing him down. Bruce went around to Wanda, holding her in a choke hold as her eyes began to glow red.
“Go ahead,” Bruce whispered to her. “Piss me off.”
Clint came rushing up the stairs, cocking his gun. Steve quickly jumped up and started heading for Tony. Tony heading for him as well. Y/N jumped in between the two men, getting frustrated at what was happening.
“STOP!” She shouted. Suddenly, everyone froze. Y/N could feel it was her doing, her energy draining.
“Y/N, how are—“ Steve began.
“NO! You don’t understand, this is needed.”
Thor suddenly slid into the lab, making his grand entrance after 24 hours. Him and Y/N made eye contact.
“I know the truth,” he thought, directly speaking to her. “I can help.”
She nodded and he jumped onto the cradle. Thor lifted up his hammer and began to summon lightning.
“Wait!” Bruce yelled.
But it was too late. Thor hit down on the cradle with his hammer. He lifted the hammer once the cradle started beeping.
“Y/N, let us go,” Tony said.
“No,” she replied.
Everyone eyed her worriedly, while still trying to watch the cradle. They grew more concerned when they noticed that she was breaking a sweat and trembling.
“Y/N—“
But Steve was cut off when the cradle burst opened, throwing Thor off from on top of it. The red body appeared on top of the cradle, housing the Mind Stone on its forehead. Y/N panted as she released everyone from her hold. They all stared at the body.
Suddenly, the body flew at Thor. Thor tossed him through the glass wall and into the room below. Thor and Steve jumped out behind him, on the defensive, as Tony quickly came up to Y/N.
“Honey,” he called, grabbing her to steady her.
“If you and Steve… ever try to attack each other like that again…” Y/N panted. “I’ll kill you both myself…”
She shrugged off Tony and headed down the stairs, Tony slowly following behind her. The red body was hovering at the main wall of windows, staring at its reflection. Thor had his hand out, telling Steve not to attack. Thor set his hammer down and made his way toward the body. It flew down, changing its appearance to seem like it was wearing clothes, stopping when it was next to Thor.
“I am sorry,” his voice sounded like JARVIS, “That was… odd.” He looked at Thor. “Thank you.”
“Thor,” Steve’s authoritative voice rang through the room. “You helped create this?”
“I had a vision,” Thor started, glancing at Y/N. “A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center is that.” He pointed to the Mind Stone.
“What?” Bruce questioned. “The gem?”
“It’s the Mind Stone,” Thor continued, glancing at Y/N once again as she tensed. Steve noticed as well. “It’s one of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.”
“Then why would you bring—“ Steve started.
“Because Stark is right.”
“Oh, it’s definitely the end times,” Bruce commented.
“I’m not the only one who knows this.” Thor made eye contact with Y/N, causing everyone to look at her. “The Avengers can not defeat Ultron.”
“Not alone,” the body added, walking closer to everyone.
“Why does your vision sound like JARVIS?” Steve asked.
“We… we reconfigured JARVIS’ matrix to create something new,” Tony replied. He walked around the man, studying him carefully.
“I think I’ve had my fill of new,” Steve commented, shooting a glance Y/N’s way.
“You think I’m a child of Ultron?” The body asked.
“You’re not?” Steve questioned.
“I’m not Ultron. I’m not JARVIS. I am… I am…”
“I looked in your head and saw annihilation,” Wanda stated.
“Look again.”
“Yeah,” Clint spoke up. “Her seal of approval means jack to me.”
“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Y/N—“ Thor stopped himself as Y/N frantically shook her head. Thor quickly continued, “Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone, and they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side—“
“Is it?” Steve asked. “Are you? On our side?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” it responded.
“Well it better get really simple real soon,” Clint growled.
“I am on the side of life. Ultron isn't, he will end it all.”
“What’s he waiting for?” Tony asked.
“You.”
“Where?” Bruce wondered.
“Sokovia,” Clint answered. “He’s got Nat there too.”
“If we're wrong about you, if you're the monster that Ultron made you to be—“
“What will you do?” It questioned, silencing everyone.
“It’s not a monster,” Y/N responded, stepping forward. She kept her eyes on the Stone. “Trust me.”
“I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go.”
Suddenly, the body lifted Thor’s hammer, handed it to the god. Thor took and at the body walked off as everyone stared in shock.
“Right,” Thor nodded. He walked over to Tony, patting him on the shoulder. “Well done.”
“Three minutes,” Steve ordered. “Get what you need.”
Thor walked over to Y/N, grabbing her arm as he led her away.
“Hey!” Tony called out, causing everyone to notice. “What are you doing?”
“We need to talk,” Thor responded, getting leading her away.
Y/N looked back at the rest of the team, who were hurt and confused. “We’ll be right back,” she said. Opening a portal, the two appeared on the roof of the Tower. “So… you know?”
“Yes.”
“About what though, exactly?”
“The Infinity Stones are what give you your gifts. They are what is protecting you.” Y/N sighed with a nod. “I’m getting that you haven’t told anyone the full extent of everything.”
“How could I? Tony had a vision of us all dead in front of him and that’s why we’re now going to fight a murder bot! If I told any of them that the Stones were saving me for a bigger threat….” She scoffed. “They would lock me up and throw away the key.”
“They wouldn’t do that to you. Stark and Rogers care a great deal about you.”
“They wouldn’t if they’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
“Are you sufficiently practicing your abilities?”
“I only learn about them as the Stones see fit.”
“Good, good.” He nodded. “Do you feel up to fighting Ultron, Y/N?”
“Please don’t doubt me too, Thor.”
“I’m not. I just saw how much of a strain that was, stopping everyone. I want to make sure you have your full strength before heading in.”
“I’ll be fine, Thor. We should get back to the team… They aren’t going to be happy about this.”
“I will help you, Y/N. They won’t be able to hurt you.”
Y/N gave a small nod as she created a portal and her and Thor entered the Tower again. Y/N drew back as she saw the anger in Steve’s eyes and the hurt in Tony’s. Noticing it as well, Thor protectively stepped in front of her.
“This needs to stop,” Thor ordered. “We have bigger problems than what’s going on with Y/N at the moment.”
“You don’t know what you’re—“
“I do know what’s going on here, Stark. And I know it can wait until after Ultron.”
“We’re just asking her to be honest with us,” Steve stated.
“And I’m just asking for some time,” Y/N responded, meekly.
“I think you’ve had enough. How long have you known about the Infinity Stones?”
“Steve, please und—“
“How long, Y/N?! How long have you decided to keep things from this team? From your family? You are my twin, the only one I have ever really trusted! But now—“
“That’s enough!” Thor roared, lightning cracking. Thor’s Vision appeared behind Y/N before moving in front of her to protect her as well. “Like I said before, this isn’t something we should worry about now. Ultron first, this later.”
“Come on,” the Vision said, urging Y/N to move. She did, slowly following him to the quinjet.
next chapter >
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#avengers x reader#the avengers x reader#tony stark x reader#iron man x reader#tony stark#Tony Stark fanfiction#tony stark imagine#Iron Man#iron man fanfiction#The Avengers#Avengers#avengers age of ultron#age of ultron#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine
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students on duty; Bang Chan
warnings: Dom!ClassPresident!Chan; Brat!Fem!reader; classroom sex; spanking; blowjob; face fucking; oral; unprotected sex(stay safe pls); slight hair pulling; spitting; dirty talk; overstimulation; choking; i think that’s it
word count: 1747; proof read: i think so; requested: ye!
You placed your hand on your boyfriend's thigh, his muscles tensing up immediately at how bold you were. It was no secret you two were dating, the whole school knew, but Chan wasn’t as comfortable with being touchy in public as you were, and you took full advantage of his weakness. He tried his best to continue talking to Minho, the teacher was paying more attention to his phone rather than the class, it didn’t really bother you though, most days it worked in your favour. “I’d die for Baskin Robbins Maple Nut” “Yeah I’m sure you’d like some nut” Minho’s suggestive comment earned him a playful punch to the arm. When the bell rang the teacher got up and wished everyone a nice weekend before quickly exiting the room, passing the responsibility of the class to Chan, who nudged your hand off of his lap to stand up. Your eyes followed him as he made his way to the front desk of the room.
“You’re really gonna make him mad Y/n” Minho turned to you “What do you think I’m trying to do?” you shot back. Minho was the only one of your friend group in your class, and he was well aware of your shenanigans. “Watch this” you said, just as Chan was finishing up his short speech, you stood up and instead sat down on Minho’s lap. The boy didn’t seem to mind your “friendly” gesture, the class president was clearly bothered though, shooting glares at you every once in a while.
“Alright everyone, I know you’re dying to go home, so I’m gonna wrap this up quickly, remember to bring your favourite candy on Monday for the celebration and have a nice weekend- Oh and the students on duty today are Y/n and I” he threw a harsh look in your direction. Minho held your waist to lift you up as he got up “Would love to stay and have some fun sweetheart but I think someone’s not very happy with you” he tilted his head towards Chan before waving at you with a wink and walking out of the classroom. You started to clean up while the other students left the classroom, waving bye to your friends and pretending you didn’t feel the class president staring a hole into the back of your head. As soon as the last person that was in the room left and closed the door Chan walked over to you, pinning your body between his and the desk. You could already feel his hard dick through his pants.
“Channie” you whined breathily, he was staring daggers into you “Don’t try to act like my bitch now” you bit your lip, contemplating what to do next just to irk him further. You grazed the outline of his dick in his pants, he grabbed your wrist instantly, turning you around and bending you over the desk causing your skirt to ride up, exposing your thong to him “You just can’t seem to behave can you?” He landed a hard smack onto your ass “You’re going to count these, got it?” another hard slap “Yes sir -One..” slap “two” slap “three”. The sting was intoxicating, he got to 30 before he decided it had been enough for now, you could feel your ass was gonna be bruised the next few days.
He turned you around again, pushing you down to your knees. You eagerly took to undoing his belt and zipper, producing a chuckle from you boyfriend. His cock sprang free from the confines of his underwear, your mouth watered at the view, and you took no time to wrap your lips and hands around his shaft, licking the tip before taking him in your mouth fully, making him shiver and sigh in pleasure. “So hungry for my cock aren’t you” you looked up at him from your position, with each bob of your head you took him deeper into your mouth. He was breathing heavily, relishing in the feeling of your tongue swirling around him. He groaned, grabbing your hair and shoving his cock to the back of your throat, your nose touching his stomach. Tears brimmed your eyes, he was fucking your mouth roughly, only giving you a second to breathe when he pulled out only to snap his hips again. “You like this don’t you whore? Anyone could walk in right now and catch you choking on my cock” you whined at his question. He took his cock out of your mouth, watching as saliva mixed with his precum dripped down your chin.
“Channie please” you mewled, your voice raspy from the abuse it had been subjected to. He took pity on you, if only for the time being, he grabbed you by your waist, hoisting you up on the desk and opening your legs. He stood between them placing his hands on the desk on either side of you, “You’ve been such a brat today you know that?” he growled, you observed his face, only centimeters away from yours, but failed to find any trace of real anger, he was having just as much fun as you were, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you cooed, he laughed a fake laugh, taking your hair in his hand “You better keep quiet now, or I’m going to have to punish you when we get home if anyone hears you, got it?”, you clasped your hand over your lips, nodding enthusiastically “Good, better keep that promise princess”. His free hand dipped under your skirt, fondling your pussy through your damp underwear, “Aw you’re so wet, you probably want to get caught don’t you you little slut”, he moved your underwear to the side and was playing with your clit, you hummed a response, only paying attention to his hands and the wonderful feeling they produced on your body.
He slowly lowered his head, keeping eye contact with you as his tongue dipped out, licking a strip up along your slit, gathering your wetness. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palm harder against your mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. Chan didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, taking his time with lapping up your juices, giving you kitty licks along every bit he could reach. Finally his lips wrapped around your clit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, making your legs quiver. You were so eager to cum, and the thrill of knowing someone could walk in, your high hit you before you knew it. Chan held your legs open whilst sucking on your clit, tongue still moving to help you ride out your orgasm. You ground your hips into his mouth, feeling yourself squeeze around nothing. He didn’t stop though, he didn’t even give you a chance to calm your breathing, instead he stuck two fingers inside of you curling them immediately. You started to shake from the overstimulation, the sounds from your throat were getting harder to contain every time he would thrust his fingers into your cunt, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every stroke. The vibrations of his moans against your pussy is what sent you over the edge the second time. You were trembling from his touches by now, you grabbed at his hair desperately, the boy looked up at you from his position “You think that’s enough slut?” you shook your head “What do you want?”. He knew, and you knew that he knew “Please Chan” he smirked “Please what? Act like a good bitch and beg”
“Please Channie fuck me” you panted, he was not impressed though “You can do better than that and you know it” damn he was persistent “Please fuck me, please fuck me right here, where anyone could walk in and see me getting fucked by your big cock, please Channie” he looked a little happier with this response, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself up with your slit. His hands gripped your hips as he stretched you out, you bit your lip in order to not let out any of the sinful sounds that would alert everyone in the school to what was happening in classroom 5. He took hold of your neck, cutting off your much needed air supply. “You really think you were being so funny back there don’t you? Embarrassing me in front of the whole class” You found yourself panting heavily under him, a knot formed in your tummy for the third time. ”Open your fucking mouth” you did as told, immediately swallowing when he spat in your mouth. “You want them to walk in right now don’t you? What a dirty little whore.” he grunted, his own orgasm had been held off for too long, so to say he was fucking the ever living life out of you would simply be an understatement. The sounds of skin slapping mixed with an occasional choked out whine bounced off the classroom walls. Chan was breathing heavily, with every stroke he felt himself getting closer to filling you up with his seed. His hips started to stutter, knowing he won’t be able to last much longer he used the hand that wasn’t preoccupied with your throat to rub your clit feverishly. You dug your nails into his back as your third orgasm took over you, your body shaking as his muscles tensed finally letting go, spilling his cum into you. He only took a few seconds to calm down, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of you as you laid on the desk exhausted. He quickly went and grabbed some tissues from the teachers desk, handing them to you to clean up. “Maybe I should act like a brat more often?” you chortled, making him laugh as well.
At the moment that he buckled his belt and you were straightening out your skirt the bell rang, not even 10 seconds later the door swung open a pair of familiar eyes peering in from behind the door frame, “Are you guys done? I didn’t think you’d actually do it in school” Minho shot both of you a faux disgusted look “Please tell me you weren’t just standing in front of the door that entire time” you begged “Fuck no that’s gross, I just didn’t wanna walk home alone, I waited in the front of the corridor, keeping watch” the boy winked, “now are you guys done? Let’s go get that Maple Nut”
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Parent Trap
Part 1
A/N: It’s here yall. The Marcus Moreno x Reader Parent Trap AU. There are some swears. Some point of view switching but I note it in bold.
‘Thoughts’ “Speak”
The Hero:
Marcus Moreno was in the middle of meeting with the Heroics. Going over assignments, and potential threats to be on the lookout. He was listening to Miracle Guy talk about something ridiculous when his cellphone went off. He glanced down, and his eyes widen in surprised. It was Missy’s school.
He quickly answered it, saying, “Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Moreno? This is Principal O’Shaughnessy. If you could please come down to the school, as soon as possible. There’s been an incident involving your daughter and two other students,” Came an older male voice.
“I’m on my way,” Marcus got up and rushed out, not caring that he left in the middle of a meeting.
The Artist:
Y/N Graves was a simple woman. She worked as artist, which meant she was often home, elbow deep into whatever project she was working on currently. That was where she was when her phone rang.
She dropped her paint brush to answer it with a cheery, “‘Ello?”
“Miss Graves, this is Principal O’Shaughnessy, your daughter Artemis? Was involved in an incident at school with two other students. If you could please come as soon as possible,” Came a man’s voice.
“Be there soon,” She hung up, quickly cleaning her brushes before she left.
She hopped into her car and drove to the school; thankful it was only a couple blocks away. She made her way inside and to the principal’s office. She stops short when she sees her daughter standing near another little girl, with long curly black hair and dark eyes. Before noticing the third kid, a boy, who was sitting in a plastic chair, with a black eye and tissues up his nose to stop the bleeding.
“What the fu—frick?” She whispered taking in everything with slight horror.
Artemis giggled softly at her almost swearing. She goes to say something to her when she felt someone crash into her from behind. She stumbled forward trying to regain her balance. She turned around to yell but stopped.
“Marcus?” She asked staring at a face she hadn’t seen in years.
“Shade?” He parroted calling her by her nickname, one she hadn’t heard in years.
She then asked, “Please tell me that one is not yours,” pointing at the boy.
“No. The other one behind you,” Marcus said with a chuckle.
Before they could say much more a woman with dyed hair, lululemons and a tank top came in, her voice high-pitched with outrage at the sight of her kid.
“What happened to my baby!?” She screeched out.
The Principal cleared his throat at that time, to gain everyone’s attention. Shade moved over to stand by her daughter, as Marcus did the same.
“Mrs. Delaney, it appears that your son was bullying, Miss Moreno here. Miss Moreno tried to walk away from him several times, but your son continued to follow her, and even began shoving her. That was when Miss Graves stepped in, and punched your son,” Mr. O’Shaughnessy explained reading off an incident report.
“Or at least that was what stated from the teacher’s watching. Miss Moreno, would you like to tell us what happened?” He directed his attention to Marcus’ daughter.
“Tommy was teasing me about not having active powers. He kept saying mean things like ‘oh your dad must be disappointed in having a lame daughter.’ And stuff like that. I tried to walk away from him several times, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Artemis came over and told him to go away. When he didn’t, she punched him, telling him to leave me alone,” Missy recounted staring at the ground.
“What lies! My Tommy would never! I hope you plan on punishing them!” Mrs. Delaney exclaimed angrily.
Shade rolled her eyes to the high heavens and stared at this dramatic woman, pointedly.
“My daughter defended her friend. Against a bully. If anyone should be punished, it should be your kid. It’s not our fault you raised an ass,” Shade sassed, crossing her arms.
Mrs. Delaney gasped in exaggerated horror, even going so far as to covering her son’s ears. The girls giggled quietly at her, and Marcus was trying not to laugh.
“Mrs. Graves, if you could please refrain from the foul language. Mrs. Delaney, I have warned you multiple times about Tommy’s behaviors. This is the last straw. He will be suspended for 2 weeks. As for Miss Graves, seeing as this is your first offense, you will get a warning. I do not tolerate fighting on school grounds, got it?” Mr. O’Shaughnessy cut in.
Mrs. Delaney grabbed her son, muttering something ‘I have never..’ and left.
The kids still have a couple hours left of class, but the principal gave them permission to leave early if they wished. The girls went and got their bags and whatever assignments they were going to miss for the day. Marcus and Shade stood outside by the entrance waiting for them.
The Kids:
Missy looked over at Artemis and asked, “So. You saw our parents act weird when they saw each other right?”
Artemis nodded as she grabbed her jacket and bag. “They clearly know each other. Did you see the way they looked at each?”
“All goo-goo eyed? Yes! I haven’t seen my dad look like that since…” Missy trailed off, thinking in her head, ‘since before my mom passed away.’
Artemis, who had made fast friends with Missy when she moved here a month ago, knew what she was thinking of. Artemis reached out and held her hand, giving it a small squeeze. Missy smiled at her in response and the 2 of them walked out to their parents.
Artemis looked at her mom and Missy’s dad and got an idea, “Mom, can we go get ice cream? I know that fighting is bad and all, but I was defending my friend.”
Her mom sighed, and looked at the two of them, with squinting eyes. She turned to Missy’s dad and said, “What do ya think? Think they’ve earned a treat?”
The Hero:
He looked at the kids and then back at Shade, who had a soft smile. “Sure. Why not?”
The girls cheered and rushed to the cars. “Uh. Pops on 15th St. sound good?” He asked.
“That place still exists? Damn,” Shade chuckled looking off to the side. “Uh. Yeah. Pops sounds good to me. See ya there in a minute.”
Marcus smiled, lightly biting his lip before making his way to his car, as Shade did the same.
Missy was already in the backseat, buckled up and ready to go. The drive to Pops was a quick 10 minutes, and as they made there way inside, they noticed Shade and Artemis hadn’t arrived yet, so they took a seat in a booth. Missy insisted that she sit on the outside, and Marcus complied with a shake of his head.
He heard the door opened and looked up to see Shade standing there and he was thrown back to all the times he took her here on a date. She was still just as beautiful as he remembered her.
The Artist:
As Shade stepped inside, she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Pops still looked the same as it did when she was a teenager. She finds Marcus easy enough; he too looked a little dazed at being back here.
Her and Artemis go to join them, Artemis insisting to sit on the outside as well. Shade rolled her eyes and allowed it this one time.
The waitress came up and took their orders. 15 minutes passed and soon 4 milkshakes, 2 large and 2 kids sized in to-go cups, were set in front of them. The girls grabbed theirs and ran off to sit at another table, giggling.
“I feel like we are being set-up,” Shade whispered with a raised eyebrow.
“Possibly,” Marcus agreed, before clearing his throat.
“So. How.. How have you been?” He asked awkwardly.
“Been pretty good. I see you’ve been busy,” She quietly teased nodding to his wedding ring.
“Oh! Um. Yeah. But… uh… not,” He stammered trying to respond.
Shade gave him a look of sudden realization, “How long?”
“About 6 years. Cancer,” He answered lowly not wanting Missy to hear.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I bet she was wonderful,” She said with a sad smile.
“She was. Umm. Ahem. What about you? Ever get married or got someone special waiting at home?” he asked trying to redirect the attention off of him.
“Nope. Uh. Had a boyfriend for a couple years. He left the day I told him I was pregnant. So. It’s been just the 2 of us ever since,” Shade explained after taking a long sip from her milkshake.
“Then he didn’t deserve either of you,” Marcus replied, his voice soft.
Shade smiled, looking down to hide her face.
She cleared her throat and noticed out of the corner of her eye, Missy and Artemis were watching them intently.
“Marcus… I think our kids are trying to set us up,” She muttered. “Glance over at them casually.”
Marcus does so and sees the two of them trying to act nonchalantly but were very much keeping an eye on them.
He chuckled, “No. They’re just.. Concerned. They’re best friends who want to make sure we get along.”
“Mh. I don’t know. My kid can be quite devious. Her favorite movie is The Parent Trap. Well. Next to The Mummy,” Shade wasn’t convinced.
Marcus laughed at that and stared at her softly.
“Not gonna lie… I’ve missed you,” Marcus admitted.
“I missed you as well. Maybe um.. Maybe we can set up a day to catch up?” Shade offered hopeful.
