#not making any promises though my memory is shit and this has been stress relief while working on a bigger commission I don’t wanna like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

p---ink · 4 years

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White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival.

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face.

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised.

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process. When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return.

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job?

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love.

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil.

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one.

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids.

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you.

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest. You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message.

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day.

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you.

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly.

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!”

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin.

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet.

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though.

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him.

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself.

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes.

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew.

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it.

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex.

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?”

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last.

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub.

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face.

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy.

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch.

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips.

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers.

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch.

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were.

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up.

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.”

#Chris Evans smut #Chris Evans fluff #chris evans x reader #black reader #Chris evans #marvel smut #marvel fluff #captain america #Steve rogers #ransom drysdale

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

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White Lies (Pt. 02 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (01)

Next part (03) ->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Facing It Together

“Hi.” You mutter, feeling a little pathetic.

“Hi, beautiful.” The man softly says, walking closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I...” Your hopes are suddenly crushed. You thought you'd recognize him, but you didn't. He's a stranger. “I don't remember you. I'm sorry.” You start crying again, sobbing, unable to look at Keanu. There's a pressure in your chest, like your own heart is being destroyed, and your head hurts so bad it makes you want to throw up. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.”

His voice is a distant sound as your body is shaken by the sobs, and you hide your face with both hands. “I'm so sorry.” You repeat, defeated and lost. Because this is how you feel now. Completely, ultimately lost.

You're tired of looking inside yourself and finding nothing but a void. No memories, no familiar faces, nothing. It's like you're an empty vessel, stripped away from everything you once were, everything you grew to be. You feel the mattress moving, and hands grabbing your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “Don't apologize,” Keanu says, and you can't control yourself. This man is everything you have, the only person from your life that you have around. Whatever this is, wherever this leads, you need him. Biting back a sob, you throw your arms around his neck, holding on to him like you holding on to dear life.

“I-if you want to divorce me, it's ok.” The words flow out, a little confusing, too fast. You can't put him through it, it's not fair. “I can't ask you to deal with this, I...” Still, you don't find it in you to let go of him just yet. And that's when you feel his arms embracing you, strongly holding you against his chest, and it just makes you cry even more. “It's alright if you want to leave me.”

“(Y/N), listen.” Keanu pulls away, and you reluctantly let go. But he remains close, his face once a few inches away from yours as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, you and I.” Blinking to push some tears off, you stare into his dark eyes. “I promise you.”

“But I–”

“No buts.” He cuts you short, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I'm right here with you and we'll go through this together.”

“Alright.” You mumble, feeling as Keanu dries off some tears with his thumb. “I'm so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, none of this is your fault.” He's still speaking when a nurse comes in.

“Excuse me. I'm here to help (Y/N) shower. And Dr. Harris asked to see you, Mr. Reeves.” She says, showing off a small smile.

You don't want him to go, but you can't ask him to stay. So you watch as he stands up, looking down before sighing. “I'll see what Dr. Harris wants. But I'll be back, I promise.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on him until he leaves. But Keanu gives you one last look, along with a smile before heading out of the room.

The psychologist goes through the same things they've been talking about since Keanu agreed to this. The backstory, how to deal with headaches, confusing questions, everything. It takes hours and he's annoyed, mind wandering through the hospital, all the way back to her room.

Keanu's heart is broken. He never saw anyone suffering that much. He never saw someone who felt utterly, impossibly lost. If there was a way, it doesn't matter how much it would cost, to bring her memories back, he'd pay for it. If only medicine was that advanced.

“Mr. Reeves?”

“Huh?” He asks, raising his eyes from his hands up to Dr. Harris again.

“Is everything set at your place? We're planning on discharging her by next week. As long as the baby is alright.”

“And who will tell her about the pregnancy?” Keanu inquires, leaning forward on the table. “I think she should know it sooner rather than later.”

“You, as her husband, should be the one to tell the news.”

“Of course.” He couldn't help but feel guilty, like he's toying with her life. It isn't fair, but her reaction just a while ago changed his mind. It convinced him that the doctors were right. (Y/N) needs him, and it doesn't matter if they're both complete strangers, he feels it in his heart that this is the right thing to do. If he's willing to pay any amount of money to help her get better, he can do this too. And he will. “When can I tell her?”

“Whenever you feel like it. We're counting on you to set the pace in this. Soon enough you'll be very close, and your reports will help us find the right treatments along the way.”

He nods, despite thinking he'll be doing their job. Keanu is not a doctor, and he's not comfortable with this lie. It's too huge, too cruel to trick her like this. He's a confusion of feelings. Maybe he could've found a way to tell her the truth. That he found her, brought her here, and would stay by her side until everything is alright. But now, the damage is already done, and Keanu can't bring himself to break through this. Not now. Not after he saw how desperate she was.

Their talking went on for hours, until late at night. (Y/N) is already sleeping, they told him, so he took his time to go back home, eat something, shower and sleep for a couple of hours. It was still dark when he gets back to the hospital, silently walking into her room. The hospital gown she's wearing now is light blue instead of white, he doesn't know why. Careful, he stands next to her, looking down at her face. (Y/N) is pretty, more than that actually, and despite telling himself not to see her this way, struggling not to find her beautiful given the situation, he can't. A small smile crosses his lips as he moves to the couch in the corner, taking a seat. He'll wait, patiently, for her to wake up. As a true husband would.

You make your way back to consciousness slowly, with a persistent headache. It doesn't seem like it'll leave you alone, said the nurse, not for a while. You also feel dizzy, and the hospital room spins around even though you're secure in the bed.

“Shit.” You mutter, tightly closing your eyes once again, hoping it'll help.

“Something wrong?” The voice startles you, eyes opening and your attention being claimed by him. Keanu is here, making his way over you, looking worried.

“I'm just dizzy.” You explain, trying to move into a sitting position. But Keanu stops you, a hand on your shoulder.

“Keep still until it passes.”

“Alright.” Suddenly feeling nervous, you look away from him, clearing your throat. “I guess it's normal. Giving my... Condition.”

“Actually, (Y/N)...” His tone changes, and it makes you brave enough to stare at him again. Keanu seems uncertain, like he's fighting against himself.

“What is it?” Anxious, you push yourself up, ignoring how your sore body complains. “I-is it bad?”

“No, it isn't.” With his voice softer, he sits on the bed, taking both your hands in his. Furrowing your eyebrows, you decide not to pull them away. He's your husband after all, he must be used to this kind of affection. “(Y/N), you're... We're expecting a child.”

Gasping, your eyes go wide, a hand covering your mouth. “What?” You mutter, tears filling your eyes again. Looking down at your stomach, which is flat, you furrow your eyebrows. “A-are you sure? It doesn't look like it.”

“You're only five weeks pregnant. But soon enough it'll start to show.” Unable to control yourself, you start crying all over again, sobs shaking your body. “Hey, it's alright.”

Once again, you hug him, arms around his neck. You can't help it. If you thought your condition was delicate, complicated, it only got worse. You don't remember anything about yourself, you don't even remember your husband, and now there's a baby in the mix. “W-what and I going to do?” You cry, feeling his arms around you. “I-I don't–”

“We'll do it together, sweetheart,” Keanu says, his voice as soft as silk. You do need him, more than you thought you did. This is something you can't do by yourself. Your whole body hurts as you shake a little, hiding your face from Keanu's neck.

Slowly, you stop crying, allowing Keanu to calm you down, a hand rubbing the small of your back. A couple of minutes after, you pull away, a little embarrassed for breaking down like this. Again. Reaching out for the remote control, you push the buttons until the bed allows you to rest your back while still on a sitting position. Keanu fixes your pillow, and you mutter a ‘thank you’. “So...” You start, a hand on your stomach. “Did we plan it? Or is he or she an accident?” You ask, meeting his dark, deep eyes, voice still low and weak.

There's something in his eyes, something you can't quite place. “We planned it.”

“How long have we been married?” You burst out, a hand still on your stomach. It's a weird feeling to know there's a new life growing in there.

“A year and two months.” Keanu quickly answers.

“Alright.” You whisper, your eyes falling on his hand. Taking a deep breath, you take it, placing it on your belly. His hand is a lot bigger than yours, and your skin warms up under his touch. It hits you suddenly that it must be weird, since Keanu doesn't move. So you sink a little, looking down. “I-I'm sorry. You don't have to.”

“That's not it.” It seems like he was snapped out of his thoughts, and he leans forward a little, his eyes going to where his hand is. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all.” He breathes out, his thumb moving a little, a small smile crossing his lips.

Laying both your hands on top of his, you sigh. “Keanu, how... How did we meet?”

There's an awkward change in his expression, and he removes his hand from your stomach. “Well, I'm an actor. We met at an airport.”

“An actor? Really?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle. Looking like this, it's not much of a surprise.

“Yes.” He giggles at your expression. “You weren't really into movies, so you didn't recognize me at first. We started chatting, I asked for your number and you gave it to me.”

“...You're a little older than me, aren't you? If you don't mind me asking.” You couldn't help but notice. Keanu is very handsome, breathtaking really, but he's certainly older. In his forties, probably.

“Uhm...” He clears his throat, restless. “Yes, I'm something around two decades older than you.” Keanu avoids your eyes, looking down at his hands. You wish you could read his thoughts, and you hope you didn't hurt him in any way. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don't know.” Shrugging your shoulders, you curse yourself for saying that. This must be hard for him too, seeing you like this. Having his pregnant wife seeing him as a complete stranger. “Are we... Are we in love with each other? I mean... Do we love each other? Is our marriage good?” You don't know exactly what you're asking, but you need to know how's your relationship. You hope it's good. You hope you're not stuck in an unhappy marriage. But, in your favor, Keanu is treating you nicely, and since the pregnancy was planned, things are probably fine between you two.

“Yes, beautiful,” Keanu assures you, kind eyes as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “We're completely in love. We have been since the beginning and nothing changed. It only got stronger.”

This makes you smile. At least you had a good life before, and hopefully, you'll remember it. You'll remember him. “That's good.” You mutter, and his hand comes to your stomach once again.

“It is.” Keanu smiles too, softly and kind. It still feels weird to have him touching you, but you keep in mind that he's your husband. And you've been hurting him enough already with all this.

“Thank you for... Everything. And I'm sorry for... Driving recklessly and putting myself in this situation on the first place.” If your condition had screwed up your life alone, that's one thing. But there's someone else in this, and a child too. You'll never apologize enough.

“Stop it. None of this is your fault and we'll deal with whatever comes together. I promise you.” Keanu leans closer, and you freeze a little, a burning sensation on your core when you feel his lips placing a soft kiss on your forehead. But you manage to stay calm, offering him a small smile. “I'm with you, alright? You won't be alone through this process, or during your pregnancy.”

“Thank you.” You can't help but repeat, feeling less lonely than felt when you woke up.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick imagine #imagine john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction

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regular-lord-reckoner · 3 years

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i apologize in advance because this is probably going to be a lot but i just need to get some stuff out of my brain and hopefully be able to feel a little more at peace

so...okay, to start with we got a new dog today

should be a great thing, right? but i just...i really don’t think it’s a good idea

for one thing, it’s a very young pup, he’s only 7 weeks old. for another (and this is the biggest point) i had no idea this was even happening until it was already a done deal, i got no say in the matter

and i keep being told well, that’s not a problem because it’s not like i have to take care of him but like...of course i am. how would i fucking not?

my mom works a lot and spend a good portion of the week at work and even though i’m here most of the time i‘m usually upstairs

the primary caretaker of this dog is supposed to be my father but like...so seriously how is that going to go when the man spends a good portion of the day sleeping? who’s supposed to be letting this dog go outside to go to the bathroom or making sure he’s not into something?

and like, i don’t mean to be indelicate by any means, but my dad’s old. he’s not going to suddenly get better at this point in his life, in fact it’s only going to get worse from here and i feel like it’s already started

not too long ago he completely burned a pot and nearly burned down the kitchen because he forgot he was making beans on the stove top

any more it seems like if he starts a load of laundry he just...forgets it and i have to come behind him and stick them in the dryer or sometimes just rewash them altogether because they’ve started to smell sour

there’s just a lot of stuff like that where you can tell he started doing something but went to go check on something else or just wandered off and forgot about it completely

i’m genuinely worried about his memory starting to go and we think...giving him a living creature that depends on him for survival was a good idea? i’m sorry, i just don’t see it and that means i’ll have to pick up the slack and like. okay, i’ll do it for this poor little dog that also had no say in this but needs someone to take care of him but jesus fucking christ i just wish someone had bothered to run this by me first so i could at least mentally prepare for this

mind you too i’m already taking care of two cats that also aren’t mine and were brought here without me knowing anything about it and that was also a “well, it’s not your responsibility so don’t worry about it” kind of thing and well...here we are.

and i’m already trying to help out around here more as it is because like, no shit, i appreciate getting to stay here i really do so i don’t mind but honestly a lot of what i end up doing isn’t even my own stuff, y’know?

i’m taking care of myself but i’m also trying to go behind two other people and keep things clean and make things easier for everyone else and i don’t even get a courtesy like, “hey, big new responsibility dropping, get ready for it”? i dunno

and i’ve expressed all of this and just nothing. nobody gives a shit.

and so like okay, fine fair enough you know i’d been feeling anyway like i’m really ready to just...have my own place. again, i appreciate getting to stay here and genuinely have no fucking idea how i’d afford to live on my own but i’m starting to think i just need to bite the bullet and either get a second job or see about some other potential ways to make money

the only thing about that is...there’s a big part of me that’s like, “what’s the point? how long do you think you’ll get to even have your own life anyway?”

because again like...my dad’s old. his health, although not as bad as it has been in the past couple of years is still not going to do a miraculous turn around and like...especially if his mind is starting to go what are my options, realistically?

i go off and start my own life and will just have to give it up to come back here to help take care of him

and i know you’re probably thinking, “well no, you don’t have to do that,” but don’t i?

i’m just going to make my mom deal with that all by herself? there’s no other kids but me who will help. other family might but it’s not really fair to put that on them either and on top of that because we really hit the jackpot with relatives i can’t even begin to tell you how many vultures are going to come out of the woodworks when they get even a hint that things are going bad (hell, that already started when he was going through cancer treatments during this pandemic no less and family were messaging him wanting to know if they could come and visit like...absolutely not, what the fuck are you thinking??)

and i love my mom but she doesn’t take the greatest care of herself and i don’t really want to get into it but she’s definitely started to worry me with her drinking lately.

i feel like i can’t leave here. i feel like everything will fall apart if i do and that when shit really does hit the fan i need to be here so...why bother to leave?

i want to, but can i?

i don’t feel like my life is even mine at this point

they’re not bad people, i can’t justify doing my own thing and telling them to kick rocks, especially after all they’ve done for me but at the same time i just don’t want to be stuck here forever

i just feel really, really trapped

and i know when people say that everyone gets nervous because uh-oh, that’s suicide talk!! but that’s the fucked thing too is that’s part of what feels especially suffocating

that’s not an option for me. not unless i want to hurt them as badly as possible and i don’t.

and you’d think it’s be maybe a relief to not have that as an option anymore, that oughta steer things in a more positive direction just naturally but instead it just kind of feels like someone’s trapped me in a room that’s slowly filling with water and there are no exit doors or vents or any possible means of escape so i just have to either sit here and slowly wait to drown or do what feels impossible and find some way to make all the water leave and build a better room

and obviously i should be talking about all of this with y’know, an actual therapist but that’s still proving really difficult at the moment

i made a new list of potential ones i just haven’t been able to reach out to any just yet and it definitely doesn’t help that every time i start to gear up to do it it seems like i get online and see a bunch of posts that are like, “honestly, therapy is a scam and not at all worth it and you’re stupid if you think it actually helps anyone, it’s likely to just traumatize you more and you can never trust a therapist!!” and i’m just like oh, okay then

because that’s the thing of it too like i need to talk to somebody, right? but clearly the shit i need to talk about is heavy and despite my trapped predicament like...i need to talk about these dark thoughts but is that going to get me hospitalized? is that going to fuck up my life even more?

and on top that, yeah dude, already having trust issues and being damn near incapable of letting new people into my life at all already doesn’t bode well in trying to find a person i can talk to about with all of this shit but i love the constant reminder that even getting to that point is likely going to be painful and could possibly just make shit that much worse!!!

i also just can’t stop thinking about the one therapist i did reach out to and that interaction alone has made me feel shitty enough. initially i tried to just take it in stride and figured it just wasn’t a good fit but now i’m convinced that’s how it’s going to go when i reach out to anyone else.

i’ll be made to feel like i’m stupid for needing someone to talk to because according to her “my clients have friends if they just want someone to talk to, y’know?” hahahaha no, i don’t but sure, go on!

like ma’am, no disrespect, i’m sure your methods work for someone, somewhere but i don’t think getting more sleep and walking more is going to fix the problem and on that subject...i don’t have friends

i have a friend and that’s about it

when i say i have trouble letting people into my life i really mean it

and yeah, maybe i’m just being a big baby about it all and i just need to like...try to make that happen anyway but i’m also at this point where it’s like...how?

actually how?

at my age?? finding friends??

on top of that just...i’ve been through my share of toxic friendships and although i’d like to think i’ve learned a lot since then and would hopefully never find myself in any again you never really know until you get into it, right? and just the thought of it, of putting myself out there, opening up, being vulnerable and just...letting people into my life only to possibly go through more shit it just sounds exhausting and terrifying.

i know it’s what i need to do, i know i can’t just close myself off from the world and essentially cease to exist while still being here but it just feels so fucking overwhelming and then on top of that like i said before, is there even a point?

because it kind of seems like i’m going to be needed here indefinitely and so is that just my life then? i’m just a loser who never leaves her hometown, never moves out, never has a life of her own or expands her circle to include more people because she just has to stay here and watch over things and take care of everyone and all the added responsibilities they keep bringing into this house without even running it by me first?

it feels like it and maybe it doesn’t have to be but it feels like it

and it just feels really, really suffocating

and hopeless

and maybe it’s not really, maybe i’m missing something here but i feel like i can see down the road for many, many miles and it doesn’t look promising

and i feel selfish and horrible for even saying all of this because it sounds like i’m just pissed off i have to take care of things and it’s really not that

i genuinely don’t mind helping out and maintaining a space and i don’t even really mind cleaning all that much, it can be a good stress relief i’ve found but it’s just this overwhelming feeling i have of like...this is my life. this is all it’s ever going to be.

i’m going to sit here and watch everyone else go on and live their lives, have lots of friends and romance and really just experience life and i’m just going to be sitting here left in the dust at home chasing after pets and trying to keep everything from falling apart until the bottom does inevitably fall out so i can be here to pick up the pieces just like i did last time

and i mean if that’s the case then i’ll make peace with it, i just wish it could be different i guess. if nothing else, i wish i didn’t have this urge to change things or to have a different life because it just doesn’t feel possible right now. feels very much like if i step away even for a second that everything’s going to go wrong and i’ll be partially to blame because if i had been here maybe things would be different

then again, the last time something tragic happened and i lost someone i loved very much i was here and it didn’t make a damn difference so maybe my presence isn’t as important as i think but i guess that’s part of it too like...that happened on my watch and if something else bad happens when i’m not here... i’m barely living with the first shit, i don’t know if i could handle the second

idk. this is really stupid i think but it’s been in my head for a while now and with this new dog thing i’m just kind of at my breaking point with it so here you go, void.

hopefully i’ll be able to talk myself into getting a therapist anyway even though i’m scared to death because i know i shouldn’t be putting this here but right now i just feel incredibly stuck and i’m not sure what to do or where to go

#just need to get some thoughts out #this is a little heavy so no obligation to read

