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princessphilly · 3 years

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All Bets Are Off Chapter 12

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CW: smut, filthy talk

This is a bit of a filler chapter, sorry.

“Are you going to miss me?”

Nina didn’t even look up from her iPad. It was so annoying yet adorable at the same time, how Sidney was desperately trying to get her to tell him how much she was going to miss him.

“Um, I think you’re going to miss me more than I’ll miss you,” Nina finally replied. She grinned as Sidney huffed.

The first month of the new year had passed by pretty quickly to Nina. After being together for New Year’s Eve, Nina and Sid separated as the Pens had to finish off their road trip. Nina stayed in Miami for Jason’s game before taking an extra week just for herself. It was nice to have a bit of a vacation, especially when Lauren flew down. Nina basically enjoyed being on the beach, hanging out with a close friend, and shopping.

The morning of New Year’s Day, after having their first breakfast together of the new year, Sid had given Nina a card. Nina was shocked to see a credit card with her name on it and she had tried to give it back but Sid had insisted. “You don’t treat yourself enough, pretty girl,” he had firmly stated. So Nina took advantage of it to treat herself a bit.

By the time she came back to Pittsburgh, Sidney’s road trip was over but Nina’s semester had started. They had a couple of weeks where they spent time together as much as possible before the Pens had another short road trip. Now, Sidney was on his way to the Olympics in Beijing for their longest separation so far.

Sidney finally had his bag packed the way that he liked it. Glancing at Nina laying on their, um, his bed, he drawled, “Are you sure you aren’t going to miss me?”

Nina looked up and giggled. “You hog the sheets, Sidney. And you’re like a furnace when you sleep.”

Sidney walked over to the bed, crouching over Nina. “Hurting my feelings right before I have to take a long flight. Tsk tsk.”

“Your flight leaves tomorrow. You’re just making sure you are totally prepared tonight. Stop being so dramatic, Sidney Crosby.”

Sidney smirked as he brushed a hand down Nina’s front. She was clothed, wearing one of his t-shirts. “Still, Nina.

“Still, Sidney.”

Nina stuck out her tongue at Sidney as he giggle-honked. Sidney brushed an errant strand of hair off of Nina’s forehead as he whispered, “I wish you were coming.”

“It was too short of a notice to take almost three weeks off, Sid,” Nina murmured. “Plus, hasn’t it always just been your family attending the Olympics?”

“Yes?”

Nina smiled. “Then, I would be breaking your tradition and your superstitions-”

Sidney opened his mouth to disagree but Nina put a finger over it. “Don’t even start, we both know how important ALL of your superstitions are. Even if you wouldn’t say it, if you lose without a gold medal and I'm there, part of you would be wondering. So quit the bullshit, Sidney.”

Sidney gave Nina a chagrined smile as she laughed at him. She was right, as always.

“Sid, it’ll be fine. You’re lucky I’m a morning person, you can call me crazy early here and I’ll pick up,” Nina reasoned.

Sidney pouted a bit. “I finally got you to actually date me, I don’t want to be separated from you for that long.”

“How cute, Mr. Obsessed-with-Hockey has become soft in his old age.”

Nina squealed when Sidney tickled her, squirming. “Okay, okay, you’re allowed to become soft!”

Sidney gave Nina a soft smile and she gulped. Something shifted in that look and Nina felt like there was something new.

Sidney bit his lip as Nina nervously laughed. In that moment, the pure joy on Nina’s face as she squealed while he tickled her, Sidney was sure that he loved her. He loved Nina. But this was the wrong time to admit that. So he chuckled and said, “If I’m soft, it’s only because of you.”

Nina stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Sidney chose not to respond to that statement, instead choosing to slide his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, exploratory as they kissed, not their usual hungry kisses. Then Nina wrapped a leg around Sidney’s waist and the mood changed.

Nina ended the kiss first, whispering, “I can feel that someone is going to really miss me.”

“Going to miss you so much,” Sidney replied, grinding his hips into Nina’s core. “Let me show you.”

Nina gasped as Sidney sucked along her neck, just light enough not to leave any marks. “Gonna give you something to remember while I’m gone,” Sidney promised as his hands went under her shirt before pulling it off.

Nina grinned before moaning as Sidney began to do exactly what he promised to do.

Sidney sighed as he sent the text. Everything was going great, even after a couple of hiccups in their first group stage games. This year, it was obvious to Sidney that this was going to be the last Olympics for him. Except for him, Tazer, Bergy, Tanger, Webs, Price, and Giroux, all of the other players on the team were under 30. Sidney saw his job as captain this year to not just get one more gold, but get the younger guys ready to take over.

Right now, they were getting ready to play against Germany, their first game after the group stage, the real games. It was before pregame; the players whose families had come to Beijing were giving well-wishes. At this moment, Sidney wished Nina was here with him instead of home in Pittsburgh.

His phone pinged and Sidney relaxed when he saw the message: its midnight here. Good luck. Im g2g2 sleep. Bye

That message was quickly followed by another one: why the hell did they schedule yall for so fucking late? figured canada would be primetime here

Sidney laughed when he saw Nina’s message. Giroux looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Must be the elusive girlfriend.”

Giroux’s wife elbowed him, causing him to say ow. Sidney snickered; they may be teammates for Team Canada but their truce was still a fragile truce. Ryanne Giroux said, “I heard Nina’s very sweet and kind.”

“Oh?”

Sidney was suddenly very curious. Blithely, Ryanne replied, “You know as well as I do it’s a small league. People only have the kindest things to say about her.”

Relaxing a bit, Sidney grinned. “Nina’s pretty fucking amazing. I’m lucky she likes me.”

“Oh God, he’s talking about Nina again.”

Sidney’s grin turned into a smile as Tanger clasped him on the back. Tanger continued, “It took five years-”

“Five years,” Giroux asked as Sidney groaned. “Stop giving him chirp material.”

Ryanne snickered as Sidney’s phone pinged again; kris says ur bragging about me again?

“Really, Tanger, really?”

Kris laughed as Sidney narrowed his eyes. “Calm down, Sid.”

Before Sidney could reply, Nina sent him another text: score a hat trick

Sidney gave his phone a soft smile. It was time to get focused for the game, so Sidney put his phone away as soon as he went back into the locker room.

Nina cracked an eye open. The time difference was a motherfucker; it was 5:45 am but 5:45pm. Yawning, Nina sat up in her bed as she accepted the call from Sid.

“Nina, really?”

“Good morning to you,” Nina yawned.

Sid slightly frowned. Nina was wearing a team USA t-shirt. Her shorts were blue. Even her sleep bonnet was blue.

“I’m not Canadian, Sid.”

“Stilll-“

Nina smirked as she shook her head. “No, I’m not rooting for you. Score as many goals as you want, I’m Team USA.”

Sidney scowled as Nina laughed. “It’s not even like the US made the gold medal game!”

Nina was disappointed in Team USA. She was hoping they would make it to the gold medal game but they were going to go against Finland for Bronze. Tomorrow, at 8am Beijing Time, 8pm EST, Canada was going against Sweden for gold.

“Still, you should be rooting for me.”

“I am,” Nina reasoned. “I want you to score all the goals. But, I just cannot root for Canada, yet.”

“Yet.”

Nina looked up to the ceiling before yawning again. Sidney was in a snit. She felt a tiny bit bad for Sweden because they were going to get it. But that wasn’t her problem. “Seriously, good luck, Sidney.”

“Thank you, Nina.”

Nina blew Sidney a kiss and he pretended to catch it. Then he licked his lips. “How many days did you take off when I get back?”

“Three, Sidney. Just three.”

Nina couldn’t help the rush of heat in her center when Sidney drawled, “I don’t plan to let you out of my house then.”

“Win the damn gold then,” Nina snapped.

Sidney chuckled, saying, “You’re ready to go back to sleep then. Sweet dreams, Nina.”

“Bye, Sid.”

Nina looked down at her phone. There were three messages, long messages, all from Sid. She took in a deep, fortifying breath. Canada had one gold and Sidney had two goals. From the highlights, it seemed like Sidney was on a mission the whole game. Sighing, Nina pressed play on the first one. It was just a noisy celebration, nothing big until Sidney started talking. His talking was garbled at first and Nina laughed when she realized that he was drunk off his ass when he called her.

The second voicemail started just as garbled, then Nina heard Sidney clearly say, “I’m so happy we won, I still wish you were here, you’re my new lucky charm, pretty girl. Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl, you make everything better now that you’re mine.”

The next one was just sappy as the second, but Sidney was definitely somewhere quieter with this one. But he was also just as drunk, as he ended by saying, “I wanna fuck you when I get back, with you wearing my gold, pretty girl. This gold is almost as pretty as you.”

Nina ruefully laughed, already expecting apologetic texts from Sidney when he was sober. But for the rest of the day, the thought lingered in her mind, the idea that Sidney loved her. However, her patients kept Nina busy and she didn’t get a moment to really ruminate on that. Then, Nina went over to Karesha’s house to babysit her play nephew, AJ, as Karesha went out with her boyfriend.

Within an hour of leaving, Karesha came back in, heated as she slammed the door. AJ commented, “He must have made Mom mad again.”

“AJ, please go upstairs and play with your Legos, Mommy needs to talk to Aunt Nina,” Karesha asked, trying hard to control her voice.

AJ quickly ran up the stairs, loudly closing the door to his room. Karesha flopped on the couch, kicking off her expensive heels. “Fuck men.”

Nina got up and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. Pour shots, she passed one to Karesha before sitting back down next to her friend. Karesha gratefully smiled before downing the shot.

“I’m tired of this shit. I told him it was over through text. How dare he say he’s coming up to Pittsburgh before spring training and then text me after I get to the restaurant to say he’s not coming after all. I’m done. I can’t.”

Nina murmured sympathetically, “Fuck him.”

“I’m so glad I never brought him around AJ though,” Karesha stated. “He had the nerve to say I spent too much time with my kid when I told him it was over.”

Nina’s eyes widened at that statement. “What are you supposed to do? Parent him less?”

Thoughts about Sidney were forgotten as Nina consoled her friend. Deciding to sleep over, Nina woke up early in the morning on the couch, several texts from Sidney waiting for her. Nina quickly scanned over them, starting with a text telling Nina his flight was about to come in to the last one asking if everything was okay. Nina sent him a message: friend had a crisis, be over around 10

It was early, around 7am so Nina didn’t expect to get a response. But Sidney replied: everything ok?

As ok as it’s gonna be, don’t worry, Nina sent back before straightening up Karesha’s living room. She then slipped out, locking the door from the inside.

“Gonna get you full with my cum, pretty girl. Fuck, look at you, your pussy already trying to milk my cum.”

Nina groaned as she watched Sid fuck her, claiming her. Her legs were over his shoulders, allowing Sidney to fuck her deep. “You missed me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina managed to say. He was fucking her so good, each stroke hitting her g-spot. It was like Sidney returned as a man on a mission.

“I missed you. Dreamed of you every night, Nina,” Sidney rasped.

“Mmmm.”

Nina no longer had words, she could feel her high coming. Then she felt Sidney’s fingers, just two fingers on her clit and it was enough to send her over the edge. Nina screamed, her nails digging into Sidney’s back. That was enough to get Sidney to reach his high as well, his grunts wordless as he came.

Nina sighed as Sidney withdrew, already sad at feeling empty. Sidney sat back on his haunches, watching as his cum started to leak out of Nina’s pussy. “I’ll never get enough of seeing that,” he remarked as he played with Nina’s clit. “Just for me, pretty girl.”

Moaning, Nina closed her eyes. She was sensitive but she felt herself respond to Sidney’s fingers. Then his fingers were replaced with his tongue, his fingers fucking his cum deeper inside of her pussy and the time for rational thought was gone.

Six weeks later

Nina sighed as she rifled through her bag for the keys to her apartment. Today was her thirty-first birthday and for some reason, she felt weird. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m now on the other side of thirty,’ Nina thought to herself.

The morning began with happy birthday texts from friends, birthday calls from Mom and Dad, and a facetime call with Jason. Sidney had sent her a funny meme birthday text but nothing else. Nina knew she shouldn’t feel too bad; the Pens were trying to solidify their playoff spot in the division and her birthday, April 5, fell right at the end of the season. As she opened the door, Nina hoped that Sid would at least do something once the playoffs were over. At the same time, it felt weird that she wasn’t going out with her parents either.

Just her luck that for the first time she was in a relationship around her birthday, her boyfriend had reasons not to take her out. Nina sniffled as she turned on the light.

“SURPRISE!!”

Nina gasped as Sidney, Kris, Geno, Anna, Catherine, Taylor, Alex, Victoria, Mario, Nathalie, Guentzy, Tristan, Hannah, Karesha, AJ, Lauren, her mom and dad, and Aryanna jumped out. Eyes wide, Nina burst into tears.

“Oh no, what’s wrong pretty girl,” Sidney replied, folding Nina into his arms.

Nina sniffled as she cried, “I thought everyone forgot my birthday!”

“I told you she wasn’t going to take it well,” Karesha muttered as Lauren kicked her. “Girl, be happy he did this all for you when he could be extra obsessive about the playoffs.”

Nina cut her eyes at Karesha before getting on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Sid’s cheek. “Thank you, Sid.”

The pictures of that night were put into a small scrapbook. Nina didn’t understand Sidney’s love for documenting memories in such a dramatic way but it was nice to look back at the memories in book form instead of having to scroll through her phone. Playoffs were now starting though so Nina was sure that would be the last carefree time until the playoffs were over, this time hopefully with another cup.

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faefictions · 4 years

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Stay

Harry Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2,839

Summary: Your best friend, Harry Holland, ghosts you while he’s away for work. The harder you try to get him back, the further he pulls away

Warnings: a lil angst

It had been three months. Harry, your best friend of 6 years, left for America and essentially forgot about you. You didn’t blame him, at first at least. He was following his dreams, and sure he was going to get busy. Working on set with his brother Tom left little downtime, but in the past he had always found time to send you stupid snapchats or tag you in memes he thought would annoy you (although they never did).

This time was different though. He ignored you for about a month. At first, he never opened your messages, and never sent any himself. After a couple weeks, he started to open all of them, but he never replied. Some of those messages were nothing but rude to leave without a response, and it hurt to see him instantly read them, but never reply.

After he did that for the 8th time in a row, you decided to call him. And when he didn’t pick up, you kept calling. You called until you eventually got sent straight to voicemail, and that was when the first message since he had left came through.

“Sorry Love, busy right now. Is it important?”

If it weren’t important, you wouldn’t have been blowing up his phone, and he knew that. You had no idea, but he knew exactly what was going on. There was no way in Hell he was going to help it along, though.

“Call me when you’re free,” was all you could reply with. You paced your apartment for an hour, thanking the forces of the universe that your roommate was out for the night and not experiencing your anxiety.