“I’d like that, maybe Saturday? We can leave the kids with my mom for the day. We can… go to the park or that café you like so much? Well. If you still like it that is,” Marcus rambled slightly.
“I do. Sounds like a date,” Shade said confirming the idea.
They exchanged numbers and finished their shakes, before rounding up their kids.
She waved goodbye to him as they parted ways.
Artemis was bouncing up and down in her seat.
“Clearly, you are having a sugar overload, guess we need to work that off,” Shade stated, shaking her head.
“No. Just happy. How do you know Mr. Moreno, mama?” Artemis asked as they began to drive off.
“We dated in high school, and through a good portion of college,” Shade explained glancing back at her through the rear-view mirror.
“Oh. Why did you break up?” Artemis asked curiously.
“He was becoming a pretty famous Heroic and I was making a name for myself in the art field. We drifted. We hardly ever saw each other and when we did, we argued a lot. So, we figured it was better if we broke up,” Shade acknowledged with a sad sigh.
“But… you still like him? And he clearly likes you?” Artemis questioned, looking confused.
“Yes. I do still like him, and how do you know he likes me?” Shade countered with a grin.
“He stared at you like Rick does when he sees Evy,” Artemis said matter of factly, referencing The Mummy.
Shade laughed at how seriously she said that. ‘Kids.’
The Hero:
Missy looked at her dad and smiled at the dreamy face he was making.
“You like her?” Missy asked with a silly smile.
“I do. Does that bother you? Me liking someone?” Marcus asked worriedly.
“Dad. I don’t think mom would be mad if you moved on. I just want you to be happy. You work so much to make me happy and when you’re not with me, you’re saving the world. I think you deserve to be happy too,” Missy assured hugging him.
“When did you get so smart?” He asked, returning the hug.
“I learned from you, duh,” She answered cutely.
“Now you’re just sucking up. C’mon. Let’s go home. I have a lot of explaining to do for running out in the middle of a meeting,” Marcus said as the two of them hopped into the car.
“Also. I hope you know… I have never been disappointed in you not having active powers. You’re my daughter and I love you so much. Your power is far more special than being able to fly or run fast.” He mentioned looking back at her.
Missy nodded her head muttering, “I love you too. Thank you.”
The Kids:
That night, Missy and Artemis texted one another, concocting a plan to get their parents together. Their plan was slightly devious, but it was their parents own good. They just hoped it would work.
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Anagrams
Taeyong
Mafia!Taeyong x genderneutral!reader
“Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. I’ll stop. I’ll quit but please just stay. Please, I have to make this right”
Warnings: Blood, Cursing, Angst, Groping, mention of Strippers, Suicide and Murder, Death, Suggestive
Word Count: 6.7k
Note: Enjoyyyy
Oh this is just great, Y/n thought as you ran into your building, you stopped by the door, to compose yourself, you’re ten minutes late, its fine its doable
Calming your nerves down you enters the bar and slip into the bathroom, it was quite easy the sea of people being a great distraction, you enter a stall, there you stand still after finally counting to ten you make your way out and see your boss, perfect, you think and grin
“Sir,” You jogged and smiled “Sorry there was an emergency, I was in the bathroom and I,” you even made a show of making random hand movements to emphasize your point “I couldn’t hold it in, but that’s not the point, I’m here, where do you need me?”
Your boss just nods not bothering to question the younger “Just help the others serve the drinks, quickly Y/n” he reminds and you nod, leaving to assist their work mates in serving
Taking a couple of drinks far the bar, serving them around, sure you get groped and wolf whistled and yeah its disgusting to be around people like this but it pays well, you may not be a stripper but serving also has its perks
You didn’t know it at the time, but a man had notice your late arrival and your quick thinking of going into the bathroom, you didn’t know this but he kept close eye on you, he was intrigued by your quick thinking and how you handled the situation
The day was ending and so was your shift, happily serving the last couple of people, going through the sea of people yelping once a firm slap lands your butt
"Oh we got a firm one over here" the man snarls and you glare at the man, moving to walk away, only to be grabbed by the arm so you will collide to their chest
"Let me go," You warn and attempted to pull away from the man only for him to wrap his arms around your waist
"Why in such a hurry, pretty?" he asks and reaches out to cup your cheeks when you moved to step on his feet
"I said let me go" You said angry and walked away, this is exactly why being a server in a strip joint isn't exactly admirable either
"You bitch!" The man yelled and Y/n spun around and everything was in slow motion, you could see how the man had his fist raised ready to hit you only to be stopped by a man, gripping his wrist, tilting it upward and landing a punch on the man's face
His hair was dyed red, you could tell the black roots also dead give a way. his maroon suit being slightly messed up by his activity and he sighs and fixes them. He looked powerful, like the type to walk all over someone but that surely isn’t the case, right?
"They made themselves clear," The newcomer reminds and glares at the man "You're disgusting" he notes and takes a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hand, and looks at you with chilling eyes that made your skin crawl "Go"
You bow and moved to walk away
The second time you have met with your savior was a couple weeks later, It was a normal day, went to work, served customers, thought about your mysterious savior. For the past couple of days you couldn’t stop thinking about him, why had he helped you?
You woke up from your thoughts once the bartender calls you over for a new batch for the gentlemen in table fifteen, taking the tray you walked to the assigned table only to be greeted by a familiar red hair, it was the man, and he was with his friends, they all looked close by the way they were able to laugh and joke around, you placed the drinks on their table and looked at the man only to see his eyes on you
“Um,” you bowed, making everyone on the table, stop talking and looked at the server who had bowed “Thank you for saving me” you said once you gotten a good look you realized how familiar he seemed but that was probably cause he saved you
The man smiles, his serious expression melting away and looks at her “Oh, i knew it was you, how are you? The man ever returned?”
“No” You shake your head “Thank you for that-”
“No need to bow,” He interrupts
You straighten “He hasn’t returned ever since you showed up”
“I’m glad” He smiles softly and waves everyone away and just like that they all returned to their conversations
“I really wanna thank you-”
“It’s alright, you don’t have to”
“I insist”
He chuckles and nods “Lets go get a drink then, on you”
You shake your head, “I can’t,” you said and lead him to the bar “I’m working, I can’t drink”
“It’s fine” he replies and waves the bartender down
If there was one thing you know about this bar, is that its absolutely hard to get the bartenders attention, you have to have pretty legs, breasts and eyes to get there attention or you’re someone important. You watched as the man ordered a drink for himself
“I’ll take a Mojito,” he says and looks at you “What about you?”
You shake your head and smiled politely “No I’m good, I came here to get you your drink. I’m not supposed to be drinking”
He laughs “come on, It’ll be fine” He points to himself “I won’t say anything, “ he looks at the bartender “Will you say anything?” which he earned a shake of the head “See? come on”
You bit your lip, this really isn’t a good idea, but the again your boss will understand if you were drinking only because a customer wants to, right? You’d rather drink then get a complaint, again
“Um, a cosmopolitan” You replied after a while and the bartender nods moving to fulfil our orders
He smiles triumphantly and nods “You like sweets don’t you?”
“Why would you sat that?”
“A cosmopolitan? its sweet”
“I don’t judge you and your mint”
He laughs “You know I haven’t had anyone talk to me like that in years”
“Well, I don’t think want to, you kinda look scary”
“So you thought I was scary?”
“Still do,” You answered honestly “You just punched a man when we met and he went reeling, your friends on your table literally obeyed the moment you waved them off, The bartender-” you nod and smile at him as he places both of your drinks down “Thank you” You looked at the man across from you “The bartender doesn’t easily come when beckoned.” You noted and took a sip “You must be really important”
He blinks and takes a sip of his drink “You,” he tilts his head “Don’t know who I am?”
You shake your head “No, should I?”
He took another sip “No, I’m not really important” He replies and sees two people from his table nod towards the door and he subtly nods "Thanks for the drink we should do this again sometime"
You laugh "I don't even know your name"
He stops and looks at at you as if debating something, well in reality he was taken aback y your laugh, he loved it, something about it made him want to keep hearing it, and he’ll make sure to hear it again "When we meet again, I'll tell you" He winks and leaves you on by the bar
The man sat between two of his colleagues as they spoke and laughed together. The Red haired man not paying ay kind of attention to his friends as they spoke, he had his eyes everywhere as if searching for something
“You know Taeyong, we’re starting to worry about you” One spoke his bluish-black hair matching his dark blue blazer
“Worry?” He asked and that when the blonde boy by his left side spoke
“Yes, Worry” Mark answers “You have been distracted lately, Hyung. You of all people can’t be distracted”
“I get that Mark” Taeyong nods and smiles at the younger and assured “and I’m not distracted, I’m interested”
Mark shrugs taking his drink and taking a sip
“Kun,” Taeyong calls and looks at the blue haired man “You don’t think I’m distracted, right?” Kun just looks at him and Taeyong sighs “I’m not,I can still carry on our plans”
“We know you can Taeyong,” Kun assures and places his hand on Taeyong’s back “but if Mark and I think you are, you better bet other people might think so too. Becareful, ok?”
Taeyong opens his mouth to tell them both off when he hears a familiar laugh that made him swerve his head towards the sound, only to see you in your normal clothes. It may be a coincidence but your eyes met and he smiles softly
You didn’t know that he was there, you were finally done with your shift and ready to go home when you spot him and he beckons you over, slowly making your way towards him he grins “Heading home?”
You nod “You kind of missed me” you teased “looks like we’ll have to drink next time”
“So there is a next time?” He asks
You shrug “who knows?”
Taeyong moves forward from his seat a bit, extends his hand and offers it to you “Do you still wanna know?”
You stare at it and thought for a second on what he meant, before taking it and nodding “it might be nice to call you something else then My red haired saviour”
Taeyong could feel Mark and Kun look at each other from the corner of their eyes. Taeyong laughs “its,” he pauses and clears his throat “My name Agi Lyeton”
You tilt your head “How unique” you replied and smiled
“I have unique parents”
“I can tell,” you said and shook his hand, pulling away “Nice to finally meet you Agi Lyeton, see you around”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”
“maybe next time” You winked and bowed before walking away
“Why did you lie?” Mark asks once you were gone “They probably know who you are”
“They don’t” Taeyong replies “and I intend to keep it that way”
“Its an anagram isn’t it?” Kun cuts in and Mark and Taeyong looks at him “the name you gave them?”
Taeyong nods and Mark grabs a tissue writing down the letters, when Taeyong confirmed “A-g-i L-y-e-t-o-n” he tilts his head “None of them spell Taeyong Hyung’s name”
“Sound the letters out not by spelling” Kun suggests and Taeyong watches as Mark gets to work
Just then Taeyong was reminded how much of an advantage he has thanks to these two, with Mark’s memory and Kun’s intelligence, he was thankful these two were on his side
“A G-e-e L-y-e T-o-n” Mark wrote once again and then nods “Oh, yeah, I see it now” he says and rearranges the letters “L-e-e T-a-e-y-o-n-g” he wrote and then grabbed his lighter to burn the notes on the tisue
“You should work on your anagram skills Mark” Taeyong says and Mark looks at him in shock
“Hey” He starts “I can think of 300 anagrams in one word, my skills are fine”
Kun chuckles and Taeyong nods “now, down to business?” he was greeted with a nod “Go on” he motions
Kun starts “The last shipment should be at WayV Headquarters by tomorrow afternoon”
“Why not today?” Taeyong asks and Mark takes his phone out to look at the texts
“Winwin and Hendery got a little sidetracked” Kun answers “but the delay shouldn’t affect our plans”
Taeyog nods and looks at Mark “All witness’ are being taken care of by Dream as we speak” Mark assures “No Witness, No Crime” he quotes
“Good” Taeyong nods approvingly, “then we will proceed as planned by the end of the month”
“Oh Hyung,” Mark calls “I’m gonna need to borrow Haechan”
“What for?”
“There’s something he and Jaemin need to crack so we can find the other witness
Taeyong takes his phone out to contact the boy without another word
You ang Lyeton met again after a day, you came to work and he was speaking to one of the servers, or atleast you think that was Lyeton
"Lyeton?"
"Hey" he greets and smiles
"You," you made a face
"what?" he tilts his head "is there something on my face?"
"Um your hair"
"Oh," he smiles "You like it?"
Like it? you asked yourself, you are absolutely baffled, he looks beautiful his now dyed black hair was eye-catching he looked beautiful that you didn’t realize that you had your hand out and ready to touch it
“So,” he starts “is that a yes?”
You nod “You’re too handsome it’s not fair” You pout
He laughs “you say that as if it’s legal to be you” he starts and fumbles with his words
“was that supposed to be a line?”
“depends did it work?”
“No?”
He frowns “then no it wasn’t a line”
You couldn’t help but laugh “you should work on it” you suggested “I’ll be more than happy to hear the finished product Lyeton” you teased
And he rolls his eyes “I would tease you back but I don’t know your name yet”
“yet?”
“Cause your considering” he grins
“Y/n!” your boss’s voice calls and you spun around “I’m not paying you to flirt with customers!” he stops once he sees Taeyong and Taeyong shakes his head at the man with a glare as if telling him to keep his mouth shut “Go get ready” he says voice softer and leaves
“I gotta go” you murmur and bowed apologetically
“When do you get off Y/n?” He says and stands up to grab you by the sleeve
“Why?”
“I wanna spend time with you, is all”
A smile leaves your lips “really?”
He nods “so,” he trails off “When do you get off?”
“eleven thirty” you answered and smiled “See you around”
You giggled once you arrived home, Lyeton waited for you and drove you home with the excuse that someone as pretty as you should not be going home alone. So you sat in the passenger’s seat of his Mercedes-Benz and you guys drove. The drive wasn’t awkward like you thought it would be, it was cozy and the way you both conversed was as if you two were old friends catching up and Lyeton eagerly and oh so obediently listened to everything you would discuss, anything you were willing to share, from what’s your favorite thing about the seasons to why you don’t eat beans
It was dumb, all of it, but he kept your words locked in a chest in his mind, he makes a metal note of everything, he remembers that you subconsciously pick your nails when your upset, or that you can’t eat chocolate with bread, or that you like salty and sweet foods, he doesn’t know why but he keeps the information about you close to his heart
Neither of you noticed or even cared but he was already parked outside of your home, you and him were still still talking, and neither of you realized how close you were until you could see the way his adam’s apple bobbed with his gulp
“Can,” he whispers softly “Can I kiss you?”
A blush covers your cheeks and you stared at him for a moment before nodding “Yeah” you whispered back looking down
He reaches up and locks his fingers under your chin so he can take your lips in his. Softly moving your lips in sync with his, you couldn’t help but have your eyes close, his touch was soft and caring, giving you the option of pulling away but you didn’t, he was intoxicating, his scent and his taste. He moves to cup your cheek with one hand keeping you in place.
Slowly and reluctantly you pulled away, chests heaving as you both looked at each other “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” he promises “I’ll take you out to breakfast?”
You nod shyly and he smiles as you stand to leave his car, offering one last wave before you entered
That was how your relationship with Agi Lyeton began. You and him have dated for a little over a year now and going strong.
One time he took you out on a date to a spa cause quote on quote “You need to relax and take a breather, you need a spa day, Cranky”
He has oh-so-lovingly given you that nickname when you kicked him off the bed that one time he ate all your cookies, so he called you cranky and kicked him again and now that’s his term of endearment for you, along with beautiful and puppy, which he decided to call you after your love of dogs
The cake of the spa date was that he joined you, the massages, the facials, the body treatments, the manicures, he let you experience the shebang that day and you were thankful
Except he saw something, the thing you’ve been trying to hide from almost everyone in your life
“Are these self inflicted?” he asks after the massage, when you finally returned to your hotel, and takes your hand to see the scars on your wrist up until your forearm you bit your lip only to pull your arm away, pulling your sleeve down and looked down
“It’s nothing Lyeton” you replied and moved to look at your wrist, you weren’t proud of it, these scars and sometimes you like to pretend they don’t exist, people don’t like the scars on a you
“You’re ruining yourself”
“a person is ugly with scars”
“You’re doing this for attention”
“I don’t understand why you would even cut yourself?”
Will Lyeton leave you after seeing the scars? Will he despise you? Will he-
You woke up from your thoughts when you felt Lyeton hug you from behind “Don’t do that,” he whispers “Can I see?” he asks and hold your hand
You shake your head
“That’s fine,” he whispers again as he kisses your finger tips “Its ok, show me when you're ready ok?” he whispers again then kisses your palm “I’ll wait till then,” He kisses your covered wrist “Don’t feel pressured in showing me” he moves to up more, landing one affectionate kiss on your shoulder “I’ll still be here with or without your scars,” he assured and landed a small innocent kiss on your neck as a small sob leaves your lips
“I’m sorry,” you whimpered and he slowly pushes you down on the bed so that he is hovering over you, holding you close to his chest as he hugs and holds you close
“Don’t be sorry, you’re absolutely perfect to me” he says and slowly leans in to kiss you, swallowing you sobs in the kiss, keeping you close and pouring out all his feelings into the kiss
Slowly he pulls away and cups your cheeks as you spoke, grabbing his sleeve so he’ll stay close “Please don’t stop”
He looks at you “Y/n-”
you shake your head “tell me,” you looked away “everything you find perfect about me” you whisper and he smiles
“Do you really not want me to stop?”
You nod “don’t stop”
He nods and happily complies to your words, he kisses you again, whispering loving and sweet words against your lips and skin, leaving marks on your neck and chest as he tells you everything he finds perfect. You didn’t realize that both of your clothes were removed and scattered in the room ‘till he trails his kisses and sweet words lower and lower ‘till all you can think about was him, and how much he cares and notices every detail about you.
You slept soundly that night, in his arms as he whispers praises and words of affection into your ear.
You woke up the next morning by yourself and fear ran through your veins. Where’s Lyeton? Did he leave you? Was last night just a way to get his way with you? Was he faking it all those words?
You can feel the tears in your eyes when his voice tore through the open door “I need that meeting scheduled Jaehyun,” he sighs “I don’t care what you do or say, get me that meeting. And don’t bother calling me unless you’ve scheduled it, understand?”
He ends the call and takes a deep breath, before retiring inside the room only to see you awake and on the brink of crying, his breath catches in his throat, did you hear the convo? Did Y/n figure out he isn’t who he says he is? Is Y/n angry that he lied?
“I thought you left me” you whispered and Taeyong visibly relaxed before kissing your hair
“Never,” he assures “I’m sorry, I had a call from work”
You nod “sorry,” you relied “I’m a bit emotional”
He laughs “It’s cute” he moves to go under the covers and cuddled you from there
You blushed and pulled away “No, wait I’m still sweaty and sticky from last night” you looked at him “and you’re all dressed and ready and clean, and I’m still naked”
He laughs and pulls you closer to his chest “I don’t mind getting all sweaty and sticky again” He grins
“Lyeton!”
He laughs again “How about I ready you a bath, you bath, then we cuddle?”
You nod
“Can I shower with you then?”
You blushed and shook your head “Lyeton-”
He nods “I’m kidding, I’ll go ready you a bath” he says and stands kissing your temple and walking to the bathroom
After you’ve taken a bath, Lyeton was on the bed watching TV his eyes twinkled his eyes twinkled in delight “Come cuddle” he calls out and opens his arms in which you were more than happy to comply
“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks after a while
“What?”
“Next week?”
You chuckle and pinched his cheeks “I can’t next week”
“Why not?”
“I have to go home,” You answered and moved to face him “you know,” you motioned “my brother’s death anniversary”
Taeyong nods, “sorry”
You smile “you didn’t know” You smile and kissed his cheek “It’s alright”
“Can I ask, how?”
You nod and lied down “Suicide” Taeyong looks at you “Its alright I know he’s happy now”
“You need any help? I can book you a flight-”
You laugh “It’s fine, I got it” You smile “Just wait for me when I get back ok?”
Arriving at your home town after a long time gave you a sense of nostalgia and pain, you remember everything you and your brother did
That sense of dread only worsened once you stood in front of your childhood home
You missed your parents, you did, but the thought of not hearing your brother’s laugh or voice. You didn’t realize it but your standing in front of your brothers grave
You just sat there, talking mindlessly to your brother’s tomb stone “Don’t orry about me, ok?” you spoke and smiled sadly “I’m doing great, I still work at the stripper bar-” you paused as if listening to his reply “as a server you perv” you said with disdain and you could practically hear him laugh, it only made your heart ache
You spoke more, imagining your brother beside you rather than his grave, and for a moment it seemed like he was beside you
”Ok, Ouch” He laughs and takes a deep breath “Are you ok? You’re not being used? mistreated?”
You shake your head, “I’m fine, actually I was groped at some point”
He blinks “What-”
“No no” you quickly spoke “It’s ok, someone saved me” He nods and looks at you, waiting for you to continue “He’s my boyfriend, and honestly, he’s so perfect”
He laughs “Nobody is perfect” He says and points at you “He could be a murderer or something”
“Stop” You laugh
He laughs as well then sighs “how long are you gonna keep this up?”
You looked at him “What?”
“I’ve been dead for three years, move on”
“Hansol-” you called once you noticed him start to fade
“I’d rather you live your life” he murmurs “then blame yourself for the past”
You reached out to hold his hand only to wake up “Hansol!” you called and sobbed once you realize you fell asleep on his grave “I’m sorry” you whimper and hugged your knees
You and your parents have been avoiding your brother’s room ever since then, it was closed not locked, everything and anything that ever reminded any of you about Hansol was placed in a box and hidden in his room
You never thought about his death, you were too scared to, but here you were in front of his room cause maybe your brother was right, you had to move on and in order to do that, you have to enter his room.
You swallowed, entering his room, almost immediately you wanted to run away, it looked exactly like it did that day, except some of the boxes of his belongings by the corner. You could almost see his last minute with you, like a movie, you see him gathering his stuff and a younger version of you standing by the door way with a pout “You promised to play Uno with me, Hansol”
He laughs and looks at you, patting your head “When I get back, this is important, Taeyong is counting on me”
You huff and crossed my arms, making him smile “I promise, when I get back, lets play, ok?”
you nod “Promise?”
“Promise”
You sobbed and fell on your knees once, you remembered that painful memory “You promised you Jack ass” you cried “You fucking liar, you never came home” you think this was the first time in years you’ve ever mourned your brother’s death, you wished he was here and you hated the fact it took you so long, you hated him, you hated yourself
You sat on his bed after your breakdown, wrapped in his blanket as you looked through his stuff, spotting one of his old laptops you grin and taking it out of the box
There was a password and you sigh. You and your brother were close surely you could guess his password, right? so you started off with the basics, his name, his name spelled backwards, your dogs name, the dogs name spelled backwards, his girlfriend’s name, the girlfriend’s name spelled backward, his, mine, the dogs, his girlfriend’s birthday. You rolled your eyes ready to give up when you remembered, your brother is an idiot that forgets all of his passwords, you moved to the bedside table and looked for a notebook he could possibly have hidden there
You were right, there was a a notebook and, you opened it up, it has all his passwords, finding the one for the laptop you typed it out
NeoCultureTechnology
What the heck is that? You thought and pressed enter, his last opened app on it was photos, what could he have been looking at?
