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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I��m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

Text

death wish* matt murdock x reader

+++++++++ Request from @juniebugg : similar to Matt and Elektra in the gym ft Matt's choking kink

thank you again for the request and sorry it took so long. i had no idea how i was gonna write this and then it just hit me and i actually really like the way it came out so i hope you enjoy!

* - there is so little plot to this, i got so carried away omg. we definitely highlighted the choking kink, and maybe a praise kink, and mayhaps use a few pet names (good girl and baby girl) 😅

Song: disappear (remember when) by issues

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg +++++++++

"matt what are we doing here?"

i asked, watching him unlock the door. it made me that much more curious that he even had a key to whatever the hell this was.

"i want to show you where i go after work everyday. you said you wanted to know."

i looked around as he stayed by the door, holding his cane to his chest like he usually did.

"this is it, isnt it? where your dad trained?"

i asked, touching the punching bag hanging from the ceiling with the lightest touch. i looked to him and he nodded, walking to me slowly.

"i have an arrangement worked out with the owner and i come as i please. after hours of course."

i stared at him for a moment and a silence hung over the entire room.

"he's part of you ya know."

he raised a brow as i moved to hug the bag close to me, using it as a resting post.

"well he was my father."

i sighed out a short laugh.

"no matt, i mean daredevil."

he drew his brows.

"im not daredevil."

i rolled my eyes, letting the bag go and stepping to him slowly.

"I'm not an idiot matt, i know you sneak out in the middle of the night when you think I'm fast asleep. i don't know exactly what's in that trunk under the stairs but its kind of hard to miss the smell of blood. and even harder to miss the bruises on your face and body you try so hard to hide."

i shook my head, reaching up to touch his face gently and he flinched.

"you cant hide who you are from me Mr. Murdock. i see right through you."

he swallowed hard, tilting his head down as if he were looking at me through his red glasses.

"You always have."

"I think that's why I didn't ask you about it. I wanted you to come to me first. Tell me on your own terms."

He smiled and I smiled back before he leaned down and kissed me gently.

"And you're not mad I'm the devil of hell's kitchen?"

I snorted.

"Of course not. I'm a little concerned maybe but not mad."

"Concerned?"

I looked to the side and picked my words carefully.

"I've heard the stories and I see you limping sometimes. It's not a secret whoever it is you are fighting can throw you around."

He smirked at me.

"Not that I can't handle it. In fact i do a good amount of my own throwing around."

I smiled, amused.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

he challenged. I shook my head, placing my hand on his chest.

"Wanna show me just how much you can do?"

I challenged back and he smirked.

"is this a test? this feels like a test."

i shrugged, tracing my fingers lightly down his chest.

"i dont know, why dont we step into the ring and find out."

"lead the way."

he said and i did as told. i climbed onto the platform and he followed shortly after, leaving his cane by the door.

"so, matt, how much can you really see?"

i tested, squaring up with him, hands in a defensive position.

"enough."

he said and i raised a brow, making an impressed face.

"so if i-?"

i said before throwing a punch, him dodging it with ease and retaliating by pushing me. i huffed before trying again and him repeating the motion. we circled each other for a few moments before he decided to throw one at me, me stepping to the side and both of us laughing.

"something tells me this might go on for a while."

he said a little snarky and i snorted.

"only one way to find out."

i said before throwing another punch. in a second he grabbed my wrist and threw me to the ground. i groaned in pain, looking up at him as he offered his hand to help me back up.

"guess we found out."

he said and i smirked up at him.

"did we?"

i asked, grabbing his hand and yanking him towards me, pushing my foot into his hip and flipping him up over me and onto his back opposite me. i rolled over quickly and got into a new fighting pose, one knee bent and still on the ground and the other leg up with my foot on the ground like someone who is proposing. i had my hands up in a defensive position again. he just groaned, tilting his head back towards me.

"so its gonna be like that."

he stated before rolling over and doing a push up to get to his knees.

"i suppose it is."

i said slyly, dodging his punch and standing quickly. he was just as quick to match me though, grabbing me and flipping us both back onto the ground. he was only on top of me for a few seconds before i flipped him onto his back and straddled him, holding his hands against the mat above his head.

"guess i win."

i said proudly, looking over his face. he clenched his fists twice before he pushed upward and slammed his lips into mine. it took me off guard at first, making me let go of his wrists to kiss him back. he slowly sat us up, not breaking the kiss and i could feel his hands roaming up my back. i hummed against him until we were completely upright and he started kissing across my jaw and down my neck.

"you win."

he whispered against my skin before sucking at my collar bone, holding me against him with one hand and the other traveling up my torso slowly.

"matt."

i moaned as he gripped my breast over my shirt, biting my neck as he did so. i held onto him for dear life as i pressed my hips down against his, tangling my one hand into his hair.

"i need you."

he said, leaning back and pulling my shirt over my head. when it was gone i moved to him to do the same and when it was tossed to the side i pushed him back down onto his back. i kissed down his chest and torso slowly.

"id say this is a pretty good victory."

i said, undoing his pants and he laughed, helping me get them down his thighs.

"one we can share in."

he said with a smirk, tracing his fingers against my ankles as i stood over him and got rid of my own bottoms.

"god i want you so bad."

i said, dropping back down on top of him, kissing him deeply as i ground against him. he was already hard and part of me was proud again for not only pinning him before hand but also getting him worked up that fast.

"then have me."

he whispered against my lips and i sat back up. first i trailed my fingers slowly down his torso, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing got heavier. then as i got further down i heard his breath hitch in his throat, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"trophy?"

i asked and he nodded quickly, pushing his hips up against my hand. i smirked before stroking him lightly, watching as his mouth opened a little.

"please."

he gasped, bucking his hips up again as i moved my hand up and down his member.

"i need words matt."

"i need-"

he groaned, squeezing his eyes tight as i continued to tease him slowly.

"i need more."

he pleaded. i let him go and moved to hover over him. his grip loosened a little bit.

"like this?"

i asked before running his tip through my folds, covering it in my slick and sinking down onto him. i dropped all the way down onto him until our hips were pressed against each other and he let out a shaky breath.

"oh my god."

he said, moving his one hand to my stomach. i looked down at him intently as i started moving against him. as i sat up and sank back down onto him his hand got further and further up my body, sending shivers down my spine as he traced gently up the valley between my breasts.

"matt."

i moaned, his hand making its way around my throat and holding firmly.

"do you trust me?"

he asked and i nodded against him.

"god yes."

i confessed, him pulling me down and flipping us over. his one hand was still on my throat, the other coming to the mat to hold him up.

"how does it feel to have your life in my hands?"

he asked harshly as he jutted into me and i let out a short breath, my mouth hanging open.

"answer me."

he demanded, slamming into me again and i moaned.

"fuck, it feels great."

i whined, him doing it again and again until he had a good rhythm, pounding into me.

"tighter."

i said, holding his wrist with a death grip, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"how do we ask?"

he said and i pushed my hips up against him.

"please!"

i screamed as he pushed into me harshly.

"good girl."

he praised, squeezing tighter and my brain went fuzzy.

"matt."

i said drunkenly, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. then he let go of my throat and i made a disappointed face. but my expression changed as his fingers found their way to my clit. i moaned loudly as he circled it with his forefinger. i pressed my nails into his bicep as he kept his pace, pushing into me hard and fast.

"you gonna cum when i say?"

he asked and i made a squeak noise in my throat.

"was that a yes?"

he asked and i nodded quickly.

"yes, oh god yes!"

i cried, trying to hold out.

"please matt."

i pleaded.

"almost there."

he grunted, hanging his head beside mine. i could feel his unsteady breaths against my collar bone and it sent a shiver down my spine again.

"cum for me baby girl."

he said and i could feel him twitch in me. then i pushed up against his hand and screamed as i came around him. he groaned against me as he came in me, pushing into me a few more times before pausing and trying to catch his breath.

"y/n."

he said softly between breaths.

"matt."

i sighed out, rolling my head back and forth, my vision getting clearer. he just hovered over me for a few seconds before pulling out slowly and i gasped at the sensation, feeling his cum dripping out of me and onto the mat below us. he dropped to his back beside me and sighed heavily.

"how have we never done that before?"

i said breathlessly before we both laughed.

"ive never gotten you into the ring before."

he said matter-of-factly and i turned my head to look at him.

"if you always fuck like this i might have to make more of an effort to get into the ring with you."

he smiled at that but only for a second.

"ya know i definitely didn't think tonight would go like this."

i snorted.

"and i did?"

he let out a short laugh.

"no i guess i just meant, well, we've only been dating for a little bit."

i rolled onto my side and touched his face gently.

"does that stand against how long we've been friends before hand?"

he half shrugged, rolling onto his side to face me, tracing his fingers up my arm gently.

"i have loved you for a while."

he said and i smiled, kissing his hand as it made its way up my shoulder and to my cheek.

"the feeling is mutual."

he smiled back at me before leaning forward and kissing me gently.

"god i cant believe foggy was right."

he lamented and my face fell to that of confusion.

"what do you mean?"

i said i little amused.

"he bet that id say i love you first."

i made an unbelieving laugh-like sound before hitting his chest and sitting upright.

"and im guessing you bet that id say it?"

i said, faking hurt and he laughed, sitting up too.

"i honestly didnt have a doubt in my mind."

i shook my head, reaching for his pants.

"rude."

i stated bluntly, tossing them at him and he laughed again.

"youre right, and i was wrong. but now that its out i have no intention of stopping my oh so serious confession."

i stood to pull my pants back on, amused.

"well, save it for the priest then lover boy."

#wattpad #x reader #request #matt murdock #smut #daredevil #imagines #one shots #marvel #341

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Note

Hiya, I was wondering if I could please request 3 (Echo) with B+O (Injury/sickness recovery + first kiss)? I don’t really mind who’s in recovery or whether it’s 501st echo/bad batch echo, I just thought these prompts would lead nicely into a confession between our two main characters; also I just want to say I love your writing!! ❤️

Aww, thank you so much for the request and for being so kind, Anon! Sorry this took forever, but I’ve been stuck in an idea block for a week or two, and I ended up writing about four different versions of this. You’re very sweet, but you probably shouldn’t be nice to me, because apparently, it makes me write one-shots that are way too long. So here’s a 2700 word one-shot...

Also! It ended up being a tad spicy toward the end. Nothing anywhere close to M-rating, but more than I usually write in one-shots.

Echo + Injury/Sickness Recovery + First Kiss

The first time you met Echo, you didn't like him very much.

You were in the medbay for a sickness that was taking Coruscant by storm, hitting nat-born GAR members especially hard. As a nat-born intelligence officer, you had been ordered to the GAR's main medbay, which had been sub-divided into large bays full of cots. Almost every cot was filled with GAR personnel who needed treatment for the same sickness.

It wouldn't have been bad if you had been able to take the meds right away and start the healing process, but you had been on a dangerous mission and fought the sickness off for longer than you should have. It had worked and you had survived your mission, but you were severely dehydrated. The medics - all clone troopers, by that point - had ordered you to stay until you were fully healed and they could get your fluid levels back where they should have been. Faced with no other options, you had agreed.

And then the 501st had arrived.

Through your IV, you had gotten through half a bag of a liquid you preferred not to think too hard about. The medics promised that your meds would be kicking in soon, and you would feel much better before the day was over. For the moment, you felt nauseated and every part of your body ached, especially your head.

When the troopers came in, their white armor painted with blue accents in various styles, they were so loud that the rest of the medbay went quiet.

One of the medics, his hair shaved short to show off a set of intricate tattoos, hurried up to them as he pulled off his gloves. You could hear his hissed question from your bed on the other side of the large room. "What are you idiots doing here?"

One of the men beamed at him. "We're in trouble!"

You scoffed to yourself. You had no difficulty believing they had gotten on someone's bad side.

The tattooed medic rubbed his temples. "Hardcase… what did you guys do now?"

You had heard stories about the rowdy 501st from other operatives. They were supposed to be a nightmare to work alongside, all explosions and heroics without any grasp of subtlety.

One of the other men stepped forward and seemed to be offering an explanation, but he did it in a voice pitched low enough that you couldn't hear him. You were grateful for that, and did your best to fall asleep.

It wasn't to be, however, as one of the 501st made his way down the row of beds in your direction. He chatted with some of the other patients, laughing loudly at their responses. By the time he reached you, you could have cheerfully put a blaster to the 5 tattooed on his temple.

"And how are you doing today?" the trooper belted out.

"In a lot of pain, actually," you snapped at him, a visceral response to the effect his voice had on your roiling stomach. "Can you please talk more quietly?"

There. A please. You were being polite.

"If I'm quiet, does that mean I can stay over here with you, pretty lady?" he asked with a wink, settling onto the foot of your bed.

You eyed him stonily. You felt revolting from the effects of the sickness, and you were wearing a GAR-issued medical gown besides. ‘Pretty’ was an attempt at flattery, and not even a believable one.

"Fives," the medic with the head tattoos admonished, stepping up to your bedside as well. "Stop. She doesn't feel well and she doesn't need you hanging around, making it worse."

"Me?" Fives asked, sounding both shocked and offended. "We both know I only make things better, Kix."

You sighed and wished with your whole soul that they would both go away. You just wanted to sleep.

"Besides," Fives continued, "We were ordered to help in the medbay. You wouldn't want me to disobey orders, would you?"

From the look on Kix's face, he had lined up a scathing retort that you were dying to hear, but you needed to make a brief announcement. "If this conversation continues right here, I am going to vomit."

You had never seen two grown men move so quickly. You would have smiled if you didn't feel so rotten.

"Echo," Kix called softly with a worried glance in your direction, beckoning yet another trooper over.

This one had no tattoos, but you vaguely recognized him as the only trooper you hadn't been able to overhear earlier.

"Get Fives away from here," Kix ordered. "Keep him productive and occupied, but don't let him talk."

Echo nodded and gave you an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry about him," he said, indicating Fives, who looked deeply offended.

"Please," was the only response you could muster, cradling your head delicately in your hands. From the bit of your peripheral vision that wasn’t blocked by your palms, you watched his shoulders slump slightly as he towed his brother away. When you finally fell asleep, your dreams were full of Echo’s disappointed face along with strong feelings of guilt.

The second time you met him was only a few hours later. You were having fever dreams. The medication had apparently worn off and no one had noticed. In your dreams, you had called a medic over a dozen times, but you always woke to find that you hadn’t said a thing, and fell asleep again before you could.

It was one of these shallow, fitful dreams that Echo interrupted. “Hey. Hey! Shhh, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Thoroughly confused by the world of the surrounding medbay, you squinted up at him. “Echo?” He nodded and you launched right into the speech you had prepared in your sleep. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… my head hurt, and you guys are loud, and-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Echo assured you, crouching by your bedside to put himself on your level. “The 501st - and Fives in particular - is very loud. It’s our best quality.”

You snorted at that and Echo’s kind face broke into a warm smile. “You should get back to sleep. It’s really late. Or early. I’m not sure which, but everyone else is asleep, and you should be, too.”

“I think I need some meds, actually,” you admitted. “I feel like death.”

Echo frowned and reached up to brush his fingers over your forehead, flinching back almost immediately. “Kriff, you’re burning up! Hang on, let me grab a medic for you.”

You nodded, but grabbed his wrist before he could leave, “If you bring me some water, I’ll love you forever.”

It was just a childish hyperbole, something you and your family had said whenever you had asked for a favor, particularly a minor one. Echo didn’t seem to have the same connection with it, based on the way he had frozen in place and was staring at you with wide eyes that flashed between your face and your grip on his wrist.

Clearing your throat, you released him and corrected yourself. “I mean, please? I’m very thirsty.”

Echo turned around a moment later and you sighed, hoping your hot face looked like the flush of a fever.

You were half-drowsing when Echo came back with Kix in tow. You jumped a bit when Kix said your name, and Echo was quick to soothe you. “Easy, easy. It’s just us.”

He handed you the biggest glass of water you had ever seen and retreated halfway across the medbay before you had chugged half of it.

The next day, you were actually feeling better. Granted, ‘better’ was a relative term, but you didn’t actively want to die any more, and that was something. The only thing messing up your day was the lingering awkwardness between you and Echo. Every time his circuit around the room took him past your cot, he would avoid your eyes.

From your calculations, he looped around the gigantic medbay room every six minutes or so. On his next lap past, you softly asked, “Echo?”

You had meant to be subtle and quiet, but you were still a bit less hydrated than you should have been, and it came out as a horrifying croak. If someone had called your name in that voice, you would have immediately run away, but Echo just turned slightly and looked your direction.

“I’m sorry for last night,” you apologized.

“You already said that,” Echo reminded you gently. “The 501st is loud. I understand why you weren’t happy with us.”

“Not about that,” you forced out, half-wishing you could just let him think you had been delirious with fever and thus not responsible for anything you had said or done. “I mean that I’m sorry for saying the whole love you forever thing. It was a joke, but I feel like it landed poorly.”

“There’s no need, really,” Echo told you. He smiled then, a small sad smile. “We clones don’t get to see much good in the universe. Not with this war going on. Even though you were joking, it was nice to hear something like that.”

You stared at him, trying to keep the poker face the GAR had hired you for.

“Besides,” Echo said with a laugh, “if you want to see how a bad joke really sounds, hang out with Fives for a few minutes. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to see the difference!”

You chuckled at that and the smile he gave lit his whole face as he continued his patrol. You watched Echo leave, thinking hard. It was ironic that this was the conversation where your heart had melted just a touch. It wasn’t love, not yet, but this third exchange left feelings that were inappropriate considering that you had known him for less than a day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep, betrayed by all of the napping you had done during the day. Echo was patrolling the room again and noticed you on his fourth lap.

He crouched by your bedside once again. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” you admitted with a sigh. “Can you?”

Echo frowned. “I can, but I’m on watch right now.”

“On watch,” you repeated skeptically. “For what?”

“Someone has to make sure the patients are doing okay while the medics sleep,” he explained. “It’s a very important job.”

“Your brothers are all playing sabacc in the corner,” you pointed out. “Go join them. Or, better yet, get some sleep. I haven’t seen you take a break yet.”

“You were unconscious for over half of the day,” Echo reminded you. “I could have been on break then.”

“You weren’t,” you told him confidently. “Because you wouldn’t have known that I slept the whole time.”

Echo frowned. “You’re too smart to work for the army.”

“Intelligence officer,” you explained simply.

Lifting his eyebrows in exaggerated shock, Echo leapt to his feet and gave a dramatic salute. You pretended to aim a kick in his direction and you both dissolved into muffled giggles in an attempt not to wake any of the other patients.

“If you won’t try to sleep, at least sit down?” you requested, indicating the foot of your cot as you struggled to sit up so you could move out of his way. “You’re stressing me out. I can’t be expected to get better if I’m stressed.”

“We can’t have that,” Echo teased. He helped you sit up before he did anything else, but the awkwardness of the position left him hauling you up by your armpits. You were thankful that you had found the strength to walk to the sonic shower that day, at least. “Not like I can get sick from you, anyway.”

Echo sat talking with you for hours, even after his brothers had all drifted off at their sabacc table. Before you fell asleep again, he brought you another giant glass of water. You accepted it with a smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded and left so you could get some sleep. By the time you had finished the glass, he was on the other side of the medbay and couldn’t hear you mutter, “Love you forever.”

For the next few days, Echo lived by your bedside. The conversations you had made you laugh so hard that you went into the occasional coughing fit and got the evil eye from Kix. So, you were less pleased than you had expected to be when Kix told you that you could be discharged the following day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Getting your sleep pattern back under control was going to be the biggest struggle, you reflected, staring at the massive beams supporting the ceiling.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Echo teased, walking up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You waved a hand around dramatically. “I’m trying to commit these beautiful surroundings to memory. If I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll need to remember the enchanting way the dust clings to that wall over there.”

Suddenly serious, Echo asked, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

You nodded, and couldn’t tell if it was your imagination, or if he really looked disappointed. Still, he mustered a smile. “I’m glad.”

With a falsely offended gasp, you replied, “You’re glad I’m leaving? That’s rude!”

“No, I mean-!” Echo sputtered, grimacing at you when you started to laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting better. Even if you’re just as mean as the day I met you.”

“Yeah, I’m terrible,” you agreed with a grin.

“You are not,” he countered immediately. “You’re sweet and funny and- I’ll miss you. Selfish, huh?”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you admitted. “I guess we’re both selfish. But, hey, you’ll finally get some sleep now!”

“I suppose I will,” Echo said with the ghost of his usual smile. “At least we can have one last overnight conversation. Unless you’re too tired?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sit down, Echo.”

The two of you talked for hours that night. The medbay steadily got more silent and your eyes began to ache. Try as you might, you were still recovering from your illness and the point came when you couldn’t fight it off any longer. You fell into a light doze as Echo was talking.

You were dimly aware as he finished his sentence and waited for a response, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything. Echo gave an amused sounding hum and stood from your cot. You immediately missed his warmth, but felt like he was still standing by you.

Soft lips pressed against your forehead and left as Echo started to move away. “What was that cop-out bantha dung?” you asked blearily.

