#SORRY THAT THIS RESPONSE IS THREE DAYS LATE IVE BEEN BUSY FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE

[real-odark]

ricky x mischa 🥺

of course Vro..... i figured since i never did this meme better late than never

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another appointment. The routine is both reassuring and defeating. That you have to devote so much time to sitting in one place having your blood cleansed just to function feels inhumane, almost oppressive. Yet those three or four hours also feel like an escape, an excuse to just be there and focus on a book or some work or even just close your eyes.

That day, you have an important report to get through. You find yourself fidgeting and tugging against the IV. You really can’t be late with this. You’re in budget season and your supervisor is on a Teams rampage. If she could stop messaging for two seconds, you might actually get something done.

The time passes in a dash. Louise brings you back to the present as she removes the tube from your arm and confirms your next appointment for Sunday. Not exactly how you like to spend your weekend but you don’t have anything else going on. Sometimes it feels like your condition is your entire existence.

You pack up, yawning. You’re impossibly tired. You didn’t sleep much and your blood pressure tends to dip at the end. You lift your bag and sling it over your shoulder, stifling another yawn as you say goodbye to the receptions and head out into the hall.

The building is mostly quiet. The businesses all operate on an appointment basis and walk-ins are uncommon. The jeweller near the back of the place never seems to be open but that day, the door is open and you hear voices coming from within. You keep your steps light as you pass, trying not to disturb the conversation.

“That’s a real Rolex, bud,” a man snorts, “your loss.”

You hit the wall with your shoulder as you dodge the body that emerges from the jeweller, the door snapping at his back. You cling to your bag and back up, blinking at the man who crowds you. Your chest sinks, no, not him.

It had been two weeks since your run-in with the stranger and maybe foolishly, you thought you’d dodged him for good. You press yourself against the plastic and sputter dumbly. You look down the hall towards the stairs.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you utter and go to slip by. 

You’re stopped as his arm stretches across the narrow hall and blocks you, his other hand on his hip, “hey, you again,” he intones, adding your name on the end.

You back up and cross your arms. There’s no alternative route out of here, he’s got you trapped.

“Pete,” he pats his chest, “you remember, don’t you, dolly?”

You flutter your lashes and look at your fitbit, trying to imply your rush.

“Er, no,” you lie, “sorry, I have somewhere to be–”

“No, no, I know you remember me,” he insists, keeping his arm in place, “you helped me find that wellness hoo haa whatever. Real con artists, those ones.”

“Sorry, I don’t–”

“I get it, you’re shy,” he chuckles, “you don’t gotta be. I’m a nice guy.” He looms over you, “how about I walk you to your train?”

You look up at him and he winks, the stubble of an ungrown goatee trims his jaw and mouth, “no thanks.”

You try to step to the other side and he quickly pens you in again. “Hey, hey, come on, I owe you. You were so helpful last time, how about a drink?”

“Uh, I don’t drink,” you touch the outside of your jacket pocket, feeling the shape of your phone, “really, it’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“So you do remember,” he smirks.

“N– look, I…” your head is swirling, you just want to get to the station and get on the train. Once you sit down, you’ll mellow out, “it’s a nice gesture but I’m not… I’m not interested.”

“Hmm,” he still doesn’t budge and his eyes flick up, scanning the wall behind you. “Oh, man, you’re here for that?”

“What, I–”

“Dialysis. Tough shit,” he sighs, “never would’ve guessed. Must be hard.”

“I don’t– I need to catch my train-”

“I got a car,” he offers, “so if you want a ride–”

You swallow as your neck itches with heat. You want him to get out of your way. You don’t like the way he’s got you trapped or how he seems to assume to know you.

“No, thank you,” you enunciate clearly, “please, I need to go.”

“Alright,” he puts his hands up, “like I said, I’ll walk you. Make sure you get there safe–”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you ring the strap of your bag and his gaze focuses on the gesture until you stop yourself.

“I make you nervous, sweetie?”

You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’re going to boil over. He’s frustrating and constantly changing the subject, never quite responding to what you’re actually saying. You swallow your breath and hold it in. You’re going.

You put your elbow out and jab it into his stomach as you force your way past him. You quickly scurry by as he grunts in surprise and you hurry towards the stairs, pushing through the door as he calls after you. You ignore him as the metal door clangs shut in your stead.

You catch yourself against the top of the railing and hear a cackle from the other side of the wall. He’s laughing. At you. Well, you don’t think he’s very funny. In fact, he’s a bit scary.

[defiblover27]

Old Friends

Sorry that I have been gone for so long. Finally back to writing again. If you ever have any ideas for a story my DMs are always open. Enjoy!

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

Bek is a 37 year old female with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. She is slightly on the heavier side with and stands at just five foot three. Bek and one of her closest friends Ryan have decided to meet up at her house after they have both been busy with their professional careers and have not had the time to sit down and catch up in quite a while. Bek puts on her jeans and a shirt and then finally pulls a hoodie on over top while she waits around for Ryan to arrive before he has to go into work later in the morning. After Ryan arrives the two sit in the living room and start chatting about their current lives and reminisce the good old days of growing up together. The chatter quickly develops and they sit and laugh together as they recall some embarrassing stories that they experienced together. "I can't believe that we really did that.... Would you care for a cup of coffee before you have to leave?" Bek asks. "That would be great" Ryan responds. Bek gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen just a few feet away. After picking up the coffee pot she turns to the walk to the sink to get some water when she suddenly feels very light headed and her tongue starts to tingle. Before she can do anything her vision goes dark. There is an audible thud and the shatter of the glass coffee pot is heard in the living room as Ryan jumps up from his seat. "You okay in there Bek?" as he turns the corner he sees the glass shards across the floor and Bek lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Oh my god Bek" he quickly rushes over and kneels down beside her. He shakes her shoulders to get a response and after a few shakes Bek lets out a sigh as she begins to regain consciousness. "What... what happened?" Bek asks shakily as she attempts to sit up. "You must have passed out has this happened before recently?" Ryan asks as he helps her up into a seated position. "No nothing at all, I've felt a little under the weather since this morning but besides that nothing." Bek responds as she slowly picks herself off the floor into a standing position. "I'm calling an ambulance" Ryan states as he heads back into the living room to get his phone. "No I'm fine really" Bek pleads but Ryan is already gone and dialing 911. Bek hobbles over to a bench in the kitchen by the table as she leans up against it. She can hear Ryan in the other room talking to the emergency dispatcher. She still feels lightheaded and a little woozy but brushes it off without another thought. Ryan reenters the room and stays by Bek and explains that the ambulance is on the way. After a few minutes the EMT's arrive at Bek's house and Ryan lets them in and leads them to where Bek is leaning up against the bench in the kitchen. They set down their bags and ask a few initial questions. After checking her vitals they explain to Ryan that she should be okay but they want to transport her to the hospital just in case. Bek tells Ryan to go to work and that she will call him later. The paramedics get his contact information before he leaves and he tells her to make sure to call him later. Ryan leaves the house and heads to work even though he is still worried about Bek. Jayden, one of the paramedics, asks his coworker Alex to go to the ambulance and grab the gurney since she is having trouble walking. Alex leaves the room while Jayden stays behind with Bek. "My... my chest... it..." Bek collapses to the ground for a second time. Jayden catches her as she collapses and lays her gently on the floor. He feels for a pulse and breathing. Finding none he quickly places his gloved hands between her breasts and begins CPR. He felt as each compression caused her chest to cave in and return to its position each time. After giving thirty aggressive compressions he tilted her head back, sealed his lips over her mouth, pinched her nose, and delivered a breath. He gave two full breaths into her still lungs causing her chest to rise and fall with each one. He did another round of thirty compressions as he felt a few ribs pop out of place due to

