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letsgivethisonemoreshot · 3 years

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BruiserMates

Word Count: 4,644 (it's a long one)

Warnings: Sexual Situations, banter, there's some fluff in there somewhere.

Summary: The British Bruiserweight is more grumpy than usual. But his friends and a co-worker think they just might know a way to fix it. (Also, I tried to make an attempt to keep true with accents for the first time. So I apologize if it's horrible!)

The lukewarm water rushed out of a shower head in the back of the arena. The water pressure in these showers were never that good, but it was early and Lauren had the whole locker room to herself. She had the curtain drawn for privacy, just in case anyone else arrived early. Mostly because she was in the men’s showers. And just as she was rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, she heard several voices from the locker room echo into the bathroom.

"You could've stopped to get breakfast first." A British accent rang out.

"They 'ad food at the hotel." The familiar accent of Pete filled the room.

"Not anything for a vegan. And ya know that." Another voice argued.

"I don't know every damn vegan place in tha country." Pete spat back.

"Uh guys, just so you know you're not alone in here." Lauren informed them.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?"

"Lauren. I'm a backstage interviewer here. I really needed a shower after my workout before I got ready to work and they were cleaning in the women's locker room when I got there. No one was in here so I ran in. I'll be quick." She explained.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, she works here." He vouched, recognizing her voice.

"Ah. Alright then love. As long as you work here. I'm Tyler by the way."

"Trent." The other voice rang out.

"You guys are here from NXT UK for the tag tournament, right?" Lauren asked.

"You got it love." Trent answered as he turned on a shower on the opposite side of where Lauren was. "And you don't 'av to rush. We don't mind if you don't."

"As long as you stay on that side of the curtain." Lauren responded in a joking but friendly way.

"Great." Pete murmured.

"What's wrong with you?" Trent asked him.

"He's still sore about his girlfriend messin' around on him." Tyler answered getting ready to get a shower himself.

"Tell my business to the whole locker room, why don't ya." Pete said annoyed.

"She's the only otha one in here. And she sees ya more than us. I'm sure she's noticed you're grumpy."

"No more than usual." Lauren said as she conditioned her hair.

"Aw piss off all of ya."

"See? He's always this pleasant."

"I thought you said you were gonna be quick." Pete pointed out.

"I was, until Trent was nice enough to tell me I didn't have to. So now I'm taking my time."

Pete let out an aggravated grunt. "I can't shower with 'er in here."

"Relax Pete, I'm almost done. What brings you guys in here so early anyway?"

"Time change. Kind of has us messed up. And Pete just doesn't sleep." Tyler replied. "What about you? And working out nonetheless. I’d think you’d moreso be off writing questions."

"How else am I supposed to fit myself into those tiny dresses they want me to wear?" Lauren partially joked, causing two of the englishmen to chuckle. "I have a few interviews I have to do for some social media shows before the actual show tonight. This was the only time I could fit in a work out. I was going to shower real quick then get to work, but the women’s bathroom was closed, so I that brought me here. I guess it’s just bad timing.”

"Ah, I wouldn't say that love." Trent said.

"Well maybe not on my part. Anybody could walk in here. So many people have probably had fantasies that start like this. But apparently, it’s bad timing for some of you.”

"Would any of those fantasies include any of us by any chance?" Trent asked in a joking tone.

“Trent, ya can’t just ask a woman ya just met something like that.” Tyler chastised.

“Why not? I’m just joking.”

"Hm, some just might." Lauren answered.

"For fucks sake…"

"Jesus Pete calm down, I'm done. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Lauren said as she turned off the water and wrapped her towel around herself.

"Yeah relax mate. We're just messin' around." Trent said to his friend.

"You need to get laid." Lauren stated.

"Excuse me?" Pete asked, sounding offended.

"We've been telling him that the last two weeks love." Tyler said to her.

She pulled open the curtain and stepped out of the shower stall. "Take it from someone who pushed away a lot of her friends by being a negative mope after going through a rough breakup. If she's gonna fuck around, then so can you. Try smiling, go get laid, and live. See ya later boys. I believe I'll be the one interviewing you later!" Lauren called out before walking away.

Lauren left them alone in the men's locker room and walked back to the women's which was thankfully now able to be occupied. She walked quicker than she planned seeing as how she couldn't get dressed there with the guys there. So she was running around in just a towel. No one had really showed up to get ready yet, but she still had to go over interview questions, get dressed, and was expected by the stylists soon. She was rummaging through her bag when there was a lock at the door. She dropped what was in her hands and curiously walked over to the door. Upon opening it she saw an annoyed Pete Dunne standing there. He was still in his trousers, nice button down shirt, and vest. His hair pulled back. Obviously he still hadn't gotten into the shower yet.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you? Miss me already?"

Pete held out a plastic bag with tiny bottles inside. "Ya left your crap in the shower."

"And you're such a gentleman you brought it back to me?" Lauren joked.

"I drew the short straw."

"You sure it doesn't have anything to do with what I said?" She asked as she took the plastic bag from him. “Because my fantasies about you usually start with me still dressed and you ripping my clothes off me, but if this is how it happens I’ll take it.”

“No, it’s because I was the only one who was still dre…wait, what?”

Lauren smiled "Thanks for bringing my stuff back Pete. I forgot it in all the conversation. And if you’re just here to drop it off, I really need to finish getting ready. I need to be in make-up soon. I’ll see you around later.”

She closed the door, leaving Pete standing there dumbfounded at the interaction he just had.

Lauren had gotten dressed and was sitting in the make-up chair. She had decided on a short black off the shoulder dress. Even though the shoulders were bare, the dress had long sleeves, making a bit more acceptable in the workplace. The strappy heels that she had on also made it a bit less casual. She already had her hair done. She chose to leave it down since it was only shoulder length, but add some waves to it. Pete had wandered over to the area as Lauren was laughing while the make-up artist applied the dusty pink lipstick. Lauren was deep in conversation with the artist. She got along with everyone. Well, mostly everyone. She was easy to talk to and calming, which was a plus with her job. The interviews always flowed nicely and never seemed forced. She never really had any real problems with anyone she worked with. Pete leaned against a wall off to the side watching her talk. He had his wrestling gear on now, and had his long hair dangling down over half of his face.

"Alright, all set. How's it look?" The make-up artist asked as she held up a mirror.

"It looks great! Thanks Rachel!"

"Awesome. If you need a touch up just let me know."

"I will. Thanks!"

Lauren checked in the mirror one last time, pursing her lips together, before jumping out of the make-up chair and leaving it for someone else. She walked away from the styling area and right passed where Pete was brooding.

"Lauren."

"Hey Pete." Lauren replied as she walked by.

"Hey, hold up."

"What's up?" She asked as she stopped and turned to him.

"You tell me." Pete stated.

"Is this about what I said earlier? I’m sorry for getting involved in your business. And I never would have said anything had we not already been in the middle of a conversation. But I’ve been there, and I didn’t want you to end up pushing your friends away with your bad attitude like I did.” She explained.

"Not that. After. At the locker room." Pete said in a much lower voice.

Lauren smiled and crossed her arms. "What is this? When is Pete Dunne so timid?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "F'get it."

"No I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself." Lauren said reaching out to grab his arm. "I'll be good. What did you want?"

"You to stop being intimidating for a moment would be good."

"I've heard that once or twice before, but not from anyone like you."

"What you said earlier, did you mean it?" Pete asked changing the subject.

"That you need a good lay to forget about her? Absolutely. Your friends seemed to agree."

"No. That you've 'ad fantasies about me." He said as he took a step closer to her.

"Maybe a few times." She answered, surprising him by the serious tone in her voice. He stood there not quite sure how to follow up while Lauren opened the small bag she had with her and looked through it. "Listen, I really have to go and interview Daniel Bryan. But if you want to take my advice, I would love to be the girl that gets under you to get over her. Room 308 if you're interested."

She slipped her spare hotel key into his hand before turning around and continuing to walk down the hallway. Later on that night Pete sat in the back watching the show on a t.v. He was watching Lauren interview his two best friends while he spun the hotel key around in his fingers while being lost in thought. He pulled it together to go out and put on a good show, like he always did. All of his cockiness and aggression was on display. Lauren had been watching his match extra closely that night.

After the show Lauren was sitting alone in her hotel room. She hadn't made any plans for the night in case Pete decided to show up. After about an hour of waiting, she decided to change her clothes and get comfortable. She had the television on and was laying down in the bed, trying to relax, but she found herself not paying attention to it and trying to figure out what reasons Pete could have for not showing up. After driving herself crazy for some time, around 11:30 she realized she was being silly. His good friends whom he hadn't seen in months were in the country for a bit, so he was going to be spending time with them. Plus with all the joking around that she had done with him that day he probably didn't even think she was serious. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested and didn’t know how to tell her in a nice way. Lauren grabbed her phone and laid down on her bed to play some games until she got tired. Only a few minutes after she relaxed herself for the night, there was a knock at her door.

Lauren put her phone down and got out of bed. She walked over to the door curious of who could be there this time of night, especially without texting her first. She looked through the peephole and saw Pete standing on the other side. She quickly opened the door.

"You do realize I gave you a key so you wouldn't have to knock and wait in the hallway, right?"

"I didn't feel right usin' it." Pete told her.

Lauren opened the door wider and stepped aside inviting him in. He stood near her as she closed the door.

"I see you stayed dressed for me." Pete joked as he looked at her in her pink tank top and black yoga pants.

"I could say the same for you." Lauren retorted noticing Pete was in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"It's not m' job to look pretty." Pete stated.

"Good thing I'm off the clock then."

They hadn't really talked much before now, other than just a hello or exchanging pleasantries. Maybe being involved in the same conversation as a group of people. Mostly that was because Pete kept to himself or only really talked with the people he was close to, where as Lauren would talk with everyone and insert herself into others conversations. But Pete definitely took notice today that not many people were able to throw back at him the way that she did, and he liked it.

"So did you just come here to criticize my clothes or…" Lauren trailed off.

"Actually, I wanted to talk." He answered.

"Oh, uh okay."

Lauren definitely hadn't been expecting that. She lead him into the room a little bit more and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Pete took one of the seats that were in the room and placed it in front of her before sitting down as well.

"So?"

"I've been thinking about what ya said. And you're right. If she's gonna bang a bunch of guys and not care, then I should too. Well, ya know."

"So what's the hold up?" Lauren asked.

"I don't want pity sex with someone just because they feel sorry fa' me. Especially if it's someone I 'av to work with."

"I can understand that. I'm not really one for random hook ups either." Lauren agreed.

"But then why did you…"

"I like you Pete." Lauren told him.

"Why? I'm kind of a bastard." Pete asked confused.

Lauren laughed. "Yeah, most of the time. I've watched you. You're grumpy face and your angry promos. But I've also seen the way you joke around with your friends. I've seen how interact with kids. I know how much you care about animals. There's a sweet guy behind that whole bruiserweight thing."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your best friends. Those goofballs wouldn't waste their time with a complete asshole." Lauren answered with a smile. She reached out and placed her hand over top of his. "I'll be honest. I've had the hots for you since you started coming around. And then when I actually learned things about you I had a crush on you. And seeing you laugh with your friends, I've wondered what it would have been like if we had that kind of relationship."

Pete couldn't help but flash a genuine smile that he usually kept hidden. "Why didn't ya eva say anything?"

"You had a girlfriend, remember?"

"Right. Right. Forgot about that."

"Well that was the plan." Lauren giggled.

"So girls really dig the whole aggressive arse thing huh?" Pete asked amused.

"Oh yeah. There's something wired wrong in our brains. And the accent doesn't hurt either.”

Pete leaned back slightly in his chair and chuckled.

"Did I just make Pete Dunne laugh?" Pete didn't even try to hide it this time after she pointed it out. "Up until now I think I've only made you scowl."

"Yeah yeah, just don't spread it around."

"Don't wanna ruin your unlovable reputation, huh?"

They both sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say next. Pete fidgeted in his chair slightly before standing up. Lauren promptly stood up along with him. He reached out and pulled her to him so her body was flushed with his, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. The act took her by surprise.

"Thanks." He said into her ear.

Lauren put her arms around her torso returning the hug. But her senses perked up. He was still holding her, his head down and his nose grazing her neck. The thought of his mouth that close to her, with his history of biting, sent an electric wave through her nerves. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head and hugged him tighter.

"Anytime Pete." She said lightly.

Pete broke the hug and stepped aside looking down at her smiling. She gave him a half hearted smile. She was glad that she was able to be there for him, and it seemed like there was a friendship forming between them. But she was a little disappointed that it wasn't going further. And embarrassed that she told him how she felt, and now she had to deal with him at work all the time with him knowing that. She didn't say anything as she followed him as he walked to the door.

"I'll see ya around, alright?" Pete said as he put his hand on the doorknob.

Lauren nodded with a smile. She closed the door behind him and leaned it against it sighing. She felt like an idiot. She was just hoping he wouldn't make a big deal about it at work. She began walking back to her bed. When she was a few steps away, she heard the door click. She turned around and saw the knob turning. It pushed open and Pete walked back inside.

"Hey. Everything okay?" She asked confused.

He slammed the door behind him and walked towards Lauren, throwing the room key onto the bed as he passed it. He made it to where she was and placed his bands on her hips and pushed her up against the wall crashing his lips down onto hers. Lauren put her hands up on his shoulders, bracing herself at his actions. He moved his hands from her hips up to her sides all while continuing kissing her neck. He traced along the top of her tank top before grabbing it with both hands and ripping it down the middle. Lauren gasped into his mouth. Pete didn't give her any time to adjust to what he was doing before his hands traveled back down her body and behind her thighs picking her up and pressing her against the wall. He tore his lips away from hers to slowly lick down her chest until stopping at her partially exposed breast. He lightly licked around her nipple a few times before taking it into his mouth. Lauren ran her fingers through Pete's hair, softly moaning. When he lightly bit down she moaned deeper and arched her back off of the wall. Pushing herself even further into him, she became even more aware that her legs were spread around him and she could feel herself getting wetter every time he nibbled.

Pete pulled her away from the wall and carried her over to the bed. Lauren laid on the bed looking up at him trying to catch her breath. He was looking down at her with his signature cocky smirk. He reached out and lightly grabbed the waistband of her pants before yanking them off and crawling on top of her. Pete nuzzled into her neck kiss and biting causing her to arch her hips up and feel the large bulge in his sweatpants. Lauren slid her hands under his shirt and scraped her fingers down his chest bringing a low growl from him.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes." Lauren informed him.

Pete chuckled, but it wasn't the light hearted one from earlier, there was a deeper tone to it. There was something sexy in that chuckle. He leaned up onto his knees and peeled his shirt off.

Lauren took the moment to just look at him, kneeling in front of her with his hair hanging down partially in his face. Watching his eyes in the light. He could see her eyes glancing up and down his body.

"Is this what ya wanted?" He asked.

"Fuck yes." Lauren answered out loud, instead of in her head like she planned. "But this was supposed to be for you."

"Does it seem like I'm not enjoyin' it?"

"Well yeah, but what is it you want?" Lauren asked.

"Haven't been asked that in a long time. Honestly?" Lauren nodded. "I want someone to want to be with me. Not just use me ta get off and pass out. Someone who enjoys being with me. To feel loved."

Lauren leaned up so she was sitting up in bed facing him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Sounds stupid. I guess when ya with someone for so long those things kind of become lost."

"No Pete, they don't." Lauren said as she placed her hand on his face. "That's what happens when people stop caring."

The words hurt Pete, but deep down he knew she was right.

"Lay down." She told him.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Take your pants off and lay down. Let me take care of you." She said it in such a calming tone, you'd forget they were just dry humping each other.

He complied with what she asked. Lauren removed her underwear and straddled him. He rubbed his hands on her thighs She pulled off what was left of her shirt. Pete unknowingly bit his lower lip upon seeing her naked in front of him.

"Like what ya see?" She asked with a coy smirk

"Damn love."

"You sure you wanna do this?" She asked him.

"Love if you don't get on me right now I'm going to push you down and get back on top of you."

Lauren smiled and moved to slide herself down onto his dick. She gasped as she slid down. She could have guessed the size of it based on what he wore in the ring, but she didn't think it was as thick as it was. Pete hissed as she began riding him.

"Fuck babe. You're so tight." He commented.

"Yeah, it's been a while." She replied as she rolled her hips.

"You're so wet." He stated.

"I told you, I like you. Now are you gonna do commentary the whole time or just enjoy it?"

"Oh I'm enjoying it love." Pete said as his hands slid up her legs. He groaned as he saw her bouncing on him, her breasts bouncing along with her. He ran his hand along her body and brushed his finger onto her clit causing her to yelp. He liked the sound that she made and continued to rub along her clit as she rode him.

"Fuck Pete if you keep that up I'm not gonna last long." She warned him.

"You keep makin' those sounds I won't eithea."

Lauren pushed his hand out of the way and brought her upper body down so she could kiss him before moving to his neck. She began kissing and sucking on his neck like he had been doing to her earlier. Pete reached around with both hands to grab her ass. She was moving at a slow and steady pace, keeping with his grunts of pleasure. She would bite down on his neck every once in a while hoping to catch him off guard. He would squeeze his grip tighter pushing her at a different pace causing her to moan.

"Wait, Lauren stop." Pete said suddenly.

Lauren stopped and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I wanna be on top." He told her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Lauren wanted to stay on top and take care of him, but it's what he said he wanted to she switched positions with him. She had to admit having Pete in between her legs staring her down was something she had thought about several times. He began placing kisses down her collar bone as she ran her fingers through his hair again.

"Mmmm Pete, please." Lauren begged bringing a smile to his lips.

"Please what?" Pete asked as he ran his length along her entrance, teasing her.

"I know I'm being selfish at the moment but please, I need you." She moaned as she tried to push herself closer to him.

"Baby, I love hearing you beg." He said as he entered her starting slow at first.

"Pete, faster please."

Pete grunted before speeding up, loving the feeling of her needing him, He began to thrust harder as he sped up. Lauren wrapped his leg up around his waist to give him better access.

"Oh God Pete, I'm so close." Lauren said as she scratched her nails down his back.

"Let go for me love." He rasped into her ear.

Lauren grabbed onto Pete's face to pull him into a passionate kiss as she came. Pete finished shortly after her before collapsing next to her. Their session was relatively quick, but emotional and intense. They laid next to each other trying to catch their breath.

"Well, that was unexpected." Pete stated.

"Yeah, definitely didn't think that was gonna happen when I woke up this morning." Lauren agreed as she laid next to him.

"I'm sorry it wasn't really what ya wanted." Pete apologize.

"What do you mean?"

"Ya said you wanted aggressive, and ripping clothes off, and all that."

Lauren leaned up on her elbow and turned to face him. "That's one of the things I've thought about, but I really just wanted you Pete."

He responded by lightly placing his hand on her head and pulling it down to rest on his chest. Lauren laid there cuddling on Pete, which is something she never would have expected from him, and soon found herself falling asleep.

Around three in the morning Lauren jerked awake. She didn't mean to fall asleep. She didn't even realize she was that worn out. Or maybe just comfortable. The room was now all dark, Pete must have turned the lights out. She couldn't see anything but she felt over to the other side of the bed and it was empty. Of course it was. He came for what she said she'd give him and then left. He wasn't looking for anything beyond that. Lauren knew that when she offered him to come to her too, but she didn't think it would hurt that much when he was gone. She laid back down in her beg and pulled the covers up feeling pretty stupid. Just then she heard the toilet in her bathroom flush and the door open. Pete walked out of the bathroom and back over to the bed.

"Pete?" Lauren asked.

"Hm." He replied.

"I thought you left."

"Why tha hell would I do that?" He asked as he pulled up the covers and got back into bed next to her.

"You were gone. I thought you got what you wanted and left. Especially after I fell asleep on you."

"I believe you're tha one that wanted this love." He reminded her. "You’re the one that offered."

"Well, yeah…"

Pete wrapped his arm around her waist and held her hand, lacing his fingers in with hers. He nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck.

"I'm pretty glad you did though." He admitted. This was the most love he had felt in a long time. He really felt like the person he was with wanted him, needed him. That she was focused on him, and it made him want to be focused on her. He felt an actual connection, which is something that he had been missing.

"I'm not goin anywhere for awhile love." He said as he squeezed her into hug, pulling her body to his. "I loved those sounds I heard earlier. They drove me crazy. I look forward ta havin' ya make more."

