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s3thwrit3sstuff · 19 days ago

Note

I love your writing am and i always seem to go back to your sally face fic and i would love something similar to that but with sally and i would love to see if you could incorporate substance use (ex. weed) not to a dangerous extent but almost seen as inviting. with ftm reader again! ofcs you can take this request and do what you like with it!! i just love your writing sm and i want to see more sally face content:)

❝ If you think I’m pretty put your hands on me, know I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it ❞

warnings: recreational use of marijuana, some guilt from Sal because he vowed not to smoke as a child but r! reassures him, Sal mentions painkiller addictions, mentions of hospitals and wounds, mentions of scarring, shotgun kisses, handjobs, fingering, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock)

masterlist ; "I was the boy who was on your side"

authors note: I FORGOT TO FILL THIS UHM UHHH IM BACK?

*song on repeat: Romeo by Until The Ribbon Breaks

He's been drumming his fingers across his knees for a full 20 minutes now. A never-ending symphony of thumps occasionally disturbed by pauses of silence as he picked at the ripped edges of his jeans. You suppose you understand the anxiety that was racking through him, despite the reassurances you'd given him, he was bound to have some second thoughts. "Hey, baby," you tap the steering wheel, an elbow propped onto your window sill panel. Despite your eyes being glued on the road, you're acutely aware of his gaze on yours.

"Ya' didn't have to come along if you didn't want to," at your words he shakes his head. "No — Sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way, baby." Sal reaches out and places a hand on your knee, squeezing it just enough to have you decompressing your nerves.

"No, no. I didn't mean to make you feel bad," you clasp his hand and squeeze him back, the road will be fairly emptier now that you've driven past the bridge. "You just look a little nervous is all, I was jokin' 'bout you needing to follow along. I was just teasing you, Sal." "I know. I wanted to spend time with you, (Y/N). Which is why I followed along even though I knew you were just fucking with me," he sighs, allowing the song playing on the radio to filter in the silence for a few seconds. "It's just, buying drugs, makes me a liiittle nervous."

A chuckle escapes you and you risk staring at Sal for a bit. "You've dealt with poltergeists and the like, the baloney incident, and buying a little ganja is making you sweat?"

“Shut up,” he groans as he slips his hand up and lands a muted smack on your thighs. “Poltergeists can land me in a psychiatrist's office, this could land us in jail.”

“At least we’ll be together in a small cell,” you coo and Sal rolls his eye with a scoff. “We’re not gonna get caught, ya’ big baby. I’ve done this a thousand times with Larry, Todd, and Ashley — we’ll be fine. Promise.”

It went more than fine. Underwhelming actually. He had expected a more intense, whispered, exchanges with some weirdly firm handshake while the other dude slipped you the weed. He had even lifted the hood of his hoodie up to make the both of you less identifiable. It was adorable.

Your dealer had come down from their apartment. Sal seeing her brightly coloured pink tie-dye sweatpants from the slat of the stairs, and the cheerful wave she gave you once she took notice of your car.

“Was wondering when you’d text. I got your favourite.”

She’s leaned on your rolled-down windows, discretely holding the pink paper bag of weed in front of her chest and bouncing it around. She extends her other hand first, and Sal is silent as you reach for the cash from the cup holder.

In that pause of conversation, she takes notice of him and recognition is crystal clear.

“O-M-G, is that Sal, the boyfriend?” You chuckle while Sal stutters in surprise. Handing her the cash, she graciously exchanges it with the bag.

“Yeah, he’s following along with me running errands.” “Cute,” she coos. After a few pleasantries, she leans away. That small pink paper bag between your legs barely able to distract your boyfriend from her excited wave of goodbye — that you return obviously.

“You talk about me with her?” you glance at him for a second then laugh. “Dude, most of us get our weed from her. She eventually gets to know the side characters in our lives the longer she interacts with us.”

He scoffs, crossing his arm as he leans back in the seat.

“Side characters? Seriously?” “Duh,” you pick the bag up and shake it in his face teasingly. “Everyone knows the main characters participate in drug culture and the side characters don’t.”

“This is the peer pressure my father warned me about.”

You giggled at his joke as you place the bag between your thighs again. This time, Sal’s eyes follows it.

He’s seen you and Larry smoke before. Hell, most of his friends smoke on the back porch while he’ll be mindlessly cleaning up as he waits for all of you to herd back inside. He’s never felt left out, you guys were simply respecting his wishes is all. He wasn’t much of a fan of drinking or smoking. But he wouldn't stop anyone from doing it, as long as no one got too inebriated.

Though, for some reason, he just can’t take his eyes away from that pink bag.

“Mhm, next thing you know, you’ll look like those anti-bullying posters. All the stoners will point and laugh while you have big ole’ sad cat eyes.”

The imagery makes him laugh softly and he glances at your face as the scenery zooms past beside you.

When you reach home, the house is empty. A note was left on the kitchen fridge by Todd, something about him and his boyfriend going on a date.

Just you, Sal and Gizmo.

It makes his palms clammy and his nerves turning up his sensitivity a few notches.

You greeted Gizmo with a few chin scratches. Settling on the living room couch with crossed legs, you open the bag one handedly while you lean over to the catch-all bowl on the coffee table for the lighter and your MP3 player.

All the while, he stands in the kitchen threshold. Like a kid who knows they’ve done something they’re definitely shouldn’t have done — the guilt was just radiating from him. It made you toss your head to the side when you took notice of him, a joint hung loosely between your lips.

“You good, baby?”

He nods, your words setting him into motion as he sits on the couch.

“I’m not gonna smoke inside,” you reassure with a smile. Why else would he stare at you like that, right?

He nods again. Oddly quiet. Gizmo yawns and sinks further down onto the couch, watching the TV show with an almost human-like concentration. Nobody says anything about it anymore. He’s just a little guy, really.

You lean over, joint plucked out and resting between the second knuckle of your pointer and middle finger this time, and give his cheek a kiss.

“See you in a bit.”

He watches like he always does. There’s nothing to clean. It’d be weirder if he attempted to look busy. So he glances at the TV, then at Gizmo and then at your back as you sit down on the porch. He can hear the muffled sounds of you flicking the lighter, and shortly after he sees the white smoke that slithers upwards into the air along with the sounds of your favourite band quietly playing.

You thought you hadn’t closed the sliding doors properly when you hear the approaching footsteps. Turning your head to check, you’re surprised to spot Sal walk through the doors to move and settle next to you.

You cough out some smoke. Attempting to fan it away with your hand while you reach to put out the joint in the ash tray that Ashley had made. But Sal stops you as he knocks your knees together, his thigh pressing against yours as he peers at you.

“Sal?”

“...Say hypothethically, a side character wants to dip his toes in some drug culture." Your eyes widen considerably at his confession.

“Huh?” you squeak out. Sal sighs, regret creeping up on him as he scratches the back of his head. The smell of the weed doesn’t exactly help either — it was so distinct.

“Wait, no, sorry. I’m just, this isn’t because of peer pressure is it?” You did mini-hops, getting close enough to him for your thighs to press together. Yet you still held the clay ash tray an arms length away, especially as you note the sharp inhale and exhale he'd made.

Sal’s deadpanned expression makes your eyebrows jump.

“This was dumb,” He admits. “No — no, it isn’t. I was just caught off-guard. Are you...curious?”

Sal nods sheepishly. You lean back on the heel of your hand, the other still holding onto the tray, your finger mindlessly keeping the still-lit joint perched between your digit and the rim of the tray. You think for a moment, then huff in amusement.

“Damn, you still manage to surprise me even after all these years.”

“You’re making it sound like we’ve been married for 50 years,” he retorts. “We will be, I’m just practicing these phrases out loud so you don’t get heart failure in the future.”

This time, Sal’s shoulders shake as he laughs. It dies down as he sees you take a drag, and breathe out the plumes of smoke. Not directly at him, but in his general direction. The smell isn’t something he’s used to. Not this close anyways. Usually, it’s just stuck on your clothes but you reach for the bottle of Febreze strategically placed near the sliding doors anyway so it's more muted.

It. . .doesn’t completely suck. The earthiness of it making his shoulders less tense. You watch his reaction closely, the corners of your lips in a gentle curve as he leans back onto his hands.

You take another drag and Sal’s enraptured at the way the end of your joint glows bright orange. He feels almost envious of the way you swallow the smoke, how you harbour it within your mouth before it slips past your lips. You’re looking at him, just basking in the moment for a little longer before you ask him to play your favourite songs.

It was just beginning to get dark, the sky was setting up for its finale of the day and he was enraptured as you explain what shotgun kisses were.

"I have smoked a cigarette before," he says, brows furrowed as he unbuckles his prosthetic. "Yeah, and nearly coughed up both of your lungs. This will be smoother for you, trust me."

"So I just inhale what you exhale?" "Mhm, easy as pie, right?"

His placed his prosthetic next to him, turning his head and immediately seeing your face invading his vision. "Hi," he smiled at your attempt to keep your smile at bay by chewing on your lower lip.

"Hi," he replies, his anxiety lessening at the sight of your confidence and giddiness. You bring the joint to your lips. He can hear the paper burning and sees tendrils of smoke escaping through your lips. Your words echoed in his brain as you lean in further.

“Just breathe it in slowly, baby."

He feels the smoke across his face, your lips pouted as you blow it his way. Sal breathes it in, sucking the smoke in just like you’d demonstrated earlier. He coughs like you said he would. His eye-watering as he moves to sit and you carefully pat his back as he does.

“Shit,” your eyes squish at his flustered expression. His first time trying a cigarette playing briefly through your head. Though this time it wasn’t even half-bad.

“You did great. Didn't burn on the way down if you smoked it yourself, right?” he got what you meant. He was coughing but he didn't feel like the back of his throat got thwacked by a whip of burning paper and tobacco. The ride was smoother, way smoother with your help. “It feels like the smell is stuck onto my teeth." Sal only complains to see you look at him with that fond gaze. You took another drag as he smacks his lips a few times. Your eyes flutter close, sighing in relief, and tossing your head to the side as you feel yourself loosening up.

“Why do you think I always brush my teeth before I kiss you?”

Sal protests softly as you take another hit and you laugh as he leans in.

“Isn’t that too much — “

You breathe out and Sal seems stunned for a moment, so you apologize but he simply leans in further.

“If this'll be my first time getting high, I want it to be with you.”

"Slow down, baby," you bumped your foreheads together, cupping his jaw in your hand. "What's the rush, hm?"

Curiousity was a valid enough reason to start smoking, but your Sal wasn't the kind of guy to jump into these things head first. It wasn't anything special to him, all of your friends smoked and drunk. He wasn't some pre-teen being excited to finally "grow up" and get in with the cool kids.

Hell, even during his 21st birthday, he'd taken his first drink and smoked his cigarette and decided that he didn't enjoy any of them.

Sal sighs, dropping his weight on you. His head balanced between the curve of your neck and shoulder. You simply thread your fingers through his hair, combing out the indents of his buckles and straps from his hair.

"You think I can't take it?"

"Oh, I definitely know you can't."

He protests with an indignant but whiny 'hey' but settles. His arms wrap around your waist and despite the uncomfortable angle of your torso facing him while your legs faced ahead as they rested on the stairs, you stay like that for a bit.

He eventually pulls away and leans back onto his arms again, reaching for his prosthetic though only to fidget with it on his lap.

"...Is it bad I feel bad? Not physically, just...morally?"

Your silence urges him on. So he continues; “Drinking fucking sucks, and cigarettes don’t make sense to me. But weed as a concept always seemed...appealing to me.”

He feels your chin on his shoulder and he subtly breathes in the smoke that teases him as you exhale.

“But?”

“Argh, it’s stupid. But as a kid, in the hospital there weren’t a lot of people that got as messed up as I did. But the ones that were? Christ, babe, they were in so much pain. Even when the wounds were already scars.”

Your brows pinch. You squeeze his hand and he stops toying with feeling the shape of the bolts to instead gently press the pads of his thumb over your nails.

“The doctors scared me with the whole speech. Painkillers being addictive and all that, it made me scared to ask for ‘em even when the skin grafts felt like they were on fucking fire.”

He shuts his eyes and brings your hand to his face, the pressure and warmth across his jaw and cheek making the phantom pains ebb to nothing.

“I made a promise to my younger me that I would never end up like the adults I saw. I just, don’t want to be in constant pain.”

“You aren’t, Sal. And you won’t be.”

You put out the joint, turning his face to you and planting a kiss on his lips. He breathes out a sigh of relief through his nose and you tilt your head to deepen it. When you pull away, you both linger in the afterglow of it for a second.

“I’m here for you, Sal. If you ever stray from the path, I’m here to guide you back, right? You’ve got me and Larry, Lisa and your dad, Ashley, Todd, Gizmo —” his smile widens as you go on about the precious people in his life.

“Thanks,” he kisses you again and you happily reciprocate.

“By the way, you’re right, you should always brush your teeth before you kiss me when you’re done smoking up.”

Sal laughs as you shove him back, watching admiringly while you light the joint up again.

“...Can I have another hit?”

“You just said my breath smells like ass —”

“You’re overreacting!”

By the time the two of you walk back inside, Gizmo’s nose is twitching. You hadn’t taken too much too be completely useless, just to start feeling that buzz and take the edge off. Sal had expected more of a droopy, drowsy, feeling when he entered the house.

He still feels like himself. A little light on his feet, but still himself. You had paced him from his little smoke-sucking sessions — teasing that he just wanted to kiss you which wasn’t entirely untrue. But you always pulled away just as his eyes would flutter. Most likely you getting back at home for saying your breath smelled like weed. Little tease.

You spray your clothes down, then ask Sal if he’d like to chill on the couch. Something in his brain perks up hard enough to make his penis do the same. He feels a bit shameful of it, but then again, everything you do could make him hard.

The other day you’d been wolfing down some cheesy fries with Ashley and somehow it made Sal have to think of baloney to shut his penis down.

Gizmo’s tail flicks knowingly as Sal sits at the end of the couch, which was his cue to set off to the basement instead. When Sal hears the TV turns on from there, he simply decides to never question how dexterous Gizmo's thumbs were.

You're laid out on the couch with your tummy showing and your eyes just a bit hazy. He knows weed affects people differently; why does it make his lust for you feel so thick? Like cloying, thick, honey dripping down from the back of his throat. Fuelling him in an unfamiliar, alien, way. He climbs over you and the half-lidded gaze you look up at him with makes his mouth feel drier than it is.

This lust is new. It’s more languid in it’s desire — akin to a beast stretching its back only to flop down to its side and show its belly. Still undeniably dangerous, yet so inviting with its soft underbelly and demure paws.

You seem to recognize this beast, lips stretching into a toothy grin.

“Need something handsome?”

He narrows his eyes at you. Then, he places a hand on your chest, fingers brushing along your collarbones before it slowy slips downwards.

“...I really wanna finger you.”

He seems to catch himself. Through that haze that makes him caught between wanting to curl up next to you for a nap or fucking you nice and slow, he finds the part of him that remembers embarrassment.

But before it could throw away his new lazy bravado, you surge up to kiss him, moaning the second your lips made contact.

Stoned Sal decides pants are way too annoying very quickly on. He huffs and puffs at the obstacles that are called buttons and zippers. When he finally undoes them, he pulls your jeans below the swell of your ass and brings the heel of his hand to your clothed cock.

The pressure has your teeth brushing over your lips.

“I love your dick,” he murmurs, “it’s just s’fuckin’ pretty.”

You moan airily, wishing he’d pull your pants all the way down but he is just too entraced at the sight of the wet spots he’s seeing. He traces the fold of your cunt and your breath hitches as he presses a finger through. Not enough to be inside of you, but enough to have your dick twitch.

He brings his thumb to rub against it and you groan.

“Let me take my jeans off, Christ, Sal.”

He chuckles, suddenly abandoning your pussy to pin your hips down. “Barely touched you and you already wanna spread your legs f’me?”

You glare at him, feeling your cheeks heat up as you hitch yourself up onto the couch and stubbornly shimmying out of your pants. He simply watches, uncaring of the less-than-delicate display. You toss your jean away and your underwear follows along, piling onto the floor somewhere.

“The weed is making you so chatty, hm?” you don’t get much out of you after that as Sal immediately claims your lips again. He doesn’t even wait for you to lay back down as he brings his hand between your legs.

Not exactly hasty but not taking his time either. He pulls away enough that the spit between your lips break, but you can still feel him groan when he feels the dewdrops of moisture on your cunt; the slick that coats his finger makes him whisper your name.

“So wet,” he marvels. Your legs twitch at his movements. Sliding up and down, pressing in just to make your breath hitch but never fully slipping inside.

Oh fuck.

Stoned Sal likes to tease.

Your dread is shortlived as he descends his kisses to your neck. You groan, clutching onto the back of his shirt as he mottles your neck with unapologetically languid kisses.

You’re whimpering underneath him as he hums and groans. Using his teeth and making hickey after hickey, dark and tender — he’d even brush his teeth along them just to hear you gasp.

Meanwhile, he continues to torture your poor cunt. Bringing his thumb into the fray again as he rubs circles on the tip of your cock. The tip of his fingers spreading your slick around your lips, making it messier and messier.

“Sal, please just fuckin’ finger me already,” you whine out. Turning your head away and arching your back as he sets his eyes on your nipples.

“I’m already — Shit, Sal. I’m already so hard.”

He knows. You don’t have to remind him.

“Don’t make me beg, baby, please.”

Sal bites down on your nipple just as he pushes his finger inside of you. He groans at the feeling of your boypussy clamping down. Fuck, you felt good.

So soft and warm and wet and tight.

He slips another finger in and neither of you are surprised at how eagerly your cunt lets it in.

Sal’s lips pause in their conquest as he looks down between your legs. Fuck, what a sight it was. The happy trail you have that always makes his cock jump in his pants — there it goes again — and that beautiful dick that he always loves choking on to that boypussy that he’s convinced is made for him.

He starts pumping his fingers. In and out in a steady rhythm. Adoring every noise that comes out of you. You take them well, all the way down to the base and when he angles his palm just right your hips buck to grind your cock against his hand.

Fuck, you were perfect.

He kisses you. Breathing through his nose as he bites down on your already swollen lower lip — relishing in this. In you.

He adds another finger and you mewl. It makes him laugh.

You were usually much more headstrong. When he teases, you tease back. The weed is working in his favour, you were so pliant. Melting under him and already close to your first orgasm.

When he curls his fingers, you toss your head back, mouth opening in a silent scream. Your hand dives between your legs to rub your cock and Sal watches your face as you jeek yourself off.

“Just like that, just like that — Oh, oh—ah! Fuck!”

He doesn’t falter his pace, moaning out curses as you clamp down around his fingers.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum for me.”

His voice undoes you.

You buck your hips as wetness covers his hand. He groans, praising you as he continues to pump in and out. You let him, simply curling your toes and panting as you just kept on cumming and cumming.

When he kisses you this time, he doesn’t even let you breathe. Just swallowing your noises as he finger-fucks you through your orgasm and makes you barrel to your second with no breaks.

You clutch at his shirt, feeling lightheaded but unwilling to ask him to stop.

“Keep going, Sal. Please, please.”

How could he say no?

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #sally face #sally face x reader #sally face x male reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x male reader

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lightofraye · 2 months ago

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Debunking Nonsense Against Jared

There's apparently some crap about Jared that is just absolute nonsense. Full of lies and bullshit.

It'd be one thing if people just didn't like him. It happens. Not everyone is likeable. You're not expected to like him. But don't pull up lies to explain why you don't like him. Especially when they've been debunked again and again and again.

1. The "racist" tattoo. Y'all, this is nonsense. It's been debunked over and over and over. It's not a racist tattoo. For one, it's lacking the logo of "Come and take it", which would make it a racist tattoo. But a lone star above a cannon does not a racist tattoo make.

Jared is a proud Texan. He also donates to many a charity and organization that help people, speaking out about them often. Not to mention, prior to pro-gun rights appropriating the symbol and logo, it stood for a proud history in Texas. Jared would've known.