You almost forgot about the time difference between New York and London. When he called at 1 am, you were about ready to explode, until it clicked that he was 5 hours behind you. So you took a deep breath and tried to at least forgive that one understandable misstep before you started the dreaded conversation.

“Hey,” you awkwardly greeted, and he instantly read the discomfort in your voice. It was the conversation he had been dreading.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you serious, Harry?”

You didn’t sound angry at all, and that may have been what hurt most. You just sounded…desperate.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry, why the fuck are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not. I told you, I was busy.”

“Busy all the times you’ve left me on read in the last month too? Look, I get that you and Tom are busy. I know that you’re working hard out there, but this is the first I’ve heard from you since you’ve left. So if I did something, please just tell me.”

“Y/n, I can’t just reply to everything you send me. I have more responsibility than last time, I’m doing a lot of shit. You can’t get mad over that.”

“Harry, I think we both know that’s bullshit. Paddy told me you were texting him last Saturday, complaining about how bored you were. I texted you twice that night, and was instantly left on read both times.”

“Ok, well Paddy’s my brother. Maybe I just wanted to talk to him. I missed him.”

“So you don’t want to talk to me then. Got it.”

“Y/n, no that’s not what-“

“No, I get it Harry. I’m not family. I don’t matter as much. You don’t have to say it.”

“God, you’re being fucking ridiculous.”

“Never mind, Harry. Forget I even called.”

“Really? You’re going to act like that?”

“I’m being serious, Harry. Forget I called, forget I texted, just forget I exist. You seem to be good at that.”

“Y/n, you’re being fucking ridiculous. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ok, whatever, just… have fun in America, Harry.”

And with that, you hung up.

You weren’t sure if Harry would have kept leaving you on read after that, because you didn’t have the heart to send anything anymore. But he wasn’t reaching out either, so you took it as a safe bet that he didn’t care much anymore. And you didn’t blame him. Sure, you didn’t understand it before, but you had blown up on him. He hated confrontation, so no matter how much you hated him for the initial transgression, you had to remind yourself that this was partially your fault, and he now had reason to be just as upset with you.

You started losing sleep, and that never really stopped. Losing Harry felt like losing a big part of yourself. You tried avoiding his family after that, Harrison included. They were tangled into your life, and it felt like you were ripping a prickly barb from a poorly knitted sweater. You just couldn’t get them out of your life without it all starting to unravel.

After the first month, the second of which Harry had been gone, they all took the hint. Paddy and Nikki stopped inviting you over on the weekends, or to their lonely family dinners. Harrison stopped checking in on you. He had claimed that it was Harry’s idea at first, but you saw right through that lie.

The third month, your mental health dropped drastically. You were only getting a couple hours of sleep a night, you were working yourself to the bone. And while the money was nice, your boss was threatening to make you take time off. Even she could tell that that something was seriously wrong.

When you started to make mistakes in your work, expensive mistakes, she forced you to go midday. She told you to take the rest of the week off, pleading with you to get some rest. You were just glad that you hadn’t been fired.

That day, you went home and spent the rest of daylight in bed, nothing but silence filled the room. When your roommate, Kayla, came home and found you quietly staring at the ceiling, she offered to take you out to dinner, but you didn’t have the energy.

“Y/n when are you going to get over this? You’ve been depressed for over a month now. This isn’t healthy, and I swear you’re not even trying. I don’t want to be that bitch, but you need to get off your ass and get over it. So get up, we’re going out.”

You gave her a dirty look, but you knew she was right. You didn’t want to get over Harry, because you didn’t want it to really be over. But it had been long enough, and neither of you had heard from the other, so you let out a loud groan and got out of bed to put on some real pants so you could go out.

You didn’t look half as decent as you usually did on nights out. You barely put effort into your outfit, you weren’t even entirely sure it matched. You didn’t put on any makeup, so your under-eye bags were dark enough to almost seem like you had been in a fight.

Kayla would have encouraged you to at least try to look like your normal self, but just getting you out of bed was enough of an achievement for the night.

She ended up taking you to your favorite restaurant, but it did nothing for your mood. Harry had taken you there dozens of times. He always insisted on taking you to dinner for your birthday, and his brothers would always find a way to infiltrate your night, but you never minded. You loved their company.

Being there just reminded you of him. When your food arrived, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone to clear your head. Staring at yourself in the mirror helped you take a few breaths, but you couldn’t get Harry off of your mind. Half of you wished that he was there with you, but the other half was still mad at him. Mad at him for ignoring you for a month. Mad at him for pretending like that wasn’t what he had been doing. But most of all, you were mad at him for leaving things how they were. Of course you could have called or texted, it was a two way street, but you were afraid that he would just ignore you again, and you didn’t know if you would be able to handle that kind of rejection.

You tried to take one last deep breath before going back out, but when you opened the door to make your way back to the table, the breath was knocked out of you. Harrison was sitting at the table with Kayla, and she didn’t look one bit surprised to see him.

You weren’t in the mood for an intervention, so you made a beeline for the front doors, trying to keep your head down as you passed their table so they wouldn’t see you leave. In hindsight, you should have known that getting out of there undetected wasn’t plausible, but Harrison’s voice calling your name didn’t so much as make you pause.

The night air was colder than you had remembered it being just 20 minutes prior. It could have been the cold, the lack of food in your system, or the anxiety bubbling in your stomach just from seeing one of Harry’s closest friends, or a combination of all three that was making your body tremble.

You could only imagine how pathetic you looked. You already looked like you were sick from the lack of effort you put in to your appearance, and the tears rushing to yours eyes didn’t help either. You were about to ready to rush into an alleyway to hope for the best while you rode out the wave of tears, but as you took a sharp turn around a corner, you crashed into someone, almost sending you both to the ground if it weren’t for his steadying hand on your upper arm.

You knew instantly, the sweatshirt and cologne were a dead give away, but you were in denial. Sure enough, you looked up to meet those brown eyes that you loved oh so much, yet somehow despised even more. You thought you had looked bad, but he looked almost worse, which surprised you. The bags under his eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, and his hair was disheveled. You were almost embarrassed to admit that you recognized the sweats he was wearing as the only thing he would wear when he was throwing a fit, but this was much more than a measly tantrum. This was a heartbreak.

“Hey,” he stumbled breathlessly. You were a little relieved to see how surprised he was to run into you. You would have originally guessed this was all a big set up that he was a part of, but he seemed to be just as clueless as you. Still, you couldn’t muster up the courage to greet him like he wanted, so with a half hearted smirk, you tried to rush past him. He was having none of that though.

After you hung up the phone that night, he had known he fucked up, but he was too stubborn for his own good. You had told him that as a joke a million times, but now he knew what you meant.

He blocked your path just before you could pass, and if it weren’t for his pleading eyes, you would have just pushed right through him.

“Please, don’t walk away.”

“What do you want?”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

“I-I just want to talk.”

“Really, Harry? You’ve had, what, four months to want to talk? Must not be that important.”

“Y/n, don’t do this again.”

“Do what, Harry? You fucking abandoned me, without so much as an explanation as to why, but I’m supposed to be happy to see you? Is that what you want? You want me to just forget how shitty you made me feel for four months and just jump into your arms?”

“No, I-“

“Then what the fuck do you want, Harry?”

“Y/n, you’re making a scene.”

“I will make a scene if I goddamn please, Harold.”

He let out a sigh, a moment of silence passed over the both of you. You almost took it as a chance to walk away, but something inside you was screaming to stay.

“When’s the last time you slept? You look like shit,” he asked, his eyes finally coming up to meet yours. You would have slapped him on the shoulder if his concern wasn’t written so explicitly on his face.

“How endearing.”

“You know how I meant it,” he gave you a sad half smile.

“Look, I can’t do this right now. Today has been shitty enough, I just can’t handle-“

“What happened today?”

“I’m not really in the mood to divulge that information to you. I just wanna go home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I don’t mean for asking that. I’m…I’m sorry for leaving you on read. For ignoring all your calls. For not hitting you up in my spare time. And I’m sorry for not reaching out after that last phone call.”

“Ok, thanks, but sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

“Well what do you need from me then?”

Need. That word almost made you stumble back. He didn’t sound annoyed by the fact that you weren’t immediately forgiving him after his apology, as he usually would. He wasn’t asking what you wanted from him, he was asking what you needed, and that seemed to make a world of difference in your heart.

“An explanation,” you murmured after a second of silence, but he heard you loud and clear.

“I don’t know if I can give that to you.”

“Ok, then let me know when you can. In the meantime, I’ll be walking home.”

“Y/n, please.”

“No, all I’m asking is why. If you can’t give me that, then this isn’t worth it in the first place. I’ll see you around, Harry.”

He didn’t block you as you walked away, but it may have just been because he saw the tears in your eyes. He knew you hated crying in front of other people.

You must have made it half a block away before he turned around and called something after you, but you couldn’t hear him over your sniffles.

“What?” you asked as you turned back around to see him jogging towards you.

“I missed you.”

“Ok… I missed you too?”

“No, I mean, it’s the shittiest excuse, but… I missed you too much. Talking to you, knowing you were a world away living your life without me, it just, it hurt too much. And I sound like a fucking idiot saying it out loud, and I think that’s partially why I didn’t want to tell you, but that’s why. So, please, don’t go.”

“You missed me too much?” you asked, implicitly calling out his bullshit.

“Yes, I promise that was the reason.”

“Usually when you miss someone, you just, I don’t know, fucking call them.”

“I know, and I should have. I should have replied to every single one of your messages, and I should have sent you one every single time I thought about you. I should have told you how things were going every night, just like I wanted to. I should have caved and just told you how much I fucking loved you, but I didn’t.”

“You what?”

Both of you could barely breathe as he looked nervously into your eyes, trying to gauge your reaction. He sensed nothing but surprise though.

“Loved you. Love, I guess, since I still do. Always have.”

“Well that’s terrible timing, because I fucking hate you,” you said finally cracking a smile.

“Ok, I deserve that,” he admitted, smiling right back.

“You really mean it? You’re not just trying to find a way out of the situation?”

“I mean it.”

“Promise?” you asked, more seriously this time, as you stuck out your pinky. Without hesitation, he linked his own with yours.

“Ok… I think you owe me a drink before I can reciprocate.”

“That sounds about fair.”

“Maybe dinner too.”

“You got it.”

He pulled you in for a big hug, and the faded smell of his cologne on that sweatshirt was enough to calm every nerve in your body. You had missed him more than you had cared to admit.

“Let’s get you home, I was serious about you looking like shit,” he said, and you decided to hit him on the shoulder this time. He laughed at you, knowing full well that he deserved it, and that smile melted your heart.

You walked the whole way back to your apartment with his arm around your shoulder. Sure, deep down, you still resented him just a little for putting you through the past four months, but it was nothing that a little teasing and guilting him into buying food for you for a month wouldn’t fix. Nothing, not even this, could come between the two of you, and you hoped that nothing would ever try again.

#harry holland #harry holland blurb #harry holland imagine #harry holland oneshot #harry holland x reader #harry holland angst #harry holland fluff #harrison osterfield

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spaceskam · 4 years

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our fainted thrill carries on (11/13)

warning: mentions of anxiety, kidnapping, child abuse, etc

ao3

Regardless of their ambiguous relationship status, Alex had promised to let Michael know when he got to the motel safely.

Midnight passed.

1 A.M. passed.

3 A.M.

5 A.M.

7 A.M.

“You just forgot, right? You got back and went to sleep, right?” Michael asked, leaving his 5th voicemail of the night. He’d called 30 times and texted even more, spending the whole night curled up on the couch and biting his nails until they hurt. “You’re gonna call me when you wake up and you’re gonna be so pissed that I blew up your phone. I checked four times, you brought your charger, so if you’re ignoring me on purpose, then… Please be okay. I need you to be okay. I love you, bye.”

When Alex had gotten up the morning after their talk and just started packing a bag to still head out to meet the active Camerons, Michael had been stressed beyond belief. No matter how much he said it was a bad idea, Alex deemed it necessary. Then when Michael tried to invite himself along, Alex told him no.

“I swear to God, I am going to kill you when you get home. You can’t just not return my calls, that’s a real dick move,” Michael spat, taking a shaky breath, “I miss you, come home.”

He’d bothered him for the rest of the week, trying his damnedest to either get Alex to stay or get him to let him tag along. It would’ve been fun, he’d said, a road trip with all of them. Alex had banished him to yard work after too many minutes of failed, teenage-esque coercion.

“I’m worried,” Michael sniffled at 8 A.M. Alex should’ve taken his medication by now. Had he done his morning PT? “Please call me. I won’t be mad, I just need you. I need to know you’re okay.”

They’d been slowly trying to build trust again and now he wasn’t answering. Was he hurt? Was he avoiding him? Was he just having so much fun he forgot? Did someone take him?

“Alex,” Michael said, stress crying into his palms at this point as his whole body shook with a new, unknown level of anxiety, “I need… Just one response, okay? Just one. So I know you’re alright. I love you. Please take your medicine and eat something if you haven’t. I love you.”

For years, Michael had gotten accustomed to never being able to talk to Alex when he wanted to. He was overseas playing G.I. Joe and Michael avoided even trying. But now, now after months of Alex picking up when he needed him, months of spending so much time together, months of needing him to breathe… Now it felt like his entire world was crumbling and suddenly he was considering filing a missing person’s report.

“But that’d be stupid, right? You’re on a secret mission, I’m a… redacted… so I just gotta wait. Just gotta… Please be okay. I love you more than anything and I meant what I said. So, you know, if someone took you and is listening... Tell them I’ll fucking kill them. I won’t hesitate. Don’t worry.”

Michael pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to will himself to feel better. His hand seized up and his body hurt. He just needed Alex to be okay and alive and home. He needed him to come home.

“The person you are trying to reach is not available. Mailbox full. Goodbye.”

He dropped the phone onto the couch, raking his hands through his hair and pulling hard as he tried to calm himself. This wasn’t just anyone, this was Alex. If Michael trusted anyone to get themselves out of a sticky situation, it was Alex Manes. He was strong and smart and ungodly talented. He should be okay.

So then why wasn’t he answering his fucking phone?

“Whoa, what’s going on here?”

Michael looked up at the sound of Rosa’s voice. She was staring at him in concern which was new, but he couldn’t even take time to register it. He was shaking and felt like he was suffocating, his whole mind blurry and thinking of the worst-case scenario.

