#i’ve got a few asks thank you so much ill be chipping away at those in my free time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crashdevlin · 10 months

Text

A New Life

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty-one of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: Y/n is living her best life, far away from the hunter lifestyle. But what she can't remember can hurt her.

Pairing: none

Word count: 4270

Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, reader illness, reader amnesia

~~~~

"Lunch?"

Your colleague's words prompted you to look up from the Sumerian text you were working on and check the clock on the wall. 12:43 and counting. You got so lost in the work that you almost worked through. You were suddenly painfully aware of your stomach's empty grumbling and could no longer ignore it. You stood, pulling your gloves off and tossing them in the recycle bin beside your desk.

"Wonderful idea, Mariella. I was about to forget to eat again."

"I've noticed your tendency to hyperfocus if you don’t have someone break your concentration. It's really not good for you."

"Oh, I know. My Uncle Bobby used to give me crap about it all the time," you said, thinking fondly of the old redneck. "He'd toss bags of chips at me in the middle of my study sessions so I'd eat something."

"That's the uncle that raised you?"

"Yep. The whole reason I went into anthro and archeology. He had a whole study filled with old books on ancient civilizations. Kicked off my interest.”

“He also the reason you’re a thirty-year-old virgin?” Mariella asked flippantly.

“I told you that in confidence,” you responded, looking around to see if anyone was about to hear that. “And no, that was my dad. He made me promise I wouldn’t sleep with any of the redneck guys in my hometown or any of the guys in the salvage profession. Kinda like Bruce Willis in Armageddon, he didn’t want his daughter with a guy like him...same for my dad.” You cleared your throat as you pulled open the door into the main museum. “And I’m twenty-nine, thank you.”

“For a few more months,” Mariella said with a smirk.

“Why do I talk to you?”

“Because everyone else that works here is as ancient as those books you like so much.”

“You’d think I’d like them more, then,” you mused.

“The more important question is how you got through college without getting any.”

You shrugged. “I was busy, focused. I never went to frat parties or any of that...and I spent my heats in the vault to prevent bad things. Just never found anyone worth losing it to, ya know?”

Mariella shook her head. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“I know that...which is why I’ve not been in a big hurry.”

“But...aren’t you on a bit of a time crunch? You are an omega,” she said pointedly.

You scratched at your neck as you walked across the lobby toward the small kiosk that sold sandwiches and coffee. “I’m sure I’ll find an alpha before I die.”

“Are you looking for one?”

“What is your interest in my love life?”

“Well...you know my brother’s an alpha, right?” You rolled your eyes. You weren’t interested in being set up with anybody’s alpha brother. You’d know your truemate when you met him. “He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”

“This is the same brother you said was dumb as a box of rocks a few days ago?”

“No one’s perfect.”

You shook your head. “I’m not interested, really. I’ll find someone.”

“Not hiding in your office, you won’t.”

“I go out sometimes,” you argued.

“You’re mated to this damn museum and you haven’t even been here a year.”

“Then you must be the woman with whom I need to speak,” an accented voice behind you said. You turned and smiled at the bearded man in the black suit. You didn’t know fashion but the suit looked expensive, the tie was a beautiful black patterned silk. His outfit screamed money and power and his scent screamed alpha. You were a bit shocked that you hadn’t smelled him approaching, but you chocked it up to Mariella distracting you. “You’d be the one who knows about the collection, yes?”

“Which collection?” you asked, stepping away from the food cart to smile at the man. “That’s a bit of a superfluous question, though, as I know about all of the collections. I’m the curator here. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Fergus MacLeod, it’s a pleasure.” He offered his hand to you and you took it. “I have a few pieces that might go well in the Mesopotamia exhibit.”

“You...have Mesopotamian artifacts? In a personal collection?”

“Several.” He smirked as he patted your hand, and it made you feel uncomfortable, so you pulled your hand away. “Why don’t we go discuss this somewhere quieter?”

You ran your fingers over your hair and nodded. “Just give me a few moments to track down the Assistant Director of Acquisitions and then we can go to my office.”

“Why would we need the Assistant Director? Aren’t you the curator, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Yes, I am. However, policy dictates that I not create a contract with an alpha without a beta witness. Prevents accusations of impropriety.”

“Ah, they’re afraid I’ll use the Voice on you to get a better deal?”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand. I’ll be back as soon as possible, Mr. MacLeod,” you said walking away in the direction of the offices.

As you explained the situation to David Sherman, the Assistant Director, you got the feeling you'd met Mr. MacLeod before. His voice seemed so familiar...and that smile.

“You okay?” David asked as you walked back toward the lobby. “You seem a bit distracted.”

“Oh. You ever get deja vu?” you asked. He shrugged and you smiled at him. “You know what? It’s not a big deal. Everybody feels it sometimes.”

“She’s just feeling her omega scratching at her brain,” Mariella said, falling in step with you and David.

“This kind of thinking is why I’m forced to engage David in all contractual agreements with him."

"What? Is the guy not attractive? I think he's attractive. With that accent...and that smile, and those eyes!"

"Mariella...he's not my type."

"And what is?! You have shown no interest in any guy the whole time I've known you!"

You stopped in your tracks and looked at her. "Tall, dark-haired, handsome…" A flash of green eyes and a bright smile entered your mind. "I'll find one eventually. But for now, I have work to do. I can focus."

"Fine. Focus…'til you die."

You rolled your eyes and started rushing toward the lobby.

~~~~

"We'll find her," a deep, soothing voice said.

"Yeah? I'm starting to doubt that. It's been a year-" Another voice argued.

"Ten months."

"Whatever. Death ain't talkin' and I can't find any trace of her past 2002! And Sam keeps givin' me crap about looking, like I don't know we got more important shit with the damn Leviathans, but...Dad, I can still feel her."

"Me, too. It means she's still alive and-"

"And we can't find her!"

"Which means that Dick Roman can't find her either. She's safe, Dean. We'll find her...but maybe Sam's right. Maybe we should let her stay oblivious until we're done fixing Castiel's fuck-up."

"I can't...what if she eats at Biggersons? She doesn't know!"

"We can't worry about that!"

"That's all I can worry about!"

"Well, worry about the world that Dick Roman is going to eat!"

"My omega is lost and she doesn't know what's happening in the world and I don't know where she is!"

"She's not your omega, Dean," a third voice said. "You never marked her. You refused. Always. So maybe she's flourishing wherever Death put her. Maybe she's happy and ignorant and she's found a normal alpha like she was supposed to."

"We were doing good until Death came in and-"

"You were always good for a few weeks at a time, but she was on her way out anyway. She was done with you. She was done with us. That's why Death took her. So leave her alone."

"Dad...I...I just want her back."