So how about instead of focusing on a mere tattoo, come up with more proof that Jared is a racist? Hmm?

Besides, if you're mad at Jared's tattoo, are you then mad at Jensen's t-shirt, which did show the saying as well?

2. Fighting with fans online. Oh come on. Misha's done it. (Misha's done worse, in fact.) Danneel's done it. Jared doing it does not a bad person make. And I don't think he's done it in a long time.

And of course, people will go "Danneel was hitting back!" And? What's the difference? Jared was hitting back too. Danneel went a step farther most of the time, siccing her followers on them, threatening them with Clif, even ran crying to Clif because people were being "mean".

3. RE: Prequelgate. Give me a fucking break! Jared was right to be upset! He called and texted Jensen for hours before he gave up and responded to that tweet about The Winchesters announcement. Jensen also lied about not being allowed cellphones on The Boys set. When they weren't filming, they were allowed. (Of course they can't have their cellphones on their person during filming, unless it suited the scene!) Besides all that, Jared honestly didn't know about it! Kripke was even shocked when he learned Jared didn't know! Supernatural and its legacy is as much Jared's as it was Jensen's! The whole freakin' industry gave Jensen a massive side-eye for his unprofessional behavior. Kevin Smith, a man who has directed, written, and acted in the industry, thought it was uncool. Also, Jared wasn't drunk.

4. Supposed bully accusations. I'd need to see more of this to believe it, but outside of occasionally putting Misha in his bullshit place, I've never heard of Jared bullying anyone. Everyone he's worked with has sung his praises. The only one who hasn't is Misha and that's because Jared won't let Misha put him down. And in fact, has had to step in to stop Misha from torturing Jensen. So fuck off with your noise.

5. His fanbase. Is he now responsible for his fanbase? I never knew that. What about Misha's fanbase sending Jensen death threats for denouncing Destiel? Has Misha ever stopped that? What about AAs hoping for Jared to suicide after Walker was cancelled?

6. What about Genevieve? Oh come on! Do I like that Gen is featuring the kids a lot? Myself, no. But if Jared was truly bothered by it, I'm sure he would've spoken to Genevieve. And Gen isn't any different than many other mommy influencers. I'm not keen on exploiting the kids like that, but would you say the same about Danneel abruptly grabbing the kids at Wales Comic Con and dragging them out for a photo op? All because she had no one in line for her autographs and desperate for attention?

7. Jared's Hair. Apparently there are some claiming Jared had gotten hair plugs. My response to that is: So what? Misha's had plastic surgery (trust me, it's obvious--his eyes and clearly lip fillers). Danneel's had worse--her hair is fried, bad extensions, plastic surgery galore that has ruined her hair line because of facelifts, fillers, Botox, and breast implants (twice!). Jensen's likely had a bit of work too.

So. Fucking. What. About Jared's hair?

Come up with truthful reasons to hate Jared, hmm? Not bullshit.

#anti jared hate #we love jared #oh shut up already

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imitationgame77 · 5 months ago

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ART's Walls

For any network system with capabilities to communicate, it is very important that it has walls (basically, firewalls) to protect it from potential attack from the outside.

It is interesting to note how the way ART is controlling its walls between itself and Murderbot seems to demonstrate the level of its trust and their intimacy.

[Artificial Condition]

Super machine-intelligence like ART obviously needs to protect itself carefully from a potentially dangerous threat like a rogue SecUnit. So, when Murderbot first meets ART in Artificial Condition, it cannot see what ART really is. It only drops its wall for .00001 of a second - just to show how powerful it is.

They become close so that Murderbot can interpret ART's reactions in its feed quite well, but the walls are still there.

------------------------------

But the presence in the feed was too big and diffuse for a human or augmented human, I could tell that much even through the feed walls protecting it.

[...]

It said, You’re a rogue SecUnit, a bot/human construct, with a scrambled governor module. It poked me through the feed and I flinched. It said, Do not attempt to hack my systems, and for .00001 of a second it dropped its wall.

It was enough time for me to get a vivid image of what I was dealing with. Part of its function was extragalactic astronomic analysis and now all that processing power sat idle while it hauled cargo, waiting for its next mission. It could have squashed me like a bug through the feed, pushed through my wall and other defenses and stripped my memory. Probably while also plotting its wormhole jump, estimating the nutrition needs of a full crew complement for the next 66,000 hours, performing multiple neural surgeries in the medical suite, and beating the captain at tavla. I had never directly interacted with anything this powerful before.

------------------------------

[Network Effect]

In Network Effect, it was not explicitly referred to as walls, but I got the feeling that when ART allowed Murderbot access to all its cameras, it was at least dropping a large portion of its walls. Hidden cameras are a very important part of its security system after all.

It was ART's way to show its trust to Murderbot, and Murderbot understands this.

------------------------------

I suddenly had views all over the ship. ART had given me access to its cameras. I snarled, “Stop being nice to me!”

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[System Collapse]

By the end of Network Effect, when Murderbot (implicitly) accepts ART's proposal of marriage to join the next mission, they have reached the level of intimacy where ART does not seem to think it is necessary to have a wall between them.

So, in System Collapse, when Murderbot decides to accept communication request from AdaCol2, it is Murderbot who suggests having a wall between them, to protect ART.

------------------------------

ART-drone threw out an extra comm- and feed-block wall between us and the shuttle and I said, Let’s do full containment protocol. Which was the protocol we’d come up with (we being ART, Martyn, and Matteo and me, before my incident when I effectively became useless) for dealing with potential contamination situations.

Let’s, ART-drone said, which was its way of being nice and not letting me know that it didn’t need my advice about which containment protocol to use. Then it made it worse by adding, Be careful. The wall went up and I was alone in the dark except for my two drones, both on standby now, and the Pre-CR system.

------------------------------

And ART cannot drop the wall fast enough at the first chance of excuse.

------------------------------

ART-drone dropped the wall between us, though not the one protecting the shuttle’s systems. Is that a good idea? I asked it. Is containment protocol for everybody but you?

After it sees the file it will either attack us or ask for further contact, ART-drone said. The wall will have to go down either way.

Right, fine, whatever.

------------------------------

Not to mention that ART is practically constantly inside Murderbot's walls throughout System Collapse, (ostentatiously) to monitor its stats, because of [redacted].

And considering how private Murderbot is, it is very significant that it seems completely okay with that. Murderbot has become more vulnerable with self-doubt with [redacted], but it really does not show a least sign of discomfort in having ART there at all times.

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #asshole research transport #perihelion #meta #tmbd #walls as a sign of trust and intimacy #murderhelion #artmb

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beatrixstonehill2 · 10 months ago

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Ashley and Jacklyn were two trans men who met online, in an Instagram group about fantasies involving detransition. Both were on T for a few years and strongly considered top surgery, but deep down they both had a different idea of what their futures looked like.... They met and chatted for a couple weeks, eventually moving in together, throwing out all of their boy clothes in favor of lingerie and other very girly clothes, embracing their bodies and becoming a couple of bimbos, doing porn for fun. They knew they just had to both get knocked up and sport the perfect bimbo body, with a belly carrying at least triplets for the summer. They didn't want any old porn actor to knock them up, so Ashley had an idea.....

Without telling her friend, Melody, that she detransitioned, she called and asked her to come by and visit her new boyfriend..... When Melody visited, she was shocked to see that Ashley completely detransed, and her 'boyfriend' was a buxom bimbo with a voice deepened by testosterone. Ashley told Jacklyn that Melody was her trans girl bff, and they've known each other since forever. Ashley walked up to Melody, giggling, telling her, "Mel, I know you had a crush on me. Before you went and transitioned into this fake girl, you were just another horny boy that stared at my chest, now look at you."

"I, um...... I don't know. We were young!" Melody said.

"God, look at his boy-tits. Jesus Christ they're fucking huge," Jacklyn said, groping Melody's breasts.

"I know.... almost makes him look like a girl." Ashley joined in, grabbing and kneading Melody's other breast.

"But just look at him, walking around in clothes like this, flaunting his cock." Jacklyn massaged Melody's noticeable bulge. "Fuck, it'd get so big if he stopped taking estrogen."

"I-I'd never do that...." Melody said, nervously letting Ashley and Jacklyn fondle her.

"Awww, come on, Mel," Ashley encouraged. "You're really telling me you don't want a massive cock to play with?"

"No! I could never detrans! I love being a girl...."

Jacklyn bit her her, stroking Melody's already sizeable cock. "You'd make such a pretty boy. Well, you already do, since you are a boy..... Girls don't have big hard cocks, dummy....."

"Guys....."

Ashley started fondling Melody's cock, too. "Man, these boy-tits and this cock. You have everything.... But I still say you ought to lose the boobs. Go on testosterone. Get this cock as big as possible."

"Guys, stop. I'm gonna cum...."

"Poor thing." Jacklyn pouted, massaging Melody's breast and cock harder. "So pathetic. It should be illegal for pervy boys like you to pretend to be girls..... I bet you jerk off in the girls' bathroom for fun, don't you?"

"N-No...." Melody looked away. "Well, sometimes....."

"Good little pervert!" Ashley said, slipping her hand into Melody's panties. "Go on, I know you have a crush on me. Doesn't matter that we both played dress up. I lived as a boy for years, yet I'm only a dumb breeder, and you? All the estrogen and makeup in the world can't stop you from being a perverted boy who's addicted to jerking off. It's your nature, darling...."

Melody came in her lingerie onesie, rolling back her eyes, shooting about three ropes of clear cum. "Fuck....."

"Awww, is that it? Hold on," Jacklyn said, returning a few second later. "Don't squirm, this won't hurt." She had grabbed one of her old syringes and filled it with some of her remaining testosterone.

Ashley giggled. "I thought we got rid of all that?"

"When you mentioned having a fake girl as a best friend, I figured we might need it....." Jacklyn injected Melody's hip full of T.

"No.....! Please!" Melody cooed, drooling lightly.

"Yes, my dear," Ashley said, turning Melody's head her way. "How's this? We're going to pump you full of T, get that cock over fifteen inches so you're hung like a horse, and you'll become our girly little boy-bitch? You'll get us pregnant, but only be allowed to cum when it's time to knock us up. We'll dress you like a perverted sissy still, but those big fat boy-tits have got to go. OK? You'll live with us, and answer to us. Are there any questions?"

Melody shook her head 'no'. "I'll..... be your perverted stud sissy...... you can use me however you please...... ❤️"

"I knew you had a crush on me after all these years. Now then, you need to practice on Jacklyn and I all day, learning to fuck like a boy, so you can get us nice and pregnant when that T kicks in, all right, slave?"

"Whatever you desire....."

#mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink #mtf kink #ftmtf kink #ftmtf breeding #detrans kink

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thezombieprostitute · 10 months ago

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Dream Come True - Part 1

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Shooting mentioned, not written. American healthcare system. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Curtis stormed into the manor. Normally he didn’t care for visiting the higher ups, surrounded by their opulence but this wasn’t normal circumstances. He headed straight for Steve and Bucky’s office, the folder Jake compiled for him under his arm. As much as Curtis wanted to act on this he knew he had to get permission first, as Mace kept reminding him.

As soon as he entered the office, the Bosses greeted him.

“The nieces are okay?”

“Yes,” Curtis replied. “We did a priority background search on the would-be thief. Found no connections to other families so he was likely just an idiot trying to get some quick cash.”

“And the guy who took the bullet,” Bucky asked.

“She is currently in the hospital,” Curtis felt his fists tighten, thinking about her situation. “It wasn’t life threatening, just a quick surgery but she’s not gonna be allowed to walk for a few weeks.”

The bosses nodded their heads, “you made sure Beck is her doctor?”

“Yup. But there’s a hitch that I need permission to fix,” Curtis took the folder out from under his arm. “She got fired for missing some big meeting. First person she called was her boss, to explain what happened, and the asshole fired her over the phone. Now she’s trying to leave the hospital way too early because she’s scared of not being able to afford the care.”

Steve and Bucky looked astonished at this information. “Who the hell fires someone for that? Especially when she has the proof to back her story,” Bucky huffed. “You got that information, right?”

“We got it months ago when she first started tutoring the nieces,” Curtis affirmed. “Had to make sure she wasn’t someone playing the long game.” He handed the folder to Bucky who opened it. The men took a few seconds to find her boss’s name. Curtis was pleased to see Steve’s eyes go steely with anger.

Steve looked at Curtis, “I’ll make sure he gets handled.”

Bucky cut in, “for now, work with Huffman to get the paperwork settled. Officially, she’s been employed by us, as a tutor, for months. We’ll make sure the backpay gets added to her account. Beck and Jensen can work to make sure her insurance goes back as well.”

Curtis nodded his thanks and left to go back to the hospital. Hopefully she hadn’t succeeded in leaving.

“Please,” you plead through tears, “please just let me go home.”

Dr. Beck shook his head, “that would be wildly irresponsible of me. You have no emergency contacts, which tells me you have no one to help you out at home. You need to stay off of your leg for at least a week and you need help to do that. If that means keeping you here for that week, so be it.”

“I can’t af-”

Dr. Beck interrupts, “I’ve been in touch with some people, namely the family of those two girls you rescued. You’re not paying for anything and they insist you get your full rest here.”

“I…” you’re flabbergasted at the news. Jake and Jefferson had always been kind but you never got the impression they were so well off they could cover someone else’s medical bills. You can’t stop crying. It’s been a tumultuous day.

There was a knock outside the privacy curtain and a deep voice asking, “is it okay to come in?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Dr. Beck replied. “Been expecting you.” He turns to the source of the voice. Walking to your bed is a tall, muscular man with a buzz cut, beard and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You blink back tears and try to compose yourself. Crying around medical staff is one thing. Crying around strangers who might not be used to tears is something else.

“I’m Curtis,” he holds out his hand to you.

“Hi,” you shake his hand, confusion written all over your face.

“I’m here to inform you that you do, in fact, have medical insurance. You also have backpay.” Curtis starts putting paperwork on the patient table in front of you. “You’ve been tutoring my nieces for several months. The least we could do is make sure you’re being paid for your time, complete with benefits. Just need you to sign a few things.”

“What?” Far from answering your questions, you find yourself even more in the dark. “I…I don’t understand…”

“You helped my family,” Curtis replied. “Not only did you offer your time and patience, you’ve given your health and well-being. The least me and mine can do is take care of you.”

“I, uh,” you hesitate, trying not to insult, “are you sure you can afford this?”

“Yes.” There was no room for argument in Curtis’s tone. His face was stern and you discerned no cracks indicating he was lying in any way.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Don’t say anything,” Curtis tells you. “Just sign here, here and here.”

With a look to Dr. Beck, who gives you a reassuring smile and nod, you take the proffered pen and shakily sign where Curtis tells you to.

“And, with that,” Curtis gently smiles, “you were officially hired by us three months ago as a private tutor for two of our nieces. When you’ve recovered, you will return to your work and we may have more for you to do.”

Ransom was having a great day. His ugly assistant missed a big meeting and he finally had grounds to fire her. She'd been hired by his grandfather so he couldn't just get rid of her without a reason. He even encouraged her remote work so he wouldn't have to look at her. Now he could hire an assistant on his own and actually pick someone easy on the eyes.

It's not like the job was difficult. He needed someone who could research stuff he needed to know for his writing. Anyone could do that. He could, too, but he didn't want to and could afford to hire someone else to do it for him.

He was in the middle of writing up the job ad when the door to his office slammed open, making him jump. Steve Rogers was glaring at him as he strode into the room.

“Rogers,” Ransom smiled. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Did you hear what happened to the nieces today?”

“Jake and Jefferson's girls? No.” Ransom was genuinely concerned. Those girls were spoiled by everyone in the families but they still managed to be the sweetest people he knew.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop,” Steve continued, walking closer and closer to Ransom. “They were nearly shot by the idiot. Thankfully, they were rescued and someone else took the bullet.”

As Steve sat down on the desk Ransom started putting some pieces together. He wasn't an idiot. The nieces almost being shot and his assistant actually being shot? It would also explain the rage emanating from Rogers.

“The woman who took the bullet requires a lot of medical care. But, of course, she can't afford it since her asshole of a boss fired her.”

Ransom gulped, “I can hire her back. Say it was a moment of anger, a mistake that never should've happened.”

Steve stood and pulled up Ransom by the front of his sweater, forcing him to stand on his toes. “Do you remember,” Steve growled, “why we had to send Lloyd into exile?”

“Too many casualties?”

“Close. He viewed people as expendable. This family got started by helping others. Helping the Unions. Supporting the communities. So when you treat someone like that, you disrespect all of us.”

Steve let go of Ransom’s sweater, setting him on his feet. Without warning, he punched Ransom in the stomach so hard he doubled over.

“You are on notice,” Steve told him. “You've been straddling the line for some time now. But one more slip, and you're gone. Understood?”

Ransom coughed, “yeah, I get it.”

“And you don't have to hire her back. We got her a much better boss.”

Part 2

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#curtis everett x reader #mafia!curtis everett #mafia au #curtis everett x plus sized!reader #plus size!reader #mob!curtis everett

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mossyivy · 1 year ago

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𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 ℝ𝕦𝕟 [ℙ𝕋𝟚.]

DI!Leon Kennedy x (Fem)Reader

Summary: You sit in the hospital and contemplate the aftermath of yours and Leons near death experience. All while waiting on him...

Words: 3.2k

Content Warning: Talks of injury, Leons in a coma, crying, this part actually made me sad..., cliffhanger (: (yes I'll make more if this does well!)

[Previous Part] | [Next Part]

It's been hours.

Hours since you were put in this hospital room in Miami.

Hours since, you were carried off screaming and flailing by a fellow agent.

Hours since you last saw him "alive".

You've asked different hospital staff at least 20 times for updates. Hearing the same things over and over again.

'He's in critical condition.'

'He suffered severe blood loss and a possible brain injury so comas are fairly common.'

'He'll need surgery once he's able to undergo anesthetic.'

Aside from whatever Rebecca came to share, you were completely in the dark...

And all you can do is lie in your hospital bed and wait.

The only company you have is your thoughts and the woman in the room that you've refused to speak to since she came in a few hours after they allowed you visitors.

"You can't stay mad at me forever."

That's the 6th time Jill's said that... But you're still going to talk. At least not to her.

She sighs heavily at your continued refusal to talk.

"So do your eyes not work either or are you just so pissed you don't want to even look at me?" Deeply inhaling through your nose, you look at her, crossing your arms.

"Oh wow, your ears work too? So full of surprises."

"Fuck. Off." You grumble, voice cracking from lack of use and your deteriorating emotional state.

There's a knock at the door, gaining both your attention. Jill stands up, walks over and opens it, Rebecca stepping into the room, glancing around quickly before her eyes land on you. She looks almost happy to be there, even during this mess of a situation.

"Hey, I just came to check in and share some news." Rebecca sounded chipper. Jill shuts the door, walking back over and pulling a seat up for her, a fold-up chair next to your bedside.

You sit up, excited and about to start asking millions of questions.

"Is it-" Rebecca puts her hand up, stopping you from talking. You sit back in bed, trying not to jump down her throat about anything.

"Yes." Rebecca starts as she sits down. "He's stable enough for surgery. The doctor told Chris that it looked like part of his large intestines was clipped. He'll need a hell of a lot of stitches but he'll be okay. And he's incredibly lucky it wasn't anything vital." You sigh, feeling your body relax finally after hours of being tense.

"Thank God..." Jill rubs her forehead as she starts pacing the room, finally feeling some sliver of relief.

"But..." Rebecca starts again, looking between Jill and you. "He didn't wake up before surgery... It's up to him now."

What if he doesn't wake up for a while?

What if he's stuck in the hospital for months?

What if he never wakes up?

"Hey, hey, he's gonna be okay." Jill walks over noticing your lack of response. You sniff, starting to feel the tears fighting their way out. The past few hours are the most stressful ones of your life.

Sure you've dealt with loss before. Even the loss of a coworker, but not Leon...

Leon is different. He means too much to you.

Jill pulls you into a hug as Rebecca stands to rub softly up and down your back.