“Alex won’t answer and he’s not home and I can’t get in touch with him and it’s been hours and, and he said he would call or text or, or, or, or‒”

“Hey, it’s Alex, I’m sure he’s fine,” Rosa insisted. Michael shook his head, pulling on his hair a little harder.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, “No, he said‒”

“Did you try Kyle or Jenna? See if they’d pick up? Maybe Alex lost his phone,” she tried, coming closer. The couch shifted as she sat beside him and he tried to take a grounding breath just like Alex showed him. Identify the trigger and breathe. Except he knew the fucking trigger and he couldn’t breathe because it was an actual problem.

“No, I didn’t call them,” he said, staring at his phone. His messages were still unread and it brought a whole new wave of panic. He’d never felt so fucking helpless in his life. He just wanted Alex.

“Give me your phone,” Rosa instructed, taking it before he could actually hand it over. Which was valid because he felt like his skin was being turned inside out. He should’ve followed him or put a tracker on him or put a fucking handprint on him or something. Anything.

Anything would be better than this.

“Okay, let me try Jenna,” she said after Kyle’s went to voicemail. Michael groaned pathetically, shrinking in on himself again.

A few more minutes, a few more calls unanswered, and all it did was make Michael’s anxiety grow to insane levels. What happened? What the fuck could’ve taken them out? Sure, Kyle he could understand, but Cam and Alex? What kind of manpower did these people have?

“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Michael breathed‒or, tried to breathe, “He’s dead. He’s dead and the last thing he remembers is me being a total dick. He’s dead.”

“Hey, don’t say shit like that, he’s not dead,” Rosa insisted, swatting his leg. Michael just choked his tears, rocking slightly. Horrible, intrusive images of Alex’s dead body flooded through his mind. Bloody, beaten, shot, destroyed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “It’s Alex, he’s not dead, stop.”

“Then where is he, huh?! If he’s not dead, where is he?!” Michael demanded. Rosa glared at him.

“Acting like this will get us nowhere,” Rosa said, standing to her feet and gesturing for him to do the same. He was pretty sure his feet wouldn’t work if he tried. She rolled her eyes when he didn’t move. “Listen, I want you to really think about what’s going on right now. If something is wrong, your most useful people are out of commission. You have to actually put in the effort.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Michael argued.

“You sure about that?” Rosa prodded.

She stared him down for a moment and he carefully took a few grounding breaths. He had to be logical at least a little bit. If he was going to get Alex back, he had to at least have a starting place. So he closed his eyes, focusing on changing that anxiety and sadness into anger. It wasn’t hard. It felt like a reflex.

He took a few more breaths before he opened his eyes.

“I know where to go.”

Michael Guerin let himself into the Manes’ residence for the second time in one week.

Jesse Manes was sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and not even bothering to stand in fear like last time. Instead, he just looked up at Michael. His fingers itched, eager to just throw him into the wall. But he waited.

“Tell me where Alex is.”

Jesse paused, looking at him over the top of his mug. He looked genuinely confused, but Michael didn’t buy that for a second.

“Did you warn them that Alex was thinking about going out there? Did you tell them about him?” Michael demanded. Jesse slowly lowered his cup.

“Now, son, I thought we were getting along last t‒”

“Answer me!” Michael demanded, throwing the mug across the room and slamming it into the wall. It was a perfect demonstration of what he’d do to Jesse if he didn’t get an answer.

Jesse sighed, looking longingly at the shattered mug for a moment before turning his attention back to Michael. He was too calm. There was nothing calm about this situation. Nothing at all. Alex was missing. So were Kyle and Cam.

“I didn’t warn them, but they already know who Alex is. He’s got Manes features and every active member knows of every family member of the other factions for safety purposes. If they took Alex, it was because of you,” Jesse said simply. Michael’s heart dropped into his stomach and his breathing threatened to choke him all over again.

“Bullshit,” Michael spat. Jesse sighed and gestured to the chair across from him. Michael was hesitant to do so. Last time they sat and spoke cordially, Alex went missing over the very thing they spoke about.

But, then again, Jesse had warned him.

Michael reluctantly took a seat.

“They have a theory that says any human who gets involved with an alien is just as dangerous and corrupt,” Jesse said. Michael scoffed.

“You think that too.”

“I don’t think that,” he said, still oh so calm, “I think it shows weakness and is a symptom of being overly empathetic to creatures that aren’t worth it, but I don’t think it’s something one can’t come back from. Alex has… other compromising issues. He’s disabled, he’s got PTSD, CPTSD‒we’re just scratching the surface. I understand why you’re worried.”

There was a level of coldness to him that Michael couldn’t comprehend. It was like there was a legit disconnect and he didn’t see Alex as his son. He viewed Alex, not as the man he was, but as the idea of what he was. A disabled, queer veteran. End sentence.

“He’s your son,” Michael said, eyebrows drawn together and shaking his head, “He’s your son, why don’t you care? Why aren’t you worried? I-I’ve seen so many shitty parents in my day, but most of the time they at least pretend. You can’t even give him that.”

“Alex made it clear he doesn’t want me pretending,” Jesse said simply, “And I learned a long time ago there’s no reason in being worried for him. Worry doesn’t change what that boy does. If anything, it makes him run towards the fire. He’s made his bed.”

Michael shook his head, leaning back in his seat and looking up towards the ceiling as he tried to collect himself.

“Alex is… He is the strongest person I know. And I have no idea how the fuck he became that with you as a father,” Michael scoffed, “No matter what bullshit is thrown at him, he can be kind. He can still love so much. He doesn’t trust you, but he still loves you. He doesn’t trust me, but he still loves me. Do you not understand how fucking incredible that is?”

Michael looked at Jesse, seeing that he was basically unphased. It didn’t make sense. How many years had this man put effort into becoming something that he forgot how to be human? How had Michael spent years trying to avoid falling into the cold arms of humanity and failed, but Jesse Manes had successfully evaded it completely?

“I’ve encountered a lot of monsters,” Michael said, leaning a bit closer and making sure he held eye contact, “I’ve encountered so many and, despite the fact that I’ve also met my fair share of loving people, I still became one. I’m still this. But Alex? Alex has been wronged by every goddamn person he’s ever met and he’s still good. He is unapologetically good. And you know what? He deserves to see that there’s a point to it.”

“How exactly do you expect to do that?”

With a simple thought, Michael bound Jesse Manes’ wrists with an invisible string. Jesse managed to hide any type of alarm.

“We’re goin’ on a road trip.”

Alex’s head hurt ungodly bad.

“Alex, hey, welcome back to life.”

He squinted and saw Kyle looking down at him, shirtless for some reason. He tried to move, but it just hurt worse so he stayed put.

“What’s going on?”

“We may or may not be trapped in a cellar,” Kyle said softly, lifting something. It was then that Alex realized Kyle’s missing shirt was being pressed to his head. “But it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Me? What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kyle asked. Alex closed his eyes and thought really hard. He felt disoriented and achy and probably had everything to do with that head wound he couldn’t really feel.

“Um, getting to the club?” Alex said, trying to remember what happened after, but it was blurry, “Did I get any information?”

“Well, I don’t know, you don’t remember,” Kyle sighed, “I’m sure it’ll come back to you. Right now, just stay put.”

“What’s going on?”

“A couple of guy’s cornered me. I don’t know how they knew I was with you, but they cornered me and threw me in the back of a van. Same with you, but you were already unconscious by then. Not sure what happened, but you’ve got a pretty nasty head wound.”

“That’s it?” Alex wondered, “Where’s Cam?”

“Shh,” Kyle hushed, looking around and stroking Alex’s cheek as if that would cover up what he said. Maybe it would. He leaned down and put his lips right by Alex’s ear. “Don’t talk about that or we’re never gonna escape. They can’t know she’s involved with us, okay? Just play along.”

Alex gave a microscopic nod as Kyle sat back up.

“I think you’ll be okay. It stopped bleeding,” Kyle told him.

“Good, I need to kick someone’s ass,” Ale said, groaning as he tried to shift again. His body still felt too heavy. “What the fuck, I’ve had a head wound before. They don’t usually feel so… They… I…”

Carefully, Kyle hand traveled from his cheek down to his arm. He carefully put a little pressure over a spot just below the inside of his elbow. Alex jumped, his body reacting to the spike of pain. Kyle whispered his apology, but it was clearly something had happened to his arm. Kyle reached down more, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. When he sat up straight, it brought Alex’s arm right into his line of view.

Branded into his arm was that familiar three men Neptune symbol, tiny and yet so, so obvious. In the first head, the one meaning Manes, was a little red dot, the product of an injection. His eyes went up to meet Kyle’s. His face was schooled, but his eyes showed his worry.

“And you?” Alex asked. He shook his head, saying they hadn’t done it to him.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

This is why he hated going in blind.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 50

Warnings: Profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother

Every sound is amplified when you’re on the verge of sleep. The skipping of leaves and stone as the wind blows them across the front porch and drive. The slow yet incessant dripping of the kitchen tap. The rattling of the old and rusted window air conditioner that does little to cool even the smallest of rooms. It’s a struggle tonight; body and mind attempting to coexist long enough to let him rest. Every one of his senses are on high alert; hypervigilance strong and unrelenting. All thoughts of Mahajan and his people and the very real and dangerous threat they possess returning the second silence descended on the shack. The moment he felt his wife’s body relax against his and heard her breathing become slow and shallow; drifting off on her stomach with an arm draped across his chest and her head nestled in the crook of his elbow. So beautiful and perfect with the moonlight streaming through the curtains, bathing her smooth, silky skin in a pale, silvery glow. Content and satisfied after two rounds of intense love making. Beginning outside where they’d been relaxing by the fire, ending just inside the front door when wandering hands and greedy kisses made it impossible to get any further. She’d been both yawning and giggling when he’d carried her to bed; laughing as he dumped her unceremoniously into the middle of it. And they’d spent the next hour engaging in quiet pillow talk and sharing long, slow, sleepy kisses.

He’d thought he’d fall asleep soon after her; their vigorous activities, a day spent in the sun, and the handful of pain meds he’d taken should have guaranteed at least a few hours. But it’s shortly before one in the morning and he’s only now beginning to feel groggy. Managing to fight back the worries and the thoughts that plague him and clutter his already damaged and weary mind and feeling that warmth that flows through him as relaxation finally kicks in. The meds are at last doing their job; taking the edge of and numbing his brain enough that it agrees to let him rest. His own breathing slowing down and levelling out, eyes beginning to close.

Until the sound of his cell phone vibrating against the nightstand tears him from the brink of sleep; all the failed notifications that three hours without a signal had held back now coming all at once. And he rolls onto his side and reaches for the offending object, momentarily forgetting about the bad arm as he attempts to prop himself up on his hand. The shoulder immediately gives way, causing him to groan and wince and a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth. The pain is intense; tightening every muscle and tendon, causing sweat to bead on his forehead and form at his temples, nausea to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck...” Tyler manages through gritted teeth, blindly reaching for his cell. And he waits for the worst of it to subside before opening his eyes; the glow of the screen seeming unusually bright and almost painful as he checks the notifications. Relieved to see that none of the calls or texts have come from home; most unknown and private numbers and a couple dozen texts from Nik and Yaz.

He doesn’t bother to read them, or to check any of the voicemails that have been left; both can wait until the morning. Instead he tosses the phone back onto the table and moves onto his left side. Sliding closer to his wife and pressing a kiss to her shoulder before draping an arm over her back and resting his cheek against the pillow they both share; eyes closing as he breathes in the soft trace of shampoo that lingers in his hair. The nagging pain in his right arm will make it difficult to sleep. Once it’s tweaked everything goes to hell; agony burrowing straight into the bone, the muscles surrounding the shoulder blade itself twitching, numbness spreading all the way down to his fingers. But at least it’s a distraction; pain keeping him from thoughts of Mahajan and his threats and giving him something else to concentrate on.

He’s unsure of how much time has passed before his phone erupts once more. This in the form of several text messages sent in rapid succession, followed by the much longer and incessant vibration of a call coming through.

“What the fuck…” he groans, and yanks the blankets up past his shoulders, attempting to ignore the racket coming from the bedside. Unless it involves his wife or his kids, nothing is THAT important. And with Esme still sleeping soundly beside him and knowing for certain that the calls are NOT coming from home, there’s no rush to answer.

No sooner does it stop, it starts up again. And Esme raises her head from the pillow; eyes half open, her falling over her face.

“Tyler…” she grumbles. “...answer your goddamn phone. It’s driving me crazy. Or turn it off completely.”

“If I turn it off and you don’t have a signal, how is Ovi supposed to get a hold of us if he needs to?”

“Well do something with it. Please? Before I throw out the window or flush it down the toilet.”

“Just ignore it.” He slides a hand through her hair, then lays his palm on the back of her head; a gentle push encouraging her to lie back down. “It’s not important.”

“It must be if they keep texting and calling. Maybe it IS Ovi.”

“It’s not. Put your head down. Close your eyes.”

“Maybe it’s about your dad.”

“It’s not about him either. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep when that…” she jerks her head in the direction of the cell that once more comes to life. “...keeps happening. At least tell whoever it is to fuck off.”

“It’s Yaz. He’s been trying to get a hold of me a few hours.”

“Well tell Yaz to fuck off and to call when the sun is up. Why would he call you so much? Maybe something’s wrong.”

“With who?”

“Nik.”

“And I care why?”

She groans loudly and dramatically and then drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “Please answer it. I can’t take much more of that.”

He relents. Sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair and over his face before reaching for his cell. Scowling when he reads the last text that he’s been sent.

“What’s wrong?” Esme asks. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he replies, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to her lips before tossing off the blankets and gingerly climbing out of bed; grimacing at the both the pain and the tightness in both his knee and back.

“What’s going on?” Both her voice and face are concerned as she sits up, gathering one of the blankets to her chest, covering her nakedness. Frowning as she watches him as he snags a pair of sweat out of one of the duffle bags and steps into them. “Tyler...what…?”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and heads for the door.

****

He’s already off the porch and heading for the car before Yaz even manages to kill the engine, dirt and stone rough against the bottom of his bare feet. There’s an unusual chill in the air; carried by the strong breeze and causing him to shiver and bring his arms across his chest, hands rubbing at his shoulders. He ignores the small wave and awkward, nervous smile that his old friend gives him as he approaches; scowl never leaving his face, his stride angry and purposeful. And he waits until Yaz turns off the car and attempts to climb out from behind the wheel before reacting. Laying a palm against the window and slamming the door closed; holding it tightly shut.

“What the fuck?” Yaz’ voice is muffled behind the glass. And when he realizes Tyler isn’t surrendering, he heaves a deep, heavy sigh and turns the ignition on once more, using a button on the door to put down the window. “What’s your issue?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the do you mean what am I doing here? Did you not read any of my texts?”

“I read the last one. About not comin’ out shooting.”

“Glad to see you paid attention to THAT one,” Yaz’ eyes narrow as he regards the Glock tucked in the waistband of Tyler’s sweats. “Sort of.”