the force of the compressions. Again he gave two breaths as Alex returns with the gurney to see their patient unconscious on the floor. "What happened?" Alex asked quickly as he grabbed the heart monitor and AED from the gurney. "She went into full cardiac arrest, I've done two rounds of CPR and still no response. Alex grabbed some shears from his pocket and cut away Bek's hoodie, shirt, and bra causing her breasts to fall to the side. Jayden placed his hands between between her exposed chest and continued CPR. "We need to attempt to stabilize her before transport." Jayden announced. Alex grabbed an orange ambu bag from the O2 bag and sealed it over Bek's face. After every thirty compressions Alex squeezed the ambu bag twice to inflate her lungs. While Jayden was performing CPR Alex also attached the electrodes and AED pads to Bek's bare chest. The monitor whined to life as the line bounced up and down in v-fib. The AED charged to 200 joules as the paramedics backed away. The shock button was pushed and Bek jerked on her kitchen floor as the electricity coursed through her dying body. With no response Alex took over CPR as the AED charged to 300 in preparation of a second shock. Alex used the full weight of his body to compress Bek's chest as he felt a few of her ribs break under him. The AED announced that it was charged as they backed away and pressed the shock button. Again Bek jerked on the floor before relaxing again. "Still no response, lets give one more shock and then transport regardless." Jayden announced. Alex was already giving Bek CPR and simply shook his head in agreement. The AED was charged the 360 as CPR continued on Bek's dying body. They backed away once more as the AED was charged and shocked her again. This time the increased voltage caused Bek's chest to rise slightly off the kitchen floor before crashing back down causing her breasts to shake. "Asystole, lets roll out hopefully the ER can do something else to help her" They rolled her over before placing her on a backboard and loading Bek and all of their equipment into the ambulance and sped away. Alex hopped into the drivers seat and flipped on the lights and sirens as he attempted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Jayden was in the back of the ambulance compressing Bek's chest which now had a grayish look to it as her body began to shut down. The first few minutes of the ride were uneventful as Bek remained in asystole while her chest was being pounded away on. After pushing another round of cardiac drugs into the IV Jayden was able to force Bek's heart into v-fib as the AED was charged to 360 again. The shock caused Bek to jerk violently on the gurney before going still again. There was no change in rhythm so the AED was charged again as Jayden quickly tilted her head back and slid a metal blade into her mouth and down her throat slightly. He then passed a 8.0 ET tube down her airway and secured it with a blue holder. Attaching the ambu bag he gave a couple ventilations as he placed his stethoscope onto her cold and clammy chest to ensure it was placed properly. He was able to get it right on the first time so he dropped the bag so it laid against her face and pressed the shock button again. Bek's feet jumped off the gurney slightly and clenched up showing off the wrinkles of her small feet. Jayden began to lose hope of saving Bek as the monitor went flat once again as she went into asystole once again. Jayden pounded away at her chest as a purple bruise began to form in-between her breasts from all of the aggressive CPR. Her complexion started to fade and her lips turned to a bluish purple as her body was shutting down. She was now cool to the touch other than the center of her chest where Jayden's warm gloved hands have been so often. Each compression forced her breasts to shake violently as her chest was caved in rhythmically. He pushed another round of drugs into her dying body and gave to quick squeezes of the bag hanging out of her mouth before continuing CPR. He lost track

of how many cycles he has done so far or how long she had been down. All he knew is that he wouldn't stop until he got her heart beating again.

As they arrived at the ER Bek was still under intense CPR as her chest caved in rhythmically. They rolled her out of the ambulance as Jayden straddled the gurney. His hips placed directly on hers as his body hovered over hers as he continued aggressive compressions. Alex picked up the ambu bag laying on the gurney and gave a few squeezes every few seconds in attempt to give her much needed air. They took her directly into the trauma room as Alex gave the report. Jayden hopped off of the gurney and helped transfer Bek to the bed. They rolled her to her side and slipped the backboard out replacing it with a CPR board to get her chest in the correct position. Her nude body now laid dying on the bed as a nurse took over CPR. Jayden backed away slightly trying to catch his breath from all of the CPR that he had just performed. They placed another IV port and gave Bek her next dose of epi and continued CPR. The monitors beeped in tune with each compression that she received as her body shook around from the force. The attending doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils. They were sluggish but reactive meaning that she still had a chance at coming back. They had no time to waste before it would be too late though. A day that went from hanging out with an old friend turned into a day where a team of medical professionals did everything they could to bring her back to life. The monitors began to bounce erratically as Bek converted into Vfib once again. The paddles were taken off of the crash cart, a large amount of gel was placed on one of the paddles as they were rubbed together, placed on her bare chest, and discharged. The shock caused Bek to flop on the bed and after the shock there was no change. CPR was resumed as the paddles were charged again to 360. In a moments notice the cold metal paddles were back on her skin as she was shocked again. This time her arms flailed to the sides and her feet scrunched up and relaxed again. Bek still did not convert so another nurse centered their hands between her large breasts as the paddles charged again.

Jayden was near the nurses station as soon as they left the room and called Ryan. "Hello is this Ryan?" Jayden asked. "Bek is not doing very well and I think that its important for you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. You are the closest thing to family that she has." He hung up the phone and looked into the trauma room as he watched the resuscitation continue. A few minutes later Ryan busted into the ER and ran toward Jayden. Jayden had to catch Ryan in his arms before he could burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on? She seemed okay when I left. I should have stayed with her." Ryan frantically pleaded. "She went into cardiac arrest shortly after you left. We have been doing everything that we can for her. She is in good hands." Jayden responded. Ryan could barely see into the trauma room but was able to see as everyone backed away and then as her body shook around on the bed. He fell to the floor as Jayden caught him and tried to console him.

