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1980s-robin · 5 years ago

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love and ferris wheels

pairing: alexei x fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested: yes

summary: reader saved alexei at the fun fair and takes it upon herself to teach alexei about american culture. alexei seems entranced by the idea of an amuesment park and y/n decides to take him to one.

a/n: this was requested as alexei fluff and i had a cute idea, also i made the reader female because i wanted her to explain sexism and have a cute scene about that and feminsm with her and alexei. another thing, i don’t know russian. also i combined two requests, one of them was where reader knew how to speak russian. hope that’s okay. when they’re speaking russian it will be in italics.

warnings: none, minor season 3 spoilers, fluff, mentions of sexism

word count: 2.1k words

When you agreed to help Hopper and Joyce translate Russian for them you had no idea what was going to happen. While you did help them, they still needed to contact Murray for a second opinion. Which led to the Fun Fair. Ever since you caught that the Russian guy Hopper had described seemed to be making his way through the crowd, you quickly moved Alexei out of the way and over to where Murray was standing before everyone was able to leave the fair safely.

After that night, you took it upon yourself to take care of Alexei until he’s able to get on his feet in America and find a place to live. Truthfully, you have no idea how long that could take. America and Russia are at each other’s throats, you don’t feel particularly safe sending Alexei out on his own because you just don’t know if he would be able to make it alone.

You’ve been letting Alexei stay in your house for about a week at this point, and you were finally able to teach him about America’s culture. “Good morning, Alexei.” you greeted, a small smile on your face as you glanced at your new friend. “Good morning” he replied. He was still getting used to living in a domestic environment and rather than being mistreated in a lab, that was another thing. You knew the other Russians were bad to him, but they really hurt the poor boy, he was overjoyed by the smallest things.

As you sat down on the couch he seemed to follow, for the most part, he had tried to copy a lot of the things that you were doing because he wanted to fit into American life as best as he could. “I was reading a book yesterday that was written in Russian about America,” Alexei started, you turned to face him with your eyebrows raised “I gave you that book,” you said teasingly and he laughed a little bit but then he continued. “It mentioned something about sexism and… social issues. What does that mean?”

“It… means a lot of things,” you said, but you really didn’t know where you were supposed to start. “Sexism is basically when someone dislikes someone or treats someone differently for their gender like when people say women shouldn’t be working that’s sexism,” you explained, in the best possible way that you could. “So, it’s like how they only hire men to be guards?” He asked and you tilted your head. “Kind of, if they’re turning down women who are trained to fight just because they’re women.”

“So, do people dislike you?” Alexei questioned and you couldn’t help but snort. “I’m sure there’s some people who dislike me.” You remarked. The day sort of remained like that until a commercial for a new amusement park came on screen. They’d been promoting it like crazy on local stations because it was about twenty minutes away from your home. You didn’t think much, but you soon felt someone poking your side, and then you caught the enthusiastic grin on Alexei’s face. “You want to go there, don’t you?” You asked him, to which he nodded. You let out a laugh and checked the time, it was only eleven and it wouldn’t take long to get there, so there wouldn’t be anything wrong with the two of you getting ready to go to the park.

“Fine, fine we can go.” You said, trying to fight a smile from coming onto your face but you couldn’t help it. Alexei as an incredibly happy and enthusiastic person, being around him could put a smile on anyone's face even if they have no idea what he was saying. You understood him because your parents had these Russian friends that you around from a young age. The adults spoke English but the girl, their daughter who was your age, was homeschooled and only spoke Russian. Most of your time spent with the girl wasn’t talking, but sometimes she taught up Russian words for things, like when you called something a doll and she would tell you what she called it. From then on, she started learning more English as she was integrated into American culture, and you learned more of her language. You weren’t perfect with the language, but you also read quite a few books on the language, which is why Hopper and Joyce called you, but of course they still needed Murray because he was more fluent than you were. At least on things referring to the supernatural, you never thought you would need any of it so you didn’t learn it.

The two of you got into more casual clothing and you got in the driver’s seat of the car, setting down a bag you had decided to bring with some water in it, in the back seat. You could see out of the corner of your eye that Alexei was giddy to go to someplace that he had never been to before. You thought it was nice to see him being so excited about something, as people got older they tended to lose that joy. But you also found it sad, you knew he was so happy and excited about this new culture because of how horrible life was for him in Russia and how horrible it was for him in the lab.

As the two of you arrived at the park, and you paid for parking before parking in the lot, you had taken notice of the fact that Alexei had already picked up the box that the bottles of water were in. You glanced over at him and a smile couldn’t help but spread across your face when he saw his excited expression. “It looks like… it looks amazing.” he said and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, just wait until you’re on one of the rides.” You said with a grin before you got out of the car, Alexei following quickly behind you as you approached the ticket booth. As you got to the front of the line you pulled your wallet out. “That’ll be twenty dollars for two adults.” Said the woman at the booth, she looked rather tired most likely from the amount of people that had been coming to the new park since it opened. You handed her a twenty, a smile covering your face. “Please place your right wrist in the booth.” She said and you stuck your right wrist in. She looked to Alexei expectantly. “Sorry, he doesn’t speak English.” You said before you turned to him. “Alexei, put your right wrist in the booth.” You told him and he nodded before putting his wrist in for her to put on the band. You didn’t miss her expression when she heard you speak Russian, but you ignored it.

As soon as you walked in Alexei started dragging you to all different kinds of rides, but you did insist that you saved the roller coaster and ferris wheel for later. By five pm, you two had ridden just about every ride in the park. And you finally led you to a roller coaster, the only one, and the biggest ride in the park. “Can we ride this one now?” He asked and you nodded, rather eagerly. Being with someone as energetic as Alexei encouraged you to let loose and not pretend to be completely serious, you allowed yourself to really enjoy the park.

As you got to the front of the line, you began to feel just a tiny bit of nervousness. You knew that nothing horrible was going to come of this, it was just a ride that was created for family fun and enjoyment. But you still got scared on them, out of fear that the horror stories you had heard about them on the news could come true to you. Finally, you reached the front of the line and sat down, Alexei coming in next to you. “What makes this one different from the others?” He questioned. “I don’t really know, parks promote roller coasters more than the other rides. I think it’s because they’re the biggest.” You answered. He seemed to understand, and very soon the ride started to move, and the cart started slowly moving up the track.

At first, Alexei seemed excited, but as it started getting higher he started getting nervous. “Are you okay?” you asked him, and he looked over at you and nodded. A few second later, you reached the top and the cart started to drop. Just about everyone was screaming, one or two people were laughing. In the heat of the moment Alexei reached over and grabbed your hand out of fear, you didn’t really notice that much as you subconsciously reciprocated.

Once the ride stopped, everyone’s hair was a mess as they all seemed overwhelmed. You then noticed your hand situation. You let go of his hand, opting to ignore it before heading to the exit with Alexei in tow. “Do you want to get dinner?” You asked him, looking back as you walked out of the exit and back onto the main street of the park. “I- Yes.” Alexei said and you led him to the on sight restaurant. Of course, he ordered a cherry slurpee with his meal. As you sat and ate, you both seemed to have an awkward air about you. You didn’t think that he wanted anything more from you than friendship, until he was able to get himself on his feet in America. You honestly didn’t think he understood what holding hands meant, and you didn’t want to be the person to explain it to him. “Do you still want to ride the Ferris Wheel?” He asked you and you tilted your head, of course he had decided to ask you this while you still had a mouth full of food. You quickly finished chewing and swallowed your food, before answering him. “Yes, of course I do.” You said and he smiled brightly before finishing his food. You finished as well and took the tray of food to the garbage before you began walking towards the Ferris Wheel.

He followed after you, before you finally made it to the line. It was rather long. “The line’s not going to go very fast, it’s a long ride and it’s really popular.” You told him, and he nodded in understanding. It was about an hour before you both made it to the front of the time and by the time that you did it was beginning to get dark out, so most of the rides were lit up. As they scanned your wrist bands and sent you on the ride, you both slipped in, you on one side and Alexei on the other. He must of seen how other people were sitting. While you wouldn’t have been opposed to sitting next to him, you knew the cart might have been a little shaky with two adults on one side, and on one on the other side.

About halfway up the ride, Alexei turned from looking at the park in amazement to looking at you, there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was doubt. “What is it, Alexei?” You asked him and he seemed to scoot forward in his seat a bit, you doing the same since you expected him to be telling you some sort of secret. However you were mistaken. Alexei’s hand moved up to cup your cheek, something that you easily leaned in to before he leaned in to press his lips against yours. Your eyes widened but you quickly kissed him back. Once you pulled apart, the ride was stopped, and you were somewhere near the top. You could feel someone getting on the ride, so you knew it meant you would be off of it within ten minutes.

“What was that?” you asked him and his cheeks tinted red but he took the book you had given him about American culture from the bag, he must have put it in there. “Chapter five was about romance, I’ve been wanting to do that since we met.” He responded and a grin covered your face. “Do you wanna do it again?” You asked him and he nodded, causing you to move in, this time you both met in the middle. “So you feel the same way?” He asked when you both pulled back again and you snorted at his unneeded question. “Who wouldn’t?” You asked him before you both enjoyed the rest of the ride and went home.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #alexei x reader #alexei imagine #alexei fanfiction #alexei reader insert #alexei imagines #alexei fanfic #dr alexei x reader

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ctl-yuejie · 5 years ago

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opinion on the term bl?

uhhhhhh…very complicated. I might have written a whole rant post before on the topic on this blog on an empty stomach so it was most likely not very nuanced (I think it was about people saying that The Untamed didn’t count as BL).

buckle in, this got suuuper long

tbh i first came into contact with the term in the early 2000s and since the internet didn’t play any role at my age then, the only context I had were magazines (here in Europe) and manga publications.

I knew that BL was a whole genre in Manga and that it featured gay romance and that fans / content creators would refer to themselves at fujoshi. Now, at that time I was only figuring out that I was bi, didn’t know any Japanese and didn’t have any friends with cultural ties to Japan.

So based on the magazines I read, I started to believe that “Fujoshi” literally meant “Rotten Girl” because of the taboo of same-sex relationships and the tantalizing sense of the forbidden that comes with it.

While I read some BL manga (couldn’t tell you the titles anymore), I never referred to myself as a Fujoshi or being into BL because both terms seemed to apply only to Japanese people and the sense of “the forbidden” in regards to same-sex relationships didn’t fit to my reality (having been to a same-sex marriage with my family at age 8 etc) and also felt demeaning to me.

After learning Japanese and living in Japan I didn’t really question my aversion to the terms, since I did have access to the internet now but didn’t think of fact-checking everything I had “learned” pre-internet (I think it is important to note here that the magazines weren’t the highest in quality in terms of journalistic prowess nor scientific in any way. They were just short entertaining articles, aimed at teenagers like me, trying to profit from the still ongoing wave of japanese pop culture in the west) and my only experience with both bl content and real life fujoshi wasn’t that positive:

My feelings on BL and fujoshi culture were heavily influenced by

- the wave of very sad and traumatizing gay movies in Japan that most of the time ended in double suicides of the main characters

- rape storylines getting romanticized in manga

- pretty heavily stereotyped gay characters in main stream tv series that were only there for comedic relief

- the Fujoshi I knew back then being weirded out by the thought of same-sex relationships between women and basing their thought on gay men solely on the content they consumed

- not finding the hailed “subversion of traditional gender roles” or discussion thereof in the BL my friends consumed.

- my gay friends in japan having very frustrating encounters with fujoshi who started to treat them like an open air circus and not making them feel supported in real life

- people around me making judgments based on attractiveness on whether gay people should get supported, while the hint of a celebrity being gay was weaponized against them

now, this pretty much sums up, why I tended to have negative thoughts on the subject and felt more sympathetic to the push from some people in the queer community in japan to please retire terms like “uke” and “seme” when talking about real people.

since then, i didn’t intervene when other female friends in japan would use the term for themselves, because it still was a term coined in japan and those people were actually supportive of queer people so i didn’t see how me being preachy about it just because of my experience and not calling myself a fujoshi or fan of bl would be of any help and/or called for.

jump to 2018/2019 and i started to read more papers about it on a whim because i started to watch Crossing The Line and for the first time in a long while I was in a fandom again where people called the genre “BL” and themselves fujoshi/fudanshi.

I came to know that what I assumed the origin story of the term “Fujoshi” to be had been misreported (shocker) by the magazines back in my youth and that apparently the term was also widely used in Thailand, Taiwan and Mainland China. especially the knowledge that apparently TERFs were behind a pushback of the term made me reevaluate my opinion.

Since I have really no insight into Chinese or Thai culture it is not on me to judge whether it is appropriate for people there to use BL as a genre signifier etc and from all I have read, in some cases it is really about finding a way of creating and distributing queer content in a place that is not lgbtqi+ friendly or use it as means of finding expressions for one’s own sexuality etc.

Obv. there are genre conventions I will get annoyed about and criticize (all female characters are evil etc) but those things are also not BL exclusive so there’s not much sense in condemning a whole genre that at least tries to push some conventions.

With the Internet and a global push for more lgbtqi+ rights there is now definitely a strong symbiotic relationship between queer content and real life social changes. so being harder on queer content (in general) because it isn’t perfect doesn’t make anything better for queer people.

nowadays there has been some wonderful content in japan with a push for real life legal changes as well, taiwan has the marriage for all and thailand is also pushing for a civil union for everyone.

especially in the case of mainland china with strict censorship rules i will congratulate anyone who tries to sneak some ambiguity in. it saddens me that the rules are as strict and that there are even more hardships for lgbtqi+ people in real life but i would never say that not creating any content that could be interpreted as queer should be favoured over trying to do something, regardless of how lacking the result might seem.

The reason why I ranted about BL as a genre term recently was mostly directed at western fans with no cultural ties to any of the aforementioned cultures, but i definitely didn’t stress that enough in my previous post.

Since I still don’t call myself a fujoshi or being into the BL genre I am suspicious of western fans calling themselves as such. because i project my own experience and knowledge on them and there are people out there who definitely emphasize the cheeky “rotten” side of themselves while not knowing (like past me) where the term comes from and that it does’t have to do with any “forbidden fruit”. i assume a certain laziness when straight people will try and convince me that they are allies to me, because they consume BL series, but will still call me “the man” in the relationship etc.