Lauren giggled as Pete kissed the back of her neck. Neither knew what the future would hold, but right now they were both enjoying the moment.

#pete dunne #pete dunne one shot #pete dunne fanfic #pete dunne imagine #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #mustache mountain

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zenrayne · 3 years

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Learn presence for negative thoughts and emotions

This can be applied to any feeling. I’ve tried this with my anxiety, depression, dpdr (depersonalization/derealization), CPTSD, PTSD, anxiety attacks.

there’s always a reason as to why you feel the way you feel. Some event in your life made you where you would be seen by someone else as being “irrational” if something remotely related to that initial stressful event would happen again. So technically our body isn’t being irrational, but trying to protect us. Even though we understand at that irrational moment nothing is actually happening that should be making us be feeling this way—even if it’s ridiculous and isn’t connected to any type of event prior—it is still happening. The fact our body is reacting to it and is feeling overwhelmed we shouldn’t feel that we are being irrational but be gentle with ourselves like a parent soothes their child.

I’ve started validating how I was feeling and accepting that something triggered me even if I don’t know what it was and/or just an over exaggeration. Because If you tell yourself “I’m overreacting I’m just being irrational why can’t I just be calm like everyone else”, this completely gaslights yourself (denies your own reality). In essence our body freaks out more because instinctually this does feel like a reason to be anxious to our body. When I validate I accept that this is happening even if I think it’s wrong and I shouldn’t be feeling this. I validate and accept that this is how I’m feeling even if it’s from something small.

Then I dive into the feeling. This part feels very impossible to do if you’ve never done it before but trust me the fear of facing/feeling fully the fear is greater than actually feeling it. Over time the more we deny our feelings and thoughts, we become more and more disconnected with ourself. It becomes hard to enjoy life fully and numbs out a part of us we actually really need to pay attention to. Our negative emotion is a direct path to finding how to make us feel better. It’s like a symptom from a cold, you have to first accept that you have symptoms of an illness to then be able to diagnose and then treat that sickness. You have to first accept you are having this emotion to be able to find the root of the problem and to then come up with a plan to “fix” the problem.

When I first validated and dived into my anxiety I very quickly felt calmer. It was the first time I was ever actually present with myself and I’ve been having panic attacks since I was almost 5 from abuse. It took me awhile though so what I’m saying here is it isn’t easy at all. In fact if you believe you can’t do this by yourself do this with a therapist or a family member or friend that understands you and what you’re going through. When I first did it I had been crying and hyperventilating for over an hour then suddenly I remembered something I read about being present with yourself through hard moments. Then I just decided to try it, because what the hell I already am losing my shit why not try something different for once. So I validated myself and made myself open to feel whatever it was that felt like it was going to burst in my chest. I closed my eyes and I heard silence, my rushing thoughts had stopped, the room had stopped spinning, and I felt better.

Not every time does this happen. One time I did this and instead of feeling relief I actually felt the pain inside of me first. It was so painful! I have no idea how else to describe it but it was so much grief it felt like the pain of losing your soulmate and your family type of grief. When I opened myself up I allowed however much time I needed. So I felt this pain for 40+ minutes; just ugly sobbing on the floor in my kitchen. I was trying my best to let me handle this situation naturally without forcing myself to do anything or to feel anything. I just wanted to let my emotions flow through and out of me. At one point I naturally felt the urge to accept whatever upset me. I accepted that it happened and I decided to use the rain to grow and not to be drowned anymore by it. So .. I hugged myself. I hugged myself and kept saying “it’s okay. There is a reason why I’m feeling this and it’s okay. I’m here now with you (myself) I’m here. I’m not leaving this time.” I said this to myself 7x before I calmed down. A few times after this event I did the same method again but I didn’t have to cry so much to feel better. But another time after I had cried a bit more. Based on how big the situation is impacting you depends on how long you need to sit with yourself to do this process. I’m sure in my future I will have to sit with myself for days, months probably years before I can accept and let go so I can form a plan to move forward. And this is completely fine if you feel this is you.

So I learned that telling yourself you shouldn’t feel the way you feel, and think the way you think is the biggest form of self betrayal you could ever do. So with the example of anxiety: when I read a ton of times people saying facing your fears will help you overcome it I would get pissed off because obviously in my mind they didn’t understand anxiety especially anxiety disorders. What I learned though is that phrase can be looked at another way: it’s not always literally facing your fear physically, but facing the fear mentally.

For people with anxiety disorders it can take a couple to a whole bunch of times to get past that one fear. Which is why exposure therapy works so well for anxiety disorders: it’s the only time you ever have to purposely try to be in that moment with the fear, to be with yourself in that moment. Where overtime the fear gets less and less. Our body isn’t scared of the actual fear most of the time, it’s usually scared of what we think will be the outcome of that fear based on an experience or hearing something bad happening to someone else. It’s all in the mind and that’s the first place you should learn to be present with when all you want to do is run or disappear from whatever’s causing the anxiety. What’s the first thing a regular parent does when seeing their child upset? They sit with them. Then they tell them it’s okay to feel the way they do: giving them permission to feel. And then they give advice to move forward. This process should be done with every relationship we have with others and ourself.

All of this can be applied to any emotion good or bad. I say good because some people find it hard to accept happiness. The first step is to validate your feelings! Accept that this is happening and it was caused by something big or small or nothing at all and that’s fine. Working towards moving on would to be to be more open to future happiness.

You can take this model of validating, accepting, letting go/moving forward, and transform your entire life. being present with your own thoughts, feelings, emotions has to be done first and only then can you work forward to heal, grow, or let go.

My advice is to do this when you’re in a crisis and can’t reach any help. Do this when you have a very strong emotion that you find yourself to be pushing against. You can do this actually whenever you want. You can start off with small emotions and work your way up. For DPDR (depersonalization/derealization) do this whenever you want. DPDR is an intense form of disconnection that causes dissociation. Learning to be present with any emotion will help you to over time become more and more connected with yourself. If you find yourself really hesitant to do this, that’s perfectly fine. Just know that the more hesitant you are the more you know in the future you need to attempt this process. The more hesitant you are the more intense the emotion is from past self rejection: your body can become so disconnected from continuous self rejection that your subconscious doesn’t trust you to stay present and therefore will make it harder for you to access that part of yourself. This can be done by creating extreme fear and panic the closer you get to feeling. This can be done by blocking a memory you can’t access. Theres lots of ways your mind can block or distract you from reaching a memory or feeling that was too painful for your past self to handle. This is done out of protection for that part of you and for yourself as well, so both parts within you don’t have to confront whatever is causing your intense emotion. This is why I strongly suggest doing this under the guidance of a therapist whether in session or not.

☀️💛 Good luck stay safe beautiful angels 💛☀️

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mageofseven · 3 years

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hi!!! i just requested this on another blog too but i am FIRED UP rn abt the angel event, and i was wondering if you could do hcs for the brothers with an mc who is SUPER pissed off abt the bangles and stuff (bc its just wrong on SO many levels), especially bc they have religious trauma of their own (its the internalized lgbt-phobia for me 😎) AKRHWJRJE thank u

Yeah...this became a rant that I had no idea I was holding within myself. I've put it all under a Read More thing for those who haven't seen or finished the event for whatever reason. The actual content asked for is below this rant so feel free to skip over it for the real reason y'all are reading this 😅

Okay, people seem to be very...negatively passionate about this event. Don't get me wrong; I understand and agree with why everyone is upset. Playing with the brother's trauma (well, most of the brother's trauma since Satan wasn't alive at the time and Asmo seemed pretty chill with the whole angelic thing) for sake of an event? That's fucked up.

On a story level, I was at first mad at Diavolo. I mean, surely, surely that man knows what horrible stuff Lucifer and his brothers went through or at least part of it, because the ending of it all is what brought the brothers to him! And maybe he thought the costume change was okay since Asmo requested it? But even so, the consent of one brother does not equal the consent of all brothers to dress up like their past selves!

Then bangles. Simeon knew what they did and still gave them to the brothers. Okay, upsetting, but Michael told him to give them to the brothers and maybe he can't refuse an archangel? I dunno but fuck you, Michael.

I'll admit though, those bangles helped the brother do good things and get past their gnawing insecurities (Mammon selling his stuff and donating the money to charity, Asmo know longer stressing over looking perfect and finding peace with his looks and ultimately, learning to truly love himself in a way he never did before), but such things happened for the wrong reasons. I want those good changes for our boys, but I don't want it forced on them like it has been in this event. I want them to reflect, see that a changes is need, and choose to work in themselves and self-heal.

This event was just a lot of me smiling uncomfortably and screaming in my head "what's happening to my sinny boys??". It honestly broke my heart when Luce said he didn't have any fond memories of his time as an angel and I was so worried about all of the bad memories that must be flooding his mind because of this, especially his since his brother, though began with anxiety in the beginning, fell into what's practically mind control quite easily, and only Luce was left fighting it's affects.

Some parts of the event were cute, I won't deny that, but it wasn't them. We didn't truly have our boys during this event and instead had to watch them revert to state they likely never wanted to and it hurt to watch...

Okay, I started this rant trying to make a point that I thought the rest of the fandom felt too strongly about this event and now I'm like...ouch, I had a lot more feelings in me about it than I originally thought. So ya, I understand now. Imma just hide in the corner and hug my Luci...

Lucifer:

Truly surprised to see MC so worked up

And lowkey touched that they care so much about both his and his brothers' wellbeing to the point where they'd get so mad on their behalf.

However, he cannot allow for them to speak to Lord Diavolo in such a manner.

Pulls them to the side and tells them enough is enough, consequently bringing their harsh comments towards Simeon to halt as well.

Getting worked up is not going to fix anything and he tells them this.

Mammon:

Whoa, whoa, hold up! Enough!

No need to get that mad, human, honest!

Yeah, this isn't gonna be easy for them, but he doesn't need MC digging their own hole in this situation.

Immediately works on comforting them, saying things like he and his brothers will get out of this in no time so they don't have to worry.

Essentially lies to them and feels extra guilty about it thanks to the bangles, but no stupid bracelet is gonna make him admit that and hurt his human worse!

Overall, MC's outburst forces him to focus on them and not his own current issues.

Leviathan:

Another brother so worried about them that he has to shelve his own worries to comfort them

...or at least, he tries to.

Basically agrees with everything Mammon says (the bangles make that a hell of a lot easier for him to do) and anxiously fidgets in place.

He has enough to worry about and now his Henry is acting like this? Things just keep getting worse.

Satan:

Sighs

"MC, now is not time for this."

You know when the Avatar of Wrath says you shouldn't be giving into angry right now that you really shouldn't be.

Appreciates that the human is so worried about them, but really doesn't need their yelling on top of the current issue.

Whether this is his own logic talking or the calming effect of the bangles, the man cannot discern.

Regardless, this situation is more of an inconvenience to him than anything else.

He never was an angel nor went through the trauma his brothers have. At best, he just has a small, vague patchwork of Lucifer's memories of that time.

He becomes increasingly unsettled as time in this form goes by, but doesn't struggle in the same way his brothers do.

Asmodeus:

"Oh stop, it'll be fine!"

The only brother to try to remain positive in the situation.

I mean, at least his outfit is cute, right?

The bangles do raise up a kind of anxiety that he doesn't want to deal with, but if he just smiles and pretends things are fine, maybe all of his issues will go away?

Doesn't like MC getting so angry because it reminds him that this is indeed a problem and he doesn't want that.

Beelzebub:

Sad baby boy.

More worried about MC than he is about himself tbh.

Please don't be mad, MC, it'll get fixed somehow 🥺

Despite being one of the afflicted, feels like he needs to watch over the human during this time.

Belphegor:

Ugh, stop.

Yeah, he's pissed too, but enough yelling about it.

Agrees with everything they spew out at the demon lord and angel.

Devil, just fix this, someone.

He doesn't want to be forced to be like his prior self, as if the loss of his sister never happened because it did happened.

Fuck Diavolo for always doing whatever the hell he wants. Fuck Michael for still wanting to control them even now. Fuck everything that's going on right now.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me gn!mc

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romeshifting · 3 years

Text

Reflection

TW: shifting doubts, self-depreciation, religious doubt, parents mention, pandemic mention, panic attack mention

This is just a reflection on how I’ve grown as a person and a kind of vent--it’s not meant to be a judge of anything else. You don’t even have to read it, I just needed to get it off my chest. Hope everyone is having a great day! :]

Oh, and also a response to an anon who asked if there was proof shifting was real--I’ll answer your ask soon with other kind of proof!

I’ve been trying to shift for about four months now. Since...I want to say the end of August.

Back then, I wasn’t very spiritual. Sure, I was beginning to explore the wiccan philosophy--but I would eventually drop that because I wanted to focus more on manifestation and meditation--but I really wasn’t sure of my own religion. My parents forced on me the idea that there was no god, but day in and day out I would pray. Pray to what? I didn’t know. Since I was a young child, I asked for signs if there was something out there, anything that could help me...but nothing came. Er, nothing obvious.

For good reason too, I believe. I’ve said this before, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. It’s a cliché, for sure, but if something happens, there’s a cause. So me not finding any higher deity and going on my own path? That’s caused me to learn a lot about myself and my family (/neu), as well as what path I want to take in life.

Now, I’m much more spiritual, and can confidently say I am pagan and go with the Universe. Even a year ago, I would have called myself weird or insane. Hell, I went into the pandemic thinking I was cis, bisexual, a STEM gal, using she/her pronouns exclusively--now I get pissed when someone calls me a lady and want to move to New York with every ounce of my being.

The point is, I’ve grown. I have new interests, identities, friends (shiftblr!), communities (again, shiftblr), knowledge, and so many other positive things.

But I also have negative things too. I have a new fear of my parents, a new desperate need for therapy, a fear of talking to my IRL friends because of how much I’ve changed, self-depreciating thoughts that plague me every day (thanks mom and dad /neg) and a new relation to characters who specifically are confident with debilitating poor self-esteem. On that note, I hadn’t had a panic attack before the pandemic--now I can have three and then hide it so well.

And I’ve become so painfully positive! Sure, it brings me people who think my vibes are nice and people who are generally nice to me, but I know someone’s going to eventually turn on me or use me. And I can’t keep up the positive persona; I don’t have the spoons for that!

I now know myself and what I’m living in, but at the cost of what mental stability I had left.

That was actually my cause for wanting to shift a few months ago. My first script was horrifyingly real with my friends in it (I would never shift there but there are salvageable pieces), I wrote it all in the span of a few hurried hours locked in my room. And then I tried to shift. I tried every method in the book, then my own method mix, then no method. I joined shifting server after shifting server.

As I was doing this, I experienced the same symptoms--even now. I always feel numb, I always feel so tired but not able to sleep, I always feel like I’m being pushed down, I always feel so weirdly comfortable, I always felt unable to move when relaxing during the day. But every single time, I always move for many reasons--because I can’t feel my heartrate so I’m worried I’m not going to wake up, because there was an itch on the back of my head, because the numbness was too much for my sensory issues, because my sister had fallen asleep already and began talking, etc.

Part of me wants to say “I failed” and give up on this, like I’ve given up on so many other things. Could shifting be a passing hyperfixiation? I tried learning how to draw during the summer--I still haven’t finished the course because I gave up on it! I couldn’t delete this blog without getting rid of my sideblogs--but I suppose it wouldn’t be a big deal if I disappeared. Not from life, I’ve learned my lesson there, but online. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I just stopped trying to shift. It’s not like I’m in that deep well of mental woe anymore...it’s more of a river, constantly dragging me away now. I don’t need to shift anymore.

But despite all of it, I know that shifting is real. How could I explain away the symptoms I feel? How could I explain the scream I heard, the tingling I felt, the tap on my forehead? How could I explain why so many people are interested in it? How could I explain why the government has documents on how to shift? How could I explain why two people have the exact same symptom/experience? How could I explain why more than one person on this site has shifted successfully?

But most of all, how could I explain this community? Everyone helping each other out, teaching each other new things. How could I explain the forty-or-so shifting accounts I follow?

I can’t. I can’t explain any of it. That’s proof that at least something about shifting is real.

I used to be so strict, so “I have to see it to believe it” because of my parent’s teachings. But now I’m actually me. Actually Rome, the guy who realized that his love of analyzing films actually has a use. Actually Rome, the person who managed to cry alone--a great feat for someone who’s never done that before. Actually Rome, who’s created so many good projects and writings.

And I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s not great, it’s certainly not the happiest I’ll ever be, and I can’t call myself actually happy, but...I’m good. I can confidently say that I am alive and living life the best I can--which is more than I can say for 13-year-old me. And I’m turning 16 in a few months!

Things may not be good in my life right now--I’m not free to do much I want to do--but I have a reason to keep going with shifting and with how I’m living life--quite a few, actually! All I need to know is that I am myself, and I’m strong enough to hold out until I can move out, probably when I turn 20 or something (>:/).

Anyone who’s actually read to this point, I guess thank you?

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hoboal87 · 3 years

Text

Elastic Heart Chapter Fifteen (Fin)

Title: Elastic Heart - Stay

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Cordelia Y/L/N, OFC’s

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Reader x OMC

Summary: In the aftermath of the final Trial, Dean reaches out to Y/N. Dean is willing to do whatever it takes to save Sam, but is he going to push Y/N too far?

Word Count: 13.4k(!)

Warnings: Angst, Bits of Fluff, Character Injury, Major Character Death, Time Jump, Implied Smut.

A/N: Series is mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. For the purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

A/N 2: Here it is, the final chapter! I have to thank my wonderful, awesome beta @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym, you are the best, thank you so much for making this fic the best possible version of itself. I will definitely miss our RIDICULOUSLY long notes and comments. I literally cannot say thank you enough for putting up with my crazy brain-dumps and last minute changes.

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Read Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen: Stay

Y/N POV

I take a deep breath as I pull out my phone and set the timer, setting the test next to two others. Stupid, I chastise myself, putting yourself in this position again. I lean against the counter before sliding down onto the floor, still being mindful of my arm. I stare blankly at the wall and let my mind wander. We were careless, so caught up in the moment, nothing else seemed to matter at the time. What were the odds of this happening again? The thought hadn’t even entered my brain until after Crowley’s attack. It’s been over a week, and I can still hear his words as clear as the day he said them. Sam didn’t come back to you, choosing girl after girl. Would you like to know the real cause of your parent’s accident? You are the ultimate bargaining chips. He must’ve known; it would explain his taunts about having Cordy call him ‘father.’ The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts, I expect to see the timer, but it’s Dean’s name popping up on the caller ID. I reject the call without a second thought; he and Sam are the last people I want to talk to right now.

I haven’t even had the chance to put my phone back down before it starts vibrating again. A glance tells me it’s Dean calling again. “It’s 7 am, Dean,” I grumble, staring down at my phone. Whatever is causing him to reach out after nearly three months of complete silence must be important, at least to him. I hesitate briefly before rejecting the call.

I check the timer, two minutes. Crowley’s voice is in my head, and I’m back to that night again. Your precious Y/N is running out of time, Sam. As soon as we moved in, I was going to reach out to Sam, tell him I was ready for him to be a part of mine and Cordy’s lives. We still had our issues to work through, but Cordy had expressed more than once that she was ready to know him, and at the time, I started to forgive him. Sam repeatedly called after Crowley had left me, but Crowley’s words were all too fresh in my mind.

I peer into my room to see Cordy sleeping soundly in my bed. She’s afraid to leave me at night, something that I can’t blame her for. As I watch her sleep, my mind drifts back to the morning after Crowley’s attack.

I was trying to keep myself calm as I read through Sam’s multiple apology-ridden messages. I didn’t care that he was sorry; it couldn’t make up for the fact he and Dean had left us so utterly vulnerable to their enemies. I watched from the living room window as Cordy walked back over; I didn’t know how to explain my injury to her and how much of the truth I could tell her without further traumatizing her. I couldn’t lie my way out of it, but demons were not something I knew how to explain to a ten-year-old. Tears welled in Cordy’s eyes the minute she caught sight of me; she could see through my forced smile, she ran to me and wrapped her arms tight around my waist.

“Hey.” I tried to soothe her, using my good arm to rub a hand down her back. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” I half lied. “Couple of months, and I’ll be good as new.”