Echo jumped a bit and stared down at you, but you were half-asleep, impulsive, and you knew what you wanted. You sat up to grab his shoulders and brought him back down to you, kissing him with as much fervor as an extremely tired person could muster.

He kissed you back, opening his mouth to release an almost-soundless groan, and you were suddenly wide awake. With both of you actively participating in your embrace, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to get carried away.

When you finally broke apart, it was only because someone had cleared their throat sharply.

Echo pulled back, bracing on his forearms to look up at Kix while you peered at the medic from under Echo’s chest. When had he gotten on top of you? His hip brushed against your upper thigh and you abruptly didn’t care anymore.

“I take it you’re well enough to be released from here?” Kix asked, a raised brow accentuating his smirk.

You glanced around to find that half of the medbay was awake and staring at you and Echo with expressions ranging from bleary bewilderment to amused approval. Some of Echo’s brothers were awake as well, though their faces ran heavily to outright shock.

“Uh, yeah. I’m ready to go home,” you agreed, glancing up at Echo. “Wanna come with me?”

Echo nodded and glanced up at Kix. The medic shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “No, I have no idea where Echo went. He worked several around the chrono shifts and then he disappeared. I assume he went to get some well-deserved rest. Sign here.”

The last part was directed at you and you obligingly scrawled your name on the datapad he was holding out in your direction.

“Your personal effects are in the front room,” Kix informed you. “Drink some water now and then, would you?”

“Of course, thanks,” you said absently, attention already stolen away by the fascinating blush creeping up Echo’s cheeks. You slipped out from under him and grabbed his hand to tow him behind you. “C’mon. You’re gonna love my apartment.”

---

A/N - ahh, why did this end up being such a novel? Sorry about that! If you want to read similar works, check out my masterlist or make a request based on this post (or make something up and I’ll do my best!). Thanks for reading!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw fanfic #tcw #echo #echo x you #echo x reader #kix #fives #illness #first kiss #star wars fanfiction #fic request

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

KakaIru Maze 2021: Decoding Ancient Lost Languages

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4540

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Mysterious Injuries, Old Gods, Sacrifice, Poisoning, Curses, Hospitalization, Hopeful Ending, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Hair Loss

A/N: *~*Throws Confetti*~* I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I'M. DOING.

I did the barest amount of research for this fic. *~*More Confetti*~*

Read on The Archive

Normally, Iruka would balk at the idea that he should be carried through the front gates after a mission, no matter how gruelling. He has an image to uphold, and what if one of his students were to see him broken and weak after one of his missions? He’d either never hear the end of their worry or, worse, lose their respect as a strong shinobi capable of teaching them.

So no, this situation is far from normal.

He holds on tight around Kotetsu’s shoulders and buries his face in his teammate’s hair. His back is on fire, carved wounds shifting and worsening with each step. Some kind of curse-seal, or a time-released jutsu; whatever happened, Izumo couldn’t use the mystical palm jutsu to heal it, not without causing further excruciating pain and making the wounds ooze and seem to cut themselves deeper into Iruka’s back.

They had cut their losses and abandoned the mission. Iruka’s fūinjutsu was vital to its success anyway, and he was—is—in constant agony.

Thankfully, they enter the village just after nightfall. Iruka can feel a bit relieved over that—most of his current students are home and inside at this time, so the chances of being seen by any of them are slim. He bites his lip to stifle a cry as Kotetsu pushes off a rooftop a bit harder than usual and it shifts him too much.

They’re halfway to the hospital when the ANBU team flank him and Kotetsu, escorting them the rest of the way. One of them, Cat, runs close enough to talk.

“Report.”

Iruka can’t. Kotetsu responds, “An injury that responds poorly to normal medical field ninjutsu.”

“Is he awake?”

Iruka nods, knowing Cat will see.

“Iruka-sensei, can you speak?”

He shakes his head.

Kotetsu says, “He’s been in too much pain to do much more than nod or shake his head.”

“Rokudaime-sama wants you and your other teammate to report directly to him once Iruka-sensei is admitted to the hospital.”

Kotetsu fumbles another step. Iruka grits his teeth and groans, holding back a scream. “Sorry, Ru,” he mumbles. To Cat he says, “Of course, ANBU-san. Izumo’s checking us in at the gate. I’ll collect him and report, once I drop Iruka off.”

Iruka doesn’t remember being admitted. He does remember Sakura’s startled cry as he’s placed face-down on a gurney and his wounds are finally able to be seen in harsh fluorescent lighting for the first time. Gods, he’s tired of being face-down in hospital beds.

Will something, anything, have the wherewithal to fucking strike him in the chest for once, please?

He passes out.

A hand is holding his own gently as he wakes, extremely disoriented and floaty on painkillers. He blinks his eyes open and turns his gaze to the man beside him. Iruka smiles faintly. “K’shi,” he slurs. Oh, they have him on the good drugs.

“You are never leaving the village again,” Kakashi whispers harshly. He bows his head and kisses Iruka’s hand in his own and continues, “Hokage’s orders.”

“I‘ll go rogue,” Iruka mutters, closing his eyes. “What’s in my IV?”

“From what Sakura tells me? Everything.”

“That explains.” Iruka stops, trying to think of the rest of his sentence, but a fresh flood of painkillers just flowed into his arm and he hums instead.

“I heard from Kotetsu and Izumo what happened,” Kakashi continues. “Are you able yet to talk about it as well?”

“Nope.” Iruka nuzzles into his pillow. He’s feeling really floaty and he’d like to go back to sleep.

Kakashi chuckles. Iruka receives a kiss to his hair and a tighter grip on his hand. “Sleep, then, my love. I’ll see if Sakura can get you on something less strong, enough that we can talk soon.”

“‘Kay. Love you.”

He falls back asleep.

When he wakes the second time, there’s a different kind of energy in the room—a different sort of love in the air, and Iruka knows it sounds crazy but he can just tell, even with his eyes still closed, when he’s around Kakashi or if he’s around Naruto.

Now, it’s Naruto.

Also, he can feel the carving in his back, so whatever they’d had him on before they’d lowered the dosage or put him on something else entirely.

“Hey, Naruto,” Iruka says, opening his eyes.

In the chair beside his head, the blond bundle sits, knee twitching. With his bandaged arm crossed over his other and his head bowed in thought, he almost looks like the adult he’s so close to being, instead of the teenager he still is. They argue good-naturedly about it all the time; Naruto insists that he’s an adult, but at eighteen, he’s still technically a teenager and Iruka reminds him of it as much as he can.

“Iru-nii! How are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a carving knife to my back,” Iruka scoffs. “Also, strangely drained.”

Naruto nods. “Sakura-chan said that the new pain medicine has the side-effect of making it feel like you’re chakra-exhausted. But,” he frowns, “she also said that the dose should be strong enough that you wouldn’t be in too much pain when you wake up.”

“It’s bearable, Naruto. You…” He sighs, “You didn’t see me when I came in, did you?”

He shakes his head. “I was out with Kiba and Shikamaru. Kakashi-sensei told me about you this morning, when we got back. You’ve been drifting in and out for, like, three days!”

Iruka buries his face in his pillow and groans. There goes his hope that the carvings won’t scar.

“He says he’ll be by later,” Naruto adds. He shivers comically. “I still don’t see why you’d pick him of all people, Iru-nii.”

Iruka smiles. “You have a different experience with him as his student.” The smile fades and he asks, “Has there been any progress made on fixing my back?”

Naruto sobers. “See, that’s the thing. Every time Sakura tries to get close with some kind of medical ninjutsu—or even with normal healing balms and stitches—the cuts react violently. Like there’s some bad chakra embedded inside them.”

“Has anyone had a Hyūga come and look at it?” Iruka muses. “If there’s chakra in the cuts, then a Hyūga would see it with the Byakugan.”

Naruto jumps up. “You’re a genius! I’ll go and check with Sakura-chan!”

Iruka watches him leave and sighs fondly. Kakashi did well with him, he thinks, and then closes his eyes and drifts.

At least he’s able to move around on his own now. Iruka washes his hands in the bathroom and then braces his palms on the sink. It’s been almost a week, and no one is any closer to figuring out how to fix his back.

Having a Hyūga look at the wounds didn’t help. It nearly blinded Hinata. Iruka still feels horribly guilty about it, but she can still see and activate her Byakugan, so he’s been told multiple times to let it go.

What she had seen made everyone uneasy though. A slimy discharge of chakra oozing from the wounds, bright and powerful enough that Hinata had to close her eyes against it.

Sakura has a small team of medi-nins on his case, researching at all hours. Two days, and they still haven’t found anything.

Iruka’s frustrated.

Kakashi visits every night and Naruto most mornings. It’s nice, but he’d rather be back in class with his kids.

He had to get a blood transfusion last night. His back hasn’t stopped bleeding, and the blood loss finally caught up to him.

Iruka turns his back to the mirror, takes off his shirt gingerly, and looks over his shoulder at the carvings. He frowns—it looks odd. This is the first time he’s gotten to see the wounds, and he can’t imagine no one's noticed…

He leaves the bathroom and hunts around in the stack of drawers by his bed. “Ha!” He finds a pad of paper and a pencil, and heads back into the bathroom.

It’s difficult, transcribing the still bleeding wounds onto paper through a mirror while looking over his shoulder. It’s even harder once the dose of painkillers he’s on fully metabolizes and he’s not yet done. Twisting his upper back, stretching and sitting on the edge of the sink so he can see his lower back—it aches.

A voice comes from the other side of the door, along with a soft knock. “Iruka-sensei? Is everything alright?”

Sakura.

He places the pad and pencil on the counter and slides the door open. “Sakura, has no one realized that the wounds are words?” he asks.

She looks startled. “Huh?”

“Could you please clean them for me again, and check that I’ve transcribed it correctly?” Iruka reaches back inside the bathroom and gives the pad of paper to Sakura. “I’m sure Rokudaime-sama will be interested in this.”

Sakura finally catches up. “Yes! Um, let me get you another dose of painkillers, and a flush kit. If you could sit back down, Sensei? I’ll be right back!”

Iruka just about collapses onto the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. Finally, some answers are on the horizon.

“It’s no language the cipher corps recognize, nor is it a code in our archives.” Kakashi has his arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the window. “But they do agree with your assessment—it’s definitely a message of some kind.”

Iruka sighs, picking at the hospital food. “Validation is nice, but I was hoping for an end to this pain.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“When can we expect word back from Sasuke?”

“If it is Otsutsuki, Sasuke should arrive as soon as possible, per my order. If not, he likely will only return a messenger hawk with the information.” Kakashi leaves the window and comes to sit on the mattress beside Iruka. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Iruka hums and leans against his partner, resting his head against Kakashi’s collarbone. It’s not comfortable, but it is comforting. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whispers.

Kakashi kisses the top of his head. “I miss you too, love. The house is too quiet without you.”

Iruka stares at the encoded characters transcribed from his back. He’s… discomfited. He’s been staring at the words for almost a half-hour, trying to make sense of it.

It doesn’t change.

Iruka knows this language.

Not… not well enough to read it outright, but enough that with the characters cleaned up and a fresh copy in his hands, one that was written down while the scribe (himself) wasn’t in immense pain, he recognizes it.

“Iru-nii!” Naruto steps in for his morning visit. “How’d you sleep?”

“As best as can be expected,” Iruka mutters. “Naruto, can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure!”

Thank the gods he still has his moments of dull-headedness. “In the office at home, I have a scroll with the Uzumaki clan seal on it. It’s the only one, middle shelf. I need you to get that scroll for me please.”

“Nii-chan, why do you have an Uzumaki scroll?”

Iruka sighs. “Go get the scroll, and I’ll explain when you get back, okay?”

Naruto leaves through the open window, his footing unsteady. But he leaves and that means that Iruka can breathe and take the time to think of a way to tell him, when he gets back, about how he found out that they are actually distantly related.

Actually, no—how is he supposed to—shit. Iruka drags a hand down his face.

Hey Naruto, oh this old scroll? Found it in the archives after Tsunade-sama left office! It was in a box marked with my parents’ names on it. Yeah, turns out that my father was a refugee from Uzushio, just like your mother! Oh, and funnily enough, Umino is also a branch family of the Uzumaki!

That’s… not going to go over well, is it.

Break a thing for fragments. Break the fragments for dust. Break the dust, and break what remains. Here is fire.

To forge a sword, to fight, to curse your enemies on the eve of battle. This is the story of blood and its exits.

A word that sanctifies the change that comes when the seared skin peels. Words spoken in ritual to inspire an unmerciful Change. To speak them aloud is to hear the sword hiss.

All these things share certain patterns.

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

…

Iruka wakes gasping, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He pats his lap for the scroll Naruto had brought him, and startles as he realizes that it’s not there. It—It had been there just, just a little while ago, hadn’t it???

“Mercy is found only in shadow,” he mutters to himself, looking around his room. “Mercy is found… There!” The scroll, the one with the Uzumaki clan seal, is rolled up and tucked neatly away on a table on the far end of the room. Iruka gathers his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He tries to stand.

And fails.

He catches himself on hands and knees, and then feels his elbows weaken and give way. His cheek hits the tile and he hisses. He tries to push up again, but can’t…

Can’t…

…

The Altar holds a spark.

Freol is the mouth, the door, the flame, the altar, and the reward.

Knife and sword shed blood for Freol; what is spilled is hers. Fires burn for Freol; what is consumed is hers.

“Iruka! Iruka, please, wake up!”

“The breath of Freol brings change and endings,” Iruka slurs, barely awake and compelled. He can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t speak anything other than this ancient language. “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’ Let those who gather near Freol be blessed and cursed. Mercy is found only in shadow. Mercy—”

“Naruto, tell me Sasuke has gotten back to us.”

“He hasn’t! And-and Kurama has no idea what Iru-nii’s saying, either!”

Kakashi shakes him, taps his cheek. “Iruka, come back, please.”

Iruka tries to say I’m sorry Kakashi but what passes his lips is a murmured, “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’”

Sakura stands in front of him solemnly. “We gave him a high enough dose of tranquilizer that he shouldn’t even dream, Kakashi-sensei. My team—”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop her from speaking. He knows he doesn’t look good, knows he hasn’t been home in over forty-eight hours, but he can’t… he can’t stop. Iruka… “What about the scroll that was in his room?”

“Naruto said Iruka-sensei had him collect it from his home office,” Sakura says. “But no one can read it. We have been able to determine that it’s in the same language as the carvings he transcribed from his back, though.”

Kakashi looks up. “The cavern he and his team had been in—where were they?”

Sakura turns to the map hanging up in his office, and points, “East of here, near a village on the coast. Naruto mentioned—”

“The scroll is from Uzushio,” Kakashi muses, “and it has an Uzumaki clan seal on it. I’ll bet we’ll find more information about all this in the ruins of Uzushio.”

Sakura nods. “But Kakashi-sensei, you can’t—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Take Naruto and go. Find out what’s causing this. Find out how to fix it.”

She nods again and turns to leave.

“Sakura,” he calls out, softer. She stops, but doesn’t turn back to face him. That’s good; he might not be able to say this to her face. “This part comes not from your Hokage, but from me, personally. Please. He’s… Iruka’s everything. Please, find something.”

She gives him a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and says, “We won’t let you down, sensei.”

Kakashi watches from the windows as the nurses check Iruka’s vitals and change out his fluids. She bows to him when she’s done and then turns to leave; Kakashi holds up a palm and says, “Wait.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“How… How is he?”

She smiles softly, gently. “We’re taking good care of him, sir.”

“That’s all Sakura told you to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

He sighs. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her smile turns just the tiniest bit mischievous. “A higher budget for the hospital in the next fiscal quarter wouldn’t be remiss, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her away, “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with as much humor as he can muster. She leaves, and he goes to sit in his chair by Iruka’s side.

They had to intubate him today. Kakashi couldn’t get away from the desk long enough to be here for him; not that it mattered, because they were keeping him sedated even before shoving a tube down his throat. But it matters to Kakashi because he can’t…

He can’t do anything.

He’s stuck here, managing the village, while his students are out looking for answers to whatever mysterious illness his partner has fallen to. And all he’s good for is holding Iruka’s hand, and maybe going and lobbying for an increase in the hospital budget.

His hair is limp and matted from long weeks in the hospital. Kakashi runs his fingers through the ends of brunet strands and hopes that, when Iruka wakes up, he’ll let Kakashi wash his hair.

“Please get better,” Kakashi murmurs into the clasp of their hands. “I need you. Please.”

“Sakura-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting real sick of goddesses thinking they can ruin everything, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Mercy is found only in shadow.

“He needs another blood transfusion.”

“Take mine,” Kakashi offers. “We have the same blood type.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Just take the damn blood,” Kakashi snaps. “Whatever he needs, please, just. Just do it. Take it.”

The nurses bow. “Yes, sir.”

Footsteps in the hall, rapidly approaching, signal Kakashi to a messenger. He stands up and crosses to the door just as Shikamaru slides it open, panting from his run.

Shikamaru turns to the nurses and says, “He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

The nurse looks at him, startled, and says, “Whyever for?”

“Naruto sent ahead a messenger.” Shikamaru glances at Kakashi and finally catches his breath. “The one word Iruka-sensei had said, Freol? It’s the name of an ancient deity of the Land of Whirlpools, one whose purview is to change its followers. One of the ways it does this, as Sakura describes it, is through a kind of radiation poisoning.”

“But that doesn’t explain the,” Kakashi gestures vaguely, and then ends helplessly, “speaking in tongues.”

“The message said they’ll explain that part when they get home,” Shikamaru says. “Naruto and Sakura are on their way back, arrival is estimated at thirty-one hours.” He turns to the nurse. “Can we perform a transplant?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d say yes. But Iruka-sensei doesn’t have any close blood relatives, and if his own marrow is compromised as you say we can’t assume an autologous transplant will be effective.”

Kakashi’s heart stops. “But—”

“But,” the nurse continues, “we can start him on a treatment regimen which will increase his white blood cell count. We’ll start checking in with frequent blood tests. We can also start on a broad-spectrum heavy metals sequestration; we’ll cover Iodine, thallium, caesium, plutonium, and curium. They’re the most common.”

Kakashi motions to her, and says to Shikamaru, “She’s my favorite.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Kakashi-sama.”

He groans. The nurse smiles and says, “I’ll go order those tests and treatments,” and then ducks around Shikamaru and leaves.

Kakashi holds the scroll open on his desk, reading the translation Sakura and Naruto brought back. It’s a puzzle in its own right, but coupled with the Uzumaki scroll Iruka had kept in their office, Kakashi finds himself even more thoroughly confused.

“I understand how you came to the conclusion of radiation,” he says. “But I don’t understand how this is supposed to explain why Iruka began speaking the language. Because that is what happened, isn’t it?”

“That’s where a little bit of Iruka-sensei knowledge comes in handy,” Naruto says. He steps forward and points to a line near the bottom. “‘Many others can open the way. Few can place a seal where there was none before.’ And then I remembered this one, off-hand comment Iruka-sensei had made when we were kids. That the people from Uzushio were really good with fūinjutsu.”

“And that has to do with Iruka?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto groans, like he’s the genius and Kakashi is being deliberately stupid. “Umino is an Uzushio family! ‘Few can place a seal where there was none before’! I’ve seen him do that, just, poof, barrier seals.”

“Naruto, I know he’s from Uzushio. What does that have to do with his condition?”

“Freol,” Sakura says. “When he and the other chūnin got close to that cave. She recognized him as one of hers and marked him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the same thing happened to Naruto when we got close.”

Kakashi stands up, vaults over the desk and puts his hands on Naruto’s shoulders. “You’re alright?”

“Kurama beat her up and kept me safe,” Naruto nodded. “But I could hear her. She said something like, ‘the flames will consume, or change, or seal at my whim.’ She was angry.”

Kakashi sighs and drops his hands. “And even Kurama doesn’t recognize this goddess?”

“Actually, once they came into contact, he did recognize her,” Naruto says. “Freol was a protector of the Land of Whirlpools, he says, a creator of soldiers superior to ninja.”

“Superior?”

Sakura interjects, motioning back to the scrolls on his desk. “Right here, see. ‘Hers is the flame which hides in the flesh and the soul and twists both into something new.’ But also, this line, ‘What is left behind is Changed, and may Change others in turn.’”

“Kurama was able to tell us about Uzushio as it once was, back in the warring states,” Naruto continues. “That there would be those who would willingly sacrifice themselves to Freol, for the chance to Change into something more. Something different.”

“A superior soldier,” Kakashi muses. “And this Change. This is what’s happening to Iruka.”

Both of them nodded. “That’s what we think.”

“How do we stop it?”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura’s face falls. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop the process once it starts. Freol marks those she wishes to undergo the Change, and then… Well, all of the writings we managed to find say that the sacrifices either come out stronger, or their families seal their bodies into stasis, or—”

She stops, choking on tears she fights back with every bit of training she’d gone through.

“Or they die,” Kakashi finishes in a soft, defeated voice.

All three of them stand silent in the office for a long time.