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tamakeey · 4 years

Text

there are children present (pt. 2)

doctor! ushijima wakatoshi x doctor! reader

a/n: yeah, there’s probably gonna need to be a part three because I have a lot of ideas and it’s too much to put all into part two sorry :(( but lmk if you’re interested in part three :))

so it's been a little over a year since y/n has been working at the clinic

still as popular as ever with the children due to her caring and gentle nature

ushijima is still ushijima (the same tall, stoic face doctor that scares the children until they realize he’s nothing but a softie)

their feelings for each other: yeah they’re still growing bigger than atsumu’s ego (or at least cutting it close)

the two doctors: still as oblivious as ever, never noticing the subtle hints they throw at each other (it’s mainly y/n throwing the hints though, ushijima never catches them causing his red headed counterpart to slam his head against the wall

the nurse trio continue to pick on their assigned doctors for not making any big moves

and when their doctor refuse to reveal their feelings, what do they do?

of course they rant to one another about their struggles in bringing to two doctors, who were smart enough to graduate medical school and pass residency but cannot confess for the life of them, together

“I swear waiting for them to confess is like watching paint dry” -semi

“SEMI SEMI USHIJIMA REFUSES TO CONFESS AND I SWEAR IM GOING BALD FROM THE STRESS”-tendou

kawanishi truly believes that he may graduate with his nursing degree, pass his board exams, and get his license and a permanent position at the clinic before they can even mutter the words “I like you” to one another

their feelings are so obvious the receptionists, reon and yamagata has caught on and take every second they see two walk into work together to make comments on how cute of a couple they would be

it flusters y/n but ushijima keeps his stoic face and replies with “we’re just friends” (even though he’s blushing internally)

moral of the story is, their feelings are painfully obvious to everyone except the two doctors

so it’s another typical day in the pediatrics center

y/n typing away at her cubicle while semi and kawanishi complains about her lack of courage

“just confess to him please, it’s getting painful for all of us” kawanishi says bluntly while hitting his head against the cubicle wall, already knowing what the doctor was going to say

“no, he doesn’t like me that way, I don't know why you all keep insisting that he does” y/n replies with a semi mouthing the exact words she says after hearing everyday for the past six months

“do you not hear tendou screaming in distress everyday and screeching about how ushijima is as dumb as a brick” kawanishi asks

“I thought he was inferring to ushijima’s lack of social awareness, which is adorable but also very dangerous in this field” y/n replies

“how are you a doctor but you’re so dumb?” semi asks rhetorically

“do you tune out the half where tendou is complaining ushijima’s love life and how he has the chance for it but isn’t taking it. he even shouts your name in there most of the time, what’s not clicking?” kawanishi rants

“look I'm too nervous to make the first move with ushijima and I cannot read his emotional 100% of the time, so confessing is out of the question. now there’s a patient coming in five minutes and you two have to do your typical nurse routine before I go in so hop to it” y/n spews out

typical nurse routine in case it was unclear: take height and weight, check patients blood pressure and ears, and record their temperature and reason for being in the office and such

semi and kawanishi grumble as they sanitize their hands and walk out of the office area

y/n takes a deep breath and slouches down in her chair as she begins to think of the conversation she just had with her troublesome nurses

after a few minutes of contemplating their words, the two nurses return with the file report of the patient, signaling the female doctor’s need in the examination room

as y/n makes her way to the examination room, she runs into ushijima who came rushing into the pediatrics center

“what has you rushing?” y/n asks an exasperated ushijima

“I was almost late since I was coaching shirabu today but it went a little more overtime than how I originally planned the session. also, we spent a good time waiting for his friend to show up only to find out they had to take a raincheck because the kid has a doctor’s appointment today” ushijima replied

“oh I see, well I need to get to a patient right now but I'll catch up with you after” y/n says

ushijima gives her a nod and a pat on the head before rushing to the office to hopefully clock in on time

as y/n knocks on the door, she opens it to find a little boy with a bowl cut sitting on the examination table fiddling with his fingers

if bowl cut did not give it away, it’s our favorite rock lee look alike and if that didn’t help any it’s goshiki :)

the toddler look up upon hearing the door open up and begins visibly shaking because doctor visits are scary

“hello goshiki, my name is dr. y/l/n and I heard you’re not feeling the greatest today, wanna tell me what’s wrong” y/n asked the boy gently, crouching to his height

goshiki hesitates on answer and sits silently while mumbling too quietly for y/n to hear

“I'm sorry sweetie, I couldn’t hear you? could you speak up, I promise I won't hurt you. I’m here to help you feel healthy and strong again!” y/n explains, trying to get the poor frightened boy to open up

“my friend and I were playing volleyball the other day and when he served the ball, it hit my head really hard and everything went black” goshiki says

“I'm just worried if it he may have a concussion so I took him in” goshiki’s mother continues causing the doctor to nod and examine goshiki’s head

I see, so we are going to have to run a couple cognitive tests but from the looks of it, I think it may just be a bruise” y/n asserts causing the poor boy to shake at the word tests

“don’t worry, we do not need to do any shots or blood test. it’s just little memory things, unless you want an MRI scan to be 100% sure. but from what I see, I don’t believe it is a concussion” y/n continues

goshiki looks at his mom silently begging her not to make him take the scary test to which she replies that an MRI would not be necessary to goshiki’s relief

“well then goshiki, you ready to play some brain games. do your best!” y/n encourages the boy causing him to get fired up

because she had him at games

‘OKAY!” goshiki exclaims bouncing on the examination table

y/n begins to grab cards with little picture on them and handed them to goshiki to begin memorizing

she would test him after giving him 5 minutes to study the cards

little did she know, tendou decided that April fools would come early this year and decided to put a picture of ushijima within the cards

just for shits and giggles you know

tendou’s line of thinking you ask why not fluster y/n while she's caring for a patient, that would be hilarious

after five minutes of goshiki studying the cards, he hands them back to y/n

“okay goshiki, can you name at least five of the cards out of the ten that I gave you?” y/n asks, still unaware of the picture of the giant doctor

“blanket, bed, apple, chair, and penguin” goshiki recites

y/n looks at the first five cards to see goshiki had named them in order

“perfect, do you think you can do all ten?” y/n encourages

goshiki nods excitedly and continues

“bear, flower, water, ball, and ushijima” goshiki says, eyes sparkling at the last word

y/n visibly jumps, her cheeks turning red

“wait a minute, dr. ushijima is not one of the card options” y/n questions

“yes he was, his picture was the tenth card I studied” goshiki says innocently

y/n begins vigorously going through the cards she handed goshiki only to see the little bowl cut boy was correct

the tenth card was in fact a photo of the tall, stoic doctor

goddammit tendou y/n thinks in her head, knowing it was for sure his doing

“I'm impressed that you got all ten but how did you know that was dr. ushijima?” y/n asks curiously

need I remind you, y/n’s face is as red as tendou’s hair

“he's my favorite volleyball player in the whole entire world, I wanna be an ace just like him. I was going to play volleyball with him today but mommy said I have to go to the doctors” goshiki explains, his face visibly deflating when mentioning his missed opportunity

“I see, goshiki do you mind waiting in here for like 5 minutes for me. I need to print your papers to take home but my printer isn’t working in here?” y/n asks politely while goshiki nods

y/n takes her leave and makes her way to the office room where she sees ushijima looking at paperwork, sitting in his cubicle

“ushijima-san, can I borrow you for a few minutes?” y/n pops her head in his cubicle and politely asks him

ushijima nods while throwing his paperwork on his desk

“it’s a small world I swear. my current patient was the child you were supposed to coach today. he apparently is a huge fan of you and was super sad that he missed an opportunity to meet his idol” y/n explains

ushijima catching where y/n was going with his nodded and opened the office door for y/n, signaling her to lead the way to the patient’s room

“you don’t have a patient coming in soon do you?” y/n asks, concerned that she’s putting him off schedule

“I don't have a patient coming in for another hour, so it’s fine” ushijima replies

soon they make it in front of the examination room

of course the three troublemaking nurses are staring at them behind a wall thinking what’s going on for them to be going into a room together

I tried finding a reference picture but scary pictures popped up and now I'm scared but basically it’s like one head on top of another, if you can find it lmk I think I'm searching up the wrong thing

y/n knocks on the door to goshiki’s room and then walks in with ushijima following behind her, but he’s hidden by the curtain

“hi goshiki, there’s someone I would like you to meet” y/n says which ushijima took as a cue to come out from behind the curtain

when I tell you goshiki squealed, he screamed so loud, washijou could hear it from his office which was on the opposite side of the pediatrics center

receptionists yamagata and reon can hear him from their little windows

everyone in the waiting area heard it loud and clear, concerned for the child who they believed were screaming bloody murder

anyways after goshiki had his internal fanboy moment, he climbed off the examination table and ran up to ushijima, hugging his legs

“OMG ITS USHIJIMA, HE’S REALLY HERE. I LUB YOU” goshiki screaming, jumping up and down while holding onto ushijima’s khaki colored slacks

“pleasure to meet you goshiki, I heard you also love playing volleyball” ushijima answered

“YES I LOVE VOLLEYBALL, I HOPE TO BE AN ACE JUST LIKE YOU” goshiki exclaims waving his little arms all over the place

ushijima chuckles and y/n swears she’s never heard anything more melodic in her life

“I’m glad I inspire you to be a better volleyball player. I hope you will be able to make it to shirabu’s next volleyball lesson, I look forward to working with you” ushijima replies

“YES SIR” goshiki said bowing repeatedly

ushijima approaches goshiki’s mother to begin working out a schedule fit for goshiki

all while y/n continues to stare at his face with a fond look

suddenly, she feels a tug on her scrub bottoms and looks down to find goshiki looking up at her with a questioning look on his face

“Dr. y/l/n, do you love ushijima-kun?” goshiki asked innocently while tilting his head to the side

this caused the female doctor to turn a bright shade of red and attempt to deny it to the best of her capabilities

waving hands

repeatedly saying no

what you think of, she probably tried it to convince baby goshiki that she had no feelings for the volleyball-playing doctor

“why are you so red dr. y/ln?” goshiki asks causing ushijima to turn around and look at her worriedly

he begins walking over to y/n and places his hand on her forehead to check for her temperature

“are you alright? are you sick perhaps? maybe you should take the rest of the day off and rest” ushijima speaks to the poor doctor who turns even redder by the minute

“no no I am perfectly fine, it’s just that I’m overheating in my white coat, nothing else” y/n responds waving her hands in fast motion

ushijima chose not to question it but goshiki could tell she was lying

I mean who gets hot in a hospital, when it’s the middle of winter

“c’mon goshiki, we have to go. we don’t want to miss your playdate with shirabu now do we?” goshiki’s mother breaks the tense air

hearing his best friend’s name, he shook out of his thoughts and nodded quickly

“dr. ushijima, is it too much to ask for your autograph?” goshiki asks

ushijima turns to the kid and nods as if saying “I don’t mind”

ushijima takes a piece of paper out of the functioning printer and grabs a pen from the cup placed near the computer

he signs the paper, writing a little note for the baby mushroom boy

he hands it to goshiki and as he reads it, he squeals

to my number 1 fan, thank you for your support :)

goshiki grabs his mother’s hand leaving the examination room, waving to the two doctors

not missing ushijima staring at y/n’s smile as she waves happily back to goshiki

“are you sure you’re feeling well y/l/n?” ushijima asks

“I am perfectly fine, thank you for checking up on me” y/n responds

they stare fondly at each other and begin leaning towards one another before a certain red head barges in to tell ushijima that his patient is here

“USHI YOUR 2:30 IS HERE, OH SHOOT! TAKE YOUR TIME :)” tendou screams causing the two to break apart

just a side but semi and kawanishi definitely watched the whole thing, banging their head against the wall while cursing at the stupid red head

before anyone comes for me I love tendou but they’re mad he cockblocked

“I should go see my patient” ushijima says curtly, bowing at the female doctor and making his way to the examination room his patient is currently waiting in

y/n is fanning herself while thinking about the moment she had with the handsome doctor while her two nurses are cursing out the red head

“YOU COULD’VE WAITED LIKE FIVE MINUTES, WE WERE SO CLOSE TO ENDING OUR MISERY” -kawanishi

“TENDOU YOU IDIOT I HATE YOU” -semi

I don't usually do POV changes but THIS IS NO LONGER TAKING PLACE AT THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE BUT IT’S GOSHIKI AND SHIRABU’S PLAYDATE

goshiki makes his way into shirabu’s house

he bows at shirabu’s mother before making his way to his best friend’s room

“SHIRABU, I MET USHIJIMA TODAY!!” goshiki screams

“asahi (god), can you please keep it down” shirabu responds

goshiki then explains what went down in the doctor’s office while shirabu listens intently, ears perking up at the mentions of goshiki’s female physician

“wait, what did your doctor look like” shirabu asks poking goshiki’s tummy with one of his taped fingers

goshiki goes on to explain her appearance and shirabu can suddenly picture her due to...

“oh my asahi, ushijima has her picture as his phone wallpaper and he’s always staring at it during our volleyball lessons” shirabu says to goshiki

“that’s funny because when he walked into the examination room, dr. y/l/n kept staring at him and always turned red whenever he was mentioned. do you think they’re like best friends?” goshiki asks

“no you idiot, they like each other” shirabu says, hitting his forehead at his best friend’s stupidity

“but dr. y/l/n said she doesn’t like him like that” goshiki responds

“but why would she tell her secrets, especially to some kid she just met goshiki” shirabu says, internally questioning his friendship with his fellow bowl cut mate

after arguing about it back and forth, shirabu ended their verbal dispute by throwing a volleyball nearby and effectively hitting goshiki in the forehead

pls stop the goshiki abuse, just praise the poor boy :((

“okay, forget about this arguing. but goshiki I think you know what we have to do” shirabu said smiling deviously, gears turning in his small mind

thus the children begin plotting operation: you should have come to volleyball lessons

a/n 2: hello!! ik it’s been awhile but I’m currently having to deal with getting ready for college so there’s a lot of meetings, stress, and getting all my paper work in. the updates will be kind of slow because I want to make sure all the updates are decent in length but also has a good story line and written well (it’s probably still pretty bad but I'm trying my best) but thank you for your continuous support and I hope you're enjoying the series so far :)) <33

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

Text

i need a favour - seven.

PART SEVEN - bullet wounds and wounded hearts. (or, in which, they’re just too eager for some relief from the pain that no one gives a shit about labels anymore). WORD COUNT - 3318. A/N - forgot i wrote this, forgot about it for months & here we are. sorry. i’ve not really had much interest in writing this or anything in this style on here lately, but i didn’t want to leave this totally abandoned. figured, there’s no point in letting it rot away, might as well post (and for some reason, there’s been a spur in people reading this, so.) START FROM THE BEGINNING - one | two | three | four | five | six

PEOPLE THEORIZE A LOT ABOUT COMAS. And more specifically, what they do to a person.

More specifically than that, where a person goes, once in one. What the mind and psyche creates for them, where and when they escape off to while their body falls apart. If they relive their life’s best and worst moments until they can return to reality, if they dream on continuously - like the world was just one bad trip, and waking up they would not even realise their sleep had lasted more than a day. Or, if the person’s aware of everything around them, just unable to open their eyes and rejoin life - but maybe that was something totally different entirely.

But it was nothing like that, for her.

There was no way to tell just how much time transpired, when out; it could have been an hour, a couple days, three years tossed down the drain, for all she knew. Time moved so much differently, lost in the hellish dreamscape of the inbetweens of life and death.

For the most part, she felt absolutely nothing at all. Not even a sense of drowning, or darkness, or anything around her; like she was dead, her brain was turned off, and really...nothing at all. The only way she knew she was still alive and things were happening was when her brain woke up just a little, enough to send her into panics she could not express. She still could not move or speak or fucking breathe on her own, but she felt the world crashing in, sluggish and deafening around her. People moving around her, voices, loud noises echoing like crashes and explosions that she could not place. It felt like she had been laid down in a warzone, paralysed from head to foot and forced into silence. Just waiting for her eventual death.

And the voices...she really could not distinguish most. Or if they were even real. She got flashes of familiarity, phrases and sentences that added up to only nonsense in her mind - threats of violence, promises, old memories so faded they might as well be someone else's. None of it made sense. It just made her feel more and more scared, and trapped, every time she ‘woke up’ again. Left her craving the still of death once more, waiting for its skeletal hands to cradle her trembling figure again.

Finally, however, she heard the first real sound in a long time. She left the stillness to a strange noise, not a voice but a repetitive beep that would not turn off. At first, she thought it was also in her mind and that if she just ‘shut’ her eyes, sleep would once more overtake her - but despite her mental protests, the sound wouldn’t stop. If anything, it got louder, forcing her forward until she could just about think of opening her eyes.

And then, the beeps were joined by another sound; soft, almost non-existent mumbles, or snuffling of something? Something alive, not a machine, but...Y/N wasn’t sure what it was at first.

That was, until she began to move. With all the strength possessed in her frail figure, she pushed her lids open, blinking away copious tears welling at the bright light and forcing her eyes to work again.

She found herself in a small, white room - and though her mind seemed a million miles away, she could sort of guess it was a hospital room. There really was not much around her, the bed being the main furniture. The beeping came from her right, and she was able to crane her neck just enough to see some sort of monitor, the sort she would have seen on a crappy doctor’s show. With flashing lights and graphics she really couldn’t make out and honestly just hurt her head. She turned away from that pretty fast.

To her left, however, was a different story. She found the other source of the noise; Diego was slumped over in a chair too bony to be comfortable, softly snoring away. Which was never a good sign. The man was a quiet, still sleeper, like he was always waiting for something to happen - but after too long without sleep, his body would collapse into emergency catch-up mode. She had seen it many times after he’d come to her. And he always snored then.

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the pillow. There was no pain, which she guessed was either good or bad (who knew what the doctors were pumping through her veins, eh?) but her mouth was bone dry and she felt helpless, like even calling out for Diego was a deathly trial.

Y/N craned her neck again, taking his slumped figure in. He was almost right next to her bed, close enough that if she could reach out -

-her hands shook like tsunami waves, crashing against his black jacket like jagged knives of limestone on a cliff. She just could not find strength enough to angle them right, finding herself only able to brush the man and hope he felt her touch from wherever he had drifted to. Forget calling out; she could only mimic motion in the barest of touches, waiting for something to happen.

Luckily, it only took maybe a minute for him to stir. Slowly at first, then when realising what woke him up, he was up in seconds. His hands met her own, squeezing tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he croaked out, voice hoarse and worn out - she could only imagine how much stress-induced yelling he had been doing. Begging for something to be done, snapping at anyone who tried to get him to move; the guy was all too predictable. “I just fell asleep, I-”

“-s….okay…” Her vocal cords felt rusted over; how long had it been since she spoke? Her hand left his, gesturing weakly towards her throat. “Wa...wa...ter?”

“Shit, right.” He left her side and grabbed at a glass by her right. Within a moment he was by her left again, bringing it up to her lips. His hands shook ever so slightly. “Careful.”

But she ignored his word and slurped at it eagerly, too parched to be ashamed at how childlike her actions were. Too long had her throat been forced dry - how long had it been since the relief of a glass of water?

Once she had drunk enough, she waved it away, doing her best to smile. “Thanks.”

“Course.” His eyes remained on hers, steady and dark. “How...how are you feeling?”

She glanced away for a moment to look down at herself in the bed, before looking back. Slowly, Y/N shrugged. “M’not sure...weird. I don’t know how I should feel.”

“Right. Well, you’re on a shit load a’drugs, so I guess that’s stopping the pain. Uh...you remember what happened?”

She frowned. “Sort of. More...I don’t know. Remember the pain...like burning, on my side. Talking...was there a Polish chick?”

Diego didn’t crack even the tiniest of smiles. “Ukranian. But yeah. She was with you when it h-hi-she called the ambulance.”

“Right.”

“Look, Y/N, I am so-”

Before he could continue, a new voice joined the duo, one Y/N was certain she did not know. She tore her eyes away from the man by her side to take him in; tall, gray-haired and smiling from ear to ear. It made her a little uneasy, the look; was this how all gunshot victims were treated? With doctors who thought big grins and happy tones were a good answer? If she didn’t already have a headache, she would by just one look his way.

“Good to see you up! Was wondering when that’d be happening.” He seemed to grin even larger, if that was even possible, and made his way around her bed. She watched him fiddle with something behind her, before moving into her view once more. “How are you feeling?”

