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junisfics · 3 years

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Heavy Petting ft. Armin Arlert (Day V)

Focus: Heavy Petting

Warnings: Sexual Contact / Nsfw 18+

Word Count: 2k

They’ve been gone for three days, they should’ve been back within a few hours. Where the hell are they?

Armin left with the others days ago to go on a supply run. Days. This trip should have taken them only a few hours to get done. They’re on horseback, they should’ve been back ages ago.

“Stop sulking around waiting for them to get back, they most likely came across a live town and are trying to trade or something...” Eren explains.

He can’t blame me, how am I supposed to sit around doing nothing while Armin- they’re out there practically begging to be eaten alive.

I pace Mikasa and I’s shared room in the cottage, Eren sitting on her bed as I walk from door to window and back again.

“You need to drink or something, you’re livid.” He says.

“You need to stop acting like youre completely unbothered. I know it pisses you off just sitting here, you hate being excluded from helping.” I spit back.

“You’re just acting like a bitch because you don’t have an eye on Armin for once,” He stands up, “You’re obsessive.”

“I-I am not! I- at least I care! You let Mikasa be a suicidal hero for you and you sit around doing nothing in return!” I shout at him

“She’s just chopping wood, you need to relax.” He groans

“She was just thrown around, she needs to rest!”

“They’re back.” He mutters.

“Shut up you bastard- wait what?”

He stares blankly at the window before turning and making his way down the hall and downstairs. I’m on his heels, practically shoving him down the stairs before pushing past him. I hastily push open the door too see them getting off their horses and stabling them.

“Armin... Armin!” I cry out. I see his blond hair whip around as he turns to face me. He’s tying his horse back up into her stable.

“y/n! Sorry, we ended up getting turned around, it took a little longer than ex- oh.”

His sentence is cutoff as I run up to him and practically throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, his own make their way around my torso and I hold myself flush against him.

“We were only gone a few days, are you alright?” He asks, speaking into my hair.

I let go of him and take a few steps back to look at him. His hair is coated in sweat and dirt that sticks to his forehead. It’s obvious they came in contact with a few titans, the give away being the cuts and bruises that litter his hands and face along with few rips in his clothes.

“Yeah, sorry. Are you?” My hands prod at him, inspecting any possible injuries I missed before. I take his hands in mine, examining the surface cuts. Then, I take his face in my hands and shifting it slightly to look over it. My eyes get caught at a thin gash below his left eye.

It was supposed to be just a little supply run, to get food and medical supplies, that’s it.

“Ah-” He grimaces, jerking back at my touch. I let go of him.

“Go wash up then meet me in the kitchen. I need to clean it.” I gesture my head to the house

He disappears off to the backyard where the water spout is and I make my way back inside, a little to quickly for that.

He’s alive. He’s alive. Relax, y/n.

I through the kitchen cabinets for my medical box. I’m pulling things and shoving things around when I realize I had leant it to Jean.

“Jean!” I shout

“Jesus, y/n, I’m right here, what do you want?” He sets down what I assume to be a sack of potatoes onto the counter.

“Where’s my med bag?” I ask.

“I put it in your room, under your bed. I didn’t know where else it’d go.”

It’s right where he says it was. I take it apart and pull out alcohol, gauze, needles and sutures. I lay it out accordingly onto the bedside table. Staring at it, shifting each tool an embarrassing amount of times.

Relax, he’s fine. He’s here.

“y/n?” Armin says, rounding the door frame.

His once dirt soaked hair is now clean and wet, messily hanging into his face. His shirt clings to his still damp skin. In the absence of the dirt I can now see bruises littered across his jaw and cheekbones. His forearms are all scratched up as well.

I pat beside me on the bed gently. He closes the door quietly and takes a seat beside me. I pour a bit of alcohol onto a gauze pad and hold him by his chin to keep him still. He winces when contact is met.

“Sorry, sorry” I mumble, wiping and patting at the gash below his eye.

When It’s as clean as I think it can get I reach for the sutures and tweezers, pushing it through the damaged skin as gently as I possibly can, “I’m sorry, I know”

I can feel his eyes boring into mine and I grow obviously uncomfortable as I try and complete my work.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks suddenly. His voice quiet, nervous.

I look down to his lips, a slit in the bottom one, then into his eyes. Slowly and sheepishly, I nod, letting my tools drop to the floor.

His lips meet mine, cold but soft. He takes my face in his hands and my own drop from his and reach around his neck to toy with his still damp hair.

My heart lurches out of my chest, his fingers gently tracing the skin of my cheekbones. His touch is overwhelming and I feel my own skin growing hot. I grab at the front of his shirt, twisting it into my fist to pull him closer.

I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about kissing Armin, actually, you’d have to be stupid to think I haven’t.

“I- closer, come closer... please.” Armin mumbles quietly, his hands pulling at my waist.

I hesitate, but only momentarily, then make my way closer, shifting inch by inch before something inside him snaps and he pulls me atop him. Our lips detach and my forehead rests against his, my legs straddling his waist but he remains upright, his back up against the wall.

“Armin..” I’m out of breath, my chest noticeably raising up and down with every pant.

“Fuck, just kiss me.” He pleads and I do. I tilt my head down so my mouth meets his again, this time with more passion.

His hands skim up and down my sides and back, touching almost any place he can without overstepping his boundaries. He needs more, I can feel it. It’s almost too much to handle, my body and senses completely flooded by him. He’s everywhere all at once.

I shift slightly to be flush against him my hands still around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip drops to my hips and squeezes them harshly before taking in a sharp inhale. Before I can kiss him again he tilts his head slightly so our noses bump together.

“You- God- you can’t do that... please.” This time he’s the one out of breath, overwhelmed and his skin hot.

My eyes closed and lips still searching for his as he pleads.

“You don’t- God, y/n, stop fucking moving.” He hisses, sitting up even more so to where his nose is in line with my jaw.

Hearing him swear is a rare occasion, let alone multiple times. It’s captivating, the sexuality of his frustration is so incredibly attractive.

His breath is hot on my neck, I can feel his lips tracing gently before kissing the tender flesh. My eyes flutter shut and my mouth drops open, a shiver goes down my spine and to my center.

Oh.

Tiny whimpers leave my lips and I feel his tongue lick up my jugular.

“Armin,” I breathe.

“I don’t want anything from you, just this... please.” His voice has dropped a few octaves.

It’s so much, but so not enough. I feel stupid, completely dumbed by him. My head is clouded and all I can even think about is him, his lips and his touch. His fingers are gentle as they slip under the hem of my shirt to tickle the skin there. Another pathetic sound escapes my mouth.

His hips shift and a wave of pleasure ripples through me.

“Armin, I-I can feel you.” I giggle quietly and he pinches the supple skin of my hips.

“Shit, I’m sorry- God” He groans into the skin below my jaw and ear, “It’s just- you’re just perfect.”

He sucks gently on my skin, marking the surface with little nips and bites every so often. The warm and wet gliding of his tongue along my skin has me shaking in his lap and every move I make I can feel him beneath me.

My hands rake down his chest and stomach then up under his shirt. The muscles of his stomach tense beneath my fingers. I never expected Armin to be so muscular, yes he’s rather lean but my fingers can feel the obvious divots between his abs.

As my hands feel over his hot skin, his chest begins to rise and fall at a more rapid pace. His once innocent hands begin to sheepishly travel towards my backside. I try to encourage him by arching my back ever so slightly... and I wouldn’t say that hurt our situation but it definitely didn’t... help.

A groan rumbles deep in his chest as I do so and his grip on my lower back releases so he can grab my face and pull me away from him. My hands rest on the bare skin of his chest as he looks into my eyes and holds my jaw between his hands.

“You drive me insane.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to me.

His thumb follows the dips and mounds of my lips before finding resting tenderly against the center of my bottom lip. He uses his thumb to pull it down before letting it flick back up.

I try to lean forward to catch his lips in mine but he holds me still. A tiny smile upturns the corners of his lips as I try again with no prevail, only bumping the tips of our noses together once more. My mouth hangs open faintly, begging him to kiss me again.

I dig my nails into his bare chest, scratching gently.

“Ah-shit” He hisses, his eyes fluttering closed and head resting back against the wall.

“Kiss me, please.” I whisper, “Please.”

He blushes, pulling his head off the wall and looking into my eyes. I will never be able to get over how absolutely beautiful he is. The cool depths of his blue eyes are captivating; the gentle rises and falls of the bone structure in his face, the flexing of his muscles with every movement is so incredibly alluring.

He taunts me, leaning in then leaning out once I do the same. His pretty teeth showing with every smile.

I open my mouth and poke out my tongue, taking it and reaching to lick at his open lips. He twitches beneath me and I snicker quietly.

“Hey y/n! Have you seen Armin, Eren wants- oh!” Sasha pushes open the door and I scramble off of him, stumbling to the floor and taking a seat there.

“Eren! I found him!” She calls to downstairs, then returns to us, “I knew it!”

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goldenkirstein · 3 years

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there's no place I'd rather be

or alternatively, you fall in love with jean despite knowing the precarious situation

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anonymous requested: Hello, long time reader here and glad that you open your request! Can I request a Jean x F! Reader. Reader is a Marleyan nurse who arrived with Yelena, tho she has no hate towards Eldian and feels unfair the stigmatism eldian suffers in Marley. She isnt involved in any plans just do her work. She slowly falls in love with Jean, but has to keep their relationship as she is « the ennemy ». They got secretly engaged before the rumbling. Canonverse, Fluff, slight, love. Thank you in advance ❤️❤️❤️

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.1k+

tags: fluff, some angst, manga spoilers, female reader, language, mentions of food and injuries.

a/n: dashes denote timskips

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Not so tightly, I said firmly, not to cut off my circulation.” You giggled as the man released his grip on your wrist. He looked down, ears tinted red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Hazel eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle left his mouth.

You were no stranger to the commanding officer; although a great soldier, he was not immune from the occasional bar fight, which often led him to knock at your door with a pleading look and a couple of cuts and bruises that needed your attention.

Over the months, the fights got less frequent, but Jean continued to visit you, leading to the formation of an unlikely friendship. Sometimes, he would come with lunch in hand, knowing how busy you got taking care of the sick and wounded. Other times, like today, he would join you on his days off, helping you complete menial tasks around the clinic.

“You are a terrible student, Kirstein; you know that?” You stood up from the cot and began to place the gauze and antiseptic liquid in the cabinet situated above.

“Maybe you’re just a terrible teacher.” He looked up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. You whipped your head back to roll your eyes at the man before returning to the task at hand.

“I’d be careful with the choice of words; I don’t see any other nurse here who lets you follow them around like a lost puppy dog.” Closing the cabinet, you stripped the cot of the sheets, bunching them in your hands. Jean’s eyes followed your precise movements before he took the sheets out of your hand and placed them in the laundry hamper at the end of the bed.

“A puppy dog? Seriously? After helping you out at this lonesome clinic, that’s what I’m reduced to?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning being shot.

You gave him a deadpan look before moving on to the next bed. The tall man remained in your periphery as you continued to work. The silent treatment clearly worked as a sigh left his lips. You glanced up, mouth already open to quip at him in playful annoyance, but found him running his hands through his hair— a nervous tick. You had picked up on it after cleaning his cuts when missions went wrong.

“So, next lesson, I was thinking, maybe you could teach me how to suture a wound?”

This was what he was nervous about?

“You can barely take my pulse without squeezin’ the pulp out of me; you think I’m going to trust you-”

“Okay, how about a date then.”

You blinked your eyes at him, a confused expression painting your face. There were too many complications, you thought. Sure he was attractive and kind, not to mention thoughtful, and his touch would set your skin ablaze, but he was ranked high in the military; would his superiors be okay with this?

There was no denying you did have feelings for him — a tiny part of you was squealing like a schoolgirl; you desperately wanted to lean into that part, but there could be consequences if you accepted.

Worrisome thoughts circled your mind, and you barely heard your name being called out by the man in front of you. Shaking your head to clear your mind, your focus returned to Jean, his eyebrows raised as he waited with bated breath for your response.

It’s just one date.

It could mean nothing.

There’s no harm in saying yes.

“Um, it’s fine if you don’t-” Jean’s voice was hesitant and quiet, but he was quickly cut off when you let out a laugh.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just-you know what? Yeah, Kirstein, I’ll go on a date with you.” His demeanour changed, and you giggled at the awkwardness. “Now, I have a pile of patient files that need sorting. Think you’re up for the job?” You bit your lip as you watched the man quickly nod and follow behind your footsteps.

—

“Seriously? I mean, I don’t see it; guess puberty did you wonders, Jean.” You took a bite of the strawberry shortcake, eyes fluttering shut as the flavours filled your mouth.

“Right? I guess I was kind of a dick back then, but I swear they only just stopped calling me that.” Jean smiled as he looked over at you, enjoying the dessert. He hopelessly wanted to kiss you there and then, but he decided against it — too early for that.

“Do you miss it? Your training years?” Taking a napkin, you wiped at the corner of your mouth. The smile on Jean’s face faded away as he looked over the meadow, the setting sun casting a brilliant glow over his features. The change in his expression filled you with instant regret; you opened your mouth to utter out an apology for your carelessness but were cut off by Jean’s voice replacing the sudden silence that had taken over between the two of you.

“Yes? No? Sometimes, it feels like a different lifetime; none of us could have anticipated this. We were so young.” He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing, “Sometimes I wish we could have stayed like that for a little longer — I could have cherished it better.” His voice turned into a whisper near the end. You stayed silent before he turned back, flashing a smile at you that made your heartbeat quicken.

“Enough about me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about Marley. Tell me about it.” Jean’s eyes flickered between yours and the different slices of cake laid out on the picnic blanket. Taking a fork, he bit into the decadent cheesecake and let out a moan.

“You really want to hear about Marley? I thought you’d be sick of hearing about the place, Mr. Commanding Officer.” You giggled while he tried to grumble out a response, the food still in his mouth.

“I could never get tired of hearing about you, doll. Now, c’mon tell me.” His expression softened when he looked at you.

“Don’t do that.” You swallowed thickly, the pet name ringing in your ears.

“Do what?” He wiped the crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand, making you raise your eyebrows and suppress a laugh. He tilted his head and looked at you with a confused expression.

“Say stuff that makes me feel like I got the wind knocked out of my lungs.” You turned your face, attempting to conceal the embarrassment that had taken over your features. Shutting your eyes, you waited for him to laugh at you, but he never did. Hesitantly you turned to face him and found him staring at you, his hazel eyes sparkling.

“You want to know what my diagnosis for that is?” He leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You struggled to meet his gaze.

“What?” It came out breathy; Jean’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I think you like me. Wanna know what I recommend as treatment?” He smiled when you quickly nodded at his words, the conversation you were having wiped from your mind.

The distance between the two of you closed in; his lips moulded to yours as he captured them in a tender kiss. The taste of the sweet cheesecake was still present on his lips, and you wrapped his hand around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jean smiled against your lips before pulling away.

“Guess my lessons finally paid off, Kirstein.” A slight blush tinted Jean’s cheeks at your comment, and he grasped your free hand with his own, bringing it to his lips, peppering your knuckles with soft kisses.

—

“Are you listening?”

The Commander’s voice made you sit up straight; you offered a quick apology to them before glancing over at Jean, who was shifting in his seat.

The tension was palpable in the room as the Commander continued to explain the fragility of the situation at hand. With Eren abandoning the scouts, intense scrutiny was placed on the Commander and the Marleyan volunteers — the latter of which included you.

You stared at your hands which rested in your lap, gaze focused downward to avoid the venomous looks that were being thrown in your direction. However, it wasn’t anger that filled your chest but rather a certain heaviness. You couldn’t blame them. Centuries of mistrust and hatred fueled this. They had every right to doubt your intentions, despite them being in no way harmful or deceitful in nature.

Gathering enough courage to lift your head, you locked eyes with Jean, and your heart sank deeper into a pool of anguish.

You were a fool.

A fool for thinking that the world would spare you from the inevitable heartbreak that faced you both.

You hoped that Jean wouldn’t be able to see through the front you were putting up, trying your best to remain neutral, not to worry him during such an important meeting. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes shifting back to Commander Hange. You knew that if you were worrying about the current predicament, there was no doubt that he probably was as well.

Shifting your focus back on your lap, you ran your thumb over your bare ring finger to soothe yourself for the remainder of the meeting.

Welcoming the cool breeze as you stepped out of the imposing building, you allowed your shoulders to relax. The momentary relief was short-lived, however, as two soldiers trailed behind your footsteps. They were getting closer and closer until you turned around and saw a familiar figure dismiss them.

Jean approached you; although his expression was stiff and stoic, his eyes still held the same tenderness for you as they did years prior. Before accompanying you through the gates and on to the stone-laden path towards your clinic, he gave you a curt nod.

You knew better than to reach out and grasp his hand, interlock your fingers together, despite the ever-growing itch you had to seek comfort in his touch.

Sparing a few glances in his direction, you saw his jaw was clenched — the meeting still heavy on his mind.

Rounding the corner, the steps leading to the clinic came into view; it was secluded enough for both of you to drop the act. You walked over and sat on the steps and watched as Jean sat next to you.

A tired sigh tumbled from his lips, hair falling in front of his face, obstructing you from seeing his pained expression. You reached over and brushed it past his ear, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder before resting your forehead against it.

The both of you sat in silence before Jean took hold of your left hand, thumb brushing over the same spot you were moments prior.

“You know, I was worried you only said yes out of pity for me. I thought you only saw me as some poor Eldian-” Raising your head from Jean’s shoulder, you watched with concern in your eyes.

“Jean, you know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“I know that, doll. I just, just, couldn’t believe you would want to marry me.” His eyes remained focused on your hand until you released it from his grasp. You moved it to his face, turning it to make him face you.

Grazing over his cheekbones, you gave him a soft smile, “I still want to. Marry you that is. Ring or not, the end of the fucking world or not, I’m still going to marry you.” Letting out a chuckle, you pressed your forehead against his.

He turned his head to kiss your palm, voice coming out as a whisper, “I can’t make any promises, and I know you’re scared, but know that I love you more than anything, darling.”

—

Smoothing your hands over your attire, for the umpteenth time doing so, you walked over to join Armin and the others from the ship’s bow.

You instantly smiled when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back, head turning to look at your husband.

“You could have spent a smidge more time fixing your hair, don’t you think so?” Jean shook his head and let out a laugh.

“Gotta look the best for my wife.” He shot you a wink, making you roll your eyes at him despite the action making your mind foggy — even now, he still managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a silly little crush.

You pushed into his side, hand snaking up his back as you approached your friends.

“Nervous?”

“You know it.” He removed himself from your side to lean into the railing, but he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you closer to his body.

Jean brought your hand to his lips before he placed a gentle kiss over the cool metal that wrapped around your finger. He flashed you a grin, “but I’m glad I have you here with me.”

a/n: this took me a long time to finish, so I apologize for it taking so long !! I hope you enjoyed it !!

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years

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19. Sam Winchester - Hospital Visit

It was extra busy today at the hospital, there were three patients in need of major surgeries along with a line of people either waiting at the clinic or waiting for their minor surgeries to take place. I had been running around all morning wherever I was needed, and since I was the lead surgeon that was pretty much everywhere. Every time I got the chance, I glanced up at the ticking clock that was mute amongst all the loud chatting and alarms going off. I needed to hang on til three, and then another head surgeon would be here to help. I wiped the forming beads of sweat off of my forehead as I headed to the bathroom, wanting to escape from all the chaos that was hitting. Of course I loved being a doctor but I wasn’t made for such large groupings like this. It sent anxiety through my body causing me to sweat. So I just needed a small break to calm my nerves.

Pressing my back against the cool wall felt almost painful against my hot, sweaty skin. I was just praying silently that I was wearing my doctor’s coat over a turtleneck sweater, stopping most of the chilling pain. Finally catching my breath after fifteen minutes, I pushed myself off of the wall, the cold no longer bothering me, and headed back into the jungle that awaited outside. Not much time passed before my Nurse, Lacy, ran up to me.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice frantic and filled with worry, “come quick, there’s two new patients in need of medical treatment.”

Nodding curtly, I followed after her quickly to wherever the patients were. There weren’t many rooms open, so when we did eventually find them, they were in the last two rooms. I went inside the first room, the room that was closer to us, and peered inside at the man lying on the hospital bed. My eyes widened at the sight of John Winchester, an old family friend from way back then. He was covered in slash marks, fresh blood that still needed to be cleaned off of his unconscious body. He was also covered in sweat, glass, and dirt.

Lacy looked up at me.

“Bring me a rag,” I muttered, “and some warm, soapy water.”

Nodding, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I took another glance at John Winchester then headed out of the room, silently praying that the other person in the second room wasn’t one of his sons.

But I wasn’t lucky. Lying in the next hospital bed was his older son, Dean. I frowned, my forehead creasing slightly. Like his father, Dean was covered in blood, sweat, glass, and dirt. He would need to be cleaned up as well.

“Doctor.”

Looking up, I spotted my nurse standing at the door with the bucket of water and a rag hanging over it.

“Thank you. Please, get another one for this patient.”

“Of course.”