Kakashi finds himself sleeping in Iruka’s hospital room most nights. The treatment is hell on his partner’s body—the windows are covered with heavy curtains now, to keep out the sunlight which could very easily burn his skin on the medication; hair which was once limp and matted is now starting to fall out every time Kakashi pulls a brush through it; his lips are chapped and broken around the tube, his skin dry and thin everywhere else. The nurses had to change his IV from his arm to the back of his hand today, because the veins in his arm are becoming too thin to support the needle.

He’s dying.

Iruka’s dying, and all Kakashi can do is hold his hand and watch.

And, gods, the last thing they said to each other… Iruka was speaking a different language and Kakashi was begging him to wake up.

Will he really have to watch Iruka die, knowing that he’ll never get to hear I love you from those lips again?

Kakashi buries his face in his arms, carefully arranged over Iruka’s thigh. He used to have such thick, muscular thighs; it’s barely skin and bone now.

Alone, with only his dying partner to hear—or not—Kakashi lets himself cry.

“I’m going to try something.”

“Naruto, please—”

“No. Kakashi-sensei, Iru-nii is strong. And Freol won’t pursue him if he goes through the Change, right?”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“He’ll be stronger, just like the other sacrifices who survived. Kakashi-sensei, all Iru-nii needs to do is survive.”

“The Change—”

“We’ll deal with it when we’re on the other side of this!”

Naruto places his hands on Iruka, and the Nine-Tail’s Cloak bubbles up around him.

The monitors, registering Iruka’s nervous system, don’t react. He’s in no further pain.

Kakashi feels the tiniest bit lighter. “I hope this works, Naruto.”

“It was Kurama’s idea,” the teen grins. “He remembered that normal healing jutsu wasn’t working before; but he was able to beat back Freol himself when she came after me. So letting Iru-nii use Kurama’s chakra as a kind of life support—it should keep Freol from making this worse at least, right? While he gets better?”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work.

But it does.

Almost a week later, the nurses are removing the tubes from his throat, and Kakashi is pacing the room waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off. Iruka should wake up any minute now. Naruto’s plan worked. Iruka made it through, and his most recent blood test showed no abnormalities due to radiation. They stopped the heavy metal sequestration yesterday, but the white blood cell proteins will continue for a few days still, to help prevent further infection.

They still don’t know what kind of change Iruka’s undergone. At least, other than the physical.

His hair is gone. Sakura has assured Kakashi that it will grow back. It’s so odd, though, seeing his partner without hair. They’ve put a cap on his head to keep him warm—his body temperature has been fluctuating oddly the last day and a half, and in particular today he’s running cold.

Also, his scent has changed. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, but Iruka smells different. Less like old parchment and a swift river, and more like… like a waterfall and the deep, loamy scent of rich, black earth. It’s not a bad change. But it’s significant. He’s already taken an overnight to summon the pack and have his ninken memorize Iruka’s new scent, just in case it’s permanent.

“K’shi?”

He’s across the room in a flash, holding Iruka’s limp hand and holding back tears.

“I thought—”

“My K’shi,” Iruka slurs, turning his head to face him and closing his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

The tears fall anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iruka hums. “L’ve you.”

He’s still on a considerable amount of pain medication, Kakashi realizes. He laughs wetly, leans forward and kisses Iruka’s forehead. “I love you, too. Rest, dear.”

“M’kay.”

And just like that, he is breathing slow and steady, his eyes close gently, and he is sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Kakashi falls back into his chair with a huff and tips his head to the ceiling, still holding Iruka’s hand, and also, finally, finding an easy sleep.

#kakairu maze challenge 2021 #decoding ancient lost languages #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #KakaIru #my writing

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earthfluuke · 4 years

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summary: individual ohmfong moments i couldn’t get out of my head.

everyone has been writing yearning fics (and i adore them so much), but i wanted to get some fluff out there. i hope you enjoy!

it’s second nature for ohm to slide into any open seat at their group’s table. full plate in hand, he’s just about to dig in when he catches phuak’s questioning eye, and his fork freezes a breath from his food. the silent questioning raise of his eyebrow has phuak shaking his head and motioning a hand to the opposite side of the table.

“sit next to your boyfriend, dumb ass,” he says, followed by the mumble of, “no wonder none of your girlfriends stayed with you.”

eyes widening, he turns to fong who can only send him a forgiving smile. scrambling to move his things, he falls onto the bench beside him with a sigh. head hung, shoulder slumped, he works out quickly, “i’m sorry. it completely slipped my mind, and i–”

“it’s okay,” fong assures, understanding as ever. “it’s…different. but we’ll get there.” he slides a plastic cup across the table to him and knocks their shoulders together. “now stop sulking, and drink that.”

ohm rises a bit, reinflates. he’s only ever remembered fong coming to the table with a signature blue hawaii in hand. there is none in sight, only this. taking a sip, he can’t help but feel it tastes a bit sweeter than any other time he’s had it.

they’re not there yet; but they’re on their way.

ii.

“oh!” he hears ohm exclaim as they’re walking out of their classroom towards the football field. just as he turns to ask what’s wrong, he feels a hand grab onto his.

eyes shooting down to the space between them, fong takes notice of how ohm’s fingers fit between his and curl over more than half of his knuckles. he soaks in the warmth ohm’s palm presses into his own and the feel of his thumb stroking up to his nail and back down again. he’s never held someone’s hand before, save for his parents a long, much younger time ago, so he doesn’t have much to compare to. even so, he doesn’t think any other hand would feel as nice. this is the hand he wants to hold forever.

allowing his fingers to close and rest between the ridges of ohm’s knuckles, he tightens his hold when ohm gives their arms an experimental swing.

“we’re boyfriends now,” he explains. “that means we get to hold hands.”

it’s so innocent, so simple, but knowing that doesn’t help in slowing fong’s heart.

iii.

fong knows he has a very handsome boyfriend. it’s difficult to ignore when they’re meant to be studying in the library. ohm has a hand in his hair, head rested against his palm as a finger taps in concentration. his lips move with each word he reads, tongue sticking between his teeth when he gets to an exceptionally difficult section.

it’s too much sometimes, to just sit there and stare. actions have never been his strong suit; observations are more his style, but it’s not enough. leaning past the edge of his chair, he smooths a hand under ohm’s chin and up the cheek farthest from him. he pulls him the small distance he needs to in order to press a gentle kiss to the cheek facing him.

he hides the laugh that’s building in his throat when he moves back to find ohm wide eyed and stunned. the hand in his hair has slid down to where fong’s lips just grazed, and fong has to turn away from him to hide his pink cheeks and silly smile.

“i’m going to get some snacks. do you want anything?” ohm is too dazed to respond, so fong pushes back his chair and scurries off to the vending machines. it’ll give him the chance to calm down.

(and if he comes back with a few choice snacks he knows to be ohm’s favorites, then that’s just a bonus).

iv.

when fong is fast asleep, ohm can’t help but prop himself up on his arm and admire him. his bangs curl over his brow, and his cheek buries further into the pillow when there’s an especially cool breeze from the air conditioner. dark lashes fan over tan skin, full peach lips puffing out calm, even breaths. one hand clutches the blanket closer to him while the other lays on the sheets as though it’s looking for something.

he’s as gorgeous as he always is, but there’s something more special about a beauty that only ohm gets to see. there is a constant pull of wanting to grab onto that hand, remind him that what he’s reaching for is right beside him. but he cannot will himself to disturb him and instead resigns himself to only stare. he’s done enough to last him a lifetime, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it; not if he’s staring at fong.

“beautiful. sweetheart. babe. love!”

“um,” tine clears his throat, looking from ohm’s wide, hopeful grin to the top of fong’s head, the only part of him visible from behind the pages of the book he’s using to hide. “what are you doing?”

“trying to figure out which name i like the most,” fong mumbles from behind his book, clutching the binding a bit tighter when ohm throws an arm around his shoulders.

“the secret is that he likes all of them,” he says, continuing over fong’s protests, “i just need to find out which one he likes the best.”

it picks up again from there, in front of their friends no less. all fong can do is let him go on and on, each name more blush inducing than the last, and hope his novel does a good enough job masking how much he’s enjoying this.

vi.

“i’ll see you for dinner after my group meeting. okay, tilak?”

“yeah, sure – wait, what? hey! fong!”

vii.

fong is always a vision, but this. this. this is something completely different and so very far from even his wildest of dreams.

his sweater – a light beige with a v-neck that dips lower without the collar of the shirt he normally wears underneath it poking out – hangs loose around fong’s smaller frame. the shoulders pool upwards, the sleeves drape over his fingers, the hem hits far past the bottom of his torso. it doesn’t fit at all, and yet it does. there is something so right about coming out of the shower and finding fong lying on his bed, homework papers strewn out across the sheets and ohm’s sweater pooling up around his hips.

“i’m sorry,” fong is quick to say, fingers scrambling to tug it over his head. “it got cold, and it was the first thing i saw. i can give it back.”

“no.” he holds his hands out to steady fong more than himself. when the neck of the sweater stretches back down and he can see him, ohm sends him a smile. “it’s…it’s good. nice. it looks nice.”

“nice,” fong repeats. the very tips of his fingers, the only parts that peek out from beneath the sleeves, smooth over the fabric. his eyes soften, the tips of his mouth curving up. ohm can’t the tingling feeling that spreads through him.

viii.

that single strand of hair. it’s as lovely as it is distracting, for fong at the very least. he supposes ohm must have gotten used to it, takes notice of it the same way he does to the air around him. but it’s so out place and somehow so perfectly put that fong cannot help but admire it.

it’s a flame, stark black and contrast to his skin, that draws his hand towards it like a moth. ever so carefully, with just a graze of his fingers, he pushes it back into place. brushing over his ear, his hand buries beneath the hair parted against his scalp, dark locks blanketing over it.

only then does ohm look to him, realize that there had been something out of place he hadn’t seen. what he does see – feel, sense, know – is fong. and what a wonder that is, to be more noticeable, more important, more vital than the air. to be what ohm needs to breathe.

ix.

ever changing lights flicker across the concert venue. sarawat’s band is on stage, but they’re impossible to pay attention to when fong has all of his focus. he’s beautiful in every color he bathes in, but ohm can’t help but be partial to the mixture of yellow and orange.

fong has always been a bright light, a beacon, an ever-present warmth. the colors paint him as the sun he’s always been, the very center of ohm’s universe. head back, ears turned up to the music, his eyes reflect gold when he turns to ohm to tug him close and sway them along to the bass beneath their feet.

purple and blue remind him of late nights where they’d forgotten to close the blinds. green brings memories of lying in the grassy field in the back of their high school, when all ohm could rely on was stolen glances and accidental hand brushes he’d hold nearer and dearer to his heart than he should have. pink and red mix together, and all he can see is love coating over full cheeks and a fuller smile that he is lucky enough to have directed at him. and then it’s back to yellow, back to orange, back to warmth so hot ohm could burn.

it’s a heat like no other. all he can do to cool is curls a single arm around the small of fong’s back and pull him close enough for their foreheads to touch. his heart still roars with flames, engulfs him in a love hot enough to melt.

wrapping himself around him, fong comments, “you really like this song.”

and all ohm can do is hum, hold him tighter, and soak in his warmth. “i think it might be my favorite.”

“how did you know?” fong asks. the two of them are staring up at the ceiling, peeling paint their replacement for stars. “that it was me, i mean.”

by all intents and purposes, it should be an easy enough question to answer. but it becomes difficult when it hits him that…it’s always been fong. there isn’t a moment where anyone else has taken refuge in his heart and made it their home.

“i don’t remember when it started. but i remember when i realized it couldn’t be anyone else.” the memory flashes behind his eyes in vivid detail, kept clean and clear from how many times he’s brought it back to the forefront of his mind. “new years eve of second year. after tine and phuak ditched us to find pretty girls to kiss at midnight.”

mouth agape when he looks to him, fong says in startled disbelief, “in your backyard when i almost burned my hand on that sparkler? that wasn’t as special as i was expecting. more embarrassing.”

“it wasn’t. and that’s why i knew. there didn’t need to be some big sign. i just knew that even in those simple moments, i wanted it to be you there with me. and,” ohm catches his eye, looks at him so he knows how much he means what he says, “it was the first time i got to see you smile. it wasn’t because of something stupid phuak did or something sweet tine said to you. it was just… because you were happy. i hadn’t seen anything that beautiful before.”

fong says nothing, only reaches down to grab his hand. but when he smiles – that smile – he tells ohm all he needs to know. it’s another one of those not so special moments; the two of them lying flat against the sheets, their hands twisted together between them. but that in and of itself makes it special.

#2gether #2gether the series #still2gether #still2gether the series #ohmfong #ohm x fong #my writing #i love these two so much #it's only been a few days #but they have my heart #also i'm so sorry that gif is SO shitty

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

Text

Don’t You Die on Me | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"I was wondering if I could get 18 & 19 with Roman Sionis? Male reader comes across a deal going bad (could be a roman deal or some random person, guns get pulled) they try to diffuse the situation, chaos ensues, someone who works with Rom finds them and rushes them to a personal doctor or hospital, and Roman and reader have an angsty moment, make up, soft ending?" anon

A/N: I really hope this is to your liking, anon! Thanks for the request!

summary; You witness one of Roman’s meetings go badly and try to de-escalate, which had the opposite effect and got you a bullet wound in your abdomen.

notes; TW // Hospital; Violence; Bullet/Gunshot Wound; Injury; Flesh Wound; Implied Murder; No graphic depictions of anything, though. Male!Reader; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Love Confessions; Anxiety.

Despite knowing that Roman didn't want you downstairs at the club when he was having a meeting, you went anyway. Not because you wanted to disobey him necessarily, but because you needed to ask him something that couldn't wait until he was done. You tried texting Zsasz about it, but since he took watching over Roman so seriously, he didn't see it. So you decided to come down.

When you've reached the club's backstage, you could already hear raised, strained voices and Roman's signature tone of 'If you say one more thing that I don't like, I will blow your brains out'.

Even though your instincts told you to turn on your heels and wait till it was all over, you continued on, until you've almost reached the booth they sat in.

You came closer, and that's where it slowly but surely started to escalate.

Not really thinking about it, you wanted to diffuse the situation. In retrospect, you couldn't possibly say what has driven you to do that. Perhaps it was your worry for Roman, even though you knew he was in good and capable hands with Zsasz, and himself.

Yet, you thought it smart to stir away the man's, who he was conversing with, attention from Roman as you saw a gun glint in his hand under the table.

Chuckling nervously, you touched the man's shoulder, his back was turned to you. "Excuse me? I really don't think you should do that, y'know?" Your voice was gentle, you sounded like you were asking him for directions, rather than putting down the weapon.

"What the fuck?" The man looked at you, his faced twisted in confusion; then he jerked your hand away, turning back to Roman. "What the fuck's this supposed to mean, huh? You fucker! Don't try to-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you stupid fake fucking fuck! Zsasz!" Roman snarled, twirling his finger for Zsasz to escort the man out.

Promptly, the other businessman stood up and pointed his gun right between Roman's eyes, who barely even flinched at the sight.

Your heart rate had picked up even more than before. You were so anxious that something was going to happen to Roman, you really didn't think about your poor decision making anymore.

So, you grabbed onto the man's arm and pulled it down and towards yourself, the gun pointing to your abdomen.

Then a deafening loud BANG rang through the club.

Suddenly, it was quiet. No one moved. No one seemed to even breathe, even though you could feel your chest rise and fall quickly.

You slid to the floor, your body not supporting you anymore. As you let go of the culprit, he made a run for it. You could hear it, and as quick as he started, he was stopped. Several gun shots rang through the club in quick succession and then a dull thud, though it sounded crushingly loud in your ears.

"Fuck! Don't just stand around, for fuck's sake! You! Call the fucking doctor, tell him we're coming in with a bullet wound. And you! Clean up this fucking mess." Roman was barking out orders, you barely registered any of it.

Faintly, you could feel yourself being shifted around, lying on your back on the floor, instead of slumping weirdly against the booth. Then there was pressure on your stomach. You knew it hurt, but you didn't flinch or really feel it, as you brain was struggling to keep up.

Suddenly, Roman's face was in yours. He looked mad, concerned, and anxious all at once. Only he could display so many different emotions in only one face.

He was patting your cheek quite hard, as you lost focus. "Stay with me, baby," he murmured.

It was hard to, but you tried.

"You better not fucking die on me. Especially not when you've done something so stupid. You hear me?" You made a gurgling sound in the back of your throat. "Fuck! C'mon, sweet boy. Now's not the time. 'Kay? Not now. I promise you, I will hunt your fucking ass down and kill you myself if you decide to fucking die."

Then you were lifted up by someone, not Roman, but one of his men. He carried you bridal style outside, Roman close by, holding onto your hand. You were laid down on the backseat of a car, your legs draped over Roman's thighs, who sat there with you, keeping one hand linked with yours, loosely, and the other continued to put pressure on your injury, where someone must have wrapped it up already to put constant pressure on it.

You couldn't remember much past being in the car. It was all a rush and a blur. All you knew was that you were in a hospital bed now, hooked to monitors and an IV bag of what was probably morphine. The other thing you knew was that Roman was lying beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your middle, above your injury, and his head on your chest. Usually that was your position, but nothing was usual about your current situation.

Lying there and remembering what has gotten you there, you winced in embarrassment. You were so fucking stupid for trying to do something about the situation at hand in the club. Fuck, Roman must have been enraged. He probably still was.

Briefly, Roman's arms around you tightened and then loosened again, as he stirred. He had been asleep then, apparently.

You desperately wanted to make a noise or move to let him know that you were awake, but you couldn't do anything. It was like you were frozen in place. Part of you was scared it wasn't real, that it would all vanish the moment you tried to make it real. Another part of you also just didn't want to face Roman after such a stupid fucking action.

Promptly though, he lifted his head and looked at you. You looked right back at him.

Palpable relief washed over Roman, lifting his features from a frown into surprise and fondness.

"You're awake," he croaked, his voice still thick and broken from sleep.

Stiffly, you gave him a small, barely there, nod.

Roman leaned up and pressed a kiss to your lips. It spoke volumes of how worried he must have actually been. He kissed you again and again, barely able to stop at all. It felt strange to you, to know that you were the reason he felt anxious about something.

Soon enough, though, he stopped kissing you over and over again, and leaned back, propping himself up on his arm that was placed on the mattress. Then he frowned at you.

"Are you fucking insane? You could have been fucking killed! Don't do that again! Fuck!" His voice broke on every other word, rising in octaves as he went on and you felt a stab in your chest.

You wanted to reply something, but as you were clearing your throat, you noticed how utterly dry it was and how it hurt.

Roman looked at you, breathing heavily with agitation. Then he realised that you wanted something and what it was. He leaned over to the bedside table on his side and grabbed an ice chip, putting it between your lips.

"Don't worry about fucking replying, 'kay? I'm sure you know how fucking stupid this was of you. And I already know that you're sorry. I can see it in your eyes," he rasped, kissing your forehead.

Then he stretched his arm to push a button, calling the doctor, as he explained by your questioning look. After that he lied down beside you again, his head back on your chest. You sighed quietly.

"Don't ever do that again. Please." That was a first. Roman never said 'please' or 'thank you'. "The next time you won't be this lucky. I don't want to have to fucking bury you, 'kay?” A pause. “When the doctor's checked you over, you'll need to rest again, I'm sure. I'll stay here, waiting for you."

A tear found its way out of your eye, running down the side of your face and into your hair. The ice chip has dissolved by then and while your throat didn't feel much better, you were sure to explode if you didn't say anything.

"I love you, Roman. I'm sorry, thank you," you croaked, a sob tearing from your raw throat.

He kissed your chest softly. "I adore you, too, my sweet boy."

#tw violence #tw murder #tw gun violence #tw hospital #tw injury #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x you #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x male!reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor imagine

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starkrogerrs · 5 years

Text

(in one universe);

i. in one universe there is just us, i love you and you love me, we never hurt each other, we never let go of each other, it is only us.

circa 1925.

the only thing to guide steve through the dark forest was the starlight glinting off of the damp leaves. he found his way through it nonetheless; the path had been etched into his memory after having traversed it so often. two strong years, to be precise- the whole seven hundred and thirty one days of it.

he emerged on the other side, onto the moonlit grass that stretched for a few feet and stopped at the banks of a local river.

there, a few feet to his left, he spotted the short silhouette of a man and a smile tugged at his lips.

"there you are, it's been forever," the man called as steve approached and promptly sat down next to him.

tony was dressed in a rather fancy suit, perhaps only one of the many best he had. he was, after all, tony stark.

"happy birthday and congratulations captain rogers" tony said, as he shuffled closer to steve, grinning in his usual way— the kind that made his eyes crinkle.

"how was your day?" steve asked, reaching for the tiny wine glass that tony had brought down with him.

"it was good..but it just got infinitely better," tony murmured, smiling, and took a sip of the liquid.

"oh," steve flushed.

tony threw his head back, laughing.