"You know he's gonna pull through. He's Leon." You laugh softly into Jill's shoulder as she makes her statement, she's not wrong though.

"It would take an atomic bomb to stop that man." Rebecca adds, leaning into your other side.

"It's just... It's different this time." Jill pulls away listening to you, wiping a few of your tears away with her thumb.

"What?" She looks at Rebecca who just shrugs in response, unsure of what exactly you meant.

"Is Chris okay?" You look up at Rebecca, changing the subject because you're not quite ready to discuss what happened yet.

"He's not still woozy from the emergency transfusion is he?" You ask, looking at Rebecca. She nods.

"He's still recovering a bit. But Claire is with him in the waiting room, shoving whatever vending machine food she can find into his mouth. Like some kind of... weird... mother bird or something."

"Of course she is." Jill, chuckled, looking back at Rebecca, smiling and happy to hear some good news.

"So, what's going on with you?" Jill turns back in your direction as Rebecca asks, gesturing towards your cast.

"Leg fracture, ankle fracture and spinal fracture... I'm gonna need some physical therapy in a few weeks but I should be perfectly fine. Other than a bit of nerve damage that still needs to be accessed fully after the spinal fracture heals..." Rebecca's brows drop, frowning.

"Permanent?" Nodding slowly, you saw her face change, she looked so disappointed and guilty. "You can't go back to the D.S.O. can you? No field work at least."

"Most likely no... Where the damage is... It's gonna make my legs numb randomly. And we all know once we get a permanent injury... we're done."

"Oh God." She took your hand in hers, clutching it tight. "I'm gonna miss the hell out of working together when we did."

"It's not like she's going away forever, Rebecca. You'll still be doing desk work, right?" Jill looks optimistic for once, you stay quiet for the time being.

This could be your chance to finally get out of that cesspool of a career. Something you've thought about for years now.

"I think... I should retire." They both stare at you, mouth a gap. Out of all of you in the group, they never expected you to retire first. Especially with how much of a workaholic you were.

"That's... probably for the best." Rebecca squeezes your hand, trying to be supportive, but you can tell this choice is killing her.

"This won't hurt our friendships, right?" You look at Jill, she honestly just looks annoyed yet sad at the same time.

"Of course not."

You all know you will, in some way, hardly get to see each other, as is from everyone's busy schedule. But now you can make time for each other at least.

Hopefully.

"I think I should be getting back to Tweedledee and Tweedledum." Rebecca gives you a tight squeeze of the side looking over at Jill. "I'll be in the waiting room. If I find out anything I'll comeback."

She gives you one last rub of the back, leaving the hospital room with a quick goodbye. Once the door closes, Jill pulls the chair up next to your bed, closer, having a seat.

"Are we on speaking terms now? Or was it a truce for Rebecca's sake?"

"I'll talk." You sigh, earning a smug look from Jill.

"How is this time different?"

Of course, she asks that first. Jill's never one to beat around the bush.

What's the big deal? Just say it, she's gonna know eventually...

"I told him I love him." You say it, looking into her eyes as they blow wide.

Her jaw drops. A broken string of words came out. Unable to make a complete sentence, she shuts her mouth. Looking so lost and worried. She blinks, slumping back against the chair.

"No wonder you fought me so hard..."

Thinking back to her unlatching you from the doorway, the stairwell railing and even trying to grab a standing desk at one point. She got so annoyed with your actions when she was just trying to help.

Screaming, beating on her back weakly as she carried you all the way back to the radio room they set up where you eventually passed out due to exhaustion and woke up as the evac helicopter was landing at the hospital.

Looking back now, you feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but could you really blame yourself?

But it all made sense to her now as the guilt seeped in.

"God, if I had known-"

"Don't." She looks up at you, your eyes starting to fill with tears as you let out a broken whine, sniffling against your hospital gown collar as you wipe your eyes.

"But, I could have-"

"You did the right thing," You assert, cutting her off again. Her eyes still looking at the floor with guilt. "If he would have died on that table we both know I wouldn't have been leaving."

Jill just glances up at you, nodding and rubbing her temples.

"He said it back too."

"Oh- Oh my God." She smiles, looking almost relieved and excited. "He did? Leon Kennedy? The man known for being emotionally constipated?"

You laugh, continuing to wipe your eyes and nod with a shaky breath.

"And uhh..." You breathe out, taking a moment to gather your words. Jill leans forward, putting a hand on yours.

"Take your time."

"Thank you." You sniff again, looking back at her, the heat in your body rising as you remember the conversation again.

"He asked me if we could have had a family together. So I told him if he held on I'd give one to him. And he wanted that... With me. Me, Jill!" You smile. The tears starting to overflow again. "He wants me... I never thought he actually would."

"I know. Everyone thought one of you would die before saying something to each other." She jokes, getting you to chuckle somewhat.

"But I guess we were wrong. It was a near death."

"I don't want to lose him... I wanna give him what he wants, what we both want." Starting to cry harder, Jill gets out of the chair.

"He's gonna pull through. He has to. I'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

"What're you gonna beat up a man in a coma?" Your body jiggles as you laugh, smiling finally after what feels like an eternity.

"Maybe, maybe not."

Laying back against your pillows, you stare at the ceiling and wonder, what's going to happen in the next few days?

"I know I'm probably gonna be here for a little while," you started, lifting your head from the uncomfortable hospital pillow, "but do you think they'll let me see him?"

"Why wouldn't they?" She looks almost confused? What could stop you from seeing him?

"He's in a private room. Which means only people on his contact list can visit... His only person is our boss."

"Hun, don't worry, I'll fix it. Okay?" Your brows wrinkle looking at her.

How the hell are you gonna fix this?

"Okay..." You can't help but feel lost but you take Jill for her word when a knock comes at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt." A nurse steps in through the door. "But it's 7:45... Visiting hours are over in 15 minutes."

Jill nods to the nurse as she walks back out, closing the door.

"Listen." Jill speaks before you can say anything at all. "I'll fix it. So don't worry your pretty little head about anything, okay?"

You take a shaky breath, nodding as she leans in hugging you tightly.

"I'll try to come see you once you're back in DC. I can't promise anything but I can try." You nod again, just not feeling the need to say anything.

"I love you, remember that."

"Love you too." You wave as Jill exits the room, leaving you alone again.

Alone...

You'll be here alone. He'll be in his room alone.

Everyone's gonna go back to work tomorrow like normal, act like nothing happened whatsoever, and I'm stuck here... He's stuck here without anyone else.

He has no blood family.

We're his family...

The D.S.O. is his "family", if he can even bother to call them that...

You lay in your bed staring at the ceiling, closing your eyes, trying to let sleep consume you and your exhausted body.

....

"Miss?" Your eyes shoot open, gasping, you jump, looking around the dimly lit hospital room. The nurse from before next to your bedside jumps as you startled her as well.

I'm so out of it, I didn't even hear her come in...

"Yes?" Your voice sounds oddly normal again, minus the grogginess.

"Mr. Kennedy is out of surgery and recovering. He should be in his room again in about 10 minutes." You claw at the rail of your bed, eyes widen in surprise.

Already!?

"Is he okay?" The nurse nodded with a kind smile.

"The surgery went well. He's gonna recover just fine." The pure bliss that fills you is nothing compared to almost anything you've felt before.

"Is he awake?" The nurse's face falls with a shake of her head.

"I'm sorry, no..."

Of course not...

"Would you like me to get you a wheelchair to go see him once he's back in his room?"

They're offering...?

"Yes, yes, I would love that. Thank you."

The nurse nods, leaving your room. You look at the ceiling, smiling and feel a little bit better than you did before. Turning your head, you look at your bedside table, seeing your phone, the familiar green light of a message blinking from the black screen.

Picking it up, you turn the screen on by swiping your code through and look at the time.

12:35am. You fell asleep.

Swiping down, you see a series of texts from Jill.

'I swear this hospital is run by jackasses.' 7:57pm

'I'm talking to someone finally.' 8:13pm

'You know I hate doing it but I'm about to wave my badge around for you.' 8:42pm

'It's fixed. You're welcome <3' 9:07pm

"Jill Valentine, you're a God damn miracle worker." You squeeze your phone in excitement as you start replying.

'I owe you my life, call me later <3' 12:37am

You sit back in bed shutting your phone off and setting it back down on the table. You feel so nervous.

The 10 minutes drag by right as a nurse comes in with a wheelchair for you. Putting the railing down, she helps you out of bed and into the chair, putting your cast-covered leg up on the footrest.

Moving backwards out of the room, the bright florescent lights of the hallway blind you, a pained hiss slipping from your lips. The nurse pushing you chuckles as she wheels you to the elevator.

"Oh, I should inform you." You look up at her as she pushes the call button with a smile.

"We're gonna be moving you upstairs next to your fiance in the morning. Just thought you should know."

Fiance... Don't question Jill's methods.

Knowing what Jill did now, you just nod going along with it.

"Thank you, that is very helpful. I don't want to leave his side as much as possible..."

"Oh, understandable. You must be going through so much with him right now. I can only imagine."

You don't know half of it.

The elevator opens, you're pushed inside and the nurse pushes the floor button.

"So, how did you two meet?" The nurse asks. You look over your shoulder at her.

"Work. I was placed with him because I was experienced in our line of work. Apparently, every other person he was paired with couldn't handle him."

"And I'm guessing you could?" She chuckles, making you smile.

"Well, we've been together since November of 2013, so I'd assume yes." She laughs again.

"Who asked who out?" You froze, thinking of something quickly.

"Well, we kind of just told each other how we felt and it just happened." She nods slowly, the elevator dinging.

You're pulled back out of the elevator and start down a dim hallway. This floor looks a lot quieter and well kept.

The nurse pushes you past rooms, stopping in front of a corner room with the number 10 on it. Opening the door, she pushes you inside, seeing the curtain drawn around the bed in the room.

The nurse stops you at the bedside looking at you again.

"I'm just going to warn you. He looks like he's asleep, it's gonna be odd with everything he's hooked up to right now, but if he stays stable for a day most of it will come off."

You nod as she pulls the curtain back, revealing Leon.

Tubes... And wires. So many tubes and wires.

Your jaw drops and brows knit. His hands lay at his side and he looked like he was asleep.

You've seen what he looks like, knocked out, asleep, passed out. But this time it doesn't feel right...

Looking over him you see the bags under his eyes look lighter at least.

Feeding tube through the nose, heart monitor, IV, a ventilator and a stomach compression band across his abdomen.

He looks so vulnerable... Not at all like Leon, you know.

Taking his hand in yours, you just stare at him, letting the sight of him sink in.

At least he's alive.

"So, the ventilator should come off once the anesthetic is out of his system. It's just a precaution." The nurse comments, walking over to his bedside table, picking up a small stack of pamphlets and handing them to you.

"Thank you..." You look at them reading the titles quickly.

How to help wake up a coma patient.

My partner is in a coma.

Coma Recovery and what to expect.

"I know it's a lot right now." The nurse started, putting a hand on your shoulder. "But with his health and how well it was before hand, I'm sure he'll be up and be a pain in no time."

You smile at her, feeling thankful for such a wonderful angel of a woman at nearly 2am.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it. Feel free to talk to him, every little bit helps. And when you're ready to rock and roll out of here, just hit the call button and I'll come get you."

The nurse leaves with her final words, shutting the door as you turn looking at Leon.

Leaning towards him, you take a deep breath in.

"Hey Dumbass..." You stare at him, interlocking your fingers with his limp ones.

"This is the part where you're supposed to say 'Hey Shithead' back to me... Like normal, y'know?" Patting the back of his hand, you nod.

"Yeah I know, this hospital room..." You look around whistling softly as you look back at his face. "You'd be bitching about how over the top it is for a hospital room... I just know you would."

Sitting back in the wheelchair, you hold his hand tighter, leaning into it.

"You... I hope you can hear me. Cause I just..."

You look up at his face, feeling too uncomfortable. It's hard to almost look at him.

So many tubes and wires! What would he do to break the tension right now?

"Wanna hear a joke about paper?"

He doesn't respond.

"Never mind. It's tearable..."

Fighting the urge to look away, you lean closer again. Just needing to get what you need to say out.

"Look, I know I'm not mushy or soft usually but..."

You swallow your fears by gripping his hand for dear life.

"I need you."

He doesn't respond.

This starts to feel hopeless, but you remember.

At least he's still alive...

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil x reader

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boldlyvoid · 1 year ago

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What To Expect | Part Eight: Homecoming

Summary: one by one, each baby comes home to their forever family

Warnings: lots of postpartum medical talk, post-C-Section care, NICU talk, surgery recovery, Postpartum depression mentioned, hard time dealing with separation while babies in NICU. lots of crying, happy ending

A/N: after over a year i'm finially finishing this fic!! hope you all like it

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

It’s weird being sad on Christmas, but she was.

Then she was sad on New Year's Eve, wishing she was kissing each baby's head as the clock struck 12… but visiting hours ended at 10 so the parents could try to get some sleep before the next visit at 8am. And she didn’t even sleep! She pumped and cried on and off until she passed out for a few hours, only to wake up and be allowed back in the hospital to do it all over again. And again. And again.

It’s been 6 weeks now. 42 days. It felt never-ending.

Her mom was still visiting and was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room, but her mom could hear Y/N sniffle through the wall while she cried in the baby room. She thought she would let Spencer get some sleep for once and went to their kid's room to fold clothes and organize for the next few days. She brings a change of clothes for the bigger two, Wren is still too small to fit in anything, and she loves dressing them because it’s another thing she can do. That makes 4 things. She feeds them, she changes them and she dresses them, she holds them. Everything else was done by nurses and tubes and machines…

Until today. In just a few hours, god willing, Axel would complete his 24 hours of bottle feeds and he’d be able to come home. Esmay is just a few days away from attempting the same challenge and then Wren… she was going to need at least another 3 weeks. She just started to gain weight, and she’s still not taking the bottle or the nipple when Y/N attempts it.

It's breaking her heart to separate them, as much as she loves the idea of having Axel home… They slept better when they were close, they held hands when she held them at the same time, they stopped crying when the other was close… they had a bond she would never understand and now she had to separate them. It’s so sad to think about that she can’t stop crying as she searches the drawers for something cute for tomorrow.

Her mom walked into the room quietly with a soft smile plastered on her face, she didn’t know what she was walking into, “Hey, sweet pea.”

“Hey,” she whispers, looking up at her mom with tear-stained cheeks and a onesie held to her chest. “I’m figuring out what to bring Axel home in tomorrow.”

“Is he coming home tomorrow?”

She shrugs, “he’s so close to coming home. Every day he gets so close and then it's like he takes a random step back? He went on a food strike the other night, so we had to restart his bottle feeding test again… if I call at 7 and he’s completed his 24 hours then all he has left is the car seat test.”

“Where he has to sit, safely for an hour without a problem?” Her mom remembers when Spencer explained it all the first time Axel failed his bottle test.

She nods, “I think he can do it this time. He’s over 6 pounds now, he’s stronger than ever, he’s coming home soon.”

Her mom takes a seat beside her on the carpeted floor and looks at the outfit choices. “It’s still super cold out, but he’ll need to be safe in the car seat so no coat… this is cute?” It’s a green onesie with pink butterflies, and it made her smile.

It included his sister's colours and symbolized how he was growing, he wasn’t just her wiggly worm anymore, he was a full-grown butterfly ready to fly home. She started crying again just thinking about it…

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think you need to talk to your doctor,” her mom whispered. “Grieving the newborn stage and not getting time with your own babies was bound to be hard, but you’re suffering, honey. You need some help. You need to sleep, you’re not eating, you’re barely producing milk anymore… you’re suffering. I can’t tip-toe around it anymore, Spencer was supposed to talk to you about it but he’s scared. We’re all so scared, honey. You need some help.”

She lets her mom hold her like she did when she was a little girl, she cries so hard barely any noise comes out. Her mom just rubs her back and lets her get to where she needs to be in her grief. She needs this. “I-It just feels like it’ll never end… this has been the worst 6 weeks of my life.”

“Did I ever tell you about your colic?” She whispers, petting her head now, soothing her by rocking gently back and forth on the carpet. “You cried for 4 months straight. I couldn’t soothe you, nothing helped, you were just sad… sadder than this, and I just listened and cried with you.”

“I would lose my mind,” she laughs and wipes her tears. “I’m sorry for that, mom.”

She chuckles, “It was awful. I didn’t know how long it would last or if it would ever stop, and it also felt never-ending… but then one day you giggled. You were quiet for once and I cried with tears of joy and snorted on my own mucus and then you laughed at me. With the same lungs that cried for 4 months, you released this deep belly laugh for the first time ever and finally, the worst part of our life together was over.”

“Just like that?” She sniffled, getting the point she was making.

“Just like that. It’s crazy how fast time flies by, but the good thing is that very soon this sadness will be a memory, one you’ll look back on and say ‘I can’t believe I did that?’ Because it’ll feel like such a faraway memory.”

“Thank you,” she hugs her mother tightly. “I’m so glad to have you here for this.”

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else, honey.”

—

He passes the car seat test, they load him up and they take him home. They spend 3 hours with him, she feeds him she changes him and then he has a nap just in time for her to head back to the hospital to watch the other two nap. They kept him on the same schedule as his sisters at the hospital and they’ll do the same when the girls come home. It’ll be easier this way.

He lets Y/N take mostly all of the hospital shifts, the only time he goes in is first thing in the morning. Y/N’s mom watches the baby, Y/N sleeps a little longer and Spencer gets his alone time with the girls. It’s lovely. He enjoys reading to the girls in their beds until they fall asleep and then he heads home to his son just in time for his next feed.

He finds them in the bedroom when he gets home. She’s holding Axel and he can tell she felt bad for being just as happy as Spencer was. He could see the way it was eating away at her every time she held Axel, every time she looks at him her smile slowly turns to sadness when she realized the other two weren’t home.

She doesn’t even notice he’s home until he’s sitting down on the bed beside her.

“Can I have him?” Spencer asks, extending his arms, she nods and slowly hands over the swaddled-up little baby. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she presses her lips together in a tight-lipped smile. “Um, are you still okay to stay home with him for the rest of the day while I’m at the hospital?”

He nods, “your mom is just down the hall,” he reminds her with a smile. “I’m sure someone will want to come over and hold him at some point.”

“Colin wants to come over soon,” she reminds him. “I think him and Penelope should come together cause then they’ll do all the cooking and we can just chill with the babies.”

“You think Esmay’s coming home next?”

She shrugs, “She’s still not eating from the bottle. Wren might even be home before her.”

“She has her ultrasound on Friday, can you double-check that we can bring Axel with us so we can both go? I forgot to ask,” Spencer shakes his head, he can't believe he’s forgetting things now, but the sleep deprivation was catching up to him.

She nods, “of course, I think the nurses would like to see him again, anyway.”

“It must be weird for them, getting to love and support so many little babies every day and then never really seeing them again once they’re cleared to go home?” He ponders.

“I would have a hard time with that, it’s different when you get to hold the people you’re taking care of, unlike just talking to them on the phone like I do,” Y/N explains. “Like that case, we did together still haunts me, I hugged them all, and I will think about them till the day I stop existing.”

“It’s really hard,” he agrees. “Saving someone and having them run into your arms just to never know how they end up is weird… some send us letters and updates over the years, but others act like it never happened and move on entirely.”

“I kinda want to do that when they’re all home,” she admits, tears welling in her eyes, “I don’t want to talk about it or think about it… I’m just going to pretend I had all 3 of them here with me the whole time.”

“I want you to talk to a therapist,” he whispers, cradling Axel a little closer. “You need someone to tell your struggles to, I get not wanting to relive it here, but you have to get it out, baby.”

“I know,” she cries, covering her face as she starts to sob. “It’s so unfair, I hate feeling like this, Spence. I can’t do it anymore, I want them home, I want to just stay here all day and never leave again. I can’t keep going there and coming home alone every single day.”