Cordy’s grip briefly loosened when I moved us onto the couch, I couldn’t pick her up like I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to stop her from crawling into my lap and burying her head into my shoulder. I let her weep against me; through her sobs, I heard a muffled ‘mom.’

It had been weeks since she’d called out for mom or dad when she was scared. By the time we had moved, her nightmares about the accident had become fewer and farther in between. Cordy had taken to climbing into my bed and letting me lull her back to sleep whenever one had woken her up.

“I know,” I whispered, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I miss them too.”

Cordy pulled away, her face blotchy, eyes blood-shot, and shook her head. “You’re my mom, Y/N,” she mumbled. “I do-don’t wanna lo-lose you too.” Cordy splutters through her tears. “You-you’re all I– I have le-left.”

I choked back a sob; she’s right; we only have each other. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t count on Sam to be there if something ever did happen to me. Cordy already lost one set of parents; I didn’t want to think about her losing Sam or me.

The vibration of my phone causes me to jump as it brings me back to the present. I sigh as I look down at the phone, rejecting the call. “Take the hint, Dean,” I mutter to myself. I check the timer, thirty seconds. I reach for the first test and vaguely remember an x-ray technician asking me if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. At the time, I didn’t even think about it; my night with Sam was the furthest thing on my mind.

I mindlessly chew away at my fingernails as the phone vibrates again, and I silently plead for it to stop. Relief floods through me when it does; maybe it’s finally gotten through to Dean that I don’t want to speak to him. The timer chirps and I grab the test off the counter and cover the results box with my hands. I close my eyes for a brief moment, praying that somehow I’m wrong. I take a shuddering breath as I slowly open my eyes, letting them land on the word ‘pregnant.’

Dean’s name briefly fills the screen again before I reject the call, setting my phone down on the tile. Surely he’ll get the message that I am intentionally not answering. I pull the second test off of the counter, pregnant. I don’t bother with the third. Even if somehow it was negative, the two positive pregnancy tests can’t both be wrong. I choke back a sob as I run through all of my options in my head. I can’t believe this is happening again. What am I going to tell Cordy? What about Sam? We weren’t in a good place when he left—that stupid fight.

The loud buzzing doesn’t just annoy me this time; it makes me want to pick up my phone and throw it against the wall. I grab my phone off the floor, and for a brief moment, I think of smashing into hundreds of pieces. I shake the thought out of my head before contemplating whether I should answer the call, my thumb hovering between the red and green circles.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dean,” I say before ending the call, not giving him the chance to respond. I look back down at the test again, praying, willing it to change. I know it won’t, it was the first time I had sex in months, and of course, it’s with Sam fucking Winchester who had to go and get me pregnant. “Perfect vessel for Winchester children,” I mumble and let out a dry laugh. I wonder if the angels knew about this one, I chuckle to try to keep myself from crying, but the tears fall anyway, and my laughter quickly devolves into sobbing. Pregnant. Again. My phone chirps, 6 missed calls - Dean Winchester.

“Fuck,” I mutter as his name pops up again. I push the bathroom door closed, not wanting to wake Cordy. I clear my throat and wipe the tears away, taking a long and calming breath before accepting the call. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Y/N, don��t hang up, please, just–” Dean sighs, “I know you’re pissed, and you have every right, but–”

“Pissed is the understatement of the year.”

“Y/N–”

“The fucking King of Hell showed up on my doorstep. Came into my home and threatened the lives of both my daughter and me.” I hiss while trying to keep my voice down. “You know, I actually believed Sam when he said that Cas would show up if I prayed to him. Do you wanna know how many times I prayed for him to help? He did nothing, showing up hours later, giving some bullshit excuse about us not being in ‘real’ danger.”

“I–”

“What’s your excuse, Dean? Are you calling to apologize? You think that’ll make it all better? I don’t want your apology.” I can hear him huffing in anger on the other end. “Have a nice life, Dean.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute, Y/N,” he snaps before letting out a loud sigh and softening his voice. “I– I’m sorry. You have to believe that we didn’t know. If we even thought there was a chance of Crowley... we wouldn’t have let it happen. Sammy and I would’ve shown you how to protect yourself. Y/N, Sam has more guilt about Crowley than you’ll ever know. We didn’t think he knew about you or Cordy.”

“He said he’d been watching me for weeks,” I say, memories of that night playing in my head. “Weeks, Dean.”

“You would have been safe if you had stayed in Weldon,” Dean grumbles.

“The phone works both ways, Dean,” I murmur, trying to lessen my own guilt about leaving. “If you or Sam had bothered to keep in touch, you’d have known that we were planning to move.”

“Bullshit, Y/N,” Dean growls. “You stopped responding to Sam’s messages the day we left Weldon. You didn’t want to accept his apology, and at the time, as much as it broke him, he understood. You had no intention of telling us that you were moving. You can spout out crap about us not reaching out to you, Y/N, but you said it yourself, the phone works both ways.”

I let Dean’s words sink in. I’d threatened Sam with taking Cordy far away from him, but that wasn’t what the move was about; Cordy and I needed a change. I was able to leave so much of my baggage behind. I didn’t have to lie anymore; I didn’t have to carry the shame that my parents had made me feel for years.

“You asked for space, for time, and we were– are trying to respect that. You asked us to leave Weldon, and we did. I practically had to drag Sam outta there. He didn’t wanna leave you again, but I got his ass in the car, and we left. And all I heard from Weldon to Lebanon was how he wanted to tell you how sorry he was and that he was afraid that you would feel abandoned by him. It killed him to leave you and Cordy; you two are the only family we have left, and then you moved away without a single word. If you’d told us that you were planning on leaving Weldon, we would’ve found a way to protect you and Cordy. If you weren’t ready to be around Sam, we could’ve sent another hunter to protect you and Cordy.”

“We shouldn’t need protection, Dean. For ten years, we didn’t need protection. But the moment Sam steps back into my life, suddenly Cordy and I are targets for your enemies,” I let my eyes fall back on to the test in my hands. “I have to protect my family, Dean, and if that means Sam can’t be a part of our lives, then so be it. I refuse to live in constant fear that something like that could happen again. I’m not going to be some damsel in distress. I told Cas; Cordy and I are not bargaining chips.”

“The Crowley who attacked you doesn't exist anymore, Y/N. He's no longer the King of Hell; he's nothing more than a regular human. Crowley can't hurt you or Cordy ever again.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that’s true, Dean.”

“It is, Y/N.” Dean sighs, “Cas told us he warded your house. Wherever you are, you and Cordy are safe. I give you my word.”

“Your word isn’t the one I want, Dean. You’re not the reason Crowley came after us; Sam is. All of it was about him and me.”

“You don’t think that I care–?”

“I know you do, Dean,” I sigh, “but you’re on the phone with me instead of Sam. You’re the one playing peace-keeper. Sam should be the one telling me all of these things, not you. If Sam wants me to forgive him and think about letting him back into mine and Cordy’s life, then I need to hear it from him.”

Dean is silent on the other line, and through the static of the phone, I can hear a muffled voice coming through a speaker. A deep breath cuts through the silence before he speaks again.

“Sam’s– Sammy’s hurt, Y/N,” Dean’s voice hitches as if he’s trying to keep himself calm. “It’s– it’s bad.” Suddenly, all the background noises I’ve been hearing make sense. “He was doing okay for a couple of days, but then he took a turn for the worse. Sam’s…” Dean trails off briefly, and I fear that I already know what his next words will be. “You should be here, Y/N, you and Cordy. Sam needs his girls by his side.”

I smile briefly at Dean’s words before my heart falls into my stomach. There’s something he isn’t telling me, and every breath I try to take becomes more difficult. I grip the test tighter in my hands, and I try to let go of all of my anger that had been residing in me since the night we fought. I regret the last words spoken between us, fueled by rage and fear; we don’t need you; I should’ve taken the words back.

“Where are you?”

“Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolf, New York.” Dean doesn’t hesitate.

“New York? You’re not in Kansas? I thought–”

“Randolf, New York,” Dean reiterates, “Linwood Memorial Hospital.”

I tell Dean that I will have to get a flight to him, and he insists on giving me a scammed credit card to pay for it. A part of me almost doesn’t want to take it, but after seeing how much such a last-minute flight would cost, I accept it.

I call the school as soon as I hang up with Dean, explaining that Cordy will be out for at least the rest of the week. The receptionist seems to understand, reminding me to reach out to her teachers for lessons and homework.

I step into my closet, grabbing two bags, and begin packing my belongings as quietly as I can. I set my bag down at the top of the stairs before repeating the process in Cordy’s room. I place Cordy’s bag next to my own before glancing back into my room. Cordy’s still sleeping, arms tightly gripping her teddy bear. I don't want to wake her, not yet, so I gently close my bedroom door before making my way downstairs. When I open the front door, there’s nothing but the sounds of nature greeting me. A few of the houses are bathed in an orange light where the sun is just barely peeking over rooftops. I step out onto the dewy grass, setting the bags down. I relish in the quiet of the neighborhood for a moment and let myself get lost in thought.

“Y/N,” a low voice says as their hand lands on my arm.

“Jesus!” I yelp, balling my fist and ready to throw a punch. I turn quickly to see my neighbor, Jason, standing behind me.

“Whoa! Sorry,” Jason puts his hands up in surrender, and I unclench my fist. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Someone oughta put a bell on you,” I laugh slightly. “It’s not polite to sneak up on people. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

“I called your name a couple of times,” he shrugs. “I guess you were off somewhere else?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I nod.

“Here, let me help you,” Jason picks up the two bags. “Looks like you’re makin’ a break for it.”

“I guess you could say that,” I shrug and walk towards my car, Jason matching my steps. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me we’ve scared you outta the neighborhood already?” Jason chuckles. “Is it Old Lady Nelson?” I try to speak, but he playfully cuts me off. “She’s a witch, you know.”

“Is she?” I raise an eyebrow and pop the trunk. “What kind of witch? Do I need to keep a bucket of water on hand?”

“No, more like the fortune-telling kind,” he grins, slowing his steps, before stopping at the trunk. “She paid me a visit the other day and said I would meet someone.”

“Oh?” I ask as he sets the two bags down, and he nods his head. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware that he’s flirting and that I may be unintentionally encouraging it.

“She said that she would have a-” Jason’s blue eyes dart around me, “a robin’s nest in her yard. Oh!” He dramatically yells as I close the trunk. ”Will you look at that?” He points to the robin’s nest and winks. I shake my head; we both know it was there long before I moved in. “So whaddya say, Y/N? Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you?” I tease him. “Listen, Jason, I think you’re really nice, but–”

“But,” Jason sighs and frowns slightly, “you’re not interested?”

“I’m– I–” I don’t know how to describe my relationship with Sam. He isn’t my boyfriend, but he’s more than just the father of my daughter. “I’m with someone, Cordy’s dad. We’re going to be visiting him for the next couple of days.”

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jason runs his hands through his short hair and gives me an embarrassed smile. “Cynthia told me you were single and has been pushing for me to ask you out. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have–”

“We have a complicated relationship,” I laugh weakly. “‘Sides you deserve someone who doesn’t have a mountain of baggage.”

“Well, if Mr. Complicated doesn’t wise up, he better be prepared to put up a fight for you,” he teases, and a slight tinge of pink fills his cheeks. “I don’t give up easily, and baggage doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re sweet,” I reach for his arm and gently squeeze it, “but you hardly know me. For all you know, I could be some stage five clinger psychopath or– or an assassin.”

“Then we’ll be two peas in a pod,” Jason smirks, stepping closer to me and brushing a stray hair away from my face. For a moment, I lean into his touch, but I stop myself.

“I have to go,” I exclaim and run back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

I scold myself as I pace my living room. Sam’s in some hospital, and you’re outside flirting with the neighbor? The clock on the wall catches my attention, 8 am, we have to leave soon.

“Y/N?” Cordy’s scratchy voice pulls me out of my thoughts; she looks to be on the verge of tears. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry.” I close the gap between us and let her settle against me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve had a busy morning. You and me, we’re going on a trip.”

“Really?” Cordy’s face lights up, “what kind of a trip?”

“We’re gonna visit Sam,” Cordy’s smile grows; this is something she’s wanted for the last month. “He’s sick,” I explain, and Cordy’s smile fades.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hope so, kid. But I don’t know, that’s why we’re gonna go see him.”

*********************************************

When we arrive in Randolf, it’s almost 9 pm. Cordy and I are exhausted, unused to this kind of travel. It makes me wonder how Sam and Dean live in the Impala for hours and sometimes days on end. The hospital’s visiting hours will be over by now, so I send a message to Dean, letting him know that we are staying at a hotel for the night. He tells me that he has already added us to Sam's visitor list and that he would be under the name Dougherty. I crawl into the large bed, Cordy’s already sleeping soundly, and let my mind wander.

Sam is going to make it out of this, isn’t he? Will he be happy when I tell him about the baby? Will he come back to Lawrence with us when all of this is over? Will he walk away from Dean for the three of us? Will Dean let him?

It’s still early when a turning in my stomach makes me bolt towards the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Y/N?” Cordy calls from outside the bathroom, and before I can muster out an answer, I feel the bile rising in my throat again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Cordy,” I say more harshly than I mean to. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When I open the bathroom door, Cordy is still standing there, tears filling her eyes. “Are you mad at me?” She asks as a tear slips out.

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I crouch down and meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sick too?” Cordy sniffles.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m– I’m gonna have a baby.”

Guilt overwhelms me as I pull into the hospital’s parking lot; I need Sam to know that I still love him, that all the words exchanged weren’t how I truly felt. Ten years of thinking he had run away, and the anger that exploded from us both drove my words. I know, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t have left if he’d known the truth. We were scared kids and didn’t know how not to believe the words of our parents. I know that if either one of us could go back, we would.

Even though Cas changed her memories, Cordy’s body tenses as we step into the hospital. She grips my hand tightly as we walk to the main desk and check-in. I ask for Sam Dougherty’s room, pulling out my ID and handing it to the receptionist. She smiles warmly as she hands over the visitor passes she printed for us.

“I need to ask you something, Cordy,” I say as I kneel to place the badge on the front of her shirt. “When we get up to Sam’s room, do you want to see him?” She fidgets at the mention of being in a hospital room. “You don’t have to; it’s your decision.”

“I don’t know,” she answers sheepishly. “If you want me to-”

“No, kid. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t,” I squeeze her arm. “I know we’ve talked about you getting to know Sam as your dad, but you’ve only met him a couple of times. If you’re not ready to see him, I’m not going to force you.”

“Is he gonna look scary?” She murmurs, looking down at the floor.

I don’t know how to answer the question. Dean said he was hurt badly. If Sam wasn’t going to get better from this, I don’t know if I want her one of her only memories of him to be attached to machines, bruised, and broken. If she’s only going to have one real memory of Sam, let it be of the day that he visited her after the accident.

“How ‘bout,” I offer, “I go and see him first, by myself. And if I think he looks too scary, I’ll tell you.”

“Sammy isn’t gonna be mad?” Cordy looks up to meet my eyes.

“No, of course not,” I say firmly, “he wouldn’t want you to be afraid.” She nods and grabs my hand as we head up to Sam’s room.

I leave Cordy just outside Sam’s room. She looks around for a moment before I hand over my tablet and headphones, letting her drown out the noises of the hospital. I hesitate to leave her, and when a nurse volunteers to sit with her, I graciously accept. I place a kiss on her forehead, whispering one four three in her ear before heading into Sam’s room. I peer into the open door of the room. Sam’s long frame fills the bed. He looks emaciated; his face bruised, eyes and cheeks sunken in, and skin stretched taut over his bones.

Dean’s at his side, hunched over; I can see his mouth moving but can’t make out anything he’s saying. I wipe the forming tears away, knocking softly on the door. Dean jumps slightly at the sound, and a look of relief washes over his face when he sees me.

“Y/N,” Dean frowns when he catches sight of me, his eyes immediately fall on my broken arm. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me. “Cas said he tried to heal–”

“What happened, Dean?” I pull away from him, focusing my attention on Sam. “How did he get this bad?”

“Did Cas tell you what we were trying to do?”

“Said something about closing Hell Gates,” I can’t take my eyes off of Sam’s body. Dean leads me to a chair, letting me sit down before moving to the opposite side of the bed. He grabs a second chair, pulling it around so that he’s sitting next to me.

“Yeah. What we didn’t know when Sam started them is that to complete the Trials, Sam would have to die.” Dean looks back over to Sam. “I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to convince him to stop, Y/N, but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t stop,” Dean seems to be reassuring himself just as much as me. “The only reason he’s probably still alive right now is that he collapsed before he could finish it.”

“Where’s Cas? Can’t he do something?” I ask, hopefully. “He can heal Sam, can’t he?”

“Sam’s been too damaged for months for Cas to do anything,” Dean sighs. “Tried to help a while back, and even then, he couldn’t do anything. I haven’t let that stop me, Y/N,” Dean offers a sad smile. “I’ve tried praying, but Cas won’t answer.”

“What about another angel?” I’m desperate, taking Sam’s lifeless hand in my own. “Cas can’t be the only one who can help.”

“The thing about angels, Y/N, is most of ‘em are dicks.” Dean lets out a pained laugh. “And they’re not exactly fans of Sam and me. Most won’t help even if they can.”

“You have to do something, Dean,” I plead. “You can’t let him die. You said you’d watch out for him. He can’t die, not now; I need him. Me and Cordy, we need him.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re friends with a freaking angel, you know the King of Hell, but you can’t do anything to save Sam? You’re not trying hard enough, Dean.” I direct all of the guilt I’m feeling at Dean; a part of me knows it’s not fair to him, but I can’t help it. “All this will be for nothing if he’s gone. You tried to stop him and now look at him,” I direct my attention back to Sam.

Dean silently takes my verbal lashing, his emerald eyes filling with tears.

“Screw you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Sam is my brother, and we’ve been through more shit together than you will ever know.” I can hear the pain in Dean’s voice, but he remains calm and quiet, and I notice him discreetly wiping a tear away. “I’ve watched him die too many times already, and I wasn’t gonna let it happen again. I couldn’t let another Winchester grow up without a parent; me and Sam, we practically raised ourselves. Cordy deserves to have both of her parents raising her.”

“Dean–”

“You don’t know how messed up Sam got, Y/N!” Dean’s face reddens, and his voice starts to rise. “He was about to die, and he didn’t even care! If you’d heard what he said in that church– He thinks that you and Cordy are better off without him; that you can just replace him. He’s not replaceable, Y/N. I was trying to talk him off a ledge, and you wanna know the worst part? I’m the reason he got so messed up. I was the one that was supposed to be doing the Trials, not Sam. I could’ve finished them, and he could’ve finally gotten out. I had to save my brother; I will always do whatever it takes to save him. You can put the blame on me for how he is now, but don’t act like you wouldn’t have at least tried to stop him if you were there.”

“Dean,” I can barely speak, “I’m sorry. I just–”

“D’you know what he’s wanted since we were kids?” Dean doesn’t wait for me to respond and focuses back on Sam. “A normal life. He never wanted to be a hunter, follow in dad’s footsteps; he wanted to be his own person. I’m the one who dragged his ass away from Stanford, I’m the reason he wasn’t there when Jessica was murdered, and I know that deep down, a part of him will never be able to forgive me for it. Sam had his chance at normal, but he gave it up for me. If I hadn’t pulled him into that hunt, he probably wouldn’t have come back. He’d be living some apple-pie life with you or Jessica; married, a couple of kids running around, a dog, house with a white picket fence.”

“I don’t have a white picket fence,” I say softly, garnering a small chuckle from Dean. “But, I want all that with him. I want him around, to be a father to Cordy and- and...” I stop myself from saying any more, reluctant to tell him about this baby as well. If I tell him and Sam doesn’t make it through this, I can’t have Dean as a looming presence in Cordy and this baby’s life, reminding all of us of something we can never have. “Before Crowley, I was ready to find a way to make it work with Sam. After Crowley left, I was so scared, Dean, so angry. I still am, but I want us to move past all that. Cordy’s ready to know her dad.”

“Cordy knows?” Dean asks, his eyes going wide at my confession, “I thought you were– You said you didn’t want to tell her, that you wanted to wait until she was ready?” Dean’s brow furrows, and I can hear the anger in his voice. I had insisted to both brothers that Cordy wasn’t ready to know the truth, but now, only a few months later, she was suddenly ready?