"you're so adorable, rogers."

steve pulled him close then and captured his lips with his. he had spent the entire day looking forward to this very moment, this very second. this was when steve felt the most vulnerable but also the most happy. he felt exposed, kissing tony under the light of a billion stars like this and yet he was content.

he was with the love of his life; away from prying eyes, judgemental looks and a whole world of people who stood against their union. he was a captain now and tony was well, tony stark and... a man. their love couldn't be all sunshine and flowers.

but, here, it was just them always— them, the rhythmic trickling of the river and the radiant moonlight. here, their love was what they wanted it to be. profound, open and endless.

"i love you," steve breathed when they finally broke apart and this was the first time he had admitted it out loud, to tony. tony's eyes widened for a split second and steve wondered if he had ruined it all but then— tony kissed him again, eyes shining and steve forgot what worrying was.

"i don't ever want to let you go," he murmured against tony's lips, and everything was suddenly all too quiet except for the blood roaring in steve's ears. tears made their way to the corner of his eyes; he felt truly overwhelmed. he loved him, truly loved him and the realisation was all too much but he revelled in the warm feeling that blossomed over his being.

tony reached up to cup his face gently, his eyes big and brown, doe-like and in that moment steve decided he would lay down his life for him if he had to.

"then don't," tony whispered, before kissing him once more and the world fell into oblivion.

ii. in one universe i meet you, briefly but i never really knew you, maybe I didn't need to. i am okay, you are okay we turn out fine, it wasn't really important for me to meet you.

tony should've known that rushing down a crowded street wasn't, perhaps, the smartest thing to do. he collided head first into something solid and spilled hot coffee all over himself. a string of curses tumbled out of his lips as the liquid burned through his t-shirt.

"god, i'm sorry," the person he had stumbled into said and only then did tony look up— into stunning blue eyes.

"i didn't see where i was going and-," the stranger began but tony cut him off.

"no no, it was totally my fault," he said shaking his head and looking down at the coffee dripping down his front.

"here," the stranger said, handing him about three tissues he had removed from his pocket.

his blue eyes were full of unspoken concern.

"say, do you always carry a box of tissues in your back pocket?" tony mused, gratefully accepting the tissue and wiping his t-shirt.

the stranger chuckled at that; a deep, warm laugh that made tony smile.

"you always gotta be ready, ya know?" the stranger answered, a thick brooklyn accent gripping his words.

"indeed you do."

and they stood like that for a couple of seconds in silence, while tony wiped his t-shirt.

"sorry again," the stranger mumbled, when tony tossed the last tissue into the nearby bin.

"hey, don't. we'll keep going in circles."

the stranger smiled at that, nodding.

"good to meet you, sir."

"you too," tony murmured, before they walked down their opposite paths, the encounter already fading from both their minds.

iii. in one universe something goes wrong, we aren't together. we know each other but we don't find each other, you find someone else while i have no one and i only want you.

tony woke up to the sound of a swarm of birds chirping outside. it took him a moment to remember where he was— rhodey's apartment. the soft, blue hue of the morning sky was visible through the drawn curtains of his living room. tony glanced at his watch; 5:55, it told him.

he sat up from his position on the soft cushioned mattress, which had been laid out on the floor. he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes but could barely hold them open. they had been up until two, talking about nothing and everything, he recalled.

it was strangely quiet; the silence only perturbed by the merry chirp of a wild bird and rhodey's soft snores.

rhodey, who was asleep beside him, was sprawled next to the grey couch on which carol lay, sleeping as well. her left arm curled to the floor, fingers inches from rhodey's. tony wondered if they had been holding hands; the thought made him feel dreadfully lonely.

he looked to his right, and almost stopped breathing for a moment. steve lay on their shared mattress, but on the very edges of it, an ocean of distance between them. his golden hair was tousled and his lips puckered in a way that made tony's heart leap. one arm lay outstretched before him, across the open space, fingers curling open.

tony wanted to reach out and lace his fingers through his but alas, he couldn't.

steve was in a pretty committed relationship with sharon, and often talked about marrying her as most young adults do. but the seriousness with which he always said this, the gentle smile that played at his lips when he looked at sharon, never went unnoticed by tony.

perhaps in another universe, steve could be his but right here, right now, he could not. to love him was to let him go and tony was fine with that.

or so he told himself.

iv. in one universe we fall in love, we exchange our vows, we find a home, we are tangled up together in the sheets every night and open our eyes to each other because...

steve closed his eyes gently, as tony whispered his name in a soft prayer. his breath was shaky and slow and it only aroused steve further. one last, strong push sent them both over the edge, as stars burst behind his shut eyes in a myriad of colors. for a moment his body felt suspended in limbo before making it's way back to the ground. he placed a tender kiss on a spot behind tony's ear and another on his shoulders as they rode out their highs together.

tony felt warm under him as he tucked his face into the crook of his neck; the gentle rise and fall of tony's chest lulling him to sleep.

tony shifted a bit under him. undoubtedly, the pressure of steve's body had gotten too much. steve lid off, turning tony to his side so that he was now spooning the brunet.

he pulled tony close, throwing the blanket over their bare selves. steve sighed, trailing his fingers down the length of tony's arm before entwining their fingers together.

steve wanted to say so much, but words caught in his throat because of how overwhelmed he was. instead, he only brought their laced hands up to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the ring on tony's finger.

they had exchanged their vows and rings— made out of the alloy of vibranium from steve's shield and pieces of tony's armor— under the stars of this beautiful july night.

a night that would mark the union of two heroes who had saved the world and each other. of two heroes who were each other's salvation, each other's north star.

of two heroes who were soulmates across universes.

they were sure of it.

.. because we made it in this universe, we made it.

#this has been lying in my drafts since forever so here #stevetony #stony #steve x tony #steve rogers x tony stark #stevetony fluff #stevetony au #mywriting

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cupidmarwani-archive · 4 years

Text

Surgeon (Rhocel)

Summary: Connor stays in Chicago long enough for the Infection Crossover.(Secret Santa Gift for @dumpster-writer)

WC: ~1.3k

It’s all hands on deck. Pretty much every single doctor and nurse who works the ED is here, along with most of the surgeons in the hospital, which means that Connor finally meets the trauma surgeon who works the night shift. Crockett Marcel. Crockett Marcel is flamboyant, charming, loud, and impulsive right off the bat, and rumor has it that he’s a bit of a drinker. All in all, he’s somewhat of a concern when he runs around the ED.

At the very least, though, he seems good with the patients. They trust him, are reassured by him, and when they’re terrified, they at least give Crockett permission to push a little something to calm them down. It’s more than Connor’s been able to manage, given how freaked out he is about this, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. He has to have some faith in him, he decides moments before the two of them are rushed into the same surgery. The patient’s right forearm, right thigh, are both infected, and it’s faster to do both issues at once before the infection can keep spreading.

It’s the both of them, standing here surrounded by a mixture of their teams, Connor delicately cutting through the dead flesh on the arm as Crockett works on the leg. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to forget reek of rot, the way there’s no blood, just more grey and brown and pus. Maybe once or twice in his career, he’s dealt with staph infections kind of like this, but never so horrific, so rapidly expanding, so contagious.

“I’m not getting blood flow,” he says. He’s pretty deep, and everything is dead. There’s nothing there anymore. “Any luck, Marcel?”

“Not much.”

Connor really doesn’t want to consider the possibility that they won’t be able to cut the infection out. Losing an arm, or a leg, or God forbid both would be devastating, and that’s with the assumption that an infection doesn’t pop up anywhere else. This whole day has been failures with a smattering of hope. Everyone is dying. They can’t save people fast enough.

“C’mon,” Crockett growls. He’s gotten almost frantic in his actions. “There’s gotta be something left down here.”

April stops his hand. “You’re down to the bone. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Please tell me you can save her arm.”

Connor meets Crockett’s eyes across the patient’s body. He wants to say he can. But he’s gone deeper, and there’s still nothing. One of the team places two fingers on the patient’s wrist and shakes their head. No pulse. No blood. An arm and a leg, gone.

“What kind of life will she have?”

“That’s not our focus right now. It’s about making sure that life is still possible.” He hates this. He hates not having time to think about that because this patient is on the cusp of death, and they have countless others who likely need surgery. New cases keep coming in. “Hand me the bone saw.”

Someone puts it together, and then places the saw in Connor’s hand. It’s a good thing he has a strong stomach. Crockett orders a push of extra meds to help with the shock, and April ties a tourniquet to keep the patient from bleeding out before they can cauterize the wound. This may be one of the worst things he’s ever had to do. He could scream.

Before he can start, the monitor suddenly starts screaming. They’re losing her. It’s a blur, struggling to get her heart to work, to do anything, but they just can’t. She doesn’t come back, no matter how hard they try. This patient, this human being, has become a corpse on his table because they couldn’t act fast enough. Connor can’t help lifting the gown, and finds a deep purple almost-bruise on her stomach. Another infection. There was nothing they could have done, because it hadn’t shown up on her scan-- although that was about an hour and a half ago.

“Fuck!”

Connor slams his hands down on the edge of the table. His head hurts, the way it does when he’s stressed out, dehydrated, or some combination thereof. All he can think about is the fact that he failed. He couldn’t save her, even though he knew what would happen if they missed anything at all.

“Rhodes-”

Crockett reaches for him, but all Connor sees is the blood on his latex gloves. He stumbles back, reaching for something to steady himself. He can’t feel his feet. His hand closes on a tray, but it doesn’t support him; rather, its wheels make it move, and he falls back, narrowly avoiding hitting his head hard on the linoleum.

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath, Rhodes.”

Gloves dropped on the floor, face mask gone. Crockett’s above him, now cupping the back of his head and trying to calm him down. He can’t breathe, he realizes, but that’s nowhere near as distressing as the surgery.

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, sugar. How can we help?”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything because it feels like somebody took a crowbar to his shins. He inhales through his teeth and sits up to clutch his leg, an instinct against the sharp and sudden pain. Before Connor says a word, Crockett pushes up the leg of his scrubs and there’s a small not-quite bruise.

“Okay. Okay, we’re gonna take care of this,” Crockett says, and orders the team to get a gurney. “We’re gonna give you an MRI, just to rule out an infection. Right now, you’re panicking. You’re upset. We’re gonna fix you up good, Rhodes, don’t worry.”

Crockett and April help him up onto a gurney, and Crockett orders her to give Connor something for his anxiety. He wants to say thank you. Before he gets the chance, though, his body relaxes for him, and he’s filled with a warm not-quite high. Definitely a larger dose than he would have chosen for himself. Crockett’s liberal with his treatments, and this appears to be no exception.

“I need an MRI immediately.”

Someone mentions a line, but Connor doesn’t think there’s more than a few minutes between the anti-anxiety medication being administered and the order for him to stay still so the machine can do its job and take a full body picture. His sense of time is probably skewed, though, because he doesn’t feel like he’s in the MRI for very long before they pull him out and he finds himself surrounded by the ED staff. Will beside his bed, stroking his hair. April and Monique walking alongside the gurney. Even Mrs. Goodwin is there, and she’s talking to him but he isn’t processing anything, still caught on the smell of the infection and the way that girl died under his hands.

But once he’s in a room, an IV being pushed into his veins, it’s just Crockett. Putting in lines is usually a nurse’s job, but now it’s just the two of them. Crockett offers him a tight smile. “You’re gonna be okay, Rhodes. We did find a little spot, but I’m going to get rid of that for you, and you’ll be right as rain.”

Once the IV is in, Connor takes Crockett’s hand and squeezes. “I have it?” he asks. His words sound a little slow to his own ears. “I’m sick.”

“Just for now,” Crockett assures immediately. “We’re gonna fix it for you, I promise. In just a minute, you’ll get prepped for surgery. Okay?”

He leans down and presses a kiss to Connor’s forehead, something familiar and touching despite the fact that they barely know each other. It’s reassuring nonetheless, and Connor nods despite how far away from life he currently feels. There’s just something reassuring about Crockett. When he’s brought to an OR, a mask prepared to put him under, he just watches the team come in one by one, scrubbed in and ready.

He falls asleep softly.

#connor rhodes #crockett marcel #chicago med #one chicago #mine #fic #cm!ss #rhocel

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dreamy--dolly · 5 years

Text

and i’m home

angsty gareval fic incoming

(again, i should clarify: ive played around w/ the ages so that gareth is only two years older than percival - percival’s about twenty in this fic, gareth about twenty two.)

Percival does not know who he expects to come to his side after the funeral.

He is not sure if he expects anyone at all. That isn’t Galahad that lies in the casket - eyes closed and skin too pale and dressed in black. Black does not suit him, it is too dark and dull. This is not the world he is supposed to live in, this is not the way Galahad is supposed to die - not only twenty years old to buried in the catacombs. He should be growing old and gray, dying after years of changing the world a little bit at a time.

It is hot and sunny when Percival steps outside. He does not want to see Lancelot’s face - he does not want to see a father mourn for a son that he may as well not even have. Lancelot was never Galahad’s father. He never acted like a father should, at least. But the world is a grotesque place, and people act and things happen the way they ought not to. Percival learned that, and wishes he didn’t.

It is Gareth who approaches him afterwards, who sits next to him outside. Gareth is the one to reach out and squeeze Percival’s hand - just two years older than him, twenty-two. He does not know Gareth very well, save for the fact that he is supposedly the kindest of the four brothers from far far away in Orkney.

“Left early?” Gareth says. He speaks in code, but Percival does not quite know how to respond.

Percival nods. “It was hot and stuffy in there.” He knows what he really means, though - the words translate to the fact that he could not bear to look at the face of a false father or the face of someone who was the only person who believed the world to be what Percival thought it was.

He is not sure if Gareth understands the code he speaks in. He does not know what sort of world Gareth sees. He does not know if it is the same world he sees. But he at least has one person to help him stand again so he does not drown.

He has to tell himself that Gareth is not a second Galahad for him. Gareth’s hair is red like fire, while Galahad’s was blonde like gold. The way they are is different, too - Gareth’s more closed-off. He is not unkind, but he speaks as if his kindness is a conscious choice and not a product of wistful believing that the world is not the harsh place it is. But he is someone that will not force Percival back down to Earth with gravity, and that is something Percival likes about him.

He is not sharp-edged like his younger brother Mordred is, all steel eyes and cold words towards Percival - Mordred does not say a word, yet somehow Percival thinks that the words “It’s all your fault” are always on the tip of his tongue. As much as Percival wishes to not believe it, Mordred is right. It really is all his fault. Were it not for him, Galahad might not be far away in the catacombs.

Percival tries to pick up the broken pieces and carry on, but it is hard. Gareth helps him, yet the shards of what he once believed in still cut his hands. He is still known as Percival, the most gentle of Camelot’s knights, but it is not the same.

“You need to hold still.” Gareth frowns at him. They have returned from patrol tonight like they have on other knights, and have defeated the beast they sought but not without gaining fresh wounds in the process. Percival tells himself he should be used to the feel of pain by now, yet the cuts on his back and arms still sting.

“Sorry,” Percival says. Gareth takes a deep breath before he continues cleaning the blood away, and Percival flinches again, letting out a yelp.

“Damn!” he curses. “Can you just hold still for a moment?!”

And then Percival sees Mordred - Mordred silently asking him why he could not have changed a thing, even though he’s thought that there would be a way past that - and suddenly he would prefer the pain of fresh wounds he can’t completely tolerate to something like this.

Percival does not know what Gareth sees, but whatever it is he sees makes his eyes widen. When he raises his hand Percival backs away and wishes that he had not.

“...Sorry,” Gareth says. “Shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Percival shrugs. “‘S fine. I should’ve stayed still and not gotten upset.”

Gareth shakes his head. He picks at the thin string of his eyepatch.

“There’s nothing wrong in crying, you know. If something’s hurting, I don’t see the need to keep quiet about it.” He gives Percival a smile, something shining and soft against all the rough edges and harsh outlines. Percival smiles back at Gareth, and can only think about how they both know it’s not true.

There is still rust that tarnishes the metal, but it can still work even if the beauty it once held is gone.

It is Gareth who pulls him away and moves in for the kill. He’s crying and laughing all at once - Galahad, Mordred, disappointment, failure, hate, love, no more, no more, pain, pain - the words all flash and clatter around in his head and his heartbeat and sobbing and laughter all rattle in his eardrums. Percival is trapped in a bloody tandem of hacking, slashing and crying and laughing - he cries for what he cannot get back and laughs because the pain of it all is something that he can just push away if he tries hard enough. The sword feels too big in his hands and he thinks that maybe he’ll be torn to pieces by the beast, and since he cannot feel the pain right now he does not care.

And then Gareth pushes him out of the way and moves in for the kill, his sword slicing through the beast’s flesh in a single, nauseating stroke that leaves it torn in two.

Kay reaches out to touch Percival’s blood-coated shoulders, ready to haul him back. “Percy-”

“Please,” he begs now that he does not have the hunt to take it all away, “Don’t touch me.”

Kay opens his mouth to respond but Gareth is the one who speaks up. His armor and sword are splattered red in the feeble torchlight.

“I’ll bring him back,” he says. Gareth lifts Percival off the ground and into his arms. “He’s exhausted and wounded - he needs to heal.”

Percival rests his head against Gareth’s chest as he is carried back, letting the quiet and constant beating of his heart occupy the silence that was once a chaotic symphony of things he shouldn’t have had to hear. There are stars out tonight, faint and glimmering in the near black sky. He’s got scratches and cuts all over him and if it weren’t for that one question he has on his mind he might just close his eyes and fall asleep here and now.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

No response, and Percival wonders if Gareth didn’t hear him.

“I try to show kindness to everyone,” he says. “Besides, you’re kind and you deserve kindness in return.”

“I don’t,” Percival says.

“Why not?”

Because I’m weak, he thinks, And I keep dwelling on the past long after I should stop thinking about it and just let it fade to memory. Because I’m stupid for thinking the fairy tales I grew up on were something real, something tangible. Because your brother hates me for not being good enough and he’s right.

But all of that can’t possibly be the right answer. He fumbles for a moment. “Because-”

“Well you’re wrong. Because you do deserve kindness. And I’ve already said why.”

Percival doesn’t know what to say. So he lets his eyelids droop and he dreams of struggling against the current of a river, struggling to stay afloat.

Gareth hands him a pear: Pockmarked, yellow-green, sinking a little when Percival presses his fingers too deep against it.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

Gareth always eats his food, Percival notices, as if he’ll never eat again. Crunching past the thin skin of the pear and tearing through the soft white flesh of the fruit underneath. It’s almost animalistic, and he has seen the look in Gareth’s eyes and the way his fist clenches when someone at the dining hall tosses their saliva-covered food to the ground.

He takes a bite and even though the fruit is bruised it is soft and sweet.

“Thank you.”

They eat in silence for a few moments. Summer is coming to an end; red and brown replace the green of the scenery, and the humidity dries away.

“You seem happy,” Gareth tells him. “I’m glad.”

“What makes you think I haven’t been happy?”

He and Gareth both know - because he’s still chasing after a dream that’s long been proven to only be a dream, because he still sees a glint of gold amidst the red that he shouldn’t see after all this time.

“I don’t know. But you seem so… relaxed now, so at ease. I’m glad.”

Then he leans over to press a sticky, pear-flavored kiss to Percival’s forehead. Warmth engulfs him in the coming chill of autumn.

“Hope that you really are happy.”

And for a little while after that, they are stolen kisses and wet leaves crunching under boots in autumn. There is something that they have and while it isn’t the dream Percival clung to for so many years, there is at least something tangible that he can hold onto in the waking world. Water may fill their lungs and they may drown in the river, but they’ll go down together. The hole in Percival’s heart is still there, seams jagged and unable to mend, but they are trying. At least they’re trying to mend what cannot be.

“D’you think Mordred hates me?”

They lie together at the crackling fire. They forgot the blankets, so Gareth spreads his cloak over the both of them, and if they can’t fall asleep they can at least gaze up at the bits and pieces of the night sky they can see through the maze of trees.

“I don’t think so. He’s sort of withdrawn, but I wouldn’t say he hates you.”

“Withdrawn” isn’t the word Percival would use to describe what he’d heard from Mordred’s mouth. Withdrawn does not capture the mutters of “It’s all your fault” and “You’re so weak” and “You are nothing” that sometimes he hears and sometimes he can almost hear. Withdrawn does not describe the icy cold Percival feels wash over him with Mordred.

“You’re certain? Because sometimes he’ll… talk to me and it seems like he does. He says things that I think are meant to hurt me, but I can’t say for sure. The thing is though, I still want to give him a chance, and I don’t want to hate him. But he still keeps saying those things.”

Gareth sits up. The warmth of the cloak is leached from Percival’s body.

“He doesn’t talk much about you. I didn’t know he says these sorts of things to you, and-”

“Really, it’s not something to worry about, not something you should-”

Gareth sighs and lies back down. “He’s far away from here, so you’re right. But when we get back I’m going to have to talk to him. I don’t understand why he hates you so much, or at least why he acts like does from what you said. It’s unfair. It’s no one’s fault, I thought things were at least stable for now. And yet he’s my brother - my little brother wouldn’t say or do those things. He’s just quiet and would rather not say a thing at all.”

