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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 months

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All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one.

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him.

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her.

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily.

That’s okay.

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did.

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better.

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax.

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it.

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head.

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble.

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing.

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own.

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband.

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to.

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there.

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed.

She doesn’t always roll well.

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back.

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch.

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them.

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue.

No, wait.

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word.

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse.

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.”

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.”

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump.

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke.

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply.

She can't help herself.

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear.

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath.

“Savvie,” he whispers.

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips.

Her blood.

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?”

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.”

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her.

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step.

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch.

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion.

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall.

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.”

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie.

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

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iicheeze · 1 year

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“ FREEDOM? WHAT'S THAT? ”

summary: You were always stuck in between the same four walls you wake up to every single day for as long as you can remember. You don't know why, you don't know how you even got there. But someone is clearly taking care of you. Why?

characters: [REDACTED], [REDACTED]

cw: manipulation(???), character guessing, use of drugs, yandere behavior, stockholm syndrome (kinda??)

author's note: reader is gender neutral, no pronouns other than they and them will be mentioned here (if there are, please tell me!!)

[REDACTED] [ENTITY NOT FOUND]

“ It's time for your medication, dear. ” The [taller/shorter] woman greeted, as the door slid open for a bit, but just for a bit. Before locking closing it once more.

Walking to your futon, an iron tray with one piece of pill along with a glass of water in both hands. Before crouching near you.

You mindlessly took the medicine, swallowing it before drinking from the glass water from the tray.

“ Remind me again, why do I have to drink these? ” You asked. “ It's to bring your memories back, love. Remember? ” Your wife replied, a smile plastered on her face.

Oh, right.

The last thing you remembered was waking up in an Inazuman styled room. Your futon being in the middle. You don't know how you got there. But according to your w/F3 , you were her lover. And you got in an accident where your mind has reversed of all memories, and the medicine she's been giving you everyday is to slowly get them back.

According to your wife, you've been in the very same room for exactly 8 months, 4 weeks, 19 days, and 31 minutes.

And you couldn't help but start to have doubts about your.. ‘ wife ’.

You understand that the medicine slowly makes you regain your memories. But so far, you haven't made any progress in getting any of your memories back.

Everytime you'd ask your wife about it, she'd always tell you stories of back when the two of you were dating. When you'd be clingy to her and often said that you wanted to get married to her.

But you don't remember any of it.

And not to mention..

Why doesn't your room have any windows?

It's always lit with lanterns, so you don't know whether it's day or night. Your wife always tells you in advance. But only when you ask.

“ DARLING? ”

Your wife's voice snapped you to reality, turning to her confused face. You can't help but sweat drop a bit.

“ Are you alright? You've been spacing out a lot more lately. ” She asks. You can tell she's worried, she always unconsciously holds your hand when she does.

“ It's.. Nothing. I was just thinking about the novels I've read earlier. ” You smiled at her, not trying to raise any suspicion. You don't want her to know you're having doubts about her being your wife.

“ I see. Alright, then. I'll be right back, dear. I have to put the tray back. ” Your wife stated, taking the tray to her hands before slowly walking out the door you've always wondered where it goes to.

Slam

“ Get me the newest version of this drug. Immediately. ” Your wife commanded, as a guard took the iron tray away from her hands.

“ I don't care how inconvenient it will be. I need it. They're starting to have suspicions. I need to reset them again. Until they're perfect. Until they're the perfect lover. The lover I want. ” The Raiden Shogun remarked.

[REDACTED] [FILE MISSING]

“ Come on, love. It's time for your medicine. Open up. ” Your husband insisted, practically shoving the pill up your mouth while you struggled to keep up with his arm strength.

“ But.. It's bitter! ” You argued, hoping that it will spare you from the ugly, bitterness of the pill. While your husband just looks at you, unimpressed.

“ You have to. Don't you want to remember those times we've had together? ” He stated, his frown getting a little bit too low. Not wanting to make your husband sad, you quickly shove the pill down your throat before chugging down the glass of water.

“ There! Happy? ” You wiped the leftover water at the end of your lip, “ I am, actually. ” your husband smiled.

“ Do you have any progress on regaining your memories so far? ” Your husband asks, pulling out his notebook along with his pen.

He always does this everytime you drink your medicine. He'd ask questions about your memories and if it has any progress. But it'll always end with the same, disappointing answer.

“ No.. I still don't remember anything. Sorry.. ”

You can't help but feel bad everytime you answer that question. Your husband must be very happy disappointed and sad hearing the same answer every week.

“ It's alright. It's not your fault. Don't worry about it. ” Your husband reassured you, a comforting smile plastered on his face.

“ By the way, here are the new novels I ordered from Inazuma. They just arrived this morning. ” He stated, a load of novels revealed that was behind him the whole time as you sit at your shared bed.

“ Woah!! Thank you so, so much!! I love you, Tighnari!! ” You cheered, your eyes glowing from the amount of novels. You were really grateful to have such a wonderful husband like him.

You were so happy, you felt a burst of emotions and can't help but hug your beloved husband. A surprise, yes. But a welcoming one.

Tighnari scoffed from your actions, “ I love you too, [Name]. ” He replied, hugging you back.

It was definitely worth the effort to make a memory-resetting drug.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin x female reader #yandere genshin impact x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x female reader #yandere genshin impact x male reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin headcanons #yandere genshin x you #yanderecore #yandere imagines

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possessionisamyth · 8 months

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So we know Jill has insomnia.

Whether this was a something she wrangled with since she was young or something she developed after her time at the Spencer Mansion, Jill has now had and dealt with insomnia for a good portion of her life. So there's very little doubt in my mind her insomnia was significantly worse after being Wesker's puppet for several years.

We see the pods where test subjects were put in when they're not being used. We see Jill's empty pod specifically when Chris brings it down. They were putting Jill in cryo-sleep for periods of time we do not know the length of. A type of sleep that's really just done to render the person unconscious like anaesthesia, so they don't know how much time has passed until they're told after they wake up.

How long it took Wesker to get Jill under full control is debatable, but even if I shave off 6 months-1 year for healing and brainwashing, that's still 2 whole years of drug-induced sleep being her only style of rest, and there's no way her body didn't get used to it.

I think a lot of her recovery was learning how to sleep again, and having to tell her doctors or psychologists that she's struggled with insomnia long before she was a puppet. Medicating her sleep doesn't really work anymore. It barely worked before, and resistance is stronger thanks to the virus.

Exhaustion comes to her in waves, but it's worse now. Laying in bed staring at the wall or the ceiling until she wants to scream. Closing her eyes with turning to lay on this side or the other side every 10 to 15 minutes because she's restless in a way she can't name. She tries tiring herself out with a home gym installed. She tries self medicating over the counter remedies combined with her prescriptions knowing she's playing a dangerous game. She tries drinking. Nothing quite works to turn her brain off, and when she does manage to fall asleep she's never sure which cocktail of actions led her to the result. It's also never for long. A few hours at the most. It's fitful, and the nightmares come freely.

Which part of her brain is sending her into the response? There's stress tests done. She's already exercising. Maybe she's more of a night owl? Maybe her inner clock never functioned like most jobs ask of people? She reads to try to relax since meditation isn't working. Her time off is exuberant, and her bills are paid, and there's food she doesn't always have to cook. Her bed is comfortable, and her place is a little messy but hers. She tries learning a new hobby or two. She tries going out to join the night life like she used to before work and bioweapons took over.

She still can't sleep. She's rightfully angry about it. How does anyone deal with doing "all the right things" to fix what's labeled a problem and the problem remains? Simple! She's forced to learn to live with it.

#resident evil #re #jill valentine #re5 #re analysis #headcanons

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zzzallnite · 1 year

Video

One of the perks of being born rich is to get to know other people inside the elite circles without making any effort. Daniel is one of those bastards who got hook up with the prettiest ladies, who are also born with enough money and a stable career that would be able to support an entire community. Tonight, he is going on a date with a girl he’d met into at an event just a couple weeks ago. The beautiful girl, named Karla, is like no others: she prefers to away from the spotlight and scrutinizing eyes of her peers, which is a change of air from all the stuck-up ones he had in the past. Their night started with a romantic dinner at a fancy rooftop restaurant, and ended with them making out in a back alley behind a lounge bar.

“I want to show you something...” Karla said with a whispery voice, which excited the stud. The girl slowly put her hand up her skirt, and pulled out a gun. Daniel didn’t immediately feel threaten by it, but he still backed away as a reflex. “Woah, what’s going on?” Daniel nervously laughed. “Just a little roleplay”, Karla smirked. Daniel let out a sigh of relief, raised his hands in the air and played along, “Please, arrest me. I am a very bad guy. You don’t want me to do bad thing to a girl like you.”

Suddenly, a strange force ran through his body, paralyzing him. His knees became weak and the he saw lights dancing and swirling in front of his eyes. Karla caught him by the armpits before he collapsed. The woman oddly showed incredible strength as she tenderly lowered the 6’2” sedated man down on the ground. Daniel tried to fight back and gain control of his muscles, but nothing worked.

“Poor thing... When I said roleplay, I meant that I was playing you... But don’t you worry darling, I will take a good care of you, as a repay for this nice evening”, said Karla as she ran her fingers through the man’s long, dirty blond luscious locks of hair, pulled them back and gave the passing out man a kiss on the cheek and then forehead. That warm touch on his face was the last thing Daniel could feel before the darkness kicked in and his head just tilted back as he completely lost consciousness.

____

Daniel was laid on a gurney, with hands and feet cuffed. The drug the deceptive woman put in his drink was so powerful, even the bright beam of the operating light still couldn’t wake him up. If Daniel was awake, he would recognize that he was inside some sort of room resembling a doctor office. “How does this thing work, again?” Karla asked the old man in a three-pieced suit, who just finished attaching the electrodes on the still-out-cold man’s forehead. “It might take a couple of hours, but with a combination of drug, electrical treatment and hypnosis, you will have this guy over here around your fingers... I know he has some history with you, but let put it aside until the plan is finished”, the doctor said calmly.

And he was right. Karla knew Daniel from about decade ago, when he was enrolled in a private prep school and Karla had another name and her face wasn’t as pretty before the plastic surgeries. When she developed a crush for Daniel’s dad and straight up rejected didn’t cope well with the humiliation that she’d gotten from the man, and since then, she’s been brewing a plan to get back to him and his family – through his son.

“What I am going to do now is firing up the electrical pulse simultaneously as I get the stud aroused; his brain will associate the sexual desire for you with the hypnotic state. You will give him some kind of phrase, which will activate his trance, and then he will do anything you command without any memory of it”, the doctor explained while hooking Daniel’s feet to a pulley and propped them upward. He unbuckled the man’s belt and pulled down his pants and undies. He inserted his gloved fingertips up the unconscious man’s anus and started massaging his prostate. Even in a drug-induced coma, Daniel’s 8 inches cock was still be able to stand rock hard with unconscious arousal. Karla whispered something in Daniel’s ear, while eyeing up the doctor who now touching himself inappropriately with his other free hand.

“Done yet?” he impatiently asked, “If so, could you get out of here, please? There are a few more things I need to... uhmm... finish, before we could wrap it up.” Karla complied, understanding of what about to happened, but she certainly didn’t feel bad for Daniel – he was just a pawn in her grand scheme...