“I was,” I focus my attention back on Sam, and I can feel the daggers Dean is staring into me. “That morning, after you left? That box of photos was still out,” I explain. I could tell he thought that I’d lied to him that night. “I’d meant to put them away, but after everything that happened, I was exhausted and pretty much passed out on the couch. When I woke up, Cordy was going through it and started asking questions. She was putting everything together before I could even come up with an excuse. The kid’s too smart for her own good,” I chuckle, and Dean relaxes slightly. “It was rough; Cordy was angry and confused, but she’s adjusting, we both are. She’s been getting used to the idea, and for the last month, she’s been asking me about getting to know Sam.”

“I’ll find a way to get him back to the both of you,” Dean promises, reaching out to give my hand a firm squeeze. “I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Dean and I sit in silence for a few minutes before a doctor joins us. He explains the extent of Sam’s injuries: massive internal burns, oxygen deprivation, the coma is Sam’s last resort of self-preservation.

“He’s dying,” Dean mutters.

“If he continues on this trajectory, I’m afraid so. The machines may be able to keep him alive, but with injuries such as these–”

“There isn’t anything you can do?” I question the doctor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor smiles at me sympathetically.

“God’s hands?” Dean huffs, and his face hardens. “You’re a medical professional, and you’re telling us that my brother’s life is in God’s hands? What, is that supposed to be some sort of– of comfort?”

“Dean,” I sigh, “he’s just saying–”

“No, Y/N,” Dean snaps at me. He immediately gives me an apologetic smile before standing up to meet the doctor at the edge of the bed. “God has nothing to do with this equation. If I wanted to leave it up to God, I wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. Do your job, save my brother.”

The doctor doesn’t flinch at Dean’s verbal assault, taking it as gracefully as one can. He apologizes again before leaving us alone. Dean refuses to sit back down, pacing around the room and muttering under his breath. I focus back on Sam, squeezing his hand tighter, praying for some kind of response to show that he’s still there, fighting his way back to Cordy and me.

“You have to fight, Sam,” I lean in and whisper. “I didn’t mean what I said that night; I was angry and scared. We do need you. You can’t leave Cordy and me, not like this.”

The room is silent, save for the heart monitor beeping steadily and my sniffling. Dean has stopped pacing, and when I look up, he’s staring at Sam and me, waiting as much as I am for some kind of sign that Sam isn’t giving up. I wipe my tears away and take a long, calming breath before speaking.

“Cordy’s outside,” I say as I leave my seat. “I’m– I’m gonna talk to her, see if she wants to see Sam.”

Dean nods slightly, and as I walk by him, he pulls me into a hug, “I’ll find a way to fix this, Y/N,” he reassures me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him better again.”

When I get back to Cordy, she is intensely focused on the tablet in her hands. I take another long inhale, hoping that I can hide the evidence of my tears. I playfully tug at her headphones, pulling her attention away from the tablet, and I see she’s watching a video from a channel called Ghostfacers.

“Learn anything interesting?” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

“Nah,” she shrugs and turns off the tablet, “those guys are weirdos.”

I laugh as she puts the tablet back into my bag. I try to figure out the best way to breach the subject of Sam to Cordy.

“How’s Sammy?” Cordy asks as if she can read my mind, and I give her a tight-lipped smile.

“He’s– He’s not doing okay.” I try to think of a way to explain his condition to her, something that will make sense. “You know how sometimes when you’re sick, you just want to sleep?” Cordy nods. “Well, right now, Sam is really sick, so he’s gonna stay asleep until he’s better.”

“How long is Sammy gonna sleep?” Cordy questions innocently. “Are we gonna stay until he wakes up?”

“I– I don’t know, kid,” I tell her honestly. “It could be days, weeks, or,” I struggle with the next words, “Sam may never wake up.”

Cordy seems to understand what I’m saying, and I’m thankful that I don’t have to say the words, ‘Sam’s dying.’ I don’t push her to respond, letting her think over whatever she may want to say next. I keep my own conflicted feelings at bay; half wants to take her back to Lawrence and never talk about this ever again; the other half wants her to go in and see him so that at least she can get a proper goodbye.

“Can I see him?” Cordy asks after a few moments of silence. “Would that be okay?”

“If that’s what you want, kid,” I grab her hand in mine and gently squeeze it before walking us back towards Sam’s room.

Dean’s still pacing the floor when I walk in; Cordy stays behind me, gripping my hand tightly. I try to move forward, but she pulls back against me, stopping at the doorway. Dean peers around me before closing the gap between us and crouches down to meet Cordy at her eye-level.

“Hey, Princess, do you remember me?” Dean asks sweetly.

Cordy smiles and nods, “Y/N says you’re my uncle.”

“That’s right,” Dean’s eyes shine with pride. “I’m Sammy’s big brother. Do you know what big brothers do?” he asks, and Cordy shakes her head. “We protect our little brothers. We don’t let anything happen to them.”

“Can I talk to him?” She looks between Dean and me. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, kid,” I smile weakly.

Cordy lets go of my hand and makes her way to the empty chair by Sam’s side. Dean gives my arm a reassuring squeeze as I walk by, and I sit in the chair that he previously occupied. Cordy doesn’t say anything at first, seemingly studying Sam silently, she wasn’t one to normally shy away from a conversation, but this is a new experience for her.

“Why don’t you tell Sam about school?” I suggest, knowing that once she starts talking, it’ll be hard to get her to stop.

Cordy nods before explaining in unbelievable detail about her teachers and classmates. She tells him all about our new house and how she decorated her room because she’s not a little kid anymore, which causes a small laugh from both Dean and me. She speaks non-stop for what seems like hours, telling Sam everything he would ever need to know to become integrated into our lives.

“Definitely Sam’s kid,” Dean jokes from the edge of the bed, listening just as intently as Sam would. Cordy doesn’t pay any attention and goes right back to chattering.

After a few minutes, Dean gets up and gestures for me to join him outside the room. He tells me he has a plan, that it could be our only hope to save Sam, and gently orders me not to let anyone else into the room until he gets back. I want to pry for more details, but it must be a long-shot or something dangerous if Dean’s not giving them.

When I walk back into the room, Cordy is telling Sam how she hopes that he will be awake for her birthday, and my heart breaks. Unless Dean can pull off some miracle, Sam won’t recover from this; his body is far too damaged.

When Dean returns a half-hour later, a bruise is blossoming on his cheek as if he’s been in a fight, and a large man follows closely behind him. Something about him is unsettling, and Cordy stops speaking when she sees him, leaving her seat to move into my lap.

“Y/N, I think you should take Cordy outside,” Dean suggests, and the man eyes the two of us.

For a moment, I want to protest, but Dean hardens his face, and it seems that he’s as wary of this stranger as I am.

“Okay,” I nod, getting out of the chair and grabbing Cordy by the hand. She tugs against me and takes a few steps towards the head of the bed. She leans over so much that only her toes are touching the ground and does her best to hug Sam and places a kiss on his cheek. If I had any less control over myself, I’d be a sobbing mess at the sight—damn hormones.

I give Cordy a small smile when she turns around and returns her hand to mine. I settle her back into the same seat before returning to Sam’s room.

“Dean? What’s going on? Who is this?”

“My name is Ezekiel,” the man faces me, “I am not here to harm you or your daughter, Y/N.”

“How do you–”

“Angel,” Dean answers before I can finish asking my question. “He’s here to help, right?” Ezekiel nods. “Even cut-off from Heaven, you can still heal him, can’t you?”

“Your brother is very weak.”

“No, no,” Dean growls, “I saved your life, and you said you could help. That was our deal: I fight, you save.”

“Please,” I say, stepping closer to Ezekiel. “You can’t do anything?”

“There are no good ways, I’m afraid.”

“Then what are some of the bad ones?” Dean says. “He’s dying, let’s hear ‘em, good or bad.”

Ezekiel explains that he can help from the inside. I watch as Dean contemplates what Ezekiel says, looking to me for some kind of relief. I shake my head, and I tell him I don’t understand.

“Possession,” Dean explains.

“It is your decision, Y/N, and yours, Dean,” Ezekiel sits down.

“No, it’s not,” Dean murmurs. “It’s Sam’s. He’d never say yes to being some angel’s meatsuit.”

“I understand, but without my help, your brother will die.”

Dean turns his attention to Sam and sighs, “do it.”

“Dean,” I pull him towards me. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“He can fix Sam, Y/N!” Dean argues. “This is the only solution I can think of that doesn’t involve something worse.”

“Worse than you letting some angel possess him?” I question in disbelief. “I know you want to help him, Dean. But this isn’t the way, tell me you don’t know that.”

“What, you want to leave it in God's hands? Just wait and see if maybe he comes out of this? Those Trials– The person completing them is meant to die; it’s supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice. I say Sam’s sacrificed enough in his life. He deserves to live, Y/N.”

“I don’t want him gone either, Dean, but this should be his choice, not yours or mine. You know him better than anyone. Do you think this is how he’d want you to save him? He wouldn’t want this, Dean. I don’t want this.”

“You told me to fix him, that you want to keep him in your life, Y/N. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I know, but–” I turn my gaze to Ezekiel and then back to Sam. “This isn’t right, Dean. You know it isn’t.”

Dean shrugs me off of him and steps closer to Ezekiel, and they begin talking in hushed tones. My eyes land on Sam, and for a moment, I consider what Dean is saying, thinking that it may be the only way to keep Sam in my and Cordy’s lives. I watch Ezekiel; his voice is too low for me to make out any exact words. There’s something he’s not telling us. Ezekiel repeats his offer.

“He’d never say yes to you,” Dean murmurs.

“But he would say yes to you or Y/N,” Ezekiel offers, his eyes land between us. "If you want me to help Sam, we must act quickly." Despite his words, there is no urgency in Ezekiel's voice, no emotion. "Your brother doesn't have much time."

"No," I murmur, shaking my head when Dean faces me. "You're not going to use me to manipulate Sam. There's gotta be another way, Dean."

“There's not, Y/N," Dean sighs. "You heard the doctor; there's nothing more they can do."

"That's not what he said, Dean," I argue, even though from what we were told, there was little chance of Sam recovering. I have to hope that somehow he can get better. "People wake up from comas every day. There are new therapies–"

"They will not work, Y/N," Ezekiel states matter-of-factly. "The damage done to Sam's body cannot be healed by mere mortals. Sam will die unless you allow me to help."

"If I’m going to consider this, you show me, prove to me how bad he is," Dean's desperate; we both are. Ezekiel moves, placing one hand on Sam and the other on Dean, and both men go still for a few moments. I stand there, unable to do anything but watch as the heart monitor beeps become further apart.

"What're you doing, Sam?" Dean says barely above a whisper. He turns to face me again, and I can see the fear and panic playing on his face. He turns back to Ezekiel. "Go in as me to convince him."

"Dean!"

“Tell him I gotta plan, that he has to trust me," Dean ignores me and instructs Ezekiel. "And– and that he has a kid that needs him."

I can’t take it anymore, and I don’t want to be anymore complicit in Dean letting Ezekiel possess Sam than I already am. Dean and Ezekiel are too caught up in their conversation to notice me walking towards Sam. If Dean wants Ezekiel to save Sam, he's not going to use us to do it.

I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry.” I squeeze Sam’s lifeless hand and place a kiss on his forehead. "One four three."

I don’t say anything else to Dean or Ezekiel and reluctantly leave the room. I try to keep myself calm when I get back to Cordy, giving her a pained smile that I hope she doesn't see through. She doesn’t question me when I take her hand in mine and begin walking us towards the elevators. I know I’ll have to explain why we’re leaving at some point, but I can’t do it now, not when I can hardly wrap my brain around it.

We’re halfway down the hall when I hear Dean calling after me, I do my best to ignore it, but it becomes more difficult when Cordy points it out as if somehow I don’t hear him. Dean's voice continues to follow, and I can see Cordy giving me a questioning look out of the corner of my eye.

“Y/N!” Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder, only moments after we reach the elevator bay. “Don’t leave, please, I’m begging you,” he pleads. “It’s the only way.”

"You're not doing this in front of Cordy, Dean," I scold him before turning my attention to Cordy. "Go take a seat over there, please," I gesture to a row of empty chairs.

"But, Y/N–" Cordy tries to protest.

"Now, Cordy." She pouts, and once she is far enough away that she can no longer hear us, Dean tries to start in again, but I beat him to it. "How fucking dare you. You think I'm gonna let you use Cordy and me to trick Sam into letting some,” I lower my voice as a staff worker walks by, “angel possess him?”

"I’m doing this for you, for Cordy.”

“You’re doing this for you, Dean,” I argue back. “You don’t even know this guy. He could be lying to you. How do you know he’s not going to just–” I can feel myself getting worked up and take a deep breath. “I might not know anything about angels, but you can’t tell me that Ezekiel doesn’t seem to be a little off?”

“So, what, you just– just want to let him die? You're ready to just give up on him?” Dean’s face grows red, and his forehead crinkles.

“Stop it, Dean,” I snap. “I want him back too, but this isn’t the way.” I take a deep breath. “I'm not okay with this, Dean, and you know Sam wouldn't be either."

“What about Cordy, everything you've told me? You want her to grow up without her dad?”

“Screw you, Dean.” I bite back, the palm of my hand connecting with his cheek. “Cordy is my kid and the most important person in my world. I won’t let you guilt me into thinking you're doing this for her.”

“We’re outta options, Y/N. What else do you want me to do? I can’t– I won’t walk away when there’s a chance to save him. Sam’ll–”

“Sam will never forgive you, Dean.”

“He might be pissed at me for the rest of his life, but at least he’ll be alive, Y/N.”

"I can't stop you, Dean. But if you go through with it: making Sam's choice for him, then you're making mine too." I call out for Cordy, and she joins me by my side again. "Say goodbye to Dean," I instruct her gently, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't do this," Dean whispers, and I shake my head, twisting slightly to press the button on the wall. I can't stay, not when I have two other people to think about. "Please."

Cordy hesitantly places her arms around Dean and mumbles goodbye to him. When she steps back, I lay my hands on her shoulder and pull her closer to me so that she can't see the tears slipping from my eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean," I say as I hear the doors ding open and turn around to step into the elevator. Dean's emerald eyes are filled with tears as I face him a final time. "I hope you make the right choice," I whisper as the doors close.

As we exit the hospital, Cordy questions why we’re leaving, and I struggle to find an answer. We'll be back on a plane to Lawrence tomorrow, and I do everything I can to evade her questions about Sam, eventually settling on Sam may never wake up.

We are walking into the house when a backfiring car sends me over the edge. Cordy helplessly watches as I’m thrust back into my memories of the night of the werewolf attack; its amber eyes staring me down, its claws swiping at me, how I had to lie to everyone about what happened, how I still have to. Sam never leaving my side until we were pulled apart by my parents.

My whole world is crashing down around me, and all I want is Sam. I want to feel his arms around me again, telling me that everything will be okay. I want to sink my body into his, taking solace in his comforting embrace, and let myself get lost in him. I want him to be with us forever, having the family he’s wanted since I told him I was pregnant all those years ago.

My Sam may be gone forever, and the only thing I can do is pray that Dean made the right decision.

Three Years Later

“Cordelia Mary!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs. “Your butt better be down here in five minutes.”

“Mo-om!” I hear her door opening, and she steps onto the landing. “That’s not enough time–”

“Too bad, kid,” I huff. “I mean it, Cordy, five minutes, or I'm taking your phone away.” A grumbled okay comes from the top of the stairs. I head back towards the kitchen, blue and green orbs watching me as I walk back in. “What’re we gonna do about her, Sammy?” I laugh as I bend down and scoop him up in my arms. “No ideas, huh?”

"You yell at sissy." He giggles when I nuzzle into his neck and blow raspberries on his chubby cheeks. “Sissy in t’ouble?"

"No, baby. Sissy isn't in trouble," I sit him down in his chair and run my fingers through his chestnut locks. Sammy’s eyes widen, and a smile forms when he looks behind me.

Large hands wrapping around my waist cause me to jump back and let out a yelp. I turn around to a cheeky grin; he’s obviously very proud of himself.

“You jerk,” I swat at his chest, trying to retain my serious demeanor, which becomes harder to do as Sammy’s laughter fills the kitchen. Warm, comforting arms pull me closer to him. I let my hands settle on the back of his neck, curling my fingers in his hair. He leans down to place a tender kiss on my lips, letting his two-day scruff scratch against my lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.” I roll my eyes playfully at him.

“You say that, but,” his lips move to the shell of my ear, “we both know exactly why you put up with me.” He pulls back and gives me a wink. His hand leaves my waist and delicately takes my left hand into his kissing the diamond ring still settling on my finger. “‘Sides, you love me, and you know it.”

“Love?” I scoff, trying to hide my smile. “I don’t know if I would say that. Not if you insist on sneaking up on me all the time.”

“Sammy saw me, didn’t you?” I turn in his embrace, letting my back settle against his chest, and his arms stay tight around me. Sammy giggles and shakes his head. “Traitor,” he whispers.

I curl my hands around his arms; it has taken us so long to get here, something I never thought would happen. The watch on his wrist alerts me to the time, and I gently pull away from him, making my way back towards the stairs.

“Cordy! I’m serious!” I yell up the stairs, “You’d better be down here in two minutes!”

"Do you want me to talk to her?” he asks as I walk back into the kitchen. He’s sitting down next to Sammy, cutting fruit into halves as Sammy tries shoveling the food into his mouth. “See what the problem is?"

"She's a teenager; that's the problem," I laugh, taking a seat at the table. “Didn’t think you’d be here three years ago, did you?”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrows in confusion.

“Raising a teenager and a toddler with someone who works ridiculous hours and has serious abandonment issues,” I keep my tone light, but he knows the insecurity behind my words.

“Y/N,” Jason reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it. “I told you a long time ago, I don’t give up that easily. If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have pursued you for as long as I did,” he says with a chuckle. “I love you, Y/N; Cordy and Sammy, they may not be mine, but I’ll never treat them any different than if they were. I’m never gonna walk away from you or them.”

Cordy is downstairs just as I’m about to call out for her again. She chatters away as she eats her breakfast, only to be interrupted by Sammy’s need to chime in. She placates her little brother, and we all listen intently as he struggles to connect one thought to another.

“C’mon, kid,” I stand up from the table, “it’s our turn to carpool; go get Ava.”

She quickly gets out of her chair and places a kiss on Sammy’s cheek. She lets Jason pull her in for a quick hug before grabbing her backpack and making for the front door. I lean down and place a kiss on his lips before doing the same with Sammy. By the time I’m outside, Cordy and Ava are both in the back seat, deep in conversation.

I drop the girls off at school and make my way back home, ready to sleep for hours and thankful that I have the next two days off. Jason plans his schedule around mine so that one of us can be home with Cordy and Sammy more often than not. On a day like today, when I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift from the hospital, he’ll leave late in the morning and come back in the early afternoon. I find it comforting to know that I will never have to worry about him not returning from a job.

Jason and Sammy are sitting on the living room floor when I walk through the door, watching some kids show that I can’t quite place. I laugh to myself when I notice that Jason seems to be just as invested as Sammy. I take the opportunity to sneak up on him, and Jason nearly jumps to his feet when my hands land on his back. Sammy lets out a loud, high-pitched squeal and claps his chubby hands together, laughing as Jason chuckles.

“Consider that your payback,” I giggle as he turns around, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he lands a playful swat on my ass.

"You'll pay for that later," he teases before leaning forward to press a kiss on my lips.

I sit with them for as long as I can before exhaustion starts to overpower my will to stay awake—damn midnight shifts.

I make my way upstairs and crawl into the comfort of my bed, allowing sleep to finally take me. The bed dips and the warmth of a body where there was once cold causes me to stir, and I roll over, opening my eyes to meet Jason’s blue ones. I smile sleepily as he presses his lips on my forehead and tells me that he’s put Sammy down for his nap. I pull his face downward, allowing him to kiss me properly. Jason holds me close, pulling me flush against him, letting me take comfort in his warm embrace until I’m asleep again.

“Mama.” Sammy’s small voice wakes me, and I open my eyes to see him reach for the edge of the bed, his curls matted on one side. “Wake up, mama!”

“Hey, baby,” I coo, trying to shake the hoarseness away. I swing my legs over the bed and reach for Sammy, pulling him into my lap. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Good nap, mama,” he repeats.