“Um...weird,” she mumbled, struggling to find any words to describe the feeling. “Tingly.”

“No pain?”

“Not really.”

He nodded. “Good. You’re going to be hopped up on pain meds for a while, but just let someone know when you start feeling anything.”

“Okay.”

Once more, he nodded. He looked like a bobblehead, almost, in the ways his head swivelled and shook on his too-small neck. “You got quite lucky, I must say. Good support system. This guy, right here? Barely moved at all while you were out.”

Her hand squeezed a little, in Diego’s. “How long was I out?”

“About three days, after surgery.”

“S-surgery?”

His grin got a little strained, there, but somehow still remained. Impressive. “Yes. Yeah, we had to get you straight into intensive care after you were brought in. The bullet hit your right hip, just about here-” he grazed the blanketed leg lightly, “-but then travelled downwards into your leg. Which was somewhat good, you avoided serious damage to your hip, but it did nick your femoral artery.”

Y/N frowned, glancing down to where his hand hovered. She could not even remember feeling pain in her leg; it had radiated from her hip alone. “How...how did it go down?”

“Well,” the man sighed, “from what we could gather, you were at just the right angle for the bullet to go straight through the hip. Since it didn’t hit that bone - again, a lucky point on your part, it tore right through and down to your upper thigh. The bullet actually remained lodged, which made reason for surgery. If it had come straight through, well, I don’t know what situation we’d be in but you were very fortunate. Held you from bleeding out on us.”

Something about the emphasis on ‘lucky’ made her feel somehow worse. Like she was a kid all over again, and before getting the bad news, her parents had to amp up the few ‘good’ things about the situation. She really wished he would stop smiling.

“How much...I…” she weakly lifted her hands, gesturing downwards. “How much damage has been done? In simple terms...please.”

His grin shrank a little more. “Well, that’s a bit complicated. The surgery was a success, although there were several blood transplants needed to cover that hit your artery sustained. However, because of said bleeding, and the way the bullet hit, it will be a long recovery time. The leg muscles are built to be used, but when damaged as yours was, well - I can bring in the charts and explain this to you simply, if you want?”

Y/N bit her lip, hard enough to rip through. Absent-mindedly, she noticed the taste of blood, licking a bead of red off. “Long?”

“The timeframe is hard to estimate,” he said - and at least that time, he had the courtesy to look semi-apologetic. “After a couple days, we’ll check in and see how well the limb is functioning, if the muscles are healing properly. You should be able to head home by that time, if it's healing right. But I’m afraid you're not going to be able to use the actual limb for a while.”

Vaguely, from what felt like far away, she heard Diego curse. The doctor kept talking, throwing around words she could not understand, verbal warfare against her already panicking mind, creating a chasm of stress and fear inside her brain. She wanted to do something, reassure him, ask the doctor what she could do and when - but it was impossible when she herself was drowning in panic.

Where had Diego gone? Why did he feel so far away? He sat beside her, but his hands were fidgeting and his face tight, and she just wanted him to tease her, hug her, promise her that she wasn’t lo-

“-judging by your faces, this isn’t sounding great but I promise, you’re in the best possible case scenario. I mean, you got here at the best time, you’ve had the best working to put you back together. And physical therapy will be a big help, you’ll be recommended some top-tier-”

“-whenwillIbebetter?”

Her words were hardly a breath, leaving right along with the little air in her system, but Diego still heard it. He clutched tight to her tsunami waves for hands and looked pleadingly the doctor’s way. “Can we h-have a moment?”

“I-” his eyes darted between the two, before resigning to an answer. “Sure. A nurse will be in at five, with me. Let me know if anything happens.”

Diego just nodded and watched him leave. The second he was out the door, he turned her way, hands moving from hers to hold her face, brush away the tears quickly slipping down her cheeks. Blearily, she made out his own eyes, swimming with emotions she had not seen from him in a long, long while. “Hey. Hey, it’s - it’s g-g-gonna-”

“-I got shot,” she huffed, struggling to get the words out between sobs. “I got shot, I got - I can’t walk?”

“That’s not -”

“-holy shit, Diego,” she cried, and in an instant his arms were around her, holding her as close as he could to his own trembling figure. She tried to talk, but failed and simply gave into the sobs. Words struggled to make their way through, really indiscernible and lost. Whatever it was, Diego could probably guess the point they were making - and it did not ease the guilt bubbling in his stomach for a second.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she whispered, sobs turning into quick huffs of breaths caught like she was running out of air. “You - the guy - the way he talked - I’m so fucking-g screwed.”

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s how they do it, don’t they? Make you feel...lucky, like you dodged a -” she stopped to snort, like any of this was funny - “-a bullet, but you’re really screwed.”

“Stop.”

“What if I never walk again?”

His arms stiffened around her - only for a second, but enough for her to notice. It was not a thought only she had had. What more did he know? “I...l-look, you’ve always said it best. Look at the bright side.”

She slipped out of his grasp then, pulling back so he could see her face. Stained with tears and puffy, with red and dark circles alike taking a toll on the previously bright expression. She was scared, and rightfully so.

“I don’t know how to do that,” she mumbled, staring him down as though somehow, she could give him all the fear through her eyes, make him feel all the things she did. And maybe she could, because the longer he looked, the harder it felt to keep his own composure.

“I don’t know how to do that...not with this.”

Diego didn’t say anything to that. All he did was hold her a bit tighter and sigh heavily as he traced circles into her back with shaking hands. In return she used his shoulder as a tissue and openly sobbed, uncaring as to who saw or what repercussions came. As far as she could see, it didn’t matter anyways. Did it?

“What do I do now?”

Her words were soft, kitten mews into the heavy silence. Accented only with another heavy sob.

“I don’t know, Y/N.”

She cried a little harder. His arms couldn’t hold her close enough.

“But I’ll be right there with you. M’not letting you go, not now.”

She sniffled. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? I mean it.”

“I’m a fuck-”

“-shut up,” he murmured, hand finding hers and closing over it. He held it to his own pounding heart. “I’ll be there. That’s that. Okay? W-whatever happens, I will be there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shut her eyes and leant her head against his dampened shoulder. She let herself focus on the sound of his heartbeat and the steadily beeping machines, somehow a semi-relaxing melody despite the stress behind each. She squeezed his fingers gently.

“O...kay. Okay.”

She felt his lips meet the crown of her hair, then his own head fall against hers. And then it was just nothing more than the two of them. A small duo, amidst the chaos of it all, finding just a moment of peace before things got even worse.

That was not the end of her tears shed that day, far from it. She cried more than she had in years, maybe more than her entire life. She cried when her sister came, when her dad showed up and told her her mother couldn’t get away from work, she bit through her lip trying to hold back the tears when her class’ warm messages of ‘get better’ finally got delivered. The dam was broken; the water dripped freely down her cheeks, waterfalls of emotions held back for too long.

Six weeks was a minimum of her being able to properly walk again, and it felt like it was a lifetime. The doctor broke down physical therapy rules, recovery times, prescriptions and all the ways she could be fucked otherwise by this wound, and the nurse pumped her to the brim with all sorts of medicines she couldn’t begin to pronounce. Her sister pretended to cry before leaving and her dad drank through six straight coffees, dumping packet upon packet of Splenda until the garbage can was filled with paper and cardboard cups. The doctor droned on and on, and the nurse kept ‘checking up on her’, and everyone kept wishing her fake sentiments and fake smiles that might as well be placebos, sent to placate her weakening psyche.

It was only hours later, when there was any relief. When they were all gone, and yet for some reason, Diego stayed.

“Don’t’cha have to…” she cleared her throat, trying to speak past the lump in her throat. “Y’know. Fight crime? Play neighbourhood superman tonight?”

Diego shook his head. His grasp on her hand tightened and it was only then when she realised how long he had held on. She had gotten used to the feeling, with her own fingers limp and weak throughout the day, and yet he had traced steady circles into her skin for the entire day and into the night.

“Not tonight.”

“Diego...I’ll be okay.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Just go, I’ll-”

“-m’not leaving,” he grunted, firm and hoarse. He ducked his head so she could not see his expression, but Y/N did not have to see his face to know what he was thinking. “S’all.”

She was exhausted and still weak, and the limbs that did work didn’t seem to want to, but still she tried. Y/N adjusted herself on the hospital bed and laced her fingers properly through his, gripping tighter than she could all day. His head moved at that, but did not lift.

Carefully, she lifted their joined hands to her chapped lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. The lump in her throat grew larger, and she found herself unable to speak more than a ‘thank you’, but maybe it was more than suffice, for the two of them.

Only then did their eyes meet, and his other hand moved to grip tight to theirs. Diego’s lips quivered, but he stayed silent, simply letting go of the breath held back in his own throat. Their faces remained close, separated only by their own hands, but holding onto the matched caring gaze reflected on both of their faces.

There was a feeling of mutual fear, and grief, and shame and loss that ascended the wound - years of pain between the two of them that sped up to meet this moment joyfully. But they did not speak on any of it. Just held tight to one another, even as her hands grew weary and trembling and his gaze grew dark.

She fell asleep looking at him, and feeling finally, the littlest bit of hope.

TAG LIST (let me know if you want to be added or removed) - @asexualmarauder @thatshellfiredean @the-bird-suit @rangotangomango @fandomsandmore394 @thatkidofwarandpeace @antoouu @soul-of-a-traveller @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @artsyle @asuperconfusedgirl @fic-cheesecake @spacenerdpascal @doctorsgirl262

#i need a favour series #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves series

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voidstilesplease · 3 years

Text

in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo.

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier.

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~

#steo #steo fic #steo ficlet #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #parallel universe au #in another life #part 2 #fics tag #well the christmas prompts may have been lost #lmao #but well I guess I'll just continue with this #omg this is going to be a disaster fic #i can just feel it lmao

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lollercakesff · 3 years

Text

And They Were Strangers

Jyn Erso has been prepping for this for months. Years even, if you count the endless hours she'd spent running pools and hosting watch nights with her college roommates. She'd choreographed hundreds of dollars in auctions for remaining teams and had led multiple nights where her and her friends cooked their way around the world with the country of the week. The memories were great, sure, but to say she didn't feel a connection with this path in her life would be a lie. Something drew her in, tied her up, and convinced her that this - this - was the thing she needed to do before she died.

And now it was time. She was ready. Mentally… Physically… Hopefully.

AN: Will I finish writing this? I have a plan... But is it worth my time?

But the path to her next adventure was currently being blocked by some too-tall goon with haphazard hair and piercing dark eyes who kept getting in her way. First at check in, then in line for security, and now at the boarding gate. They’d practically been together, crossing paths and crashing each other, since she entered this damn airport and it was starting to really get to her.

"Are you planning on getting on this plane or just standing in the way?" Jyn growls under her breath when the man doesn't move forward with the gate agent's call.

"What - Oh," he leaps forward a step and hustles towards the woman, pulling his passport from his pocket as Jyn sighs and checks her papers again.

Her new American passport feels heavy in her hand, its empty pages a sign of things to come. She was on her way to Los Angeles where she was scheduled to show up at her first and only briefing for the next season of the Amazing Race. The producers had promised a full day of orientation covering the rules of the race and how the team match up would work before the "trip of a lifetime" began the next day. She was trying not to stress about it but she didn't quite know what she was getting into.

This was the first season where every team in the race would be a set of strangers. They'd all meet at the briefing but it wouldn't be until the start of the race when they'd learn who their partner was. The producers had billed it as the season of 'fate' where they tried to pick a winning team by pure dumb luck with names drawn from a hat. Or so she'd been told. Who knew how it would really work.

"Next!" The agent calls and Jyn scurries forward, passing her documents over and brushing her bangs from her face. In another second she's motioned through and she's heading down the gangway and onto the plane.

When she gets to her seat her frustration returns tenfold as the man from before has settled himself in her seat by the window, his seatbelt already clipped and his attention turned towards the action on the tarmac.

"Hey, you're in my seat," she greets, stuffing her duffle in the overhead bin.

"F? Window?" He answers with an almost-accent and a quirk to his lips. Jyn frowns and steps into the row to let the people behind her pass.

"Yes. That's my seat, can you move please?"

"I was sure I had the window, I feel claustrophobic if I can't see out - "

"Yeah, I'm sure. Can you check your boarding pass?" She asks, cutting his sob story off before it can even get started.

"Can't I just have it this one time? It's a short flight," he answers, making no move to relent. Jyn sighs and drops into the seat next to him, her eyes closing tight as she urges the irritation to ease.

"Fine. But this is bad karma and I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass, asshole," she grumbles the last part, determined to insult him but not loud enough to cause a scene. The man coughs as if to hide a laugh and Jyn hates him even more, pulling up her hood and taking out her headphones.

She was going to spend the next two hours in a music haven, mentally far from this man and the constant bumping of her elbow that came from sitting in the aisle row. Soon she'd be in LA at her hotel and then she'd be on to a new country, with a new language and culture that she'd have to work with to get her team to the finish line. Then she’d do it again and again until they won. Or they lost. She didn't like to think about that last possibility so instead she closes her eyes and hits play.

---

The hotel bed is more luxurious than anything she's ever slept in in her life and when she wakes it's with a curse as she realizes she's almost late to the briefing. Hustling around the room, she nearly crashes onto the floor when her pants get tangled and she loses her balance. Cursing out her alarm, her beautiful sleep, and the time difference, Jyn pulls on her t-shirt just as she pulls open her door and slams into someone walking past her room.

"Shit, sorry!” She gasps as she rights herself and pulls back. When she looks up it’s to find the man from the plane. The one who wouldn’t give her back her seat. The one who’d been a pain in the ass all day. “You!” The man’s eyes widen and he looks around him like he’s being Punk’d, surprise in his brow.

“From the plane?” He counters, as if he was still struggling to place her.

“Yeah. What, are you following me? How did you know to find me here?” Jyn growls, crossing her arms. The man cocks his head and furrows his brow, looking at her as though she was crazy.

“Follow you? I’m here for… A thing that has nothing to do with you. If anything, I’d think you’re stalking me,” he adds sharply. Jyn scowls and shakes her head, her watch beeping with her five minute alarm.

“Sure. Fine, whatever. I won’t be here long enough to have this happen again. Have a good life!” She shouts as she hurries off down the hall, her hand flung up into the air and her middle finger pointed towards him.

She takes the stairs down to the conference room because getting stuck in the elevator with that jerk would put her nerves over the edge, their already frayed status from the late wakeup making her more punchy than usual. By the time she barrels into the room and grabs a plate of the breakfast, the producer is calling everyone to a seat.

Jyn moves towards an empty chair and begins measuring up her fellow racers, her eyes drifting over one person and then the next as they settle in a semi-circle around the speaker. Some of them were incredibly fit, others a bit paunchy but she figured they could probably take her in a memory challenge or two if it came down to it. Most of them were on the younger side, maybe in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few who easily slotted into their fifties at the very least. She didn’t want to be ageist but she secretly hoped she’d get paired with someone who could keep up with her at the very least and she didn’t really peg any of these older folks as marathoners.

“Welcome, good morning everyone!” A young woman calls out, drawing their attention to the front of the room. Jyn sits up and nimbles on a muffin, trying to look intimidating to the others around her who she assumed were doing the measuring up as she had just been.

“You’re in my seat,” a voice says over her shoulder. Jyn’s stomach drops and she frowns, looking back to find the man from the airplane and the hallway standing behind her. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to make you move, I’ll just take this empty one here.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jyn hisses, clenching her hands and nearly crushing her muffin to pieces.

“Nope,” he responds as he sits in the chair next to her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue when the woman calls out again and really takes control of the room, beginning with a welcome spiel before moving right into the security briefing. After the team has explained every terrifying aspect about the world in explicit detail, Jyn looks around the room and finds half of the contestants with a concerned look on their faces, the other half grinning wickedly at the challenge. Beside her the man keeps his expression reserved though his eyes are calculating, the look making her guess whether he was regretting his choice or simply bored.

After the welcome session, they’re broken up into groups of four and are led to a table in the corner of the room. Jyn sighs a breath of relief as the man is placed in another group, his presence finally dissipating and allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand instead of the prickling skin she felt whenever he was close.

Hours pass and the contestants are moved around the room to different stations where they focus on different aspects of the game. There’s logic tests and geography quizzes which she passes with flying colours but when it comes to the language skills and memory games she flounders, her attention twisting towards her fellow contestants. She spends half the time trying to measure up where they stand on these activities, who would be best suited to the way she wanted to run this race.

Her strategy - based on years of watching the show - was to run with brute force. She would power through on the physical challenges and when it came to figuring out a puzzle she was set. She just needed a partner who would be able to keep up and rush into everything just as hard. Smarts weren’t what won you the race, it was being able to push your way through anything and she had trained to do just that.

“Everyone now has an hour for lunch. Feel free to get to know each other and remember, these folks might be your competition or they might just be the person you cross that finish line with!” The producer from earlier calls as the stations are closed and the participants are left to loiter in the room.

Jyn feels like she’s in a social experiment as she beelines towards the food table to take a plate. She loads it up with everything she’s going to miss for the next few weeks - caesar salad and french fries and pasta salad that looked too delicious to miss. When she settles at a table she’s quickly joined by a handful of others, the conversation easily picking up from the morning activities.

“I’m Bodhi Rook, you?” The man sitting next to her says around a forkful of salad. Jyn looks him over quickly and notes his tall frame and long hair, his thin frame and open expression. He could be a good partner - she’d seen him race through some of the challenges with an efficiency she admired.

“Jyn Erso,” she answers, lifting her hand to offer a shake. Bodhi takes it and squeezes it before turning back to his food, diving in as she looks around the table at the others. “You heard anything about how we’re going to be assigned teams?” She asks after a few minutes, her water lifting to her lips.

“Not really. My group thought maybe the stations were to see where our strengths were so they could match us up better. But I was also told it would be a name in a hat, so who knows what they’re planning.”

“Yeah, I heard the hat thing too. I hope there’s a little more thought put into it,” she responds with a shrug. Bodhi nods and lets a laugh escape.

“Either way, I think I’ll be okay. I just like the adventure of it, you know? Don’t really need to win the whole thing,” he says around another bite.

Jyn frowns and looks at her food, debating internally whether she could be paired with someone who didn’t want to win the whole race. If she had to admit it - though she’d never say it on camera - she wasn’t here just because she liked the show and wanted to see the world.

She was here because she needed the prize money.

The thought creeps up on her and she pushes it back down, stuffing it into her chest like too many clothes in a carry on bag. She didn’t have time to think about it now, not when she should be sizing up her competition and thinking about U-Turn and Yield strategy. No. She needed to focus.

“What about everyone else?” Bodhi asks the table when Jyn still doesn’t respond. She turns her attention to the people around them, listening as first a bright eyed Luke Skywalker and a gruff Baze Malbus explain their motivations before moving on to Leia Organa, a beautiful but strategic thinker, and her cocky puppy-dog-tail for-the-day Han Solo easily admits he’s only here for the money. Jyn can’t help but think he might be her real competition if they don’t get paired together, the gleam of a quick buck in his eyes adding to his boisterous energy.

Taking another glance around the room, Jyn weighs the rest of her competition as they sit at two other tables. Sixteen racers in total, all with different motivations and experiences that they bring to the table. They’d be eight teams and the producers had all but guaranteed it would be a tough race with all of them having secret strengths that were admitted in their bio videos. Jyn can’t remember what hers ss but by the time she turns back to the conversation at hand, she already knows one thing is for sure - she’s going to win, even if it kills her.

After lunch they’re broken off into individual briefing rooms where they’re given their racing issued equipment and a final check in with the producers before they’re sent off to their rooms to pack. In the morning they’ll all be meeting in the lobby to hand over their backpacks before heading to the starting line.

When the race starts their first activity will be finding their matched backpack with a coloured bandana tied to it. The racer with the matching bandana will be their partner for the duration and it will either be a successful match or a story of just how quickly Jyn can crash and burn their team.