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rhapsodiq · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 RINA SAWAYAMA , DEMI WOMAN + SHE / THEM 〕 MAI KIMURA , some say you’re a THIRTY-SIX YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both RESILLIENT and CONCEITED, one can’t help but think of FREE by FLORENCE + THE MACHINE when you walk by. are you still a CONSIGLIERE / GENERAL MANAGER at DEAD HAND / KIMURA COSMETICS , even with your reputation as THE HANGED MAN ? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and AN EMPIRE BEHIND YOU, ONE THAT YOU ARE INDEBTED TO CARRY ON YOUR BACK, AN AMBITION THAT CONFUSES YOU WHETHER ITS YOURS OR SOMEONE ELSE'S, THE LEGACY YOU CARRY IN YOUR BLOOD, DILUTED AND MANGLED WITH OTHERS, SITTING AT THE BOARDROOM, ALONE, KNOWING WHO YOU HAVE TO BECOME TO SUCCEED. although we can’t help but think of LARA CROFT ( TOMB RAIDER ), LOKI ( MARVEL ) , ROBERT FISHER ( INCEPTION ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

BIOGRAPHY ( 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 )

general trigger warnings: emetophobia, drug addiction, blood, child abuse, violence

THE HANGED MAN: waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, perspective, contemplation, sacrifice, death

you are born with a golden spoon in your mouth.

many would envy to be in your place, yet you always felt as if it was forced down your throat. a pin pokes your back for proper posture, and it stings. private lessons of etiquette are carved into your psyche, going as far back as you remember. there are always armed men in your three-floor penthouse in tokyo, your mother and father absent, you are dolled up to attend dinners, a mere chess piece, nothing more. they own a conglomerate, a cosmetics company, and you think this the norm, that every big company is run this way, until —

you learn. you learn through the blood that stains your hands. kneeling on the floor of your family house, trying to keep the blood from seeping through your fingers. your sibling lies unconscious, and through almost losing them, you are granted the truth of who you actually are. the yakuza. the kimura legacy is stained, the power does not come from artificial beauty, but through the darkness that seeps into every crevice of your existence.

the truth changes you, and you try to fit in. do what's expected of you, graduate from a prestigious university, work hard to make your family proud. punishment for misbehavior comes in the form of yelling from your father, and the disapproving look from your mother. you try to fit in- you really do- but you also learn ways to avoid their fury, to slip through the cracks.

they are busy, and you are too, the underground world of tokyo changes you in ways you could not expect, and you learn it's a jungle of its own, with its own rules, own etiquette. you're perhaps too young to believe in the kind of people you do, but all you really want is to finally have some fun, to break free from your chains. and you succeed, it goes well at first, as well as it can be juggling the life of an upstanding heir, while also drinking and partying your way through the underground scene.

at first your family does not know what you do there, in the vip rooms of high-end clubs, in warehouses of various criminal organizations, rubbing elbows with other yakuza. you are stuck between: of making your own name, and of showing your worth in the kimura family.

it goes well until it doesn't, it's a fine line you're toeing, and you slip over to the other end. one night, you drink more than you should have, do a line too much. the pandora's box opens, and it reaches your parents' ears.

just like that, it's as if the stain you bring onto your family is larger than the stain of decades of massacre behind you.

THE HANGED MAN, REVERSED: stalling, disinterest, stagnation, avoiding sacrifice, standstill, apathy

they tell you it's because they worry, that it's for your own good. you're sent off to a private rehab facility surrounded by nature; secretive, high end, with doctors from all around the world. it's... fine. it's as fine as having your mistakes shoved into your face can be.

you wow to yourself to never be weak again. you get out of there in six months.

things change after that. you've always thought you have never been the star child, but you feel as if you have fallen off the proverbial family tree, sent off to new york to work on the family conglomerate there. they never speak of that year again, yet you know it's always at the back of their minds, a pin against your back, stuck there until... you don't know. will you ever know?

you work, you work hard as the head of kimura cosmetics west, and the company grows with you. it's the age of beauty, the age of artificial masks, and kimura cosmetics thrives on that performativity.

as above, so below. as you grow as the face of the company, as the leader of kimura cosmetics in the usa, you work your way through the underground world. your yakuza background helps you find your way to dead hand, and falling back into the crime world comes almost like second nature to you.

it's like riding a bike, but you're more careful now, more precise, calculated. careful with your vices and sins.

you will not make the same mistakes again. and as much as you will deny, you're still that girl who is stuck between two ends: between legacy and self-realization, between roots and new beginnings. you hang in a careful balance, waiting for it to tip to either side.

CONNECTION IDEAS

friends / enemies / acquaintances from tokyo: mai lived her early life in japan so anyone who was there around that time would b very interesting!

criminal acquaintances from tokyo: again, these could be the people who knew her when she was younger & trying to find out who she really was back then. maybe they could have been there through the "lows" and we can plot how they use that.

friends from college: mai does not like who she was back then, would be interesting if they knew each other from way back then.

socialite acquaintances: both back when she was in japan, as well as now, mai has been part of the high life. any connections here would be very interesting. could be antagonistic or amicable.

kimura cosmetics: ofc i would love to have people who work here or know the brand? or there can be models, make up artists etc that you met mai through this work.

dead hand: mai's family line goes far back in history in terms of yakuza , so i was thinking it was easy to find similar connections once she moved to the nyc. would love to plot different relationships within the organization!

sibling: i especially left it vague, around +5/-5 years of her age, biological. i'm thinking they are still in the family business but we can plot around.

ride or die (dead hand leaning): someone who was there when she joined the gang and has been there as she grew higher. v dependent on plotting!

exes, past one-night stands, friends, enemies: all up to plotting!

#lawlessintro #here she is!!#— about: mai kimura.#— c: mai kimura.#i am sleep deprived so i hope this makes sense...

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chickensarentcheap · 2 years

Text

In Too Deep- Chapter 2

WARNINGS:

Smut (slight), mentions of suicide, blood, death, child abandonment, profanity, Steve being a sociopath, forced drug use, manipulation tactics

Do not proceed if any of these things even remotely trigger you. Read with caution. This fic does and will contain dark and troubling themes.

@tragiclyhip, @youflickedtooharddamnit, @secretaryunpaid, @residentdormouse, @ninjasawakenedmystar, @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet, @starryeyes2000, @munstysmind, @mostly-marvel-musings, @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag, @occommunity

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41822868/chapters/106601751

My tag list is: OPEN

Maizie attempts to sleep; buried under a layer of heavy blankets on Steve’s couch. Clad in one of his sweaters that she’d snatched from the closet; zipped up as far as it can go and the hood pulled over her head and covering her eyes. She can’t seem to get warm; her body assaulted by continuous rounds of relentless shivers; the heaviness that sits on her chest causing extreme discomfort and making it impossible to get comfortable. It’s as if she’s stuck in the middle of a horrible nightmare; unable to stop thinking of Heather and the bloodbath that she’d burst in upon. She’d heard the arguing from down the hall; returning from a trip to the kitchen for a tea when seeing Heather on Darkenfloxx had become too much bear. Steve and Mark had been at one another’s throats; arguing over each other and throwing out accusations and laying blame on one another . And she’d been ready to play the role of peacemaker until she released what had happened; opening the door to a sight of a visibly distraught Mark and Heather laying motionless in a growing pool of blood.

Everything is a blur after that; recollections of the two men continuing to argue as she attempted CPR despite it being obvious that nothing could be done. And then Steve -without explanation- rushing out of the room and leaving her and Mark alone; blood staining her clothing and hands as Mark -his eyes wide and horrified and his chest heaving- watched her valiant attempts to save Heather. There’d been a slight bit of hope in his expression; a sliver of optimism that Maizie -with all of her education and hands on training and years on the job- would be able to do something. ANYTHING. But the damage had been done; no training or experience could have aided her in bringing Heather back. Not even a fully functioning operating room within Spiderhead would have helped; the jugular mutilated and beyond salvation.. Heather had been on death’s door the moment she collapsed; only seconds away from unconsciousness and mere minutes from a total bleed out and massive cardiac event.

Feeling the cushions sink beneath her, she immediately reaches out, expecting to find Steve’s strong and solid body or his much larger hand. Only to encounter the clearing of a throat and then Mark’s voice: “I’m flattered. But wrong person.”

Her eyes snap open; and she fixes her friend with a quizzical look.

Mark’s smile is sheepish as he offers a mug of steaming tea. “I come bearing gifts. “Strawberry apple. Your favorite.”

Smiling in appreciation, she shoves the blankets onto the floor and sits up; yawning noisily and pressing the heels of her palms into her weary eyes before accepting the beverage. She’s exhausted; mentally drained and in desperate need of some relief. But rest won’t come easily tonight. And probably not for many nights after.

Setting his own drink on the coffee table, Mark sits sideways on the couch; back resting against the arm and his feet folded in his lap. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t. I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve just been lying here. Thinking.”

“You too, huh? Your mind going a mile a minute? Replaying it over and over and over again?”

“All I can see is Heather. Lying there. And blood. So much blood. I had just talked to her. About twenty minutes before. She was going through a real tough time; she was freaking out because she was pretty sure it was Darkenfloxx she was going to be given. All signs pointed towards it, you know? It was only two days ago that she was in there with Sara. And Jeff was told to pick which one to give it too. And then she was given the same opportunity with him and Rogan. She knew, Mark. She just knew.”

“That’s why she was late? You were talking to her?”

Maizie nods.

“I don’t understand why she acknowledged. Why didn’t she just say ‘no’? It’s not like people have never done it. It’s happened more than once. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“She was scared. She didn’t want to be sent back to general pop. She was already on Steve’s shit list; constantly being disrespectful, always late, causing issues with other inmates. She knew she was on borrowed time and she was worried this would be it; she’d say ‘no’ and he’d freak and ship her off. She wouldn’t have survived. In a regular prison. Not with the issues she was having.”

“If she’d just TOLD him. That she was struggling. Or if she’d gotten you to tell him….”

“I tried. This morning. I tried talking him out of it. I told him that it was a bad idea. That Heather was already vulnerable enough. She didn’t need Darkenfloxx making things worse. I tried reasoning with him, Mark. I told him everything; about how she was depressed and anxious and having trouble sleeping. That I was worried what it was going to do to her. That it would push to a point where I couldn’t help her anymore.”

“And? He didn’t listen or…”

“Obviously he didn’t. He didn’t give a shit. About Heather. He totally brushed off all my concerns. Basically told me I was making a big deal about nothing. That Heather would be fine; no one had ever reacted THAT badly to Darkenfloxx and there was no worry about it mixing with the meds she was on. I tried, Mark. I really did. And if he’d just listened to me…”

“He doesn’t really do that. Listen to other people. Even when they DO make sense. You can be armed with all the logic in the world. If it goes against what he wants, he is going to completely disregard everything.”

“I even tried to convince him to find someone else. Or to wait until Heather was in a bit of a better place. There was nothing it HAD to be done today. It could have waited. There’s no deadline; no set date that everything has to be gold starred by. What harm would it have done? Just postponing things?”

“It wasn’t what Steve wanted. Simple as that.”

“If he’d just listened to me….” Sighing, she sips at her tea. “...if he’d just stopped and listened….”

“You tried, Maizie. You did everything you could. You…”

“I told her to acknowledge. I told her that the sooner she said yes, the sooner it would be over. I convinced her to go ahead with it. I promised her that she’d be okay. That I’d be right outside. If she needed someone. And where was I? When things went wrong? Nowhere around.”

“No one could have expected what happened,” Mark attempts to reason. “No one knew she’d lose it like that and damage her pack and completely flood it. There’s no way ANY of us could have known that was going to go down.”

“We had just gotten civil with each other. Heather hated me from the moment I walked in here. From the second I clocked in for that first shift, I was public enemy number one. No matter how hard I tried to befriend her, she was determined to hate me.”

“She saw you as a threat. Especially when it came to Steve. She was always hoping that something would happen between them. I knew it never would; he’d never cross that line. But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.”