There can definitely be a need for a similar outlet that allows people to write about gender roles, sexualities etc in a similar way but very often the argument of “it is female empowerment to be into BL” is just warping the origin story of the term into an excuse for homophobic statements. I see the term get applied to western shows as well (when there isn’t a need for using a Japanese term, especially not when there’s a missing understanding of its origin) and actual mlm shows in asia being dismissed just because it doesn’t fit the BL genre conventions (point and example: people in the west discounting The Untamed as mlm content because they weren’t explicit about it; What Did You Eat Yesterday getting dismissed because of similar reasons and the diversion from presumed age and beauty standards of BL as a genre). That way western fans made BL feel quite restrictive and not interchangeable with mlm anymore, which just confounds me.

in the end it also comes down to scope: someone writing fanfiction, producing small indie series cannot really be harmful even when they content might seem so. so regardless of what the genre entails it is important to put everything in perspective and whether this is the hill someone wants to die on, instead of leaving space for artistic expression, cultural differences and celebrating the steps into a more loving world for all.

tl;dr: I feel many emotions; there’s always space to learn more and I am grateful to everyone who made posts about the racism in criticizing the terms “Fujoshi” / “BL”; I don’t use the term myself, but only feel wary when westerners use it; personally I prefer to use mlm or wlw as content describers but I am also not 100% satisfied with that as well

ask me my opinion on ______

#ctlyuejie writes #ask game #ctlyuejie rants #long post #lovely mutuals are lovely #this is mostly to sort my own thoughts #thank you for the ask and sorry for the word vomit

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madlori · 5 years ago

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Unveiled - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2800 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Read it on AO3

No sex in this chapter, sorry. Next time!

-----

The Duke and Duchess of New Scotland arrived at Zhenya’s drawing room at the arranged time, the day after the wedding. Zhenya shook their hands and invited them to sit in what Sasha called the “conversation area.” Tea was ordered, and Zhenya tried to look as responsible and respectable as he could for these people who had just entrusted their son to him. He watched them as the footman served their tea, trying not to be too obvious about searching for clues to his consort’s appearance in their faces. They were both perfectly nice-looking people. The Duke seemed athletic, the Duchess was well turned-out.

“I’m so glad to finally have the chance to talk with you,” Zhenya said. They had met, just long enough to shake hands, when they’d arrived, but no more than that.

“So are we, Your Royal Highness,” the Duke said.

“Please. Call me Zhenya.”

“We would have been glad to meet with you before the wedding,” the Duchess said.

Zhenya shifted in his chair. “I’m new to embargoes, but I was advised that given how little time you have with your son before his marriage, such intrusion on my part wasn’t -- polite?”

The Duchess nodded, looking a little sad. “We appreciated having those days with him.”

“Has he has been pleased with his stay here so far?” Zhenya asked, cautiously.

“Oh yes,” the Duchess said. “It’s so much grander here than at home. New Scotland is a modest dukedom.”

“Ah, but grander doesn’t always mean better.”

“That is so. But everyone has been very welcoming.”

“I hope he wasn’t frightened, coming so far to a strange place.”

“I think you’ll find that not much frightens our son,” the Duchess said, pride beaming from her face.

“I look forward to the chance to learn about him. As long as the embargo is in place, I will have to rely on third party accounts, and even those are frowned upon.”

The Duke nodded. “He is prepared for the realities.”

Zhenya shifted. “When my parents began their search for a consort for me, I made it very clear that I would not accept a spouse who had been coerced, or who accepted marriage to me under duress. My father has assured me that he did not. I will ask you to make me the same assurance.”

They both looked shocked at the very idea of their son having been forced. “Oh, not at all,” the Duchess said. “Our son has ambitions to help others and be an active part of a responsible government, and given our relatively modest position, his best chance was to marry into such a situation. He had a number of offers, and he found your parents’ proposition appealing, so he accepted.”

“He had many offers?”

There was the pride again on the Duchess’s face. “Our son is very…” she began, but then the Duke put a gentle hand on her arm and she stopped.

“He has long been considered a very desirable prospect,” the Duke finished.

Zhenya nodded. “It seems I have gotten the better end of our arrangement.”

“Oh no, sir. We did our homework, and so did our son. We all felt that you were an honorable man, kind-hearted. So far, nothing here has made us think we were mistaken.” She leaned in a little, as if sharing a secret. “Our guards and valets have talked to the palace staff -- we know that’s the way to find out the truth. They all speak highly of you.”

“That’s very gratifying to hear,” Zhenya said. “We are committed to treating our staff fairly and respectfully.”

The Duchess winked at him. “I would be lying if I didn’t say that our son found your height and your, uh, general form to be pleasing.”

Zhenya felt absurdly fluttery to hear that his consort found him attractive. “As I’m sure I will his,” he said, thinking back to the one part of his consort’s body that he had seen. If that were any indication, “pleasing” would be a wild understatement. “I am conscious of what it must mean to you to deliver your son to a stranger for marriage, and to leave him, and hopefully your grandchild, in the care of others. I will do my best to deserve his trust,” he said, hoping they could hear the sincerity in his voice. “And yours.”

----------

“So you think it took?” was Sasha’s first question when Zhenya met him at the stables for their lunchtime ride. “The consummation, I mean.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t you have a divine intuition or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, so far I’d say you got lucky. That guy’s got the juiciest ass I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s my husband you’re talking about, fucker.”

“Like you didn’t notice. You had a half-chub going the second you laid eyes on it.”

“You like women.”

“That doesn’t make me blind.”

“I’m trying not to objectify him.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of embargo?”

“Not to me.” Zhenya hesitated. “What do you know about the offers he had, other than mine?”

“Just what I hear, you know, round the lamppost.”

“Which is?”

“Apparently there was some oil billionaire from Texas who was very keen. Kept sending him cars and horses and such. One of his guards told me that the guy came to visit twice, and the second time, he got his hand on the consort’s ass one time too many and ended up in a chokehold.”

“The guards put him in a chokehold?”

Sasha grinned. “Your consort did.”

“Oh,” Zhenya said, blinking. “So he could have married very well without having to go through an embargo.”

“Yeah, seems like. You weren’t the only crown royal, either. Word around the campfire is that Princess Amaruq made him an offer.”

“He was accepting offers from women?”

“According to one of the Duchess’s maids, he prefers men but was willing to consider women. Amaruq’s lovely, and she’s really sporty, which apparently he likes.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to live in Fairbanks.”

Sasha was eyeing him. “Why all these questions?”

“Just...his mother was talking about how he’d had a lot of offers, and she started to say something like ‘Our son is very…’ and then the Duke cut her off.”

Sasha gave him a dry look. “Sounds like your consort’s a snack.”

“You think?”

“Well, what else was she about to say, other than he’s very attractive? Do you think he had a lot of offers because he was very well-read or very punctual?”

“Some people value punctuality.”

“Yeah, but the Duke wouldn’t have stopped her from saying that.”

“Well, no matter what, I won’t find out for at least three months, so there’s no use wondering. There’s more to a marriage than that.”

Sasha shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt, though.”

They rode out on their usual route, out around the lake and through the orchards, skirting the gardens behind the palace as they returned. Zhenya’s hat flew off and he drew his horse up short, handing the reins to Sasha and hopping off to run back and retrieve it. “Zhenya,” Sasha muttered, jerking his head toward the garden.

He looked and saw his consort walking in the garden with his guards, five of them. One walked abreast and seemed to be talking to him, then two in front, two behind. The guard walking alongside wore extra decoration on his uniform; must be the captain, Zhenya thought. Now that the wedding was over, the consort was wearing less elaborate daily-wear veils; they fell only to mid-thigh, flowing over his face and torso. Zhenya could discern nothing of his face or body. Zhenya recognized three of the guards from the ceremony yesterday. The captain had been inside the bonding chamber, and two of the others had been outside. The other two were new to him -- of course, he thought, they can’t all be on duty at once. He must have a rotation. One was a strong-looking woman with a blond ponytail, the other was a square, bow-legged man with one of the handsomest faces Zhenya had ever seen. If he’d met him in a club, he’d have sidled on up and tried to find out which way he swung, for certain.

Zhenya looked away and chastised himself. He was a married man; he shouldn't be ogling his husband’s good-looking guards.

When he looked again, the head guard was watching him and directing the consort’s attention to where Zhenya and Sasha were, on the far side of the garden. Caught off-guard, Zhenya lifted his hand in a lame little wave; the consort inclined his head in acknowledgment. The group kept moving and were soon out of sight.

“Wow,” Sasha said. “I’m going to report you for violating embargo with that embarrassing display of excess.”

Zhenya rolled his eyes. “Just trying to be civil.”

---------

Soon after returning to his office, Zhenya’s private secretary, Alex, poked his head in. “Sir, the head of the consort’s guard wishes to speak with you. Shall I tell him to make an appointment?”

“No, I have time. Please show him in.” Zhenya got up and straightened his waistcoat, overcome with the desire to impress this man. Which was ridiculous -- he was the crown Prince -- but it couldn’t be denied.

The guard entered, hat under his arm, and saluted him smartly. “Your Royal Highness,” he said. It was the same man he’d seen earlier with the consort, who he’d deduced to be the captain. He was slender and handsome in a sharp-featured way. All the men in the guard seemed to be handsome. Zhenya wondered if that was by design.

“Please, come in, have a seat.”

The guard looked like he might prefer to stand, but after a brief hesitation he moved to the chair Zhenya indicated and perched ramrod-straight on the edge. “Thank you for seeing me, sir. My name is Fleury, I am the captain of His Highness’s guard. I thought it appropriate that we should meet.”

“I agree, Captain Fleury. I would have sent for you myself, but I didn’t think it my place.”

“Correct.”

Zhenya blinked. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

Fleury smiled; Zhenya detected a mischievous twinkle in the man’s eye. “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. It’s already come up a few times so I thought I ought to make sure everyone here is aware that my guards and I do not work for you or the Palace. We work for His Highness, and we answer to nobody else. Our loyalty and obedience are to him and him alone.”

Zhenya nodded. This was, indeed, a good point to clarify. “Understood, Captain. I will make this clear to all the Palace staff, including my own guards.”

“Once the embargo is lifted, His Highness will be under the protection of your guard just as you are and our jobs will be complete, but until that time, he is our responsibility.”

“Thank you for taking that responsibility seriously.”

“I take it very seriously.” Fleury cleared his throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but His Highness and I are longtime friends and he is very dear to me, and to my guards. So we take his safety and well-being personally.”

“Good.” Zhenya held the man’s gaze. He did not acknowledge the implied threat to himself in that statement but he heard it clearly, and Fleury obviously knew that he’d heard it clearly. They understood each other.

Fleury gave a little nod, as if to close the topic. “Okay. Onto the practical stuff.” He pulled out a notebook and a pen. Zhenya half-wished he had the same; he felt like he ought to be taking notes. “His Highness wants to know what time of day you prefer for sex.”

Zhenya blinked. He hadn’t expected such frankness, but it was a relief to hear it. “Um...I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“He likes to maintain a routine, if that’s okay with you.”

“If he prefers that, I’m happy to go along.” He thought for a moment. “Would midafternoon suit him? Evenings are so often taken up with state functions, and I am usually tired afterwards.”

Fleury smiled, and Zhenya sensed that he’d passed some kind of unannounced test. “That sounds good. Let’s set a daily appointment at 3:00 pm, with a confirmation by messenger at 2:30 and an option to postpone, but no later than 4:00 pm.”

Zhenya nodded. “Your master is very organized.”

Fleury chuckled quietly. “Oh, you’re going to find out.” He looked up at him. “He also wanted me to tell you that he really appreciated your gesture at the consummation, when you asked him for consent? It surprised him and put him at ease.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It was important to me and continues to be.”

“He thought so. So he’s got an idea for that, going forward. For -- intimate moments. If he makes this gesture…” Fleury held out his hand in a thumbs-down…”that means he wants you to stop whatever it is you’re doing. If he does not make that gesture, you may assume you have his consent to proceed. And you should use that signal for yourself, too.”

Zhenya hadn’t really known what to expect of his new husband, but it certainly hadn’t been this. “He would seem to be a thoughtful man of foresight.”

Fleury nodded. “He is, sir. Does that work for you?”

“It does. Please thank him for giving me a way to know how he’s feeling.”

“I will.” He hesitated. “And look, just -- thanks. From me, and the rest of us who care about him. I didn’t know what to expect of you. We did our research and you seem like a decent man, but many highborn people, even decent ones, when presented with a consort, would often take the opportunity to do as they liked with no thought for the consort’s wishes.”

“I am not such a man,” Zhenya said, firmly.

“I can see that. And so does he.” Fleury seemed about to go on, then harrumphed and checked his notes. “His Highness is very interested in contributing to the good of the kingdom. He knows that he can’t start up any charitable works or civic responsibilities under the embargo. So he would like to ask if there is anything he can do to help either here in the palace, or in such a way that he would remain anonymous.”

“If there were, my knowing about it would be a violation of the embargo.”

“Correct. Is there someone we could go to in your stead on this matter?”

“Yes, I think so. My executive secretary, Mr. Gonchar, is often my representative in matters of this nature; I’m sure he can find a way for His Highness to contribute without my knowledge or anyone else’s. You may tell him that both he and His Highness have my permission to undertake whatever projects they deem appropriate.”

“Very good. We will consult with him.” Fleury rose to his feet. “That’s all I have for now, Your Royal Highness. Thank you for being open to my comments.”

Zhenya rose. “I…” He sighed and looked at his feet. “Please tell my husband that my greatest wish is that he be comfortable and content here, and that our embargo may be brief.”

Fleury’s eyes narrowed. “That’s pushing embargo, don’t you think?”

“Probably.”

His gaze warmed a little. “Even if I can’t pass your words on to him, I have heard them myself. That isn’t nothing.” He winked, then turned and took his leave.

Cheeky, Zhenya thought. But he liked him.

-----

Fleury had not been gone half an hour when a messenger appeared with a card. “From His Highness,” the messenger said. “He awaits your reply.” He stood back while Zhenya opened the card, glancing at the clock. Sure enough, it was 2:30 on the dot. The card was a quaint touch, but a necessary one -- the embargo forbid them from texting or phoning each other, so this was all they had.

Your confirmation is requested for today’s scheduled appointment with the Prince Consort at 3:00 p.m. in the Royal Bedchamber. Please indicate your response below.

____ Accepted

____Cancelled

____Postponement to _____ o’clock requested

Yours very sincerely, The Prince Consort

Zhenya stared at the card with its neat lettering and multiple-choice responses, feeling an absurd lump rise in his throat. He could fall in love with this man and his endearing routines without ever having seen his face or heard his voice, embargo be damned.

