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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 3

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: The beginning of your intern year continues.

Warnings: man parts (lol) and talk about rape

You really tried your best, but you couldn’t get the image of a naked Dr. Steve Rogers on the floor of your living room out of your head. You had decided one night that, to help get the image out of your head, you needed roommates. The house that you had inherited was big enough and the longer you lived there, the lonelier it became. So, you created a ‘roommates wanted’ sign and posted it in the locker room before your shift.

You had several interns come up to you explaining why they would be the perfect roommate for you within the first few hours of your shift. It was annoying and you turned every single one of them down, being very particular about who was going to live with you.

“Why do you put up posters for roommates if you don’t want roommates?” Val asked as you, her, and Scott walked down a corridor.

“I do want roommates,” you defended.

“And why can’t we be those roommates?” Scott wondered

“We’re just together a hundred hours a week, you want to live together too?”

“No,” Natasha responded, walking up to the group. “Ooh, you’re bringing bribes now?” She motioned to the cup of coffee in your hand.

“I need a place to live,” Scott rambled. “My mom irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there.”

“It’s not a bride,” you told Natasha before turning to Scott. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But I can’t put down last, first, and deposit,” Scott argued.

“It’s totally a bride,” Natasha scoffed.

“I can cook,” Val added. “And I can clean.”

“No,” you stated. “I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to, and it's not a bribe, it's a mocha latte.”

“Clint, you’re running the code team,” Gamora ordered as you all walked up to her. “Y/N, take the trauma patients, Natasha, deliver the weekend labs to patients, Val, you’re on sutures, and Scott, you’re on scut.”

“Dr. Gamora,” you called. “I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? I think I'm ready. Mocha latte?” You held the cup out for her.

“If she gets to cut, I want to cut too,” Natasha added.

“Yeah, me too,” Val joined in.

“I wouldn’t mind another shot,” Scott shrugged.

“And if everybody else gets one, then I do too!” Clint said.

“Stop talking,” Gamora demanded. You all fell silent. “Every intern wants to perform their first surgery, that's not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, having the trauma patients taken care of, having the weekend labs delivered, and having someone down in the Pit, doing the sutures.” She swiped the mocha latte from your hand. “No one holds a scalpel until I'm so happy I'm Mary freakin' Poppins.”

“Mocha latte my ass,” Natasha grumbled.

“Why’re y’all still standing there? Move!”

Everyone moved, you heading to the elevator with a few files. You paused in your steps when you noticed who was waiting at the elevator. Dr. Steve Rogers. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before making your way to stand and wait next to him. When he noticed you, he tried to hide the pleasant smile that wanted to take over his face.

“New York has ferry boats,” he stated.

“Yes,” you replied, a bit confused.

“I didn’t remember that. I grew up here then left, now I’ve been living here for six weeks, and I didn’t remember there were ferry boats.”

“Well, Manhattan is an island.”

“Hence the ferry boats.” The elevator arrived and the two of you stepped onto it. “Now I have to like it here. I wasn’t planning on liking it here. I just moved here from the country. I’m supposed to not like big cities like Manhattan. But I have a thing for ferry boats.”

The elevators doors closed, leaving them alone in the elevator. He was leaning against the wall behind you as you stood in the middle, holding the files to your body. You hoped that he couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m not going out with you,” you blurted. You don’t know if you were trying to tell him that or if you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t interested.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He questioned. He paused before asking the next, “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss.”

“I'm your boss's boss.”

“You're my teacher. And my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher.”

“I'm your sister, I'm your daughter,” he joked.

“You're sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator.” He stepped towards you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck. You spun around to face him.

“Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line.”

“So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?”

You stared at him for a second, basking in all his attractiveness. It didn’t take you very long to go ‘screw it’ and drop the files you were holding and kiss him. Steve was a tad surprised but caught on quickly. When the elevator dinged, you quickly crouched down to pick up the files and rushed out of the elevator. Steve stood there, looking amused.

“We’ll talk later?” He called after you. You ignored him and he chuckled to himself. “Definitely, later.”

~~~

In between taking care of patients, you had interns begging you to let them be your roommate. You were slowly regretting the idea of roommates the longer the day went on. Thankfully, your pager rang and requested you down in the ER.

“You the surgeon?” A nurse asked as you entered the room.

“Yes,” you replied.

“We’ve got a rape victim. 21-year-old female found down at the park, status: post-trauma, she came in with a GCS of 6, BP 80 over 60, head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated, and she's ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” You were listening but also focused on the girl’s shoes. They were the same ones you had worn to work. “Hey!”

“Uh, sorry,” you stumbled. “Yeah. Call it in to clear CT, let them know I'm coming, load up the portable monitor, call respiratory for a ventilator, I'll get x-rays while I'm down there.”

You quickly learned that the girls name was Mallory and, just by you reading the scans alone, she would be needing surgery. Dr. Banner and Dr. Rogers were both called in while you were allowed to watch and hopefully assist.

“She’s going to spend a hell of a lot of time in recovery and rehab,” Dr. Rogers stated.

“If she survives,” Dr. Banner added.

“What is she, like, 5'2", a hundred pounds, she's still breathing after what this guy did to her? If they catch the guy, they should castrate him.”

“See how shredded her hands are? She tried to fight back.”

“Tried to?” Dr. Stark repeated, walking into the room. “Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass.”

“So, we have a warrior amount us, huh?” Rogers questioned.

“Hell yeah we do! I just came in to tell you about the rape kit and to see if you needed me anytime soon. Can’t have the poor girl be reminded of the incident with so many scars.”

“Mallory,” you interrupted. “Her—her name is Mallory.”

“Mallory,” Rogers and Stark repeated.

“I think I may have found the cause of our rupture,” Banner said, pulling out a piece of flesh. “What is this?” He held it up. “Does anyone know what this is?”

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped, with Dr. Stark snickering from the sidelines.

“What? Spit it out, L/N.”

“She bit it off.”

“Bit off what?”

“That’s his…” You swallowed. “His penis.” Shocked groans filled the OR. “She bit off his penis.”

“Told you she kicked his ass!” Stark exclaimed as Banner couldn’t toss the piece of flesh into the try fast enough.

~~~

After the surgery, the penis was placed in a small cooler. You were tasked to bring it to Fury for the police. You knocked at the door of his office, where an older woman is in there.

“Hi, is the chief in?” You asked.

“He’s on his way,” she responded. “Is that it?”

“Can I see it?” You looked down at the box and then up again. “No, forget I asked.”

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Fury greeted as he entered, going to his desk.

“You too, sir,” you responded with a nod. “Listen, so they said to bring this to you,” you lifted up the cooler. “So…?”

“Yes, for the police,” Fury responded.

“Right.”

“When did the police say they'll come?” Fury asked his assistant.

“You know how slow they are,” she answered. “So, she’d better take it with her.”

“What?” You questioned.

“You have to take it with you.”

“Chain of custody rules,” Fury explained. “All medical matter in a rape must stay with the person who collected it, until it's placed in police custody.”

“You collected the specimen, so you have custody.”

“Custody of a penis…” You said.

“Yes,” Fury answered. “Until the cops come for it.”

“Okay. Well, what am I supposed to do with the penis?”

Fury simply shrugged before excusing you. You huffed, leaving the office with the cooler. You wandered the halls until you saw Clint working at a desk. You walked over, setting the cooler down and causing Clint to look up at you.

“What’s that?” He pointed to the cooler as he asked.

“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know,” you responded.

“I do want to know. Really.”

“You really want to know?” Clint nodded. “It’s a severed penis.”

“Okay… I didn’t really want to know.”

“Told you.”

“I didn’t know why I have to be the one who gets hugged,” Natasha complained to Peter as they walked up.

“Because, I don’t do that,” Peter replied. “Besides, you're the ovarian sister here.”

“Did you just call me an ovarian sis— an ovarian— since when has the possession of ovaries become an insult?”

“Y/N’s carrying a penis around in a jar,” Clint interrupted.

“Oh, from the rape surgery?” Natasha looked around.

“Yeah,” you answered. “And it’s not a jar, it’s a cooler.”

“Talk about taking a bite out of crime.” Natasha chuckled as she left.

You were suddenly lost in your head, unable to stop thinking about Mallory’s shoes. They were the same as yours. You had worn them to work today, which was weird. You never really wear them.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah… it’s just… Mallory's shoes. The rape victim, Mallory, her shoes. I have the same ones. In my locker. And I normally never wear them, because they're not comfortable, but today I did, and she was wearing the same shoes, and it's just… stupid, and I'm tired, and forget it.”

“You know what you need?” Clint stared at you.

“No. It’s stick and twisted. We said last time was the last time.” Clint looked away. “You’ve been doing it without me?”

“Nancy Reagan lied. You can't just say no. Come on.”

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?”

“I'm doing it. You can come with me… or you can stay here, and be miserable.”

“Fine,” you tried to hold back a smile as you followed Clint.

He led you to the nursery, where you two stood at the window and watched the babies. You laughed as Clint did some baby talk.

“You are such a woman,” you laughed.

Clint’s pager beeped before he could retorted. “It’s a code,” he sighed. “I gotta go.”

He left, leaving you to sigh as you watched the babies.

“You are really cute,” you whispered as you looked at them.

As you watched them, you noticed at one of the babies was struggling. His face was slowly turning blue. You quickly entered the nursery, setting the cooler to the side before checking the babies chart. Then you sided your stethoscope to check on the babies heart.

“What are you doing in here?” A Peds Intern asked, walking into the room.

“There were no tests ordered,” you answered. “And the baby has a murmur.”

“I know.”

“He turned blue.”

“You're surgery, you're not authorized to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?”

“Are you going to do any tests?”

“It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age.”

“So you're not going to do any tests.”

“He's not your patient, he's not even on your service.”

“Are you sure it’s benign?”

“I'm a doctor too, you know. You should get out of here.”

Deciding you’d rather not get in trouble, you grabbed the cooler and left. You were stopped along your wandering by more interns who wanted to room with you. After having listened to three of them, you walked away, still unimpressed, and went to Mallory’s room. You were looking at her through the window when Dr. Rogers came up.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “I've called every hospital in the county. Sooner or later, the guy that did this is going to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around is going to nail him.”

“Where is her family?” You asked.

“Doesn’t have any.”

“No siblings?”

“No. Both parents are dead. She just moved to New York three weeks ago. Welcome to the city.” When you didn’t give a response he turned to look at you. You were lost in your thoughts. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just… I just have to do something. I have to go.”

“Right. I’m going to sit with her.”

You nodded before rushing away to find Dr. Banner.

“Dr. Banner?” You called when you saw him.

“Mmm?” He hummed, turning to face you.

“There's a baby up in peds, I saw him have a tet spell, and I think I hear a murmur.”

“Mmm. Did peds call us for a consult?”

“Actually, no. They’re not doing anything about it—“

“So you want me to what?”

“If you could just go up and look at him—“

“Mm-hmm, not without a Peds consult.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’m a busy man, L/N, and there are rules. Look, it’s not like I’m the Chief or something.”

Then he stocked off, leaving you frustrated.

“Stupid rules.”

~~~

Eventually, you found a spot in the lobby to sit. Just waiting for the cops to show up.

“What’re you doing down here?” Natasha asked when she came across you.

“Just sitting here with my penis,” you responded. “What about you?”

“Hiding from Peter.” She sat beside you.

“I kissed Steve.”

“You kissed Steve.”

“In the elevator.”

“Oh, you kissed him in the elevator.”

“I was having a bad day. I am having a bad day.”

“Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Captain McDreamy.” You both stood up.

“Well, that, and you know, carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy.”

“Mmm. Clint said Mallory was wearing your shoes.”

“Yeah. It’s weird, right?”

“I think it’s weird that you care.”

“I think it’s weird.”

From outside, a car swerves. You and Natasha could hear it from inside, causing you to rush out. A man staggered out of the car, clothes soaked in blood, mainly around his crotch. He collapses. Other doctors and nurses followed you out and immediately began checking on him. You immediately knew that the guy was the owner of the penis you had been carrying around all day. The other doctors brought him into a trauma room. You followed, quickly calling security.

“So, what’ve we got?” Gamora asked as she entered.

“Take a look,” you responded.

“What?” She leaned closer. “Alright, let’s get him to OR 1. Y/N, you call the Chief and let him know we got the rapist.”

~~~

You and Natasha were in the OR with Gamora and Stark. They were working on the rapist.

“I saw Mallory,” you said, eyes on the operating table. “You can’t believe the beating that she took. And then to see this…”

“It's like that old saying, you should see the other guy,” Natasha said.

“Okay, kiddos, why are we not attempting to reattach the severed penis?” Dr. Stark asked.

“Teeth don’t slice, they tear. You can only reattach with a clean cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife…”

“Besides,” you continued for Natasha, “the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with.”

“Right,” Gamora agreed, “so what do we do?”

“Sew him up minus a large part of the family jewels,” Natasha answered.