"We'll find her and you can apologize and hope she hasn't moved on, but for now, Dean, we need to focus."

~~~~

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. Your dreams were weird. Your dreams had been weird since you moved to DC. You hadn’t seen Dean or Sam in decades, but your dreams frequently featured them...usually just their voices...and their father's. Lately, they were always talking about Leviathans, but before it was someone named Crowley, and someone named Eve. They often talked of ‘Castiel’. These were names you didn’t know and you weren’t sure where your brain came up with them.

Part of you wanted to call around to some of Bobby’s old contacts and try to find out where the Winchesters were. They were in your dreams a lot. Maybe it was a sign. But...you just couldn't...bring yourself to make those calls.

But you did avoid eating at Biggersons...and you eventually stopped eating anything with processed sugar...and before your birthday came around, you were living out of the produce aisle. Mariella gave you shit about being a 'sudden vegan' but you just ignored her. You didn't feel safe eating processed foods anymore, but you couldn’t tell her that it was because of your dreams.

Of course, that went out the window when the dreams changed a few months later. What was once disembodied voices you attributed to the Winchesters was suddenly full color images. Well, 'color' wasn't quite right because everything seemed to be shades of blue and grey but...pictures, nonetheless. Pictures and emotions. Adrenaline, fear, anger, despair. After a week of waking up in a panic, knowing the monsters were right behind you and that sleeping wasn't safe, you started avoiding sleep like the plague.

"You look like crap. When's the last time you slept?" Mariella asked, leaning against your desk. You hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

"Got a few hours last night. I'm fine."

"You are not. You had a burger delivered for lunch. You're having some major issues, lady."

"You thought I was having issues when I stopped eating meat. I'm beginning to think you're just a bit judgmental, Mariella."

"I'm worried about you. I really think you should get checked out."

You sighed. It wasn’t a bad thought. You were exhausted all the time and having horrible nightmares...and random pains in your lower abs, which seemed to come more often as time passed. You nodded and gave her a tight smile. "Okay. I'll give my GP a call."

"Thank you," she responded, a grateful look on her face.

Your doctor asked you to get blood drawn for labs before you came in so by the time you showed up for your appointment, he already had a stack of reports with your name across the top. "Miss Y/l/n, how are you feeling today?"

You scratched at your thigh and shrugged. "I'm still not sleeping well...and part of that is the stomach pain. Painkillers aren't touching it anymore."

When he asked where your pain was, you put your hand over your right hip, and he nodded. "All right, Y/n. We found something concerning in your blood work: high levels of the CA-125 protein. Now, this can mean several things. Most often, it means endometriosis or pelvic inflammatory disorder, but sometimes it means ovarian cancer." You swallowed heavily at the 'C' word. "Now, you are at high risk for ovarian cancer because of your-"

"Suppressants," you whispered and he nodded.

"Because you've been on them your entire adult life, we need to make sure...so I'm going to send you for a transvaginal ultrasound."

As he explained the procedure and gave you pointers and tried to belay your fears, you could barely hear him. You were too lost in the panic making your heart pound in your ears.

"If...if it is cancer-"

"There are options, but we're not even close to there yet. Okay? We're going to do your ultrasound and move forward from there. All right?"

You nodded. It was all you could do.

The next three days leading up to your ultrasound were spent in a daze. You didn’t want to worry anyone so you kept it to yourself. You didn't know you'd say anything, even if the diagnosis came up with the worst.

It was your fault, after all. Taking the strongest suppressants available just so that you could hold out in a normal life long enough to find your truemate was stupid. It was such an idiotic thought that you even had a perfect mate waiting for you. You should have let an alpha have you years ago. You knew that holding off was going to kill you but you figured it was going to be a bad heat, not cancer. God, why did it have to be cancer?

"Y/n?" a voice from your dreams pulled you from your internal monologue and you lifted your head to meet hazel eyes that made you gasp...but you weren’t sure why. This man in his mid-thirties looked so familiar but you were sure you'd never seen him before. You could see a knife and a gun tucked under his jacket but his aura said he was a Hunter, not a danger to you.

"Yes?" You stood as he closed your office door behind him. "Can I help you?"

"You don't remember me?" He sighed and shook his head. "Of course not. You wouldn't have stayed away from Bobby so long if you remembered."

Your eyebrows came together as you shook your head. "Bobby's been dead since my second year of college. What are you-"

"Bobby Singer died of a gunshot wound to the head six months ago. He died in a hospital bed with me and my sons surrounding him," the man said, stepping closer. "He asked for you before he died. He always believed we'd find you."

Your mind called forth an image of Bobby holding your hands in your old bedroom, looking apologetic. He looked older than you remembered. You shook the image out of your head. "No. He died on a vampire hunt."

"He died chasing down a monster in the body of Dick Roman," the man insisted.

The name made you remember your dreams. "Are you...John Winchester?"

He looked relieved. "You remember?"

"No. No, and you don't look like John Winchester but...you sound like my dreams."

"You dreamed of me?" he asked, stepping closer.

"No." You shook your head and looked down at your desk. "Yes...I guess? I never...I heard you."

"Okay. Look, this is going to be hard to believe but I need you to listen to me...and listen to your soul."

"What does that-"

The man was suddenly in front of you, his hand over your heart. "I've got a part of your soul, Darlin'. Feel that. Please, feel that."

You were in shock for a moment. Even if this was somehow Sam and Dean's father, you barely knew the man. You'd specifically avoided him growing up. But as you looked into his eyes, another flash of memory hit you: you sitting in this stranger's lap, arms around his neck, a chess set with the white king laid on its side on the table beside you. It was intimate, familiar. It was caring, safe. It was welcome.

It wasn’t your memory. It couldn't be.

"This isn’t-"

"Baby Girl, please. You can feel that we're connected. Please, tell me you can-"

Panic set in as you tried to make sense of the memory of kissing him and having him lift you and take you to a bed. A cabin. A hot tub. "No, no, I-"

"You're panicking. I feel your panic, Y/n, and it’s okay. You were given fake memories to cover your old life but the real memories are in there. Your life is in there, we just need to get it out."

"Of course I'm panicking! I've got some strange man in my office, touching me!" You grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand off of you, stepping away. When he moved to grab your shoulder and stop you, you twisted quickly, thrusting your elbow into his sternum and stomping hard on the top of his foot. It was an automatic response, one you didn't know you were capable of. You stepped back in shock as he groaned and bent in half. "What did I do?"

He let out a cough and stood, trying to mask the pain on his face. "Just as you were trained to do, girl. Bobby trained you well."

You shook your head vehemently. "No. No, Bobby didn't...my dad said-"

"Look, you were a Hunter! You were one of the most badass omega Hunters in history! You put me in my place a few times, and alphas bigger than me. You helped stop the Apocalypse, for God's sake!"

A flash of a cemetery crossed your mind. A tall, skinny man in a green jacket wrapping his hand around your neck. The feel of your neck snapping.

Your hands went to your neck. "No. No. Just...why are you doing this?"

"Because you're not supposed to be here, Y/n. You're supposed to be with...you're supposed to be you and you're supposed to understand that your emotions are…" He let out a frustrated groan and turned away. "Something is wrong, Y/n. That's how I found you."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"I have a part of your soul. Big emotions, they permeate your soul...so I can feel them. A few days ago, I could feel your fear. I could feel your panic. It led me to you. And I've been looking for you for a year and a half, mind you. Dean and I, we've been looking…"

"Dean?" You couldn’t help but remember your dreams, how adamant Dean had been to find 'her'. 'Her' must have been you. "I don't understand what's going on."

"Just tell me what made you panic so hard that I could feel you in Nevada. Tell me what's wrong." You shook your head. You hadn’t told anybody. Why would you tell him? "Come on, kid. Something happened, right? Tuesday, around 11 am here."

Your jaw dropped. You closed your mouth and opened it again, then looked at your diploma on the wall. "I had a doctor's appointment. I...might have cancer."

Fear filled his scent, panic filled his eyes, but his face stayed stalwart. "Might?"

"I have an increased amount of some protein that correlates to ovarian cancer. Doc said it wouldn't account for my nightmares but it would account for the pain and the fatigue. I...have an ultrasound coming up and the only reason I'm telling you this is because you knew exactly when my first appointment was. How did you know when my first appointment was?"

"Because, Y/n, I have claimed part of your soul. I can feel you. Please, just...sit down, listen to me...knowing what you know about the world that most people think is myths and fairy tales, listen to me." You swallowed and sat down in your desk chair. He looked relieved as he came around and sat on your file cabinet. "You're here and you don't remember anything because Death, the Horseman Death, took away all of your damage...and your damage started when you were 18 years old, that's why you have false memories starting from way back then."

"What false memories?"

"All of them. Y/n, you never went to college. You went into heat when you were 18 and you ended up in bed with me. I had just been hit with a hex that reduced my age, I was young again and full of hormones and lacking in self control and we spent your heat-"

"No, I promised my dad-"

"I know." His voice was full of sympathy. "But we did...and I claimed your soul during that time and when Bobby got back to the salvage yard, he decided that you needed to learn how to take care of yourself. He taught you how to fight, how to hunt. You became the best omega hunter alive. You were...amazing." You shook your head. You weren’t a Hunter. You were never supposed to be a Hunter. "You were amazing...and you gave up everything to save my son, to save Dean's life. You sold your soul for him."

A flash of sickly yellow eyes and a cruel smile made your heart fill with despair. "Dean's a friend but I...why would I sell my soul for-"

"He's not just a friend. He's your truemate...and he was supposed to mark you."

"What? Dean hasn't ever…"

"Yes, he has. He even told you that he's in love with you, but he wouldn't mark you because he didn't want you stuck with him."

"What? But...I'm so confused."

"You're going to be. That confusion isn't going anywhere because Death locked your memories away behind a facade of all these new memories...these fake memories." He shook his head. "And some of that shit, it's good that you forgot it. It was painful and I'm glad you don't have it weighing you down anymore but...you aren't you anymore, either. I've watched you for a couple days...I barely recognize you like this."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "And if you were happy here, I'd let you stay. I'd never tell Sam I found you and I wouldn't have approached you but you aren't you and you need to come-"

"I'm me!" you argued, standing. "I'm...I'm not sure what you think I'm supposed to be but-"

"The badass omega Hunter that reminded me what it felt like to be with a good woman! The good woman that saved my life when a couple of ghouls tried to bleed me for killing their old man. I know you're starting to get the feeling that I'm right, Y/n, and you can feel that you don't belong here."

"But I'm happy. I am happy. Doesn't that matter for anything?"

"You don't seem happy."

"Who are you to judge the lass' happiness? You don't even know the woman." Your eyes snapped to the back corner of your office, where Fergus MacLeod suddenly stood.

"Mr. MacLeod, how'd you get into my office?" you said at the same time John said, "Crowley? What are you doing here?"

"Wait. Crowley?" you asked. The name was familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

The shorter man smirked. "Come on, Sweetheart. I can't be the first dishonest man you've met in the antiquities world. Well, more specifically, I'm not a man." He blinked and his eyes went red, making you gasp. "See? She doesn't even know about demons, Winchester. She's useless to you."

"She just needs to be reminded," John growled, stepping toward the red-eyed man.

"Reminded? Of what? What Sam did? Or perhaps what Dean did? Maybe she needs to be reminded of what you did the day Lucifer broke free of his box. You really think she is better off with you?"

Your eyebrows came together. These things must be the things John was happy you didn't remember, but you couldn’t remember any of them.

"Don't you have a prophet to be torturing?" John snapped.

"Kevin's doing just fine, actually. I'm keeping a close eye on him...just like I've been keeping a close eye on our little omega. Why would you take her away from this life? She's doing so much better here… except for the cancer, of course."

"How do you-"

"I'm the bloody king of Hell, darling. Knowing things is half of my job." He blinked his eyes back to normal and stepped forward. "There is a reason Death granted you this second chance at living your life, Y/n, and it wasn’t because your life was perfect before he showed up. You are, without a doubt, the biggest distraction of Dean Winchester's life beyond his not-so-little brother. And Dean might be gone, but that's no reason to shack up with his father again."

"Gone?" you squeaked.

"I assume the monsters in Purgatory have torn him to pieces and enjoyed every bite of his delectable remains by now."

"Don't underestimate him," you snapped, the words coming out more assertive and more forceful than you imagined. John looked over at you and smiled a little. "If you think Dean's dead, you're an idiot."

Crowley chuckled. "Well...maybe your girl's in there, after all," he said before disappearing.

"You...remembering?" John asked cautiously.

You shook your head. "No, but...he's not dead. My dreams are never wrong."

"You been dreamin' of Dean?"

You swallowed and took a deep breath. "Purgatory. If Purgatory is monsters and panic and fighting for your life...I've been dreaming of Purgatory...and if Dean and I are connected…."

"You could only do that if Dean was still alive."

You nodded. "I think so."

"Okay. So...we gotta get him back. We have to find a way to open Purgatory again."

You bit your bottom lip and looked down at your desk. "John...I don't...that demon said I have cancer. What am I...I can’t go with you if I'm…"

John sighed. “Your right. Your health is more important than-”

You looked up and took a deep breath. “I think you should go looking for him. I’ll stay here and-”

John reached out and tucked his fingers in your necklace, pulling the chain out to reveal the Greek drachma in a small glass case that you’d been wearing half of your life. “This...is how we’re gonna figure out how to fix everything.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain when we get out of here. Your place?”

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!john #omega!reader

19 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine.

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute.

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation.

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter

#i think i like you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #rogers!reader #calpal irwin

148 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

98 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

Headcanon - When you’re angry and say “Don’t touch me”

Original title: 当你生气地说 “你别碰我”

Original writer: 池离子 (chi li zi)

[ VICTOR ]

You’re seated on the sofa, staring at the hour hand of the clock as it points to “1″, trembling with anger.

Victor! He promised that no matter how busy he was, he’d return by 11pm. Yet, even now, he hasn’t even called to give you an explanation. His phone is turned off, you couldn’t find him at the office, and all the employees had already knocked off.

Feeling upset, you think about heading to bed, but your immense worry causes your hands and feet to turn cold, and the blanket is unable to keep you warm. As such, you have no choice but to send message after message to Victor.

Since you once made a promise with him not to head out at night, you wait for him to return home obediently. With this thought in mind, you climb into bed, covering yourself up before breaking into tears.

Click.

Although separated by the bedroom door, you can still hear the sound of the main door opening gently, followed by the soft sound of leather shoes stepping on the wooden floor. You know that he has finally returned, but you have no intention of forgiving him for breaking his promise and not returning your calls.

You hear the rustling of clothes being removed, followed closely after by the sound of the bedroom door opening gently, the familiar footsteps nearing you quietly. The space beside you on the bed dips slightly, and you can feel Victor pulling the blanket from your face.

"Dummy... why are you covering yourself up? It’s so stuffy.”

He speaks softly.

When Victor's hand is about to touch your face, you suddenly grab the blanket and turn over, your back facing him. He’s clearly stunned, and then realises that you weren't asleep, and are even a little angry with him. So he shakes your shoulder and says a soft “I'm sorry”.

"Don't touch me!" You shrug his hand away roughly. Curling yourself up, you begin to sob again.

Victor wants to pull you up, but you avoid him with equal determination, before dropping a cold “don't touch me.”

Victor sighs, then explains himself in a fatigued voice. “Sorry. I returned very late, and it’s my fault. When I drove past the park after work, I saw someone selling the taiyaki that you like, so I bought one. I didn’t have a firm grip on my phone and it fell into the water, so I couldn't turn it on.”

"I was going to buy a new phone along the way, but Goldman suddenly rushed over, saying that E Company requested to terminate our partnership due to contractual issues. Because we were pressed for time, I drove to E City with Goldman to hold a meeting, and only managed to rush back at this time... I’m sorry."

After listening to these simple words, you can’t help but feel an ache in your heart. You sit up with guilt. Despite how tired Victor was, he still had to deal with you being angry when he returned home. This... is really sad.

You turn over to look at him. Realising that your eyes are red, he reaches forward to hug you gently, leaning against your ear to say another “sorry”.

There’s a paper bag sitting at the corner of the bed, and you’re able to see half of a cold taiyaki.

"I'm so tired... let me hug you for a while..."