I took the bowl from Lacy and headed back into the room where John was waiting. Sitting beside his bed was Sam, also covered in blood but not as much as his dad and brother. His eyes met mine, widening as he saw my face.

“Noel?” He questioned, his voice soft and surprised.

“Hey Sam,” I replied, placing the bowl down.

His eyes shifted to the ground. The last time I saw the Winchester’s was when I was twelve years old. I was a year younger than Sam. Out of the two Winchester boys, Sam and I had become close. I knew all about their hunting and everything they did.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” I asked, grabbing the cloth and beginning to clean John up.

The blood wiped away easily, revealing his tanned up, scarred skin.

“I’m not so sure that’s a great idea,” he admitted.

“Maybe not, but I still think you should tell me.”

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating inside his head whether telling me would put me in danger. It probably would but I could handle myself. Finally, he told me what happened. They had gotten into a fight with a demon, one who called herself Meg, and these shadow things came out of nowhere attacking them. They were practically defenseless, their only saving grace was light. That’s how they were able to escape, along with throwing Meg out a tall window. By the time he finished telling me what happened, I had finished cleaning his dad up.

Placing the cloth inside the now bloody water, I faced Sam.

“Is she dead?” I inquired.

“We think so,” he huffed, his hair shifting with the breeze escaping his lips, “but we’ve never dealt with a demon before so we’re unsure.”

Nodding quietly, I started stitching up the large gashes displayed on John’s body. Lacy was right, he did need quick medical attention but not so much that he needed to be placed in the operating room. Not while there were people who needed surgeries on their brains waiting, or even their stomach. This was an easy fix.

I could feel Sam’s eyes watching me while I sutured up his dad. Clipping the final set of stitches, I got rid of all the leftovers, then washed my hands.

“I’m going to Dean’s room,” I muttered, “he needs more care than your father, so I’ll need more time to deal with him. Wait here.”

Sam didn’t argue, he just nodded his head.

Taking care of Dean’s injuries were much harder than I had realized. He was losing lots of blood, and no matter how much of it I tried to wipe away, there would always be another rush of it pouring from the wound. So I had to deal with the large, several gashes that covered his body. Fixing him up took me almost three hours. When I was finished with him, it didn’t seem to matter, he was in a coma from the amount of blood he lost. I wasn’t sure he was going to make it and that was going to be hard to tell Sam and John.

Lacy informed me that John Winchester was now awake, so now I was heading to his room to give them the bad news. Some doctors would call it semi-bad news but that didn’t really make any sense to me considering. I walked into John’s room, seeing him speaking to Sam, neither of them looking happy about whatever was being discussed. Sam was first to spot me.

“Dad,” he said.

John turned to face me, and at first I wasn’t sure he’d recognize me but when his eyes widened, I knew he did.

“Noel,” he said, “it’s been a long time.”

“It sure has,” I replied, smiling, “it seems you guys got yourself into a pickle.”

“Seems that way.”

I walked completely inside the room, my hands folded together.

“How’s Dean doing?” Sam inquired.

My heart felt like it was hammering against my chest but I tried to remain professional.

“I’ve stitched him up, and cleaned up his body. However, he’s lost a lot of blood and is now in a coma,” I informed, sadness lurking in my voice, “right now, it isn’t looking so good. If he doesn’t pull through soon, then I would start preparing for the worst.”

“Noel,” Sam said standing up, “he has to come back.”

“There isn’t anymore that I can do, Sam. Had he’d been brought in earlier, maybe, but he’s lost way too much blood. We’re replacing it, he’s getting round the clock treatment and blood is being added to his body through an IV, but that’s all we’re able to do.”

He looked away from me, his eyes noticeably filling with tears, then grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room. A soft breeze brushing against me as he passed me. John didn’t say anything to Sam as he left. I sighed and walked over to John, removing a small flashlight from my pocket.

“Let me have a look at your pupils,” I muttered, “how are you feeling?”

The bright light danced across his now dilated pupils.

“Much better,” he replied.

It was quiet for a moment before John spoke again, asking about Dean.

“He was in really bad shape, huh?” He asked.

“Yes,” I muttered, removing the light from his eyes, “I wish there could be more done but right now, all we can do is wait and see.”

John’s eyes looked away from me, staring down at his covered legs. I could tell he was feeling bad about what he did to Sam and Dean, specifically Dean since he was in a coma now. I stuffed the flashlight into my doctor coat, taking another look at the oldest Winchester. All three of these boys were tough as nails but everything seemed to be shattering right before their very own eyes.

“I know this is hard, Mr. Winchester,” I replied, “but I promise you, I’ll do what I can to help Dean get better. For now, it’s best if you pray for his healing.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod. Something seemed to be brewing around in his head, so I left after giving his shoulder a small squeeze. After leaving John’s room, I went to go look for Sam, taking a final look at Dean in his room. A small pang in my chest rippled through me before I headed off to find the youngest Winchester.

I found him sitting outside on the hospital steps. The breeze was starting to pick up, ruffling Sam’s hair along with my own. I walked over to him, my white shoes slapping quietly against the concrete. Sitting down next to Sam, I watched him look over at me. I folded my arms around my stomach and looked away, watching the hundreds of people walking around. Either lost in their own world or talking with someone who was with them. I didn’t want to say anything that would anger him or cause him to get up and leave.

“It’s all my fault,” Sam whispered.

My head snapped towards him, shocked completely at his sudden admission to guilt.

“How so?” I inquired.

“If I hadn’t gotten mad at Dean, if I hadn’t ran into Meg, then we would have never been tricked into this situation.”

I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. My long, jet black hair waved in the wind.

“Sam, you couldn’t possibly know that Meg was a demon. Like you said before, you guys have never dealt with one before so how are you supposed to know the difference between one of them and a girl. I mean look around you.”

Our eyes scanned the area around us, watching the people who caught our eyes do what was normal: eating ice cream, talking, laughing, walking, etc.

“Anyone here could be a demon but how could we know?”

A soft sigh escaped from his lips.

“All I’m saying is, there’s no need for you to worry too much. Dean is a fighter, I’m sure he’ll pull through. However, if he isn’t, then you can’t walk around blaming yourself. It’s not what your dad would want and it’s definitely not what Dean would want.”

I touched his shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Sam smiled back before nodding.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Of course I am. I’ve never been wrong.”

A laugh left his mouth, colliding with the wind that was picking up more and more. I couldn’t help but giggle along with him. Soon Sam and I were discussing how life had been after we departed so long ago. I learned that Sam had previously gotten out of the whole family business, hunting things to attend college at Stanford to become a lawyer. He had only joined back up with his family because his girlfriend, Jessica, was killed by the same demon that killed his mom. Yellow eyes. It had its ups and down, constantly worrying about one another and the consistent fighting back and forth. Dean was ultimately too childish and took any opportunity to pull a silly prank on Sam. But, according to him, it wasn’t all too bad since he missed his brother a lot. And now that he and his dad were together again, he remembered that he loved him too while disagreeing with him like he had when he was younger.

Once he was finished catching me up on how his life had been going, I told him about mine. How my mother passed away a year after they had left, inspiring me to go to medical school. I had also been engaged for a little while before finding out that my fiancé was cheating on me behind my back. The rest of my life wasn’t much to gossip about, considering most of it was just me going to school and being cheating on.

“Despite everything though,” I replied, “I enjoy what I do and hope that I’m making a big difference every single day.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling my pager buzz beside my hip. Pulling it from beside me, I saw that Lacy was paging me, letting me know that another lead surgeon had arrived and that I could go for lunch. Standing up, I held out my hand to Sam.

“Wanna get some coffee with me?” I inquired, “It’ll help clear your thoughts. Maybe you can figure out a way to help Dean behind bringing him to the doctor.”

I hoped that he caught on to what I had to say. By the smile that appeared on his face, I knew that he did. Taking a hold of my hand, I pulled him to his feet and headed across the street to the small coffee shop where I normally went when I was able to have a small break. On the way over, the two of us talked with one another and laughed at stories about each other's life. It was nice to reconnect with a friend from so long ago. Sam and I had always been close to one another when we were young. And on the way to the coffee shop, I hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time I saw Sam. And hopefully under much better circumstances than the one that brought us together today.

#sam winchester #sam #supernatural #spn #sam winchester x female!reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester one shot #supernatural imagines #sam winchester fanfiction #fluff #sam winchester fluff #imagines #one shot #fanfic #sam winchester x reader #smut #supernatural fluff #supernatural smut

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walkerwords · 3 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 20 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/THE WALKING DEAD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The others return to Alexandria as the reader begins to recover. Michonne seeks out Negan while Daryl speaks to the reader. Still dealing with what happened at the fair, nobody is ready to relax and nobody is ready to back down.

Word Count: 3327

Warning: Swearing, Brief Mention of Child Abuse

Song I Wrote To: “Yours” by Ella Henderson

Note: This is definitely a filler, but I enjoyed writing a lot of the conversations.

----------

As the sun rose again in Virginia, everything was covered in blinding-white snow.

You lay in a soft bed as a thick bandage was wrapped around your torso, securing the fresh sutures in place. Negan’s body was pressed against yours as he slept soundly by your side. In the chair next to the window, Siddiq slept as well.

Everything that had happened the previous night came back to you. The storm, the pain, and the look on Negan’s face had you taking a deep breath. The past few weeks had been trying to say the least. You had lost too many people and for a while, you hadn’t let yourself feel the pain of those losses. Yet, as you laid in that bed which you knew was in Aaron’s home, you felt your heart being crushed in your chest.

What were you supposed to do now? How were you all supposed to get through it? Your thoughts went to Carol and Ezekiel. How were they supposed to move on after Henry? The death of a child was never easy, especially when they were taken by force with violence and blood.

There was a feeling of loneliness in that room. You began to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t gone after Negan and Judith in that storm. Would they have found their way back? Or would you be looking for their frozen bodies in the bright morning instead?

You always hated to think of Negan as a Walker, but you had never really let yourself think of him as actually dead. Negan was the ultimate survivor and it was as if nothing could touch him. You started to wonder if perhaps that wasn’t true after all.

Your injury stung as you shifted in bed, waking up your companion. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you said back, blinking up at him.

“Get any sleep?” he asked with a yawn.

“Enough,” you said and then winced again.

“It’ll feel better in a few days,” Negan said. “Siddiq told me it wasn’t even as deep as my injury. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“That’s good,” you said with a sigh. “How’s Judith?”

“Finally with her brother,” Negan said with a glance towards the closed door. “She wouldn’t leave the doorway until she knew you were okay. Shivering and all with that damn dog at her side. Laura finally was able to drag her away just as you lost consciousness.”

“I don’t remember that,” you said with a frown.

“I don’t blame you, you were pretty out of it,” he said, brushing his fingers along your temple. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

“Do what?”

“Scare the shit out of me,” he said easily.

“Like you haven’t done it to me,” you said with your brows raised.

“I’m different,” he said.

“Not really,” you countered. Negan sighed, realizing he was losing the argument if you could even call it that. Instead, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“Me too.”

“Siddiq wants to move you to the infirmary as soon as everyone is up and about,” Negan said.

“What about you?” you asked.

“I ain’t gonna leave you,” he promised. “I’ll be there until they can shovel the snow out of my cell.”

“You know,” you began, “as much as I hate storms, they have been beneficial for us.”

“Amen to that.”

Exhaustion was still leaning heavily on you as you began to drift off again. Negan kept his arms around you as you succumbed to the fatigue. However, he was wide awake, determined to just enjoy being by your side like this even with the good doctor snoring a few feet away.

It wasn’t long after you fell back asleep when the door opened. He figured it was Judith or Laura, but he didn’t expect to see Rosita peeking her head in. She noticed Siddiq first and rolled her eyes, however, when she turned to look at Negan her face remained neutral.

“Do they need anything?” she asked him, watching as you slept.

“No, but thanks,” he said awkwardly.

His relationship with Rosita was an odd one. While he had murdered Abraham in front of her, Rosita didn’t seem to store that same amount of hate and venom for him as Maggie did. However, she had been the one to try and shoot him after he gutted Spencer in the street.

He also knew that she would never forgive him for all the things he did and he didn’t expect her to. He just hoped that one day they could be civil with one another for more than a few seconds at a time.

Perhaps that started now. Just as she was about to leave, he stopped her.

“Rosita,” he said and she turned to look at him. “Uh, I—”

“I know,” she said quickly. It wasn’t much and he knew it was never going to be okay, but it was something. He nodded to her and then with a nod of her own, she left the room, closing the door tightly behind her.

----------

Michonne and the others arrived home as soon as the storm calmed down.

After a cheerful reunion and a few snowballs thrown back and forth, Judith finally told her mother what had transpired the night before. And so, Michonne went in search of her Daughter’s hero.

Again.

Negan was leaning his forearms on the side of your bed in the infirmary when Michonne pushed open the door, letting the cool air in. Siddiq had ordered you to the infirmary as soon as it was clear enough to walk. Negan hadn’t even let you take a step without lifting you in his arms and taking you himself.

While you were finally feeling as if your toes weren’t going to fall off, the pain in your side was still near excruciating. You were asleep before Negan could even place the blanket over your shoulders. He had been watching over you all morning and didn’t want to move. However, the look on Michonne’s face had him getting up and walking around the corner, careful not to wake you.

Negan stood before Michonne awkwardly but eventually made the first attempt at a conversation.

“Look who’s back,” he said quietly. Michonne then placed her hands in front of her and looked him in the eye.

“Thank you, for saving her,” Michonne said and Negan nodded to her. “Again.” She went on, “let’s try not to make it a third.”

“That one’s on her, Boss,” Negan said.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Michonne said with the faintest hint of a smile and then glanced over to where you were sleeping. “How are they?”

“Bit busted up,” Negan said with a sigh. “But they’ll live.”

“Not a good feeling, is it?” Michonne said.

“What?”

“Thinking you’re about to lose someone you care about,” Michonne finished, but there was no malice behind her statement. Negan ran a hand over his head, feeling every beat of his heart in his chest.

“No, no it is not,” Negan admitted. “I thought I’d be waking up to white eyes in the morning rather than tired ones.”

“I know that fear,” Michonne said and then they were both quiet until Negan once again broke the silence.

“You know,” Negan said, “Dr. Babydaddy said that you got caught in the storm with the Royalty Brigade. Is everyone okay?”

“Do you care?” Michonne asked with raised brows.

“Look, I don't know any of those people from Adam,” he said. “I do know what it's like to lose a kingdom, see things fall apart. And it sucks ass.”

“The Sanctuary’s a shithole,” Michonne said as she leaned against the wall next to her. Negan chuckled slightly.

“Well, hell, I could have told you that,” Negan said and then something dawned on him. “You cut through Alpha’s territory,” he realized. “Ballsy.”

“We don't even know if they were there,” Michonne said.

“They’ll know you were there,” Negan said. “Something tells me they got eyes everywhere.”

“That’s reassuring,” Michonne scoffed.

“I ain’t trying to be reassuring, Michonne. I’m trying to be real.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you are, you’re not a bull-shitter.”

“No, I’m not.”

Michonne nodded, getting where he was coming from. No matter what people thought about the man, he never lied when it mattered and he wasn’t going to sugar coat anything.

“How bad is it?” Michonne asked then, gesturing to you in the bed.

“How bad is what?” he asked.

“You forget that I’ve been with them through all the ugly shit, Negan. I know about the way they have nightmares and how they shut down and internalize everything.” Negan frowned, but he knew what she was talking about.

“I can tell that they’re closed off, even to me. They told me a little bit of what happened, but I know there’s more,” Negan said, glancing over at you.

“Do you know much about Terminus?” Michonne asked.

“(Y/N) told me,” Negan said. “Some fucked up shit.”

“Yeah,” Michonne agreed. “(Y/N) wouldn’t eat for a while afterward. Even after we got here, they could barely look at food without gagging. The nightmares came the first night after we got out of that slaughterhouse and I still see them flinch when raw meat is in view. No matter what they tell you, there’s always going to be more.”

“I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle that,” Negan admitted.

“You are,” Michonne told him. “Can I trust that you will help them through this?”

“What exactly are you asking me to do, Michonne?” Michonne pushed off the wall and headed for the door. As she turned the doorknob she gestured to your sleeping form.

“(Y/N) helped you,” Michonne reminded him. “It’s time to return the favor.”

--------

The next time you woke up, you were greeted by a different face.

“Lydia?” you groaned as you tried to sit up. She was there in an instant, trying to help you. You winced in pain as you tugged at your stitches.

“Are you in pain?” Lydia asked, worried.

“It won’t last long,” you assured her as you finally got a good look at her. Her cheeks were pink, but she looked unharmed. You then glanced around and noticed it was just the two of you.

“I saw him leaving with Gabriel,” Lydia said. “He’s helping with clearing the wall and gates.” You were surprised to hear that.

“You met Negan?” you asked her, but Lydia was shaking her head.

“Just saw him and asked Daryl who he was,” Lydia said. “Kind of hard to miss considering how tall he is.”

“Everyone always notices the height first,” you said with a small smile. Lydia nodded then as she picked at the loose threads of her gloves. You lay your hand over hers. “Are you doin’ okay?” She shrugged then, but when she looked back at you, tears were welling up in her eyes. “Ah, kid,” you said as you pulled her into your arms gently.

Lydia leaned on your shoulder, careful of your injury as she cried. You held her back as tight as you could, smoothing down the bits of hair that escaped the hat on her head. “I should have told Ezekiel sooner,” Lydia said into your arm. “I should have known what she was going to do.”

“None of this is on you,” you said to her, fighting your own tears. “Do not think that you had anything to do with this. Alpha did this and she did it to hurt all of us, but most importantly, she did it to hurt you. That is not what a parent is supposed to do. They are supposed to protect their children from hurt, not invoke it.”

“She was all I had and now she doesn’t even want me,” Lydia said with a cough. You grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back so you could look at her.

“She was not all you had, not anymore. I’m here, Daryl’s here, Michonne and the others too. Nobody is going to abandon you again. We care about you, Lydia.”

“You don’t know that,” Lydia said as she wiped at her face. “I don’t even know if I’m able to care about someone anymore.” You frowned, taking a moment before deciding to tell her a story.

“I lost someone at the beginning of this whole thing,” you began. “I’ve never told anyone this, but it was one of my old students. His father used to beat him as your mother beat you. He didn’t think he was capable of having a family or anyone that cared about him enough to fight for him. I wasn’t going to let him think that he was that alone in this world. I got him out of his home when everything happened and I protected him when his father tried to kill us after he turned from a bite.

“What I didn’t know was that this kid, Elliot, had already been bitten by his father. He tried to comfort his dad when he was dying and his father turned too quickly. After everything that his father did to him, he still tried to show him just an ounce of love, even if he didn’t think he deserved it. Elliot was always capable of showing that he cared and that he had compassion. Even when he was dying, he tried to make sure that I was okay. You don’t lose that, Lydia. You were born with a kind heart and you’re not going to lose that.”

Lydia was looking at you as you let the tears fall on your cheeks. You had never told that story to anyone, not even Carl or Rick. Thinking of Elliot dying in that school gymnasium opened up that hole in your heart again. It wasn’t long after his death that you found your way to the hills and met Carl and Daryl. Elliot had asked you to go find a new family and so you did. Now, it was time for Lydia to realize that she had now found hers.

“Don’t give up on yourself, okay?” you asked, wiping away a few stray hairs off her face. Lydia nodded as she lay back down and curled up as she finally let herself rest for the first time in a long time.

------

Later that night, you were awake but Negan was asleep.

Michonne and Gabriel had once again let Negan stay by your side for another night. It wasn’t permanent, but his cell wouldn’t be back to normal for a few nights. They kept the infirmary door locked at night and Laura or someone would remain on watch inside, but Negan was still there.

His heavy winter coat was around your shoulders as you flipped through an old medical book in the candlelight of the room. You were getting to the section on breaks and fractures when footsteps came around the corner. Heavy boots that you immediately recognized as Daryl’s.

His eyes fell on Negan who was fast asleep in the bed next to yours, his arm tossed over his face. Daryl frowned, but then looked at you, and the tension in his body lessened. “Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey, yourself,” he said, sitting in the chair next to you.

“He sleeps like a log,” you said. “I don’t think an air siren could wake him up.”

“Just one more thing for me to find annoyin’ about him,'' Daryl said and you rolled your eyes. “I heard ya had an interesting night.”

“Yeah, had to save your damn dog, didn’t she? Always the little hero,” you said with a small smile.

“M’glad your okay,” Daryl said.

“Me too,” you said, gripping his hand in the low light. He gripped yours back, feeling the solidarity between the two of you. “You were so stupid to go through their territory,” you said.

“I know,” he sighed. “I guess we just gotta wait for the payback now.”

“I hate that she has this hold on us,” you said.

“We’re gonna figure this out, (Y/N),” he said. “I ain’t gonna let her hurt anyone else.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you warned. Daryl sighed, leaning on the edge of your bed before looking behind him at Negan again.

“So, you’re good, then? The two of you?” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. You nodded and then hesitated, not sure if you were going to tell him more, but Daryl could tell you wanted to and so he was patient.