“And his outlook?”

“He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very, very long time,” Natasha added.

“Oh, too bad.”

“Shame.”

“I can’t imagine not having sex,” Stark commented. “I think that I would just end my life if I couldn’t do a round every day.” Everyone looked at him. “What? It shouldn’t be that surprising.”

“No wonder, Dr. Potts keeps turning you down,” Gamora said.

“I’ll get her one day. Just you wait. I’m going to marry that woman if it’s the last thing I do.”

~~~

You met with the police after the surgery where they told you that they couldn’t send their crime scene guy down for hours. Annoyed, you searched for your intern friends. You found them in the empty corridor, sitting on the beds.

“So, the police say that they can’t send down the crack crime scene guy for hours,” you told them as you entered, sitting down beside Natasha. “So I have to spend the night with a penis. Peter, don’t say it.”

“Ahh, it was too easy anyway,” Peter responded.

“Who here feels like they have no idea what they’re doing?” Scott asked. Everyone of you, but Peter, raised a hand.

“I mean, are we supposed to be learning something?” Clint wondered. “Because I don’t feel like I’m learning anything.”

“Except how not to sleep,” Val added.

“It’s like there’s this wall,” Natasha said, “and the attending and the residents are over there, being surgeons, and we’re over here, being—“

“Suturing, code running, lab delivering penis-minders,” you grumbled.

“I hate being an intern,” Peter stated.

Gamora walked into the hallway, looking expectant. All of you interns quickly got up and took your leave. All the others had things to do, so you found yourself in front of the babies again. As you looked at the baby you’re so worried about, you noticed the parents. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go up to them.

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile.

“Hi,” the mother greeted back.

“Is he yours?” You nodded to the baby.

“Yeah,” the mother smiled.

“He’s adorable… Have you noticed anything that would concern you?”

“No,” the father responded. “Have you?”

“Earlier today I noticed him turning blue.”

“Blue?” The mother repeated.

“Yes. I checked him and I heard a murmur.”

“We were told that the murmur was benign,” the father stated.

“I don’t think it is. I think—“

“You are so out of line,” the Peds Intern interrupted.

“She says the murmur might not be benign,” the father said.

“I think we should do an echo, to check,” you suggested.

“This is your career,” the intern said, going to get her resident.

“There’s really no reason to get alarmed,” you told the parents.

“What’s the problem?” The resident asked, coming back with the intern.

“If our baby is sick, we want him treated,” the mother ordered. “Now.”

“Who said your baby was sick?”

“Her,” the Peds Intern answered, pointing to you. “The surgical intern who has no business on our service.”

“Who authorized you being here?”

“I was just,” you began, “actually—“

“I did,” Dr. Banner came up from behind you. “Could you excuse us for a second?” Dr. Banner took the resident to the side, but not far enough for you to not hear. “Are you messing with my intern, Dr. Keener?”

“No, sir,” the resident responded.

Dr. Banner turned back to you and the other intern. “Give me the chart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the intern said, giving up the chart, “I checked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You can guarantee that he is fine, you are 100% sure.”

The intern looked hesitant.

“How sure are you?” The resident questioned.

“I don’t know,” the intern responded. “75%.”

“Not good enough,” Banner said. “He’s my patient now. That okay with you, Dr. K?”

“Absolutely,” the resident responded.

“He can take our patient?” The intern asked.

“He’s an attending.”

“Which means I can do whatever I want,” Banner replied before heading to the parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I’m Dr. Banner, head of cardio. We’re going to run some tests and give you an answer within the hour. Excuse me.” He turned to you. “L/N.” He motioned for you to follow, which you quickly did. “I want an EKG, a chest x-ray, and an ECHO. I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“I’m a busy man.”

You quickly ordered the tests then wandered the hospital more, since you weren’t allowed to do anything while you were watching the penis. After a little while, you found Dr. Banner again.

“Well?” You asked as you walked up to him.

“It’s a birth defect,” Dr. Banner replied. “Tetrology affirmed lower pulmonary artresia. You were right. I'm booking the OR for tomorrow.”

“Thank you for backing me up on this.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa. You were right. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again...going to the parents behind a doctor's back? Trying to steal a patient from another service? I will make your residency year hell on earth.”

He walked off and you smiled slightly to yourself. You made your way back to the babies, where you watched, from the other side of the window, Banner talk to the parents.

“His heart surgery is scheduled for the morning,” the Peds Intern told you. “I really did think I was right, you know.”

“I know. We almost never are. We're interns,” you responded. “We're not supposed to be right. And when we are, it's completely shocking.”

“Are you— I mean, being an intern, do you feel…”

“Terrified. 100% of the time.”

“Good, it’s not just me.”

“No.”

You decided, after finishing up with the babies, to go check on Mallory. When you arrived, you realized that Steve was still in there.

“How is she?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“No change,” Steve answered with a sigh.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Mm-hmm. Yup… If I was in a comma, I’d want someone to be here. I know I would have people there. Having no one? Can’t imagine that.”

“I can.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

“I do. Just… I don’t think they’d come.”

Steve watched you carefully before speaking again. “So… we’re kissing but we’re not dating?”

“I knew that was going to come up.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. I’m all for the kissing. More kissing, I say.”

“I have no idea what that was about.”

“Is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints. Put a condom in my wallet.”

“Shut up now.” Steve laughed. “There was this baby up in the nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her, and she's got nobody.”

Suddenly, Mallory’s machine’s began beeping. You quickly hit an alarm on the wall.

“Her ICP’s double, get an OR!” Steve yelled. “Put her in for a craniotomy!”

~~~

You waited outside the OR, still watching over the stupid penis, while Steve operated on Mallory. You were nervous for her and felt bad that no one was there for her. Once the surgery was over, Steve exited the OR, walking past you. When he noticed you were there, he turned back.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I, uh, I had to leave her skull flap off, till the pressure in her brain goes down.”

“She’s not going to make it, is she?” You asked.

“She’s going to be fine.”

“If she ever wakes up.”

Steve nodded. “If she ever wakes up.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked away. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your pager went off. You looked down to see it was the Chief. “I’ve gotta go. That’s the Chief. Maybe I can finally get rid of this thing.” You lifted the cooler slightly.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Good luck.”

~~~

“So here is where you put the signature, down here, the initials,” Fury’s assistant pointed out on a paper.

“Mmm,” you hummed with a nod, taking the paper and pen from her. “Okay.”

“It just says that the penis was never out of your sight.”

“Of course.” You sighed and handed over the paper. “There you go. One penis.” You glanced at the clock and realized that it was time for the baby’s surgery. “Am I all done here? I kinda want to go watch a surgery.”

“Sure.”

You tried to rush, but not rush, to the OR Dr. Banner was working in. When you arrived, you found a spot in the back.

“We'll be using a medium approach for a trans-ventricular repair with a right ventriculostomy,” Banner explained. “Let’s open him up. L/N!” He looked around for you.

“Yes, sir?” You replied.

“Go scrub in. When we've finished cracking the baby's chest, I'll let you hold the clamp.”

“Seriously?” You tried to contain your excitement.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You rushed to scrubbed in. And, let’s just say, holding onto that clamp was a rush and just what you needed to help brighten your shift. After that, you went to watch the babies, Val, Clint, and Scott all joining you.

You let out a sigh. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “You guys can move into the house.”

“Yes! Yes!” The guys shouted.

“I can’t believe you caved!” Val laughed.

“I can’t believe it either,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile.

~~~

You changed out of your scrubs and stared at the shoes in your locker. You couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was that you had decided to wear those shoes today. With determination, you shut the locker on your shoes and went to the elevator. Steve was there waiting.

“So… it’s intense…” he started. “This thing I have for, ah, ferry boats… I mean.”

You smiled at him. “I’m so taking the stairs this time.” You walked off.

“No self-control,” he called after you. “It’s sad. Really.” He chuckled to himself as you continued to walk away. “Wow… this is so—“

“Weird. It’s weird,” Dr. Stark came up, ready to go too. “Like I said before, that look is bad news. And you—“

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut it Tony?”

“Fine.” Tony held his hands up. “But, seriously, don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #gamora x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #peter quill x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #valkyrie x reader

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

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Flatline

Sometimes, a good day can just turn on a dime. No one can predict if a bright sunny morning might end up being the day you're forced to watch your best friend die.

Part nine of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3.

The bullet comes out of nowhere. That might be the worst part about it, honestly. No matter how aware Jack is of his surroundings, no matter how much he tries to keep Mac out of danger, what could he possibly do to prevent a sniper camped on a rooftop half a mile away from taking a potshot at his partner when they’re just casually walking into work on an average Tuesday morning? Bright California sunshine above them, laughing without a care in the world, minds focused on nothing but the list of tasks they had to do that day. For all his training and preparation and drive, Jack never stood a chance against something he couldn’t see coming.

It’s so unexpected that it takes Jack a solid few seconds to catch up to what’s actually going on: first, Mac, a few steps ahead of him, jolts oddly to the side with a staggering half step; then, a second later, the sharp boom-crack of a rifle rolls over them and Jack instinctively ducks his head, the experience of two decades’ worth of dodging gunfire kicking him hard in the ass; third, Mac tries to do the same thing, lurching forwards slightly towards the cover of the building they are oh-so-close to, but stops short, curling into himself in a way Jack has seen once before and never, ever wanted to repeat. He knows even before Mac turns what he’ll see: a dark swell of red, low on his partner’s chest.

The whole thing can take no more than a second or two, but it feels like it lasts a lifetime. Then there’s a crackle along Jack’s skin and the passage of time reasserts itself with a snap and he’s throwing himself forwards to tackle Mac into the shadow of the Phoenix’s entrance just as another distant shot sounds off and a chunk of masonry explodes right beside Jack’s head. His partner grunts at the impact, but either lets Jack move him or simply doesn’t have the strength to fight him because he doesn’t put up the slightest resistance as he’s knocked to the floor.

As soon as Jack’s certain he and Mac are both out of sight of the shooter, he fixes every ounce of his attention on the red stain rapidly spreading across Mac’s shirt.

“Jah-” he rasped, breaking off in a pained cough that seems to shake him to his very bones. His skin is already ashen pale and it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

“Don’t try to speak kiddo,” he snaps back, yanking his shirt over his head to press it harshly against the wound. “Just breathe through it, okay? Keep breathing.”

He knows that he doesn’t have long. Mac’s limbs have already turned leaden and unresponsive, and while the bullet looks like it was too low to catch his heart, there’s plenty of other vital organs to worry about. After all these years, he really could lose Mac in minutes. He can’t let that happen.

There are voices shouting inside, some enterprising secretary on the front desk apparently catching on to the battlefield unfurling outside her door and summoning help. For the first time in perhaps his entire life, Jack puts the security of the Phoenix Foundation right to the back of his mind and ignores it completely; all he cares about in that moment is getting Mac inside and down the stairs to the trained medical staff who are Mac’s only hope. Nothing else matters until the wavering heartbeat pattering against his palm is steady again.

With that goal in mind, he abandons his vain attempts at stemming the bleeding in favour of threading his arms under Mac’s shoulders and knees and hoisting him up. It’s an awkward carry, with Mac both too long and too heavy for Jack to comfortably handle like this, especially when he’s utterly limp – and definitely not a dead weight – but Jack’s never cared about that less. He could pull every single muscle in his body and it wouldn’t even register over the screaming fear of watching his partner’s eyes roll back in his bloodless face.

“Don’t you dare die on me Mac,” he threatens harshly, and dashes inside.

There was a team waiting to receive him when he burst through the doors of the med bay, no doubt thanks to the secretary he’d yelled at as he’d passed by. Once he had any brainpower to spare beyond worrying about Mac, he’d make a mental note to find out her name and thank her.

“Put him down on here,” one of the nurses called, gesturing to the gurney they’d wheeled out. “How long has he been unconscious?”

“About four minutes,” he answered, breathless and terrified. “He was awake after he was hit – he knew who I was.”

As soon as Mac was lying flat, the medical personnel swarmed around him, pushing Jack firmly around so that he was standing beside his feet. Everyone who worked at the Phoenix had some awareness of Mac and Jack’s ironclad partnership, and that went double for the medical staff; they’d learned long ago not to bother trying to separate them when one of them was injured. It was far easier and painless if they just moved them aside to get the room they needed and then just left them to it.

“BP dropping,” one of the nurses announced sharply, a stethoscope pressed to the inside of Mac’s elbow.

A doctor tore open Mac’s ruined shirt to examine the wound, while another nurse used the opportunity to affix a series of sensors across Mac’s chest. The machine they were attached to immediately started wailing.

“Irregular heartbeat,” the nurse said. “Dropping quickly.”

“GSW to the chest,” the doctor examining the wound said. “No exit wound. I think- Shit. It’s a sucking wound.”