You blushed, it was pictures of you and his girlfriend, you smiled softly and sadly at the pictures he’s kept overtime, reminiscing every memory it holds, but there was one that made you freeze
It was a picture of your brother, he was smiling and you can tell he was happy, what concerned you was the man beside him, Lyeton, I mean it can’t be your Lyeton right? You looked at the other men you recognize them too, The blonde boy Lyeton was with when he gave you his name, he had black hair in the picture but it was definitely him, the last man was the blue haired boy, he had glasses and blonde hair here but it was him
It could just be a coincidence right? You looked through more pictures seeing other pictures of your brother with different men, with Lyeton, what is going on?
You opened a new folder of pictures and you saw more of Lyeton, youre head is starting to spin, you’re really confused till you stopped a t a photo of Lyeton that had his name “Lee Taeyong”
Youre breathing was getting heavy as you continued to get more and more confused. Lee Taeyong, that’s a different name, it’s not your Agi Lyeton right?
You froze, “Agi Lyeton, Lee Taeyong” You grabbed paper and wrote it down “A-g-i L-y-e-t-o-n” Your heart was picking up speed, growing up one thing your brother loved doing was make codes and riddles while you grew up cracking them, It can’t be an anagram, right? writing down every anagram you could think of to Agi Lyeton “ Elating Yo” No “Gelatin Yo” No “Ligate Yon” No “Legato Yin” No “Agent Oily” No “Ale Toying” No “Lea Toying, Leant Yogi, Aloe Tying, Teal Yogin” No, No, No “Li Taeyong” you frowned, right Lyeton’s name is two letters off
You took a breath, thankful, so you were just being dramatic “Ok, better get some fresh air Y/n or yo might loose it to Li Taeyong” you slid off the bed only to stop mid way, saying it out loud “Li, Li, Lee” You stared at your paper bfore slowly starting to write it out “L-e-e T-a-e-y-o-n-g” No, you refuse to believe that and threw the paper away.
Moving to shut the laptop off you saw the email icon on the laptop have one unread message and it came from none other than Taeyong, it made your blood boil
Hansol,
Are you sure you wanna join us on this mission? you have a little sister man. Think about her. You might not come back, I don’t want your family to suffer
Mail me back, ok?
-Taeyong
You have been absolutely Distant and of course Taeyong has noticed that, you would pull away whenever you get, you must’ve been upset to see your brother, he understands, but why are you being so cold to him?
He tried, different ways, to make you smile but you only seemed more distant and sadder. You’re midnight cuddles always ends with you sobbing softly and whenever he would ask why you wouldn’t answer
One evening, a week later, he was at your place, like usual, taking a shower happily humming to himself, he left his clothes here for times like this so he can change and stay the night here
You sat on the sofa, picking on your nails as you do, the sound of the TV being drowned into the background as you stared at your boyfriend’s phone a notif rang and you wanted to see the notif but its wrong right? He trusted you that’s why he left it. But he was lying. The voice points out and you reached forward to wake the screen being greeted with a message from Jaehyun
Hyung, the meeting is scheduled
10 am [address inserted]
Ive already informed everyone and the plan is set we just need you to show up
Good Luck
You swallowed, God please let this all be fake and me overexaggerating, you begged to no one in particular ‘till you heard your bathroom door open
Taeyong walks in seeing you sitting on the sofa watching TV “you ok?”
You nod “Yeah”
The next day, he leans in “See you tonight for dinner?” You nodded and smiled a small tired smile, he leans in more to kiss you, you looked to the side making him kiss your cheek and he frowns “and then we talk? I need to know what’s wrong, ok?” You nod and watched him leave
You stared at the printed pictures of Lyeton, Taeyong, er whatever his name really is, I can talk to him tonight, I don’t need to worry about this
You looked at your phone to see the time nine forty-eight, you can ignore it right? just ignore
Hansol,
Are you sure you wanna join us on this mission? you have a little sister man. Think about her. You might not come back, I don’t want your family to suffer
Mail me back, ok?
-Taeyong
You blinked the tears away, you have to know, what happened to your brother, cause now you have a feeling it isn’t suicde
Going to the address you spot Taeyong, you take a deep shallow breath as you slowly walked up to him
He blinks once he sees you “Y/n?” he asks “What are you doing here?” he looks around and grabs your hand “Its dangerous here” he drags you to the side
“Please,” you begged and gripped his collars like a life line as tears pricked your eyes “Please tell me I’m making this up, that I’m delusional”
He hugged you despite the fear that was crawling through his veins, he knows this a dangerous place for you, but your stressed and you need him, work is important and getting this group on his side is important but all that flew out the window when he saw the tears at the corner of your eyes “What happened?” He asked voice soft and warm to help calm you
It worked. You felt better, his presence, his scent and his voice, you feel better. You wanted to lie, surely you weren’t willing to loose him in exchange if whatever knowledge you might gain. You’d rather be in the dark than loose him. Yet the nagging feeling at the back of your mind and the heaviness of your heart forces your mouth open and say “Please tell me you’re not Lee Taeyong” You begged “I cant- I refuse to believe it, I’m over thinking right? It’s just my imagination?”
He looks at you in shock. How did you know? Did somebody tell you? Did you figure it out on your own? He has to answer you, he needs to answer you, anything, you were begging him to lie, he is Lee Taeyong, lying shouldn’t be this hard. Not when your last thread of hope and the color drained from your face when you pulled away from him once he looks at you apologetically “Y/n-”
“Why?” you breathed wrapping your arms around your waist as you take a step a way “What-, When-” You closed your eyes and fresh tear fell your eyes “Why? Why would you lie?”
He looked at her “I’m sorry”
“Why!?”
He flinches and bows his head “I didn’t want you to be scared of me,” he licks his lips “I can’t loose you, I didn’t want to see you in a world like this”
You stared at him as he spoke, your head was spinning and you wanted to throw up, your fingers picking on your nails and he reaches out to hold your hand to stop you from hurting yourself only to get pushed away “I trusted you, I gave you everything. Everything!” you sobbed “Were you ever going to tell me?” He looks away and your blood boils, you moved to hit him across the chest “You fucking ass! No?! Were you planning to hide this from me forever?!”
He grabs your hands to stop you “Y/n that hurts-”
“Good! You’re an ass! you deserve it!” you cried and kept trying to hit him
“I’m so sorry” He whispers and hugs you only for you to cry more and attempt to pull away from him “I’m so sorry”
“Let me go!” You yelled and pushed him away again “let me go, justlet me go, please, just let go” you whispered and stopped moving “Let me go Taeyong”
He looks up to stop the tears and slowly pulled away “Please”
You shake your head, gathering every ounce of energy on your body to ask “was Hansol part of your group?”
Taeyong’s eyes widened “You’re Hansol’s sister?” He took a breath and took a step back “I-I didn’t know... What have I done- Y/n”
“Is he?” you asked and looked at him, Please say no, Please, Not my brother too, Please, Please, Please, Please
“I’m so sorry” He says again and just like that you felt your whole world shatter, your knees were weak and heavy when Taeyong tensed “Y/n you have to leave”
“What-” You asked but you felt his hands holding yours tightly
“Please, I’ll tell you when I’m finished here, but it isn’t safe with you here. You can still blend in with other people”
“No, I’m not yet done-”
“Y/n, I’ll tell you everything and anything you want but you need to go home-”
“No, you’re not making me leave! I have the right to ask you this, you lied, my brother lied! I want answe-”
Taeyong never saw it coming, he hated himself cause of it. A sniper from across the building aiming to hit, to kill Lee Taeyong did a fucking sloppy job, cause it did nothing but graze Lee Taeyong by the waist, making him hiss and turn to see where it came from, he held his hand on his waist
His men came out from where they were hiding to cover their leader, protecting him from any possible gunshots “Suspect is on the move,” Jeno calls and runs ahead “Yuta hyung, Winwin Hyung” he calls the men nearer to him and they run in pursuit, Taeyong spat orders to his men, making sure that all of them understand only to freeze when he hears a small ragged and desperate breath
“Lyeton?” You call desperately, tears pricking your eyes, the pain was unbearable, your hand pressed against your stomach right under you left rib, desperately trying to stop the bleeding
Taeyong kneels in front of your body, as he places pressure on your wound “Fuck” he exclaims and takes off his belt to help him in applying pressure, you’re vision started blurring but you were unsure if it was the tears or the pain “Y/n,” he breathed and tightened the belt “ hold on, ok? You’ll be ok, I promise you’ll be ok”
You clenched your teeth, your breathing ragged ad heavy as he glares at his men “What are you all staring at? get them help! If they die, you’ll pay with your life”, you choked out a sob both at the fear of dying and the fear at Taeyong’s words, he shushes you and cups your cheeks
“Deep breaths with me my love,” he assures and smiles a pained yet hopeful smile “Please? Take deep breaths with me?” he took slow deep breaths and you tried to follow along only to cry out more, it hurts everything hurts. You wanted it to end, you wanted to finally close your eyes and take a short nap, but Taeyong begged once he notices your droopy heavy eye lids
“No, No, please, don’t close your eyes, don’t ok? keep them open, listen to my voice, I’ll tell you stories, I’ll tell you what happened to Hansol” He says and ushers you awake, you tried to fight the drowsiness and listen, you really did, “Like that, keep them open and deep breaths ok” You only cried more once you felt the pain and he cries along with you, begging “Please don’t leave me.” He starts and holds your hand “I’ll do anything. I’ll stop. I’ll quit but please just stay. Please, I have to make this right” he pleaded “Please! I’ll quit NCT I’ll stay with you, just stay with me. Y/n, Y/n!”
You breathing was becoming shorter by the minute and the only one left was you, Taeyong and two of his men who looked away as tears pricked their eyes. You were mad at Taeyong, but what was the point, he’s here now and he’s crying and pleading for you to fight, but you were tired and you couldn;t even think straight. You wanted the pain to stop.
Taeyong watched in horror as your short breaths ceased and he hold on to you tighter “Y/n?! Y/n No! No! Don’t leave me Please! Wake Up, Don’t Give in!” He moves to cup your cheeks to kiss your lifeless lips as a way to rouse you from your sleep like normal days when he’d wake you from your sleep and he finally broke down “I love you” He said in-between breaths “I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry”
“Hyung, Jeno said they got the sniper” Mark whispers
“Everyone else has the gang under custody” Kun adds aswell
“We have to go” Mark says
“I’m not leaving them here”
“You have to Tae,” Kun says softly “You know we do”
#NCT#nct dream#nctu#wayv#taeyong#lee taeyong#angs#nct angst#nct127#angst#taeil#johnny#yuta#kun#doyoung#ten#jaehyun#jungwoo#lucas#mark#xiao dejun#hendery#renjun#Jeno#HaeChan#jaemin#shotaro#sungchan#chenle#jisung
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ranting about being sick under the cut because it's kinda gross and you know me, i love a good long rant
sure excited for this syrup to finally fucking work after i tried tylenol, advil and buckley to stop coughing every five minutes; it's been an hour!!!
i have been sick for two weeks now, with what is apparently my first real flu since primary school
like
i usually (pre-pandemic) get two or three colds a year because of weather changes and a lower-than-average overall health
but it's NEVER this bad
i've taken 4 home covid tests so far and they all came up negative, so there's that, at least
but it still fucking sucks
my throat NEVER hurts when i get a cold, i always get, like, hay fever symptoms, basically, and exhaustion, but since monday my throat has been terribly sore and i have been coughing grossly
and my vocal chords have been out of order since thursday!!! my cat is sad because i can't meow back anymore!!! i can't go to work because my coworkers won't hear me in the loud as fuck restaurant's kitchen, i can't game on discord and roll20 because my friends won't hear me on my computer's microphone, i can't even call 811 to ask if should go to the hospital because the nurse won't hear me over the phone!!!!!!
and strangely enough i have not sneezed ONCE since i started coughing - it's like i have an entirely different disease than the week before
also my temperature has been staying under 36.5 the whole time, i even got 34 once, i was like 'okay but that is not physically possible, i should be dead' then i used the thermometer two more times and got 35.8, which is still weird but is at least plausible
i can't sleep because i have to get up every two hours to cough out a grape sized chunk of mucus the most disgusting green you have ever seen and then blow my nose non stop for twenty minutes
and after two weeks of blowing my nose constantly i'm starting to see a little blood in the tissues like, my nose has had enough
*i* have had enough
and i hate that i have to rely on my bf for errands because obviously even if i don't have a fever i'm not gonna show up to the pharmacy, the convenience store or the grocery store while coughing my lungs out, i hate it because i'm usually the errand person and i feel like a burden because i can't do much at home either, i barely have the energy to do the dishes, and i'm supposed to help my bf with his work for university but i can't focus on anything longer than a shitpost for more than five minutes
what's even weirder is that even after two weeks my bf is still not sick himself - like i'm a tiny bit bitter to be suffering alone but mostly worried because he usually gets sicker than me when we catch something...
also, what was the point of asking for my vacation pay as extra money if i have to take days off work anyway????
and on top of it i feel like an asshole for whining about this because my friend's 2 year old daughter apparently has the same illness and she's suffering because she's fucking TWO, like how hellish would all of this be if i was two and i didn't understand why it hurts to swallow my own saliva and why i keep coughing so bad i almost throw up every time????
(i probably got it from her, too, but i can't complain, she's been sick for a week longer and her parents are at their wit's end tbh)
i just hope i can at least go back to work on tuesday, though it seems unlikely at this point... i don't want to go to the hospital and wait for hours to see someone, or worse, actually catch covid
i keep flashing back to what little i remember of the whooping cough i got when i was 5 and the repeated laryngites i had as a kid, like, 'was it ever that bad??? i don't remember ever being this sick... but surely it was worse back then, right???'
meanwhile people are out there dying in droves while i'm sniffling and grouching on my couch like a wimp
at least those covid tests aren't as bad as people said, it just triggered a few sneezing fits (back when i was still sneezing)
okay i'm gonna try to at least wash the dishes before dinner so bf can cook right after he's done with work, whining over
#personal#hope that read more works because this post is a Wall Of Text#tmi#for... graphic description of flu symptoms i suppose? it's kinda gross sorry#i wish i felt better after venting like that but Unfortunately I Do Not
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Patched Up- Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader
(aka ‘How To Make Your Jedi Boyfriend Simp Hardcore’ on ao3)
masterlist
Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603544
Summary: Reader gets her face all cut up during a mission, fluff ensues where Anakin helps patch her up, wash up, and get fed. Just some worried, protective, adorable Anakin with lots of fluff because soft Anakin is the best Anakin :)
You didn’t know you’d been cut until the blood dripped from your forehead onto the white linoleum floor between your feet. You stared at it, shocked for a moment before you realized the bounty hunter was getting away. The bomb he had set in the abandoned pub ticked in your ear menacingly, counting down the seconds you and your team had to live.
Ignoring the obvious fact that you’d been wounded, you stood and sprinted after the bounty hunter. It was hard-- the fact that you weren’t a Jedi certainly didn’t help-- but with your learned skills from training at the assassin academy for more than a decade, you managed to corner them against a wall. A group of clones came up on either side of the bounty hunter, trapping him.
“You put up a better fight than I expected,” you admitted, walking closer to the hunter with your duel daggers out. Once you got close enough, you knocked the gun out of his hands and pinned him against the floor. The clones watched closely as you dug your knee into his back and tied his hands together. “I’m sure the Republic will love hearing how you’ve tried to blow up this secret Sepratist weapon manufacturing hub,” you added, although the bounty hunter laughed in response.
“Not ‘tried to,’ love,” he chortled. You could hear the timer tick again, then stop. Realization dawned on you, and your eyes widened.
“Get to the ship!” you yelled, and dropped the bounty hunter. The blast would take care of him-- and you, if you didn’t move NOW.
Debris shot past your head as you rocketed out of the pub, the battalion of clones that the Jedi offered you to complete the mission following close behind. They shielded you with their armor as bits of the exploded pub shot through the air, but a sharp piece of metal managed to pierce the skin of your cheek. Adrenaline numbed the pain, and you made it back to the ship breathing hard, trying to drag in as much air as you could into your abused lungs.
As the clones filed into the spaceship, you looked back at the sight of your mission. All that was left was a smoking pile of debris. There was no way the bounty hunter had gotten out alive, and although the Senate would have liked to have him stand trial, your mission for the Jedi had been completed. Destroy the weapon factory.
Now all that was left to do was to make it back to the temple, without dying of blood loss first.
Holding your hand underneath your cheek, you tried catching as much blood in your hand as possible so that it didn’t get on the floor. Not that it mattered, this ship had seen enough blood in its days, but you’d rather not add to the mess the workers back at the temple would have to clean up. Doing so proved more difficult than anticipated, as you moved to close the door and then sit down at the piloting station and start the ship. Blood ran down your face fast, and soon your hand began to overflow.
Wiping your hand off on your shirt, you then tried soaking the blood up with your sleeve, although it mostly managed to smear further across your face. You’re not sure which slasher film victim you resembled once the Jedi council picked up your hologram message.
You relayed the details of the mission, and the outcome to Yoda. He looked pleased, and thanked you for taking on a mission the Jedi could not complete due to their busy schedules fighting the war. Before the call ended, he pointed out the obvious.
“Blood on your face, you have,” he said. “Medics when you return, will be sent.”
“There’s no need,” you assure him. “It’s just a scratch. Or two. But I can take care of it, the medics should stay with injured soldiers.”
“Very selfless, you are,” he bowed his head, and the call ended. Now that no one was watching you, you leaned back in your seat and blew out a long breath of air. Time to go home.
*****************************************************************************************************
Hyperspeed brought you over the planet of Coruscant in no time. Within 15 minutes of departing from the planet where the bounty hunter had been, you landed the ship carefully-- flying ships still made you nervous sometimes, although your boyfriend Anakin had certainly helped you gradually get over your fears-- and stepped out of the ship. You dropped to the ground of the docking bay, the blood in your head suddenly plummeting. Your vision went all fuzzy and your knees went weak, so you steadied yourself against the metal of the ship. Thankfully, someone else was there to catch you before you could fall and truly embarrass yourself.
“Woah,” Anakin met your waist with his mechanical arm, pulling you back to your feet. You met his blue eyes, which were swimming with concern. “What happened here?”
You touched your cheek with your fingertips, and they came away wet with crimson fluid once again. You frowned, thinking the bleeding had at least slowed in the time it took to get back. The cut must be deeper than you thought.
“I’ll be okay,” you told him, already anticipating his onslaught of mother-henning. Anakin was a worrier, understandably so regarding what happened with his mother, but you appreciated the fact that he cared.
“Y/n, your whole face is covered in blood,” he brought his flesh hand up to try and rub some blood off your uninjured cheekbone, frowning when it proved pointless. “Those cuts need to be looked at-- you’re coming with me.”
Before you could protest, Anakin whisked you away from the docking bay. Removing his hand from your waist so it wouldn’t raise suspicion with the other Jedi, he settled for taking your bloody hand in his and pulling you all the way to his quarters. He brought you into his bathroom, sat you down on the toilet, and handed you a wad of rolled up tissue paper to hold to your face as he dug through his cabinets for medical supplies. All the while, he chastised you for… well… everything.
“What happened? Why didn’t the medics meet you at the docking bay? Does the council know the extent of your injuries?”
“Yoda offered to send medics, but I told him not to. It’s really not that bad,” your voice is muffled by the tissue paper.
“What were you thinking? What if you bled out? What if you passed out before I could catch you? You could have hit your head. How did this happen in the first place?”
“Anakin, I’m fine,” you laughed, finding his worrying adorable. “Yeah it’s a lot of blood, but it doesn’t even hurt.” You pause. “...much.”
He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment, then went ripping back into his cabinet for pain killers. Filling up a glass of water with the Force while simultaneously opening up the pill bottle with his hands, you barely blinked before he thrust them into your bloody palms.
“Down the hatch. Now.” he ordered, and watched with his arms crossed as you slipped the pills past your lips and sipped the water. You laughed all the while, although it looked more like a grimace due to the fact that you couldn’t move your face much without a piercing pain. Once you swallowed, he knelt down to your level and gently covered the hand holding the tissue paper to your face with his, peeling it back to see the damage. You watched his eyebrows draw down, his lips curve into a pout as he inspected your wounds.
“You’re cute when you’re worried,” you tease him, hating the fear that flashed through his eyes.
That did the trick-- he flicked his gaze up to meet with yours, his annoyed glare hard and unyielding.
“Can you blame me for being concerned? I was waiting for you to come back so I could take you to a picnic I set up in the gardens, only to find you falling out of the ship, covered in blood, your face all slashed up, and on the verge of collapse. Anyone would be a little upset.”
“A picnic?” Your voice raised hopefully. “Ooh, that’ll be fun. I’ve never been on a picnic before.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not going anywhere until you’re all patched up. And even then, you’ve lost a lot of blood. Maybe we should push it back for sometime else.”
Anakin took the tissues from you and threw them in the garbage bin. He wet a cloth in the sink, then came back to stand in front of you. He tilted your face up to look at him as he began running the cloth over your face, gently cleaning the blood away.
“Where in the gardens were you thinking?” you ignored his plans on cancelling.
“The south end, with the red flowers you like so much. I moved some stuff around to block the path and shield us from view, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Always one step ahead,” you close your eyes so he can get your eyebrows and eyelids.
You could feel Anakin’s cool breath wash over your face as he sighed. The cloth moved to the injured half of your face, slowing and dropping in the pressure used as he cleaned around the cuts. Your eyes were closed, but you could practically sense the look he had on his face right now.
“You still never told me who did this to you.”
“The bounty hunter,” you kept your eyes closed, fighting back the urge to wince as the pain in your face heightened. He was being astronomically careful, but the wounds had to be cleaned and that meant pain, unfortunately for you. The least you could do now was mask it so that Anakin wouldn’t feel bad for hurting you. “He threw a knife at me and it hit me in the forehead. Then he blew up the pub and a piece of shrapnel hit my cheek.”
“Force,” he muttered under his breath. “You know I know you’re capable of carrying out these missions, but I still don’t like the prospect of you getting hurt like this.”