Throughout the evening she tries not to think about it - pushing away thoughts of how hectic tomorrow would be, how much adrenaline is already rolling in her veins and just how is she supposed to sleep tonight? To distract herself she focuses on potential strategies depending on who she paired with in the morning. Baze could work, or she’d even probably be successful with Han if they didn’t rip each other's heads off. Bodhi would be a great candidate - he seemed relaxed and competent, but Jyn didn’t like that he wasn’t driven by the final prize so much as he just wanted to have an adventure.

No, she could pair with most of the people she’d met that morning. With the very real exception of the man from the plane who she’d learned was named Cassian Andor. There was no way they would be able to work together to even get out of the States, their partnership tanking before they even took their first flight. She was sure of it. And so when she falls asleep that night it’s to the thought that she had a one in fifteen chance of failing and those were pretty good odds.

---

Morning comes in a rush of excitement and insanity and a paranoia that she’s forgotten something even though she’s checked her bags at least a dozen times. When she gets to the lobby, the assistants take her old bags and mark them with her tags before collecting her race bag and shoving it onto a luggage cart with the other packs. She’s directed to a holding queue where the racers mill about, snacking on the continental breakfast and filling their water bottles.

Twenty minutes later and they’re piled onto a bus. Thirty minutes later and they’re being placed around an empty field with only the production crew circling them and a pile of luggage in the center of the field. Jyn thinks she spots her bag with a blue tag and she grins, looking around at the nervous faces she was up against.

“You’ve got this,” she whispers to herself as Phil Keoghan begins his speech from near the luggage pile. Adrenaline spikes in her blood and then there’s a horn and she’s racing forward, scrambling for the luggage pile and her bag with its bandana looped through the arm. She pulls it free and stumbles back, looking around at the other racers as they take in their own colours, desperately looking for their partner.

Not Bodhi. Not Baze. Fuck, not even Han. She scours the faces and colours until she sees it - blue, like hers! She steps forward, her smile widening having finally found her partner.

But then she looks up. And her eyes meet her partner’s.

Dark brown meeting green.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Guess you’re stuck with someone with bad karma,” he says evenly, the nerve of it making her want to pull her hair out. She curses again and grabs for his arm, dragging him towards the clue box for their next instructions. They didn’t have time to waste on pleasantries and witty comebacks, not if they wanted to win.

She could do this. Brute force was all it would take, right?

#rebelcaptain #lollercakes tries to write #amazing race au

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clevernewdimension · 3 years

Text

Polaris Part Fourteen

Parts: Preview, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen (Coming soon!)

Genre: Action, drama, romance, sci-fi, etc.

Paring: Jongin x Character

Word count: 4.1K

A/N: I have been a mess, but I’ve managed to write this. Thank you all for your support. It’s been hard to write for me, but I’m trying because it’s what y’all deserve after being so wonderful and kind to me. Just... be sure to tell your loved ones that you love them and tell them often. Because you will never know when it will be the last time they hear you say it.

I frown, looking out at the hangers and seeing supplies being loaded up. The feeling in the air has changed drastically. It was once pretty calm and peaceful here on the island. Now, with the war looming, everyone was on edge, myself included. Though, one would assume they would be after almost dying. It’s been four days since the attack on my life. I’ve been in mandatory therapy twice a day since. One more day and I’m allowed back to work. I’m fully healed, the skin just a bit tender.

Sehun sits beside me, cleaning and making sure his upgraded high power pistol is ready to go. I see Yixing out on the beach, a few other special operatives with him as they look over various maps of Tribil. The important buildings, the security and blueprints. It was a very small planet compared to Earth, but the power it held was still massive. Kyungsoo was looking over and making a note of the medical supplies being gathered here, keeping the totals of it all from here and other Syndicate bases close by.

Soon, we’ll all be sent to different large ships, the size of space stations. War ships. The council will likely be on their own ship with a few Fighters there for security. They will be acting as the brains of the battle. Reacting to what is happening, developing strategies to best gain the upper hands and try to keep the deaths on our side as minimal as possible.

“What ship are you and Jongin assigned to,” I ask, looking over.

‘Warship 3H793GT,” He says, looking up at me, “Also known as ‘The Vengeful Valor’.”

I sigh with relief, letting out a breath I was unknowingly holding. “Me too.”

“I know,” Sehun says with a smirk, “I actually requested you before anyone else could. Since Jongin is technically still out on medical leave until…,” He looks at his reader, checking the time, “Five minutes from now, if any other high ranking pilots would have requested you first, and they would have, they would have gotten you.” He smiles, “Besides, I don’t want to hear Jongin complaining about you having to be anyone else's mechanic.”

“Thank you,” I mutter quietly to him, knocking my knee into his.

All he does back is wink.

Minseok looked stressed as he walked by, checking on all the weapons and supplies. I frown, looking down at my new laser pistol and knife. They were placed there for me but I have yet to touch them. The beam of energy went from being white and bright as light to a black color from the power shift. The knife does the same. I could cut through unarmored skin as if it was air. It's that powerful. It has to be, since we’re going to be facing Myrthraians.

I was trained to kill. Grew up seeing death on every street corner. But, in all honesty, violence was never something I wanted to be a part of. I wanted to be better, to try to help people. But this life is better than what would have been the alternative. This one is a life where I would probably have to kill in order to protect myself or others. I’d take that any day. Especially over a life where, before, it was likely the only life I’d ever take would have been my own. If the Syndicate refused me, that was the plan.

Desperation for freedom will do that to a person. Death is freedom from the pain and suffering.

“Tribil will soon be free, Lyra,” Sehun says, looking back up. As if he can see what I’m thinking about. “The people there will no longer be slaves or starved. Everyone can go back to living there peacefully.”

“I wouldn’t be shocked if most of them just want to leave and never go back,” I say, my hands becoming fists.

“Then we will help them with that too,” He says, before I see his eyes glance over my shoulder. “Welcome back to the force.”

Before I could turn and look, I felt someone press a kiss to the top of my head before sitting down on the bench next to me. Jongin sighs. His eyes are red and puffy.

After his first session, he looked like he cried a lot, but I could tell he didn’t want me to mention it, so I didn’t. I just hugged him tightly. Now I place my hand on his knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“New weapons,” He asks, looking at Sehun’s and I’s pistols and knives.

“Yours are in your fighter,” Sehun says, “Checked the pistol, rifle and knife myself.”

“Thanks,” Jongin says, his hand moving over mine. It was warm. Comforting me back.

“You and I are going to be part of the front line,” Sehun says, “Twenty fighter pilots on our Warship including us, each with three back up fighters. I already took the liberty of putting my symbol on your back up ones. Not that you’ll need them, really.”

“Our codenames?”

“You and I are Gold One and Gold Two. On our Warship the other duos are called other colors. Silver, Red, Black, Blue, Green, Purple, Bronze, White, and Jade.” Sehun points at me, “Lyra will be handling the repairs for Gold team as well as Jade.”

“I take it Captain Allura is on a different warship,” Jongin mutters, “She’s the second best in all of the Syndicate.”

“You’d be right,” Sehun nods, “It would be stupid to have all of the best Fighter pilots on one warship.”

“Anyone else we know on our ship?”

“Baekhyun is our communications head officer,” I say, “He’ll be the one speaking directly to Junmyeon, who’s the master of communications for the whole army now.”

Jongin nods, “And what about Chanyeol? Yixing? Jongdae?”

“Chanyeol is on the same one as Amelia Allura,” Sehun says, a small pout on his face. “Jongdae is working on getting laws and shit sorted, so he won’t be leaving Mars until we’re about a quarter of the way to Tribil, then he and the Head of Justice will be escorted to HQ. Left early this morning for Mars, actuall.” Sehun’s pout grows, “And Yixing is… well, a ghost. He and the rest of Phoenix team six are likely in the process of getting deep undercover and starting the attack from within.”

“Did they say anything about their plan,” I ask, looking at the suddenly sad pilot before me.

“Nothing that can be repeated in the open like this,” He whines. “Even then it was just… barely anything he told me.”

“He’s a spy. That’s probably a good thing that he and Phoenix Team Six are keeping it close to the chest,” Jongin says, in an attempt to make Sehun feel better.

“This is what I get,” Sehun pouts, “For getting involved with a spy.”

I look away, seeing the large loading ships almost ready. Tomorrow we leave for the Warship. “We have to win,” I say, looking as the cargo ships start to take off.

“We will,” Jongin says, hand patting mine.

A cadet came, pulling Sehun away from us with something about his fighter that was here.

Dread filled me, thinking about Tribil. About Theo Rhys. What happens if we lose. Theo always gets what he wants. Except one time. He wanted the Syndicate to refuse me. But they didn’t and for the first time he had to face what it was like to not have something. Something, because all I was to him was a toy to be used.

“Lyra,” Jongin says as I see how he made me look at him. His eyes looking into mine as his thumbs wipes at my tears.

I turn, moving one leg so that I was straddling the mensch I was sitting on. I reach up, grabbing his hands from the sides of my face. “Jongin, I need you to promise me something.”

He looks at me, his eyes searching for whatever could have hurt me, “Anything,” He says, as he moves to sit like I was, facing me.

“If we are losing… if it’s a lost cause… I need you to make sure I don’t get to Rhys’s hand again,” I say, tears still falling.

I know what I’m asking of him is cruel. I know that it’s wrong. That this would be torture to him. But I can’t go back.

“I don’t understand,” He says, holding my hands tighter. Comforting.

“If he gets me and marks me, I will be his slave again,” I say, sobs starting to shake my body. “He will order m-me to live for him again. He’ll a-abuse me again. Rape me again. I-I can’t go back to that, Jongin. S-so… if there is no other way to save me from him, then I a-ask that you kill me.”

The horror on his face was gut wrenching. The pain. He shakes his head, “I can’t… Lyra, anything else. I can do anything else for you but please…”

“J-Jongin, please,” I mutter, my hands shaking. “Don’t let me go back to t-that. I’d rather my last me-memory of anything related to what he will force me be of you and not h-him. He w-will kill me, who I am, my s-soul. My body would be his puppet for YEARS. I’d rather the man I l-love kill me than have the person I hate most r-ruin me.”

The stare into my eyes was like he was looking directly at me. My self, wholly and completely laid bare emotionally for him to see. He looks down, hands squeezing mine.

“If there is no other way, I will do everything I can to free you from him, Lyra.” He says, before looking up, tears falling from his eyes. “If that means killing you so that deranged asshole can’t hurt you anymore… I promise I will. But it will be the absolute last resort.”

“I’m sorry,” I cry, as he pulled me into his arms.

“I understand,” He mutters, “I get it. If it was my father and going back to what he made me… I understand.”

My face rests on his shoulder as I cry. Horrified I would ask him that but terrified of the reality that could be if we lose.

Space travel on our little ship to Earth was homely. Small, but it felt cozy in a way. A warship is anything but cozy. I was assigned a bunk in a room with ten other people. Higher ranking officials have their own rooms. I’ve been too busy to even think about going to Jongin’s room. I get up, do everything I need to in the morning, eat, get to work on Fighters and oversee the work to other smaller aircrafts, have lunch, continue my work, have dinner, shower and fall asleep the second my head hits my pillow. The calluses on my hands are getting worse as I don’t have the time to take care of my hands. I’m just thankful there isn’t any blisters.

Even though Jongin and I haven’t seen each other for days, since we started the journey, we’re apparently the hottest topic of gossip. I see some officers look at me, quietly whispering away their rumors or disparaging my appearance. I ignore it, but after a few days, they’ve started to grow bolder with their disapproval of Jongin’s choice.

“Her back is so muscled it looks like a mans,” I hear a woman mutter as she is checking the hangar force doorwars, making sure they’re up to code.

Her friend, who was helping her, nodded, “Who would like someone who had smudges of grease on their face so often, too?”

“She’s somehow conned the most wanted man in the galaxies into da-Oh my god, look!”

I don’t look, focusing on making sure the tire for Jongin’s first backup Fighter was up to code. I feel someone’s hand on my arm as I look, seeing the man himself. He looked tired, but smiled at me as he surveyed the Fighter. The paint job on it is completely done. The name in the common language, Aryl 2. I rolled my eyes, seeing the glittering of golden paint of the names once more. On the side by the thrusters was a deep blue rose, his mother’s favorite I’ve come to learn. It was more plain this time, as he started a new place to count the tallies of ships shot down with this fighter.

“Looks good,” He says, “Not that I’ll need it, really.”

“You will if you decide to do your best suicide mission impression,” I say, shaking my head. “I will lose my shit if you ever do that again.”

I hear a small chuckle from him, “I swear I will not wreck another one of your pride and joys like that ever again.”

“Good, because there is only one backup Fighter stick so after that one would have to use the wheel just like everyone else,” I say, smirking at him.

“Well that’s just awful,” He says with a small smile. He looks at me in the eyes, and it makes my heart race just a moment. He glances at my cheek, “Did I ever tell you how cute you look with grease on your face?”

My face flushes, “Stop. We’re supposed to be professional.”

“You’re a professional at being cute.”

I roll my eyes, “First of all, that was just so cheesy and lame. Second, will you just take the second Fighter out on its test run, won’t you?”

He smiles, untying the pilot suit arms from about his waist and pulling them on. He zips up the dark blue suit, before reaching for his helmet. “You sure you don’t want to come this time?”

“And almost puke again? Pass,” I say, shaking my head. “Besides, it was brand new. No rebuilt anything. Should be fine without me. Besides,” I say, looking back, “I have two more I have to do before Dinner.”

He tosses his helmet in, turning to me. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

I nod, “Sure. I hear officers have better food anyways.”

He lets out a small laugh, “You just can’t say you want to see me, hm?” Before I could reply, his hands gently grabbed my face, pulling it to him as he pressed his lips to mine. It was very passionate for such a quick kiss that it left me red in the face. He smiles, before saying, “Hopefully this will stop people from saying such unflattering things about the woman I love.” He turns, looking at the two gossips who’s mouths are hanging open. Their faces flush with embarrassment before turning back to their work.

“For the record,” He says, muttering into my ear, “I think your muscular back is very sexy.”

I shove him, “Will you just get on with it!”

The laugh was like music to my ears as he started the Fighter. It sounded normal as I covered my eyes, watching it slowly and carefully take off out the hanger. The eyes of the two women look over andI just roll my eyes, before turning to the next fighter.

It was an older version of the model we use now, so it needed a bit more love than the others. One of the metal panels was loose so I had to weld that back to the ship. It was after that when Jongin came back. He lands easy, being sure to reverse the Fighter so that it can take off quick if needed.

When he exits the Fighter, he lands with a thump. I wiped the sweat from my face as I saw Sehun meet him and talk. The Fighter pilots spend a lot of their time in their units making sure to have their battle plans all set. Yesterday was Gold unit’s watch. When they’re on watch they fly around our warship, making sure there are no threats.

“Lang,” I hear a voice call.

I look over and see our Judiciary officer at the door. He was from a planet I wasn’t familiar with. His dark shin was a deep gun metal gray as his freckles looked like he had some glowing opals on his face. He was tall, about six and a half feet. “Come with me,” He says, “We have a few things to sort out.”

“Alright,” I say, before looking back to the other mechanics, “This last Jade team fighter just needs the tire pressure adjusted and it’s engine looked at.”

“Yes Ma’am,” A younger woman says. Fresh recruit.

I turn, quickly washing the grease off my hands and face before following him. He leads me to his office in the officers section of the ship.

“My name is Officer Yvetal Rit and we’re here to discuss what should happen to your assets should something tragic occur to you,” He says, looking at me. He sighs, “I know it’s not what you want to do, but it needs to be done. But first...”

He passes a reader towards me, “Sign here to show you’ve been informed that Major Kim Jongin has, should something happen to him, left all his assets, monetary or physical, to you.”

“What,” I ask, looking at him in the eyes. My heart started to race. To me? Everything? I look at the paper, seeing a very very VERY large sum of money as well as a few of his bigger and more important items listed. My heart was in my throat looking at this.

He smiles, “He did. Please.”

I quickly sign the line on the reader, seeing him look at him, nodding.

“Major,” I mutter, “He didn’t tell me that he was promoted.”

Officer Yvetal chuckles a bit, “So, Lang-”

“Two can play at this game,” I say, looking at him. “All of my shit goes to him if something happens to me.”

I see him smile, “He said you would do that.” I see him type some things into the reader, before passing it to me. “Handprint and signature to confirm you wish to leave everything to Major Kim.”

I press my hand to the screen until I hear the beep of confirmation. Then I quickly sign my name.

“Should you pass away, what would you like to have done to your remains should we be able to collect them?”

“Incinerated and…” I stop, thinking. “My ashes spread at the base we left on Earth.”

He nods, “Alright. Sign and handprint again, please.”

I do that again before he nods, “Well, that’s all set. Thank you for making this easy instead of listing off twenty people to give things to.”

I smile, “Some people are that bad, hm?”

“You wouldn’t believe,” He says, standing and holding out his hand, “Thank you, Miss Lang.”

I shake his hand before leaving the office. I see Sehun standing outside the office, “Your work for the day is done.”

“Hello to you too,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Soon you’ll have to meet the medical officers and give the power over your medical decisions over to someone should you don’t be of sound mind or awake to make them,” He says, looking over at me. “Yixing is my number one, then it’s Jongin… then you.”

My eyes go wide, “Really? Me?”

“I know you’ll choose based on what you think I would want,” He says, nodding. “I already know Jongin is going to be your number one, but they will ask for at least one other in case something happens to them or they’re indisposed.”

“Um… You, I guess…. And Kyungsoo?”

“Fuck,” Sehun mutters, “I should have chosen Kyungsoo.”

I smile, before he takes my arm, “Come on, I’ll help you get to Jongin’s room.”

“When was he going to tell me he’s a Major now,” I say, pouting.

“He doesn’t really care about rank to be fair,” He says, looking at me. Sehun smirks, “You must have been shocked at the money he would leave you, hm?”

“He’s fucking loaded,” I say, shaking my head.

“He’s not one to spend frivolously,” Sehun says. “He’s mostly wanting to get a place on a planet somewhere after he retires. Peaceful, you know?”

“With his battle experience, he could retire early,” I point out.

The more battles you’ve been in, the shorter your time to retirement is. You do risk your life, after all.

“He could retire now,” Sehun says, looking at me, “He has that much experience. I know, because I have the same.”

I laugh, “I still have a few years before I get enough mechanic experience.”

Sehun glances over, “But you also have battle experience. Pilots have twenty-five year contracts that go down with battle experience because battle experience reduces the time quickly. Mechanics have ten year contracts. With your six years experience plus your battle experience from the two battles you’ve taken part in, you’ve probably had a few months after this war. Unless you get into another battle, then you’d be clear too.”

My eyes widen, “Battle experience is that much?”

“For mechanics? Absolutely. It counts double for people who are not Fighter or Bomber pilots, spys, ground fighters, et cetera.”

“Fucking hell,” I say, shaking my head.

Sehun stops in front of a door, knocking. “Tell Jongin I say that our next patrol is tomorrow morning.” He smiles, walking away.

The door opens and I see Jongin. He was still in his flight suit, though tied around his waist like before. He glances at me from the reader in his hand, smiling. “Hi.”

I smirk, before saluting. “Hello, Major Kim.”

He groans, “Who told you.”

“Judicial. When I found out you could potentially leave me a shit ton of money.”

He moves to the side, letting me in. It was a nice room. It had a desk, a private bathroom and, to the left, a full sized bed. Much bigger than my single bunk.

“So you found that out, hm,” He says as I walk by him.

I nod, “Did the same back to you. Not that I have anything really…”

He laughs, “I knew it.”

The dynamic outside the door was all around us as it shut. An air of fear. Terror knowing you’re about to head straight into a battle where many will die. When you and your loved ones can die. I couldn’t get my mind off of these thoughts as Jongin so graciously let me use his shower instead of the community ones those of us of lower ranks would use. How many people with those tattoos are going to be made to fight us? To die because of us? How many of my fellow Tribians are going to make it out of this war alive? Any?