Jack might spend a lot of his life playing the fool, but the truth was that he was much smarter than most people gave him credit for. After so many years in the military, he’d had more than enough run-ins with medics and he’d made sure to do his research when he realised Mac had a penchant for sprinting towards danger. He knew exactly how bad that announcement was.

“Okay,” said the female doctor beside Mac’s head, calm in the face of such dire news. “We need to get him into surgery, right now.”

The gurney immediately starting moving down the hallway, Jack trailing along desperately in its wake.

“We’ll need to start with a transfusion. Blood type?”

“AB negative,” Jack answered.

“Jason, get a pint prepped. Sarah, I need a line in his arm. Run it open wide, we’re going to need to get a lot of fluids into him as quickly as we can. Who’s my anaesthesiologist?”

Whatever the answer to that question was, it was completely lost in the sudden screech of alarm from the heart monitor. The nurse in charge of it snapped to attention. “Code blue! Flatline!”

The bottom of Jack’s stomach dropped away.

The lead doctor barked out a name and one of the nurses right beside Jack immediately hopped up on the gurney, flailing for a split second as he juggled his limbs so he wasn’t standing on Mac before settling in to hover of him. Arranging his hands on Mac’s chest without aggravating the wound didn’t look comfortable, but he started compressions without pause.

Jack felt his steps faltering as he watched the nurse throwing his weight down onto Mac’s sternum, one of the other staff pressing a blue Ambu bag over his face to breathe for him. Breathing for him because he couldn’t – because Mac’s heart had-

-because-

-because Mac was-

-dead.

Mac was dead.

He was flatlining because his heart had stopped in his chest and the only thing keeping him on this side of the board was a medical team doing absolutely everything they could to preserve him. After all these years, after swearing to lay his life on the line to protect him, after a decade of you go kaboom, I go kaboom and now Jack was racing down a corridor with a fist-sized stone sitting heavy in his throat because there was no way this could be real. This wasn't right - it wasn't supposed to go down like this. Not ever. There was no conceivable world in which Jack was standing there completely unharmed while Mac was lying there motionless, entirely devoid of life. He refused.

Through it all the team hadn’t flinched and even now they were fighting to the last. Jack had to do the same.

Just as the doors to the theatre suite – the doors Jack knew he wasn’t allowed to cross no matter how much he might want to – appeared at the end of the corridor, the heart monitor suddenly let out another mighty beeping sound.

“I’ve got V-fib,” the nurse holding it said, relief evident in her voice. “Prep for defibrillation.”

“Ready!”

The nurse performing compressions backed off suddenly, sitting back uncomfortably on his heels as he hovered. “Clear!”

There was a sharp clicking sound, and Mac’s whole body twitched just as the gurney was whisked through the doors and out of sight. Jack skidded to a halt, his heart in his throat and his face wet with tears he hadn’t even realised he’d been crying. There was nothing he wanted more than to follow, to stand beside his brother in his hour of need as he had always promised to do, but he knew that busting into the operating theatre was not an option. Jack had to trust that the doctors knew what they were doing – trust them with Mac’s life. He’d never been very good at that.

But there was nothing for it. Jack had failed his most basic commandment: keep the kid safe. Now, all he could do was hope that the medics were better at their jobs than he had been at his. It was the only possible outcome. Because the alternative was-

-the alternative was that he really had just watched Mac die. And that- That was something he could not countenance.

Exhausted, drained, and covered in his brother’s blood, Jack stood there in the hallway and wept.

By the time Mac was out of surgery, Riley, Bozer, and Matty had all arrived to join in Jack’s vigil. Riley had done what she could to try to comfort him, to bring him back to himself, but in the end it had taken Bozer’s look of horror for Jack to excuse himself and take a lightning-fast shower in the gym. He was absolutely loath to leave the med bay while Mac’s status was still so uncertain, but he wasn’t about to force Boze to spend the next few hours staring at his best friend’s blood.

And, he had to admit, he did feel ever so slightly better when he wasn’t leaving red fingerprints wherever he went.

The four of them collectively leapt to their feet when Mac’s doctor appeared in the waiting room doorway. Jack dimly recognised her as the woman who had been in charge of the trauma response team he’d met earlier.

“Agent MacGyver is stable,” she announced, then paused to let the room breathe a sigh of heart-rending relief. “The wound was severe and he lost a lot of blood, but we’ve been able to repair the damage to his thoracic cavity and we’re hopeful his lung will make a full recovery within the next few months. The blood loss has put him at risk of shock, but we’re monitoring the situation and so far he’s not showing any of the expected signs. All in all, he has been extremely lucky.”

Jack wanted to point out that being lucky would have involved not getting shot in the first place, but he was waylaid from saying so by Riley flinging herself into his arms and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He gripped her back just as tightly.

“He’s going to be okay,” Riley was whispering, more to reassure herself than anything. Tears welling in his eyes again, Jack could relate.

“Can- Can we see him?”

The doctor’s smile was indulgent. “Normally, I would say no. He’s still under sedation and he needs his rest, but I’m given to understand that if I try to enforce that rule you’ll break it anyway. So, I’m going to say yes, you can see him, on the condition that you don’t disturb him. Agreed?”

“I’ll keep them in line,” Matty put in firmly, shooting the three of them a widely-cast look that said they’d suffer the consequences if they did anything they shouldn’t.

All Jack wanted was to see Mac. Nothing else mattered beyond that. When the doctor nodded and stepped out the door, he was already half a pace behind her.

Despite the nature of the work they did, the Phoenix’s medical bay wasn’t actually that extensive. Most serious medical emergencies were dealt with by whatever hospital or clinic happened to be local; Phoenix medical was instead typically primed for day-to-day check-ups and monitoring of long-term recoveries, the type of thing that agents would actually be in LA to worry about. There was a handful of biomedical labs used for research, but mostly the trauma centre confined itself to a single corner of the building.

Nonetheless, the walk to Mac’s room felt like it took an age. At some point, the other three appeared to silently agree they should hang back and give Jack a minute alone, which he was both crippling grateful for and terrified of, but anything else he was feeling fled the second he stepped into his partner’s room and saw him for the first time.

His immediate reaction was that Mac looked a hell of a lot better than he had the last time Jack had laid eyes on him, but then, he had been literally dead. It would have been hard for the bar to be any lower. A more keen observation took in the spiderweb of machines and IV lines crisscrossing Mac’s torso, the oxygen mask perched on his face, and the unnatural pallor to his skin that spoke of too much blood loss. Still, he was breathing and his heart monitor was beeping peacefully and that-

Jack drew in a shaky breath. It was a lot to take in. Just this morning they’d been making their way into the office and Mac had been telling him about the reaction he was planning on setting up later that day – something about investigating whether he could use a new polymer blend to increase the stab resistance of their Kevlar vests – and now, here he was. He was alive and breathing, but with a new hole punched through his chest because someone out there had decided Jack’s wrath was an insufficient deterrent for hurting his kid. It was a mistake that Jack would be all too happy to correct.

But not quite yet. All of that could come later – right now, all he wanted to do was stay with his partner and remind himself that he was still breathing and Jack’s failure had not cost him everything. With that in mind, he slipped his hand into Mac’s limp one, sat himself in the chair pulled up beside the bed, and settled in for the long haul.

“I know you can’t hear me just yet slick, but when you wake up, you and I are gonna have a long talk about all of this. You can’t keep doing this to me man. My heart can’t take it.” He reached out his free hand and smoothed back the hair that had flopped into Mac’s eyes, taking the opportunity to feel for a temperature and finding only cool skin.

“Don’t you worry about that right now though. You just get some rest. We’ll all be right here when you wake up.”

#MacGyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfic #whump of july 2021

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

Text

SPN- In My Time of Dying (2.01)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: After being sent off with the Richmonds, Olive stumbles upon something that threatens the very foundation of her world. The Winchester family must make choices to keep each other safe.

Warnings: blood, car wreck, death, demons, crying, the usual

Word Count: 4145

“You gonna be okay?” Sutton glanced at me in the rearview.

I nodded, head against the window. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

The spirit was a knife-wielding bitch, and it had gotten a good gash in my shoulder. Hunter had patched me up while Everett and Sutton wasted the son of a bitch. They were taking me back to Bobby’s now. I hadn’t heard from Sam or Dean all day, but I knew they were busy and I tried not to worry.

“Olive-”

“I’m fine, Hunt. Really.” I inched away from his outstretched hand.

We sped down the wet road, passing a truck that was off on the side of the road, as if it had run itself straight off. I felt a clench in my chest.

“Sutton, stop.”

“What?”

“Just stop the car!” I shouted, my teeth growing and spit and blood bubbling in my mouth.

She slammed the brakes and I shoved the door open, running down back toward the truck. It had crashed into a car. Into the Impala. I held back a scream as I ducked into the grass. The driver of the truck stepped out. I covered my mouth and rocked back and forth, in tears. The driver made its way to the driver’s side and yanked the door off its hinges.

“Get back. Or I’ll kill you, I swear to God.”

SAM.

“You won’t.” The man grinned. “You’re saving that bullet for someone else.”

“Hey!” I stood, teeth bared and chest heaving.

The man’s head snapped back and a demon flew out, leaving the man to fall to the ground. Sam dropped his head back.

“Sams! Dean!” I screamed freely now, running to them.

My knees felt weak, and Hunter and his sisters caught up.

“Oh my god.” The man gasped. “Did I do this?”

“Olive.” Sammy’s voice was weak, one eye was swollen shut, and there was blood all over his face.

“Dad? Dean?”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” I pushed away from Hunter and cupped Sam’s face, sobbing. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam groaned. “Dean. Check on Dean.”

I kissed his forehead softly before scurrying to the back, where Dean was out cold. He was burning up, and he had cuts all down his torso.

“Dean? Oh my god. Dean? Dean!”

***

Hunter held me in his arms as paramedics swarmed like bees, loading my brothers and Dad onto stretchers. I had cradled Dean for fifteen minutes straight, until they arrived and pried me off of him. He and Dad were unconscious.

“Significant passenger space intrusion. Unresponsive. BP is 180 over 60, heart rate 95!” They loaded Dean onto a helicopter, and I let out another sob.

“Tell me if they’re okay!” Sam shouted, struggling.

“Sammy.” I whined, running to his side.

“You have to stay still! Miss-”

“Sammy, they’re alive!” I called as they loaded him up.

“Come on.”

“I have to call Bobby.”

“What?”

“So he can come pick up the car. Then I can go.”

Hunter held a hand out to Everett. “Keys.”

Everett tossed them his way. “Go with him. Sutton and I can call.”

“Everett-”

“Your brothers need you right now.”

***

“Sammy!” I shouted once I caught sight of him.

He ran toward me and lifted me off my feet, holding me tightly. I let out a sob, hand in his hair. His cuts were clear now, one of his lip, another on his cheekbone, one perfectly aligned on the bridge of his nose. His skin was bruised.

“Sams.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Sammy, what happened?” I didn’t pull away.

“The demon. It possessed Dad, hurt Dean-”

“Dean.” I gasped, pushing myself off and onto my feet. “Dean.”

Sam swallowed. “Come on.”

***

Sam leads the way down the hall and into a room. Olive gasps upon seeing Dean’s body in the hospital bed, connected to tubes with bruises painted all over his freckled skin. He’s unconscious. He’s got stitches down his forehead, and Olive can’t handle it.

“Sammy.” Dean grins. “You look good, considering.”

“Oh, no.” Sam whines.

Olive crashes to her knees by the bedside, grabbing Dean’s hand. Dean himself takes a step back. He didn’t know Olive was here.

“Man, tell me you can hear me. Either of you. How’s Dad? Is he okay?”

Sam and Olive can’t hear him. Dean huffs.

“Come on, you’re the psychic. Gimme some ghost whispering or something.

The doctor steps into the doorway. “Your father’s awake. You can go see him if you like.”

“Oh, thank god.” Dean sighs.

Sam shakes his head. “Doc, what about our brother?”

“Well, he sustained serious injuries. Blood loss, contusion to his liver and kidney. But it’s the head trauma I’m worried about. There’s early signs of cerebral edema.”

“Well, what can we do?”

“We won’t know his full condition until he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

Tears well in Olive’s eyes. “If?”

Dean sees his sister’s pain and the big brother mode kicks in. Not just for himself, but for her.

“Oh screw you, doc. I’m waking up.”

“I have to be honest. Most people with this degree of injury wouldn’t have survived this long. He’s fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations, son.”

“Come on, guys. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me. I’ll be fine.” Dean stares at his siblings. “Sam? Olive?”

***

John Winchester is lying in a hospital bed in much better condition, one arm in a sling. He struggles, but pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to Sam.

“Here. Give them my insurance.”

Sam takes the card and reads it with a smile.

“Elroy McGillicuddy?”

“And his three loving children. So, what else did the doctor say about Dean?”

Olive’s demeanor drops, and Dean wishes he could hug her.

“Nothing. Look, the doctors won’t do anything. Then we’ll have to, that’s all. I dunno, we’ll find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him.”