He placed a check mark next to “Accepted” and sent the messenger back, then headed to his own chambers. He wanted to shower before his appointment.

Next Chapter

#unveiled #sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey rpf #my writing #unveiled chapters

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mrchalamet-mrstyles · 5 years ago

Note

Thank you for remaining mostly positive and upbeat which I know is hard. So glad you don't post hate to get attention like some. The times you do speak out are usually with good reason. I know you get mad, like we all do, at the despicable things said about Lily, or when they drag Tim for being with her. The world is hurting and full of sorrow as it is, so it baffles me that they are consumed with jealousy, hatred and negativity. We need more love, not hate. TPWK! ❤️️

There’s just no point to any of it anymore, anon. They believe what they believe and I believe what I believe. Neither side will ever convince the other they are wrong (but they are wrong lol) Sure, it gets to me. I see it. Can’t help but see it. There are still mutual follows that end up reblogging and posting some of it and it migrates to my dash or someone I know tells me about what’s being said and there are days it really gets to me, but for the most part lately, it’s just not something that I care about. Tim and Harry are such beacons of hope. I know that’s a fucking cliché, but it’s true for me. I’ve got two kids that are interested in them, watching them, being influenced by what they are doing and saying and putting out into the world and it’s shaping their own view on how to act and how to treat people (with kindness) and that fills me with hope. Especially with how completely shitty our world is at present. Look what happened in Britain yesterday. Look what’s looming for us here in the US in 2020. My personal health is a toss up. So if that side of fandom wants to stay mired in peddling nastiness, that’s their prerogative. Tim is not about that and I dare say he wouldn’t appreciate it, even if her were involved with Armie. He respects women too much to go along with how those people talk about Lily, I’m sure about that. As for how they rag on Harry, that’s a shame. They are missing out on a true pioneer. They are longing for someone who will break the mold of toxic masculinity but shun him out of sheer spite because some ‘antis’ ship him with Timmy. That is their sad sad loss.

Anon, I didn’t expect this message today, and I doubt you expected this long-winded answer in response. Thanks for the kindness and I send it back to you in return.

#tpwk #Anonymous

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write-havoc · 6 years ago

Text

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 41

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

“Baby girl?” Negan’s gentle voice rouses Chuck from her sleep.

Chuck opens her still heavy eyelids and turns her head to look at Negan, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. “Hmm?” she croaks.

Negan slowly pulls down the blankets to expose Chuck’s naked torso and rubs his hand over her stomach. “I’m gonna head out to Alexandria in a little bit,” he says quietly. “Just wanted to see my babies before I fuckin’ left.”

Chuck smiles up at him and holds her arms out, wordlessly asking Negan to lean down to her. He accepts and bends his body down to place a kiss on Chuck’s neck, making her giggle lazily.

“You wanna fuck real quick?” he whispers in her ear.

She laughs lightly. “Too tired.”

He shifts so that he’s looking down at her face. “I’ll do all the work,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

She laughs lightly with barely open eyes and places her hand on her stomach. “We’re too sleepy, daddy.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “You’re busting out that daddy shit right after you tell me you don’t wanna fuck? That’s just cruel, little girl.”

She swats him on the shoulder lightly, but still laughs. “I meant because you’re the daddy of the baby.”

“Sure, sure, little girl.” He kisses her lips with a smile on this face then shifts downward toward her stomach. “Daddy’ll be back later, baby,” he whispers into it before placing a sweet kiss right above her belly button. He stands from the bed and grabs Lucille from where she was leaning on the nightstand.

“Tell Aaron I love him,” Chuck rasps out then turns to lay on her side and cuddle into the pillows.

“Alright. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, Negan.” She falls back asleep before she even hears the door close.

Later that day, Chuck decides to go back down to the gardens since she had such a good time there yesterday. On her way there, she bumps into Simon.

“Oh, hey, Simon,” she greets him cheerily.

“Hey there, kiddo. I was just gonna get some gelato from the kitchen. Wanna join?”

“Uh, yes! Of course I do!” She laughs and follows him to the kitchen. When they get there, they are greeted by a kindly older lady named Hettie.

“Simon!” Hettie calls out from behind the island in the center of the kitchen. It looks as if she had just finished putting the gelato into containers to be put in one of the freezers. “Right on time!” She looks to Chuck. “And you must be Chuck!” She walks over to Chuck and places her hands on Chuck’s arms. “Look at you!” She holds Chuck’s arms out and looks her up and down. “You’re all skin and bones, girl! We need to get some meat on you for that baby.” She goes back to the island and starts to get bowls ready for Simon and Chuck.

“I think I have enough meat,” Chuck responds with a giggle.

“What flavor you want, sugar?” the older woman asks. “Vanilla, cardamom, strawberry-“

“Ooh strawberry!” Chuck calls out quickly.

“Make that two,” Simon adds with a smile.

Hettie starts to scoop the ice cream into the bowls. “That boy right there,” she waves the scoop at Simon before scooping out some more gelato, “he is gonna weigh four hundred pounds if he keeps eating this stuff everyday. All these batches I’ve been making from Hilltop’s regular milk deliveries and he’s been eating most of it all by himself!”

Chuck laughs. “I can’t blame him. If I had known you make it all the time, I would’ve been down here eating it too!”

“Well I’m not gonna grouse about you coming down here, sugar! If that baby wants something sweet, you give it to him!” Hettie hands one of the bowls to Chuck and then the other to Simon.

Chuck plunges her spoon into the frozen treat and brings it to her mouth. The second she tastes it, she can’t help but smile. Negan had brought up some of the vanilla gelato once or twice for Chuck, but the strawberry has quickly become her favorite. “This is amazing!” Chuck exclaims after she swallows her bite.

“Well, sugar, I will always have a batch down here ready just for you!”

Chuck giggles. “Don’t tell me that! I’ll be down here all the time stuffing my face!”

Everyone laughs.

“Well tell that skinny husband of yours that he’s more than welcome down here, too. I know that man can eat, but he’s still skin and bones!” Hettie jokes with a wink.

“I’ll let him know you’ll be expecting him!” Chuck replies before she and Simon bid their farewells.

They take their bowls of gelato outside to sit at Chuck’s picnic table.

“Don’t tell Hettie,” Simon says as he takes a bite, “but I’ve definitely gained some weight because of this shit.” He points his spoon at the bowl.

“I’m probably going to, too,” Chuck jokes with a laugh.

They sit at the table enjoying their treats for a few minutes before a group of young teenagers walks past.

“Hello, Miss Chuck,” one boy, who Chuck recognizes as the boy she helped at the party, greets with a wave.

“Hello, Jack.” Chuck waves back as the teens all look at Jack like he’s a superstar for knowing her.

Simon chuckles when they walk out of earshot. “What was all that?”

“I talked to that kid at the party.” She shrugs. “It’s kinda weird having people know who I am. I’m used to everyone just ignoring me all the time.”

“You’re part of the upper echelon now, kiddo. Everyone knows you’re Negan’s number one wife.”

Chuck gives Simon an incredulous look. “Number one? Why would everyone think that?” Chuck and everyone on the fifth floor knows that that’s true, but Chuck doesn’t know why anyone else would know that. Or even really care about it.

Simon gives a shrug and scratches at his cheek. “They saw the way he was with you at the party. And...” he clears his throat, “everyone knew he never wanted kids with any of the other women...”

Chuck just nods, not wanting to push the uncomfortable subject further with Simon.

There is an awkward silence for a few moments until Simon changes the subject. “So, where were you headed before I hijacked you?”

“The gardens. I liked working with the plants yesterday. It felt like I was actually helping out around here.” Chuck gives Simon a little smile and takes a bite.

“Those lady gardeners seem... funny,” he comments with a smirk.

“Yeah.” Chuck giggles. “They’re pretty crazy. But I like them.” She takes another bite and swirls it around her mouth before swallowing. “You know, you can actually socialize with the workers a little. Just because they’re not saviors, that doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile.”

He looks down at his lap for a moment like he’s guilty. “I know. I know some of us saviors can be...”

“Snobby?” Chuck provides.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Snobby... to the workers. It’s not that I don’t think the workers are worthwhile...” he pauses to find the right words, “I guess it’s pretty shitty, but it’s just the way it is here. We keep separate from them.” He shrugs and takes a bite.

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You can make an example. Get out there and show the other saviors that it isn’t ‘us and them’. It’s just ‘us’. People will follow your lead.”

He swallows his bite and throws his spoon into his now empty bowl. “You’re probably right.”

“I generally am,” she jokes back.

They’re silent for a few moments as Chuck finishes her ice cream.

“Are you... feeling okay?” Simon suddenly asks.

“Yes,” Chuck answers with confusion in her tone. “Do I look sick or something?”

“No, no. You look fine. I just mean... with the ...baby. Is it all... okay?”

Chuck and Simon haven’t really talked about the pregnancy since he first found out. She knew that it would take a while for him to come to terms with it, so she never wanted to discuss it until he was comfortable.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks somewhat hesitantly.

“Not yet. A few more weeks and we should know.”

He nods. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Me and Negan... We don’t really talk about it. The... baby. He, uh... he doesn’t really talk about you much with me. I’ve heard him talk with some of the guys...” He rubs his hand down his cheek and looks away. “He seems really happy with you. And proud of the baby.”

Chuck lets out a deep breath. “I know things are... weird between all of us. And I totally understand you not wanting anything to do with us,” Chuck puts her hand on her belly and looks down at it before looking back to Simon, “but I hope you will be there with us. At least a little bit,” she says hopefully.

“I-I want to be there for you guys. I do. Negan’s my oldest friend. And I ...care about you, too. I want to be in your baby’s life. I want you guys to talk to me about him, or her. Whatever it’s gonna be.”

Chuck can’t help but smile as her eyes well up with tears. “That makes me so happy, Simon. My baby won’t grow up with a lot of family. But you can be like ‘Uncle Simon’.”

His lips curl up into a smile. “I’d like that.” He clears his throat. “Can I... Can I touch...” He points to her belly from across the table.

“Yeah. Sure. There’s not really much there yet.”

Simon comes around the table to sit next to Chuck. He slowly places his hand on her bump as he stares down at it. “When can you feel it move?” he whispers.

“Not for a while yet. Maybe a couple of weeks. Maybe longer, depending...” Chuck gives a shrug.

Simon backs away from her and chuckles at a thought. “When my sister had twins, she got fuckin’ huge . She gained about a hundred pounds I think.” He laughs, but it turns sad. “I never touched any other pregnant bellies besides hers.”

Chuck nods, not exactly sure what to say after that. “She...?”

“I don’t know,” he answers the question before Chuck even asks it. “She moved out to Colorado with my mom about a year before the end.” He shrugs. “So I don’t know what happened with them. I don’t have any family left...” he trails off.

Chuck just nods, still at a loss for what to say.

Simon sniffles then clears his throat with a cough. “Why don’t I escort you over to the gardens?” He stands from the bench and helps Chuck up as well, leading them both in the direction of the gardens after.

“The bowls?” Chuck looks back and points to the mess they’ve left.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get them when I come back around.”

——— Negan’s POV ———

Getting to Alexandria is slow fuckin’ going. It should’ve only taken about a fuckin’ hour, but two hours in, and we’re still not there. We’ve stopped four fuckin’ times to clear shit off the road. And now, we have a goddamn herd passing by. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough that it would waste too many fuckin’ bullets to clear out.

What the fuck is up with these herds? We have never had this many damn run ins in such a short amount of time with groups of the fuckin’ dead before now. What the fuck is making them herd up? Maybe it’s us. Clearing out all the stragglers and leaving just the herds. Well, what-the-fuck-ever it is, we’re gonna have to find a better way to deal with them.

We finally get to Alexandria’s gates and pull through. Rick’s right there with his lapdog Daryl waiting for me to exit my truck.

I open my door and step out. “Well, well, boys!” I call out to them. “I had a fuckin’ interesting drive over here!” I close my door and walk over to them with Dwight following me.

“Why’s that?” Rick asks in a kinda bitchy tone already.

“Your road was shit! But we can discuss that later.” I swing Lucille up onto my shoulder. “We headed to your humble abode, Ricky boy?”

Rick gives me a little nod and leads the way. When we get to his porch, I see that boy of his sitting on the floor playing with a little girl that can’t be more than two years old. Rick opens the door and turns back to me.

“I think we can do this by ourselves, can’t we?” Rick asks as he looks back to the two men behind us.

I look back to Dwight and Daryl, too, but I don’t say anything. I turn back to Rick and and suck on my teeth with a grimace on my face. I’m pretty sure this fucker isn’t gonna try to fuckin’ kill me, but I don’t want him to think I’ve let my guard down.

“I’m showing you some faith, Negan. I’ll even let you bring your bat inside.”

“Lucille,” I correct him. “And you’re goddamn right she’s coming inside with me. I would never leave my lady behind.”

Rick looks fuckin’ pissed which amuses the shit outta me. But then I remember why I’m here. And what Chuck asked of me. She wants me to play nice so... I’ll fuckin’ try.

“But you’re right. A little faith goes a long fuckin’ way.” I turn around to Dwight. “Stay out here with your new fuckin’ buddy. Braid each other’s hair or some shit.”

Both men give give me the stink eye which makes me laugh. I turn away from them to follow Rick into his living room. He sits his ass down on his couch, so I sit in one of the armchairs sorta in front of him.

“So, Rick,” I lean Lucille on the side of my chair, “what’s the first order of business?”

“I’ve talked to my people,” Rick starts. “We’ve agreed that trading with your group is in our best interest.”

“Hmm,” I respond. “The whole ‘in your best interest’ part is fuckin’ obvious because you guys are in a goddamn pickle, right? You’re low on food and that stuff you’ve planted in those brand new greenhouses I spied outside won’t feed you guys. At least not yet.” I lean forward in the chair. “Now, the whole ‘trading’ part...” I scrunch up my face, “what exactly do you have to trade that is equal in value to the fuckin’ food that you will no doubt be asking me to provide?”

Rick scratches his neck. “We have workers. We can help you with scavenging, helping out around your settlement-“

“I don’t need fuckin’ men, Rick. In case you haven’t noticed, most of the guys that I brought with me today aren’t the guys I brought here the first time I came. That is because I have a shit ton of men that I have at my disposal for these little excursions. And that’s in addition to my own fuckin’ workers that I have back home running my domestic shit.” I hold out my hands and shrug my shoulders. “But it hasn’t escaped my attention that you fuckers are well fuckin’ armed. If you want to talk about lightening your armory, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“No,” he responds quickly with a shake of his head. “We can’t do that. We won’t trade our weapons.”