“I know, Ani,” you open your eyes to look at him. His face was as expected-- drawn eyebrows, pouty lips, dark curls shining in the bathroom light. He was beautiful, protective, and all yours. “I don’t have to remind you how hard it is to watch you leave for missions. You’re fighting a WAR out there.”
“So are you, now,” he dabbed at a spot of blood on your temple. “This mission with the weapon hub was the first of many for you. The council says so. They’ll only get harder from here on out, and I just don’t know how safe it is…”
“I’m no Jedi,” you tell him softly. “But I am a fighter. I can handle myself, you know. Plus, I have you to patch me up if I ever get hurt again.”
He rolls his eyes at your crooked smile.
“Plus,” you continue. “Maybe now they’ll send us on a mission together! Imagine us, side by side, kicking some Separatist ass. That’d be kinda cool, wouldn’t it?”
At this, Anakin rewarded you with a small sideways smile. “It would.”
Deciding your face had been cleaned as much as it could, he dropped the dirty washcloth into the sink and grabbed a tube of some kind of antibacterial ointment. He used his gloved hand to tilt your chin back up again, and began softly running his real finger over the cut on your forehead, spreading the ointment along with it.
“They don’t look deep enough for stitches, and I don’t think you’ll have any scarring. You got lucky in that case,” he mumbled as he concentrated on keeping his touch feather-light. “However, these aren’t just ‘cuts.’ They’re deep, and they’re gonna take some time to heal. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Anakin captured your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, moving it so the injured half of your face was closer to him. You took the opportunity to shamelessly stare at your beautiful boyfriend, studying every flawless inch of his face. Sometimes you wonder why someone like him would choose to be with someone like you. He was never shy to tell you time and time again how beautiful YOU were, but you always rallied it back on to him in which he just laughed and shook his head at you. Stupid, protective, heroic, reckless, kind, stubborn, beautiful boy.
As Anakin smoothed some ointment over the gash on your cheekbone, you couldn’t help but flinch at the sharp stinging pain that flooded your face. Obviously the cheek had gotten hit the worst, and as the last of the adrenaline wore off, you were beginning to feel your whole face come alive with a pulsing sting.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin murmured, moving quickly to get the hard part over with. “The painkillers should start kicking in soon.”
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I can handle a bit of pain. Now, let me see how gorgeous I look.”
You pushed his hands off you and stood, swaying slightly on your feet but hiding it by gripping onto the sink under the mirror. With one look at yourself, it was hard to keep yourself from cringing at the gory mess your face had become.
Anakin was right-- the gashes on your skin were deeper than they seemed, and were a bright angry red. One ran from the middle of the your hairline to the edge of your brown, and the other started at the outside corner of your eye and travelled diagonal to the corner of your nose, then down near your mouth.
“It got your dimple,” Anakin frowned, washing his hands in the sink while studying your reaction in the mirror.
“I have another one,” you point to the uninjured side of your face.
He responded by kissing it softly, before moving past you to throw the empty ointment tube in the trash and to grab the gauze from the sink counter. He held it up and smiled with the corner of his mouth.
“Ready for the fun part?”
“Make me look cute, baby.”
He huffed at the pet name, but muttered anyway, “You always look cute.”
You stuck your bottom lip out and scrunched up your eyebrows. “Aaaaaww. You’re the sweetest! The sweetest little baby. Thank you, Ani.”
“Careful, or I’ll take it back,” he warned, carefully placing a square of gauze on your forehead. He ripped some tape off from the roll with the Force and gently smoothed it over your skin.
“So about this picnic,” you moved your face when he nudged your chin with his finger again. This had you staring at the wall now.
“Not happening.”
“Why?” you whined.
“You can barely stand without falling over. You need time to rest and heal up. The picnic can wait.”
“You don’t STAND at a picnic, Anakin.”
“You won’t be able to walk all the way there. And I can’t carry you without people asking questions.”
“I can make it there just fine! Plus, I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste.”
“Please,” he chuckled. “Moving a couple flower pots was not hard work.”
“But all the food you got…”
“I’ll have Obi-Wan retrieve it and bring it back for us. We can just stay here and eat it. Besides,” he used the Force to change the window from white to show the outside city of Coruscant. “It looks like it may rain.”
“Oh,” you study the gray clouds outside. “I love rain.”
“I know you do,” he smiled softly, smoothing down the last piece of gauze and tape on your cheek. When he finished, he enveloped the sides of your neck in his hands, using his fingers to push your head down. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the untouched skin on your forehead, breathing in your scent.
“I love you,” he said lowly before pulling away. You can’t help the grin that broke out on your face, the warmth from blossoming in your chest.
“Ow! Don’t make me smile,” you laugh through the pain, but bring your hands up to hold onto his wrists to keep him there anyway. “But I love you too. I really do.”
Anakin’s eyes shift to your hands holding onto him. His face darkens again, and he moves to hold your palms in his. “You’re still covered in blood. You wanna wash up here?”
You nod, and then lean back as he gets up to throw the rest of the supplies in the cabinets and then start readying the washing area. “Shower or bath?”
“Mmmmm bath please,” you decide, rolling your shoulders and feeling the uncomfortable stiffness plaguing your movements. Between the blood loss and your sore muscles, you don’t think you’ll be able to stand for very long.
While Anakin twisted the knobs in the shower to start the bath, you pushed yourself to your feet and pulled the ponytail from your falling-out hairdo, shaking your messy locks. A cute look, for sure-- all gauzed up like a paper mache volcano, hair falling wildly around your face like a lion’s mane, hands still caked in dried blood. A damn catch, if you’re being honest.
Anakin turned and moved toward the door to give you some privacy. “Uh, shampoo and everything is in there, towels are over there, just turn the bottom knob all the way to the right when you want the water off.” He opened the bathroom door and stepped out. “Shout if you need anything.”
As soon as the door closed, you yanked off your nasty shirt, followed by your bra and pants and underwear. It seemed like your blood had gotten everywhere on your clothes, even your boots, and you suddenly realized you didn’t know what you would wear when you got out.
A problem for a different moment, you decided, and stepped into the warm bath. Immediately, it was pure bliss, soothing your muscles and washing the sweat and dirt away. You got to work scrubbing the blood from under your fingernails first, then carefully dunked your hair and shampooed it to get the dried blood out of there too. Once you lathered your body up in soap, you decided to just soak for a while, turning the knob to slow to a trickle so the bath wouldn’t overflow.
Outside, you could here Anakin talk to Obi-Wan over hologram.
“--Yeah she’s here, pretty beat up but otherwise she’s fine. Hey, can I ask you a favor--” he then requested Obi-Wan clean up the picnic he had set up, being the only one who knew of your relationship, he was the only one who could without being suspicious. Obi-Wan agreed to bring the food over, and Anakin thanked him. A moment after they hung up, you heard a soft knock on the door.
“Y/n? I have some of the clothes you left here to wear, if you’d like.”
“Oh, yes please,” you closed the shower curtain so Anakin could come in without seeing your bruised body in all its naked glory.
“I’m leaving them on the counter,” he informed you. You could see his silhouette bend down to pick up your dirty clothes and boots, and then he left again. You sunk further into the water, the bubbles in the bath tickling your chin.
He was just so damn sweet.
You don’t know how long you stayed in the bath. Honestly, you think you might have fallen asleep at one point. You just loved being able to relax, knowing Anakin was right outside as you let the dripping water lull you into a peaceful meditative mode. The stinging in your face had dulled-- not disappeared, but it wasn’t a constant hum of pain anymore. You could honestly stay here like this forever.
However… the water was getting cold. And the darkening sky outside told you the rain would start soon, and you wanted to be in Anakin’s room where he had a big window overlooking the entire city to watch the storm.
Careful not to slip, you maneuvered your way out of the tub and wrapped yourself in a towel. You pulled the drain and made sure the water disappeared as you got dressed in the sleep shorts you kept in Anakin’s dresser for when you wanted to sleep over, as well as one of your sleep shirts and even a pair of your socks. You towel dried your hair, folded it up, and then hung it back up on the wall before opening the bathroom door to Anakin’s quarters. He was sitting on the couch, watching the skyline through the window when you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your chin in his soft curls as you scanned the storm clouds with him.
“Obi-Wan’s coming with the food, he should be here any minute now,” he told you, bringing a hand up to cover your own. “You wanna take this to the bedroom?”
“Oh, would I,” you waggled your eyebrows, smirking with the good half of your face.
He chuckled and stood, keeping your hand in his. “You know what I mean.”
“Take me, Anakin Skywalker,” you begged wistfully as he walked across the apartment to his bedroom with you in tow. “You know you want to.”
“I know I want to,” his tone was serious despite your joking one. He closed the door behind you with the force, and then led you to sit on his bed. You crawled up onto the covers and crossed your legs, wondering where he was going with this.
He stood before you and rested his hands on your knees, keeping you rooted to the spot. You watched his chest get closer as he leaned in close, his lips near your ear, and you could feel his breath tickle your neck, raising goosebumps on your arms. You sat, wide-eyed and staring at the golden skin of his collar bone, barely breathing, awaiting his next move.
“Too bad Obi-Wan just got here with the food,” he whispered, and planted a warm kiss underneath your ear before pulling away. He left with a cocky grin, leaving you frozen on the bed so he could retrieve the supplies from Obi-Wan.
“Jesus…” you muttered, pressing a hand to your chest to stop your heart from beating so quick. No doubt Anakin could sense it.
Once the heat from your cheeks cooled and your heartbeat returned to normal, you laid back on Anakin’s bed and stretched out like a starfish. Your muscles protested, but it felt good to be on the soft, cushiony material of his bed.
“Some food for you, m’lady,” Anakin held a sandwich over your face when he returned, and you lifted your hands to take it from him. You immediately began eating it, not realizing at first how hungry you were. It had been over 24 hours since you’d left for the mission and had last eaten.
As you ate your sandwich, Anakin picked at some grapes and walked around the room, waving his arm over the wall to switch it to the window. Rain pattered against the glass now, droplets racing each other to the bottom. He adjusted the temperature in the room, and then began fiddling with one of the many new contraptions he’d been tinkering with, and then began to undress. You tore your eyes away from the storm clouds to watch him set his lightsaber on the desk, then unclasp his belt and set it beside the saber, followed by the tunic which left him in a loose fitting shirt and his pants.
He ran his hands through his curls as he walked the clothes over to his closet, and then started messing with the thermostat again.
“Would you just come here and sit with me already?” you moan, throwing your sandwich scraps in the trash. Anakin turned to look at you from his place across the room.
“One moment…”
You waited patiently, and soon you felt the bed dip beside you and you sat up to scooch over and give him more room. He passed a cupcake your way-- chocolate, your favorite-- and then brought a glass of dark red liquid up to his lips.
“Is that wine?” you laugh through a mouthful of cupcake. He narrowed his eyes, but smiled at your awkward facial expression anyway.
“Am I not allowed to drink wine in my own home?”
“You are, I just didn’t peg you as a wine type of guy,” you admit.
Anakin shrugged, then brought the bottle over to his free hand with the force. “You want some?”
You and Anakin then sat and watched the storm, sipping wine and eating chocolate cupcakes. A perfect way to end a shitty mission.
#anakin#anakinskywalker#injured reader#whump#caretaker anakin#blood and injury#soft anakin#secret relationship#fluff#worried anakin#protective anakin#playful reader#rain#baths#cupcakes#wine#badass reader
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Seconds Away
Pairing: Sirius Black x reader (Golden Era)
Requested by Anonymous
Summary: Death was seconds away from both of you...
The reader loses part of her leg in this, there’s nothing graphic depicted, but she does lose a leg.
A/N: Idk if the killing curse works the way I wrote it to, but let’s pretend it does 😂
Curses flew in every direction, some missing you only by inches. When you’d arrived with other members of the Order moments ago, you found that Harry and his friends were grossly outnumbered: two Death Eaters for every one of them. You’d known that Harry might try and get into the Ministry, but you never thought he’d actually do it. You thought he’d have taken his Occlumency seriously, you thought he’d place more value on his friends’ lives. But you could scold and yell at him later, right now, your focus was getting him, his friends, yourself, and your fiance out of here alive.
Lucius Malfoy had just been knocked flat on his back by Mad-Eye, Tonks was duelling Rodolphus, and Kingsley was taking on Dolohov. Remus was herding the kids out of the room and to safety, and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Four Death Eaters were Petrified or Stunned on the ground, the rest still duelling. Your fiance, Sirius, had just Petrified Lucius, and he wore a triumphant smirk. But you saw what he didn't, and you wanted to scream.
Bellatrix had appeared behind him, and what happened next seems to be in slow motion. Her wand was drawn, pointed directly at Sirius. Her lips hadn’t formed the curse yet, hadn’t spoken the words, but she didn’t need to. She had murder in her eyes, and you were moving before you realized it. Sirius saw you running towards him, and he smiled, not knowing death was seconds away. You, Sirius, and Bellatrix all spoke at once:
“Y/N!” “NO!” “Avada Kedavra!” You shoved Sirius to the ground, landing atop him, and stabbing, searing pain hit your leg. “Y/N!” Sirius screamed, face terrified and pale. “Oh my god, Y/N!” You were dizzy, black shapes popping over your vision, and you so desperately wanted to sleep. “Stay with me, baby, keep those eyes open for me. HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” Bellatrix raised her wand to strike again, but she was knocked off her feet by a spell.
Remus was sprinting towards you, horror on his face. You were paler than anyone had ever seen you, your left leg bent at an odd angle. “Get her out of here,” the lycanthrope instructed, voice hard and level. “We’ll take care of things here, Harry’s safe, get her out!” Sirius nodded, lifting you into his arms and Apparating away. You were fading in and out of consciousness, you had no idea what was happening or where you were; all you knew was that Sirius was holding you.
Death was near, you were certain, and if you were going to die, you were happy to go in your love’s arms. “Someone help me!” Sirius shouted, and you heard several pairs of feet running towards you. “Merlin’s beard!” “What happened?” “Is she dead?” “Not, but she will be if you don’t help!” One of the people approached you, a young woman in green robes, and you realized you were at St. Mungo’s. “Good Godric,” the healer said. “Come on, we’re getting her to a room.”
Sirius began running down the hall, jostling you slightly in his arms, and you whined. “It’s alright, baby,” he soothed, eyes darting down to yours. “We’re gonna get you help. Just stay with me.” A moment later, Sirius laid you on a bed, and a flurry of healers surrounded you, pushing Sirius from sight. They were all talking over one another, and you were woozy, and you only caught snatches of what they said. “KIlling Curse… never seen this…necrosis, it’s spreading…” You heard Sirius gasp from behind the crowd of healers, and you wanted him near you desperately.
One of the healers turned to address Sirius after casting several diagnostics. “It’s a miracle she’s alive,” he said, and Sirius nodded curtly. “She was hit in the left shin with the Killing Curse, but you know that. The limb is dead, and the curse is spreading, and fast. We need to amputate to stop it and save her, and we need your consent.” “M-mine?” Sirius stammered, overwhelmed with information. “Yes, Y/N is in no state to consent to a procedure like this, and there’s no time to track down a next of kin. But I have to ask, what is your relationship to Y/N.”
“I’m her fiance,” Sirius said. “And please, save her, do whatever you have to do.” The healer nodded and turned back to the bed, barking instruction to his fellows. The bottom portion of your leg was grey, the tissue dead, and the color was rising rapidly. Sirius couldn’t look away as the healers worked, expertly cutting through skin, muscle, and bone, until your left leg ended just above where your knee is--was. The healers healed the rest of your leg, leaving a smooth, unscarred stump.
You’d passed out completely, or maybe the healers knocked you out, Sirius didn’t know, but when they stepped away, you were unconscious, looking as if you were simply asleep. “She’ll be fine,” the healer said, wiping his forehead. “She’ll be asleep for a while, but she’ll be alright. I’ll get you the information of a woman who makes magical prosthetics. If you hadn’t come when you did, Y/N might not have made it.” The healer clapped Sirius on the shoulder and exited, leaving the two of you alone.
Sirius pulled a chair over to your bedside and sat down, taking your hand in his, kissing it tenderly. “Y/N, darling,” he whispered, though no one else was here. “Please. You’ve got to wake up. Please, baby, I need you. Please wake up.” Sirius wasn’t sure how long he sat for, eyes trained on your face, your hand in his, occasionally kissing it and telling you how much he loved you. The healers came in a few times to check on you, each time telling Sirius that you were doing well and not to worry.
“She’ll wake soon, don’t worry.” But Sirius did worry, quite a bit, actually. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, and Sirius remained at your side, unwilling to leave for even a second. His legs were asleep and his back ached, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you. Sirius nearly flew out of his seat when you moaned, and his heart began to race. “Y/N? Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” “Hmmm, Sirius?”
He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face, and he moved closer to you, squeezing your hand. “Yeah, baby, I’m here. Can you look at me, sweetheart?” You did, slowly rolling your head over the pillow to look at your fiance. When your eyes met, it was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over your head, and you sat bolt upright. “Harry! Sirius, where’s Harry, is he alright? Are his friends alright? Oh god, is anyone dead?” “Hey, shhhh,” he soothed. “Lie down, puppy, everyone’s fine. Harry and his friends are back at Hogwarts, everyone from the Order’s fine, we’re all fine.”
You looked around, taking in your surroundings. “What happened?” Sirius knew you weren’t asking about the battle, you were asking what happened to you. He took a deep breath, squeezing your hand again. “Bellatrix hit your leg with the Killing Curse,” he began, stroking your knuckles. “Your leg...it started dying, and it was spreading fast. I brought you here, and they-” Sirius broke off, remembering your amputated leg for the first time.
“They what, Sirius? What did they do?” He sighed, tears pricking at his eyes. But he had to be strong for you now. “They had to cut off your leg, Y/N.” Your eyes widened, and you threw back the thin blankets, seeing the absence of your lower left leg. “Oh my god,” was breathed, and Sirius stood, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting an arm around you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, it was the only way to save you. Are you alright?”
In truth, you were devastated, but if you were either going to lose part of your leg of your life, you’d pick the former every time. “I’m in shock, I think,” you said. “But I will be.” Sirius nodded, scooting closer to you. “I couldn’t let her hurt you,” you went on, the words spilling without your knowledge. “She was going to kill you, Sirius, I could feel it. And I couldn’t let her do that. I had to save you. And if it meant my death, then-” You choked, a sob breaking forth. Everything hit you at once: how close Sirius had come to death, how close Harry and his friends had come to death, how close you had come to death.
Sirius pulled you tight against his chest as you sobbed, rubbing your back as the breath caught in your throat, kissing your head as your tears soaked his shirt. You cried for 20 minute without pause, letting the anger, fear, and sadness of the day past wash over you. When you calmed, Sirius gently tipped your head up so he could look at you. Your eyes were red and puffy, and your nose was running. “We almost died today,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “Sirius, fuck, we almost died.”
“But we didn’t,” he said, cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead. “We’re alive, Y/N. Everyone survived. Yeah, a few people got hurt, but we’re all alive.” “I almost lost you.” Sirius kissed you again, your lips this time, and you leaned into his touch. “I almost lost you too, Y/N. But neither of us lost each other today, we’re alright. Hurt? Yeah, but alive.”
You were crying again, tears silent this time, and Sirius wiped them away. “Sirius?” “Yeah?” “Will you hold me?” “Of course I will, puppy.” Sirius gently lifted you, careful not to jostle you too much in case you were in pain, and sat in the center of the bed, settling you in his lap and draping the blankets back over your lap. You snuggled into his chest, winding your arms around his neck, his arms around your middle.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” “I love you too, Sirius. I love you more than anything.” He held you tighter, rubbing your back sweetly. “Does it hurt?” he asked, and you shook your head. “No, not at all.” “Good. We’ll get through this, puppy, we always do.” You nodded, lifting your head to kiss him. “I know we will. I love you, Sirius.” “I love you too.” Death was mere seconds, inches away today, but it passed you by, granting you more time with the man you loved.
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Together, Apart
For @kataang-week‘s Kataang Valentine’s Bash 2021.
I swear I tried to write something happy for this, but tbh after this last year all that’s left in me is sadness and pornography. So that’s what I’ve got for you.
Prompt pair: Together and Apart
Summary: Katara and Aang deal with an outbreak of illness in the Earth Kingdom.
Rating: Explicit. | Word Count: ~10k | Ao3
Katara held her hands over the young girl’s chest, focusing the water’s energy into a living swirl of light. She felt chi swell where she held the water, and the skin flushed as blood followed suit. Shae breathed a bit faster, but didn’t stir. She was used to this now, they’d been at it for months. Slowly, Katara felt something like a well filling beneath her fingers, and a sudden rush as the energy began to flow again on its own, unimpeded by tissue that had been dying just an hour earlier.
This was so different from the healing she’d done during the war. Broken bones, burned skin, injuries that she could see and touch and understand. When she’d worked on Sokka’s broken leg, it was like the fragments of bone ached to join back together, they just needed a little push. It seemed so much easier, in retrospect. Then again, maybe those injuries had just been more spread out in time.
Katara sat back on her heels and let out a breath, slipping the water back into the bowl beside her. The sun was just dipping below the tree line, filling the makeshift hospital tent with warm orange light. Her eyes moved over the empty beds, it was the most deserted she’d seen the place since she arrived. An exhausted smile pulled at her lips. “I think that’s enough for today, Shae.”
The girl opened her eyes and shot Katara a mischievous grin. “Can I show you something, Yisheng?” she asked, using the colloquial term for healer in this part of the Earth Kingdom.
“Sure,” Katara replied with the same tired smile. Shae rolled off the mat and onto her feet, slipping out of the tent into the gathering night. Katara stood in the doorway and watched her young patient rock back on one foot and launch into a set of cartwheels with a breathless little shriek.
“Are you watching? Are you watching?”
Katara laughed. “I’m watching, Shae. Be careful though, you’ll tire yourself out!”
“No I won’t I’m completely--” Shae’s argument was cut off by a sharp fit of coughs, and she grasped her knees to steady herself. Katara rushed forward and slipped a steady arm around her.
“Come on, let’s get you home, your mom will be worried.”
Shae leaned on her as they walked, and when she spoke again her voice was breathy but excited. “You know what would help her worry less? if you tell her how much better I’m doing. I mean, if I can do six whole cartwheels I’m definitely healed enough to play with Sonna and Jai tomorrow, right?”
“I’ll talk to her meimei, but we still have a ways to go before you’re better.”