“We’ll look for someone.”

“Yeah.”

“But kids, I don’t know if we’re gonna find anyone.”

“Why not?” Sam’s eyebrows furrow. “We found that faith healer before.”

“Alright, that one was, well, one in a million.”

“So what? We just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?” Olive spits.

John takes a breath. He doesn’t like her attitude, but he understands where it’s coming from. She loves Dean more than she loves anyone or anything else. She wants to save him.

“No, peanut. I said we’d look, alright? I’ll check under every stone.” He sighs. “Where’s the Colt?”

Olive scowls. “Your son is dying and you’re worried about the Colt?”

“We’re hunting this demon, and maybe it’s hunting us too. That gun may be our only card.” John snaps.

Sam grabs Olive by the shoulders and pulls her away from their father. “It’s in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83, the Richmonds are there and Bobby’s on his way.”

“Alright. I need you two to meet up with Bobby. You get the Colt, and you bring it back to me. And you watch out for hospital security.”

“I’m not leaving Dean.” Olive shoots up, arms crossed over her chest.

John sighs. “Go with Sam.”

“Dad-”

“That is an order, Olive.”

“You’re a shit dad, you know that?” She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Sams.”

“Wait.” Sam catches her wrist and takes her hand in his. “We can say bye to Dean together.”

She huffs. “Fine.”

“Hey, here.” John hands out a piece of paper. “I made a list of things I need, have Bobby pick them up for me.”

Sam takes the paper and reads off the first few things. “Acacia? Oil of Abramelin? What’s this stuff for?”

“Protection.”

Olive’s mind begins to spin. She knows what she has to do. And she has the strength to do it. She takes the paper from Sam and excuses herself. A lie about going to the bathroom. She knows she has to be fast.

“Hey, Dad?” Sam pauses with a sigh. “You know, the demon, he said he had plans for me, and for children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?”

“No.” John shakes his head. “I don’t.”

Sam nods, tired. He shuts the door behind himself, revealing Dean, who had been listening the entire time. His lips curl up into a scowl.

“Well you sure know something.”

***

I cracked my knuckles as we stared at Baby. She was shredded. Bobby shook his head, and Sam sighed.

“Oh man, Dean is gonna be pissed.”

“Look, kids. This… this just ain’t worth a tow. I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and Sam shook his head.

“No! No, Dean would kill us if we did that. When he gets better he’s gonna want to fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix. The frame’s a pretzel, the engine’s ruined. There’s barely any parts worth salvaging.”

“Listen to me, Bobby. If there’s only one working part, that’s enough.” Sam’s voice quivered.

“We’re not just gonna give up on-” My voice cracked and tears flowed down my cheeks.

Sam wrapped an arm around me and I ducked into his chest, shaking.

“Okay.” Bobby was quiet. “You got it.”

“Oh, uh, Ol, you got the list?”

My blood ran cold, but I fished the paper out of my pocket and handed it to Sam, who gave it to Bobby.

“Dad asked for you to get this stuff for him.”

I didn’t dare look up, I kept my face buried in Sam’s shirt.

“What’s John want with this?”

“Protection. From the demon.”

There was a long pause, and I pushed my forehead further into Sam’s chest. His arms tightened around me.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just, uh…”

“Bobby. What’s going on?”

Bobby sighed.

***

Sam stalks into John’s hospital room with a duffel bag, upset. Olive is close behind, and Dean jumps to his feet, hoping they’ll sense him.

“Sammy! Ollie! Tell me you can freaking hear me, guys! There’s something in the hospital! You’ve gotta bring me back and we’ve gotta hunt this thing. Sam! Olive!”

Sam stays quiet, but Olive shivers and she looks around the room, eyes wide. Dean feels a glimpse of hope. She feels something. She feels him.

“You’re quiet.” John grabs their attention, and Olive shakes the feeling off.

No. Dean is in his body. He’s not here.

Sam turns and hurls the duffel bag onto the bed.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That stuff from Bobby! You don’t use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one! You’re planning on bringing the demon here, aren’t you? Having some stupid macho-”

“Sam!” John interrupts. “I didn’t ask for things to summon a demon. The list is for protection.”

John focuses on Olive, who has her eyes on the ground. Her demeanor is small, shrunken shoulders and pursed lips.

“Bobby said-”

“Olive Sam Winchester.” John frowns at his daughter.

Is this what it’s come to?

Sam stares, confused. Why was he mad at Olive?

“Someone has to.” Olive speaks up, voice small and weak.

“Olive, you are a child!”

“No, no, no, no, guys! Don’t do this!” Dean shouts, but nobody can hear him.

He doesn’t understand why they’re fighting but he hates it nonetheless.

“We’re not gonna find a faith healer!” Olive shouts.

“Olive-”

“There’s no hoodoo priest that’s gonna lay some mojo on him!” She cuts Sam off.

“You are nothing but an irresponsible brat!”

“Come on, guys! Don’t do this!” Dean begs.

“Olive-”

“You aren’t even looking, Dad! If you’re not gonna do something, I will!”

“I said shut up!” Dean screams, smacking a glass of water.

It goes flying, shattering across the floor.

“Dude, I full on Swayze’d that mother.”

Olive gasps.

Dean.

John and Sam look at each other as nurses and doctors start running by in the hall. Dean doubles over, holding his stomach.

“Something’s going on out there.” John nods his head to the side, motioning for Sam and Olive to go find out.

Olive runs out first, sprinting to Dean’s room. There’s a doctor, and some nurses, all crowded around, trying to resuscitate him. Sam crashes into her, grabbing her in his arms.

“Dean!” Olive screams, feeling all sorts of weak.

“No.” Sam pleads, cradling Olive so she won’t fall.

“Still no pulse.”

“Okay. Let’s go again, 360!”

“Charging.”

The younger Winchesters are in tears. Olive is bawling, kicking, screaming. It’s like she’s a toddler all over again.

It’s her only reaction, she doesn’t know what else to do. Her lifeline is dying. She needs him.

Sam is weak and silent, holding Olive even though she’s struggling against him. He holds her tight and sinks to the floor, feeling helpless. Olive screams again.

Dean is there too now, seeing something coming toward his body.

“You get the hell away from me!”

“No change. Starting CPR.”

The figure only gets closer, and Dean brushes past his siblings.

“I said get back!” He grabs it and latches on for just a second before it throws him back and leaves the room.

The monitors slow and then quiet.

“We have a pulse. We’re back into sinus rhythm.”

Olive quiets in Sam’s grip and lets out a small sob. She turns and curls in Sam’s arms, feeling sick to her stomach.

Dean runs back into the hall, looking for whatever touched him. It’s nowhere to be found. He crouches by his little siblings.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting that thing before it gets me. It’s some kind of spirit, but I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it.”

He pauses. Olive has her eyes trained on the wall. She’s looking right through Dean, but it breaks his heart. He reaches out and tries to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

With that, he gets up and goes.

Olive sits up with a shudder.

“Ol?”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“I think I just felt Dean.”

***

“What do you mean, you felt Dean?” Dad furrowed his eyebrows at me.

“I mean it felt like… like Dean was there, Dad. Like he was right there, just out of eyeshot or something. I swear I felt him.” I brushed my hair behind my ear.

Just like I felt Dean do.

“I don’t know why it was me and not Sam. He’s the psychic. But… do you think it’s possible? Do you think his spirit is around?”

“Anything’s possible.” Dad shrugged.

“Well. There’s one way to find out.” Sam eyed me.

“Where are you two going?”

“Gotta pick something up. We’ll be back.”

“Wait, kids.” Dad called.

We turned around, and I shuffled into Sam’s side.

“Look. Olive, I’m sorry. You were right. We have to do something. I’ll look while you guys are out. I promise I won’t do anything. Not until we’re all together. Not until we know Dean’s okay.”

Sam and I looked up at each other. Sam nodded at Dad, and we left.

***

Olive huffs as she and Sam quietly walk into Dean’s hospital room.

“Hey.” Sam looks down at Dean’s body.

Olive walks around to the other side of the bed with a small sigh. She runs a hand through his hair, then over his forehead.

“He’s gonna make fun of us after all this is over.” She whispers. “I can’t wait.”

Tears slide down her cheeks, and she leans over to kiss his forehead. Sam sits on the floor, near the edge of the bed.

“We think maybe you’re around. And well, there’s one way we can talk.”

Olive kisses Dean’s face again before joining Sam on the floor. He pulls a Ouija board out of a brown bag.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Dean scoffs.

“Dean?” Sam calls.

“Dean, please.” Olive closes her eyes. “I know you’re here.”

Dean scoffs again, but seeing his little siblings so scared is like a kick in the chest.

“God.” He grumbles. “I feel like I’m at a slumber party.”

He sits down, cross-legged, completing the triangle. “Alright, guys. This isn’t gonna work.”

Sam and Olive nod at each other, hands shaking as they place them on the pointer. Olive bites her lip, and Sam nods.

“Dean, can you hear us?”

Dean puts his fingers on the pointer and concentrates. It moves to YES on the board. Sam gasps and Olive lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’ll be damned.” Dean whispers to himself.

Sam laughs too. “It’s good to hear from you, man. It hasn’t been the same without you, Dean.”

“Damn straight.” Dean huffs.

Dean begins to slide the pointer again, and Sam looks at it, confused.

“Dean, what? H? U?”

“Hunting? What- what, are you hunting?” Olive looks up, and Dean sighs.

She’s looking right through him, again, but she seems to have a knack for knowing exactly where he is.

YES.

“Is it in the hospital, what you’re hunting? Do you know what it is?” Sam rapid-fire spits questions, and Olive shoves her knee into his, hard.

“Dude, relax.”

“One question at a time.”

She and Dean say it at the same time, and they both let out sighs.

“Okay. Dean, what is it?”

Dean focuses on moving the pointer.

R. E. A. P.

“I don’t think it’s killing people. I think it’s taking them, you know when their time’s just… up.” Dean sighs.

“A reaper.” Olive gets it, then all color drains from her face.

Her lips quiver, her nose burns, and her vision gets blurry.

“Dean. Is it after you?”

YES.

Olive sighs, and Sam bites his lip.

“If it’s here naturally, there’s no way to stop it.”

“Yeah, you can’t kill death.” Dean scowls.

“Man, you’re uh…” Sam sighs.

“I’m screwed, guys.”

“No.” Olive shakes her head, almost as if she heard Dean. “No. No, no, no, no, no. There’s gotta be a way. There’s always a way. We always figure it out.”

“Dad’ll know what to do.” Sam stands and leaves the room.

Olive sighs and looks up. Again, right at Dean. Right through him.

“I’m not giving up on you.” She sighs. “I love you. And I’m bringing you back.”

The pointer moves again.

U. 2.

Dean’s trying to say ‘I love you too’ only with less words.

Olive tilts her head. “What, do you wanna listen to U2? I can find a radio, put on some music.”

Dean sighs and makes a decision. He lets go of the pointer and reaches out, placing his hands on Olive’s cheeks. She gasps. His hands are cold and shaky, but she feels them. She feels him. He leans forward and pulls her in, forehead to forehead. She closes her eyes and focuses.

“I love you too, pumpkin. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears slip down Olive’s cheeks, and her hands press against Dean’s chest. She can hear him, she can feel him. She’s terrified to open her eyes. He’ll be gone if she does.

There’s a second of peace, and then Dean lets go. Olive falls forward, on her hands and knees. She lets out a breath as she opens her eyes.

“Hey.” Sam comes back and notices Olive on the floor. “Hey, you okay?” He picks her up by the shoulders.

She nods. “I’m perfect.”

“What happened?”

“I felt him. Heard him.” Olive gasps, in tears once more.

Sam tosses John’s journal at the feet of Dean’s bed and lifts Olive, arms wrapped around her waist.

“Come here.” He pulls her to sit in his lap.

She curls up in his hold, her head resting against his neck as she stares at Dean’s body. Dean stands at the edge of the bed, arms crossed.

“Okay. Dad wasn’t in his room.”

“Where is he?”

Olive says nothing as she lets the weight of her head go. Sam sighs, wrapping one arm around her.

It’s like the time Dean ran away, all over again.

“But I got Dad’s journal, so who knows? Maybe there’s something here.” Sam runs a hand through Olive’s hair.

“Thanks for not giving up on me, you guys.” Dean whispers.

Sam flips the page as Olive snuggles up, falling asleep. Dean reads something on the page, and his eyes go wide.

“Son of a bitch!”

***

“Dean, are you here?” Sam whispers.

He is standing by Dean’s bed, hands in his pockets. Dean isn’t there, but Sam doesn’t know that. Olive is asleep in a chair by Dean’s side. She’s wrapped up in Sam’s old Stanford hoodie, leaning over so far that her head is on Dean’s chest.

“I couldn’t find anything in the book.” Sam sighs. “I don’t know how to help you. But I’ll keep trying, alright? Olive and I are gonna keep trying, as long as you keep fighting. I mean… come on, you can’t… you can’t leave us here alone with Dad. We’ll kill each other, you know that.”