He embraces you tightly, and you reach out to pat his hair, as if touching a helpless child.

[ GAVIN ]

"Sis-in-law, he really doesn’t take advice. I already told him not to rush ahead, but he did it anyway. Now, he doesn’t even dare to step into the house, and it’s really difficult for us...”

You’re listening to the voice message sent by Eli. Gavin was injured during a mission, and was caught red-handed by you. Eli is the spy you’ve arranged to be by Gavin’s side.

“Eli, tell Gavin that I’ve fallen sick, and that I haven’t told him about it because I don’t know what illness it is yet.”

"Sis-in-law... is this... a good idea?"

"Trust me. I can give your team a brilliant tomorrow.”

"Thank you, Sis-in-law!”

Turning your phone off, you lie down quietly. Thirty minutes later, you hear Gavin opening the door while shouting your name. You listen as his footsteps draw nearer, finally pausing at your bedside.

“Wake up, are you okay? What happened? Are you okay?” Gavin reaches out, wanting to pull you over to himself. Enraged, you slap his hands away and yell at him. “Don't touch me!”

Sure enough, he stops, and you hear him sitting down. What follows after is a protracted silence.

Your thoughts: I’m doomed. Does he find me annoying?

Gavin’s thoughts: Something’s wrong. I definitely did something wrong. What did I do wrong? Anyway, I should admit my mistake first.

"Sorry... I was wrong..."

You hear him saying this softly.

"Why were you in the wrong?”

Gavin is dumbfounded.

"I don’t know...”

Despite your anger, your heart aches. As you sit upright, you hear him asking with concern, “Are you sick? How are you feeling now?”

"I'm not sick. I asked Eli to call you home. He said that you were badly hurt and was afraid to see me. Am I that fierce?"

Gavin shakes his head.

"I'm not afraid of you being fierce. You can scold me however you like, but I'm afraid that you’d get tired after scolding me, and feel sad when you see my injuries, so I didn’t dare to return."

Pearl-like droplets of tears fall again, and he hurries forward urgently, wiping them away.

"Don't cry..."

"Where did you get hurt this time... don't be afraid to let me see. What I’m most afraid of is not knowing anything. Don’t refuse to come home..." You’re held in his arms, sobbing as you finish your sentence in bits and pieces.

He coaxes you while rubbing circles on your back.

“Okay, okay... next time, I’ll come straight home. I promise."

[ A few days later ]

"Sis-in-law, didn’t you say there wouldn’t be a problem? Us poor kids had to carry weights on our backs while climbing up a mountain...”

[ LUCIEN ]

You dislike that bunch of female students! You! Really! Dislike! Them!

Under the pretext of the lecture, they’d look for Lucien. Once Lucien finishes his class, they would surround him, and Lucien would be in the middle, explaining the questions to them patiently.

It annoys you to death!

You’re nestled in the sofa watching a show. Having finished his shower, Lucien steps out of the bathroom, wiping his hair dry while walking towards you.

“MC, the bathroom is already warm and I've filled the tub with water. You can take a bath now.”

As if you couldn’t get angrier, you notice that the tone of voice he uses with you and the female students is obviously the same! So you purse your lips, ignoring him.

Thinking that your lack of response was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the TV, he sits beside you on the sofa, leaning in closer.

"Little Butterfly?”

You turn your head away, unwilling to give him any attention.

Assuming that you’re feeling shy, he reaches out to hug you, but is pushed away. He even hears this:

"Don't touch me!"

Lucien's hand stops in the air. For a long time, neither of you speak.

Just when you decide that you’re causing unnecessary trouble and turn to glance back at him, it’s as though you see the ears of a large canine drooping, its tail swinging slightly.

Why does he look wronged? Also, he's a fox, not a dog!

"MC... do you no longer like me?”

You watch as his handsome brows furrow. His movement of leaning over causes his bathrobe to reveal his neckline, and you’re cornered by him on the sofa.

"Don't touch..."

Before you manage to finish speaking, Lucien buries his face into the crook of your neck, his damp hair rubbing against your shoulder and earlobe gently. His hand reaches out to hug you tightly, and you can hear his muffled voice from the side.

"Are you leaving me? Don't leave me..."

Huh? You heart aches instantly, and you pat his back.

“Okay, okay... I’m not leaving you. I was just angry because those female students like you so much! I’m sorry for just now...”

"Next time... I’ll pay more attention... So MC, shall we take a bath together?”

"?"

Today has once again been part of Lucien’s plan.

[ KIRO ]

As you stare at the black circles underneath Kiro’s eyes, a certain thought drifts to your mind.

He must have accepted too many job offers, then failed to get proper rest!

You’ve already told him several times to reject work if he’s able to. After all, he should give himself a break. The last time, he was so tired that he fell asleep on the sofa in the makeup room and was caught red-handed by you. Now, the situation is not only worse, but he spends his free time accompanying you.

This is outrageous!

"Miss Chips! Let's watch a movie tonight! I starred in it! You’ve seen the trailer and poster, right?" Kiro picks up the cap which he uses as a disguise, then hops around you excitedly. But you just can’t ignore the blackish hue underneath his eyes.

Seeing that you’re ignoring him, he grins and steps forward, tugging on your hand. Fuming, you slap his hand away.

"Don’t touch me!”

Kiro’s hand pauses in mid-air. In just a few seconds, you hear the sound of sobbing.

"Miss Chips..."

Turning your head to look at him, you see that tears are flowing down his cheeks. His eyes are red, and he’s wiping his teardrops with the back of his hand.

Is this the prowess of an actor? Being able to summon tears at will?

His sobbing turn even more aggrieved, and he carefully reaches out to tug on your hand again. Your heart aches, and you don’t fling it away this time.

"Miss Chips... do you hate me? Don't hate me... I work hard because I want you to lead a life which is worry-free, at least in terms of money... I love you so much..."

Ah! Stop talking! I’m a sinner!

You quickly give him a hug, patting him on the back.

“That will never happen! I like Kiro the most, but I’m very worried about your health. You’re still so young, but you’re this tired every day, so of course I’m distressed and angry. I don't hate you...”

He nods, planting his chin on your shoulder.

"I’m already very happy! I haven’t had to worry about money at all. You’ve worked so hard that I’ve got a surplus of wealth now! I want you to turn down a few projects and stay at home with me for a while, okay?”

You feel some movements on your shoulder. He’s nodding.

"Miss Chips... I like you so much..."

"I like you too!"

"Then you should kiss me now!"

He says with a grin.

(Did he follow Lucien’s study plan?)

[ SHAW ]

“Spring Thunder! Spring Thunder! You! Spit it out right now! Give it back to me!”

[Regarding the nickname] The CN version of MC’s “Mary Sue” alias is 刘春梅 - Liu Chun Mei (“Spring Plum”). Meanwhile, the CN community likes calling Shaw 刘春雷 - Liu Chun Lei (“Spring Thunder”)

Amid your blood-curdling screeches, Shaw dolidges your flailing hands and successfully chomps down your final strawberry cake.

...

With no intention of speaking to him anymore, you stagger a few steps, collapsing onto the sofa.

Shaw opens a bottle of Cola and a bottle of Pepsi in the kitchen, mixing his favourite, unique drink happily.

When Shaw returns with a large cup of mixed Cola and sees your current condition, he calls out to you twice. However, you have no intention of paying any attention to him considering your enraged and depressed state.

He sits beside you, patting your head.

Your eyes are sharp, and you slap his hand away, saying the cruel words:

"Don’t touch me!”

In Shaw’s heart, he knows that something bad is about to happen. You didn’t call him “Stinky Brother” this time, which meant that you’re genuinely angry.

“No way, what’s up with you? You have such a reaction just because I ate your cake?”

You’re in no mood to argue with him. Your favourite strawberry cake no longer exists. Without it, you will crumble.

"Spring Plum?”

"..."

He sets down the Cola, attempting to wrap an arm around your waist. But he’s slapped away once again.

"Don’t touch me!”

"..."

You watch as Shaw retracts his hand, gets up, grabs the keys, opens the door, then leaves. All in one swift movement.

Stinky Brother! He was obviously in the wrong, so why is he the one throwing a tantrum!

You close your eyes, missing that sweet and wonderful strawberry cake. Your mind has no room to think about Shaw.

After some time, you hear the sound of the door opening, followed by Shaw’s footsteps, then something being placed on the table. He sits beside you quietly.

Opening your eyes, you see that Shaw is seated, giving you a piteous look.

The scene before you resembles a world famous painting.

"Sister... I'm sorry... I went to buy a new cake..."

On the surface, you seem engrossed in your thoughts. However, your heart has long since been doing flips.

"Forgive me, okay...? Don’t give up on me just because of the cake...”

As though you’ve just survived a huge bloodbath, you sit up with a “hmph”, then pull the cake box over. Sure enough, there’s an entire cake, decorated with strawberries.

Placated, you wrap Shaw in a hug and give him a kiss.

"What are you talking about, my beloved Shaw? Why would I not want you! I want you more than cake!”

Shaw's eyes darken.

"In that case... let me see just how much you want me..."

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

池离子: OK! Just state that the source is LOFTER池离子. Also, if you’ve posted it, could you also take a screenshot for me? No need for the whole thing - just a little will do!

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

161 notes · View notes

weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years

Text

Playing Nurse (4/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary, where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader. Last chapter! Thanks for loving this one as much as I do you guys :)

Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh

4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This

A week goes by before you see Fred again. You’ve pretty much given up on him liking you after your somewhat unexpected last encounter. But, like clockwork, he’s in the infirmary again over the weekend.

When you arrive for your shift, the infirmary is already bustling. Pomfrey is doing intake on a group of students while a stern but somewhat worried looking McGonagall stands by. You take in the scene: Ron Weasley is there with a busted lip, Malfoy’s a few feet away, holding his head and looking dazed, Crabbe and Goyle by his side in disheveled states. You’re unsurprised to see an incredibly peeved Katie Bell, her stockings ripped, glaring at the Slytherins. She’s limping heavily.

“What happened here? How can I help?”

“There was… a fight,” McGonagall says tiredly.

“Go ahead and examine Ron, should be a quick episkey, and then move on to Mr. Crabbe, I think it’ll be much the same but I haven’t had a proper look yet,” instructs Madam Pomfrey.

You take Ron to an exam table and give him a quick once over while asking him what happened. He explains that Fred and George weren’t having it and things escalated quickly.

“Turned into an all out brawl before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Percy was watching and ran to snitch, well, thank god he did, because they’re in really bad shape,” he says.

“Who? The Slytherins?” you say, using an episkey charm on his lip and a few stray scratches across his arms, probably from being thrown to the ground in the scuffle.

“Fred, especially, and Malfoy, and…” Ron continues, but you’re no longer listening. You look around and notice that the twins are unaccounted for. You’re finishing up on Ron when George and Filch come in carrying a stretcher with Fred on it. He seems barely conscious. You walk alongside them, asking all the questions you know to ask. This one is yours- Pomfrey is busy with Malfoy, who you suspect has a concussion, and will probably need to look after Katie’s ankle next.

George tells you that Malfoy hit Fred with a stunning spell, but after he fell, they kept kicking at him. You elect not to revive Fred fully yet, first casting a pain relief spell. You examine his clothed torso, feeling along his ribs, and notice that one of the bones feels out of place. You frown and continue lightly feeling along the area, and notice that he seems to be wearing a tight, thick undershirt.

“He’s got a broken rib. We’ll have to remove any garments that might constrict the area to set the bone properly. Could I ask you two to step out for a moment?” you ask, gesturing to the curtain out of the cubicle. Filch departs, but before George leaves he pauses.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? It would break his heart,” he says seriously before stepping out.

You have little time to wonder what he means. You cut open Fred’s tee shirt and, as you suspected upon palpating his torso, find an undergarment laid tight across his chest. Like a sports bra, maybe, but why- in a flash, you understand the secret Fred was talking about the other day, and what George was saying to keep to yourself just now. It’s a binder. Of course.

You waste no time reflecting and slice his binder cleanly down the middle to remove pressure from the area. You set about doing a complex set of spells- first checking for internal bleeding, then setting the broken bone back in place, then casting a bandaging spell so he’s not tempted to move about before it’s fully set.

“Rennervate!” you say, flicking your wand in Fred’s direction. He comes to, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on you.

“How do you feel?” you ask him.

“Utter shit,” he says. “What happened, exactly?”

“Stunning spell from Malfoy or one of his goons, George said. You wound up with a broken rib from getting kicked while you were out, but the scan didn’t show anything else too terrible. Just a few bruises.”

“Those cheating bastards. I’d love to spit in their faces right now,” he says, moaning as he tries to sit up.

“Just lay down,” you say, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “It should be pretty much healed by tomorrow morning, but it’s going to be painful until then. If you want, I can ask Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep while I’m out fetching you a new shirt,” you offer. You pulled the blanket up to cover his chest when you finished working on his ribs, but he’s still shirtless underneath. You watch as he realizes you must have seen his chest while you were patching him up. He grimaces uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’d like that shirt, please,” he says, pursing his lips. You dash off to one of the cabinets to fetch an extra set of clothes and an extra blanket, since you know he’ll be staying the night.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You excuse yourself to let him change, and touch bases with Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall has taken Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle, who are all fully healed, back to her office. Katie Bell is sitting on an exam table, still looking quite angry with her swollen leg propped up high. George is lurking worriedly near the door. You make your way over to him.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Fred is going to be perfectly fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will have a look at him to make sure there’s nothing I missed, since it was a serious injury, but his rib is all patched up.” He sighs in relief.

“And don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” you add discreetly, smiling knowingly at him. He relaxes fully and nods in return. “Good luck with McGonagall. She did not look happy.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Take good care of him,” he says, nodding towards his brother’s bed before leaving to accept his punishment.

You return to Fred’s bedside to find him looking quite sheepish.

“Feeling okay?” you ask softly.

“Sure. Bit embarrassed. I wasn’t hoping you’d find out like this, you know.”

“Your big secret is that you’re trans? Freddie, who in the world would care about that?”

“I dunno, some people.”

“Uh, yeah, bigots,” you say, laughing. “I certainly don’t care. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks to you. Wanna sit?” he asks sweetly. You can’t say no, so you agree to wait with him at least until Pomfrey comes in to look him over.

“So, did you ever talk to that girl?” you ask, trying to make small talk after all the excitement. He looks at you like you’re a nutcase.

“Y/N, are you thick?” he laughs hard, causing him to wince and hold his torso. He gasps in pain, but grins through it. “Honestly, who did you think I was interested in?” he asks, biting back laughter. You look at him, your cheeks hot. What is he getting at?

“How should I know? I hardly see you, outside of keeping you alive in here,” you say defensively.

“Wow, I thought for sure you knew. I was so embarrassed when you didn’t say anything, I’ve been avoiding you for weeks!”

“What? Why?” you ask, but it quickly dawns on you what you may’ve been missing. “Wait… what?!” you say, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Yep, you got it.”

“You like me?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“Come here,” you say. You lean down and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he pulls you in gently for a real kiss, a long one. You feel so much tension you didn’t even know you were holding in leave your body, and stand back up, laughing big, just as Madam Pomfrey parts the curtain.

“Well, everyone seems in good spirits in here,” she says. You both nod awkwardly.

“Y/N has been taking such good care of me I hardly knew I was hurt,” Fred says cheerfully. Pomfrey gives him a quick once over, agrees with your diagnoses and treatment, and leaves you two alone once again.

“You know, we have got to stop meeting like this,” Fred says, looking up at you. “Not that you don’t look lovely in your apron.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“How about a date?”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to a nice evening with a ruggedly handsome young man,” you say, giggling gleefully. He flashes a big smile, showing off his chipped tooth.

“Well, it’s a deal. You get me up and going again and I treat you to dinner,” he says.

“Deal! I've got to go, though,” you say, planting a sneaky kiss on him before you leave, “I am at work, after all.” You practically float out the door, proud of your work in more ways than one. Fred Weasley. Yours at last.

66 notes · View notes

thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Text

se!saeran x gn!reader

a/n: I’m really really sorry for taking so long on requests,,, I’m working on them slowly, but I’m in a sort of weird mental state, so I wrote this mainly for comfort. Thanks for understanding ^^

Pfff, as i’m writing this, my internet has cut like 6 times- honestly i’m just trying to write comfortttttt

warnings: negative thoughts/feelings

word count: 1,869

Your stomach ached, as you wrapped your arms around your torso. So many thoughts flooded your head that it was beginning to make you feel physically ill. Your brain was screaming at you- things you should be doing, things you regretted doing, how lazy you were being, how tired you felt, how overwhelming every little feeling, sound, light, and texture was to your senses. Yet, all you could do was sit there. You wanted to cry, but, despite everything you felt, you were… numb. Where was the point in crying? It was best to accept everything as it was.