“It’s not for you. I don’t know who the fuck might be watching and I’m not taking any chances. What do you want? I don’t want to be standing out here putting up with this bullshit. I’ve already had one sniper put one in my back. I don’t need another cutting me down.”

“I’m here to talk. If you read my texts, you’d know that.”

“How’d you even know we were here?”

“If you read my texts…”

“Yaz, I’m not in the fucking mood. I’ve got Mahajan and his people down my neck, I’ve got a massive target on my back, and a huge bounty on my head. What do you want?”

“To help. I want to help. So does Nik. If you let me out, we could go inside and talk. Look man, I know we didn’t end things on good terms. I didn’t take it well when you just up and abandoned us like you did.”

“I left for my family. Because I would have been no good to them if I had a mental breakdown. Or if I ended up dead because I couldn’t do the job right. Just because you took it personally like I dumped you at the prom for a different date…”

“I know, I know,” Yaz sighs. “I DID take it personally. But I was relying on you and you left me with guys I didn’t even know. Guys who’d never done shit like that before and I was expected to just blindly trust them. I needed you to get shit done, and you bailed. Talk about throwing someone to the goddamn wolves. You just tossed me into that shit.”

“I did what I had to do,” Tyler insists. “For my family.”

“Remember when we were family?” Yaz counters. “Before Esme came along? WE were family. You always had my back and I always had yours. And then you did what you did. You didn’t even give me a chance to prepare a new game plan. You just left. And I could have left you too. Back on the bridge in Dhaka. When Nik didn’t want to go back for you. I could have left you there. But I didn’t.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “That’s a low blow. Bringing up Dhaka. That’s real fucking low.”

“It’s the truth and you know it. I could have said ‘fuck you, Rake’ and left you there. Left Esme too. But I didn’t. And you wouldn’t have the life you do if I had.”

Sighing heavily, Tyler shakes his head and glances towards the shack just as the light in the bedroom area switches on. Watching as the curtains move; being pulled away from the frame of the window, his wife’s worried and curious face peeking out.

“I want to help.” Yaz says. “So does Nik.”

“Help with what?”

“Let me out and we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything. I’m not here to cause problems. Just to talk.”

“Fine.” Tyler removes his hand from the window and takes a step back. “Guess that’s what I get for not locking the gate before lights out. The likes of you showing up on my doorstep.”

Yaz grins. “You missed me. Don’t deny it. Your life hasn’t been the same without me in it.”

“You’re right. It’s been better.”

“You’ve always been such a sweet talker,” Yaz chides, climbing out of the car and using his hip to shut the door. He embraces Tyler warmly, then holds him out at arms length and eyes him from head to toe. “Jesus Christ…” he squeezes shoulders and biceps. “...you’re fucking huge. Like a goddamn brick wall. Even bigger than the last time I saw you. And what’s this?” He reaches up and tousles Tyler’s hair. “...going back to the old flow, huh?”

“Esme likes it that way. Happy wife, happy life, yeah?”

“You look good. Damn good. How you been holding up?”

“Been doing good. Can’t complain.”

There’s just too much to get into. And the last thing he wants to talk about -or burden anyone with- is the ongoing battle with PTSD and depression and everything that comes with the two. Both an increased dose of existing meds and a new one entirely have been keeping things at bay, but when his stress level rises or worry sets in or his brain decides to head to the dark, troublesome place, he tends to spiral. Anxiety increasing, nightmares returning, insomnia making a comeback. He’s been slipping since the news of Mahajan and his threats, and it’s been a struggle trying to keep a tight grasp on his sanity and be the strong and stoic one. If he falls apart, his family is doomed. They need him to keep his shit together.

Their lives depend on it.

“How’s the baby?” Yaz asks. “Another girl, right? I called that one. Said you were due for another girl,”

“Another girl,” Tyler confirms, as they head for the shack. “Adeline. After my mom. We call her Addie. Just a tiny thing. Dark hair, dark eyes.”

“Sounds like her mom.”

“Just like her. About time, I guess. First four look nothing like her.”

“Momma deserves to see her eyes looking up at her,” Yaz reasons. “And the rest of them are okay? They like living down here? Turning into proper Aussies?”

“I don’t know what it would mean to be a proper Aussie, but their accents are coming in pretty good. They love it here; love living by the water. They’re out there every chance they get. And they’re happier here. WE’RE happier here. Last couple of weeks have been a bit shit, but…” he shrugs, then pauses before stepping up onto the front porch. “What are you doing here, Yaz? What are WE doing? All this small talk shit. You’re not showing at one in the morning to ask me about my kids. What the hell’s going on? Is it that important it couldn’t wait until daylight?”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three weeks. Ever since you dropped the bomb about getting back into the job. Starting your own merc business.”

“THAT’S what you’re here for? To get on my ass about it? Defend your sister’s honor ‘cause she feels I fucked her over? You come all this way...at one in the morning...for that?”

“I’m here because I want to help. So does Nik.”

“Help with that?”

“Word travels fast in the game. We know all about it. Mahajan, the threats against you and Esme and the kids. We know what’s been said; how sick and twisted it all is. How fucked up it is. And we want to help Any way we can.”

“I’ve already to shit sorted out,” Tyler says. “I’ve already made arrangements. On how to deal with things.”

“I figured as much. Doesn’t mean we can’t help, though.”

“I don’t know what you think you can do. What either of you could do.”

“Nik’s got connections. Powerful ones. And we’ve got resources you can use. We’ve got tech, we’ve got transportation, we’ve got weapons…”

“I’ve got enough of those. I don’t need any more. Not right now, anyway.”

“Just hear me out,” Yaz implores. “Let’s go inside and talk about it. The more people you got the better, right? And it’s not like we’re rookies. We’ve got experience. And we’ve got good people...damn good people...working for us. Just hear me out. That’s all I ask.”

Tyler shakes his head. “You do not want to get mixed up in this.”

“Yeah, I do. Because it’s you. Because it’s you and it’s your family and we were tight for a long time. You don’t have to deal with this bullshit alone. You got a lot of people wanting to help out. That have your back. Let them help. Swallow your fucking pride and take what’s offered. Now is not the time for your ego to get in the way.”

Both men look towards the screen door as it creaks open; Esme giving a sheepish, apologetic smile as she steps out onto the porch in a pair of leggings and one of Tyler’s hoodies, drawing the latter tightly across her body.

“Everything okay?” she asks. “Is Nik alright? Nothing’s happened to her, has it?”

“She’s fine. Everything’s good,” Yaz replies, as he steps up onto the porch and wraps her in a tight hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You good? Still putting up with this guy huh? Thought by now you’d be tired of his shit.”

“More like he’s still putting up with me. He’s not as difficult to live with as everyone seems to think he is.”

“You can tell me the real deal when we're alone,” Yaz says. “I know you’re just trying to spare his feelings.”

“She doesn’t spare them any other time,” Tyler jokes, as he steps onto the porch. “Why would she start now?”

“I’m not THAT bad,” she laughs. “If I was THAT bad, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long. You would have seen what kind of shit show I am the first week in and said ‘fuck this’ and took off. You just like to act like you have it bad. Trust me…” she addresses Yaz now. “...this man is spoiled. And then some.”

“You don’t need to talking to Yaz about our sex life,” Tyler chides, giving a small chuckle when she elbows in the ribs. He lays a hand on the back of her neck, squeezing lightly and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You two are still all loved up on each other?” Yaz grimaces. “What the fuck? Shouldn’t you hate each other by now? Haven’t you been married for...I don’t know...forever? Isn’t this usually when you start sleeping in separate rooms? Not going on a second honeymoon or whatever you’ve got going on here?”

“That’s EXACTLY what’s going on here,” Esme says. “Or was, anyway. What are you doing here? If nothing’s wrong, why are you showing up at one in the morning? And how did you even know we were?”

“Showed up at your place first. Ovi told me where to find you guys. Hopped on the first plane I could catch, rented a car, drove out here. This place is NOT easy to find when you’re driving. I’m used to flying into here. You know, this all could have been avoided if someone had called me back three weeks ago. Or bothered to check all his voice mails and texts. I wouldn't have had to interrupt you guys. Especially at this time of night.”

“It couldn’t have waited until morning at least?” Esme asks. “I mean, it’s one am.”

“Better to get this going sooner than later. Three weeks have already been wasted and this isn’t something that needs to get any more out of hand. Better not to give trouble a chance to get here first.”

“He knows about Mahajan,” Tyler tells her. “About the threats. About everything.”

Esme sighs, then nods slowly. “I’m going to go and put some coffee on. Something tells me this is going to be a long night.”

“We’ll be right in,” Tyler says, and then gives her neck a kiss and pecks her cheek before she steps inside. Watching through the screen door; waiting until she reaches the kitchen before turning back to Yaz. “She doesn’t know how bad the threats actually are. About what was said about me and the kids; just how fucking sick and twisted it is. I’d rather keep it that way. There’s some things she doesn’t need to know.”

“Of course,” Yaz agrees. “I don’t want to make things worse. Especially for her. I just want to help. That’s it.”

“I don’t know if you can, mate. This is pretty fucked up shit.”

“Listen,” Yaz clamps a hand down on his shoulder. “Lots of people have your back.No one is going to let you guys go through this alone. We’ll get these assholes. And we’ll make them pay.”

Tyler nods, then opens the screen door and follows his friend inside.

****

“Word travels fast,” Esme comments, mug of tea in hand as she slides into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“Always does,” Yaz says, as he dumps two spoons of sugar into black coffee and stirs it vigorously. “Surviving Dhaka made this guy a legend,” he nods in Tyler’s direction. “Already had quite the rep going into Bangladesh; coming out of it alive just elevated it. Taking a bullet to the neck like that and living to tell about it? That’s the shit legends are made of.”

Tyler noisily clears his throat and shifts uncomfortable in his chair. The entire subject is unnerving. Dhaka. Farhad shooting him. The undeserving praise from strangers. He’s not the first merc to miraculously survive something that should have rightfully killed him, and he won’t be the last. He doesn’t understand it; being put up on a pedestal for simply getting the job done. And he doesn’t want or need that kind of attention.

“When the word got around about Mahajan having Tyler in his cross hairs, it caught a lot of attention,” Yaz continues. “Pissed a lot of people off. All kinds of guys are jumping at the bit to help out; wanting a piece of Mahajan for themselves.”

“How did it even get out in the first place?” Esme inquires, as she runs her palms along the sides of the mug. “Allison said she had a ‘working relationship’ with Nik, but I didn’t think your sister would be the type to spread it around. I thought this was all supposed to be kept quiet. That’s what Neysa wanted. So Mahajan would know that people have caught onto him.”

“Only takes one person to start things off.” Yaz reasons. “And it wasn’t Nik. She wouldn’t do that. So someone connected to Allison and her business must have opened their mouths to the right people.”

“Or the wrong people,” Tyler remarks, using his thumb to absentmindedly twirl his wedding band around on his finger. It’s an anxious habit; one he resorts to when the rage begins to build and he is struggling to contain it.

His shoulders are tense; leg alternating between shaking back and forth and bouncing up and down. Eyes dark and intense; focused on nothing in particular as they stare across the shake and out into the night. Esme’s seen this behaviour before; a precursor to an anxiety attack or a manic episode brought on by the PTSD. It doesn’t happen as often anymore, both subsiding -or a least lessening in intensity- since moving to Australia. He’s learned to recognize the triggers; knows what situations to avoid before things progress. It had been inevitable. All the worry and the stress that’s been weighing heavily on his mind since news of Mahajan and his threats was dropped on them. And she tries not to draw attention to his mood or behaviour; simply stretching one of her legs out under the table and resting her foot on the leg that’s shaking. The immediate contact causes it to still. That small, unimposing weight snapping him out of his daze. Face softening and shoulders slightly relaxing; a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes focus on her and he lays one of his hands on top of her foot.

“Depends how you look at it,” Yaz shrugs. “In your case, it’s bringing out all the good people. Lots of them want to help you out; keep you all safe. I don’t think you get just how respected you are. Not just for surviving that shit in Dhaka, but still sticking to the job and getting the kid out even after you knew there was no money. You could have easily said ‘fuck the kid’ and just saved your own ass.”

“It wasn’t just the kid I was worried about,” Tyler says. “He wasn’t the only one I had to get out of there.”

“A lot of guys really look up to you because of that. For still putting your ass on the line even though there was no payout coming.”

“And even more probably think I’m a fucking idiot for doing what I did. What’s your point, Yaz? That I’m the charity case that everyone wants to help out? Everyone wants to help out the guy with the PTSD and the fucked up brain and the fucked up body? I don’t need their help. I can take care of my own family.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks that,” Esme says. “No one thinks you’re a charity case. I think they just want to help. Because they respect you and you’ve already been through so much and now it’s personal because it IS your family being threatened. No one sees you that way, Tyler.”

“You don’t know that,” he argues.

“I DO know that. They don’t want to help because they feel sorry for you. What’s there to feel sorry for?”

“I don’t know, Esme. You live with me. You know how fucked up I am. I’m sure everyone knows that.”

“People want to help because it IS you,” Yaz says. “Not because of how you ended up because of Dhaka, but how you ended up in spite of it. You’ve got this amazing life. You’ve got what so many of them want. You’ve got a wife and kids and some shred of normalcy. You could have easily died that day, but you didn’t. You survived and you fought your back and they respect that. They respect YOU. This isn’t about charity. It’s about respect. So swallow your pride and accept it. Accept what people are offering you.”

“We could use all the help we can get,” Esme gently reasons. She knows how his mind works when he’s in this kind of state. If she doesn’t handle things cautiously, his brain will convince him that they’re ganging up on him; launching a personal attack. And that will trigger his fight or flight response. And he always chooses fight. “You said it yourself; Mahajan is powerful and he can afford the best people. Shouldn’t we have the best people too? It only makes sense, right?”

“Too many people will fuck up things,” Tyler counters. “The ass end won’t know what the front is doing. And that’s when things go wrong and I can’t afford things going wrong. I can’t. Not when it’s you and the kids involved. I can’t take the chance that someone else's mistake will ruin my entire life.”

“But you know what kind of work Yaz and Nik do. You know their track records are excellent. You can’t deny that.”

“What about Dhaka?” he asks. “You saw the file. You read everything. You saw what she wrote. What she left out. Dhaka was one huge fuck up after another and all of a sudden you’re on Nik’s team? She was going to leave us on that bridge. She knew what Asif would do to you if his guys got a hold of you and she didn’t even give a shit. She wasn’t going to come back for us. I don’t give a shit what her reasons were; she was going to leave us both there to die. And I’m supposed to trust someone that did that?”

“Dhaka WAS a mess,” Yaz agrees.

“You think? It was a big fucking mess.”