He sighs again. Dean still isn’t there. Olive is still asleep. He doesn’t know where John is.

“Dean, you gotta hold on. You can’t go, man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Do you hear me?”

There is no answer.

***

Sam is sitting at the feet of Dean’s bed. Olive is still asleep, comfortable even though her body is bent at a 90 degree angle. Dean gasps as he wakes up in his body. He begins to cough, choking on the tube in his throat. The movement wakes Olive up, and she’s on her feet, hand on his forehead, trying to soothe him as Sam calls for help.

“Dean. Hey. Hey, De. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

***

“I can’t explain it.” The doctor shook his head as he looked over his chart. “The edema’s vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good.” He shut the clipboard. “You gotta have some kind of angel watching over you.”

“Thanks, doc.” Dean nodded.

The doctor left, and Dean looked back to me and Sam.

“So you said a reaper was after me?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d I ditch it?”

Sam and I shrugged. “You got us.”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Except for this pit in my stomach.” He swallowed. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

There was a knock on the door, and Dad stood in the doorway.

“How’re you feeling, dude?”

“Fine I guess.” Dean’s voice was soft. “I’m alive.”

“That’s what matters.” Dad smiled.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked.

I sensed his anger and sighed, sitting down next to Dean. He held my hand in his lap.

“I had some things to take care of.” Dad said after a long pause.

“Well, that’s specific.” Sam blinked.

“Come on, Sam.” Dean begged.

“Did you go after the demon?”

“No.”

“Sams.” I whispered.

“You know, why don’t I believe you right now?” Sam scoffed.

Dad took a long pause before shuffling into the room. “Can we not fight? You know, half the time we’re fighting, I don’t know what we’re fighting about. We’re just butting heads.” Dad smiled softly. “Look, Sammy, I… I’ve made some mistakes. But I’ve always done the best I could. I just don’t want to fight anymore, okay?”

“Dad, are you alright?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dad nodded, but there were visible tears in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired. Hey son, would you mind, uh… would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Ollie?” Sam held a hand out to me and I took it, eyeing Dad as we left.

“What’s up with him?”

“I don’t know, but I think Dean’s right. Something’s wrong.”

***

Olive yawns as she clings to Sam’s side. All she wants is to go home with her brothers and her dad. Sam wraps an arm around her. She’s young and tired, and he’s upset that she has to live this life.

He catches sight of someone on the floor in a room they pass. He stops and does a double take.

“Dad!”

Olive looks too, and the cup falls from Sam’s hand. It slams to the ground, falling perfectly. Coffee spills out as the lid flies off, and Sam is kneeling over their father, screaming for help. Olive’s heart jumps. All she can think is to go find Dean. She does just that.

***

Sam helped Dean stand as we crowded in the doorway. A nurse tried to push us out, but we wouldn’t budge.

“No, no, no, it’s our dad. It’s our dad!” Dean shouted.

She finally stopped, and the three of us stood, helpless as they tried to resuscitate Dad.

“Okay, stop compressions.”

“Come on.”

“Please.”

“Sir.”

“Still no pulse.”

“Okay, everybody. That’s it. I’ll call it.”

My knees hit the ground.

“Time of death. 10:41 am.”

Previous Ep: Devil’s Trap (1.22)

Next Ep: Everybody Loves a Clown (2.02)

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lady-olive-oil · 5 years

Text

Chapter 3

|| Characters || Intro || Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3

A/N: Hey everybody!! So here’s the next installment of Brown Sugah Baby. The events in this story are complete imagination, and I don’t own the characters of BP. Nor do I own the Divine Nine; Southern University or the Fabulous Dancing Dolls, I only own the OCs. Thank you for reading and stay tuned for more!

Word Count: 2,506 [had to get in the details hunny]

Warnings: nothing really besides harsh banter.

Tag Squad: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @destinio1 (I need extra help so gotta tag my girls) @designerwriterchic @terrablaze514

[let me know if you’s like to be apart of the tag squad]

It was another scorching humid day at Southern University, and everyone had their hands full. Tailgating, getting the team ready for the game, the band tuning their instruments for the halftime show, the majorette team stretching and making sure the speakers were loud enough. The whole campus was on fire about the homecoming game against Alabama. One thing's for sure though, M’Baku could not focus for the life of him.

“Dude. You playin or not?” Erik nudged his teammate to get him out of the trance he was in.

“Huh? Uh y-yeah. Sorry man, I was just distracted. Let’s play.” Getting refocused on the plays for the game, he glance back at her occasionally.

What caught his eye you may ask? His best friend in her dark blue leggings and an SU tank top, practicing with the majorette team. The SU Fabulous Dancing Dolls, were one of the best in the land; and everyone knew it.

Once Nefe became captain, she made them even better. She lead the team to nationals her first year. It was like the music was in her blood, and she could throw out a stand like nobody’s business.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were checking out your so called best friend. Who I might add, was -“

“Sean, think about what your gonna say. Choose wisely before I send you to Jesus early.” M’Baku stopped him before he could even finish. These two were like bulls in a China shop.

They were constantly butting heads over Nefe and it didn’t make sense. One was only with her for the sex but she didn’t see it like that; the other was her best friend and would do anything to protect her. Which mad shin want to go the extra mile to make sure she was safe at all costs. Yet it made Sean want to work harder to keep her.

“Or what? You gonna stomp me into the ground like a elephant?” The joking tone was paired with a sickening smirk. Sean wouldn’t let up with the Africa jokes and it made the situation worse.

“At it again with the African jokes I see.” The disapproving chuckle that left M’Baku’s lips, was a rare one because Erik was eating this up with a shit eating grin.

“What are you gonna do about then, huh? As far as I’m concerned you don’t have feelings for her, or do you? Cause either way, I’m gonna be the one she wakes up to every night till senior year.”

Now he was just taunting him. The low growl that erupted from his chest was loud enough for both men to hear.

“Man you straight up buggin. Even I know that ain’t right, and I was just like you.” Both of them looked towards where to voice came from. Erik of all people got over his old ways once he met Nakia. She put him in his place and he never left since.

“Your only chance of getting laid again, Sean, is crawling up a chickens ass and waiting.” M’Baku eyed him up and down and smirked a bit at his own roast, upon hearing the football team egging him on.

“Whatever man.” With that Sean just backed off, going back to stretching.

“Never in my years of living, would I be around to see you stand up for me. Of all people really.”

“Man, you’ve been there for my shit. I gotta be there for you. We boys, we gotta stick together.”

Erik was right. In this world all they had was each other, and for him to stand up for M’Baku like that was eye opening.

“I wonder what that was all about.” Nefe being an on looker to what just happened, taking a break from practice and all. Nattie knew exactly what it was about and Nakia pointed it out first.

“The boys were arguing over you. I’m so close to beating the hell out of Sean.”

Nefe sighed at what her friend was saying and didn’t even wanna ask as to why. She was tired of the boys fighting, yet was ecstatic for Erik breaking it up.

“Ya boy stopped em too. I don’t know how you got him to draw back is gangsta ways, but I gotta hand it to ya Kia.”

“He’s still like that, just a bit toned down. I love me some Erik though.” Nakia was smitten over Erik just the same. Them two, along with T’Challa and Nattie, were what Nefe wanted in a real relationship.

What she had with Sean, was just for fun. Did she tell Sean that? Nope. She couldn’t because she was afraid he’d hurt her again, and by hurt her that meant grabbing her. She only told Nattie and the girls, mortified about how M’Baku would feel. He’s very protective over her, along with her brothers too.

“Oh please. That fine ass man with locs can have any woman he wants. Even me, I have the body; mind and skills to prove it. I’m surprised he’s even dating you. You have less hair than he does.”

Nakia nearly lunge for her, but Okoye grabbed her before she could claw her face.

Melanie couldn’t stand anyone else’s happiness but her own. Tearing others down was her thing, and she never got tired of it.

“Listen here med school,” Nefe got tired of her whack behind and was about to give her a piece of her mind.

“Save it. If only you were on the cheer team. Because as captain I wish I could kick your as off the squad.” She got in Nefe’s face, at a comfortable distance.

“As a 2nd degree black belt, I can just kick your ass.” Nefe sucks her teeth and looked her up and down.

“I’d like to see you try-” Melanie was off till the coach called her back, and she gave them a sinister look before sassaying away.

“Count ya blessing bruja! You better be lucky she’s holding me back!” Nakia growled in rage and Melanie smirked before going back with the cheer team.

Ain’t no way in hell, was Nefertiti about to have her on the majorette team and not think about choking her.

“Alright y’all. Save the fight for the parties tomorrow. We have a game to practice for. Nakia, good job on your Spanish.” Nefe winked at her friend, who then gave her a hug.

“Nefe’s right. Come on.” Nattie rallied them all together, with the rest of the team, and got into formation.

“We doing Formation or Dose?” Nattie asked before pressing play on the laptop, that was plugged in near the stands.

The smirk laced that Nefe’s face, was a triumphant one.

“Let’s switch it up. We’re doing Dose.”

~The Game: Southern University vs Alabama A&M~

The game was close. It was 77 to 76 with SU in the lead so far. M’Baku has scored the touchdown and the field goal kick. Only 2 more quarters left to go and the crowd was hyped, with a sea of sky blue, yellow and white. Nefe gathered up the girls in a huddle one last time for a prayer. A Southern University tradition.

“Alright girls, one shoe in.” All the girls places their right foot in the circle and Nefe led the prayer. They all held each other’s waists and bowed their heads.

“Father god, I ask that you cover and protect us as you always do going into these life changing moments. We ask that you guide our senior girls to victory and cover them with your hedge of protection, dear lord. Marchbus into victory, in your name we pray..”

“Amen.”

Sending off with a proper SU chant, getting into position and putting on smiles was what the girls were used to. Down south with an HBCU halftime was a goldmine. It was like watching the history of black rhythm come alive.

“Nattie. There go ya boy.” Nefe nugged her best friend nodding in the direction of T’Challa, dressed in his drum major outfit, practicing.

Anyone who knows Nattie and T’Challa is that, she’s the dancer one of the two. Even though he tries his best, he knows he’s enjoying himself. Who else would be best as drum major?

“This fool here knows how to make people laugh. He loves what he does and that all I can hope for.”

Nefe could see the love in her best friends eyes, as she gazed at the goofy man with the feather hat. That’s what she truly wanted and needed in life; an honest and loving relationship. She kept battling with her herself on it and couldn’t decide when it was time to be upfront with Sean about it.

“I see you love. Good luck out there like always.” He cape over to give her a hug, the girls and the band all made noise with the sign of affection between the two.

“You two are cute. Ok Drumline, we gotta go. Lead us on Udaku.” Nefe smirked and gave him a fist bump, sharing a quick laugh, before watching him leave to start the whistle to let the girls go.

Their outfits were jumpsuits with sheer tights, that were a lustrous jet black; with cut out parts. The ensemble hugged every curt and left little to no imagination, as the girls sashayed from the outside of the field to the field. Hearing the crowd cheering them on as they lead the band in all their glory.

They all had their hair down and pressed out, in order off them to whip them back and forth. Except for Nefe because she refused to take her braids out, since she just got them done.

M’Baku knew where to look, as he glance at the field watching his best friend move with grace and elegance, to the music of the band. That was until his coach told him to come back and was embarrassed, causing Erik to laugh a bit.

T’Challa was doing his thing as any great drum major would, and gave the crowd a show. Any HBCU had a great leader, and Southern University had one of the best. Whomever was next in line, had to live up to his expectations.

The music changed quick as Nefe threw out the first stand, everyone in the stands was into the groove with the music as well. Everyone knew the Dolls would be immaculate as whatever song they danced to and didn’t expect less from the team.

The girls followed Nefe’s every move with a smooth nature. Throwing out high kicks; backflips, a few twerking moments and few gyrating movements. The girls felt right at home. Plus adding little bit of Latin flare of course.

Getting the crowd hype was what the Fabulous Dancing Dolls were known for. All the right counts; the formations and the stands were on point. All the way down to the strut back to the stands.

[Watch this to get a visual!!]

As the game went on, the hype never died down. The girls were allowed to stand on the sidelines with the cheerleaders, during the last 5 minutes of the game.

“The suspense is killing me man. Alabama State A&M is gonna probably kick our ass.”

“Come on Nefe. Have a little faith in our boys. They’ve never disappointed us and won’t now.”

Nattie tried her best to calm her friend down as they watched the game. This M’Baku’s first game as a running back and it was only his junior year. He had strived to be quarterback by time senior year came, and would never back down from striving to get there.

“I just hope he doesn’t miss this. This could be his big break for the head spot next year.” Nefe couldn’t hold in her excitement as much as she’d like to, and Melanie scoffed at her in annoyance.