He was a man of very few words, but a great listener. However, your relationship with Negan would be something you told Paul about and not Daryl. Then again, there is a first time for everything.

“I told him I loved him,” you said quickly in a whisper. Daryl froze for a second before nodding and chewing on the skin of his thumb.

Now it was your time to be patient. You let him absorb the information you just laid on him and then you started to get nervous. Maybe this would be the final straw. He seemed to be fine with your feelings at first, but this was more than just glances through iron bars or the sharing of hot tea.

Eventually, he spoke. “I see,” Daryl said quietly, finally meeting your eyes.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” you asked, surprised.

“I ain’t mad if that’s what you’re gettin’ at,” he said.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Mmhmm,” he said. Which from Daryl was as good as any promise.

“You still gonna talk to me?” you asked.

“Always.”

“Daryl,” you continued, “I want to assure you that if it came down to it, I would fight for this place and these people above everything. Even him,” you said. Daryl gave you a small smile before getting to his feet. From his pocket, he pulled out something you never thought you would see again.

One of your rifle casings, one of the ones you once fired at the Sanctuary.

Daryl set it in your hand and you could feel the years of corrosion on the inner rim. It felt odd to hold in your hand, but oddly comforting. Looking back at him, you could see that he wanted to believe what you said but didn’t.

“Daryl?” you asked.

“Like you said,” he whispered, “don’t make promises ya can’t keep.”

As Daryl left, you lay in that bed and thought of what was to come. That feeling was back in the air, the one your mother warned you about. Your people had crossed into enemy territory and you knew that what happened at the fair was nowhere near the end of it.

Alpha wasn’t going to stop and you knew Carol too well to know that she wouldn’t either. A war was coming and as you held that casing in your hand, you wondered how many more lives were going to be lost because of the masked enemy.

However, there was still the knowledge that all of you were survivors.

You had survived the CDC, the farm, The Governor, Terminus, and the Wolves. You had even survived the Saviors and their brutal leader, the same leader who lay in the bed next to yours.

All those years ago, Negan had stood before you and your family and welcomed you all to the “New World Order”. If only he had known what that new world would produce and just how terrifying it would be.

Turning to look at Negan, you could see the steady rise and fall of his breath and it gave you some solace, but not enough. Nothing was going to snuff the fear that crawled along your skin with every minute of wakefulness. The nightmares would be worse, but you did know one thing for sure.

The day that Alpha made her move, all of you were going to be ready.

AN: And into season 10 we go. There will be a small time jump, but I will work it in as seamlessly as possible.

Tags:

@lucillethings @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#walkerwords #the walking dead #the savior sessions #negan imagine #negan x reader #twd imagines #twd #the walking dead fics #negan x you #negan x y/n #gn reader

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superwho-am-i-kidding · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes (PART 3)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Final piece of my short Illogical husbands story. Find the other parts linked above, as well as more illogical content on my page.

Send in your own prompts, the ask box is always open!

Bill slowly came to, the sound of muffled conversation growing sharper by the second. “It’s my fault he was hurt, Hardy. I should’ve been paying more attention.” He recognized Ellie’s voice.

“You couldn’t have known the Butcher was going to pop up at my funeral and stab you, Miller. If anything, I was the one not paying enough attention.”

“So you weren’t a hallucination,” Bill muttered, loud enough to be heard.

“Angel!” Alec rushed to his side. “Don’t try to get up.”

“Did it look like I was going to?” Bill scoffed. “I can easily slap you from here.”

Alec grabbed Bill’s left hand and squeezed it. “I’d let you.”

Bill pulled his hand from Alec’s, ignoring the look of hurt pass over his face. He reached out to cradle the detective’s cheek, scoffing slightly when Alec flinched for a second. “Are you real?” Bill whispered. “Or am I dead, too?”

A tear slid down Alec’s cheek. “You’re alive, angel, thank god. We’re both alive.”

Bill moved slowly, his fingers mapping over Alec’s face. “How? There was so much blood…”

“It’s okay,” Alec comforted him. “You didn’t lose enough to need more than one transfusion.”

Bill frowned, his forehead creasing. “Not my blood. Yours.”

Alec swore, spitting over his shoulder. “Miller, you said he never went in the house!”

“He didn’t! At least, he didn’t while I was there,” Ellie grimaced.

“Saw the crime scene photos,” Bill said, turning his face away from Alec and towards the window. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to step foot in that house again.”

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Alec sighed. “Bill, I owe you an explanation.” Ellie cleared her throat. “You will get one later. I need to be alone with Bill,” Alec growled. Ellie sighed, exiting the room without a fight. “To be fair, it wasn’t my idea.”

Bill blinked at him slowly, “Deflecting already?”

“No.” Alec groaned, “Yes. Look, I… I don’t know where to begin.”

“Tell the truth,” Bill said. “Do you love me?”

Alec looked dumbfounded. “How could you ask me that?”

Bill’s eyes welled up with tears. “You didn’t fake your death to get out of our engagement?”

“Believe me, there are easier ways of doing that than faking my own death,” Alec laughed for a moment. “Angel…” Alec’s voice trembled as a tear slid down Bill’s cheek. “I love you more than anything. More than everything. I will marry you right here, right now in this hospital room if that’s what it takes to prove it to you.”

Bill shook his head. “Daisy and Ellie might be upset if we do that.”

“Let them be upset.” Alec grabbed Bill’s hand, “Marry me, angel.”

Bill sniffed, nodding his head with a small smile. “Okay.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Bill snorted, “Yes, I will marry you, you kilt bastard. On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Tell me everything.”

Alec nodded, “When you called on the way home from the airport, I had just been told about the plan. I didn’t have a choice, Bill, you have to believe me. It was all the CS’ idea. Make it look like a high ranking officer was killed, and blame it on the Butcher. There was no way he wouldn’t show to the funeral.”

Bill flinched. “How were you so sure?”

“We just had to be. Couldn’t bear the thought if we were wrong and he just skipped town.” Alec brushed Bill’s hair from his forehead. Come to think of it, this was one of the rare times Bill didn’t have it styled. Alec didn’t realize how much he missed its little pouf. “When you called on your way home from work last week, they were already at the house setting up. I didn’t want you to see any of it, so I tried to stall you.”

“You’re telling me that while I was sipping my tea, your boss was blowing your pretend brains all over my kitchen?”

“Put bluntly, yes,” Alec sighed. “I hoped you would get there after they took my, uh, body. But you unzipped the damn bag. Do you know how hard it was to watch you scream for me and not be able to hold you? To tell you it was all pretend?” He cupped Bill’s face once more as more tears slid down both of their faces. “I had to keep you safe. If the plan worked, and thank god it did, we would have the Butcher in a week. And you’d be safe from him.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I can see that,” Alec scoffed, raising an eyebrow towards Bill’s stomach. “How many stitches did ‘handling yourself’ cost you?”

“Enough…” Bill’s ears blushed slightly. “But I wouldn’t have been stabbed if you didn’t fake your death.”

“I wouldn’t have faked my death if a serial killer wasn’t running loose around town for a month!” They stared angrily at each other for a moment before Alec dove in, kissing Bill’s chapped lips. The kiss was hungry and desperate, though it didn’t last long. They pulled apart when Bill whimpered in pain, the action straining his sutures. “I’m sorry, angel.”

“Me, too. Not that I’m sorry for pretending to die, because I didn’t do that, but because I’ve already gone so long without telling you how much I love you.”

“So much?” Alec guessed.

“So much,” Bill smiled fondly. “Now, hand me that juice box and let’s move on from these past few weeks.”

“I’d like that,” Alec smiled, grabbing the small carton in question. “Want me to feed you?”

“If you’re up to it.”

“I think I can manage that,” Alec laughed, poking the straw into the small box. He held it for Bill to drink, setting it aside when he leaned back in bed.

Bill sighed, turning to look at Alec. “Promise me you’ll never fake your death again.”

“I promise to tell you if they ever ask.”

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Alec smirked, kissing Bill’s forehead lightly. “You get me. That’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

Bill smiled, drowsiness tugging at the corners of his mouth. “When you’re not being a–”

“Kilt bastard, yes I know.” He brushed his fingers through Bill’s hair. “Get some rest, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know you will,” Bill closed his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Sweet dreams.”

#my writing #raise the stakes #illogical husbands #ineffable husbands #bill masters #alec hardy #fluff to end the angst #for now #mwahahahah

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

To Build A Home || Bex, Metzli and Milo

TIMING: The day after Metzli returns from this PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli, @wickedmilo, @inbextween SUMMARY: Milo and Bex meet up at Metzli’s, worried about the state of their friend. CONTENT: Medical blood, Emotional abuse mentions, Domestic abuse mentions (All paragraphs labeled accordingly for triggers)

Metzli’s reflection stared back with vacant eyes. The same eyes that watched Anselmo’s life leave him. The same eyes that watched trees blur by in silence as Macleod and them waltzed through the forest. Making a new dance. A steady and careful one that moved them through the tree line and back into White Crest. The earthquake their body created brought in a devastating tsunami that they could not halt. And as the tap ran in their sink for a little too long, tears fell to join the waterfall.

Dejection. That was the best word for their state. Even after washing all the blood and dirt from their skin, their body was still painted with gashes, scrapes, and bruises. The chunk of neck bitten off being the focal point. It hadn’t closed nearly enough to not cause alarm. The hoodie Metzli wore barely covered it up and they didn’t have the proper medical dressings to patch it up. But that was okay for now.

With the water shut off, Metzli moved back into the living room to sit on the couch. They had barely moved since they got back. Yuca didn’t leave their side, taking to following them everywhere. Small graces that they adored. “Ay mi vida, estoy bien.” They cooed and scritched her chin. Mind wandered to the events that transpired and they flinched. It was painful to look back, but Metzli supposed that was okay. They had lost so much, but gained as well.

For instance, Metzli bit back at their clan for the first time ever. Made their first attempt at defense to show Eloy they were more than the definitions he thrust upon them. The painful history was embraced and within it they found the strength to rewrite the legacy. At least, that was the hope. A hope that came in waves and left Metzli to settle in their anguish when it receded with the tide.

Milo was undeniably anxious, but he knew he needed to visit Metzli. Even if Bex would be there with them, even if it felt awkward, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. He wanted to believe Bex wasn’t scared of him, he wanted to believe things could return to how they had been. He supposed the only way to repair their friendship was to move forward, to focus on the present. And in the present, Metzli needed them. Metzli needed them both. So, swallowing, he hitched his backpack a little higher, hearing the three bloodbags inside it slosh in a way most people would probably find disturbing. He had been sure to drink one before leaving the house, not wanting to feel any kind of thirst or temptation when his friend inevitably tore into them. Metzli had only told him to bring one, but in his experience it was far better to have too many than too few, especially when recovering from an injury. Climbing the stairs, taking them carefully in a bid to prolong his arrival, he caught a scent he recognised, a scent that confirmed he wasn’t as early as he might have hoped. Maybe it wouldn’t matter who arrived first, but he had convinced himself he would feel less self conscious if he was already in the apartment when Bex arrived. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, so he grit his teeth, forcing down what was left of his anxiety before making his way towards the end of the hall.

Bex was standing outside Metzli’s apartment, hand raised ready to knock, and he felt a jolt of guilt upon seeing her. Resisting the urge to turn and retreat, he reminded himself that he was going to have to talk to her eventually. It wasn’t fair to avoid her, not after everything he had put her through. Taking heavy steps so that she would be made aware of his presence, he caught her eye as she turned to face him, offering her a hesitant smile. Metzli’s words echoed in his mind, predator, and prey. He repressed a shudder, refusing to acknowledge them. Jeez, it shouldn’t be this difficult. His skin was crawling as he remembered the last time they had seen each other. He hated it, he hated this. He hated what he had become. “Hey…” He whispered, not wanting to draw attention to their arrival just yet. “Does… does Metzli know you’re here?”

Bex didn’t know if vampires had first-aid kits. When Milo had shown up to their house needing stitches, Bex had wondered if it was because he didn’t have the right tools at his own. She didn’t really know how well vampires healed from wounds. She knew how fast Mina healed, she knew Morgainterrupting n healed instantly, she knew Deirdre healed quickly, she knew she herself healed extremely slow-- she still had the cuts from Milo’s teeth nearly piercing her skin before she’d thrown him off on her neck, after all-- but she didn’t know how fast vampires really healed. Milo had said his wounds had taken a few days to heal, but how bad were Metzi’s? If they’d almost died, they had to be worse, and Bex hated that thought. She didn’t know what she needed, if she needed anything, but she still stuffed the entire first-aid kit into her purse, sutures and gauze and hydrogen peroxide and all, before racing off to Metzli’s apartment.

She hadn’t even considered how she’d feel seeing Milo again. She figured it would all just be fine, she wasn’t mad at him or anything, and she knew he hadn’t meant it, but when he called out to her and she turned to see him, her body felt frozen, and she felt her magic rushing defensively to the surface, as if expecting him to lunge again. “I-- no, they-- no,” she stumbled over her words a bit, swallowing back the fear and the guilt and lowering her hand. “I haven’t knocked yet. I ran all the way here and winded myself,” she found herself admitting, for no reason, really. She always rambled when she was anxious, or when she was worried, or when she was panicked. Especially when she was all three. “We should go inside, though. We should really just--” but she still didn’t move, blinking as she looked at Milo.

Milo wasn’t sure whether to move closer, or stay where he was. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bex uncomfortable. Hovering awkwardly, he couldn’t help the familiar rush of affection he felt when she told him she had run to the apartment. It hadn’t been necessary. They both knew Metzli wasn’t going anywhere, but Bex wouldn’t rest until she was by their side. She needed to be there for them as quickly as she was physically able. Sometimes he found himself wishing she would put herself first, even once. But it wasn’t in her nature, and as somebody who frequently put himself first, he found it to be an incredibly admirable trait. “Yeah, we- we probably should.” He eyed the door, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking again, stopping her from announcing their arrival. He needed to say something, he wouldn’t feel right until he apologised. “Bex-” He took a hesitant step closer, breaking off as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but I- I’m really sorry.” Apologies were difficult, he spent most of his life deflecting responsibility so that he wouldn’t have to accept it. But this was different, he owed her this much.

Glancing down at her neck, tearing his gaze away before it could linger on the scarf hiding the evidence of his attack, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t know I could lose it like that, not when I wasn’t hungry. I still have so much to learn but it… it shouldn’t come at the expense of my friends.” He caught her eye, his vision suddenly blurred by tears. He hurried to blink them away. “I should have told you- the moment I realised you were bleeding, I should have told you how I was feeling. It wasn’t fair… I was just so scared, and confused, and when the danger was gone this relief came crashing down and it overwhelmed me.” He took another step forward, listening to her heartbeat to ensure he wasn’t making her nervous. “Can you forgive me?” His voice sounded small, even to his own ears, and he realised he felt small. If she said no, he would be crushed. This level of vulnerability was alien, and unfamiliar to him. “I don’t want you to forgive me because you want me to be okay. I want you to be honest, Bex… I only want you to be okay.”

Bex turned to knock again but Milo said her name and she paused mid motion, again, glancing over at him. He wanted to talk about what happened and that made sense, but Bex didn’t really want to talk about it. This didn’t feel like the right time to talk about it. But she couldn’t just go inside and ignore him. She turned to look at him as he spoke, stumbling this way through an apology. And it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but she was curious. Hadn’t she already told him it was okay? That she didn’t blame him? Well, he hadn’t stayed online long enough for her to say much. She’d asked if he was okay and wanted to make sure that he was okay, and he hadn’t said much back. She looked at her feet, and then at him. “I-- I never said I didn’t want to talk about it,” she corrected quietly, shuffling her feet. “And I know. That you’re sorry. I know all that. I--” she stopped mid sentence, perplexed. “What do you mean can I forgive you? I already did? Milo, that...everything that happened that night was my fault. I don’t blame you for what happened. We were-- things were bad and dire and sometimes we just lose control. I...I know that feeling.” And she did, god did she know. Maybe it wasn’t a bloodlust or a murderous rage, but it was rage-- rage that could hurt and could make you bleed and could kill.

“I forgive you,” she stated, “I promise.”

The ringing in Metzli’s ears began to subside and they could hear Milo and Bex clear as day outside of the door. Yuca was rubbing up against it, the first time she’d strayed away from their side. Legs moved involuntarily towards her, towards the voices of friends that were coming over to help. Statements of apologies and blood and control and forgiveness…

Voices cut in and out, growing muffled and clear over and over again. It was a state of mind they hadn’t experienced before. A culmination of what had happened. A product of violence, pain, and distress. Metzli’s friends needed time, so they gave it to them. Waiting by the door, playing with the pendent Macleod had given them. Pressure built and it waned, only to build up once again. As a promise was spoken and as it tethered to Milo, the door opened suddenly. Eyes darted back and forth from the clasp around the door to Milo and Bex standing outside of the doorframe.

“Uh…I—super hearing.” Their voice was a mutter, barely audible. Metzli couldn’t move, realizing that they had just revealed not only what they heard, but their current state.

Milo faltered. Bex was right, she hadn’t said that. He realised, not for the first time, that he was projecting onto her. He was the one finding it impossible to navigate their situation. And he was trying to blame her for the emotional turmoil. He stayed silent, mulling over his realisation, along with his friend’s reassurances. He didn’t feel as though he had earned them, but he needed them far too much to try and deny himself. Feeling his shoulders drop as tension he didn’t know he was carrying left his body, he smiled again. This smile was far more sincere, a genuine smile, conveying his love, and his gratitude. “Not everything,” he pointed out. If he had only been better at communicating, she could have helped him, or made her escape before he lost control of himself. Instead, he had allowed himself to become distracted, too embarrassed, and ashamed of his craving to admit that he might be a danger. “I’ll be better.” He added. “I will.” Reaching up to brush the tears out of his eyes, doing his best to compose himself, Bex had been one of the first people to explain the true depth of a promise, and it wasn’t lost on him how important it was that she was making one now. She was okay. She wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t the truth, and he finally, finally allowed himself to relax. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest, but before he could fully process the sensation, the door beside Bex opened to reveal Metzli; battered, and bruised, but otherwise whole.

[MED BLOOW TW]

Staring at them in shock, hoping his concern wasn’t obvious in his expression, he did his best to assess their injuries without drawing attention to them. Jeez, they were so much worse than he ever could have imagined. Maybe he should be fussing over them, running his hands through their hair to check for any further damage, observing their pupils for signs of concussion, or their temperature in case they had developed an infection. But Metzli was a vampire, and despite being one himself, he still wasn’t adept when it came to undead first aid. So he decided to do what he was good at, and he played off the situation as casual. “You look like shit.” The words escaped him before he could question whether they were appropriate, and he reached into his backpack, pulling out a bloodbag to thrust it upon Metzli. They needed to drink, that much he was sure of. Ignoring the smell of death that seemed to surround them, the congealed, and disconcerting scent of blood no longer circulating its body, he brushed past them into their apartment, gesturing towards the now empty couch. “Sit, Metzli. I mean it, you need to rest.”

[MED BLOOD TW END]

Bex, unlike MIlo, let all the worry and concern and fear show on her face. She was bad at hiding it now. She’d spent twenty-one years learning how to hide how she felt only to have it undone by just a few people in a matter of months. “Metzli,” Bex exhaled and as Milo pushed past, she just surged forward and wrapped her arms around them and felt the physical weight of their body in her arms and knew that it was real. They were okay. They were alive. She couldn’t even remember how many times she’d worried Mina wouldn’t come home, how many times she’d looked at her text messages and wondered if it was just someone else texting her and it wasn’t real. Things never felt real. But this was real. Metzli was real. She blinked back tears as she unfurled, reluctantly, and looked up at their face. It was torn and cut and bruised and there was just a gaping wound in their neck and Bex had to swallow because the last time she’d seen someone this torn up was when she’d found Mina half-dead in a forest clearing, bleeding out caught in a bear trap.

“Sorry, I-- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She scraped the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping the tears away and gently tugging them inside, shutting the door. “Milo’s right, you should sit. I-- I brought supplies. First aid supplies. I can-- treat some of that. Or try to. I’m not a doctor but I know a little bit. I know how to do stitches, I learned after-- I learned recently.” Maybe, if she kept talking, she wouldn’t think about the people she cared about dying. Maybe her thoughts wouldn’t stop long enough for her to see them dead and bleeding and screaming. Maybe, if she kept talking, the images Roy had made her see wouldn’t come back.

[MED BLOOD TW]

Everything happened at once. The blood bag in their hand and the feeling of being squeezed forced Metzli to tense their whole body. But they were relieved, so happy to see both of them. And despite the lingering feeling of hope and happiness, their body trembled. From what exactly, they didn’t know. It was overwhelming, though and they were unprepared for how the effects would make their body react. Tightened eyes caused stars to shine brightly, even tighter body caused the two to stumble and push out a small groan. “Not any more hurt than I was before.” A smile teetered off of their face and pupils contracted as vampiric instincts infected their body. “B-Bex, back up—” They managed to say just before swiveling their body away from her to pierce the bag and wolf down the contents. The blood was the antidote and the effects of it were jarring. Having grown used to the dryness of their throat, Metzli hadn’t anticipated the bulldozing relief of consuming sustenance. Legs gave out and knees buckled, followed by a bony thud when they made impact with the floor.