"Asystole doctor" the nurse in charge of ventilations announced. "Push another round of epi and continue CPR please." he replied. The team worked in silence as they continued resuscitating Bek but they all knew that she was inching closer and closer to death. After three minutes at her 40 minute mark of her code the doctor asked "is there any family here?". A nurse informed him of the situation and he asked that Ryan be brought into the room. Ryan could barely hold his own weight as Jayden guided him into the room. "I'm the attending here and have been in charge of Bek's case. She was brought into the ER 20 minutes ago in full cardiac arrest. Her heart hasn't been beating for over 40 minutes. We have given her all of the drugs that we can and have done everything in our power. I am going to check for any signs of life again. Come on over and hold her hand." The two of them approached Bek as Ryan placed her hand in his. He could feel how could it was. "Stop CPR and check for pulses." The team backed away as they checked her carotid, and femoral pulses. The attending checked her pupils for the last time and found that they were fixed and dilated. "Time of Death 10:46am. I'm very sorry." The doctor announced. He left Ryan and a few nurses in the room as they started post mortem care. The disconnected the ambu bag, leads, wiped the gel off her chest, hung a toe tag on her right foot, and finally draped a white sheet over her nude body. Jayden stayed in the room with Ryan until she was taken down to the hospital morgue. Her autopsy found that she had suffered a massive heart attack.

[daddynegandesires]

Secrets chapter 3

Summary: ellies birthday and mothers day is coming up as emotions and pent up anger are spiraling between you, negan, and jack while more and more secrets begin to unfold.

18+

Warming: nsfw, fluff, kink, depression, abuse

Sorry for the late update on this chapter its kind of a short one ive just have been going through some personal things and havent found the motivation to finish this one yet.❤ i hope you all like it!❤

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

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

You and negan haven't spoke in a few days ellies birthday is today and you have been busy decorating. Negan is suppose to be picking up the cake at the store. jack has returned back from his "business trip" withq an odd hickey on his neck that keeps gawking at you everytime you speak to him. You want to avoid conflict because you arent so innocent yourself after what happen with negan last time you saw him but thats just not who you are....you have to confront him but you also dont want to ruin ellies day infront of everyone.

"Hey jack, do you mind helping me with this streamer" you called out to him from the ladder

"Sure hun" he took the streamer from your hand taping it up to the wall

"Thank you.....uh negan should be here soon with her cake" you said folding up the step ladder

"I could of went and grabbed it" he scoffs

"I uh..well sorry i didnt know it was a big deal" you try to laugh it off politely

"Dont even worry about it...." He walks past you ramming his ahoulder into you heading outside

Negan had arrive with the cake and so did a few of ellies friends and your mother. You and your mothers relationship really has never been that great but you try to make peace with it for ellies sake. Negan came in with a huge gift box all wrapped in pink with a bow.

" i thought we agreed nothing crazy" you whispered to him

"Whaat...can i not spoil my girl" negan grins at you

Ellie runs out of her room her eyes light up at the size of the gift her dad got her.

"Mommy look at this...its humongo!" She says messing with the bow

"I see honey..dont mess with it yet" you giggle

"Where is your boy toy.." His tongue slides across his bottom lip

You kept silent while negan stared you down waiting for a response but nothing came out his eyes were burning a hole through you he always knew when shit was up.

"Ah i see....the silent treatment" folding his arms

Negan walks off to go play with ellie and say hello to a few people when your mother walks up to you.

"Hey mom..." You say emotionless

"What is negan doing here.." She asks

"Mom...please dont. Thats ellies dad. I told you we are trying to work on things for ellies sake" you say annoyed.

"Well...once a cheater always a cheater. Im just saying" as she sips on her cup of wine walking away

A few hours have passed and ellie got to blow out her candles and eat cake. Jack still hasnt said much to you throughout the whole party and its more than obvious that negan is starting to catch on im just hoping he doesn't notice the hicky on his neck. Ellie has been bugging you about negans gift so you were going to let her open it.

"Ellie open it up over here sweetie so everyone can see" you say smiling

Ellie quikly rips the hot pink rapping paper off and squeals in excitement as she realizes its a electric scooter that she has been wanting. Negan was standing by your side with his hand sneakily rested on your lower back with a huge smile on his face.

"Oh my god you got me that scooter!!" Ellie begins jumping up and down

"Negan....those cost alot" you whispered in his ear

"dont worry about it....i got it taken car of" he says sternly

"Lets take it outside!!" Negans runs over and picks it up in excitment with all of the kids following him outside to ride on the scooter. You were throwing away dirty plates when jack came up to you

"So you want to explain why you and negan have been so close" he quietly says to you

You instantly start to burn with rage as he asks you that knowing he has been keeping things from you too and the fact his assistant melissa has been speaking to him inappropriately. You were holing the knife in your hand for cutting the cake reminding you of the incident that happened between you and negan once you found out he was cheating. you froze and gripped tightly on the knife thinking of how to approach this.

"You're a fucking whore..." He spat at you

"Jack.....get the fuck away from me" you quietly say

"Yeah i bet thats what you want.....so he can fuck you" he says through gritted teeth

"Its. Ellies. Birthday.....fucking knock it off we can settle this later" you slowly set the knife down unclenching your fist

Jack stands there glaring at you with his jaw clecnhed before giving up and walking away. You let out a sigh of relief and pour yourself a glass of wine. You take a sip closing your eyes feeling like everything is going in slomotion in that moment when you here yelling outside and notice its negan and jack. You drop your glass spilling your wine everywhere running outside.

"Back the fuck off man!" Jack yells with his fist balled up

"Ohh...you really want to go there dude..." Negan laughs

"You are fucking (y/n) and i know it!" Jack lunges towards him throwing a punch hitting negan in the face making him stumble

Negan catches his balace reaching up to his face touching where jack punched him in the mouth realizing he is bleeding negan licks the blood off his lips and lets out a sinister almost scary deep chuckle.

"Oh...you fucked up." Negan lunges towards jack football tackling him to the ground he starts punching jack over and over again blood all over his fists

"Negan!!!...no! Stop!" You rush over trying to pry negan off of jack

"Negan stop for ellie please!" You begin to cry struggling to finally get him off causing you to fall backwards with negan on you

"You are a dead fucking man!....now get the fuck off my property..." Negan threats

You push negan off to go check on jack you try to get jack to respond to you and see if he is okay but he just spits in your face shoving you away causing you to fall before you know it negan charges back over and starts beating the shit out of him all you can do is scream at them and cry. Through tear filled eyes you notice the cops rushing up the street pulling into the drive way the last thing you remember is the cops pulling negan off and everything went black.