“I asked if. If anything ever went down. With him and Heather. He looked at me like I’d grown another head. I guess she realized something was going on. Probably before anyone else did.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the best kept secret. You did an alright job, but Steve was a bit of a mess. I figured it out; as soon as he started bringing you chai lattes before every testing session. Steve never gives a shit about anyone else. EVER. And suddenly he’s learning how to make your favorite drink? And bringing it to you? Yeah, I knew. I didn’t understand it. But I knew.”

“What’s there to understand? We’re two consenting adults. We’re…”

“You’re you and Steve is….Steve. You’re normal. He’s….Steve. I can’t wrap my head around it. Why would you want to be around him more than you need to be? Doesn’t he drive you nuts?”

She shrugs. “No more than I drive him nuts, I suppose.”

“Just a weird couple,” Mark declares, and reaches for his coffee. “Maizie and Steve. Steve and Maizie. Totally messed up.”

They lapse into silence. Each lost in a world of their own; consumed with thoughts of Heather and buried under mountains of guilt, grief, and regret.

“Did they come?” She inquires. “To pick up the body?”

Mark nods.

“I cleaned her up the best I could. I know the funeral home will tend to it, but I couldn’t send her off looking like she did. I put her in some fresh clothes, washed her face, brushed her hair. I didn’t want to take the chance her family would see her at her worst. And you know…” Her voice cracks and tears threaten. “....I almost put the truth. On the paperwork.”

Mark arches an eyebrow.

“I came so close. To just letting it all out. And I know I should have. I know I should have had the guts to do it. But I chickened out. I went with the story we all agreed on. And I feel so fucking guilty for that. That I let her down AGAIN.”

“Maizie, you didn’t….”

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell the truth. Because then I thought about what would happen if the real story got out. What it would mean for us. For this place. For all of Steve’s work. It would all be over, Mark. There’d be no saving the world. There’d be no making it a better place. Maybe Steve was right; sacrificing one to save many isn’t so bad. And I hate myself for even thinking that’s a good thing.”

“We all screwed up. In some way. And now we have to pay for it. It won’t be a comfortable silence. That we live in.”

“How did this ever happen? How did it ever get this far? How’d we ever let it get to this point?”

‘He promised us we’d change the world. All we wanted was to help people.”

“Does part of you still believe that? That that’s what we’re doing?”

“A little part,” Mark admits. “But Heather…”

“She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I know what she did. I know how brutal it was. But I also know why she did it. She may not have been a good person and she may have done something horrible, but she didn’t deserve to go out like that. Especially when it could have been prevented.”

“You tried,” he stresses. “You did everything you could. It’s not like you just sat back and let it happen. You confronted Steve. About it being a bad idea. Honestly, I don’t know where you find the balls. To stand up to him like you do. And I don’t know how you get away with it. Anyone else would have been fired a long time ago.”

“Think about it. Think about just WHY he wouldn’t get rid of me. Think long and hard, Mark…”

“That is the last thing I want to be thinking about. When it comes to Steve. Something long and hard. Why do you do this to me? Talk about stuff like this? Why…?”

“Because I love seeing how flustered you get. And ‘long and hard’ was not about his dick. But now that your mind has gone there…”

“Please no. Don’t. Don’t talk about this. Don’t talk about THAT.”

“You’re lying if you say you’ve never thought about it. Or even tried to sneak a peek. You admitted yourself…when I first started here…that you found him attractive. That if you swung that way…”

“Doesn’t mean I want to be talking about THIS. He’s still my boss. OUR boss. Just because you’re putting in overtime….”

“And being rewarded…greatly…for it. Did I ever tell you about that one time I let him use Luvactin? About how I couldn’t walk right for a week after? I tell you, I had bites and bruises and hickies in places no one ever should. And his stamina is second to none when he’s not on it, so…”

“Oh God no,” Mark whimpers. “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. I heard the story once. I do not need to hear it again. For the love of…”

“You’re so cute when you get all worked up,” Maizie laughs, and affectionately ruffles his hair. “Thank you. For coming and checking on me. I needed it. Someone to talk to. And i feels good. To be able to laugh about SOMETHING. Even if it is at your expense.”

Grinning, Mark wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tightly against him. “Hey, what are friends for?”

******

She manages a couple of hours of sleep. Restless and broken at first; haunted by visions of Heather laying in a pool of her own blood and the accusations and blame being thrown around the room. And the sun has shifted its position in the sky when she wakes once more; stirred by the weight of Steve’s familiar scents and the weight of his hand resting on the top of her head. Neither speaking for what seems like an eternity; eyes riveted on each other as his thumb repeatedly -and soothingly- brushes against her forehead. His eyes and his face softer than she’s ever seen them; regarding her with the utmost concern and even adoration. And in that moment, she’s hopeful; his emotions seem genuine as opposed to running on autopilot. As if truly feeling remorseful instead of simply acting the part; knowing what he needs to do and say to make amends, but not truly meaning any of them.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His voice is low. Calm. Soothing.

She manages a smile. “It’s okay. I tried staying awake until you got up here, but…”

“I wanted to be here sooner…I TRIED being here sooner… but dealing with things took a little longer than I thought they would. I asked Mark to check on you. Did he stop by?”

“He stuck around for a bit. I needed it. Someone around. To talk to. Last thing I really wanted was to be alone. And when you said you’d be right up…”

“I’m sorry. I DID try. To get up here. Believe me, the only thing I was concerned about was you. And how you were doing. But I had things to tend to; loose ends to tie up. I cleaned out Heather’s room; packed up all her things and scheduled the courier to come and pick them up. I tried calling her mother and her sister; no answer at either place.”

“I wonder if they’ll even care. When they do get the news. It’s kind of sad, don’t you think? To have no one give a shit about you? To go out like that and not have a single person care about claiming you?”

“It’s…” He chooses his word carefully; wishing to keep her as calm and appeased as possible. He’s been at the receiving end of her temper; as feisty and fearless as that flaming red hair and her Irish heritage could lead you to believe. And it never ends well when things flare up between; even simple disagreements evolving into screaming matches that terrify Mark and are overheard by the inmates. Always ending in someone storming off; needing time to themselves before cautiously -and sheepishly- looking for forgiveness. “...unfortunate. But when you walk the path that Heather chose? Well I don’t think it’s completely unreasonable; for people to want to cut ties.”

“Maybe if they’d cut ties with the prick that had been abusing her…”

“Hindsight is twenty- twenty, Maizie. Not to mention that’s a long time ago. We don’t know for sure what went down in the house; we don’t know just how far Heather pushed her parents or if her tales about her father were even true. There’s always three sides to a story, yeah? There’s his, hers, and the truth.”

“It was proven in court, Steve. She passed a lie detector test. About what her father did to her. She…”

“You know as well as I do that the validity of lie detectors are highly debatable. That they’ve been proven to be unreliable. People CAN beat them. And they have. If they’re manipulative and deceiving enough and maybe even believe what they’re saying, it’s possible for them to pass. It’s highly subjective; the use and the results. Am I convinced that Heather was telling the truth? Absolutely not. Do I think some of her story may have been factual? Of course.”

“It’s a little callous, don’t you think? Blaming the victim? I know what she did was wrong; she never should have resorted to killing him. But she was a VICTIM.”

“And so was he. A victim. And he was a victim at HER hands. No one else’s. And what you may callous, I call realistic. Neither of us know exactly WHAT happened. Either that night or In her past. But what I DO know? I know that she’s gone and there’s a few of us that are left behind to try and pick up the pieces. And that’s not going to be easy; it’s going to be a hard road. What we saw and heard? It was horrible. For everyone.”

“But mostly for Heather.”

“Mostly,” he agrees. “It was unfortunate. How things ended up. But there’s no way we could have seen this coming. We couldn’t have prepared for it. We couldn’t have foreseen that she’d react that badly and damage her mobi-pack and have it flood. That’s never happened before. A malfunction THAT bad.”

“Mark warned you. When they were developed. That they weren’t made to be jostled. That one hard hit could damage them. Why isn’t there something in place? A fail safe? A way to turn them off? When things go south?”

“I never saw a reason to have anything like that. There’s never been a problem with non compliance before. At least not at that level. I don’t know if Mark didn’t refresh her pack or put a new vial of B-6 in there…”

“You stood right there and watched. When he refreshed her pack. You saw him put the vials in. Why didn’t she respond? Why..?”

“Obviously B-6 isn’t where it needs to be. And that’s unfortunate. But it’s not a lost cause. By any stretch of the imagination. We’ll refocus and regroup and we’ll have things back on track in no time. This isn’t a total disaster. We’ll look into what went wrong and what needs to be readjusted and get back on track. But let’s take a few days. Before we revisit anything. I think we all need some time. To clear our heads. Don’t you?”

She nods.

“We can go away. If that's what you want. If you think that’s what you need. Or if you’d rather just stay around here…”

“What do you want? This isn’t just about me, Steve. I can’t be the only one wanting things all the time. At some point, it has to be about both of us. Otherwise, what are we even doing? Why are we even bothering? If we’re not going to be totally invested in this…in US…”

“What I want is for you to be happy. I want you to feel safe and comfortable. I want to take care of you and protect you. Love you.”

The corners of her mouth twitch; a hint of a smile trying to poke through the misery and despair. “That’s a first for you.”

“What is?”

“That word. The big one. You’ve never said it before. I wasn’t even sure you felt it.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure myself. I know I was feeling…something. What it was, I couldn’t quite say.”

“I know it’s hard for you. Feeling things. And I don’t expect it, Steve. I don’t expect you to say things that you’re not sure about. I know it’s not who you are; feeling things like most people do. And when I tell you I’m okay with that…okay with who you are…I meant it. So if you’re not certain or you’re not really feeling the things and you’re just saying it to appease me.…”

Sliding his hand to the back of her head, he pulls her towards him, silencing her with a kiss. Nothing more than the simple and innocent press of closed mouth upon closed mouth, yet still enough to take his breath away; an ache in his chest and stomach and a pounding in his heart that until her, he’d never experienced. . Not that he’d never wanted a woman before; he’d been sexually attracted to many since puberty saw him gain both height and mass. But he’d never felt it that quickly or so profoundly. Or had someone live so vibrantly within every waking thought.

Pulling away, he presses a kiss to her forehead before leaning back to look at her. He understands the sadness that lingers in those green eyes, but not exactly why; Heather was nothing more than a criminal who’d paid the ultimate sacrifice in the pursuit of saving millions of others. She died for a good cause; her demise meaning survival -a content and meaningful existence- for so many.

“I’m saying them because I mean them. Because I HAVE been feeling them. I’ve just been holding back; working things out in my head before I said anything. I guess I was worried; how you’d react to hearing it. Wasn’t sure if I was going to hear the same thing back. And how I’d feel if I didn’t. Not something I handle well. Rejection.”

“I don’t think any of us handle that well. But it’s not something you needed to worry about. I mean, I think I’ve made it pretty obvious. How I feel about you. I haven’t exactly been shy about it.”

“You haven’t,” he agrees, grinning as takes the tip of her nose between his thumb and forefinger and lightly squeezes.

She likes this side of him; playful and boyish. An emotional immaturity that often leads to adorable results; harmless miscommunication and things taken too literal and jokes that would normally fall flat being found hilarious. She’s privy to those different sides of him; ones that exist away from that main control console inside the spider head. The Steve that he becomes when it’s just the two of them; the one that -clad only in a pair of sweats- sits beside her in front of the tv every Saturday morning; their hair mussed from sleep as they eat bowls of sugary cereal and watch cheesy eighties movies or sitcoms. The man who refuses to listen to anything but music from the same era and will pause whatever he’s doing if a power ballad comes on; turning up the stereo and beckoning for her to come and dance with him. It's always one of her favorite moments; barefoot in the middle of the living room, bodies swaying in unison with one of her hands clutched in his. Feeling the warmth of his larger and heavier frame and the weight of his palm against the small of her back; a slight pressure keeping her pressed tightly against him. And somewhere towards the end of the song things always change; her face burying itself in her chest as both of her arms circle his waist. Her eyes closing as his palm moves to gently cup the back of her head; fingers and thumb pushing through her hair to gently massage her scalp. It’s a security that she’s needed for so long; the feel of hard muscle and the smell of a clean, crisp scent. Familiar yet alluring; filling her with warmth and a sense of safety; the world outside those four walls ceasing to exist and nothing…or no one…able to hurt her.