He knew she didn’t mean alone as in she came home to no one, she had him, her mom, his mom, and all their friends and now, they had 1 baby home. He was safe, healthy, beautiful and 100% theirs. She just meant leaving them there while she drove home alone, that was what hurt.

“I know, love, it’s okay.”

“What if you asked the nurses if you could do some more breastfeedings with Esmay? She might feed more if it’s from you and then if she does well, ask to stay the full 24 hours to help her pass the test,” Spencer planned rather quickly. “They want her to come home just as bad as you do.”

She nods, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, “that’s a good idea. You’d be okay with that?”

He nods, “We have your milk in the fridge here, I know how to do this, we can have some father-son bonding time.”

“You’re so cute with him,” she swoons and takes out her cellphone to take a few photos for memory's sake, “you’re the best dad.”

“And you’re the best mom,” he reminds her after a few photos, looking into her eyes with all the truth in the world. “Our girls will be home soon, and when they’re all here it’ll be okay. They’re going to grow up knowing you love them more than anything in the world and you were willing to go through hell and back for them. Suffering like this for them, it’s what makes you the best mom. You’re a fucking warrior.”

“Hey,” she reaches over and covers Axel’s ears. “Thank you, but he doesn’t need to hear that.”

Spencer smiles, leaning in he presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, more.”

—

She left shortly after that, in their new minivan Spencer bought 3 days after she was out of the hospital. It was fully equipped to take his family on safe trips, two of the car seats were buckled into the back, ready for whenever their girls were able to come home too. The third was in the front hall, waiting for Axel's next trip outside.

Spencer sat in bed with Axel resting on the nursing pillow in front of him, an empty bottle discarded beside them, along with some dirty burp cloths. His eyes slowly started to close, he was so relaxed and full, Spencer kept rubbing his little tummy and whispering sweet nothings to him, helping him drift off to sleep.

“There you go buddy, you must be so full now… you can have the best nap with your full tummy and when you wake up we’ll snuggle and have some more food…” Spencer whispers, smiling away, he’s so happy.

This is everything he ever wanted.

His phone lights up on the bed beside him, displaying a message over the most beautiful wallpaper he’s ever had. He just admires the photo, the love of his life holding their three kids on her chest at the same time, he loved them all so much.

Y/N: we’ve just finished bottle number six with Esmay, she’s officially taken 90% of her feeds today!! 3 with me!!!! The feeding tube comes out tonight at midnight, before her last 2 feeds and if she eats them all then she can come home… I did not see this coming today. Also: Axel can come with us to her appointment on Friday, and by the looks of things, Esmay can come too!!

Spencer: that’s amazing baby!! I just finished a bottle with Axel, he’s having a nap right now, I can’t wait to see you later <3 give the girls a kiss for me? I love you.

Y/N: and Dr. Wade said that Wren is doing great, if her chest ultrasound goes well she might be able to start the process come home by Monday. This is wild Spence!

He wipes a stray tear from his cheek after reading that one. He was so proud of his little family, this was such a big moment. All 3 of them would be home before they even reached her original due date. Just like he assumed. After almost 7 weeks in the NICU, they’d all be home soon.

That was a lot to think about.

Because once they were all home, he was asking their mom to marry him.

It’s earlier than he wanted to do it, originally… but he needed to do it. He needs her to know how much he loves her and how badly he wants to love her for the rest of his life.

—

They don’t sleep the first night that Esmay is home, too.

Two of their three newborn cots were occupied, both babies were sleeping soundly, all swaddled and content while their parents couldn’t stop staring at them. It was surreal. They were both over 5 pounds now, much, much bigger than when they were born but still tiny. Axel was 6 pounds when he left the hospital and since then he’s gone down a few ounces which is normal cause he’s on regular breast milk all day and only has a bottle mixed with formula twice a day for extra calories.

He doesn’t look like either of them yet, neither does Esmay. They’re still too skinny and tiny but that’ll change. In a few months they’ll each have different features and little personalities…

“I can’t believe it,” she whispers.

“I know,” he shakes his head, staring at their babies. “We’re going to be so tired tomorrow…”

She laughs, “Yeah, but it’ll be fine. Maybe mom can drive us.”

“Yeah,” he likes the sound of that plan. Wren has her ultrasound tomorrow. She’s the middle child and yet she’ll be the last one home. “they’re all going to be home soon.”

She laughs again, tired as hell and so, so happy. “We're really not going to sleep then.”

“It’ll get better,” he assures. “Once we get the schedule down and they switch from 3-hour intervals to 5, it’ll be better.”

She leans over and rests her head on his shoulder and wraps her arm around his back, “it’ll be amazing to get to watch them all sleep here, together.”

“To watch them do everything here, together,” he corrects. “First laughs, first words, first steps. To teach them how to ride bikes and maybe we’ll do swim lessons over at Dave’s cause we already know they like the pool—

“Not funny,” she shoves him.

“They were supposed to be Aquarius’s so them loving water makes sense,” he teases again.

“Unfortunately they’re Sagittarius’s like your boss,” she reminds him. “Maybe they’ll be stoic and handsome.”

“Funny,” he shakes his head. “They might also be adventurous, risk-takers or incredibly emotionally intelligent.”

“They’ll be one of each,” she says with a sigh. “Axel is the risk-taker, Esmay will be adventurous and Wren, given the trauma, she’ll probably end up the emotionally intelligent one.”

“She’s also the oldest girl,” he reminds her. “She’ll be like us.”

“We won’t put that kind of pressure on her,” Y/N says, looking at him with the most serious look on her face. “She’s going to be free and innocent and happy as long as humanly possible. They all will.”

He nods, “And with me leaving the bureau—

“You’re leaving?” She can’t believe it.

“For the time being…”

“Why?”

“You’ll want to go back to work at some point, I don’t want to get hurt and leave you with them or bring work home and lose one of you… so I’m going to stay home. I’m going to raise my babies and make sure they have a dad for their whole lives. I love them too much to leave again, even just for work,” he explains.

She cups his face and brings him in for a kiss, a deep one at that. “I love you,” she whispers. “That’s all i’ve ever wanted for my kids.”

“Me too,” he smiles back at her. “Me too.”

—

Wrens ultrasound goes remarkably well. The nurses love seeing the other two babies once again. They all get a little check-up while they’re there and everyone is doing perfect. Wren especially. She’s getting so strong, she’s making so much progress but she doesn’t like taking the bottle yet. Just like the other two, having a feeding tube gets convenient and nursing is hard when they’re not used to that kind of movement yet. She also might have a tongue-tie.

The best part of the appointment, however, is putting Axel and Esmay in her incubator beside her and watching them all snuggle and coo. They’re content, happy to be back together the way they were for 32 short weeks. It’s the cutest thing to see.

And Dr. Wade loves to see it too. “In a week, I think they’ll all be home.”

“Really?” She lights right up.

He nods, “your kids are quick learners. We just have to get her used to the bottle or breastfeeding. Her weights good, she’s breathing perfectly and her incision is all healed up. She’s doing great.”

“They get that from their dad,” she compliments, tearing up a bit. Spencer steps in closer to her, hand on her shoulder.

“And their resiliency from their mom,” he compliments right back.

“You two are so cute,” the nurse in the corner compliments. “It’s hard to believe you’re not married.”

“Soon,” Spencer assures. “You’re all welcome to come to the wedding.”

—

Dr. Wade was right. It only takes Wren a week to pass her 24-hour bottle test and she’s such a champ with the car seat test. And by 8 weeks postpartum, all their babies are home.

But as soon as they’re all home, Mom has to go to the doctor.

But that’s okay cause Y/N’s 8-week post-op appointment is also the perfect time for Spencer to slip the kids into their special onesies for popping the big question.

He waited until their nap time, he carefully put Axel into a shirt that say “you” Esmay has the word “marry” and Wren has “daddy?” Leaving him with the first word, “Will” and Y/N clocks it the moment she walks through the front door.

“Why are you wearing a shirt that says ‘Will’ on it? Did you loose a bet to him or something?”

“Nope, you’ll find out in a minute,” he smirks, letting her inside and closing the door behind her.

“Okay… you’re being so weird. Weirder than normal,” she teases.

He takes her purse and helps her out of her shoes and coat, still treating her like she was recovering from the C-section when really, he just loved to take care of her.

“Where are the kids?”

“Asleep. Come with me,” he takes her hand, she’s shocked they’re asleep all at the same time and in the same room, but she follows him anyway.

Up the stairs and into their bedroom, she hovers over their cribs and smiles and then she sees it. Each baby has something written on their onesies too. Spencer stands beside Axel’s crib, showing her that he’s the first word in the sentence.

Her jaw drops and she stills, holding in the scream she wants to let out, she can’t believe it’s finally happening. She covers her mouth and turns to Spencer, who’s already down on one knee holding a small felt box in his hand. “So… What do you say?”

“Yes!” She whispers when really she wants to scream. She tugs him up to his feet and wraps her arms around him. “Oh my god,” she starts to cry. “Yes, holy shit, yes, Spence!”

He hugs her back, crying into her shoulder, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she says as she pulls back to look down at the ring. “This is real?”

“This is all real,” he assures. “We have 3 babies, a beautiful house, and now each other.”

He takes the ring from the box and slips it onto her ring finger. “Everything we’ve ever wanted…”

“and then some,” he smirks. “Forever.”

She nods, so in love with him. “Forever.”

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ariadnelives · 7 months ago

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Dokkaebi Fire - A Short Story

Author's Note: The bulk of this story takes place during the events of "Force Majeure," directly between chapters 8 and 9, during the crew's time in hiding in Xiagu. It is not intended to be read in sequence. If you'd like to catch up on the series so far, you can do so on ao3 or tumblr.

“Cookie?” Pilar called into the flat as she entered, not waiting to be let in. “It's me today. Ariadne's making final preparations for her surgery tomorrow, but she'll be by as soon as she's back on her feet.”

Aoibheann sat on the armchair in the living room, pointed at the television which appeared to be carrying a local news broadcast from one of Saturn's other moons. She had a blanket draped over her lap, and she watched the news broadcast idly, taking in none of it.

“Remember, starting tomorrow, Ariadne won't remember anything beyond the six-month point in our stay here, and we have to keep it that way, so, be careful what you say around her.” Pilar laughed without joy.

Aoibheann did not.

“You know,” Pilar tacked on, “I'm a complete liar. You could dime out the whole plan and I'm pretty sure me and Ari would absolutely leap for joy as long as it meant you were talking again.”

Aoibheann glanced over at Pilar wistfully, dark circles under her eyes, but said nothing. These little responses indicated their old friend could still hear them in there, that they could get through to her, even if she couldn't muster the strength to respond. She'd barely spoken since they lost the station. She was usually a tightly-wound powder keg, full of fire and passion, and she had to direct it towards her purpose or else she’d explode. Now, it was like all that fire inside her had gone out, and all that was left of her was an exhausted shell of a woman.

She seemed able to move around on her own, but rarely found the motivation to do so. She had grown somewhat thin and gaunt, as she only ate when fed, so every day, Pilar or Ariadne or one of her apprentices would stop by to see her and make sure she ate. Sasha had been spreading herself far too thin on Ariadne's project, but still found time to check in on her and monitor her physical health. Her apprentices had removed all sharp objects, belts, and shoelaces from the premises, but Pilar thought that was overkill. She had known Aoibheann long enough to know she would never physically harm herself. Still, it didn't make it easy to watch her torture herself like this.

Pilar sat next to her, and gently took her hand.

“I hate having to feed you this stuff, Cookie,” she said, opening up a small gray package she'd brought with her. “Replicated MREs. No wonder Baltimore and Beam went to a convenience store twice a week when they were in the army.”

Aoibheann looked with disdain at the lump of meat before her, served with a mush that could only be described as “prepared grain.” She hated eating it as much as Pilar hated serving it to her.

In their small hidden town of Xiagu, all of the food came out of the replicators. Xiagu had a surplus of energy, with its passive solar collection and years of nobody to use the stored power, so nobody was worried about the expenditure of creating food and water from reserves.

Back on the station, they had only managed to earmark power for replicator use two years previously. Like most spacecraft, all of the water fixtures were powered by replicators, generating as much water as needed from a stored bank of energy, which was in turn refilled by a device in the drains which converted waste-water into energy. The food replicator could make prepared meals, but crew members would only be allowed to use it if they could make up the energy cost. This happened pretty naturally, as everybody had to use the bathroom regularly and could credit this to their account, and had the handy benefit of encouraging people to clean up after themselves-- every time you emptied your trash into the energy-reclamation chute, you added replicator energy to your canteen account.

However, back home, most people didn't bother to use the replicators, because truly, Cookie's food was better fresh than anything they could produce, and she loved making it. Here in Xiagu, however, the replicators had nothing but military-grade “Meals Ready to Eat” and raw ingredients programmed into them. When the town was alive, there had been gardens to produce the vegetables, and people to tend them, harvest them, and cook them in the many small restaurants. Now, all that was left was replicators.

Cookie's star apprentice, Yellow, had been put in charge of the replicators while Cookie was indisposed, and had very few requests for anything other than the prepared MREs since they'd been there. Everyone on the crew was required to learn to cook, from Cookie, and nobody particularly felt up to trying to fill her shoes. Everyone had pretty much accepted meals of nondescript lumps of meat, vegetables, and starches on the firm belief that any day now, Cookie would be back on her feet, doing what she loved.

Yellow was the one in charge of food distribution, and had desperately been asking Ariadne to authorize them to reopen Cookie's kitchen, with her at the helm, until Cookie was well enough to resume her post. It's what Cookie would want, she insisted, but Ariadne was taking Cookie's condition unusually poorly, and had refused to allow the kitchen to operate without Cookie present. Yellow was frustrated, but understood. Nobody would feel right about having communal meals like before without Cookie.

Pilar carefully cut up the packaged meal and fed bites to Cookie, who halfheartedly complied with each bite. She offered her a cup of tea, which Cookie held for warmth but wouldn't drink without prompting.

“Look, Aoibheann...” Pilar said, “I know you're not well. I know this has been harder on you than anyone.”

Cookie met her gaze.

“But I don't...” Pilar began, and choked. “I don't think Ariadne will go through with this with you in this condition. She cares about you too much. You know what you mean to her. To me. She's not going to put herself at risk until she knows you're okay.”

Aoibheann looked downcast.

“She needs you,” Pilar whispered. “I need you. Please come back to us.”

****

Aoibheann's mind drifted back to when she’d met Ariadne and Pilar, thirteen years previously. She had been living on the streets for two years and had only passing contact with Pilar. She had been homeless since the Hanguk-Éire massacre, when Susan Weaver’s bombs had incinerated her family’s house and restaurant, left her and her mother destitute, and claimed her father’s life. Her mother had turned to drugs to cope with the loss, and ultimately found herself bleeding out in the gutter after an altercation with a pusher who she couldn’t pay for her latest fix.

She had distrusted the new girl at first. In her experience, another new person living under the overpass was another person who might get to the good scraps before her. She didn’t need any more competition. There was, however, a certain unspoken respect between her and the Aguilar girls. They were the only kids living on the streets of that particular block, and they had to look out for one another. They didn’t talk much, but they had struck up an arrangement. Pilar needed to go foraging to keep Sasha fed, and knowing that she would have to dig through trash bins and steal from loosely-guarded shops to make this happen, she felt it was too dangerous to bring her nine-year-old sister along with her.

So, she struck up an arrangement with Aoibheann: if she kept Sasha safe while she went out on runs, Pilar would try and steal a little extra food so Aoibheann could eat as well. Pilar and Sasha had been squatting in an abandoned house on a nearby side-street, and Aoibheann could crash there in exchange for keeping an eye on Sasha. It was shelter, and food, and it was a better deal than she was getting anywhere else. Under normal circumstances, Aoibheann would’ve developed a mighty crush on Pilar, but crushes were the sorts of things normal girls got to have. Aoibheann needed to focus on staying alive.

The new girl had been Racquel when they met. She had been raving about how the world was going to end, a secret conspiracy to reign atomic hellfire onto the bio-domes. It was the standard fare of the doomsaying lunatic, so nobody paid her much mind, but she’d named Ramos and Ramos specifically in her raving, and that caught Pilar’s attention. Nobody hated the Ramoses like Pilar, although Aoibheann didn’t yet know why.

So, Pilar and Racquel started going out on runs together. Suddenly, they were bringing back more than enough food, not only for the four of them, but they even got to share it with the others under the bridge. One day, they came home clean, wearing fresh clothes, and carrying a bundle of new clothes under their arm. They told her that Racquel’s name was Ariadne now, and that they would be needing her help a lot more often. They’d found some sort of mentor, who would “get them out of here,” but they’d need to spend hours, even days, with her at a time.

Aoibheann wasn’t a fool. She knew that if they succeeded in getting out of here, that she would be left behind. She couldn’t, however, risk being thrown out on the street. She’d watch Sasha and crash on the floor of this abandoned townhouse as long as they’d let her.

Sasha seemed like such a little kid then, although Aoibheann knew on a logical level that she was only three years older.

“If you could be anything in the world when you grow up,” Sasha had asked her one day, while the other girls had been away at their mysterious mentor’s for a few days, “what would you be?”

“I’m just trying to grow up,” Aoibheann said, “if I can make it that far, I’ll see what I can get.”

Sasha scrunched her nose. “You’re not playing the game right.”

“I’m being realistic,” Aoibheann said.

Sasha breezed past this. “I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

Aoibheann considered pointing out that Sasha had a third-grade education and no money, but thought better of it, and instead just sighed. “Well, it’d be a crying shame if you starved to death before then,” she said. “Let’s see what your sister left us.”

Aoibheann looked at the handful of scraps Pilar had left on the table. Pilar had stolen them an entire rotisserie chicken, which Aoibheann had admonished her for-- the abandoned house did not have a working refrigerator, she pointed out, so she’d have to use the meats straightaway or they would quickly spoil and attract flies-- and several cans of diced white potatoes, which Pilar figured would keep Sasha’s stomach full, but Aoibheann pointed out had very little nutritional value. This was, of course, in addition to the six chocolate bars Pilar had, being thirteen years old, been sure to nab on her little excursion.

Aoibheann had nothing in the way of seasonings, except for a variety of salt and pepper packets she’d taken from a loosely-supervised outdoor seating area at a nearby restaurant, as well as, on one extremely lucky day, three sets of cheap silverware and a bottle of hot sauce.

She did, however, have access to a small metal trash can with a lid, water from a neighbor’s hose spigot-- Aoibheann felt bad about this, because water was so tightly regulated on Mars and the owner would surely be steeply charged for the waste, but this was a low priority compared to their survival-- and an old gas stove that the new girl had rigged up to illegally supply them with heat.

Aoibheann had cut the meat off the bones of the rotisserie chicken and plopped the bones into the cold water with all the fat and gristle, and opened up a few of the salt packets into the mixture. She put it on the stove and let it heat up to a boil, then turned down the gas and watched as the mixture turned a translucent yellow. She eventually fished out the bones with her knife, and dumped all the potatoes, and the meat from the chicken, into the broth.

After it had stewed for a while, Aoibheann took a taste. It was thin, watery, and somewhat bland, but it would do for the time being. Using the now-empty potato cans, she scooped out two servings of soup and handed one to Sasha.

“Now, we just have to keep it just hot enough,” Aoibheann said, “and it won’t go bad. We’ll be able to eat this until your sister gets back.”

Sasha took a taste. “It’s…” she had been taught, if she had nothing nice to say, to say nothing at all, so she didn’t finish her sentence. Aoibheann had spent enough time with her to know what she meant.

“It’s a tick bland like this,” Aoibheann shrugged, passing her the hot sauce. “Give it a dash of this, it’ll be a sight better.”

Sasha complied, tasted it, and her face made it clear that while it was in fact a sight better, it still wasn’t quite tasty.

“My mom used to make potatoes with a cheesy sauce,” Sasha said sadly. “They were really spicy. Pilar’s favorite food.”

“My dad was more of a cabbage man,” Aoibheann said. “My mom handled the meats, him the veggies. Hanguk-Éire cuisine is… all about things coming together in the pot.”

Sasha added a little more hot sauce to her soup.