I pulled on one of his t-shirts, looking at myself in the mirror. I look exhausted, and this is from the emotional turmoil alone. The stakes that Yixing and I have in this war are higher than most. If we fail, we will be sentenced to a fate worse than death itself.

Briefly, my mind saw that disgusting man over me. A memory of him using me for his sick needs. I shake my head, try to steady my shaking hands as I looked at myself once more in the mirror.

I turn, leaving the door and I see Jongin on his bed. He was dressed comfortably and he leaned up, his eyes full of worry. It was then when I finally broke. I moved to him, pushing him to lay down. I curled my body to him and just sobbed. All of my tangled maze of emotions finally coming out bit by bit has led to the flood. The stress, the fear, the worry… it all came out as I felt him wrap his arms around me. Soft words muttered to me, but he was letting me have this time. This moment of safety to let it out.

And I do. I cry so long that my head pounds, my throat was sore and my hands were shaking. It was like I was preemptively morning to loss of many of my people, of my friends and allies. I will probably see this as cathartic tomorrow, but for now all I feel is utter fear and almost hopelessness. The only way I could have ever let his out is because of the feeling of safety Jongin gives me. A small part of me feels sorry for doing this to him, but I know he wouldn’t mind.

His arms are the only comfort I have right now. His presence. The warmth of his body next to mine. It was only because of him I even managed to get a restful sleep for the first time since I was attacked on Earth. And for that I will forever feel grateful.

#kai fanfic #exo kai fanfiction #jongin fanfiction #kim jongin fanfiction #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #kai fanfiction

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whathappenedtomyweekend · 3 years

Text

It’s Just A Spark Ch.8 - Sunlight

Astrid skidded to a halt in front her calendar on the kitchen wall, coffee mug still in her hand.

She quickly retrieved a pen from a kitchen drawer and scribbled into the space for Friday, 'date w/ Hiccup 15:30!'. She grinned into her mug. So far she'd already mentioned him four times in a calendar she hadn't really used before. Except ... her gaze fell onto the date she had circled multiple times in red.

17th July.

A surge of energy went through her as she edged the date into her memory.

Okay. Two more weeks. Only two more weeks, then she'd have enough. Then she could finally quit and embark on a better journey.

Academical fulfillment, as someone had called it.

'Chase it.'

Oh, she would. And she was close to catching up.

She couldn't wait.

The sun had already started to rise by the time Astrid left her apartment for her morning run.

Now it painted Berk with soft shades of pink and orange, peeking just over the rooftops of the city. The young woman picked up a faster pace as she skipped around the corner, her feet beating the concrete in a steady rhythm.

Ten minutes later, however, Astrid felt as though she might collapse every given second now and came to a halt, panting, clutching her chest.

'Shit,' she thought. 'Am I just out of shape or going into cardiac arrest?'

She tried to walk on her wobbling legs and actually made it to the next turn before she decided she'd very much like to sit down, just for a minute or two.

'This is fine,' she thought, trying to breathe as evenly and deeply as possible. 'Inhale. Long exhale. Why did I ever stop running? Was snoozing EVER that good? Why did I have to trick myself into thinking I wouldn't enjoy running just to be stuck with THIS?'

Okay. She needed to get up. Sitting around on concrete wasn't going to get her back in shape.

So she heaved herself up and started walking, carefully watching her wobbly legs until she trusted them again.

Which wasn't the wisest decision as far as the occupation of her eyes went, she quickly realised as she collided with something.

Something solid.

Something warm.

Someone-

"Hiccup?" his name had tumbled off her lips before she'd even seen his face.

He was currently scrambling to pick up his headphones.

"Ooh, my god," he mumbled, "I am so sorry." Then he straightened up again, blinked and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

She grinned at his dumbfounded expression.

"You okay?"

Hiccup looked at her and suddenly he noticed the sun had come up and he wondered where his head had been.

"Hi," was the best he could come up with. "I, uh, didn't - wait. Let me start over."

Hiccup's heart was still racing, albeit not from running previously.

He inhaled and somehow his hands gravitated towards her as they uncurled, relieving the tension of his body.

"Good morning. I'm sorry for running into you - not, I mean, not running into you but running into -" he broke off, hoping she would release him from this misery.

Astrid laughed and took an involuntary step closer to the young man, part of her reminiscing about their first phone call, another part of her relishing in how adorable he looked, his cheeks flushed not only from running.

"I didn't look where I was going," she answered truthfully and watched his chest deflate as he exhaled. "But it's nice seeing you, too."

'Really nice,' she added internally as she took in his pushed-back and slightly damp hair, revealing his freckled forehead. Her eyes flickered to his upper body, just for a split second, to find his form hidden by a baggy t-shirt with the logo of the fire department on it.

Hiccup knew she was staring at him. If anything, their shared silence made it obvious. He tried not to stare back. Tried.

Well, A for effort.

He'd also be lying if he said that Astrid, her hair tied up to a ponytail, fringe pinned to the side, clad in a top and running shorts wasn't the best thing he'd seen all morning. Maybe even all week.

He quickly got to his senses, however, and gulped, his throat dry not only from running anymore.

He managed a weak "You, too," which made her meet his eyes again.

At least they still had the decency to both blush.

He watched her furrow her brow as if trying to piece something together, then she slowly asked, "How come you're out, though? Didn't you say you usually do this at night?"

He chuckled and pushed his hair back simply to somehow occupy at least one hand.

"It's a night shift week. So I usually go for a run really early and then sleep for another couple hours."

She nodded, still flushed and Hiccup offered her a toothgapped grin, which she easily returned.

"I didn't know you were a running person," he added. "You always up this early?"

Astrid laughed, waving off. "I wish. There was a time I was, but then I started slacking off, with the night shifts and all that. But I'm trying to get back into it."

If he had taken longer than 0.4 seconds to think about his next sentence, Hiccup would probably have cancelled it.

"Hey, if you'd - if you'd like, we could go running together sometimes. I find it's much easier if someone's forcing you to do it," he laughed nervously, his hand back in his hair, already regretting he asked this. She was Astrid, she wasn't just going to let-

"If you want to, yeah!"

He blinked.

Astrid tightened her scrunchy, a smile dancing around the corners of her lips.

"You're gonna have to go easy on me, though. I just jogged ten minutes and had to sit down for another five."

"Don't worry, " he said, still surprised by his own boldness. "You're up against a one-legged guy with asthma, how bad can it be?"

She laughed. "Yeah, but he also has a job that requires him to be on alert for more than 50 hours per week, so."

"Wait, how did you …?"

"Did you seriously think you were the only one doing some research?"

"I haven't done any …"

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "The lasagna? My workplace which I never mentioned to you by name?"

"You're saying this as if Berk was overflowing with pet shops," Hiccup muttered and earned a playful nudge in his ribs.

"Here I was, thinking there were. Turns out Gothi's known you since you were a little mite."

'I'm barely thinking when I'm with you,' he wanted to say but bit his tongue and muttered, "Gothi knows practically all of Berk since they were little mites."

Astrid laughed and sqrunched her nose at him. There it was again. This distant memory of something that had not happened yet.

"Astrid?"

"Hm?" Her eyes were sparkling, reflecting the golden hues of the sun, making them look like lapis lazulis.

"Are you good with flowers?"

She paused, giving him a puzzled look, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Flowers? Why …"

"Oh, um, nevermind," he answered quickly, feeling his face heat up. "When did we want to meet up again tomorrow? I was thinking we could go to the market, they also have freshly caught fish."

To his relief Astrid did not seem to dwell on his question and replied breezily, "15:30, I just put it in my calendar."

"You … you put our dates in your calendar?"

Hiccup felt as though he only had two working braincells left upon seeing her smile.

"Well, yeah," she explained and he could have sworn he saw her blush at her next words. "Otherwise I'd forget how many dates we've been on."

Well, there it was. If Hiccup hadn't already been head over heels for the woman in front of him, this would have definitely sealed the deal.

For now, it was enough to make his heart skip a beat and confirm that she seemed just as occupied with this as he was.

"Well, how - how many have it been?"

"If we were to count the time you brought me the lasagna as a date, then four."

'Four,' Hiccup thought distractedly. 'Is four enough to be asking her?'

"Um," he said eloquently.

Astrid snorted, a smile returning to her lips but she waited for him to sort his two cells until he finally opened his mouth.

"Four, huh. I, uh, listen, I'm - how do I say this?"

"If you're going to tell me you're actually married I will punch you, you know that, don't you?"

"What? I - no! How could you-"

She laughed, nudging him again. "Come on, I'm just kidding." Her expression grew softer. Her hand stayed on his forearm. "You're actually worrying me a bit."

'It's a scary thing to ask,' he wanted to say but his voice failed him as she continued softly, "You don't need to think about how you say it, you know. At least not - at least not with me."

He let out a short pant, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

"Okay. I, uh, actually wanted to ask this for some time, but it was probably too early, I don't know.

I … Astrid, I really - really, really like you and - and if it's alright with you, I'd like to keep seeing you. Exclusively."

Astrid stopped, openly surprised, her arm falling to her side as she looked up at him. Part of her felt as if she hadn't fully comprehended the full meaning of his words yet.

Then again, out here on the streets, his eyes only fixed on her, it sounded like a promise.

"You mean it?"

Hiccup almost laughted at the disbelief in her voice. "Of course," he stressed and quickly reached out to take her hands in his.

She did not pull them away.

"And do you," he asked, his voice low, eyes searching hers. "Want to continue … this?"

He let go of her hand to wave aimlessly back and forth between them.

"Yes," Astrid blurted, now grabbing his hand, maybe a bit too quickly but she couldn't bring herself to care. "I do. You don't even know how much more than alright this is with me."

For a couple of moments Hiccup only stared at her, seeing revelations and endless skies in her expression.

A slow grin blossomed on his face. Then the happiness that had bubbled up inside of him gave itself way in a breathless chuckle, not quite believing his luck.

And suddenly they gravitated towards each other, sparks soaring away in a warm breeze as they collided.

Astrid buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching around the fabric of the shirt around his shoulderblades.

She felt Hiccup exhale slowly and press the ghost of a kiss on the crown of her head. Astrid closed her eyes.

She had never been good with flowers. But she was willing to try.

#bit of a shorter one today #IJAS #it's just a spark #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fluff #romance #httyd #httyd 2 #modernAU #mine #writing

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Garrote part 12

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Summary: Healy and the Jimenez’ are gearing up for war. Jazmine’s getting antsy waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Previous Masterlist Next

Rating/Warning(s): Mature (+18 or I call the police). post-coitus fluff, swearing, anxiety, time skip, canon typical violence (I think...?), all plot, gringo using google translate Spanish and half remembered high school classes (sorry in advance), mentions of grooming/pedophilia (don’t worry, Porsche’s OK)

Word count: 2.2k words

Author’s Note(s): yeah so I wrote this back in December and just didn’t have the heart to put it out. I wanted to try and finish the other chapters (thinking I’m gonna wrap up at seventeen chapters) and I couldn’t. I have a problem with finishing anything I start, it never feels strong enough. I’m gonna try not to let that stop me though, promise.

Waking up in Diego’s arms, Jazmine never expected to feel so calm. Truth be told she didn't really wake up, but drifted in and out of sweet harmonious consciousness to find Diego, whether he was cradling her or sitting up or rubbing her back. She finally managed to convince herself to get out of bed and by then it was already 2 in the afternoon. Diego had his pants and shoes back on but nothing else, so she relaxed a little.

"You need to eat," he whispered, "come on, get dressed."

Jazmine blinked slowly. "I need a shower. Maybe a wheelchair, too."

She didn't miss the proud smirk that suddenly graced his handsome features. As he put on his shirt, Jazmine glanced past him at the open door of the closet. It was empty inside save for a few hangers, but it left a bad taste in her mouth and a lump in her throat. Diego followed her line of sight and said nothing. He let her shower, never more than five feet away (which is exactly how far the shower curtain is to the bathroom door). They ate somewhere family friendly, a pancake house she barely remembered the name of. Her legs still suffered from tremors and her pelvic region ached, but they were good feelings and she tried to make them last as they put a smile on her face.

It's been about a week and Jazmine has seen neither hide nor hair of Haagen and it's starting to worry her.

The only relief she had been able to accrue these past few days had been Healy's announcement that they had made a huge connection and were in the process of setting up task forces to take Haagen down. Alicia was confident that Haagen knew nothing and was continuing on with business as usual (or so she heard through the grapevine), and even Diego seemed to be relaxed about it.

That was another thing that bothered her. Diego, relaxed. Diego doing more hands on business and clubbing at all hours of the night. He'd barely said two words to her after coming to the rescue and fucking her silly in front of Haagen.

Sitting alone in the penthouse, Jazmine scratched at every itch and tugged on every baby hair like her skin was diseased. She didn't want to go outside, she was too afraid of Haagen's next move. She had been texting her mother regularly again just so she wouldn't call and have to explain why she sounded so nervous. It would have taken LaShawn all of ten seconds to realize something was wrong: so why couldn't anybody else see it?

Maybe she was overreacting. Jazmine drew a hot bath in the jacuzzi sized tub and turned the jets on, finding bubble bath solution and a pink rubber ducky to cradle. The bathroom had a dimmer switch she turned down to near zero and let silky smooth R&B from the 90's wash her worries away. Her fingers worked to squeeze the ducky like a stress ball, and a traitorous part of her brain whispered longing thoughts.

I wish Diego was here to massage my back.

She shushed her thoughts: at least the bath is perfectly hot.

She washed her body and spent the better part of the day deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs just for the hell of it. The music never stopped, it simply rolled from R&B to classic rock and then back again. Miguel checked in only to make sure she ate, and Jazmine managed to convince him to eat with her and play a co-op mobile game for a few hours. She plucked at the listening device in her ear for the thousandth time and decided to just call Healy.

"Hey can't talk right now," were all the words she got out of him on the second call and then an immediate hang up.

Jazmine growled and crossed her arms, suddenly reminded she was still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. She slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, and feeling bold, she marched up to Diego’s room and swiped a black button down that smelled like him. She tucked it unbuttoned into her pants and swanned up to the penthouse roof with a bottle of wine and one glass.

She knew she would miss this level of extravagance. Never worrying about paying for rent or for food or selling her time and labor for someone else and next to nothing pay. Jazmine wondered what Diego would say to becoming her sugar daddy after this whole human trafficking business was over, but shook her head and topped her drink off.

Probably overstayed my welcome, she thinks, that’s why Diego’s been distant lately.

Jazmine was unnaturally quiet on her end, though Healy recognized the tinkling sound of bottle to glass. Probably on her fourth drink if he was counting correctly. No matter– she was safe for now at Diego’s penthouse suite and there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Brasa was leaning over each and every agent sat in the boardroom as if to intimidate them into obeying her every command. She was a good detective, really she was, she just needed to work on trusting the people who trusted her. Her partner Holbrooke was no help at all– selective mutism was a nasty habit to overcome. Brasa had not breathed a word of thanks in Healy’s direction, but he had expected that. This wasn’t about the praise– it was about justice.

When he could finally break away for coffee and a piss, he sent a text to Alicia. No doubt los hermanos Jimenez would be thrilled with the intel– but what would happen next?

The safest place for Jazmine right now is Diego’s place, he thought, but for how much longer?

An address and a transcribed photograph of the documents they came from. Healy had told them that the most likely scenario for Porsche’s whereabouts was ‘adoption’ by people who did not want any adoption documents to surface later on. The family probably has prestige, they may have lost a child recently and are looking to replace it like a goldfish and hope no one notices.

It didn’t stop Diego’s trigger finger from inching closer and closer to his gun at every small pump of the breaks.

“Tranquil, hermano,” Alicia soothed. “We’re almost there. We can kill them after we get la pequena back.”

Diego sniffed and hopped out of the car as soon as it finally parked. Alicia was right behind him, checking her peripherals on the well lit streets of this upscale neighborhood. It was them two and one guard each, a second car bearing two underlings coming in from the back door and four cars with heavily armed back up around the corner in case things went south. Brother and sister climbed the porch steps idly, slipping their guns back into their hidey spots before knocking on the front door…

“Fuck.”

Jazmine’s phone battery flashed at 3%. She didn’t remember finishing the bottle, but she did really have to pee so she stood up from the pool’s edge to relieve herself. Miguel was asleep on the white leather couches in the living room, mouth open and drooling with his gun on the table. The woman’s steps were a little unsteady and her vision came in waves, but she felt that fuzzy warm buzz and decided she had better not drive.

She shook the young man awake with a sigh. “Hey, I left something at my apartment. Can you drive me?”

Miguel pursed his lips. “I don’t think jefe would want–”

“Please,” she said, “it’s important.”

Miguel relented, swiping the keys to a Ferrari from the rack by the elevator and handed Jazmine her coat. Just a few more items she couldn't live without. The way Miguel drove meant they were there in no time at all, and every light they passed by in the dark somehow made Jazmine feel lighter, less jittery and anxious. She had Miguel drop her off by the backside of the apartment and climbed the steps alone after insisting she would only be a minute. All of her doors and windows were locked, the place looked exactly as she had left it.

“Thank god.”

She had to search for her charger, a sparkly teal thing with a cat and an alligator charm on it. She found it hiding under her bed, then found her way into the bathroom to check on her face in the mirror. Jazmine fingered the black hickeys on her neck, smiling to herself. She caught sight of something white hanging out of the trash and dug it out: her Chicago shirt. Stuffing it into her back pocket next to her phone charger, Jazmine took one last look at her apartment and blew a kiss to it.

“Bye,” she whispered, peaking into the dark and lingering on the memories she was about to leave behind forever until finally the lock clicked into place. Oh shit, this was the wrong door. Miguel was waiting out back–

Pop-pop-pop

Gunshots rang out from behind the building, the returning fire was short and stilted, overwhelmed by the repetition of an automatic. Jazmine took to the stairs at the far side of the building and ran down them wishing she was in something other than slippers. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her breath billowed in heavy clouds before disappearing. The second she stepped off of the last stair, she tripped. Her flimsy footwear slid on the thin layer of ice and she fell, her eyes and ears following the clink clink plop noise of her phone literally going down a storm drain.

She barely had time to scramble back to her feet before she heard tires come screeching around the corner down the street and she stumbled into a run.

Jazmine wasn’t sure how far she’d gone, and she can’t recall how many streets she turned on, or even if she was being chased at all. Every sound made her jump, and every car coming her way made her anxious. Her lungs burned for air as she finally collapsed against the window of a minimart. There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed the door open to hide among the tiny rows of snacks and gum and cigarettes and refrigerated beverages. The store owner was wearing headphones and didn't bother looking up. Deep breath in. Exhausted, shaking breath out. Jazmine curled tightly around herself to try and calm down before her heart exploded in her chest.

Alicia and Diego have the father on his knees and bloodied. His wife and children are being held upstairs in one of the bedrooms, terrified. Diego wipes at a small spot of blood from his sister's face.

"Donde esta el bebe?," Diego said, grasping the man's ear and dragging his head back to look at him. "I won't ask you again."

"What baby?" The man coughed dryly, his eyes nearly swollen shut but still glimmering in fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alicia kneeled down in her white pantsuit. "The baby you bought from Jeremy Haagen, Mr. Fletcher. A beautiful little girl with dusky hair and big brown eyes. A baby that belongs to us."

Fletcher squirms under the murderous gaze of los hermanos Jimenez but doesn’t break.

“You know, Diego,” Alicia said leaning on her brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t see a fourth bedroom.”

Diego pursed his lips. “So?”

“So the contract specified a room for our mariposa, and he already has two children. Where’s the other room?” Alicia’s heels clicked as the gear turned in Diego’s head. “I bet la senorita Fletcher might know.”

“No, please,” he begged, “leave my wife out of this– she’s got nothing to do with this!”

“So you do know what we’re talking about,” Diego’s aha motion garnered a vague threat with the point of his gun– gold plated, of course. Emeralds in the hilt this time.