“Are you ready for a snack?” I ask as I stand up, letting Sammy settle on my hip.

“Hung’y, mama,” Sammy happily nods as we make our way downstairs.

I set Sammy down in his pack n’ play and pour some Puffs into a bowl, letting his loud crunching and noisy toys fill the kitchen as I fix us something to eat. As I’m setting the plates down, I hear a knock on the front door.

“Ugh, every time,” I complain, taking a small piece of apple and placing it in my mouth. “I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?”

“‘Kay, mama,” Sammy says as he picks up another puff.

Another rapping comes from the door, this one louder than the last, probably some salesperson, I murmur. When I open the door, all I see at first is a broad, tall body covered by a blue plaid shirt, and as I let my eyes travel up, I meet a pair of eyes that I never thought I’d see again.

“Sam.”

“Y/N/N.”

My heart races at the sound of my name on his lips, but I can’t move; the last time I saw Sam, Dean was about to let an angel possess him. What if this wasn’t Sam? What if this was Ezekiel? I eye him suspiciously. Should I call Cas?

“It’s me, Y/N/N,” Sam says as if he can read my mind.

“No.” I shake my head and attempt to close the door. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you stay away from my family and me.”

“Y/N/N, baby, it’s me." Sam gently steps forward and stops the door. "We met Thanksgiving 2002,” he offers. “I saved you from a werewolf, you clung to me the whole night, and I started falling for you right then. I had to convince my dad to let me stay, I told him it was for school, but it’s ‘cause I wanted to stay close to you. The first time you said ‘I love you’ was Valentine’s Day; we went to The Tavern, and you were concerned about the prices. The day you told me you were pregnant– it was one of the happiest days of my life, even though I was scared shitless. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again at Joe’s. I wanted to tell you right then and there how much I missed you; how sorry I was–”

“You’re rambling,” I murmur, reaching out and pressing my palm to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. Sam wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly as if he’s afraid to let me go.

“What– what’re you doing here? How–?” I mumble into his chest.

“Cas,” Sam takes a deep breath. I let him hold on to me while I try to keep myself calm. “Told us you were in Lawrence; I can’t tell you how pissed Dean–” I pull away slightly, and Sam shakes his head. “Quick search gave me your address,” he gives me an embarrassed smile that quickly fades. Sam’s embrace around me loosens, and I step back to scan his face. The dark circles under his eyes hint at the fact that it’s probably been days since he last slept. “I guess I should have called first?” Sam lets out a laugh that seems to be hiding pained thoughts.

“It’s not that,” I shake my head. “I– I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think–”

Sam takes my hand in his rubbing it gently, and gives me a small smile. His brow furrows, and his smile quickly fades as his eyes travel down toward our connected hands.

“You’re married,” Sam states, brushing his thumb over the ring on my finger. “Of course you are." He lets go and shakes his head, seemingly in disbelief. “I’ll just– I’ll go. I don’t–”

“Wait, Sam,” I stop him. “Come in, please,” I insist. Sam nods his head warily, and I step aside so that he can walk in. I can hardly form a coherent thought as he walks into my house. He doesn’t make it far in before stopping, reaching out to touch a photo hanging on the wall. Even without a clear view, I know it’s of Cordy, taken only a few weeks ago on the first day of school. The smile that forms on Sam’s face is instant, and I can see his eyes beginning to water.

“Corie, she’s– she’s beautiful, Y/N/N,” he says, eyes never leaving the frame.

I join him in front of the photo, and I watch as he studies it intensely. "Let's talk," I whisper as I move away from the wall and towards the kitchen. My eyes immediately fall on Sammy when I walk back in, who’s keeping himself busy with one of his many toys, smiling at the random noises coming from him. I turn around when I can no longer feel Sam’s presence behind me, and I see him staring blankly at Sammy through the mesh material.

“You– you had a baby,” Sam murmurs, taking his eyes off the toddler and gives me a sad smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N/N,” Sam’s words are hollow. “I'm sure Corie’s a great big sister."

“She tries,” I laugh slightly, “maybe Dean could–”

“Dean’s dead.” Sam cuts me off, his bluntness taking me by surprise. “He sacrificed himself so that we could be together– our family could be together,” Sam’s jaw clenches slightly, and his face reddens. “But I come back here, and you’re married, and have another kid–”

“Sam,” I move towards him. I know how it must look—that shortly after we last saw each other, I found someone else; that I replaced him. “I need to tell you–”

“No, Y/N/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Voice laced with anger, Sam stiffens before taking a few steps back. “It’s been three years,” He turns around and heads back towards the front of the house. "I couldn’t expect you to wait around forever, could I?”

“Sam–!” I try to get his attention before he leaves, but he ignores me. I grab Sammy and chase him down as best I can with a toddler in my arms.

“I just– I want to be in Corie’s life, Y/N/N,” Sam says as he reaches for the door. “I want to know my daughter, and I want her to know me. I’m out of the life. Without Dean, I can’t do it; I’m not a hunter anymore. Talk it over with your husband; I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N/N, please, just don’t keep Corie away from me.”

“Sam, wait, please–” He’s halfway across the lawn when I stop him, my free hand landing on his shoulder. Sam stills but doesn’t turn around. I walk around him so that I’m standing in front of him. Sam’s eyes are bloodshot, tears flowing freely from them as he stares at the ground. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” Sam looks up to meet my gaze. “I can’t stay and not be with you, Y/N/N. You and Corie– You’re a real family now,” his eyes briefly land on Sammy again, who’s tugging at the necklace Sam gave me. “I’m not going to stand in your way. You and your husband–”

“Stop, Sam,” I plead, reaching up to wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry about Dean.”

“We didn’t have any other choice,” Sam murmurs, leaning into my touch as I tuck back some of his fallen hair behind his ear. “Dean, he– he made me promise to come to find you, get our family back. Said that he wanted us to be together, made Cas tell me where you were. I-I didn’t think...” Sam shakes his head and his voice trembles. “I-I wanna stay nearby so that I can stay close to Corie.”

“Mama, look!” Sammy points to Jason’s truck as it pulls into the driveway and tries to squirm out of my hold. “Daddy!” By the time Sammy is down, Jason is already heading towards us. Sammy is wobbly on his feet as he makes for Jason, who lifts him into his arms, causing a giggle to leave Sammy.

“Hey, babe,” Jason places a light kiss on my lips and lets his free hand around settle on my waist. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, this is Sam,” I say cautiously. Jason’s brows raise in surprise as he seemingly puts it together. Sam doesn’t move, only narrowing his eyes on Jason. “Sam, this is Jason.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jason offers his hand to Sam, and I know he’s trying to play nice. Sam doesn’t move, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a nod. Jason closes his hand and brings it back to his side. “I’m gonna take him inside,” Jason gestures to Sammy, breaking the growing tension between the three of us. “I can hear this one’s stomach growling,” he jokes. “You hungry, buddy?”

Sammy nods his head excitedly, and Jason lets him down onto the grass. Sammy is tugging at his arm, guiding Jason back towards the house.

“It was nice meeting you, Sam,” Jason says after taking a few steps away from us. Sam doesn’t respond again, only giving another nod.

Jason disappears back inside the house, leaving Sam and me alone on the lawn. I don’t know how to tell him everything that I need to.

“He’s cute,” Sam says half-heartedly, and I lift my brow in confusion, “The kid. I guess your husband is too. How long have you been together?”

“Jason isn’t– we’re not married,” I finally get the chance to correct him. “He proposed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is he good to you?” Sam takes a step closer to me. “He treats you and Corie right? Because if he’s not–”

“He’s been good for us, all of us. Stepped into a role when he could’ve run the other direction,” I laugh slightly.

I can see that Sam has more questions, but my front yard’s public nature makes it difficult. Realizing that Cordy will be home in a couple of hours, I suggest going somewhere more private, promising to answer all of his questions. Sam agrees, and I run back into the house to redress and tell Jason that Sam and I need to discuss everything alone. Jason hesitates, but he reluctantly agrees that it would be for the best. I leave him and Sammy with a kiss, promising to be back in a few hours.

"Dean said that you came to the hospital." Sam sits down across from me at the diner, nodding politely at the waitress as she drops off our two coffees.

"I had to," I murmur, bringing the ceramic cup to my lips and taking a sip. "I'm sorry that I didn't stay. I wanted to, but something about Ezekiel and what Dean wanted him to do, it didn't feel right."

"It's okay," Sam assures me and reaches across the table to take my hand in his. "Ezekiel, he– he wasn’t who he said he was, he lied to Dean from the start, didn’t even tell him his real name, Gadreel. When Dean became suspicious, Gadreel– he locked me away inside my mind, and used my body to kill innocent people,” Sam tears his gaze away from mine and brings his hand back into his lap. “It’s good that you left. You and Corie, you– you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed.”

Sam spends the better part of the next hour filling me in on everything that happened since we’d last seen each other. I don’t know how to tell Sam about Sammy, and for a brief moment, I consider letting him think that Sammy isn’t his, but quickly decide against it. Sam's face lights up when I tell him, and tears fill his eyes as I pull out my phone to show him the trove of photos of Sammy and Cordy. If Sam was truly out, then I had to give him the chance to be a part of our lives, didn’t I? Cordy and Sammy deserve the chance to know Sam, the Sam I fell in love with.

It’s late by the time I return, and I do everything I can to act as if everything is normal. Cordy, Sammy, and Jason are curled up on the couch, watching a movie, and I greet them quickly before heading upstairs. Cordy calls out for me to join them, causing Jason to turn around and take in my appearance. I tell her I’ll be back down after a shower, and I see Jason getting up out of the corner of my eye.

I don’t realize that Jason is behind me until I hear the door closing only moments after walking into my room.

"I think we should talk," He murmurs, closing the gap between us. I fiddle with the ring on my finger and move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge. "About us, the kids; about Sam," I nod, and my eyes stay fixated on the ring on my finger. “Whatever happened today, just- just don’t lie, Y/N, please, no matter how difficult the truth is.”

“Okay,” I nod again, and Jason places a kiss on my temple.

“You told me that Sam disappeared,” Jason moves down so that our eyes can meet. “Did you know that he was going to show up here today?”

The topic of Sam was a difficult one for me to breach with Jason. He’s never pushed me for more information than what I am willing to give him. When we first started dating, Sammy was only a few months old. I had finally come to terms with the fact that Sam was most likely dead or worse. Radio silence from Dean seemingly confirmed my suspicions, and I allowed myself to move on, to fall in love again. My feelings for Sam never disappeared, they stayed deep inside me, and when I saw him again, they all came rushing to the surface.

"No," I answer honestly. "The last time I saw Sam, he was in a coma. His brother and I couldn’t agree on what to do. Dean wanted to use,” I hesitate, “extreme measures, I had just found out I was pregnant with Sammy, and I couldn’t–” I don’t know how to explain it to Jason; how I seemingly took Cordy and ran away. I try to find something that resembles the truth. “He was dying, I wanted him to get better, but I couldn’t watch him become an empty shell of himself. Dean had medical power of attorney, and I had no chance of winning any contestation. Legally, Sam’s not Cordy’s dad; there was nothing I could do. Cordy and I said goodbye, and we left. I thought he died since we didn’t hear from either of them again.”

Jason listens carefully and takes a deep breath before speaking again. Whatever it is, I can tell it's going to be difficult. “Did anything happen while you were with him?"

I’m caught off-guard by the question, and guilt begins to fill every inch of my body. I look away from Jason and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is mussed, and my lips are still swollen; it couldn’t be any more obvious what happened. Jason is studying me when I face him again, and tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to admit what Sam and I did less than two hours ago.

“Jason, please," I beg, my shame taking over. “I can’t.”

"Please, Y/N," he demands softly, and a choked sob leaves me. “Did you kiss him?” I nod my head and Jason tenses. I glance up and see a mixture of anger and sadness at my confession, which only makes me cry harder.

“Did you–” Jason struggles to get the words out, and I fear I know exactly what his next question will be. “Did you sleep with him?”

"I'm sorry!" I cry, and Jason moves away from me at my confession. He paces the floor in front of me, face growing redder by the second, his jaw clenches, and I see him ball his fists. “I didn’t– I wasn’t– It just happened.”

"It just happened?" Jason stops in his tracks, questioning me in disbelief. "You don't accidentally sleep with someone who isn't your fiancé, Y/N!"

“I- I know,” I sob, barely able to choke out the words. “It all hap-happened so fast," I try to explain myself. “One minute we were talking and the next Sam was kissing me and then…”

"I don't need the details, Y/N," Jason snaps. "Just tell me, why?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I needed closure; we've never been able to give each other a proper goodbye."

"And sleeping with him got you that?!" He asks in a hushed yell. If the kids weren't downstairs, we'd be in a screaming match right now. "A proper goodbye? So does that mean Sam's leaving? That he’s going to give you and Cordy and Sammy up? Disappear from our lives forever?"

"I-I don't know," I say between sniffs.

Jason storms out of the room, leaving me alone with my guilt. Jason had been there for Sammy’s birth, holding my hand the entire time. He stepped into the role of step-father when he could’ve walked away. Jason is the only father Sammy has ever known; Cordy took longer to warm up to him, still holding out hope that Sam would be a part of our lives again one day. Jason and I discussed him adopting both Cordy and Sammy after we were married, but now that Sam is back, I’m questioning everything.

When Jason returns half an hour later, he’s calmer than before, but I can still see the anger written on his face. He didn’t deserve what Sam and I did to him, and I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me—us. I watch closely as he walks over to the bed and sits down next to me.

“Are you still in love with Sam?” Jason hesitantly asks and takes my hand in his, his thumb grazing over the ring. “Do you want to be with him?”

“He’s Cordy and Sammy’s dad; a part of me will always love him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N,” Jason gently grabs my chin and turns my face towards him. “Are you in love with Sam?” He asks more pointedly.

“I– I don’t know,” I murmur.

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I love you, and if you tell me this won’t ever happen again, I am ready to find a way for us to work through it. But you have to decide what you want, who you want: Sam, or me.”

I let his words sink in, wondering if the situations were reversed if I would be able to do the same. I can’t tell him something like that will never happen again because I don’t know if I can ever trust myself to not fall back into Sam’s arms. Sam was all I ever wanted for ten years, but I had to put my feelings for him aside so that I could focus on Cordy and Sammy; I have to do what’s best for them.

“I’m going to stay at my house tonight.” Jason’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Think about what I’ve said.” He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Jason,” I reach for his hand, “I never meant to hurt you.”

He smiles sadly, then leaves. I hear him say goodbye to Cordy and Sammy. The silence that follows when the front door closes breaks my heart. A few minutes later, Cordy carries Sammy into my room, and they both crawl into my bed. She’s old enough to understand that something happened between Jason and me. I don’t know if I should tell her of Sam’s return and decide against it. I’m not ready to answer the questions that will inevitably follow. The three of us fall asleep together; Sammy sandwiched between Cordy and me.

When I wake up the next morning, I know what I want. I know who I want. He was the last thing to cross my mind before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

I reach for my phone and send him a message asking him to come over as soon as possible. He replies quickly, telling me he will be over shortly. I put the phone down and turn to wake Cordy and Sammy. She grumbles, but I give her a little nudge and ask her to wait downstairs. Cordy sends me a questioning look through her sleepy features, but she complies when I tell her it’s important.

Cordy’s still half-asleep on the couch when I make my way down, Sammy propped on my hip, also unable to keep his eyes open. My whole body is shaking with nerves as I impatiently wait for him to arrive.

Three light raps on the door have me on my feet in seconds, racing towards the future with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I swing the door open, letting him step into the house, and he wraps his arms around Sammy and me, holding onto us as tight as he can. I relax into his embrace and breathe in his familiar scent.

As I pull away, I let my eyes fall on his familiar features. I run my free hand through his hair, and a smile appears on his lips. He leans down to press a gentle yet eager kiss on my lips. His rough, calloused fingers tenderly brush against Sammy’s face, and tears fill his eyes as he takes in the little boy’s features. I hand Sammy over to him and notice how small the toddler looks wrapped in his arms. He closes his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but when he opens them again, I see the kaleidoscope of blues and greens that I had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Cordy,” I call into the living room, “come here, please.”

I can hear the padding of Cordy’s feet as she mumbles about it being too early to be up. When she turns the corner, Cordy’s eyes widen, and a broad smile spreads across her face. She runs towards us, ready to jump into his arms.

"Dad!"

A/N 3: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I did not intend on this chapter on being as long as it is, but, sometimes you can't stop yourself from writing!

Did you love it? Hate it? Please give a reblog or send an ask and let me know what you think of this final chapter!

Elastic Heart Tags @manawhaat @that-one-gay-girl @awesomesusiebstuff @mrswhozeewhatsis @ilovetaquitosmmmm @suckmyapplejacks @traceyaudette

Forever Tags: @akshi8278

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn family

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repo-net · 3 years

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This was originally just something I submitted for a friend after I lost a bet, but I decided I'd post this here too. This really isn't one of my best works since it's been a hot minute since I last played YTTD, but luckily the new chapter is coming out soon (it's already been released in the creator's pixiv fanbox for people to squash bugs in) and we just gotta wait for the public release and the translators do their work. Anyways.

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The Mask I Put Up

“Welp, I’m off. You staying here, Alice?”

“I shall relax myself in this bath a little longer, it is an opportunity not often presented after all. You’re free to leave.”

“Not like I was plannin’ on staying anyways, wahaha. Enjoy the bath all to yourself.”

Alice Yabusame had a difficult life growing up; his mother forcing himself to be raised as a daughter because of some idea or trend that was going on, when he dictated that he was more at home with his masculinity. He was ready to be thrown out of the house when he confronted her that enough was enough, but in the end, his mother only gave him an uncaring and simple approval. To Alice, maybe that was enough. But he sometimes still thinks about that event to this day and what would’ve happened if he never retaliated.

Not to mention the time he really messed up and the event that caused his own family and fellow band members to remove him from their lives, his own mistake that still haunts him to this da-

“Hey, you seem pretty lost. Y’alright there?”

“Ah, yes, I am. I was simply lost in thought, please do not mind me.”

“If you say so.”

With a little bit of an awkward nod and thumbs-up, Keiji went back to getting himself dried and dressed. As the steam cleared and he watched as the only other person left with him; Keiji left the bathhouse, Alice was once again left alone to ponder on his own thoughts. Laying back onto the rock as he looked up at the ceiling, the former convict let out a sigh that was filled with nothing but exhaustion and worry. He needed to stop thinking about the past; nothing was going to change it, all he could do now was make sure he fixes everything up so that he can move forward in the present.

And maybe when this is all over, he and Reko can finally…

“Hey, bastard! What the hell are you still doing in here?”

“Gwah?! Rio Ranger, damn you! What the hell are you doing in the men’s bathroom?”

The frail doll let out a small noise which could only be described as a giggle, before taking off his hoodie and tossing it over to a nearby dry bench.

“I’ve got my own priorities here, buddy! You can’t be hogging all the bath time for yourself, ya selfish prick! Besides, you should know already; I belong in this men’s bathroom as much as you, shouldn’t you know a thing or two about stuff like this already?”

“You goddamn…!”

Alice got up and was about to throw hands with the ginger doll, before the floor master threw one of his expression masks his way, hitting the taller man right near the eye.

“Hey now, settle down. I just saved your life there, don’t think you can just get away with trying to hurt a floor master. Are you trying to leave poor, helpless little Reko here all alone? Some kind of sibling you are.”

“Gh…”

Ranger simply responded to Alice’s clear discomfort with a mocking chuckle, then getting rid of the rest of his attire before cannonballing into the bath, sending hot water all around the area, splashing Alice on the way as well.

“I give myself a 10/10 on that one! Thank you, thank you!” Ranger proudly said as he held a rather happy expression stick in front of his face, bowing to particularly no one.

“Are you… not a doll? How are you not malfunctioning or even getting harmed by the water? Actually, why are you even in here, you don’t even need washing!” Alice exclaimed as he pointed at the floor master.

“We literally kidnapped 20 of you here and not a single bastard on the outside noticed, you think they can’t make a perfectly waterproof doll like me? Idiot.” Ranger replied, putting his arms behind his neck as he laid against a rock, releasing a small noise that could probably be described as a sigh of relaxation.

“I suppose that’s true… but still, I feel disgusted to be in the same bath as scum like you. Again, you don’t even need a bath!”