[MED BLOOD TW END]

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Overwhelmed.” Metzli quickly said with an uncharacteristically empty voice. “Thanks, Milo.” The two locked eyes for a blink and the vacancy in theirs was prominent. Fear and pain made Metzli ill and deteriorated the person they once were. They were practically unrecognizable. Not from appearance, but from energy, or lack thereof.

A leg pulled forward, a hand leveraged itself on a knee, and they were upright once more. Bruises and cuts, even the bite, they were all visibly healing. Metzli felt better too. Not by much, but it was enough. More than enough. At least, physically. Emotionally and mentally, they felt far from better. But when it came to issues of the heart, the vampire tried to pretend they were unaffected. Even if it was useless. “I don’t know if I need medical attention. Most things aren’t as deep as they were. Don’t know if, um…” Words failed them, too nervous about fully revealing their most severe wound. A trembled hand pulled their hoodie down a little, and Metzli avoided both pairs of eyes. “Don’t know if you can stitch this. It’s uh, wide.”

Milo watched Bex embrace Metzli as he dropped his bag by the kitchen unit. There was something so wholesome about it, he could feel just how much his friends cared for each other. And he knew that if he was the one injured, they would be there for him in the same way. A strange realisation. He had spent so long only really having Dani, and a handful of people who enabled his habits, but who didn’t feel as though they could really be considered friends. Now he was surrounded by love in a way he never had been. In a way that made his still heart ache inside his chest. Maybe this was what it felt like to truly belong. Catching Bex’s eye at the mention of stitches, he offered her a gentle smile, remembering how she and Mina had taken care of him when he was drunk with nobody else to turn to. Averting his gaze as Metzli withdrew, turning their back to drink the blood he had given them, he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the awkward tension. If Bex’s words in the hall were anything to go by then it was entirely in his head. But he didn’t look back up until Metzli had finished drinking.

The moment they were done with the empty plastic, he moved forward to take it back, but before he had the chance Metzli had fallen to their knees. Feeling a jolt of fear, he hurried to reach them, trying to understand why they had suddenly collapsed. The expression on their face was so unfamiliar, and when they spoke he realised they no longer sounded like Metzli. It was clear they were suffering mentally as well as physically, but right now their physical wellbeing was the only thing he could actively help with. “There’s more where that came from.” He told them, crouching beside them so they were on the same level. “I brought three bags, and I can always get more…” Trailing off, up close the bruises and cuts looked so much worse. He couldn’t help but stare at their throat, at the skin and tissue that was healing, but nowhere near fast enough to stop the injury from looking absolutely horrific. “Even if it doesn’t help, we’re treating you.” He said, leaving no room for argument as he forced himself to focus. He shot Bex a look, knowing they both felt the same way. It might not make a difference but they longed to be proactive, they wouldn’t be able to rest until they knew they had done everything within their power to heal their friend. “Come on, sit down…” When he was sure Metzli was steady on their feet, he stood upright, gestured towards the couch again, making sure they followed his instruction. Wincing, unable to help himself, as they pulled down the collar of their hoodie, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We’ll do what we can, okay?”

Bex tried to do as Metzli said and back away, but before she knew it, they were collapsing to their knees, and even Milo was rushing to their side to see if he could help. She fought the urge to grab them in her arms again and sidled over, uneasy, wondering if she should help or if she was supposed to still stay back. The blood bag was emptied, though, so she took that as a sign that she’d be able to approach. “Milo’s right, let’s just...get you to the couch and go from there,” she said, nodding, trying not to look at or think about the cuts and bruises on Metzli’s face. And that was just what she could see. She held out a hand, even as Metzli showed them the extent to the injury on their neck and Bex tried not to think about how it matched the gash in Mina’s side that Frank had left behind. She hurried Metzli over to the couch as much as she could, before dropping her purse and pulling out the first-aid kit she’d brought. “Okay, maybe no stitches, but I can at least wrap it, right? Cover it up a little, make sure it heals right. I mean, me and Mina helped Milo a few weeks ago, so this isn’t, like any different.”

She didn’t know if that was true, she didn’t think it was true. But she had to believe that, if she could heal the wounds, then maybe the ones inside might get better, too. Her hands shook as she unraveled a roll of gauze and held it up. “Just let us help, okay? That’s why we’re here. And-- and this way you won’t have to worry about hurting it more or getting things in the wound.”

With a nod, Metzli took Bex’s hand and listened to both of their friends. The weight they were feeling before, having to carry everything on their own, began to subside. It wasn’t just them carrying it anymore. This was a boxing match that they were tapping out of, for now, so their friends could take over. “Thanks,” They muttered, looking distantly at the black television in front of the couch. “Help. Right. I, uh. Right.” They removed the hoodie slowly, groaning in discomfort from the aches and pains. A slew of bruises and cuts covered their skin and two stab wounds lay at their lower abdomen. “Forgot about those.” A shaky finger pointed and they chuckled dryly. Being taken care of wasn’t a norm and it brought a sense of anxiety with it. Is this okay? Is this right? They’re in danger because of you. And despite the thoughts that circled in their mind, that paced a trail of misery, they leaned back onto the couch.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Which was a lie, it was even worse than it looked. Taking on several vampires, especially one that was over two hundred year old was extremely dangerous. The results of it were devastating and created wounds deeper than what any stab wound could make. “I’m really sorry you guys are caught up in this now. It’s my fault. And if I need to leave, I will. I swear.” Metzli began to ramble, to panic now that the mass was shared and no longer held the dam of anxiety and fear back. “I’m just sorry.” Was all that could be said as they looked away to avoid their friends from seeing their tears.

Feeling an odd sense of pride upon hearing he was right, Milo pushed it aside so that he could focus on helping Bex. He didn’t get many things right in his life, but maybe he had found something he was genuinely good at. Maybe he was good at helping his friends. At the mention of his stitches, he pointedly rolled up his sleeve, showing Metzli the faint marks left by the first aid that his friends had applied. It hadn’t been too long ago, but months may as well have passed him by. “Barely even a scar, I think it’ll be gone in a week or two.” He added, as though Metzli needed any more convincing. They didn’t look like they had the energy to protest, which was probably going to work in their favour. When they were comfortably settled on the couch, he pulled a second blood bag out of his backpack, handing it to them with a look that told them they had no choice but to drink it. “She’s pretty good, you know… Doctor Bex. Even as a vampire, I doubt it’s healthy to leave it all exposed like that…” Catching Bex’s eye, a warmth spreading outwards from his chest when she said we’re, he smiled at her, pulling his sleeve back down again. They were in this together now, with a common goal. With somebody they needed to protect. “And we’re not going anywhere either.” He moved to take a seat beside Metzli, knowing he didn’t have much to offer beyond moral support, and some blood. Bex had the tools to really help, and he trusted her medical abilities.

Understanding Metzli taking Bex’s hand was a sign of submission, a sign of surrendering themself to her care, he grinned, and it came far more easily than he might have expected. The situation was serious, and terrifying, but they had each other. And at least he and Bex weren’t going to have to fight against any stubborn insistence, or false bravado. “You don’t have to thank us, moron.” He carefully tugged at the hem of Metzli’s hoodie, helping to get it over their head without the material brushing against the worst of their injuries. Folding it neatly in his lap, it took all of three seconds for Yuca to jump onto it, obviously comforted by the scent of her owner. “Jeez, Metzli…” He muttered, looking away as they gestured towards their stomach. It seemed they had managed to get hurt in every area physically possible. How they were still walking and talking remained a mystery. “Bullshit.” He countered. “It’s every bit as bad as it looks. Why else do you think we came?” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, he pointedly held their gaze, daring them to try and contradict him. “And you’re not going anywhere either. No fucking way. What would you say if this was one of us?” He asked. It was undeniably a rhetorical question. One that they all knew the answer to. Making an effort to soften his tone as he noticed the sudden peak in Metzli’s anxiety, he leaned forward so that they would be forced to look at him. “Hey… Hey, look at me, Metzli. You don’t have to worry about anything else right now, just look at me and- I don’t know, tell me something interesting? What’s your favourite colour?” Glancing at Bex, he silently conveyed his plan to distract Metzli while she set to work on treating them. “Or favourite song? If you say anything with an apology in the title I will destroy your hoodie, don’t think I won’t.”

It was strange. Last time Bex had been trying to patch up someone this beat up, she’d had too few medical supplies, wondering if they’d make it through to the morning, or if they might both just die in the night. This time, she had too much supplies, as she sorted through the first-aid kit and looked for something labeled antiseptic or antibiotic. There was a little spray bottle with hydrogen peroxide in it and she picked it up, listening to Milo talk to Metzli. He seemed at ease, in his element, right now. Bex, however, could only let dark thoughts consume her, as she sprayed a cotton pad with the peroxide and tried not to show the horror on her face when the rest of their injuries came into view. She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing away and occupying herself with finishing up prepping the bandages. “Just...hold still,” she said after a moment, holding up the pad and pressing it to the patch on their neck, before she took the gauze and began wrapping it around. “That’s um, not too tight, is it?” She moved in closer to make sure she wasn’t messing it up, before taking the small scissors and cutting it off. Taped it down gently and sat back, looking to the gashes on their stomach.

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW]

All she could see was the oozing, black wound Frank had left on Mina’s side and Bex fought to not just leap up and run away. She reached out with shaky fingers to touch gently next to the wound on their abdomen. “I should probably clean this, first,” she explained, trying not to let the anxiety and warble of Metzli’s voice get to her just yet. She couldn’t cry just yet. She looked over at Milo, then to Metzli. “It’s true. There’s no need to apologize. We-- we’re here because we want to be. Because you’re important to us.” She breathed in, held it. She hated seeing the people she cared about like this, while being too weak to do anything. Mina, Milo, Metzli...they could do these things, while Bex’s fragile heart barely let her get up the stairs nowadays. “No one’s going anywhere.”

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW END]

With a deep swallow, Metzli managed to look back at Milo and listen fully. He sounded kind and worried. He sounded like he truly cared. Bex too. But her care came in the form of actions as she got them patched up. She moved with the gentlest of touch and caution, making them feel safe. “Mauve. Or forest green. Both nice colors.” They began, piercing the second blood bag that Milo had given them and sipping on it as they pondered on the second question. Most of their favorite songs were likely ones neither of them had heard of. Being that they were both classical and Mexican in origin. So they picked something they may recognize. “Oddly enough, I like that Linkin Park group. Uh, One More Light. Or that Swift chick. That new album was actually written okay-ish.” The corner of Metzli’s mouth curved into a small smirk, before frowning from the small wince they reacted from the gauze with. “No, not too tight. It just hurts in general.”

The tremor in Bex’s voice began to set in a worry that couldn’t be fought off. Wolfing down the last remnants of the blood bag, Metzli lifted a hand to Bex’s face and had her pause for a moment while they cupped her cheek. “You can take a second. I know it’s a lot. Just breathe a little. I’m okay. I’m alive.” Slowly, that same hand backed away and patted Milo’s shoulder. They smiled wryly, but it was soft and grateful. “You too. Thank you. Both of you.”

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Never having a real family, Metzli always had to step out on their own, taking lonely steps into the storm. Weathering it alone was hard, and sometimes it seemed impossible. But right now, the future, making it there, seemed very possible. They were no longer left to get bloodied and dirtied alone, and maybe they couldn’t fully accept it yet, but they were going to try. Because it felt good. Because it felt right. It felt right to use the veins of their heart like a thread to connect themselves, their own heart to others who were willing to go into war with them. Others like Milo and Bex. And in the end, they wouldn’t have to count their pride as one of the casualties. Relying on people didn’t have to mean sacrificing pride. It just meant that you were expanding on it. Being proud of who you had.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

“Do I at least still look good?”

Staying quiet so that he wouldn’t disrupt Bex, Milo listened to Metzli’s answers, deciding that forest green suited them as a person. “Mauve is nice…” He agreed, his voice gentle as he did his best to distract them from any pain they might be feeling. “I like yellow… I think it’s a happy colour.” Anybody who knew him would be able to see yellow was his favourite. From his knitted sweaters, to his converse, he wore yellow far more often than not. The smell of blood hit him with force as Metzli began to drink the second bag, he was far closer than he had been for the first one. But he didn’t allow himself to dwell, almost proud of the fact that he was able to force down any thirst he felt. “You like Linkin Park?” He echoed in disbelief, doing nothing to stop a laugh from escaping him. “Do people even listen to them anymore?” Raising his eyebrows at the following names, if he had been surprised by Linkin Park, he was downright shocked to hear his friend list Taylor Swift as an artist they enjoyed. “Wow, I knew you had bad taste,” he teased, “but not that bad. This might be the end of our friendship.” His smile growing when he noticed Metzli’s lips twitch, it was all the validation he needed to continue in his strategy. But he was pulled out of his own thoughts by Metzli reaching out to caress Bex, their fingers soft, and comforting against her cheek. He suddenly felt guilty, remembering this wasn’t just about Metzli. He was used to the aftermath of injuries, not only because he was a vampire, but because of the people he used to surround himself with as a human.

He had been known to panic under the stress of chaos, but things weren’t chaotic right now. He was more than adept when it came to focusing on the task at hand, but maybe Bex wasn’t. Maybe this was a lot for her. Realistically, it should be a lot for anyone. “Alive, with terrible taste in music, apparently.” He added, hoping to draw a smile from both of his friends. It made sense to try and comfort them while he was the most emotionally stable, even if he wasn’t used to that particular brand of responsibility. Leaning into Metzli’s touch, he shook his head to brush off their thanks. “No thank yous, and no apologies, okay?” He ordered, knowing they were never going to follow his instruction. He could hold a stake to their heart and they would insist upon taking the blame. “The assumption being that you ever looked good?” He asked, feigning innocence despite laughing at his own joke, despite the deep, and painful injuries littering Metzli’s skin, despite being unable to avoid acknowledging just how close they had come to death… true death. He wanted to cling to the fact that they had survived their attack. They were still here, and for a brief moment in time, nothing else needed to matter.

Bex listened as she worked and tried to use their conversation as a distraction as much as Metzli was. Milo was doing a good job, keeping them at ease, even if they all knew this mess had been created by something far more terrible than it was being made out to be. She swallowed and tried to calm the shaking in her hand, reaching over with her free hand to stabilize it when she felt a cold hand against her cheek. She looked up to meet Metzli’s eyes, still for a moment, as she tried not to just surge forward and hug them again. But they were right, she had to remind herself they were right. They were alive and they were okay, and they could take their time, now, to regather and come up with a better plan so that this didn’t happen again. So that there wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened. So that Bex wouldn’t have to live through another Frank trying to kill someone she cared about.

She nodded and set her hands in her lap. She felt embarrassed, almost, that she couldn’t keep it together long enough to patch up her friend. Even Milo was taking this better than her. She knew Milo and Metzli were close, but she wondered if it was a different kind of close than her and Metzli. There was something between them but Bex couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly. “Taylor Swift is a great artist,” she said, mostly at Milo, before she gathered enough of herself to look back at Metzli and hold up the pad to begin cleaning their wounds. “And you look very handsome. Chicks dig scars anyway, right?”

Metzli scowled playfully at Milo, and blew a single raspberry at him. “Excuse me? I have great taste in music. Those are just the artists you’d know, for your information. Most of my music consists of classical and kumbia. At least you have decent taste in colors.” Stomach rumbled with their laughter and wincing only made them laugh more. Somehow laughing while in pain made it that much funnier. Being safe in the presence of friends made it feel safe to laugh. Whatever wounds they had would heal and fade, but the connection and care they had for one another wouldn’t. It was set in deeper than anyone could reach.

Being confident in their looks, a hand shot up to flip Milo off accordingly. “You’re just coming after me, huh? At least Bex has taste. She can’t take her eyes off of me, see? And it totally does not have to do with my wounds. Just my wonderful physique.” Metzli couldn’t help the smile that they poorly held back, letting it turn into a fit of laughter as they adjusted themselves to be closer to Bex and settle down. When the spray hit their wound, it surprisingly stung, making their hand jerk and squeeze Bex’s knee. If there was anyone they trusted to be remotely affectionate with, it was her. Meanwhile, Milo was someone they trusted to speak openly with and find the balance between humor and venting.

“By chicks, do you mean you, B—” They flinched again, and this time their other hand shot out to Milo, grabbing his hand. “Sorry. It stings a little.” Despite wanting to retract their hand, feeling like they may have invaded his space, they didn’t. The affection felt normal and like it was something they were missing out on. Letting themselves relax, they let their hands rest with each friend, finding comfort in it.

Grinning at Bex as she countered both of his statements, Milo’s eyes were shining in a way that made it clear just how much he enjoyed teasing her. It made things feel normal, somehow. And far less dire than they probably were. “Hm, this is something I have been told.” He added, trying to keep a straight face as though they were discussing an incredibly serious topic. “Why do you think I keep my scars to a minimum? I don’t want to spend my time fending them off, you know?” Biting down on his bottom lip to repress a smile, he gave up on any pretense when Metzli stuck their tongue out. It felt good to see them behaving so much like themself after their empty expression from earlier. It felt as though the presence of friends might be grounding them, might be slowly pulling them back to the surface. “So what you’re telling me is you have bad taste, and you’re pretentious?” He countered, catching Metzli’s gaze now that he was sure Bex had settled again. “Good to know.” Embarrassed to feel tears sting at his eyes when the unexpected sound of Metzli’s laughter hit him, he blinked them away, brushing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. Bex and Metzli were both struggling, he needed to be the strong one, even if he didn’t really know how. “Yeah, I’m coming after you, because you nearly got yourself killed, and I don’t want to live in a world without Metzli Bernal, okay? This is me officially calling you out.” Glancing back at Bex, he couldn’t help but laugh. After so much worry, and concern, he needed this. He really fucking needed this.

Shifting on the couch so that Metzli had more room to adjust their position, the spray had obviously hurt them, but there wasn’t very much he could do to offer them comfort. He didn’t want to invade their personal space, but he was saved from the moral conflict when Metzli reached out first, taking his hand and holding it as though it was going to tether them, help them to navigate their obvious pain. He stared down at their hands, fingers linked as though it was natural, as though they had done this a million times before, and he realised with a jolt that it felt natural. He held them with a grip he hoped was gentle, and firm. He wanted them to know they were safe, at least for now. He wanted them to know that he was with them. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts, Metzli.” He prompted, noticing the way they were gripping at Bex’s knee. “My bones are a lot harder to break.”

[MED BLOOD TW]

In the moment, Bex really appreciated the mutual understanding that Milo and her seemed to have. He knew what she needed from him, what Metzli needed from him, and he seemed to be trying his damndest to do it for them, despite the sparkle of tears that she saw glimmering in his eye. She tried to pass him a short smile before she grabbed the suture needle and held it up, frowning at Metzli’s teasing. Her cheeks turned red involuntarily and she looked away, hiding it as much as she could, before leaning forward and squeezing together one of Metzli’s wounds and jabbing the needle in, a little less gentle than she normally would have. “Oops,” she said, grinning innocently up at Metzli,” my bad.” As she continued, she gave it a much more gentle hand, making sure to not pull too hard as she threaded the needle through their cold, damp skin. She looked up at them when she was done with the first patch and smiled. “See? My sewing lessons in school actually paid off.” She ushered to the next one and for Metzli to shift so she could get better access to it, laying her hands flat on their side for a moment, warming the skin up around the wound. “And you do have a nice physique. I’m allowed to look,” she stated, as if there was no room for argument. She didn’t look over at Milo, though.

[MED BLOOD TW END]

She glanced down at their hand on her knee. “So what if I do dig scars? My girlfriend has plenty for me to admire.” She took up the needle again and set to work, looking over at Milo. “Please don’t break anything. I would like to only have to patch up one friend at a time, thanks.”

There was a strained laugh when Bex admitted she was allowed to look. It always felt so humorous when she revealed her attraction to Metzli in some form or fashion. They supposed it fed into their ego, but at this point, it was just a fun game. “It’s always hilarious to get you to admit I’m attractive. See, Milo? I’m hot.” Metzli laughed harder, but tried to contain it in order to let Bex work effectively. The wincing was kept to a minimum for the most part, but at some points, it was difficult to keep the groans of pain muffled. When they squeezed their hands, it wasn’t too hard, but enough to cause notice. “Sorry. I just—sorry.” The pain took them back to their fear, the fear of Eloy’s impending arrival.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

With the final stitch, Metzli’s eyes shut tightly and they tried their best to hold whatever tears that flowed forward, back. They could see Anselmo attacking them, they could see Eloy punishing them once again, they could see themselves dying and all of it scared them. They’d never been scared of dying before, but then again, they’d never had anything to lose. All humor was lost now, and tears streamed down their face even though they tried desperately to go back to what they were before.

Finally, their voice broke through and Metzli was able to ask their friends what had been on their mind. “Has Master Eloy contacted both of you? Did he threaten you?”