“I wanted to be a cook,” Aoibheann said. “Like my folks, before, all this. My dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. And so on and so on, all the way back to our homelands.”

“You could still be a cook,” Sasha said, eyeing her soup. “...someday.”

“Well, we’ll have to get your sister to scrounge us up some quality ingredients, then, won’t we?” Aoibheann said.

The two of them finished their soup, and Aoibheann noted that it was getting late, and insisted that Sasha go to bed. Sasha refused without a story, and Aoibheann tossed back a “tough titties” which was met with an infuriatingly irresistible pout.

“FINE,” Aoibheann groaned, and improvised a story.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom,” Aoibheann began. This was how all her stories began, they all took place in this kingdom. “The kingdom, you see, had been through every horror you could put a kingdom through. It had been invaded. It had been burned. It had been taken over and torn in half and put back together again more times than you could count. Every evil overlord you could name had taken the place over, at one time or another. So the people in the kingdom, they were always sad, and they started to wonder, would they ever be free? And then, one day, they found out, there was another kingdom, just like them, halfway round the world, and they decided to join forces. But then, after a few decades of unity and prosperity, the entire world fell into darkness, and the people of the two kingdoms had to run. They ran far away, and found a new promised land in the desert, and built a home there.”

“Then, one day, in the new kingdom, there was a little girl who lived in a little house with her ma’ and her da’, and she loved her life. The dark creature from the old world, it caught up with them. It took her da’, and burned down her house, and she and her mother had to go out into the woods.”

Sasha looked scared. “The woods?”

“Aye,” Aoibheann said, “and her mother dear didn’t last long. There were these flares of Dokkaebi Fire, the goblin lights, and mother dear thought surely she could follow them to safety… Pretty soon, the little girl was all on her own.”

“I don’t like this story,” Sasha said, trying not to betray how frightened she was.

Aoibheann sighed. “Neither do I. But see, the story has a happy ending.”

“Happy?” Sasha asked.

“Happy enough,” Aoibheann replied, “for now. See, the little girl knew not to follow the goblin lights. She ran into the dark, and there she found… a brave, dashing adventurer. A gorgeous girl, noble and good, who’d been lost in the woods herself.”

Sasha’s eyes brightened at this. “Did she have a sword?”

“A little one, aye,” Aoibheann laughed. “And she was on a quest, to find a way out of the woods. But the problem was, she had to look after a sweet, wee little baby, and couldn’t leave it long enough to make any real progress. So the little girl, she’d faced all the darkness in the world. She could handle a wee little baby! She agreed to take care of the baby while the adventurer looked for a way to save herself and the little one.”

“Did she find a way out?”

“Someday she will,” Aoibheann said, “but all she found so far was… a sorceress.”

“This story has everything,” Sasha said.

“The sorceress was as beautiful as the adventurer, and sharp as a tack, but she was untrained. Powerful magic, but she didn’t know how to use it.” Aoibheann explained, “so, together, they managed to track down the Baba Yaga, a wise but crafty old witch, who could teach the sorceress and adventurer how to find the way.”

“And the little girl?” Sasha asked.

Aoibheann thought about this. “The little girl gets to spend time with the sorceress, and the adventurer, and that sweet wee little baby,” she said, “and she appreciates the time she has with them. Someday, they’ll find their way out, and she’ll still be in the woods, but she’ll always be glad to have met them. The end.”

Sasha crinkled her nose. “That’s a bad ending,” Sasha said bluntly. “The little girl should just leave the woods with them. Then find the creature that took her house, and kill it.”

“And how’s she gonna do that?” Aoibheann laughed.

“The adventurer and the sorceress will help her!” Sasha said. “Maybe the Baby Yaga can tell her some spells!”

“Baba Yaga,” Aoibheann corrected. “Okay, so say she does. Say she tells the adventurer and the sorceress everything that happened, and they go slay the evil creature. What happens next?”

Sasha thought about this. “Maybe they fight another creature,” she said. “An octopus?”

“Why are they fighting an octopus?” Aoibheann asked, still chuckling.

“It’s guarding a treasure,” Sasha said as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “You have heard a story before, right?”

“Fair enough,” Aoibheann said. “And then, say, they beat all the creatures. What then?”

“Happily ever after,” Sasha said triumphantly.

“Well, you’re a sight more deft at this than I am,” Aoibheann said. “Let’s get you to sleep, I’ll do better next time.”

Aoibheann swaddled Sasha in the dirty, tattered blanket that they’d found a few weeks earlier, sat out in the hallway, and began to cry.

In the present day, Aoibheann thought back to her sobbing in the hallway. At the time, she was convinced that Ariadne and Pilar would surely abandon her when they finished training with Blue. When they started building their first spacecraft in an alley under the bridge, she’d defended it from thieves and scrappers at knifepoint, even thinking that they would use it to leave her behind. When, against all odds, Ariadne had built a spaceworthy craft, she was stunned into silence when they invited her along.

“Don’t be dumb,” Pilar had said, extending a hand to her “of course we’re taking you with us. We started this crew to keep Sasha fed. How are we gonna do that without a cook?”

And so, Cookie had been born. As the goblin lights lit the way to ruin, Pilar’s hand pulled her onto the right path.

****

Now, Pilar’s hand was busy cutting up bites of nondescript meat and placing them into Aoibheann’s mouth.

“Do you remember… back in our street urchin days,” Pilar asked, “Me and Ariadne would come home from Blue’s, put Sasha to bed, and then you, me, and her would stay up late gossiping. We’d show you all the cool stuff Blue had taught us in our lessons, and you’d take the ingredients we’d stolen for you-- better ones, after you started giving me lists-- and you’d teach us how to cook like you.”

Aoibheann almost smiled, and Pilar saw it.

“Alright, you’re right,” Pilar said, cutting her another bite and placing it in her mouth. “Nobody can cook like you. Don’t let it go to your head. But you taught us to cook better than most people.”

Aoibheann accepted another bite wordlessly.

“You know, Ariadne used to use Blue’s tricks to fix up that abandoned house, Alan’s house, and I used to show you all the martial arts tricks, and you’d be rapt with attention,” Pilar said. “When me and Ari started dating, we had a friendly debate about it. See, I thought you had a crush on her, and she thought you had a crush on me. Joke’s on us, turns out you were more than capable of having both.”

Aoibheann came close to smiling again.

“Funny, that’s a fond memory now. Back then, it was the worst year of our life,” Pilar said. “Wonder what we’ll remember fondly from now, when we’re older.”

Aoibheann’s fractional smile faded away. She couldn’t imagine anything worth cherishing from this time. But then, she couldn’t back then, either.

“And we don’t have to talk about…” Pilar cut herself off. “I mean, the… what we’ve had together… The unspoken closeness between the three of us. Rare as it might be that we’ve acted on it, it’s still special to me. To us.The problem has never been that we don’t feel about you, the way you feel about us. If you wanted... what’s between the three of us... to be more, it’d be yours in a heartbeat.”

Aoibheann looked down at her lap.

“We’ve always loved you, Cookie,” she explained. “And don’t get twisted up on the definitions. Every sense of the word. Whatever you’re thinking I surely can’t mean… I mean it. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I just hate to think that… I mean… we’re going into the most dangerous time we’ve ever faced. If something happens, to me or to Ari… I just want to know you know what you mean to us. To me.”

Pilar gave her another bite, and Aoibheann didn’t fight her on it.

“Do you remember our wedding?” Pilar asked, and laughed. “Of course you do. Hard to forget something like that. Do you remember how angry you were that we wouldn’t let you cook us a grand feast?”

There was a spark in her eyes that demonstrated that she had not, in fact, entirely let this go.

“We stole the supplies for hamburgers from a local grocery store, and made Beam cook them,” Pilar said. “We actually almost got caught, pulled over for speeding on the way home. Ariadne told the cop her name was Ariadne Baltimore. Small town, local cops, everybody knew their parents, they figured they’d just miscounted the sisters, and let her go. Idiots.”

Pilar sighed.

“You weren’t allowed to cook because Ariadne needed you by her side,” she explained. “You were her maid of honor for a reason, Cookie. Our crew, our marriage, our family… where would we be without you? Would we even be us?”

Pilar offered Aoibheann another bite, and she didn’t take it. Pilar looked concerned. She hadn’t eaten nearly enough to be satisfied yet.

“What is it?” Pilar asked.

Aoibheann opened her mouth, thought hard, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was trying to make sense of something she couldn’t put words to.

“Aoibheann, are you… are you alright?” Pilar asked. “Should I get Sasha?”

Aoibheann shook her head vigorously. She had been lost in her depression for months, wondering if she was really better off waking up in the morning, but suddenly, the floodgates had come open, and she couldn’t wait one more second to let out what had been eating at her and destroying her soul ever since they’d lost the station.

Her voice was dry and raspy. She had not spoken more than two consecutive words in weeks, and her body vehemently protested the sudden change in this policy.

“Was it my fault?” She asked, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with their tormentor years ago. “Did I do this to us?”

****

“Excellent work today, everyone,” Cookie’s voice boomed through the kitchen. “The festivities went off without a hitch. This is an anniversary our captain won’t soon forget.”

“Thank you, Chef,” her crew echoed back.

“Dismissed,” she said to the assembled kitchen staff, and then quietly approached one of the greener pirates who’d recently started the galley rotation that was mandatory for the whole crew. “Libby, a word?”

Cookie ushered Libby into a small room at the back, which she used for prep when she was working on more intimate, personal projects. This was the room where she prepared birthday meals for Spacebreather, Ariadne, and Sasha. This was the table on which she’d painstakingly crafted Ariadne and Pilar’s wedding cake. The small walk-in freezer was the one where she’d had a brief, clumsy tryst with Blue on a rare visit to the station, after Cookie had enraged her by challenging her to a contest to see who could make a better mole negro oaxaqueño sauce, and then winning it.

Libby had been invited into the inner sanctum, and the look on Cookie’s face made it absolutely clear that it was not an honor.She was in deep trouble. Worse still, there was a salt shaker on the table in front of her.

“Do you think this is funny, lass?” Cookie asked. “Is this a fun game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chef,” Libby said, actually looking somewhat convincing.

“The cap of the salt shaker was unscrewed. One shake, and dinner would’ve been ruined.” Cookie said. “It was your responsibility to set the table in the captain’s quarters.”

Libby got immediately defensive. “Anybody could’ve done that,” she said, “I didn’t do it, it’s totally unfair that you--”

“Anybody could’ve,” Cookie said. “But I gave you a responsibility. You were responsible for the Captain’s table. You signed off on a table with an unscrewed salt shaker on it. That makes you responsible for the salt shaker, whether you placed it there or not.”

“How is that fair?” Libby replied indignantly.

“Lass, why do you think Ariadne requires all crew to complete a rotation in my kitchen before they’re cleared for field service?” Cookie asked.

“She needs someone to cook for her?” Libby asked derisively.

Cookie sneered. She did not care for Libby, and never had. The girl seemed to attract drama. How, she wondered, could someone with so few friends be so perpetually in the middle of a falling out with a group of them? “And why do you think my standards are so meticulous?” Cookie asked.

Libby declined to answer, because she knew her honest answer would get her in trouble, but her face betrayed what she wanted to say: “Because you’re a huge bitch?”

Cookie answered her own rhetorical questions. “The skills you need to be successful in here, will be invaluable to you out there. You didn’t go over your loadout with a fine-toothed comb. You didn’t take the responsibilities you were trusted with seriously. You allowed your crewmates to operate with faulty equipment, that, had I not intervened, would’ve caused the mission objective to fail.”

“To be clear,” Libby said, “the ‘mission’ was serving them dinner.”

“IN HERE IT’S DINNER,” Cookie bellowed, her eyes full of all the rage and fire that she kept tamped down in her heart every second of every day, and slammed her fists on the table, knocking down the salt shaker. The chrome lid clattered off, and salt spilled onto the teak countertop. Cookie wordlessly grabbed a pinch of it and tossed it over her left shoulder. “In here, you fail in your duties and it means dinner isn’t very good that night. Out there, you fail in your duties and your sisters in arms die. That’s why Ariadne makes you work with me before you’re allowed to work for her. You can’t be trusted to handle the stakes out there if your team, and your commanding officer, can’t even trust you to do your job correctly when the stakes are only whether tonight’s chicken will be a little dry. Is that crystal clear?”

Libby looked as though she was about to protest, or accuse Cookie of being melodramatic, but Cookie cut her off. “Think very carefully about what you say next,” she said, “and if you’re lost as to what answer I’m looking for...” She pointed at the band that she kept tied around her head, so that even if one of her brilliant red hairs slipped out of its tight bun, it would still not fall into her face. It was white, and said, in bold black text, “YES CHEF.”

Libby grumbled. “Yes, chef,” she said. “next time, I’ll check the table settings more carefully.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cookie said. “But I think it’s important that you know… I know you put the shaker on the table.”

“What?!” Libby snapped.

“If the Captain, or her first mate, were to be poisoned, I would need to be able to verify who’d done the deed.” Cookie said. “Every step of my meal preparation is accounted for. There is a record of every action taken in this kitchen, cupboard-to-table. If something goes wrong with a meal, within seconds I will be able to identify the point of failure and exactly who was responsible for preventing it. Of course, it helps to have a private video feed into the captain’s quarters.”

Cookie tossed her communications device onto the table, and hit play. It projected a small, but surprisingly clear, hologram of Libby setting the table, smirking as though struck with an idea, and unscrewing the cap of the salt shaker.

“You have… a security camera… in their quarters?!” Libby asked.

“I’m the only person in the system they trust with it,” Cookie said. “I trust them with my life, and they trust me with theirs. Now, I gave you a chance to confess to your little prank, and you decided to lie, to pass the buck onto someone else. I’m afraid I can’t let that slide. I’ll have to fail you for this rotation. Come back at the start of the next one and you can reapply.”

“What?!” Libby snapped again. “I’m two days away from finishing! I have to start my galley rotation over again just because you caught me playing a harmless prank on your little pervy peep-show?”

“Call it pervy if you like,” Cookie said dismissively. “The nature of my relationship with the captain and her first mate is enthusiastically sanctioned and is, frankly, none of your concern. The behavior you showed in here, would’ve only spoiled Captain Ariadne’s dinner. If you showed the same level of carelessness and irreverence out there, it might’ve gotten someone killed. ‘Harmless’ indeed. You’re not responsible enough for field work until you can prove you can handle kitchen duty.”

“This is bullshit,” Libby said, gathering up her things to storm out of the room. “Like it even matters whether that bitch’s little dinner is ruined.”

Cookie slammed her fists on the counter again.

“Captain Ariadne is the greatest woman who ever lived,” Cookie growled, “and if I hear you speak of her like that in my presence again, you’ll lose a hell of a lot more than your galley rotation.”

Libby moved to storm out, but Cookie rushed the door and held it shut.

“Now, you listen to me, you little twerp,” Cookie said, jabbing a finger into Libby’s chest, shaking with anger. “That woman pulled me out of the gutter-- pulled all of us out of the gutter. There is nothing more important than the work she does, and we are the beating heart that allows her to do it. So if you want to be a part of this crew, you’ll show her some goddamned respect and start taking your work fucking seriously.”

Libby looked furious.

“What do I want to hear?” Cookie asked pointedly.

Pilar was astonished. “You think… because you were hard on the Nameless in her galley rotation… that she went totally off the rails, tried to kill us, and drove us out of our home?”

“Yes, chef,” Libby grumbled after a beat, and Cookie allowed her to pass.

****

“She tried to say we were like a cult,” Cookie said weakly. “That we were just minions blindly following Ariadne’s orders. That we turned against anybody who didn’t fall in line.”

“Is any of that true?” Pilar asked rhetorically. “Does the crew actually act like that?”

Cookie let the tears come. “I do,” she said. “What if she… how do I know she isn’t holding my devotion, my zeal, against the entire crew?”

“You… blindly follow Ariadne’s orders?” Pilar asked, entirely rhetorically. “That’s a surprise, I thought you really believed in our mission.”

Cookie was taken aback. “I do!’

Pilar smiled. “There’s some of that fire,” she said. “I’ve missed it. Aoibheann… when is the last time Ariadne actually gave you an order?”

Cookie had to think about this, but came up short.

“Exactly,” Pilar said. “This is what’s been eating you, all this time?”

Aoibheann looked afraid to reply, so she just asked what she’d wanted to ask, ever since they were driven out of their home.

“Do you forgive me?” She asked. “Does she… does she forgive me?”

Pilar looked Aoibheann square in the eyes. “Cookie, you’ve never needed our forgiveness. An insane terrorist attacked our home. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent that.”

This was not what Aoibheann wanted to hear.

Pilar sighed. “Of course we forgive you, Aoibheann,” she said in a voice that sounded entirely earnest, but using words that betrayed how sarcastic she was being: “for not allowing someone who turned out to be a sexual predator and an actual serial killer tamper with our food and ruin our anniversary. We forgive you for being the most devoted friend we’ve ever had. Because someone else mistreated us, it must’ve been wrong that you treated us right. We will always forgive you for loving us, Aoibheann. You will never lose our forgiveness for that.”

Aoibheann was struck speechless again.

“Don’t go quiet on me,” Pilar said affectionately, “I just got you to talk again! I’ve missed your voice.”

“I appreciate your taking care of me,” Cookie admitted, “while I’ve been… not myself.”

Pilar gently put her hand on Aoibheann’s, and gave it a squeeze, and then told her the most reassuring truth she had.

“The Nameless is a user,” she said. “She wants a bunch of people who act like puppets and put her well-being first. Ariadne spends every second of every day encouraging her crew to think and act for themselves, and to put each other’s well-being above all else. That’s why she thinks Ariadne’s a tyrant. Not because you defended her honor after a sociopath tried to ruin her anniversary and then called her a bitch.”

Aoibheann felt as though she’d just received absolution for something that had been dragging her through the muck for months. How could she not believe Pilar, of all people? She began to cry openly.

“Hey, hey,” Pilar said, “it’s okay! I got you.”

“I’ve let the crew down,” she said, “had them eating this flavorless mush for however many months. I’ll be back at a stove first thing in the morning, don’t you worry--”

Pilar laughed. “Aoibheann… Cookie, I’m glad you’re back but… don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Let your apprentices handle it for a bit. Besides, you haven’t walked by yourself in a pretty long time. It’ll take a bit before you’re seaworthy again, let alone fit to run a kitchen.”

Aoibheann looked downcast. “Well, I’ve spent enough time sitting around like a lump being no good to anybody,” she said indignantly.

“You’re plenty good to us,” Pilar said flatly, “just by being here. We love you, Cookie. You don’t need to… justify your existence by being a devoted servant.”

Aoibheann was uncomfortable with this sentiment, and it showed on her face. This was, after all, how she showed her affection for Ariadne and Pilar. How could she show them her love and devotion without being able to cook for them?

“I don’t know how to…” Cookie began. “Please… Please, just… tell me what to do.”

Pilar sighed. She knew Cookie was far too devoted to her duties to go completely without orders. “She and I will be back in a few hours, for dinner. Let her hear your voice. Tell her you love her, and wish her luck on her procedure. If you have the strength, give her a hug. And, most importantly, just… please, be okay. Be kind to yourself and take all the time you need to get back on your feet. We’ve only got the one Cookie, so take care of her for us, okay?”

Cookie smiled, and squeezed Pilar’s hand back with what little strength she could muster.

Pilar picked up the now-empty tray that the MRE had been on. “Now that you’re back, do I have your permission to start up the kitchens? Let your apprentices do some real cooking?”

Cookie nodded her head.

“Then I guess this is truly an event worth of celebration: you’ve had your last Meal-Ready-To-Eat,” Pilar laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Cookie. I want to put some meat back on your bones, so I’ll be cooking, and I expect you to be looking over my shoulder and barking orders at me the whole time.”

Cookie looked at her and smiled, and Pilar’s heart melted. It had been a long time since anyone had seen that.