“Oh please. Why are you so worried about M’Baku’s chances of being quarterback for? He’s got me as his good luck charm to worry for him.”

“Listen here Med School, I had a enough of your shit for one lifetime let alone in practice. I’m his best friend and I have a right to worry.” With as much fire to throw back at her, Nefe snarled and gave a once over.

“Why do you care? It’s not like-”

“Shut the hell up before I herky you in the throat.”

Nefe cut her off before she could ever start, and paid attention to the game. Getting antsy with anticipation.

“M’Baku, this is all you my dude. Score it for us, better you than Sean.” Erik encourages him as he glances his way, receiving a head nod and a smile.

“I got you.” With a gentle smirk towards him, and a wave to the Nefe but Melanie took it as one to her. He shook his head in defeat and got back in the game. As the call was heard he caught the ball from David, and ran for the end zone from the 40 yard line.

“Go M’Baku!” Nefe and her girls cheered him on along with the crowd.

Melanie had had enough and decided to speak up.

“Why are you so into his future, not like he likes you or whatever.”

“I’m into his future as much as he is into mine. That’s what friends do. Scouts are out here tonight, like they are at every game so they look out for him. I’m his friend and he is mine. Whomever he dates has to deal with it.”

Nefe didn’t even have to look at her to explain her reasoning. Hell, she didn’t need to and yet still did. Receiving a high five from Nattie, she got back into the game and was on the screaming happily when M’Baku scored the winning touchdown. Making the score 98 to 83.

The crowd's reaction was just like hers, as both majorette and cheer teams ran onto the field with the superfans. Nefe knew who’d she wanted to hug but was stopped by Sean and hugged him anyway.

“Did you see me babe? How’d I do?” He was too prideful in himself to congratulate the rest of his team.

“Uh yeah. You did great. I’ll catch you later ok? I gotta get the girls ready to uh march out.” Placing a kiss on his cheek, earning her a smile before he headed out to talk to his boys. She made a beeline for M’Baku, once they saw each other. He picked her up, spinning her around in glee.

“We did it! That was amazing.” M’Baku smiled as he held her as close as possible.

“I’m so freakin proud of you! You did so well!” Squealing in happiness, holding on tight to him as he spun her. Next thing she knew, she kissed him. It was as if time stood still, and nothing else mattered to either of them. Except for a noise from Sean and Melanie. Once they broke apart, he set her down and a sense of awkwardness filled the air.

“Oh shit..”

#College au #Black Panther college au #Black Panther college #wives of mbaku #mbaku x reader #mbaku x oc #king tchalla #tchalla x reader #tchalla x oc #erik x nakia #erik x reader #erik x oc #mbaku #black panther #winston duke #Amara La Negra #brown sugah baby

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laketaj24 · 6 years

Text

Mended II: Erik Killmonger

A/N: Happy Thirst 💦👅 Day. I had plans to write more and start my queue but I didn’t get a chance to lol. Major shout out to @slimmiyagi for the inspiration!! I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated this Thirst Day lol. Let me know what you think!! BP taglist is open btw!

Mended I

Warnings: Jealously Kink, Daddy kink, NSFW

“Aight boys! Be good. Don’t call these people colonizers.” Erik playfully pushes their heads and they walk into the auditorium greeting their friends. Erik touches your hand rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Man, they are fucking kindergarten.”

You pinch his arm noticing the little white girl staring at him with a gaped mouth. ‘This is a school.” You nearly laugh. “and yes, they are so grown.” You two walk down the hall holding hands talking about the plans for the day since you were both off.

“Y/N!” Maurice Hopson, your former trainer and the boys new PE coach walks up to you with a beaming smile. He had helped you get it together after you split and for a minute you two had started to talk. He always fed you and the conversations were dope, but there was nothing there for him physically. It meant Erik had you whipped indefinitely because there was an attraction to his physique, but you couldn’t even fuck him.

Erik stills giving you a side eye as you walk over to Maurice giving him a hug. “I see you decided to stay.”

“Yeah, I can’t leave Cali. Plus, I love the kids.” He smiles. “How are the boys? They have a good summer?”

“Yes, they got on my nerves half of it but they enjoyed it.” You chuckle. Your face teems with the slight memory of his lips and how soft they had been for the moment you two had tried. “What about your summer?”

“It’s gone well.” He pauses noticing Erik cutting daggers into him. “Hey! How are you!” he extends his hand and Erik doesn’t shake it staring at him. “Nice to meet you too.” Maurice laughs awkwardly.

I clear my throat. “This is Erik, he’s the twins’ father.” I pause and try to think of what he is to me, ex-husband maybe new boyfriend. “And my boyfriend.” I say instantly regretting the word.

“Pleasure to meet you, I can definitely see the resemblance. Your kids are wonderful man, the intelligence on them is amazing.”

“Yeah.” Erik clears his throat, his arms flexing from the tension. “How you know them if they just started this school, today?” The question was directed to Maurice, but you could feel Erik seething as he asked.

“Oh my god.” You say shaking your head. “We have some people to meet up with Maurice, I hate to keep them waiting. But it was good to see you.” You push through the hallway heading to the car and Erik is walking slow. There is no telling what is going through that overdramatic ass mind of his.

“So, how the fuck you know this nigga huh?”

“Are we going to meet T’Challa for breakfast or are we going home to fight? I really want some damn eggs.”

“I just asked you a simple question ma. How?”

“We dated for a few months. Nothing really happened between us but the boys enjoyed him, he had a little girl and they played a lot. There is your story Erik. I already told you that I didn’t fuck nobody else. Why is this a big deal?”

“It’s not. My bad. Fuck I said something.” He says giving in.

For the first time Erik had finally done something right no fights with you, though he wanted to argue sometimes. He hadn’t moved back in, no you weren’t there yet at all with him, but he had started trying and that meant maybe this whole thing might work. Erik lifts the weights like it’s nothing flexing his muscles doing that sexy ass grunt that made you clench your thighs together. You try not to watch jogging on the treadmill. The last thing you needed was a fall.

Erik knew what the deal was though, eyeing you slickly and biting those full lips. You turn on your workout playlist hoping to drown out his sexiness and charge full speed ahead. You just needed to get one more mile out the workout.

“Damn.” The deep voice says loud enough to catch your attention. Maurice, steps onto the treadmill next to you.

Maurice playfully takes the earbud from your ear. “Y/N! What are you doing here? You stopped training months ago.” He touches your shoulder lightly.

“I decided to head back, just cardio for now and then maybe some weights eventually. How have you been Maurice?” He smiles, and you can literally feel the heat radiating from your face as you look at him. Your eyes wonder to his large defined muscles and the way he flexes even on small actions. His skin was dark, like mahogany and his thick beard only accentuated how fucking sexy smile.

“I’ve been well. I started a new weight loss program with the gym and they hired me as the head cardio trainer officially a month ago. So no after school I’m working here. I wanted to text you and fill you in about it, but you hadn’t responded lately.” He pauses his hand grazes your cheek and reflexes kick in and he steps back.

One month ago, Erik had reentered your life. Your heart sinks as you look up to the weight center and he has left, and you knew he was coming, somewhere. You look around and he’s gone. Great. “Yeah, things have changed a little Maurice. Kids are back to school and I just have been super busy trying to be mommy and work.”

“And your new old boyfriend.” He laughs. “I won’t keep you long, I have that spin class and boxing in a few. Stop by and sign up for one.”

“I will. Thank you, Maurice.” He leaves, and you check your phone hoping for a message from Erik but nothing. You finish out the half mile that you had left. He hadn’t answered your texts, but you see his car is still parked so you were fine. No worries.

Erik pulls you into the men’s locker room placing your back against the cold blue lockers. You whimper looking up at him. “Erik, this is the men’s locker room. I know you see that sign.” You point to the sign above your heads.

“Does it look like I care about them damn rules? What you and your boyfriend out there talking about?” He shakes is head leaning in over you. His lips ghost your jaw and then his nose grazes your cheek. “Hmm? Look like the conversation was fucking interesting. He touched your cheek and all that shit knowing that I was in here. He didn’t really give a fuck.” His moves are intentional, his legs spreads your thighs. “So, I mean you want him?”

“No, Erik you know damn w…”

“I’m just asking ma, you think he can give you something that I can’t?”

“I didn’t say that. Erik. You give me enough.” You smirk at him. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smirks back at you. “You come in here to change didn’t you? Go ahead.” He waves stepping away from you.

You roll your eyes wanting to leave his ass at the gym with his funky jealous ass attitude. Everything couldn’t just go right between you. You slip out of your shirt, kick your shoes off and lose the workout shorts. And Erik pulls you onto his lap. You can feel him straining against your ass.

“I like the way these walls echo.” He whispers. “I wanna have your ass screaming in here. Can you do that for me? Make my name ring off the walls around me?” His hand lands on your ass, the slap echoes around you as the soft burn humming through you. “You ain’t answering me today?” He gives you another strike and pulls your back flush against his chest. His arm snakes around your body, the other is on your neck. His thumb and middle finger gripping your neck.

“Yes.”

“Good. I was starting to think I was gonna have to fuck you into submission or some shit like that.” You can feel the cocky grin on his lips as he breathes along your neck, his beard tickling you. You inhale deeply for a moment feeling his fingertips explore your body dipping into you lips. You were already drenched just from the argument. He rubs your clit momentarily making his way down to your entrance. He pushes into you twice. “Fuck you been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” You moan, and your legs quake and you can’t stop thinking about what that submission fuck would be like, nearly wishing you’d said no. Erik turns you around. His head dips down taking your nipple in his mouth. His teeth graze and then he begins to suck causing your back to arch towards him. His teeth clamp around it and it’s tantalizing how the pain and pleasure combine pulling you towards the edge until you whimper. He stops hearing your cries and moves on to the other one tugging and twisting until they ached with arousal. Erik lifts you up from the ground. Instinctively your legs wrap around his body and walks you towards the lockers once again. Your back is against them, the rigid lines of locker are an odd sensation.

Erik adjusts himself and then you, he lifts you up and sinks you down on him. Your stilled momentarily as you allow yourself a few moments to adjust around his girth. You clamp around him just to keep him from moving. Your mouth is open taking in some air and all you can smell is him. How can someone workout for as hard and long as he did and still smell like heaven.

“You can take it.” He says as he starts to thrust into you. His thrusts are methodical, he drags out of you then snaps back into you at a quick pace rattling the lockers. Your nails rake into his back relishing in the way he pushes to there is no where else to go. “Good girl.” He thrusts a few more times allowing you down and turning you around. He pulls you from the lockers a foot and spread your legs dipping his fingers back into you. You can hear him suck his fingers and groan before you feel him below you. His tongue dips into you slurping at your arousal. He swirls around your clit, flicking at a rapid pace. The quick strokes aid you to an orgasm. You can feel it burning within you as his beard grazes the side you thigh when he take a deep breath for second. He blows against you and then goes back to work. Your knees buckle as the euphoria starts to overtake you. “Fuck, give it to me ma.” He sucks at your clit once more and then you explode over his lips. A stream of cum coats his lips and he stands up, flips you over and his lips cover yours. The taste of what he made happen enthralls you as you ravishingly kiss him more. This fucking was a workout within itself. Your near exhausted and light headed but you know him well enough to know it was not anywhere near done. He wastes no time pushing back into you taking a seat with you in his lap. You wind your hips on him meeting him with each thrust.

“Tell me whose pussy this is?” He growls. His hands are in your hair pulling your head back so that your eyes meet him. “Huh? You gone let another nigga take what’s mine huh?”

“No,” you sob growing weaker as his strokes consume you. Your legs hum with pain as his hands meet your thighs again and you can feel him laying back on the bench.

Your thighs are shaking. “Nah I don’t fucking believe that shit you didn’t even answer me right.” He slams back into you gripping your waist to keep you from moving. “You gone let another nigga take what’s mine. Fucking simple question. Answer that shit right.”

“No daddy,” you moan. And it starts again. The surge of pleasure. “Oh, fuck daddy.” You moan dragging out the e. You hear the door open, but your mind doesn’t register to stop being so wrapped up in his fucking.

“Whose are you?” Erik smiles. You bite your lip bucking your hips on his to get that extra friction to his lip. “You can’t speak huh?” He pauses. “Tell that nigga whose you are?”

Your eyes snap open and Maurice is in front of you, his mouth gaped open at the site before him. Then Erik starts to wreck your walls.

He drills into you and you’re shaking for him as you can’t control the mewls and screams that escape your mouth. He grips your breast for a moment and then move to your nipple. “Tell him he says.” Clenching his teeth. You can tell by how he’d become swollen inside of you that he was there and so were you.

“Yours daddy,” You pant and he thrusts into your one more and you explode, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your toes curl and your strangled cries echo around you. Maurice can’t take his eyes off you and Erik. You gush on him coating him with your cum and Erik loses his control pulling you down to his chest, finishing his last few strokes.

You both pant. “Shows over, you can get the fuck out.” Erik says with a smile to Maurice.