“Which could have been avoided if you’d left the kid when Nik told you to,” Yaz says. “She told you to leave him behind. Had you done that…”

“I wasn’t leaving the kid in the fucking street. He was fourteen years old. A terrified kid that pissed his pants when I showed to get him out of that apartment. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to dump his ass somewhere to die. I’m not a goddamn psychopath.”

“Okay, let’s just calm down,” Esme suggests. “No one is calling you that or thinking that. If we all just stay calm…”

“It would have made things easier,” Yaz points out. “Without the kid, you two would have been able to get to the bridge that night and we could have gotten you both the hell out of there. None of the other bullshit would have happened. Everything that went down on the bridge? That never would have happened. You never would have gotten shot in the neck and you never would have been in the hospital for months or went through all that rehab or…”

“I would rather get shot in the fucking neck than leave a kid in the street to die,” Tyler retorts. “And because I didn’t throw him away like trash, your sister thought it was okay to leave us on the bridge? She thought it was okay that Asif would have gotten a hold of Esme and done all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her BEFORE killing her? That’s all okay to her because I didn’t leave a kid to die? Fuck her. And fuck you too for ever bring this shit up.”

“Can we just all please relax?” Esme pipes up. “This isn’t what Yaz came here for. We don’t need to fight about this. About Dhaka. It was seven years ago and it was a shit show and it sucked and it screwed us both up. We’re probably always going to be screwed up in some way because of it. But fighting over it solves nothing. It won’t change what happened and it definitely doesn’t help with what’s going on right now. Can we concentrate on that? On right now and Mahajan and all his bullshit. Because that’s the present and it’s very scary and I’ve got five little kids that he’s threatening and if anything happens to my kids…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...if anything happens to them, my life would be done. I’d never get over losing them. So can we please just shut the fuck about Dhaka?”

Yaz gives an apologetic smile and holds his hands up in surrender. “I get it. It’s a touchy subject. You guys have been through a lot; been going through it right from the start. It wasn’t my intention to bring it up and ruffle feathers or hurt feelings.”

“Fuck you, Yaz,” Tyler snarls. “Hurting my feelings? Fuck you.”

“Please…” Esme pleads. “...enough. This isn’t a good time to talk about this. It’s NEVER a good time for it. We have more important things to think about. Can we all agree on that? Can we all agree NOT to talk about Dhaka? Because nothing good ever comes of talking about that place. Please…” she digs her toes into Tyler’s stomach. “...can we concentrate on what is going right now? Because I’m worried and I’m scared and I don’t want to lose my kids. Or you. At least hear Yaz out. Can you do that? For me?”

His face and his eyes soften as he relents. And he gives a nod and a small, tight lipped smile. “What do you want to do?” he asks, directing the question at Yaz.

“It’s not about what WE want to do. It’s about what YOU want us to do, What you NEED us to do. Say the word, brother. Say the word and I get it done. Simple as that. We’re in. Nik and I, the rest of the team. We’re clearing the board for this; no other jobs. And before you ask, because I know you’re going to, we don’t want any money for this. It’s not about a pay day. It’s just about you guys out. That’s it.”

Tyler sighs and runs a palm over his face, then leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “We could use tech. Radios, ear pieces, SATs. All of that. We don’t have nearly enough of that stuff and it hasn’t been easy to find.”

“We’ve got you covered,” Yaz assures him. “We’ll worry about that stuff. You’re going to need someone to man things; behind the scenes. Someone that can monitor the satellites and the radios. You got anyone in mind?”

“Depends,” Tyler grins. “Can you clear your schedule?”

“I can do anything for you, you know that.”

“We’re pretty much going into Mumbai blind,” Tyler admits. “Nothing more than the kid to translate for us. Having you running shit behind the scenes would be a huge plus.”

“I’ve got you. No worries there. I’ll bring my people with me. There’ll be three techies plus myself. Should be enough?”

Tyler nods.

“You need any extra mercs or..,.”

“We’re fine there. We get too many out there at once, it’ll only screw things up. If I need anyone extra WHEN we get there…”

“All you gotta do is ask,” Yaz finishes for her.

“You think you could check a couple things out for me ahead of time? I need some things looked into.”

Yaz nods.

“I need plans. For the Mumbai prison. Where Mahajan is. Aerial photos, blueprints, whatever you can get your hands on. And I need you to look into the Grand Hyatt Hotel. It has residences in it and apparently a couple of the guys I’m after live there. I need to know how to get in and get out. Quickly. I need to know where the security cameras are, emergency exits, stairwells, where I get the best shot from if I need to take it from outside. Everything you can possibly find out about the place. Can you handle it?”

“Can I handle it?” Yaz scoffs, already typing the information into his phones. “Have we met? Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. At least not right now. I’ll message you with anything else.”

Yaz grins. “And NOW he’s going to use his phone.” He taps the toe of his shoe against Esme’s shin. “How the hell do you put up with this guy? Seriously. How are you not batshit insane yet?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already there yet,” she playfully retorts.

“You know, when I stopped by your place and Ovi told about this whole Mumbai thing, I thought ‘that crazy bastard hasn’t changed a bit’,” Yaz admits. “I thought ‘he has no goddamn clue what he’s walking into.’ And then I realized you do. You know exactly what you’re doing and getting yourself mixed up in. And it shouldn’t surprise me; that you’re doing this. No matter how insane it sounds.”

“It’s the way it has to be done,” Tyler says. “I have to do this before they can get to my family. I can’t afford any fuck ups, Yaz. Not when it’s my wife and kids’ lives on the line. I just can’t.”

“It’ll all get taken care of. Those bastards will get what’s coming to them. You gonna do away with Mahajan?”

“That’s the plan. We’re saving him for last. I’ve got a guy on that. He’s got his own score to settle; deserves to be one that takes him out.”

“Saju’s brother, right?”

Tyler nods.

“Shame that guy died. I would have loved to bring him onboard. Would have made a great merc. Could have given you a run for your money, that’s for sure.”

“He DID. He was a tough bastard. Way tougher than I thought he’d be.”

‘He probably thought the same thing about you,” Yaz chuckles. “You don’t go down easy, that’s for sure. I’ll start on this stuff tomorrow; soon as the sun is up. Get a head start. When do we leave.”

“Nine days. Think you can arrange transport?”

“Again the with the dumb ass questions! Of course I can. Nothing I CAN’T arrange. But for now…” he downs the last of his coffee. “...I have to get back to Broome. Siobhan doesn’t like to be alone for too long in strange places. Especially now that she’s five months.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “Excuse me, what? Five months? As in five months pregnant?”

Yaz nods, a proud smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh my God!” Esme is on her feet, rushing to his side, embracing him as he stands. “This is amazing! I didn’t know you two were still together, let alone having a baby.”

“Well you would have known, had this asshole…” he nods at Tyler. “...called me back three weeks ago or at least checked his voice mail or his goddamn text messages.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” Esme gushes. “You were always so good with our kids. They always loved when Uncle Yaz came around. If you’re staying in Australia for a bit…”

“Going to stick around until Mumbai. A little business, a little vacation..”

“,,,you’ll have to come to the house when we get back. It would be nice to catch up. And you guys can come to Millie’s party. Next Saturday. She’ll be over the moon to see you.”

“Can’t believe she’s going to be six,” Yaz shakes his head in disbelief. “Seems like yesterday you guys were finding out about her, never mind bringing her into the world. I still remember getting that call at three am; someone crying like a baby because he was a dad again and saying it was a girl. Six. Holy shit. Pretty soon she’ll be a teenager.”

Tyler scowls as he stands. “You shut the fuck up.”

“He doesn’t like to think about that,” Esme says. “That’s his baby girl. He’s very protective of her.”

“I don’t blame him. She’s the first after...well...you know. Can’t say I’m surprised he doesn’t want her to grow up. Mine’s not even born yet and I don’t even like to think about that stuff. See what you’ve done?’ He clasps a hand down on Tyler’s shoulder. “You’re rubbing off on some of us. We’re following in your footsteps. Trying to settle down, have a family.”

“You’re the last person I thought would do any of that,” Tyler confesses “ No more cocktail waitresses or strippers, huh?”

“Naw. It’s time to grow up. Be a proper adult. I mean, if you can manage it, anyone can. You talk about meaning the last you’d expect, what about you? You weren’t actually thinking about kids and all that seven years ago. You pretty much shocked everyone. I mean, I didn’t blame you for those five days. That one hell of a booty call.”

“Hey!” Emse slaps him across the chest. “Screw you, Yaz!”

“It’s a compliment,” he argues. “He would have been insane NOT to jump on it. But marriage and babies and all that? You pretty much mind fucked us all. Not that I wasn’t happy for you. I was just surprised. Considering I know how big of a mess you were.”

“Sometimes I’m still a mess,” Tyler admits. “I’m lucky though. NO matter how much of a fuck up I can, I’ve got a good woman. An amazing woman.” He gives his wife a wink and a nudge with his elbow, then drapes an arm across her shoulders as they walk Yaz to the car.

“You two are lucky,” Yaz says, as he pops open the driver’s door on his rental. “Even during all that craziness in Dhaka, you managed to find something pretty damn good. And you stuck with it. Through all the hard times and all the bullshit. You never let it break you. We should be all that lucky; finding THAT with someone. You guys will get through this. Your track record for surviving bad shit is ten for ten so far. You won’t let Mahajan fuck that up.”

“We’re hanging in there,” Esme says, as she smiles up at her husband and curls an arm around his waist, tucking herself tightly into his side. “I figure if we can get through that first year after Dhaka, we can get through anything. Never mind that. If we can get through what happened on that bridge, we can survive this.”

“You guys are stronger together than you are apart,” Yaz declares, then hugs them both. “Remember that, okay? Even when it feels like everything’s going to shit. Stick together and it’ll all work out. And you…” he taps Tyler on the cheek. “...don’t screw things up! Break her heart, I break your face.”

“What if she breaks MY heart?”

Yaz grins, then slides behind the wheel. “That’s NEVER going to happen.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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florencefallons · 4 years

Text

Life and Stuff

August 10, 2020. The the first day of the most insane month of my life. Of course it would happen in 2020. I hope you’ll forgive me for using this platform as a means to get the thoughts jumbled around in my head out into a more organized form. I rarely ever even use this platform anymore. When I do, it’s to reblog pictures of Carol Burnett or Barbara Stanwyck. The occasional Emma Thompson photo. Never to sit down and spill out everything on my mind into what, very likely, will become a novella on its own.

I’m not a prolific speaker. I trip over my words. I say “um,” and “uh” a lot. My brain is moving at twice the speed of my mouth and my poor mouth can’t keep up. Therefore when I have things on my mind, like I do today, I can’t just talk about them. A) Who would I talk about it to? and B) Even if I had a place to talk about these thoughts, it would come out all jumbled up and I’d end up sounding totally ridiculous and having said nothing I wanted to actually say.

When it comes to expression, writing is where I’ve always excelled. Excelled is a strong word, but when you compare it to other forms of self expression, it’s the only form I am able to use proficiently. I don’t have a vlog or a youtube channel. I don’t have a blog that reaches people. I have no voice. No influence in this world. But I have this platform and it allows for posts like this, and for once, I’m going to use it.

As I said, August 10, 2020 was the first day of the most insane month of my life. More has happened to me in this one month span than has happened to me at any other time in my life...and you’re hearing from a person who was injured on the job and has had a fractured spine and 13 surgeries. I’ve been through some stuff. Nothing with the intensity and frequency this month has thrown it at me though. This month has resulted in seven major events that have deeply impacted my life in some way. Nobody is being forced to read this. In fact I expect most will see its length and scroll past it faster than a fundraising ad for Donald Trump. I do hope SOME of you will take the time to read it though. I’m mainly writing it for posterity. To have a place where this month is recorded, so I can come back someday and remember it. So, with that being said, here are the things that have happened (or are soon to happen) in this 1 month span. Listed in chronological order.

1) August 10, 2020. I was in my 2nd week of work at the new clinic our hospital opened. Working for the largest hospital and clinic system in the state, sometimes our clinics outgrow our ability to contain them. My job was in the neurology clinic. I worked as the nurse who took care of all the multiple sclerosis doctors and nurse practitioners, while answering all the patient questions, emails, and voicemails. We’re looking at about 2,500 patients on the generous side of the estimate. Needless to say, I was busy. It was said many times by coworkers, by the doctors I worked with, and--admittedly--by me, that the job was a two-person job. It was too much for one person to handle. I was drowning fast in a mountain of paperwork that needed to be filled out, messages that needed to be answered, phone calls that needed to be returned. I’d accomplish finishing, say 25% of the work, and 50% more work would come in. I was at the end of my rope.

--Let me interject here by saying that, over the course of the 16 months I worked this job, I had to start seeing a psychiatrist, I had to start psychological therapy with a licensed therapist, and I was started on no less than 5 new psychiatric medications. Once the correct balance was found, I was reduced down to only 2, but regardless, I think this fact alone proves the point that the stress of the job was getting to me.--

I finally looked at the mountain of work in front of me and I broke. I set up a meeting with my boss, the director of nursing for all of the neuroscience service line (that covers 6 clinics). We met, and I told her “You told me to be open and honest, and to come to you whenever I have an issue.” She agreed. I went on to tell her that I was losing my mind. The workload was entirely too much to hold over one person and needed help. Desperately. I was constantly being interrupted by people needing help with this or that, which was fine. I don’t mind helping anyone, I love it...but it took away from the time I had to do my already overwhelming job. I may have cried some, I don’t remember.

Her solution was probably the worst idea ever put forth, but I was so devastated and down and overwhelmed, I didn’t really even hear anything she said after I spoke my piece. Her suggestion was that, if our clinic was too hectic for me, I needed to transfer to the new clinic. It was an epilepsy clinic but we had 2 multiple sclerosis providers there too, so I could go there and be the MS nurse there. At that moment, that sounded like a great idea. Fewer people=less stress. Yeah, no. Once she sent me over there, she decided with me being there, they had no need to keep our patient care tech there. So she took her away and made her work at the main campus, where they have tons of patient care techs. That left me and another nurse who, due to a bad knee, did very little that tinvolved getting up off his ass and helping out with goings on in the clinic. He much preferred to sit in his fancy chair and delegate duties to me from there. I was younger, I was newer, and he was--in his mind--the charge nurse.

So, thus began the saga of my doing at the new clinic, the job that THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE did at the main clinic. I was forced to triage (get into a patient room and go over everything to make sure it was up to date) every patient, draw labs on every patient, all while trying to do the job I was ACTUALLY hired for, which was answering phone calls and returning messages. Which was a full time job on its own. Needless to say, my “new’ duties took all that time away and all my stuff went unanswered. I kept getting harassed by patients and managers that stuff had been sitting waiting too long to be done.