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Milo watched Bex tease Metzli before fully dedicating herself to her task. It was clear she was feeling more comfortable, less overwhelmed by their current situation. Rolling his eyes at the mention of Metzli’s physique, he decided not to say anything. There were only so many times he could playfully disagree before it stopped being funny, and started feeling cruel. “Sure,” he answered instead. “You can’t choose what you’re into, right?” His smile growing when Bex began to talk about Mina’s scars, he ignored the voice in the back of his mind, the one telling him he was the only person in the room without some form of romantic interest. It was something he had been thinking about an awful lot, as of late. And he hated that he had started to want something so unnecessary, and inconsequential. Hadn’t he spent his entire life without a boyfriend, or a significant other? He was perfectly fine on his own. “Hey, if I break anything it’s going to be Metzli’s fault.” He pointed out, holding up their joined hands. “Don’t look at me.” Tightening his grip so that Metzli would know he wasn’t being serious, he inched closer to them, letting his shoulder rest against theirs.

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

“Hot is subjective.” He added, unable to help himself when Metzli continued to encourage their friend. Though it was undeniably amazing to see them so genuinely happy, it didn’t last as long as he might have hoped. The pain, and reality of their injuries was all too ready to bring them back down again. But he stayed where he was, knowing they would find comfort in the physical contact. “Do you want to talk about something else?” He asked, noticing they had closed their eyes. If only he could distract them, but he wasn’t given the chance. If anything, Metzli decided now was the time to distract him. Caught off guard by the mention of Eloy, he so wished he could convince them to stop calling him Master. It made him uncomfortable, it was an unsettling reminder that no matter what Metzli said, they still had a warped sense of respect for the man, or at the very least some twisted sense of loyalty. Tensing in a way he knew wouldn’t go unnoticed, he caught Bex’s eye, silently questioning whether they should be honest about what had transpired. “I-” He broke off, the words dying in his throat. “I don’t think you should be worrying about that. Not right now.”

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

Bex’s nose scrunched. “Why’s it funny? I’ve never denied your attractiveness. You’re very attractive and so is Milo. You know,” she glanced over at him with a cheeky grin, “for a guy.” With the stitches finished, Bex leaned back. “There.” She reached out to pat Metzli’s leg, taking the hand they’d placed on her knee and squeezing it. Her face faltered at the mention of Eloy and the messages and she cast a quick look over to Milo, wondering what he might say about it. As she thought, he decided to try and avoid the topic. Milo didn’t like lying to his friends. He already told Bex he didn’t think she should hide this from Mina, but he didn’t understand-- sometimes you needed to lie, to keep people safe, to keep them okay. Mina was dealing with too much right now, she didn’t need this, too. And Metzli didn’t need to know what he’d said to her, they were also dealing with enough. Bex swallowed, forced a smile, and shook her head. “No, but, like Milo said, let’s not think about that right now,” she urged.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Metzli was crying, though, and Bex really hated it when people she cared about cried. She reached out with her free hand and wiped away some of the tears on their face. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, “you’re safe.” Those were words she’d needed to hear every time she’d thought her mother might come barging in to Morgan’s house and try and steal her away. Or every time she thought she might fall back into that dark alleyway where she was being mauled to death by a friend. Or stalked by Frank. Or dying in a cabin. You’re safe, you’re safe. But Bex was beginning to realize that no one was ever really safe. There wasn’t safe, there was just feeling safe. Being with people who you trusted to keep you safe, to protect you. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms back around Metzli, gently this time. She wanted to be that safe person. She could be that safe person.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

And, besides, Eloy hadn’t technically threatened her. Only the people she loved. She’d tear him limb from limb while he was still alive, though, if he even touched any of them. That she was sure of.

Metzli zoned out again, consumed by the anxiety that was reeling through their mind. And then their hand was squeezed, and then arms surrounded them. Body went stiff and they almost lashed out until they could see Bex clearly. Safety. “Right. I don’t have to think about it…right now.” Relaxing into Bex, they let their tears fall and settled into her arms, still squeezing Milo’s hand. Having friends was not a bad thing. Connections weren’t bad. Everything Eloy had taught them was wrong. That was becoming more and more clear.

“Can we just stay here?” Metzli asked through small, choked sobs. “I just want to feel safe.”

“Ha ha, can we not?” Milo deadpanned, his eyes shining as he looked between his friends. But he soon fell silent again, a familiar sense of sobriety settling over him. He hadn’t lied to Metzli, he had been honest in the fact that Eloy’s messages weren’t something they should be thinking about while they were trying to rest and recover. Bex had outright told them no, told them Eloy hadn’t made any effort to get into contact. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but he couldn’t bring himself to take back her words. It wasn’t his place, and it would only make the situation worse. Waiting patiently as Bex brushed away Metzli’s tears, he smiled to himself. There was something so genuinely innocent about Bex holding Metzli, nothing else really came into play. Age, species, soul or no soul… he would do almost anything for these two people. He loved them unconditionally, and that was what he needed to focus on. He saw Metzli tense upon instinct, but he also saw the moment they realised they were safe, saw the moment that tension filtered from their body to be replaced by something soft, and sincere. “No, you don’t…” He assured them, making a note to tell them about Eloy’s messages when they were feeling better. “Of course we can stay here… we aren’t going anywhere.” Reaching out to carefully pack away the medical supplies, when they were safely inside their container he wrapped an arm around Metzli, and Bex, pulling them closer so that he could rest his cheek against Metzli’s shoulder. There weren’t many places he considered home, but Metzli’s apartment was very quickly becoming one of them.

Maybe, Bex thought, maybe things would all be okay. Maybe this problem would solve itself and no one else would get hurt. But she knew that wasn’t true. She didn’t say much as Milo folded into the hug with them and she settled her head against Metzli’s quiet chest. There was no heartbeat, and none from Milo either, so it was only her heart, beating slow but steady-- something it hadn’t done in a long time-- as she listened to the quiet sobs coming from her friend. She bit the inside of her cheek and held back her own. “We’ll stay,” she answered after a long moment of silence, “I’m not going anywhere.” She moved herself and shimmied onto the couch beside Metzli, kept them in her arms. “You’re safe.”

And maybe Bex didn’t quite believe that, but she could make sure Metzli did. That was really all that mattered.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #to build a home #medical blood tw #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #chatzy: milo #chatzy: metzli #metzli #milo

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*Trigger warning- panic attack. The next 4 chapters will stay completely angsty as well, but I swear the ride will get us to a happy ending. Due to feedback, I agree that I need to show the trauma and progression to heal.

Thank you to @mcornilliac for your invaluable input, it’s really gonna help bring the story fully to life :)

“Lucy, baby,” Natsu’s hand squeezed harder. “You gotta calm down.”

“Ma’am... ma’am,” the EMT snapped his fingers in front of Lucy’s face. “Ma’am, I need you to focus on me. Can you focus on me?”

Their words were just muffled static, barely any tone and definitely not comprehensible to Lucy for there was too much competition vying for attention flowing through her mind. It felt like standing in a rapid wave break of constant ebb and flow but pounding against her prone body flattened into the shoreline. The thoughts raced so quickly, screaming, with only the harshest words coming through like a foghorn in the blackest night. Death. Pain. Blood. Anger, along with the emotional turmoil that came with them. Each rushing wave of anxiety fueled irrational thought after thought. ‘Stupid, stupid girl! Such a selfish fool! This was your fault for stealing away someone else’s love, a fantasy home wrecker! Fuck that! Natsu was mine fair and square, damn it! I deserved Natsu just as much and he loved me! Not Touka! Me!!!’ Lucy’s mind screamed, but the stares ate away... All those eyes judging her as they took that walk of shame. The authorities, the neighbors, heaven help her the talk that’s bound to get around. Will there be whispered, and hushed tones muttered around her, bearing down with all the weight of a thousand gravitational forces?! It was too much! Too mu—

“Oww!!” Lucy screamed and yanked her hand back, as she felt a sharp stab on the back of her hand. “What the fuck did you do that for?!” She glared at the EMT while rubbing and nursing the angry red spot. Whatever the man had done had hurt, but aside from the pain, nothing broke through the skin.

Without missing a beat, the EMT merely retook Lucy’s hand and placed two fingers over the pulse point in her wrist. “Can you tell me your name?” He questioned, speaking in a soft tone.

“Of course, I can! It’s Lucy Heartfilia!”

“Mmhmm,” he uttered in response. His eyes stayed trained on his own watch. “Do you know where you are?”

“In a fucking ambulance!”

“And who’s the current prime minister?”

“Huh? Um,” she paused with her head slightly tilted, “it was Abe, but I don’t remember the new guys name.”

“Close enough. Your pulse is still high, but it’s coming down now.” The EMT let go of Lucy’s hand, talking as he continued working on things. “I’m sorry to use such a technique, but when a person is in a panic attack, we need to snap them out of it as quickly as possible to keep it from escalating. Basically, during an attack your mind goes on overload, but physical stimulation can halt it. Shocks, if you will, to snap your focus away from cognitive thoughts back to the physical reality. The questions were to check if your cognitive focus had returned.”

“Oh...” was all Lucy could respond with to all the jargon. She hadn’t even realized she was having a panic attack. “T-Thank you...” But she wondered for a moment, just some physical pain could stop all those bad thoughts? It was something she’d never known before.

“You’re welcome. There are other methods including those you can administer to yourself at the immediate onset, so I suggest you look into them in case of another attack.”

“You think she’ll have more?” Natsu questioned with an obvious mix of concern and curiosity. The whole thing happened so quickly, that by the time he’d registered how bad it was, he couldn’t even react to a stranger stabbing a pen into his girlfriend’s hand. He was annoyed but glad this EMT was able to stay completely focused and calm.

“Traumatic events can cause a lot of emotional reactions including panic attacks. So, it’s a good idea to be prepared just in case.” The EMT now injected her arm, explaining as he went. “This is a mild sedative just to help you relax.”

By the time they’d reached the hospital, the sedative was taking effect and Lucy struggled to keep her eyes open. The level of exhaustion blindsided them both. Physically exhausted as if she’d run a marathon and emotionally drained. The closest she could rationalize it to was studying for the college entrance exam and how tired she’d been once it was over. So, she sat quietly as the medical personnel double checked her wounds, but too dazed to pay attention when they were giving her aftercare instructions. Thank goodness for Levy who’d been waiting as soon as they’d arrived. The woman handled a lot of the talking for Lucy and Natsu, but Natsu himself was being worked on next to Lucy. His wounds were cleaned up better so they could get a closer look.

The doctors inform Lucy she’s free to go but Natsu would have to stay so they could run X-rays. She wanted to fight to stay because right now he was the closest thing to security she had but could barely focus. With some gentle coaxing from both Natsu and Levy, and reminders that Touka wasn’t getting out of jail, Lucy eventually relents. A police officer would be escorting the women back to their apartment.

“Just try to get some sleep, please,” Natsu kissed his girlfriend. “I promise to call you as soon as I can, but I might pass out as soon as I hit my bed.” He wanted to be honest with her but assuring at the same time.

“O-Okay,” she nodded slowly, glassy eyed from exhaustion and sadness. “I understand.”

He leaned his head to her forehead while cupping the back of her neck. “We’re gonna be okay, Lucy. We’re gonna get through this, and I’ll be there for you no matter how long it takes.”

That pulls a few sniffles out of the woman who closes her eyes. “I love you, Natsu.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” He sits back up. “Now promise me you’ll get some sleep?” She nodded. Natsu smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Gray arrived shortly after the two women left for the night to keep his friend company and help him get home. Natsu wasn’t keeping track of time, but it sure felt like this was taking forever. The police had taken both he and Lucy’s phones for evidence, so he had nothing to pass the time with. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot of downtime between treatments. After the X-ray, the doctors sedated him and sewed up the wounds on his cheek and abdomen. It took both internal and external sutures, but luckily the side wound didn’t hit anything major. According to the doctor, the knife had missed the large intestine by a centimeter. He’ll be left with nasty scars for life, but a life is one he’ll at least have.

“You okay, man?” Gray questioned.

“Just tired and sore,” Natsu sighed. Now that Lucy wasn’t there, he let his body and mind fully register all the physical pain he was going through. “I just wanna fall into my bed.”

The doctors told Natsu, he should fully heal in about six to eight weeks, pending he keep the wound clean, keep his health up, and above all did nothing to aggravate it. So much for working, but he was sure that Makarov will make an exception. Maybe put him on register, light stocking, and inventory with no heavy lifting. As for how bad the scars will be, only time will tell. Plastic surgery might help, but that costs money. In a fleeting thought, Natsu worried that Lucy would leave him over it. ‘No way, she’s not vain like that... although the reminder it gives might be the problem...’ he quickly dismissed the notion from conscious thought, even though it lingered in the background. It would certainly hurt if she did, but could he really blame her? To be reminded of the night she almost died every time she looked at him? Natsu wanted to believe that Lucy was strong enough to get through this, and regardless if things eventually didn’t work out between them, he’d never stop trying to help her. He owed her that much for putting her in this situation. Well... that wasn’t fair, he couldn’t have foreseen Touka’s behavior, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty for it.

“We’re here.”

Grays voice snapped Natsu out of his thoughts. He looked out of the taxi window to see the front of their apartment building. “Oh, right.” He was so ready to clean up and sleep.

Inside their apartment, Natsu took a shower, and Gray helped him to re-bandage his wounds. The warm water and sensation of being clean helped him to feel a little better, at least physically, even though the emotional turmoil still churned. But as he laid in bed, the exhaustion was swiftly taking over. There was so much to do. Replace their phones, the official police interview, notifying their jobs and schools to make sure they wouldn’t fall behind. Even the EMT’s comment was nagging at him, so note to self, call the shrink in the morning... well, as soon as he woke up anyways. By the time his eyes were shuttering closed, the early breach of dawn had made its calling. It was a new day and all Natsu could hope was to start anew.

#nalu #nalu fan fic #nalu au #nalu fan fiction #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfillia #Natsu x lucy #strangers on a train #ch 23 #fairytail

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paperbagpetrichor · 4 years

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If you do fem readers then is it okay for me to request Jotaro with a fem s/o who was around during the sdc era and acts very motherly towards Josuke and it just reminds him of how sweet she was to Kakyoin ? Like a really cute nostalgia fest where he ends up deciding he wants to marry her?

When the news first came from Morioh, both you and Jotaro had your reservations. It had been years since the last time the two of you had faced a stand user. It had been years since both of your lives were in imminent danger, years since you first fell in love, years since you’d been forced to hide around every corner, always bracing for a surprise ambush, years since you’d be left breathless at every other moment, cleaning your deep wounds and doing what you could to keep the group together, to keep going, to keep fighting. It had been years since you’d both feared for one another’s lives. Years since you’d lost your friends. And if what you and Jotaro heard was correct, then the few years you both had been able to spend in each other’s company, recovering, hiding the memories that lay like scars across your hearts only for the sutures to burst open every now and then, trying to live as normal a life as you could, eventually getting used to the routine and thinking, for the first time in your lives, that maybe, just maybe, your trials and tribulations were finished, with only peace lying ahead, would be cut short.

“This isn’t our problem,” Jotaro had stated decisively upon seeing the sadness flood your face, “we don’t have to do anything.”

But with the declining health of his grandfather, and the thought that another innocent city was being plagued with such a curse, something deep within you steeled itself, deciding without so much as a moment of your input. Putting Joseph through that hell again, especially in that condition, would just be cruel. He carried the weight of the years past just as much as both you and Jotaro, if not more so for him blaming himself for causing the whole ordeal, he and his damned bloodline. And Josuke. More so than anything else, the thought of another innocent kid, still young and wide-eyed and hopeful, just trying to live a normal life in a city that was anything but, just like you and Jotaro and Kakyoin and everyone who’d been roused into action by Dio’s rude awakening...you couldn’t just let that happen. You couldn’t doom someone else to the fates that you and your friends had suffered. Not after it all.

The resolve that had flashed in your eyes as you explained your side of the situation tugged at Jotaro’s heart. With such a fervor in your voice, it was like you were telling him your destiny, what was necessary, not what should or shouldn’t happen, but what must. When you spoke of the past, the way your eyes welled up with the beginning of tears forced him to close his eyes. He wouldn’t have minded going by himself, in all honesty. Of course, he’d hate having to be in all the chaos once more, and even more hate leaving you by yourself, but bringing you into it was another story.

And thus the two of you arrived in Morioh.

When you first saw Josuke, you knew, without a doubt, that you had made the right choice. Despite the awkward greeting and less than desirable circumstances in which it came about, with Jotaro explaining what was to come and what may lie ahead, you simply smiled, all of your fears temporarily melting away like background noise as you took him in. Jotaro has played his part of the stoic informant, and, of course, left the younger boy confused and startled, so you stepped in, beginning, “Sorry about him. He’s just trying to help.” A small laugh escaped you at the deadpan glance your boyfriend cast your way. “It’s nice to meet you, Josuke. I’m [y/n] [l/n].” A pause, and then, “I like your hairstyle.”

From then on it was very clear that he preferred you to Jotaro, or, for the matter, just about anyone else.

Even on day one, you had begun mentoring Josuke. His stand wasn’t too similar to yours - if anything, tutoring by Jotaro would’ve made more sense - but your boyfriend often had his hands full, and, when he didn’t, simply ignored the other boy. It was clear Josuke and his friends were in danger, but they were still young - if they were going to face anything even remotely similar to what you two had in the past, you’d ensure they weren’t going into this unaided. The majority of your free time, when not spent on Jotaro, was devoted to helping plan the growth of the others, or else just keeping a watchful eye on them. Somehow, they seemed a lot rowdier than most of the kids you’d known at that age...or maybe that was just years of peace and quiet having mellowed you out.

But you didn’t mind. In fact, neither did the group, who quickly grew well-acquainted with you, frequently inviting you on their outings. If anything you played chaperone. Lookout. But you were also the peace-keeper - settling spats every now and then, offering advice, trying to guide them as best as you could. Whenever the group needed meet-ups, you were there, be it at a restaurant, after school, at the park, or even in someone’s home (or, in the case of you and Jotaro, your adjacent empty hotel room that your stand had managed to snag a key for). You made sure that Josuke wasn’t attempting something ridiculous and tended to his own health (something he seemingly always forgot in the process of thinking of the others), Okuyasu always went home with a meal and extra support, and Koichi with your best wishes and temporary safety from Yukako. Of course, some nights, especially those after stand battles, you’d join the sleepover every now and then, checking in on the group to make sure they weren’t staying up too late or getting involved in dangerous shenanigans. If they ran out of snacks, you rushed to the rescue. Didn’t feel like going out to eat? Home-cooked meals, as best as the shoddy hotel kitchen would allow. Waters always stocked the fridges free-of-charge, and, despite yourself, every now and then you’d slip in a few sodas. They’d more than earned it.

Jotaro wasn’t oblivious, of course. Your usual presence at his side dissipated into emptiness, and the sounds of the hotel doors being swung around signaled your coming and going, even in the middle of the night. Whenever you went shopping you brought back far more than enough for the two of you. The notes you’d leave on the counter should you be gone by the time he’d awake always explained where you were and a reminder, in your distinctive handwriting, with a small heart after it, to call you if something happened. Some days you’d completely overwork yourself keeping up with your corral, and others, especially if a plan was set into motion, you’d spend sleepless and worried.

“They’re not your kids, you know,” Jotaro snorted lowly one night after being awoken by the sound of doors opening and closing, your light footfalls and the sudden disappearance of your blankets beside him in bed. Looking harried and hassled, you’d run back and forth, until you seemingly finished and collapsed beside your boyfriend with a sigh.

You tilted your head and gave him a nod. “I know,” you began slowly, catching your breath and resting your head atop his shoulder, which you found much more preferable than any pillow, “but don’t they remind you of back then…?”

The softness in your eyes, illuminated solely by the starlight sneaking in through the thin, drawn curtains, framed your set face, eyebrows gently tilted downwards as though you were trying your best to hide a sort of nostalgia but some still managed to seep through. Gentle curves on your frame pressed against him, and for a moment he averted his gaze, reliving the same moments that you undoubtedly were. Back then, you’d been...well, equally as sweet. Not a day had gone by without your love and care poured into the actions you took for all of the Crusaders, especially shared among the younger of the group. How easily you’d managed to fit in with Kakyoin and eventually even Jotaro himself. When you’d chosen to stay behind with Kakyoin in the hospital after his eye injuries, at least for the first few days, insisting that you’d be alright but that someone needed to look out for him - that he wasn’t going to go through those times alone, that nobody would be alone. How you’d always stayed up, pensive, on watch for enemies for far longer shifts than any of the others, insisting you were fine even as your eyelids drooped and the stress manifested itself on your face.

That same look that was there now, and had been ever since arriving in Morioh.

“So what was it this time?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and giving you a gentle squeeze, tethering the two of you to the present. “Someone wet the bed?”

You flicked him and rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated “Jotaro.” Nevertheless, as you offered him a squeeze back, knowing all too well that the memories flashing throughout your mind were undoubtedly mirrored in his, you confessed, “Nightmare.” For a moment he looked ready to speak but you cut him off. “And you know...what I was thinking. Thankfully, it wasn’t that. Still, poor Josuke was really shaken up…”

It didn’t take much to replay the Death 13 scenario in Jotaro’s head, where you’d been the only one to believe Kakyoin from the get-go. What you’d done back then - offering the shaken lilac-eyed boy your blankets and extra pillows, tending to the fire and making conversation to reassure him everything was alright, long into the early hours of the morning - was almost a carbon copy of your recent actions. Jotaro let out a small sigh. No matter how ridiculous he’d continually brush it off as, you genuinely cared for those kids. Just like you’d cared for the Crusaders - for Kakyoin and himself.