“Yeah? And we didn’t need to give you one or have Safalin treat you guys either, but look how generous we’re being. Be thankful for the stuff you’ve been given. You guys are disposable as hell, we could always just throw you out whenever needed.”

That was a lie; Ranger knew that the participants were important as hell to the game and having it all flow naturally was part of the plan. After they were left with 12 participants, he and the other Floor Masters were tasked with getting at least 3 out every phase of the game, 1 for the Sub-Game and 2 or more for the Main Game, depending on the results. He knew that any deaths that would be caused outside of those sets were going to be his responsibility and his fault, and the last thing he wanted happening was to disappoint him.

“Right… great, now I don’t even want to be here anymore, I should’ve just followed the rest of the men when they left, now I’m stuck with this annoying, intolerable,-“

“Sexy, attractive, handsome-“

“I wasn’t done talking, stop trying to flatter yourself!”

“Ahahahahaha!” Ranger started cackling like a madman as soon as he saw Alice get pissed off at his antics again, that feeling of anger and negative emotion; it was something Ranger always felt glee at, the sadistic nature of him always enjoying that feeling of humans letting out all their frustrations.

“Gh…! Fine, you desire to toy with me like this, to make me feel worse simply by being around you? Then I won’t let you have this satisfaction anymore, you problematic mess!”

“Awww, leaving so soon? But we were just getting started! What a killjoy. No wonder your sister tried to not associate herself with you anymore.’’

Alice grit his teeth at the incredibly low comment that Ranger had made, resisting all the desire in him to just scream and bend the doll’s body like it was a twig. He got up from the bath in fury, which only seemed to make Ranger enjoy his time in the bathhouse even more. Truth be told, the floor master did have a reason for being there in the bathhouse with the convict, but it was a reason that he wouldn’t admit, even to himself. That inferiority complex that he doesn’t even know he has wouldn’t allow of it, of course.

Ranger simply giggled sadistically as he watched Alice storm off to grab his clothes, still hiding his face behind one of his masks. He was about to close his eyes (well, as much eyes a doll like him could have), until he noticed in the corner of his eye. Alice picked up something. It was black, long, and something Ranger knew well.

That was one of his expression sticks. Specifically, the one he made that was to look like Kazumi Mishima.

“You said I couldn’t harm you physically, but what happens if I make you pay in another way? Take this, this is for trying to make a mockery of Nao Egokoro’s dear professor!”

And before he could even get a word out, Ranger watched as the former convict grabbed the mask by it’s edges and snapped it in half, the two pieces that left behind it falling with little trouble.

“How’s that?! Don’t try to mess with me or my sister ever again, you cursed being!” Alice smugly smiled and proclaimed as he looked at Ranger’s expressionless face, before storming off and leaving the bathhouse with his clothes on, giving the dressup doll time to comprehend what had just happened.

He sat there in silence for a moment, before getting out of the hot steamy water that he couldn’t even feel as he walked over to where his expression stick had been left broken.

“…”

This was his way with dealing with being a doll. He knew he wasn’t as human as the other floor masters; so this was how he coped with and kept up with them, putting up masks that would make him feel more human because he was aware that he couldn’t do it himself.

This guy that was one of the people who could die in this game just broke and snapped it right in front of him, in an act of pettiness to try and get back at all the low and disrespectful comments he made.

It didn’t matter that Ranger could always just make one; the fact of the matter is and what’s important to him is that this guy actually just pulled that right in front of him with the intent to piss him off. And it didn’t matter how little it was, Ranger despised the idea of being one-upped by a human.

Picking up what remained of his broken expression stick, Ranger held them before looking at the door that Alice had left by.

“Cursed being…? You don’t know who you’re trying to pick a fight with, you bastard... I’ll make sure you learn your goddamn place, shithead, don’t you ever mess with me...! It doesn’t matter which one it is now, I’ll make sure that a Yabusame doesn’t get out of this game alive… whether it be on the inside, or the outside…!”

With that declaration and plan in his mind, Ranger threw away the broken mask before drying himself as he put on his attire once more, ready to execute out a little plan he has for the future.

The Yabusames were on the top of his list now.

#yttd #your turn to die #rio ranger #alice yabusame #kimi ga shine

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oimoi-op · 3 years

Note

when were you diagnosed with t1d?

Ok, so storytime! Short answer is, as of today, barely over two months ago.

(Very long post warning y’all, contains hospital mention and extensive, possibly upsetting descriptions of health conditions, specifically DKA)

My family doesn’t really have a history of T1D or even T2D, though my second-cousin-once-removed has had T1D for over a decade now. So, there was never any reason for me to try and get tests done for it. The only sign I really had up until last semester was two copies of a variant of an HLA gene that I knew about from a 23andMe report (which, according to the report, put me at a higher risk for celiac’s and nothing else), but of course at that time I had no idea that that could mean anything serious; after all, that sort of thing only happens to other people, right?

My college started in-person classes in the latter half of August. By October, I started feeling tired, having a lack of appetite, and needing water very, very badly. I actually went to my school’s clinic, and my erratic heartbeat prompted the doctor to recommend me for a Covid-19 test. My school’s protocols meant that I had to quarantine at my home (since I live within two hours of campus) until I got a negative test result. At home, I was drinking water all the time and sleeping constantly, and my parents had commented on how I’d been losing weight. I thought these were all good things. I had been slightly overweight at my high school graduation, and I’d always heard that drinking a lot of water is good for you, so I thought I was actually in excellent health even if I kind of felt like shit most of the time.

Well. Uh. I was wrong.

When finals came around in mid-November, I was just fucking tired. I’d get a decent eight hours of sleep and still have to take naps during the day. Hell, I was even late for work because I slept through one of my nap alarms. Studying was a pain in the ass. Attending classes was a pain in the ass. Staying awake for Zoom classes was a pain in the ass. I was waking up at 5 am to go to the bathroom, and then I would drink the rest of my water, refill it, drink half of it again, and then go back to sleep. Finally, November 20th rolled around, and I got to leave campus. It was my birthday (yeah I am a Scorpio and that weirds all of my friends out lol), and my parents took me to Fusion. And I just...couldn’t eat at all? I love hibachi, but I couldn’t even eat half of my food. The chef even got me a delicious banana split that I had to basically bully my younger sister into eating with me.

For the next week, I was sleeping about 18 hours a day. I didn’t think this was weird because I’d just had finals so yeah, it makes sense that I would be tired after exams and whatnot. I went shopping with my mom, sister, and sister’s bff. We were only out for a few hours, but I was fucking wiped out y’all, like in pain. Thanksgiving arrived, and again, I love food, I love eating, but I was not hungry in the slightest. I basically had to force myself to eat some of my favorite holiday foods just so I wouldn’t offend my mom, and then I didn’t eat for the day.

The very next morning, I was puking my guts out.

This started a pattern for the next few days: I would eat chicken noodle soup or some other food, sleep like the dead, and throw up every morning and every night. I started chugging large bottles of Gatorade constantly (which, if you know about diabetes and its health complications, did not help my situation in the slightest). I started breathing erratically after very little exertion. Like, I’m talking standing up and stretching brought about heavy, labored breathing. I weighed myself on my parents’ scale, and I was under 130 lbs. Now, for some people this might seem like a lot, but due to my height and build I could fucking see some of my ribs. That was when I started to realize that something was very, very wrong, but “losing weight is good” and I didn’t want my parents to laugh at me for voicing concerns (though, for all their faults, in hindsight, I doubt they would’ve). Yeah. Don’t do that, folks, that’s not a good mindset to have.

On Sunday, my mom took me to town to get tested for Covid. This was despite me saying that I didn’t have symptoms (which I knew very well due to some of my friends catching it at school). Rapid test came back negative, so I did a culture test. Hell, while I was sitting in the damn chair, I was about to pass out. I asked for a nausea pill but my mouth was too dry for it to dissolve. I got a cup of water, downed it all, and felt like my throat was on fire. For the rest of the day I felt so, so awful. At some point I was walking toward my bed in my room and I fucking fell. I’m fucking lucky there was carpet.

Regarding the rest of that night, things start to get blurry, for the lack of a better term. I legitimately cannot recall everything that happened that night or the following two days, so I will just try to explain it in the way I remember it best.

Around...midnight or one??? I was on fucking fire, so I went to my bathroom and decided to lie on the floor. The floor was hardwood and not at all cold, and it wasn’t fucking comfortable even in that state, but I was just in so much pain I didn’t even care. My mom must’ve heard because she found me there and asked me what I was doing. I said something about the floor. She asked me to go back to bed, but I must’ve scared her because she asked me if I wanted her to lie in the bed with me. I don’t remember what I said to her, but we were in the bed and she was trying to hug me, but she was too warm and so I told her to stop. I kept feeling this burning just below my chest, like there was acid in me (which I guess wasn’t too far off), so I would randomly sit up to try and alleviate the pain and not cry. I remember asking my mom to take me to the hospital in the morning.

My mom put me in the truck (I think around 5 am is what she told me). I remembered hearing my dad. I was lying down. Then I was awake, but I was on the floor. I thought this was wrong so I tried to tell my mom that but I guess I couldn’t talk. Then I was in a hospital bed, the ER I assume. My mom gave me some water with a sponge, and I was just so fucking thirsty. Then I was in the ICU hooked up to a bunch of machines. I didn’t know what was going on, but my mom kept giving me water with that sponge. That is all I remember from Monday.

I remember a little bit more from Tuesday. My mom said something about diabetes, but that didn’t make any sense to me because I wasn’t “fat” and I’d been losing weight, even! What had I done to get diabetes? I was thirsty and tired, so I slept a lot. At some point I really needed to use the restroom so I unhooked my IV???? (I mean I must’ve disconnected myself somehow but I can’t remember the details) which set off a shit ton of alarms and people were Very Concerned and kept asking me Why Did You Do That? But I just needed to go to the restroom, and they told me to use the Red Button to Call the Nurse (it was already there, and I now realize that we’d probably had a similar conversation about the Red Button to Call the Nurse possibly multiple times before this) in the future. A Chopped Teen Tournament from 2017 was playing on the TV nonstop. There were commercials for CGMs. I thought that God wasn’t being very funny about the whole thing.

As of now I remember even less of Wednesday, but I know that felt better. There was this diabetes specialist who kept talking about insulin and life at college moving forward, but I wasn’t really there, either because of being so out of it for health reasons, disassociating, or a combination of the two. My mom told me she had emailed a professor so he would give me an extension on an assignment that was due by then, and I remember crying because I thought that was just so nice of him. That night, this guy got me in a wheelchair and put me in another room, which I would later learn was the ACU. My night nurse was this nice woman named Tanya, who had a very thick Eastern European accent. She got me orange juice to take some potassium pills, but it felt like swallowing rocks. I didn’t really get a lot of sleep, so I was awake when the nurses changed shifts. I remember one of them expressing surprise that I was out of the ICU so early.

My mom took longer to come that day because nobody had told her I’d been moved. I’d had plain Cheerios and orange juice for breakfast, but I couldn’t really eat because my throat hurt so badly. I talked to a lot of doctors. I guess at this point or somewhere near it I accepted that I had diabetes, but it wasn’t really real until the same diabetes specialist was going over carbs. I thought I was never going to eat shit I liked ever again. I really wanted a fucking McChicken sandwich. I signed some papers for Medicaid because I had aged out of the CHIP while in the hospital. I finally texted my friends and explained to them what had happened. I was so fucking tired.

I got out the next day, so that was Thursday. Normally, I would’ve been in the hospital much longer (especially because my Medicaid hadn’t been approved, meaning no insurance had approved of my insulin yet), but Covid cases were on the rise and the hospital wanted me out of there. The diabetes specialist and one of my nurses snuck me two fast-acting and two basal insulin pens, and I was out. I ate half a McChicken, a small fry, and drank my first Diet Coke. It tasted like diesel mixed with piss.

That’s the gist of it. The hospital staff was very nice and thoughtful the entire time, I think. I felt as though everyone involved cared about my health a lot.

For those of you who aren’t T1D or just don’t know, what I experienced is called DKA, short for diabetic ketoacidosis. To simplify, I was very close to entering a diabetic coma. My sister later told me that our dad had said (I assume a doctor had told my mother, who, in turn, had told him) that I was “approximately 45 minutes” away from death. DKA happens when a diabetic (usually a T1D like me) has too much blood sugar in their body due to them lacking the insulin necessary to break the sugar down, so their body breaks down their fat reserves and muscle to get the energy it needs. This is why I lost around 50 pounds over the course of a few months (I was 118 lbs. when I entered the hospital, the lowest I’ve been since grade school). I was officially diagnosed with T1D on November 30th, just ten days after my 19th birthday, which is a little older than normal I believe. It’s...well, it’s not fun, but I feel very grateful for my large support system, and tomorrow I’m trying out a CGM for the first time and applying for both it and a pump, so things are really looking up

#personal #iamapincushion #t1d #type one diabetes #type one diabetic #dka #diabetic ketoacidosis #tw hospital #tw dka #i don't think you meant me for to respond with such a long answer #but #well #it's something i've been wanting to post for a while now and this seemed like a good opportunity

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kaleidescope-writes · 4 years

Text

Faithfully Yours–Chapter 5: Heartbeat

In partnership with @accio-boys

Billionaire!Tom Hiddleston x Doctor!Reader

Slow Burn! (Yay)

Warnings: Language, argument, taste of fluff, Cliffhanger(permanent warning), Dangerous act (Please don’t swerve when driving!) Mention of illness

Masterlist

“Dr. Knight, you’re needed in the Trauma Center,” a voice in the PA system spoke. You made your way to the call room, exhausted after two consecutive bypass surgeries. The first was a third time bypass that took about four hours. The one that followed immediately after was a first time bypass that took a bit longer, about six hours. You were incredibly tired, having a thirteen hour work day and still being on call. Your feet were begging for a break and your mind couldn’t think straight. Opening the door, you stepped into the call room and made your way over to one of the beds. Sighing heavily, you let your weight drop onto the bed. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a few steady breaths as you relaxed.

You took out your phone, sending Tom a quick text that read “Had a long day, punching out at 8pm. See u then. Don’t run anyone over.” Locking it, you set it down to your side on the bed and closed your eyes again. You began to slip into a peaceful sleep, letting yourself rest for an hour before going to check your post ops and getting ready to go home. Your breaths became steady as you began to fall asleep.

“Y/N!” a voice called out before the door slammed shut, making you jump. You opened your eyes, feeling your heart momentarily stop before beating faster. “We need to talk about your engagement,” the voice continued, coming closer to you. “What the hell are you doing here, Quentin?” you demanded, pissed that your rest was interrupted. “I need to talk to you,” he repeated, “I asked a nurse where I could find you and they led me to the call room. We need to talk about your engagement, I have some issues with it.” You sighed, sitting up on the bed. “You interrupted my sleep to talk about issues you have about my relationship?” you questioned, “That’s kind of a dick thing to do.” Quentin sat down next to you on the bed, facing you. “I have a few problems with it,” he continued, ignoring your previous statement, “Firstly, you were completely against marrying this guy when the engagement was announced. So what the hell changed within the span of three days?”

He was right. When the engagement was announced, you made your displeasure with the arrangement very clear. He was right to wonder why the sudden change of heart. “I didn’t know the guy when the wedding was announced,” you confessed, “To make peace with the situation, he started opening up to me and gave me a proper proposal, ring included. He let me into his life and in return, I let him into mine. We’re not madly in love, but we’re already engaged, so we’ll get there. Love takes time.” Quentin laughed, shaking his head as he listened to your explanation.

“You’re too stubborn to agree to this. There’s a catch, isn’t there?” he pressed

“There isn’t a catch, we’ve come to terms with the situation and compromised.”

“You never compromise!”

“First time for everything, I guess.”

“That’s bullshit! You and I both know there’s something going on here. Just tell me!”

You shook your head, giving him a pestered look. “You’re looking too much into this,” you assured, “This is the best we can do in this situation. Besides, he has custody over his niece and she needs a mother figure. I’m just helping.” Quentin rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you. He took your hand in hands as he spoke, “You’re my big sister, I know you more than you think I do. I can feel when something’s not right, and trust me, something’s not right. I know a small part of you is still against it. Please just tell me why you’re doing this and maybe I can help.” You thought for a moment, looking away from him briefly before he spoke again, “I don’t want to see you get hurt over something that was never real.”