--
When they’d first arrived in Dei Shung, it was to help fly healers in from the north and distribute aid from the Fire Nation. The reports of illness and unrest in the town hadn’t prepared them for the devastation they found when they got there. Katara and Sokka got the healers set up while Aang and Toph met with the mayor about alleviating the panic that had gripped the town. They broke up frenzied mobs, bent makeshift shelters to replace buildings that had been destroyed, anything they could think of that might help restore order. Toph and a couple of her metal bending students got to work chasing off the bandits who were circling the town like vultures, picking off the weak as they fled.
Sokka was the first to take ill, just a few days after they arrived. For him it was fever, with a blotchy red rash creeping up from under the collar of his tunic. Katara caught it fast, thank the spirits, and sent him away along with anyone else who wasn’t essential. This wasn’t the manageable illness they’d been expecting to find, and it was just too dangerous to have anyone exposed to who didn’t need to be. She tried to send Aang with them, but it was pointless.
“If I was staying, would you leave?” he asked. They both knew the answer to that. His expression was soft, but Katara had learned the subtle signs of his resolve. The slightly furrowed brow, the edge of intensity to his gaze, his grip on her hand just a little bit tighter than it needed to be, as though she might try to physically force him onto the airship. For all the airbender in him, he’d learned to be immovable when he needed to be. So they stood together as the ship left the dock, ferrying their friends back to safety along with anyone healthy enough to pack up their lives and flee.
The next few weeks were a blur. Katara spent all day in the healing tents raking water along body after body, feeling like she was trying to keep an entire town from drowning. Sometimes she wondered if she was making any difference at all. At night Aang would settle behind her in their room, and they’d talk quietly about their days while he worked the knots out of her neck. The first time she lost a patient, she cried the whole night. The next day, she lost three more.
“Remember when you told me about the night Avatar Roku died?” she whispered into his neck one night after she was too exhausted to cry anymore. He pulled away just enough to look at her. Their bed was pushed up to the window and the night was clear and bright and she saw the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. He nodded, brushing hair from her damp face, brow tense with concern.
“This feels like that. Like fighting...I don’t know, a force of nature. It just keeps coming, Aang. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop it.”
“No one’s expecting you to stop it alone.” He kissed her forehead and fell quiet for a moment, considering. ”Do you want to leave? It’s ok if you do. I can stay behind or come with you, back to Ba Sing Se, or wherever you want to go.” Another pause, and then, more quietly, “I’m worried about what this is doing to you, Katara.”
She was deeply ashamed that this thought had already crossed her mind, a few days ago at the bedside of a young man about her age. He had broad shoulders and a deep laugh, and spent the first day cracking jokes with the healers and offering his help with the older patients. Then, all at once, it just ripped through him. By the time Katara got to him, there was nothing she could do. Her eyes began to sting again but she set her jaw and shook her head. “I can’t leave these people. Even if I can’t stop this, I have to try. They need every healer they can get.”
He pulled her against him, one arm tight around her back and the other cradling the back of her head. “I love you. And I’m here for you, whatever you need. We’ll get through this, I promise.”
“I love you too.”
About a month after they arrived, Amka, one of the older healers, got sick. They took turns caring for her amidst all the other patients. Her daughter, Nukka, worked on her the most. It was always fastest with the elderly. A quick funeral behind the hospital was all they could manage. Katara asked Nukka if she wanted to say a few words, but she was beyond speech. In the end, they all stood quietly around the grave before breaking off, a few at a time, to return to work. Katara stayed the longest, one hand rubbing Nukka’s back as she sobbed, the other gripping Aang’s so tight it hurt.
The next day she woke up to Aang shivering next to her in bed.
“No” a hoarse whisper tore out of her mouth. She could feel her heart pounding in every part of her body as she ripped the blankets off him and rolled him onto his back. He moaned groggily, fighting to wake up. Her breath quickened. He was usually up with the sun.
There were pins and needles in her hands as she ran them over his chest, arms, neck, checking for the telltale rash. She pushed him onto his side to check his back. Nothing.
“Katara, what are you doing?” his voice thick with sleep.
“This is not happening” she muttered, more to herself than him. One hand pulled the water from her satchel across the room while the other yanked him down the bed so she could straddle him more easily. It started in the lungs, if she could kill it there they’d have a chance.
“Katara!” He caught her wrists and the spirit water dropped, soaking them both. Her eyes snapped to his. He was wide awake now, alert and pale and a little panicked. Her heart was beating so hard it made her head spin and her skin feel raw.
“Fever,” she choked out, suddenly aware she was crying. “You have a fever, I have to--” she shook his hands off hers and pulled the water off the bed and out of their clothing, coaxing it back to a gentle glow.
“Katara, it’s ok, I feel fine. This might not even be--”
“I know exactly what it is” she spat, feeling the familiar blocked energies in his chest, the fluid pooling in his lungs. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been, she should have insisted he leave with Sokka and the others. She should have forced him, begged him, tricked him, anything to get him on that ship. Her vision blurred and she impatiently blinked away tears, struggling to keep her concentration. A barking sob came from somewhere, maybe her, and his hands were on hers again, bending the water into a bowl on the nightstand and gathering her toward him.
“No, Aang I have to--”
“I know Sweetie, just take a minute, please.” His voice was thin and had a pleading edge to it that just unnerved her more.
“There’s no time, I need to start before it spreads!” She had to stop to suck in air between words. She felt like she was fighting a battle and losing, struggling just to keep feet underneath her.
“We have a minute. Please Katara, you’re scaring me. Just breath. Please. For me.”
Katara wanted to argue but couldn’t find the air to get the words out. She tried to pull back but her limbs felt thick and numb and her muscles weren’t responding. Another of those barking sobs scraped out of her chest and he lifted himself against the headboard, tucking her against him and stroking her back, her hair, her arms.
“Try to breathe with me ok? In and out. Just match my breath. That’s it. Nice and slow.” Her cheek was pressed against his chest and she rose and fell with him as he breathed. No matter how much air she sucked in it felt like she was suffocating. She breathed anyway, matching his rhythm as well as she could manage. Bit by bit, feeling returned to her limbs, and the vice around her chest began to dissolve. His heart beat against her ear and she turned her face into it, trying to breath in his skin, tasting the sweat on his chest.
“I can’t lose you too,” she whispered into him. He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he rumbled beneath her. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m the avatar. It’s pretty hard to kill me. Plus, the best healer in the world is totally in love with me, so I think I’m pretty safe.”
She heard the smile in his voice and felt a hot surge of anger. She pushed herself up enough to see his face.
“I couldn’t save Amka or Aia, or Sammi, or Lee’s twins, or--” she broke off, the dead stretching out before her. She didn’t even know all their names anymore. The anger left as quickly as it had come. She let her head drop back against his chest, as tired as she could ever remember being.
“I know. I know. This is a terrible tragedy. But you’re not a god, Sweetie. No one expects you to save every person who gets sick. But think of everyone you did save. Katara, how many people are alive right now because of you?”
They were quiet for a few minutes, breathing together on the bed. Finally, she reached up and kissed him softly. His face was hot under her hands. “Please. I need to start working on you now.”
“I know. Just take care of yourself too, ok? I’m going to be fine. I’m in good hands.” The way he looked at her with total trust twisted something in her chest. Her throat felt tight and she cleared it to push back the tears.
“Lay down.”
She worked through the day and well into the night. He slept fitfully for most of it as the fever crested and she fought to keep it at bay, to keep the sickness from settling deeper into him. She’d caught it early, she thought. He was muddled, but not incoherent. He couldn’t have been running a temperature for more than a few hours.
Moving over his prone form like this reminded Katara far too much of the weeks after Ba Sing Se fell, and she did her best to seal that thought tightly in the back of her mind. Coming undone again would only hurt him, he needed her calm, focused, and attentive.
He was larger than her now, more difficult to maneuver, but the ebb and flow of his energies felt the same. There was an intimacy here that never occurred to her with her other patients. She was reaching inside him, guiding the most basic systems in his body. Under different circumstances it might have been beautiful.
A day passed, maybe two. Katara grew more and more tired until she passed through tiredness altogether. Being immersed in the rhythms of someone else’s body for so long, it was easy to forget her own. Like after Ba Sing Se fell. No, not that. Here. This. Him.
Finally, when she’d done everything she could think of twice over, she paused, blinking blearily out the window at the rising sun. There was a cold bowl of soup on the nightstand. Someone must have brought it to her, but she couldn’t remember when. She checked Aang one last time and collapsed next to him, grateful for the darkness that swallowed her.
----
Continue on Ao3
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Sentence starters: 14, with Roman & Deceit??
Haha, long time, no write! We’re having a pretty poor time right now so I figured a little bit of Roceit would be in Order! Warning: I did not edit this in the slightest.
Summary: Roman has always been a little curious, but the pastry chef definitely takes the cake on this one.
Words: 3007
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Read on Ao3 || My General Writing List || Prompt Page (it should also be stated that you don’t need to pick from this prompt page if you don’t want to. Just send me an idea and I’ll do my best :D)
The Point of This is....
“Here, Bite Down on this.”
Roman has had a lot of weird first meetings. As a kid he liked to wander around the town meeting knew people, which, of course, drove his mother up a wall the first ninety or so times that she had glanced away from him for a second and he had disappeared completely on her. Roman was just a curious type of kid. The first time he had been confused by a couple of workers who were fixing an outlet behind one of the counters at his mothers favorite little shop, and he had just wanted to know what they were doing.
They had told him! Which had been cool. Did you know there were wires all in the walls?! He hadn’t even realized that his mom had been frantically looking for him until she had grabbed his arm in a frantic panic and asked if he was alright, and then don’t you dare wander off again! What if something had happened?! Roman!
It had happened again anyway, the store clerk had been redressing a mannequin and it had been neat! Then window cleaner, then flower arranger from the flower shop, then the busker outside the Irish themed pub he wasn’t allowed to be near, then the sign flipper at the street corner who taught him to spin one of the smaller signs--
The point was that by the time Roman hit middle school he knew most of the “little people” by name, and they of course knew his. Roman knew that a lot of them called him by his full name because his mother used to scream it when he went missing,-- Roman Alexander Prince, if you don’t get back here right this instant-- but he learned a lot of cool things!
He could arrange flowers, knew when and where the most dense foot traffic was, knew how to flip signs and draw attention. He could Macgyver his way through most electrical circuits, had the sewers under his town fully mentally mapped out, and knew that if you hit the vending machine behind the laundromat just right, you could get a free snickers bar.
He liked learning knew things. And for the most part? People liked to teach him.
As he got older, he noticed just how heartbreaking that sort of thing was. When he held the ladder steady for the owner of the Mom-and-Pop grocer while the old man replaced the “N” of the sign, the man had casually mentioned that the last person who asked him how he was doing had been a family man who had stopped coming months ago.
Then the more he looked, the more he had seen it: the when he waved to the woman who worked the bakery her whole face had lit up like he had gifted her the world, when he bought the street performer a water they had almost broken down to tears right there on the street, when he had offered the man sitting alone at the park with his head in his hands a chance to pet his dog, the man had called him a “generous kid” and tossed him five dollars before he left considerably happier than he was when he arrived.
The point-- and yes, Roman did have a point-- the point of all of this, was that Roman liked people. He liked learning things, and he liked hearing the stories that people had to share.
He liked telling those stories.
Which would probably explain how he got here: Mindscape, the ever prestigious school for the gifted. Although “gifted” tended to be a relative term. Roman had met a lot more people here, all his age, who eyed him warily like his smile was something to be scared of.
(”It is!” Remus, his twin had cackled from across the table in the dining hall, as if they didn’t have the same exact face.)
Roman and Remus had gotten in together, both on accident: Remus had crafted an application for Roman, sent it in without Roman’s knowledge, and then hacked the School’s Admissions database and marked the application for acceptance.
Things should have gone really bad, because Remus hadn’t known that the School President, Thomas Sanders, checks each and every application and when he noticed an application had skipped most of acceptance process he started digging.
Things should have gone really bad then. Like really bad. Like Remus ends up in jail and Roman has to change his name and move countries, really bad.
Instead Thomas Sanders, had sent them both acceptance letters, and Remus was required to work in the IT department without pay and take all the computer application classes. Somewhere in the middle of that Remus had struck up some sort of deal with the cyber defense team where the Mindscape’s tech department spent all school year building their best unhackable code, and in the summer Remus got to take anything and everything he learned that year and try to break it.
Remus had been winning for two years now. Roman had seen the grown men reduced to tears the moment that Remus’s hands had started flying over the keyboard.
Again, the point to this-- Roman had been at this boarding school for two years now, barreling his way through the journalism and creative writing classes like they were tissue paper walls. He’s met a lot of people his age, and he’s witnessed a lot of weird quirks about them.
Like how that kid in the library who likes to sleep on top of the bookcases, and Roman had witnessed getting swatted with a broom so many times. He was a gymnast and an acrobat and really freaking flexible-- and he had told Roman to fuck off when he had tried to learn anything more than that.
Or like that artist who ran the yearbook club took pictures of everything. It had been pretty cute the way the puffball had insisted on taking pictures of the cracks on the side walk, the clouds in the sky, the rainbow made from the refraction of the light through the glass windows. They had called it “catching little pieces of happiness in everyday!” Which was much sweeter than Roman had been anticipating. “Oops! Sorry gotta go, kiddo!” They had said and then they had been gone taking more pictures before Roman could ask anything about them.
Or like that guy from his Civics class who had gotten way too competitive about the trivia game they had played in class. It wasn’t just trivia though: Roman had learned later that he apparently Logan Ackroyd, the Logan Ackroyd, who had won the American chess tournament for three year in a row now. Any game that Logan touched, reportedly, he won. Chess, Checkers, Othello, Jenga, even Tic-Tac-Toe, and he treated them each like a life or death situation.
The point is of this is everyone had a weird quirk about them.
Roman knew that, knows that.
Heck, even Roman had a weird quirk, which apparently was wandering the school halls after classes. And now that includes being dragged into one of those classrooms by the hoodie of his sweatshirt and then immediately having a fork of something shoved in his mouth.
“VIRGIL!” Another voice squawks, followed by a telltale click of a camera taking a photo, but okay, Roman is a little too busy choking on a fork to take in everything.
There is a hand on his back, and one on his chest, holding him surprisingly steady, while he basically dies-- and man, he did not think that he’d be dying at seventeen years old. Who knew that his mother would be right all those times she insisted that his habit of walking around aimlessly was gonna be the death of him?
There are tears in his eyes by the time he manages an inhale, and someone takes the fork back out of his mouth. The hand on his back is rubbing soothing circles and his lungs flutter weakly, like a butterflies wings.
“Dude,” A voice says boredly. Roman squints up at his attacker-- because yes this was an attack and Roman will forever be scarred by it-- and vaguely recognizes the purple patched up hoodie for the library acrobat. “I said “Bite down on this”, not choke and die on the floor.”
Roman coughs to dislodge the last bit of whatever food just got shoved down his throat.
“Please ignore him,” A smooth voice says, a new voice, and one that sounds exactly like silk on Roman’s ears. “Are you okay?”
The new person, the man who is holding Roman, is, in a word, pretty. Actually, no wait, not pretty; he’s gorgeous. He’s beautiful. He’s Michelangelo’s David come to life, an angel straight from heaven, the God Apollo himself taking a quick break from driving his sun chariot to walk among the mortals--
“Virgil, what did you do!” The breathtaking stranger yelps.
“I didn’t do anything!” The acrobat shoots back, although he looks worried, “I just put the fork in his mouth! Oh shit, dude come on, please don’t tell me you’re allergic to something-- Dee what was in that? I can’t go to jail for killing someone! I just got here!”
There’s another click and a giggle and Roman blinks himself to enough awareness to realize that beside the three of them, there’s also that photography artist and the Logan Ackroyd in the room, also what looks like a cake with three slices cut out of it.
“You aren’t going to jail,” Logan says, although he’s playing on a Nintendo Switch and isn’t paying all that much attention to what’s going on.
“It just a cake,” Dee adds, almost desperately and Roman’s knees really do go weak at that. A pretty man? Using that tone to address Roman? Roman’s surprised he’s still conscious at all. “Are you allergic to eggs? What about Wheat? Milk?”
“Deep breath, kiddos!” The person with the camera suggests, and Roman knows immediately that they are 100% aware that his flushed cheeks and lack of breath are not from an allergy. They take another picture and Roman dies a little more on the inside.
“Please...don’t let... my brother see that,” Roman coughs one more time, “I’m begging.”
The artist just laughs and takes another picture.
“No allergies?” The god beside him says and Roman finds him looking absolutely anywhere but at him.
“No allergies,” Roman confirms, “None at all. It’s all good. And you know I should be--”
“What did you think of it?” The acrobat interrupts. And when Roman just blinks he snaps, “The cake, Princey! Tell Dee that the cake was fine and he can stop banging his head on the table now.”
Roman chances a glance at the man holding him up, and yeah, he could see the faint red marks were he had obviously been hitting his head on something. Unfortunately, said man was also looking at Roman, looking for his answer to the question that was just asked of him and Roman has already forgotten what it was again.
His eyes were different colors, and that totally reminded Roman of that week in the summer when he hung around the ophthalmologist just outside of town. Roman had looked at a lot of eyes, learned a lot about eyes in that time, but really there was something different about those ones. One was a brilliant bright brown, like hickory and the other was glistening gold. He looked like something straight from a fantasy.
Roman’s fantasy.
“Hey,” The stranger says softly, “Are you okay, darling?”
And that’s the last thing Roman remembers.
Because he fainted.
Because the gorgeous, beautiful, ethereal stranger called him “darling” and Roman’s weak gay heart promptly shut off.
He comes to again, just a few minutes later-- long enough that his head is throbbing and his lungs hurt a bit and mere idea of moving sounds exhausting. He’s comfortable just fine where he is.
On the floor.
With his head in the perfect strangers lap.
“There you are,” The man gives him a nervous smile that makes Roman’s mouth dry out. “Do you remember where you are?”
“Heaven?”
Roman has many regrets in his life. Like that time he thought that crawling down the manhole would be fun. Or the weekend he spent hanging out in the courthouse, which had turned out to be incredibly boring. Or that time he brought dog treats to the dog park and ended up get ambushed by like seven dogs at once and broke his arm.
But this....answering that, and immediately hearing that all too familiar cackle that can only belong to Remus? Yeah Roman rates that at the top of Roman’s Regrets.
The stranger bites his lip but he’s grinning all the same. “Apologies. When you fainted we, called the emergency contact on your phone.”
“Remus is not my emergency contact,” Roman grumbles and weakly shuffles his limbs to sit up.
Remus wheezes, from where he’s situated with an arm over the artist and the acrobat respectively. “Like-- Hell! I changed that months ago!” Remus grins, “I wasn’t gonna miss a chance to laugh at you while you get carted away in an ambulance! You only die once Ro! I wanna be there for it!”
“I should have consumed you in the womb.”
“Butcha didn’t!”
“The intention was there.” Roman sways, and he really doesn’t like the way the floor shifts like waves of an ocean.
“Pussy,” Remus tosses out, just for the sake of having the last word. He pulls his arms back from around the other two and fusses with the little artist’s hair. “Alright, brats! That’s my cue to drag my dumbass gay twin away before he faints again. But this was fun! Lets do it again! This time Dee can even let Roman actually fall and crack his head on the floor instead of catching him!”
Roman’s ears burn, and he peeks at Dee with a morbid mortification, “You caught me?”
“Well I was already, holding you up so it wasn’t as much as caught you as you...ah,” there’s a twitch of his lips, “as you fell for me.”
The noise Roman makes is not in any way, shape, or form flattering.
Remus cackles again.
There’s a click and a giggle, “Sorry kiddo! That was just too good to pass up!” The artist bounces slightly. “You both should definitely come back though! We’d love to have the company!”
“No, we wouldn’t,” the acrobat interjects, and lets out a heavy breath when he’s elbowed by his friend.
“Yes, we would!” The artist says. “And next time you can even have some of Dee’s pastries!”
“That’s not necessary,” The stranger says quickly, “They aren’t that good--”
“Will you stop lying!” the acrobat says, “You literally got into this prestigious ass school for your pastries, dumbass. They’re good. Accept it already! Geez!”
The stranger rubs his neck and then his cheek, before turning back to Roman. “Perhaps you can be the judge of that then? Darling?”
Yeah, Roman’s knees are weak again, but he’s stubborn enough that he keeps standing. “I think I’d like that. Although, I can’t say I’m any kind of pastry expert.”
“We all have our faults, I presume.”
Roman’s heart beats a little faster. “And admittedly I will be a little bit bias.”
“A little bit?”
“Only a smidge,” Roman reports, “I’ve heard that good company can affect the taste of food.”
“You intend to be in good company?”
“If it’s yours I’m sure it will be.”
“Who knew there was a smooth talker under that blush of yours?”
“If you think this was smooth you should see--
Remus claps his hands loudly enough to make the acrobat flinch and Logan in the corner curse in Korean. “Okay yes we get it: You both are gayyyyyy!” Remus exclaims, drawing it out just enough that Roman feels a bit of the Cain Instinct(tm) in him rise up. “But if neither of you are going to start undressing to give the rest of us a show, then we need to go!”
“Remus!”
“I’m just saying!” Remus shrugs and then hooks an arm around Roman’s neck and pulls him towards the door, “Its not fair to the rest of us, if you keep being a tease!”
“I hope you step on a lego and fall into a pit of sharks.”
Remus messes with his hair, which seems to be his thing right now.
The others in the room call out their goodbyes, and Remus drags Roman away before he can get more than a sloppy wave. Its still embarrassing.
Actually everything that happened was embarrassing, from top to bottom, and there was absolutely no moment were it wasn’t completely mortifying. Not only did he choke on a piece of cake he didn’t even get to taste, but he gay panicked, and then gay fainted, and every second of it was recorded via camera snapshots. And late at night, when Roman is turning it over in his head and screaming into a pillow, he barely notices his phone flashing.
He’s already miserable, because they probably just invited him back to be nice, and he didn’t even know their names. And Remus was still laughing at him for everything, and everything just really sucked. He opens up his phone to check the message, ignoring the way the his screen burns his eyes.
There’s a text message.
An actual text message.
Stole your number hope you dont mind
Roman can’t breath. The phone in his hand vibrates again.
Oh and your heart. I stole that too. this is a ransom demand.
$40,000 in cash. Or a date to the coffee shop in town.
pls?
this is Dee Ekans btw
The baker?
oh fuck pls tell me this is the right number
roman?
And Roman rolls over and presses his face into a pillow and screams.
But really the point of all this is that Roman got the number of the cute guy. And maybe a date.
#roceit#roman sanders#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#remus sanders#Boarding School Au?#I guess it is#Look I just started writing and went with it#gay panic#gay fainting#there is nothing more gay than Roman
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I Need You (p.p)
Word Count: 2,171
Warnings: angst? Little bits of fluff?