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

Jack and negan were both arrested but were soon let go apparently i had fainted due to stress and dehydration they kept me in the hospital until i was better. You kicked jack out of the house and you haven't spoke to negan since ellies birthday. Things have been rough being alone for ahwile and ellie was getting upset about not seeing her dad.

Text from negan:

Hey....im coming by

You looked at your phone to see a text from negan but you just ignored it and continued to cook some food for ellie. There was a knock at the door you sighed annoyingly before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door to negans innocent brown eyes staring back at you. before you could give him a chance to speak you shut the door in his face but he quickly caught it in time with his foot in the doorway before it closed.

"Negan...ellie should be home. She is still upset" you sigh

"Thats okay i want to make it up to you two" he says pushing the door open coming inside

You just stand there silent with your arms crossed untill you hear ellies bus coming down the road and before you know it she busts through the door yelling.

"Mommmyyyy! Happy mothers dayzz!" Ellies runs up to you handing you a picture she made at school

"Awe...thank you sweet heart its gorgeous" you took the pink paper from her smiling and when to hang it on the fridge

"Look i want to take you two out to dinner...its mothers day and you deserve it..look i know i fucked up but that asshole had it coming" negan says

"Negan dont.....go ask Ellie she is the real one you need to be apologizing to not me" you stare at the ground avoiding eye contact.

"Ohh ellie daddy wants to talk to you!" He walks off to her room

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

You, negan, and ellie were all out at dinner at your favorite steakhouse enjoying your meal when the waiter brought a bottle of wine

"Negan....i cant afford that" you quietly say

"Ah ah....you deserve it i mean you are the best mom ever" he winks at you popping the lid off pouring wine into your glass

"Thanks..." You shyly say before taking a sip

"So.....the school fired me" negan cleared his throat

You choked on your drink hearing the words that had just came out of negans mouth

"What?..how come" you say wipping wine off your chin

"Well....they dont want me as a coach anymore since what happened at ellies birthday. They say its wildly inappropriate and against policy to still have me there" he bites in his steak

"What are you going to do..." You ask worried

"Ohhh no biggie i always have things taken care of" he smiles at you

"If you need anything im here..." You look up at him

" i know....thank you" he reaches across the table holding your hand

The three of you finish up dinner afterwards you all go for a late walk through the park. It felt nice to get out and have some fresh air after what happended at the party. Your phone kept buzzing off the hook of texts from jack you kept trying to hide it from negan to not let him worry. You felt bad hiding it from negan but you knew it would start a fight but you also didnt want to let jack go without some talking. Negan took you and ellie back home ellie ran inside and got ready for bed.

"I know he is talking to you..." Negan says sternly while placing one hand against the wall beside your head

"Negan....can we not talk about this right now" you say turning your head away from him

"No!...you will look at me when im speaking to you" negan grabs ahold of your chin forcing you to look at him

"Yes....yes im still talking to him.." You say embarassed

"Why....he is such a load of whoreshit....im standing right infront of you (y/n)...im here now! Take me back please. Im an honest man now!" Negan growls

" get...off of me!" You scream and shove him away from you and begin to walk angrily down the road

"(Y/n) get back here now!...where the fuck do you think you are going!" Negan trys to catch up with you when it suddenly starts raining

"Negan stop trying so hard!...this is going nowhere!" You say crying

"Why do you keep saying that!...i want this to work!" Negan finally catches up to you grabbing you by the arm spinning you around

"......well i dont..." You choked on those words as they slipped out of your mouth it felt like your heart had just stopped for a split second it killed you to say that to negan but it had to be done

"You....dont want this." He said quietly and upset with rain drops running down his perfect face

"Negan....i.... I cant. You have to let me go" you say caressing his face" you said giving him a half smile with a single tear rolling down your cheek

"W....what about ellie.....thats my babygirl" Negan begans to tear up pulling you into a hug

"You can still be in ellies life.....i start therapy next tuesday" you say ending the hug

"You can talk to me (y/n)" negan sniffles

"There are just things that just feel easier letting out to a stranger sometimes..."

"I love you....." Negan says bresthlessly

"....i love you too but from a distance.....i have boundaries set now negan"

You and negan began to walk back to the house getting inside you hand him a towel to dry himself off. Negan follows you to the bedroom.

"There are still some of your clothes in the closet...." You say facing away from him

"You still have some of my old clothes here...." Negan opens the door seeing his shirts still hanging in the same spot before he moved out

"I didnt know if you still wanted them or not..." You say nervously

"Its okay. Thank you" negan takes off his soaking wet shirt switching it out with an old faded band shirt

"You can sleep on the couch if you would like..." You offer him

"You sure you are going to be okay with that?" He raises an eyebrow at you

"Yeah....plus its been lonely here just me and ellie" you chuckle handing him a blanket

Negan takes the blanket from you before turing around to open the bedroom door to leave. As soon as the door shut you quietly sobbed making sure it wasnt loud enough for negan to hear. You wiped your tears away before getting yourself ready for bed. You tossed and turned for most of the night your head filled with unnecessary thoughts and cenarios. You just wanted all of this pain to go away you dont know what you are doing with yourself anymore the only thing that keeps you holding on is ellie and negan.

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

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

[sparring-hyena]

the time of our lives.

this one was kinda requested/suggested by @cloakanddaggerthings. they’ve also been a great help in hammering out the finicky details. thanks heaps, mate! 

OR, the one where it takes a year for these two goofs to realise they’re in love.

-

i. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they start. although, start in a very loose sense of the word. because they were something before tonight. something fiery and intense, but certainly not something real.

they were midnight rendezvouses, sharp remarks that lacked any real malice, and moments that somehow meant nothing and everything. but what they were is irrelevant. because Poppy’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and fight. they shout and cuss and say things that don’t at all mean but that make this whole thing easier.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i hate you,” and feels something break in her heart.

“i hate you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ leaves and now Poppy’s standing alone on the front lawn. she ignores the tears that fall down her cheeks and tries to tell herself that everything will be fine.

so, yes, that’s how they start: in the final ten seconds of the year with an i hate you that actually means something else entirely.

ii. Valentine’s Day.

she sees AJ sporadically throughout the day. and that irritates Poppy like nothing else ever has. figures it would be today of all days that she sees her everywhere.

first it’s at the crack of dawn as she walks home after a one night stand that she spots AJ on a jog. they’re on opposite sides of the street, but it’s empty so they see each other.