I shrug. “Then what? I’m not a fuckin’ charity, Rick. I got my own people to provide for. I need something in return.”

“I-“ He lets out a hard breath. “Our arrangement can be temporary, whatever it is. We can get back on our feet. We just need time to grow the food. Scavenge for more. We will help out with whatever you want to work off the debt. Just say what you want and we’ll do it. I promise.”

I mull it over for a minute. “Well. You’re in fuckin’ luck, Ricky boy. It just so happens that I’ve come up with a few plans for my corner of the world. Which you find yourself adjacent to. Now,” I gesture to him, “I’m sure Aaron told you where the fuck The Sanctuary is and I already know that you know where Hilltop is. Those settlements along with yours make a fuckin’ triangle. And, eventually, I want that whole triangle fuckin’ cleared and blocked off from the dead. I want it to be completely safe to travel between our groups. It’s a fuckin’ monumental task and it’s gonna take a long ass time, but that’s what I’m gonna work towards.”

Rick nods. “We can help with that.”

“You’re goddamn right you’re gonna help with that because it’s gonna benefit your people, too. I wanna be able to travel between our groups fuckin’ easily. And safely.” I run my hand down my face and continue. “I want this shit started asap. But this plan of mine is gonna really kick into high gear in the winter.”

Rick looks at me like I’m fuckin’ insane. Which, normally, would be the case. Winters are a lot fuckin’ harder now that society’s fuckin’ dead, so getting anything done is really fuckin’ hard.

“I know it sounds fuckin’ dumb, but it’s not. Those slow ass dead fucks are even fuckin’ slower in the cold. If you haven’t noticed.”

“I came here from Georgia. I haven’t spent a winter this far north in my whole life.” He chuckles before he can remember that he kinda hates me.

“Last winter,” I start to explain, “I had my men go out after the temps dipped below freezing for a few days in a row. You see, the dead don’t make their own fuckin’ heat like you and me. When it freezes outside, those fuckers freeze, too. And when they freeze, they can’t fuckin’ move. My guys could just pick them off easy as pie. We cleared a shit ton of places pretty damn quickly.”

“We can do that,” Rick replies. “My people, we can coordinate with your people and help out.”

“I want to get shit blocked off before the snow comes. Block roads, dig trenches. Try to keep as many of the dead from entering my goddamn area. Then, when winter comes, we can start clearing shit.”

Rick nods. “I’ll talk to my people. But this is a good plan. Clearing the entire area... It’ll be better for everyone. We can actually start something more here. Something more than just surviving.”

I lean back in the chair and rest my elbows on the arms. “You need to start by keeping those dead fucks away from your home. We had to wait out a herd a few miles away from your gate.”

Rick gives me a knowing look. “We just led a herd off yesterday.” He shakes his head. “It seems like there’s more of them around now.”

“I’ve noticed that, too. We’ll have to handle that shit when we get to it. Which hopefully will be in the winter when they’ll be fuckin easier to put down.”

Rick nods. “Maybe before then we can lead them all into a gully, some place they can’t get out of until winter. Then when they freeze, we can take care of all of them easily.” He scratches his beard then looks up at me. “And I think I know a place. There’s this quarry not far from here that’s pretty well blocked off.”

Shit, that’s smart. Lead all those dead fucks to one place and kill them all in one go when they freeze. Not that I’m gonna fuckin’ tell him that’s a good fuckin’ idea. “That might work.” I cock my head to the side like I’m still not too sure about it. “I’ll get some plans in the works. We can do this all strategically. Make a grid and get blockades and shit put up systematically. Then we’ll coordinate. You folks can stay up this way. Me and my men will be around my shit, then we’ll meet in the middle. And I will supplement your efforts with some food until you get your own shit going.”

“Good.” Rick slicks back his hair then looks at me after a moment. “Aaron told me about his niece being pregnant with your child.”

Fuckin’ great. Of course he fuckin’ did.

At least I kinda trust Aaron not to do anything that will put Chuck in any danger. So if he trusts Rick enough to let him know about Chuck, then maybe I shouldn’t freak the fuck out about it.

But I still don’t fuckin’ like it.

I let out a huff and bite down on my bottom lip as I glare at Rick.

“I get why you wouldn’t spread that around, but you have nothing to worry about with us, Negan. We want to work with you.”

“I don’t wanna take any fuckin’ chances, Ricky boy,” I respond truthfully. “Wouldn’t you do anything to protect your woman if she was fuckin’ pregnant?”

I can tell that I hit a nerve because he takes in a sharp breath and looks down. “My wife... from before... She got pregnant after all this started.”

I realize that the woman he’s with now must not be his wife. So I already know where this story is gonna fuckin’ end up. “The little girl with your son outside. She your daughter?” I ask when he pauses. She must be his fuckin’ kid, too.

He nods. “Her name’s Judith. Lori was my wife. I got her some place safe for the baby. I even found a doctor- Well, he was a vet. But he was trained. I tried...” He takes a deep breath. “It didn’t matter. She died in childbirth. And I couldn’t get to her. Carl had to... finish it.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “That’s fucked up.”

Rick lifts his eyebrows to agree. “I want to make this place safe, just like you do. Alexandria, The Sanctuary, Hilltop... It shouldn’t matter. We- All of us need to work together to make this world safer for them.”

I nod. That’s all I want now. To give Chuck and the baby everything I possibly can. To make the world better so my kid can have a good fuckin’ life. “Can I see her? Judith?”

“Yeah.”

I follow Rick out to the porch and set Lucille on one to the chairs there. “Look at this precious girl!” I bend down to pick the little girl up and she doesn’t even fuss. But I can see that Carl and Daryl are both watching me carefully. They calm the fuck down when Judith starts to run her little fingers through my beard as I bounce her up and down. “And what is your name, little miss?”

She giggles at my voice and pats her hand on my mouth.

I pretend like I’m gonna bite her fingers and she laughs harder. “Oh, you are adorable! Your daddy told me that your name is Judith.” I boop her on the nose and she nods her head with a giggle. “Well, my name is Negan. Can you say that?”

“Nay-ghin!” she says excitedly.

“Shit, that’s close enough!”

“Shit!” she picks up right away.

“Oh, fuck! Don’t say that. Shit! don’t say ‘fuck’ either.”

“Fffff-“ She starts laughing too hard before she can finish the word.

“Okay, okay.” Rick comes forward and takes her from me. “Please don’t teach my little girl swear words.” He tries to sound all stern, but he’s holding back a laugh. Carl’s giggling his fuckin’ head off, too.

Judith holds her arms back out to me. “Nay-ghin!”

“Your girl loves me, Ricky boy!”

Rick actually fuckin’ groans.

“What the fuck’s wrong with that?! I’m such a fuckin’ teddy bear!”

Carl laughs his damn head off at that. “Your face is priceless, dad!”

Judith is still squirming around in her dad’s hands, so Rick hands her back to me.

“There we go.” I settle her in my arms and she rests her little cheek on my shoulder. “You sleepy, little miss?”

Her only answer is to bring her little fist up to her face, which definitely is a ‘yes’. I start to rock her gently and she falls asleep pretty fuckin’ quick. “Shit, I might need to get me a little vacation home here,” I say quietly.

I see Aaron approach us and walk up onto the porch. “It looks like Judith made a new friend,” he comments with a smile.

“I’m gonna pass her off to you, big bro.” I hold her out to Carl and he takes her. “I gotta talk to you before I leave,” I say to Aaron.

“I was coming here to talk to you, actually,” Aaron directs back at me.

We, along with Dwight trailing behind, start to walk back towards my trucks.

“I just wanted to ask about Brendon? Is he-“

“Dead?” I cut in. “Yeah, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

“Did Chuck see it?” Aaron asks.

I rub at my face. “Not closeup. I told her to go inside, but she fuckin’ watched from the window anyway.”

“She’s okay, though?”

“She’s fuckin’ great, actually,” I answer. “Told me to tell you that she loves you.”

He smiles. “I’d like to see her again.”

“You can come back with me,” I look down at him, “as long as you help me out with something.”

He looks back at me fuckin’ skeptically. “What is it?”

“Nothing too hard. Just a little mission. Won’t take too long.”

“Can I take someone with me?”

“Really?” I ask with attitude. “You don’t fuckin’ trust me?”

“I trust you, okay?” he bites back. “I just want someone else there.”

“Fine.”

Aaron nods. “Okay. So what are we doing?”

“Why don’t you go get a bag packed. I’ll fill you in on the fuckin’ way.”

#negan #negan fanfiction #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negan x ofc #negan x original female character #negan / oc #negan / ofc #negan / original female character #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead au #the walking dead #this is how i disappear #tihid #writehavoc writes #writehavoc this is how i disappear

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rohobi · 7 years ago

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Pulse 03 | (m)

COUNT: 8k Words CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝There are wounds that never show on the human body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.❞ LISTEN ▶

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 4

↣ SEOUL HEARTS HOSPITAL | Dr. Kim Taehyung

Changing into a new pair of blue scrubs in the bathroom, Taehyung asks himself at which point did everything in his life go wrong. He was so tired. So fucking tired and so fucking unhappy and so fucking miserable. He’s been hiding it behind a smile, burying it deep within him.

A pain like no other.

He scrubs his face with a cleanser he thinks belongs to Dr. Yoongi, hoping that it might make him feel grounded in something other than misery. But no matter how hard he scrubs, the feeling’s still there.

Like scum.

Patting his face dry with a white face cloth, he takes a deep breath. It might as well tattoo itself across his face, nothing could take it away. Sadness made its home in his bones a long time ago and now he was living with the consequences of it.

The memories of a happy life he once had, grew into shards of glass over time, cutting him up in the inside. Why can’t he go back to that time? Why can’t he be that person he was? Why does he feel so damn guilty all the time when he was just trying to be a good son for a mother who’s on her way out?

The wounds he sustained, ripped open at every reminder of you, are his worst enemy to date. He wonders if his mother’s aware that everytime he smiles, the ingenuity of pretending to be happy tastes like rotten fruit on his tongue.

He could never be happy again, as neurotic as that sounds, he doesn’t think he deserves to be.

He hates himself.

Staring at his face in the mirror, he takes another deep breath as he stands up straight. He adjusts the lapels of his pristine white coat while brushing his teeth with his other hand. At least he enjoyed his job, the patients were usually older adults who reminded him of his grandmother, it was nice being around people who liked him. Lots of broken bones.

It was ironic, a doctor who could mend broken body parts for other people, lived uncomfortably with a broken heart.

One he broke himself.

One he could never mend on his own. Taehyung wondered if he would get any category one acute surgeries tonight. He loved the cases from ED. Traumatic neck of femur fractures -the greater trochanter fracture in particular were fun, he enjoyed being the specialist whenever he ran down. He loved the spinal injuries and the tibial fractures, knees and shoulders.

Bones. He loved them. It was the best distraction from life that he knew. Taehyung had always been really interested in Emergency Medicine but he could never do it, knowing it was your speciality and knowing you’d never want to see him again.

He tried to respect that, he tried to respect the distance you wanted but sometimes, he just wants to know if you're okay. If you're happy. If you're loved. If you ever kept his child. If someone took up the space in your life that he used to. He's too afraid to act on those curiosities, to cowardly to come forth, too ashamed in himself for letting people control him, too ashamed for never standing up for himself, too afraid of the consequences his family offered if he did not follow their orders. He was a coward. Rinsing his mouth out, he frowns at himself in the mirror. This was the real him, the real Taehyung, the real person who never put up a pretence, someone who was unhappy and in pain every single day. But who else wasn't in pain. He adjusts the red, blue and green pens in his front coat pocket and wraps the bright red stethoscope from his pocket, around his neck. He turns the light off before closing the door behind him. Checking his pager, he clips it on to the waistband of his pants before pushing through the doors with his shoulder. Dr. Yoongi, Taehyung’s bestfriend, waits in the hallway for him with a coffee and an apricot danish for Taehyung. “Morning loser,” Yoongi says, handing him a bag and a coffee, “Got you a coffee that resembles your taste in woman.” "Morning? It's like 8pm," Taehyung smiles, sipping the bitter tasting beverage. “Yuck, Yoongi, my taste in women is not bitter.” Yoongi smiles. “You know, she called me last night, told me you hadn’t come home in a month, that true?” Sighing, he rolls his eyes. “I sent over the divorce papers, I’m only going back there if it’s to pick up those signed documents.” “Sounds about right,” Snorting, Yoongi wraps his arm around his shoulders. “You’ll finally be free from her? How do your parents feel about letting you loose?” “I haven’t told them yet,” Taehyung looks away from Yoongi, gesturing to start walking to work. “I’m pretty sure they’ll disown me. Anyway, enough of that, ready for a good night?” “Sure, we’ll talk about it later," Yoongi sips his own coffee. "I’m more than ready for a good shift actually. I've slept for 12 hours. Had to lecture the new guppies about social hierarchy yesterday, I swear they get loopy when they have rotations at Forest Lake. What are they putting in the water that makes them dumb?” “I don't know, whatever you’re drinking,” Biting into his pastry, Taehyung smiles wickedly at the blonde boy as he marches down the clean white hallway towards the Orthopaedic medical doctors office.

* * *

They stand in the office, preparing to do rounds on the ward. Taehyung’s looking at the list of patients he needs to visit experiencing post-operative delirium and constipation. He has students working with him tonight and Taehyung was fully prepared to dump his workload on them for “experience”.

Yoongi is signing discharge letters for patients leaving in the morning, writing prescriptions for pain relief and documenting orders for the morning nurses. The ward was quiet this evening, leaving a settled and peaceful evening for the nurses on shift but Taehyung wasn’t about to use the ‘q’ word in front of them.

“Shall we see our patients now?” Taehyung smiles, grouping up his 6 tired orienting medical students. “Why are you looking at me like that guys? Doctors rounds are fun and educational.”

“At this time?” One of his students snort laughs. “Not on this ward, it’s just old people-

-shut up Taemin,” a short girl says, she crosses her hands over here chest, rolling her eyes at the boy as she does. “You’re being disrespectful. Dr. Taehyung, please lets visit our patients. Quicker we can do this, quicker we can go home,” Younggi smiles up at him, “And I’d personally really love to see their progress.”

“Jesus Christ,” Yoongi curses under his breath. "Fucking brown noser."

The student ignores Yoongi as she stares back down at her black leather loathers.