Though you told yourself it was best to accept such a defeat, there was a part of you that was well aware that you were close to some sort of breaking point. All day was spent doing things- all day for several weeks now, you spent your time working. Working, worrying, running errands. Still, every day seemed to bring another thing to do- another problem- more drama, none of which you could control. Everything was out of your control.

You nearly jumped at hearing your phone ring. Grabbing it, you were half-ready to give some sort of curt answer, before realizing that it was just Saeran. Holding the phone to your ear, you gave the most cheerful answer you could.

“Hello?”

“Hey, (Y/N)... I was just… wondering how you were.”

Of course, you weren’t doing your best. Knowing that, but also knowing that Saeran probably couldn’t afford to bother himself with your problems, you told him “I’m pretty good. How about you?”

“I’m fine… my stupid brother went into town, so I was thinking about walking to your place. Not like I… really feel like seeing you in particular, I’m just….”

“It’s alright. You don’t need an excuse to come visit me, you know? I’m decent, and I’ve probably got ice cream in the fridge.”

Saeran paused on the other line, and you could vaguely hear the sound of boots zipping up. “Right then. See you in a few.”

“Okay. Love you, see you in a few.”

“............” He whispered, despite the fact that no one was in his home nor yours, “love you too.”

The phone call ended, and you sat back, staring at the ceiling. Saeran was comforting to be around, sure, but… were you going to be comforting for him? You had no energy left. Just making yourself talk on the phone felt like too much work, you honestly just wanted to sleep… sleep for a long time. Maybe a month of two. A year or… ten.

“Alas, life goes on,” You whispered to yourself, attempting to lighten the mood. Forcing yourself to stand, you walked to the bathroom and grabbed a hairbrush, deciding to make yourself somewhat decent for Saeran.

You glanced at the mirror, pulling the brush through your tangled hair. The knots were tough, probably due to running your hands stressfully through your hair so often, and you watched as your face contorted in pain.

“You’re so… ugly,” You sighed to yourself, continuing to brush your hair. “You can’t even handle brushing your hair… it’s not hard. It doesn’t hurt that bad… you’re fine, you know? Just suck it up...”

Sighing, you tossed the hairbrush back onto the counter, then fixed your hair a bit with your hands. “Talking to yourself, huh… not even for a fun conversation. Just… complaining.”

You began your walk towards the kitchen, aiming to grab some medicine to calm your upset stomach. As you stepped, the thoughts continued- upsetting, self-deprecating thoughts, on top of impulsive ones. It was all… too much. Even as you swallowed the pain relieving pill, so many thoughts ran through your brain. Throw this, hit that, do this, clean that. You wanted to pull out your freshly-brushed hair, as you instead opted to chug the water bottle held in your hand.

“Giving your kidneys a boost?” A familiar voice asked, a joking tone laced in the comment. You nearly jumped again, calling yourself lucky for having just finished drinking the water.

“I drink plenty of water, actually. Maybe not today, but I usually do.”

You gently wrapped an arm around the tall boy, feeling him lightly return it, before the both of you sat back quickly. “Saeyoung always tells me that you should drink water every day. Not just when you feel like it.”

“And does Saeyoung follow that?”

Saeran laughed, “does Phd Pepper count?”

“Nope. So, his comments are invalid.”

“I didn’t take them seriously to begin with, sooo…”

You smiled, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin, before looking back over at Saeran. “So? What brings you here? Ice cream, a movie, popcorn?”

He shrugged, grabbing a bowl and a spoon, then making his way towards your freezer. He took out the ice cream container, before preparing himself a bowl. “...Want any?” He asked, not bothering to look at you as he did so.

“No, thank you though.”

"Sure… it’s your ice cream, so you don’t really need to thank me.”

After having made his bowl of ice cream, you found yourself resting next to Saeran on the couch. A comfortable silence ensued, and you finally felt at some sort of peace. Though your eyes were shut, at feeling a gaze on you, you peeked them open, catching a glimpse of Saeran as he quickly turned his head. Sitting up a bit, you smiled at his dismissiveness. He’d die before admitting it, but he had been looking at you… you felt lucky. He could look at you without disgust- something not even you could do to yourself.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked after a few minutes. Though the silence was enjoyable, his voice wasn’t something you could complain about either. Honestly, all you wanted to do was hear his sweet voice talk about whatever he pleased, and maybe fall asleep to him talking. The last part was less likely, but-

“You’re acting dumb,” He muttered, turning and shoving a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as you noted the pout on his face. You swallowed the ice cream, your heart rate picking up, worrying that you did something wrong.

“What do you mean?”

“See, you’re already getting defensive. It’s,” He paused a bit, and you didn’t bother speaking, knowing it was hard for him to put things to words. He didn’t want to seem too worried, although it was clear he cared. “It’s weird. You haven’t…” His voice grew quiet, as a pink spread across his face, “texted me as much. And I’ve had to initiate half the calls- and even then, you sometimes don’t pick up. And then, your texts are all quick and boring. I’m not… the best at picking up on things, but I can tell something’s wrong. So, just tell me. That’s what I’m here for, you idiot.”

You sat there, unable to form any words. You hadn’t thought that anything seemed wrong. You were… your normal self, right? He’d been worried just because you… couldn’t keep up with your own mind. His concern was your fault, despite the fact that all you wanted to do was focus on him. To help him. This wasn’t help-

“Stop. Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. I don’t like that look on your face. You don’t need to force yourself or anything, just… I’m... here. It’s not a problem or a bother or anything.”

Like that, so many of those negative thoughts were contradicted. Your head hurt a bit, as you felt your heart ache. Tears filled your eyes, as everything finally came crashing down. Letting out a sob you were sure was ugly, you felt Saeran tense up next to you. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a reaction- maybe it was overwhelming for him- still, despite the fact that he could turn away, despite the fact that he didn’t need to care, he wrapped his arms tightly around you. He began to rock you back and forth a bit, petting your head gently, as you had often done for him.

Normally, Saeran struggled to start physical contact. He struggled to deal with it, always needing you to slowly initiate touch. He’d gotten better about it, but just having him hold you so suddenly and so tightly, so comfortingly, made your heart ache further. He’d worked so hard, and, in that moment, you were so proud of him. You felt so much love for him that you were sure your heart was going to burst. And, the way he was treating you made you sure that, even if it wasn’t you yourself, there was someone out there who loved you… Saeran was that someone.

After a few minutes of Saeran holding you as you cried, you found the energy to sit back, wiping your eyes, almost embarrassed of the mess you were sure you’d become. He reached out, wiping some tears for you, before squishing your face slightly. His face was red, eyes slightly watery, as he made direct eye contact.

“Don’t hide your feelings from me… you convince me to tell you things, so you should tell me. If I’m comfortable around you… then, you… should be comfortable around me. It’s not like I have any room to judge you.”

Taking a shaky breath, you leaned back into the hug, the side of your face squishing against his chest. “Can I just… sit here for a bit…? Tell me about your day, please.”

Saeran hesitated, before shifting the two of you, leaning against the couch so that you’d also be reclining a bit. Once settled, he took in a strangely calm breath, before speaking. “Well… when I woke up, Saeyoung said he was making breakfast. It smelled bad though, and I realized he’d used Phd Pepper instead of water in the pancake mix… which, I guess was his way of saying ‘hey, Saeran, you make breakfast today’. So, I made normal pancakes. Actually, I put some… little chocolate chips in them, like the kind we got last time we ate breakfast-”

His voice continued on, as you listened to him describe every detail of his day. A sort of calmness enveloped your heart, along with exhaustion enveloping your body. There in Saeran’s arms, everything felt… safe. Nothing could hurt you, not even the problems, drama, and work that you had just panicked over. There… was no rush to do things. If you took things slowly, maybe… just maybe, it’d all work out. With those thoughts in mind, and Saeran’s voice in the background, you finally fell asleep.

---

“(Y/N)? Are you even listening?” Saeran questioned, lifting a hand from your back. As he did so, he glanced at your face, before freezing up. Realizing you were asleep, he put his hand back, sitting back in place. “They’re… asleep,” He thought, a bright blush growing on his face. Despite himself, he smiled slightly, proud that you were comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, beginning to realize how sleepy he was. As a few more moments passed, the only sound Saeran could hear being your gentle breathing, he found himself drifting off to sleep as well.

#i think secret end saeran may be my favorite.....#i didn't write him as tsundere as he's usually interpreted but-#it's still saeran <3 #x reader #gn!reader #x gn!reader #oneshot #saeran choi #se!saeran #saeran choi x reader #mystic messenger #mysmes #mystic messenger x reader #mysmes x reader

46 notes · View notes

mrs-takami-keigo · 4 years

Note

Hi! :D I don't know if you take request but can I ask for some Hawks x reader where the reader has depression and suicidal thoughts and he comfort them smh and tell them it's OK to get help?? And helps them to search for a therapist for exemple.. I don't know if you're comfortable writing about these topics I'm kinda new here so yeah 😶 If you're not or just don't take request, it's no big deal. Just know that I love your writing so thank you for providing us ✨top tier content✨ 😌💕💕

AHHHHH I’m so glad you like my content and for saying those amazing things!!

Your request hit a soft spot for me, and I'm a person that’s very comfortable talking about any sort of mental illness. I’ve suffered from depression for over ten years, and have seen myself go through a dark dark space. I’ve come a long long way and I’m proud to be who and where I am today. So please, if you feel lost, or if there is no way out of the darkness, just reach a hand out and someone will grab it and hold on to you. If you need someone to talk to please contact an emergency hotline for mental illness.

Parings: Hawks X Reader Warnings: Talks of depression and suicidal thoughts! Attempted drug overdose! Rating: Explicit 18+ (Only for the fact that there is a heavy heavy theme around this request.)

Hawks walked through the door of your shared apartment. His body felt sore and a blinding headache was on its way. He hadn’t seen you in a few days due to a mission he had, so walking through that door, you there greeting him with that beautiful smile of yours was all he wanted.

But to his surprise, the apartment was dark, void of any light save for the glow from the sunset peeking out from the small slit of the curtain. Shrugging his coat off, Hawks walked around the apartment, searching for any sign of you, his baby bird. There was nothing, no sign of you using a dish or if you had hung out in the living room.

“Baby?” The pro hero hung his coat off the back of the kitchen chair, making his way to the bedroom. The door was ajar, pushing a gloved hand against the wooden object, Hawks was met with a dark room and a slightly messy room. He could see bottles of different types of drinks scattered on the nightstand on your side of the bed. And bags of chips and other snacks filled the trash can in the corner of the room.

Hawks knew what this all meant and it sent him into action. A part of him was angry and hurt but he knew it wasn’t your fault. All he knew was he needed to find you and take care of you.

“Babybird?!” He had more urgency in his voice as he called out to you. He practically tore the room apart looking for you before he heard a small sniffle come from the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom.

Taking tentative steps, Hawks walked up to the closed door. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. Closing his eyes Hawks used one of his feathers to slide under the door. Using his quirk he could hear your soft breathing, sniffles, and muffled music. He let out the breath he was holding, just knowing you were still alive was all he needed right now.

Calling his feather back to the door, he used it to unlock the door from the inside. He needed to see you, to hold you in his arms. The door separating him from you clicked, and without hesitation, Hawks turned the knob to the bathroom and saw you in the fetal position in the tub. He could feel his eyes water and his heartbreak. Your arms were wrapped around you, shoulders shaking as you tried to calm yourself down. Hawks didn’t need to see your face to know you were sobbing, trying to fight off your dark inner thoughts.

Slowly making his way to the tub, Hawks got down on his knees and reached a hand out placing it on your shoulder while his other one moved your headphones away from your ears.

“It’s me, baby, I’m here for you.” Your body stopped shaking at the sound of his voice, you turned to look over your shoulder. Hawks was sure he let a few tears fall from his eyes when you looked at him. You had dark circles under your eyes, they were red and puffy from your crying. Hair a mess, as if you hadn’t brushed it in days.

“Oh baby bird.” Hawks climbed into the tub with you gathering you in his arms, holding you against his body. You cried into his chest, your fists balled up, gathering his shirt in them. Hawks just rocked you back and forth in his arms, patting your hair and cooing at you. Being in the tub Hawks saw a bottle of pills with no top by the drain and small white pills spread across the acrylic surface.

He had seen you during a depressive state and you had told him about your past struggle with darker thoughts, but he had never seen it this bad. Hawks pulled you away from him, his gloved hand came up to cup your face, making you look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have been here in an instant.” You knew he wasn’t upset with you, but you felt like such a burden.

“Because you're the number two hero in Japan, you have lives to save and villains to capture. You shouldn’t have to worry about my sad pathetic life.” You could feel a new wave of tears flow from your eyes as you spoke. The dark thoughts you had convinced you that he could do so much better without you and that he would never truly love you for you. That the only reason he kept you around was out of pity.

You knew it was all false but the mindset you were in right now allowed those thoughts to steam on a continuous loop in your head.

“Your life is the only life I care about. You are my world, my life, my everything. If I lost you, I’d lose my mind.” You could see that Hawks wasn't lying, tears flowed out of his eyes like they did yours. His hold on you grew tighter, it made you feel like a hand reached into the dark muddy waters of your thoughts to pull you up and keep you safe.

“You might be better off. You would be fine Keigo, you'd have the love and support of your fans, and the citizens of the city.”

“I could give two fucks about them. Please baby I need you to understand, I only need you, your love. That gorgeous smile of yours to brighten up my days.” He kissed your dry lips, it felt like a breeze of fresh air to you. “I need the beautiful eyes of yours to greet me every morning when I wake up.” His lips brushed against your eyelids. “These hands that hold mine on cold winter nights when we take quiet strolls through the park.” Next were your knuckles.

“I need all of you to be with me forever and always.” He kissed your lips again but you could feel his lips tremble against your own. You weren’t sure if you were tasting your own tears or if it was Hawks’.

This time you pulled away from him, resting your forehead against his. You felt like you could think a little clearer now being in his arms, hearing his voice. For once there was silence, actual silence. You also knew this wasn’t the end for you, now it was just the beginning.

“Keigo?” You broke the blissful silence. Hawks opened his eyes, not knowing when he had closed them.

“Yes, baby bird?” His hand on your back had never stopped moving.

“I need help.” Those three words held so much power to you as if a weight had started to lift from your shoulders.

“Anything you need, you just tell me.” Hawks pulled you back to his chest. “We’ll make a couple of calls in the morning and do some research for a therapist okay? But first, let's get you some real food and sleep.”

You nodded your head against him, the sound of his heartbeat calmed you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too baby bird, so fucking much.”

#bnha hawks #tw; mental health #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw: mental health #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: overdose #ari answers #bnha #mha keigo takami #hawks x reader #takami keigo x you #mha hawks x reader

187 notes · View notes

wholesome-holland · 2 years

Note

hey since you said requests were open it would be cool to see a wonah (andi mack) fic with sad!jonah and comforting!walker take ur time no pressure thank you <33

Always Here

request for: anon!

pairing: jonah beck x walker brodsky

warnings: mentions of depression, crying, angst, comfort and fluff

Jonah Beck was sad. He didn't know why, he just was. He didn't know what his deal was, nor what to do to fix it. He hated it, hated feeling helpless. His mom came in to his room to wake him up for school, usually he was already out of bed by now.

"Hey honey, it's time for school." She said, smiling at the boy. The mere thought of school had him ready to burst into tears within seconds, he felt like an idiot, it was just school. His mom noticed and walked over, taking a seat on the bed. "Are you okay, J?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I'm just upset, I don't know why.” The more he tried talking the more the tears kept coming. He stopped himself before he could start crying.

“Hey hey,” she leaned down to hug him for a moment. “Why don’t you take the day off, play hooky?”

Jonah nodded, “that would be really nice, thank you mom.” The woman smiled at him, leaning back down and kissing his forehead. She headed out to call the school and pretend he was sick, and Jonah was left all alone yet again.

He decided to at least check his phone and text his friends, letting them know he wouldn’t be there today. He saw his boyfriend, Walker, had texted him the daily good morning text already. He smiled slightly, texting him back.

walker❤️

good morning

dimples, i hope

you slept well. text

me when you wake up

xoxo

jonah💘

good morning baby,

i hope you slept good

as well

walker❤️

andi said you were

staying home, are

you okay?

jonah💘

idk

walker❤️