****

Cookie’s apprentices stood in a straight line at the back of the Hotpot Spot, an abandoned restaurant that Sweettalk had identified as her childhood favorite. Cookie, wearing the chef’s coat she’d fled the station in, freshly laundered, and her trademark “YES CHEF” headband, limped into the restaurant, supported by a cane that Sweettalk had fished out of her childhood home, and said had belonged to her grandfather.

Cookie was still not back to full strength, but her apprentices could see the fire they’d come to fear and love had returned to her eyes.

“As you may have noticed,” Cookie announced, the natural loudness of her voice undiminished by her time indisposed, “I have been… unwell, of late. As such, I am unable to resume my duties at this time.”

Her staff turned to her chief apprentice, Yellow, for guidance. Yellow remained silent, so the rest of them did as well.

“It’s alright, kids,” she said, stamping the cane on the ground loudly. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m not my old self yet. It’s fine. I wouldn’t feel right resuming my post here anyhow. This isn’t my kitchen. I’ve called you all here because you are the apprentices most equipped to run a kitchen of your own.”

Yellow nodded in assent.

“As such, I have a new directive for each of you, until such time as we’ve retrieved my kitchen, and I’m back to my usual vim and vigor, each of you is to select one of the defunct restaurants in this town, take your pick of the remaining staff and any available volunteers, and you will run your kitchens to the standard I have taught you.”

Cookie sighed.

“I know what you all think,” she said. “I know what you’ve said to me, in the past. You think your best is only a pale imitation of my cooking. But I need you all to know that… isn’t true.”

“Chef?” Yellow asked.

“I was the fourth person on this crew, lass,” Cookie said. “The first person to join, after the founding members. At the beginning, we had one mission: Keep Sasha Fed. There is nothing I value more highly than that mission. I live for it, and if I’m blessed with the chance, I will happily die for it. We may have expanded the definition of ‘Sasha’ to include everyone we love, but this mission is and will always be my life’s labor. Food doesn’t just sustain us. It is love, in physical form. The Captain and the First Mate have been very gracious to me, in the time we’ve known each other, by allowing me to show them my love and devotion in the way I’m able to offer. Over the last nine months, they have shown me the devotion was not one-sided, and given me the love I was able to accept. So your mission is, as it always has been: get in the kitchen, and show your love to the crew. Fill their bowls with it, in the way only you can, with or without me. And when your cup is empty…”

Cookie choked up a bit, and did a halfway decent job masking it.

“...When your cup is empty, allow those who love you to fill it back up, until you’re ready to pour from it again.”

After a long, uncomfortable beat, her crew shouted back “Yes, Chef!”

“I have been derelict in my duties,” Cookie said. “I let you go this many months without loving one another properly, because you wouldn’t do it without me.”

“Chef, permission to speak freely?” One of her younger apprentices, a quiet young boy who specialized in pastries, piped up.

“Granted,” Cookie said.

“You never ordered us not to run the kitchens without you. In fact, before…” He paused carefully, then opted to leave it unsaid, “before, you always taught us how to take the lead for the rest of the crew, when you had to cook for the Captain’s table. We wouldn’t run the kitchens without your say-so because…”

“It’s okay, lad, no need to be scared of the likes of me,” she reassured him.

“We were ordered not to,” he told her. “The Captain was very clear: ‘There’s no crew without Cookie.’”

Cookie leaned on her cane and looked a bit sad.

“She couldn’t handle it, Chef,” Yellow explained. “Knowing somebody else was doing your work, while you were suffering the way you were.”

Now Cookie could feel her heart melt. “She said that, did she?”

The young baker boy winced. “She said that there’s nothing more important than the work you do, and that everything the crew does, is just so you can do it,” he said. “She said… well, she said she was derelict in her duty to you, and that she couldn’t replace you until she’d made it right. Until you’d forgiven her for letting you down.”

Cookie laughed. “We’ve known each other a long time, indeed,” she said. “The captain is a sentimental one, I’m afraid. She blames herself for all this. For my condition. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s still more Catholic than she’d like to admit.”

Everyone’s eyes flared at this. Of course none of them would tell her she’d said that, as they all valued keeping their heads attached to their necks too much. Cookie was one of the only people in the system who could get away with saying something like that in front of Ariadne.

“She could never let me down if she tried,” Cookie said, “and even if she did, I will always forgive her. That you can repeat to her. Now, that’s enough prattling on from an old fool. You all have restaurants to open. To work!”

“Yes, Chef!” Her apprentices all shouted, and broke formation to claim their restaurants.

“And remember,” she shouted after them. “If you talk to the Captain, this was her idea!”

She had, in fact, passed her forgiveness along to Ariadne the previous day, before her surgery, and assured her that she didn’t need forgiveness, the same way Pilar had done to her. After her procedure, Ariadne wouldn’t remember Cookie giving her consent to reopen the kitchens, but she was delighted that when she came out of it, she seemingly remembered, on some level, that she had been absolved of all wrongdoing.

She was relieved when, during the fight Alicia staged with her, Ariadne had suggested they put her apprentices to work in the kitchens. Despite being set back several months, she was done punishing herself, and letting everyone else punish themselves with her. It was a do-over many were not fortunate enough to get, and after all she’d lost, Aoibheann was not one to turn her nose up at a second chance.

****

Months later, when all this was over and Sasha’s medicine and a lot of good eating had restored her muscles into mostly proper working order-- she still felt uneasy at times, and preferred to keep the cane on hand, just in case-- they were repatriated to their home, the Nameless had been defeated, and the station had erupted into a celebratory frenzy. Yellow and the kitchen staff had burned the candle at both ends to supply enough party snacks to keep anyone from drowning in all the wine. Two former crew members, Baltimore and Beam, had returned to the station to join in the celebrations. Sweettalk and Sasha had, believing themselves slick, pulled Ghostrunner and her new girlfriend Vigil back to their quarters. Alicia had brought Blue back to the station and, in the haze of wine, loudly announced her intention to start a relationship with her, before disappearing back to her own quarters. Cookie and Blue had, despite their past rivalry, a deep, abiding respect for one another, and Blue was one of the few people who was authorized to do as she pleased in the kitchen. Cookie knew firsthand that after Blue’s enthusiastic and athletic lovemaking, she would likely need something to eat, and a bit more wine, so she’d set a bottle of red and a bowl of fresh mozzarella in conspicuous locations in the hopes that she would find them. Cookie was, uncharacteristically, not in the kitchen that night.

If she had learned anything from the past year, it was that she had to sometimes set the weight of the world down, and allow the people she loved to take care of her as much as she took care of them. So, as had become tradition, once per month, she would retire to the Captain’s quarters instead of her own, and allow her friends to show them how much they loved her. Pilar spent the day marinating meats, just the way Cookie had taught her, and Ariadne had built a heating element into her personal dining table so that Pilar could cook them some of Cookie’s favorite foods.

They would then retire to the bedroom for a night of passion-- Ariadne always had some new device she’d built and wanted to show off. Being married to Spacebreather, she was in the unfortunate position of being a bit of a pillow princess, but not on pillow principle, and so never had anyone else to use it on, and Cookie was the only person other than Ariadne who Spacebreather was willing to touch. They would spend this time laughing, and experimenting, and making sure not an inch of her, or the captain, went unkissed, and then they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, all the while gossiping and reminiscing the way they had back on Mars.

Sometimes, on these nights, Cookie would think back to what Spacebreather said to her, during her episode, about how if she ever wanted something more between them, she could have it.

The thing was, she didn’t want something more. She treasured these nights they had together, but as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed about what they were to her. They were her best friends, and they were her calling in life. She would, to the best of her ability, serve their mission with almost religious zeal. Even unto her death, she would prioritize keeping her loved ones happy and healthy. She had already loved them, more, she believed, than she could ever love anyone else, even when they had started an exclusive relationship with one another, and she was just a heartbroken teenager pining after them both. How could she want something more, when she couldn’t even imagine something better than what she already had?

The first time the three of them had ever fallen into bed together, years after Ariadne and Pilar had made it clear they were soulmates, they had been a ball of teenage hormones, propelled by a raunchy party game that had gotten a bit out of hand. Aoibheann had awoken mortified and furious at herself for daring to succumb to her own desires like this. Her whole life, whenever she’d allowed herself to love something, it was taken away, and that only when she accepted that something was beyond her grasp, would she stand a chance of being lucky enough to attain it. She was sure that by admitting to her wants, and acting on them, she had ruined everything. Except, Ariadne and Pilar noticed her embarrassment and simply chose to behave as though nothing had changed. It had happened only occasionally in the past, and each time, Ariadne and Pilar would wait for Cookie to bring it up. Otherwise, it was completely unspoken.

The one crucial difference was, now, Aoibheann “Cookie” Gyeong, once the saddest girl on Mars, had finally accepted that it was okay to want, and to act on those wants, that this was not following the goblin lights to her death as her mother had. She, who loved her life so much that she shut down for the better part of a year when she feared it had changed irreparably, spent most of her time refusing to acknowledge what she loved about it. She did her job, showed her love, and asked for nothing in return except for the ability to keep doing it.

“You know,” Ariadne said, running her fingers through Aoibheann’s long, smooth, bright red hair, as a sleeping Pilar cradled them both in her arms, “we don’t do any of this for you. We do it because we like doing it. It’s fun for us.”

Cookie laughed. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she quipped.

Ariadne smiled, and told her something she’d waited years to be sure Cookie would be ready to hear. “Thank you,” she said, “for being my friend. For loving me. For making what we do worth it.”

Aoibheann shot a smile right back. “I could say the same to you.”

#core story #lgbt

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sliceofcake-cupoftea · 2 years ago

Text

How to tell Cobra

Character(s): Smokey (x reader), "Cobra" Junpei Hino

Plot Line: Even though you were twins, Cobra was born before you. This meant he would be your big brother; no matter what you or he could do about it. He took this to heart and protected you fiercely from everything. However, what happens what you end up in a situation and you have to tell your protective older brother something he rather not hear?

Warnings: Anxiety, Angst, Inappropriate comedy (18+), talks of terminal Illness, High & Low violence

How does one tell Cobra something.

Even as his younger sister (though only by an hour, which you remind him of constantly) you ask yourself that often. For it is often that Cobra messes up and has to tell you something. Like the time Yamato and him broke your doll house or the time he accidentally lost all your history notes that he stole before a big exam.

So whenever you messed up, it was hard to tell him.

Usually there would be a right time or a moment you could bring it up. But, you didn’t think such a thing existed in this situation.

Put simply, you were pregnant.

More precisely three months along now but you’ve known since you were two weeks in. The main problem was. You haven’t told anyone…

Not Naomi. Not Yamato. Not Noboru. And definitely–Definitely–not Cobra.

The reason was simple. You were scared. Not just by their reaction when they find out you are pregnant. But by whom.

Smokey.

Life worked in strange ways. Everyone would be shocked when they found out. How the hell did you two meet? They likely wouldn’t think you two had anything in common. Turns out it was the simple things. You both cared deeply about family and you both hated to be a burden to the ones you loved and adored. The two of you grew close over those two simple things. Extremely close on nights when one of you needed comfort.

Was it love? Was it a close friendship? It was hard to determine.

It’ll be alright. We’ll figure it out.

You still remembered Smokey’s words when you told him. Always so calm and always so sweet; thinking of others before himself. Even as he tried to keep calm and collected, you could see by how his hands ever so slightly shook as he took yours that he was scared. Afraid.

Smokey has never been in good health since you’ve known him. While you’ve helped him go to a doctor, they didn’t have much help to give. A lung transplant; that's the only thing that could stop his deteriorating health. All he could do was wait and maybe–if he was lucky–get a donation to pay for the surgery. But the chances were few and far between. So, he could only take some pills to keep himself stable and put his health on the back burner for now.

Would he live long enough for the child to grow up? What would happen if you were left all alone? Even though he didn’t say it, you knew those were the questions that were clouding Smokey’s mind.

It’ll be alright. We’ll figure it out.

You allowed him to hold you that night. Ignoring the worried calls from Cobra and the others when you didn’t return home. Only in the morning messaging a simple ‘I’m okay’ to them even though you weren’t. You and Smokey going your separate ways as the sun rose early in the morning. Him needing to return back to the Rude Boys and you needing to return back to Sannoh.

Life worked in strange ways. It really did.

It really fucking did.

“I can’t believe this,” You mumble, likely looking a little pale as you stare down at the stack of ultrasound photos. Each one of the Rude Boys wanting a photo of their precious niece/nephew so you had to ask for quite a few. Usually one would have their first ultrasound at 6 to 9 weeks but due to you working full time and bills needing to be paid, you had to wait until now; at 12 weeks.

Technically you could have waited longer, Smokey and you were in no rush to get the ultrasound. An idea more on the backburner as the boys and him were more focused on trying to figure out if they could make furniture for the baby out of scrap wood from around nameless city. An idea you were highly against unless they sanded it and made sure none of the wood was compromised in any way.

Surprisingly, they found such wood. And on the same day, when you woke up to a very big shock.

“Lala,” Smokey’s sister whips her head around at her name being called. Looking quite confused as she sees you in the middle of Spring wearing a big puffy coat. It seemed your weird appearance didn’t just catch her attention either as P and Yu jumped down from their places in an area up above. Likely on patrol.

“Is everything ok–” Not allowing her to answer, you dragged her to a tent nearby. Usually used for shops to set up, but it was far too early for them. Quickly, P follows after you two, signaling to Yu to go find Smokey. Knowing this is something he should know. “What’s wrong–”

Lala falls short of finishing her sentence as you take off your coat and show her what had you acting so strange. She couldn’t believe her eyes as she just saw you a day ago and it didn’t look like anything like this.

“Woah…” P lets out, taking the words right out Lala’s mouth for her. The girl still very much in shock as she tried to wrap her head around it. “That’s… That’s normal right?”

“I– Sort of? I– I don’t know. They said it's common for it to just appear suddenly one morning when you wake up. But– I don’t think it's supposed to be–”

“Is everything–”

You nearby jump in shock as Smokey and the rest of the Rude Boys barge into the tent. Expecting something horrible only to stare in shock just like P and Lala were seconds ago once they see you. The only one being somewhat calm about the situation being, of course, Smokey. Who after reading some books with you, knew this would be happening any day now.

His eyes soften as he gazes upon it. Looking at you with love and wonder as he slowly makes his way to you. A soft grin spreading to his lips as he touches your stomach, lightly tracing the bump there with his calloused fingers.

“Don’t– Don’t you think it's a bit big?” You finally ask after a few moments, telling Smokey the worry clouding your mind as you gazed upon your stomach, “I look eighteen weeks pregnant, not twelve.”

You were correct. While many in the tent knew nothing about pregnancies and had hardly ever seen a pregnant woman in her first trimester, they couldn’t help but agree that your bump was rather big. Which is likely what added to the huge shock as they saw you just over 24 hours before, no bump in sight.

“Maybe you should go to that ultrasound?” Takeshi suggests, always the voice of reason amongst the boys especially whenever Smokey was absent. “If it has to do with your belly… the doctors should be able to notice it with that, right?”

Smokey and you looked at each other and you couldn’t help but agree that Takeshi made a fair point.

“I can see if Dr.Sato has a free spot today? Will you be…” Your voice trails off when you notice a sad look grow on Smokey’s face.

“Sorry…” He starts, letting out a heavy sigh, “Things between Daruma and us have been… tense. We are expecting Daruma to try to cause some chaos in the market later today. I really want to but–”

You grab Smokey’s hand, stopping the man from going into a rant, “It's okay. I understand.”

And you did. If being Cobra’s sister taught you anything, it is that sometimes the people you loved had to drop everything at a moment’s notice to protect what they believed in.

“Just keep me updated. I’ll let you know if I got the appointment and if nothing is going on, we can see if it's safe for me to come here after.”

Smokey nods his head. While disappointed he won’t be there, he is at least pleased he will be updated on what is going on.

Fuck.

As you finally turn your phone back on after shutting it down during your appointment, you couldn’t help but grow anxious at the slew of texts that came in; some dating back hours ago. While many were from Sannoh and your brother asking if you wanted to join them at the bar, some were from the Rude Boys. It seemed the situation with Daruma was solved and Smokey was wondering if–

“There you are,” You nearly jump in fright as a voice calls out in front of you. Instantly recognizing the blonde male in front of you.

“Takeshi? What the hell–” You start, thankful it wasn’t a different blonde. Especially as it would be hard to explain the building you were standing out in front of. Quickly you whip your head around before dragging the male into an alleyway nearby, “What are you doing here? This is Sannoh territory.”

It would be extremely hard to come up with an excuse as to why a Rude Boy was this far from their territory. Especially as the boys rarely left and you were in the north end of Sannoh, closer to Oya territory than theirs.

“Smokey got worried. You didn’t answer his texts and it was getting dark,” Takeshi says, gesturing to the golden and red sky above you guys, “He sent me to pick you up.”

Moving his hand, he points to an old army jeep. One the Rude Boys often used along with their dirt bikes when they needed to get somewhere not in their territory fast. However, due to it being so old and so unique, it wouldn’t be hard for any of the Sannoh boys to instantly recognize the vehicle. Knowing an opposing gang was in their territory.

Oh god.

“Give me a second.” Takeshi says, suddenly seeming to remember something as he pulls out his phone. It rings for a moment before someone picks up on the other end.

“Hello?” Instantly recognizing the voice on the other end, you visibly relax.

“Hey, Smokey. I’ve got her right here. She just came out of her appointment.”

“Did everything go well?” Smokey asks as you take the phone from Takeshi. Already feeling much better as you could hear his voice on the other end. He has always had that calming effect on you, “Nothing wrong?”

Letting out another sigh, you hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. Likely the others joining Smokey to hear the results of your appointment.

“Everything went well. Nothing wrong at all. Just…” You let out a particularly heavy sigh, knowing you had no choice but to explain it to them as just ignoring the obvious would make them more concerned, “...I’m feeding for four.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Takeshi–the only one you can visibly see–jaw drops in shock as he processes what you just said. Even though you shouldn’t, you can’t help but laugh a little. Finally giving the male the stack of photos after a few moments so he can finally come to terms on what you said.

Staring down at the photo, even though it wasn’t his, Takeshi can’t help but feel tears pluck in the corner of his eyes as he sees his nieces/nephews. Each labeled with a number 1 through 3 so it was each to identify each one.

“Tr–Triplets…” Takeshi starts, his voice slightly shaking as he speaks, “She’s having triplets, Smokey.”

A little concerned by the sudden silence at the other end, you call out as well, “Smokey?”

Your eyes can’t help but widen in shock as you hear an ever so slight sniffle on the other end.

“Y–Yeah?”

Takeshi seems quite taken aback as well as he hears the others telling Smokey it was okay as they laughed and patted their leader on the back. Though the two of you quickly can’t help but allow a wide grin to take on your faces as you hear Smokey’s chuckle as well; Sounding slightly watered down from his tears and stuffy nose as he was still a bit emotional. Realizing it was a good cry, not a bad one.

“We’ll be there soon, Smokey.” Looking up at Takeshi, who grabs the keys from his pockets, you quickly follow him out of the alleyway as you continue to talk on the phone, “Don’t go crying anymore. I still have yet to show you the photos. I practically started sobb–”

Quickly, as you glance to your right, you can’t help but freeze in your steps. The smile wiping clean off your face when your eyes lock with another.

Oh, no.

No. no. no. no. no.

“Shit,” Takeshi curses once he sees them as well, “Smokey, fuck. We’ve been seen.”

However, even though you know Smokey and the others are saying something on the other end, you can only continue to stare at your brother; the rest of the world blocked out just from the pure shock running through your body. Cobra eyes are wide and confused as he sees you. The rest of the gang confused as well as they pause in getting off their bikes. Clearly having showed up after hearing the Rude Boys jeep was spotted in Sannoh.

It is only as Takeshi shakes your shoulder that you finally snap your gaze away from Cobra, “We have to go. Now.”

But–

Not allowing you a second to respond, likely thinking you were still in shock, Takeshi grabs you by the wrist and starts dragging you to the car. Hoping that since the boys are far enough down the street, that he could beat them to his car.