He curls an arm around Percival, shifting under his cloak. “For now, though… I don’t know who to believe.”

Again, Percival cannot tell what is a dream and what is real. He can’t tell if it’s real or not when he finally returns all the kisses Gareth’s given him before, lifting his hair out of his face to press his lips to his forehead. Gareth never touches Percival’s lips - they both know why - but this is enough.

“Enough. We’re tired. Rest.”

He falls asleep tangled in Gareth’s arms that night. Or maybe he’s awake. Again, he does not know.

Gareth throws the letter into the fire when Percival sees him. They both watch the flames swallow up the crumpled paper, and it sinks into the ashes.

“I can’t do it,” Gareth declares. His voice is quiet and cracking. “I can’t betray the man who knighted me - the man who trained me-”

“Lancelot?”

“Him and the queen - Mordred and Agravaine told me - they want me to tell the king - I can’t, I can’t-”

He pulls Percival close and embraces him as if he will slip away under dark waters if he lets go. Percival knows the cold glares of Lancelot and how he’s drowning in his presence, knows a father that really isn’t a father. He thought that it was all Lancelot’s fault that his own son died, because he treated him as if he was never a son to him but a burden that weighed too heavy on his back. He still thinks that, but it is less knowledge and more thought. For if Gareth goes through and gives out the whole truth then Lancelot will be killed and the queen burned to ashes at the stake - even with what Percival knows of Lancelot, he does not want him dead.

“What are you going to do?” He says. There are tears wet on his shirt - Gareth’s tears. He’s never seen Gareth cry before now.

Gareth pulls away. His nose is red and his one eye blinks, watery and dull. “I won’t tell. I’m going to warn Lancelot - he ought to know. I don’t want him dead. I can’t bring myself to be the one with blood on my hands.”

Then he takes Percival back into his arms. “I don’t want to lose you, either. Let’s just run away - there’s no Grail to worry about, we can just leave and never come back, can’t we?”

They have nowhere to go. Percival’s dreams have taken hold of Gareth, again making them drift farther and farther away from what is real and plausible in the river’s current.

“We can’t. You can just warn Lancelot. We’ll stay here. We’ll deal with Mordred.”

He closes his eyes. He does not know how they will pick up the broken pieces and try to fix them - Lord knows if they even can - but there’s a tiny, flickering flame that won’t be snuffed out that says they can. They can fix this without any blood being shed.

Gareth kisses him, and it’s on the lips this time. He’s taller and rougher than Galahad, but he isn’t the thorns that make him bleed like Mordred does. He’s the leaves of the flower, not quite the soft petals but not as prone to tearing or bruising. Then he pulls away.

“Sorry, but I was worried I wouldn’t get to… kiss you like that.”

Percival leans up. Even though Gareth has pulled away, the feel of his lips still buzz on his. He ruffles Gareth’s faded red hair.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I liked it.”

And then they are drowning again, and they wonder if there’s really a way to fight the river’s current before the end of it all.

They say nothing about the kiss, but they speak one last time.

Even though Percival’s legs struggle to support his body and the blood stains his cothes, he still drags Gareth away from it all as much as he can. He feels the blood dripping down his mouth, feels the ragged cut underneath his shirt that’s Mordred’s reminder of what he deserves. He remembers Mordred pulling out his sword amidst the chaos, and while he said nothing this time he knows. He knows that Gareth saying he could not bring himself to speak out of the person who’d trained him for all those years is what led Mordred to this, for how could his own brother pick the one responsible for it all over him?

They’re drowning and it isn’t a dream. It’s real. But they’ll be pulled into the watery depths together, at least.

He collapses at last and knows he will not get up. At least he stares up at the rising of the sun in its glory of reds and oranges and yellows cooling into blue. At least he will not die and fall into the dizzying abyss of stars.

“Are… are you alright?” Gareth’s voice is creaky at his side.

This is how it ends. He covers the blood soaking through his armor and reaches over to pat Gareth’s bloodied hand. Then he grabs hold of it, for it will be the last thing he feels.

“I’m alright. We won. It’s going to be alright.”

Gareth smiles at him, teeth coated with blood.

“I’m so glad… Wake me up when we get back, okay?”

They’re both lying to each other. But this is like the old days of playing pretend when they didn’t know. So Percival pretends that it is the truth, that they will wake up this time even though the darkness clouds his vision and the dull pain in his stomach is pulling him down.

“I’ll wake you up. I promise.”

And then he pulls Gareth into the waters with them. They’re sucked into a dream one last time. He plays pretend with someone else.

Things aren’t going to change now that in death they’ve left it all behind.

#angie writes #gareval #arthuriana #gareth (arthuriana)#percival (arthuriana)

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i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind · 5 years

Text

Safe

Both @lurkingwhump and myself decided there were too many missed opportunities in 4x12. This is basically my take on the missing points between Kurt calling Ken Li, and Rich, Patterson and Reade visiting at the hospital.

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Jane groaned weakly, turning her head into the pillow.

“Why don't you…” Kurt sniffed. “Why don't you rest, all right?” he stood up, kissing her burning forehead gently. “Sweet dreams baby.” he brushed a tear off his face. “I'll be back in a second.”

He walked out of the room, leaving his heart behind.

He dialed the number Patterson had given him earlier, only to be told that Ken Li had stepped out for the day.

Feeling both anger and desperation, Kurt hit his speed dial, calling Reade, notifying him of this new piece of information. They were being double crossed. If Ken Li got his hands on that book, there would be no trade… no Stanton Cells for Jane… no way she would…

He shook his head, disbelief filling him. They had gotten so close… so bloody close.

He looked through the window at his wife. She was dying, there was no denying that… and now… now he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to save her.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, falling freely down his crumpled face. He couldn't lose her… he just couldn't. If she died… he died with her.

He turned and slid down the wall, a strangled sob escaping his throat. He buried his face into his hands, completely ignoring the staff, patients and visitors walking past him. He allowed himself a moment of pure despair, the black hole that was forming around his heart, swallowing him completely.

He shook his head and sniffed. He needed to be strong for Jane. He couldn't sit wallowing in his own self pity, while she suffered alone. He scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping the tears away and clearing his throat.

He picked himself off the ground, creeping quietly back to Jane. He took his seat beside her, holding her hand softly.

“I love you and I always will.” he whispered, repeating what she had said to him moments before.

An hour had passed before his phone finally vibrated. He checked the caller ID, Reade.

Kissing Jane's hand softly, he rushed out into the corridor.

“Please tell me you have good news.” he exclaimed gruffly.

“You were right.” Reade replied. “He was double crossing us.”

Kurt sighed, his heart plummeting.

“But-” Reade continued. “I managed to contact Rich and Patterson in time. We came up with a plan…” he laughed. “Long story short, the cells are being transported to the hospital now.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“S-say that again?” Kurt stuttered.

“She's gonna be ok Kurt.” Reade chuckled, relief evident in his voice.

Kurt couldn't speak… couldn't breathe. He was scared if he even moved he would wake up and find this was only a dream.

“Kurt? You still there man?” Reade's voice asked through the phone.

He cleared his throat.

“Yeah… yeah I'm still here.” he answered quietly.

“The cells won't be far away. I've already called and notified the doctor. They're expecting them.”

“Thank you.” Kurt replied, still not able to form full sentences. They had done it. She was going to be ok!

He disconnected the call and entered her room again. He took in the pale, sunken features that was now his wife. He sat on the side of the bed, rubbing her softly on the side of her head.

“Jane? Jane, wake up.”

She stirred slightly, whimpering in pain.

“Come on baby.” he coaxed, rubbing her gently under her eye.

Her face scrunched up, before she whispered “Kurt?” through dry, cracked lips.

“Yeah it's me.” he said smiling, leaning forward to kiss her on the head.

Jane groaned in pain again.

“Are you ok?” she asked hoarsely.

Kurt chuckled. Trust her to be asking after his wellbeing when she was still literally on her deathbed.

“I'm more than ok.” he replied smiling. “You'll never guess what's on it's way here.”

“Mmm?” she asked, too weak to form words.

“Well there's these little things called Stanton Cells that are being transported here as we speak.”

That got her attention.

“What?” she croaked, her eyes shooting open in a rare burst of energy.

“They got them Janey.” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Jane let out a hoarse whimper in reply, tears forming hard and fast.

“You're gonna be ok, my love.”

Jane concentrated hard, slowly wrapping her arms around her husband, needing him to be close. She held on with as much energy as she could muster, still unable to believe Patterson and Rich had really done it.

Her doctor walked into the room sometime later, holding a large bag of a clear liquid. She smiled at the pair, who were still wrapped around each other on the small bed.

Kurt leaped to his feet.

“Is that…?” he asked, not able to form the words, settling to look down at the bag in her hands.

The doctor smiled, then nodded.

“These are the Stanton Cells that Ms Doe needs to survive. They've been synthesized into a two liter bag of saline, to be infused over three hours.” She hung the bag on the IV pole and attached it to the catheter in Jane's arm. “You should start to feel a difference almost right away.”

“Thank you.” Jane murmured, exhaustion creeping up on her again.

“Not a problem.” the doctor replied, smiling again. “Now you may experience some side effects…”

Jane's weak chuckled cut her off.

“I don't really care what side effects there may be… whatever they are, I'm sure they're better than dying.”

Kurt shook his head at his wife. At least her sense of humor hadn't been lost.

“What kind of side effects are we talking?” he asked the doctor, urging her to continue after Jane's interruption.

“Headaches, fever, muscle and joint pain, nausea, vomiting, skin rash and jaundice.” she replied, reading off her clipboard. “These are the notes Doctor Roga has sent me.” she clarified.

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” Jane breathed.

The doctor smiled.

“You rest up Ms Doe, I'll be back to check on you soon.” she said, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. “Ring the buzzer if there's any change.”

Kurt nodded his thanks, then turned back to his wife, who already had her eyes closed again.

“Sleep my love.” he whispered, kissing her hand. “You'll feel better when you wake.”

Within minutes, Jane was asleep, her face peaceful for the first time in days.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888

About two hours into the stem cell treatment, Jane woke up, blinking hard against her heavy lids.

“Hey.” Kurt whispered.

“Hey yourself.” she replied, her voice already sounding much stronger.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, cupping the side of her face.

“A little sick.” she replied truthfully. “But in the grand scheme of things, so much better.” she smiled tiredly.

Kurt grinned, bringing her fingers up to his face.

“Sexy crooked smile.” she murmured happily.

He chuckled.

“It's not that's crooked!” he complained, winning a tired laugh from his wife.

“Are you-” she started, but was cut off, a sharp pain forming behind her eyes. She groaned in pain, bringing her hands up to her face.

“Jane?” Kurt asked, his concern spiking. “Jane what's happening?”

“My eyes!” she ground out. “It feels like someone is stabbing them!”

She whimpered, and Kurt reached for the buzzer, pressing it a few times.

“Hold on baby.”

A nurse came running into the room.

“Is this supposed to be happening?” he exclaimed.

“I'll page her doctor!” the nurse replied, running back out.

Jane whimpered again, her hands forming fists into her eye sockets. But just as fast as the pain had started, it disappeared. She panted, trying to control her breathing after the episode.

“I'm ok.” she said to Kurt. “The pain’s going away.”

Kurt took a seat beside her on the bed.

“The doctor’s coming.” he said quietly.

Jane rubbed her face to ease the tension, before lowering her hands back into her lap. She opened her eyes slowly.

“Kurt-” she squeaked.

“What's wrong?” he asked desperately.

“Kurt I can see you.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “It’s blurry, but it's there!”

Kurt choked back a sob, before his face broke out in a massive grin.

“Sexy, crooked smile!” she said beaming. She brought her hands up to his neck, pulling his face down so she could kiss him.

The doctor chose that moment to come running into the room, followed by the nurse.

“False alarm?” she asked smiling at the couple.

“I can see again!” Jane exclaimed. Kurt moved off the bed.

“That's wonderful news.” the doctor said sincerely, pulling a penlight out of her pocket. She shined the light into Jane's eyes. “Looking great.” she said when she was done. “How are you feeling otherwise?”

Jane relaxed back into the pillows.

“Tired and a little nauseous.” she replied. “And sore all over.” she added.

“Well the best thing for you body right now is to get you moving.” the doctor said.

Kurt looked up at the doctor in surprise.

“Already?” he asked incredulously.

“The sooner the better.” the doctor replied.

Jane shrugged and pulled the blankets off of herself. She held out her hand to Kurt.

“Come on.” she said emphatically. “I can't do it by myself.”

Kurt chuckled, moving around the bed to help her stand on shaky legs.

“The more you move, the easier it will get. Though don't push yourself too hard, too fast.” the doctor warned. “You still need to rest to regain your strength.”

Jane grasped the IV pole for dear life, her muscles screaming in protest. Kurt wound one of his arms around his wife's waist, the other gripping her firmly by the wrist.

“We’ll take it slow.” he murmured, sensing her sudden fear. “Come on, I've got you.”

With those words, Jane took her first steps. Her body was sore and stiff, every movement an effort. But by the time she made it halfway down the corridor, she could feel things starting to loosen. They walked one length of the corridor, before she decided she needed to get back into bed. She was too exhausted to walk another step. The doctor, who was happy with her progress, checked her IV, before leaving the two of them in peace.

Kurt tucked the blankets back around her, smoothing her curls on the top of her head.

She moved to the edge of the bed.

“Come here.” she said softly, reaching out for him. She needed him near. He lay down on the bed with her, gathering her into his arms.

“Sweet dreams, baby.” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I told you everything would be ok.”

She chuckled into his shoulder, before her breathing evened out in a peaceful sleep.

Kurt closed his eyes and smiled, letting himself drift off for the first time in a long time, knowing that she was finally safe.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #jane doe #kurt weller #jeller #blindspot 4x12

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sarenityjames · 5 years

Text

Life Changes Part 3

@GrumpRen and @Sarenemelody

Ren: *Still holding her hand and my chin resting on it. I was still too wiped out from all that I've done and I could hear her talking to me and telling me to put the railing down.

I sit up just enough to drop the rail and move my chair even closer to her. Taking ahold of her hand again, I put my chin down but on the bed this time. I figured it would be awhile before the other doctor would be here and the fact the others wouldn't be rushing in here anymore like they were before.

I closed my eyes and it didn't take me long to fall asleep. It also didn't take me long to fall into my normal nightmare.

I was back in Iraq with my unit, yet again. Back in the tents when the air raid sirens started going off. This time, I was asleep when they woke me up and I was searching around for my weapon before I strapped my mask to my hips and made a run for the bunker. This time I made it to the entrance of the bunker when a explosive went off not far from me and I was blown into the bunker. I could hear screaming coming from the outside of it. I didn't even want to go look but they were my friends and they needed a medic ASAP.

(Without realizing it, I squeezed Sare's hand during this nightmare. Which in turn would give her it at the same time.)

I crawled my way up out of the bunker and reached the first one I came to. It wasn't good and I hollared out "MEDIC" looking around before applying pressure as I saw a medic running towards me. The second he told me he had it. I went to the next one and it was one of the female supply soldiers that was detailed with us. She was yelling out every curse word possible. I saw where some shrapnel hit her in the leg. It wasn't life threatening but I know for a fact that hurt like a mother fucker. "This is going to hurt but I need to do this." She gave me a nod, I reached down and put pressure on her leg. She cried out a little more but she feel silent as it must've helped her out somewhat with the pain. The blood stopped flowing out of her leg as another medic came over to where I was. This time he had me stay and keep my hands in place as he put an IV in and took over where I was. The next body I approached was closer to where the explosion happened and he was obviously dead. This one I knew and it was another one of my friends. I knelt down next to him and closed his eyes. It was chaos all around me but by the sounds of it, there were only 3 that were killed this time and at least 8 injured.

I woke up with a yell and almost forgot I was in the hospital with @sarenemelody*

SaRENity: *I felt the jerking of the bed, the sound of the metal rail being lowered then I was back out. Comforted at the fact that I had you close.

I was in the middle of my own dreams, my fears of the voices I was going to have to make playing out in my mind when suddenly I felt myself get pulled, out of my dream and into some place I had no clue as to what it was, or where it even was. My hands were not my own ass I looked down at someone. There was a connection between us but I was confused. How did I know this person? It was when my body got up and went to the female with the shrapnel that I realized what this was. Fuck I was seeing some things Ren had briefly told me about when he'd wake from his nightmares! I could feel 'my' heart pounding as words spoken to help calm her were spoken. Now I understood why he came back here unwillingly. I could feel the attachments to each person. Dead, wounded, it alone and helping someone else. My heart broke as I could only watch as he continued. I don't even think Ren realized I was here with him, but it was taking everything to not tear up right now. I was learning names, seeing their faces better, and feeling how he felt about his brothers in arms. This scene as it played out showed me truly how lucky I was that he came back, survived everything, and for us to meet. I knew how deep those scars ran deep in him now better than before.

Just as abruptly that I was pulled into the dream/nightmare I was shoved out. Sitting up slightly as I heard Ren and right now I could not fight the tears any more. I had always said that I wanted to understand better, to be able to help him with it more and now now I really understood the level of which he dealt with this.* Ren baby, *My voice was barely a whisper even as I debated on telling you what had happened. My hand squeezed yours since you seemed to have not let it go through everything* hey it's ok. Just another bad dream, you're ok. @GrumpRen I've got you.

Ren: *I sat up and realized too late where I was and the fact I woke Sare up with my yelling* I'm sorry baby, yes, I know it was a nightmare. *I cracked my neck as you squeezed my hand and I took a deep breath to slow my breathing down.* It's nothing to worry about. Did you want something to drink, besides the water? I need some Mt Dew to drink or something else. *In all reality I just needed to distract myself from my nightmare and the fact I keep reliving my deployments and how much more real they have become since I've gotten these powers bestowed upon me many many years ago. Yes, I know they were there before but they weren't as bad......or were they? I also knew that before I was by myself, I didn't sleep as much and while separated just recently I didn't sleep as much either.* I'll go get you a drink anyway but if you don't want it, you can have it later. I'll be right back. *I didn't even wait for an answer. I already knew what she liked to drink and I needed this walk more than anything. It really didn't take me long to head down the elevators and to the cafeteria where I knew the vending machines were. I put my money in and made the choice for my drink and did the same once I put the money in for hers.

I took the walk back up to her room with both drinks in hand. I finally was wide awake and knew that I wasn't going to let myself fall back to sleep anytime soon. I couldn't help the smile that appeared when I walked in to see her sitting on her bed waiting for me.* Sorry, I just needed the walk @sarenemelody.

SaRENity: Please I've not had a soda in days it feels like. "I didn't want to let go of your hand when you moved away. Tugging your hand knowing you weren't being honest. Right now, about that..... I don't know I couldn't blame you really. It was also clear you didn't know what had happened, that this time I was watching it all unfold like it was my love instead of yours. I raised the bed to sit up as much as I could tolerate, wiggling slowly but surely over to the side the railing was stop up on. It hurt to move and I had to remind myself to not go on and try to put weight on my left hand. It was so hard to not use it, but somehow I managed. By the time you came back in the room I was situated and had just enough room created for you to sit with me.* Come sit with me baby. *I was going to tell you, but not so bluntly. I-was waiting, for you to sit on the bed beside me. Taking the drink you got for me the cold bottle an instant relief.* Um, something happened while we were both asleep.

@GrumpRen I don't know how to explain it.

Ren: *I walked over to the bed and sat down next to you with a brow raised and a slight frown. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear that they came back in here while I was asleep* Don't tell me that they came in here again? If they did. *Growling as I stood back up and went to the door looked down the hall. I didn't see them when I went after our drinks. I looked both ways before closing the door again and coming to sit back down.* I'm going to have heads rolling if they did baby. They can't keep doing this shit to you, it's not right. *I looked over at you as I saw a peculiar look on your face. I couldn't figure it out and I really, really didn't want to invade her mins to find out what she was think.

Sighing as I waited for her to say what she was going to say* Sorry, I just don't like the fact that they treated you that way before I got here and I don't even wanna know how many times they did that to you. *Taking her hand again and lifting it up to give it a kiss* Tell me how you are feeling since I've healed you. Well, not completely but I healed you so you won't be in as much pain as you were before. To stop the alarms from going off so damn much. *Laughing a little as I waited for you to speak* Sorry I keep talking and you wanted to talk. Tell me what @sarenemelody?

Serenity: *I laughed as you went to the door, looking for them like they be there.* They've stayed away since you roped into them. That's not what I was wanting to talk about any ways. *I waited until you were once again during beside me, I could feel slightly uncomfortable. Hell I was about to bring something up that in any other case might be remotely crazy. But normal was never fun, and we were anything but that.* I feel better, not as much pain. I can handle it more now so they shouldn't be telling to keep drugging me every time I'm awake. Thank you for listening and doing it. *I kept my voice light, to where no one walking by could hear me.* You don't have to keep hiding how bad those dreams, nightmares, whatever you want to call them affect you. I know it's not easy to have to relive it either. *I started fidgeting, almost backing out.* Who was she baby? The one with the shrapnel in her leg? Did she make it? *Oh those questions could have waited and I noticed the way your body stiffened at them.* Before you say anything, you should listen to me. I don't know what, or how but I know. *I reached to put the drink down on the table and took your hand again, looking down at our interlaced fingers.* I saw it sweetheart, the nightmare, I saw it all until you woke us up. @GrumpRen

Ren: *I swallowed hard against the wave of nausea that hit, at you describing one of the scenes I've been reliving in one of the many nightmares I have. I knew my body went rigid as well. The shrapnel just wasn't in her leg as we learned the minute we lifted her up onto a stretcher. There was another piece lodged in her back and in the back of her other leg. It took me a minute before I even looked at you and licked my lips as I shook my head* She didn't make it. There was a lot more damage then we realized and it was too late to help her.