“Every patient is your grandmother, try to think like that,” Hitting the top of Taemin’s head with his clipboard, Taehyung instructs a third student to push the trolley of patient files with them as all 6 students follow him down the ward hallway. Taehyung discards his coffee in the rubbish bin on the way. “Okay, because I know you all want to go home and sleep, let’s work in a team. Sound good?”

They all smile. Walking over to the trolley, he gives each of them a patient file. “What do you want us to do with these?”

“There’s six of you, pair up,” he says, watching them look at each other in confusion. “One of you will be assessing and the other will be scribing. You have two patients each, remember to switch.”

Taehyung folds his arms over his chest, they all look at him scared. “Oh come on, when my best friend in med school was in third year, below all of you, she was diagnosing aneurysms and scrubbing in on operations and you guys can barely talk to a patient without crawling in on yourselves. Get a grip, all of you.”

“But ...without you?” Taemin asks. “Can we do that?”

“I’ve worked with all six of you this month. Closely and together as a group. You’ve all grown so much and I believe that you all will make exceptional doctors. Believe in yourselves?” he says, watching them all smile, “So, look at the patient files for five minutes before going in, be polite and think before you speak. If you can't answer their questions, use your confidence and come and get me. I hope that doesn't actually happen though because you all should know the answers. Go on now.”

They all smile at him, clearly happy with the assignment.

“God, Taehyung,” Yoongi groans from behind him. “You still do that? You treat them like babies. That's why they get dumb.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as he watches the students head off to their retrospective patients. He’d given them all stable patients who had questions regarding the postoperative process. Nothing they can’t answer but it was always a confidence booster for his students and he loved seeing them go home happy.

“Yoongi, this is why I am the educator on this ward and you’re an asshole,” Taehyung picks out the last couple of folders before walking into the 4 patient room, handing one to Yoongi.

Yoongi sanitises his hands, pulling out his favourite black pen before following him in into the cubical.

Yoongi watches Taehyung sweeten up to the old lady covered in a mountain of blankets as he reads over her notes. “It’s lovely to see you again Dr. Taehyung, how are you?” she smiles, gazing up at Taehyung like he was the sun and she was the moon. Yoongi watches his little hands rub up and down on her purple, green and pink crochet blanket on top of her. “I’m better now that I have seen you,” he winks and she laughs softly. “I’m here to talk to you about your bowels. The nurses tell me you haven’t moved your bowels since the operation three days ago.” “Ooh my dear, a lady never does number 2 and tells,” She widens her eyes at him. “But yes, I have not. Those wicked nurses have been trying to get me out of bed, I’m just too old for this, doctor. It hurts too much.” Taehyung sits on her bed, cupping her hands. “They’re doing that for you. Exercise is good for recovery, especially since you’ve had a hip replacement. Quicker you’re up, quicker you can go home and be with your kittens.” “Oh is it?” she opens her mouth in a little ‘o’ that makes Taehyung giggle. "My kittens, oh I miss them terribly so." “Do you usually take medication for your bowels?” he asks and she shakes her head. “How about we try some?” She frowns. “I’m not taking any more of your pills doctor. I'm quite content with my remedies but the nurses won't let me take my herbal remedies and rubbing crystals. What can I do?” “Some of your remedies can have a dangerous effect on the medication we give you here, that’s why you can’t take them,” Unwrapping his stethoscope from around his neck, he smiles softly. “What about kiwifruit?" "What about kiwifruit?" “Kiwicrush. It’s a little shot of kiwifruit that helps you move your bowels, it's like a natural remedy, I assure you that it tastes very good,” he informs her, she nods hesitantly. “I’m going to listen to your stomach now, my stethoscope is a bit cold so don't be surprised okay?" "Okay," She nods again. "I'll try the fruit doctor." "Good, Yoongi please make a note of that," Placing the diaphragm of his stethoscope on her abdomen, he listens for any present bowel sounds. Yoongi draws a little picture of abdomen in her files as he examines her, watching Taehyung’s face for an answer. Taehyung frowns, shaking his head for Yoongi. Yoongi then draws a cross through it. Yoongi writes the prescription in her drug chart for kiwicrush and signs her notes before closing them and slipping out of the cubical to tend to the last patient in the room for him. “Everything okay?” she asks, a worried expression drawn across her face. “You frowned, am I dying?” “Oh don’t be silly,” Clasping her hands again, he smiles tenderly. “It’s just that I am a bit worried about your bowels at the moment, and getting you up seems to be the best option right now. I’m going to ask the nurses to give you some pain relief before getting you up tomorrow morning, just so it’s a little easier for you and then, I’m going to ask you to give it your best shot. Mobilising will be very good for your stomach Maurine.” “You sound like the nurse,” She laughs, smacking the top of his warm hand. “I’ll try for you. So, please, call me mama. I’m too damn old to be called anything else.” Standing up, he lifts the blankets up to her shoulders, making sure her toes are covered the way he knows she likes. He turns off the overhead light, leaving a small night light on for her. “Alright mama, you have a pleasant sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” She hums her response as she turns her attention to the window beside her. She stares at the moon with a gaze he can only describe as suddenly haunting as the soft hues of light accentuate an unspoken fear drawn across her face, something Taehyung feels uncomfortable about. “What are you staring at mama?” he whispers, following her gaze out the window. "Are you okay?" "I am okay for now," Standing by the window, he presses his hand to the cold surface as he feels the wind brush against the surface underneath his palm. She laughs softly under her breath from behind him. “It’s a full moon. The wolves are out howling for blood. I’d be careful on such an auspicious night Dr. Taehyung, who knows what might happen.” He turns back to her. “It’s always an auspicious night when one is in a hospital mama, anything could happen here too.” Leaving her cubicle, he pushes the hand sanitiser on the wall into his palm, rubbing the dollop into his hands as he walks down the hallway. “You know, the other patients call her a witch,” Yoongi says, walking beside him with the trolley, patient file on top as he hurries with writing the last note. “Her notes say that she chants under her breath at people, gave me the shivers reading it but you seem close with her, so good for you. If you get hexed, let me know.” “You shouldn’t talk about people like that Yoongi,” Taehyung laughs, walking towards the nurses station. “You’ll be the one hexed. So, what was that patient's primary concern?”

Looking back at the notes, Yoongi says. “Another patient needing laxatives. Typical for this ward. I don’t know why you don’t just prescribe laxatives post operatively anyway. Saves so much time.” Taehyung shrugs, leaning against the station. “I would if it were me doing it. It’s Dr. Minho. He thinks the best laxative is water and exercise.” Yoongi snorts. “He sounds out of touch with real patients.” “He’s a good doctor Yoongi.” “We’re all good doctors until we’re proven that we are not.” Settling in the nurses station, Yoongi starts nibbling at the cake the nurses left out, as Taehyung leans against the station. It was dark, the nurses had turned off the hallway lights so patients could settle to bed. The nurses station was empty as nurses eat their dinner in the fishbowl behind it. Their laughter flutters nicely out from their office into the long empty hallways. Taehyung’s ward was the only department in the hospital who did night doctors rounds. It was the only department in a rush to discharge people, shift them back home for recovery and it was good for student practice. “Dr Minho’s on tonight, floating between orthopaedics and urology by the way. You in ED tonight?” Taehyung asks, “I hear it’s been really busy down there.” “I’m the floater tonight,” Yoongi shakes his head. “We’ve got too many staff on down there. Too many damn know-it-all students too.” "Isn't that good though for the acuity?" he asks and Yoongi rolls his eyes. Looking over Taehyung’s shoulder, Yoongi sighs. "Speaking of the devils." The first lot of students walk towards Taehyung, file outstretched waiting for his signature to co-sign. “Younggi,” Taehyung says, reading over her exceptional penmanship. “Next time, just draw the lungs if you assess them. What is your plan? What do you want the nurses to do?” She smiles, looking at her partner. “Regular repositioning in bed, PRN asthma medications when symptomatic and lots of pillows for comfort.” "As if they aren't doing that already," Yoongi snorts behind Taehyung. "Your kids need to spend a week with the nurses, that'll make ‘em work." All the students arrive back and Taehyung reads through their notes, signing his name at the bottom. Congratulating them on their first lot of assessments. “Now, that is how we’ll do our night rounds from now on. In the morning however, it will be different. I will be assessing your assessment skills on morning ward rounds. One at a time, in front of all of us." They all groan. “Oh shut up, if you don’t like it, drop out,” Yoongi cackles, “You with the orange hair, put the folders back in the office and if you groan again, I’ll steal the muffin I saw in your backpack you had on earlier.”

Taemin, the boy with the orange hair, disappears to do so. "God," Taehyung says, yawning into the crook of his arm, "Why is it so settled tonight?" Yoongi laughs. "Trying to avoid the q word?"

"What's the q word?" a student asks. Know it all Younggi fills her in. "It means quiet, he's asking why it's so quiet tonight." Taehyung sinks against the station, dropping his head onto his hands, a loud groan falling from his lips as Yoongi leans up and smacks his head. "You didn't tell your stupid fucking kids not to say that word did you? Great." "Did I say something wrong Dr. Taehyung?" she asks, insecurity suddenly plaguing her usually confident demeanor. Taehyung stands up, turning to face her. "That word is a cursed word. We don't use it here."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Re-emerging with his phone in his hand, Taehyung gasps loudly as Taemin walks towards him, face focused on his phone. He was 100% against students using phones on the ward at all times, often challenging them to stay engaged. “Taemin, you know the rules, I don't like phones on the ward- -you're gonna wanna hear this though. A code black has been triggered at Forest Lakes Hospital,” he looks up at the two senior doctors, suddenly pale faced. “My girlfriend’s a nurse there and she’s just texted me “FLH called a code black, it's not a drill, I am fine.” oh god.” "What's a code black?" one of the students asks much to the chagrin of the other students. "That some sort of medical emergency alarm bell?" Taehyung and Yoongi trade vacant looks. “What?” “It’s probably just a drill,” Yoongi says, picking his nails. “They always do them over there. They’re close to a military camp, lots of North Korean defectors get treated there. A code black is a bomb threat kids."

Taemin looks up at Yoongi. “With all due respect, there is no way in hell that this is a drill. Look,” Turning his phone screen to Taehyung, a picture of ambulances rushing patients out, all wearing equally terrified facial expressions as they pile in the back of the trucks. “They’re evacuating people.”

“Are you sure you aren’t being pranked?” Younggi asks, hovering over his phone to check. Taehyung watches her double tap the picture, her face suddenly growing pale.

“Doesn’t look like a prank does it?” Taemin whispers and they all watch her retreat back as she shakes her head.

And then, all of their phones vibrate, pinging with texts, tweets and calls.

All 8 of them, pull out their phones.

Yoongi and Taehyung’s pagers go off. Ward phones start ringing. Grabbing his phone out of his coat pocket, Taehyung opens the first notification on the screen and the picture makes his heart stop; a wing of the hospital was on fire. A wing of your hospital was on fire. “Dr. Yoongi,” a nurse runs out, all the nurses following behind her. “Did you check your pager? Am I calling it in?” “Call it in please. Get your manager to remove all the patients in this ward. Orthopaedics is the mass casualty ward for this hospital kids. Whoever is the ward co-ordinator tonight in the nursing team, call all the other nurses, get them to come in immediately and cancel every single elective operation scheduled for tomorrow,” Yoongi says, reading his pager. "I want this ward cleared of patients within half an hour. I assume from the distance, patients will be arriving soon. So, let's do this quickly and properly according to your emergency protocol." “Why do we need to remove all the patients?” a student asks and Yoongi frowns at him. “Victims do better psychologically and physiologically where other victims are. Hence, why we need to get everyone out now and get the ward prepared for incoming patients.” “How many do you think we will get?” he asks again, his eyes widening in fear. Looking up to all the students and nurses pooling out from their office. Taehyung's hands suddenly begin to tremble by his side. “In this case, probably a lot.” “But you never know.” His heart begins to pound harshly against his ribs. Adrenaline surged down his body at the prospect of all those incoming patients; at the thought of you being in that building. “Text your families that you're okay.” Yoongi announces, pulling him out of his thoughts. Putting his pager in his pocket. Looking up to each and every nervous face in front of him, he grabs the department phone, immediately pressing the emergency number and holding it up to his ear. His hands are shaking but the only one who notices is Taehyung as a voice loudly screams into the receiver. Everyone in the room watches Yoongi's eyes widen and his head nod before hanging up again. "Fuck, it's real. All of you go, get ready. Remove these patients and clear this fucking ward right fucking now." "What about us?" Younggi asks, as the ward lights turn back on and nurses begin to frantically run around them. "What do we do?" “Text your families right now, none of you are going home tonight." ↣ FOREST LAKES HOSPITAL | Dr. Y/N The first blast hit the far west side of the hospital, where the VIP recovery ward was located, as you had run back into the dark and desolate, abandoned looking Emergency Department. You could smell the fire, you could even see it’s smoke boil up from the building in the northern windows of the ER. You ran harder. You were panting, completely solely running on adrenaline.

Your heart raced out of your skin as you looked in every room. In every bay. In every office. You were running completely on instinct and your instincts were telling you, someone was left behind. And you don’t leave people behind. No, not you. The force of the blast rumbled the entire floor, it was weak, a warning of what was yet to come and had you not been standing by an empty bed, it would have knocked you clean off your feet. Falling onto the white bed, plaster from the ceiling fell and the room seeped into darkness as the electricity completely cut out. No generator back up or anything provided you with a light to see in the dark either.

You coughed into your hand as you inhaled the plaster.

“Hello, is anybody here?” you had screamed, coughing as you run through the hallway you’ve memorised by heart. “We don’t have much time, is anyone here?”

A voice muffled behind a door screams loud and clear out for you as they bang their fists on the hard wood. “PLEASE SOMEONE, I’M STILL IN HERE!” You were right. "HELP ME, I’M STILL HERE, OH GOD I’M STILL IN HERE, HELP ME PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Running down another hall, you hear a terrified scream from behind the controlled drug room. Someone remained like you had thought, banging on the door for their dear life. The door shook from the sheer force of their desperation to get out but the lock made it impossible to break free. “I’m still here,” they sobbed, banging on the other side of the door, “Please save me.” You don’t think as you run towards it, punching in the code for the room and forcing the door open with all of your might. The doctor on the other side had tears down his face, falling straight into you. It was Jungkook. Idiot doctor and housemate, your Jungkook. "Y/N," he sobbed, looking completely broken. "I thought I was going to die." “Well, I’m glad you’re alive and all but we need to go, right now." He looked distraught and terrified, but of all, he looked relieved. Grabbing his hand, you run with every inch of strength you can muster out, of that goddamn building. He holds your hand tightly, practically dragging you as he runs faster, jumping over shattered glass and plaster.