Tagging: @challaxkillmonger @wakanda-inspired@misspooh@valynsia@vanitykocaine@harleycativy@jecourt@virgosapphire79@sparklemichele@theunsweetenedtruth@ahhhhkeya@iamrheaspeaks @thiccdaddy-mbaku@muse-of-mbaku@myboyfriendgiriboy@someareblindtoitsbeauty@brittyevans@almostpurelysmut@readsalot73@ivarsshieldmadien@slimmiyagi@cinnabearice@royallyprincesslilly @hutchj @igetcarriedawaywithyou @madamslayyy

#black panther #Erik Stevens #erik smut #Erik Killmonger #Erik #erik x reader #erik x you #laketa j writes #laketa j thirst-day #woc fanfic

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sophygurl · 6 years

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WisCon 42 panel MCU’s Black Superheroes

The full title of this panel was Show Me My Respect: A Critical Look At The MCU’s Black Superheroes

The panel description:

Has the MCU done its black characters justice over the last 10 years? Did Disney allow Ryan Coogler to give Black Panther the respect and nuance it deserves? Did the Russo Brothers f*ck up everything in Avengers: Infinity War that the black and NBPOC writers and directors established in building complex characters and storylines? Let's explore this decade-long journey into Phase IV to see how the MCU has and will continue to treat us.

The moderator was Jennifer Cross, with panelists Aunterria Bollinger and K. Tempest Bradford.

Reminder that these panel notes are only my own recollections and the things I managed to write down - my notes are incomplete and likely faulty in places. Corrections and additions are always welcome. Especially please do correct me if I get names or pronouns wrong!

Also I name panelists as that’s publicly available information but not audience members unless requested by that person to have their named added.

[I came into the panel a little bit late, so missed intros and probably some other stuff.]

Tempest was talking about the black best friend trope and that DCTV does this a lot. Rhodey is very underused, and Civil War turned him into the disabled black best friend.

Jennifer said Don Cheadle deserves better! Iron Man 2 gave complexity to Rhodey and Tony’s relationship and Civil War messed a lot of that up. It also made Rhodey disabled in a super questionable way [I missed some of this statement]. It was a literal cheap shot and felt like Joss Whedon saw him as an expendable character to use to elevate white man pain. Also the fact that Rhodey just automatically sides with Tony - what happened to the tension between them and Rhodey holding Tony accountable for his actions?

Jennifer made an aside to let the audience know that the panelists were going to be using a lot of code switching and AAVE references. She then went on to say “Fuck Infinity War - Russo brothers, take your white man pain to Ralph Lauren and buy some more polo shirts.” (lol)

Jennifer brought up that two black American men go to Wakanda for the first time and said nothing about it. Also they made Wakanda look “dank as shit.”

Tempest said the amount of Cumberbatch she had to stare at in Infinity War was too much - she skipped a whole movie to avoid him! (me too) One problem with IW was that there were just too many people in it, so they couldn’t properly focus on anyone.

Tempest added - why didn’t they just ask Shuri to fix things from the start? She was finally going to fix it, but she got interrupted by more man pain! Jennifer added that she loved the “you tried” moment with Shuri.

Aunterria talked about IW’s short shifting of Wakanda as if they were saying “well we gave you a whole movie - what else do you want?” But also how much worse it might have been if that had been the first introduction to Wakanda instead of coming out after Black Panther.

Jennifer brought up Winter Soldier and how Sam got to have a whole back story about his PTSD. In IW, we see him helping other people with their trauma but they never address how events are affecting him. She talked about how PTSD varies from person to person, and about how it can affect black people differently, especially.

Tempest brought up the gaybaiting of the series. Jennifer adds that she hates shipping, but she loves Sam and Bucky.

Tempest said that Sam has more back story than Rhodey in terms of story that isn’t tied to a main white character. She will also never forgive Tony for shooting him in the face in Civil War. Marvel tries with regards to race, but their attempts are inadequate.

She went on to talk about the character of M’Baku in Black Panther. She has a friend who was initially very upset about the inclusion of this character because in the comics the portrayal is very racist. Then he saw the movie and saw how great the character was. This is what happens when you give black people agency. Ryan Coogler had a lot of freedom in how he made BP.

Tempest added that white directors may try, but when trying to fix race in one area, they often make it racist in a whole other way. She brought up the Mandarin, for example. Why don’t you just ask an Asian person?

Jennifer said she wanted the panel to primarily focus on black people. The MCU fucks up all people of color, but the panel is specifically about black characters.

She added that she loved watching Rhodey kick Tony’s ass. When he said “you don’t deserve to wear this suit” - it was a calling out of his privilege. She also found it suspect that Rhodey didn’t notice Tony’s PTSD in Iron Man 3. He’s a veteran and a general and would be trained to look for those signs. She said “we’re 10% of the population in LA - find one of us and pay us to fix this stuff.” Especially important to find a black veteran officer to inform Rhodey and Sam’s characters. She no longer trusts white people to write black people.

Jennifer moved on to Valkyrie. She said she does love Thor because Chris Hemsworth. Also Taiki Watiti did surprisingly well. She loves Tessa Thompson.

Aunterria talked about her love for Danai Gurira as both Michonne in The Walking Dead and Okoye in the MCU. However, she still falls under the trope of the exceptional black woman giving it all up for a man.

Tempest countered that saying that Okoye fights for Wakanda over a man. She and T’Challa fight alongside one another and it’s clear that she would do the same for Shuri if she was queen. BP is not just about awesome black men, but black women too. There isn’t enough complexity in the other black characters in the MCU with the exceptions of Heimdall and Valkyrie. Asgard also had random Asian and black characters walking around that are never addressed or explained.

Jennifer loved Valkyrie drunkenly stepping off the ramp. Also the quietness of Heimdall’s character even when had more to do than just standing there. She talked about being a big Norse Scandanavian folklore nerd and said Asgard looks the way it’s supposed to look - it was actually diverse as shit. It took a man of color to finally make it look almost accurate representation-wise. She references the show The Almighty Johnsons as a show about Norse gods living in New Zealand.

Jennifer wonders if it’s going to take only poc behind the scenes to give us proper treatment. Way down in her soul is an optimist that “no amount of beating with Lucille can shut up” that wants to know if it can happen any other way.

Aunterria said she’s not optimistic about this. She can’t think of a poc character written by a white person that’s done anything meaningful or purposeful or accurate.

There is much collective groaning about Iron Fist.

Aunterria talked about making Luke Cage bulletproof but not talking about police violence. Giving black characters powers without engaging in the social issues around them.

Jennifer said she is mixed about Luke Cage. It’s the embodiment of respectability politics. But there is an effort to show Harlem and the gentrification of it. There’s this idea that poc don’t have any room to make mistakes. BP did so well that Kevin Feige is begging Coogler to come back.

Jennifer said that she loves the women in LC - especially Misty. There are lots of women who are all different people, all unapologetically black but in different ways. She’s watching it for the women. Praises Alfre Woodard.

Tempest uses headcanons to make movies better.

Jennifer addressed how Tessa Thompson was the one out of the women in the MCU cast to ask Kevin Feige about them wanting their own movie. Why did the black woman have to be the one to ask for what all these white women have been wanting? Why couldn’t ScarJo take her white appropriating ass up there and ask about it?

Tempest talked about the TV part of the MCU technically being in the same universe. TV shows have to include the big events of the movies but not the other way around. She said she stopped watching Shield when Daisy’s transformation killed the black male character (Trip) for one episode of white pain. Jennifer also stopped watching it in season one.

Aunterria is still watching Shield. She wondered if Trip had been killed because of the possibility of his entering into an interracial relationship. She said there is a new black male character (Mack), but his arc is all about suffering. Last season had a storyline about aliens enslaving white people, which was interesting. But the people of color come to save the white people. Jennifer interjects “Killmonger wasn’t wrong...”

Tempest adds “Joss is the most fuckassed fuckass to ever fuckass.” Jennifer asks what about Stephen Moffat? Tempest said - he’s second.

Aunterria said Shield did make the black man the team leader at the end of this season. Jennifer said - so he has to suffer for his reward now and his reward is to parent a group of white people? That’s even more fucked up!

Tempest said that BP gave her hope. Jennifer said - see, she’s not the only one with optimism. Tempest said that Coogler has some power right now - maybe he can bring in some friends and fix some more stuff.

Aunterria said that being a black writer right now is also hard because there is so much to fix. There is so much shit to work on before you can even focus on your craft - so it’s more work for them.

Tempest said her hopes are with the movies over the TV shows.

Jennifer said - “especially fuck babyvampJessica” (Karen from Daredevil). It’s like the paler you are, the more people will die for you.

Tempest said - as far as cleaning up, BP didn’t have to do that work because they were starting from scratch. There must be other characters that can be brought into the MCU movies that can be written by black writers.

Aunterria said those do exist, but the funding isn’t there. Tempest - but Gods of Egypt somehow got funding!

An audience member asked about Heimdall and if he would come back. Jennifer said that Idris Elba has said no on that.

Tempest talked about actors being semi-responsible to the narrative of their characters. RDJ even saying - maybe it’s time for me to go? Jennifer added - and then they throw more millions at him and I can’t be mad about that. Tempest said that we know all those people who were turned to dust are coming back. It was a bold decision to kill some of them - but we need to sunset one story in order to have a sunrise on another. Also - “fuck Thanos.”

Tempest said that something that ruins a narrative almost as much as white supremacy is the irresponsible choices of actors going on and on - except for all of the cast of BP - they can stay as long as they want.

Jennifer said that with Disney owning Marvel, Deadpool is now officially a Disney Princess (lol).

Tempest said she sat through all of Wolverine Origins just to see Hugh Jackman naked and she is done with Deadpool now.

An audience member asked about the character Cottonmouth on LC. Jennifer talked about him as a complex character bridging socio-economic status’s. She added that if you put trauma in a black character’s history, you need to do it in a way that is not just for show. She said the opposite of the example would be Zoe Walsh.

A member of the audience asked about Lash’s purpose on Shield. Aunterria said he filled in May’s backstory and explains things to us about her that we weren’t getting just from her side. But he was mostly there for gratuitous pain and suffering of a black man and Asian woman.

Jennifer said the MCU is allergic to black love. “Tweet that.” She wants to see a black male character saving a black female character - not just everyone else.

An audience member asked about Miles Morales. Jennifer said - we’ve had four Peter Parkers in fifteen years! Tempest said Tom Holland is at least finally a good one. Kevin Feige has said there is space for Miles, but she wonders who is going to write him?

Jennifer closed the panel with a firm statement for the white members of the audience, especially. She said - you will take everything good from our culture and appropriate it, but not our pain. You’ve taken our stuff for fun value and for show, but you don’t address our pain.

This panel was also livetweeted pretty extensively with #blackmcu if you want more/other perspectives from it.

[For context, I’m white.]

#wiscon #wiscon 42 #mcu's black superheroes #black mcu #mcu #black superheroes

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trebaolsmovingcastle · 7 years

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theatomscombined

What are some examples of things that could happen in order for Trump to actually get what he deserves? Because so far he seems to be impervious to consequences. And could it happen in such a way that his dumb ass followers would actually see him for what he really is?

So, here’s a topic I’ve been thinking about. I’m a pretty alright judge of behavior and what makes a person go from point A-B. So I too have been wondering when the Trump circus would crash and burn...because it’s kinda doing some serious harm to the nation.

Sadly you won't like my assessment, but take heart, because predictions are almost always wrong, meaning any of the things I don’t mention could also happen.

So. The problem is currently you need a crime, like a big crime, like obstruction of justice or treason. But it’s not enough to have a crime, you need political willpower. Let’s say you get a case going that is substantial enough that you need that last step of conviction. You have a video of Trump holding a gun to Comey’s balls saying ‘LOYALTY OR YOUR NUTS GET IT!’ but now you need congress and the senate to basically hold the trial. The legislative trial is what finalizes the process, it says that the government has seen the evidence presented and has tried against the President finding them wanting.

So, you don’t need a simply majority of the Senate to agree to this, you need like a super majority, so like 60+ people agreeing that the President is unfit for office.

The GOP would rather cut off its own hands than ever agree to try and convict their leader, whether they like him or not.

Plus there is a war in the Republican party, between your old school GOP members who, mummy like, moulder quietly in their seats for 30 or 40 years, doing little nudges here and there to fleece the poor, longing for the good ol’ days when there was more ‘civility’ between the members. Then there’s the Tea Party fuckers from the Freedom Caucus. They were a bunch of wild eyed goofballs empowered by the coocoocachoo rhetoric the Clinton years bred in the party. I remember when they were regarded as the whackadoodle conclusion of the GOP, a bunch of dudes who didn’t care about government, wanted it all dismantled and didn’t just want to fleece the poor but wanted a return to gilded age laissez faire. These two sides don’t get along clearly.