But now things were different. You didn’t have to involve yourself with them. Like he’d said a million times before, this wasn’t your fight, and you didn’t need to try to make it. They would’ve been fine without you. No, you chose to. It was their fight, but in turn yours, and while they might’ve done alright without you, they wouldn’t have had anywhere near the same level of care and protection you provided them with. The devotion you showed was like that of a family member.

Like you were their mother.

And what a wonderful real mother you’d make. What a wonderful person you were, from the bottom of your heart and soul to the soft snores that had begun to escape you as you drifted off to sleep against your boyfriend, who merely shook his head at it all before giving you a ginger goodnight kiss, mulling over his own thoughts as he held you against him, in tune with the gentle rising and falling of your chest.

Never would he have imagined himself ever having you. Not even a girlfriend, for that matter - after the displays of ‘affection’ he’d received during his school years, he’d lumped all of it together as nothing more than a cry of attention - but now he had you. Never would he have imagined he’d hold you as you fell to sleep, almost ten years deep into your relationship. Never would he have imagined he’d have a family. A wife, and maybe someday, some children, his children. Your children.

But now he had you. And he was certain that he could have it now, sharing the rest of his life with the amazing woman he’d fallen in love with.

Never one for traditional romance - if it hadn’t been four in the morning, and you hadn’t been asleep, and he slipping into sleep’s grasp himself - he would’ve proposed right there and then.

#jjba #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba p4 #jjba p3 #jojo p4 #jojo p3 #stardust crusaders #diamond is unbreakable #jotaro x reader #part 4 jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jotaro imagine #diu x reader #jjba diu #jojo diu

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fearfulkittenwrites · 3 years

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A Hurt Bird - Part 3: Old Wounds And A New Guy

Part one

Part two

Summary: Your bird didn't come back. Time to move on.

Warnings: Implied sexual content.

Notes: Sorry for the wait! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

It had been three months since that last visit. Three months of no more Nightwing, no more news from him, not even a hello. At first you were sad. A piece of you really wanted to see him, make sure he was okay, patch up any of his wounds, maybe feed him a little and... talk.

Then you felt stupid. Stupid, because you were falling for a man whose name you don’t know. You’ve never even seen his eyes. The only things you knew about his personal life was that he lived alone, and had a very limited amount of cutlery at his place. Why were you so stupid as to believe that he’d ever want anything more than just bandages and ice from you? How was your perfectly capable, functioning brain, able to convince you that a vigilante could have any interest in you, a civilian?

And then, obviously, you felt angry. Angry, because how dare him? How dare he appear in your fire escape, beaten and bloodied, then throw up in your kitchen, let you give him stitches and wash his hair, and then not even show up to say that he’s fine? He should be sending you fruit baskets and buying you overly expensive brunch treats. And no, he wasn’t dead, because the bastard had been seen jumping through Blüd’s rooftops multiple times since your last encounter.

So you did what you should have done a long time ago; you moved on. A friend had set you up with a guy who was a friend of a friend of hers, or something along those lines. What truly mattered was that he was a handsome man, that took you out to a nice place and whose charm dragged you to his bed on your first date, and right now, as you blinked yourself awake, staring at his sleeping face, you made an effort to remember his name. His face looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what made you feel that way.

“What are you looking at, hm?” He whispered, an amused smile plastered on his lips as he slowly opened his bright blue eyes.

“Nothing.” You answered, fingers lightly tracing his cheekbones “You have a scar here.” You point out, tracing a faded white line right below his eyes “How did that end up there?”

“Well, I do get punched a lot.” He laughed, voice raspy “I’m a cop after all, and with this new drug craze in Blüd...” He shook his head slightly “A lot of junkies trash around when being detained.”

“I see.” You kept tracing his scar when his name suddenly came back to you. Richard. That was most likely it. You were 90% sure “I’m gonna go grab myself a cup of water, okay?” You said “Want me to bring you one?”

“No, I’m fine.” He nuzzled into his pillow “I’ll catch up to you in a second, m’kay?”

“Sure.” You huffed out a little laugh, stretching on your way to the kitchen.

You opened up one cabinet, getting on your tiptoes to reach for a glass (seriously, what kind of monster puts the everyday glasses on such a high shelf? Richard, apparently), but your gaze soon fell down to his Superman mug, sitting lonely in the lowest part of his cabinet. You bit your lips as you filled the glass with water.

After you were done with your drink, you thought for a second, trying to ignore the sudden gut feeling that took over your body.

“It’s none of my business.” You whispered to yourself.

Still, your hands wandered back into the cabinet, opening it to stare at the mug once again.

“My friends can carry me.”

“Are your friends heroes too?”

You shake your head, trying to convince yourself that you were just seeing signs that didn’t exist because you wish they were there. Your hands wandered to the cutlery drawer, directly under the cabinet you were staring at, convincing yourself that you were simply snooping around, like every single one night stand does, not looking for evidence.

Slowly, you pulled it open, reaching inside and pulling out his spoons.

Three spoons.

“Hey, that’s fine. I mean, I have only one mug and three spoons at my place.”

Your breathing accelerated as you placed them on top of the balcony.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, hand covering your mouth.

“What was that, beautiful?” He asked, going into the kitchen with nothing but his underwear and a robe.

You were ready to say ‘nothing’ and forget all about this stupid theory. But his robe was open, giving you a full view of his stomach and the scar he had there. On the exact same spot you had given Nightwing sutures three months ago. And the moment you laid eyes on him, he could tell that you knew.

“You.” You growled out, angry.

“I can explain...” He started, putting his hands up.

“Three months. Three fucking months and you didn’t even say hi?” You said, walking towards him “And then you take me out on a date so that you can take me to bed then leave me again?” Neither of you said anything for a while, your heavy breathing plaguing the apartment “Was it your idea?”

“What?” He asks.

“Was it your idea. The date. Was it? Did you set this up too?” You took your hands up to press the sides of your head “Ugh, I’m such an idiot.”

“No! No, this was a coincidence, I swear.” He said, walking to you “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. I didn’t even want to go on the date, but when I saw it was you, I...”

“You realized I was an easy target? That you’d know just how to manipulate me? Know what to say so I’d put out on the first night?”

“No! No, God no.” He corrected, taking one of your hands “I couldn’t leave, because I missed you. I wanted to talk to you again.”

“Yeah, sure.” You spat the words out, not sure if they hurt you or him the most.

“You think I’m lying?” He asked, sounding heartbroken.

“If you missed me, why didn’t you go see me again?” You asked “Did you forget where I live after the concussion?”

“I- No. No, of course not.” He shook his head, sighting “I couldn’t go because Batman told me to stay away.”

“What?” You asked, skeptical “Why would Batman care about what you do, or who you see?”

“It’s complicated.” He said.

“I have time.”

“Listen, I can’t explain everything, but the point is, he was right, okay? I mess with dangerous people. If they see Nightwing getting attached to a civilian, what do you think they’d do to you?” His face was more sad than serious, and you tried your best to hold his eye contact “So after that night, I was convinced that I should let you go. That I shouldn’t keep putting such a nice person in harm's way. But trust me, it wasn’t an easy decision to make. I really liked you, my angel. So, when I had a chance to meet you as Dick Grayson instead, well... can you really blame me for taking it?”

You swallowed. He was close. Really close.

“No.” You whispered “But I feel a little... used.”

“I promise you, that’s not something that was on my mind, okay?” He said “I just... I really wanted to talk to you one more time. Of course, the moment we stepped into my apartment, I knew that there wasn’t much of a chance that this would last. I’d have to explain, eventually, and that would probably lead to you leaving.” He sighed “So I don’t blame you if you do.”

You bit your lower lip, arms crossed in front of you. He looked just like he did the first time you met him; like a battered, bruised, lonely man. And his bright blues eyes, staring at you, filled with sadness and fear, they would never let you leave. So you stepped a little closer.

“I’m not leaving.” You took a deep breath, stepping even closer to him “I’m willing to give this a shot.” You said “Whatever this is. But there are a couple of... rules, if you will, that I need to set.” He raised an eyebrow “First rule is; you can’t answer everything with ‘the less you know the better’, like they do in the movies. That won’t cut it for me.”

“Noted.” He smiled a little.

“And second... you have to let me help you.” You ran your hands down his chest as you spoke “You have to let me tend to your wounds when you come back from patrol. You have to come to me when you need to catch your breath. You have to let me help you, Dick Grayson. Or so help me God, I’ll find Batman myself and tell him you disobeyed his orders.”

“He’ll find out in a week or two anyways.” He shrugged, smiling playfully “Can’t really lie to the best detective in the world.” He placed his hands on your hips.

“Well, what can I threaten you with then?” You giggled.

“You can’t.” He giggled too “I won’t feel threatened by a civilian who insists on tending to my battle wounds.”

“You jerk, stop using my own lines against me.”

Hey! If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging? It helps with spreading my fics and my page, and it would make me super happy if you did it! Regardless, I hope you liked it and have a nice day! <3

Tag list: @bepo-is-sorry

(if you want me to tag you in anything, just shoot me a message!)

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #dc #dc comics

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trenchcoatimpala · 3 years

Text

Requested by Anon: I know you usually do Deancas but might you take a request for some early-season case fic? I enjoy your writing and I’m just fancying a bit of brotherly bonding, hurt!Dean maybe?

I am here to give you what you’ve asked for anon, some hurt!Dean and some brotherly bonding on a case-fic that takes place during season 1 before they find John.

wc: 1.1k

also on archive

Dean slammed the trunk shut and made sure he had his flare gun and his shotgun before turning to Sam. “You ready?”

Sam nodded. “Let’s go.” Together, they entered the forest that surrounded the Maverick Farm.

The brother’s had headed to Texas on the tail of a chupacabra and had finally managed to track it to the farm of the Maverick family. The beast had gone through multiple farms in the area, killing livestock and draining the animals of blood. Dean had known it was a chupacabra from the get go and Sam had agreed with him which made one part of their hunt easier.

Since the beast couldn’t come out during the day, they were forced to hunt it at night. The chupacabra would be getting ready to attack the farm, as the Maverick farm was the only farm to not yet be attacked, meaning the beast would choose it as it’s next target.

“Split up,” Dean said as they got deeper into the forest.

Sam nodded and headed off in one direction while Dean went the other. They’d canvassed the perimeter of the farm in the daylight and hadn’t been able to locate the chupacabra’s nest, killing it while it was in it’s nest was preferable, they could have just lit it on fire and let the flames do the rest, but now they were forced to wait for it to make its own appearance.

As Dean moved behind a tree, eyes fixed on the lights coming from the back porch of the farmhouse, he heard rusting behind him and turned to see the glowing eyes of the beast. Dean reached for his shotgun and pulled the trigger. The shot hit the chupacabra and it yelped, but the wound wasn’t fatal.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, just as the beast charged him.

He set off another shot but this time it missed and the blood-sucking monster pushed him to the ground, sharp claws tore at his shoulder as he rolled onto his side to protect his vital organs. He let out a cry of pain as the chupacabra’s teeth buried themselves in his neck.

Dean scrambled for his flare gun with his uninjured arm and tried to reach it where it was nestled behind his back, but the beast was draining him quickly of blood and he was beginning to see spots before his eyes.

Suddenly, a loud bang split through the air and the chupacabra let out a yelp and went limp over Dean. Moments later, the beast was being shoved away and Dean saw his brother standing over him.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked as he knelt on the ground beside him.

Dean brought a hand to his neck and it came away red. “I’ll live,” he grunted.

Sam shrugged off his flannel and pressed it up against Dean’s neck before helping him stand. “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

Dean let Sam help him back to the Impala where Sam took the driver’s seat and sent them off back to the motel they’d booked for the night. There he let Sam tend to his wounds, dabbing at it with a whiskey-drenched washcloth. Dean swallowed down some of the burning liquid when Sam declared that the wounds on his neck were deep and needed stitches.

The familiar pinch of a needle piercing his skin made him grit his teeth, but Sam’s hands were steady and he soon had the wounds properly sutured.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he said with a wince as he rolled his injured shoulder, gauging the sharp twinge of pain as he did so. He’d be fine in a few days.

Sam sighed and sat down across from Dean, pulling the whiskey towards himself to have a sip.

“Oh no, I know that look,” Dean said. “What’s up?”

Sam shrugged. “Just… do you think we’ll ever find Dad?”

“We have to,” Dean replied.

“Do you think he’s even alive?”

“He’s alive,” Dean said with certainty. “He’s Dad, nothing’s gonna drag him down. We’ll find him, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and swallowed down another gulp of whiskey before Dean swiped the bottle for himself again. “Okay.”

“You should get some sleep,” Dean said as he eyed his brother. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked weary.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Sam was silent and Dean set the whiskey aside so he could lean forward in his chair and fix Sam with his full attention. “Is it Jess?” he asked. Sam’s eyes shot to his brother and Dean took that as confirmation. “Man, you’ve gotta let her go.”

Sam huffed a watery sigh. “I can’t do that, Dean.”

“You have to. We’ve got to focus on Dad, Sam. I need your head in the game, Dad needs your head in the game.”

Sam leveled him with a pained look. “It’s not that simple, Dean.”

Dean heaved a sigh of his own and let some of the bristling frustration he’d been feeling dissipate. “I know, but we want to find the thing that killed her, and Mom, and we can’t do that without Dad. So just, I dunno, channel whatever you’re feeling into looking for Dad.”

“I am,” Sam replied. “But I just can’t stop thinking about her. It made me realize what Dad had to go through with Mom.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “It was horrible. But we’ll find the thing, and we’ll make it pay.”

“Do you really believe that?” Sam asked, skeptical.

“I have to.” Silence passed between the brother’s for a few moments and then Dean stood and clapped Sam lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I’m heading to bed, you should think about doing the same.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered.

It was clear his mind was still focused on Jessica and Dean knew he wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon when his thoughts were still so occupied with her. He couldn’t help but feel sad for Sam. He’d loved Jess, that much was clear, and he’d wanted out of the life, but Dean had dragged him back; he still wasn’t certain that that had been the right thing to do, after all he was partly to blame for Jess’s death, if he hadn’t pulled Sam away, he’d have been there to prevent whatever burned her on the ceiling from doing so in the first place. But there was nothing Dean could do to heal a broken heart, all he could do was help Sam avenge Jessica and their Mom.

With a heavy sigh, Dean collapsed on one of the motel beds and let sleep overcome him, hoping tomorrow they’d find a lead on their father.

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#supernatural #fanfic #spn fanfic #prompt fic #anonymous request #hurt!dean #my writing #chupacabra #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfcition #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #brotherly bonding #case-fic #trenchcoatimpala writes

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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years

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Everything They Say is True

Jo and Alex don't really broadcast their relationship to everyone. Sure, they are excited to be together, but it's no one's business but theirs. For those who don't know about their relationship status, things can get awkward very quickly.

-or-

A fic that takes place within Grey's Anatomy canon

Hi guys! This surprise fic was born out of a dream I had last night and I wrote the majority of it while on my lunch break lol. I hope you guys enjoy this little piece of jolex fluff before I post chapter 9 of Didn't Think.

-Takes place during early season 10-

“God, is being outrageously hot a requirement to be hired as an attending at this hospital?” Gia Holt whispered to the young woman sitting beside her.

Anna Vargas looked over at the group of attending surgeons sitting together at a lunch table and chuckled softly, “It would seem so. I mean look at them. If one of them asked me to open my legs, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Same here,” Gia replied. “And I have absolutely no shame in saying that.”

“You know I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s a balancing act,” Anna said.

Gia furrowed her brow, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Anna started. “Being a surgical intern is hell. We are run ragged on a daily basis. So it would be unjust if we were expected to do all this work without some sort of compensation. So, the hospital gods blessed us with eye candy.”

Gia laughed amused at her friend’s deduction, “I like how you think, Anna. But, I would hardly consider eye candy as enough to make up for the hardship of being an intern. You know we’re always on someone’s service, doing scut and everything that can’t be bothered to do. If we’re serving them on a daily basis, it would only be fair that they serviced us.”

Anna’s eyes widened as she processed her friend’s words, “Gia!”

“What? I’m being honest. How nice would it be to be taught new skills by our attendings outside of the OR?”

“You are something else, Gi.” Anna shook her head.

“Come on,” Gia huffed. “You have to have at least thought about it. I mean, you’re bi so you have your pick of whoever you want.”

“Very true,” Anna nodded. “But I don’t think I’d actually do it. Maybe a resident, but an attending? I don’t think I have the guts to do that. If you want to though, go for it. Maybe you’ll get lucky and get a surgery or two out of sleeping with one of them.”

“So which one should I make a pass at?”

Anna scrunched her face in thought, “Well first, you should probably figure out who isn’t married and go from there. I know Shepherd and Grey are hitched so hot neurosurgeon is off the table.”

“That’s a shame,” Gia sighed. “I wonder if Avery and that resident Edwards are together. I saw them making out in the hallway a few months ago. If they are I can’t blame her. I mean, look at those eyes.”

Anna hummed in agreeance, “Every time I’ve had to work with him I try not to look into his eyes so that he doesn’t see that I’m secretly melting internally. He’s definitely pretty, but I don’t think he’s what you’re looking for. He doesn’t strike me for the guy who would let you in on a surgery because you gave him some ass.”

“True,” Gia said thoughtfully. “I feel like he’s the type to give you a really nice gift after sex, but not to let you scrub in. Not that I’m looking to have sex with an attending so that I can scrub in. I’m a good doctor. I can get in on a surgery by my own merit. I just really want some hot sex with a hot guy and the guys in our class don't seem… up for the task.”

“Ooh!” Anna exclaimed. “What about Karev? The peds attending? He’s stupid hot and great with kids.”

Gia gasped, “You know what, I heard that he slept with basically all the female interns from last year’s class--some of the nurses too--so he’s not above it. From what I’ve heard, he’s really good at it too. He’s hot, got a stellar reputation in the sack, and he’s good with kids. Not that I want kids right now, but it says a lot about your character if kids like you.”

“I agree,” Anna nodded as they continued to finish their lunch. They made casual conversation before receiving pages to the pit from their resident. “You just get a page from Wilson?”

“Yeah to the pit. I wonder what happened that she had to page both of us. Did something big happen?” Gia threw her garbage away as she and Anna started running down towards the ER.

Anna shrugged, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything. I sure hope it’s something good. I would really love to get to see the inside of an OR today.”

*****

Jo Wilson had hoped for a light day today. It had started off as a pretty quiet day. She and Alex started their morning in the shower with some hot shower sex and then stopped for breakfast at their favorite donut shop. When they got to work, she did rounds, assigned her interns to their posts and then proceeded to perform an appy on a seventeen year old. She had just scrubbed out when she decided to go down to the pit to answer any surgery consults. She spent a few hours down in the ER when she got pulled aside into any empty linen closet. She smiled widely when she realized who it was and turned to kiss Alex.

"Hey, how's Micky? I heard you're trying to find an alternative treatment option for his Wilms tumor."

"Yeah, we couldn't get the entire thing the first time around so I'm hoping with a little bit of chemo we'll be able to shrink it enough to get good margins. And since—as of ten minutes ago—you're on my service for the next two weeks, you'll be scrubbing in with me on that and any other cool thing that comes our way." Alex grinned widely at his girlfriend.

Jo's eyes widened in glee, "Really? Wait, why am I on your service for two weeks? You didn't request me just because I let you in my pants on a daily basis?"

Alex scoffed, "Please. My friends own the hospital, I can put whoever I want on my service. But to answer your question, no it's not because you are a great lay or because I love you. It's because you're an amazing doctor and are going to become a really damn good surgeon one day. Maybe even a peds surgeon. And I don't let just anyone work on peds. Peds is hardcore. I'm not gonna let just anyone hack up a kid. I'm gonna let the best, and you are the best."

Jo grinned before kissing him again, "You are the best boyfriend and attending ever."

"I know," Alex smirked. "Okay I'm going to get lunch. Want to join me?"

"I wish I could but I just started some sutures on a lady in bed 4."

"Get one of your interns to do it. That's what they're here for."

"I would but they are currently having lunch and I'm almost done anyway. I'll come eat when I'm finished."

Alex looked at her skeptically. Knowing his girlfriend, Jo would probably forget to eat and then later in the evening he'd end up having to buy her one of everything off the menu at Joe's. "Alright, I'll see you later."

About fifteen minutes later, Jo had finally discharged the woman she had been suturing. She was about to make her way to the cafeteria when a nurse called out to her, "Dr. Wilson! There is a rig about three minutes out with a five year old girl that received trauma to the lower ribcage, upper abdomen after falling from a tree at school. There don't seem to be any breaks but paramedics are concerned with a possible collapsed lung and fluid build up in the abdomen."

" Okay, page Dr. Karev and my interns, Holt and Vargas. And have cardio on standby. "

" Right away, Doctor Wilson."