You hold images of Sunny in your mind as you pick your feet up. You hold the sound of her laughter and her cries, her singing, her screaming. You think of Taehyung, his smile, his embrace, his warmth. You think of a life you still think you can have. You think of punching Taehyung in the jaw when you see him next, you couldn’t die today knowing you haven’t. No, not today satan.

You run towards the clearing. And the automatic doors... ...they don't open. “What the fuck, why won’t they open?” you ask, waving your hand up to the monitor. “Fuck, I thought these would open in an emergency?” Jungkook bangs against the glass. Jimin and Seokjin look up, prompted by the loud banging. Ramming his shoulder into the glass, it doesn't budge. He throws everything close to him at the doors, again, it doesn't budge. They’re stuck. Irene holds back the boys from running over to help you. They had parked on the far end of the carpark to be safe as they waited. You both stare at the red lights of the ambulance in the night. “We need something heavy to smash it.” you say, “We’ll get out, don’t worry.” “How can I not fucking worry?” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself at the glass doors. “It’s just fucking glass, why won’t it break?” “It’s shatterproof material Jungkook.” Looking for an emergency button on the doors and falling short, “I’m going to find the emergency axe thing Jungkook, keep trying to pry it open okay?”

You were certain that there was an emergency axe somewhere, you had seen it before and wondered if you'd ever need to use it and for what. Slipping on blood, you fall to the floor as the ground continues to shake beneath you. "Where is it, come on Y/N, think." Getting up again, you run to the hallway leading off to the operating theatres and that's where you find the axe, contained in a glass box, nailed to the wall by a fire extinguisher. Punching the glass, it's splinters piercing your knuckles, you grab the axe. You were certain that when this adrenaline stops fuelling your attempts to survive, everything is going to hurt. But you don't have time to think about that as you run back. Jungkook's running into the doors, kicking and screaming at it, continuously bruising his shoulder. “I’m not dying in this fucking building.” "Jungkook," you shout, he turns, eyes glinting in happiness at the sight of the axe. "I have no strength, you smash it." He takes it happily, immediately hacking at the door. "I need to get out." he chants, each time the axe hits the doors. "I'm not dying today." The axe cracks the glass but it doesn't shatter like you thought it would. He hits it again and again, only cracking it. “What the hell is this fucking thing made of?” "Jungkook," Turning to survey your area, you grab anything hard enough to throw through the glass. "Jungkook, move out of the way." "What?" He turns, watching you throw a vital signs machine straight into the cracked glass with a strength you didn’t think you had, shattering it completely. He watches in slow motion as the glass shatters and falls to the linoleum floor. He screams happily as he throws the axe into the reception to their left. He grabs your hand as you run over the ocean of glass pooling onto the sidewalk as you both run into the carpark. The ambulance was so close, yet so far away. The fresh air hits your lungs as you breath it in and then out. You were free. You would be okay too.

Jungkook turns to you, smiling widely at you. “I’m free!” "Kim Seokjin! Park Jimin!" you scream, running towards them, "Open the back doors!" But they never hear you, and that you are grateful for because what happens next would've definitely hurt him too.

The second blast hit as you were running out of the building with Jeon Jungkook. The force of this blast, much bigger than the first, had thrown you in the air and onto the soft grass by the car park, metres away from the now swaying ambulance, winding you. Jungkook had fallen onto the hard concrete pavement of the carpark beside you, hands falling on shards of broken glass, blood dripping from his forehead. He screams in agony, feeling the bone of his arm break and tear through his skin on impact. Black coloured smoke rushes out of the burning building, covering you and Jungkook in a cloak of silent darkness. It chokes you, filling your lungs with it’s painful toxin as you try to breathe. Jungkook looks at you, expression pleading, lips moving to form words you can’t understand. Everything is blurry and dark and deep and your falling into yourself as black spots fill your visual field. You can’t hear anything but a loud ringing in your ears, you can hear the faint scream of Jungkook at the back of your brain but you can't process what he's saying. He looks at you desperately, is he hurt? That's a stupid question. You know you should get up but you feel compressed, stuck to the ground, and you can’t breathe, feeling winded as though your lungs had lost their ability to take in oxygen. You try to get up, falling back to the ground. Were you hurt too? You look over to Jungkook again, watching him battle his demons, forcing himself to get up and to you. You watch as if it were in slow motion as Jungkook pulls himself up, rushing over to you as he cradles his left arm in his now dirty white coat. There’s a god awful whirlpool of horror in his brown eyes as he runs over to you, you may have saved him but he definitely earned it because he saves you right back. You pull yourself up as much as you can before his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as you both run to the ambulance. You look back at the building, still standing with flames and smoke boiling out the windows. You knew it wouldn’t last long until it collapsed or forced to the ground by another and much larger explosion. You didn’t want to be here for that. Blood dripped from your ears and down the sides of your soot covered face, building materials you couldn’t identify laced through your hair, shards of glass embedded into the skin of your arms. You felt like you had been punched in every soft part of your body. Jungkook looked equally as dishevelled. Waving you both over, Jimin and Irene rush you both into the back as Seokjin revved the engine. Minutes pass of complete silence as you rush. Isn’t that weird, after something so huge, there was just silence? No piercing screams, no sirens, no pleas for help, just fire, fear and silence. Pulling themselves in first, Irene and Jimin sit opposite each other, strapping themselves in. The third blast hit when you were trying to close the doors behind you. The blast wave hit the truck, pushing you into the back of the truck, shattering the windows, prompting Seokjin’s immediate acceleration as Jungkook toppled straight on top of you.

The glass from the window narrowly missed the intubated patient on a stroller in the middle of the ambulance, but it cuts across Irene's cheek, something she'll probably need stitches for. She wails in agony, holding a hand against her cheek, immediately applying pressure to the wound as dark red blood dripped down her neck and onto her scrubs.

Jungkook was afraid of letting you go, and for that, he saved you again. The doors slapped against the sides of the ambulance as Jin speed through the carpark and as far away from the hospital as he could. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s waist tightly as he held onto anything that would keep you both in the ambulance as it sped away. His dead arm curled up painfully against your chest underneath him as Jin's abrupt driving makes you swing underneath him towards the other side of the truck causing shards of glass to tear through your coat as you do. You scream in agony, feeling the shards slice and embed into the flesh of your ass. It’s sweltering, a burning pain filling you by waves as it rolls over you, over and over again. You were hurt everywhere.

"Are you okay Y/N?" Jimin shouts at you. You clasp onto Jungkook tighter, eyebrows flexed as pain tears through your body. “Hold onto him, we’ll get you out of here!” Jungkook sobs, wailing in pure agony. The sound breaks Jimin as he watches, the once strong Jungkook, completely break and fall apart. "It's collapsing!" Irene shouts and you all look back to watch in horror as the sound of destruction echoes across the night sky. "The hospital. Our homes. You guys could've ...that was so close." she sobs loudly, feeling the horror of what could've been you two so deeply into her bones. “Drive faster,” Jimin screams, hitting the back of the front seat. Jungkook and Irene watch the orange flames burst from black clouds of smoke, as the hospital collapses from the emergency exit they just left, “Drive fucking faster Seokjin!” He presses his foot on the accelerator with sirens blasting and red lights flashing through the graphite night as he zips away. “I’m driving as fast as I fucking can!” Irene screams when he skids around a corner, her head hitting the wall hard as he drives straight through the car park entrance sign. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard before when she looks to her right, the once dark night now full of orange light as the fire boils and consumes her home away from home. It was haunting, something Irene would never forget.

They had only just gotten away from the building in time when fire began to rain down onto the trees, there would no doubt be a forest fire too. Everyone would be working overtime tonight. “Irene, are you okay?” Jimin asked, watching her rub the back of her head. She pulls her hand back, fingers covered in blood. Grabbing one of the only packets of gauze from beside him, he clears his throat. “Hold these to your head and hold on tight to your chair okay? We’re going to be fine.” She pants, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” Jimin looks at everyone in the ambulance, he doesn't think he should dignify that question with a response, you were all safe now. “Go, Seokjin! Get us out of here!” Jungkook yelled, as he sunk his head into the crevice of your neck. “Get us to the hospital!” How you both hadn’t died was a mystery. Irene and Jimin pull you both further in by the collars of your coats, dragging your glass covered bodies further into the ambulance when Jin drives over a bridge, forced to slow down. "Irene, grab Jungkook," Jimin says, watching her pull Jungkook up beside her, strapping him into the seat. Pulling you up, he forces you into the seat beside him as he sobs. "Y/N, I've got you. You're okay now, you're okay now." He holds you close, telling you something you can’t hear but he's crying and he's crying hard. He looks like a wreck.

Holding your hands up to his checks, you wipe away his tears only to smear blood and soot across his face, he leans into your warmth. At least the sentiment was there. “Jimin, I have no idea what you are saying,” you think you shout, dropping your hands and leaning against him. The blood dripping down your right ear stains his green scrubs. “The barotrauma ...I think I have a ruptured eardrum in my right ear. Left feels like it’s resolving. I can only just hear you kind of.” He nods, red eyes sweep over yours. “I’m very glad you’re safe” he mouths and you smile softly up at him, glad you are too. Jimin hands you a bottle of water as he pulls out the first aid kit to attend to the cuts on your face. "Call Yoongi, tell him you're okay. I know he's probably worried." Jimin smiles, lips quivering. "I did, he was scared, still is I bet. The phone cut out during the second explosion, I'm just going to have to wait to see him at the hospital." "What? I can't hear you? Did you call him? yes or no?” Jimin nods, gesturing for you to drink the water. You looked worse for wear with your bloodied and blackened white coat; ripped, crimson stained scrubs; messy hair tied in a loose ponytail; and soot covered face but you were okay. You were feeling okayish. Drinking the water, you sag against him. Jimin dabs your fingers, brushing his fingers over your pulse, completely thankful you still had one. You look out the ambulance window to see your hospital, the once tall white and green structure, up in flames. All those years of hardwork, patients you’ve saved, lives you’ve lost, friends you’ve made, memories you’ve cherished. All gone. Seemingly in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly want to cry.

Today wasn’t a normal day at all. As you drink the last of your water, you feel your left ear pop and then you hear the unmistakable sound of the ambulances sirens and Irene shouting at Jungkook and Jimin shouting at Seokjin to update the hospital. You could hear and you wish you couldn't. Everything happened at a lightening speed, as though it all occurred within the single blink of your eyes. Seokjin pulls out the radio, bringing it to his lips as he speeds through the intersection, sirens blazing. “Seoul Hearts hospital, this is Ambulance 22 Kim Seokjin speaking. We are currently enroute to your facility with a 32 y/o male motor vehicle accident victim from Forest Lakes. Patient is unconscious, intubated and-

-yes, we came from Forest Lakes," he stops, listening attentively to the voice on the other end that you can't quite hear. "Mass casualties ...how many have you already got?" "32?!" he shouts, "We'll you're about to get three more- He then scoffs into the radio. “Don’t interrupt me. I have nurses Park Jimin and Bae Irene, Drs. Jeon Jungkook and Y/N who are injured- “Yes, I know the hospital has just blown up, I’m looking at it in my rearview mirror right now, we have two injured doctors in the back of the ambulance as well! Possible internal trauma, possible broken extremities,” he snaps, frustration ebbed into his voice, “We are unable to take current accurate vital signs of the patient and the doctors but our patient is unstable as hell. I'll update you if things change. See you in 5 minutes.”

He slams the radio back down. “Buckle up kids, we’re driving through the city now. Y/N,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You good?” You nod, feeling your hearing fully come back in your left ear. “I think so?” "Good, you crazy fucking bitch, don’t you ever fucking do that again or I’ll cut your legs off." You're all staring out the back of the ambulance, watching the reactions of the public move out the way for Jin and gape at the very mangled up looking ambulance. It's almost a spiritual experience being in this position, having people responsibly move out of the way for you as you zip impossibly fast through red lights and traffic. "How's the patient doing?" you turn and ask Jimin, who had been watching you the entire time. His face pale. "What’s his vitals looking like?" "What?" Jimin shakes his head, forcing himself back into reality. "Um, I haven't checked. Hold on." You watch his heart monitor, the vital sign of life beat after beat after beat. You frown at a particular beat as it moves. "His hearts not looking too good," you point out. "It's not often but his hearts skipping a couple beats." "After everything, I would expect that too. We're just lucky he hasn't got a serious cardiac illness otherwise, he's fucked." Jimin says, shifting beside you. You watch him try to breathe. It was an insidious reminder of your responsibility to save this man. He was dangling by threads, he was so close to death. You look away from the numbers on his screen. You stare at your soot covered hands. That could’ve been you. “Seokjin,” you shout, “How far away are we from Seoul Hearts?” “A couple of minutes,” he shouts back at you, “You don’t need to shout at me you know!”

“I can’t hear anything well,” you say, pointing to your ear and the dried blood around it. “I think the blast burst my right eardrum.” Irene laughs suddenly, smacking her thigh. “I hate to laugh but consider yourself lucky it was just that. When you ran back in, I didn’t think we’d see you again. Jimin ...he-” “I thought I lost you,” Jimin interrupts, not wanting to relive those moments of his life. “You’re stupid but you’re incredibly brave saving Jungkook like that. How did you even know he was in there?” “I had a feeling someone was still in there, that’s just it,” you nod, looking over to Jungkook. The boy looked frightened as hell. “He would’ve saved me too, that’s for sure.” Jungkook stays silent, eyes wide as he tenses his jaw. You watch him cradle his arm, was he hurt? Jimin looks at him, shaking his head. “She saved your life Jungkook, you could’ve died back there. Why do you consistently and constantly go against your superiors instructions? What is wrong with you- -I got locked in the drug room!” he shouts back at Jimin, “It locked behind me when Namjoon asked me to clear it, she only found me because I was screaming for my fucking life. You think I don’t already know that I could’ve died back there, I know okay! I know it very well. I called my parents while I was holding a vial of fucking ketamine, I apologised for being a shit, I told them that I was locked in a room and that I was going to die. You think I wanted to hear my mother cry?” “Jungkook,” Jimin musters, unsure what to say, “I’m sorry, I- “-I was going to swallow it, you know. With the first sign of fire, I was going to kill myself. My girlfriend ...all I could tell her was that I was sorry that I loved her… I could’ve died back there, I could’ve seriously died back there.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "But you didn't because she ran back- -and saved my life." Jungkook finishes. “Oh shut up both of you,” Irene shouts, “Pick up your damn phone and tell your family, you didn’t die already. Who knows what they’re doing thinking you’re dead. Hell, if I loved you, I would be driving out here right now to try and get you out.” “Seokjin,” You ignore their discussion as you gaze back at your patient. “Are we close?” “I’m driving as fast as I can with my sirens on, Y/N,” he shouts back clearly agitated, “Just focus on monitoring your patient. And Jimin, shut up and please Irene, fucking deal with Jungkook’s arm instead of pissing him off. It looks bent as fuck from the rear-view mirror. The kid is obviously hurt psychologically and physically, stop being assholes and be compassionate.” “You’re hurt?” Irene gasps, her voice now dripping in sympathy. Her bloodied fingers reach out for him. He lets her tender touch explore the mangled arm from underneath his coat. “It’s broken. How did this happen?” You snort. “Besides the hospital blowing up and the waves that were emitted from the explosion travelling at a supersonic velocity straight through us, throwing us in the air with all that glass and onto hard concrete and debris?” “I fell on it,” he says, watching Irene open up the bag on the floor. She nods her head. “You hurt anywhere else?” He shakes his head, letting her dab the wounds on his face with saline and gauze. It’s quiet again as she works his wounds, there’s not much she can do with his arm trapped in his coat like that, he’s just going to have to wait. Irene hands Jungkook her phone to call his family before finishing up on his wounds. Jungkook dabs her cheek with some gauze. Everyone was hurt in different ways but they were alive.