what’s wrong?

are you sick?

jonah💘

im really sad

and i don’t know

why

walker❤️

do you want me

go come over after

school? we can talk

about it

jonah💘

yes please

jonah💘

im gonna go

back to bed

now, ill text you

later okay?

walker❤️

that’s okay,

sleep well love,

i love you so much

jonah💘

i love you too

walker❤️

💕

Jonah slept majority of the day away after that, waking up every now and then to eat or use the restroom. He woke up once again, noticing it was after school and Walker had texted him to say he was on his way over. Not too long later, there he was standing in his doorway with a bag of goodies.

“What’s all that?” Jonah asked as Walker went to give him a kiss.

“I got you your favorite soda, candy, chips, and brought a movie we can watch.” The boy said, pulling each item out of the bag. He set it all up on Jonah’s bedside table before going and setting up the movie. After all of that, he sat down on Jonah’s bed, leaning on the headboard and motioned for him to come snuggle him. Jonah obliged, laying his head on his boyfriend’s chest. Walker wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

“Wanna talk about what’s wrong, dear?” He asked.

“I’m just sad,” Jonah sighed. “Come to think of it, I’ve been really sad for days now. Maybe weeks, even. I don’t know why, or what happened, but it’s so draining and I don’t know how to fix it.” He explained, tears pooling in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. Those few tears soon turned into a soft crying, and Walker just held him through it all. He pulled him further into his chest, rubbing his arm and whispering sweet nothings in here ear. He hated seeing his boyfriend upset, he wished he could make it all go away, take all the bad away from the sweet boy in his arms.

“It’s all okay, Jonah. It’s gonna be okay, love. I’m here for you,” he whispered. Jonah simply nodded, wiping his eyes.

“Is it okay if I… don’t have to talk about it? I— I just, it’s hard and it’s making me feel worse.” Jonah asked, his voice timid.

“Yeah, yeah of course baby. You don’t ever have to talk about something you don’t want go, I’ll be here to support you and help you either way. I’ll always be here for you, love.” Walker responded, running a hand through his boyfriend’s hair.

“Thank you,” Jonah said, a small smile tugging on his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more, dimples.”

hi all! i hope you enjoyed, and to the anon who requested, i hope you loved it and thank you so much for requesting!! <3

#andi mack #jonah and walker #jonah beck #walker brodsky #wonah #wonah fanfic #jonah x walker #jonah beck x walker brodsky #requested

6 notes · View notes

hailing-stars · 3 years

Text

@febuwhump day 16: broken bones

such a softie

summary

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

Peter develops a sickness at the movies, and Tony attempts to make him feel better.

“Parker,” says Tony.

They’re standing outside of the movie theater, their planned meeting destination, and Tony doesn’t think he can make it through the double doors without asking about what’s hanging on the boy’s arm.

“Please explain that hideous purse.”

“Oh,” says Peter. He tugs on the strap. “It’s May’s movie purse.”

It’s said with a tone that implies Tony should’ve already known this information, and as if that one, short sentence is enough to properly explain why the hell Peter has it and why it’s so ugly.

“And you’ve brought it out into the light of day because…”

“Because,” stresses Peter, “it’s tradition. It might not be fashionable, but it’s absolutely the best purse to sneak snacks into the theater. It’s got so many pockets!”

“You brought that to carry snacks?” asks Tony, unimpressed. “You realize they have a concession stand, right?”

“You’re rich so you don’t understand,” Peter tells him. “You gotta sneak snacks from the dollar store, Mr. Stark, or you’ll pay seven dollars just for a coke.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony. He slings an arm around Peter, and together, they start towards the entrance. “And since, as you so wisely just pointed out, I’m a literal billionaire, you didn’t stop to think I’d buy the snacks?”

“It’s the principle. Five dollars for a box of Sour Patch Kids is robbery.”

Tony laughs as they step inside the building. They purchase their tickets, have them checked at the end of the roped line, and step into the open area. The (apparently) evil concession stand is in front of them. Tony starts in that direction when Peter grips his arm to stop him.

“It’s my money, Pete -”

“Wait,” says Peter. The boy closes his eyes, and Tony sighes. He recognizes that goofy expression. He knows he’s about to get some kind of melodramatic speech. “Do you smell that?”

Tony humors him, and inhales the aroma of buttery popcorn. “Yep. That’d be the popcorn you refuse to let me buy.”

“Not just popcorn,” says Peter. “It’s the movie magic smell.”

“Christ,” says Tony. “I wish May would’ve told me you transformed into a strange little gremlin once you walked through the theater doors.”

Tony continues towards the concession stand, where Peter manages to violate his principles and uses Tony’s credit card to buy a large popcorn, a large Cherry Coke, assorted candy boxes, a package of chocolate chip cookies and a soft pretzel with a cup of cheese sauce.

He proves his original point quite well, when, between the two of them, they order enough food to charge over a hundred dollars to his card.

They haul all the food to their seats, and Tony thinks maybe they should’ve paid for an extra seat just for all the kid’s snacks. It’s a ridiculously large amount of food. If it were anyone else but Peter, Tony would’ve doubted they’d eat it all.

Peter Parker is a garbage disposal that never gets full. He’s devoured the pretzel and starts tearing open the package of cookies before the previews even begin.

Out of the corner of Tony’s eye, he watches as the kid does the most reprehensible thing he’s ever seen. He dunks the chocolate chip cookie in the cheese sauce and eats it.

Tony releases a long sigh. “Kid, that is literally one of the most disgusting things I’ve seen you do. Please do not -”

“-You wanna try it, Mr. Stark?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Seems boring, but okay.”

“If I were boring,” says Tony, “I wouldn’t be chaperoning you to this R rated film.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Like I don’t have a fake ID.”

“Excuse me what?”

“I said good,” says Peter. “Because I don’t have a fake ID, so thank you.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony, just as the lights begin to dim and the previews start to plan, temporarily saving Peter from an interrogation Tony schedules for later.

Parenting is rough, and teenagers are like a different species of human altogether. He’s dreading Morgan’s teenage years, but at least he’s got Peter to prepare him for it, to give him a trial run.

The previews end, and something’s glitching out the kid.

He’s gripping the armrests tight. He’s grimacing, and for a few seconds, Tony’s convinced Peter is holding his breath. He’s just about to ask him if he’s alright when Peter stands, and bolts, fleeing the auditorium with that ugly purse strapped on his shoulder.

Tony pauses, waits a few seconds, before deciding he’d better follow him and make sure everything’s okay.

He finds Peter in the bathroom, with his knees on the floor and his head over the toilet, puking his guts out.

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

“Maybe it is,” says Peter. He wobbles, and has to lean against the slimy, gross bathroom wall to steady himself. “This might be our last chance! There could be a pandemic that shuts down everything and threatens to topple the theater industry forever.”

“Pete that’s not going to happen, not even in our universe,” says Tony. “You watch too many science fiction films.” He pulls Peter away from the wall and leads him out of the bathroom. “Besides, we’ve got Bruce Banner. No pandemic would stand a chance, and it’s about time he start putting those seven PHDs to use.”

“Fine,” says Peter. “But we’re coming back to the theater as soon as I stop puking my guts out.”

“Deal.”

They spend the night in the bathroom.

Peter throws up so much Tony starts to worry, though there’s not much he can do except look on in pity and offer the occasional back rub of support.

After Peter finishes a brutal episode of puking, he flushes the toilet and wipes his face with a strip of toilet paper.

“I think I broke a rib that time,” he mutters.

“If you broke bones puking, that’d truly be a record, kid.”

“Might as well get something from this misery,” he tells him.

Peter looks at him with glossy eyes and a face pale with sickness and with sweat. He appears much younger right then, as if Tony’s peering into the past, and Peter’s pain hits him much harder in that moment.

Tony’s struck with this strange urge to make the whole world right just for him. He considers going backwards in time again, only this time just a few hours back, just to slap that damned cookie and cheese sauce from the kid’s hand.

“I’m sorry you got so sick, bud.”

“That’s okay,” says Peter. “I think I’m done puking… at least I hope. Just wanna lay down.”

“How about this,” says Tony. “We’ll get you in your bed, all nice and cozy, and I’ll bring you some Gatorade and some crackers, annnddd a trash can. Just in case.”

“Sounds good,” says Peter, and he tries to smile, but it gets twisted into a grimace.

Tony helps Peter to his bed, and tucks him in. He brings him the things he thinks will make him feel better, but somehow, it doesn’t seem like enough, and Tony’s still pondering a way to make things right for him, even after the boy’s eyes close and he drifts off to sleep.

Finally, he thinks of something that still isn’t enough, but will at least put a proper smile on the kid’s face.

Tony finishes setting up the screen along the wall opposite of the bed just as Peter nods awake. He sits up slowly, and rubs his eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” he says. “What’s that?”

“The theater,” says Tony. “I’ve brought it to your bedroom.”

Peter laughs. “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut your mouth or I won’t tell you the best part.”

It’s the first time in Peter’s life he manages to be quiet. Tony switches on the projector, and the opening credits play for the movie they had been trying to watch before the Cheese Cookie Illness had taken control of their evening.

“No way!!” says Peter.

“I know it isn’t the same -”

“-are you kidding?” asks Peter, his face lit with a grin. “This is so awesome!”

Tony’s chest flutters with something like pride. It’s a good, warming feeling, to see the strange gremlin Peter return, and maybe the best part, Tony doesn’t even need a time machine to achieve it.

#febuwhumpday16 #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #vomiting #sickfic #tw: indirect nod to covid19 pandemic #it's just one line #just trying to be safe tho

29 notes · View notes

fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @ithinkimaperson, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

30 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Nobody Listens to Kix

Sorry, Rebels fans. This is not Chopper the droid, but Chopper the clone trooper who was part of Slick's squad before the battle on Christophsis. Chopper has a number of physical and psychological scars, and that should be enough background for you to enjoy this chapter.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00389: Chopper

Kix packed his medic's bag, preparing for the trip mentally as well as physically. The dread he felt at the prospect was only slightly lessened because he knew his patient dreaded their appointment equally much.

Neither of them liked their meetings, but they were extremely necessary. After the explosion that had caused such extreme injury to Chopper's face, eyes, and body, the 501st's medic at the time, Coric, had started Chopper on a strict physical therapy regimen. Since then, Coric had been reassigned, but he had passed the physical therapy responsibility down to Kix.

The extensive scarring on Chopper's face, chest, arms, and back required constant physical activity or they would stiffen and he would essentially become paralyzed by the scar tissue.

Chopper, for his part, was terrified of all medics and medical personnel, a holdover from his time being treated after the injuries, when the non-clone staff had debated sending him back to Kamino. Even then, every vod had known that was code for reconditioning. Much as Kix had gotten a reputation for treating his brothers whether they liked it or not, he didn't enjoy torture, and that's how Chopper saw their sessions.

An hour later, the transport Kix had hopped was preparing for arrival at an outpost on the secluded edges of wild space… which was a nice way of saying it was in the middle of nowhere on the galaxy's shebs.

Parable Outpost was the kind of place troopers prayed they wouldn't be assigned to. It was quiet to the point of dullness, there was no local life to speak of, and no combat had ever come within 100 parsecs of it. The outpost was the home of foolish brothers, the lazy ones, and any men who had found some way to piss off a superior officer badly enough enough. No brother wanted to go to Parable, but more than a few ended up here. Chopper, however, was here on purpose.

Just before Coric had left the 501st, the medbay had been subjected to an audit and Coric, Captain Rex, and General Skywalker were required to submit a form detailing general medical expenses over the past year. They had managed to disguise the amounts that had gone toward Chopper's treatment due to - as the general put it - creative bookkeeping, but Coric had moved on and Chopper had shared his desire to do the same.

It made sense to Kix. After all, if the GAR or the longnecks found out that there was a trooper with such severe injuries - and several psychological problems as well - they would order him sent back to Kamino for reconditioning.

No one was willing to take that chance, but Chopper had to be moved out of such a combat-heavy detachment. To everyone's surprise, Chopper had come up with a list of places he would be interested in moving, including Parable Outpost.

Chopper had been marked for infantry almost as soon as he was decanted, and he was karking good at it. Over the years, his injuries and aggressive attitude had kept him from being promoted to higher ranks, but he had gained expertise on a remarkable level when it came to battle analysis. Now, Chopper worked at Parable Outpost as a Combat, Munitions, and Enemy Tactics Specialist, a division all of his own invented by General Skywalker and ratified by Generals Kenobi, Secura, and Koon.

It was a dream assignment for the temperamental trooper. In short, Chopper stayed at Parable Outpost and analyzed battle footage sent to him. He compiled reports and sent suggested improvements for tactics and weapons technology to the appropriate departments and generals. He had complete control over how much contact he had with brothers - most of whom he outranked - but could train as much as he wanted.

Even so, Kix couldn't fight back a shudder as he stepped out of the transport and approached the door leading from the hangar into the outpost itself. He wouldn't want to be stuck here, not surrounded by brothers with chips on their shoulders, trapped with troopers who had been reprimanded for underperforming.

He exchanged nods with a few random men as he made his way toward Chopper's office. The first few times he had come to Parable, Kix had been stopped over and over by men who didn't recognize him and wanted to check his credentials. Now, he was accepted as a common sight on the outpost and no one questioned him.

Chopper's office was at the end of a long hall on the officer's side of the outpost. There was nothing marking the door as his, nothing to invite anyone in, but Kix knocked with total confidence.

"Enter," Chopper barked after a long pause.

Kix stepped through the door, carefully closing it to avoid making any unnecessary noises. Chopper was a bit sensitive to unexpected sounds. The trooper in question sat at his desk, surrounded by datapads while a holoprojector adaptor threw footage from a battle on a far wall. Chopper's two-toned gaze was fixed intently on the scene, and he scrawled hasty notes on a pad of flimsi as he watched.

"It's time for your therapy," Kix said, loathe to interrupt, but equally eager to get this over with.

"We just kriffin' did this," Chopper grumbled, still writing.

Kix scoffed. "Three months ago. You know we have to work the scarring at least four times a year or it'll-"

"Yeah, yeah, it'll freeze up," Chopper interrupted. He sighed, pausing the holovid in place while he finished making notes and stood. Despite his dread of the therapy, he was already dressed in the gray outfit all clones wore to work out and spar. "Let's get this over with."

Kix nodded, opening the medical bag. He tossed Chopper a bottle of medicated lotion. "Here's enough for the next three months, at least. Are you still applying it twice a day?"

"Mostly."

Now it was Kix's turn to sigh. "Mostly? Vod…"

"I've only forgotten a few times," Chopper explained defensively.

"We'll see about that," Kix told him threateningly. "If you've been skipping applications, I'll be able to tell from the results of your range-of-motion tests."

To the medic's pleasure, the results were positive. "You've gained three more degrees of movement in your right shoulder and two in your left. That's really good, Chopper."

"Uh-huh. Let's just get through the rest of this," Chopper dismissed.

He infamously hated the next part, he always had. Kix had to work the muscles in each area, a process that required a great deal of physical contact. From what he understood, that had never been one of Chopper's favorite things, but now, the trooper despised touch on a nearly phobic level.

Kix worked to complete the process as quickly as he could while still working every patch of scar tissue as much as was necessary. By the end of it, Chopper was sweating lightly and his jaw was clenched to keep in the small pain noises.

From past experience, Kix knew his own face was pale. He hated - hated - hurting his brothers, and causing Chopper so much pain made Kix feel physically ill.

When he finally stepped back, Kix fought to observe Chopper with a medic's gaze. The trooper was pale and sweating, eyes glassy as his attention turned inward. He was fixating on the pain - never a good thing.

"Do you want the therapy machine?" Kix asked carefully.

Most sessions, Chopper refused the additional help, but it had been a long time since Kix had seen his brother in so much pain. It was a testament to the strain of physical therapy that Chopper gave a single jerk of his chin in the affirmative.

Kix wasted no time setting up the machine and attaching the small pads to Chopper's scars. The trooper's joints got a few more attachment points just because Kix had worked them so hard. Chopper didn't speak or react at all during the process.

Within two minutes, Kix had attached all the necessary equipment and powered up the machine. Chopper's shoulders crept downward slightly, dropping further from his ears with every breath.

As he stared at the small, lightweight machine that was currently blocking Chopper's pain receptors and causing a surge of endorphins, Kix fought not to fill the silence. Chopper didn't like unnecessary conversation and there was nothing Kix needed to say, anyway. He was just used to checking on the men's pain level and progress. He already knew Chopper's pain level - kriffing high - and there would be no real progress. This wasn't healing, it was preventative maintenance. Saying anything would just drive home that Chopper was deeply damaged.