Your breath hitched slightly. Memories from last night began to flood your mind. Everything you felt, everything you thought, and everything you said to yourself. The ring. The ring currently resting on your left finger suddenly became heavy. Every negative feeling from last night came back, hitting you at full force with all the weight of your insecurity. Was he right? Could he feel the negative tension between you and Tom? Your stomach felt uneasy and you felt your heart skip a beat before beating more intensely. You were nervous. You couldn’t tell him the truth, but you couldn’t keep it hidden for very long. Quentin would find out eventually--the way he reacted to the truth would depend on how he’d find out. If you told him, he would surely help you find another way out. If things played out, well, who knows what he would do. You had to tell him. You were scared to see how he would react to the truth after being lied to. And after last night, something like that was likely to happen again. When it did, you’d need the emotional support he could give. He’d help you through it. He always did.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you took in a shaky breath, preparing to tell him everything-- including last night’s incident. Before a single sound could escape your lips, your pager went off, catching your attention instantly. Taking out of your pocket, you saw three numbers on the screen that let you know you had to leave instantly. “I have to go,” you sighed, standing and taking your phone with you. Quentin stood as well, eyes never leaving you as you prepared to leave. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on,” he insisted, stepping in your way to stop you. You gave him a look, “It’s an emergency. I got paged 911, I have to go.” He crossed his arms, standing his ground while still not letting you leave. “Look, I can’t tell you much, but I promise you that this is for the best. We came up with a solution that benefits both of us. We care about each other in a very specific way.” You gave him a smile, “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Quentin huffed, letting his hands drop as he shifted his weight. “Just promise me that this is real. That’ll put my mind at ease,” he muttered. Your smile faltered slightly. “I promise,” you lied. He nodded, stepping out of your way and letting you rush to whatever emergency you were called to.

~~~~~8 p.m.~~~~~

“Goodnight Boss!” one of the nurses called out. You waved goodbye at them before making your way out of the hospital lobby. It was a long day and the only thing you wanted to do was sink into that soft, king sized bed you shared with a certain billionaire. Maybe you’d help put Vivie to bed before that, however. Walking out to the doctor reserved parking spaces to where your car was, you took your phone out to finally read a message Tom had sent you three hours ago. It read, “I reserve that privilege for you alone😉.” You chuckled, looking away from the screen and paying attention to the dimly lit streets around you. Before you could put your phone back in your pocket, it began to ring. Thinking it was probably Tom checking up on you after work, you answered unbothered to look at the screen to confirm your suspicions.

“Hey,” you answered, arriving at your car door and pressing the button on the handle to open the door. “Hi sweetie!” your mother replied, cheery tone almost making you cringe. “Mom,” you said in a false happy voice. Why did your heart fall slightly? “Honey, I know you just got off work and I was hoping we could discuss some details for the wedding while you drove home,” she explained. Setting your bag down on the driver’s seat, you closed the door and set the phone down, pressing the speaker button. “Now?” you asked, “Isn’t the wedding some time away?” You heard her let out a laugh, “Well that’s the thing, we don’t know when the wedding will be since you haven’t picked a date for it.” After putting the phone on the hands-free stand, you turned the car on and put your seat belt on as well. “Weren’t you the one who was going to pick the date?” you inquired, pulling out of the parking spot. “Well I do want to give power over your wedding day, since I didn’t give you a choice with the groom. But if you want me to handle everything, I’ll do it gladly,” she snarked, “Just don’t complain when you turn into bridezilla after nothing was to your liking.”

“Fine,” you caved in, “But let’s skip the date, I have to discuss that with Tom.” You drove out of the parking lot and began your long drive home to Tom’s place. “Ok, so first off, we need to plan a date to pick the dress you’ll wear on your special day,” she offered quickly, as if reading off a list and picking the first item. “I’m not sure,” you drawled, keeping a firm focus on the road ahead of you despite the conversation and your tiredness, “I’m always working at the hospital. I’d have to ask for a day off, or maybe two.” You heard a sigh on the other line.

“Well then, let’s skip that,” your mother grumbled, “How about the flower arrangements for the bouquet and decor?” You thought for a moment, keeping most of your focus on the road. “I’m not sure, isn’t there some traditional arrangement we can do? Something with roses, baby’s breath, and other flowers?” She groaned, “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I might as well take control over the whole thing myself. You’re clearly not half as interested in making important decisions as you should be.”

“Mom, I just got off work. I’m not in the right mind to make any decisions.” you protested.

“It would be nice if you tried! Even just a little.”

“I am trying mom. I’m just exhausted. Maybe we can discuss these decisions later, when I’m not tired.”

“Fine,” she agreed, “But at least decide on the colors.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you answered, “Both of our favorite colors. Maybe with gold accents.” “Very well,” she acquiesced, “That’s at least one less decision that has to be made. Let me know when your days off are so that we can have a proper discussion about the wedding planning.” You nodded, momentarily forgetting she couldn’t see you, then mumbled a yes. “While we’re on the topic of weddings, I want to inform you of another decision I made,” she added, “After some deliberation, I decided you and Tom will get married on the same day your brother and his fiancee will get married.”

Your hands twitched, almost swerving the car to the left. “What?” asked in rage. “Well, both engagements were announced on the same day. Besides, you two have always been so close, so it’s only fitting you share a wedding,” she explained. “No!” you snapped, “The engagement wasn’t my choice! I don’t want to share a wedding with Quentin!”

“Why not?”

“Because I just don’t!”

“That’s not a good reason. Honestly, why are you being so immature?”

“I’m immature?” you questioned indignantly, “I’m the immature one? You made me get engaged to a complete stranger just because of your friendship with his father and I’m immature?” Your mother sighed, "The circumstances are different, you wouldn't understand. This benefits both families. I just wish you were a little more open to this." You burned with rage, breath fast and uneven as you tried to calm down and respond to her in a controlled manner. "You're right mother," you. responded bitterly, "I don't understand why you would offer up your daughter to marry someone she'd never met before and claim it was in her best interest. But you know, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to think of a great explanation for when we meet up to plan the wedding. Until then, I'm exhausted. I'll let you know when my day off is."

With that, you hung up, too engaged to let her respond. You were almost home. Just a few more minutes away--enough time to try and calm yourself before you Vivie saw you like that. You decided to take a few deep breaths, clearing your mind off anything that was said between the two of you. You'd deal with that later. For now, you just wanted to focus on breathing and driving and putting Vivie to bed and going to bed yourself. You just hoped Tom wouldn't give you a hard time tonight.

"How long is Y/N going to take to get here?" You heard Vivie ask from the living room as you opened the door. "Not long," Tom responded, "I'm sure she's-" "Right here," you finished, walking into the living room and opening your arms towards Vivie. "Y/N!" She cheered, running to give you a hug. You bent down a bit, making it easier for her to reach you, and wrapped your arms around her small form. A small smile found its way to your lips as Tom approached the two of you. "Did you save any lives today?" She asked, looking up at you with big, curious eyes. "Yes," you laughed, "a few, actually."

"How about she tells you about how she saved them as a bedtime story," Tom suggested standing a few feet away. Vivie turned to him and nodded. "Well then, go clean up for bed. She'll join you in a moment," he gestured towards the stairs. Without a moment's hesitation, she ran upstairs, following his order. You relaxed for a moment, putting your stuff down on the couch to your right. There was a brief moment of silence as you unpacked some of your things. A sweet, calming moment that unfortunately didn't last very long.

"Something's wrong," Tom commented, taking a step closer to you. "What, with you?" You asked turning to face him. "Not me," he snorted, "With you. You seem tense and slightly less annoying." He stood a foot in front of you, hands to his sides as he gave you a seemingly sympathetic look. Seemingly. You hesitated for a moment, remembering the conversation you had earlier. 'I don’t want to see you get hurt over something that was never real.'

Sensing your hesitation, he took your left hand in his. "Tell me," he pleaded, eyes continuing to soften as he looked deeply into your own. You took a beat, closing your eyes as your lips began to speak. "I had a conversation earlier," you began, "Two, actually. Quentin came to the hospital just to tell me he isn't convinced that our 'relationship' is real. And as if that wasn't enough, my mother wants to start planning the wedding. Which, by the way, we'll have to share with my brother because why the fuck not." You let out a sorrowful laugh. Tom's eyes darkened with concern, the grip he had on your hand tightening slightly.

"What did you tell your brother?" He asked in a calm voice. A sudden feeling of worry arose,despite your efforts in trying to stop it. "I told him that we care about each other in a very specific way," you answered, "Which technically, we do."

"So you didn't actually lie," he said more as a statement.

"I just didn't tell him the full story," you smirked, "You taught me that." A smile appeared on his face, but was gone again in the blink of an eye. He smiled. "What about the wedding?" He questioned, concerned look returning. "I don't want to think about that," you sighed, closing your eyes for a second, "I just want to go to bed. I've had a long day." Tom nodded, letting go of your hand and taking a step back. He was holding on to your hand for the entire conversation. "Before you do that, I believe you promised Vivie a bedtime story about your day," he reminded, making his way to the stairs, "I'll wait for you to come to bed before I turn off the light."

You walked into Vivie's room, silently admiring the layout. Your eyes roamed around the room, taking note of every small detail in the child's expertly decorated bedroom. "Ready for the story?" She asked, making you turn to look at her as she sat on the bed. "Are you?" You responded, raising an eyebrow. She just nodded, quickly lifting the covers and laying down, her braids resting on each side of her head. You walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner, facing her. "So, what do you want to hear about first?" You asked softly, setting a hand down near her head. "Can lay down with me until I fall asleep?" She pleaded, giving you puppy eyes. You smiled, silently going along with her request. Once you were laying down next to her, she began her requests, "How many people did you save today?"

"Three," you chuckled, "Two of them needed surgery and the third one was having a heart attack. They were ok when I came home." Her eyes went wide with amazement. "Why did they need surgery?" She asked, fully invested in everything you told her. "Well," you began, "Your heart is responsible for pumping blood through your veins. That's what keeps you alive. Sometimes, the veins near your heart get stuffed with a bad type of fat that sticks to the walls, like ice cream through a straw. When that happens, they need a special surgery called a coronary bypass. It creates another route for the blood to take so that it avoids the fat that's blocking the path for the blood. That way, their heart can keep beating.”

You heard her take even breaths. Turning to look at her, your suspicions were confirmed; she’d fallen asleep. You smiled softly, deciding to stay there for a while longer just in case. Looking up at the ceiling, you focused on whatever little sound in the room. Closing your eyes for a moment, you listened to a faint thumping. Thump. Thump. Silence. Thump. Your eyes shot open, focusing more intently on her heartbeat. You counted ten seconds on your fingers while focusing on her heartbeat. Ten seconds, seven beats. It skipped a few beats in between. You felt a strong sense of worry spread. It could be a number of things, but the most probable cause was arrhythmia. Did Tom know?

Standing up slowly, you began to make your way to the door carefully to not disturb Vivie. Once you reached the door, you opened it cautiously. Tom stood on the other side of the door, making you jump slightly. He took a step back, allowing you to fully exit the room. Closing the door gently, you turned to face him. “How long were you standing here?” you whispered, still being careful. “Not long, I just wanted to make sure Vivie was asleep,” he said in a hushed tone, also taking Vivie into consideration. You nodded, speaking again, “She’s asleep, but I heard something that has me a bit concerned. Her heartbeat has an abnormal rhythm. Did you know that?” Tom sighed softly, nodding sadly. “Her father had a history of heart problems. Unfortunately, she got his bad genes. They diagnosed it when she was three. She’s been on a strict, healthy diet and non-addictive meds.” I knew it! You nodded, taking a moment to think about what you’d say next. “If it’s ok with you, I’d like to take a look at her medical records, both as a doctor and her future legal guardian,” you whispered. Tom gave you a confused look, “Why would you want that?”

“I’m one of New York’s top Cardiothoracic surgeons. I want to make sure this isn’t something that will require surgery later in her life,” you explained, “That and I’m emotionally invested in her well being and I want to know what I can do to help.” He gave you a small nod, “I’ll show you her records tomorrow before work.” You smiled and began to walk to your shared room, spirits lifted slightly now that you’d be able to take care of Vivie both as a patient and as a ‘mother’.

Meanwhile Tom watched you leave, an incredulous smile forming. He reminded himself of what his father said about the marriage. He said Vivie needed a mother figure in her life and maybe Y/N was it. “Maybe he was right,” he whispered to himself, “Maybe Y/N could be a good mother for Vivie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This took a while to figure out, but it’s here!! I had to do some research for this chapter, but I’m no expert. If you know more about this, please feel free to correct me as some advice would be very much appreciated. Anyway, as always, show some love for @accio-boys, my wonderful partner in crime. Check out her blog, as she makes covers for fanfics and they look absolutely amazing (All the covers I have on the Masterlists were made by her). Stay safe, Stay Proud, Be careful out there, and I love you! Please remember that! 😘💖💖💖💖

And to all my new followers, Welcome to the family😘❤🧡💛💚💙💜

~~~~~~~

Taglist is OPEN

@myraiswack @falling4uke @accio-boys @ashcrimson-is-writing@just-trying-to-survive-marvel @whathefuckrichard69@allthecreativeonesaretaken @hunterofartemisblog @frostedgiant@lyka-k @racewife2004 @juniperwoodwell@adepressedstudentslife @poetic-fiasco @januarycalendargirl@poetontheblock @viviandarkbloom06 @sea040561 @universallycutecakehoagie

If I missed you, please let me know! I didn’t do it purposefully!! 💜💜🥺💜💜

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slimysnaildaddy · 4 years

Note

Hi! Do you mind explain some more about Tourettes? I got kinda shocked that the percentage of people with coprolalia is so low, I've always herd that it was one of the main symptoms

Sure thing! I actually love talking about it, the more people are informed the less stigma there will be and the better people with Tourette’s Syndrome and other tic disorders will be treated.

The most visible symptom of Tourette’s is what’s known as “tics”. You’ve probably heard of tics as in like a “nervous tic” such as someone tapping their foot. There are many kinds of tics, but they’re usually divided into two categories, and then within those categories, they’re divided again.

A motor tic is a tic based in movement of some sort. Snapping fingers, tapping feet, scrunching one’s face, sticking out one’s tongue, or blinking rapidly are examples of motor tics.

A vocal tic has to do with making noise. Saying something, coughing, whistling, and making a humming noise are good examples.

You can divide both of those into simple tics and complex tics. A simple tic is usually a single basic movement or sound, such as a clap or a single sharp whistle. A complex tic usually involves more than one movement or sound (speaking counts as a complex vocal tic).

Complex tics can also be a combination of motor and vocal. For example, I often jerk my head to the side or throw my head back and make a loud honk that sounds a lot like a goose.

Tourette’s syndrome is one of many tic disorders, but has one of the most specific and complex diagnostic criteria of all of them. When I was diagnosed at 15 (about 6-7 years ago) the criteria were:

Patient must have at least 5 motor tics and at least one vocal tic, consistently over a period of at least one year.

Tics are often somewhat random, but only in that they can happen at seemingly random times (more on that later). Most people have a “set” of tics that they have, unique to them. For example, I jerk my head or clap or slap my chest, sometimes I stomp and I also say things like “I eat worms” and “hot dogs”. Two of my most well known tics that are meme’d to hell and back by my close friends are “I fuck gargoyles” and “Hit or miss, I guess I’m drinkin’ piss”. Both of which are examples of coprolalia.

Coprolalia is a very common stereotype, but as I said in my post only 10% of people with Tourette’s present coprolalia. I think the reason it became so famous is because it’s very shocking and visible, similar to how a lot of blind people in media use white canes or wear an eye covering all the time, while only a relatively small percentage of blind people in real life do those things. I happen to be one of those people with coprolalia, and I do sometimes feel like I’m playing into a stereotype, and it can genuinely be a struggle to be in public spaces or around people who don’t know I have TS when I suddenly bust out saying “I FUCK GARGOYLES” or “EAT SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER”.

Speaking of struggling with tics, there are quite a few tics that can be very painful or otherwise harmful. Like I said, I have a tic where I slap my chest and I usually do it with a lot of force. I also stomp (also with a lot of force) and slap or hit walls (do i need to repeat myself here? anyway my hand is in agony 99% of the time). And I don’t need to tell you that shouting about fucking gargoyles in a King Soopers gets you some weird looks. As a result, a lot of people are ashamed of their tics or feel very negatively towards them, which is one of the main reasons why triggering someone’s tics intentionally is considered a very bad thing to do.

And in regards to triggering tics, this is actually an interesting topic. For a lot of people, it seems that one of the most common ways to trigger a tic is to be reminded of it. Not necessarily directly, but seeing or hearing someone clap on TV will trigger my clapping tic. Yesterday there was a scene on TV where someone was describing how to bait a fishing hook with worms, and I couldn’t stop saying “I eat worms” over and over again until we had to pause the TV until I finished what I was doing and left the room. They can also be triggered/made worse by things like stress or excitement, though I find that doing something very distracting will often leave no room for my brain to tic.

I’ve seen a lot of people describe the feeling of needing to tic (called a premonitory urge) similar to the feeling you get in your sinuses when you need to sneeze or yawn, but in the place the tic will be. I experience that, but I also experience a more mental urge to do my tics (eg “I need to slap this wall exactly 15 times RIGHT NOW OR I WILL ACTUALLY DIE”) As a result, it is often (but not always) possible to tell when a tic is coming and sometimes you can worn people or attempt to hold it in, but...

Holding in tics is comparable to holding in a cough. The longer you hold it in, the more painful it will be, and the worse it will be when you actually let it out. Once a tic starts, you have to sort of... satisfy the tic. If you don’t do it just right or just enough times, you have to do it again. And again. And again. It’s almost impossible to stop until it’s run its course. This leads me to the topic of tic attacks, which I mentioned in my other post.

A tic attack is when someone starts ticcing (yes, that’s the verb, though I do see “ticking” as well) a lot uncontrollably. In my case (bc I have so many tics that involve jerking my body around or holding myself in weird positions), this usually leads to me falling to the floor in a writhing mass while trying not to accidentally bite off my own tongue and maybe screeching a little bit, and usually I’m too occupied with trying to relax to be able to talk. People have told me that it looks like I’m having a seizure, but that’s not the case. For some people, it’s simply a lot of tics at once. Tic attacks are usually (but not always) caused by stress or overstimulation.

Tics aren’t the only symptom of Tourette’s. There’s also attention issues and impulse control issues and emotional control issues as well, and some of the side effects of Tourette’s can be a bit debilitating. I lose energy pretty quickly, but caffeine and lots of sugar can just send me into an attack. I also get a compulsive urge to do shit that’s usually very stupid (”hmmm a stove burner. TIME TO PUT MY FACE ON IT”) but it’s a lot easier to resist than a tic. Stimming is also very common, though this may be partially attributed to the fact that TS is very likely to be seen in people who also are Autistic or have conditions like ADHD.

I hope this is enough information! Let me know if I need to tag stuff.

#serious time #tourettes #actually tourettic #cw mentions of involuntary self-harm #asks

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Walking the tightrope

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 6.018

Characters: Janus, Virgil, Roman, Emile, Andy. (Patton, Logan and Remus mentioned once.)

Pairing(s): Platonic Anxceit, past platonic Royality

Warning(s): Angst, shooting mention, abuse, toxic parent, yelling, death, suicide, self-harm implication, scars mention, hospital mention, overdose, major character death, funeral, panic attack mention, breathing difficulty, self-deprecation/self-loathing, crying, swearing

Summary: Janus moves into a new town due to a tragedy and makes friends with Virgil. As he learns to support his new friend, he realizes how much life sucks even in new beginnings. When another tragedy dawns on him, he decides he's going to try to prevent this from happening ever again.

A/N: Guess what? This started out as a vent fic and then turned out to be... whatever the hell that is. Please read the warnings carefully. As much as it sounds like the saddest and angstiest thing you'll ever read, I promise that it somewhat has a happy ending. I also don't know how I managed to write 6k words, don't ask. Hope you can still enjoy!

✾

So long to all of my friends

Every one of them met tragic ends

With every passing day

I'd be lying if I didn't say

That I miss them all tonight

And if they only knew what I would say

« I know how it feels. »

« To be the new one around? »

« To be the odd one out. »

« Mh. Doesn't seem like you like it much here. »

« Oh believe me, » the stranger turned to Janus, the zips of his leather jacket clattering against the wooden table they were sitting on. « I'm going to be the first one to blow this town. »

That got a chuckle out of Janus, which made the stranger extend his arm.

« My name is Virgil and I don't usually come up to people and be all friendly, but you know, outsiders might understand how I feel better than the locals. »

« The longing feeling to just head home already when everyone else is staring at you and pointing fingers? Yeah, I get it. » the boy nodded, smiling in exchange, then he took Virgil's hand. « I'm Janus. »

« Well Janus, » Virgil wanted to laugh at the odd coincidence of roman-rooted names. « Let's have some fun in hell while it lasts. »

« Oh I already went through and came back five times. It'll be a piece of cake. »

They let their water bottles meet like they were clinking two glasses of white wine together, ready to cheer for an important occasion.

Three months into their friendship and neither had surprisingly bailed out.

« Come on, » it was dark outside and they, of all places, were making use of the kids' park's yellow light lamps. « Confession time. » Virgil sat on one of the swings and motioned for Janus to join him.

« Is that some sort of town tradition? »

« Nah, I just never got to play thirty-six questions in my golden teenage years. »

Janus got onto the swing next to Virgil, moving slowly and humming lost in thought.

« What do you want to know? »

« Anything you want to tell that comes to your mind. That's how it works. »

« This thing has rules? » Janus raised an eyebrow and watched as the other giggled to himself.

« No, I just made them up. »

He rolled his eyes, still smiling in amusement and tried to travel around his mind for any notion: as much as they had stuck together for a while, they still didn't know each other to the core.

Virgil shifted in his seat, swinging slightly thanks to his feet moving against the ground.

They started off with simple facts, how one of them had stolen candy as a kid and got away with it, how they had never watched some of the most famous movies, how they had pretty unusual interests.

Then something clicked, like a door opening for a safer, bigger space they could enter.

« I came here because we were forced to run away. » Janus let out after a brief pause.

Virgil turned to him, now all serious and focused. Careful.

« We lived in a very small town and there was a pretty brutal shooting in my neighborhood. » he sighed heavily. « They didn't catch the shooters, there were possibilities of them coming again so we were immediately gotten to safety. At least … at least the ones who survived. »

The other boy bowed his head, unable to imagine how that must have felt, leaving your childhood home without a single notice of whether your other relatives or your friends were alive or not.

« To this day we haven't gotten news from the detectives. » Janus reminisced of when he used to spend entire days with Remus and Logan. They did say they were going to hang out that day but he was too busy with homework …

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

« Your turn. » he dryly said.

Virgil got the hint and looked up at the sky as if in search of an answer; he was more debating whether or not to open up entirely like he did. Was it too early? He surely didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

Yet there was like some sort of force pulling him, pushing him to say whatever came up to his mind instantly.

He decided to play it somewhat safe.

« I have some scars. »

« Oh yeah? Childhood ones? Or surgery- »

Virgil shrugged. « More like … accidents. » that was what they were. Terrible accidents he hated but couldn't help but make real.

Janus snorted, definitely not having understood the implication. « Do you need someone to prevent you from tripping over ladybugs? »

Virgil considered it.

« Actually, yes, yes I do. »

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

One day I'll lose this fight

As we fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

It was another one of those nights and Janus was growing sick of it.

Couldn't there possibly be a way to sneak his friend out of such a horrible home situation? If only there were laws permitting something like adopting someone your age …

His phone buzzed on the nightstand and he took it immediately, words of emotional despair appeared on his chat with Virgil.

He was just so done with life and Janus could almost feel it through their chat client.

At first it didn't seem too unusual. Virgil would give him snippets of when he fought with his dad, nothing too serious.

But then he noticed the frequency with which they happened, and Virgil started trusting him enough to explain the entire conversations they had; or, better, what his dad yelled at him for either ten minutes to half an hour before he was done and let the poor boy seal himself in his bedroom.

The worst thing was while he would feel like the worst person existing in the entire universe for the entire night, his dad would already feel peaceful ten minutes later.

In the meantime, he also destroyed Virgil's psyche with every fight that happened.

Not that he cared or even realized. He would've probably laughed at that statement.