*I looked down at our hands together and realized what must've happened. Thrāix told me this could happen and I just made it worse for her to even see what I deal with on a nightly basis when I did sleep.* I'm sorry I didn't mean for you to see it. *Releasing her hand I got up from the bed and started pacing like I did when I woke up from my nightmares. She never realized it cause she was asleep. It was bad enough I had to deal with it, I didn't need her to see all that shit too.

There was so much fucking death I dealt with and that female was only 21 at the time. Not including the other kid I called a friend as well. Who the fuck am I kidding?!? We were all kids while we were deployed and no one should see what we did.

I looked over at Sare again and shook my head* You don't understand baby, you just don't understand all that we went through. Yeah it wasn't bad all the time but when it got bad it was. *Sighing before I moved back to the chair and sat down as I look at @sarenemelody* I'm so sorry.

Sarenity: *I watched, listened, waited, and stayed patient. I knew that this was something that bothered you. Now add on how I seen just that snippet, a small fraction really, of some of the things you dealt with. My own problems, while big to me (and even you treated them as if it was just as big of a deal for you too) seemed rather small. My heart broke because yes I didn't know or understand. When you sat down I glared at you for putting distance between us.* Ass on this bed Ren. *In waited barely a moment to see if you'd reply or move.* I know that I got to live blissfully unaware of everything you all went through while away from home. The fact that y'all weren't appreciated for the things you have done, and in a way still go through simply because you made a choice to many are chicken shit to do. I'm sorry about your friend I could tell you were close, that all of you were while together over there. But don't go thinking you need to shut me out either. I will smack you update your head with this pillow as hard as I can. Then cus at you for making me hurt myself. *I laughed at my own dumb joke.* You told me before about how this happens, and I told you it would be ok. That each time I knew about you're nightmares we would work through it. I still mean that. One little accidental dream thing is not going to make me run for the hills. Like I could right now anyways. *I smiled and leaned over attempting to kiss your forehead. Before straightening and moving over just a bit.* If you don't need to wear a path into the floor anymore come lay with me. @GrumpRen

Ren: *I was sitting there and completely unsure if I really wanted to risk sending you into one of my nightmares again. Knowing how much they fucked me up to see them like I do when I sleep. I looked at you with a bite to my bottom lip as I was trying to decide what to do. I wanted to sit with you but I was afraid what I would unintentionally share with you again. There was so much I didn't want you know, you've seen too much in that one dream/nightmare.

Yes, they were my friends but they also died while I lived. It's the one thing I hated about it all. They keep telling me that it's survivors guilt and it is something that eats at me all the time.* You only saw a small glimpse of what I deal with. *I know I must be repeating myself to her and I really don't know what else to say........really. This is something I know we talked about before but it's never easy to talk about with someone who has never gone through it.

Giving a small smile* I don't know if I'll ever stop wearing out the floor at night. It's something I got used to doing and I'll try to talk about things more but I make no promises that I'll share everything. *Sighing as I kept myself seated all because I was afraid to share something @sarenemelody didn't need to deal with*

SaRENity: A glimpse is enough, I'm not stupid or blind to what you were feeling while we were both there. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I was only telling you I understood. *My gaze went to the blanket and I began picking at the little fuzz balls here on my lap.* What helps you you should do it. Pacing after one of those dreams, I get it m you have to focus on something to not let it get to you. *My gaze moved to my hand the way it looked still didn't sit right with me. I was trying to not be affected by the fact you stayed put. But sometimes it can't be helped.* If it's not me you take to, find someone who would possibly have a better understanding. So you won't feel so alone about it. That's all I want. *Raising my hand I grabbed the pillow there and swung it. Trying to hit you with it.* You do know point that wall up that you think will help, it's only going to make me more determined to keep it from happening, to keep you close.

So this happened, is it so bad that I can understand a bit more about you and your past? Or are you afraid that I'm just going to run, leave everything we've got, that we've created together? @GrumpRen you can't possibly get rid of me so damn easily.

Ren: *Leans back and avoids the pillow you swung at me before scooting the chair back a little to avoid you from hitting me, if you tried again.* I'm not exactly ready to talk about it babe. I'm just not, not with you and definitely not with anyone else. *Shrugs and sighs again licking my lip and then just looking at the floor. I hated when the fucking tears threatened to fall and I wasn't in not way looking at you like this. I took a few swallows against the tears and blinked them back before looking up again. There was way too much hurt to share with anyone right now.

I closed my eyes for a few and just breathed through the oncoming panic attack I felt about to hit me. I don't even know how long I sat there like that but once I opened my eyes I didn't even bother to look at the time.

I had these happen a lot more than I cared for them to and you never seen me had one or so maybe I don't think you did.* I know I told you they were bad and yes you saw some of it but it's more than that. I'm going to leave it at that, alright @sarenemelody?

SaRENity: I'm not saying now you goofball. I'm not stupid enough to think forcing you to talk will help either. *It almost seemed like everything I said went in one ear and out the other. But it wasn't anything I could control nor my right to argue about.* When you're ready. I'm not going press about it. We can leave it at that. *I sighed and laid back, not having been awake this long since I got here I was feeling worn out but I needed to get my point across. Just how the hell was I going to manage it? That was the question. But just as quickly as I asked that question a answer came to my mind.* Ren, sweetie come here. I want to try something. I promise it's nothing crazy or out there either. *Well for us anyways.* I'm trying to get you to see where I'm standing on this, and how I feel about it. But I think I'm dropping the ball with it though. @GrumpRen

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sickjoonie · 5 years

Note

on your sick hc you talked about taehyung having to go to the hospital from food poisoning? maybe write a fic on that?

seokjin knew something was wrong when taehyung started clinging onto him on the drive back to their dorms. they had finished a day of meetings and practices, getting done early enough to enjoy dinner at their dorm.

seokjin had settled in his seat when taehyung climbed in and clung onto his arm, nuzzling his face into seokjin’s shoulder. seokjin didn’t comment on it; they were all tired and tended to be a bit more clingy to each other when they were tired.

he let taehyung cling to him, deciding to ask him about it later when they got back to the dorm.

only, taehyung never let go of him, clinging onto his arm even as he went into his room. seokjin sighed and sat down on his bed, knowing exactly what was going on.

“what hurts?” seokjin looked down at taehyung who had his face pressed against seokjin’s collarbone.

“my tummy,” taehyung whimpered, “i feel really nauseous, hyung.”

seokjin frowned. he forced taehyung to pull back from him, pressing his hands against taehyung’s cheeks and forehead. there was no presence of fever; taehyung was only a bit sweaty from the day’s activities. he wasn’t pale or sickly looking, but his face held a grimace that indicated pain.

seokjin hummed, pulling taehyung back into his chest and wrapping his arms around him. he slowly rubbed his back, feeling taehyung melt under his touch. “what did you eat for lunch today?”

“leftovers from namjoon hyung’s studio.”

if it was from namjoon’s studio, it was most likely food poisoning. namjoon had a bad habit of forgetting to clean out his mini fridge, instead allowing food to go bad. even namjoon had gotten sick from it before.

“i think you got food poisoning, taehyung ah.”

taehyung groaned, curling around his stomach. “i think so too. my stomach isn’t agreeing with me at all.”

seokjin felt a pang of sympathy for the younger. there wasn’t much they could do besides let taehyung’s body run its course to get rid of the toxins.

“do you wanna lay down? maybe try to sleep. does that sound good?”

taehyung nodded. he let seokjin lay him against his bed, pulling the covers over him. when seokjin moved to leave, however, he grabs his hand.

“stay with me, hyung?” taehyung pouts. his other arm is wrapped around his stomach, hugging it tightly.

seokjin didn’t need to be asked twice. he climbed into the bed, letting taehyung curl into his chest as he draped one arm over taehyung’s waist. in the silence, he could hear taehyung’s stomach quietly gurgling, indicating how upset it was.

he stayed until taehyung’s breathing slowed and his grip on his stomach loosened, having fallen asleep. he slowly eased himself out of bed, careful not to disturb taehyung. he moved his trash can closer to the bed, just in case, before leaving the room to seek the other members.

taehyung woke up from his nap to his stomach dangerously churning. the nap had done nothing to soothe his nausea. he groaned, resigning himself to body’s symptoms. he got up, not wanting to ruin seokjin’s bed, and made his way to the bathroom.

he could hear the rest of the members eating down in the kitchen. the thought of joining them or even coming close to them only made his stomach lurch in protest; it was clear that the opposite of eating was going to be happening instead.

taehyung stumbled into the bathroom and kneeled in front of the toilet, wincing as his stomach cramped. he pressed a hand against the angry organ and rubbing at it.

minutes passed by with harsh swallows and more protesting from his stomach. taehyung was startled out of his trance by the door creaking open.

“taehyung ah?” jimin’s face peaked around the corner, worry etched on it. that worry only increased when he saw the position taehyung was in. he pushed the door open and walked in, sitting down next to taehyung.

taehyung gave him a pained smile.

“seokjin hyung told me you weren’t feeling well.”

taehyung shook his head. a strong wave of nausea hit him and he leaned forward, feeling a gag in the back of his throat. it was nothing but a false alarm, however, a training for the real thing. taehyung sighed and sat back down. at this point, he wanted nothing more than to vomit and get it over with.

jimin rested his hand on taehyung’s neck, playing with the hair there. “it’ll be over soon.”

time passed slowly through molasses, dragging out taehyung’s misery. after what felt like forever, taehyung felt his mouth water and he leaned forward. he spit into the toilet bowl and waited for his body to betray him.

within seconds he was retching loudly, stomach tensing up before he vomited. the sensation was unpleasant and burning. his stomach was relentless, heaving again and again until it was sore. all the while, jimin’s had traced his spine up and down.

“there you go, it’s gonna be fine, i’m here for you,” jimin whispered over and over again.

taehyung coughed, catching his breath. his stomach slowly settled, deciding to hold off on reeking havoc for the time being. taehyung gently sunk back, leaning into jimin’s chest.

jimin grabbed some toilet paper and wiped taehyung’s mouth, threw it in the toilet, and flushed it all down.

“feel any better?” jimin asked.

taehyung’s stomach was still aching, but the nausea had settled to a low flicker. he had a feeling it would kick back up soon, however. “a bit. stomach still hurts.”

jimin hummed, adjusting so taehyung was pressed closer to him. “do you wanna stay in here or go back to bed?”

taehyung eyed the toilet. right now, it looked like his best friend, aside from jimin. “stay here. probably will throw up again soon.”

jimin nodded in understanding. “i’ll stay with you then.” he pressed a kiss to taehyung’s sweaty forehead. “for as long as you need me, i’ll be here.”

taehyung hiccuped, his stomach sloshing. “you’re gonna be here for a while then.”

it was 4am and taehyung felt like he was dying.

everything had taken a turn for the worst. it wasn’t even an hour before he had started throwing up again. the pattern had repeated through the night; not an hour would pass before another vomiting session, even if his stomach had nothing but water in it.

seokjin had came in a couple hours into the relentless vomiting, attempting to get jimin to go and rest. he quickly became grateful jimin’s presence, though, seeing how bad the vomiting was.

he had attempted to get taehyung to keep down water and one point even medicine. both were eventually thrown back up.

by now, taehyung’s head had joined in the list of ailments. it ached alongside his stomach and the dizziness was making the nausea so much worse. he was shaking, not from a fever, but from exertion.

all he wanted was to sleep.

jimin held him in his arms, near tears from how worried he was. seokjin sat next to him, typing away at his phone.

“hyung,” taehyung whimpered.

“sh, hyung’s here,” jimin comforted, his voice shaky.

“i-i really don’t feel good.”

jimin looked up at seokjin desperate for help. anything to stop taehyung’s pain.

seokjin was watching taehyung closely, his naver search pulled up on his phone. “taehyung ah, is it just your tummy?”

taehyung weakly shook his head. “my head hurts… everything’s spinning. i don’t like it.”

seokjin’s mind was made. he stood up, pocketing his phone in his sweatpants. “we’re taking him to the hospital, jimin ah.”

jimin sighed. he was exhausted. “that bad?”

seokjin nodded. “he’s most likely dehydrated from all the vomiting. they can give him medicine and fluids. it’s the best option we have.”

jimin glanced down at taehyung, who merely stared back up at the two. it really would be for the best; the nausea wouldn’t let up enough to let taehyung get fluids naturally. this was the only other choice.

“i’ll grab a bucket. do you think you can get taehyung moving on his own?” seokjin asked.

jimin nodded. “who’s driving us?”

“sejin hyung. i’ve been messaging him all night with updates. he suggested the hospital first.”

taehyung groaned, shifting uncomfortably in jimin’s arms. the nausea was worsening. if going to the hospital meant putting an end to all this, taehyung would take it. “l-let’s get to the hospital. i just want this to be over with.”

the decision had been made.

jimin helped taehyung shakily stand up, his body weak from lack of fluids and the physical exertion of vomiting. they met seokjin at the entrance to their dorm. the two helped taehyung to where sejin was waiting and climbed in the car.

jimin held taehyung’s hand the entire way to the hospital. it hurt him seeing taehyung as weak as he was and took everything in him to keep from crying.

all he wanted was for taehyung to be okay.

jimin woke to someone squeezing his hand.

there was a kink in his neck and he winced as he lifted his head. his ass hurt from sitting in a plastic chair for so long, numbness radiating from it.

he blinked sleepily, exhaustion draped over him like a blanket. someone was holding his hand, rubbing their thumb over his knuckles. his eyes were heavy and he felt them slowly closing again, sleep dragging him back under.

someone laughed. “ah, sleeping beauty has risen.”

jimin groggily lifted his head, eyes coming back open.

wait, why was he in the hospital?

“huh?” jimin turned his head to his hand, seeing a familiar hand encompassing it. the hand came from the hospital bed, where taehyung was laying it.

jimin’s head finally cleared enough as he remembered all of the previous night. of getting taehyung checked in and hooked up to an iv, of taehyung finally resting, of jimin begging seokjin to stay even as his body begged him to sleep. of falling asleep holding on to taehyung’s hand and hoping for a better morning.

“taehyung ah!” jimin cried, standing up in excitement. “you’re awake.”

taehyung was pale, but he managed a genuine smile. he certainly looked much better than the previous night. he felt much better too; dehydration had really fucked up his body. “so are you.”

jimin could cry out of relief. “you were so sick last night and so miserable. i was almost crying, taehyung ah, i was so worried.”

taehyung squeezed jimin’s hand once again. “i’m okay now, you don’t need to worry anymore.” he gestured to the iv in his other arm. “they hooked me up with the good stuff.”

jimin couldn’t help himself. he layed half on the bed as he hug taehyung, burying his face into taehyung’s neck. behind him, someone is laughing quietly. all jimin can focus on is the feeling of taehyung’s hands slowly coming up to rest on his back.

“you never left me,” taehyung whispered, quiet so only jimin could hear.

“i told you i wouldn’t. i meant it.”

taehyung closed his eyes, resting his head against jimin’s. they stayed like that for a couple minutes. jimin reluctantly pulled back, a soft smile on his face.

“they’ve got him on some fluids and anti nausea medicine right now,” a voice, seokjin’s, said behind them, “but he should be able to come home this afternoon.”

jimin turned to seokjin. he looked worn out yet relieved.

“you made the right call, hyung,” jimin said.

seokjin smiled. “yeah, i’m glad we brought him.” he pointed at taehyung. “no more eating food from namjoon’s studio, okay? it’s literally toxic”

“don’t worry, hyung, i know not to trust that food now.”

seokjin nodded, pleased. “i’ll have him clean it out anyways. heaven knows it needs it.”

jimin turned back to taehyung. his hair was greasy from sweat and he was far from his usual public appearance, yet jimin still felt his heart soften at the sight of him. even as taehyung was laying in a hospital bed, having been up all night puking, jimin’s heart still belonged to taehyung.

jimin would always be there for taehyung, no matter what.

#finn writes #vmin #sick!taehyung #I GOT SO SOFT FOR VMIN TF #THEYRE SOULMATES OKAY #bts sickfic #bts emeto #vomiting #food poisoning #poor taehyung #Anonymous

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warmau · 6 years

Text

meet midnight!au x bts

aus about falling in love at midnight,,,dont know where it came from but this blog is basically a wasteland anyway might as well have fun w it!

namjoon

there’s never much to do past midnight in your apartment,,,,,to be honest you hate being awake at this hour

but you’re kind of a night owl

getting things done when it’s dark outside is sort of your thing and sitting at your desk with the light on

brooding over work you should have done a week ago

you’re upset that the window in your bedroom leads out to the next building

so you can’t even see much of the street or even the sky

you literally would have to climb out onto your fire escape to look up

and usually,,,,you wouldn’t entertain the idea of going out onto that old, rusty looking thing

but tonight you’re extra bored

so you do

the night air is a little cold - you regret not wearing more layers but climbing through the window was already hard enough

the fire escape makes some sounds as you settle down and get comfortable

and you’re half worried it’s going to give way and drop you three stories down

but it doesnt and you look up to the sky,,,,,,,where small specks of what could be dust or actual stars glitter

you hear another noise and look back down to see that,,,,,,,there’s someone climbing out of the window on the other house

the one thats right beside yours

a tall, slim looking silhouette makes it out and does exactly what you did

pushing his feet through the bars and sitting down to look up at the sky

you might be,,,,at most,,,,,six feet away from his fire escape and you wonder if he’s just as bored as you

“looking at the sky?”

you call out and he hears you, dropping his gaze from above

he shyly itches at the back of his neck when he realizes he’s got company

“sorta. i cant see it from my window so i have to come out here.”

“can’t sleep?”

he shrugs

“im trying to finish some work up,,,,,,im not a morning person.”

you chuckle,,,,,looks like you arent the only on in this city with a sleeping on time problem

it’s quiet for a moment but then you see that the boy across you has begun playing with a lighter

the small flame flicks for only a second before he lets it go

and when you see it spark up the little halo of light it produces shows off some of the features of the boy sitting across from you

he’s got a sharp jawline

that goes up into high cheekbones

his eyes are dark and whenever the flame lights up you can nearly see the line of orange fire within them

it’s getting colder by the minute,,,,but you’re entranced

“so what kind of work do you do?”

he puts the lighter down

“i write songs,,,,,,lyrics mostly.”

“id love to hear some.”

he tilts his head up and throws his hand over his back “i can go get my book if you want.”