AJ stops in her tracks and looks right at Poppy, not exactly irritated but certainly not pleased. Poppy fixes her with a glare that says what are you looking at? AJ shrugs and starts up on her jog again, and Poppy huffs and continues on her walk home.

then they see each other on campus way too many times—in the café, on the quad, and in the library. and each time, Poppy’s glare is met with a shrug from AJ.

the last time she sees AJ it’s late. the sun has long since set and there’s a chill that’s set in for the night. she’s on her way home from dinner—some blind date Veronica had set up—when she spots AJ across the street, laughing and walking hand-in-hand with some girl who looks vaguely familiar.

Poppy watches them until she can’t see them anymore, and wonders if AJ saw her this time, too.

iii. spring break.

she goes to Miami for the week with Veronica and Chloe. her intention is to have a fun and carefree week where she doesn’t once think about AJ.

it’s two days into her trip when she finds herself scrolling through Instagram late one night. curiosity nibbles at her restraint until she’s typing AJ’s name into the search bar.

she finds AJ’s profile and the first picture she sees is some candid shot of AJ and that same girl from Valentine’s Day looking at each other with ridiculously cheesy smiles. Poppy switches her phone off and doesn’t dare touch it for the rest of the night.

Poppy goes to a party the next night and hooks up with a girl who looks a lot like AJ. Veronica and Chloe point this out a few days later, laughing over cocktails. Poppy scoffs and tells them that’s complete bullshit and tries to hide her blush by taking a long sip of her drink.

iv. summer break.

the academic year ends and Poppy sighs with relief as she collapses onto her bed. she’s got three months until her final year starts, and three months where she doesn’t have to see or think of AJ.

it goes well at first—the not thinking about AJ. she spends a lot of time shopping and partying and lounging by the pool of her parents’ beach house on Long Island. but there are only so many hours of the day where she can keep her mind busy. so it’s at night, when she’s in bed trying to fall asleep, that her mind wanders back to AJ.

the first time it happens, she groans and rolls onto her side, and tries to flush all thoughts of AJ from her mind. that works. but then it happens again and again, and before Poppy really knows it, it’s halfway through August and she’s thought of AJ every single night since the end of June.

she lays awake in bed and watches the fan on the ceiling spin in lazy circles. her brain summons a long and near forgotten memory of a night a lot like this. she closes her eyes and sinks into the warm embrace of the memory:

she was in bed with AJ. it was either late or early, Poppy can’t quite remember. she decides it probably doesn’t really matter. they were talking and laughing under the quiet blanket of night. and Poppy suddenly remembers how she’d reached for AJ’s hand and never wanted to let it go.

Poppy opens her eyes and glances to her side. the bed is empty beside her, the sheets untouched, and she can almost feel the ghost of AJ’s touch on her hand. she squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry, and realises she never did hate AJ. she was probably just scared.

v. Halloween.

there’s a party on campus—isn’t there always? a frat party with costumes and decorations and cheesy music that starts to sound alright after three or four drinks. Poppy slips in later in the night, when everyone’s teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk.

she moves through the throng of people towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink, and bumps into AJ for the first time this semester.

“hey,” AJ says, awkward and unsure, and Poppy silently regrets everything she’s put her through.

“hi,” Poppy says, smiling and really meaning it.

that seems to loosen AJ up a bit, and she returns the smile in kind.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” AJ says, leaning back against the counter and sipping her drink.

“been busy,” she lies even though that’s something she’s trying to stop.

and AJ seems to understand the lie for what it is. “you wanna go outside for a bit?”

Poppy only nods, afraid that if she speaks, she’ll ruin whatever’s happening right now. it’s quieter outside, the cheesy music and chatter nothing but a gentle murmur. they stand out on the front lawn of some frat house and Poppy gets a strange sense of déjà vu.

“i wish things had been different, y’know?” AJ says, her voice a gentle reassurance.

“me too,” Poppy says, and then: “i’m sorry that i said i hate you. because i don’t.”

a moment of silence passes, uncomfortable and almost tight like a rubber band pulled to its limit. because it looks like AJ’s about to say something important that’ll put them on a better path. but then the front door of the frat house flies open, and a few drunk students stumble out into the yard.

AJ offers Poppy a smile, almost sad and longing. “it was nice seeing you again.” and then she heads back inside.

vi. Thanksgiving.

Poppy doesn’t plan on visiting her parents this year. and besides, they’re going out of town for the holiday. so if she has to be alone, she’d rather it be in the sorority house than in some stuffy brownstone on the Upper West Side.

it’s late in the afternoon when Poppy gets a text from AJ. all it says is are you at the sorority? she stares at it for a moment, debates deleting it and carrying on with her day. but something tells her to respond, so she does.

she says that she is and waits for AJ’s response. she waits five minutes, then ten and nothing comes. Poppy scoffs and tosses her phone onto her bed. it’s not long later when she hears a knock on the front door. Poppy doesn’t think much of it, so she answers it without checking.

she finds AJ standing on the front stoop, grinning like she knows something Poppy doesn’t.

“what are you doing here?” Poppy says. “i thought you’d be on your way home by now.”

“i’m getting an early flight tomorrow.” then AJ holds up a plane ticket, grinning like this has been her plan all along. “and i was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

“what?”

“come home with me. my parents always cook too much food, so really, you’d be doing them a favour.”

Poppy folds her arms over her chest and studies AJ for a moment. “don’t you want to take your girlfriend,” she says, and maybe she wants her words to hurt a little bit.

“we broke up over the summer,” AJ says, simple and easy.

“oh. sorry.”

“don’t be. it wasn’t working out and hadn’t been for a while.”

“are you trying to use pity to get me to come with you?” Poppy says, and she knows AJ wouldn’t, but it’s kinda fun to mess with her.

“no, of course not! i just wanted to be upfront with you. so, come home with me. please.”

Poppy plucks the ticket from AJ’s hand and says, “i’m only doing this for your parents.”

“of course.” AJ winks and grins. “i’ll see you bright and early at the airport tomorrow then.

the flight is uneventful, although Poppy decides AJ is much too cheerful for seven o’clock in the morning.

when they step inside AJ’s childhood home, Poppy’s immediately struck by just how warm and lived in it all feels. AJ’s mother tells her to mind the mess as she ushers them both inside, and AJ’s father greets them and says hugs’ll have to wait as he gestures to his dirty apron.

they all cram around a too small table in mismatched chairs that creak and rock back-and-forth. Poppy doesn’t care that she’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with AJ and one of her sisters. dinner is loud and fun, and AJ’s parents insist on sharing stories from AJ’s childhood. and as dinner winds down and dessert is served, Poppy reaches for AJ’s hand beneath the table and knows that she’ll never let go.

vii. Christmas.

it’s close to midnight on Christmas Eve when AJ appears on the front stoop of the Zeta house. she looks distraught and like she hasn’t had a good night sleep in days. so Poppy steps outside and asks, “what’s wrong?”