Mr. Charge nurse, from his chair he never left, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s not that bad here” he’d say. Sure, if you never have to get up and do anything, but for me, it’s very hard. I have to do all the job of a PCT (getting paid nurses’ wages by the way) along with a job just as busy as the one you’re having to do. I’m expected to do as much if not more in the computer as you do, yet I never have time to touch it because I’m always triaging patients (half of which are YOURS) and drawing all the labs. Well of course he disagreed and said he helped and I was overreacting. By that he means he maybe got up once or twice a day because someone needed attention and I was still busy in another patient’s room. My boss would berate me, asking why my inbox was sitting there so full and nothing was being done.

“WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THESE THINGS *Insert her name here*??? I spend my entire day, I mean my ENTIRE day, doing the job of a PCT and you’re paying me to do the job of an RN. “Well, *insert his name* says he helps you.” That’s a damn lie and he knows it. He thinks that he’s the charge nurse, he’s older, and he has a bum knee (mind you I have my entire lower half of my spine fused so don’t give me that “I have hardware in my knee” bullshit. I’m full of titanium too. Fight me.) Well, help was refused, the other nurse was just told to try and help more and that he was not the charge nurse, that our clinic didn’t HAVE a charge nurse since there were only 2 of us. Well, he got so butthurt over that, he interviewed for a new job in the same building as our main clinic. He was offered the job. He was getting ready to give his notice and I was literally at the end of my sanity. So I turned in my notice to my manager on August 10, 2020. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the job of 3 people by myself and it was too much I was through. My doctors begged me to stay. She asked if I was sure that’s what I wanted. I said it wasn’t what I WANTED, but I can’t keep working like this. So I really don’t have a choice. “Well we don’t have the staff or money allocated to give you a tech if you’re over here.” So I shrugged, said I was giving her 4 weeks notice and I’d have to leave.

This was a Monday. On Wednesday, she came back and not only gave our tech back, she gave (*insert his name here*) everything he wanted, because she’d caught wind he was getting ready to leave too and she’d have no nurses at the clinic. I told her I’d retract my resignation if she would let us keep our patient care tech, because with her, I have time to actually do my job. She all but said “OK” and to give her a definite answer on Monday. So I did. Monday I told her I’d stay since we had adequate help. Well apparently she discussed thsi with her boss and came back at me with “Sorry, but all we can accommodate is an as needed position or you can extend your leave date and stay on full time until your replacement is hired and you can train them to make the transition easier.”

Are you freaking serious, bruh? “As needed” meaning “free reign to fire you with no consequences when we don’t want you anymore, plus all my benefits would be taken away.” Or, I could “stay and help train my replacement.” Are you out of your mind? Then what? Fuck off into the sunset, your job here is finished? I think I’ll take a hard pass on both those options. My last day will be September 4.

So, while going through all this I was being tested and was diagnosed with not one, but two life-altering disorders.

2) First, I was diagnosed with severe attention deficit disorder. I was told I’d actually had it my whole life based on testing and had never been evaluated or treated. This would have been the 1990s when this started, and I found out my parents were approached about the possibility I had ADD. I made excellent grades, but had major problems with impulse control and talking too much and paying attention. My parents dismissed this suggestion. They did not--and to this day still did not--believe ADD was a real diagnosis. They said ti was nothing more than kids who needed their asses beat and they’d learn to behave. I could not possibly be one of those hyperactive kids who suck in school and just all-around do poorly. I did too well in school. I was told to pay attention more and stop goofing off. I was threatened with spankings if I messed up. So I worked really hard to stop my impulses from taking over. And I did, some, but not always. I got punished quite a bit for things I did in school. Not on purpose, but it’s how I was. And now, as an adult, I was still struggling with impusle control and with paying attention. I still struggled in prioritizing tasks and organizing things. I could never figure out why my brain wouldn’t let me do those things. My PCP said I had ADD--he KNEW it--but I had to be diagnosed by a licensed psychotherapist. So I went and was diagnosed. And it changed my world. It was a lot to process, knowing what I went through as a kid and knowing the punishment I went through for something that was not my fault. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t mistreated. If I’d been treated for ADD as a child though, I might not have just done well in school, I might have kicked ass. I might have been valedictorian rather than 6th in class to graduate. That was hard to swallow. Yet a relief at the same time.

3) Went to the sleep clinic and got a take-home sleep apnea study kit. It came back positive for sleep apnea. My oxygen was dropping to 70% at night, which is basically hypoxic, and the reason I’m probably so sleepy all the damn time. As soon as I get home from work and get settled, I fall asleep for at least an hour, maybe 2. I haven’t always done that. I used to have trouble sleeping to the point I needed Lunesta for help (although the taste was so bad I rarely took it).Sure enough, I need CPAP when I sleep to help keep my oxygen over 92%. They told me I’d feel better almost instantly. So I’m hoping to go see them next week about getting my machine.

4) My friend’s little 4-year-old niece died. She was a special, miracle child who touched so many lives it’s insane. She was a beautiful soul. I never met her but her death affected me profoundly because her aunt posted so many photos and videos online. I felt like I lost one of my godchildren or something. It hurt. I can’t imagine what they are going through.

5) My uncle Jerry died. The day after the little girl I just mentioned. I can’t even attend HIS funeral due to COVID and the risk of contamination. My mom is on a chemo drug for an autoimmune disease that destroys her immune system. So we’re trapped away from everyone (if I want to see my mom that is).

6) My last day of my job was today, September 4, 2020. It finally came, my time there is done. 16 months of hard work down the toilet. Because of poor management, shitty leadership, lack of care or respect for employees, etc. I offered to stay, but my offer was rejected as it was given. It just served to remind me I made the right decision, even if it was a bit rash. Several others have quit or gotten fired so staffing will be interesting. My old “charge nurse” is about to learn what getting off your broad butt and helping is all about now. They aren’t sending him ANY nurses to help him next week. I’ll be honest, I hope the whole thing blows up in (insert name here)’s (my director’s) face. she is trying to run the neuro clinic like she runs her other clinic--which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I thought she’d be good for the clinic, turns out she wants to get rikd of EVREYONE who has FMLA-Anyone who has permission to be off work without fear of repercussions. She wants a bunch of “as needed” staff so she doesn’t have to hire full time people, she doesn’t have to pay anyone benefits, and she can get rid of them whenever she likes “your as needed position is no longer needed,” without going through all the bullcrap red tape the state puts you through to fire anyone. Anyway, bottom line, today was my last day at a job that--the job itself--I loved. The patients I loved, the doctors and nurses I loved, and my coworkers I loved. I have never left a job I loved. It was 100% management. My main doctor, the medical director of the service line, did not want me to leave and keeps asking me to say. I had to explain to him I tried, but they refused. Broke my heart. He’d take me back in a minute though, if the situation at the clinic ever changes. I hope it does. He was the most brilliant, kind, generous, respectful, patient, and dedicated man I’ve ever met. He taught me a lot. I’ll take a lot of what I learned from him with me wherever I go.

7) The final thing has not happened just yet, but it will be very soon and I’m already dealing with it. So September 7 is the 1 year anniversary of the death of my best friend. I still miss her like it was yesterday. Time has, as they say, healed some of the wound, but not all. Every now and then I get slammed with the realization she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Talk to her. Hug her. Laugh with her. Ever. Again. And I cry and suffer with it all over again. That is happening less frequently, but it has picked up again now that 1 year is approaching. I can’t believe it. My best friend has been dead for 1 year. The 1 year anniversary of the last time we spoke was August 20. It hurts so much. But slowly, over this year, I’ve started dreading getting up in the morning a little less, I can breathe again, a little. I can laugh again without feeling guilty about it. I’ve finally hit all the 1 year milestones with her death (well, as of 9/7). I’m going to her grave this weekend to place some special things I purchased in honor of her 1 year anniversary since her passing. Damn I miss her so much.

So, this month--this whole year technically--has been a lot to process. A lot to find out, a lot to digest, and a lot to grieve through. I keep thinking “it can’t possibly get any worse, maybe things will get better now” and it always does. That trend for 2020 doesn’t bode well with the election coming up. That makes me so nervous I feel sick. But I refuse to get political here. If you’ve stayed with it this far, you have tremendous stamina and I salute you. It’s taken me hours and several breaks to write thanks to my ADD and just being sleepy and falling asleep in the middle of typing. But that’s it, my month inside the year straight out of hell.

#2020 #August #September #Year from Hell #I can't deal with much more #hell month #loss of job #loss of family member #loss of child #quit job #loss of best friend #1 year death anniversary #please end soon 2020 #let life improve PLEASE!

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wolfpawn · 5 years

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 9

Chapter Summary - Taylor's little plan comes to fruition, leading to Tom and Benedict coming to verbal blows.Danielle becomes distressed at what is done, but Benedict comes up with a little plan to help everything.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer

The source stated that the pictures shown are clearly visible within Diana Hiddleston’s Suffolk home; and that she will happily show them and more to any who visit. The source also stated however, that to be told some of the A-list actor’s more embarrassing secrets, such as the time he ran stark naked, at eight years of age through a family get together because he cousin dared him to, takes years of earning the family’s trust and planting the idea that such stories in no way interest a person.

Tom stared at the small online article, which was very little writing and mostly photographs, all of him and his sisters as children, all personal ones that he knew his mother kept as cherished memories, and a few pictures of his mother’s living room and hallway. He shook with anger; he knew who the article was referencing as the ‘source’. The Jones’ that lived down from his mother were good at giving friendly salutes, but nothing more and the Kaleka’s were polite, but they were too young to really bother with his mother, both of them were the one age with him; that left only one person, one that he knew did know those stories, since he was dying of mortification as his mother relayed them to her in the living room one afternoon in his presence; Danielle. Taylor had been right all along, Danielle had been simply biding her time until she could strike and make some money for herself.

Picking up his phone, he went to call Luke to deal with it, and to see what he could do about getting Danielle sorted with an NDA. It was then he realised he had a missed call, so calling his voicemail; he put his ear up to it. It was Benedict, much to his surprise, and going by his message, he had seen the piece. Feeling somewhat vindicated, Tom pressed the callback button.

“Tom.” Benedict’s voice seemed somewhat relieved at the other side of the phone. “I am glad you called back.”

“I get it, you were wrong, she had everyone fooled,” Tom stated sympathetically.

“What?”

“Danielle, her big piece she is after giving the tabloids. Taylor said it would happen, and she was right.”

“Danielle, no you got it all wrong Tom, I was talking to her there a minute ago, Taylor was threatening her.”

“They’ve never even spoken, so that’s bullshit.” Tom dismissed. “Are you actually defending her?”

“Danielle? No, I’m not, because there’s nothing to defend. I have no idea what you are even on about.”

“She sold off a story to the papers, pictures from within my mum’s home; stories about me.”

“Are they really personal?”

“Not really, but she is probably saving them for next.”

“Tom, seriously, she knows some of your more personal stuff, she would not tell a little and not tell that, it’s not her, whoever your leak is, it’s not Danielle.”

“And you know this for sure?”

“Well, no, but I really doubt it, she is not the kind.”

“Are you fucking her?” Tom accused.

There was silence on the other side of the line for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Are you fucking her? You seem really defensive of her.”

“Are you shitting me, Tom, I have a wife and kid and you are asking me if I am shagging your mother’s neighbour? A woman that lives three hours away? What the hell is going on in your head?”

“Well, you seemed all too cosy going into her house before, and you were talking to her earlier.”

“She’s…”

“What, turning up near you? That’s a bit convenient, isn’t it? Be careful or you will be next.”

“Tom, are you actually listening to yourself, you know Danielle would never fuck a married man, and I damn well would never fuck a woman that is not my wife.” Benedict snapped. “I came on to tell you to watch out for your little sweetheart, but it’s clear she’s screwed you up already, I hope she’s worth it, I really do.”

With that, the line went dead, leaving Tom staring at it angrily before tossing it onto the couch. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. Anytime of late that Elle’s name came up in any conversation, it was immediately followed by anger and arguments. His phone went off, telling him he had a text, so he walked over and read it.

Taylor – I told you, OMG I told you.

He did not know what to say back, so he tossed it down on the couch again, before crashing down beside it and wondering what he could do.

Benedict looked at the phone, shaking in anger at what Tom was insinuating.

“Did I actually hear that right?” Sophie asked from beside him, holding Christopher’s hands as he tried to walk a few steps.

“Apparently I am shagging his mother’s neighbour, just a heads up.”

“Nice of you to tell me,” Sophie replied jokingly.

“If it is any consolation, I didn’t know myself until a moment ago.”

Sophie scoffed. “Was that the paramedic I saw you and Will taking to?”

“Yep.”

“She’s pretty.”

“She is, I suppose, I have a wife so I would not be looking.” He grinned back. “Apparently, she’s taken anyway; I heard her on the phone yesterday to a guy, Paul, setting up a date.”

“That’ll put the brakes on any relationship you two are secretly having.” Sophie laughed.

“It is highly inappropriate of her to do so when we are supposed to be having a somewhat interesting, illicit and albeit highly false affair. God; that is the most insulting thing I have ever heard from a supposed friend, and honestly, I am not sure who it is more insulting to.”

“I’m not sure,” Sophie admitted, leaning in as Benedict placed his arm around her. “What are you going to do?”

“Danielle is on set again this evening, I might see her there.”

“At least it did not name her.”

“Yet.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“How can she not? God this is ridiculous. What is going on Sophie?”

Sophie shook her head slightly. “I have no idea, Tom is so…”

“Before this, I would have said, level-headed, intelligent and calm, but now…now it’s like there is something that has clicked off in his head, I feel like shaking him to get him to wake up again. He really thinks she did this.”

“Could she have?”

“Well, anyone can do anything, but would it be her nature; from what I have seen, no, I really don’t think she did, she seemed too hurt by everything that has happened, but not in a malicious manner.”

“Well, perhaps tonight will bring more of it to light.” She smiled. *

“Are you alright?” Benedict asked, looking at the paramedic in front of him.

It turned out, Danielle did not know about the article, she always avoided celebrity pages, thinking them to be unbearable at best. When Benedict began to talk to her about the piece, she genuinely had no clue as to what he was referencing, and when he showed her, she shook with horror at what it implied.

“It’s me, they are talking about me, as though I did this. Like I told them.” Tears began to form in her eyes. “I never…I would never…”

“I know.” Benedict gave her a hug. “She told you she would get you, and this is her revenge.”

“If Diana…”

“If Diana believes this then I will eat my Sherlock Holmes hat.” Danielle gave a laugh that was half a sob. “She is trying to get you to be forced away from the family, it is an effective method, I’ll grant her that.”