“id love that’

you sit there,,,for god knows how long listening to him read from across the fire escape

and it’s only when it gets too cold to handle and that you realize it must be nearing some ungodly time do you part ways

and when you wake up the next morning,,,,you go out - tired onto your fire escape and are surprised to see what looks like a paper plane settled on the fire escape

you pick it up and unfold it

‘i didn’t get your name, but mine is namjoon. hope we can see each other again,,,,,,,maybe tonight?’

you smile and when midnight comes around again you open your window and see namjoon on the other fire escape

he’s playing with his lighter again and you think this time you’ll bring a blanket out so you won’t get cold

(and maybe ,,,, you know,,,, so you can spend some more time with him)

seokjin

you’ve been roommates with seokjin for at least two years now

you like his company a lot and unlike other roommates that you have,,,,he actually cleans up and cooks

and if anything,,,,all your friends who have met him also adore him (a little too much you might even add)

the only person who seokjin doesn’t get along with is your boyfriend

who rubbed him the wrong way from the moment they met

and everytime you go out and tell seokjin it’s with him, seokjin makes a bit of a face

and says “if he does anything - you tell me right away.”

you used to roll your eyes, tell seokjin that your boyfriend isn’t all that bad

that seokjin was being overprotective for no reason at all

but then,,,,you found out your boyfriend was planning on breaking up with you - just after your anniversary

you’d had a big fight about it,,,your boyfriend had tried to lie but you had evidence that he had been planning it

and when all was said and done,,,,,your boyfriend,,,well ex now,,,,had said something that was so painful

that no matter how much you told yourself NOT to cry on the bus ride back home

when you got off at the stop,,,,the sky was pitch black and no one was out so you let yourself just ball your eyes out

the only problem was,,,whenyou opened the door to your apartment seokjin was still up

you’d expected he’d be in bed,,,he had work down at his restaurant tomorrow

but he was sitting on the couch - some shitty drama re-running on tv

and when he saw you,,,,,,,

the bowl of popcorn fell from his lap as he got up, coming toward you so fast you nearly blinked and he was already holding you in his arms

your face snug in the front of his shirt - soaking it through with your tears

his hand settled on the small of your back

he spoke against the shell of your ear

“what did he do? do i have to kill him?”

you brought your hands around him, bunching up the back of his shirt in your fists as you just cried

seokjin didn’t let you go, not even when you started sliding down toward the floor - weak from crying

he simply picked you up in his arms and let you cuddle close against him when he put you down on your bed

“don’t go” you whispered and he nodded

racking his fingers through your hair and whispering softly till there were no more tears left inside of you to cry

when he felt that you’d stopped shaking, seokjin let you go gently

he let your head rest on the pillow and he brought the blankets up to cover you

and although you hadn’t fallen asleep yet,,,,seokjin must have assumed you had

because cautiously you felt him kiss the middle of your forehead

whisper against it that no one deserved someone like you,,,,,,,he himself didnt

even if he had wanted you so bad for so long

when he’d gotten up to shuffle out of the room , you’d opened your eyes

touching the skin of your forehead still warm from his lips

and after only a moment to think it over

you got out of bed, making your way into the living room were seokjin was cleaning up after himself

and he turned- shocked and about to ask if everything was alright

when you pressed up close to him, taking his face in your hands and going

“seokjin,,,,,,,,it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

the words fall from your lips and before anything else seokjin kisses them

kisses you and kisses you murmuring in between that he’d do anything for you to know,,,,how much he loves you,,,,,,,and how much he’s wanted this

yoongi

you hate working the graveyard shift at the local diner

half because you never know what weirdo is going to walk through the door,,,,,and the other half because it gets so empty and boring

and the kitchen staff don’t bother making conversation with you anyway

so you’re stuck,,,,,waiting till someone comes by

and it’s a particularly rainy night on this shift

you watch the rain accumulate on the window near one of the booths and sigh

praying silently that the rain will stop by the time you have to leave

you almost jolt when the little bell chimes and in walks a lonely looking boy

his head is hidden by a hood much too large for him and in his left hand is a notebook and a couple of wads of cash

“just one?”

you ask cautiously,,,,worried about this persons intentions

until he looks up and you’re thankful that he looks about your age and tired more than menecing

he nods

and when you seat him beside a booth he takes one glance at the menu and then orders coffee, black and asks for an extra pen if you have one

you give him the pen you keep in your aprons pocket and then go back to get the coffee

it’s nearing midnight now,,,,so you’re not sure why he’d want to drink coffee

but either way you slide the mug down on the table and notice that he’s pulled out his notebook

turning past pages and pages of what looks like stanzas of poetry

the boy takes a sip of his coffee and lays out his money flat on the table

and then,,,,he starts to write

for a while you try to ignore him but he’s the only interesting person,,,,,well he’s the only person at all that’s in the diner

and before you can help yourself you’re sliding into the booth across from him and asking if it’s ok if you sit here

he looks up at you for a moment - but nods

only a minute has to pass before he goes “are you going to ask me what im writing about?”

you shift, your uniform suddenly feels a little too tight for comfort

“wow,,,,can you read my mind?” you chuckle and he shrugs “there’s nothing else to ask a stranger is there?”

you blink, but nod slowly

“im writing poetry,,,,,,im not very good at it.”

he taps his pen against the page and then flicks his eyes up to meet yours

“do you write?”

you shake your head,,,,the sound of the rain on the window matches the speed of his tapping

“why not?”

“why not what?”

“why don’t you write?”

you laugh in response and it makes the boy raise an eyebrow

“i dont have the talent.”

he grins at this, the first real sign of emotion on his face

“me either, but here i am.”

you two talk a little more about poetry,,,,he introduces himself as yoongi and you think that’s quite a unique name. you tell him it’ll make a good poets name

yoongi finds that funny as well

around an hour in some more customers come in,,,mostly security guards or construction workers who work odd hours

you get a little busy with them

but then it dies down and you find yourself with yoongi again

he checks his watch and frowns

“ive got to get going, i have a pretty early class. but here, i wrote this for you.”

he tears a page from his notebook and hands it to you. he motions to the money on the table

it’s far too much for a cup of coffee but yoongi tells you to keep the change as a tip

he liked talking to you

when he leaves you look down at the page,,,,,it’s a simple poem

and when you read it ,,,, you realize that it’s a poem about you

about you in this diner ,,,,, and you look back out the window

the rain has stopped but its still pretty dark out

you can make yoongi’s figure out crossing the street and for some reason you wave at it

you’re shocked when the figure of his stops and he waves back

,,,,,,,,,,,yoongi comes back the next night and suddenly you think the graveyard shift isn’t too bad

hoseok

there’s a lot of people cramped into the small space where the show is being held

usually you like a crowd,,,,but this is a lot

and to be fair you were dragged here by a friend - not because you really even know or like the band at all

but your friend is head over heels for the lead singer

and so you’re there to be moral support

at least you were ,,,,,,,,,,, until you see him

he’s grinning when he gets on stage

he slaps the back of the bass player and chugs a part of a beer that someone in the crowd hands him

he’s all smiles and cheers and you’re almost shocked that he isn’t the lead singer

he’s the drummer

he pulls back his bangs from his eyes with one hand, the other holds his sticks as he gets comfortable behind the drums

his body is lean, but muscular and the tank he’s wearing is slit at the arms so with one turn you can see his chest and toned arms

you lean over to your friend and ask “whose that?”

she jumps up and down, eyes directed only at the singer at the mic

“whose who?”

“the drummer?”

“oh! jung hoseok,,,,,he’s like a wild party boy or something.”

she talks fast, distracted by the other man in front of her but you just keep looking at the person behind him

the person behind the drums

and for a moment hoseok locks eyes with you

his are brown,,,,but they’re special - they’re lit up like those of a lion

you’ve never been so electrified by someones gaze

and then he shoots you a half smile, his teeth glittering in the harsh light on the stage

the set starts and the music is loud and frenzied,,,,very punk with undertones of romantic pop

it makes no sense but you feel it ,,,,,, but most of all you feel hoseok

because you’re close to the stage, so close that you’re sure he’s burrowing holes into you with his eyes

you might not admit it,,,but you make a little show for him

pretending to sing along, running your hands through your hair, you’re focused on keeping that attention

and it works

when the set ends and the next band goes up on stage

hoseok, sweaty and panting gets up from the drums - locks eyes with you a tilts his head to signal that you meet him outside

you tell your friend you’ll be back,,,,,but that’s a hard maybe

because as soon as you’re outside

in the dark, cold night

hoseok is there - leaning against the back wall in the alley outside of the venue

and you don’t even have to think twice

when he beckons you over

and smiles in the dark, putting a hand in your hair and combing it through

“is this your first show?”

“not at all”

his grin gets wider, “yeah, i could tell.”

he looks even better up close,,,,it takes time but your eyes adjust and you see how pretty his skin is - still covered a little in sweat, sleek and glowing

“so, did you like it? the music, i mean. i know you liked me.”

hoseok flirts and you give a little, cute shrug of your shoulders

“wasn’t paying attention too much to the music,,,,my mind was somewhere else.”

hoseok makes a low sound of surprise,,,,,,but lets his hand tilt your chin up

“it’s ok, we’re not in everyones taste. but im glad im in yours.”

“we’ll see about that.”

there’s only a moment before you two are kissing, rough and raw and then you pull back to get a good look at him again

you notice he has a tattoo that dips down his ribs and another that hides over the hem of his belt

you put your hand there

“can i see?”

he chuckles “getting right to the point are we? i guess ill let you have a look but,,,,,,not in this shitty back alley.”

with that hoseok throws an arm around you, he pulls you flush against his side and you lean up to kiss right below his jaw

you guys saunter off into the night,,,,,but you make sure to text your friend an apology later on hehe

jimin

you like going to the movies alone

which in some cases freaks people out because movies are supposed to be a social event

but you’re like no. if im paying twenty bucks for a ticket im going alone so i can focus on the movie,,,,,not having a conversation with a friend or making out with someone

the only problem is,,,,it’s pretty hard to see a movie alone

the theater is usually packed

and so your only options are either going super early in the morning or super late at night

and since the morning one is hard,,,,,,afterall you do have things to do other than that

you always pick the super late night screening if you can

and usually there’s maybe a max of five people there - which is a nice comfortable number for you

but tonight there’s only one other person

which you’re even better with

the only thing is,,,,,this person must be a lot like you

because he’s sitting in your favorite row - the best row in your opinion for watching the movie

and like you,,,,he’s even brought his own hidden snacks in the waistband of his sweats

you take a seat,,,,four or five chairs away from him

he doesn’t turn to look at you and maybe you’re happy that you and this one other movie-goer have silently agreed not to bother one and other

but,,,,,something about him is just so,,,,,,,curious

for one,,,,he’s wearing a mask inside,,,,,where there’s only one other person

he even has a cap on too

maybe he has cold? you think to yourself

but whatever it is,,,,you can’t believe it,,,,,,that this one person is distracting you

you try hard to look at the screen - hope the movies plot will save you

but it turns out that it’s just another crappy indie romance film and you’re like ,,,,,,,,, not at all impressed

the person doesn’t seem to be either, he suddenly turns to you and shrugs

he says something but because of the mask you cant hear him so you motion for him to take it off

he hesitates, but does it and goes

“it’s kind of boring, huh?”

you nod but you’re trying to make sure if you’re seeing right

because the person in front of you is,,,,,,,,park jimin

park jimin of bangtan

his face is on a poster for LG right outside the movie theater

you try not to act too shocked, you just go “this director is kind of known for this boring romantic stuff.”

he looks a little surprised and suddenly is moving his seat to be closer to you

“i dont see a lot of movies,,,,,my job gets in the way of that. do you have any recommendations?”

you try to calm your heart - you’ve never been this close to someone this famous before

and you dont want to come off as a wild fan or anything so you’re trying to carry on a totally normal conversation

giving him a list of recent ones that you liked and explaining that this time is the best - there’s usually maybe only a couple of people here so there’s no background noise or whatever

jimin nods and sits back against the chair

he looks up and the scene in the movie is that of the main pair kissing

he sighs and you still cant believe that it’s him,,,,,it’s really him

“this is going to sound crazy but i havent kissed someone in years”

he suddenly breathes and you blink

“o-oh, why not?”

“my job sort of ,,,,, doesn’t like it if i date.”

“ah,,,” you pretend to know what that feels like,,,,,you’re just single of your own free choice

it must be hard for him

suddenly jimin turns to you and even in the dark movie theater you can tell he’s flustered

“was that awkward of me to say, im sorry-”

“no no it’s fine. im sorry your job seems so strict”

he sighs again, taking his cap off and running his hands through his hair

“it’s a job i love, so it’s ok.”

his voice trails off and the scene on the screen just gets more romantic to the point where even you look down

until you hear jimin’s voice, quiet and low

“i forgot what that all feels like,,,,,,,”

you turn to him and jimin meets your gaze

for a moment he just maps your face out with his eyes and then swallows a bit

“are you currently dating someone?”

you shake your head, your palms are sweating from the way jimin is looking at you

and suddenly you can tell what he’s going to ask next

so without a complaint you nod “yes, you can kiss me.”

he smiles, leaning in and for a second you don’t care that this is THE park jimin of bangtan

because you’ve missed kissing too,,,,,even if it’s hard to admit that

and before you know it your hand is in his hair and you’ve moved your seat into that of his lap

and you’re thankful for your trips this late at night to the movies

because you’re kissing jimin even as the credits behind you roll

taehyung [tw: drinking]

working out is always a bummer for you

especially working out in font of people - like it might just be in your head but it feels like people stare

so you opt for running beside the river at night

its dangerous,,,,,maybe,,,,,but it’s more comfortable for you and usually you get lost in your music anyway

you’re almost halfway done with your run when you notice there’s someone by the river

he’s dancing around, spinning in circles with some sort of music of his own blasting from his phone in his back pocket

you think that you’d better avoid this guy,,,,,,he looks like he’s trouble

but when you want to start running the other way you notice him stumble, almost right into the rail separating him from the river

you skid to a stop, the moral part of you nagging that you better go see if he’s alright

as you come closer you see that it’s not some old weird man like you’d dreaded - but instead a boy who looks like he’s in his early twenties

he’s dressed rather nice, pretty earrings swinging from his ears everytime he twirls every which way

and when he catches your gaze he breaks out into an even bigger smile

“well hellllllooooo, do you want to dance?”

he outstretches his hand and you just look at it

“are you ok? i saw you almost trip over the rail-”

“i am not ok, i am taehyung and i am fantastic ,,,,,,,,,,,and you are rather lovely actually”

he stops dancing and comes closer to look at you

you look at him, smelling the scent of a bit of alcohol off him

“are you drunk?”

“tipsy, i can think straight don’t worry”

he giggles and does another turn, offering his hand once again

“so, dance?”

you shake your head pointing over your shoulder “actually, i better finish my run”

“dancing is MUCH better exercise. especially if two beautiful people dance together.”

he grins and starts to sway again

you feel awkward now,,,,telling yourself off for sticking your nose into something

but then taehyung takes your hand while you’re in thought and twirls you around, dipping you by the waist before you can even catch your breath

“well, you know my name, tell me yours”

you fret a bit, stuttering it out

“pretty name, pretty face - do you really not want to dance a little with me?”

he lets you go and waits for an answer

you know you should just say no and go on with your run

but something about this taehyung is enchanting,,,,like his eyes are sparkling with something magic

you sigh, “im not good at it - be warned”

he claps and takes your hands in his “ill teach you”

you let taehyung spin you around, lead you and then he pulls you close as his hands are in yours and the song on his phone turns slow

“do you like to waltz?”

“i,,,i dont dance i said that-”

he lowers his lips closer to your ear

“it’s a shame, pretty people should love dancing. it makes them even prettier.”

you feel your heart jump into your throat and then taehyung is letting you go to point up

“look at the moon”

you look up and taehyung sighs “she’s shining down just for us.”

you want to say that that’s a bit romantic of a thing to say to a stranger,,,,but when you catch taehyung’s beautiful profile against the moonlight shimmer

you keep the thought to yourself

and taehyung and you dance a little more into the night

jungkook

to say it’s been a hard week is an understatement

it’s been damn near hellish

everything seems to be going wrong and you don’t know how to control it anymore

so you’ve been doing the only thing that comforts you just a little bit,,,,,,eating your favorite takeout

actually,,,,you’ve eaten it seven days in a row

and each time you order it at like midnight and the same delivery boy shows up

his dark hair sticking out of his helmet, his big eyes wide whenever you open the door and sluggishly hand him the money

on the eighth day of ordering the same thing at the same late time

the delivery boy drops the bag in your hands but asks

“are you ok?”

you sigh, leaning against your door and shaking your head

“no,,,,,,but whats the point of telling a stranger”

he shrugs “getting things off your chest can really help.”

you look at him, reading for the first time in a week what his nameplate says

“well jungkook,,,,,it’s been really shitty”

you sigh and he unclips his helmet, taking it off and shaking his hair

when he looks at you again you have to say,,,,the helmet does him no justice

without it he’s like ten thousand times cuter

and you feel ten thousand times more embarrassed about complaining to the damn delivery boy about how bad life is

but he doesn’t seem phased at all, he just leans on the wall across from your door and crosses his arms

“life is always though, but there’s nothing to do but stay positive.”

you know he’s right but you shrug at it “i dont think theres much to be positive about,,,,,,,,,except food”

you lift the bag with a grin “this always makes me happy”

jungkook laughs and uncrosses his arms

“well then im happy to deliver it to you forever if it makes you happy.”

you flush a little at that, looking down at your feet wishing you werent wearing your old pj’s in front of him all of a sudden

he must have seen you at your utter worst this week

but he’s still there beaming at you, the watch on his hand ticking past midnight

“i dont want to take anymore of your time,,,,” you start but jungkook shrugs

“it’s fine, this place is a five minute bike away from the resturant”

your eyes widen “you ride a bike,,,,,not like a motorcycle or something?”

jungkook laughs into his palm “i wish! unfortunately i only have a bike,,,,,,,”

he thinks for a second

“do you want to take a late night ride? my boss hasnt called me about any other orders?”

you put the bag of food inside your apartment and grab your keys from the wall

“id love that”

you find yourself on the handlebars of jungkook’s bike,,,,which he’s had since he was like fifteen by the way

the night air whips past your face as jungkook pedals you around the neighborhood and you feel alive for the first time in a while

jungkooks warm hands over yours on the handlebars

when he gets you home, you hop of and thank him - red in the face from the wind and from screaming of fear when jungkooks bike almost tipped

he grins, telling you it’s nothing

and that the only payment he needs from you is for the food (obviously) and maybe a kiss on the cheek as a tip

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keelywolfe · 6 years

Text

FIC: Luflous

Summary: The same events as in ‘Soulful’ but from Stretch’s POV

Notes: @crysta-cub was very interested in seeing all of this from Stretch’s pov, and, yeah, I thought maybe we needed to see that. His perspective on it is very different from Edge’s, so let’s have it. This turned out longer than the original because as we all know, Stretch has a lot of words to say. Whether they all have meaning in another argument.

Read Soulful first:

keelywolfe.tumblr.com/post/180237746448/fic-soulful

Read more from this series in the Masterlist: keelywolfe.tumblr.com/post/178224395713/masterlist-by-any-other-name

Read it on AO3:

archiveofourown.org/works/16660039/chapters/39093499

~~*~~

The thing was, Stretch knew he was being the asshole about all this.

He’d been really damn sick, he knew that, and Edge had issues about that shit. Fuck, who didn’t? There was no one out there thinking it was a-okay that the people they loved were hurt or sick or what the fuck ever.

So, Edge dealt with that by layering on the protectiveness which was no kind of surprise because Blue did the same damn thing. This was High HP Takeover 101, and Stretch should be able to give Edge that. In theory.

In practice, he wasn’t very damn good at it. The forewarned texts came like clockwork every two hours, and angels wept, he hadn’t moved off the sofa since the last damn text. Exactly where did Edge think he was going to go? Hop a bus to Ireland for some damn Riverdance lessons? It was difficult to keep the snark at a minimum when you had to come up with a new variation on ‘I’m fine’ every two damn hours.

Except…snark came at a guilty price when Edge looked so tired as he came home from work. There were so many things he was trying to handle right now and here Stretch was, sprinkling his bullshit issues on top of Edge’s current shit sundae. Edge was on the verge of making himself sick working so hard and trying to take care of the house, of Stretch, of everything, and the worst part was, there wasn’t much Stretch could do about it except try to keep his prickish nature at a minimum.

That left him here, trying to think of a way to make up for being an asshole without actually saying ‘sorry about the whole asshole thing’. Not that he wouldn’t, fuck no, but apologies were easy. Dime a dozen. He wanted something a little more tangible.

He couldn’t cook worth a damn so making dinner was out; seemed more like a punishment than an apology to make Edge choke down a plateful of whatever he managed in a burnt offering. A little apology sex seemed like a good idea, but Stretch could admit he wasn’t really up to a marathon yet, and a quick round of missionary wasn’t probably wasn’t going cover it, especially if he fell asleep in the middle of it.

So far, he’d managed to allow a serious amount of cuddling after dinner, letting himself fall asleep in Edge’s arms because it was useful in settling his hubby down and besides, like Stretch was going to say no to a nap. But he was still on the lookout for something better.

Like so many good things in his life, the idea came to him from the television.

He was watching ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’, because that show was the shit and Stretch had no idea why people were always down on Guy Fieri on the internet because hell, that was a guy with style.

Anyway, the episode had wandered into mac and cheese territory, a wonderland that was near and dear to Stretch, and at one point, they referred to it as soul food.

Soul food.

It clicked a little lever in his head that sent an idea down through the tangled paths of experiments, pranks, and various television theme songs, straight to his guilt center and there it hit the buzzer.

Edge had looked so damn hurt when Stretch asked him to leave the room when the nurse pulled his soul and even when Stretch had shown it to him later, that hurt had only shifted states, liquid pain to icy fear when he’d seen the IV. Not exactly the stuff of romance. There was a pretty good chance he’d be interested in a private viewing when his soul was in its natural state.

It was intimate, sure, souls were intimate as hell, but he’d also spent the past week having everyone but the janitor give his soul a looksee. A big deal, yeah, but there were levels and honestly, now that he thought about it, Stretch was a little surprised Edge hadn’t brought it up before.

He suspected it was an Underfell thing. Somehow, he doubted anyone in that little sliver of the multiverse was handing their soul over on Lover’s Day with flowers and chocolates for a little bonding time. To Edge, this was probably a much bigger deal than it was for him, but that was okay, it didn’t make it unimportant.

So, yeah, there was a plan. If Edge wanted to see his soul, hell, if he wanted to touch it, Stretch was fine with that. No one else had ever run away with screaming heebie jeebies from touching it, there were decent odds that Edge wouldn’t either. Plus, he could probably work it out so that Edge got a little more out of it than most Monsters would.

Stretch knew a little bit about souls; it had been years since any of those experiments, and yeah, cut that fucking thought off right there, but he did remember, and he knew how the focuses worked.