AJ looks at her, really looks at her, and Poppy feels something shift in that moment. and then AJ’s talking, words tumbling from her mouth, and it doesn’t look like she can stop herself. then she says i love you and everything goes still.

it takes a moment, but AJ seems to catch up to what she’s just said. her eyes go wide, and Poppy can see that she’s gearing up to apologies. but Poppy doesn’t let her. she surges forward and hug AJ tightly because oh god, i’ve missed her so much.

Poppy doesn’t say the words back, not yet anyway. but she holds onto AJ and tries to show her that she loves her, too.

viii. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they end. although end in a very loose sense of the word. because they will be something after tonight. something supportive and challenging, but most importantly something real.

they will be promises of forever, witty remarks that are just an i love you in disguise, and moments where the rest of the word falls away and it’s just the two of them together. what they will be terrifies Poppy. because she’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that... right?

maybe. but maybe it’s good that AJ doesn’t fit into that. maybe it’s good that AJ had upended everything she thought she knew. maybe that’s what makes what they will be so damn perfect.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and finally admit what’s been there all along. they talk and tease and say things they mean with all their heart.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i love you,” and feels that final piece of her heart heal.

“i love you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ steps closer to Poppy, smiling so bright and warm, and Poppy twists her arms around AJ’s neck and doesn’t once care that she’s probably smiling like an idiot in love.

so, yes, that’s how they end: in the final ten second of the year with an i love you that means exactly what it claims.

[lassieposting]

skulduggery/alt!serpine for the getting together ask game?

I’m bored, so. Send me two (or more) characters for a headcanon on how I’d have them get together

OHOHOHOHO SEE THIS IS A GOOD ONE BC

ive already been thinking about this and im. Lowkey really glad im not the only one

See I always hated skug with any serpine, like I was a passionate anti from 2007 - about three months ago but. I enjoyed their dynamic in phase one and then i read like three of their interactions from sow and got converted or some shit apparently idfk, anyway u know i love an angsty ship

this got really long so tldr; enemies to vitriolic hate-sex buddies to lovers, painfully slow burn, but they'll both die claiming they still hate each other

It begins with China.

She orders him to kill Serpine, and he refuses. He's not even 100% sure why when he does. It's not like they're friends. He's killed people he liked a good deal more than Nefarian Serpine under orders.

But she says, "kill him" and he says, "no", and then things spiral so quickly that it's actually a few days before he even has time to think about her parting shot, flung at him as he walked out on her: "if you want to keep him, you'll be the one looking after him. He's your responsibility, not mine. And if he hurts someone, you -"

He'd shut the door on her at that point, but he knows what she was going to say. You look after him yourself, you train him yourself, and if he hurts someone, you kill him yourself. A wonderfully old-world way of looking at things. He's fairly sure he remembers getting the same speech from the housekeeper when he tried to bring home the ugliest feral tomcat he'd ever seen as a small boy.

(This will come back to bite him. He's not sure how or when, but it will. That's the way of things, whenever he turns his back on China Sorrows. Her last parting shot - a classic "you'll regret this" - ended up getting him killed.)

But then there's Mevolent, and cleaning up a city in the aftermath of its latest Traumatic Event, and putting a size 10 to the backsides of the City Guard, so his priorities get reshuffled somewhat, and it's almost a week later that he thinks to ask, "Heard from Serpine lately? He's being oddly quiet."

Valkyrie blinks at him from the passenger seat. Her fingertips tap tap tap at the touchscreen. She's messaging someone. He doesn't know who. "He's...around."

"Why the pause?"

"Hm?"

"You paused," he points out, switching lanes to get around a hatchback dawdling along at 60. "He's...around. You're trying to hide something from me. I'm aware you still talk to him, you know."

She doesn't deny it. He's gotten used to that, in the last few years. She doesn't tell him things anymore. It's that distance, the distance he can try to banter over but never truly remove. She's a lot further away than his passenger seat. "He's been looking for somewhere to live, like. Now that he's here for good. So, you know. That's probably keeping him busy."

Nefarian Serpine is living out of a stuffy first-floor rented room above, of all things, Vaurien Scapegrace's pub.

He knows this not because China was having Serpine followed (although she was) or because plenty of old faces from the Sanctuary still owe him favours (although they do), but because he receives a text from Scapegrace at a quarter to midnight, in the middle of a grisly murder scene.

have u beaten anyone up lately? do u want to? think thrasher just rented one of our rooms to a war criminal

He taps out a response, half-focused on the screen and half on Valkyrie examining the photos on the dead man's mantelpiece. She looks like she's just figured something out.

Which one? Thrasher, or the other guy?

By the time he's dropped her home, said hello to the furball and returned to the city, morning is bleeding into the sky. He knocks sharply on Nefarian Serpine's peeling rented door, and then again when there's no response.

From inside, a thud.

Then another, followed by some deeply impolite language, and then the door jerks open. Serpine, wearing an impressive bedhead, a scraggly attempt at a beard and a pair of patterned socks with a hole in the toe, squints out into the hall and snaps, "D'you have ANY IDEA what time it is? This place is supposed to - ah, shite. It's you."

"It is," he agrees.

Serpine gives him a sulky jerk of the head - an invitation - and vanishes back inside. He follows, closing the door gently behind him. Inside the room is dark and depressing and smells faintly of mildew and sweat. There are clothes on the floor.

He pulls the curtains open and looks out the window, giving Serpine some privacy to get dressed.

"Found me at last, have you?" Serpine asks from over by the bed. There's a rustle of fabric and the sound of a belt being done up. "What do you want? Come to take my other hand?"

That's it. That's what's different. "Other? You don't seem to be missing any at present, Nefarian. Valkyrie's work, I take it."

Serpine sits down on the bed with a squeak of springs, and when Skulduggery turns to face him, he's smirking and, thankfully, wearing trousers. "Ever so nice of her, wasn't it? Doesn't work like the old one, though. You know. The one I used on you."

He sighs. "And here I thought this last week would've given you time to come up with some new material."

Serpine shrugs and spends a moment picking out a pair of shirts from the wardrobe beside the bed. If it's a test, it's a painfully obvious one. Almost an invitation. Go ahead, shoot me.