“Secretly adopting a baby girl,” Alicia tsked, kneeling before Fletcher and brandishing a knife, “when you have two perfectly healthy girls of your own? Ay dios mio, what’s the matter? Three’s your lucky number, but your wife doesn’t put out anymore?”

Fletcher stumbled hard over his words and made next to no sense. One thing that did make it clear through the haze of nonsense struck a nerve with the Jimenezes: “I didn’t know she’d be that young!”

Alicia exchanged a queasy look with her brother. She had heard of it before: grooming. Usually starts when a girl is anywhere between nine and eighteen. Fletcher continued to ramble, about hiring a nanny and raising the baby anyway since Haagen didn’t do resales. He was probably just trying to get the baby off his hands…

Before Diego could pull the trigger, his phone rang. So did Alicia’s, both projecting the same number from a burner phone and three emojis to designate the caller: Healy. Alicia answered for Diego, jerking her head towards the door and mouthing, ‘I’ll take care of it from here.’ Diego reluctantly slipped outside, glaring at the nosy neighbors in the window who disappeared in a flash. He put the phone to his ear just in time to hear:

“– I need you to get to Nassau now: Jazmine’s in trouble.”

@mental-bycatch @kid-from-new-zealand @1zashreena1 @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 let me know if I missed anybody, I’m sorry it’s been so long

#Diego Jimenez #diego jimenez x oc #three bees writing #Garrote #🐝🐝🐝✒#Starz Power #angst

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spare-no-feelings · 4 years

Text

My Dissection of The Hilltop Scene™

I’ve been meaning to write this for ages, and here it is!

As is the case with many, Gentleman Jack changed my life. Weirdly enough, I had heard about Anne Lister a priori (I even watched The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister the movie), but the show really brought it home for me, with so many emotions involved that I can’t even.

Like for so many of us, The Hilltop Scene™ was what absolutely tore me apart, in a good way.

Two things to know about me before I begin: one, I typically don’t remember shit from the first time I watch a show or a movie; and two, I never did get the whole hype about Victorian romance novels, love stories a la Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters, all those girls (including my mother) swooning over a Mr Darcy and wanting a kiss in the foreground of a sunset.

Well, now I know that it’s because they’re all hetero-oriented. Furthermore, The Hilltop Scene™ officially tricked my shitty memory because I clearly remember the first time I saw it and how it immediately left a permanent mark on my heart and soul (along with the “But you came so close” scene). After it was done, I had to pause the episode and literally scream into the void (much like Anne herself just before Ann walked up) because of the swirl of feels that came over me.

From the get-go I was Team Lister, which is perhaps why The Hilltop Scene™ resonates with me. Anne is so freakin’ brave and unapologetic and I can only strive to be more like her, but it is her vulnerability and the inability to control her roller coaster of emotions that really spoke to me in this particular instance - certainly helped by the fact that Suranne Jones’s acting was impeccable, as was Sophie Rundle’s, of course.

Because we know that this scene did not historically happen, at least not as such, in my opinion it gives even more credit to the brilliant writing, the photography, the direction, and of course the aforementioned acting. I’m unaware of how many takes they had to shoot (probably not many, since they were filming during sunset), but this definitely feels like a scene you would see in a theater, one where everything just falls into place because the actors are feeling it and because absolutely nothing is missing. To think that the final product was even better than what the script anticipated as well is just one more bonus - a drop of honey on top of a cherry on top of a red velvet cake, maybe?

This little observation of mine will tend to get into almost every little detail of The Hilltop Scene™, as if each and every one of them was put there deliberately and for a reason (who’s to say it wasn’t?). I like to think they were all a choice anyway, because so much of this show shines through the subtleties, the little things, the unspoken promises they make to each other through gazes and body language, creating images that will stay with me forever.

The Hilltop Scene™ opens with Ann Walker - wearing the gondola pin - arriving atop and seeing Anne Lister there. Her heart is almost visibly beating out her chest; her face is one of relief, of a happiness that makes her tear up immediately, as if they haven’t seen each other for years but at the same time no time has passed since they last met.

She calls out to Anne. Anne turns out and she probably thinks she is imagining things - after fifteen days on a ship through winter seas, I would probably think so too. She’s breathless as she utters “good lord” with her husky voice that gets me every time.

Ann tells her “I thought you were in Copenhagen” in a way that feels both curious (that she’s back) and accusing (as if Ann wishes to remind Anne that she left her, and went as far as Denmark). She slightly nervously holds on to the hems of her dress.

“I am. I was..” Anne is likely still a bit confused from her journey, seeing as she had to leave so hastily. She is taken; her “Aren’t you in Scotland?” question sounds much more accusing than Ann’s, as if she also wants to confirm that Ann really is standing there and is not just an apparition, a figment of her imagination, as she was for much of the time during her travels.

To this, Ann starts blabbing, probably out of being nervous around Anne after all this time. She starts telling Anne that she didn’t know about the letter Anne had sent her because no one told her and she starts marching towards Anne, to which Anne flinches and steps back. I cannot stress enough how much this moment was important for me: she is also not physically ready to have Ann close to her. She is still so hurt and broken that her body formed a defensive reaction to protect her from more heartache. To see Anne retreat like this, knowing her otherwise quite confident and forward personality, was really interesting to me, something that had already happened in the “But you came so close” scene in a more emotional, less physical way.

This gets Ann to stop, also instinctively. She goes to explain that her sister couldn’t write back because Anne’s letter disappeared, and then moves on to talk about how she thinks her sister’s marriage is not a good one, all the while Anne is a little surprised at how many words are coming out of Ann right now, as if it is hard for her to catch up with it all. She wants to say something in response to Ann, but she can’t because Ann just keeps going, talking about her brother-in-law and how he is probably not a good man. A notable moment here is Anne taking her top hat off, pulling her ponytail hair back and wiping her nose - don’t know what it is, but that was so goddamn sexy.

Ann finally ends her rant, realizing that she’s been talking so much, and she gets a little embarrassed for it in a really cute way. It is now Anne’s turn to speak - she tries to keep the conversation formal, which I guess is another form of self-defense, by saying “Well. I suppose that’s the trouble with being very rich. You never can be sure of people’s motives.” She says it in a petty way, one that makes it sound like it’s a curse, and that Anne is glad that she is not rich herself (something she so longed for), or that she dodged that bullet by not ending up with Ann. This also references Anne helping Ann shrug off her gold-digging cousins and also her asking to borrow money from her herself - as if those things never happened.

In a twisting turn, Ann says that she and her sister talked about her, to which Ann’s look changes: there is a glimmer of hope, because why would they possibly be talking about her when their whole deal was off? You can see that the light in her tired eyes is firing up again, only to be stifled again when Ann says “She said… she thought that sometimes, often, a good friendship is better than a marriage.” This is where Anne’s face goes dark and she looks down to the ground, probably thinking “Not THIS shit again?!” I think many wlw went through this many a time with a straight crush they had, and well, what can I say, Anne Lister gets it better than anyone.

Ann sees Anne’s low spirit and worried, she asks: “Are you alright?” In previous instances, whenever someone would ask Anne this question, she would famously answer: “I’m always alright.” But with Ann, she can’t help but be completely honest, and she looks like the question hit her right in the spot and that she can’t hold it in anymore. Following a tired, crying “Mmm”, she tells Ann that the pit collapsed, that it flooded, but that it can be fixed with more money. She’s annoyed at herself: “I took a gamble! I shouldn’t have.”

“But we’re not alive, are we? If we’re not taking the odd risk… now and again…” She looks at Ann as if to remind them both of how well Ann knows her, as if to say: “You know how this goes… I can’t stand still and I have to make life interesting even if it makes me poor.” Anne also knows that she took a gamble with Ann herself, attempting to form a relationship that had to be secret and had to rely on so many different factors that it’s no wonder it was doomed. But what got me is the way she said it and the way she looked at Ann while saying it; as if the gamble she took with Ann was worth it, even though it ultimately failed.

To Ann, on the other hand, this gives that courage Anne asked of her a few episodes prior - she is about to take a gamble herself. She steps forward while replying: “No… no, we’re not.” She looks at Anne with a kind of confidence that was never there before, which Anne immediately feels and responds to, this time without another choice. She can’t talk about other stuff anymore: she admits that she should have written to Ann again. “But when I didn’t hear back, I…” That’s when she spots the gondola pin.

They are standing close to each other now and the tension gets palpable. Anne is overtaken with emotion: the see-saw of losing and getting hope back on the top of this hill carries on as she looks at Ann to once again examine her intentions and to simply get lost in her eyes. Ann looks back the same way, her gaze letting Anne know that she is there, ready for whatever happens next.

“God I’ve missed you,” Anne says while her voice goes thin and shaky. There’s no more pretending, no more holding this avalanche of emotions back. Ann looks so relieved while taking a deep breath. She takes Anne’s hand and asks: “Have you?” with a tone of voice that could probably not be replicated so easily; it’s asking Anne to reassure Ann once more, to tell her that all might just not be lost, that her hopes that Anne misses her and wants her still have been valid and true all along.

Anne, once again, feels like she should probably not go any further than that, not knowing for sure what Ann’s feelings are right now - the scars of having been burnt on that same fire are still very sore. She’s holding Ann’s hand, takes it up and starts kissing it nevertheless, taken by the fact they are close again, that she can touch her again. She turns her hand over and sees the scar on her wrist. Ann pulls it away, but Anne takes it back: it really is a wrist cut. “There was just one morning I just thought I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Ann’s honesty is daunting, one that she is only able to have for Anne as she is the only one who could possibly understand her pain.

Anne is worried, she’s feeling guilty for not being there for Ann, she would have come straight back if she had known that (just like she was planning to before changing her mind last minute). Ann feels guilty too, perhaps thinking that Anne would think her too weak for this as well, because of the danger she put her own self in. She looks down in shame and sorrow.

Anne is holding her face, but then… she takes a step back, determined to make a confession she can no longer keep quiet. There’s the long sign, there is the head tilt, the taking the gamble, yet again.

“Do you know… I don’t think one hour passed where I didn’t think of you.” Truer words have never been said for Anne.

Ann is shocked - she did not see this coming. She worked hard to convince herself to expect the great Anne Lister to be thinking about her at all, especially not after all this time, and to tell herself not to think of Anne either. This so evidently fills her tender, tired heart with joy.

“I tried not to,” Anne continues, “But every time I closed my eyes… there you were!” Suranne’s delivery of this line is some of the finest acting I have ever seen: Anne is filled to the brim with sadness, honesty, torment and finally love, with just a liiiiittle bit of comedy spicing it up to take the edge off. Ann, on the verge of tears, nods and looks down, saying nothing, probably contemplating and taking it all in - it had, after all, been the same for her too.

But for Anne, this appears as hesitation. She gives Ann enough time to say something back, but when Ann doesn’t, it is time for her to put her guard up, once again. When Anne realizes that Ann probably won’t respond, and most certainly not with something she’s been so desperately wanting to hear from her for months, she pulls herself together and goes back to talking about general stuff - but this time with a little more affection.

“I met the Queen of Denmark!” Anne is not one to shy away from telling everyone about her achievements, certainly not ones including Royalty itself. The way she tells Ann about her experiences in Copenhagen - the excitement in her voice, the vivacity of her body movements, her holding of Ann’s hand that was not interrupted yet - reminds them both and us as viewers of just how close they are, how intimate their relationship still is, how themselves they get to be in each other’s presence.

Now it’s Anne’s turn to babble on - she tells Ann all about the Queen’s birthday ball the way she would tell her family, leaving no detail behind. Ann looks at her in awe and so in love: she laughs and giggles and she can see it all in front of her so vividly, as if she was there with her. “But all night I kept thinking: if you’d have seen me! You’d laugh!” Anne is grinning now because it’s true - Ann has been in her thoughts the whole time and now she gets to finally tell her about it, because she’s right there in front of her, they are finally reunited, the distance does not separate them anymore and the pain is gone, even if just for a moment.

“I had to wear white! Head to toe in white satin,” Anne tells her, again as if saying: “Me! Can you imagine?” And indeed, Ann cannot, as she laughs at it as if it was the most unnatural thing she’s ever heard. “But I made a bit of an impact,” Anne says, “One way or another.” It’s what she does, she makes an impression on people, as Ann knows very well. Ann looks at her hypnotized by her story, her arms, her voice, her eccentric yet endearing persona.

Anne’s speech too is now drawing to a close. “Friendly people, the Danes,” she concludes. “I think I shall go back there.” She realizes she probably will leave again soon, and alone, once more, like so many times before. “One day,” she says.

Ann, in her own right, realizes now is the time to show that courage she’s been mustering since leaving Scotland. She looks down for a second, looks back up and says: “Perhaps I could come with you.”

Anne has been here before; how many times she had wished for Ann to tell her exactly this, but at the same time knows the outcome of it all very well. Her look is telling Ann: “Please don’t do this, because we’ve done this already, remember?” Her grief is washing over her, as she cannot take false hope anymore.

Ann understands Anne’s reaction but is not pushed away by it. She carefully draws herself closer; we have never seen her be this bold, this convinced before. “You know… If you asked me to marry you again...” The camera is documenting Anne’s emotional journey: she too is taken by surprise by the way Ann carries herself, by the things she is saying. “I wouldn’t say no.” Could it really be?

This time it is Ann proposing to Anne.

Until this moment it was always Anne talking about marriage, and Ann being her wife. Here we see Ann taking initiative, we see her bring it up using Anne’s own proposal, fearlessly and sure of herself and the decision she made. Though this convinces Anne, it is only for a second: she can’t shake off the feeling that she will be let down yet again. She simply cannot trust Ann on this, even if she is so wonderfully, finally brave. “Hm… but would you say yes?” She looks deeply into Ann’s eyes, expecting to find hesitation.

But Ann is so far from hesitant. With a determination she has so longed for, with a conviction she so searched for, she says: “Yes.”

“Would you? And stick to it? And mean it?” Anne wants to make sure Ann understands her well.

“Yes.” Ann has never been more sure of anything in her life.

Anne gets closer to Ann, encouraged. “Take the sacrament with me? In church? And mean that too?” She needs to make the deal clear.

Ann loves the way Anne is thorough and persistent. She smiles and goes to place her hand on Anne’s face. The music gets louder with a revealing, hopeful tone. It all probably feels like a dream to Anne, as Ann becomes the girl she always hoped she would become: one that would take Anne for who she is, and there would be just the two of them on the planet. Ann wipes the tears from her cheek: “I love you, Anne.” She is the one sealing the deal now. Anne cannot believe her ears but is thrilled at the same time. Ann reassures her: “I’m in love with you. I always have been.” Ann is finally at peace with what she’s been feeling all along, and is ready to own her happiness, and to make the woman she can’t, and doesn’t want to, live without, happy as well.

Anne is speechless. The long, exhausting journey and the ache she’s been feeling have all come to an end, and she will at last be able to live her truth with someone she loves. “Don’t hurt me,” she says to Ann while taking comfort in her hand. It’s an unexpected statement from one Anne Lister - even Ann Walker thinks so - the woman always in charge of her feelings, always with a brave face on. Her walls are finally down. “I’m not as strong as you think.” She can be honest with Ann while she’s giving her her heart. “I mean I am, obviously!” She is Anne Lister, after all. Ann knows it; she knows her, and she recognizes her trying to remain the dominant, tough one. “But… sometimes I’m not.”

There are no words left to be said. They look into each other’s eyes - this is it. They are both in the same place, at the same time, the universe has aligned and all the obstacles are gone, there is just Anne for Ann and just Ann for Anne and nothing else can possibly matter as much as this. Ann tilts her head forward, signaling to Anne, and Anne dives in for a passionate kiss as the music is triumphant in crescendo. She looks at Ann for just a second - yes, she really is there, and this really is happening. The sun reflects on the tears streaming down her face as they get lost in each other, lush Yorkshire landscape and a vast blue sky behind them.

#long post #really long post #gentleman jack #anne lister #ann walker #the hilltop scene #anne x ann #ann(e)dom #suranne jones #sophie rundle #about me #kinda like fanfic #but not really

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Return

Oki once again I suddenly got an idea that I wanted to post asap so apologies if this feels idk rushed? But anyways I hope you enjoy!

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Gyro Zeppeli x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Gyro sailed all the way to America in order to take part in the Steel Ball Run race, you had been eagerly waiting for his return.

Notes: Angst, SPOILERS FOR PART 7

Gyro’s emerald green eyes lit up and his lips curl into a wide grin that shows his golden teeth when his gaze falls on the envelope in his hands. With an excited chuckle his drops everything he was just about to do and sits down on his sleeping bag. Johnny glances at his friend a smile of his own apparent on his features as he has a pretty good guess about the contents of that envelope.

“Another one?” The blond asks, laying on his sleeping bag with his head leaning against his hand. The scene before him was nothing new as Gyro had received letters like this one many times in the past and judging by the Italian’s expression, he had been waiting a long time for this one.

“Yep.” He says as he opens the envelope, carefully enough so he doesn’t tear apart the letter itself, but swiftly so he can begin reading the contents of it. He had been waiting for so long to receive a response to his previous letter and the excitement bubbling inside is so intense it feels like it’s about to burst out. He can’t help it though. This letter had been delivered to him all the way from his home country and once he got the envelope open, Gyro wasted no time in reading it:

Ciao, Handsome!

How’s the race been treating you?

Upon reading the first lines of text Gyro’s smile only grows when he notices the familiar cursive handwriting of his lover he had seen so many times throughout Steel Ball Run. He missed you so much and wished he could see you in person but for now had to rely on this distant form of communication. He didn’t complain, though as frankly any contact with you was enough.

Good, I hope, you know how worried I get. I can’t help it! I love you after all.. When I read your last letter and you wrote about all that crazy shit you’ve been through I.. I couldn’t help but to feel a bit worried. I know what you’re going to say, “I promised to come back after I win this race, cara. And I won’t break that promise”.

He lets out a quiet chuckle upon reading your words. You knew him so well. The letters you sent him made him feel that familiar warmth he felt whenever he had been in your presence before his admittedly painful departure. He remembers you shedding painful tears as you watched his ship slowly move closer to the horizon. As much as he hated seeing you sad, he knew he had to do something in order to save the innocent boy’s life. However he didn’t leave before promising to return home as soon as he grasped victory.

I laughed just now, you know. And it only made me miss your laugh. I miss you so much, Gyro. I think of you every day and I can’t wait for you to come back. Honestly, a part of me wants to hop on a ship and sail to America just so I can see you again. But based on the things you’ve told me.. Perhaps it would be better for me to just stay here and try to wait for you patiently. I just want you to be safe. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

Gyro frowns his brows as his eyes scan the text before him, his fingers lightly brushing over it. He had told you about the bizarre events he experienced during the race quite openly, but a part of him wonders if it was alright to bring you so much worry with the dangerous tales. On the other hand, he had promised to always be honest with you and thought it best not to sugarcoat any of the events that occurred. Gyro was sure you respected his honesty, but it still, he couldn’t help but to question it.

But I believe in you. I know you will return with the prize money in your hands and the joy of victory by your side. I will cheer you on, even from the other side of the world. You will prevail, I am certain of it. I just can’t allow myself to forget that so easily. I know it’s dangerous and I know anything could happen, but I have faith in you, Gyro. I love you so much and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again. Please, take care of yourself and stay safe. I’ll be waiting for you, Gyro.

Love,

(Name).

Gyro smiles to himself, your letter being able to awaken so many emotions inside of him. At this point they didn’t feel like mere letters anymore. Whenever he read them, he could hear your voice and feel your emotions, which was why he had saved every single letter he had received from you. They were like pieces of a puzzle that would combine into something bigger when all of this was over. They were memories that both of you shared and cherished. With each passing day he would think about you. Your stunning smile, your beautiful (E/C) orbs that put the stars to shame and those soft (H/C) locks he had so often ran his fingers through. He missed having you next to him, but knew that this grueling time away from you would all be worth it, because when he finally returned he’d get to pull you into an embrace he had been yearning for so long.