“Hey. Hey!” The roaring sound of blood pumping through your veins echoes in your head as your brother finally snaps out of his trance. His voice muffled in your ears even though he is probably yelling. As you shakily take a seat in the passenger seat, you can’t help but jump in surprise as you feel a hand suddenly grab onto the jacket on your shoulder.

“What are you doing? Why the hell are you with—?” Yamato asks as you stare up at him with wide eyes. However, it is as he pulls at your jacket, that he sees your stomach. Stopping him dead in his tracks as he takes in the sight, “Why are you pregnant? What the fuck did those bastar–”

You gasp in shock as Takeshi suddenly kicks Yamato, getting the man to fall onto the sidewalk, as the vehicle finally starts. You can’t help but snap your head around as your brother begins to call your name, still racing after the vehicle. Only stopping once the vehicle finally picks up speed, causing him to stop and stare.

To stare back at you with so many questions and concerns in his eyes.

“I—“ You start, turning back around to face the front. Just in pure shock at what just happened, “I— I should have told him. Oh my god… I’m such an idiot.”

“Stop it.” Takeshi yells over the wind as he drives, reaching a hand over to grab onto one of your shaking ones. “You did what you thought best. You weren’t sure how Cobra would react to finding out about Smokey. It could have caused a bigger mess than this for all you know.”

“But— My brother will be chasing after us, you know?” You start, looking in the rear view mirror as if waiting for the motorcycles of the Sannoh Hoodlum Squad to whip around the corner, “He’ll— He’ll come to nameless city and—“

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Takeshi says, grabbing hold of your shoulders and hugging you as the vehicle reaches a stop light. “Everything will be okay. This can’t blow up anymore than it is.”

“B-But—“

“Breathe. Please just breathe.” Takeshi says, running a hand down your back to soothe your shaking figure, “We’ll be home soon. Everything will be okay.”

As the stop light changes and he is forced to pull away, you are finally quiet. While still shaking, you lean into Takeshi’s side for comfort. Clutching his hand tightly as he continues to drive back to the Rude Boys territory. Unable to stop yourself from jumping whenever you heard to loud sound of a motorcycle engine off in the distance

“Smoke—“ As soon as Takeshi slams on the brakes, putting the car in park. The rest of the Rude Boys descend. Instantly Smokey clutches onto you and helps you out of the car, not wanting to let you go.

His eyes trail your body, looking for any signs that you were hurt in any way.

“What in the hell happened out there?”

“Sannoh recognized–” As Takeshi leaps out and begins to explain, you allow Smokey to pick you up–something you usually wouldn’t allow–as he and the group begin to walk. Knowing better than to argue with the leader when he was like this, though you also didn’t have the strength to. Secretly you are glad Smokey’s large puffy jacket muffled your ears from the talking of the boys around you. Allowing you to focus on his steady heartbeat; giving you a chance to tune out of the world.

Though only for a couple of moments, only a couple moments of peace, before Smokey calls your name. Lifting your head, you glance up at Smokey, who looks down at you. Concern and apologies swirling in his dark eyes.

“We need to hide you.” Smokey whispers, seeming to not like the conclusion he has determined but knowing it was the best and safest option for you.

“What…?” You start, caught off guard as the boys begin to jog, knowing where to head as they likely have limited time. You, still in his grasp, whip your head around to determine where you guys are going. However, night had fallen and it was too dark to know your surroundings. The only light being the moon that shined through the clouds, “Smokey, wait. You– You can’t do that. The boys– My brother is going to misunderstand.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.” Smokey says, lifting you up and handing you to P on a platform attached to a crane. Reminding you of the ones that are used in the mines. As the boys all jump on, Yu hitting the lever before jumping on as well, the platform begins to move upwards. Finally allowing you down to your feet, Smokey brings you into his arms. Hiding his face in your hair as he attempts to control his shaky breathing, “I’m sorry. I just… can’t risk how they will react. Yamato has already seen your stomach and they likely have already begun to draw their own conclusions.”

“But…” However, your voice quickly trails off as you think. Smokey had a point. While you know your brother and his friends would never hurt you. Never. You could very easily get caught in the crossfire if things heated up too quickly between the groups. The gangs in SWORD were always on the brink of war with one another. Even the slightest of comments or looks could break the peace in seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Smokey repeats, lifting his head to press a kiss to your forehead. One that causes your eyes to flutter shut as you lean into his gentle and caring gesture. As he pulls away, you can see a slight glint in his eyes. One you can’t determine as the lift final comes to a stop. As you look around, you gain an understanding of where you are. All of you are in some sort of watch tower office. One that clearly belongs to the Rude Boys as you look around: maps, notes and their items strewn about the place.

As you watch P pull out a batch of wires inside the panel of the lift, clearly cutting the power so it can’t be accessed from below, Smokey takes you in another room. While you guessed it was originally meant to be a small office meant for a manager, the Rude Boys had clearly turned it into a resting room of some sort. Torn pillows, blankets, and even an old twin mattress on the floor in the corner. Likely this room was used by the boys when they took turns watching from the tower on patrols.

As Smokey shuts the door and calls your name, you turn your attention away from your surroundings and back to him.

“Promise me.” He starts, bringing up a hand to cup your face. Swiping a thumb across your cheek as he looks you in the eyes, “Promise me that no matter what happens that you won’t run out into the mess of this.”

While you didn’t want to agree. Especially as you considered what could possibly happen and how many could get hurt. A thing that made you nauseous as you realized it was all caused by you. You knew you had to agree. If you left Smokey and the others worried, who knew what could happen to them.

You knew the best option would be to allow Smokey to have a clear mind. One that could keep him calm and hopefully talk to your brother instead of having an all out brawl commence, “I promise…”

Your words are quickly cut off as Smokey captures his lips in yours. It is passionate and heated compared to the usual pecks he gives you. One that takes your breath away and leaves you dizzy.

And as Smokey pulls away, you see the glint return back in his eyes. You once again didn’t understand it, that is until Smokey pulls you once again into another hug. Kissing your hair as he sighs, once more trying to calm himself.

It is as he does so, his body pressed up against yours more so than usual as he rests his chin on your head, that you feel it.

“I…” You start, unable to help yourself from letting out a laugh. Instantly trying to muffle it in the fur of his jacket as you feel it pressed up against your hip, “Do you have…?”

“...Sorry.”

“Why do you…” You can’t help but let out another laugh at how Smokey shifts slightly away so you can no longer feel it. Always a gentleman. “Why do you have a boner, Smokey?”

“I–” As he pulled away to look at you, you could tell he felt embarrassed and quickly stopped laughing. His eyes looking more so to the wall than you, “It’s because… some guy is trying to take you away.”

“But… it's my brother.”

“I know.” His eyes snapping back to yours so you don’t misunderstand what he is trying to say, “It's because he has the power to stop me from seeing you. Permanently. That’s what it is, not who he is.”

“So… you are basically saying that you…,” You start, heat slightly spreading up your face at what you are about to say, “You are possessive over me and are trying to… stake your claim.”

Instantly, Smokey’s ears turn red and you can tell he just wants to bury his head back in your shoulder in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, Smokey,” You say, reassuring the man as you come up and press a kiss to his lips. One he instantly melts into, “It’s pretty… attractive. Just not the right place or time.”

“Sorr–”

“Don’t apologize. We can… explore this later.” You say, cutting off another apology from him. While he wasn’t as prideful like your brother or the other sword leaders, he was apologizing a lot today. Even for him, “I just don’t want the boys or… my brother to walk in on us.”

Just as an uncomfortable shiver trails up your spine at the thought, you see Smokey freeze. Definitely horrified at the thought as well.

“Another day it is,” He agrees, making you laugh a little. The sound bringing a small grin to his lips. Though not for long as a knock on the door breaks the happy atmosphere.

“Smokey,” Takeshi says, pausing for a moment as he seems to determine his next words, “Cobra and the rest of Sannoh is here.”

“Okay. I’ll be out in a moment,” The leader replies, before looking back at you. A concerned look once again returning to his face, “Please. Stay here.”

“...I will…”

Giving you one last look as he opens the door, Smokey seems to take you in–almost as if he was thinking this might be the last time he would see you–before shutting it close. A soft click followed by what sounds like shuffling. It takes you a moment to realize the boys were pushing heavy boxes in front of the door in order to hide the room.

As silence overtakes the room, you find yourself all alone. With the only light in the room being from a window covered in newspaper clipping, you can’t do much other than sit so as not to trip or fall. You can’t even pace to ease your worries.

With a heavy sigh, you grab an old tattered quilt on the floor and sit in the corner on the old mattress. Wrapping yourself in the blanket as the cold spring night wind whips around outside. It was a long time spent in silence and your own thoughts. You couldn’t even look at your phone or the ultrasound photo of the triplets; both still in Takeshi’s possession. Sitting, waiting and thinking; that's all you could do.

You even thought about sleeping, but you knew you couldn–

You let out a loud yelp as a crash resounds throughout the room. The glass of the window shattering and it takes you a moment to realize it was P. Covered in bruises and cuts as he attempts to get to his feet in the middle of the room, you realize someone had thrown him through it.

“Are you ok–”

“Stay back!” P yells, stopping you from coming to him as you get to your feet. You are confused until you hear someone else jumping through the window as well. However, it's not who you expect.

“So this is where you have been keeping her,” Koo says as he adjusts his white suit, slightly brushing something off his shoulder. Rocky’s assistant glances your way as you stare at him in shock; seeming to check over your figure. His eyes stopping on your stomach before his jaw clenches, “A bunch of heathens that's what you guys are. How many times did you take turns abusing and manipulating this woman?”

“Wait–” However you can’t even get a word in before you are suddenly lifted up, letting out a scream as someone begins to take you through the window.

“Let her–” P dodges as Koo attempts to hit him with his staff. The older man fully intending on blocking the Rude Boy from grabbing you as you are continued to be taken through.

As you glance back, you see Shimura. The blonde male, with both of his eyes covered in those strange leather goggles of his, grins at you, “Got you!”

Of course, the White Rascals are here.

Protector of Women. They would instantly jump in if one was in danger. You were just surprised your brother asked the group for help. At least you think he did.

Did that mean the Rude Boys were outnumbered? Were any of the other SWORD groups here as well? You had too many questions and worries bouncing through your mind. Way too overwhelmed for what was good for you.

“Okay, now we are– Hey! Wait!” As soon as Shimura puts you down on the platform so you can stand, you instantly end up bolting. As to where you would go, you didn’t know. You knew you couldn’t go back in the office as that would be a dead end and Koo was still in there. Stuck on the highest point of the tower, you technically could only go one way. Down.

“Oi! That's dangerous!”

The white rascal chases after you, only to freeze in his steps as he watches you go over the railing and walk across a supported metal beam. Thank goodness the boys got bored one day and taught you some of their tricks. While you couldn’t do any of their crazy flips or spins, you could at least keep your balance and slide down on some things.

Grabbing hold of the fabric at the end of the beam that fell all the way to a platform a few floors below, you take a deep breath and step off the edge. An action that makes Shimura gasp and begin to yell at you to knock it off as you dangle on the material; drawing the attention of some of the others nearby.

“Oi– Hey!” You nearly jump in fright as something grabs onto the fabric as well, however you breathe a sigh of relief when you just realize it is just P. The young man a bit more bruised than a couple moments ago when you saw him but he seemed to escape Koo’s grasp without an issue.

“Be careful,” P says as places one of his arms around your waist, just in case you slipped so he could grab you, “Let's try to get you away from this mess.”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you and P begin to slide down the fabric. A bit slower than what the Rude Boys would normally do, but thankfully you got to the bottom without any issues.

“The bikes–Shit.” Just as P goes to look at something, he instantly stops in his tracks. As you look to your right, you see both Rocky and your brother making their way to you. Simply stated, Cobra looked pissed.

“Hino, wait–” You start only to stop once something jumps down in front of you. Taking you by surprise, it takes a moment to realize it was Smokey. While you normally would be more than glad to see the young man, it wasn’t right now. Your heart stopping when you see the crimson liquid dripping from his lips, knowing it was from his lungs, “Stop. Stop! Everyone just stop!”

As you clutch onto Smokey, screaming at everyone, Cobra and Rocky pause in their steps. Well maybe not Cobra if it weren’t for Rocky sticking out a hand to stop him.

“Are you okay?” You ask as Smokey gets to his feet, a little shaky as he wipes his lips. The man nods his head but makes no effort to move, instead bringing you close so you are behind him. P behind both of you so as to watch your backs.

“Stay… Stay behind,” Smokey chokes out, grabbing your hand and running his thumb over it. As he looks back at you, unable to help yourself–mostly out of worry–you take the sleeve of your jacket and rub away the crimson liquid falling from the man’s lips. An action that has you wincing as Smokey ends up accidentally having a coughing fit into the fabric; Spiting up more blood in the process but you don’t bring your hand away. Too worried about him than anything else.

“Smokey, you bastard!” Cobra suddenly yells, catching you off guard as you look to see your brother practically fuming as he glares down the male. If looks could kill, right? “I thought of you better than this. You have a sister but you– you still allow your group to manipulate and rape–”

“Hold up! Wait!” You shout, cutting off the extreme conclusion your brother came to. Not even wanting him to finish that sentence. Taking a deep breath you finally decide it was time to address the obvious. No more running away in fear or allowing Smokey to protect you.

“Hino, they never did any of that. I– Smokey and I…” You take your gaze away from your brother to look at Smokey. The haggard man slightly panting in order to breathe but smiles gently as you Interlock your fingers with his. Giving you a reassuring squeeze, “Smokey and I are together.”

“What?”

“Well sort of together,” You say, mumbling slightly; not noticing the tone your brother used, “We became close friends and… things sort of happened… and then I got pregnant. I–”

“You–” Something suddenly smashes nearby, making you jump slightly and cut off your words. Instantly Smokey pushes you further behind him and it takes you a moment to realize it was caused by Cobra. Your brother having kicked something nearby to him in a heat of rage, “You can’t be serious. This– This has to be some sort of lie. He must be manipulating–”

“It’s not!” You yell back, your emotions finally coming crashing down on you, “I just– I just…”

You let out a heavy sigh as you cross your arms, slightly gnawing at your lip as you begin to feel anxious. Especially knowing you had to explain your decision, “I was just scared to tell you, Hino.”

Your brother seems to pause for a moment. His gaze slightly growing less sharp and cold upon hearing your words, “Scared to tell me…?”

“I…” You gulp, feeling tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes. Damn it, “I–I knew I messed up. I don’t regret anything with Smokey but I knew that because he was from another group that it could cause problems. I wanted to tell you but– but– I was scared if it would cause a fight or– or– if it would disappoint you– or–”

You sniff a little, wiping your eyes as tears rolled down your cheek. It's silent from Cobra’s end and you can’t bring yourself to look up at your older brother. Though through blurry vision trained to the ground you see Smokey turn around. Guessing he was looking at you as he began to rub comforting circles in your hand. Unable to help yourself–the simple act reducing you to sobs–you can’t help but throw yourself in the male’s arms; hiding your head in the man’s jacket as you cry.

However as you cry in Smokey’s jacket, trying to calm the aching and horrible feeling in your heart, it isn’t long before a hand grasps your arm and you are pulled into another’s hold. The other person’s arms instantly wrapping around your body tightly as they place their chin on your shoulder. Smelling the cologne and laundry detergent you knew your brother used made you sob even harder when you realized it was him who was holding you.

“I–I’m–m so sorry– Sorry, Hino–” You sob out, your voice breaking and cracking as you attempt to pull yourself together. Especially as your brother hushes you and draws shapes on your shoulder with his hand to get you to calm down. Something he has done ever since you two were kids.

“Idiot… What are you apologizing for?” Cobra says, pulling his head back up so you can see each other. With a small frown on his face, he brings up a thumb and wipes the tear stains from your cheeks, “I’m not angry or disappointed in you. Sure, you and Smokey…”

He takes the chance to send the male a glare from over your shoulder. One you probably would guess, Smokey gave right back; knowing him.

“...I’m not too happy about it but it's at least better than Murayama or… Hyuga. I would definitely kill them if that ever happened.” You can’t help but let out a small choked laugh at your brother’s comment. Especially as he grumbles about the last part, “But, if anything, I’m just upset and worried you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone this.”

“Technically, all of nameless city knew–”

“Doesn’t count.” Your brother sternly says, cutting P off, “You couldn’t have even told Naomi?”

“You know she would instantly tell Yamato or you.”

Your brother huffs but understands that you were very much correct in your assumption. While she kept some secrets from the boys, you knew she would definitely tell the boys about it the moment she found out about anything between you and Smokey. Entirely for your safety of course.

“So…” Your brother starts after a sigh, seeming awkward but you could tell he wanted to ask something, “How long have you and Smokey been a… thing?”

“Well…” You turn to Smokey who seems to freeze at the subject. Knowing this could quickly set Cobra off as well, “We aren’t really together. We sort of…”

“…are messing around?”

“No, no,” You say, quickly reassuring your brother as he attempts to go around you. Likely to give Smokey a piece of his mind if he thought of you as a ‘fun time’, “It wasn’t physical. Definitely not at first. We would just… rely on the other to share our deepest secrets and to seek reassurance when we weren’t okay. It isn't until later that the other stuff just… happened.”

Grumbling under his breath, your brother seems still quite unhappy about the whole situation but honestly–-truly honest–his reaction could have been a lot worse. Especially knowing him and all the scenarios you conjured up in your head.

It is only as heavy boots approach you, that you forgot about one crucial thing. A thing that makes your blood run cold once more.

“Sor–Sorry, Rocky,” You murmur sheepishly, glancing at the Rascals leader as he approaches. While he outwardly didn’t look pissed, some of the White Rascals men were definitely beaten up. A clear indicator in the bruises and cuts on Kaito, Kizzy and Koo’s faces as they walk up behind their leader, “Sorry you got dragged into this mess–”

However, the White Rascals leader raises his hand, signaling you to stop in your rant. A small smile gracing his lips, that quickly disappears as you blink. Reaching into his pocket, the man pulls out a business card and gives it to you.

“If shit hits the fan again and you need help,” He starts, pulling down his sunglasses he gives you a knowing wink, “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“Hey.” Your brother warns as the White Rascal leader walks away. But, the Rascals don’t listen and just ignore your brother; instead cheering and exhaustingly leaving as they eaves you goodbye. The only one seeming to still pay attention to your group was Kizzy. The young woman holding up a small picture–almost making you choke on your spit as you instantly identify it–and sending you a knowing smile.

“You better stop by at the club,” Kizzy yells as Kaito wraps an arm around her shoulder, beginning to lead her away, “I want to see more of these cuties.”

“Hey!” Yu yells as he leaps down next to you guys. However the Rascals are already walking down the metal steps; no longer in hearing distance, “That’s ours!”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” You reassure, stopping the younger male from chasing after them. Clearly pouting at the fact they stole something they were waiting for, “I got plenty of extra copies.”

“Extra copies…?” Cobra asks as Yu yells upwards at Takeshi. Asking him to come down so as to get his copy. Once more you freeze as you realize your brother has no idea about the appointment today… nor the results.

“Well…” You start as Takeshi joins you guys. A nervous sweat breaking out as you see the rest of Sannoh and Rude Boys coming out from the structure as well, coming to likely see what the ruckus is about, “...twin genes, am I right?”

As Takeshi holds out a picture to Cobra, you back up and return to Smokey’s side. Allowing Sannoh and your brother to process what exactly they were seeing. Hoping their reaction wouldn’t be too bad as you left them alone with the other Rude Boys.

“You okay?” You ask Smokey, cupping the male’s face. His stern eyes easing as you approach; seeming to melt into your touch as he wraps a hand around your waist. Always liking you close by within arms length.

Instead of responding, Smokey leans in and takes your lips with his. While you flinch a little at the sticky feeling, reminding you he was just coughing up blood a few moments ago, you eventually relax and return the loving kiss. Humming as Smokey takes his other calloused hand and gently cups the back of your neck. Playing with the baby hairs located there that causes shivers to shoot up your spine.