No, this is something Skulduggery knows far more intimately. A display of brittle confidence in the face of a threat. I'm not afraid of you. Do your worst.

Serpine is afraid of him. Afraid of being arrested, maybe, or killed, or worse. He'd have relished that fear, once. Delighted in flipping the tables.

He leans back against the desk, ankles crossed and arms folded. After a moment, Serpine turns around with a shirt on a hanger in each hand. He holds them up for an opinion.

Skulduggery points wordlessly at the green one, and the blue goes back in the closet. "If you're not here to kill me, what do you want?"

While Serpine is doing up his buttons, Skulduggery retrieves the folded sheaf of paper from the inside pocket of his long coat, and holds it up. "I came to drop these off."

Serpine's vibrant eyes narrow. "What is that? An arrest warrant?"

"A list of landlords in Roarhaven willing to rent to refugees. Valkyrie mentioned you were looking."

Serpine blinks at him. Skulduggery doesn't often bother with the facade in Roarhaven, but if he had a face right now, he'd be blinking back. It's a weirdly awkward moment.

"...thanks," Serpine says after a moment, tentatively reaching for the papers; Skulduggery leans forward to pass them over. "That'd be...helpful."

He sounds very uncomfortable saying those words. When Skulduggery responds, "You're welcome," he feels much the same.

Serpine unfolds the papers and skims them. Three pages of property listings. Tipstaff had printed them off for him with only a raised eyebrow and a, "Never thought you'd move out of Dublin, Detective."

"What brought this on?"

He looks up. "Hm?"

"You show up here at an ungodly hour of the morning, nobody to rein you in, and you're being helpful? I don't buy it. I know China as well as you do. She told you to kill me, didn't she?"

"She did," Skulduggery acknowledges, and a very old, very spiky part of him gets a kick out of watching the blood drain from Serpine's face. "I told her no."

"Bollocks."

"Hard to believe, isn't it? But it's true. Ah, don't look at me like that, Nefarian. It's got nothing to do with you. I was just feeling argumentative that day. And, if nothing else, I can always rely on China to argue with me if I tell her no."

"So -"

"For my sins, she made you my responsibility, see. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't get up to any of your old tricks. And if you do, then I'll kill you. I'll be checking in on you to make sure you're behaving yourself. Think of me as a...probation officer, of sorts. With benefits."

More blinking. This version of Serpine is not a morning person. He bets his alternate self got to sleep in far later in this Serpine's dungeon. "I'm not seeing any benefits."

"The benefit is I get to kill you if you step out of line. I never said the benefits were for you."

"Are there any benefits in this for me?"

He considers this for a moment. "You get to live. Because of me. I saved your life. "

Serpine's face is emotionless and his voice is flat.

"Oh," he says. "Yippee."

He's interviewing a witness when his phone rings.

He politely excuses himself, and steps out into the hallway to answer it. "Pleasant."

"Hello!" Serpine says brightly, and launches immediately into, "I want a car."

Skulduggery's fake face blinks at the sigil-embossed wallpaper. It takes a second to even register the voice, and another to pick up on -

"How the -? Who gave you this number?"

"Valkyrie." Serpine sounds completely unapologetic. "And you're supposed to be teaching me to drive."

Serpine can't see his head tilt. He does it anyway. "Am I now? And what gave you that idea?"

"I'm your problem now, remember? Besides, you agreed to it," is the smug answer. "Before our little holiday back to my dimension, I said I wanted a better house and a latte and a car. And driving lessons."

"I never agreed to that."

"Well, you didn't say no. That's agreement by default. Sorry."

"Plenty of people can teach you to drive, Nefarian. You could teach yourself, even. Watch a video on Youtube."

"Detective Pleasant, I am shocked," Serpine teases, suddenly dripping with insincere concern. "Think of all those poor defenceless mortals I could run into. There's an advert on the television about how you're specifically not supposed to hit them with cars. It kills them, apparently. How will I cope without you there to make sure I resist temptation?"

Skulduggery grinds his teeth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely. I'd completely forgotten how much fun it is to have you at my mercy. And you did say you're supposed to keep an eye on me."

Skulduggery goes quiet for a moment, focusing on reining in the urge to hit something. Serpine's face. He wants to hit Serpine's face. With a chair. Trust him to figure out that being Skulduggery's responsibility meant he could go to him for help.

"Fine."

"Excellent! And now you have my number, so you can let me know when you're free."

"Since when do you have a mobile?"

"Since today," Serpine says airily. "Tanith helped me pick one out. I can talk to anyone, anywhere, whenever I like now. Isn't that great? I mean, I only have two numbers, three now that Valkyrie's given me yours, but still. Now I'll always have someone to talk to."

"This is a work line. It is not for social calls."

A passing sorcerer startles a little at his tone, and he gives her an apologetic smile. As an afterthought, he rolls his eyes in a you know how it is gesture. But she's already walking away, so really he just rolls his eyes at her back, which is probably rude of him.

Serpine is still talking. "- can send little moving pictures, and I've downloaded all these little applications, so now I do all sorts of fun things. Do you use...whatsit...Snapchat? I have Snapchat now. And I've got Angry Birds and Candy Crush and Grindr."

And that? That right there? That is more than he ever needed to know about Serpine.

"Goodbye, Nefarian," he says firmly, and hangs up.

He checks in on Serpine once a week, officially. Unofficially, he clocks more hours than he'd like to admit parked in an alley outside Scapegrace's pub, waiting for someone to scream bloody murder. Serpine spots him a couple of times, gives him a jaunty wave with his newly-regrown hand on his way to the off-licence, mocking and unconcerned.

But nobody gets murdered. Serpine seems to be...behaving. For now.

"I've volunteered you for move-in duty," Valkyrie says, apropos of nothing. When he blinks at her, she shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. "Serpine's found a flat. He needs some furniture shifting."

He's not going to throw anything at his partner in this busy mortal cafe. He's not.

"I see. And you thought that has anything to do with me because..."

She polishes off the last dregs of her drink with a slurp. "I can't float stuff up stairs."

The apartment Serpine is moving into is a decent two-bedroom on the fourth floor of a six-floor block in a quiet area with a history of minimal unexpected-demolitions-by-overpowered-supervillain. Skulduggery idly wonders, as he pulls up in the parking area behind the building, whether a mass murderer moving in - and the frequent visits by the other mass murderer charged with keeping an eye on him - will bring down housing prices. China will hate that, when she wakes up.