A soft smile curves his lips as he lays his hand on the top of her head; thumb repeatedly brushing against her brow. “I’m sorry. For what I said. After Heather…”

“You don’t have to apologize. We were all on edge. We were all freaking out. Saying shit we didn’t mean.”

“That’s just the thing, Maize. I didn’t mean it. And it’s important to me that you know that. That I never meant the things that came out of my mouth and that I’m sorry I ever said them. I know it hurt you. I could tell. You don’t hide things very well. Your eyes. They’re very…”

“Expressive? Ben used to say that all the time. That I never had to tell him how I was feeling. My eyes did all the talking for me.”

Maizie notices the way his face immediately changes at the mere mention of her deceased husband; the beginnings of the smile vanishing and his face hardening and his eyes darkening. It isn’t done to hurt him; no slight towards him or their relationship and definitely no comparing between the two. Each unique in personality and in the wonderful ways in which they show their love and affection towards her. Two men remarkably different in every way possible, yet both in possession of not only her heart, but her body and soul as well.

“I’m sorry.” She’s quick to apologize, and throws off the covers and bolts into a sit. Her head swims; a lack of food and water and the tears of rage and guilt and even grief that she’s shed over Heather. It’s been a hell of a day; as if an entire century has been crammed into just twenty-four hours. And when her upper body sways uneasily, his hands find her hips; fingers pressing into the supple flesh as he steadies her. She wants to believe it’s real; the love behind the gesture and the concern that furrows his burrow. She NEEDS it to be. Desperately.

“For what?”

“I know you don’t like it. When I bring Ben up in conversation. And I’m not doing it to hurt you, Steve. I’m not comparing you to him. Or expecting you to be like him. I don’t WANT you to be. And knowing that you think I do…”

“I don’t think that. At all. And it’s not that it bothers me. You mentioning him..”

Tilting her head to the side, she stares pointedly down at him.

“Okay, maybe it does. But not for the reasons you think. I don’t feel like you’re comparing us. Or expecting me to follow in his footsteps. I don’t feel like I need to compete with him or…”

“Because you don’t. You’re not him. I don’t expect you to be him. I don’t want you to be him. I want you to be Steve. That’s all.”

“But is that enough? For you? Who I am? The WAY I am?”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten this close to you. I would have shut it down before it even started. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you’re not good enough. Or that you have to fill his shoes. That was a different time in my life. I was a different person. And I loved Ben. In a way I could only love him. In the same way I love you in a way that’s just for you.”

“For the record, I don’t get upset because I feel like you’re pitting us against each other. That’s not what it’s about. I guess I just don’t like thinking about you with someone else. It’s a sore spot for me. And that’s not YOUR fault. That’s all me. It’s something I need to work on. I realize that. But this is all new to me, Maizie. THIS kind of relationship. As serious as it is and as intense as things are between us. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe I’m a little possessive. But that’s all on me. And I’ll work on it. You just need to give me some time, okay?”

“I have all the time in the world to give. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. If you did. Leave. Considering everything that happened today. Especially the things I said to you; w when it was clear that Heather wasn’t going to make it. It was horrible. The entire thing. And I reacted. Badly.”

“It was horrible, wasn’t it. Way worse than anything I’d imagined, that’s for sure. And when I told her that I’d be right outside and I’d come and help her if…”

“You didn’t know what was going to happen. How wrong things would go. You were trying to help her. You were trying to ease her fears and her worries and you did. You were able to calm her down and get through to her. She never would have acknowledged if…”

“If I didn’t convince her to.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. Or how at least that’s not how I was going to say it. Or mean it. You stepped for the team. You did what you needed to do. To get the job done. And that’s not being ignored or forgotten, believe me. If you hadn't been able to get through to her, we never would have been able to perform the test and we never would have…”

“And she’d still be alive. She wouldn’t have said ‘yes’. If I hadn’t talked her into it…”

“Maizie…listen to me.” He tightens his hold on her hips. “None of this was your fault. You did your job. You took care of her. And that’s what I hired you to do. Take care of them. You did the best you could. You knew the importance of the work and you knew it needed to be done and you got through to her. What happened after that? That’s not on you. At all. None of that was your fault.”

“I just can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t pushed her…”

“You did great today. We all did. Especially Heather. And everything was going fine until she….you know…” With a finger, he makes a slicing motion across his throat. “It wasn’t her best moment. Or mine. The things I said to you? Blaming you like I did? None of that was warranted. And I sure as hell didn’t mean a word of it. You know how I get. In a crisis. I react without thinking. And when I’m not thinking, things just come out. Terrible things, sometimes. And I’m sorry. That those things were directed at you.”

“It hurt,” she admits. “A lot. When you said that it never would have happened had I stayed in the spider head. You were the one who told me to leave.”

“I know. Because I knew how you’d be affected by it. It’s not a fun thing to witness; someone under the effects of Darkenfloxx. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t want you seeing that. There’s some things you don’t need to be a part of. That I’d rather you not be tainted by. And that’s one of them. You did the right thing. Leaving. It isn’t a good watch. Even under the best of circumstances with the best of endings.”

“There was nothing I could have done. There was no way I could have saved her. She’d done too much damage. And even ifI’d been able to stabilize her, I don’t have access to advanced life saving tools or an OR. And I’m just a nurse. Steve. I’m not a surgeon. And believe me, nothing short of a specialist could have helped her.”

“I know. She was too far gone. By the time even Mark got in there. And he was the first on the scene. There was already no pulse. When he checked.”

“She went right for the jugular. All that blood? Arterial spray? She didn’t stand a chance.”

“It was…unfortunate. The way things went. Heather damaging the pack and flooding her system. The way she trashed the room. Slitting her throat. It was all way beyond anything we could have expected to go wrong. And I AM sorry. That I blamed you. That I HURT you. That is the last thing I wanted to do, Maizie. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. Like I said, I just want to make you happy. I just want to love you. Can you let me do that? My way?”

She nods.

“And maybe it isn’t enough. But it’s all I have to give. I wish I could give more. I do. But this is me and this is who I am and…”

Cradling his face in her palms she kisses him; long and soft and sweet and enough to take his breath away. “It’s enough,” she assures him. “YOU’RE enough.”

“Tell me what you want. From me. What you need. Right this very second. Because it’s been a hell of a day and I’ve got a lot to make up for and…”

“You. I want YOU. I need YOU.”

“And I’m right here. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get up here but…”

“I don’t think you’re grasping what I’m saying, Steven.” Grabbing him by the front of his shirt she aggressively pulls him into her. “I NEED you.”

“Oh…OH.” A grin plays on his lips. “You mean in THAT way?”

“Mmhmm.” Plucking his glass from his face, she gently folds the arms and then places them on the coffee table. “I need to feel….something. Anything other than this. And I want you to be the one that makes me feel it.”

“I think I’m the right man for that job. Actually, I KNOW I am the right man for that job.”

“Well you know how I feel about the spoken word.” Her lips brush briefly across his as her fingers tend to the buttons on his shirt. “They mean nothing if not backed up by actions.”

“You're starting to sound a little like a…”

“A scientist? An intellectual? I guess it’s starting to rub off on me. And speaking of rubbing things….” Standing, she smooths both palms down chest and then hooks each index finger over the waistband of his pants; smirking when she yanks him into her. “...I have something very specific in mind.”

“You’re evil,” he declares, offering no resistance when she pushes his shirt off his shoulders; letting it slip down and off his arms and into a puddle of black fabric on the floor. And his hands push their way into her thick, red curls when she begins peppering a series of kisses across his collarbone; the warmth and the softness of her mouth causing his eyes to close and a long content sigh to escape.

It’s a rush beyond anything even Luvactin could ever provide; the knowledge that someone wants you. Not the person that you are when the drugs are flowing through your system, but the true and honest version; broken and vulnerable and missing vital pieces of your humanity. Nothing can compare to seeing the want and the needs in their eyes; taste the need and the hunger in the kiss and feel the desperation in their impatient touch. There'd been moments he’d been unsure of the feelings surging through him; satisfaction and bliss and a surrender that he’d never encountered at the hands of another person. Both exhilarating and frightening; a brilliant, scientific mind unable to explain something so raw and animalistic. And he’d had to learn not to question it; not ruin the moment by delving too much into the what and the why and the how. To just relax and enjoy what was happening; lose himself in not only what he was feeling, but in who he was feeling it with. Once that happened, it only became even more intense; completely giving in to lust and want and a hunger and a longing unlike he’d ever experienced before.

“Evil in all of the best ways,” she says, as she reaches around to trace his back muscles; fingernails pressing into the flesh and scraping across his skin. “The ways you like the most.”

He attempts a reply but falls silent; hands tightening their grip on her hair when she grazes his Adam’s apple with her teeth. Gently suckling before dragging the tip of her tongue up his throat and along the underside of his chin. Giving a slight wince when she captures his bottom lip between her teeth and her nails rake down his back.

She’s on her tiptoes as she looks up at him, eyes sparkling devilishly. “They are the ways you like aren’t they? You like when they’re a little…unhinged. You like it when I’M that way. Don’t you, Steven.”

It’s much more than he can takel drawl of his name, the intensity in her eyes, the scrape of her nails along his ribs. The kiss he initiates is aggressive and domineering ; his tongue impatiently pushing its way into her mouth. And he uses his height, weight and strength to his advantage; easily maneuvering her lighter frame away from the couch and across the room. Greedy hands yanking and tearing at their respective clothing, leaving a trail garments that spread from the living area to the foot of the bed.

She gives a startled gasp when the back of her legs collide with the mattress; laughing when she topples backwards into a sea of rumbled blankets and sheets. And there’s no chance to recover before he’s dropping to his knees; chest heaving and sweat already beading across his brow and settling at his temples and the nape of his neck. The tip of his tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he reaches for her; aggressively yanking her towards him and then hastily pushing her legs apart. The conflicting sensations are intense; the scrape of beard and the brush of warm moist lips as they begin blazing a path along the insides of her thighs. Her entire body shudders when he places a line of kisses along her pubic bone; her head falling backwards and a long, drawn out sigh escaping her mouth when his tongue pushes its way through her folds and makes a swift, solitary swipe over her clit. And when he doesn’t continue, she gives a mewl of frustration and disappointment and pushes herself up onto her elbows; glancing down and fixing him with a quizzical glance. Remaining completely still between her legs; naked with his hair wild and his skin flesh and his chest heaving with a mixture of carnal want, need, and desire. But there’s something else behind it; the weight of his stare and the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The darkness inside of him eager to come and play; a sinister and threatening force that betrays the normally composed and congenial facade that so expertly sucks you in. And the way his fingers bite painfully into flesh of her hips sends a clear message; he knows what and who he wants and is about to claim -and mark it- as his.

“You’re mine.” His voice is low and gravely; reverberating deep within his chest. “ONLY mine.”

She shivers. A mixture of both lust and fear. And she reaches down to clear wayward strands of her off his forehead and out of his eyes.

“Yes, Steve.” She ‘s obedient. Willing. Aching. “Only yours.”