With a sigh, Gyro folds the letter and immediately begins to write a response on a piece of paper. There was always some delay with the delivery due to the great distance between you two so Gyro made sure to always begin writing as soon as possible. Johnny looks at his friend and smiles to himself. Gyro was often stressed and tense due to everything that had been going on, but would show signs of relief and happiness whenever he wrote his letters or read one of yours. It always managed to put a smile on the blond jockey’s face. Gyro was madly in love with you, and that love would carry him through whatever the race dared to throw at him.

When your hands touch the fresh paper of the envelope, you immediately sit down and begin to open it. It had been a good month of sending letters back and forth just like usual and Gyro was sure that it would all be over soon. Things had gotten quite a bit hectic and to quote the Italian’s own words; “It’s a shitstorm over here, but we’ll get through it.” Reading his letters in which he told you about all that was going on was like reading a story, a very dangerous, bizarre story. But it helped you to feel connected to him in a way, as if you were there with him, experiencing those events.

Upon opening the envelope and unfolding the letter your brows frown at the unusually short length of the content. It was odd considering just how long his previous letters have been and a deep part of you starts feeling something akin to concern. But that feeling quickly fades away when you start reading:

Ciao, beautiful!

Listen, I’m gonna need to keep this one a bit short simply because it won’t be long before you can actually hear my words instead of having to read them. Yep, you read right, cara. Everything is going to be over soon. The President has gotten a bit out of control with the corpse but me and Johnny are gonna take him down! Soon it will all be over and I can finally come home to you and hold you tight.

You smile at the text, relieved to hear that everything was well. Gyro had mentioned the President’s plans and initially it did hit you with a wave of concern and worry but with his letters came a reassuring wave of relief as according to his words, things had been turning for the better.

I know how much you worry, but I assure you, I will kick Valentine’s ass AND win the race so I can happily return home. Return to you. I miss you so much, you don’t even know, but the fact that this won’t last for long keeps me going. You keep me going, (Name). I can’t wait to hold you, kiss you, hug you.. I can’t wait to see you, cara.

Your reading gets interrupted when a single tear you didn’t even notice drops on the paper. The words stick onto you like glue and caused a storm of strong emotions to erupt within you. Dammit, Gyro! How dare he make you cry?! You giggle to yourself and quickly wipe your tears and continue reading:

And perhaps.. We can discuss the future. Because I want it to be with you, (Name). A future with you sounds like heaven and I really hope you feel the same way. Well, we will have time to discuss this when I return. But, feel free to consider it! If you ask me, a little Zeppeli running around would make me the happiest man in the world! But yeah, we’ll have time for that. Take care, my love and until we see each other again,

ti amo.

Gyro

The amount of tears rolling down your cheeks only increases after you finish reading his letter. Those tender, loving words he used were so rare, but they managed to cling to you and you wished nothing more than to feel the man himself next to you. The thought of having a family together with Gyro filled you with so much joy and warmth it felt like torture not having him here to make that dream a reality. Not yet, at least.

Soon, your long wait would be rewarded. Because once this would all be over, you could finally live with the man you loved so dearly. His voice, his eyes oh, how you missed them all and you could hardly wait any longer. Patience was key here. He would return, just as he promised and you’d never have to be without him ever again.

And he did return. But not in the way you were hoping. And when your (E/C) eyes that were filled with joyous tears, meant to express your happiness in finally seeing Gyro after so long land on that wooden box that Johnny was dragging behind him with a dark, sorrow-filled look dulling his blue eyes, those tears froze for a split second, only to be filled with devastation.

He promised. And he didn’t break his promise. But he broke you. Because upon his return, he didn’t hold you, kiss you, hug you, instead, you were met with a lifeless corpse that once belonged to the man you loved. Your entire world crumbled, it felt as if your soul had been dragged out of your body with him. This couldn’t be happening. But the sight before you didn’t lie. And no matter how much you cried, wailed, sobbed or screamed, deep down you knew, Gyro never returned.

And the last memory you had of him, was a letter that painfully reminded you of a dream that never became a reality.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Steel Ball Run #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo part 7 #gyro zeppeli #jojo gyro #gyro zeppeli x reader #gyro x reader #jojo gyro x reader #reader insert #angst

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shewritestheblues · 4 years

Text

the Elevator Bae - 11

***LOST BAE

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE (1 , 2 , 3) TEN

Erik Stevens x Black OC (Phoenix)

A/N: the Elevator will be coming back soon, lol. Also, thanks to everyone who has sent me some encouraging words about the fic. I appreciate y'all so much. I promise to give y'all more fic’s soon.

The days leading up to this one were rough. Five nights ago, Erik had received a text from an old friend. He hadn’t heard from Linda in almost a year. He made it a point to stop doing missions with her when he and Phoenix had gotten serious. Him and Linda had a bit of a steamy past. They were both part of the ghost unit and with the stress of their job, they found themselves in each other’s bed most nights. Their relationship was never more than just sex but Erik knew when he met Phoenix, he couldn’t risk that. He battled with himself when he read Linda’s text.

Linda: Hey big head. Haven’t heard from you in awhile. There’s a job on the table and I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else. Interested?

With a sleeping Phoenix on his chest, Erik contemplated his interest in the job. His eyes moving back and forth between his baby girl’s face and the phone. He could do the job and that’s it. Linda would understand. He thought.

Erik: Wassup. What’s the job?

The three bubbles popped up immediately. He anxiously watched as the bubbles danced on the screen. Phoenix began to stir and he locked his phone thinking maybe the brightness of his screen was bothering her. She turned over and balled up on the other side of the bed. Erik took this moment to get up and slip on some shorts and silently make his way into Phoenix’s kitchen. He leaned against the counter just as his phone vibrated with a message.

Linda: Can you talk?

Erik listened out for any sounds coming from Phoenix’s bedroom.

Silence.

Not bothering to text back, Erik calls Linda.

“Hello?” Linda’s voice was low, like she was whispering.

“One shot kills the bird.” Erik says.

“Two shots to the head.” Linda snickers.

That was always their way of confirming their identity to each other. A smile crept up on Erik’s face. He hadn’t heard that snicker in awhile. He internally chastised himself for feeling like he may have missed it.

“Wassup, Lin.” She could hear the smile in his words.

“Just killing niggas, Stevens. What about you? You’ve been MIA.”

“Nah, I’ve been working too. Just more lowkey.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Erik opened his mouth to speak when Linda’s soft voice beat him to it.

“Is she nice?” there was a hint of jealousy, but Erik pretended not to notice.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, she is.”

Another moment of silence.

“I’m happy for you, Stevens. You deserve someone nice.”

Erik looked down at his feet. Him and Linda had some good times and it seemed as though right now, all of their memories together were rushing to him. He stayed silent until Linda’s voice picked up again.

“Anyways, uh, yeah. This job is with this underground guy. He goes by Klaue.”

That name was familiar to Erik. His eyes grew big and he stood straight up.

“Klaue?” his voice boomed through the phone and the quiet apartment.

“Yeah. You know him or something?”

“Heard about him.” Erik caught himself and lowered his tone. He tiptoed to the bedroom door and peeked in to see if he had disturbed Phoenix. She was still sleeping soundly. He closed the door again, going back into the kitchen. “He be dealing with some black market shit.” That’s not all he knows about Klaue. Klaue is a name mentioned in his father’s book. He’s well aware of Klaue and his history with Wakanda.

“So, you’re aware of his work. Okay. Well, he’s working out a deal for some vibranium that’s being held in a--”

“I’m in!” Erik cut her off. He didn’t need to hear anything else. Linda didn’t ask questions. She knew better. Erik-- Killmonger didn’t need to explain. She simply said, “Okay,” and let him know that she’ll keep him posted. They hung up.

Erik stood over the kitchen counter. His thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. This was the opportunity he had been waiting on. He couldn’t miss this one. He nodded with relief and began the quiet walk back into bed. As he inched closer to the bed, he could see movement. Phoenix’s hands were fishing for him. A smirk appeared on his face as he found entertainment in his girl searching for him. He loved it. He grabbed her hand as he found his comfort within the sheets and pulled her to his chest. Her heavy eyes looked up at him for merely a second before they shut again and she let out a deep breath as she sank into his body.

---------

Every night since, Erik would have insomnia. He wanted to tell Phoenix but he promised his last mission from only two weeks ago would be his last one until after her tour. She wanted him to be with her. He couldn’t disappoint her. He battled with the thought of maybe letting this go. He had found a sense of healing and happiness with Phoenix. Did he need to avenge his father’s death in this way? But in the end, he couldn’t help but to believe this was a once in a lifetime chance. The people of Wakanda needed to know the truth. So he stuck with his decision to go but decided against telling Phoenix. A week max and when he’s king, he’ll come for her.

Erik stands in the shower with the water as hot as it can be. With all of these thoughts, sleep wasn’t happening for him. As he is going over his decisions in his mind, crossing his T’s and dotting his I’s, he hears Phoenix come into the bathroom. She assumed he had a night terror and he just went with that. He was protecting her, he thought. She would understand later. She would have to.

Erik stopped Phoenix before she could completely disappear out of the bathroom.

*** He motioned his head for her to come back. “Get in.”

She was hesitant at first but she obliged. She undressed from her boyshorts and his Navy t-shirt that had became her nightly tee. Erik turned the temperature down just a notch so the water wasn’t too hot for her when she stepped in. When she joined him, he moved to the side for the water to meet her body. She watched him as he looked her naked form up and down. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly. She knew something was wrong. She grabbed both sides of his face, making him look her in the eye.

“Talk to me.” she said softly.

“It’s the same shit. It just all seems so real.”

She rubbed his cheek with her thumb. He leaned in to kiss her. They stayed there, letting their lips warm each others. Erik pulled back, licking her touch from his lips. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. Phoenix rested her head on his chest and just let the water run down her back. She listened to his heart beat and noticed that it had started to pick up. She didn’t say anything. He didn’t give her much about his dream but she didn’t want to push him.

“Philly.” his voice was low and raspy and Phoenix could’ve sworn she heard it crack.

“Hm.” His heart is pounding out of his chest now. She could feel it thumping.

“I love you.” This time his voice was just above a whisper. ***

-------

The love they made that night was slow and deep. The intensity was unmatched to any other time between them. Erik would whisper his love into Phoenix’s ear as he made her scream it back to him. Their bodies were covered in bruises and bite marks. Three rounds before their bodies gave out on each other. They ended their sex with Phoenix riding on top of Erik and her body jerked with her last organsm before she callapsed onto him. They never bothered to move, falling asleep still in that position.

That was the only sleep Erik had and when his alarm woke him up just a couple of hours later, he held onto Phoenix’s naked body in a bear hug before kissing her cheek and whispering one last “I love you” in her ear.

-----------

Linda and Erik at just made it to the secret location where they’d meet up with Klaue. It was an abandoned factory building with puddles from leaky pipes everywhere. One room in particular held a table and a few chairs. The two opted to wait there until further notice. Time seem to drag as they waited. But Klaue is a black market criminal. He wouldn’t just show up on time and be ready to go. Erik knew what was going on. The abandoned building was being watched and once Klaue’s people knew it was all clear, he’d show up.

The look in Erik’s eye as he stared at nothing, was familiar to Linda. She perked up at the sight. Killmonger had surfaced. Her eyes almost twinkled and she moved herself closer to him. Sensing her undeniable excitement, Erik looked over to her.

“Welcome back, Kill.” she laughed.

He exhaled a small laugh without any form of a real response.

“I missed you.” her voice sounded distant even though she was sitting right next to him. “Doing all those jobs didn’t feel the same without you.” Linda placed her hand over his hand.

Erik looked at her hand and his eyes trailed up her arm until he reached her face. She looked so sweet. He then remembered the first time he met her. She was the last one introduced to his team in the ghost unit and he remembered thinking, “This girl ain’t gonna last here.” But, she did and she was one of the best. She was number two behind him.

She got up from her seat and made herself at home on Erik’s lap. Erik struggled with what he should do next. He was usually always so focused and prepared but Linda has his brain covered in a cloud of nostalgia. She smiled down at him, holding both sides of his face.

“No one else understands the thrill of the kill like you. I feel crazy when I hit the target and wanna do a happy dance. You were my happy dance partner, baby.”

Erik bit his lip to hold back from saying anything he could regret later. Linda’s soft fingers pulled his lip from between his teeth before smashing her lips into his. A feeling so familiar to them. Linda could feel his member hardening and she moved her hips up to feel more. She pulled back slightly.

“She could never know Kill like I know Kill.” she practically moaned out the words.

“W-What?” Erik pulled back.

“I know you miss this just as much as I do.”

Erik reaches to grab her hands from his face. “C’mon Linda. You need to chill.”

“Is she better than me?” She says, kissing his face between words. “She can’t ride it better than me. Nobody can.”

Erik pinned her arms behind her back, holding her in place.

“What she do ain't none of your concern.”

“That bitch could never take care of you like I did.”

Erik’s movement were quick… too quick. Linda hadn’t realized that he now has a tight grip around her neck. It didn’t hit her until she tried to breathe in. The soul had left his eyes and his grip grew tighter the more she stared into his dark orbs. His nostrils flared and the muscles in his neck popped with anger.

“You better watch your fucking mouth. That bitch knows me better than you or anybody else ever could. You were just something to do when there wasn’t shit else to do. We gon’ get this job done and you gon’ delete my number. Understand?”

Linda clawed at his thick fingers as she fought for air. She nodded her head. He released her neck and Linda coughed and took in deep breaths.

“If you play your role good,” he held her chin, “Daddy might give you a good-bye gift.”

Erik had already made up his mind though. Linda wouldn’t see the end of this mission. She was too close. All this time he thought what they had was just sex, but clearly Linda had been secretly holding on to what they were doing as a sign and he couldn’t let her show back up in his life and ruin what he has now. This was a set up to get him close to her again. She didn’t know about his ties to Wakanda and that was the only reason he was still here. This was his one chance to get there and she wasn’t about to mess that up.

Klaue finally made his grand entrance and grand it was. His groggy laugh could be heard echoing throughout the abandoned building and he had to show off some tricks with his arm. Linda played interested and Erik was just ready to go.

They loaded up into a black van and headed off to the museum.

------------------

The last thing Erik remembered was the sunset. Iit felt like it was a dream. As he stirred, he was expecting to wake up and roll over on Phoenix. He knew when he did that, he would crush her just enough to wake her and when she did, she’d be going off on him for ‘damn near killing her.’ But to shut her up, he’d just bear hug her and kiss her quiet. That always worked. But when Erik came to, he wasn’t in bed with Phoenix. He wasn’t even in a bed. He was strapped to a table and bright lights hung over him. He could hear talking around him. The voices were speaking Xhosa.

He was still in Wakanda… He was still alive?

He didn’t want to make any sudden moves to startle anyone, so he kept his eyes closed and just listened.

“Kufuneka aqhubeke nokudinwa.” (he needs to stay sedated.) One voice said.

“Kufuneka sithethe naye... ukuqonda.” (we need to talk to him… to understand.) another voice. This one was familiar to him. It was T’Challa.

“There’s nothing to understand. He tried to kill us. He tried to kill you.”

“Yes, Okoye. I know. But there has to be more.” T’Challa looks to Shuri. “No more sedatives.”

Shuri looks over to a monitor near Erik. “Brother.” she sounded concerned… scared.

“Yes, Shuri?”

She pointed to the display of brain waves on the monitor. “He’s awake.”

Erik opened his eyes as a sly grin grew on his face. He looked directly at T’Challa.

“N’jadaka. Welcome back.”

Erik looks down at the restraints around his wrist and back to T’Challa. T’Challa motions for Shuri to let Erik free.

“My King… No.” Okoye says from behind him.

Shuri doesn’t move.

“It’s best to free my wrist now before I get pissed.” Erik says. His voice rusty from not speaking. He doesn’t even know yet how long he’s been there.

T’Challa gives Shuri one last look and she does what he asked of her. Erik sat up with a stretch and rubbed his wrist. He slowly looked up at T’Challa before very swiftly jumping up and pushing him into the nearest wall. Okoye right on Erik’s heels with her spear just barely re-breaking the skin on his cheek. Erik’s snarls at his cousin but T’Challa remained calm.

“Didn’t I tell you to let me die nigga?” Erik finally spoke.

Okoye presses her spear more into Erik’s skin. “Back away now.” She demanded through clenched teeth.

“Okoye, please.” T'Challa said calmly. “We hold no threat, N’jadaka. I saved you because I had to. You are family.”

“He’s not family, brother.” Shuri interjects. “Family doesn’t try to kill family.”

Erik glared at her. He stepped away from T'Challa and began making his way to Shuri. “Oh yeah? So my father wasn’t killed by his own brother? HIS FAMILY?”

Okoye and T'Challa stepped between them.

“That is why I saved you.” T'Challa placed a hand on Erik’s chest. “My father was wrong, N’jadaka. I can’t— I won’t make the same mistake he did. You are royal blood and I want to make this right.”

Erik searches his face for a hint of bullshit but he was met with sincerity. Something he only ever saw in Phoenix.

Phoenix!

Erik held his head down. “How long have I been here?”

“It’s been three weeks since the fight.” Shuri said.

Erik didn’t say anything. He glided back to the table he was just laying on and sat on it. Three weeks. He wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. There’s no way Phoenix would understand this. He left her with no explanation. Erik wasn’t even sure yet if he could trust T’Challa and Shuri. He couldn’t risk Phoenix by sharing that he had her back home. Erik felt defeated. He had lost the thorn. He had lost the fight and now… he was sure that he now lost her.

“FUCK!” he snapped and slamming his fist onto the table.

Okoye and T'Challa shared a look and T'Challa approached Erik. “There is hope for you here, N’jadaka. But, only if you are willing.”

Erik didn’t have any more fight in him at this point. Sure, he was still angry and would jump at the opportunity to punch his cousin right about now, but he was tired. Phoenix warned him that one day he would get tired of fighting. For the first time, he decided to accept it. Phoenix would want him to try. To try to heal, forgive and trust. The same way he did with her. T'Challa could have let him die, but he didn’t. Maybe this was his second chance. He wasn’t sure if he truly deserved it but he would go with the flow.

“Yeah, whatever nigga.” Erik finally says to T’Challa.

Okoye scoffs.

---------

T'Challa, Okoye and two other members of the Dora Milaje escorted Erik to a rehabilitation center just outside the palace. He would be staying there until it was seen fit for him to be released. The first few weeks was an adjustment for Erik. His room was just big enough for him. A bed, a desk and a small, empty bookcase. A window sat just above the desk with a view over the village.

After Erik was settled in, he was introduced to his chosen therapist, Mama Kholo. She was an older woman with deep chocolate skin and long, silver locs. She reminded him of Madea. He was a bit standoff-ish at first but Mama Kholo was warm and understanding. She never forced or pushed him. It took Erik about three weeks to say more than ‘Good Morning’ to her. She would ask how he was doing or how he was feeling and Erik would just stare out of the window.

His silence was finally broken when one day, Mama Kholo came into Erik’s room for his daily session without words. She held three books in her small hands. She came in and kneeled down in front of his bookcase and neatly put the books down. She then walked out and Erik was left looking confused. When she left, he looked at the books. One had a note attached to the inside of its cover. It read,

I read your file, N’jadaka. You are wise beyond your years. But you are not wiser than me.

This book, a psychology book. That made Erik laugh. He sat on his bed with the book in hand and began reading. Mama Kholo didn’t return to his room for four days. Erik had finished all three books. He had thoughts and wanted to share with her. On the fifth day, she returned with three more books. When she stepped into his doorway, she noticed something different about him. He looked eager to see her.

“Good morning, Prince. You look rested this morning.” she smiled.

“Good morning, Mama Kholo. I am.”

She placed the books on the bookcase as she did before and had turned on her heels to leave when Erik calls out to her.

“You can stay.”

Mama Kholo raised an eyebrow. She looks out into the hallway. No one was there.

“You come with me.” she says, holding a small hand out.