Kix took in a deep breath, intent on releasing it as a silent breath, but words snuck out before he could hold them back: "I'm sorry."

Chopper's dark brows furrowed and he stared up at Kix through mismatched eyes. "No need," he said simply, dropping his gaze again.

The room's silence remained unbroken until Kix had detached Chopper from the machine, packed it away, and began to move for the door. Chopper stopped him.

"Hey," Chopper said, avoiding eye contact and speaking in a low-pitched rush of words. "I know I don't act like it, but I appreciate what you're doing for me. I don't like medics, but… I know you're a good man. A good brother. Thanks. See you in three months."

It was probably a good thing Kix walked with the crisp gait of a soldier and a medic. If Chopper had caught a glimpse of how much those words had affected Kix, the scarred trooper would have been more uncomfortable than he had been during the therapy. Still, Kix allowed Chopper's soft pronouncement to bounce around inside his helmet during the trip back to the Resolute, smiling all the while.

#Nobody Listens to Kix #one-shot #but part of a series #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper kix #clone trooper chopper #physical therapy #i'm not a doctor #the 'therapy machine' is a TENS machine #Parable Outpost #scar tissue #clone troopers deserve better

50 notes · View notes

thinfairytalex · 4 years

Text

🦴 My Ana Rules! ⚠️TW⚠️

⚠️𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙍⚠️

DO NOT VEIW IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN ED! PLEASE DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT HAVE ONE! I WOULD TURN BACK BUT ITS TOO LATE SO PLEASE TURN BACK WHILE YOU CAN! IF YOU HAVE ONE PLEASE GET HELP IF YOURE READY! I HATE MY EATING DISORDER AND SO WILL YOU IF YOU GET ONE BECAUSE OF ME!!!!

🍴𝙁𝙊𝙊𝘿 😋

Bad foods:

👎🏼Olive Oil

👎🏼Coconut Oil (not as bad but not suggested because it tastes gross anyways)

👎🏼Avocado

👎🏼Butter

👎🏼Ghee (idk what this is but the internet just said it was fatty)

👎🏼Yogurt (Except greek)

👎🏼Cheese

👎🏼Peanut butter

👎🏼Flax Seeds

👎🏼White pasta

👎🏼Bread ESPECIALLY BAGELS

👎🏼Mashed Potatoes

👎🏼Rice

👎🏼Ranch (but ilyyyyyyy)

👎🏼Granola

👎🏼Bananas

👎🏼Corn

👎🏼Peas

👎🏼Potatoes or Sweet Potatoes

👎🏼Chips or Fries

👎🏼Raisins

👎🏼Candy or Icecream

👎🏼Pizza

👎🏼Meat other than grilled chicken (My preference)

👎🏼Buttered Popcorn (except skinny pop)

Safe Foods:

✨Fish (Salmon and Mahi are the best)

✨Grilled chicken

✨Any fruits or veggies except bananas, avocados, potatoes, corn or peas

✨Green Tea

✨Sugar Free Foods (under 100 cals)

✨Skinny Pop

✨Sugar free jello

✨Eggs

✨Chili Peppers

✨Gum

✨Dark chocolate

✨Apple Cider Vinegar (If you are willing but it may effect your teeth so i’d suggest to wash you’re mouth but not brush teeth)

✨Blue Berries (BURNS FAT!!!)

✨Cinnamon

✨Greek Yogurt

✨Raw Veggies

✨Soup

✨Salad

✨Nuts

✨Oats

✨Straight up honey

✨Water (bruh)

✨Diet Sodas (that are 0 cal)

✨Ginger

✨Any thing super low in fats and under 100 cals

I suggest eating fat burning items or low fat items and also low calorie items too so you can eat a bunch of them and not have to worry like fruits and veggies! This was just my foods list also the calories depend on the brand except for natural items so i didn’t include them. I usually try to stay under 300 calories when i’m not fasting. I also suggest eating more than i do and allowing more items i’m just strict on myself. 🍇

🏋️𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆𝙊𝙐𝙏𝙎 💪

This is my personal but i like to have a total net of -1000 or -900 calories (because i’m so young this doesn’t even burn but 3-4 pounds a week), i suggest more like 300 a day net 😅

What i like to do to burn those calories are:

✨ My 500 calorie workout- You can find this in one of my 30 day thinspo challenges.

✨Take cold baths- For my average time i’m in the bath I burn around 399 calories check out one of my older posts on how many calories you burn when in the cold bath for a certain time.

~Also I exchange for every night (because i lovveeeeee hot baths) so i take a hot bath one night but i do 2 rounds of my 500 calorie workout and then if it’s a cold bath night i do one 500 workout and a cold bath to burn 399 calories, also that’s on fasting days. On my restrictive days i burn 300 (look up ways there’s a bunch) and then a cold bath and one workout or two workouts and a hot bath.

😑 𝘽𝙊𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙊𝙈 💤

Days with none or lack of food can feel extremely lonnnggggggggg or can be extremely boring, here are something’s i do when i’m hungry, craving, or bored and trying not to eat~

✨Look at inspiration

✨Sleep

✨Excersize

✨Scroll on tumblr

✨Listen to music

✨Brush my teeth (stops cravings and makes ur teeth pretttyyyyy)

✨Bathe

✨Online School (CoRoNa TiMe or if you actually do this)/Homework

✨Clean out my food hiding place (if parents aren’t home)

✨Draw or do art

✨Shop Online (or irl after quarantine)

✨Plan Outfits for tomorrow

✨Text my frenz

✨Walk my dog

✨Bake (! DISCLAIMER !: I UNDERSTAND BEING IN THE KITCHEN IS AWFUL FOR CRAVINGS BUT JUST ONLY THINK ABOUT NOT EATING WHAT YOU’RE MAKING AND BEING KIND AND GIVING IT TO FAMILY)

✨Write down calories for when your away from the screen and around food

✨Think about how good hungry feels compared to how that food tastes

✨Hang out with friends but not if they are going out to eat (when this is over)

✨Study

✨Watch fat people eating/Fat people mukbangs

✨Watch fat people cringe or dancing cringe

✨Look at the mirror

💔𝘾𝙊𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙍𝙉𝙎 🥺

This will be referring to your questions and concerns about your eating disorder and ,if you are not ready to receive help (please do if you can), how to reply to your parental figures, families, and friends concerns and questions.

Your Questions and Concerns~

“What about my hair falling out?”

👒 If your hair is falling out i would suggest to look up ways to keep thinning hair in good condition and also buy hair strengthening products if possible. 👒

“I can’t do this!”

💞 DO NOT i repeat DO NOT DO THIS IS YOU DO NOT WANT TO! but if you want to but believe you can’t, just remember to stay strong and you got this!!! 💞

“Is it bad that i’m so cold always?”

🧤I mean it’s going to happen, it’s a symptom of not eating and also a symptom of being thin so it’s gonna happen. I suggest just putting on a jacket or a few layers of clothes on your cold area🧤

“How do i dodge meal time?”

🍽 Dodging mealtime is the worst struggle for me like ever! I just can’t do it! I also feel awful wasting food but if it comes to being thin, there’s no choice. I usually say i’m going to the bathroom and start up a conversation before and continue talking about it while leaving so they don’t notice i’m taking my plate to the bathroom and i just put it in my hiding place in my room (that’s right next to the bathroom) and if your room isn’t close to the bathroom then find a hiding place in the bathroom wether it’s putting a container under the towels or in a shelve i’ll find a place but then take a little longer and if they ask what took so long say you were fixing your hair (if you say this do it but fast) or you were trying to clean under your nails with soap, if they notice less food say you got hungry while fixing your hair (i recommend the hair one)🍽

“Why isn’t the ABC diet/Rainbow diet/other diets not working for me but others do?”

👎🏼This is because either you didn’t count cals correctly or because you didn’t workout enough but a lot of the time these are just not not for some people like a lot of diets aren’t enough for my preferred daily weight loss or are too high calorie for me to lose anything. 👎🏼

“How do i answer questions or comments my friends and family make?”

👇🏼 Answers are below! 👇🏼

Family and friends questions, comments, and concerns~

“Have you lost weight?”

-I suggest answering like “Not that i know of” or maybe “I’ve been sick” but for that one make sure your parents know you have recently so if one of them are asked by the family member who asked they say you were or lastly “I don’t think so, but i just started putting more effort into [sport you play or are practicing] recently so maybe but if any just a little.”-

“Are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve lost weight?”

-I would say “Oh i’m totally great! I don’t think i’ve lost weight?”-

“You look great! Have you lost weight?”

-I would reply with “Oh thank you! Maybe a little, I’ve been eating healthier lately so maybe that made my skin clearer and me a little slimmer that’s all.” and the always “Not that i know of but thank you so much! May be it’s my new [clothing item], I think it flatters me!”-

“Are you sick?”

-I would say “No, I wouldn’t be at this gathering would i?” say it in a laughing tone not rude.-

“Jeez you’re a stick”/“Oh my god you’re so skinny!”

-I think you could just roll your eyes at “Jeez you’re a stick” and say “What?” at the second one.-

“Do you have an Eating Disorder?”

-This is very risky! I would only make an excuse if you are just not ready to get help yet. Please receive help if you can! but my excuse would be “What’s that, never heard of it?” and if they explain just say “Wow thats really weird i wonder why people would act like that?!”-

“Eat.”

-Classic “I already ate.”, “No thanks maybe in a bit!” and lastly “I had a big [meal before].”-

🦷 𝙃𝙔𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙀 🧼

Here are some eating disorder hygiene issues that and i will provide ways to prevent or deal with these.

•Lack of bodily functions (urination and excretion/defecation) ✨:YES I KNOW DISGUSTANG!!! as you should know under eating and drinking (which sometimes people under drink during eating disorders?) will have the effect of lack of these practices. i don’t think there are any healthy ways to prevent this if you are restricting and i DO NOT promote laxatives they can kill you! although i would deal with this simply by just not caring and maybe eating fruit which can help lol sorry i understand this is disgusting.

•Dental Hygiene ✨: as some people know the act of purging is common which can effect your dental hygiene and can even rot your teeth. i do not promote purging (or any other disordered eating acts BUT ESPECIALLY NOT PURGING!)! it is going to hurt you physically and mentally so if anything maximum restrict. but as we know you can’t just fix it by saying that so here are some tips to prevent teeth rot from purging~ {1. Don’t brush your teeth right after! this dissolves the enamel even more! 2. Floss and rinse mouth with water/mouthwash straight after 3. if you can, chew and spit an anti-acid} also anorexia can weaken bones and as we know teeth are bones so i just advise to brush your teeth every morning and night! 🦷✨

•Body Hair ✨: I understand this is also gross too but people who don’t care enough i want you to at least have good hygiene so if you starve enough to get lanugo (excess hair growth caused by cold temperatures due to starvation). You can keep these hairs or remove them i would advise to shave so you can appear nice but if you don’t care and would like to stay warm keep the hair!

🦴 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙋𝙊 💞

This is something i find very sad because it’s very exclusive. so many POC are struggling with this evil illness are rarely seen in thinspo and if so they usually aren’t just modeling by themselves but with another pale person. I suggest that if you have a certain amazing attributes to you and your body look for thin people that are like you, and also the lack of curly hair in the industry is disappointing as well. I’d also just like to say most models are white, with blonde or brown hair and blue eyes but that literally is so exclusive so please just somebody find a diverse page. I’ll be posting some if i can find any! 🌎💞

When i find more things to write about i’ll add more xx 💖

143 notes · View notes

kirishwima · 4 years

Note

so i’ve had this scenario stuck in my head for a hot sec and i ADORE it,, so like,,, what if the RFA embarrassed themselves in front of their crush? i think it would be fun to see the more composed members (coUGH jumin & jaehee) getting all flustered lmao. thank you so much!!

oo i love this! i hope ill manage to do your scenario justice ^o^

YOOSUNG:

* Let’s be honest here, this ray of sunshine is just one big ol’ clumsy mess

* So it’s not surprising that the first time he met MC he just. Fell over with the first step he took their way.

* It’s not his fault they were so pretty he lost his balance okay?!

* He stays there, on the floor for a long moment, blinking slow before he realised the predicament he was in, immediatly rushing to stand up, only to get dizzy as he did and stumble yet again, his weight falling onto a softer surface this time....

* ....and straight onto MC’s chest.

* Yoosung.exe has stopped responding

* His cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red as he stumbles over his words for an apology, his eyes looking anywhere but MC’s face as he takes slow steps backward, a dozen excuses on his lips.

* Lucky for him, MC merely finds his clumsiness endearing (If they kiss him when he gets flustered like that it’ll be an instant K.O, 100% guaranteed)

* Just a big flustered mess really, and MC just lives for it

ZEN:

* Yes, yes, he’s Zen, musical actor prodigy, he’s a ladies man, so suave e.t.c e.t.c...

* Until it comes to the person he likes. Oh boy, he is a m e s s when he sees MC’s face, when they walk by him, when they simply exist in his vicinity really.

* He’d met MC for a cup of coffee, and when they asked him how his new play is coming along, he couldn’t help himself but excitedly start talking about it, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke with a fiery passion...

* ....only those very hands managed to swat MC’s cup of coffee and throw it flying off the table, straight to MC’s legs

* He’s flabbergasted for a moment, before immediatly shooting up from his hair and rushing to MC, checking them up and down for any injuries, apologising profusely.

* He’s on his knees in front of them, grabbing a dozen tissues to put onto their now coffee-stained pants, before he realises the...predicament he put himself in.

* Slowly he looks up from his kneeled position and straight to MC’s reddened face, his own pale skin now resembling a tomato

* (10/10 his hair would do that Ghibli fluffy thing from the shock)

* He scoots away immediatly, apologising with a soft stutter, trying to control the BeastTM from coming out-this was barely their first date, he couldn’t scare MC off now, not yet-

* Lost in his own worried thoughts, he didn’t hear MC’s soft giggle at first. By the time he did, they were already trying their best to conceal their giggle behind their palms.

* “You’re so cute Zen”, MC says after a moment, “I’m glad I got to see this side of you”.

* He’s Shocked for a long moment, before he finds his inner suaviness yet again.

* “Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet my love” he says and well, now it’s MC’s turn to become a reddened tomato.

JUMIN:

* This man is nearly impossible to fluster

* He’s always straightforward and confident with what he says, his whole being exuding a sort of confidence only a man in his position could ever have.

* And yet, Jumin Han is in fact human, and even he has his embarassing moments.

* One such moment being when, in those few days he lived with MC before the party, he decided to take a shower...

*...only he forgot to inform MC that the bathroom would be occupied.

* Chaos ensues as MC nonchalantly opens the bathroom door (you can thank the penthouse’s soundproof walls for the fact that they didn’t hear the water running), and lo and behold, they are met with one wide-eyed, very, very naked Jumin, his hands paused midway through lathering shampoo on his hair.

* MC blinks once, twice before screaming an apology, immediatly shutting the door as they rushed away form the bathroom probably to go hide their face into the couch and scream bc hOLY MOLY-

* Jumin was quick to exit the bathroom, now (thankfully?) clothed, his hair still dripping water onto the towel wrapped around his shoulders as he quietly walked besides MC, flopping quite ungracefully onto the couch.

* His hands were interlocked, resting between his legs as he looked down to them unstaringly.

* MC was quite...scared at first. Was he mad? Was he scared of MC, the mega-privacy-intruding-perv?? Why was he saying nothing? Why wouldn’t he just loo at MC?!

* “Um-” he started eventually and-was that a blush spreading from the nape of his neck all the way to his ears??

* “I’m-I should’ve mentioned I was in the shower my- my apologies.”

* My Lord and the Heavens Above, Jumin was FLUSTERED. MC had no words, they simply kept looking on to him, the way he fumbled with his fingers, a nervous tick or so it seemed, his mouth set into an almost-pout.

* “It’s alright-it was a sight I could get used to” MC eventually shrugs, making Jumin even more horribly flustered

* MC you shameless perv~

JAEHEE:

* At a glance, Jaehee seems like a perfect, composed and serious buisnesswoman, exuding a quiet confidence not very unlike Jumin’s, except for its subtleness, the way she holds herself poised and graceful, yet practiced. Oh, so practiced.

* She’s the epitomy of that ‘I’m internally screaming’ meme, really. She might seem cool and composed on the outside, but the slightest thing can make her brain hay-wire, a dozen screaming voices yelling in embarassement inside her mind.

* So when she finally meets MC, when she starts working in the cafe with her, having to work side-by-side with her crush on the daily and not make a fool of herself? Ohhhhh boy, Baehee’s got her work cut out for her

* That blessed embarassing moment comes way faster than one would think-on the opening day of the cafe, actually.

* She’s brewing coffee, lost in thought as she took in the aroma of the freshly ground coffee beans, a steaming jug of milk beside her as she gently rested her hand on the brewing cup’s handle, when MC approached her from behind.

* Not one used to physical affection, the moment MC leaned close and rested their head on Jaehee’s shoulder, asking her how the coffee was coming along, she was instantly snapped out of her daydream.

* The proximity, the scent of MC invading her senses, the feel of the one she loves leaning their body against hers-Jaehee’s consciousness SNAPPED.

* She immediatly jolted, her hand flying from the brewing coffee, her plam accidentantly slamming straight onto MC’s face in her flabber-gasted shock.

* The soft ‘ouch’ from MC as they rubbed their reddened nose made her eyes widen, her lips tremble-oh no oh shit, did she do that?! Oh no, MC will think she’s such a goof, they’ll regret ever starting this project with her, they’ll-

* “Wow Jaehee, you sure throw a mean punch” MC giggled, their pain long forgotten at Jaehee’s flustered expression.

* “You-I’m-sorry! I don’t- you were so close and you look so pretty and-”

* Baehee error 404; did she just say that? Did she just-

* She immediatly turned away, hiding the furious blush spreading on her face, bringing her hands to cover her mouth in shock.

* “Awe, you look even prettier though” MC shrugged, and just like that-Jaehee slowly turned around, a spark of hope in her eyes, a trembling smile on her lips.

* She didn’t have time to answer-not when MC already snaked their arms around her waist again, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before moving on to finish the coffee Jaehee started.

* (Yes she would think of that kiss for the whole day and scream into her hands when alone in the storage room)

SAEYOUNG/SEVEN:

* This boy loves to pull pranks, and generally is...pretty darn shameless

* That, however, doesn’t mean he can’t be flustered with enough effort.

* He’d been on another Dr. Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips binge, pulling yet another all-nighter when MC walked into his office, a frown on their lips.