*****

They lay facing one another; sharing the same pillow, her head nestled in the crook of his elbow. His eyes closed and his breathing slow and deep and even; a leg draped over hers and his knuckles repeatedly brushing up and down her spine. Finding himself spent and sated; content and relaxed and lulled closer to sleep by the warmth of radiating off her slender form and the tenderness of her touch. Her fingers slowly and methodically exploring his body; every bulge of muscle, the canvas of smooth skin, each freckles and blemish. Eyes flickering open when she reaches the device attached to his lower back; a gentle and inquisitive fingertip tracing the outer edges of the mobi-pack.

“What are you doing?”

She halts her exploration. “Admiring. Am I not allowed?”

“You’re pretty much allowed to do whatever you want.”

“I’m going to remember you said that. And hold you to it..” She once more traces the outer borders of the Mobi-Pack, fingertip gliding slowly and smoothly over his skin. Pausing when his body stiffens; a noticeable shiver passing through it. “That bothers you?”

“No. Just a ticklish spot.”

“I thought maybe you didn’t like it. That it made you nervous. Me touching it.”

“Why would it make me nervous? You’re only one of two people I trust with it. You’re not planning on fucking with it and causing issues, are you?”

“Wasn’t in my immediate plans.” she teases, and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

His palm settles on her tailbone; thumb repeatedly brushing over the swell of one buttock. “I know you don’t like it. The idea of me having it. I know it bothers YOU.”

“I want to understand why you did it. I do. But I just can’t get on board with it. I don’t believe you have to subject yourself to the drugs in order to speak on their behalf. Your notes and the videos of sessions and all the data should speak for itself. I wish I could side with you on this, Steve. But I just can’t.”

“It’s just something we’re going to have to agree to disagree on. If we ever have to speak to a bereaved family member or the media, or God forbid a jury, I feel there’s more merit to my words IF I’ve experienced the drugs myself. IF something goes wrong they’re not going to come for you or Mark. It’s going to be me.”

“I hope it never comes to that. Something going THAT wrong. Because Heather…”

“Was a terrible, unfortunate event. We agreed on this, Maizie. We sat down and talked about it; what you’d put on the paperwork and what we’d say if ever questioned about it. And Heather’s medical file will back it up; prove that she’d been seeing you for depression and anxiety and you put her on meds. She got a knife from the kitchen and she killed herself. Simple as that.”

“There still might be questions. On how she was able to access knives in the first place. Especially when she’d said she’d thought about finding ways to hurt herself. If we get asked about that…”

“We stick to our story. We can’t lock down the entire kitchen because of one unstable person. We can’t punish them all because one can’t get their shit together. As far as anyone else is concerned, she killed herself. She was depressed and struggling and didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. So she chose a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

Maize sighs.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” His hand slides up her back and across her shoulder; knuckles brushing against her bicep as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “The chance of anyone asking you anything are slim to none. Anyone worth their salt will see that anything and everything you know about the incident, is right in the paper work. And Heather’s medical history backs it up. If someone IS going to be questioned, it’s going to be me. And probably Mark.”

“What about Jeff? He was there. He saw the whole thing. If one day he decides to tell the truth…”

“Jeff has had enormous amounts of drugs pumped into his body over the course of the past year and a half. He was on Verbaluce when it happened. Not to mention his history; a drunk driver that killed his girlfriend and his best friend. Who do you think they’re going to believe, Maizie? Whose word do you think holds more weight? Mine or his?”

“Yours. Obviously. I mean, there’s never been so much as the smallest of problems since you opened. It’s not like this is a recurring thing. It’s not like there’s a history of even injuries or overdoses, let alone suspicious deaths.”

“It was a one off. A freak accident. And honestly, it’s probably better this way. No one knowing what really happened. Imagine what it would mean not just for my work but for the justice system as a whole? If the public found out the full scale of what’s going on? Not just here but in jails all over the States? All over the WORLD? Telling what really happened will open up a can of worms, Maize. For a lot of different people. Don’t you think it’s better to just avoid all that? The truth means more attention. Something we really can’t afford. Not this close to the end.”

“I just wish there was another way. Instead of lying. Because if it DOES get out…”

“You need to stop worrying, okay? Stop thinking about it. It happened. It was cleaned up. It’s behind us. There’s no reason to dwell on it. This isn’t doing any good, you know. It isn’t doing US any good. Talking about it so much. I know it’s thrown you for a loop and I know you’re struggling, but there’s nothing I can do for you. I can’t turn back the clock. I can’t go back in time and change everything. Believe me, I would if I could. I’d fix it. For you.”

She wants to ask if that means actually listening to her concerns about Heather. If he COULD go back and do everything all over again, would taking her worries to heart and postponing the testing be the first thing on his agenda? It all leads back to one fundamental error; the failure to take her seriously and the indifference towards the suffering and discomfort of others. But she knows better; Steve Abnesti is not a man that likes to be challenged and will immediately become defensive. She’ll be seen as the enemy; someone with a lower intellect that has the audacity to question his ideas and his genius. From there it will get ugly; raised voices and vicious words and the slamming of doors and hurt feelings. It’s not a road she wants to go down; preferring to keep the peace than to walk headlong into the hornet’s nest. Instead, she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose and closes her eyes; enjoying the warmth of the body and his familiar smell and the way his fingertips continuously graze up and down her bicep. Her own returning to their lazy exploration of his naked body; revelling in smooth skin and hard muscle.

Her fingers once more return to the pack.. “Would you ever consider getting rid of it?”

“I know you want me to. Get it removed.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if YOU’D consider it.”

“When everything is finished. When we get our last gold star and things are given the green light and start rolling out to the public. I’ll have to find other delivery methods. Successful ones. It isn’t logical; expecting everyone to both own a pack AND have it surgically installed. This was just a quick and easy way of getting the drugs in It was never meant to be permanent.”

“That’s a very Steve way of saying ‘yes’. And it’s possible, right? To get it removed? Without causing issues? I mean, we’re talking about something that’s been attached to your spinal column. And if removing it might cause some problems…”

“It’ll be just as easy getting it removed as it was getting it put in. A day procedure. A few days of recovery. Nothing will go wrong. And I WILL get removed. When things are off the ground.”

“Promise?”

Placing a kiss on her brow, he wraps both arms around her and rolls onto his back; effortlessly bringing her naked body to rest atop his. “Promise.”

They lapse into a comfortable and companionable silence; his fingertips continuously grazing from one shoulder to the other as she rests with her cheek upon his chest. Once more opening his eyes when he feels her stir; glancing down just as she looks up at him and begins to laugh.

“What?”

“It smells like sex in here.”

Grinning, he runs his fingers up the middle of her back and then settles his palm at the nape of her back. “You say that like it’s bad thing.”

“There was nothing bad about it, that’s for sure. It was….”

“Intense?”

She nods. “I mean, it’s always amazing. It’s always enjoyable. Even when we don’t really have much time to devote to it. But THAT? That was…I don’t know…extra.”

“Extra, huh?” He chuckles. “I think YOU’RE extra.”

“Look at you picking up on the popular lingo of today!’ She affectionately ruffles his hair. “Every day you venture a little more out of the eighties and into current times.”

“You know…” Taking hold of one of her curls, he gently pulls until the strands are straight; watching in a mixture of amazement and amusement when he lets go and the hair bounces back into place. “... you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Do you know how many times I say that about you? In the course of twenty four hours?” She teases, then lays her forearm across his chest and places her chin on top of it. “So, back to the sex thing…”

“Back to it as in have it again or…?”

“I’m not adverse to doing that again. But I was thinking more along the lines about TALKING about it. About what went down. Just now.”

“What’s there to talk about? We got naked, we had sex, I’ve got the scratch marks on my back as souvenirs.”

“And a really nice bite mark right here,” she taps a finger against the space between his neck and left shoulder. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Who are you kidding? You’re not sorry at all. That was a little revenge on your part. A little way of getting back at me. For not listening to you this morning.”

“That wasn’t even on my mind. And it wasn’t revenge. It was passion. Pure and utter animalistic lust. I like it; when you get like that. When you just totally take over. Get all bossy and aggressive and rough and shit like that. It doesn’t happen often. But when it does…”

“You’re right. I don’t act that very often. Mostly because I worry;. That I might hurt you. That I might get a little too caught up in things and get a little too rough and…”

“It was perfect,” Maizie assures him. “YOU were perfect.”

It’s the first time she’s had a lover that’s needed validation; someone that isn’t a hundred percent confident in their skill set and their ability to please her. And there’s no absolutely no bearing for it; he’s a selfless lover with infinite patience and a never ending desire to please. Such a contradiction. So confident and cocky when sitting at the controls in the spiderhead or when wandering the floors of the penitentiary itself. A genius who’d earned his doctorate two years earlier than normal and had turned both the medical and scientific worlds upside down; starting a business from the ground up and quickly and nearly effortlessly becoming an appointed ‘pharmaceutical god’. But away from his work, that ego disappears and he becomes a totally different Steve; often awkward and self conscious and unsure of his place in someone’s world. A fragility and vulnerability that initially took her by surprise. After all, it’s not every day the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on struggles in ANY category. But instead of letting those insecurities hold him back or shut him down, he works to get past them; determined to be the best at whatever he puts his mind to. And he feeds off the praise. Thrives when she’s showering him with compliments and assuring him of his spot in her life. And in her bed.

“You sure? Because…”

She silences him with a chaste kiss. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. You should know that by now. I say what I feel. And want. Didn’t you learn that the hard way?”

“You certainly have a way of putting people in their place.”

“Well some people need it. Face it Steve; a weaker woman wouldn’t have done anything for you. You wouldn’t have been happy with someone meek and mild. That doesn’t turn your crank, does it. You like feistiness. A ‘take no shit attitude’. A challenge.”

“I don’t know about that. You can be awfully damn frustrating.”

“You’re just used to always getting your own way. You’re used to just saying and doing whatever you want and not being called out for it. I bet you’re regretting the day I spilled that coffee on you right about now. Had that not happened…”

“Had not that happened, a lot of things wouldn’t have happened. So no, I’m not regretting it. Although I never did send you my dry cleaning bill.”

“Take it out of my next paycheck,” she chides, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “So you’re okay with it? Changing things up every now and then?”

“When it comes to sex you mean?”

She nods.

“I mean, if you’re really that into me being the one in charge….”

“Oh, I am more than just really into it. Wasn’t it obvious? It’s a pleasant surprise. When you get like that. And like I said, it doesn’t happen often and…”

“I can make it happen more often. Seeing as you like it THAT much.”

“I think you’re totally underestimating your powers as a switch. Your abilities to be both submissive and dominant. No one would expect from you, you know. That you like to give up control. In the bedroom. You’re always in charge and always have a handle on things that it’s hard to see you any other way. You expect the same Steve in the bedroom as he is out of it.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Hardly. I love it, personally. I wouldn’t be asking you for more of it if I didn’t. So you’re okay with it? Venturing out of your safe space? I know it’s a little out of your comfort zone and…”

“If that’s what you want and that’s what you like, I’m good with it.”

“I want you to like it too. It can’t be all about what I like. If you’re enjoying it…”

“Oh, trust me, I’m enjoying it. So if that’s what you want every now and then….”

“You’re such a good boy, Steven. Always so willing and eager to please. And I won’t lie; I kinda like you being in charge every so often. I kind of enjoy it; being submissive and at your mercy. It’s a total turn out, right? Being able to boss someone around like that? Being able to call all the shots? Knowing you’re the one that’s driving them absolutely insane. Doesn’t it make it better? Doesn’t it make it FEEL better?”

“I’ve never really thought about it. I know it feels good ‘as is’. Damn good, actually.”

“We make a good team. At least between the sheets. Sometimes I’m not so sure outside of them. Sometimes I think you really do regret meeting me that day. When I’m giving you a hard time and questioning you on things. Do you ever think about it? About how you should have just walked away that way? In the coffee shop”

“It’s never, EVER, crossed my mind. Things happen for a reason, Maize. People's paths cross because they’re meant to. If something is supposed to happen, it will.”