A/N: This was loosely inspired by an episode of Gilmore Girls 😂 I hope y'all enjoy and if ya do, I'd definitely love some feedback 💕 also shout-out to @hoe-forharry and @theadventurousqueen for reading this and helping me out 💖
Dealing with a breaking up was one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.
Barely a full twenty-four hours had passed, mostly spent in your pajamas, practically permanent tear stains on your cheeks from all the crying, and all you wanted was to be with the one person who could always make you feel safe; your best friend.
But what is one supposed to do when their best friend just happens to be the one that broke their heart in the first place?
You can't even remember how the argument started. One moment you were having a lovely dinner with the love of your life, prepared to have the movie marathon of a lifetime, and the next the two of you were spitting out things you were sure both of you would regret the next day. The night ended with your body going completely numb as you heard the words, "I think we need to break up," come out of Peter's mouth.
He was gone before you could manage to come up with a coherent thought, before you could beg him to stop and talk things out with you. You stared at your apartment door for a good 20 minutes in shock, hoping he would come back. He never did. You crawled into bed shortly after, a heaviness in your chest as you started to cry.
You weren't sure how long you laid there, tears flooding your face, never stopping, the numbness eventually going, leaving pure misery around to linger and force you to replay his last words to you in your head over and over. You fell asleep shortly after, only to continue the process again in the morning when you woke up to an empty bed and realized this was going to be your new normal from now on.
You tried everything to distract yourself. Well, everything that was within the vicinity of your bed, which included watching tv, reading your psychology textbook, and scrolling on your phone until you were forced to leave it alone to charge.
Nothing really worked, your mind coming back to Peter each time. You had to see him, talk to him, anything. You just needed him.
Before you knew it, you were unlocking your phone with a shaky hand, your fingers immediately tapping over the phone icon, Peter's number the first one to show on your call log. You hesitated over his name. Were you really about to call him?
Your body seemed to decide for you, pressing down on his contact before you could even really process or talk yourself out of it.
It rang a few times before disappointingly going to voicemail. You would've hung up if it wasn't for Peter's cheery voice ringing through your ears as his voicemail message started playing.
"Hey, it's Peter! Please lea-" you suddenly heard your own voice, saying something unintelligible in the background, making Peter laugh.
"Two seconds, babe, I'm trying to set up my-oh shit, it's still going. Um," you must've moved closer to him, your voice becoming clear as day you said "leave a message after the beep" with him, the two of you a mess of giggles.
You sounded so happy. What had changed from then to lead to heartbreak you were feeling now?
Your eyes were watering as you heard the sound of the beep.
"H-hey, Peter. It's me," you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, "Um, I know it's against protocol to call your ex after a break up, especially when it's only been a day, but I usually have my best friend here to talk me out of doing that."
You could feel the small resolve you had starting to break down, "I'm not really doing too great right now and I really need my best friend. Could you please come over? I need you, Pete."
You were full on crying now, sniffling in between your words. You were sure you were barely making sense at this point, "I-Um, please? Come here?"
Something inside of you snapped and you came to your senses, a gasp escaping your lips as you immediately hung up the phone. You felt so humiliated, how could you do that?
You threw yourself back on your bed with a groan, hoping more than anything that Peter would somehow not get that voicemail and you could save yourself from dying of embarrassment.
You spent the next hour contemplating your options on keeping Peter from hearing that message, your best ones being somehow getting into his apartment and deleting it or learning how to hack into his phone. Though you figured by this point he either hadn't heard it or had and didn't care. You almost hoped it was the latter, feeling guilty for calling him in the first place.
Suddenly there was a familiar tap on your window and you looked up to find your favorite masked hero sitting on the fire escape, giving you an awkward wave when your eyes met his. You rushed over to let him in, for a moment feeling like everything was normal.
"You're here," you mumbled, feeling breathless as you backed away to give him some space.
You watched as Peter crawled in, very ungracefully, immediately pulling off his mask, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, I was out patrolling and Mr. Stark said if I broke another phone, he would make me use an old flip phone."
You would've laughed if you weren't in complete awe of the boy standing in front of you, the one who no matter what, would always have your heart. "I just can't-you're here."
"Of course I'm here," he hesitantly reached out, as if contemplating what he was about to do, before setting his hand on your cheek, "Are you okay?"
Out of habit, you leaned into hand, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. You sighed both out of content and sadness, "I could be better."
"Yeah, me too."
He stepped away from you, leaving an aching feeling in your tummy at the lack of contact. He took in your appearance, making you look away self-consciously. You knew you looked like a mess, with your puffy, red eyes, and makeup smudged around your face. Your room didn't look much better, wrappers and tissues thrown across your bed, some on your floor. You didn't have to look at him to know Peter most likely had a look of concern and probably pity on his face.
"Have you eaten any real food today?"
You gave him your signature guilty smile, "Do mini kitkats and oreos count as real food?"
He sighed, "I'm ordering dominos."
"Peter, wait," you gently touched his arm, wanting to feel him under your fingertips one last time before saying what you were sure you would regret later, "You should go. It was selfish of me to call you like that and I feel horrible. I'm sorry."
Peter looked down, "Don't, feel horrible, I mean. I would be lying if I said I didn't need this, need you, too."
"Oh."
You felt a pang of guilt in your heart at his words, realizing you'd been so selfish you hadn't thought that Peter would be hurting too.
"So, uh, pizza," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Pepperoni and bacon?"
"Yep! Can we get those wannabe garlic knot ball things too?"
"Is that even a question? Of course we can."
You smiled, your first smile of the day. You knew nothing was normal and this was a temporary happiness, but a whole pizza and many episodes of friends later, that thought was far away in the back of your mind.
You found yourself laying beside Peter, you head on his chest and his fingers playing with your hair. You talked about everything, reminiscing about high school and your childhood together, all the embarrassing stories that haunted the both of you at night, the classes you were going to take when your next semester started in the fall, anything to avoid the topic of your break up.
"You wanna know how I found out you were Spider-Man?"
Peter paused his soothing movements on your scalp, "What are you talking about? I told you I was Spider-Man."
"Do you remember the first time I went and visited you at the Stark tower junior year? Well, Tony must've thought you told me, because he dragged me over to his lab to show me the new suit he was making for your birthday."
"Wait, so Mr. Stark spilled the beans and you never told me?"
"He made me promise not to!"
Peter pulled away from you, dramatically laying back against your pillow, a hand clutching his chest, causing a burst of laughter to escape from your lips. "I'm offended! How could side with Mr. Stark over your boy-" he cut himself off with a cough, a blush on his cheeks as he realized what he was about to say, "um, best friend."
The air seemed to shift, that heaviness from the night before making a reappearance. You wanted to change the subject, make him laugh and see his heart stopping smile once more, but now that it was on your mind, you knew you couldn't put off talking about it anymore.
So much for avoiding the breakup.
"Peter," you sat up, crossing your legs underneath you, "I think we have to-"
"I know."
Your teeth tugged on your lips nervously as you heard Peter take a deep breath. You kept your eyes glued to your bedsheets, hoping if you didn't look at him you'd refrain from crying.
"I'm not happy anymore."
"With me?" You held your breath, waiting for the confirmation you knew would shatter your heart into tinier pieces than it already was.
"No! I-I love you, y/n. I always have."
Your eyes shot up at him, full of hurt and confusion. "I don't understand?"
"You're one of the few things I've always been sure about, a constant in my life I can always count on, but right now, you're all I'm sure about and I need some time to figure everything out."
"Maybe, I could help?"
He shook his head, "This is something I have to do on my own."
You didn't know what to say, a hundred thoughts going through your head. The insecure part of you questioned his explanation, what if was just trying to spare your feelings?
No, you knew Peter wouldn't lie to you, not unless he was trying to protect you.
You wanted to ask him more about what was going on with him, he'd always come to you when he was in trouble before, but you didn't want to push him.
"Maybe I should go," Peter said, bringing you out of your thoughts.
"No, please don't," you pleaded, "I want you here."
You shifted, laying back down beside him. You laced your fingers through his, a small wave of relief washing over you when he didn't pull his hand away. "Can we pretend everything's normal for tonight?"
"I'd like that."
In hindsight it was probably a bad idea, but neither of you didn't care. How could you when you got to spend the night in Peter's arms?
You stayed up almost all night, kissing, talking, being wrapped up with each like you would any other day. The two of you fell asleep around 4 am, Peter's head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his arm around your waist. You knew in the morning the hurt would be back and you'd have to deal with it on your own, but at least you were content, that feeling following you in your dreams.
Peter was the first one to wake up, the small bit of sunshine peeking through your blinds hitting his face. You looked so peaceful beside him, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest breaths, the sunlight behind you making you glow. He wished more than anything he could stay.
He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, softly whispering, “I love you,” against your skin, before carefully crawling out of bed. He quickly changed out of the clothes you'd given him last night, his clothes, your favorite shirt and pair of sweats you'd stolen from him a long time ago, and back into his suit.
Pulling his mask over his head, he slipped out the window, giving your sleeping figure one last look before closing it behind him. He hesitated on the fire escape, thinking about the lies he told you last night. He considered telling you the truth, telling you about the impending doom on it's way to shred the whole world apart and how he was apart of the solution to stop it.
'It's safer for her not to know,' he thought, convincing himself he was making the right decision, even if it meant losing precious time with you.
As he started swinging away, he sent out a silent prayer, hoping he'd come back from it all to make it up to you.
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At Odds - Chapter 4
Summary: The Empire uses dirty tactics to bring Mandalore to its knees. Orla gets in a fight(s).
Warnings: Realistic medical scenarios (including a minor character death), violence, blood, c*ddling
Words: 4200
Mij Gilamar is the kind of physician every young doctor or medic looked up to - kind, brilliant, a patient teacher. He’d been a mentor to her back in medical school and so much of her success was due to his encouragement and kind words. So seeing the look of anxious terror on his face is not putting Ori at ease.
She looks down at the datapad sitting on her lap. Her stylus hovers over the question on the form. Is there any chance you could be...
He'd been sent from Sundari, to try and prepare Keldabe for the onslaught of the illness that had now overwhelmed the old capital. The man looks tired, his brown hair streaked with silver hanging limp, armor loose on his gaunt frame. The room was full of nurses, doctors, medics and therapists, mostly specialists who didn’t work in the field that often.
“It’s become clear this is an engineered agent. I expect you to keep this in the utmost confidence moving forward. We have the best bioengineers on Mandalore working on a vaccine and we need to do what we can for our patients until they develop one.”
The situation really must be dire if they were bringing the obstetricians to the party. Dr. Gilamar explains the proposed mechanism of the virus, how its symptoms mimic Candorian Plague, how the agent’s genetic sequence has been altered. With a grim expression, he continues to detail the therapies that had been attempted in Sundari without success, that the fatality rate was nearing thirty percent, how it was spreading like wildfire in the ruins of the city. The mood in the room is grim.
He goes on about containment strategies they’d tried in Sundari, how they believed the virus spread, how it killed. Who it killed.
“I understand if any of you want to opt out. We won’t think less of you, nor will we ask for reasons.”
Ori doesn’t want to opt out. She has a sense of duty to her people. But watching them die without tools to help isn’t what she has in mind. No matter the risk of transmission, which according to Mij was still out of control. What nobody was addressing in the room was who exactly had set the virus upon Mandalore, if it really was an engineered organism. Mandalorians always had enemies, but it was easy to guess the most likely culprit. Either the Empire was clumsily stupid or so incredibly bold that being stealthy didn’t matter to them. Unfortunately Orla suspects it was the latter. Mij finishes up his speech and tittering erupts throughout the room.
“Please let me know if you have any questions, otherwise you can return back to your work. I expect to hear from you soon regarding your decision.”
They all file out of the room, turning in pads as they go. Looking around her, Ori doesn’t see a single person decline to work with the pandemic patients. A ping comes from her datapad from the nurses upstairs; one of her patients is getting ready to push and she needs to be there soon. Gathering her things, she moves to head back up to the delivery ward before Gilamar stops her.
“Doctor Beviin, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, Mij. I wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Agreed.” He sighs, pursing his lips. “We’ll need you here. I know you’ve been a specialist for a long time - and I don’t want to pressure you - but we don’t have enough boots on the ground here and we haven’t even hit the peak yet.” Orla wishes she could see the bottom half of his face through the mask.
“Of course, Mij,” she tells him as her datapad pings again, “I’m so sorry, I have a patient upstairs I need to take care of.”
He nods his head, body relaxing minutely as she signs her form and hands him the datapad.
---
Three Weeks Later
Summer, Keldabe, Northern Mandalore
In Keldabe it starts as a cough, benign enough at first that people don’t stay home from work or travel. Mandalorians fight through illnesses and this is no exception, though that is the exact reason it spreads so well.
The spread of the illness concides perfectly with an Imperial garrison being erected just outside Keldabe, complete with a bland-looking Administrator to oversee it. Plus hundreds of transport ships packed with shiny new stormtroopers to man the helm.
Unfortunately the populace is too preoccupied by the sickness spreading to the city to put up much of a fight. Even Mandalorians couldn’t hope to bring down the might of a government consolidated from both the gutted Grand Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It wasn’t a secret the population wasn’t replenishing itself; many had died in the Clone Wars, as mercenaries on both sides and many battles in between. Death by a thousand cuts. Ori couldn’t decide which was a more frightening prospect, immediate and painful death from this virus or slow and strangling subjugation by the Empire.
The new Imperial administrator laments the incompetence of the Mand’alor in controlling the pandemic. The screen in the doctor’s lounge is perfectly positioned in front of her chosen couch so Ori can watch the woman drone on about the might of the Emperor, how peace and security has been restored to the galaxy... all while supplying no aid, staff or medicine to the planets that need it. Kriffing useless Empire. If only she could be a fly on the wall in the Mand’alor’s meetings.
It’s her twelfth day in a row at the med center and the exhaustion has officially permeated every cell in her body. She sinks into the worn cushions with a deep sigh. If she could just close her eyes for a minute, just to catch up on a little rest, it will take the edge off her exhaustion. The med center has physician sleep rooms, but the beds are never as comfortable as she needs and the sound of doors slamming in the halls wakes her every few hours. Overhead code pages are happening almost every hour now, with patients actively dying in the emergency ward, on the floors, in the intensive care unit. The code team is being run ragged, even with rotating staff.
She tries to get comfortable on the threadbare couch. Clearing her mind has been….difficult....the past few weeks. Despite her exhaustion, her mind races. Her last day off was almost two weeks ago, when Mij had sent her home, refusing to hear any sort of counter-argument, even though she knew he was sleeping at the hospital too. By now there is an almost endless stream of patients coming through the center.
Not to mention her cycle is late. Very late. Really, she thinks, she should know better. But denial is a powerful thing, no matter how much knowledge you have. She needs to confront the facts. Just not right now, she thinks, as her eyes close.
She has been chalking her distraction up to the sudden appearance of the planetwide plague without a cure had occupied most of her free thoughts for the past few weeks. There seems to be no real rhyme or reason to who succumbed. By now the med center itself is so full that all hands were now taking care of pandemic victims - surgeries are canceled, and whole wards are blocked off for coughing, dying patients that even bacta can’t help. Plus she had all her house calls and deliveries. Babies waited for no pandemic.
Finally, her exhaustion wins out over her rushing thoughts and she drifts off to sleep.
*BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP* *BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP*
She wakes to the anxiety-inducing page tone coming from her commlink, ripping it off the waistband of her trousers and pressing the silence button.
<URGENT Rm 1379 Please come to bedside>
Kriff
And then she hears the code page overhead.
KRIFF.
She’s up from the couch in a second and jogging through the med center, stiff achy limbs protesting every movement, though her exhaustion is temporarily forgotten.
Room 1379 is Maari. She is older, but not elderly. The past few days, Orla had been cautiously hopeful that she was on the mend. She’d stopped coughing up blood and even taken a few turns around the ward with the nurses.
She and Maari had talked the day before about how excited she was to go back home.
Ori reaches the room to find nurses and techs already working to resuscitate her. The woman is flat on the bed, back arching as she tries to drag a breath in through ravaged lungs. They’re scarred down and filling with blood - it’s what happens sometimes when patients relapse. Her team has seen it countless times by now.
Maari thrashes back and forth, desperate for air. The oxygen mask over her nose and mouth is coated with red, and her eyes roll around frantically. The rush of people is deceptive. To an outsider, this looks like chaos. In truth, it’s a well oiled machine. Each member has their role, and in the last few weeks they were all experts. Everyone in the room knows how this is going to go, but they try anyway. Even bacta nebulized through the mask can’t heal such damaged tissue. Mij turns up in the middle of the code with purple smudges under his eyes, looking even more ashen than usual.
There’s not much they can do at this point. She has no pulse, no electrical activity keeping her heart beating in art sort of organized rhythm. The medic compressing her chest drips beads of sweat onto the plasteel bed frame as Ori orders another push of medication with no response. Her team has been doing resuscitation for over an hour without a response and the looks on their faces tell her it’s time to stop.
Orla calls out time of death and the team debriefs. Maari is covered with a sheet and paperwork is started. Her family hasn’t been allowed to visit, and Ori prepares herself to make the call to her daughter. Propping herself against the wall outside the room to take a breath, she sees the transparisteel doors that lead to the outside, where two stormtroopers are laughing and jostling each other at their post.
Stormtroopers ‘guard’ every business and government building now. The Empire taxes Mandalore’s imports and exports and blockades their space. Weeks of begging hadn’t convinced them to send aid.
Something snaps in her when the aides wheel the body out of the room. Her exhaustion and frustration mixes into something ugly, curling in her belly and filling her with searing rage. If the Empire has decided to wipe her people out, she isn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Hey!” she yells at the men by the door. The troopers straighten and tighten their grip on their blasters. The other staff around her must think she’s officially lost her wits. She must look horrifying because both white-armored men take a hesitant step back.
“What the kriff are you laughing at? People are dying and you think this is funny?” She’s screaming now, her throat is straining with it. The two troopers aren’t shocked anymore. Now they’re angry, defensive, she can tell by their body language. She desperately wants to knock some sense into them, wants them to see her people’s suffering. But she’s still in her scrubs, and they’re in armor.
The trooper to her right grasps her upper arm. Ori is still so angry she barely feels the grip bite into the flesh.
“You think you’re so fucking tough guarding a hospital full of sick people?” she snarls. Her twisted expression reflects back at her in the trooper’s visor.
“Stand down, citizen.”
The trooper on her right aims his blaster. The movement rips her out of her focus and she realizes that multiple people are watching on the ward. Mij has a hand behind his back, presumably on the blaster she knows he keeps hidden beneath his uniform. The stormtrooper’s helmet is still inches from her face and cool durasteel digs into her ribs.
“I said stand. down.” His blaster shoves further into her side, pushing her back into his companion with his hand crushing her arm. How had she lost control like this. How kriffing stupid was she? Her breathing comes hard and harsh, and her stomach roils unexpectedly.
The seconds go by slowly as she lifts her hands up in surrender. Saliva pools in her mouth and she swallows it back down, which she finds out is a giant mistake as everything she’s eaten today - a grand total of four crackers and some water - splatters onto the trooper’s feet. He jumps back, blaster forgotten.
“What the-“
The other trooper shoves her aside, disgusted, and she takes the opportunity to scurry through the med center doors, wiping her mouth on a sleeve. Somehow Mij Gilamar looks even more concerned then he did when a blaster was in her ribs. His brows knot together as she walks towards him, needing to brush of what just happened and get back to work.
She’s almost to Mij as the room spins sideways and her vision goes black.
------
Kal watches Ori sleep. Somehow she looks so much smaller than the last time he’d seen her like this. Though the last time he’d seen her like this, she’d been naked in his bed where he could run his hands over her bare skin. Where she could make him forget every horrible thing he’s seen and done from Kuat to Kyrimorut.
Her chest rises and falls slowly and he finds himself watching it to calm himself. She’d made quite the scene in front of two stormtroopers and Kal was sure they were going to haul her away to god knows where in retribution. Fortunately the one had been too preoccupied cleaning vomit off his plastoid to care.
The situation in the hospital in Keldabe was as close to any war zone that he’d ever been in and it was no wonder she’d worked herself to the bone. She was mandokarla.
He’d been at the med center to talk strategy with Mij, who wasn’t able to leave the wards. Only he, Mij and his sons knew about the vaccine the Empire was keeping in secret. About the plans to cow the Mandalorians into giving them what they wanted. He hadn’t been trained to fight fair, it wasn’t their way. But this, this pandemic, was a whole new brand of dirty fighting. He’d spent a few hours in the medcenter so far and seen the absolute carnage.
He has an enduring sort of affection for her that he can’t seem to shake. Mij tasked him with looking after her and he wasn’t about to tear himself away.
------
“You’re working yourself too hard, doc.”
Her vision swims in and out, but there’s Kal, clear as day, sitting in a chair next to her bed and tapping at his commlink. Ori starts, not fully sure of where she is.
“You’re still in the hospital,” he says gruffly, leaning towards her, “Tried to get you a bed but they’re all full. Wouldn’t let me take you back to Kyrimorut with me. So here we are.”
She gains her bearings while he talks. Here is one of the unoccupied physician call rooms.
“Not working too hard,” she rebuffs.
“Mij tells me you’ve been overdoing it.” Ori rolls her eyes at him. They’re falling into their usual routine. “You puked on a stormtrooper.”
He raises his eyebrows expectantly, demanding an explanation like she owes him one. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have one that she wants to offer to him.
Next to her bed is the worn datapad that she charts on and she picks it up to check her chart. Ori feels herself blanch with him in front of her as she reads her diagnosis. Mij must have had them draw blood after she passed out, and it’s a little unnerving that she doesn’t remember it, though when she looks at her right arm she can see the red mark where the needle had been. In her other arm is an IV line.
“Mij put me in charge of you until he gets back.” Kal looks incredibly pleased with himself, like they were playing a game and he had just won. He leans back in the wooden chair in the corner which creaks in protest. As usual, he wears his golden armor, which shines dully in the low light of the call room. Ori can’t remember a time when she’s seen him out of it, except when they’ve been in bed together. The blood rushes back into her face at that thought.
“So what did they do?”
The memory reasserts itself painfully. Ori doesn’t even know how much time has passed since Maari died. Behind her eyes she sees it all again.
At least she knows where she is. At least she didn’t wake up alone.
“I had a patient die...and I saw them out there laughing. I don’t know...I just lost it.”