But now we have MAGA Trump voters, a pernicious base who are even more looney, because they have the stubborness of the Freedom Caucus, but they also want really really nasty laws that infringe on individual freedoms of target groups, which the Freedom Caucus hates because...no government, thus no interference, and the old school republicans don’t like because they’re from seats in areas where they soak up some moderate votes.

Anyway, you’ve noticed by now that nothing has gotten done, because none of these groups policy wise actually match up, and each of them is basically tied to a base who will eat them alive if they give any ground...even to portions of their own party.

So, Trump is poised at the head of a dysfunctional party that can only agree to one thing, keeping him no matter what, because the alternative is going to their base and saying ‘we sold out your candidate who voiced all those nasty things you always wanted a politician to say.’ Even richer is that after Trump is gone we’ll get Trump style candidates trying to fill his shoes, we’ll have a wing of the republican party basically for ultra nationalists practicing a kind of American fascism.

So, do not expect an impeachment trial, it won't happen on even the best of days, even if the Democrats win a ton of seats it won't happen. Do not even expect a resignation under threat of impeachment, I seriously doubt the GOP has the guts to threaten Trump with anything so long as the loud and rabid MAGA crowd are out there talking about gutting the country if they don’t get their rapist president and their wall to fight terrorists with.

Hooooowever. Trump hates his job. Hates it, it’s not a good place for him. This goes even past his scared looked after he won, this is a deep seated conflict in his character. He liked being a shitty real estate mogul and reality TV personality. There were fringe benefits. Nobody looks so closely at you when you’re getting golden showers in St. Petersburg when all you’re doing is trying to get a hotel built. When some snot nosed journalist writes an article calling you a dirtbag, you throw a few million dollars into a libel suit and try to ruin them. You pick who you hear from, when, you get to be king, and you get all those perks.

As President you’re constantly being criticized, threatened, cajoled, your own advisors are always seeming to try to pull one over on you. You get your hand slapped away by your wife and it goes viral. She does that all the time anyway, but you never had to have the country laugh at you over it. In private he’s apparently said he doesn’t like this job, he doesn’t like the hours, the living quarters, the experience, the responsibility. He wants to go home, but he is acutely aware that only one other President has resigned, and as his personal brand is built on ‘winning’ declaring yourself a loser and quitting is like a kind of death.

But he’s not made of deep convictions, he just needs to work out in his head a way out that preserves his imagined dignity, and does not make him a loser. Some way out, that puts him back in the tower, where his base will cheer and buy steaks and stay at hotels he has and kiss his ass, and where the rest of us will finally leave him to go back to being off our radar. He literally can’t last, it’s too miserable, and he’s a man who’s lived for his own pleasure for decades, he’s not the kind of guy who will shoulder burdens for the sake of his image of tapping out will get him laid and no one will try and sue him and win over it.

There of course are other possibilities. He dies. I seriously doubt anyone could ever harm a hair on his head, the secret service are legit and outside of a few apparently well armed Bernie Bros the left is more about punching actual nazis then going off the rails and obliterating their entire political spectrums credibility. However he is old as balls, and when last I checked, he got his clean bill of health from his personal physician who basically gives him medication for high blood pressure, cholesterol, and stuff for hair loss. To my knowledge he hasn’t been seen by any white house doctors, and if they were particularly invasive or concerned they’d be on top of his health, and he’d consider that an invasion of his space and he’d probably have complained about them harassing him by now. Meaning we have an old dude on medication for cholesterol and high BP, who eats like shit, and used to never have to climb stairs ever, being constantly harassed at all hours, and fuming in ways he never had to fume before. You saw how the Presidency ages normal people, even not brilliant normal people. Now you have Trump being heckled day in and out and fuming about, he’s gonna give himself a dang ol’ heart attack, and there’s only so much a doctor can do when that happens to you if you’ve been doing fuck all for your body. Frankly that’s how you resign, when your health is so bad it will kill you to stay.

So expect him to kick around until he can find a reasonable time and place for himself to cut and run, or he croaks. What will be interesting is the circus after he leaves, because lets say the expectation or even the reveal is that Mueller calls for an impeachment trial over collusion, or even obstruction, or both. Suddenly your whole government is tied up with you, who even if a trial never happens are potentially put there by someone who ‘colluded’ with a foreign power. You can’t keep them, so expect the government to get shaken up. Hell, Pence may not even slip through this, but on the other side expect this level of dysfunction to continue, because there is no one you can put in that office, who will be able to get these three branches of the GOP to agree on any of the big stuff.

As for whether his base will ever ‘see him for what he is’ well they do, they see him for what he is, an everyman Joe Blow who hates the government phoneys the way they do. They don’t care what he does or how he does it, he went on national TV and said fuck you to all the people the GOP’s most ardent base hates, and he said it maliciously, and with relish, something the GOP has been couching in double talk and dog whistles for years. They don’t care if he futzes with business, he’s a successful businessman, maybe it will rub off on the rest of America, but did you hear what he thinks of women? Man, women have been getting so damned full of themselves since they got the pill, am I right?

But anyway, that’s what I get from it. Trump wants out, can’t blame him either, only a misplaced sense personal pride at being a winner keeps him from just walking out the door and telling Ryan to deal with it.

#long post

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laketaj24 · 6 years

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Nirvana: M’Baku (AU)

A/N: hey y’all! Here’s my first M’Baku fic!! Let me know what you think! I’ll tag some regulars!! I hope you enjoy!! Read my other works HERE!!! (BP Masterlist)

Happiness was still her laughter. And it really didn’t matter that M’Baku had someone when he was not feeling great he still called her.

“What you want?” She groaned answering the phone.

“What you doing?”

“Trying to get in these three miles before work.” Christa breathes hard into the phone and then pauses. Her labored breathing is the only thing on the line for a moment.

“Damn Christa, you need a inhaler?”

She tries not to laugh still panting lightly in his ear. “No, I’m good what’s wrong with your wining ass?”

“Wining, take that back?”

“I ain’t. What you want?”

“Man, how about they gave this other dude a promotion off of my damn project. Here I am slaving and working my ass off and I can’t even get a promotion.”

“Well, you might next time big baby.”

“Whatever, what time you gotta work?”

“It’s a special conference meeting, like two.”

“Come through, I got something I wanna show you.”

Christa pauses their relationship had been weird ever since he got engaged. This new chick didn’t respect their ten years and more friendship. All she saw was Christa thick hips and fat ass every time she came around. M’Baku didn’t seem to care, he wasn’t changing who he loved for her. “Aight, your girl there?”

“She got her own place Chris. What you got against her anyway?

“Nothing, I’m not tryna disrespect her, you know? But I got one more mile and I’ll be over. Make me some breakfast!”

“Uh shit.”

“M’Baku!”

“I’ll see what I can whip up.” He groans. “You always hungry man.”

He didn’t cook. He placed the bowl of Chocolate Lucky Charms on the plate and added her a small carton of milk with the Silver dome over it. She arrived fifteen minutes later locking her doors and checking her left and right. He laughed watching her skip from the window. This woman was always on ten and he loved it. The only time he’d seen her down was when her grandma died and now she even looked at that differently. She never knocked opening his front door like she lived there.

“Wipe them kicks off.” He said pointing at her feet as she entered.

“I was damn.” She wasn’t, but she wiped her feet off leaving the fresh grass on his welcome rug. “I don’t smell anything cooking.” She gripes pulling a chair up to his lavish display of food. She lifts the silver hood from the plate revealing the lucky charms. “What the hell?”

“Man you asked for food! Stop complaining. Eat your Lucky Charms.”

“What you been up to besides crying about your job?”

“I deserved the position, but other than that not shit.” M’Baku sat across from her smiling as she started to chomp down on the cereal. Christa kept her eyes locked on the little floating colored marshmallows. He done something for her and she wasn’t sure how she felt. She looks up at him smiling and placed her spoon down. “Why you stop eating?”

“Because you’re watching me eat.” Her face heats as she admires his large muscular arms and his thick fingers.

“I got this joke. I don’t want you to spit out your food.”

“Cause it’s that funny?”

“More than.” He crosses his arms leaning back in the bar stool. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Aight, you remind me of them Chocolate Lucky Charms.”

Christa shakes her head almost at the brink of laughter. “Why?”

“Because your Black. Magical and delicious.” He laughs, his voice booming through the apartment. And he was one of the people that took everyone with him when he laughed be that a corny joke or a good one.

Christa braces for a while but when his little snickered is partnered with the way he tosses his head back she breaks and joins him. “You’re so crazy, I swear. That laffy taffy ass joke.”

“That joke was great.” He breathes pouring himself some cereal.

“But how you know how I taste?” She shouldn’t have asked the question but the days of having a filter with him had passed.

He shrugs. “Looking like you do, you couldn’t taste any differently.” M’Baku bites his lip trying to hide the fact that the tension in the room had gone from zero to one hundred in a second.

She places her bowl in the sink and rests her hands against the counter. “So, What you call me over here for? I know it wasn’t for no cereal.”

“You just brighten my day. I can’t have you over for that reason alone?”

Christa shakes her head. “I gotta work. So thank you for the cereal. You’ve opened my eyes to the world of lucky charms.” She chuckles.

M’Baku turns towards her dragging his eyes up her body. Admiring every curve and small roll with a smug smile then finally reaching her dark eyes. They’d met when they both were young and never would have guessed their friendship would have lasted for this long. She was the only person that unintentionally made him doubt if his love was real for his fiancé. Love is supposed to be comfortable and overwhelming, a craving that only that one person could feel. He stands up in front of her.

Her voice wakes him from his trance. “What are you staring at?” She laughs once more.

“Have fun at your little meeting.”

Her small fingers wrap around his wrist pulling him over to her. “Why’d you call me over here?”

He doesn’t answer with words. He lifts her petite body from the ground placing her on the high bar so she could be closer to his face. M’Baku leans into her placing a chaste kiss on her forehead then moving down to her nose and finally his lips touch hers. His heart pounds ringing through his head as her soft lips crash into his with a eagerness that needn’t to be explained.

Christa’s legs wrap around his waist pulling him close. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart beat, it was scary yet the most exhilarating thing she’d ever done. She draped her arms him taking a moment to admire those brown eyes. Everything that has happened between the two of them was to get to this moment. The petty fights, the constant codependent conversations and the way they loved one another. Just to get here. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” But he does scooping her from the counter and making his way through his apartment. He tosses her playfully on the bed removing his shirt. He pulls at her leg removing her pants with help from her as she uses her feet to squirm out of them. He climbs on the bed lifting her up to him with one hand while spreading her legs with his other. He slaps her thighs and then rushes his fingers up her folds. Christa’s hops raise from his embrace and he pulls her back down sliding his fingers into her wet heat. She gasps and then settles back down as he starts a tantalizing pace. M’Baku watches her with his lips partially parted, adoring the way she snaps her head shut as he goes deeper and then drags his finger back out and to push it back and go deeper. He circles his thumb over her clit adding more pressure. She’s slick and as she reaches her orgasm all he can picture is her coming around him and writhing like she was just now. He allows her to ride out her high with her eyes shut and hands gripping the pillow, then he crawls over her pushing her legs flat to the bed. “The next time you come I want those eyes on me.” He says smirking.

Next time. She feels the thick head of his dick prodding at her entrance. Swiping up and down teasing her clit then back at the entrance. She was ready, or so she thought. M’Baku inches into her, trying to brace himself for how tight she was around him. Once all the way inside her he allowed her to get used to him and then he started. He pulled out of her and slammed back in over and over. Each time he strokes her g-spot with his tip. “Open those eyes Christa.” He pants rocking into her hilt deep and then back out. She tried to open her eyes but each time he thrusted into her it grew harder to not liquify underneath him. He pushed her legs further into the mattress allowing him to get deeper.

“Damn.” She said feeling all of her nerves well inside of her until they broke free in an explosion of ecstasy. She clawed her fingers into his back taking them down in her cry of pleasure. M’Baku grunts going deeper, harder and faster than before. He’d told her to open her eyes but his was closed as he rested his head in her shoulders gripping her with both arms and pounding into her until he couldn’t anymore. He pulls out of her leaving a trail of white cum on her stomach and down her leg.

They both pant laying one another, their eyes both locked on the ceiling. Christa starts to laugh shaking her head while trying to grasp what had happened. M’Baku turned to her with a smile realizing that happiness was still her laughter for him.

Tagging: @wilddrabble@readsalot73@kimistry27@sparklemichele@titty-teetee @amour-quinn@captstefanbrandt@valynsia @byzantium-glytch@suz-123@earthsmightiestasses@harleycativy@sunnyfortomorrow@sincerelysinister@pebblesz892@ceridwenofwales@ivarsshieldmadien@bang-kim-bap@samwinchxtr @scumyeol @erisjade @purple-apricots @ceridwenofwales @raindrop-dewdrop

#black panther #mbaku #m'baku imagine #laketaj24 #Laketaj writes #woc fanfic #poc fanfic #m'baku x oc

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