Raising her head from his chest, she archesa a quizzical brow. “I never thought I'd hear you say something like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s not like a scientist; to believe in that kind of thing. Karma. Destiny. Fate. All that hoodoo-voodoo, mumbo-jumbo. Where’s the evidence? Where’s the proof? Aren’t scientists all about finding that out? Solving the age old question of what exists and what doesn’t? What can…beyond the shadow of a doubt…be proven? Isn’t it the truth and facts and statistics? That drives people like you?”

“I like to think that not everything has a scientific explanation. That not everything CAN be proven. And that it really does need to be. Why do we need concrete evidence to believe in something? Think of all the things that had to happen… in both our lives… just for us to meet. All the decisions we made, places we’ve been, jobs we’ve had, schools we’ve attended. People we’ve been involved with. Ben, in your case. All of that…all of that…stuff? It all had to take place. Just so it would lead me here and then eventually to you.”

“I honestly never thought I’d hear Steve Abnesti talk like this. This is NOT you. Or not what’s expected of you, that’s for sure.”

“It’s nice to think that maybe things just happen. That there’s some kind of magic that still exists. I don’t know….” He smiles wistfully. “....maybe I’m a little naive. Maybe it’s a little….foolish. Childish, even. But it gives me some kind of hope. Some happiness. To think that there’s some kind of force we can’t see or feel. Or even explain. Sometimes, we just have to let things happen. Just go with them. Just trust them.”

“What time is it? What day?” Grabbing a hold of his left hand, she turns it over and inspects his watch. “We need to mark it all done. For prosperity. You talking about fate and destiny and…”

Smirking, he playfully pushes her off of him and flips her onto her back. “Don’t be such a smart ass,.”

“It may be a smart ass, but it’s also a hot ass.”

Kneeling between her splayed thighs, he places a hand on either side of her head, supporting his body weight on outstretched arms as he hovers over her. “I’m not going to deny that.”

“I was thinking….” Her voice trails off as her fingertips glide across his shoulders and down the backs of his arms; slowly and methodically tracing every inch of his triceps. She’d never been with a man like him; used to bodies that were slender and smooth or chubby and soft. Steve is bulky and athletic; a man that takes insurmountable pride in his physique and in the hard work that it’s taken to build it, and maintain it. In turn, it’s an incredible experience; being pinned under all that weight and mass, feeling the way the muscles and tendons bulge and twist with every movement, And it’s hell of a beautiful site when it reaches its completion; locking up in places she never knew a person could and then shuddering from head to toe.

“About…”

“About what you said earlier. Your offer. About us going away for a few days. Even if it is just to the mainland.”

“If that’s what you want to do….”

“Well I want us BOTH to want it, but…”

“Maizie, just because I don’t include both of us when I say something, doesn’t mean I’m NOT talking about both of us. Of course I want that. Time away from this place. With YOU. I think it would do us BOTH a world of good. Get away from here. Even just for a little bit.”

“Maybe we can find a little bed and breakfast. Or some quaint hotel on the coast.”

“We can do whatever you….WE….want. We’ll take tomorrow to plan things. Look some places up. Sound good?”

Nodding, she reaches up and places a hand on the back of his head as he leans down to kiss her; initially soft and slow and supple and then much deeper and intense. Enjoying the press of his body against hers; the combined heat as smooth naked forms move against one another. Feeling that hunger and that need quickly building up inside of her; a want and a desire that’s far more intense and all consuming than anything she’s ever experienced before. And it’s not lost on her that in the moments following Heather’s death; he’s transformed into the Steve that she desperately needs and wants him to be; attentive and adoring and loving. Focused on her feelings and the things plaguing her; compassionate and understanding and willing to work alongside her to make things better.

“We should get married.”

Her eyes snap open; finding him staring intently down at her, once more holding his weight on his outstretched arms. And she doesn’t mean to laugh; a reaction purely spurred by surprise. “What?”

“Married. Us. Husband and wife.”

“Where did THAT come from?”

“We’ve talked about it. A couple times. In passing. I guess I just assumed that we both seemed pretty into the idea. We agreed on the same things; getting a house on the mainland, maybe having some kids, settling down. Have some kind of normalcy. Away from here.”

“And you think now would be the time to do it? Why…?”

“I mean, we’re both not getting any younger. Why wait? I’m almost forty, you’re over it. Not by much, but…”

“Are you being serious right now? You want to get married?”

“We’re already practically living together, yeah? We’re either always up here or I’m down in your quarters. We sleep together every night, wake up next to each other every morning. We share everything. There’s nothing we don’t know about one another. It seems like the next logical step, no? Making it official? LEGAL, official.”

“I want to get married to YOU. No one else. Just you. I like to think you’d make a good little wife.”

A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You do, do you?”

“I mean, I’ve thought about it. Us, Marriage. It’s not that I haven’t. I just…”

“Then we should just go ahead and do it. Throw caution to the wind. It’s not like we haven’t done the whole cohabitating thing. And I think we’re pretty good at it We’re a great team, Maizie. You can’t deny that. We work well together. Whether it’s down in the spider head or up here or away from this place. I mean, we have our moments; we fight and argue and get on one another’s nerves. But we have a good thing here. A VERY good thing.”

“We do,” she agrees. “When it’s good, it’s incredibly good.”

“And it’ll stay that way. Maybe even get better. Let’s just do it. When we get to the mainland, let’s get a license and find a justice of the peace and just go for it. Surprise everyone. Make it REAL. In the truest sense of the word. What do you say? Will you? Marry me?”

“It just seems so out of the blue. So sudden. We….”

“Tell you what, we’ll spend the next couple of days talking about it. Going over everything. Pros and cons. All that stuff. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees, and immediately notices the smile that captures his lips; bringing a brightness to his face and a sparkle to his eyes. It’s charming and boyish; that almost childish and innocent side of him that lurks just under the surface. The one that speaks of that abandoned little boy that would grow up to be a brilliant and enigmatic -yet haunted and troubled- man. The one who clings desperately to those moments years ago when he’d been his happiest Right before his life had changed forever. He’s pleased with himself; proud of the idea he’d come up with and content that she’d agreed to give it some thought. It’s that side of Steve that almost makes you forget just who and what he really is: a sociopath devoid of almost all empathy and remorse.

Yet she loves him. There’s no rhyme or reason. No explanation. Just an intense and overwhelming mixture of adoration and desire that encompasses the entirety of her being. And part of her feels ashamed; aware of the darkness that resides inside of him, yet unable to walk away. She’s no longer that strong and independent woman she’d become after her husband’s death; no longer devoted entirely to her career and priding herself for being so resilient and self-sufficient. When Ben died, she hadn’t been given a choice; a young widow who had to fend for herself during the various stages of tremendous grief. Truly Content with being alone for the rest of her life if that was her destiny; dating for companionship and conversation and filling her bed with a string of trusted ‘regulars’ that didn’t want anything more than something physical.

And then Steve wandered into her life and everything changed. SHE changed.

“What’s wrong?” Concern darkens his eyes. Furrows his brow. “What are you thinking about? You look…”

“I was thinking that it’s my turn.” The lie comes easily; not wishing to discuss the enormous issues that exist between them and likely always will. Maybe he can learn to be what she needs; a partner and confidant and best friend. And maybe he can even love her the way she desires; wholly and completely and putting nothing -or no one- ahead of her.

“Your turn for…”

Pressing a knee into his chest, she shoves him off her; laughing when he lands on his back with a dramatic groan. Offering no resistance when she pushes his legs open and kneels between his thighs. “I’m a taker AND a giver.”

He grins, then reaches for his glasses on the beside table and slips them onto his face.

“What do you need those for?”

“I may want to be able to see the exact moment my soul leaves my body.”

“You have a lot of faith in my skills, Doctor.”

“That’s because I know just how skilled you actually are. I know what kind of tricks you have in that tool box of yours.”

“Come to think of it, I never hear any complaints coming out of your mouth. I hear OTHER things, but…”

“You’ll never hear me complain. EVER. Now are you going to….”

“Patience…patience….” She playfully scolds, then rakes her fingernails down his chest; spurred on by his wince and sharp intake of breath. “Just lie there and take it, Steven. Like you always do. I know you like it. When I’m in charge. It’s a relief, isn’t it? When you don’t have to be the one in total control all the time.”

“It’s…nice.”

“It’s more than nice. You don’t have to say it. I know the effect it has on you. I know how much you enjoy it. When someone tells you what to do for a change. Maybe not downstairs in the spider head, but up here. When it’s just the two of us. When there’s no one else around and you don’t have to put on a big show for them. Isn’t it nice? To just be yourself? To just sit back and be totally submissive. It’s your thing, isn’t it.”

“Sometimes. And I don’t know about TOTALLY submissive, but ....” A long, quivering sigh escapes his lips; caught up in the mixed sensations brought on by sharp, almost punishing nails and soft, moist lips. Her fingers leaving angry , red marks across his ribs and over his chest and down onto his stomach; digging into his sides as she blazes a trail of slow and agonizing kisses from the center or his stomach to his navel. The anticipation of what’s to come already has him hard; begging for attention and the tip covered in glistening precum. His hips lifting off the bed by the time she reaches the insides of his thighs; her mouth licking and sucking and nibbling at one and then the other. And she has her fingers curled around his shaft and he can feel her warm breath wafting against his cock when he hears it; the audible click of a door opening and the sound of footfalls on the stairs. Followed by Jeff calling out to him.

“Jesus fuck!” Maizie cries, and immediately abandons her station between Steve’s thighs. “You didn’t lock the door?!”

He gives a sheepish smile. “I forgot. Just like I forgot I told Jeff to come by later. He was having a hard time about Heather and I told him I could give him something to help feel better and…”

Reaching for one of the pillows, she smacks him in the chest and face with it. “You shit head! We were kinda in the middle of something here. And I kinda have no clothes on. In case you haven’t noticed!”

“Oh I’ve noticed!”

“Speaking of, where ARE my clothes?”

“I don’t know. Here, there, everywhere. Mostly by the couch.”

“Oh my god, Steve…” She hurriedly slides out of bed and begins the hunt for long discarded items of clothing. “....I can’t believe this is happening. You NEVER forget to lock the door when I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” He can’t help but chuckle; amused by her frazzled state. “It wasn’t intentional. And it’s just Jeff. He…”

“Just Jeff? What is that supposed to mean? He’s somehow privy to seeing me naked? You shouldn’t want anyone seeing me with no clothes on! I don’t want people seeing you bare ass naked. Here….” She snags a pair of joggers from the chair by the window and tosses them in his direction.. “...at least try and conceal that thing. I know it’s going to be hard, but…”

“Steve?” Jeff’s voice; closer as he continues his trek up the stairs. “You around?”

“Yeah….” Slipping out of bed, he steps into the sweats. “....just kinda hang out where you are and give us a few. Maizie’s naked.”

Her cheeks flush. “Steve!”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jeff stumbles over his words, clearly embarrassed at the realization of just what he’d stumbled upon. “I can come back If you want to…..you know…finish things.”

“We’re good,” Steve assures him. “Just give us a second.”

“I can NOT believe this just happened,” Maizie huffs, and hurries towards the washroom; her clothing cradling in her arms. “And you’re not even bothered! It doesn’t even faze you! You don’t care that he knows what we were doing? You’re not the least bit embarrassed?”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? Who cares if he knows.”

“I care! I’m going to kick you right in the ass later. Forgetting to lock the door. Ughhhh…” She slams the bathroom door shut behind her, then offers up a loud, “Men!”