Jo sighed before gowning up and going to the ambulance bay to wait for the rig, "So much for going to lunch," She muttered to herself. Seconds later, she heard footsteps walking behind her. Turning to see her interns now gowned up she gives them a small smile before filling them in on the situation. "Vargas, go prepare trauma two and get a portable ultrasound and x-ray ready. Holt, make sure we have a peds cart ready and a chest tray for a suspected pneumothorax. I'll retrieve the patient. The ambulance is one minute out so please be quick."

The two young women nodded at their resident and ran to prepare for the little girl about to come in. When the paramedics arrived, Jo hurried and ushered the small child into the trauma room that had been prepared. She was taking the young girls vitals when Alex walked into the room.

“You paged me? What do we got?”

“Lizzie Graham, five years old. She fell fifteen feet out of a tree at recess. She’s got a pneumothorax and fluid build up in the abdomen. There isn't any evidence of fractures, just some nasty bruising. We just took her x-rays and are about to perform an ultrasound,” Jo sighed. “Her O2 levels are low and she’s got unequal breath sounds. She needs a chest tube.”

Alex furrowed his brows. He always hated this part. Chest tubes hurt like a bitch--he knew that from experience. He looked over to the two interns in the room, “Did someone contact her parents yet?”

“Yes,” Holt replied. “They are on their way to the hospital as we speak. One of her teachers is out in the waiting room.”

"Good," Alex looked over to Jo who had prepared the chest tube. Crouching down by the whimpering child, he smoothed down her hair in a comforting manner. "Hey Lizzie. My name is Dr. Alex. I heard that you took a fall today. We're gonna try our best to help you feel better. But in order to feel better, you're going to feel some pain first. The pain is going to help you breathe, so I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that? Can you be brave?"

Lizzie nodded tearfully, "Hold my hand?"

Jo's heart broke at the little girl's request, "Hey Lizzie, my name is Dr. Jo. Dr. Alex needs both of his hands in order to help you breathe but you can hold mine and squeeze as tight as you want."

They got the tube in and proceeded to perform the ultrasound, "Looks like a ruptured spleen and appendix. She might have a liver lac, but we won't know until we get in there. Holt, book an OR and prep Lizzie. Vargas, stay out here and let me know as soon as her parents arrive. Be sure to keep an eye on my pre and post-ops while Wilson and I are in surgery."

The interns nodded, "Yes Dr. Karev."

*****

The surgery went well. They ended up having to remove both Lizzie's spleen and appendix, but Alex was confident that Lizzie would make a full recovery. They were on their way out to speak to the young girl’s parents who had arrived at the hospital twenty minutes after they went in for surgery. Alex went up to the pair and motioned for Jo to follow him while the interns stood a couple feet off to the side, “Hi my name is Doctor Karev. You must be Lizzie’s parents."

The couple sprung up from their seats frantically, “Yes! How is she? How is our daughter?”

“She is doing just fine. She came in with a ruptured spleen and appendix. Doctor Wilson and I were able to remove both the spleen and appendix. Thankfully, she did not break any bones during the fall so her recovery will last about four to six weeks. I’d like to keep her here in the hospital for about a week for observation, but if everything goes well, she’ll be good to go home when the time is over.” Alex replied to the parents.

“Can we see her?” Mrs. Graham asked.

“Lizzie is in recovery right now, but I can have one of my interns take you to her room to wait for her to arrive. She will be groggy and possibly in a bit of pain, but all of that is completely normal. We will come in to check on her in about an hour to two hours to ensure everything is okay.” Jo smiled at the worried pair. She turned over to her interns, “Holt, you take the Graham’s up to Lizzie’s room? Vargas, make sure to continue to keep an eye on Doctor Karev’s pre and post ops. Both of you keep us posted if anything changes.” Both interns left to do their tasks.

“You did great in there today,” Alex complimented as he and Jo walked down the hall.

Jo grinned cheekily, “Thank you. You were a wonderful teacher as always. So, do we have any more surgeries scheduled for the day?”

"Just a hernia repair in about an hour. Shouldn't take more than 45 minutes to do. And I've been thinking, I might let you take the lead on this one."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You know how we do things; see one, do one, teach one. You've seen hernia repairs done before, and you've assisted with them, so today you lead and I'll assist."

Jo grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him into the empty on-call room down the hall and smiled, “You sir, are doing a very good job if your goal was to get into my pants for the second time today.”

“Am I?” Alex feigned innocence. He kissed her deeply before speaking again, “Lock the door.”

*****

Laying in the afterglow had become one of Jo’s favorite parts of sex with Alex. She had never experienced such security and love as she did when she was in his arms. She snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Alex was caressing her back when her stomach growled loudly, ruining the moment.

“Dude, I thought I told you to eat lunch,” Alex chastised.

“I was going to… but then Lizzie came into the ER and I got pulled into a 4 hour surgery.”

“Jo, all you’ve had all day is a powdered sugar donut and a medium coffee. You’re a doctor, you of all people should know that’s not healthy.”

“Wow, you’re one to talk. If I can recall correctly, not too long ago I was the one getting on your ass about eating right,” Jo reminded.

“Shut up,” Alex glared playfully. “Come on. Let’s get something for you to eat. We got the hernia repair in fifteen minutes.”

They each bought a snack and went to check in on their patient before getting ready for surgery. After assuring the nervous parents, Alex looked over to the interns, “Hey, Holt and Vargas! Wilson is going to be performing the hernia removal today and I think it would be good for you to observe your resident performing a procedure. You’ll both scrub in and take turns holding the retractor and observing. We’ll meet you in the OR.”

“You know, before I was an intern, you would have never been so eager to teach. I think dating a resident has made you soft,” Jo teased as the two of them entered the scrub room.

Alex rolled his eyes as he scrubbed. They walked into the operating room and looked down at the young patient; eleven year old Hunter Miller. The interns were ready and standing around the OR table. Alex nodded reassuringly as Jo took a deep stabilizing breath, “Alright Jo. The floor is yours. You’ve got this. Don’t second-guess or underestimate yourself. Remember what I always say--”

“You wouldn’t let me hack into a kid just because you like me. You let me in on a surgery because I’m good,” Jo finished.

“Exactly,” he smiled through his mask. “Now, just walk me through everything and take the time to teach your interns about what is going on.”

She nodded and began. They were about halfway through the hernia repair when Alex felt confident enough in Jo’s abilities to begin a conversation, “So Mer wants us to go to Joe’s bar tonight. Something about Yang’s birthday and tequila shots. Doesn’t want to make a huge deal about it, but thought it would be fun to invite a whole bunch of people for shots.”

Jo looked up from her work skeptically, “Did Grey really invite me or did she invite you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it matters. Grey hates me.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Yes she does.”

“Jo, Mer does not hate you. She likes you, trust me. You know, one time she even told me she thinks you're a badass.”

Jo snorted, “Well she sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“She told me to invite you. And you won’t be the only resident. She’s inviting Ross and Edwards too so you’ll have friends. Besides, you live with Cristina so it would look really bad if you didn’t show up to her birthday shots and she saw you lounging in your sweats on the couch with a beer and a tub of popcorn,” Alex said.

“You live with Dr. Yang?” Vargas asked.

Jo and Alex looked over at the intern in surprise, almost forgetting that they were not alone, “Yeah we live in the same house. We both crash with Alex. I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked us out yet.”

“Shut up… I need the rent check."

“Wait, so you all live in one house together?” Holt asked.

“I like to lovingly refer to it as the frat house. Everyone has lived there at some point,” Jo replied.

“It used to be Grey’s house. A lot of the attendings have lived there at some point. Shepherd, Kepner, Avery, and some people who aren’t around anymore. It was always open for anyone who needed a place to stay,” Alex shared. “I bought it from her last year and kept up the tradition.”

Jo laughed, "I really don't know why you think Yang would notice if I’m there or not. It’s not like we’re close.”

“Look, I’d rather be lounging on the couch in my sweats watching old reruns of Friends or Modern Family, drinking beer too but if I have to go, you have to go.”

“They’re your best friends, though!”

“Come on Jo,” Alex pleaded. “If you go and decide to leave early then I’ll have an excuse to leave because we came in the same car this morning. Also, don’t forget you’re on my service for the next few weeks. I can make your life hell.”

“Woah,” Jo looked up from the patient. “That sounds a bit like coercion.”

Alex gave her an unimpressed look, “Please. I’m begging here. And you know I don’t beg. I can’t handle another night of hearing about Mer’s McDreamy issues and Cristina’s weird arrangement with her not-husband.”

Jo exhaled, “Okay. Fine I’ll go. But you’re buying everything.”

“Deal.”

The rest of the surgery goes extremely well. Jo completed the repair perfectly. The four doctors are in the process of scrubbing out when Alex spoke up again, “You know, Holt and Vargas, you should meet us at Joe’s to celebrate. Your resident just performed a hernia repair on her own on a peds patient and you both assisted. So drinks are on me tonight!’

The interns nodded in excitement and confirmed that they would be at the bar that night at seven o’clock. Alex sent them off to do a couple tasks while he and Jo went to check on Lizzie and a few of his other patients.

*****

“Can you believe it? Karev invited us out for drinks later!” Gia screeched excitedly. “This might be easier than I thought.”

“It is exciting,” Anna agreed. “We hardly ever get to spend time with everyone outside the hospital. So who knows, maybe even I will get laid tonight. You might want to wait before you make a movie on Karev, though. I am trying to figure out though, if Wilson and Karev are sleeping together.”

“Why would you think that?” Gia asked.

“Wilson is only a second year resident living with two attendings. There’s no way she could’ve moved in with them as an intern unless she was already friends with one of them, and from the conversation in the OR, I can tell that she’s not close to Yang. Her and Karev seem really close, but I can’t tell if they’re just friends or if she’s sleeping with him. I mean, he just let her take point on a surgery. Karev is known for being horrible to interns and residents. So I’m wondering if they’re friends with benefits.”

Gia tilted her head to the side, “You make a good point there. She may have already beat me to him… either way I think I’ll still try. Maybe they are sleeping together, maybe they aren’t exclusive, maybe they’re just friends. I don’t know, but Karev is hot and so am I, and we could have some really hot sex, so I’m gonna make a move. The worst he can say is no.”

They walked into the bar and saw Wilson sitting with Ross and Edwards at the bar. Off to the side, Karev was standing at a table with Yang and Grey, rolling his eyes at something they said. Doctor Grey gets the attention of the surrounding doctors before speaking, “Alright as many of you may know, today is Cristina’s birthday so we’re going to do some shots! If you are a doctor at Grey-Sloan, then please make your way over to the bar as we toast to everyone’s favorite cardiothoracic surgeon.”

A string of laughter and teasing could be heard as everyone took hold of their tequila shots and lifted them up, “To Doctor Yang.”

“To Doctor Yang!”

The atmosphere lightened up a bit and distinctions between superiors and subordinates blurred as the alcohol made its way around the room. Alex left his friends and made his wave over to where Jo was sitting at the bar and waved over Holt and Vargas. He looked over to the bartender and began to order some drinks, “Hey man. Can I get a beer for me, a vodka and coke for Jo, I don’t know what those two want but it’s on me.”

“I’ll take a martini and Anna will have a cosmopolitan,” Gia answered.

After each receiving their drinks, Alex raised his glass, “To a great day of saving tiny humans. It’s not everyday that you treat a kid that’s gonna make it, but today we did.”

The group cheered and downed their drinks. About an hour had passed, and everyone was starting to feel some of the effects of the alcohol. Alex became more flirty than usual. His statements were suggestive and oftentimes. Jo was a giggler. She found everything mildly hilarious and more often than not, lost an item or two of clothes in the process. So far, she had shed the cardigan she’d been wearing. Interns on the other hand, became more bold when drinking alcohol. Gia especially, had her inhibitions lowered and decided that she would finally make her move on Karev.

“So Karev, when was the last time you picked someone up in the bar?” Gia asked.

Alex laughed, “Honestly, I don’t remember.”

“Oh please,” Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you remember. It couldn’t have been that long ago. You’d come here every other day with Avery while I was dating Jason and couldn’t hang out with you.”

“I’m serious,” Alex swore. “The last time I came to the bar and tried to pick someone up was last year before Mer, and everyone bought the hospital. I’m out of practice.”

“There’s no way,” Jo shook her head in disbelief. “You did not go that long without a bar hookup.”

“But I did,” Alex nodded.

Sensing that this might finally be her moment, Gia exchanged a glance with an equally tipsy Anna and turned to Alex, “Well, we have to fix that don’t we?”

“Huh?” Alex scrunched his face at the intern.

Jo--who had understood what was going on--burst out into laughter. She considered saying something and staking her claim on Alex, but decided to let him suffer and see what his reaction would be.

Gia smiled flirtily and placed her hand on Alex’s arm, “You said you’re out of practice, so how about I help you break your dry streak?”

Alex’s eyes widened comically as he finally caught on to what the young woman was suggesting. His eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth in shock, closing it dumbly when words failed to come out. He looked over to Jo for assistance, only to find that she was laughing so hard that tears were trailing down her cheeks. Alex laughed awkward and attempted to say something again, “Um… I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh come on, there’s no need to be shy,” Gia winked. “I know you aren’t. Your reputation speaks for itself, and I for one would not mind finding out if all they say is true.”

Alex looked at Jo with desperation in his eyes. Finally deciding to have mercy on him, she turned to her intern with an amused look on her face, “Alex won’t be going home with you tonight.”

“Why not?” Gia asked, seeming mildly offended.

“Because, tonight, Alex will be going home with me,” Jo supplied. “Just like he does every night, because I’m his girlfriend and he no longer needs to pick up random women in bars.”

Both Gia and Anna’s faces paled at Jo’s confession. Gia began to stutter her apologies to her resident when Jo interrupted her, “Holt. Relax. I get it, trust me. He’s hot.”

Alex, who had been observing the scene, felt his ears get hot, “Jo…”

“I’m serious,” Jo grinned. “No hard feelings. You didn’t know. But now you do, so if I see or hear of you making another pass at my boyfriend, you will be drowning in scut.”

Gia nodded and buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. Anna placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I guess I was right, huh?”

“I’m thinking I should’ve listened to you when you suggested that they might be a thing,” Gia cringed.

Deciding it was time to leave and allow the poor intern to wallow in her embarrassment, Alex pulled Jo up and started to guide her out the door. Just as the two of them were about to walk out the door, Jo stopped and gave Gia sly smirk, “Oh and just so you know, everything they say about him is true.”

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lifeonashelf · 3 years

Text

...INTERLUDE...

Come to Vegas! We can make out, gamble, and forget all our troubles.

This is quite possibly the greatest text message I have ever received. Four days later, I hit the road.

I have never driven to Las Vegas by myself. Once I complete the journey I can’t fathom why this is, because despite the extended sprawl of nothing between us, Vegas isn’t nearly as far away as I picture it in my mind. I arrive in 3 hours and 17 minutes (which, oddly, is the exact figure Google Maps gave me when I checked the route before leaving my apartment—this is even more astonishing when you factor in that Google not only calculated my precise rate of speed for the entire trek, but evidently also predicted that I would be pulling off the road for seven minutes to have a cigarette at a rest stop just outside Baker). On the way, I listen to two volumes of a 10-disc playlist I made a few months earlier. When I burn mix CDs for myself, they are ridiculously schizophrenic—crossing the state line, I hear Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, my favorite track by the death metal band Gorefest, and then “Cool For The Summer” by Demi Lovato in immediate succession, and I sing every word to each of them. Needless to say, it is an awesome drive.

Everything proceeds smoothly when I arrive. The Gold Coast has my lodgings ready for me two hours prior to the posted check-in time and they are able to accommodate my request for a smoking flat. I take my bag up to the 9th floor, set up my laptop at the table by the window, and then smoke a cigarette in my room just because I fucking can. I purposefully skipped dinner the night before so my stomach would be prepared to maximize the possibilities offered by the hotel’s Ports O’ Call Buffet. I tear that shit up, then head to the lounge to play a bit of video poker and get a cup of coffee—the machines at the bartop are not kind to me; that cup of coffee ends up costing me sixty dollars. Such is Vegas.

The day is uneventful, by Las Vegas standards. I drink more coffee, I gamble some more and win back my sixty bucks, I write a bit, I watch some basketball. But I am really just killing time. Because the passing hours are merely a preamble; the woman who sent me the text message which acted as the siren song for this trip is in the same town as me, and come “around 7ish” we will be in the same building.

She’s here on business. ___ is a reality television producer, and has been dispatched to Sin City to film the upcoming season of the show Hell’s Kitchen. I have not seen her in over two years, even though she only lives 30 miles from my apartment in real life and driving to Nevada is in fact way more effort than I would normally have to exert to visit her. But our real lives are rarely able to intersect. Besides, I love Las Vegas. And there’s something undeniably enchanting about the prospect of walking beside a beautiful girl amidst a panorama of brilliant dramatic neon and exotic stereoscopic night-sounds. Being in Vegas is like being in a movie, and the character you get to play has way more fun than you do when you’re not on-screen. Compared to my daily existence, and the daily existence of anyone who does not live here, the milieu of Vegas feels like an ethereal dream. That’s why it’s the perfect place to rendezvous with ___; being around her is so intoxicating that it feels much the same.

Our history spans nearly two decades. It is as complicated and messy and wonderful as any history I have ever shared with anyone. I cannot possibly recount all of it here, though I will tell you some. I lost a girlfriend when ___ and I became close because that girlfriend clearly identified that we were mutually attracted to each other. I would have never cheated, but my relationship imploded because I aggressively refuted her well-founded apprehensions and pretended like she was acting crazy for even insinuating I was drawn this person who I would 17 years later drive 230 miles to visit at the whim of a late night text. As a result I broke the heart of an incredible woman who deserved far better, and she broke mine by dumping me. Twenty-four hours subsequent, I was on a park bench making out with a girl who I swore up and down was merely a platonic acquaintance, and I was officially a liar.

I was 23 years old. I was also far more charming and attractive than I am now, and in the mindset to actively explore the positive corollaries which arose from that confluence. I spent a few years kissing a lot of girls because I was single and I was in my early twenties and it’s a good idea to kiss as many girls as you can when you’re single and in your early twenties because you won’t get to kiss too many more after that. Despite the sagacity I demonstrated by accurately predicting this, I was an unadulterated fucking idiot when it came to ___. I am horrified by my conduct throughout everything that ensued between us, and I will forever be haunted by the what-ifs brought about by the consequent brazen stupidity I exhibited.

From the moment we began groping each other at Cahuilla Park in Claremont, ___ became sort of a surrogate for the girlfriend I had sacrificed, a proxy upon whom I could bestow both the passion that had been extinguished and the anguish that had been stoked after the break-up. ___ did not kill my relationship, I killed it by being a callous asshole. But I think subconsciously I blamed her anyway (for having the audacity to enter my life and be the extraordinary girl she is, I suppose); that was far easier than owning up to the fact that I had acted like an irredeemable piece of shit toward the girl she supplanted. My pride and my heart were wounded and I couldn’t take it out on the person whose inescapable-in-hindsight decision had caused those injuries since she was no longer taking my calls. So I took it out on her replacement instead. And over the course of the several tumultuous months that followed, I proceeded to meticulously break the heart of another incredible woman who deserved far better.

I have never handled anyone as poorly as I handled ___. She was a dazzling and unequivocal gem, yet I treated her like she meant nothing to me at all. The mere thought of her being with anyone else drove me mad, yet instead of telling her this I told her time and time again that she could never have me all to herself and continued dating other people to underscore my assertion. More than once, I brought her to tears by stating in no uncertain terms that I never wanted to see her again, only to call her the very next night and ask her to come over as if that conversation never happened. I wasn’t simply emotionally abusive to ___, I was utterly fiendish to her. For every year of my life leading up to that one and every year since, I have been proud to conduct myself as a true gentleman, so I will never understand how I was even capable of hurting anyone as persistently and comprehensively as I hurt her. Rest assured, I didn’t understand it at the time, either. Nor did I understand why no matter how awful I was to her, she still saw the best in me and held out hope that I would come to my senses and acknowledge the singularly special thing that was standing right in front of me.

Unfortunately, I realized far too late that the reason ___ did so was because she was deeply in love with me. And I also realized far too late that I was deeply in love with her.

By then I had done about as much damage to her psyche as one person could do to another. Though she wouldn’t know it, my comeuppance was delivered by the next woman I entered into a failed relationship with, who put me through a lot of the same things I put ___ through and came up with several novel doozies of her own for good measure. ___ and I remained in sporadic telephone contact, though we rarely saw each other in person. Bizarrely, this had the upshot of emphasizing the indissoluble strength of our bond, since none of the interactions we had were stilted by our silence and distance—every time we came together, I felt as close to her as ever and she clearly felt the same.

Over the years, we’ve had numerous conversations about what happened between us. I wish to keep those private, but the essence of what has been expressed is that despite everything she considers me one of the people closest to her in the world. She also told me that “Perfect” by The Smashing Pumpkins is her song to me; I listen to it often, even though those beautiful and devastating lyrics always bring tears to my eyes.