It isn’t a good reason, she knows that. She wonders if Kal can even make sense of her babbling, she wonders if the troopers will report her, if she’ll even have a job to return to tomorrow. Some of her hopes she doesn’t, just to get a bit of relief from the exhaustion. Part of her hopes she’s infected, is jealous of the people lying in their sickbeds being taken care of instead of run into the ground.
But she’s not infected, she’s not even sick.
“Who died?”
“Maari Rook”
He nods, keeping eye contact. Men like him don’t flinch away from death; she wonders how many have died at the point of his knife or blaster. It’s surprising how composed she is, barely a few hours after the fact. Kal must think she’s losing her wits. She’s sure he doesn’t miss the way her voice wobbles and she sniffs.
“What can I do to make it better?”
It’s hard for her to get the request out and she feels weak for even asking. After all, they don’t know each other that well and she had no right asking.
“Can you just…” she says softly, still a little embarrassed from her outburst earlier, “lie down with me?”
He freezes, obviously not expecting this type of request. The ice in his blue eyes softens and a smile tugs at a corner of his lips. He looks almost boyish - she wasn’t expecting him to look so pleased. The armor comes off, chest piece first, then arms and gauntlets, thigh pieces next...and she must have dozed off because her face is pressed up against a warm chest and his arm is wrapped around her, the other stretching over his head to snake under the pillow.
“Mij is giving you a few days off,” he murmurs, warm breath tickling her ear. She hums in reply, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize the hint of cedar she can smell from the mountains around Kyrimorut that has percolated into his clothes. His body heat seeps into her bones as she snuggles closer; her hands twine in the fabric of his tunic. A large hand strokes through her tangled hair. Right now she wants to forget about the world outside and just sink into the warmth and safety surrounding her.
“One of my boys thinks the Imperials has a vaccine here on-planet,” he continues as his chin rests atop her head, “this’ll be over soon. Just be patient.”
But she can’t be patient.
Kal leaves her an hour or so later, assuming she’s fast asleep. Ori keeps her breathing deep and slow until she’s sure he’s gone. All she can think about is the possibility of a vaccine. Certainly, she’s had the thought before, since they weren’t seeing any troopers come down with the illness. The audacity of keeping vaccine on-world wasn’t something she’d considered the Empire bold enough to do.
The guards in front of the gleaming new garrison let her through without a fight. She tells the front desk her name and her complaint. Ori hopes they’ll let her talk to someone with any sort of importance or rank, if she can make somehow them see reason.
The bored-looking secretary beside the durasteel door looks her up and down, obviously unimipressed by her simple work uniform and disheveled hair. Strands are falling out of her bun and tickling her neck and she reaches her hands up to nervously smooth them back. She can’t remember the last day she washed it.
The secretary buzzes them into the room with nary a word and Ori follows the troopers’ lead into the office. The two stormtroopers who had escorted her into the office are silent by her side when the officer finally enters the room. The shining surface of the pure white plastoid keeps them separate, impersonal.
Behind a severe durasteel desk sits a man in a grey officer’s uniform. She wonders if it looks much different from the Republic officer uniforms - Mandalore had been removed enough from the conflict of the Clone Wars that she’d never even seen a Republic officer. Before the events of the last few months, there was hardly anything that made two regimes distinct. He’s certainly not a clone. From the few officers she’s noticed around Keldabe, this Empire seems to favor humans more than any other species, and at least from the groups of troopers she’s seen occupying Keldabe most are men. He rises, extending a hand for her to shake.
“Dr. Beviin,” he says smoothly, “it’s a pleasure.” The polished Core accent fits his persona, with his slick shiny hair and boots to match. His face is clean-shaven, with the plump look of a young man, unscarred. This was some politician’s favored son, no doubt, tasked with bringing Mandalore to its knees. Anger threatens to rise again, but she tempers it before it can best her again. She has a goal here.
“Likewise,” she replies. He gestures to the seat in front of his desk and she takes it. Her stormtrooper escort settles at the back of the room.
“I’m Corporal Hadley. How can I help you?”
“Corporal, as you know there’s a virus tearing its way across the planet.”
“Ah yes, I’m aware.”
“If you’re going to occupy a planet, you have a duty to its citizens.” She keeps her voice and manner neutral, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, though her anger and frustration are slowly rising. She hasn’t slept, and it always makes her testier than usual.
“The Empire takes care of its own first. Once your people prove their loyalty, then we will provide a vaccine. I don’t understand why you think your people will get anything for free.”
She decides to pull out the trump card.
“I know you have it here. I demand you distribute it as soon as possible.”
“Or what, Doctor Beviin?”
She is silent at this, for she has no reply. There’s nothing she can threaten them with except knowledge and they know it. It dawns on her then how stupid she is, how she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Not even Kal.
“The Mand’alor will -”
“The Mand’alor won’t do anything. There’s nothing he’s willing to barter with that the Empire needs that badly.”
The unnamed officer jerks his head at one of the troopers, so quickly she almost misses it, until she hears the crack of a rifle butt against her own face and pain lances through her cheekbone. The strength and shock of the blow is enough that she falls to her knees, watching her own blood patter onto the duracrete floor. Her cheekbone is broken, she’s almost sure of it as she reaches a shaky hand up to her face and feels it crushed inwards. Her fingers come away covered in blood.
“You hutuune,” Ori hisses, “Cowards.”
“Shut up,” one of the troopers mutters, pushing her to the floor for good measure, grabbing her comm out of her pocket and crushes it under his foot. The other pipes up as the officer watches.
“You know they say you’re supposed to rub their nose in it.”
A boot presses between her shoulder blades and grinds her harder into the floor, forcing the air out of her lungs, duracrete scratching painfully against her broken cheekbone. Tears spring to her eyes and she can’t hold them in, ashamed at how stupid she’d been to believe she could negotiate with Imperials. Desperation had blinded her.
“I thought Mandos were supposed to fight back? That’s what the briefing said.”
Ori doesn’t dignify his comment with a response. Not everyone fights with fists. It was something she had struggled with her whole life, though now was a rare exception where she wished she could take on three men and win.
The boot nudges at her again and she tries to flatten herself against the ground instead of instinctively curling inwards or using her hands to give away what she is desperately trying to protect. She prays they don’t take the beating further.
“Doctor Beviin, you’re under arrest for treason and assault of an Imperial officer,” says the grey-suited captain, with a tone so bored that he could have been ordering tea instead of standing over a woman his soldiers had just brutalized.
Bruising fingers attach themselves to her upper arms and haul her to her feet. The troopers march her out of the room as she tries to keep up, blood still trickling down her face and onto the collar of her work uniform. She can’t reach up and wipe it off.
Taglist:
@leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @cherry-cokes-world @clonewarslover55 @passionofthesith @808tsuika @wolfangelwings @the-arctic-violet
#Kal Skirata x OC#Kal Skirata Hate Sex#Republic Commando#Once again I hate this chapter and wish I could get it longer but alas#here you are#my writing
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Watching House as a Physician. Season 2 Episode 3. Infectious diseases & Respiratory.
Welcome to another episode of medicine done badly.
I’ve been watching House on Amazon prime.
Got the subscription during the pandemic, as like everyone else, I’ve garnered an online shopping habit now.
Alright. In the opening scene a young roof worker falls off the roof presumably due to acute shortness of breath. i.e. trouble breathing. (why do we use the term shortness of breath? it’s the english version of the greek term dyspnoea - the actual preferred language of Western doctors. Fuck do I know why we like Greek and Latin so much. Moving on.)
Then cut to Dr. Cuddy examining him in the back of the ambulance.
This would never happen in real life.
Yes you can be on the scene and handover to the paramedics or EMT when they arrive as a doctor. But they would take over. I personally wouldn’t have the balls to look after a patient in a different environment, different resources and field I’m not familiar with. You can have field Emergency docs - but requires different training.
Also, ethically, you’re not meant to treat family or friends. Dr. Cuddy later in the episode gets a bit emotionally involved - this is why we don’t treat people close to us. We lose objectivity. We make mistakes. And you see later see Cuddy do some pretty bad ones.
I feel like much of this episode is not really IM. THere’s less differential diagnoses being made. More side tracks into trauma, emergency, intensive care or vascular surgery.
Anyhoo. Trauma and emergency would manage the fall and post fall traumatic injuries. And the trauma protocol was either not shown or completely off in this episode. Surgeons don’t seem to exist in House, at least not very much. Similarly, no other doctors exist except surgeons in Grey’s anatomy.
Also you can’t clear a C Spine clinically, which is what Dr. Cuddy does in the back of the ambulance. You’d need a CT first and clearance both radiological (by a radiologist) and a clinician.
Aaaanddd, you can’t just listen to the chest and go no pneumothorax (air in lung or collapsed lung) - yes it’s reassuring, but again you’d need imaging to confirm this, given how serious a condition this is. It is realistic to consider in the setting of a fall, particularly if there are rib fractures that can puncture the lung.
Once the more critical injuries are managed, we would look after the IM side to things.
So. Finally.. differential diagnoses.
Takes what seems and feels like days before they finally sit down and go through differentials. Really not much on that white board. Dark fingers, broken ribs, fever and lung infiltrates. Time line’s not clear on when he developed the fever.
Presenting complaint isn’t really addressed. It could be:
- Dyspnoea, leading to the fall, he’s requiring O2 via nasal prongs, which suggests that he’s hypoxic (this is definitely odd in a young guy who’s normally very physical fit if he works as labourer). so much to unpack here, but they never get into this well.
Post fall, Cuddy notices his ring and pinky finger becoming dusky, which becomes very central in this episode. Very few things would cause this. pains me that they do no differentials on a white board for this alone.
Then a lot of throwing around medical terms.
PTT prolonged and Fibrinogen off. These are markers of your coagulation pathway and signs that you’re not forming the clots the way you should if you have an injury.
DIC is also thrown around. What is DIC? Disseminated intravascular coagulopathy. Certainly severe sepsis and trauma can cause this and lead to severe bleeding. It will throw off your coagulation pathways (things that stop bleeding). It’s not common. I’ve treated it once, while I was rotating in ICU, it is not standard ward medicine practice.
Standard therapy is fresh frozen plasma (FFP) and even large metropolitan hospitals only have a limited supply. It’s a huge concern for surgery and post-op (as you patient will just not stop bleeding after you cut them open, and if not treated, potentially bleed to death).
Cuddy mentions ARDS. Acute respiratory distress syndrome, it could be a complication, but it’s not a cause. Again, falls more into the realm of critical care (a la ICU). However, patient had SOB prior to the fall. Finally HOuse makes the observation. of “what if he was sick before he had his run in with gravity...”
Everyone jumps to Pneumonia.
And this is where it gets confusing.
If he was unwell, the minute he entered the emergency department with a fever and hypoxia, they would have worked him up for any garden variety pneumonia, bacterial or viral.
Cultures would have been sent and imaging. Any young hypoxic patient would prompt a closer look at the chest. And no one waits that long to start antibiotics - “sepsis kills” is a slogan often used around hospitals. You have to initiate empirical therapy within 30 mins, to reduce mortality and morbiditiy.
Ordering an Echocardiogram (USS of the Heart) also makes no sense in the context of a lung infection. I would order one, but not to look at the lungs.
Then there’s the most unrealistic thing about this series.
Doctors breaking into patient homes.
It is however, a good way to showcase social history. It’d be boring to watch a doctor ask the patient outright about their living situation etc, but it’s far more interesting to see exactly how they live. We try as much as possible to illustrate to each other and ourselves what the living environment and working environment of our patients are like.
In the context of infection, a good social history can point out exposure. As they exemplify by showing dead rodents and mould. This leads to 2 further differentials: Rat bite fever (caused by streptobacillus, something you’d see in the US, but probably not anywhere else), it’s an unrealistic differential in general. And the 2nd is aspergillosis.
Okay..
So aspergillus is a mould commonly found in our environment. In fact it’s everywhere around us.
THere’s few times when it’s an issue.
It is a concern in respiratory syndromes like asthma or bronchiectasis. And also as an opportunistic infection in immunocompromised individuals.
in the context of asthma, it’s not so much the aspergillus itself that causes issue, it’s our body’s over reaction. It’s a hypersensitivity issue that causes inflammation in the lungs or a pneumonitis. We even gave it a name. Allergic bronchopulmonary aspergillosis. It’s still badness, but it doesn’t happen that quickly. We also have specific tests for this, which were obviously not considered in this episode of medicine done badly.
In the immunocompromised host (steroid therapy in transplant patients or those on chemo, etc.), you can get the invasive mould as an opportunistic infection.
I don’t really understand why they think it would be the case here.
Also, killing the bug with heavy duty anti fungals will only give more issues rather than do anything. They start him on amphotericin. this is not standard practice.
And now it flips to why amphotericin is not standard practice or first line treatment for invasive aspergillosis. The patient has now become anuric (not making any urine). (First line drug by the way is voraconazole, superior efficacy in trials with a lower mortality rate and ADRs)
Also, note that they have just jumped straight to dire renal failure from the amphotericin. No work up. That said, heavy drugs like amphotericin are often a cause, but It’s often temporary with the appropriate supportive measures (stop insulting agents, give hydration, monitor fluid balance), reversible, even if you require temporary dialysis or haemofiltration. Anyways, would get into AKI another day, that’s a whole other post in and of itself.
Then his hand is apparently “dying.” There’s pain on light touch, but it’s not a cold, pulseless limb. Or discoloured. doesn’t add up. This now enters vascular surgeon territory. Again. It’s interesting that there’s never any referrals to any other teams. If he has good circulation, I would imagine they would try to save the hand and consider other differentials.
The only time I can think of an emergency amputation in this situation is necrotising fascitiis. That’s the only thing that would occur that rapidly AND necessitate losing tissue or limb.
With a young person who’s this ill, there’s often multiple subspecialties involved by this point. I’m also surprised he’s not in ICU.
Then there’s a buncha filler scenes of the cast of house getting emotional. Ho my god, they’ve taken the hand of a young 20 something physical labourer. Indeed, this is badness. Unlike House, we actually are trained to always consider how a patient’s illness impacts their activities of daily living and livelihood.
I find the general population assumes that we practice medicine in a vacuum, we merely treat the clinical illness and ignore everything else. They imagine that we all must be like house.
Actually we try to put things in perspective as much as possible and knowing our limitations in this area, we often enlist the help of friends - physiotherapists, occupational therapists and social workers. They never exist on TV or on the movies. Ever. Unless it’s to portray how terrible it is to be a social worker.
From time to time in this episode, Cuddy laments that being chief of medicine is too administrative and she hasn’t been a doctor in years. That also doesn’t happen in real life. If you’re chief you’re still a doctor. You have admin shit to do deal with yes, but you still practice. It’s like being chief resident, in all the TV shows with one of these, you still seem them working as residents, be it scrubs or grey’s anatomy.
Back to the differential. They finally get to endocarditis. Culture negative to be precise. That indeed would explain the bilateral dusky fingers that led to unnecessary amputation. Septic emboli.
Going to stop here, more out of exhaustion now. I’ve created quite a lengthy post. Happy to reblog thoughts on culture negative endocarditis on request later. This is a worthy topic to study up on for students or residents. At least review Duke’s criteria and think about your clinical features like Roth Spots and Janeway lesions or Ouch Osler’s nodes.
The ending is also a far fetched connection to make, but is one that we would consider. In fact, we would ask in detail every time from day one - have you had any exposure to animals. It’s very rare to see someone so young be that sick out of the blue when you’re immunocompetent and have no underlying predisposing conditions. If there’s no focal source, then we would even ask about injectable recreational drugs, exotic travels, sexual health.
Most of the time, patients that sick are honest to their doctors.
But what about..
Frankly, much as we lie as humans, when our lives our on the line, we’re generally pretty honest (sometimes too honest) with the people we want to save us.
Any patient who is young and comes to hospital requiring inpatient admission, they’d be investigated by subspecialties with expertise in certain areas such as infectious disease. The dept of infectious disease would either be home team, or all over this patient as they special in the realm of both common and rare infectious diseases, culture negative endocarditis would have been considered before a hand amputation.
The term, “department of diagnostic medicine is laughable,” particularly when they consider it the only department in the world in the show.
In actuality, it’s a department that is universal and exists everywhere. it’s Internal medicine. Dr. Vivek Murthy, the next surgeon general (and also the last one under Obama) is an internal medicine physician. Ken Jeong of Community and the Hangover fame is also a physician of internal medicine.
Beginning to get the sense that most episodes are going to end with a diagnosis that is either infectious disease, rheumatology or haematology. But generally those tend to be most interesting and give the most plot twists or meaty differentials V.s. a stroke or acute myocardial infarction is fairly straightforward to diagnose.
This is a very twisty episode in all the wrong directions.
Dyspnoea is a very common presenting complaint. There’s a properly done approach to this in the podcast by the Curbsiders by the way.
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From the ground up.
The road to recovery is a bumpy one, but Tim’s (reluctantly) ready for the drive. He just hopes they won’t crash and burn.
-.-.-
Tim recovers after an injury. Mending his bonds with the bats its a plus.
Or, Tim can’t exactly run away from a conversation, and they all take advantage of it.
( @animemangasoul asked for Tim actually needing his crutches. Of course my dumb ass brain needed to take that idea and make a whole, emotional thing of it. Threw in some family bonding cause why not.
Babe I did my best, and if it’s bad I’m blaming exams and life stress of me being unable to properly deliver what you hoped for)
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It had been a stupid decision. Self sacrificing, reckless, idiotic. He doesn’t know Bruce’s disappointed eyes, Dick’s worried ones or Damian’s disdainful sneer to know it.
Still, it had been his choice, and he’s going to stand by it. Even if it means having Steph pose as Red Robin for some time. Even if he has to deal with M’gann’s guilty looks at failing to convince him to change places, to allow her to get shot while he took the criminal out, instead of what they actually did. Even if it means getting annoyed, nearly hysterical texts from basically everyone he knows, condemning him for his stupidity.
The only ones he had explained himself to were Tam -who honestly deserves it after all the shit he was going to put her through, dealing with her recent trauma (courtesy of assassins) and the press going haywire at Tim’s broken engagement and then almost fatal injury-, Steph (who was going to be changing between Batgirl and Red Robin for some time to keep the whole charade up and Vale off their track) and M’gann herself, who had needed some serious explanation before she conceded to Tim getting shot in front of her for appearances sake.
The rest of the world? They could rot in curiosity, for all he cared. Bruce had probably extrapolated enough from his succinct explanation about Vicky to understand the whole plan. Dick was probably dying to know, but with their relationship strained as it was wouldn't dare to ask. Damian… who know how the devil’s mind works. Alfred was already used to the Bat’s collective shit, and would probably just sigh and make chicken soup for him.
What he wasn’t cool about was being forced to have his recovery period in the Manor. He had a perfectly funcional place for himself, thank you very much, and could wobble around in his crutches from bedroom to kitchen to his small, personal cave, no problem. But Bruce had been unmoving in his decision, going as far to physically carry Tim in his arms, like a toddler, from the hospital steps to the car. It had been humiliating, but he couldn't exactly wiggle free in front of all the reporters, could he? How to explain a nerve strike to his dad, and his own ability to withstand the pain of falling back to his feet?
(Because he totally could stand the pain. He had done it in the dessert with a ruptured spleen, he could deal with a slightly damaged spine)
He was going to have his revenge though. As soon as he was able to move freely without clenching his teeth from the pain.
He’s being deposited on the bed, when he notices Damian lingering around the door. He was looking at Bruce, a little unsure, more than a bit of envy at the care which his father bestowed on Tim. Before, those jealous eyes would have made him weary of an attack. Now, with Bruce and Dick having forced a promise of civility from the kid, he was still on guard but not ready to flee at any given second. Perpetually tensing would only dampen his recovery, after all.
It was still something to think of. The lack of fire in his eyes. He… looked like a kid. Not as much a demon as he had been when Tim went away.
Well. Only time would tell if he had truly changed.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Bruce had ordered bed rest. No work, detective or CEO. Nothing more straining (for the mind or body) than watching a movie. Eating and sleeping were his only allowed activities. Even reading was to be moderated, because Tim was known to lose himself in any topic that caught his fancy and forget everything else.
Tim had listened to his reasoning, nodding along and adding his own helpful insight, smiling when his head was patted in response to his obedience. Waved cheerfully as Bruce left, made smalltalk with Dick when he visited hi room before heading out for patrol (theirs was a talk that he wasn’t really looking forward but knew he wouldn't be escaping for long), thanked Alfred for the food and ate half of it under his watchful eye. Even took the medicine with just mild complains.
The perfect picture of innocence and submission. Right until the butler went to the Cave to man the comms.
Then all bets were off.
Moving his bed out of the way to get the laptop hidden below the loose tile under it was impossible in his current condition, but thankfully he had been able to talk Bruce into letting him keep his phone, and his briefcase wasn’t too far to not be able to make the walk without crutches (painful as it was).
Before an hour had passed, he had the wall by his bed covered with post it notes, connected by red sting and pins here and there. A pretty evidence board, even with the lacking resources. Perrrfect for a little Tim-Time, a small bit of detective work.
Bruce would certainly bitch about him moving around so much, taping pieces of information or moving the string around, but, well. What Bruce didn’t knew…
-I thought Father ordered bed rest.
The voice, completely unexpected (he had either been in too deep thought, or the brat was getting better at stealth), made him jump so high and sudden he almost pulled his stitches. The medication, fading with each hour, had weaned enough he felt every bit of tissue, still torn from the shot, straining under the move.
It resulted in the longest, filthiest string of curses his sharp mind could come up with, partnered with gasps and a lot of hair pulling in a instinctual attempt to redirect the pain from his torso to somewhere less dire.
-No one taught you to knock and not to startle convalescent people, brat? -he spats between clenched teeth, squinting through barely-opened eyes to glare at him- And why aren’t you patrolling?
The kid was on pijamas. Tim can’t remember the last time he saw him unarmed. Though he probably still had at least a dagger on himself that he couldn't see.
Bruce and Dick’s promise echoed in his mind, but just in case, he let one of his arms go around his middle, acting as if trying to soothe his hurt (okay, maybe it wasn’t all an act) while he palmed the three Red Robin pallets he had secured between his bandages earlier.
Damian scoffed and approached him, careful to keep a healthy distance but enough so he could properly appreciate Tim’s wall.
-Apparently, Father knows better than to trust you to behave, and he came up with a schedule to keep an eye on you. For what reason, it escapes me. Your death could only serve as a stress relief for everyone, specially if it was caused by your own stupidity. And you didn’t answer my question.
A large part of him wanted to tell him to fuck off. An even larger reminded him he was barely armed, heavily incapacitated, and that Damian had actually answered him first, so, technically, it was fair to do the same.