Grabbing a t-shirt from the closet, he shrugs into it and then calls Jeff up the stairs; greeting the younger man with a smile and a clap on the shoulder. Hoping to distract him from his obvious embarrassment; peppering him with questions about everything from his mood to his beloved Seattle Marines to his recent switch from snack to janitorial duties.

“I am so…so…so sorry,” Jeff is quick to apologize when Maizie emerges from the washroom. “I had no idea you were in the middle of…you know…”

“It’s okay.’ she assures him. “We were finished. So…”

“We were actually getting started again,” Steve pipes up, then notices her glaring at him. “What?”

“Before I die of embarrassment, I’m going to head out,” Maizie says. “I’m going to head to the kitchen. See what Lizzie made for dinner. Hope for leftovers in the fridge.”

“You gonna come back?” Steve inquires, as he carefully gathers her hair and removes it from the back of her t-shirt.

“I don’t want to interrupt. Might be some things talked about that I’m not supposed to hear about. Guy stuff. I’ll give you a few hours. You know where to find me.”

“I’m okay with it,” Jeff speaks up. “If you want to come back right away. Not gonna bother me. In the slightest.”

“I want you to come back,” Steve informs her, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Please.”

“In that case, I will. Be good you two. Try not to get into something too heavy, okay? If you’re going to use, use responsibility. God, I sound like my parents when I was fifteen and got caught smoking pot in the boys’ john at school.”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” he promises, and then leans down to kiss her. A brief and chaste press of his lips against hers, yet still a huge moment for him; showing even the smallest amount of affection in front of a third party.

“I shall return,” she promises, and then tosses her remaining clothes into a nearby hamper and heads for the stairs. Halfway down when she hears their footfalls as they move further into the apartment; the conversion switching to Laffodil and how it’s ‘nearly impossible’ to have a single negative thought while on even the smallest of doses.

“So I take it things are going good,” Jeff remarks. “Between you and Maizie.”

She pauses; unaware that she holds her breath as she waits for the answer.

“Things are amazing.” She can hear the happiness in his voice. See the smile that curves his lips. “SHE’S amazing.”

It fills her with a sense of hope. That perhaps he CAN change. That all it will take is a lot of love and even more patience. He isn’t a lost cause; she can often see the flicker of compassion in his eyes and hear the sincerity in his voice.

Time. That’s all they need. Just a little time.

#Steve and Maizie #Steve Abnesti #Steve Abnesti fan fiction #Spiderhead #Spiderhead fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Steve Abnesti fan fic #Spiderhead fan fic #Steve Abnesti x OFC

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lovelyrocker · 1 year

Text

Spirit pt.2

~RPF

~Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader, Armie Hammer, Logan (OMC)

~Warnings: Talk of Drug Use, Talk of Drinking, Hospital Settings

~Word Count: 1,795

Pt.1

Timothee blinked his eyes rapidly, sitting up on the couch in the living room of his home. He looked around and was confused. The sun was bright, shining through the windows. “Tim?!” He hears you calling his name.

A rush of relief washed over him. “Baby!” He replied standing and walking towards your voice. “I just had the most fucked up dream.” You walked into the living room, Armie behind you.

“I’ll go check out back.” Armie told you and you nodded.

“Baby?” Timothee spoke, his body suddenly filling with dread. You weren't hearing him. “No, no!” He stood in front of you. “Y/N! Baby!” He shouted trying to touch your arms but you felt nothing. “Fuck! Not this shit again!”

“You must have really done something shitty if you are being jerked into the past.” Timothee hears Logan’s voice.

“How do I get out of this?!” Timothee shouts at Logan.

“You can’t.”

“What do you mean I can’t?!”

“You’ll just keep getting pulled back until you see whatever it is you’re supposed to see.”

Timothee watches as you walk in the kitchen and see an empty prescription bottle on the counter. You roll your eyes and call again. “Timothée?!” You called more urgently. You made the corner of the room and stopped, your body running cold. Timothée was on the floor with a pool of blood by his head, a broken whiskey body by his hand. “Timmy?” You said with barely any sound. “Tim!” You dropped by his body and shook his shoulders. “Timothée, wake up!” You tapped his face, his skin cold to the touch. “Timmy! Come on, wake up!” You shook his head. “Please, wake up!”

“She found me?” TImothee whispered. “Like this, she found me like this?!” He looked at Logan.

Timothee looks to the back door seeing Armie run into the house. “Oh God! What happened?!”

“I found him like this! He won’t wake up! Armie, wake him up!”

“Tim!” Armie shouted. He felt his wrist and the cold feeling of his friend’s skin made him stop. “Oh God.” Tears were in Armies eyes as he pulled his phone out and dialed 9-1-1.

You felt behind his head feeling the gash near his hairline. “Give me a towel, something!”

Armie hands you a towel from the table and you press it to his head. All you could smell was whiskey. You looked down and you were kneeling in blood, it soaked into your jeans. You pulled your hand away and saw a pill by his shoulder. You moved him a little and saw several more.

“Armie, I think he OD’d.” You looked at Armie, still putting pressure to Timothée’s head.

“9-1-1, What’s your emergency?” The female operator’s voice comes from the speaker of Armie’s phone.

“My friend is unconscious, we found him! He hit his head, there’s blood everywhere! I think he's O.D.!”

“Is he breathing?” The operator asks.

You lean forward and place your ear to his mouth. “No!” You cry.

“Okay, does he have a pulse?”

“I checked before, and I didn’t feel one. His- his body is cold.”

“Check again.” The operator tells him.

“I feel one!” You say quickly. “Is this it?!” You look at Armie and he places his index and middle finger at his pulse point on Timothée’s neck.

“There’s a pulse but it's really weak.” Armie tells the operator.

“Do either of you know CPR?”

“Yeah.” He answers.

“Start CPR now, Paramedics are already on the way.”

You tilt Timothée’s head back and lean forward giving two breaths. Then you place your shaking hands on his breastbone and start compressions. You count in your head with each push. A cracking sound almost echoes through the room. Timothee watched from the sidelines, wincing at the harsh sound.

“What was that!?” Armie asked with panic in his face.

“I just cracked his ribs.” You say with tears falling.

“That’s okay, that means she’s doing it right.” The operator says.

“Please breathe.” You say to yourself. “Please, please.” You just repeated over and over again, 30 compressions, 2 breaths, check for pulse, check for breathing. Nothing changed. “Come on, Tmmy, breathe, damn it!”

Suddenly paramedics rushed into the house. It was a blur of people moving in around Timothee. Armie grabbed you moving you out of the way as they quickly took over with compressions

“We found pills, too!” Armie quickly told them, showing them the bottle.

Timothee watched as you cried in his best friend's arms as paramedics cut his shirt open, attaching stuff to him, jabbing him with needles, shocking his heart.

His body jumps with each shock and then lay lifeless.

This went on for 20 minutes. “Still nothing.” One paramedic says. “Go again.” After what seemed like an eternity one of the paramedics looked up. “Should we call it?”

“No!” You shouted, Timothee jumping from the side where he is watching from. “No! Don’t you dare fucking call it! Keep working on him!”

The paramedics looked at Armie as if telling him they had done all they could, and he still wasn’t responding while the other paramedic kept on with compressions in between shocks.

“Y/N every time they shock him, it's just gonna damage his heart more.” Armie told her with tears. “They can’t do it anymore. They won’t have anything left for him to come back to. His heart and brain will be too damaged.”

“No!” You fought in his arms.

“Give it one more go.” One paramedic spoke, recharging the machine. “Clear!” You heard a beep followed by a few more. “We got something but it's not in rhythm.”

“Go again!” A paramedic tells him. “Clear!” Another shock. Timothée gasps and gag. “Turn him on his side!” A paramedic instructs. Timothee winces as his frail body starts twitching and jumping. “He’s seizing!” He heard one of the men say. “Get a dose of Ativan ready!” He watches as they inject him and his body stills. “Got a pulse! Keep bagging him and let's get him on the rig.”

Timothee turns towards Logan but he is magically in a hospital waiting room. He sees you sitting on the floor, tears stained your cheeks, dried blood, his blood, all over you. Timothee kneels in front of you.

“Oh, baby.” His voice broke.

The sound of doors opening made him turn around and he stood seeing a doctor talking to Armie. “Listen, it's not good.” The doctor begins bluntly. “We pumped his stomach, he overdosed, alcohol poisoning, he must have lost consciousness at some point and fell, hitting his head. He has brain swelling, he had several seizures and a heart attack.”

“Jesus.” Armie whispered.

“He isn’t breathing on his own. He has brain function but not much.”

“What- uh-” Armie tried to hold his emotions together. “What is the situation we are looking at prognosis wise?”

The doctor took a breath. “Sir, you need to prepare yourself for the reality that he may not wake up. There is only about a 20% chance he will come around. And even so, the brain damage-” The doctor pauses. “The person you knew is gone. I’m sorry.” The doctor told him with a hand on his shoulder before turning and walking away

Armie walked back around the corner and saw you sitting on the floor just on the other side of the corner where they were standing. You’d heard everything.

Armie knelt next to you. “Y/N,” you shook your head with tears. He pulled you into his arms. “Shh.”

“He can’t be gone!” You cried into Armie’s arms.

Timothee watched for an hour as you sat in Armie’s arms crying until you had nothing left.

“Sir?” A nurse speaks.

“Yes?” Armie says, standing.

“Are you Armand Hammer?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“You are listed as a medical proxy for Timothee Chalamet. You and a Y/N Y/L/N are both listed.” Your head shoots up. “You will need to contact her-”

“I’m right here.” You say with a sniffle, walking next to Armie.

“The two of you are listed as medical proxies for Mr. Chalamet. Meaning you two need to discuss how you would like to move forward.”

“Move forward?” You shake your head looking at her.

“What needs to be decided?” Armie asks.

“That is still being determined.”

“Can we see him?” You ask.

“Yeah, just give me a second to make sure he is in his room and situated.” The nurse walks away and comes back shortly. “You can come with me.” Timothee watched you and Armie follow the nurse. “He is in ICU so only two of you will be able to go in at the time. Try not to touch him too much or do anything that will stimulate him.” She explains. “Now prepare yourself. He had several tubes placed and lines running from him.”

Armie goes to the bed and sees his best friend laying there. A breathing tube in his mouth taped to his cheek, leads on his temples and a few other spots to detect brain waves, several were on his chest as the sound of his heartbeat could be heard from the monitor, two separate IVs were on him, one for fluids and medicine and the other blood. Timothee was pale and looked so fragile.

He was fragile.

“God, what did you do to yourself Timmy?” Armie says softly as he looks over the body of his closest friend.

You couldn’t will your feet to move one inch closer to the bed. You turned and ran out of the room and didn’t stop till you were out of the hospital. Timothee ran after you. When you reach the sidewalk you lean over with your hands on your knees and puke in the bushes. After there was nothing left to come up you fell to your knees and you just cried.

Armie walked up behind you, placing a hand on your back. You turned and looked up at him. “I can’t do this.” You shake your head. “I can’t see him like that! I can’t talk to doctors and nurses about what we should do and if we want to keep waiting or let him go naturally or whatever the fuck they called it!” You had tears in a constant stream down your face. “I can’t!” You turn and walk away.

“You have a few decisions to make, Tim.” Logan said behind Timothee. “Turns out the whole unfinished business thing is sorta true.”

“I don’t-”

"Something or someone is tethering you here." Logan goes on. "You won’t move on until you let go or they let go. Whatever the case may be. Or till you fix whatever you need to fix to be able to move on. IF you do let go at all.”

Pt.3

TAGS: @gatoenlaciudad

#Timothée #Timothee Chalamet #timothee x reader #Chalamet #RPF

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 years

Note

This might hit very close to home for some so I’m just gonna put a trigger warning here. Proceed with caution!

P.S this got away from me I’m sorry I don’t know how to keep things short!!