Souls could work on a low level of empathy; if he focused on how much he loved Edge while he was touching his soul, then Edge should be able to feel a little of it, without anything else that Stretch didn’t want him feeling bleeding through and if there was one thing he was sure he could handle, it was focusing on how much he loved Edge.

This was a great idea, Stretch was sure of it. If he worked out the odds, it was about 95% chance that it would turn out fine, less than a 5% chance of it ending horribly! Fuck it, let’s roll those dice.

Probably he should have waited until Saturday. Let Edge get in a good night’s sleep, wake him up with a few kisses, play up that shyness that Edge liked so much, and they’d be on their way. Except Stretch was shit for patience and now that he had the idea in his skull, it would rattle around like a maraca until he took care of it. So tonight it was.

About a half-hour before he was expecting Edge home, Stretch went up to their bedroom, peeling off his sweatshirt and tossing it carelessly on the floor. The hamper was literally a step and a half away, but Stretch had a thing for that little twitch Edge got in his socket when he saw clothes scattered around. It was a kink, so sue him.

The sweatshirt didn’t make a difference anyhow, it wasn’t like clothing impeded a soul, and Stretch might proudly be an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. Edge liked how he looked, like the delicate lines of his bones, liked to run his hands over them, testing the smoothness. He was feeling better, he looked better, might as well let Edge have a treat to go along with the main event.

He hadn’t made the bed when he’d gotten up and he took a minute to smooth out the covers before scooting up to sit in the middle. Edge would be home soon, he needed to work fast, and Stretch took a deep breath and gingerly pulled out his soul. He hadn’t looked at it since they left the hospital and it would be better to take a quick peek. Edge probably wouldn’t handle any surprises very well.

It came easily, hovering over his outstretched hands. Silvery pale, a sign that he didn’t have any LV, and the mark where the IV had been was gone entirely. Good enough.

He heard the front door open and hastily dismissed it back, checking himself over. Jeans and a tank top, check, soul lookin’ good, check, ready for takeoff.

“come upstairs,” Stretch called, and he could hear the shuffling downstairs pause, clothing rustling, probably taking off his coat, and then feet on the stairs, coming up fast, well, someone was eager.

Edge filled the doorway when he stepped in, his eye lights a little bright and focusing in on him like a laser. “Hello.”

Oh, fuck. Stretch couldn’t help shivering, that husky growl, shit, maybe apology sex was a great idea…no, no, down boy, remember the plan, eyes on the prize and other various encouraging shit.

Instead, he gestured Edge in, patting the bed across from him. Edge was a little confused but willing enough, and he waited patiently for Stretch to spill the beans.

Stretch felt a flush rise in his cheeks, okay, yeah, so this was pretty intimate, far more than sex could ever be and of all the Monsters who’d ever seen his soul, ever laid impersonal, clinical hands on it, Edge was the very first Stretch actually wanted to touch it.

This was supposed to be for Edge, but Stretch was finding that he wanted this, too.

“i’m feeling a lot better,” Stretch said, little hesitantly, ““and i thought maybe you’d want to see my soul when it isn’t wired in like frankenstein.”

Want might not be a strong enough word. Edge’s eye lights flared wide; apparently, this was something he’d been yearning after for a while and never mentioned, yeah, this was gonna be a big deal to him, and that was okay.

Of course, Edge tried to give him an out, no surprise there, geez, it wasn’t like Stretch was the one who’d brought it up to begin with. And it wasn’t much of a surprise that Edge wanted to be the one to pull it, no, no, control issues, go on ahead.

Stretch didn’t mind. He trusted Edge with a hell of a lot more than his soul.

The sensation of someone else getting a grip on your soul was usually foreign and maybe a little unpleasant, at least in Stretch’s experience, and while it didn’t hurt, it was weirdly uncomfortable. Usually.

The delicate tendrils of magic that lassoed his essence and coaxed it forth were like nothing Stretch had experienced before and he closed his sockets, exhaling shakily as it slipped free and settled lightly into Edge’s hand.

Oh. That felt…oh…

Okay, he’d had other Monsters handle his soul before but none of them had ever resonated like this. Maybe…maybe it was because of who they were, he and Edge, the flipside of the same coin, he needed to talk to sans and red but not now, now he had to focus on edge, he loved him, loved him so, so much, edge was his brilliant sunshine through darkness, his safety from himself as much as from the world, and he wanted to show him that love, wanted him to feel it…

A little hazily, Stretch opened his sockets and could only stare in shock.

Edge was crying.

He hadn’t even known Edge could cry, he’d never done it, not once since Stretch had known him. Stretch was a little bit of a damn crybaby himself, not that he cared, own it, bitches, but Edge—

Tears were trailing from his closed sockets, not crimson, not a match to his magic the way Stretch’s were, but silvery and pale, a mirror of his soul.

That…Stretch had never seen anything like that before.

Um, yeah, maybe it was time to stop.

Edge didn’t protest but he was still obviously pretty damn reluctant to hand Stretch’s soul back so quickly. His tears stopped the moment Stretch’s soul faded back into his sternum, leaving streaks of wetness on his cheekbones.

Carefully, Stretch reached up and ineffectively wiped away one thin, silvery trail. “that was supposed to make you happy.”

Edge’s voice with thick, warm, as he murmured, “It did.”

The tears weren’t exactly convincing him, but Stretch decided to take him at his word. He gave up trying to wipe them away, bone wasn’t exactly great as a sponge and, unthinkingly, he let his hand drift down, resting his fingertips over Edge’s sternum and wishing fleetingly that he could touch, just for a second…

He could feel Edge stiffen, rejecting it wordlessly. Ah, shit, Stretch hadn’t meant to put that idea into his head, he knew better than that.

“Do you…do you want…” Edge forced out, because of course he would. Of course he would offer, even though he wasn’t ready for that by any means. Even though it would upset him, maybe even traumatize him to force his soul out for no better reason than he felt like he owed it. Of course he fucking would.

Stretch couldn’t think of anything he wanted less than to hold an unwilling soul, even one that loved him.

Turning him down didn’t take things down a notch as hoped and almost sent Edge into a fucking panic attack, and shit, shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to help, not make things fucking worse, and what kind of asshole did Edge think he was, that he’d demand a soul fondle in return when Edge was so unready for it?

Exhaustion worked for him for once, and Stretch was able to soothe him down, gently, set Edge at ease, and fuck, they should probably talk about this later. Probably.

Probably weren’t gonna though, because he already knew what Edge was afraid of, what he was so terrified Stretch would see.

And Stretch wasn’t about tell him that he already knew exactly what Edge’s soul looked like. Didn’t want to tell him he’d seen it the first time they’d met, swollen blood-red with LV, patchy veins of darkness scattered over it. He’d been in a bad damn way when they’d first arrive, but so fucking what? Stretch had been too; from the first step out of the portal, his own soul had been so faded it was a wonder he hadn’t already fallen down.

Red had seen all that from the beginning and so had Sans. They’d all known the stakes, for what little it was worth. It was over and done with, though, no point in talking about it now. And Stretch didn’t look anymore at anyone, not often, didn’t judge, none of them did that Stretch knew of. Souls showed something of a person, yeah, but they didn’t show everything and it was pointless to form a judgment on one aspect of a person when there was so much more left unseen.

But it didn’t mean that he didn’t know Edge’s soul was so much lighter since then. LV never left, but it could fade, it could lighten, those dark patches vanishing. His soul would always be red. It didn’t mean it couldn’t be beautiful.

Edge was so far from ready to hear any of that.

Holding his soul must’ve been pretty damn draining because Edge was all but asleep in minutes. Resisting it, sure, because his love wasn’t very good at giving in, but eh, a little petting, a little singing, and he was out like a light.

Even in his sleep, Edge’s grip on him was tight, both arms around his pelvis and Edge’s skull was resting in his lap, his sockets closed and that weariness seeping away. It left him looking a little softer, a little warmer.

Beautiful, Edge had called him, so beautiful, and Stretch had to believe him. He’d been holding his soul, there wasn’t much denial Stretch could offer.

Very lightly, Stretch traced the crack that ran through Edge’s socket, the unevenness of it rough against his fingertip. Edge was beautiful, too, in so many ways, and maybe Edge wasn’t ready to hear that yet, not yet, but it didn’t mean Stretch couldn’t see it.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

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creativeashproductions · 7 years

Text

Lamentable // Archie Andrews

Summary: After graduation you move in with Archie to begin your life together when something halts it in a way you didn’t expect. Determined to stay with you Archie cares for you in both bad and good times. Besides it’s always nice to have Fred as another father.

Characters: Archie Andrews x Reader, Fred Andrews, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones, Hermione Lodge, Kevin Keller and Josie McCoy

Words: 2688

Disclaimer: I do now own Riverdale or the characters. I do not own any gifs that appear in this either or images because they’re probably off google images.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, puking, cancer, and a little fluff

Author: Caitsy

A/N: I didn’t explicitly say what kind of cancer it was because I’ve never had cancer nor has anyone close to me had it. I’m not a doctor so I entirely researched on it plus I’m Canadian so American health system isn’t something I think about often.

Master List

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It was a never ending cycle of hope and disappointment when you first went to the doctor about your medical problem. It hurt more when you were diagnosed with early onset cancer and your chances of kids with your boyfriend Archie were slim to none. It hurt when you were told that and it hurt more when you had to tell Archie. How does one tell their significant other than they were dying?

It was only one year since you graduated high school and got into college. You were interning at a good company while Archie was working with his father to earn more money for school. It was something you had both talked about, while you interned and went to school Archie would work at the family company and still do music.

Compromise. A wonderful thing when you do it right.

Archie noticed that you were being exceptionally quiet during supper leading him to hound you for answers.

“Seriously what’s going on?” Archie demanded placing his fork down beside the meal.

 “Nothing.” You shifted pushing your mashed potatoes around the plate unsure how to tell him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I went to the doctor a week ago for blood work because I was feeling sick.”

“I know. I told you to go.” Archie replied leaning back into your chair.

“I was called in yesterday to go over the results. Arch, it’s bad. Really bad.” You bit your lip remember how terrible it was go from seeing a bright future to a bleak unknown black hole of a future.

“We’ll get through it. We’ve gotten through worse babe.”

You pushed your plate back standing up to move towards Archie’s side of the table to sit on his lap. His eyes scanned your face taking note of the slight loss of weight you had ever since you had the flu three weeks ago. You had bags under your eyes peaking through the makeup under each eye.

“No. Archie nothing is worse than this.” You whispered leaning into his touch when his arms circled your waist, “I have cancer Archie.”

“How long have you know.” He whispered taken aback.

“Yesterday afternoon. I’ve been going over the conversation and what’s going to happen. You should leave me Archie, I’m going to be an empty shell of the woman you’ve seen since we were kids.”

“I don’t ever leave you because you’re sick.”

“I’m going to go through hell Archie if I decide to treat it. There will be months maybe ever years of radiation, chemo and pills. I will waste away as it goes on, I will be a hairless ugly mole rat on the cusp of death.” You harshly told him, “I don’t want you to have the image of me. I want you to remember me as healthy.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, nothing you say will make me leave you.” Archie sweetly replied brushing your grown out hair out of the way, “If you lose your hair I will shave mine off.”

“But I love your hair.”

“I love you more than something I can grow back again.” Archie said, “Now eat because I need you to be strong through this.”

You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before grabbing your plate to sit closer to the man you loved with all your heart. You pushed back the nausea to eat smiling down at you plate when Archie’s foot curled around your leg.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“I’ll do treatment for you.” You chirped before slowly making your way through your dinner lost in thought of what would begin soon enough.

You saw countless doctors over the next month at each doctors appointment that Archie would come to with you. Excuse after excuse would be fed to your friends and family in the dark time your were going through even as they got more and more suspicious. Chemo began quickly with firstly using your arm and it sucked.

You took your college classes online via video feed and stopped your interning. You were too tired to leave the apartment. You no longer hung out with your friends in the evenings, you avoided public places in fear of infection. Soon enough people started demanding answers. When your hair began to fall out you decided it was time.

Everyone came to Archie’s childhood home, barring anyone ill, when you requested to see them. You were stationed on the couch under a blanket with a bucket on the ground. The chemo made you vomit multiple times and you had no appetite anymore.

“Babe. Wake up.” Archie whispered kissing your cheek. You shifted coming out of your sleep when he came into view, “They’re here. I saw the vehicles. Dad’s back from work too.”

“Okay.” You yawned slowly moving to sit up against the arm of the couch. People trickled in behind Fred to sit on the open spaced.

“Hey.” You drowsily treated everyone covering your mouth when you yawned.

“Long time no see.” Jughead teased sitting next to Betty on the ground, “Why are we here exactly? Why aren’t we at your place?”

“Larger space here.” Archie replied grabbing your cold hand, “We have some news.”

“Okay?” Veronica trailed off confused.  

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been skipping hangouts and when I do I tend to fall asleep on Archie’s shoulder or I look tired.” You started, “You’ve noticed I wear sweaters more often and warm clothing. It’s because of this.”

You pushed your sleeve up for them to see the taped down IV in your arm that was unlike anything they had seen. Jughead took note of how skinny you had become, how tired both Archie and you looked like, the paleness of your skin, the bucket beside your side and covered in a blanket. He slowly put the facts together just as you spoke.

“It’s cancer.” Your voice break as tears began to skin over your cheeks.

In sync everyone grabbed someone’s hand pressing a hand to their mouth and cried for you. It was unlike anything you had seen. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful to watch how much you were loved. Archie slowly took your hat off to show the thinning hair you had developed.

“How long have you had it.” Veronica cried reaching out to grab your hand before pulling back unsure if it was okay to do so.

“A little over a month.” You admitted, “I had the flu and I got better for a week before I began throwing up. I thought I was pregnant so I went to the doctor. I wasn’t pregnant and I got the diagnosis.”

“What’s being done?” Betty asked rubbing her cheeks with her blue lightweight sweater sleeve. It was your favourite sweater she owned.

“I’m doing chemotherapy at the moment. We’ll be doing radiation next. My doctor is optimistic about it.” You explained coughing in your sleeve.

 “How much money is it?” Veronica interjected concerned.

“Veronica!” Betty exclaimed, “You don’t ask people that!”

“A lot of money.” Archie sighed, “It’s taking longer than we wanted to find finances for it.”

“Daddy will write you a check. He loves Y/N like another daughter. No arguments.”

“Whatever.” You grunted making a face, “Archie can you help me to the bathroom?”

Archie was pushed to sit back down as Betty urgently brought you towards the bathroom just before collapsed on to the ground in front of the toilet. Veronica back followed behind to lock the door and lean against it. She watched disgusted as you shook from the force of your throw up. It hadn’t hit her until she really took in your appearance.

“You okay?” Betty asked rubbing your back and you heaved yourself against the wall, “Didn’t you have a bucket in the living room?”

“It’s rude to puke in front of so many people.” You groaned as Veronica handed you the spare toothbrush you kept in the bathroom when Archie and you stayed over at his childhood home. You took care to scrub the vomit taste from your mouth before you returned to the living room.

Everyone avoided your eyes as you collapsed onto the couch with a deep sigh and noticed your were sweating from the exertion. Archie retook your hand in his as you settled into your seat. Fred sat on your other side offering his support in your fight.

“I’m sorry you got handed this hand.” Fred softly told you. You smiled in response before Archie pulled you off the couch with your items.

“We should get home. We have to be at the hospital tomorrow for an appointment.” Archie said as he helped you into your jacket, “Also Veronica. Don’t pay for it please, we’ll find out a way.”

“Sure.” Veronica said with a small smirk you didn’t see with you backs to her. The minute you were out the door she turned to everyone, “I’m so paying for the treatment.”

Fred normally would argue but in such a sensitive time he was more than happy to help pay but with the machinery he had to buy in the last year money was tight. It seemed the last few years weren’t going well. Starting with the year that Jason was murdered. It seemed Riverdale was a never ending town of misery.

“Out of everyone she was the one to get cancer. It should have been Cheryl.” Jughead huffed picking up his bag from the ground.

 “Juggie nobody deserves cancer.” Betty soothed rubbing his shoulder.

“I hate the Blossoms just as much as you do Jughead but Betty’s right.” Fred said from his seat.

“Oh I’m sorry did the scum family wrongly get your father imprisoned for murder?” Jughead spat gripping the bag harder, “I have to get to Pops. I have a shift and I’d like to get another chapter in first.”

In a huff of black and angst he fled the house into the afternoon light with Betty on his heels aiming to soothe his emotional wounds once more. Veronica took a glance at the house of the boy she had dated for a year before she shared a smile with Fred.

“It’s nice your doing that.” Fred said, “I know you love Archie.”

“Loved Mr. Andrews.” Veronica smiled, “Archie and I had a wonderful time together but we weren’t meant to be like he and Y/N are.”

“I guess they were startgame.” Fred fondly spoke getting a giggle from the young woman.

“It’s endgame Mr. Andrews.” Veronica chuckled joining Kevin at the door with Josie in tow. She waved before walking into the sunny light mind set on designing a dress for her friend.

Stuck in a hospital bed was not something you wanted around Christmas. You had gotten sick at your parents house when they felt the window open for the frigid air to come in. You were rushed by ambulance to the hospital in the city of Chicago for better treatment. You hands were curled around the warmth in your hands.

“It was getting thin but I didn’t think this would happen.” You cried looking up at Betty and Veronica. Jughead had dragged Archie out for a night together despite protesting leaving you.

“You’re still beautiful.” Veronica whispered rubbing your cheek with her hand.

“I look like a bad cosplayed Professor X!” You exclaimed looking up at them, “I want it gone.”

 “We all want it g-“

“No I want my hair gone.” You sniffled watching as they shared looks before Betty went out to talk to a nurse, “I’m not pretty.”

“You are gorgeous.” Veronica sternly said looking at her watch, “Oh god. I’m late for lunch with Daddy. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

You mumbled a goodbye as Veronica fled the room leaving you alone with your hair in your hands. You were tired of everything. You were tired of causing Archie to not sleep. You were tired of Archie crying when he thought you were sleeping and you hated he only sang sad songs now. You wanted it over.

“Hey.” Betty whispered with a nurse by her side. The nurse holding a closed case in her hands. They helped you into the bathroom where the nurse handed you an electric razor.

It was therapeutic as you shaved off what you should reach before you handed it to Betty with a smile. You trusted Betty and there wasn’t anyone else you would want to finish the job, you both cried together until you were ushered back to bed.

“Knock knock!” Veronica called from the doorway with her mother behind her.

“I thought you had lunch?”  “I may have told a white lie…” Veronica trailed off walking in with things in her hands.

“Ronnie told me you were feeling down on yourself and she came to me.” Hermione said taking a seat next to your bed, “I pulled a few strings and we got some things shipped with a well known friend of ours. Pierce Jacobs is a beauty specialist with a background of celebrity makeup, hair and fashion.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“We didn’t.” Veronica grinned, “Pierce gave Betty and me tips to do so we can make it more personal.”

Together they unpacked a box filled with countless makeup and even head wraps of different designs and colours. A dress cover was situated in the corner before they began to work on you.

“I’ve always loved your eyes.” Betty smiled taking the time to apply primer to your face before putting eye shadow primer on your lids.

Veronica carefully chose the colours for your eye makeup just as Betty finished with a grin. The time was filled with gossip like it was back in high school during sleepovers. It was much different being in a hospital room in Chicago but it worked because you were surrounded by people you loved.

The dress of something you wouldn’t normally wear but you loved it to bits from the design to the colour of choice. It wasn’t incredibly long but it was too short either and it covered the IV from prying eyes. You decided on the head scarf with Hermione’s help before the door to your room was swung open.

The dropping of something made you turn to see Archie standing in the door way with a shock for you. Fred was bald like completely hairless on his head. Your jaw dropped as you saw Archie shifting on his feet.

“I knew you were going to shave your head sometime.” Fred informed you, “I thought we could be cute Sphinx cats together.”

“I was going to but Dad didn’t let me.”

“I love your red hair.” You mumbled stepping forward to run your hands through his hair with a small smile. There was something about Archie that made you feel alive ever since you realized how you really felt about him.

You however didn’t notice when everybody tricked out of the room leaving you two alone in your hospital room. You missed him at nights when visiting hours ended and you were left alone unable to sleep.  “I love you.” Archie mumbled his lips lingering on your forehead. You weren’t sure how late it was but you were tired and not looking forward to tomorrow’s chemo. It was your last before you had an appointment with your oncologist.

Sighing with you eyes closed you danced in your room to the sound of silence, well when someone’s heart monitor wasn’t beeping.

“Someone died this morning.” You whispered.

“Let’s not talk about that.” Archie said slowly twirling you every one in a while until he stopped where he needed to be.

“I can’t help but think when I’m going to be next.”

“Not until we’re grey and old.” Archie whispered removing his hands from your waist. Confused you opened your eyes to see that Archie was now on his knee with a beautiful ring, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You cried jumping into his arms.

“I told you I’m in for the long run.” Archie murmured against your hair, “It’s a plus that I’ll get to stay with you at night also.”

“I love you Archie.”

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