“I…How can I prove it is not me, Emma is one of my greatest friends and Diana…I cannot lose her, she is the only one I can really talk to since my mum…”

Benedict did not know very much of Danielle’s circumstances, he only recognised her accent as one of the Irish ones he had worked around before, so he established from that she was Irish, that and a few pictures he had seen in her home of Irish landscapes, but the manner which she spoke told him, that at the very least, her mother had passed away. “Diana has always seen through her too, you said that yourself, no one thinking clearly would think it is you, you have to believe that.”

“But even if they do, there will always be a slight niggling feeling in the back of their mind that perhaps I am not as trustworthy as they thought.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you can prove it was her.”

“I really wish I could.” He smiled sadly; before he furrowed his brow. “Perhaps.”

“What?”

“I have a little idea.”

“There’s nothing you can do about this.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I am really scared about this, what if it backfires on you?”

Benedict gave her warm smile. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. Besides, it will be harmless really, nothing that can do any harm. Just get on with your job in stopping us from killing ourselves here and don’t concern yourself about it.”

“Thank you, though I don’t know why you are so concerned with helping me, but I glad you are.”

“I want my good friend to see sense, as do you. I know we are not well acquainted, but our concern for him is enough for this to work.”

“I really hope you are right.”

When Danielle left, Benedict took out his phone and scrolled down, pressing call when he got to Tom’s number. At first, he thought it was going to ring out, but in the end, the other actor answered. “Yes?” it was curt and somewhat angry.

“Are you free on Thursday?” Benedict asked.

“I am in LA on Thursday,” Tom responded bluntly.

“I know, so am I, Sophie and I would love to actually see you face to face for a change, maybe talk?”

“I dunno.”

“Tom, please, there has been so much going on recently, I would actually like to see my friend, my real friend, Tom, remember that guy, smart, well educated, funny.”

“You forgot dashing.” There was a light playfulness to Tom’s tone Benedict had not heard in months.

“Yeah, that’s the idiot, how about we grab lunch then, perhaps, if she is around, actually meet Taylor?”

Tom remained quiet for a moment. “You want to meet her?”

“Yes, I mean, clearly she means a lot to you, so surely, as your friend, it makes sense for us to meet.”

“What about your defending Danielle?”

“Look, I am not going to go too much into that right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I sort of got talking to her, and now I am worried…”

“That she will sell something on you? Fuck, you too? Was it anything serious?”

“No, just random stuff, but you know me, I don’t like certain parts of my personal life public.”

“Yes, I know. It’s nothing to do with the small guy, is it?”

“No, thankfully.”

“Was she alone with him for even a minute? You and Sophie have worked really hard to keep the camera off him.”

Benedict was forced to bite his lip from retorting in reference to Tom allowing a camera be shoved in his niece’s face as he accused his hardworking, good neighbour of photographing Christopher to sell his pictures. “No, well for a moment to go to the bathroom.”

“Shit. We will meet Thursday so, we can discuss it then.”

“And Taylor?”

“She is more famous than we are, she knows what it is like, she has her own things to be thinking about, she won’t say anything.”

“Perfect.” Benedict prayed his conniving smile would not alter his tone over the phone and rise Tom’s suspicions. “Until then man, usual spot?”

“See you then.” Tom’s tone was upbeat. “And Ben, great to actually be talking to you again.”

As Benedict hung up the phone, he looked at it, praying that Tom would not hate him for what he was about to do to save his friend from the worst mistake of his life.

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 9 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

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Wicked Games - Part Two

Length: 3.5K words Warning: Adultery I guess? Synopsis: Every lawyer is given a case they would rather not work on and you’re no exception to this. Someone you know all too well ends up being your latest client, how will you cope under the pressure? You’re the best of the best in the world of law but you are, after all, only human. Notes: Thanks for your patience!! Here is the eagerly awaited/requested part two. First part is here. Hope you enjoy! (also hope this isn’t too rubbish ahaha the first one is pretty smutty but I have a couple of ideas for this storyline)

“Where the fuck is he?” you exclaim out loud. Duncan is half an hour late this morning and you were less than impressed. It was one thing to have to deal with a man who had a penchant for acting like a teenager but it’s another thing entirely when you’re painfully attracted to this person in the worst way possible.

Part of you wished he wouldn’t come back and you could ignore his existence forever but, unfortunately, you don’t have a chance. The door opens and speak of the Devil. You complain about the punctuality and hoped he could see you were pissed off by his inability to take anything seriously. He tries to pull some kind of cute shit by pouting like a five-year-old and he puts the carry tray of drinks he’s holding down. He takes one of the cups out of the tray, ignoring what you said, and slides it over to you.

“Mocha, soy milk, no sugar.”

It’s amazing he actually remembered what you liked since he seemed to use less than 30% if of his brain while in your office. You push the cup over to one side to show him you’re not playing. You question him, “Are we going to have a repeat performance of yesterday?”

“Depends,” he taunts, tonguing the back of his teeth with his tongue.

“On what?”

“On if you’ll go out to dinner with me.”

“God, are you for real?”

“Maybe you can touch me and then you’ll see how real I am.”

“Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?”

The need for coffee is too strong and you give in, sipping on the warm beverage, brows furrowed because Duncan knew the way to get to you. Between mouthfuls, you ask if he’s aware of what exactly he’s being charged with but it’s as if he hasn’t got a care in the world when he’s giving more attention to his phone and tells you that’s why he has you.

You put up a fight that he has you because nobody else wanted the case. Why would anyone want to deal with him? He was blatantly guilty. He begins laughing at what you just said and you suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“Wow, that’s the best thing I’ve heard so far today. I paid for you. You’re mine.”

The word mine rolled off the tongue far too easily and left you feeling disgusted. He continues to provoke you, pressing about whether or not you’ll go, and you don’t hold back in shooting him dirty looks. It’s obvious he’s pleased with himself and confirms that he’ll pick you around 7pm. You’re unimpressed, to say the least.

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough because today had been pointless once again except this time it was worse. You knew exactly why you were appointed as his lawyer and it left a bad taste in your mouth. Your colleagues didn’t even try to offer the case to anyone else like they usually do; they just left it to you because that idiot paid them.

You lock the office door and decide to call Michael on the way to your car. It went to voicemail and you knew he must have been still busy at work. You leave a message explaining how you need to miss dinner but you’ll fill him in when you get home.

You’re unable to escape Duncan because you get to the car and see him standing there. He needed your address for tonight but you’d hoped he wasn’t serious about the proposition. You walk around him, unlock the car and throw your bag into the car before sitting down and putting the keys in the ignition. “Yeah, you’re right. It must have slipped my mind while you were insinuating I’m your own prostitute.”

You try to pull the door shut but Duncan has it firmly inside his hand, holding it open, leaving you with no chance to escape. He attempts to be slick and comment on how he figured you’d enjoy two friends catching up over dinner but he just made you feel greasy. You snap back, informing him the two of you aren’t friends in the same tone you’d call out someone’s bullshit in court. Usually, this makes the person receiving it crawl back into their own hole but not Duncan; you pushed him and he pulled you closer to him, snarling about how you were so much more.

This seemed like a battle you couldn’t win nor would Duncan leave unless you did as he said so you held out his phone and put your address in. You hand it back but it wasn’t without great effort on your own part – you wanted to smash it out of sheer frustration. He looks over the details, calculating in his head how far exactly you are from him and his mouth form into a smirk. It felt like he was rubbing salt into the wound over the small victory.

“I’ll see you at seven. Wear something you know I’d like.”

“Mikey?” you yell out as you’re taking off your jacket and slipping out of your heels. No reply. You remembered Michael had already mentioned he’d be working late as you’re walking to the kitchen to find a snack to sate the growing hunger you were feeling. After searching the cupboards, you can’t find anything that interests you so you sit down at the counter and take a peach from the fruit bowl.

Your phone is vibrating on the kitchen counter and you hit answer, putting him on speaker phone. Michael wanted to check in to make sure you were okay. You give him a brief explanation and Michael defuses the stress by reminding you that you were in charge. His exact words were put on a pretty dress and play along with him.

When you explain that Duncan rubs you the wrong way, of course, he suggests that maybe you can get him to rub you the right way. You painfully tell him you’d try to enjoy yourself but no promises. The two of you said your goodbyes and you hang up the call. It takes only a moment for what Michael said to sink in and you rush to the bedroom because you knew exactly what you were going to wear.

Once you’re ready and waiting in the living room, anxiety strikes hard and you took a moment out to try and breathe in oxygen before answering the door.

Duncan stood before you looking annoyingly handsome and grins when he sees you. He wastes no time in complimenting how good you look and butterflies are whirring around inside your gut. You won’t show him the effect he has and instead brushing the hair away from your face, asking if you can go already. He holds the remote above his shoulder, pointing it back to his car but refusing to take his eyes off you. He hits one of the buttons on his remote and his car makes a noise. “Sure we can.”

After you’ve locked the outside door you walk over to him waiting at the car, holding a door open. You dip down to get into the car and joke about how you didn’t know he was a gentleman. Duncan reminds you that there’s a lot you don’t know and he shuts the door then walks around to his side of the car.

He’s sitting down next to you and you become surprised at the details emerging that you hadn’t noticed before. His hands are straightening up the mirror and you can’t seem to look away. Duncan smirks because he can feel you on him and comments, “I know you’re busy looking at me but can you please put on your belt.”

Your cheeks become flushed and expose the embarrassment you were feeling because he was right; you were stuck eyeing this being before you that you didn’t recognise. The Duncan you knew was chauvinistic and pigheaded and refused to help anyone besides himself. This Duncan held doors open for you and who knew what else the night would bring.

He puts a hand on the back of your chair and turns to look out the back window while he reverses down the driveway. You come to terms with the fact it wasn’t lawyer and client but two adults going out for dinner and you felt nervous but luckily the conversation flows easily between the two of you.

The topic of you being dolled up for another man comes up and you explain to him that Michael suggested you spend time together. Duncan laughs because he finds it somewhat unbelievable and you make up an excuse that Michael thinks the two of you need to get along since you’ll be working side by side on the case. A reminder of the Duncan you know pops out when he comments about how well the two you get along in his head.

You cross your arms in annoyance and huff at him. “Why do you have to be like this, Duncan? Aren’t you worried about how people are going to perceive you?”

“Not particularly. I haven’t found anyone worth my time.”

Hearing those words stung and it was almost as if you wanted to be the one worth this time.

With the car parked and locked, Duncan brings you down a street full of restaurants you’re familiar with and you stop outside one in particular that has a waiting list for reservations. You pull at his jacket and tell him he’s not making an idiot out of you. After all, trying to get in there at the last minute was foolish. You’re dumbfounded for a moment when your brain puts two and two together and come to the conclusion he planned this in advance. He’s standing by the front door waiting for you and grinning like an idiot at the look upon your face. You shoot him a frown as you walk past. “I can’t believe you, Duncan Shepherd.”

The memories come flooding back as soon as you get inside because this was the place you two met. You’re waiting in the entrance for someone to come over and it wasn’t long before one does - his name badge says Marco and it seems as if he and Duncan are friends of some kind the way they greet each other. You weren’t surprised because Duncan was well-known by many, many people and a lot of them would bend over backwards for him.

You walk behind, passing the tables of other people dining, until you get to the end of the room and there’s a door. Marco holds it open and Duncan follows through with you a few paces behind. The room behind the door appears to be lit with mood lighting and also candles on the table. You gingerly walk over and you’re unaware of how you were meant to feel because this whole act resembled something Michael would do for you; the complete opposite of anything you knew about Duncan.

Just as you’re about to ask him a question, it’s as if Duncan reads your mind when he advises you he invited you because you work too hard and it’s a thank you for helping him. You think he’s sorely mistaken. “Helping you? I don’t know what you think has gone on but we’ve gotten nowhere with your case because you keep distracting me from it.”

You pick up your menu and attempt to read it but the names were in Italian so you had no idea what you were getting. One dish, in particular, took your appeal – something that sounded very familiar like you’d eaten it before. You didn’t dare ask Duncan what the name of it was. He peers over the menu he’s holding to look at you and shoots a truth your way that you were trying to ignore. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing you’re distracted with.”

He folds the menu in his hand and puts it on the table. You hide behind your own to hide the fact you were blushing again at his words.

It was clear Duncan wasn’t good at admitting his feelings but he did it for you anyway. “Y/N, you just remind me of a better time in my life.”

When the heat dissipates from your cheeks, you bring the menu down and place it on the table beside you as well. “Oh right, one where you’re not breaking the law?”

“Something like that.”

He hid it well but that wasn’t at all what he meant.

Marco returns with some kind of wine on ice and you thought to yourself that Duncan had pulled out all the stops. You weren’t much of an aficionado when it came to anything alcoholic like that because you preferred spirits but you could appreciate it all the same. He pours two glasses and asks if the two of you are ready to order to which you say yes. You open up your menu again and point to the fifth meal under what you presume is the dinner. Marco makes a mental note and takes the menus before leaving.

You were somewhat confused why Duncan didn’t order anything but you weren’t surprised if he’d already picked what he was going to eat when he’d called the restaurant. Your eyes catch Duncan taking a sip of his drink and you begin to salivate when you imagine the liquid hitting his tongue and travelling down his throat; giving life to his tastebuds the way other things would.

He puts the glass down and moves to lean on his elbow, resting his chin in the L shape of bent fingers, biting at his lips before telling you how incredible you looked. You tried to deflect the comments and remain cool all the while your cheeks were burning as you blushed; hopefully unnoticeable under the makeup you were wearing.

Duncan calls you out and tells you to stop being feisty so you can enjoy the evening. You sink back into your chair a little. He was right you were worked up and he’d obviously gone to an effort to organise the evening but how could you not be when every time you were around him he was a complete fool?

While waiting for the food to arrive, the reminiscing about the past begins and the conversation varies in topics such as how you got into law, about your marriage, and why Duncan hasn’t settled down. It was fair to say that there was definitely more than meets the eye when it came to him but you were still hesitant to believe he could be anything other than a jackass you’d met all those years ago.

Apparently, you’d both gotten lost in the conversation because the food arrives. Marco places yours down then Duncan’s and they exchange a nod before Marco says to enjoy your meal and leaves. Duncan sees you both ordered the same thing and wastes no time in commenting how you have good taste; both a compliment and a playful tease. You take the cutlery in your hands and begin cutting into the chicken breast on your plate – as you’d expect, cooked to perfection and the heavenly aroma fills your nostrils as you’re cutting into it.

You take a mouthful and begin to chew. It’s so delicious. You’ve almost forgotten how amazing fine dining is because the last meal you ate was just some sushi from the corner shop near work. Duncan’s watching you closely, practically salivating himself as he stares at your lips. “It’s good, isn’t it?” He wasn’t talking about the food.