* “Saeyoung! I told you a dozen times to stop eating so much of those chips and soda. It’s bad enough for your health that you’re staying up so late, but eating junk food like that you’ll also ruin your stomach!” MC chided him, their hands on their hips.

* On the one hand, Saeyoung wanted to roll his eyes, tell MC he’s fine, he’s been on this shitty diet way before MC and hey, he’s still alive! On the other hand though, he knew MC is only saying this out of love and care for him, and well, having someone to look out for him like that felt great.

* MC approached him, ready to grab the half-empty chips bag from the table, only when they leaned close to grab the bag...

* ...Seven opened his mouth to speak....except a loud burp came out instead, straight beside MC’s ear.

* They both remained silent for a moment, unblinking before Seven realised what he’d done, his mouth agape in shock.

* He blinked once, twice, staring at MC’s face for a reaction, for any reaction oh my god he was so embarased-

* MC turned to him with an even bigger frown, grabbing the bag of chips and dangling it in front of Seven’s face.

* “No. More. Chips.* they emphasised, and Seven could do little else but gulp and nod, too afraid to open his mouth again in case another unholy burp like that escaped his insides.

* He ran a hand through his hair, trying to play off the reddening of his cheeks, the silly smile that nervously found it’s way on his face.

* Before MC could leave the room, he leaned back on his chair and called out;

* “Hey MC-does this mean we just took our relationship to the next level?”

* Insert ‘Hi I’m Chandler and I like to make jokes when I’m nervous’ gif here

JIHYUN/V:

* This marshmallow of a man is so gentle and soft-spoken, it’s actually quite difficult to imagine him embarassed

* And yet, he’s the easiest to fluster out of anyone in the RFA!

* Even a simple compliment can make this spicy mint boy’s cheeks flare up, a silly little smile finding its way to his lips as he nervously bites them, a tell-tale sign of his flusterdness.

* Once, before he got the surgery for his eyesight, he walked to the sofa MC was sitting at, aiming to sit besides them-

* -Only he didn’t notice that MC was in fact laying down on the couch, not sitting on it, effectively throwing his entire weight onto MC’s thighs.

* He only realised what he’d done after patting MC’s legs with his hands, hearing the soft ‘oof’ MC let out as he sat.

* He immediatly shot up, waving his hands in the air as he furiously apologised, leaning down to find MC’s face and hold it in his hands, asking them if he hurt them, if they were okay-

* “Damn V, if you wanted to sit on my lap all you had to do was ask” MC says with a wiggle of the eyebrows (joke’s on you MC, minty boyo can’t see s h i t rn), and well, it took everything in V’s willpower to not faint into a tomato-coloured puddle onto the floor at that.

* Pls don’t fluster this poor lanky mint, he literally can’t Take It

-Send me scenarios/headcanons for the mystic messenger characters to react to!-

205 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 4 years

Text

our fainted thrill carries on (12/13)

ao3

warning: blood, violence, self-inflicted wound

Of all the ways Michael imagined his day going, he did not expect to be riding to a different city with Jesse Manes in the passenger seat and Maria DeLuca calling him four times in a row.

He had over an hour left, so he decided to pick up the phone despite the fact that he’d been planning to actually go see her in person. The whole mishap with finding out who Sanders was and the stupid piece (that was stuffed under the seat of his truck thanks to Rosa’s last-minute thinking) had put off going to talk to her.

“Hello?”

“Finally,” Maria scoffed, voice laced with controlled panic, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Where are you at?”

“Um, a couple hours away. What’s up?” he said. She was quiet for a few seconds.

“Liz is freaking out,” Maria told him, speaking slow like she was making a point, “She-she’s not really making sense, but she said she needs you. Something about Max.”

“Fuck” Michael groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. On one hand, he really needed to go to Max. On the other hand… Alex needed him more. “Uh, look, give me, like, a day, okay? Tell her to get Isobel and I’ll be back. There’s something going on with Alex, so he needs me.”

“Wait, what’s going on with Alex? Is he okay?” she asked, concerning prevalent in her voice. God, they really needed to talk to her.

“I-I don’t know yet. Just, listen, tell Liz I said it’s okay and then get her to talk to you,” Michael decided, his eyes going to his passenger who was clearly listening in. He was slowly forgetting why exactly he’d taken Jesse Manes on this trip in the first place.

“What’s okay? Michael, what is going on?” she demanded. He clutched the steering wheel harder.

“I swear, we’ll talk when I get back, I promise. Just… Just do this for me, okay? Just go help Liz, she needs someone else. I’ll be there before you know it,” he said. Maria was silent for a few seconds before she quietly agreed and the call ended.

“For a creature who has managed to trick people for over two decades, you’re a terrible liar,” Jesse told him, voice far too controlled for Michael’s liking.

“Yeah, well, for a guy with four sons, you’re a terrible fucking father,” Michael sighed, dropping his phone. He pressed on the gas harder.

Why did everything have to happen in one goddamn day?

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kyle said.

Alex had recently grown a renewed appreciation for Kyle Valenti, but the last few days had made that appreciation grow immensely. And, the last few hours? He was more thankful than he could even articulate.

Kyle kept checking his head and his arm, just making sure over and over that they weren’t infected. Alex was slowly but surely feeling more like himself and getting stronger, but he was definitely keeping that to himself. He was more than certain that they had cameras on them. They just had to act helpless.

He gave Kyle his arm, letting him check over the stupid fucking brand that made Alex feel ill. He didn’t want that on him. It was made all the worse when Kyle’s hand froze, his thumb hardly an inch beneath the brand. His eyes slowly flickered up to meet Alex’s and then he pressed down. Alex swallowed as he realized there was a chip beneath his skin.

Then the door at the top of the cellar opened, a single file line of three people walking in. One of them was Casey, one of them was who Alex assumed was Grandpa Cameron, and one of whom was Jenna. She had that hardened look on her face, but Alex was no stranger to it. She was playing her part, keeping herself and them safe. He would thank her for it when he didn’t have to act like he hated her.

“What the fuck is the point of all this? We’re human,” Alex said, making sure to maintain an equal amount of venom and fatigue. They couldn’t know he was feeling better.

“I’m sure you know that humans and their aliens… it’s an inseparable bond. Volatile and violent. We just have to wait for yours to show up and we can kill you both,” Grandpa Cameron said. Alex shook his head tiredly.

“I have no alien bond,” Alex said, “But if I did, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Grandpa Cameron continued and Alex hated it because they both knew Michael was probably on his way, “You’re a special one, Alex Manes. It takes a special breed of evil to bond with an alien. I have a working theory that Manes are particularly susceptible to it.”

Alex couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Manes? Wasn’t it a Cameron that fell in love with an alien before? Wasn’t a Cameron the one who snuck away with Nora and gave her information about the raid?

“How cute. You really thought you knew something,” Casey laughed. His face was busted to hell still and, honestly, that made Alex feel better.

“Oh, you must’ve heard it was a Cameron who bonded, haven’t you?” Grandpa Cameron accused, stepping closer, “Well, you’re wrong. He created the M.V.C. to be what it is today. He studied the bond by tricking an alien into thinking that’s what it was. He was never that stupid.”

Alex didn’t show it on his face, but it clicked that clearly that Cameron was that stupid. He just got his feelings hurt when it in fact wasn’t a bond and his love was one-sided and started a fucking cult in response.

His eyes looked over them. Casey was beaten, Grandpa Cameron was about to burst with decades of anger, and Cam… Cam had that same brand on her arm. Alex looked over to Kyle. Did they not know who Kyle was? Why hadn’t he been branded?

“What, you worried your boyfriend might know you have a pet alien now?” Casey taunted. Alex’s eyes widened momentarily and then he controlled them, taking this as an advantage.

Alex couldn’t help but smile. “Oh. How cute. You really thought you knew something.”

A flash of anger crossed Casey’s face and he shared a look with Grandpa Cameron. Cam shot him a look and Alex just kept smiling.

“Why don’t you tell me something I want to know and I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Alex said, making a show of moving to lay his back against the wall. He put effort into seeming weaker than he felt. “Tell me what set of aliens you’ve been experimenting on to come to these conclusions and I’ll tell you who my friend here is.”

Alex watched Casey and Grandpa Cameron get visibly a little confused. Kyle was confused too which was fair. But, truly, he wanted to see how far he could convince them that Kyle was his alien. Maybe then they’d be taken aback when Michael showed up, guns blazing and telekinesis in full swing. He had been practicing, after all.

Casey and Grandpa shared a look before they stepped towards Kyle who instantly pushed himself closer to Alex either out of fear or sheer instinct. Alex tilted his head and shook it slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Nuh-uh, you lay a hand on him and I tell you nothing,” Alex said, “And I know much more than you think I do.”

Again, they shared a look. Eventually, they decided they needed to talk before coming back to Alex and the three went back up the stairs. Even when they were gone, Alex didn’t show that he was scared or nervous or anything.

God, please let Michael show up before they realized he didn’t know shit.

“If you go in there, they’ll know what you are.”

Michael anxiously tapped the steering wheel as he sat the end of the achingly long driveway. Alex was just inside. He just had to go inside.

“And they’ll know who you are. Will they let you in, or will they shoot you on sight?” Michael wondered. He’d spent most of the drive in silence and, whenever Jesse tried to say some bullshit, he would turn up the volume. He just needed him for bait and information, really. Jesse had told him how dangerous the Camerons were before and that Alex really was in danger.

“Can’t be entirely sure,” Jesse sighed.

“But they know what I am?” Michael clarified, “Like, they know what I look like? You run off the same database?”

“Not necessarily. The Camerons aren’t as technical, they were always very much the brawn of M.V.C.”

“Why do you even have the fucking tattoo on you? If M.V.C. disbanded before you were even let in on the secret, then why do you have it?” Michael wondered. Jesse looked over at him.

“It’s principal, son,” he stated simply, “We bare the weight of our predecessors.”

Michael stared at the house and mulled over those words. Was that why Alex thought that way? Had he rejected so much of Jesse’s ideologies, yet kept that one? God, this was such bullshit. Maybe when this was all over, Alex would let him back into his bed. Even if it was just for one night. They needed it.

Michael took a deep breath and looked over to Jesse. He hated making plans and he hated making plans with Jesse, but Alex never went in blind. Alex always had a plan. Anger never got you anywhere. Anger would get them killed; plans would keep them alive.

“Alright, Dad,” Michael said, flashing a tight smile, “We’re gonna go up there and ask for my brother back in exchange for somethin’ fancy.”

“Excuse me?” Jesse said, raising a controlled eyebrow. It looked too similar, too much like Alex. Michael had to look away.

“You heard me.”

He shut the car off and reached under the seat, pulling out one of Alex’s backpacks that held the piece. He knew he brought it for a reason. Jesse didn’t question what it was, staying silent as he watched Michael put the bag securely on his back.

“Let’s go, Pops.”

With a little bit of a telekinetic shove, the two men began heading straight for the front door. The closer he got, the more he was willing to acknowledge that his plan was indeed half-assed at best. But, still, a half-assed plan was better than no plan. Maybe. Kinda. He was trying, that was the point.

They knocked on the door and, surprisingly, Jesse played along. Michael was slightly discombobulated at the idea of Jesse actually coming along to help Alex. This was the least volatile he’d ever been. Maybe that coma was good for him. Still, Michael kept one eye on him. All it took was a moment of trust to fuck up everything. He knew that from experience.

The door opened and Jenna Cameron stood on the other side. Michael did his best to hide his confusion and took her tiny eyebrow lift as acknowledgment.

“It’s Manes!” she called. Heavy footsteps came and an old man stepped up. He was tall and lean and walked like he was the king of hell and knew it. For a moment, Michael considered asking for tips on how to do that.

“Quicker than I thought,” he said. Jesse raised his chin to meet the eyes of the taller and older man, still managing to look down on him.

“Abel,” Jesse greeted. In that moment, Michael understood why Jesse was complying. Michael and Jesse Manes somehow share different hate for the same man. The enemy of my enemy, after all.

“Jesse,” the old man said, looking over to Michael, “And who’s this?”

“My youngest son,” Jesse said easily and, oh, Michael was close to crawling out of his skin.

“Oh, really?” Abel said, skeptical, “Because last I saw I had your youngest in my basement.” Michael was back to hating the man in front of him.

“Tripp’s long lost son, had ‘em right before he died. Took him in,” Jesse said, taking a step closer and into the house like he was entitled to it. Michael followed his lead. “Now, why don’t we talk about my other son.”

“Don’t come here blaming us, that wasn’t planned. He was trying to play spy,” Abel scoffed, “When my Casey found out, your boy beat the shit out of him. Then we find out he’s still got that alien bond so bad he brought the damn thing with him.”

Now that was confusing. Well, the last sentence. The first bit seemed exactly like Alex.

“Still can’t figure out why you let him go around like that. Truly shows what kinda bullshit you Manes are capable of,” Abel said, shaking his head, “Too much damn passion in all of you, that’s what my Daddy said.”

“He has an alien with him?” Michael asked, unable to stop himself. He got more attention than he would’ve liked. “I-I mean, I thought we effectively got him away from all of those creatures.” The words sounded wrong in his mouth and that didn’t go unnoticed. Abel eyed him slowly.

“Tripp’s boy, you said? Makes sense,” he said, shaking his head, “He’s got an alien with him. Which definitely makes it more worth my while to keep him. Your boy thinks we got live experiments outside of him.”

“My son isn’t your experiment,” Jesse said, still cold as ice, “It’s in your best interest to hand him over along with whatever alien you think he has.”

Michael could feel Cam’s eyes on him. He carefully let his eyes drift to hers. She covered her mouth to cough and used the motion to nod towards a door. Michael slowly began to feel out the lock to it with his mind. When she coughed again, he didn’t miss the way she held up three fingers. Three guards.

“That would definitely not be in my best interest and you know it. I got exactly what I’ve been trying to get when your selfish old man kept all the live specimen to yourself,” Abel said.

“Chances are what you have are my boy and a Valenti boy, not an alien,” Jesse corrected, “If you did any kind of testing, you would know that.”

Abel eyed him suspiciously and didn’t seem to notice when the lock clicked.

“A Valenti boy?” Abel said, seeming confused, “I thought they were all dead.”

“Jim wasn’t the brightest man, but he knew better than to make his son easily accessible.”

So that was a choice Jesse made. At least he could admit that.

Neither men noticed when Cam slipped into the door. Michael had full faith she could handle the guards well enough. Either that or she could at least talk to Kyle and Alex, prepare them to get the fuck out of there.

“No alien. So why don’t you let my son and the Valenti boy go,” Jesse said. Abel seemed to consider it for only a few seconds before he shook his head.

“Your son is still bonded with one of them. The specimen will come for him eventually,” Abel said definitively. Jesse didn’t bother to spare him a passing glance, another point of self-control that Alex had and Michael most definitely did not.

“This bond you keep talking about, it’s not even real. Your entire ideology is built off something baseless,” Jesse argued. Hypocrite. “No one but me is coming.”

“I’ll just have to keep him and see.”

“Wait,” Michael said, catching both their attention, “I have an alien artifact. Authentic. I give you that, you give us them.”

Abel stared at Michael for far too many seconds. He just fucking wanted Alex.

“Let me see.”

“I don’t trust you,” Jesse said, “Show us Alex first.”

Again, more fucking staring. Eventually, though, he caved and they were being led towards that door Cam had disappeared behind. Michael clutched onto the backpack even tighter, giving that piece a tiny goodbye. As much as he wanted it and as much as he’d ruined shit with Alex over it, it seemed like a far too easy trade to save Alex in exchange.

It took an unprecedented of willpower not to run up to Alex and collapse onto him when he saw him. He looked tired, smeared makeup on his face. But he was standing and that was good. He was leaning on Kyle and showing no visible emotion as he saw Michael, but his eyes betrayed how thankful he was to see him. He needed a fucking hug.

But, unlike Abel, Michael didn’t miss the fact that there were no guards and no Cam. He swept his eyes over Alex, spotting bloody knuckles and a red spot on his forehead like he’d headbutted someone. There were a few racks of wine‒how many unconscious men laid behind them after underestimating Alex? Michael held back a big smile.

“Right, now give me the artifact,” Abel demanded.

“Give it to you while we’re in your basement? Idiotic, we’re going back upstairs and taking the boys,” Jesse ordered, gesturing back towards the steps. Michael was uncomfortably thankful for Jesse. It was easy to forget that he was actually cunning. Just not as cunning as Alex was.

They slowly made it up the stairs in a line, everything too easy and too military. Michael was just fucking waiting for something to be weird or wrong. He kept stealing glances at Alex, watching as he all but clung to Kyle. He itched for him.

Once they all got on the ground floor again (Cam appearing at the top of the steps after everyone else, her hair a little disheveled), Michael shifted the bag and unzipped it. He ignored the slightly horrified look from Alex as he pulled out the piece. Abel’s eyes widened with greed, stepping towards it.

And then things got a little weird.

Before Abel could get his hands on it, Alex and Jesse both seemed to have the galaxy-brained idea to knock him out. Jesse swung with an open fist and Alex with a closed on either side of his head, quickly rendering him unconscious and probably fucking with his entire equilibrium. He fell to the floor and Michael stared, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck are you waiting for, Guerin? Move,” Alex pushed, shoving his back gently so they could head towards the door. But Michael looked up at Jesse.