As Smokey pulls away, a loving gaze on his face. You can’t help but grin uncontrollably back at him. An action he seems to like as he wraps you in his arms and presses kisses to your face. A smile beginning to grow on his—

“Smokey… I think we should have a talk.”

Uh oh.

You forgot about Cobra standing right there.

#high and low x reader #high and low fic #high&low #high and low #high and low smoky #high and low smokey #high and low smokey x reader #high&low the story of sword #high&low x reader #high and low cobra #high&low cobra #junpei hino

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raycatz · 5 months ago

Note

PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR DARK CRYSTAL AU (if you want to)

OH MY GOD YES PLEASE THANK YOU HELLO

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write this all out. I've written a rambly essay about wings, brief timeline thoughts, and dreamfasting!

I've been thinking way too much about gelfling wings. I like the headcanon that Hyrule is trans ftm so he gets wings (since gelfling born as girls have wings and boys do not)! I don't think he minds them at all. But it's got me thinking about other trans gelfling or how wings relate to gender for gelfling, if at all, and their utility. I've watched the original movie, the netflix series, and have read The Power of The Dark Crystal. I've skimmed Beneath The Dark Crystal and it seems like the flying troops and ground troops are split mostly between those with and without wings. One of the significant side-characters is trans and has a set of wings which are attached to like, a corset, wrap, thing. She gifts them to Kensho and he flies with them. There is a comment that "the council wants a winged leader anyways" which speaks back to the matriarchal society of Age of Resistance, but Kensho does not change anything gender-wise and still becomes leader pretty sure so like, leaders being women is what has been done traditionally but isn't required. But also like, are the worn wings magic? Can they fly on their own? In the movie Kira can't fly with her wings but only glide. Do different wings have different function, have they changed over time? I did a google search and came up with a quote from the novelization that it's the latter, that gelfling have lost the ability to fly. But then they get it back by PoTDC. Was it a symptom of the darkening, then?

BUT ANYWAYS- how does this apply to LU? Also I haven't read any of the other comics or books so I'm making a lot of this up. BUT LIKE wings seem like they'd serve a great utility. Especially for warriors even if they cannot fly but at least to glide (in the situation where the worn wings aren't magic). Maybe wing harnesses that can be worn? So Wild and Sky would get a pair as gliders. Four and Legend get a pair in place of the roc's cape and feather. I swear I saw a picture of the puppets once where it's shown Jen or Rian maybe have the outline of wings on their backs but I could also completely be making this up. But like, is the emergence of wings a coming of age thing? And if male gelfling do have vestigial wings what if there's gender affirmation surgery for trans mtf gelfling? Would it be for gender affirmation and presentation? Would it be for fashion? Utility? Would the wings have function? For gliding? What about full or partial flight? Genderfluid Wild where he's had the surgery and has some flight capability yet his wings are too small on their own so she still keeps a separate full pair which clip on and are then secured with a harness which allow for full flight. And they can swap between depending on how they feel like presenting or for utility. Legend also has a worn pair. He wears them to dress more effeminately, sometimes for gender, sometimes vibes, or as a fashion statement. (Wars too) He might also have a pair of wings that emerged but never developed to flight. There's a lot of interesting things to be done with the headcanon! (worn wings with different shapes to telegraph their function? Legend would have so many pairs, then!)

Would the worn wings be fabricated or something inherited from a passed family member, warrior, donated? There is Onica who has lost her wings so I don't think they grow back. I think Aughra would be miffed but proud of the gelfling's ingenuity: "Gave gelfling binaries to make things simple! Easier to understand! And yet they choose to listen to Thra anyways! Find their way back! PAH! What marvelous creatures! Seems they don't need Mother Aughra after all! PAH" and all the gelfling are like oh stop we do love you.

(and you know what? we can redirect Legend's righteous god-hating anger towards the Skeksis. This man would get along with Mother Aughra like a house on fire. Maybe she gives him too many quests, and maybe he resents her somewhat, but he's too fond of her as well. Aughra is Thra, after all. Maybe he just stops listening for a while. OoooOO internal conflict that has consequences in the world!!! >:D )

aaAAA Happy Pride?! Gender affirmation surgery for gelfling!

I've also been thinking about where to place these guys on the timeline. I think it'd be a shame to take them out of the same reality as the series as the preexisting cast has so much lore. Which I am not as versed in as I could be. But Age of Resistance is what sparked this so probably somewhere in that time or nearby. There's literally a great tree which bestows a vision unto Deet to leave home and save Thra but I don't want Hyrule to replace her... hmmm... I know I want them to be facing the darkening and that the crystal calls them (or calls their Zeldas). From there, idk. I mostly have ideas for some encounters for these guys with the creatures of Thra and general designs and how they're living taking the AoR clans as inspiration. (Currently I've placed them in Thra. I could also apply Thra to Hyrule. I need to weave in more Zelda elements.)

Wind would be Sifa. atm Hyrule is Grottan though that may change. I think Legend would be Sifa and Spriton, spending the harvest and planting seasons with the Spriton, and at sea the rest, but spends most of his time now traveling after an incident at sea. (He does not trust dreamfasting. OH GOD THE POTENTIAL ANGST FOR DREAMFASTING. Dreamfasting has been shown to share experienced memories- I'm unsure about actual dreams or imaginative things. Are the voiceovers in the shows shared through the dreamfast or are the gelfling speaking aloud, I'm not sure. I think that the great tree and probably Aughra might be the only characters shown to share visions? Can you imagine Legend refusing to dreamfast because he doesn't want to find out if Koholint is something he experienced in person or only dreamed of??? You also cannot pass on someone else's dreamfast and it's believed madness can be transmitted through dreamfast so there's that as well. Would there even be a way for him to tell? What if he can share it but is convinced its madness that he willed into memory? Wild's regained memories on the other hand can be eerily confirmed through dreamfast. Though that means I need to find a place earlier on the timeline to place him where something traumatic happens.) (THOUGH THE DARKENING SICKNESS- it manifests in various ways- in Power Of it grows on the gelfling and needs to be burned off with fire or purified by the crystal. It's how Kensho got his scars! It could be how Wild got his scars!) (there are lots of potential little ties to malice, gloom, and the triforce)

Wolfie is very big and has lots of teeth. I want him to be a much scarier creature to gelfling than a wolf is to a Hylian. Currently with six legs and amphibious.

That's all I've got for now. Props if you read everything! 'xD Thank you for asking!

Here are the downfall duo again!

#linked universe #tdc aor #ray responds #WOOO OH BOY #I've drawn Legend Hyrule Wild Wind and Wolfie (though they're a flexible wip)#Wind's color palette is fighting meeee #the others exists in mind only but I'm thinking Four with iridescent / purple highlights? teehee #and there's a whole comic about the Duel Glaive too which I should read! lmao #have not yet begun to think about the Skeksis urRu and urSeks #I know they are all characters with established lore so that will be some researching to do as well #it would be really funny to call this like- Courage of The Dark Crystal au #keeping it straightforward for now though #The Dark Crystal LU AU #idk if I'll turn on reblogs 'xD #IF ANYONE HAS CLARIFICATIONS OR QUESTIONS I'D LOVE TO HEAR THEM

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juvenillia · 1 year ago

Text

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 12: wait

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: I am German so putting something of my native language in here feels so cool, really need to write more for König (when this series is over)

also I think it's quite funny how I believed that I'd never be able to write a full on fic and now we're here - thank you for sticking with me and story

CW/TW: mentions of loss, death, injuries, petnames, jealousy, guilt, angst, hurt/comfort, violence

wordcount: 2.9k

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The last days felt unbearable for everyone. Shortly after they arrived at the improvised base full of tents, the medics did everything to stabilize your state of condition. Ghost did literally bark at anyone who came too close to you, who didn't look like a specialist in medic care. As soon as your condition got a bit better, they flew you over the hq to initiate the needed surgery. Ghost leashed out as he got told that he wasn't allowed on the transport next to you. He had promised you and himself to not leave your side. But they had to wait to be brought to the base while you were long gone and on your way to the OR. Kyle and Johnny had to do their best to calm him. It was a hard mission, especially when they were on the edge as well.

Simon paced around the room the three men were meant to stay in. He couldn't stand still until he was able to see you again. Some nurse explained him, in a serious and nearly threatening tone, that he wasn't allowed around the infirmary before he didn't get his emotions under control. This was new for him, emotions were never something hard to handle, but you changed that. The guilt, fear, longing, desire, regret, anger, sadness. The list was long, but his nerves couldn't carry them. You made the border between Ghost and Simon melt. It made his hands tremble and his heart ache.

Nobody in this room dared to speak while waiting for news, not even Johnny tried to ease the mood. To occupied with what ifs. You only were part of this team for a short period of time, but it felt different. It felt like you were always a part of them.

Hours passed by without knowing anything. It ate them up. Johnny sat on a chair, watching Simon pace around the room. Not daring to approach him even the furthest. The only thing that was a distraction for a short time was a call with Price. Explaining the situation, they found themselves in. Kyle did the talking, while Johnny and Simon weren't able to. "Yes, sir. You're on speaker now.", he placed the phone on the table. Simon got closer, his feet tapping the ground nonstop, fidgeting with your blue box in his pocket. He didn't dare to let go. Johnny still seated at the table as well as Kyle, letting his leg bounce up and down. Desperately pushing his sweaty palms on his thighs, trying to steady them down. "Boys, listen. Skadi has been through worse. Way worse. She's gonna make it. I know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, but don't. It is no one's fault. You did what had to be done, and she'll be okay. Trust her and the medics.", Price voice was as calm and soft as ever. Johnny's leg stopped bouncing and even Simon lost a bit tension between his shoulder blades. They trusted you, still they were scared.

It took another hour before a young-looking soldier came to knock at their door. Ghost was opening it within seconds, staring at the small Private in front of him. Waiting wasn't something he was good at, not when it came to you. "Speak!", he ordered harshly, no need to mention that the poor guy was scared to bits. Kyle shoved Simon gently to the side, what earned him a deep growl. "Ignore the scary dog.", he exhaled nervous and looked as soft as possible to the young boy, who nodded hesitant. "Here to inform you, that Sergeant Quinn has made it through the surgery without any complications. She's been brought to room 317 for further medical treatment. She’s still unconscious, but visitors are allowed." Johnny nodded. "Thanks, dismissed."

Before Kyle and Johnny could even say something, Ghost started running through the hallways up to the infirmary. Ignoring any glances and shouting around him. His steps were fast and determined. His grip still tight around the blue box. "Lt!" Johnny had problems to keep up with him while Kyle didn't even try. He knew it was pointless. Simon only had one thing on his mind, seeing you. Making sure that he didn't lose you. Just when he stood in front of the door separating him from his desire, he stopped. Fear raising in his stomach, fear of the sight that would expect him inside. Johnny was the one placing a gentle hand on his arm. "C'mon, Lt.", he gently pushed the door open, and the three men entered. It was a casual hospital room. Bright whites around you, a common sickbed every one of them had seen plenty of times. What they didn't expect was the huge figure already seated at your side. Simon fists clenched. The fear replaced with fury. Who dared to take his place next to you? He wanted to yell at him, throw him out of the room. It was supposed to be his seat. The male shortly looked at them, before turning to your unconscious figure. "Your mates are here, Spatzl." [German equivalent to dovie, but with dialect], his voice was calm as he held your hand. "Who are you?", Ghost hissed while his jaw nearly locked in tension. He let go of the box in his pocket, too scared he would break it. He couldn't even focus on you. The stranger looked at them again and they were greeted with a faceless image. The loose mask covering everything besides those clear blue eyes. "Easy, big boy. I'm not your enemy.", he said calm with a chuckle. His eyes shut. Did he smile, did he yawn. Ghost couldn't tell. That's how people must feel approaching himself all the time. It was Johnny who stepped forward, cautious. "Yer the one that saved our bonnie.", Soap exclaimed a bit guarded. He heard his voice before, over the comms and the thick German accent was undeniable. "Gonna leave you to it, for now. See you later, mein Engel."[my angel], his bare and huge hand caressed your cheek before standing up. Johnny did swallow a lump, as he noticed how tall the man in front of them was. Ghost had his fists still clenched, and it got worse with every second. "And to answer your question. I'm König. When you're friends with her, than we should get along. But don't step the line.", he stated softly while slightly tilting his head down. His blue eyes met the dark ones of Ghost. A tension was created, laying thick in the air and everyone could feel it, you could cut it with a knife. They stared down each other. Their brows furrowed before König left the room with a satisfied giggle.

And it only got worse. Anytime Simon would pay you a visit, he would already be there. Seated at your bed, your hand in his. He wanted to shove him out of the room, tear him apart that he finally would stay away from you. He acted like he was someone really special. It made him sick. Even Johnny stopped the teasing and joking comments in Ghost's presence, he knew that Simon was at the edge of his limits. Why did this guy couldn't leave you alone? Johnny had to force Ghost to go to the base's gym with them. To blow off some steam, and anytime he threw his fists against the punchbag, he did image that it would be him. The thorn in his side.

Simon wasn't allowed to stay nonstop in your room while you were still unconscious, he only had a few hours per day to spent them in your presence and those few he had to share with Kyle, Johnny, and damn König. It pissed him off, the way that man was always there and pretending you were his property. Who did he think he is?!

He never said something though. Only throwing him death glares and hoping he would leave after some time. Kyle explained later that he was a colonel of KorTac, and they should better not try to pick a fight with him. Price left a note about it. The 141 and KorTac weren’t actually friends, so they should keep it at bay. That wouldn't end well for no parties. So, Ghost suppressed the urge to smash his head against the wall and tearing that ugly mask down that face. Anytime they were in a room together it was Lieutenant Ghost that stood next to your bed. Cold, distant, work brain on, but as soon as the Austrian left the room - what he gladly did to grant the 141 some peace - Simon moved to your side. Taking your hands in his gloved ones, not averting his gaze from you. Not even for second. He didn't dare to look away, scared to miss something. A muffled groan, a twitch of your eyes or fingers. Anything that told him you were here with him. He didn't doubt that you weren't strong enough to recover, but Simon hated the waiting. He usually was patient, but not for you to wake up again. Even if the nurses told him that your conditions got better day by day, it wasn't enough for him. He needed you to open your eyes, to look at him again. To see him. To smile at him. He wanted to hear your voice again. Witnessing your laughter because of Johnny's stories. Listening of the joking arguments you and Kyle shared. Hearing you say his name again. God knows how much he wanted to hear that again. He needed it. He craved it. But he would wait, it was worth to wait for it. He knew it.

It was on the fifths day when he snapped. Johnny sat next to you at one side of the bed, while Simon on the other. Kyle next to the Scot, half asleep. Johnny told a story; he already had told you. Maybe he hoped that you'd wake up and scold him for telling the same story over and over again. Simon didn't care. His eyes lingered on you. Your usual stubbornness and strength smoothed out. Replaced with a weakness, a fragile figure he needed to protect at all costs. He stared at your face, your arms. Recognizing and memorizing every scar, dimple, freckle. Everything that made your face unique. He noticed a deep scar at your throat and some burned flesh at your right upper arm, it seemed bigger than the small spot that wasn't covered through the clothes they gave you. He took everything in and burned it in his brain. Scared that he could forget a small detail. You never talked about how you got the scars. That's something both of you wouldn't share. Stories too deep, too painful, but Simon hoped that one day, he could fight the urge to hide it. He wanted to share his story with you, he wanted you to see him as the person he was behind the mask. Behind Ghost. He made a promise to himself, that if you would let him, he wanted to tell you everything. Step by step. One thing at the right time. You already told him so much about yourself, now should be his turn.

Just in that moment the door opened, and the giant walked into the room. Simon immediately switched mentally, and Ghost let go of your hand. Staring at him through the mask. Why did he always had to interrupt your - his - peace. "Hallöchen.", [hi there], he chimed while moving to your side. Johnny stopped his story and looked at you, and then at Ghost. "Don't ya have more important things to do, colonel", he exhaled sharply while his eyes didn't move away from König's statue. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't handle how he regarded everything as a matter of course. "More important than meine Liebe, no I don't think so." [my love], he chuckled while looking down at you. His hands slowly making his way up to yours again. "Bloody ‘ell, stop touching her the whole time.", Ghost hissed. He didn't know in what relationship you two were, but he remembered that you had never mentioned him. You talked a lot about Randy and never ever about some jerk called König. Also, he did remember that one time when he tried to get his hand closer to yours, on the patio during one of your shared smokes, that you immediately pulled back and he retreated. He can't imagine that you would enjoy those hands all over you the whole time.

"Excuse me?", König stopped his movement and looked down at Ghost. "Ya heard me. Stop it." - "I told you don't step a line, big boy." König moved over where Ghost was seated and the later stood up. "Yer invadin' her space, 'nd stop callin' me that.", he snarled back. His accent grew thicker on his tongue as his anger rose. Staring in each other’s eyes while arguing about the situation. Johnny tried to calm both down, trying to talk them out, but the discussion only became more heated. Hissing, snarling at each other, mocking the opposite. Johnny was scared they could start a fist fight any second. "You don't even know her like I do." König's usual smooth tone completely gone and with that statement Ghost's patience was gone. He took a grip on the first thing reachable, his collar. "Enough!", it was Kyle who stood up now. His voice determined and rough. "Skadi needs rest, if you want to scream at each other like little kids do, do that somewhere else!", he looked furious at them and König nodded slowly, looking down at you. Ghost pulled his hands slowly back. "He's right. I'll come back later.", König left the room and let Ghost back who now had an argument with Soap.

Not so heated, no screaming at each other but still serious. Kyle shook his head while sitting down again. "We're their guests, I can't stand him either. Total arsehole. But for her sake, we need to pull ourselves together." - "I know.", Ghost knew all of that, but he couldn't bare it anymore. He couldn't work with that anymore. "Simon. If he hadn't been there...", Johnny's voice snapped him - Simon - back to the reality. It was rare that he used his first name, therefore it had quite an effect on him and the context even more. "Ya do not have to remind me." Simon's voice was calmer again, filled with guilt. His head hung low; his eyes pinned to his hands that nearly started a war. "Could you both shut up!", Kyle exhaled again, not daring to look at the two across form the bed. His eyes were pinned on you. "I can't understand what she's saying!"

With that both of them stopped immediately and turned their whole attention onto you. Your eyes were open only the slightest and your lips moved slowly, but no words escaped them. "Water, get her some water.", Johnny moved to get something to drink and a nurse while you tried the hardest to speak. Simon was too stunned, just starring at you, while Kyle took the word, "Calm down. We're all here. Don't push it too far. We're not going anywhere. " You hardly nodded in response and closed your eyes once more. Everything hurt, but seeing them around you, hearing their voices, it washed away some sorrows. You tried to move but were abruptly stopped by the jolting pain that came from your side. You wanted to take a grip on the wound that hurt, but the thing was, everything hurt. Even breathing sent jolts of pain through your body. Your mind was hazy, and you couldn’t remember a thing. Simon stared down at you, completely overwhelmed about all the things he felt.

"Take it easy, Sergeant." A medic entered your room and shooed the men out of it.

From this moment, everything became easier. Especially for Simon. You woke up, you looked at him. You were okay. Still, you had a long way ahead, you slept almost all day. Giving your body the rest that was essential, but now that you were conscious, Simon could stay longer in your room. He sat by your side the whole time, not even daring to leave the room in case you needed something. In case you needed him, and oh lord he wished that you to need him. He placed the blue box next to you. In case you woke up and he couldn't be by your side. That you found something familiar next to you. Something that could provide you with some comfort. There were only short periods of time when you were awake, and in those you had to fight the immense pain, before your body was too exhausted and gave in, bringing you to sleep again. You still couldn’t move, speaking was hard. Simon would be by your side, telling you sweet nothings, little praises you couldn't even hear. Your head was still so hazy. But besides all the circumstances it felt like peace. Not even König could interrupt this now. To Simon's luck he was called in for an operation, that way he could spend the whole day at your side. Not Ghost.

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