TW: mentions explosion in bar/nightclub

Re: Buck whump: So, Buddie’s journey started with an explosion from the grenade, yes? I just think the whump also being an explosion but that much more dramatic would be a PRETTY COOL CALLBACK. But in this case, it’s not a call. They’ve had those fundraisers at the firehouse like once a year, right? Well, this time all the firehouses band together and have a huge one at one of the dive-bars (is that what they’re called? I’m not American, I don’t know the difference) they like to frequent. It’s very 18+ this time but supposed to be fun, maybe they have a wet t-shirt contest for anyone who wants to join, I don’t know what the cause is, but they have like a huge chunk of LA’s finest firefighters there. Buck and Eddie are off to one side, but they separate because one is grabbing drinks for both of them maybe, and the bar goes boom. Not because someone planted a bomb, but because much like the building Bobby lived in with his family, it just wasn’t up to protocol. Maybe the wiring was off somewhere and it short circuited like with the bridezilla incident or something. Either way, boxes of liquor explode and escalate everything so they can’t find each other in the blaze. Chaos ensues and Eddie almost gets trampled on his quest to find Buck, whom oopsies!!! Was a lil too close to the blast so he’s hit his head and is unconscious and breathing in a lot of smoke. Possibly got blasted so he landed badly and a rib punctured his lung perhaps? Thankfully since the bar is packed with firefighters the chaos subsides quickly but Buck is still missing. Eddie is held back for assessment and has that quiet “I’m losing my mind here” thing like when they were hostages. Bobby senses this and sends in Hen and Chim instead of him and that’s when Eddie loses it because “I should be the one to go in there” and Bobby just goes Full Dad and holds him back until Eddie just kinda collapses on the ground hyperventilating until buck is wheeled out. Only after getting to the hospital and buck is out of surgery does he go to the nearest bathroom to wash off the soot off his face and he’s just silently crying his eyes out, completely frozen with the remaining agony of not knowing if buck was alive or not, imagining a thousand different ways to tell Chris and trying to get used to the idea that Buck would never come home with him again. Hen finds him and when Eddie realises he just tells her and she doesn’t even say anything, just hugs him and leads him out to Bucks room and keeps her hand on his shoulder as he whispers love confessions over and over again while they wait for Buck to wake up. Buck hears a lot of it but he’s on a lot of drugs so he doesn’t remember until much later but when he wakes up he’s kinda in awe that Eddie’s is the first face he sees and just blurts out “oh thank god, I started to think you weren’t gonna find me” and Eddie finally can’t help but smile and goes “I’ll always find you” or something cheesy sweet like that. I’ve had this scenario stuck in my head for weeks and I’m so happy I finally got to share :’) ~ mi

(Please heed TW in the ask!!!!!)

my face after reading THIS

#DAMN MI #WHEW #kitkat answers asks #s6 prime buck whump zone #tw: explosions in bar/night club

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chaoticgremlinwholikescheese · 1 year

Text

Bad Luck

AO3 LINK

Attempted Rape/Non-Con

Drugged Drink

Angst

much angstier than my normal writing

The calls concerning kids are always the hardest. Not to say that other calls aren't hard, but these ones hit especially hard. Buck takes a sip of his drink, ice hitting his lips. The soda is sweet, if a little diluted by the melting ice. He replays the call in his head. He knows he shouldn't. It's doesn't do any good to linger on things you can't change. But he can't help himself. He knows he should go over to Eddie's, or invite Hen or Chim or someone out with him. But he just wants to be alone right now. Plus, he's not having any alcohol, so he can drive himself home. He'd like to drink, but he can't bring himself to do it. He knows that one drink will turn into two, then three, and so on in order to forget the day.

God, the boy couldn't have been older than ten. The family had gotten into a bad car crash getting off the highway. Some drunk driver ran them off the road and straight into construction equipment. They were lucky that everyone came out alive. When they had pulled up, they saw the mangled car and automatically assumed that there would be at least one casualty. Hen and Chim had checked on the parents while Buck checked on the kid. The mom was unconscious. The dad was fine, just some bruising. He kept screaming for his son.

It reminded Buck of how he screamed for Christopher during the tsunami. That guttural, terrified scream that rips your throat to shreds. The dad didn't calm down until he saw that his son was alright. The boy had a broken leg and a big gash on his arm that needed stitches, but he was otherwise unharmed. The poor thing was terrified though. He wouldn't stop crying. Eddie did his best to calm him down, but he didn't stop sobbing until his dad was there.

The mom was in bad shape when they got her out. She had been pinned, the metal cutting into her chest. She had a broken clavicle, arm, and a bad concussion. She crashed once on the way to the hospital, according to Hen. They brought her back but it was touch and go for a couple of minutes. Buck doesn't know if she made it through or not. Once they drop them off at the hospital, their job is done. Buck hates that sometimes.

Buck takes a last sip of his soda. The few drops that are left are basically just water anyway. The bartender comes over and grabs the cup, asking if he'd like a refill. Buck nods. Usually he's much chattier. But at the moment he just wants to be alone with his thoughts. The dad's screams keep replaying in his head. He can't help but wonder if that's what he sounded like when he was searching for Christopher. And the way the father ran to his son and held him like he could disappear at any moment, that was the same way that Eddie had held Chris. Buck hates that the memories of that seem to permeate through any other thought he could have.

"Is this seat open?" A man asks. Buck nods and the man takes a seat. He orders a gin and tonic. He swirls it once before taking a sip. "You drinking alone tonight too?"

"Yeah."

Buck hopes the conversation ends there. But, like always, he has bad luck.

"Bad day?"

"Yup."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Prefer not to."

The man shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his drink. As he's drinking, a tipsy girl knocks into his stool and the drink splatters all over his front. He swears under his breath. The girl is already gone in the crowd, probably not even aware she bumped into anyone.

"Mind passing me a napkin?"

Buck turns to grab a couple from the pile next to him. He hands it to the stranger, who thanks him. He does his best to mop up the liquid, but most of it has already soaked into his flannel. He pulls it off and ties it around his waist, opting to stay in just his t-shirt. Buck can't help but notice that the guy has a small tattoo on his forearm. It's of a wolf snarling. Kind of tacky, but the illustration is well done.

The man notices him staring. "I got it when I was younger. Thought it would make me look cool." He chuckles a bit.

"Wolves are cool. Did you know that that wolves can run more than 30 miles an hour?" He finds himself reciting a fact he had learned from Chris earlier. Eddie always jokes that between the two of them, he and Chris are practically Google. The two of them are constantly trading facts, about all sorts of things. Chris gets the Nat Geo Kids magazine in the mail, and the two of them read it together. Buck would never admit it, but he finds the magazines just as enjoyable as Chris does. They may be for kids, but they've got a lot of cool information.

Speaking of, he promised he would make Chris pancakes in the morning, so he should probably get going. Buck chugs the rest of his drink and motions for the check. The bartender quickly obliges. He places a twenty on the table and signs the receipt with the provided pen. The stranger tries to engage him in further conversation, but Buck ignores him. He really just wants to go home. He has to dodge several people, almost getting elbowed in the neck by one man attempting to dance. At least, Buck thinks it's dancing. It's so bad it's hard to tell.

He finally makes his way out the door. He has a slight headache setting in. Probably from all the noise inside. He rubs his eyes. His arms feel heavy. He looks at his phone. It's not even that late, it's only ten. Maybe the exhaust of today is catching up to him. He starts the walk to his jeep. He's half way there when he as to stop and brace himself against a wall. God, he feels weird. Really weird. His gut churns. He can't get his legs to move. He sinks to the dirty cement below.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

READ THE REST ON AO3

#911 #911 fic #Buddie

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melaniedragon · 3 years

Text

TW/depression/alcohol use

Just an incredibly saddening drawing of Mel being drunk and depressed.

#yeahhhh my anatomy is shit sorry #tw alcohol #tw depression #Mel doesn’t handle her depression very well #she just drinks and does drugs until she is unconscious #my oc Mel #my art #my drawings #drawings #nighttime sketches #I made myself sad

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 2 years

Note

If you are open to questions: in your opinion, what's the reason cardan didn't sleep in the room while jude was recovering? do you think he was with other people, as jude believed?

oh, absolutely not. i briefly skimmed the chapters between where Jude wakes up after her fall from the ceiling and Cardan is not there, and the end of chapter 21.

i think it's made fairly clear through the scene after she wakes up, and over the course of the following chapters that, since Jude had to be drugged (for the pain) and she was also wounded, Cardan wouldn't spend the night there even if they were already romantically involved. she was delirious and "bleeding all over his spidersilk sheets" and probably would not have made a good bedfellow.

but there is one night, after Jude has healed, where she goes to bed after a revel and there is mention of her waiting for Cardan to come back to the Royal Chambers. but he never does. first, Jude imagines he stays at the revel all night, drinking to avoid having to sleep in the same bed as her. which is a little sad but not a totally unreasonable assumption, given their history at odds.

then, in chapter 21, we have this lovely quote:

“ 'You didn’t come to bed last night,' I whisper. It occurs to me abruptly that while I was unconscious, he would have spent his nights elsewhere. Perhaps not alone. It has been a long time since I was last at Court. I have no idea who is in his favour.” (QON, ch.21)

so it only occurs to Jude right before there is a high likelihood of them actually spending the night together (as he has come back to their rooms), that he could've been with someone else the night before.

i think here, there is a small part of Jude that wants to feel wanted. and not in the "i hate that i want you" kind of way they've previously dabbled in. but she wants to be the one he chooses to go to bed with. not just because she's there, either. she wants him to want her.

i'm not sure there's a whole lot of hard evidence for where he actually was the night before. but we do have this line, Cardan's response:

“ 'I’m here now,' he says, as though he thinks it’s possible he misunderstands me.” (QON, ch.21)

now i've highlighted the important part because it's the only part of this response that vaguely alludes to his confusion. the confusion being this: Cardan did not know Jude wanted to sleep in the same bed with him.

at this point, he's only aware that she did not receive his letters, she did not solve his riddle, she was very very angry with him for exiling her, and he hurt her. and she admitted that he hurt her. explicitly! to his face! that's not something Jude would do lightly, and Cardan knows this. he thinks he's still in the doghouse, and he wants to respect Jude's privacy at this time.

and even then, after he's explained himself to her, would what he did damage their relationship irreparably? would Jude begrudgingly forgive him, but decide she wants nothing to do with him save for her title as Queen? fuck if Cardan knows! she has given him so very little indication of her true feelings at this point.

he knows Jude wants power. but he doesn't know Jude wants him. they are mirrors in this way.

and here Jude is, in chapter 21, being all, "where the fuck were you last night?" as if she was expecting him to come to bed in the Royal Chambers, a place where he was entirely sure he was unwanted. all i know is, boy has whiplash and he's got it bad. but he gets what he deserves. in the end.

plus, what would it say to the court about the legitimacy of their marriage if Cardan were messing about with random courtiers? Cardan is smart, he knows Jude is a queen not likely to be well-favoured (at least initially) by the people. they need to remain unified in all respects, at least until they are both solidly in their thrones.

basically, Cardan was neck deep in love with Jude during QON. his only concern was for her and her feelings. and of course, we should always presume that Jude and Cardan are both blind idiots when it comes to their feelings for one another.

—Em 🖤🗡

p.s. all bets on Cardan passing out in the Court of Shadows. or possibly the Council Room, since Randalin knew Cardan wouldn't be in the Royal Chambers when he burst in on Jude the morning after.

more theories & analysis

#thanks for the ask!! 💜#tfota #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #tcp #twk #tqon #qon #queen of nothing #judecardan #holly black #my analysis

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

#snacmc ibsy #i’ll be seeing you #nessian ibsy #snacmc collab #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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