Janus was just furious.

It had been six months ever since he'd gotten to know Virgil and there was no way someone so wonderful was being treated like trash.

He picked up his phone and put it to his hear, waiting for the other to respond.

Of course, when Virgil greeted him, he could hear his broken voice like tiny pieces of glass that were already broken, being stepped on time and time again, becoming nothing but dust.

« What the hell happened? »

« The usual. » he heard him sniff. « I simply exist, but I do it wrong. »

« Virgil there's not right or wrong way to exist. »

« I know that. It's him that does not. Everytime he comes pissed off from work he just needs to take it out on any of us back home I just can't do it anymore. I was only typing on my computer, didn't even say a word and it led to him insulting me because he saw one book on the ground. »

« This is insane. He is insane and I'm going to get you out of there. »

Janus started pacing around his room.

« Please. In any way you can find, please do it. »

His heart sank at the urgency.

He still had no clue how to help, so he simply sat on his bed.

« How am I supposed to live like this for another probably five years with all the university stress I'm already going to have? »

« Does his yelling make you less motivated in studying? » maybe grounding him, finding exactly how he was affected, could help.

« I get unmotivated at everything. It's as if a depressive episode just hit you all at once while you were having a pretty okay day. I just … » there was a pause on the other side. « I really haven't told this to anyone else because I was always scared of it. »

Janus was immobile. « Go on. »

« Everytime he even just looks at me with a hint of disgust or any general negative connotation I already feel awful. And when he criticizes me to the point of insulting me it's even worse and it's like all of his negativity transformed into self-loathing in me. »

He bit his lip: he really wanted to punch a man.

« Basically, you believe everything he says. »

« In the long run it's impossible not to have all those degrading adjectives marked in your brain. But it doesn't end there. I feel so angry at myself, not because I wasn't smart enough to prevent the fight but because I can't help myself. No matter what I do, it's always going to end bad. »

« And it's not like you can talk back either. »

« Oh no, » he chuckled sadly. « I'd make everything worse. I just say nothing and wait for him to let it all out. And then … then I leave and that's where the scary part comes. »

« You mentioned it earlier … what scares you? » Janus was afraid of the answer.

« Uh, well. You know how I said that I become incredibly self-hating? It's like this ball of anger at the pit of my stomach and it's as if something inside me were telling me to hurt myself to make it stop. »

« Hurt yourself? » he really didn't like where that was going.

« I hate it as much as you do, but it's a thing I don't control. It's this part of me that keeps screaming in my head or I won't be satisfied. So I do it, I … those scars I told you about, I did them. It's the only way I have so far that quiets down my anger instantly. And what scares me is … sometimes I don't even regret it when I truly realize it. »

Janus considered what to say, he didn't want to overreact or scare him even more than how much he already was.

« Okay, I think maybe you don't regret it because you feel better afterwards, right? »

« Possibly. »

« As for it being the only solution you have. You have already considered having a distraction but it didn't work, probably. Is that because you feel like you can't do it by yourself? »

There was some silence on the other side, so he gave Virgil all the time he needed to come to terms with his feelings.

« Alone I'm sure I can't do anything. I mean, look at what kind of conditions I'm in right now. »

Janus sighed. « Then let's do this. Let's talk like this everytime you feel like that. »

« Janus- »

« Give me a code word you can text me and I'll ring you immediately. »

« J, I already did it. Tonight, I did it, I did it before I was able to write to anyone. » his voice felt choked, like he was about to cry again.

« Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad at you. The important thing is you got yourself treated. Breathe. »

After some more words of reassurance, Janus told him to lie down while keeping his phone close.

He sat with his back against the wall instead, an idea in mind.

« You like My chemical romance, don't you? »

« This is not a good time to shame my musical preferences. » he let out a chuckle. « But yes, I do. »

« Okay then, close your eyes. »

« What, is Gerard Way going to appear in my room once I open them again? »

Janus mentally slapped his arm. « Will you just work with me? »

« Alright, eyes closed. »

The boy took a deep breath, before starting to hum a song Virgil immediately recognized.

It surprisingly worked, as he focused only on Janus's voice and the way his singing differed from the original, how it was softer due to the hour, how everything felt better when you didn't think of the world surrounding you.

« Just remember you will always burn as bright. »

Soon enough, Virgil wasn't responding anymore and Janus ended the call, settling into bed as well with one horrible thought.

How long until Virgil couldn't endure that anymore?

Be strong and hold my hand

Time, it comes for us, you'll understand

We'll say goodbye today

And I'm sorry how it ends this way

If you promise not to cry

Then I'll tell you just what I would say

He should've known.

Ever since he heard a knock on the door so late at night he should have known something was wrong.

Virgil appeared on the other side of the door, looking distraught as though there had been a ghost instead of his friend right in front of him.

« I did something bad. » it was like he didn't even believe his own words.

Janus's eyes widened. « What happened? »

And then, for some reason, he seemed to withdraw.

« It's nothing- I just … Can you come out? »

Janus stepped outside, a little weirded out by the sudden request as it was almost midnight.

Talking to his friend didn't seem to be an option; he just kept quiet, he was distressed and wiping away at his silent tears, trying to not make Janus notice as he steadied himself by holding his hand.

If only he'd understood sooner.

Virgil led him to a spot, a little hill nearby the city you could reach by walking about fifteen minutes from their little neighborhood. There was none at that time, just a lonely bench.

Yet the upset boy preferred to sit on the grass.

« Will you tell me what's bothering you? »

« I just don't want to be alone right now. » Virgil responded through the tears.

Janus felt anxiety rising in his chest as he murmured an “okay” and strengthened the grip around the other's hands.

Only a beat of silence before the world came crashing down and the sky fell on their heads.

Virgil launched himself at Janus and hugged him with all the might that was left in his body. He felt arms around him hugging him back, hearing words of concern he didn't want to answer because once he voiced reality it would have become too true and he was too scared to accept it.

Tic, tac, time was running out.

« I took some pills. » he blurted out.

He felt hands on his shoulders pulling him back.

« What? What pills? How many? »

Janus's stare was unbearable, he couldn't look up anymore, it felt too heavy. Too heavy, too much.

« I don't know, » his shaking hands wiped away a tear. « All of them! » he yelled, finally. He gasped for air right after, he thought this was because of his crying, but he sure as hell knew his body was starting to shut down.

« All of them?! » he could feel the tears in Janus's voice as his grip on his shoulders tightened.

Virgil started sobbing again and brought his hands to his face. « Please don't leave. » he murmured.

« I won't. I- » Janus was shaking as well, he had just sent a text for someone to call an ambulance. What else could he do? « How long has it been since you took them? »

Virgil shook his head violently. « Too long- too late. »

« It's never too late. The doctors will arrive soon- »

« Late. It's- They won't. Not in. Time. » he wasn't able to talk properly anymore, he wasn't sure whether it was a panic attack or his respiratory system failing him. « Almost three hours ago. »

« Three … » Janus was shocked.

He was suddenly stiff. Three hours was enough for a person to die of overdose.

« I was scared to go alone … » Virgil admitted through the tears again, not looking up, fear stuck in his throat. « I needed to see you one last time. »

Janus was took over by an uncontrollable need; he took the other's face in his hands and forced him to look at him. « You should've called me. » he retorted, trying to repress the sobs.

« I couldn't. I'm sorry. » Virgil put his hands on the other's arms. He apologized again and over again until Janus told him he didn't have to and he didn't need to be forgiven for anything.

« You're angry. »

« I'm heartbroken, Virgil. You didn't get what you deserved because of the horrible people surrounding you. That's not fair! » his voice rose at the last sentence. Yes, he was actually angry, but not at him. He was many things and felt many things at once and he didn't know how to handle those feelings again.

« I don't want you to go. » he had hugged him instantly, because seeing his face meant it was happening, while looking at the dark meant absolutely nothing.

« It's okay. »

« No, it's not. »

There were sirens in the distance.

None of them said a thing in their embrace for a whole minute, their silence broken only by the occasional sobs.

« Janus- »

He could feel Virgil's heart rate slowing down.

« No. No, no- »

The ambulance was coming, they could make it.

« I love you. »

« I love you too, just don't give up. »

« I think I will … lie down. »

Virgil's head dropped on Janus's shoulder: the other moved so he could rest part of his body on his lap.

« Hey J. When you see my dad again … » Janus lifted an eyebrow, he had been caressing his friend's hair in a state of panic for the past minutes. « Tell him he can go fuck himself. »

Janus let out some laughter that almost came off as hysterical with the state he was in.

« I will. I will, Virgil. I'll punch him for you. » he promised with a broken voice.

Virgil sadly smiled at him before closing his eyes one last time.

« Remember … » he whispered, voice low and cracked. « Take care of yourself. »

One last wish.

And he was gone.

Janus immediately doubled over himself, longing for screaming right then and there, instead he kept quiet, his face buried in a dead body.

Right after, he felt two arms lifting him up, he wouldn't have been able to register whatever had happened until the day after.

Those were the doctors.

They could make it, he had thought, stupidly.

Janus could only perfectly recall one moment of that night, when, at three a.m., as soon as he had gotten into a decent mental state to go back home, he reached what once was Virgil's household, knocking on the door.

And, when Virgil's father answered it, he punched him in the face.

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

I'll fail and lose this fight

Never fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

Three days.

Three days is all it takes to organize a funeral.

Three days weren't enough for Janus to accept that any of that had been happening.

On the morning right after his death, his mother had commented on how there were news of a student's death and how terrible they were. Then she had looked at her son's shattered expression, his red eyes and marked eye bags.

She had frowned deeply and caught him in a long-lasting hug, understanding.

He didn't remember what happened on the second day apart from him staying in bed for far longer than necessary.

And then there he was.

All dressed up for the occasion on a Saturday morning, ten o'clock in the front rows of a building for a religion Virgil didn't even believe in.

Thankfully his family was on the opposite side of Janus's seating place.

Funerals were those types of events you couldn't miss, but that you couldn't also wait to leave; you promised yourself you wouldn't cry and yet tears would pool in your eyes at any heartfelt confession made, even the most fake ones.

Anything remotely sad is able to break you down where you're on the verge of weeping.

Still, choking back tears was the usual answer.

Janus looked up when Virgil's sister stood and walked in front of the altar, she was holding a letter and a microphone with both of her shaking hands.

She began talking about her brother and their childhood experiences, all the siblings stuff one would expect. Then she mentioned the letter in her hand.

It was a note Virgil had left before meeting with Janus. Something he knew nothing about.

She wanted to read it aloud.

He zoned out for most of it, not registering her voice like he actually didn't want to know. He caught glimpses of memories of his past and present, of the real people who cared, not one mention of his dad was made.

Then he heard his name and suddenly he couldn't focus anywhere else.

« I've only known him for a little less than a year and yet he's been better than anyone I had ever met in my eighteen years of existence. »

Janus put his hands on his face. How dare he leave him like that?

« It's going to hurt. Don't blame yourself. You couldn't prevent this. It was a choice I made alone. I know it sucks and it's selfish, but I wanted a way out. I'm glad I'm getting to spend my last instants with you and that I got to meet you in time. I'll greet you on the other side when time will come. »

She looked up at him and was met with a longing look that hoped she was over and done with that. She gave him a small nod and smile, then went back to read the conclusion.

Janus wanted to laugh, laugh and cry and curse Virgil.

The rest of the ceremony went by and it was now his turn to bid his last farewell.

He knew words were useless when it came to those situations, so instead he gently leaned in and started off humming a familiar melody.

« If I could be with you tonight, I would sing you to sleep. »

He wanted to reach out and shake him, tell him he knew he was pretending to be asleep and it was all a big prank so he could leave his family and run away.

Janus would've gone with him.

The light behind your eyes

Virgil looked like he'd taken the form of a storm cloud.

His skin gray, almost non human. Fully clothed with a suit he would've hated, Janus could hear his usual groan in his memories, which made him sadly laugh.

He looked cold and dead and too real and he hated it.

The light behind your

Janus closed his eyes only for a second.

A second in which that whole night came back to him; he felt Virgil's arms surrounding his chest, tears soaking his shirt, panic rising in his lungs.

He wished he could hold him again, take him away and let him into a safer zone.

Instead Janus's mind took him to the instant he watched as Virgil's eyes darkened, as if you could turn off a star, as if you could turn off the sun with a click.

Sometimes we must grow stronger and

You can't be stronger in the dark

When I'm here, no longer

You must be stronger and

The Monday after, Janus felt himself pushed by an incredibly strong and ardent force.

He had gone to school no problem under the aghast stare of his parents, impatiently waiting for the bell to ring for break time. Perfect, as he dared to admit they were, ideas had started to squirm in his mind ever since the funeral.

As he had gotten out of the church, he remembered meeting Virgil's sister, she had given him a hug, showing him how there was a spot in Virgil's letter she hadn't read in which he asked her to do so.

Right after that, his mother had approached him, knowing how close they were, she had uncomfortably mentioned the school therapist Virgil had wanted to meet, doctor Picani.

Emile Picani walked right past him as Janus had started going on the search for his next class.

« Excuse me, »

The doctor turned around in no time, a calm smile placed on his lips. « May I help you? » he spoke softly.

There was no way he didn't know who he was, given that the news of Virgil's suicide had ran around pretty quickly.

« Yes, I was actually looking for you. I'm Janus Dean, from the senior year, I was hoping I could ask you a favor. » there was a sort of electric buzz in his chest as he watched Emile furrow his eyebrows in interest.

« A favor? Therapy sessions aren't a favor I do for students, sweetie, it's my job. » he explained kindly.

Yeah, he didn't get it.

« That's not what I was looking for. I need another kind of help. » he tried, this time Emile simply nodded, letting him finish so he could understand.

« I know this is not the biggest city but as we've seen it doesn't mean there aren't people who need help, even with the smallest things, especially when they're young and experiencing hard struggles for the first time, »

« What I want to try to do is organize a support group made by youth for youth here in this school. I know Virgil was too afraid to actually come to you and I know there are more kids who would rather express their issues to people their age cause that's what happens everyday with online friends. »

« People understanding each other because they're going through the exact same thing at the same time, thus they can empathize so much better and feel at ease. I'm not trying to downgrade your job, on the contrary I wanted both your help to set this up and … well, I was hoping to be able to host it by myself so I'd need a hand on how I should … behave? » he finally looked up at the doctor, breathless.

Picani was smiling the widest he'd ever seen anyone do.

« Janus you are the most incredible person I have ever met. I would love to help! But at one condition: I'm going to stay with you in the first support meetings, then, when we agree you can handle it on your own, I'll leave you be. »

Janus's face lit up with hope and excitement, he sputtered out multiple thank yous and, afterwards, they set a day to work on their project and contact the school's principal to get the permission they needed.

He started walking towards a class he'd have had in ten minutes when he heard a younger voice call him. Janus turned around and found a boy he'd only noticed once or twice in the halls, he only remembered him heading for theatre club at times while he was leaving for home.

« Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with doctor Picani. My name is Roman and I just wanted to say that … well, in short I have gone through a similar thing as you are right now, some years ago. » he looked down, reminiscing of his own experience.

Had Janus lived in that city long enough, he would've known of a middle school student's suicide case, Patton Jones.

« I always had this longing feeling to do something about it but I had felt hopeless until now. What I'm trying to say is, if you need help with your idea, I'd be more than happy to assist. »

Janus hoped that Virgil had been watching over him on that day, because that was the first time he felt like the wind was blowing his way.

« Thank you, Roman. You can already come to Picani's studio tomorrow after class if you'd like. » the other boy gave him a nod. « Until then. » they exchanges smiles and parted ways.

His project was going to see the light of day and there was nothing else he would've asked for in the world right then.

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

I failed and lost this fight

Never fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

It took maybe a month for the support group to finally be successful: at first it was only Janus and Roman, waiting for people to show up and thus chatting along with the school's therapist.

Things started off as awkward until they worked together so well that more and more people were encouraged to show up.

Christmas holidays were drawing near and Janus was nothing but amazed at how far they had come.

He had just said goodbye to his co-host, Roman, and given Emile that session's achievements when he caught someone standing in front of the room's door as soon as he opened it.

« Oh? »

That couldn't be real.

There was a definitely younger boy standing before him, hands in pockets and the same grumpy expression he used to see on Virgil's face. He … he did somehow resemble some of Virgil's traits.

Janus shook that thought off of his head, reminding himself it was probably only because of their similar clothing choice.

When he noticed him, the stranger's eyes widened.

« Can I help you? »

« No, I was just- Well … »

« Did you want to listen? »

The boy probably took that as an attack as he retreated and made himself smaller in his black hoodie.

« It's okay if so, people can come and listen and not say a word if they aren't comfortable with talking. We want it to be a safe space for everyone, without being judged. »

He seemed to consider, standing still. « Okay. I'll see. »

« Well, » the older boy extended his arm. « My name is Janus, pleased to meet you either way. »

He gave him a weak smile. « I'm Andy. »

« Well then Andy, I'll see you around or at next week's meeting? »

Andy nodded and looked down, still hunched over himself; they waved at each other and went home.

It was nothing more than two days later that Janus found Andy sitting at the same wooden table he and Virgil had met.

All those coincidences were making him both dizzy and filled with energy: he reached his new acquaintance and sat with him.

« I know how it feels. » he found himself saying.

Immediately a pair of dark eyes were set on him, a questioning look in them.

« Being the odd one out isn't fun, is it? »

« I guess. I just want to finish high school and leave this town. Living with your parents this much can be unbearable. »

There was some silence, before Janus resumed talking.

« I can perfectly understand. You know, I actually had a similar conversation at this very table one year ago. »

Andy seemed to catch on what he meant right away, he looked up at Janus for the first time, finding a confident young man in front of him.

Janus let his head rest on his palm.

« When he used to vent to me, I'd be able to soothe him with a song sometimes. I'm not saying this exact song would help you in particular, but the concept of it can. Find one peculiar song that grounds you, make it yours for when you need it. »

Andy kept watching him as he explained. He looked at him as though a guardian angel had just dawned on him. How did he know of his profound passion for music?

« And you'll see that soon, unbearable will become conquerable. » he looked at Andy with seriousness in his eyes, but spoke with a kind voice. « Remember to always take care of yourself. »

He sat up. « I will leave you alone now. » he chuckled. « B- »

« No! »

Both of them stared at each other in surprise.

« I mean, » Andy cleared his throat. « You can stay if you want. »

Janus smiled at him and nodded: sitting back down, he noticed Andy's much wider smile.

« So, what music do you listen to? »

The light behind your eyes

He couldn't believe he had come that far.

Janus walked down a street in town, a few years older, his face's structure bolder, his mood as high as ever when he was about to approach the building where his organization resided.

Which was kind of surprising as it was the anniversary of Virgil's death.

Janus was satisfied, to say the least.

He recalled a conversation he had had years prior with Emile Picani about what profession he was thinking of going for and, without missing a beat, he had answered he wished to follow the path of clinical psychology as well.

He had found his call, becoming a therapist and hoping to help as many people as he could: he now was a full time therapist, with his own studio, also visiting schools and participating in the nightly Community Support Group he had founded along Roman.

Sometimes he crossed paths with Emile and, now kind of colleagues, they shared each other's words of wisdom and finally talked more as friends than as mentor and student.

The support group had grown into a pretty big organization and he had succeeded into raising awareness at least in the town he lived in; of course, the challenge was to extend it further, but ending up on local newspapers and in broadcasting services was already a good start, along with multiple online platforms he was trying to maintain with the help of both Roman, Emile and every kid who offered their help.

Their main goal as of then was to expand the meetings to different issues so they could try and work on more specific problems instead of having a messy general one.

Janus stopped to look at the poster on the building's wall.

Some graphic design students had designed the support group flyer: it showcased mainly a picture of Virgil, since they had founded that group in his honor.

It was his favorite picture of Virgil, with his soft smile and that sparkle in his eyes he could still notice even after seeing it leaving his irises firsthand.

It didn't matter what he saw, though, cause his memory lived in him, he lived through him and he knew he would have been proud of him.

Janus looked away with an enormous sense of nostalgia and walked up the stairs.

« Just remember you will always burn as bright. »

Janus entered the building, taking with himself the light behind Virgil's eyes.

#purp's writings #janus sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani #roman sanders #ts andy #read the warnings #angst #fanfiction #sanders sides #ts fanfic

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