The ambulance grows silent when Jungkook sends the group text to his parents and to his girlfriend.

Jimin fusses over your knuckles, his mind on fire with residual grief and anger over your stupidity and bravery. But you were okay. For now.

* * *

Jungkook stares at the face of your patient.

He filters through the faces he knows, the patient’s he’s treated before leaning forward to look at his wrist band. “Oh it’s this guy, oh man, didn't think he'd come back,” he says, looking up at his cardiac monitor carefully, scrutinising every wave of his heart beats, “Y/N, are you aware that your patient has a past cardiac history?”

“Yes, angina pectoris,” You nod your head, pointing to his monitor as Jimin cleans your arms, “Are you worried about those PVC’s (heart skipping a beat) too? He's post motor vehicle accident, fucked himself up pretty bad. He needs surgery pretty much as soon as we get to Seoul Hearts.”

“Angina?” He frowns, prompting Irene to swap places with him beside the head of the patient. “He doesn’t have Angina, I have a photographic memory, I would’ve remembered that. He had an acute myocardial infarction a couple weeks ago and he hasn't been compliant with his medication-

-what!” you shout, interrupting him, commanding the attention of the truck as you dart your eyes into his. “This patient's had a heart attack before? That wasn’t in his medical files at all when he came in. That’s pretty fucking important information. Jimin,” you turn to the boy. “Did you get a history from the family?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Didn’t have time with the code. They still don't even know he's a patient.”

“I can see Seoul Hearts Hospital now, we’re about 2 minutes away.” Jin says, but you’re heart is racing hard against your ribs now. It’s like a dose of adrenaline and you suddenly feel so awake.

“If what I am thinking has happened, this patient probably crashed his car because he had chest pain. Irene,” your voice is shaky, everyone in the ambulance detects the urgency in your voice. You forget about the bomb. “Did you get any cardiac biomarkers from the bloods you took?”

“The ones that detect heart muscle death?” Her eyes widen as she tries to remember, clearly put on the spot as everyone looks at her. “Oh my god. I think so, like almost ...almost immediately but Dr. Namjoon came in before I got to ...I didn’t have time to check exactly.”

“What were they, do you remember? It’s okay, take your time. It’s important to remember which ones there were.”

She closes her eyes and Jungkook resets the vital monitor to get an accurate reading. “He’s hypotensive with ventricular dysrhythmia,” he says, printing the ECG out. He grabs the pen from his pocket as he reads the rhythm carefully. “Was it troponins T and I Irene? Do you remember a T?” She opens her eyes, pursing her lips at him. “I think it might’ve been but I don’t remember- -Y/N, his heart rate is 165, blood pressure is 80/40. I think he’s in cardiogenic shock,” Jimin cuts in. “Vitals are crashing.” "Good timing." you slap yourself.

“Fuck the bloods. Holy fuck,” Jungkook circles a portion of the rhythm, spotting an ST-elevation in the electrocardiogram (heart attack), holding it up to you as Seokjin drives. “He’s having a fucking heart attack right now Y/N.” “What do we do?” Irene asks. You look back at his cardiac monitor seeing it clear as day now that the patient's heart rhythm goes from erratic to nothing. "HES ARRESTING," Jimin shouts, pulling you out of your gaze. "He’s going into cardiac arrest Seokjin!!“ “This can’t be fucking happening right now. Jimin, we need the defibrillator he needs defibrillation immediately. We need an epi?! Wheres the adrenaline?” You shout, unsure if you could jump straight onto the patient with the door open like that. It looked dangerous. “The ambulance isn’t stocked, there isn’t one in here,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You’re going to have to do chest compressions until we get there but fuck, it could be dangerous for you with the door open so be careful.” “I’ve got this,” You close your eyes. "I can save him." “Jimin, ambu bag, right now. Get on the resps." Without hesitation, you get out of your seat as Jin turns, to straddle the patient. Holding your arms straight, you press the heel of your palm on his lower sternum, compressing it in a steady rhythm with your interlocked hands, one on the other. You hear a couple cracks almost immediately. "Irene, are you sure we don’t have any adrenaline in that bag?” She tips the back out onto the seat looking for a little vial, it all flies out the ambulance anyway. “There’s no medication in here, so no we don’t.” Jimin gently squeezes the ambu bag twice. "We're nearly at the hospital, I can see it out the window now." “Beginning ...30 compressions to 2 breaths. Jimin watch me closely," you say, feeling your own heart rip through your ribcage. "Seokjin radio report change in status.” “Will do,” he shouts, pulling down the radio to call it in. “Hi, this is Seokjin, incoming ambulance from Forest Lakes we have a cardiac arrest in progress in the back of our truck, prepare for defibrillation on arrival in less than a minute.” “25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Resps!” Perspiration drips down your dirty face as you pause your chest compressions, turning to the two to the left of you. “Irene and Jungkook prepare to wheel me out of this ambulance and in to that fucking Emergency Department. No one is dying on my watch, not if I can help it.”

Jungkook and Irene look at each other as the ambulance comes to a halt outside the Emergency Department at Seoul Hearts Hospital. Turning off the engine, Jin runs around the truck, pulling down the ramp and grabbing the end of the stroller.

You can ear the screams of agony inside the Emergency Department from here as doctors rush in bright yellow aprons, blue gloves and white face masks towards your truck.

“Let’s go, get out Irene and Jungkook,” Seokjin yells, pulling the stroller towards him and down the ramp with Jimin shuttling beside it. “Let’s move team! Keep doing compressions Y/N and hold on tight.”

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evakteket · 8 years ago

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Watchlist update!

It’s a turbulent week for SKAM fans! We haven’t completely recovered from yesterday’s clip yet, but we’ve pulled ourselves together sufficiently to realise that it’s more or less a week since the last watchlist update.

The usual: When it’s been more than three weeks since a fic was updated we consider it as on hiatus and remove it from the watchlist. Then we perform a small ritual of grief. However, we don’t cancel our subscriptions and if one of the removed fics gets updated again, we will put it right back on the list.

The usual II: feel free to send us an ask if you have suggestions for fics we should check out!

Update summary:

Completed: 1 Added: 5 Removed: 2

News:

Expect the Unexpected by bri_ness (@brionbroadway) NEW

This Big Brother AU had us at ‘snakesak’, and takes that tag to a whole new level. We’re transfixed by the mix of Big Brother gameplay and manipulation and the genuine interactions between Even and Isak, and we love how this fic feels really fresh while still giving nods to canon and staying in character. This is tagged ‘messy relationships abound’ and we’re totally here for it. - kit and immy

The Notion of Falling by smokeshop (@supermansplaining) NEW

Ostensibly a hate to love fic, this one has Isak and Even meeting through Sana and Elias, and has that perfect hurts-so-good thread of angst that gets me every time. It’s very heavy on Valtersen family stuff, with a lot of interaction between Isak and his sort-of-canon baby sister Lea, and I’m really into how much of that backstory this fleshes out. While it claims to be hate to love, mostly this fic centers around miscommunication and Evak starting out from a place of unintentionally hurting each other. Ouch, my heart. - kit

Things Look Different in the Morning by allyasavedtheday (@littlespooneven) NEW

THIS IS SO ADORABLE. This one has the somewhat handwavey scenario of Even needing to share a room with Isak (for Reasons), but once you accept that as a Thing this is one of the loveliest reads, full of feelings-inducing snuggles and (of course) bed-sharing. Isak and Even are technically college students in this, so this is a cute look at how it might have gone if they’d met later in life. It also features some of our favourite tags: slow burn and mutual pining. Warning: features insomnia. - kit and immy

a mental archive of love unknown by chevythunder (@icelandcurry) NEW

This fic begins with Even in love with Mikael and moving into the kollektiv with Isak and Linn–a combo we didn’t know we wanted. We’re already loving the angst and the growing friendship between Isak and Even, as well as the dynamic with the balloon squad, whose friendship here is ultimately #goals. Although we all know how this fic is gonna end, this feels like a breath of fresh air, and we can’t wait to read more. - kit and immy

Mental kampsport by Peer (Norwegian) NEW

Starting during Even's depressive episode in S3 and being told from Even's POV, this is an unforgettably beautiful and moving story. Every bit of it feels true to Even and the SKAM universe, while also bringing a feeling of fresh new perspectives to the table. Only in Norwegian, unfortunately, but if you can read that you should definitely read this. - immy

with love, from anonymous by cosetties (@adamparishe) and iriswests (@westiris) COMPLETED

Completed, rec here.

Still on the watchlist from last update:

Spacewalker by evenvaltersen

How the hell you can make a Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo AU work with SKAM characters is beyond me, but evenvaltersen manages just that, in my opinion. This may be my obsession with Christiane F talking, but give it a go. Be warned: it’s every bit as gritty and sad as you can expect something based on a mostly true story about teen drug addicts in Berlin in the 70s to be, no fluff here. - immy

making new clichés by strangetowns (@yousanaisendgame)

This is in its early days, but oh-so promising! It’s another Evak as best friends AU, but it’s incredibly well-written thus far and it has a very realistic, nuanced portrayal of their relationship, which is already just close enough that it has us absolutely stoked for the moment it tips over into feelings too big to ignore. - kit and immy

The Weight of Us by verlore_poplap (@mimi-fics)

This is a very interesting fic, in part because it’s so different to a lot of the stuff in the fandom so far. Isak and Even meet when they’re older, and in serious relationships with Emma and Sonja–in case alarm bells are ringing, yes, Isak and Emma are together, but the author uses the context of their relationship to explore what would have happened if he’d repressed his sexuality, which I think is very cool. The author also treats Emma very fairly. The fic has a few minor niggles–Isak, for example, at one point performs a super rare kind of heart surgery–but overall this fic has me really intrigued, and I can’t wait to read the rest. - kit

Checking from Behind by DickAnderton (@wecanjustbreathe)

A slight disclaimer is probably in order here, because I (Kit) am betaing this fic, but I’m too obsessed with it not to rec it. This is a hate-to-love AU, set in my absolute favourite of AU universes–college ice hockey! You don’t need to know anything about the sport to be intrigued by this fic, which definitely isn’t your standard Evak storyline. Warning: Isak and Even both explore relationships with women in this one, so see the author’s notes. -kit

Twice by intothewind (@brokenveinssay) This fake dating/band fic is a delicious addition to the world of Evak AUs, and we’re completely here for it. Isak pretends to be Jonas’s boyfriend, which leads to some borderline Josak/Jovak-esque moments here, and we’d be lying if we said we hadn’t already read that shotgunning scene MULTIPLE TIMES. - kit and immy

the city of illusions, the city of yearning by elisewin (@books-figuero) A different city AU where the slightly older SKAM characters are exchange students in Rome, and where the author obviously knows the city and writes it well. Sweet and humorous so far, with a fair bit of the banter we adore so much in SKAM fics. - kit and immy

A Collection of Even & Isak’s First Kiss AU Shorts by @fandomlimb Just what it says on the tin: first kisses, a different AU in each chapter. Adorable short stories, varying POVs and varying amounts of fluff. - immy

Livredderen by Kudzibisa (Norwegian)

AU where Even is the first to arrive at the scene when Isak has been in a car crash. As usual from Kudzibisa, short clipped chapters keeping the reader on tenterhooks, peppered with beautifully crafted evocative sentences, for those truly blessed people who can read Norwegian. - immy

Livet skjer med meg by neelabrenner (@nilabrenner) (Norwegian) Post season 3 canon divergent story about Isak and Even’s life together, from Even’s POV. So far feelgood and funny and precious, but not without angst and other deep and not always pleasant emotions. Capturing the characters well from Even’s POV. Yes, those who can read Norwegian are indeed truly blessed. - immy

I’ll Be Coming Home, Wait For Me by @dahlstrom This AU sees Even as a chef co-owning a new American style diner with Yousef, and Isak as their new waiter, so we’re already invested in the dynamics set up here! We’re especially excited by the tags, which promise not only a delicious slow burn, but a taste of our girl Chris Berg. We’re already super hungry for more of this (okay, okay, we’ll stop now with the food puns) so: why aren’t you reading this already? - kit and immy

Straight up (series) by (@nofeartina)

From the second work in this series, this is rated explicit… and rightfully so, omg. It’s nearly impossible to say anything useful about this because we’re (hopefully temporarily) not very capable of explressing ourselves beyond vague rambling about “fluffly smut” and “hot” and “holy shit this is hot” and “have we mentioned yet that this is hot”. We’ll let you know when we pick our jaws up off the floor. - kit and immy

#wip watchlist

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crossedbeams · 8 years ago

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History - Trinity Ch. 9

Genre: Casefile | Fandom: The X-Files x The Fall x Sreetcar | Rating: Mature | Setting: Circa 2012. Canon compliant | Chapters: 2/6 of Part 2

Trinity Part I

Chapter 1 - Perfume || Chapter 2 - Impression || Chapter 3 - Connection Chapter 4 - Delusion || Chapter 5- Confrontation || Chapter 6 - Post Mortem

Trinity Part I

Prologue - Purgatory || Chapter 2 - Animosity

TRINITY: PART II CHAPTER II - History

Blanche Dubois sways slightly in her seat, so frail in the halogen brightness that it seems that an especially assertive huff from the air-conditioner might blow her away. Scully tries not to let her feelings show on her face, trying to retain her bedside manner, but seated next to the marble-composure of Stella Gibson, she feels like an open book. Scully has expressed concern to both the officer-in-charge and to Blanche herself that this interview is too much, too soon, that the post-nightmare sedation received has barely left her system, but it seems Blanche’s mind is made up. There’s a set to her jaw that stills the usual nervous flutter of her hands, as if her determination to verbalise the perceived threat gives her the power to escape it. Yesterday they were treated to a flurry of words, images and half-truths about her past but today is different; today she flits between periods of haunted silence and scuds of hard words, heavy with exhaustion and bitter with truth.