“Do you really think I’m giving this family anything? He should feel lucky he even knows the secret,” Jesse said, eyeing him with that familiar judgment, “You seemed far too comfortable with that.”

“We can talk later, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Cam said.

They all started running to the truck and maybe Michael should’ve thought it through. It wasn’t really big enough for all of them. Still, there wasn’t much thinking. Cam went for the driver’s seat and Kyle went for the passenger door. Michael jumped into the bed and reached out to pull Alex up too.

“Stop!” Alex said, causing all of them to freeze as he held out his arm. Michael felt sick at the sight of that three-headed trident. “I can’t leave. He put a fucking chip in me, he’s going to track me and we’re all fucked.”

“Then you cut it out,” Jesse instructed, not missing a beat. Alex didn’t even seem phased. Jesse pulled a pocket knife out of nowhere‒maybe Michael should’ve checked for weapons‒and took a step towards Alex. He grabbed Alex’s arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Alex spat, ripping out of his grip and taking a step back.

“Then show me you’re a man and do it yourself,” Jesse said, voice stern as he held out the knife to Alex.

Michael hated the interaction and, despite all the help Jesse had done, he was quickly reminded why he hated him so much. His existence alone ate at the person Alex was. He was poison and Alex, no matter how strong, couldn’t seem to stop himself from giving it attention.

Alex took the knife and, without hesitation or screaming or anything, cut into his forearm. Kyle hissed and went to move closer, but Cam grabbed the back of his shirt and basically yanked him into the passenger seat of the truck. Michael watched with bated breath as Alex dug into his own arm and pulled out the chip. Alex looked at his dad before looking up at Michael. With a quick nod of his head, he sent the chip flying somewhere to get lost on the property.

“Are we done being dramatic?! Let’s fucking go!” Cam yelled.

Jesse didn’t even so much as spare a bit of praise as he took his knife back and sandwiched Kyle inside the cab of the truck. Michael carefully lifted Alex into the bed and Cam was speeding away before they could even get settled. They laid down, close just like old times. Except this time Alex was bleeding all over.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Alex hissed, his body jostling with each bump they hit, “Bringing my father and then offering to trade that piece for me? Have you lost your mind? I was expecting you to come alone.”

“I would’ve fucked up things if I came alone,” he said, moving to put his arm beneath Alex’s head so he wouldn’t hurt himself more, “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, I just fucking cut my arm open!”

“Hey,” Michael said, whispering despite the wind making it difficult to hear, “You trust me?”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows, trying to gauge what was on Michael’s mind. But, honestly, despite all the commotion, he was more at peace than he had been in a long time. Alex was alive and there was literally nothing else he could do but stare at him for the next three hours. Might as well be at peace.

And might as well keep him safe.

“Trust you?” Alex echoed. Michael slowly moved Alex’s hand off the open wound, closing his palm over it.

“Yeah. You trust me?”

He wasn’t quite sure he could do it, but he could definitely try. He’d been feeling a whole bunch of emotions all day… might as well direct them somewhere. All he had to do was focus, right? Besides, they still had a lot of day left. Something was going on with Max. This was just the beginning and Michael had enough drive to push himself to do something with that underused power he’d kept pent up all day.

Alex took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

“I trust you.”

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

52 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.56

Lance had cleaned through his house twice, slightly panicked after Keith had called to say Coran was coming to speak to him in person. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d kept his scheduled checkin calls with Coran, even secretly keeping a journal of his moods as Coran had asked. Sure, Coran sometimes came out for no reason other to than “to take a break from Platt”, he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that it wasn’t Coran checking in on him. So now that Coran was coming for some other reason, he’d cleaned every surface he could think of, changed the cat litter, cleaned up Kosmo’s morning puddle, baked a fresh tray of chocolate chip cookies, and had a small breakdown, all before 9am. Keith had said it was related to the feeling he had in the tunnels and that Coran would explain it all. His boyfriend doing a bang up job of making him worry instead of relieved to hear Keith’s voice. Curtis hadn’t been much company on the drive back, Lance suspected it was because he’d arranged to meet at Shiro at VOLTRON, only for his plans to fall through. It was kind of Hunk and Shay all over again, except Curtis was kind of half cursed and Shiro was... Shiro. The man had more moods than his phone had settings. If Shiro felt it was finally time to move on from Adam, then Lance would do everything he could to help the pair of them. He liked Curtis. He liked having someone else to talk to, even if all their conversations were slightly weird. Not that he’d ever replace Hunk or Pidge. Hunk just had other priorities now he and Shay were figuring things out, and Pidge was worried about him too much as it was. She didn’t always let it show, awkward about those kind of things. But she was more family than Luis and Veronica at this point.

Thinking of his siblings only added to his stress. Veronica and Luis had gotten into a small fight over him, with Veronica actually taking his side. If he’d wanted to hurt their Mami, he easily could have a hundred times over by now and she was sick of Luis being a busy body. It’d been years since he’d seen his sister and her two girls. But age had been kind to Veronica, barely a free hair visible. For a second Lance had wondered if she’d been turned, she was exactly how he last remembered her. Upset of his impromptu cleaning, Kosmo pawed at his leg. With no idea when to stop filling his face, his food now lived up on the bench with Blue’s. His precious daughter didn’t love having a brother, but he’d caught them snuggled together. Sure, Blue’s tail had been wagging and her expression one of “what the fuck is this thing?”, but gradually Kosmo was worming his way into her heart.

Picking up Kosmo, the puppy wagged his tail happily. He really didn’t like being alone. The first night Lance had tried to have him in his own doggy bed since Keith left, Kosmo had cried for hours, so Lance had moved him up to his bed. Waking to find a very large wet spot thanks to puppy pee. Thankfully he already had a waterproof mattress protector on his bed, thanks to his heats it was kind of necessity. Kissing Kosmo on the head, the puppy tried licking at his face, Lance tucking him up against him as he went about making tea to go with the cookies. He didn’t know why Coran couldn’t just call him. This waiting thing sucked. He wasn’t good at it. Not when it came to people he cared about.

Matt and Rieva were sent to clean up when they finally crawled out of bed. Matt grumbling over Lance disturbing their sleep. Flashing his teeth, his housemate backed off, Lance throwing his dramatic arse into the closet seat. He shouldn’t be freaking out. Coran had known him for years. He liked to think they’d long passed awkward house visits, but he was on edge as it was. He wanted to hurry up and be done with the tunnels, so Pidge could be excited about something else.

It was 10 o’clock when Shiro’s white sedan finally pulled up in front of his house. Rushing to the front door, he found Coran enthusiastically praising Shiro’s driving. Bounding past his feet, Kosmo klutzed up and fell down the front veranda steps with excitement, picking himself back up, his whole body was wagging as his little body bounded towards Shiro. Scooping up the excitable pup, Shiro was lucky he held Kosmo away from him as the puppy peed in excitement. Shiro grimacing, waiting until Kosmo was done before handing him off to Keith. Keith didn’t care about the pee as he cradled his fur son, smiling as Kosmo licked at every part of him that he could

“Hello, baby. I missed up”

Resisting the urge to gush over his boyfriend was easy when he felt sick to stomach over Coran. Coran’s enthusiasm turning to gushing over the puppy. If Coran was this cheerful then Lance was overreacting

“Hey, guys. Come on in”

Causal. He hoped he sounded casual. Shiro started towards the house, Coran and Keith much slower as they fussed over Kosmo

“Hey, Lance. How’s things?”

“Good. I’ve got fresh cookies and tea waiting”

Coran shot him a smile, yet Lance knew his attention was still focused on Kosmo

“Excellent, my boy. Sorry for the unplanned visit”

“It’s fine. Keith called ahead”

Keith paused on the front steps to kiss his cheek. Lance kind of disappointed it wasn’t a proper kiss, but happy he was there for whatever reason. Heading indoors, Lance led the group through the kitchen. Matt and Rieva had already started on the cookies, but seeing he’d made four dozen, there were still plenty left to go around. Sitting in his usual seat, he left his lap open for Keith, Keith instead sitting next to him. Coran being Coran went straight to pouring tea for everyone, as Shiro sat himself down at the opposite end of the table and next to Curtis.

When the tea was ready, Coran started passing out the cups

“I expect you’re somewhat confused what I’m doing here”

“A bit. I mean, it hasn’t been that long since I saw you”

“I know. I wouldn’t have come, but Keith mentioned you were heading back into the tunnels beneath Garrison and you had a negative reaction the first time”

Lance squirmed. Negative was putting it nicely. And Coran coming out over the tunnels seemed overly weird

“I told you about them before”

He had. He didn’t get why Coran was making a fuss now. Maybe he’d found something?

“That you did, but I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news. I thought perhaps offering assistance on this would help ease what I have to say”

“You know I hate it when you word it like that”

Coran set a cup of tea before him. Lance taking the cup in his hands to give himself something to focus on

“I do. There’s... a bit of an issue at headquarters. You know we service all vampires in the area. We have a new vampire in Platt. I don’t believe he’d be interested in you, yet it has been many years since I last saw him”

Lance couldn’t help the laughter that came from relief. The rest of the table staring at him like he was crazy

“You had me worried! If you want me to keep my distance you could have told me on the phone”

It wasn’t that funny. His laughter dying away within a few moments. He felt so much lighter for knowing, even if it did compound the fact he’d stupidly overreacted

“I know. I wanted to tell you seeing how things have been lately. It seems he may have picked up your scent. I’m quite confident he has no idea who you are, only that you’re quite unusual”

Lance sobered. That was one way of putting it. The other was saying he was basically catnip to vampires, which he was

“I get it. You told me I was going to have to live more carefully than ever before”

“I’m so glad you understand. I must admit I didn’t sleep well last night. I care quite a lot for you, my boy”

Lance nodded

“I know. You’re not being mean, you’re trying to protect me. It’s fine. Now, why are you asking about the tunnels”

Coran sat himself down beside Keith, nursing his cup of tea near his chest

“I’m concerned you may be more in-tune with death than ever. Can you describe what you felt?”

Lance sighed. He didn’t need to see ghosts any clearer than he already did... or didn’t

“Revolting. Like someone had filled the whole place with residue of death, and like... like I had confess all my sins. I wasn’t feeling that great before we headed in, but I definitely started feeling better again above ground”

Coran hummed, Matt stopping munching long enough to ask

“Should we be worried? I know Lance was in the mine shaft tunnels, but if he’s feeling ill from the town ones, does that mean something’s down there that could hurt Pidge?”

“I’m not sure. A creature down there for that long would have long gone mad. I felt it best I give it a quick check, before you and your friends make the trip down”

Coran must have really been on edge thanks to this new vampire. He didn’t need to come make the precheck on Lance’s activities, still, he had. Lance wondered if Coran was feeling overly cautious and fearful for his safety because he knew this new vampire was bad news, or if it was related to him being a breeder and the vampire being new to town

“It didn’t feel like something living. There was much pain and regret. It was like... I don’t know. I wanted to go church the moment I came back up again”

Lance closed his eyes, trying to block the feelings of the tunnels rising inside him

“That concerns me. Let’s enjoy our spot of tea and be in our way over”

Lance drove Keith, Matt, and Rieva to the pub. Matt was excited over seeing the tunnels ahead of the weekend, Rieva annoyed their morning had been interrupted by something so trivial, and Keith kept casting him sideways glances because Lance has suggested maybe he and Shiro stay home at the last moment. Lance unable to share any enthusiasm Matt had. He’d been left cold and clammy at the mere thought. Pulling into the first parking back closest to the pub, he most definitely didn’t want to go in there.

Keith and Lance hung back as the group, now led by Coran, headed into the pub. Brushing shoulders was the most intimate they could be, but Lance was struggling not to hold Keith’s hand

“Babe?”

Of course Keith wanted to talk

“I’m fine... I’m a bit edgy”

“I can see that. If you don’t want to go down there, Coran will understand”

To have the luxury not to go would be nice

“No. I have to. Coran could be in danger, plus he probably wants to observe the effects of the tunnel”

“If everything goes smoothly, why don’t we have lunch here? We can send the others back ahead to your place”

“That’d be nice, but I don’t think I’ll be much company”

“I don’t mind. Or we could leave them here and head back to yours”

“Mmm. That sounds better. No offence”

“None taken. I’m sorry I freaked you out”

“Some warning would have been nice, but it is what it is. I really don’t want to do this. I was still psyching myself up for the weekend”

“I would have come, if I could have”

Lance felt a tiny bit better about that. He wanted to head home and cuddle with Keith, not be forced to adult

“I know. Can you answer something for me. Is Coran worried because I’m a breeder or is this new vampire dangerous. I totally get if you can’t and all...”

“He’s up to something. He used to be friends with Allura”

“The fact he used to be friends isn’t making me feel better. Allura is practically one of the nicest people I know”

“I can’t say much... but I don’t like him”

That was so Keith. His boyfriend had walls a mile thick. Not quick to trust but when he did, he was the kind of man who’d do anything for the people he cared about

“Okay. I’m sorry for asking about work”

“It’s fine if it’s you. We better join the others”

Coran was already talking to the publican. The poor man opened at 10:30 and now they were ruining his day already. He didn’t seem happy to see Keith and Lance, not that Lance could blame him. Pidge could be a tyrant at negotiating for what she wanted, and he had a business to run. The man didn’t have time to deal with paranormal investigators.

Coran pulled some kind of Jedi mind trick, getting them access without fighting or yelling. As they headed downstairs, Lance’s hand slipped into Keith’s, Keith squeezing firmly

“It’s okay, babe. I’m right here. A quick in and out and then we’ll be headed home”

Leaning into his boyfriend, Keith nuzzled into him, kissing the spot on his hairline . Lance wishing the kiss was enough to force the sick feeling from his body. It was already taking everything he had no to throw up on his feet. Talk about psychosomatic symptoms right there

“Yeah. I know... I hope Coran lets you stay the afternoon”

Keith probably had to go straight back to work. Lance didn’t want to interrupt him working, but he was pathetically addicted to Keith’s cuddles

“So do I... but we probably have to go back to work. We’re in the middle of investigating this shitty club”

“Let me guess, it’s shitty because you can’t drink?”

“That’s part of it. There were pets”

Lance wrinkled his nose. Keith was probably more used to seeing pets than he was, but that didn’t make it any more tasteful. The thought of collaring Keith stroked his ego, as much as it hurt his heart to think of a caged Keith. Keith with his freedom and sense of self worth was the Keith he wanted. Obedient Keith would be too freaking weird... Nope. He wanted his anger loaf as his partner not his pet

“If I ever make you feel like I pet, I hope you punch me in the dick for it”

“I will. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll never be”

Letting them through to tunnels, Lance felt ill immediately, covering his mouth with his hand as Coran examined ahead. Shiro was using the light of his phone to guide him, Curtis and Keith. Following Coran for a good 5 minutes of torturous silence, Coran finally came to a stop

“How do you feel?”

Like there was an itch under his skin and he really shouldn’t be there. Like whatever lingered wanted him gone

“Not great”

“I’m going to try something. Let me know if you can see it”

Coran placed his hand on the wall, blue lines radiated outwards like spiderwebs. Lance reasoned in awe that this had to be what magic looked like. Coran trigging it with his own. The feeling of death now so heavily pushing against him that his shoulders hunched. His head felt ready to split in two, as his fangs lengthened. Behind him, Shiro started to call out as a savage snarl filled the space, half turning, he found himself eyeing Matt, who Rieva was trying to hold back both her boyfriend and her own transformation, her eyes already yellowing as wrapped her arms around Matt in a losing battle

“Keith, look out!”

Acting on instinct, Lance shoved Keith aside, his body acting as shield for Coran. Sharps claws tore through his jacket and shirt like a knife through warm butter. Screaming in pain, Matt’s teeth sank deeply into his shoulder, his weight driving Lance to his knees as something snapped. Blood filled the air, Lance fighting to stay conscious

“Get out of here! Move, now!”

Grabbing Keith by the arm, Coran pulled him to stand behind him. Shiro already helping Curtis towards the way out. Falling under Matt, Lance twisted, driving his hand up to smack under the wolf’s jaw. His right arm looked nasty, the blow only stopping Matt for a moment before his claws were tearing into Lance’s chest. Coran was saying something, saying something then grabbing Matt around the neck. When Matt went to snap at Coran, Lance’s left arm round its way into Matt’s mouth by accident as he was trying to grab the wolf by his bottom jaw. For a moment, Matt’s eyes glowed yellow, before his wolf form was slumping over Lance. Everything was happening too fast. Lance couldn’t keep up. Dimly he heard Keith calling his name, followed by a voice he definitely didn’t want to hear... then there was nothing.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

10 notes · View notes