Erik shakes his head. She motions for him to come again. He slowly stands and walks out with her. She leads him down the hallway and to an elevator. When the doors open, she steps in but Erik just stands there. Worry on his face as his mind races between if this is a setup and the first time he met Phoenix. He felt conflicted and Mama Kholo could tell.

“N’jadaka, it’s okay.”

He steps into the elevator with her and they go down three floors. He follows her through two large doors with the sign ‘Library’ over them. They go inside and she takes them back into a smaller room. In this room sits a loveseat couch, a lazy boy chair and a table. The table held coffee cups, a tray of muffins and a notepad. Mama Kholo leaves Erik in the doorway to figure out what he wanted to do and she sat in her lazy boy, kicked her feet up and picked out a muffin. Erik eventually sat down on the couch and he just watched as she hummed in satisfaction of her blueberry muffin.

“Did you enjoy your books, N’jadaka?” she asked.

That question lead Erik right into Mama Kholo’s trap. Their talks began has Erik’s review of the three books but she flipped it into how the books related to real life and before Erik knew, he was sharing his experience with the foster care system. By the end of their session, Erik found himself not wanting to leave Mama Kholo. He wanted to share more. The more he shared, the more weight lifted from him. Mama Kholo understood this. She was happy to see him wanting to open up more.

This became their routine. Muffins and coffee… or tea. Sometimes, when things would become overwhelming for Erik, Mama Kholo would just walk around with him. They wouldn’t talk but she��d show him around and allow him to reset. She never pushed him too far. She allowed him to come to her.

One morning before their session, Mama Kholo came into Erik’s room to see him doing pushups. This sparked an idea for her. She suggested that from now on, They would have talking sessions every other day and in between she’d take him to the gym facility located in the center. This really amped up Erik’s desire to express more of the feelings he had been holding inside. He opened up so much more to Mama Kholo. He finally broke his silence about Phoenix.

As they sat out in the courtyard, Erik sipped his tea. He was biting the inside of his cheek when Mama Kholo asked the question.

“Have you ever allowed yourself to love anyone, N’Jadaka?” she asks.

He looked up at her and his eyes answered her question. She gave him a soft smile before taking a bite of her muffin. Erik cleared his throat. “She hates me now.”

“Why do you think such a thing?”

“Because I’m here.” He adjust himself on the bench. “She doesn’t know I’m here. I left and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want her to worry about me.”

“She didn’t know about your work?” Mama Kholo asked.

“She knew. But this was different. This is Wakanda. She would’ve tried to talk me out of it. I didn’t want that. I waited my whole life to come here. I couldn’t let her stop me from doing that.”

“So… are you saying you know she would have succeeded in changing your mind?”

“Yes. Phoenix likes to look at the bigger picture. She sees the good in everything. Somehow, she found some good in me.”

“You don’t think you have good in you, N’Jadaka?”

Erik sits, looking forward. “Would a person who has good in them do what I’ve done?”

“Well, N’jadaka, I think everyone has good. But I think each person has a different experience in life. Some people have to hide their good to survive. That’s what you did. But, you don’t have to survive anymore. You can come out of hiding and let your good shine through.”

Erik laughs to himself before taking a sip of tea. “You sound just like Phoenix right now.”

A huge smile forms on Mama Kholo’s lips. “Sounds like Ms. Phoenix knows what she’s talking about.”

A beat of silence sits between them. Mama Kholo watches Erik closely. He’s thinking. He drags his hand over his face and rolls his shoulders. Mama Kholo’s alarm rings, signaling that their session is over. Erik stands and helps her up and gathers their muffin box. He follows a step behind her as they make their way back into the center. They go up the elevator to Erik’s floor. As they approach his door, Mama Kholo says her goodbye.

“Mama Kholo.” Erik calls to her. She turns to see that he’s struggling with something.

“What is it, N’jadaka?”

“Uh, can you do me a favor?” he slides his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“Yes?”

“Can you put a word in to T’Challa? Ask him to check on Phoenix? I-- I need to know that she’s okay.”

Mama Kholo nodded with a smile and walked away.

----------

Their next session, Mama Kholo let Erik know that she passed on his message to T’Challa and he agreed to check on Phoenix. Some time had gone by after that. A lot of time. Waiting for an update, Erik began to regress. He wasn’t talking as much. Many of his responses to Mama Kholo were just sounds and grunts. She knew that he needed to know about Phoenix. She meant that much to him.

Mama Kholo visited T’Challa’s office to update him on Erik.

“My King,” she formed an X with her arms. T’Challa did the same and motioned for her to enter his chamber doors. She joined him on a beautiful couch that sat along a large window. She handed him Erik’s files. T’Challa looked through it and was impressed at how much progress Erik has made. His anger levels had decreased significantly. He was doing well and using the techniques that Mama Kholo taught him. Erik was journaling daily and working out had made a huge difference. But, he noticed the most recent notes of how Erik had become distant.

“I see here, Mama Kholo, that he has pulled back. Do you have any idea as to why his progress has stopped?” T’Challa closed the file and placed it on the panther shaped glass table before them.

“Yes, my King. I’ve noticed that since there hasn’t been an update on his friend, Phoenix, N’jadaka hasn’t been himself. I think he needs to know that she’s okay. He’s holding a lot of guilt for leaving her.”

“I do have an update for him. But, I wasn’t sure if he was ready.”

Mama Kholo became concerned. “Is she okay?” she places a hand over her chest, preparing for the worst.

“Yes, yes, Mama Kholo. She’s fine. But,” T’Challa cleared his throat, “She has a child now. I’m not sure how to tell N’jadaka that. If she means that much to him, I’m sure he wouldn’t take well to that.”

“His child?”

“...yes.”

“He deserves to know my King.” Mama Kholo insisted. “And I think that he’s ready.” She stands and T’Challa follows her. He gives her a hug and she makes her exit from his office.

T’Challa calls for Okoye.

“Yes, King?” she asked.

“Have Imani prepare N’jadaka’s chambers. He’s ready.”

“Are you going to tell him about his lady friend?”

T’Challa rubs his beard. He nods. “Yes. Which is why I’ll be bringing him back to America with me on Friday.”

Okoye’s eyes grow big and she immediately goes to challenge King T’Challa but he stops her. “He has made great progress, Okoye. It’s time for us to all move on.”

Okoye nods. She does the Wakandan solute to her king and passes the message to Imani. When she returns, she and T’Challa begin their journey to Erik’s room at the rehabilitation center.

*** The sounds of feet walking across the tile floor and the faint sounds of talking woke Erik up. He kept his eyes closed as he felt the presence of people outside his already open door.

“N’jadaka. I know you are awake.”

Erik opened his eyes and sat up on the bed.

“I have some good news for you. This is your last day here. Mama Kholo has informed me that you’ve made great strides in your rehabilitation. You will be escorted to your palace chambers today.” ***

Tags: @shaekingshitup @purple-apricots @abeautifulmindexposed @lostennyc @tip222u @janelledarling @lushloaded @chaneajoyyy @thadelightfulone @raysunshine78 @toniilaney @purpleskiesxhopefuldreams @elaindeereads @lyniya @fd-writes @mygirlrenee @ajspencer1892 @yoyolovesbucky @greatpandagladiator-blog @shanyphantom

#Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #erik x black OC #erik x phoenix #the elevator bae #black panther #black panther fic #shaebewriting

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years

Text

Riverbound Chapter 7

You are THE GUARDIAN, which is kind of unfortunate because you’re currently face down and up to your chest in a medicalizer, which has clamped down on your torso so hard you think you’re going to throw up. It’s not like you’re not grateful for the opportunity to heal your broken ribs, but feeling the machine forcefully fuse the bone and muscle back together is not a pleasant experience. Even advanced technology has its setbacks, you suppose.

“If it hurts too much, we can take a break.”

You look up to Mallek, who is sitting beside you like a very anxious guard dog. Somebody put a big plastic bowl underneath you in case you puke, but you guess he wants to be ready to either hold your hair up like a drunk sorority girl at a party or pull you out of the medicalizer.

You manage a wheezy laugh. “Nah, I don’t feel pain. I’m a robot, remember?”

An unhappy whine rises up from the back of Mallek’s throat, kind of like a stressed cat. “These things can suck even for highbloods. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dude. I just--” Something clicks back into place in your side, and your vision goes fuzzy for a couple seconds. “Augh. Just need to be uncomfortable for a little while longer. I’m not running around Thrashthrust with broken ribs any longer than, than I have to, oh shit.”

Your stomach rolls like a fighter jet and you let loose into the strategically placed bowl beneath you. Hey look, there’s the grubflakes you ate for breakfast.

Mallek grimaces, and you feel a cool hand rubbing circles into your upper back. You turn your attention towards breathing in and out, in and out, just focusing on the physical contact. It’s only a little after midnight but you’re already exhausted. The painkillers Lynera gave you early in the evening have long since worn off.

“What happened to you?” you hear him whisper.

You force your eyes back open. “Daraya already told you? I got thrown into a tree by a goddamn cholerbear. Nasty sonuva bitch.”

“No, I know that! Why did you disappear for like, half a sweep?” he demanded.

His voice cracks about halfway through, and guilt hits you like a sucker punch. You just want to see him smile again. Granted, you’re looking down at the bowl-o’-puke instead of your friend, but you don’t really have the strength to do anything else.

“Long story short, I got kidnapped. Made some new friends to cope. Escaped, made sure my new friends were okay, and then I came back here. I’ll tell you the full version when I’m not on the verge of passing out,” you explain.

“Kidnapped?” Mallek explodes. “The hell you mean, kidnapped?!”

You wince at the noise and reach out to pat his knee. “Sshhhhhhhh. Shhhh. Calm down. It’s fine now. Be calm.”

His face lights up blue. It’s only then you remember telling that shushing a troll is considered lowkey sexy or something. Whoops.

“I would never leave you on purpose, Mallek,” you say, quickly pulling away before it can get weird. “Or… or anybody. Okay?”

“... Okay,” he mumbles.

You smile encouragingly at him. He grabs your hand and squeezes it. It would have been a really sweet moment, except you’re sweaty and shaky and everything stinks like vomit. You can’t imagine how much it must reek to Mallek and his better sense of smell.

The both of you stay like that for a few more minutes, and then the medicalizer goes off with a sharp buzz and releases your torso from its clamps. You immediately inhale as much as you possibly can, groaning with relief when there was no more stabbing pain. There’s still a bit of soreness; a medicalizer can only do so much for bruising, but by all the horrorterrors have you missed breathing like a regular person.

“How’s it feel?” Mallek asks. You can feel the anxiety coming off him in waves.

“So much better.” You’d fall asleep right there and then if he gave you the chance, but you feel him gently grab your hands and pull you out of the medicalizer. A pair of strong arms lift you up, carry you a short distance away, and then set you back down on a sofa.

You accidentally let out a squeak when you feel a chilly finger poke your stitches.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. You’re just cold.”

Mallek huffs and touches the scarred-over gash again. “The medicalizer took care of this big wound right here, but the stitches need to come out. I don’t know how, though.”

The fun never ends. “Lanque did ‘em.”

“I’ll go get him. Be right back,” he promises. You hear him jump to his feet and leave the room, the door creaking slightly on his way out. Downstairs, you can hear your friends discussing something, most likely Tyzias and Daraya cooking up a crazy new plan for the rebellion.

You can’t wait to join them and help save the planet. Vriska’s demand that you return in ten nights is a constant reminder of what you came here to do, but it also makes you nervous about the inevitable teleporting you’ll need to do. What if you messed up and ended up somewhere you shouldn’t? Causing a paradox wouldn’t just screw up your mission, it could ruin the fabric of reality. That fear kept you from so much as doing a measly little jump down the mountainside when you left the caverns.

Having powers was handy, sure, but sometimes it made everything, like, a thousand times more stressful than it actually had to be.

The thumping of footsteps up the stairs gives you the distraction you need to calm down. You crack open an eye in time to see Mallek and Lanque striding in.

“Hey,” you croak.

“Damn, Adalov, did you have it up in the highest setting?” Lanque mutters, turning from you to Mallek with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look very happy with what he sees.

“Medicalizers are made for trolls, not aliens,” Mallek shoots back. “You know they hurt.”

“That thing was old when you let me use it.”

“I’m sorry, did you know any other highbloods with top-notch medicalizers that could do that surgery you wanted? I don’t think so, fucker.”

“Boys, can we save the pitch stuff for later? I want these stitches out so I don’t have to keep laying around like a dead body,” you growl.

Mallek and Lanque glance back at you, both looking a little sheepish, before Mallek slinks away to sit down at your feet while muttering something about never being pitch for pretentious assholes who can’t even wear their jackets right. Lanque messes around with a few first aid kits on the shelf beside the medicalizer before finding what he’s looking for-- a small scalpel and a pair of tweezers.

“Alright, you know the drill. Off with the sports bra,” he orders.

You groan but obey, pausing with your hand through one of the straps when you notice another pair of wide eyes on you. “Mallek. Turn around, my guy.”

A very interesting squeaky noise escapes Mallek’s chest before he turns around and all but slithers over the armrest he was leaning on. You hear him hit the floor with a thump. Lanque rolls his eyes.

“You two know each other?” you ask as you flip over to lay on your stomach.

“We’ve met a few times, yes,” Lanque confirms, kneeling down to start picking at the stitches with the scalpel. The way he says it makes you suspect there was a lot more to the story than he was letting on. “Have you already told Mallek everything?”

That was Lanque’s way of saying “Let’s change the subject”, so you let it go. “Not… everything. Are you listening, Mallek?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I only want to explain this once. Basically, the multiverse is a whole lot more complicated than anybody knows, and there are a lot of… powerful beings out there that like to meddle. Like, with timelines, and universes, and that kind of stuff. Are you following me?”

“I… okay?”

“So basically, this fucker called Doc Scratch is one of these god things, and he was using me to control his timeline… area… whatever. That’s why I was running around Alternia before I left, because I guess I had to help bring certain people together for the timeline to work? I don’t know. Anyways, he kidnaps me when he’s done making me do his business and makes me read this fucked up comic in his own fucked up dimension, which is also on one of your moons. Long story short, the comic’s about some other friends I made and the shit they get into in another timeline. Eventually I manage to escape from Doc Scratch with only moderate trauma. Yay, me. How are we doing so far?”

You can’t see him, which is probably a good thing. “You… the multiverse and the… okay, sure. Why not.”

“I end up on Alternia again, but in the future, and then Earth, which is my home planet. Well, not that exact version of Earth, but whatever. I end up befriending all these kids and try to help them lead better lives than they would originally in this other timeline where they all play a game that destroys the universe. I should also mention that Doc Scratch somehow wiped my memories before I escaped, so until I meet this cool chick called Aradia I… had completely forgotten about you guys.” You swallow back the lump in your throat and try to focus on Lanque pulling out your stitches. It stings.

“The last kid I made friends with was this boy called Dirk. Good kid. So we’re hanging out, and this other version of Dirk rocks up from another universe, and this bastard is a kind of god called an… Ultimate Self, I think. He tries to stop me from rewriting the timeline and then tries to kill me or whatever. I get away from him and manage to…” Crap, how do you explain this part without telling your friends you created an entire universe? “I get him to go home and leave me and the kids alone. He can’t hurt us if he’s in his own universe. After all of that I wanted to come back to see you guys again. So I did.”

Like before, you don’t mention the Director, or the little showdown between you, her, and Ultimate Dirk in Doc Scratch’s mansion. You definitely don’t tell them you’re here to help them win the rebellion. You remind yourself you’re not lying to them, you’re just… not telling them everything. To protect them.

Yeah.

“What worries me is this Scratch character,” Lanque mutters. “You said that Ultimate Self god went back to his own universe, but if Scratch still has influence over our reality…”

“I… have no idea about Scratch,” you say truthfully.

“What is he, exactly?”

You release a long sigh. “Every planet with intelligent life has a thing called a First Guardian to guide it and its people to their destinies. Timelines can have Guardians too, I think? I know that sometimes entire universes have Guardians. They keep time and space in order, basically.”

“... If this universe has a First Guardian, why can’t it go beat Scratch’s ass?” Mallek jokes.

It’s a good question, and you know he’s just trying to lighten the mood, but it still fills you with misery, anger, and a fear so powerful you almost start shaking. If… when you meet Scratch again, what will you do? Would you be able to fight him? Protect your friends from him?

If your friends knew who you really are, would they still care about you?

“That’s something I would love to see, believe me,” you manage to say.

“I’m so sorry that all of that happened to you. It’s so fucked up,” Mallek says hoarsely. “I was so pissed that you were gone. I just spent six perigees of my life thinking one of the best friends I ever had was dead and I didn’t even stop to consider that they might be having it even worse.”

“It’s not your fault. Grief makes people do and feel weird shit,” you assure him. You’re trying not to cry yourself, because you’re half-naked with a super hot guy pulling out your stitches and another hot guy hiding behind the sofa. Your life is a lot of things but boring is not one of them.

Your pain tolerance must be through the roof by now, because you don’t even feel it when Lanque pulls out the last couple threads. “All done.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thanks, Lanque.”

He pats your back. “Come join us downstairs when you’re ready. Tyzias has something I think you’d be interested in.”

Your tiredness instantly fades away. “Oh?”

“You can’t be serious, Bombyx. They’re still recovering,” Mallek protests.

“Then get off your privileged highblood ass and come with us,” Lanque calls over his shoulder as he saunters out the door.

Mallek yelps and dives back behind the sofa when you hop up to get dressed. Your shirt was slung over the desk chair, which you gladly yank back on over your bra as you start to shiver. Mallek’s place was always pretty chilly since he ran cold, so you’d always have to bundle up a bit when you came over to hang.

“Alright, I’m decent. My pasty white ass won’t blind you anymore,” you tell him.

“You’re more of a really pale… pinkish tawny?” he notes, tossing you your hoodie.

You decide you’d explain the different ethnic and racial categories humans have to him later. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for letting me use the medicalizer.”

“Duh. I don’t let my friends run around with broken ribs,” Mallek snorts. “Yours sure break a lot, though. Maybe I should just stick you back in there from time to time, just in case.”

You pretend to chuck the puke bowl at him and cackle when he instinctively dodges. Once upon a time, you might have told him that human vomit is acidic. Granted, it definitely is; you can feel your throat and tongue burning like a bitch, but you never specified that it wasn’t deadly or anything.

“Just put it in the load gaper!” he begs, and you laugh as you follow him down to the bathroom. You forgot how much fun it was to fuck around with him. Maybe you’d introduce him to Kuprum and Folykl, you just know that the three of them in one room would be the best thing that ever happened. That, or they’d all kill each other. Those kinds of things could be a little difficult to predict with trolls.

The puke bowl gets cleaned with water, soap, and a lot of vigorous scrubbing. Your hands get the same treatment. Once you gulp down some water and splash your face in the sink, you turn, only to realize Mallek is staring at you again. His eyes are much more blue than when you last saw him. He’s an inch or two taller as well.

“... Yeah?” you ask. Did you have vomit on your face? Fuck.

All at once, Mallek wraps you up in a hug that leaves you breathless. You hug him back instinctively, and then really go all in when you feel him shaking ever so slightly against you. He smells like chips and something vaguely smoky.

Neither of you say anything for a while. There’s something incredibly fragile in the air, and it warms you from the inside out and fills you with worry.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you too. So much.”

“... You don’t have to join in on whatever crazy shit they’re cooking up down there.” He chuckles nervously. “Really. You can just… I dunno. Stay with me, if you want?”

You bump your head against his chest and gently squeeze his arms. “Mallek. The world is going to change, and I want to be a part of it. Don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

You reach up to gently cup his cheek. “I’ve died before. It’s not so bad, really.”

Mallek leans into the contact, looking at everything but at you. You let yourself be held by him for a little while longer before pulling away. He doesn’t say anything else, but he does follow you down the stairs to the rest of the group.

You grin at Tyzias when she looks up at you, hopeful. “So whose lives are we gonna ruin tonight?”

#hiveswap #Hiveswap Friendsim trolls #homestuck #pesterquest #MSPA reader #The Guardian #riverbound #jadebloods #teals #AND MALLEK #lol

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