‘I met him in Miami one Christmas.

I had to get out of Laurel. I couldn’t breathe for the rumours and the boiler was as played out as I, so I figured why not fly south with the birds. I had a friend in Miami, Mrs. Meghan Sands, a girl from school who still sent pretty letters and empty invitations from time to time, and was far enough away that she wouldn’t know any better than to let me stay a while. The first few days were golden, like in that song. The fates allowed us to get along and I didn’t need to go out looking for someone like I’d planned to… I didn’t even need the bourbon I’d stowed in my suitcase. I thought my luck might be changing, she had a bachelor friend who was kind and attentive and the climate suited me well. It was my little Christmas miracle... until the night Meg had a headache and went up early, and Mr. Sands poured us both one too many drinks and then tried to kiss me. I screamed and that was the end of it. Women don’t like to keep other women that their husbands think of kissing under their roofs, regardless of who started it.’

Blanche smiles wanly at her sad philosophy, threading her fingers through her hair to push it off her face, searching Scully’s face for some flicker of understanding and ignoring Stella completely. Normally Stella commands the room, a cold clear light of absolute certainty, but Blanche’s narrative is a firelight flicker, unpredictable and prone to flare or fail. After yesterday’s experience, the British detective seems reluctant to push her witness to the point of hysteria, so she simply sits, waiting for Blanche to arrive at her destination and leaves Scully alone in the half-light of half-truth.

Nodding her encouragement, Scully squeezes her hands together under the table, trying desperately not to fidget and betray her discomfort to either her witness or her colleague. The grey areas between belief and proof have always belonged to Mulder and his absence makes her feel both incomplete and an imposter. Her relief shakes past her lips on a long-held breath when Blanche finally breaks the silence to continue; claiming back the spotlight before it can reveal too much of her questioner.

‘There's something about me that makes people think I’m trying to seduce, even when I’m not, some scarlet letter that burns through my purest intentions and draws down the worst of men. It seems Hester Prynne and I both wear clothes cut from the same cloth. Maybe she was forced and I bought mine, but nobody made me stay in Miami. Nobody forced me into that hotel, through those bars, into those dresses that covered less than they ought. There were men, some of them as rich as I’d dreamed they would be, but all just window shopping while they waited on a younger model, and as the New Year rocketed in my money was gone and all hopes of finding that elusive millionaire dwindled with the fireworks.

I’d decided I was washed up, that I’d have to go to my sister, when he slid into my booth and paid off my tab. He was younger than me, not exactly handsome but somehow imposing, and he took my hand with the gentleness of a child and kissed it.’

The thin white hand on the table shakes at the memory, at the hard bones of truth hiding just under the fragile skin of her memory.

‘I asked if he was a knight in shining armour and he said no. His voice was caught between accents and soft. I could hardly hear him over the music in the bar but his body curved round like a shield and I thought perhaps I could be safe there.

I asked him if he was a millionaire and he said he could be and smiled.

I knew he wasn’t. After two more drinks I knew he wasn’t there to rescue me, but in his smile, in his hand and his eyes, there was something more intoxicating than liquor or wealth; he needed me. Not in the way that all men need a woman when their libido is high and their morals low, but on some deeper level. He looked at me like a baby looks at its mama holding it, like a man looks at his wife at the altar, as if I were the only one who could give him what he needed and he would die without it. Without me.

I went with him willingly, legs unsteady enough that I leaned on his shoulder even after we got in the cab. He held my face in the crook of his shoulder and neck, hiding me from the world, and I didn’t think anything of it when he pressed his handkerchief into the gap between my face and his neck. At first I was pleasantly surprised he carried a handkerchief, I thought they died out with chivalry, so when I found I was getting dizzy I assumed it was the drinking. I tried to move, to get some fresh air, but he shushed me and held me still until everything dissolved to nothing.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place, naked, cold and tied to a mattress with plastic sheets on it by my pantyhose and underwear. He was standing at the end of the bed and crying. He still looked young, but no longer innocent, the blankness in his eyes frightened me more than the surroundings and I cried out. He didn’t move, just kept staring; not at my body but at my face, so I screamed until he did move. An alarm went off somewhere out of sight and it seemed to break the spell. He forced another cloth against my mouth and held my nose closed so I had to breathe through the copper-sour fabic. It choked me, stealing my sound and my air until I passed out again.

The next time I woke up I was alone and the whole place stank like cooking. Something greasy and burned, a poor man’s hell. I stayed quiet a few minutes, until I was sure I couldn’t hear anyone around so I started trying to get free. My arms were tied to a grille over the window and when I pulled it bent before my arms did, but it was loud, the metal screaming or maybe it was me. Either way I panicked, freeing my hands as fast as I could so I could at least scratch and hit when the moment came. Except nobody came. Only quiet.

The room had a door but it was locked and when I threw myself at it, the whole placed swayed and creaked. I realised then I must be in a trailer, there was no sound of the sea for it to be a boat but I was just as marooned as if it had been. I couldn’t shift the door, the windows were boarded tight, so all I could do while I sat in this trap was look for a weapon. The little kitchen was almost empty, plastic over everything but the oven door which was leaking the acrid burning smell. I wondered if I was being poisoned while I looked for the knives, you know the poem? “An ecstasy of fumbling,” and I had Wilfred Owen but no knives. No nothing but the built in furniture and something blackened and unrecognisable smoking in the oven.

Perhaps he meant to burn me. but there was no flame, just as there was no gas...no sign of his intentions at all. I was the mouse in his humane trap, captured and waiting for some other, undecided death. The trailer was small but I never felt so exposed as I did then, shut in this empty living, dying space with no protection and no way out.’

Blanche has shrunk in her chair, muscles contracting her down to her smallest self as though she can hide now as she couldn’t then, and Scully fights the urge to try and comfort her, to try and heal. But they need their truth and from the sounds of overzealous punctuation and seat shifting to her her left, Scully suspects Stella’s patience is wearing thin.

‘I shut myself in the bathroom. The door was barely solid but it locked from the inside and I felt safer in the tiny space, there was less room for fear especially when I found an old shirt stuffed between the shower and the toilet. I had clothes, I had a locked door, I was still alive and there was a cold, clean draft that helped me to clear my head. I sat there until I started shivering, wishing I could dissolve into atoms and escape with the air rattling through the vent. It took me much too long to realise that maybe I could, that cold air meant outside and outside might mean escape. When I stood on the toilet I could see stars around the ventilation hatch, just a few spots of light where things didn’t fit together properly, I can’t count how many times stars have showed me my way, but I caught Orion by his belt and followed one hunter away from another…

I don’t remember jumping down, but I must have because I do remember running; my feet shredding on the rough ground, losing myself in the night time under the stars with no plan or direction in mind other than other than away. Far away. I didn’t even look back. That’s the first thing they teach you when running track you know? Looking back slows you down. So I ran until I saw lights besides the stars, and then the lights were a road and the road had cars and I tried to stop them but nobody would help me until the police came.

I tried to tell them, tried to explain who I was and what had happened but they thought I was drunk. And then they took me into the station and looked me up and my record made them think I was really drunk.’

Scully interrupts then,

‘They didn’t take a statement? Or make any attempt to corroborate your story?’

Blanche regards the table with unnecessary interest.

‘They called the bar where I was and the barman said I’d left willingly with a guy. Just like the last few nights. I said that was true but what happened after was different. And they said I’d only been gone a few hours. And I said a few hours that I didn’t want to be gone! And then… they said they could do a test... To find out if I’d been… forced... because then there was a crime.’

She starts making nervous circles on the table with one slim, white finger.

‘I told them no. I told them…. I told them… I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t. I know what - and then they said that there was no crime to investigate, that what people did in their bedrooms was their business, that maybe I should drink less and be more careful about who I “kept company” with.’ Blanche ceases making the circles and replaces them with sharp, slashing lines across the grain of the wood. Scully’s stomach has hollowed out and she glances sideways to see Stella’s lips set in a thin, furious line, the first time they have both responded to their witness in the same way.

‘I got angry then.’ Blanche admits, though her fury is written in every line of her pposture and the bitter strikes she is marking on the table. ‘And I shouted at them, told them that I might have started out drunk but that they were the ones who weren’t seeing clearly. They were the deluded ones! They laughed at that until I called them some very vulgar things. Then they put me in a cell and in the morning they gave me some pants out of lost property and let me go. I went back to Laurel that night.’

The fight drains out of her then, remembered anger giving way to resignation as Blanche finally widens her focus to include Stella, and then leans in a little, voice low with something not far from exhaustion and laced with the shame of defeat.

‘I thought about staying... about trying to prove myself. But I thought I was more likely to be found by the boy with the dead eyes than to find the truth and get anyone to believe me. You know it as well as I do Detective Gibson, all stories have power, but there’s danger in the telling. My love of magic, of fairytale colours in a bleak world makes me an “unreliable witness.” In this man’s world people are supposed to be one thing or another, beauty or a bitch, a wife or a wastrel. I tell stories, drink cocktails with strangers, dance alone until last orders and therefore I am judged a liar, a drunk and a floozy. There’s no place for those women in the witness stand so instead I ran.

I’ve always run. I’d like to run now but I’m so very, very tired.’ She looks to the door as if it leads to some far-flung escape and not just another corridor, her body leaning towards the imagined escape before retreating with a sigh. ‘Everything looks better when it’s moving fast, and the bad things pass sooner. Sometimes they even hurt less.’

‘Did the bad things pass?’ Stella’s voice is the calm after the storm of the story and Blanche looks up and laughs, though the sound holds no humour.

‘Detective Gibson… Stella... in your line of work you must know that people like me are never far from disaster. If I were a ship, my anchor would be calamity, weighing the end of a long chain that sometimes I can lift enough to move a little but that always pulls me back. But yes, for the purpose of this meeting, the bad thing passed. I never saw that person again. That bad thing became one more shadow in my past and other things, some of them better, took over my days. A little colour in all the whiteness, a little warmth to hold back the dark...’

‘Until last night?’ Stella clarifies, and Blanche nods.

‘He’s older now, not much but there are deeper lines and a scar where there didn’t used to be. He burned his face into my nightmares when he stood and watched me scream. I’d know him anywhere.’

‘I hope she’s right,’ Stella mutters absently as they go over their notes in an empty interview room. Next door, Blanche Dubois is sitting with a police sketch artist.

‘About what?’ Scully can’t quite keep the incredulity out of her voice. She’s still haunted by the desperate hold of Blanche’s gaze across the table, by the unspoken plea in her voice that cut straight through the veneer of police detachment Scully had painted on in preparation. That story, half-hidden though it was behind poetic embellishments, had connected with both her doctor’s need to heal and the long dormant hunger for justice, truth and fairness that Mulder had always appealed to to convince her of a tenuous case. Blanche Dubois has made her believe, and the idea that Stella can remain unmoved, unaffected by the scars laid bare before them...

Stella looks up, confused by the harsh edge to Scully’s words and somehow sees and understands all that she cannot verbalise in the shared space of a conflicted blue gaze.

‘I was talking about being able to recognise her attacker’s face anywhere. Not the rest of it. I…’ Stella pauses, caught between instinctively presenting her most resilient self and sharing an honest moment.

Screw it.

Dana Scully has forgiven several misreadings, has proved herself invaluable to the investigation and she doesn’t seem the type to exploit a crack in another woman’s armour. Her trust is worth the risk, and so Stella sighs, leans forward to massage her temples and lets her words fall softly into the quiet of the room.

‘I wish that I didn’t think the rest of it was true. It would be much, much easier to squeeze Ms. Dubois for information if I hadn’t seen that same face in a thousand interviews. But I have, I’ve seen it all, I’d recognise that truth anywhere; the eyes pleading to be believed, the hands holding the tension of the trauma, legs pressed tight together as if it weren’t already too late to protect what has been taken. And the voices… I’m halfway across the world but it’s always the same. Fear and anger, sadness, hurt and shame... that’s the worst, the fact that any woman anywhere could blame herself for what an assailant took from her. That chord of desperation, denial and survival? That victim symphony? You can’t fake it.’

She looks up, cate sight of the personal question forming on Scully’s lips and folds her arms to fed off any further intrusion.

‘Blanche Dubois is a victim, I know that that much is true, though I still don’t know of whom. But even if I did, I have to force that knowledge to the back of my mind to do my job. I have to separate the woman from the witness, the same way you pathologists view a cadaver as a case and not a person. Perhaps at times I go too far in that separation, when the stakes are high…’ Stella stops, head bowed, and tries to push away a memory of Blanche Dubois’ agonised face when confronted with an identity parade of the dead, to stop herself feeling the disappointed blaze of Dana Scully’s protective instinct.

And then there’s a small hand on her elbow, a note of forgiveness at her side.

‘Sometimes we all go too far trying to do the right thing.’ Scully’s words are heavy with years of experience and her smile is sad. For a brief but binding moment the air in the room is one of sisterhood, and then a wash of boisterous male voices swings past in the corridor and reality crashes back into the foreground.

Stella shakes herself and turns her smile professional while Scully’s hand retreats to close up her notes.

‘I think you should be looking for your possible first victim in Miami’s Jane Does,’ she says, as if nothing has happened. ‘Your perp had a kill room set up, and I think it’s unlikely he walked away from it. With that timeframe, we may be looking further back than we thought.’

Stella nods her agreement.

‘Let’s go tell Stanning,’ she says. ‘That should give him something to be petty and pissed-off about in the afternoon briefing.’

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Thank you as always to @therobbinsnest @stellagibsonisalifeforce and @carrie11 without whom this would be an utter mess.

#txf #The Fall #The X-Files #Dana Scully #Stella Gibson #Blanche Dubois #A Streetcar Named Desire #My Writing #Trinity

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