He sighs and leans back into the pillows, shoulder on the wall crumpling the photo of his number three suspect.
-Whatever. Bruce clearly bought when I said I’d act the part, otherwise he would have cleaned my room of anything useful. You’re probably here because paranoia is too deeply ingrained in the man, or he thinks you could use a rest too. Or both.
Probably both, Tim thinks. He’s ready for Damian’s sneer and a declaration that he ‘didn’t need a rest’, most likely paired with an insult.
Instead, Damian surprises him by tilting his head and looking at him with something akin to curiosity.
-You lied to Father? And he… believed you?
Feeling his petty bitch inside stirring, he smirked- What, like it’s hard?
It actually was, it required a hell of a mental preparation and careful planning. But once you learned how to pull it off and took care to polish it, it was a often used weapon.
Damian wouldn't let any positive emotion towards Tim willingly show on his face, so the amaze was most likely honest. It was… a little humbling, truth be told.
-Tell you what -he decides, pulling his best negotiator voice, to cut the kid some slack-, you keep this little naughtiness -a nod towards the wall- between us and help me hide all proof before B comes back, and I give you some pointers in how to lie to Batman.
Damian seems truly torn. On one hand, Tim can guess, it's the mission his father entrusted him, and his deeply ingrained disdain to anything Tim proposed. On the other, the temptation of such a useful tactic, and the fact that he didn’t really care for Tim’s wellbeing enough to stop him from doing his thing.
-What are you working on?- he asked, likely gaining time while he mulled his options.
-Cold cases -a shrug-. It’s just a pastime of mine. I dig into Bruce’s old files, search for anything he couldn't solve, and work on it until I do. It’s really good for self esteem, and it helps a lot of people who never got closure for whatever it happened to them.
-Father will know you disobeyed if you solve it.
-I’ll wait until he gives me permission for some light work, and then dump all my worked out cases on him at the same time.
There’s something akin to wonder fighting to make itself known above Damian’s facade of indifference.
-Can you actually solve something Father himself couldn't?
-Done it before, will do it again. What will it be, Damian? Cause if you decide to snitch on me after all, then kindly leave me to this until then. I’m about to crack this, and if its going to be the last one I’m able to work on, I’d hate to leave it halfway.
A few seconds go by, before Damian takes the last step and carefully perches at the end of the bed, eyes solely on the wall.
-I’d prefer to aid in solving this. If it’s true this is something not even the Batman could do… it’d be highly rewarding to work on it. You can teach me the arts of lying another day.
Shocked it actually worked, Tim did his best to swiftly recover. Not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, he kept his doubts in check to dwell on them later and went back to his wall.
Having Damian around was surprisingly useful. He could just lay there, in his pillows, and direct the brat through moving the string and adding post it notes here and there, until the whole thing mapped out in front of them, the answer staring at them as clear as the quickly approaching day.
Satisfaction strong enough to smile despite the ever growing pain in his side, he gave into the urge to give a small pat to Damian’s shoulder before telling him to help take it all down, least Bruce came from patrol and found them on the act. High on the success and more than a little stunned about it, the younger vigilante actually complied, even going as far as to put all their mess back in Tim’s briefcase and bringing him a glass of water to wash down his meds with.
When Batman came to check on his middle son after patro, Nightwing on his shadow, they were regaled with the shocking, unbelievable sight of Damian sleeping, sitting on the ground with the back of his head resting on Tim’s bed, while the bedridden boy himself snored, a hand on top of the smaller kid’s head.
The picture Dick took of them was gonna be his most treasured possession forever.
-.-.-.-.-
-And this will make me a better detective? -questioned Damian, frown scrunching his nose in a way that Tim couldn't help but think of as adorable. Or as adorable as it could be, in a hell spawn. Fuck, Dick was rubbing off on him.
-It helped me -he shrugs, eyes on his own screen as he makes the proper adjustments-. Long live the queen is a good place to start. You need to consider both the character’s mood when selecting the week’s classes, and the goal you aspire towards. All the while dodging assassinations attempts, commoners uprisings or noble plots depending on the choices you make, and… other stuff. And ruling a country. And getting engaged. It’s a lot of juggling, keeping in mind which skills you need for which event, and it forces you to consider how the character is doing emotionally, something you could seriously use to learn. Want me to give you a run through?
-No need -he scoffed, clicking in the start game option, dubiously reading the introduction-. It seems easy enough.
Tim just smiled, eerie, from his place behind him.
Damian was sitting in the floor by his bed, back resting against it. The position, if slightly uncomfortable (Drake wasn’t an enemy any longer, if Grayson was to be believed, and after the other night’s joint work he agreed to help train Damian in mind schemes, but he wasn’t a complete ally either… and having such a grey person with such a clear shot at his neck made the assassin in him nervous), was the best way for Drake to watch his progress in this… game, while keeping his wound unbothered. It also kept Damian from ‘sneaking a peek’ at his own screen and ‘cheating at the game’, as he had said. Not that he planned on it, but-- well, all resources, no matter how dirty, were still fair game in the arts of war, as far as he was concerned.
Not that Damian needed the help. This was a silly game. He would probably beat this first try, high score even. Really, the main screen image had a teenager dressed in a frilly, pink, magical girl outfit. How hard could this be?
---
-My cousin just got bitten by a snake. Will she die?
-Wouldn’t you like to know, demon child. You’ll figure it out later in the game. Just keep going.
---
-Why do I keep failing this skill-checks? What am I missing? Is it even relevant? I just passed one that was completely useless about world history, but somehow missed the one that would have helped me keep this stupid girl from getting betrothed.
-If it was relevant, you’ll know it when, not if, when it kills you.
-...I should save my game here.
-With these shitty skills you’ve built? Sure, if you want to, but at this point you’ll die no matter what.
---
-Is this woman trustworthy? Our father said it was her fault mother died, but she said…
-Hmm. I’m not giving you spoilers. Tell me when you figure it out, one way or the other.
-Well, at least we have our aunt, uncle and cousins. Surely they are on our side, as our family.
-...
-Drake, why are you laughing?
-...
-Stop it! You are not scaring me!
---
-Look, I said I was not going to help you… but you can’t keep pissing everyone off, baby bat. You’ll never survive until coronation if you do.
-Those people deserved to get executed.
-...some of them, maybe, but you failed a lot of skill checks there, so you don’t have all the facts. Also, if you are gonna fuck with people, at least choose if you are doing it with nobles or peasants. Both of them is taking it a bit too far.
-I am the Queen. Neither would dare oppose me. I will have their heads if they do!
-..okay then. Let the record say I tried.
---
-Is this birthday party important?
-Uhm… Kinda. Your friend just turned of age, which means she gets to inherit control of her lands. There’s also a whole new route if you do go to the party, if you have the necessary abilities for it.
Tim saw the back of Damian’s head bob as he nodded. He gave it a few minutes. Then-
-YOU DIDN’T TELL ME I WOULD DIE ON MY WAY THERE!
-I did say you needed specific skills. Both for the party itself, and to get there.
He was ready for the unholy sound that escaped from Damian’s mouth, finger quickly taping at his phone to record it. That treasure was going to be his new ringtone. It would help with the pain, too. Happiness therapy or something like that, to distract the mind from the hurt.
---
-Hey, Dami? I’m gonna go get ready for patrol. Are you com/?
-NO -he snapped, neck almost breaking from how quickly he raised his head to look at Dick at the door. Eyes red from staring at the screen for so long, hair a mess after messing it up in incalculable desperation- I’m about to win! This time, my strategy won’t fail!
Tim, game already finished and now watching a movie (at least until Bruce and Dick left and he could go back to coding a new security system that even Babs wouldn't be able to crack) tilted his head, examining his brother’s open game. Week 30, no medicine knowledge, no intrigue, little to no dog training, no composure and not enough divination...yeah, Damian was gonna die again. It was the first time he had lived long enough to reach the tournament, and subsequently, the poisoned chocolates.
Should he tell Damian? On one hand, the frustration, clear in his face, would tear him apart after yet another failure. But… this was the most fun he had in a long time, and the longest they had gone without either insulting the other.
-Okay then -mumbled Dick under his breath, smartly retreating out of the room.
Tim waited a few beats- Let me know if you need help.
-Leave me alone Drake! As if I’d lower myself to such tricks! The victory won’t be truly mine unless I win by my own merits!
Still at the door, feeling both a little ignored and elated at his brothers getting along so nicely, Dick decided to slowly exit the place, least Damian truly snapped and threw a dagger or something at his head.
---
The downside of the pain meds was how drowsy they made him. He didn’t know quite what to do with himself, now that the bags under his eyes were so close to disappearing. He had come so used to them… maybe he’d need to start investing in eyeliner and fake them.
Blinking himself awake, he moved a bit to look at the clock on his bedside table and immediately flinched. He kept forgetting the wound, and then moved and was painfully reminded.
A hand appeared out of nowhere, holding a familiar pill. He took it without prompting, accepting then the glass of water.
-Don’t think too much of this, Drake. I’m merely assisting Pennyworth. Since I’m already here working on my progress, I offered to make sure you don’t forgo your medicine. Again.
The disdainful voice, probably masking the smallest shadow of care, had come familiar enough in the last couple of days that he knew even without opening his eyes who it was. The question of what the hell was he still doing here, after spending the entire day at Tim’s side, remained.
-Damian? Are you still playing?
The kid seemed uncomfortable.
-The idiotic Queen wouldn't stop dying. It’s against my every principle to give up before achieving my goal, so I had to stay here until I passed this… training of yours.
Tim had to bit his check to keep from smiling. Damian was kinda decent at it, but the boy who lied to Batman wasn’t so easily fooled by a half assed attempt. The brat had actually stayed so he could make sure Tim didn’t forget his pain meds and woke the whole manor up with his groans later.
-Well, as your teacher for this particular test, I’m telling you to call it a day. Go to sleep and come back tomorrow with fresh mind and eyes.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Rehab… sucked. There was no way around it. Sure, he could go the nice, easy way, give himself enough time to heal before starting on the recovery path. But vigilantes didn’t have the luxury of nice, and he needed to be functional again asap. Steph was running herself ragged, working on keeping Tim’s identity on the streets alive and her own territory safe, and there was a limit on how much Tam could take over in WE before collapsing.
Bruce hadn’t been happy about his decision of starting physical therapy while his stitches were still there, but when was he, ever? And the doctors had said he could do it as long as he was careful about it, now that the swelling in his back had disappeared, so he couldn't use them as counterpoints. There was also the nice plus of being emancipated, which made his medical decisions his own, and not even Bruce could just breeze by and ignore them.
Sweet, sweet independence.
Too bad he forgot a tiny detail: how fucking painful it was.
He could move around now, using the crutches, and he had a series of exercises his doc gave him to help regain movement, which he followed like religious doctrine. Two reps before lunch, one before bed. Okay, the physical therapist had said only do one per day, but he couldn't take into account Tim’s vigilante resistance and strength, so he felt safe in his small expansion of the activities.
That was, until the sharp pain on his side made him lose balance during his last rep and trip over his crutches.
A strong arm around his upper chest stopped his fall to the ground, and took the air off his lungs. It didn’t touch his wound, though, which… nice.
-If you're falling jus’ from walking, maybe you're not as ‘recovered’ as I heard.
-Ja...son -he coughs, hand (with the crutch secured to him by nice straps, courtesy of WE’s medical division) raising up to hold Jason’s arm for support. The other man shifted, coming closer, shouldering his weight without a word, his other hand going around his waist, under the wound, to help him along- This… but a scratch.
-Quoting “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” at me won’t keep you out of trouble, little shit. C’mon, I’ll take you back to your room. Which way?
Pointing him in the right direction, Tim took advantage of their closeness to examine the other man.
They weren’t on ‘kill on sight’ terms any longer, but Tim wouldn’t exactly call the man when in a pinch. What was he even doing here? He was fairly sure he and Brucer were still at that ‘mindless anger/deeply rooted guilt’ stage of their relationship, and his book club meetings with Alfred were wednesday afternoons, not friday evenings…
-Stop thinking so much, you’ll strain som’ing.
-I’m not Dick -he fires back almost in instinct, earning a deep chuckle in turn. He shifts a little, looking for a position where his trembling arms wouldn't make the crutches shake quiet so much. If Jason saw his struggle, he respected him enough to say shit about it.
-Speaking of, how’s it going with him?
-I have no idea what you’re talking about. We are fine.
-Yeah, right. And he’s sitting out of helping you with rehab because he suddenly lost one of his hundred hearts and it’s just your luck it was the one he had for you?
-Fuck… -a misstep, and his arms automatically shift to compensate, keeping him standing but paying it in pain when the movement tugs at his side. Jason tightens his grip, an unvoiced promise to keep it from happening again- you.
-Really threatening, with all the gasping and whining.
-Shut up. Why would we be at odds?
There’s a minute of silence as one of Jason’s hands leave him long enough to open the door to his bedroom.
-I’m jus’ saying -he shrugs as he helps Tim inside and towards his bed-, I know a discarded Robin when I see one.
He’s not sure if the pained sound comes from the jostling as he’s carefully lowered into his pillows, or the strike to his most exposed nerve.
-It was… a tough situation. Dick didn’t have much choice. I -it hurts to say- I get it.
It had also been right, by Damian. Tim can see it, in the remarkably diminished killer intent he could feel from the kid, and his actual willingness at keeping Tim company and even helping him around when needed.
Even if it was the worst for him, at least one of the two fucked up kids under Dick’s watch had benefited from it. It was… it was good enough. It had to be. Tim was fine, after all.
Jason looks at him for a moment, waiting until the pain yields a bit and he can breath again. Then, taking a seat by his feet, he lets his eyes stray to the photographs mounted on the walls, avoiding Tim’s scrutinizing gaze.
-Even if it makes logical sense, it still hurts. I know how it is.
There’s… not really something he can counter. He moves a bit to find position easier on his side, hiding the nervous twitch with the action.
-I never blamed you for it -he feels compelled to add. Jason winces, as if struck. He’s still not looking at him.
-And the brat’ll probably be the same with you, someday. Means shit now, but… small comforts.
-I guess so… I mean, we’re kinda getting along, now that he can’t try to kill me since I’m convalescente and I’m bored enough to contribute to his training.
Jason seems pained again. Tim is annoyed by how confusing this entire situation is.
-Y’er a good predecessor. He’ll/
-What is this all about? -he cuts, unable to stop himself. This attempt at deep conversation is well and good, but it’s coming out of nowhere and Tim never pictured Jason as one to go around randomly offering wisdom- Why are you here, and with me of all people?
There was a shadow of something passing through his face, before it transformed into the physical intonation of the ‘Fair enough’ feeling.
-I heard what happened from blondie while she was takin’ care of soom goons on y’er part of town. And… well, I have some experience on getting back on your feet after a bad injury, just in the wake of loosing Robin. Figured you’d be over doing it and getting yourself hurt worse.
It… was a fair assessment of what he was doing, actually. And if there was anyone he could speak about this… it’d be Jason.
-There’s so much I have to do -he sighs, sagging into his bed, relaxing for the first time when in a room with his childhood idol-, and Steph can’t keep running all my cases for me. I keep solving them, but I need groundwork done and she has already so much on her plate by patrolling my side of town, I just… I can’t let people die because I couldn't spy on an arms deal and tore it apart before the guns made their way to the streets.
Jason looked at him again, his emotions in check, and he seemed to think about it for a minute, before humming.
-What about this? You take it slow and easy with the physical therapy, and I help with that stuff. My territory is somewhat in order, or as much as you can have it in this hellhole of a city, so I have plenty of free time, and… I could use the atonement. After, you know, trying to kill you so many times.
It…was unexpected. Jason, helping him? In exchange of Tim’s wellbeing? It seemed absurd beyond belief, but there was no mistaking the earnestness on his face.
And, well, fuck it. Tim was somehow on speaking terms with one of his formers almost-assassins, what was one more?
...it would also be so worth it, once Dick knew. Tim could already picture his jealousy, seeing the two brothers he was at odds or uncomfortable with, speaking at each other and working together.
And having Jason at his side would keep Bruce from checking on him so often. Two birds, one crowbar.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
This was shaping up to be the strangest week of his life. Had he entered the twilight zone?
He had gotten kinda used to Damian popping into his room before patrol, or during the nights B forced him to stay at home. He’d work Damian through one of the easiest cold cases, or aid him in his never ending game of Long Live the Queen (he was getting really close to a happy ending, though). In exchange, the kid would keep his work a secret, and help him move around if the pain was too strong, or if he wanted a glass of water and didn’t feel like getting his crutches out for the small trip to the bathroom.
Also, it was somewhat normal to have Jason swing by (morning or mid afternoon, while the vigilantes of the manor slept off their patrol), some case files in hand, informing him about a new development in whatever Tim had asked him to research. Alfred, highly approving of their newfound camaraderie, would insist Jason stayed for tea, and the three of them would dwell into a very satisfying bitch fest, with Bruce as their source material.
What he wasn’t ready for, was having both of them around at the same time.
-Drake, you need to stop lazing around and do your exercises! Father and the doctors said…!
-Chill out, Demon, he did ‘em already. Shouldn't be doin more reps than the doc said, y’know?
Acting like his nurses.
-And how do I know you’re not lying to me, Todd? Hurting Timothy could only benefit you!
-...In literally which way? He’s the ONE brother I like! And like you are any better, Mr slashed zip line.
-Who told you about/? No matter. That was before we became allies. You, on the other hand!
Had he stumbled into a different universe? It wouldn't be the first time. Just in case, he sent Bart, his time/multiverse travel expert, a quick text.
-Hey guys, what’s all this noise abou/ Damian! Drop the knife!
Oh yeah. Just what Tim needed; the awkwardness that seemed to appear whenever he and Dick were in a room together. Maybe it was time to book it back to his room.
-Grayson! Give it back, I need to/!
-Disembowel Jay? I don’t think so.
-Fuck off Dickiebird, I don’t need your protection.
Decision made, Tim slowly moved his crutches, walking backwards without taking his eyes from the three vigilantes. If he was really, really quiet...
-I know, just/ Wait. Is that a gun?
-Well, it’s not like I’m happy to see yar ugly face.
-Excuse you?!... Here, Dami. You can have it back.
-FUCK!
-DIE!
-TIM!
The last scream came from Dick, who looked in his direction just in time to catch the moment Tim’s crutch slipped in the carpet. As it was, he was the only one who could react fast enough to prevent a painful, possibly very bad for his injury fall.
It also meant Tim was being cradled like a baby. Which- no.
The other two fell silent for long minute, while their minds caught up to Tim’s almost accident. Then, apparently seeing him safe in Dick’s arms, they turned to fight again. Apparently, blaming the other for Tim’s misfortune. Which… okay maybe he’d been distracted watching them go at it when he tripped, but still!
-I’ll just… take him upstairs -informed them Dick, though it sounded almost like a question. Probably wondering their ability to keep the discussion verbal.
Used to the nagging, both of them raised their hands, showing them empty (which, truly, meant little in the face of two of the most weapon-inclined people he knew), without pausing their rapidly escalating exchange.
Halfway up the stairs, he stopped wallowing in self pity about his still recovering body to remember that, for the first time in a helluva long time, he’d be alone with Dick. Which translated in Talk Time. Fuck.
By the time they reached his door, he had ready no less than six deflections and twenty conversation topics which avoided mention of all their baggage and could potentially satisfy Dick’s need for socializing with a brother.
-Wipe that look off your face, Baby Bird. You won’t be orchestrating this chat -the older hero informed him, casually as one can be, kicking the door closed behind him and softly lowering Tim on his bed. He was having serious Deja Vu’s from his first encounter with Jason-. We are going to sit in your room. We are going to hear each other out. I’m going to apologize for hurting you and give you insight on the why I acted the way I did. You’ll decide whether or not you’re ready for forgiving me. We’ll bond. Maybe cry. There’ll definetly be hugs involved -that shouldn’t sound like a threat, why did it sound like a threat, Tim felt threatened-, that’s non negotiable, don’t even try to put the ‘tender wounds’ card on me ‘cause I won’t buy it. And…
Dick’s stern voice wavered, arms still around Tim shoulders even when it was clear he didn’t need his support to sit in the bed.
-And we’ll be brothers again.
The tiny, broken sound mid-sentence was what got Tim.
Hand a little shaky, scared for his own heart but unwilling to let the older boy (his hero and family for so long) keep hurting, he touched Dick’s cheek and smiled. Tentatively, because they were on unstable ground here, but hopeful, because god did he miss his brother.
-We never stopped being that, idiot.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was after dinner, when Bruce approached him in silence. Tim had been making his slow but steady way to the den, where Dick had roped them all into watching a movie together. He could hear the sounds of Jason and Damian roughosing (okay, Jason was; the brat probably believed the whole affair to be a fight to the death for honor or something like that) and Dick’s chirpy voice as he ranted about The Greatest Showman from the hall.
Bruce had been making the trip by his side, hand hovering close to Tim’s elbow, in case the crutches failed him or he tripped. Tim wanted to tell him it wouldn't happen, but… he’d missed his dad’s attention a little too much to complain about independency now.
-How’s the recovery going, son?
He stopped in the door leading to where his brothers waited, turning to face Bruce with an arched eyebrow.
-You know that better than me, Mr I’ve broken every bone in my body at some point. Also I’m dead sure you hacked my medical files and know every little detail my physical therapist wrote by heart. You can probably recite them to me verbatim.
-I didn’t mean the physical recovery. The shot in your side is not the only wound you’re carrying right now
Silence, the only noise coming from inside the room and Tim’s heavy breathing. Unable to refrain himself, he risks a glance at the tangle of limbs rolling around in the carpet (Dick’s tactic to stop the fight was to hug them into submission) and lets the tentative, frail smile tug at his lips.
-Honestly, B… That one is healing nicely. There’ll be scars but… That’ proof of what we overcame. Right?
Bruce’s smile looked kinda uncomfortable in that stony face of his, but warm all the same. His hand left Tim’s arm to tussle his hair a bit, careful to not unbalance him.
-When did you became the wisest of my children?
A crash came from inside the room, startling them both.
-TODD YOU…!
-DAMIAN NO! JASON PUT DOWN THE CHAIR! DON’T MAKE ME CALL ALFRED!
-C’ME AT ME, MIDGET!
-ALFIEEEE!!!
-Bruce…
-Yes?
-I’m the only wise child you have.
#My writing#tim drake#red robin#Batfamily Fanfic#batfamily#jason todd#red hood#damian wayne#robin#dick grayson#nightwing#bruce wayne#batman#recovery#tw: injury#family bonding#gift to babe
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