Unable to say anything, your eyes roll in enjoyment and you make a gesture with your hand to tell him how good exactly you thought it was. Duncan being the man that he was and unable to miss a chance to provoke you admits he’s always wondered what you looked like doing that but you refuse to let him have his moment and continue eating. When he realises you won’t budge he picks up his knife and fork to follow suit. The two of you stay quiet, enjoying your meal, and only taking breaks to sip at your drinks from time to time.

You place the cutlery down on your plate, almost gobsmacked at how good it was.

“I’d ask you if you enjoyed that but I could see by the look on your face that you did.”

He wasn’t completely wrong but he also wasn’t completely right because Seeing Duncan before you eating things did something to you. Before you could give it a second thought, you could hear your phone vibrating. You dive into your bag and pull it out; looking phone to see that its Michael – his name makes you smile and you reply back about how you’ll be home soon.

Duncan interrupts you and brings you back to the present moment, asking if it was your husband. You tease him, telling him that Michael said he’ll send out a search party followed by a retraction of your comment admitting he actually said he hoped you were having a nice time. It was blatant to see that you were doing just that and that the icy layer towards Duncan had melted a little. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol going to your head but you took it regardless because was nice not to feel so tense around him.

Duncan holds out his glass. “To you winning my case and us getting better acquainted.”

You had a sneaking suspicion the latter part was going to happen in more ways than just dinner in a private room but after tonight that didn’t bother you. You two clink glasses in a celebration for unknowingly what’s to come. For the first time, being under his gaze didn’t make your skin crawl. You gave him free reign to soak up every inch of you and cheekily relished in it.

“I just want to say thanks for inviting me. Which way is the ladies?”

“The door over to my left will lead you into a hallway then just follow the signs.”

After relieving yourself and washing your hands, you’re standing in the bathroom and looking at yourself in the mirror. You knew you looked nice and knew exactly why Duncan said what he said but it was still a foreign feeling to have another man besides Michael eyeing up your body.

You flatten out the dress you were wearing and tidied up your hair before walking out of the bathroom into the hallway and on your way back to Duncan - Duncan wasn’t at the table though because he was waiting outside the bathroom.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. I almost walked into you.”

Duncan would usually have a smart ass remark prepared but not this time. This time he says nothing. All you feel is a hand caressing at one of your cheeks which sends shivers trailing down your spine and goosebumps pricking at your skin. He thumbs over the supple skin of your cheek and his want is searing on you through his blues.

Before you can think what to do next, he’s already a step ahead and swoops in to meet your lips with his. It feels strangely familiar as you two kiss and you try to hold back but he senses it; grabbing a fist full of hair and tugging at your locks to tell you it’s okay. You become weak under the strength of your own arousal and desire for him and a moan escapes out of your mouth into his. He breaks the kiss momentarily to smile because he knows he has you right where he wants you; in his grasp, under his thumb. Duncan collects himself and the kiss resumes with growing intensity.

You lose yourself in the passion but as quickly as the kiss started it’s gone. He pulls away and leaves you in a bind, wanting more. He’s holding your face between a thumb and fingers while playfully clucking his tongue at you reeling in the exposing of your attraction.

“My oh my. We are a naughty girl, aren’t we?”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @sammythankyou @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @wroteclassicaly @queencocoakimmie @1-800-bitchcraft @violett124 @moltenskeleton // Also adding in: @apocalyptvc @prettybabylana

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books-and-dragons · 6 years

Note

Congratulations on 400 followers! If you're still open to taking prompts, I got an AkiRyu idea in my head of Ryuji sending Akira text messages and voicemails while he's in prison after Christmas, just like general things of how things are going with him and the rest of the gang and of course telling him how much he misses him. Don't feel obligated but I thought I'd give it out!

THANK YOU!! And g o d when I read this prompt I fell in love with it, I am really sorry if it reads disconnected or anything along those lines at all…..this was such a good prompt and wow thank you for sending it to me!

Fandom: Persona 5Summary: Maybe, if he rang Akira’s number, he could pretend that it was all okay….that Akira could hear him, listen to him from Juvie. That he’d respond with snarky comments and carefully calculated plans to escape. Instead, he gets the same message every time.

‘You person you are calling is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone’

The attic of Leblanc was empty, the only sign someone had been living there the odd trinkets lying around the room. Bedsheets folded neatly at the end of a bed, all properties orderly and clean. Crafting tools hidden away.

The one thing lying out of place was a phone, plugged in to the wall, abandoned.

Accidentally left on sound.

The first time it rang was just a matter of hours after the phone’s owner had left, gentle chiming breaking through the silence of the attic, past the loud outcries and sobs from downstairs.

“Hey, Akira? This is just some stupid prank, isn’t it- well you can stop it now! Come on dude it’s Christmas- let up the jokes for one day. We’re all waiting on ya- well, I am- but you’ve really convinced the others, they’re cryin’ and all. Talk about a harsh prank dude. Just get back here already, we’re waiting with your presents!”

The next time the phone rang, the voice on the other end wasn’t so cheerful.

“….Boss wasn’t joking, was he?…. DAMN IT! Why the HELL do you always have to turn yourself in?! Who gave you the right to decide what was right for the entire team?! We’ve just killed a God and now you’re leaving? To make some shitty police officers happy, are you kidding me?! Why do you ALWAYS have to do things on your own- did you ever even think to talk to us about it. Hell I was with you last night- what do you not trust me?! Is that was it is?! I-“

Another voice interrupted. Higher pitched, more feminine,

“Ryuji? RYUJI! Come on hang up-”

“No, Ann, get off!”

Something thudded to the ground, there was a flurry of rustling. The sounds of a struggle, a fight.

“Can’t you see we’re all upset-”

The line was cut off.

“A-Akira? S-sorry for the call earlier….I-I guess I got a bit worked up, huh?….Geez…”

A shuddering breath.

“Dude, this is my third call today….your voicemail’s gonna get totally packed….when’re you even gonna get to listen to them….”

A sniffle.

“Talk about a shit Christmas. We could barely focus, nobody was really in the mood for celebratin’….”

He took a deep breath, when he spoke again his voice was thick with emotion.

“Why did you have to go?”

“Hey….it’s me. Again. We held a meeting today, it’s not the same without you at the head of the table. Makoto keeps stopping to hear your confirmation but-” Another deep breath, “But you weren’t there. Between you and Morgana….the thieves feels empty.”

“We’re gonna get you out of there. Even if I’ve gotta do it myself.”

“Futaba asked me to go talk to her today, we met at Leblanc for coffee and curry. I think Boss has been hiding how much he misses you, today when he was serving us he went to tell you it’s your turn on dishes-”

There was a pause.

“He didn’t say much after that, but apparently he’d been all ‘mopey’ too- Futaba mentioned adoption. I dunno if it was a joke or not, but I think he should. And not just because that would mean you’d stay with us- with me- once you’re back. I mean…there’s still your parents, but you don’t mention them at all. I know we already talked about this, but I mentioned it to Ma and….well….dude, do they even know what’s happened to you?”

“Anyway, Futaba’s apparently been going through your phone and she saw all my voicemails. I thought she was gonna laugh at me, but she just wanted to talk it over, she reckons it’s a good idea, and promised she wouldn’t mention it to anyone else.”

“She’s called for another thieves meeting tomorrow, apparently it’s about what she found on your phone. But you know Futaba, she’ll not say anythin’ just to watch us suffer…..I’ll call back tomorrow and tell you what she says.”

“We’re getting you out.”

Unhesitating, the words rushed out in a flurry of excitement.

“Futaba found the contacts of all those friends of yours on ya phone, and we’re gonna try recruiting them to help out! By the way dude, just how many people do you know?! An effin’ fortune teller? Really?”

The laughter was light, relaxed, a tone completely contrasting from past calls.

“Apparently Makoto wants ‘words’ about that guy from Untouchable, but I dunno why she was so surprised. Maybe it was when Futaba mentioned he probably had been in the Yakuza- by the way, if that’s true, you gotta tell me everything!…Right after I kick your ass for associating with the Yakuza to start with.”

“We’re all meeting up tomorrow to make an actual plan.”

There was a long pause.

A deep breath.

“It’s New Years tomorrow.”

When the voice returned, it was back to the heavy, emotive tone the voicemail system had been receiving so frequently

“It’s New Years and you’re stuck in a jail cell. Cold and alone. It’s complete BULLSHIT!”

Something clattered in the background.

“We were supposed to spend New Years together! Share one of those stupid kisses that all couples do for the new year, and you’d get all blushy about it because you’re such a sap for romance, and we’d be together and happy and for FUCK SAKE IT ISN’T FAIR!”

Choked sobs broke him off, before the message was promptly cut.

In the pitch-black of the Leblanc attic, the screen of a phone broke through the darkness, chiming ringtone cutting through the silence.

A minute passed, and the alert of a voicemail pinged.

“Happy New Years, Akira!”

The voice, initially cheerful, fell flat. Dull and tired.

“….I miss you. It was worse, being in Shibuya, watching all the other couples kiss with the New Year, knowin’ you’re not there. Knowin’ that your miles away, locked awa-”

The voice hitched. A deep breath.

“No. I’m not going there again. Our plan! Let’s focus on the plan….” Another heavy sigh, before his voice lightened, “We’re all goin’ to track down and talk to your ‘friends’, try persuade them to campaign for your release. Hell it’s you, as if they’re gonna say no. How can anyone say no to you….”

In the background, cheers of merriment echoed.

“I swear Akira, we’re going to get you out of there.”

“It took us a few days- but we found everyone! And they agreed to help! Dude, this is great!”

A light chuckle and whooping cheer of victory.

“I dunno what stuff you’ve been up to, but they all claimed they were in your debt- you’re incredible, ya know that? You’re finally gonna get outta that hell hole!”

…

“Hey….Makoto mentioned something today, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it….the police, they’re treatin’ you okay, right? I-I mean, last time they had you-”

A hitch of breath, ragged breathing,

“I-I can’t take that again Akira, I can’t. Every time I think about it all I see is you, all bruised and brok-broken-”

A cry,

“This is all my fault. I shoulda stayed with you that night, stopped you goin’ the next mornin’. I knew somethin’ was wrong and I said nothing- godDAMMIT!”

A dull thud cut through the sobs, as if something had just been kicked.

“Some shitty boyfriend I am, can’t even protect you from this. How useless.”

There was a soft flump, as if the speaker had taken a seat.

“I miss you. Shit Akira I miss you so much. Nothing’s the same here with you gone. Shujin’s so much more quiet, sure there’s Ann and Makoto and Haru, but it’s not the same. I never know what to do with myself, I can’t go the the gym because we always train there together, the Arcade is too empty without you there….I forgot how alone I was until I had you, and now I don’t know what to do without you.”

More sniffles, a muffled whimper,

“I’ll get you back Akira. I promise.”

The January chill was only broken by the sun breaking through the windowpanes of Leblanc’s attic, the cold being of little deterrence to the functionality of the phone on the workbench, as it began to ring again.

“Hey man, you wouldn’t believe the gossip at Shujin right now. Apparently, word got out about you bein’ in juvie, and at the same time as people started hearing that you were testiyin’ against Shido. Those rumours started last week, but it’s gotten worse…..everyone’s pretty much convinced you’re leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

Briefly, there was a jingle, as if something were being fidgeted with.

“It got outta hand before we could do anything about it. Besides, since those rumours people are lookin’ at us even more weird than usual- it’s kinda creepy. At least you don’t have to be dealin’ with that right now…. Makoto says it’s only a matter of time before someone asks us about it though. Geez can’t people mind their own business….”

A loud bell chimed, deafening even across the phone.

“Well, that’s the end of classes. I said I’d meet Ann, we’re gonna go check up on the progress with that weird doctor round the corner from Leblanc. By the way, we’ve gotta talk about that when you get back, doing shady ‘clinical trials’…. what the hell man….”

“It’s been a week since I left you a message….sorry about that man. Everything’s been so busy, plannin’ the whole campaign and shit to get you outta juvie, never had time to make a call….but it’s all worth it, because once that journalist finishes her article, the campaign will be finished! All those friends of yours really pulled through. Hell, you’re all buddy buddy with a politician?! Dude!”

“I can’t believe it’s nearly over.” They sighed, “We’ve been working to this for weeks. Once Sae hands over the case file, there’s no way the judge won’t overturn your arrest! She doesn’t know much about what they’ll do with the whole ‘record’ thing, but still….”

“I can’t wait to have you back.”

The attic of Leblanc was spotless, polished and dusted surfaces, fresh linen sheets over the bed in the far corner of the room, ordered stack of ‘borrowed’ DVDs on the side. Various trinkets reflected the light from the sun streaming in through the windows.

All ready for the return of its inhabitant.

The only current occupant of the room grinned around at it, slumping onto the worn sofa as he dug out his phone, one hand tapping onto the phone number was was all too familiar, the other running through his bleached locks, fingers lightly tugging at strands as he hit the green call button.

Ironic, he couldn’t help but think, as the phone rang just feet from him, that default pinging sound Akira seemed to use for all his alerts. He let it ring.

Eventually, he was sent to voicemail.

“Well dude, today’s the day! You’re gettin’ outta juvie!” Ryuji grinned, “Everyone went all out, we’re gonna surprise you when you get here- Boss is already on his way. He’s gonna be hours early but when Futaba pointed that out he didn’t really seem to care. The sooner you get your ass back the better, if ya askin’ me!”

Ryuji played with a loose hem on the sofa, “It’s just gonna be the thieves, and I mean don’t get me wrong I love those guys but….is it selfish for me to wish they weren’t coming over? That it was just you and me?”

He sighed, pulling at the thread, “I haven’t seen you in nearly 2 months, all I wanna do is pull you close, and spend all night cuddlin’ and holdin’ you under the blankets, make up for all them days we lost while you’ve been gone…but no. I have to share. I’m your effin’ boyfriend, don’t that mean I get boyfriend privileges? Like the privilege to kick our friends outta Leblanc?”

Ryuji dropped the thread, a soft smile on his face.

“Suppose if you were here you’d tell me to be patient right? Well, I’m done being patient! When you get here, I ain’t lettin’ you go! Screw anyone else feelin’ uncomfortable or shit!”

It was at that moment that a chime rang throughout the cafe, and Ryuji groaned.

“Bet that’s Yusuke, why the dude always turns up early I dunno…..”

Slowly, one thumb ran over the back of his phone.

“I suppose I oughta go say hi, right? Fine. But only cos I know next time I talk to you, it’ll mean I can hold you, you’ll be here, with me, back where you belong…..and I ain’t ever letting you go again.”

#persona 5 #IM SO SORRY THIS FILL TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG #fic #ryuji sakamoto #pegoryu #I LOVE THIS PROMPT but it made me f e e l things #i wrote this instead of sleeping and no that aint a joke #no regrets tho #akiryu #fics #my fics

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