Of course, along the way I finally did what she desperately wished I would have done 17 years ago. I came to my senses and acknowledged the singularly special thing that was once standing right in front of me. I made overtures to that effect on a couple of occasions when we once again found ourselves simultaneously single, but they were way overdue. She said she did still love me and always would, but the wall I forced her to build to shield herself from me had grown too tall and sturdy to tear down. A tacit understanding developed between us: we would be friends for the rest of our lives, but I had confused and harmed her enough for one lifetime and she was not willing to give me any chance to add to that abominable legacy. It’s a verdict I had no choice but to accept because it was a much better one than I deserved; she would have been undeniably justified in never wanting to speak to me again.

I know ___ has never wholly resolved the chaos of emotions I stirred within her, neither the amorous nor the angry. Some cuts are too deep to be sutured, and those tend to leave scars. Truthfully, I think she despises me as much as she adores me; she just adores me too much to let the other side win out most of the time. But this paradox is entirely fitting because our entire relationship is a paradox, a saga of two satellites which have shared each other’s orbit since they were launched and create a blinding explosion when they collide. Last night, she kissed me in the lobby of the Golden Nugget casino and we melted into each other just like we did that first time in Cahuilla Park, seventeen years erased by the touching of lips. When we came up for air, she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face against my chest and said, “god, I hate you,” with so much love in her voice that it made my stomach swim. It was the perfect thing for her to say in that moment, both because it is absolutely true and because it is the absolute opposite of the truth.

We had a delightful night on Fremont Street, both of us properly investigating that very cool region of the city for the first time. We had some drinks and we listened to some music and we played some poker and we held hands as we walked the promenade. For a few hours, we got to be the couple both of us wanted to be at one time or another, just never at the same time; we even fought like a couple for part of that span, since the resentment and pain she’s had to bury deep within herself to continue accepting me into her life despite my previous sins still gets triggered from time to time when we speak of the past. Regardless, I wouldn’t have changed a second of it. The night was absolutely magical, because ___ is absolutely magical.

But the spell of Las Vegas gets broken once you realize that nothing there is real. There’s an axiom people use to justify all manner of debauchery they engage in while visiting Sin City: “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Tonight ___ is out with a large group of people who esteem her, and I am alone in a smoky room sitting at my laptop, which is a lot closer to what our individual non-Las Vegas lives look like. This artificial vacation existence in which we were united as one happened in Vegas and will stay in Vegas, because it has to. Because, truthfully, the life she built for herself without me is much richer than the life I built for myself without her. Tomorrow morning I will get in my truck and exit this city of lights to travel back across a stretch of barren desert the length of two mix-CDs, and after I arrive home I will spend the next interminable number of days and nights sitting at my laptop in a room that is less smoky than this one but no less lonely. Meanwhile, tomorrow morning ___ will continue to work her fascinating job and then she will leave the country on some adventure, and no matter where she is and what she’s doing, she will be surrounded by people whose company is far more gratifying to her than mine ever could be.

The hours we spent holding hands on Fremont Street were unreal. But they were also so real that I am still reeling from the aftershock of our latest satellite collision. Our relationship, both the real and the unreal, befits that manner of contradiction. I don’t think ___ and I are still in love with each other, but I do still love her in a way that I have never loved anyone else. I have committed unconditionally to other women in her absence and redistributed the connection we share into a more manageable framework, but whenever there is no one in my life I can’t help but recognize that there very well could be if I hadn’t once been a soulless beast to someone who was merely pleading for me to appreciate them the way they sincerely deserved to be appreciated. ___ is without a doubt one of the most phenomenal and inside-out beautiful human beings I have ever known and I cannot conceive of my life without her in it, yet I still to this day find it difficult to face her. Every moment I spend with ___ feels like a gift, but those moments also sting in equal measure, because she is a walking reminder of me at my absolute worst.

I don’t think she has ever truly forgiven me. I’m not sure she really ever could, or should. Nothing I do today can undo what I did yesterday. I know that no matter how exhilarating it feels to look into her gorgeous and soulful eyes after we kiss in a glittering alternate universe, there are times when she looks at me and only sees a man who likely hurt her worse than anyone else she has ever known. I know there is a part of her that will always love me, but I also know there’s a part of her that wishes she had never even met me.

While I can only suppose what the world might look like if I had treasured her instead of trashing her all those years ago, I am positive that it would look far better and brighter than it does now. I’m aware that even if I had done the right things then, it’s improbable we would still be together today. Very few relationships go that distance, and despite our exceptional chemistry, ___ and I are not effortlessly compatible. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her, but there are unchangeable things about me I know she could not abide and no one should have to. She detests smoking; I enjoy smoking more than I enjoy most other things. She dreams of spending her days traveling and exploring; I dream of sitting in my easy chair and watching blu-rays.

She thinks I was worth falling in love with; I think strongly otherwise.

I don’t specifically wish ___ and I were together now. Yet therein lies another paradox. Because I got a little glimpse of what that might look like last night on Fremont Street, and it looked amazing. But that wasn’t real, that was Las Vegas; what happens there stays there. It was a magnificent movie, but that’s not what our actual lives look like. We could make out, we could gamble, but we could never forget all our troubles—no matter how much she loved me then and loves me now, I will always be one of hers.

So maybe what I do wish is that I could really be the person she was holding hands with in that unreal fantasy, the person who kissed her with abandon in the lobby of the Golden Nugget, the person she gazed at with unbridled tenderness during that joyful interlude when both of us were able to shelve our past and exist solely and safely in our present. The person she hoped I would become before I shattered her hopes by becoming a monster. Regrettably, untethered from our mutual orbit, I grew to be someone else entirely, someone with numerous regrets he can never completely atone for, someone she will always measure with a watchful and skeptical eye to protect herself. Someone who can never be anyone else except who he is. And that person simply would not be capable of making ___ as happy as she deserves to be, because he already had his chance to do that and made her miserable instead.

Besides, he can barely make himself happy most of the time.

###

The trip home is an inexorably depressing conclusion to every great vacation—you’re doing the exact same thing you did when you set off, except there isn’t anything to look forward to when you arrive. Fittingly, an unseasonable rain is coming down when I hit the 15 Freeway. The water-dappled windshield and the desolate unfolding highway ahead evoke another cinematic scene, perhaps a montage in which the central character takes a long drive to think heavy thoughts. At the risk of becoming a cliché, that is exactly what I do.

My mix-CDs play on, the music blurring past with the miles. I hear “Wonderwall” and I hear “Stairway to Heaven”, which are two songs that everyone should listen to extremely loudly on the open road at least once in their life. Seaweed… Tiamat… Purity Ring… My Chemical Romance… P!nk… The Dillinger Escape Plan... Fleetwood Mac… Each one of them imparts a decisively fantastic tune, but this time I’m not singing along. I am instead blinking away tears as it dawns on me exactly how much I am leaving behind in Las Vegas. Not the money I lost at the video poker machines, but the luminous girl I wagered at the age of 23 when I made a much more foolish gamble than I could have ever imagined and ended up losing the most precious thing I never had. The fortune that I lose over and over again every time ___ and I part from each other and return to the real world.

I discover that her hold on me, this cosmic magnetism we share, has not diminished with time. And I discover that the axiom is not absolute—not everything that happens in Vegas stays there; some things follow you all the way home.

That night on Fremont Street, she told me that she will never be completely over me. At least that makes us even in one respect.

Though the imprint I left on her heart was shaped like a bruise, there will always be a piece of mine that is the precise shape and size of ___. That piece belongs to her, and though it is a woeful consolation prize, it is the only one I will ever have the opportunity to give her.

But it does come with a vow: forever and always, whenever and wherever we meet, in Las Vegas and in real life, I promise we’ll be perfect.

May 9, 2019

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agentwallflower · 3 years

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Supernova 16

Bad news, I didn’t get any writing done!

Good news, I’m halfway through 16! Let the good times keep rolling... until I run out. Then I’m in trouble.

Anyway, life sucks. I am a bad caregiver and an even worse student of the arts. All I want to do is sleep, but there are pants that need washing and cans that need cleaning. Please let me sleep...

Good news though, I finished editing my other novel. Now it’s time to let my readers read it to tell me what I did wrong and the countless things that need fixing. Can’t you tell I’m thrilled?

...

Right. Anyway, next chapter goes up February 6. I’m going to go sit down until I have to get dinner ready. Then I gotta get laundry ready... and then I can do my homework. This is why I don’t want kids.

Thanks for reading, see you in two weeks!

“I already told you, you're not getting my damn helmet off.”

“But you might have-”

“If a psychic doesn't know their own brain, we got bigger problems. It’s staying on.”

It was bad enough that they'd made him take his damn clothes off. Angel had done his best, but cracked ribs were cracked ribs that needed x-rays. Among other things, that had meant shrugging out of his binder. It had been made easier by the fact the damn thing ripped in two when he tried to shuffle it off.

Guess he'd need another one... good thing he had all that overtime from working with Andy.

“I'll come in with the form stating you turned down an MRI.” there was a chill to the tech’s – nurse? Fuck if he knew right then – voice as they turned to leave the room. “Don't try to move, we still need to suture your wounds.”

Yeah, he had a lovely case of road rash that was going to need some serious antibiotic lotion, and his back was kind of fucked up. He had seen it in the mirror – looked kind of burned to him. No doubt it was going to leave some kind of nasty scar when it finished healing. Oh well, it was where nobody would see it.

Unlike his old facial ones. Pro-tip for young heroes: wear a mask before learning to fly. Birds are nasty.

“God, it's good to hear you snark at somebody.”

A comfortingly annoying voice buzzed in his ear. Scanner's link was open still, had been when the nurse had come in with the crazy idea of getting his helmet off. They had been going over the footage while waiting to hear about Ember and PT. From the sounds of things, everyone was going to make a full recovery. That was the important part, though if it took too long they might need outside help.

God, he hoped it wasn’t going to come to that. The Toledo Union was asshole city, and don't even get him started on Pittsburgh... he may not have liked football, but tossing them a 'go birds' just to make them froth at the mouth was worth it.

“Good to be able to do it.” He adjusted his helmet. “So, what's the damage?”

Keys clicked in his ear. “PT's got a nasty concussion, but that's nothing new for her. Don't know if she'll make it to the synagogue this weekend, but I think her rabbi will understand. Ember's completely lucid, so whatever Blasto did to her wore off. They're still doing a brain scan anyway, though. Apparently, they can do those with disguises on now.”

There was a note of teasing to the tech's voice that made Angel roll his eyes as he leaned back in the hospital bed, waiting for someone to tell him when he could go the fuck home. No doubt the attack was all over the news now, even at the late hour. How could it not, when one of their own had turned on them and nearly gotten half the city killed?

Maybe that was why he hadn't pulled his punches with that rock. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. A cloth one's a little different from my setup.” He sighed in relief at the report. “Well, that means we'll only be down two. I'm no HR expert, but I think Richter's fired.”

He should've been on fire, but that was a different matter entirely. Oh well, once Ember and PT were better, they could handle that. He hadn't been around much anyway, so him going to jail for being an asshole – and you know, threatening to kill a bunch of people and almost getting away with it – didn't cramp their style too badly.

At least the overtime would pay for his GRE scores. He really needed to get his math percentile up if he wanted a shot at grad school.

“That's putting it mildly.” Scanner's tone shifted. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but they sounded softer the next time they spoke. “By the way, I appreciated the jerk ex comment but let's keep it on the DL around Andy. She doesn't need to know.”

Angel nodded – oww, big mistake. He might not have a concussion, but the overuse of his powers had given him one hell of a headache. That was enough to make him close his eyes as he bumped the back of his dirty helmet against the bed frame.

“Mum's the word, Scan.” He frowned. “Where is she anyway?”

There was a pause in the typing. Scanner didn't say anything for a good couple minutes, causing Angel's blood to run cold. Despite his pounding headache and the sudden urge to throw up, he sat straight up in his temporary bed.

“Scanner, where is Andy?”

“Paladin's got her in one of those rooms they use to tell people their grandma didn't make it. The FBI's en route now to pick her up.”

His feet hit the floor – oww. “Damn it, Scan, give me a location. We can't let them get her!”

Images flashed through his mind, stolen from the psychic he had thrown down with days prior. His imagination ran wild with it, showing off steel tables and knives sharp enough to cut through rocky surfaces. It made his stomach churn as his battered brain tried to come up with a way out.

“I'm two blocks from the hospital now. Paladin asked me to bring the book.”

Angel stopped moving. Time stopped too. The only thing that convinced him that the universe was still spinning was that his heart was beating. He was alive, but right then the only thing he could focus on was the thought of the book.

“You're serious?”

“Sounds like it's our only option. She's on the third floor and we need a witness so get there ASAP.”

ASAP was a little hard when he was under observation, but Angel didn't care. He made a grab for his pants, head spinning as he pulled them on over his hospital gown. At least he wasn't attached to an IV as he booked it out of the room, a nurse yelling in the background.

If Scanner was bringing the Book, it was as serious as he thought.

---

Though it was her first time in the hospital, Andy already knew she didn't like them very much.

“You've caused quite a stir on Twitter. People already like you.”

Uncle Leo was in the chair next to her, absent-mindedly scrolling his phone. The case was covered in pictures of his family – a present for his last birthday. With his brain he didn't need it, but it wasn't like they had ever really covered how much they knew about his pre-cancer days. It had never really been her business to question what they knew about him anyway.

Normally, Andy would have been dying to get a glance at the internet, especially if nobody was going to be monitoring her. But she stayed there in her chair, flexing her fists back and forth. She could still feel the power radiating from her core, making the air shimmer. At least she wasn't giving off heat, though – that might've made the old man uncomfortable.

She had done it.

“Mom's not coming, is she?”

Honestly, the alien wasn't sure why she was even asking. Once her mother made up her mind, she didn't change it. Their final words had probably been just that, especially after Twitter had gotten a hold of it. If the internet knew about her, that probably broke just about every rule they had set for her from the time she had first emerged.

Leo's eyebrows knitted as he put his phone aside. His warm hand found hers, squeezing gently more so he didn't break anything. For humans, that was probably a comforting gesture. Thanks to the lack of skin, it didn't really do much for her, but it was the thought that counted in the end.

“I tried to call her... she hung up on me.” He frowned. “I'm sorry, but I think she meant it.”

How was she supposed to feel during a moment like this?

“Andy?”

She supposed she should have been upset really. After all, her mother had finally broken and abandoned her like she had always threatened to when things got difficult. In a way, it was amazing she had stuck it out for almost 21 years. Had she had money to put on it, Andy would've bet after the divorce for sure. In a way, she was surprised she had lasted so long. Could you congratulate a parent for not giving up on you until you were over 20?

So… maybe she wasn’t all that upset when it came to her case. Really, she was worried about the ones she had left behind. After all, Amanda was going to take it out on someone eventually. Her oldest sister was the prime target for sure, but Jen was still just a few doors down. That thought made her core bubble up as she sat there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t that either, though…

Despite everything... Andy had to admit her biggest feeling was that of relief. Threats of turning her over to the lab – or worse – for bad behavior no longer hung over her head. If Amanda was washing her hands of her, then in a way she was free. Of course, that kind of made her property of the federal government... but that wasn't the first time either. Now that she was bigger, maybe she could go toe to toe with them if they tried anything funny.

Or hell, they might just turn her over to Sakamoto. She could handle her.

“Are you alright?”

Uncle Leo's words brought Andy back down to earth. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but the man looked concerned. She shook her head, more for his benefit than her own, and shrugged her spiky shoulders in the universal sign of 'beats the hell out of me' before sitting back.

“I mean... everyone's ok, right?” She shrugged again, as if it would tease more emotions out of her molten core. “And I managed to get two shots off. I guess I can be happy about that?”

The psychic nodded. “But you're worried. I can't say I blame you. You did the right thing... though the FBI might disagree.”

Had she been human, this was where Andy would have snorted. “That's putting it mildly. I bet they’re on their way to get the custody pissing match started.”

With her... she supposed ex-mother? Out of the way, that left the feds and the lab. Talk about ugly – she would've winced at the thought if she was capable of doing it. While they whipped it out and measured, she was left in limbo. Luckily for her, that was nothing new either. Being an alien made her all kinds of flexible.

Bear Paw or... wherever the FBI wanted to keep her. She had so many lovely options.

“About that...” There was a light in the man's eyes. “You know, you did a good job out there. A little rough, but... you have promise. And we're down a man now that Richter is going to be doing hard time.”

Andy's head picked up. “Wait... you're not serious, are you?”

Leo smiled, and for a brief moment she saw someone who had long since retired to old newsreels and still pictures archived in the annals of history. It made her sit up a little straighter in her seat as her core began to bubble with what could only have been anticipation.

“We both know it was going to come down to this eventually, Andromeda.” Another smile. He never used her full name. “You're too much like Cassiopeia, including hating when I use your entire name.”

Her core bubbled again. “Can you even do that? I mean... I'm not human. Isn’t that the basic requirement of joining up?”

“It wasn't when we had Nova. Besides, who’s going to know if we don’t tell them?”

Right... she forgot sometimes about that sometimes. If Nova had hidden it… maybe she could too.

Before Andy could answer, someone knocked on the door. Leo stood to cross the room and opened it without a sound. On the other side stood Scanner, breathing hard as if they had wheeled at top speeds to get there. In their lap was a large book, bound in dark leather that gave it the feel of an ancient tome. This they handed off to her quasi uncle as they wheeled to the side, finally putting on the breaks.

“We better hurry, I blocked the elevator on some assholes in suits as I got up here.” They looked towards the window. “Is that SR?”

The psychic appeared as well, still wearing a hospital gown and motorcycle helmet. He slid in behind Scanner – at least he was wearing pants under his gown. At least he nodded to the room as he made no excuses for his weird attire.

“I'm with Scan, they're gonna be on my ass for breaking out soon.”

Leo shook his head, but he was smiling. “Not exactly what I expected for the two witnesses, but you're right. Time is of the essence. Even Scanner cannot stop an elevator forever.”

Andy felt the air in the room shift as the attention turned to her. This was probably where humans would have swallowed past anxiety or felt their hearts pound in anticipation. All she had was the bubbling of her core as she stood, dwarfing the room.

Her uncle was wrong, of course. She had never expected this day to come, not even in her wildest dreams or in the faded time before she was truly conscious of her situation. Yet the fact it was actually there still pressed down heavily as the man approached her, book in hand.

She had seen it once when she was a small child, though she forgot the circumstances of the visit that had caused it. It was a heavy looking book, bound with the Union's logo. Normally, it was kept at the base, given what was written inside.

After all... you kinda needed to keep the record of secret identities, well, a secret. It was probably the only book she could think of that didn’t have a digital copy. Sometimes, it was good to be analog.

And now it was her time to join them.

“Andromeda Nobel.” The old man’s voice had more energy in it than she had heard since his diagnosis. He held out the book and walked to an empty space in the room. She met him halfway, placing her hand on the cover like she had seen others do on TV. Maybe if they hadn't been rushing to beat the FBI, they would've done it too. Oh well, she had started this at 3 AM so maybe it was apt. “Do you swear to protect the people of Bear Paw?”

“I do.”

Outside, she could hear the elevator dinging. The agents were coming – they had a lock on the room. The door rattled violently, but Sky Rider's visor glowed as he held it firm. Someone was pounding on the wood now.

Leo remained unflapped. “Do you swear to use your powers for good and never evil?”

The words came from her mouth without thinking. “I do.”

“And no matter what, do you promise to uphold the ideals of heroism, bravery, and service both in and out of your secret identity?”

Andy didn't even need to think of this one. She nodded, almost knocking her chin to her chest. “I do.”

The rattling was getting stronger now. Sweat was starting to drip from under Sky Rider's helmet as he held the lock as hard as he could. Even Scanner was gearing up now, a glowing drone appearing to reinforce the fragile joints that kept the door to the wall. Both of them were giving it their all, even though one of them was still technically a patient.

Clearly, doing dumb shit was a point of pride here. If that wasn’t a sign she’d fit in, Andy didn’t know what was.

Leo's voice was stronger now. “Then, given the current leader is going through a medical workup, I use my power as the retired head of the Bear Paw Union to officially swear you in. You will now take up the mask and title to protect the city...”

His voice faltered. “We can add the superhero name later, unless you figured one out on the way over.”

Got one? Of course she had one. Andy had held it ever since she had first felt the power in her hands. Maybe it was a little cliché, but it felt right to her as she nodded towards the old man. She removed her hand, clenching her fist as she did.

“Call me Supernova.”

After all, she was Nova's kid in a roundabout way. If anyone got to mess with the title, she had the right.

“Supernova, eh? Never expected you to be one for a succession title, but I can't say it doesn't fit.” He smiled, and there was something wistful there as he nodded. “Then, welcome to the Union, Supernova. Serve it well.”

The door slammed open and Sky Rider was knocked on his ass as two agents in dark suits appeared in the room. As the psychic on the floor groaned at his bruised ass and ego combo, they entered, gunning for her.

Well… apparently it was time to test if the Union’s rule about active duty kept her from getting taken in. Talk about having one hell of a proving ground.

---

Want to support my snack pile so I get through art class alive? I have a Ko-Fi!

#writing #novel #Why yes I am incredibly depressed

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