Serpine is waiting for him out front, surrounded by boxes and furniture, already looking a bit frazzled. His outfit is stylish and his slicked-back hair is sticking up in places where he's been running his hands though it. He startles and looks up at the sound of footsteps, and seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Ah! You came. Valkyrie said you'd know how to go about getting all this, you know. Up there."

"You can hire people for this, you know," Skulduggery tells him. "Removal men."

"With what money?" Serpine asks, a little helplessly. "Valkyrie gave me some of her old things, but I got most of this from - what's the word? - second hand shops, and the refugee aid centre. I've been looking for work, but...you know." He gestures at his face. "This is my criminal record."

Which...is a fair point, so Skulduggery rolls up his sleeves and moves to one end of a squashed two-seater couch. "Fair enough. Grab the other end."

Serpine's mouth almost drops open. "You want to carry it? Like peasants? I thought you were here to float the damn thing!"

Well, he could. But the world isn't actively ending right now, so he can afford to be petty. "I don't use magic unless I have to, these days. We'll be doing this the old-fashioned way."

"But." The last time he saw someone look this aghast was when Valkyrie realised how the citizens of Roarhaven saw her. "But that's manual labour!"

"A little manual labour will do you good."

"Gods, I hate you," Serpine tells him as he moves to grab the other end of the couch.

Skulduggery turns the facade on specifically to give him a smug smirk. "I know."

By the time they're finishing up the boxes, Serpine's new neighbours have come out into the hall to see what all the banging is about. They seem young, mostly - too young to recognise him from the war. Skulduggery is starting to suspect that Serpine has accidentally moved into student housing, but he keeps his mouth shut. Serpine is being chatty and charming, holding court in the corridor, and Skulduggery mostly lets him get on with it in between trips to the bottom of the stairs to pick up more boxes, until a young woman who holds Serpine's front door open for him and chuckles, "Left you doing all the work, has he? He's a talker, your boyfriend. I bet you don't get a word in edgewise."

It's not often that Skulduggery Pleasant is lost for words. "I. I'm sorry. What?"

Fortunately, Serpine chooses that moment to interrupt the conversation he's having and interject, "Oh, no, darling. We're not together. He's just here to make sure I stay out of trouble."

There's something off about how he says it, though. There must be, because the woman taps her nose like he's just confided a secret, and Skulduggery can't help but feel like he's just been made the butt of a joke he doesn't fully understand.

He checks on Serpine once a week. Occasionally Serpine texts him. A blurry photo, usually paired with a caption like, "what the hell is this?"; a set of traffic lights, or a lollipop man, or a chihuahua in a little jumper. Sometimes he responds, but sometimes he doesn't bother.

It's not like they're friends.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Roarhaven's shopping district is bustling, and Nefarian Serpine is late.

Skulduggery's been people-watching, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, for fifteen minutes when he finally shows up with a to-go coffee cup in one hand and a stack of books under the other arm. He's frowning.

"You're late," says Skulduggery, by way of greeting.

Serpine shrugs, taking the seat opposite. He dumps his books on the round table and gives the menu a cursory glance. "Sorry. I was at the library. Almost missed the bus."

A waitress approaches wearing a shirt stamped with the logo of the little bistro they're sat outside, and while Serpine orders lunch, Skulduggery idly examines the titles stamped along the spines of his book mountain. Some of them look old, leather bound tomes with fancy gold lettering, and the rest seem to be...textbooks, of all things.

"A little light reading, Nefarian?"

"Huh?" Serpine - busy watching the waitress walk back inside - swivels round to face him, and shrugs. "Oh. Yeah. I want to see if they match up with the slanderous shite they're teaching at the university."

"Excuse me?"

Serpine shrugs. "Vapid and Ty - you know Ty, weird hair, lives next door - thought it might help me adapt if I learn more about how your world is different to mine, so. I've been sitting in on some classes. Unofficially. History. Mortal Relations. That kind of thing. You have battles here that never happened back home, you know."

Skulduggery folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair, amused despite himself. "Mortal Relations? You're going to Mortal Relations lectures. You."

"Shut up," says Serpine, pointing a finger at him. "You don't get to laugh. You're not the one nobody wants to hire. - because that's still a problem, by the way. Aren't you supposed to be helping me with that?"

"I'm supposed to be making sure you don't kill anyone or make a nuisance of yourself. Sorry to disappoint."

"Would it kill you to write me a character reference?"

Skulduggery coughs conspicuously into his gloved hand with the throat he doesn't have. He picks up the top book from Serpine's stack and flips idly through Religion & Warfare: The Rise Of The Church Of The Faceless In The 15th Century . "Think about that one for a minute, Nefarian, and you'll remember why it's not happening."

"Fine. Be like that." Serpine's shoe nudges his leg under the table. "Here, were you at the Battle of Black Rock?"

He has to think about that one for a second, then hums in the negative. "Hm. No. I missed that one. I think that was when I was holed up in Cork with a broken leg. Why?"

"History 201," Serpine muses. "I tagged along this morning. It was mostly about that fight, but it never happened in my dimension. It was borderline slanderous, honestly. The professor is an imbecile."

"You're dying to vent, aren't you?"

"Would you mind terribly?"

Skulduggery pulls his ornate pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and checks the time. "You've got fifteen minutes. Better talk fast."

Time goes by.

He checks on Nefarian once a week. They have coffee, sometimes. Valkyrie knows not to cross the line of bringing Serpine to Skulduggery's home, but she adds them both to a group chat and neither one leaves.

Nefarian wrecks his first car, and Skulduggery makes the drive out from Dublin at 5.45am to rescue him. He calls the tow truck while Serpine sits, pale and shaken, in the Bentley's front seat, drenched from the rain and squelching miserably every time he moves.

He apologises for calling so early, and for once he sounds like he means it.

Skulduggery takes him through the McDonalds drive thru to cheer him up, and as Nefarian tucks into a box of fries with gusto, he thinks, oh no.

They're not friends. They're not.

"Is this a date?"

Skulduggery tilts his head, hand stilling over the car keys. "I'm sorry?"

Valkyrie tosses another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She's already in her pyjamas, fluffy ones with dogs on them, and she's flicking through the Netflix queue. "You're all dressed up. Is this a date? Have you two finally gotten over yourselves? God knows it's been long enough."

He snatches up the car keys and sniffs, disdainful. "After all these decades, Valkyrie, if that's what your expert detective skills are telling you, I have failed as a mentor."

"And now you're getting defensive."

"I'm doing no such thing. Where's Tanith, by the way?"

She laughs and does double fingerguns at him. "And that's deflection!"

He sighs - dramatically, for her benefit - and as he checks his pocket watch, she continues, "And, she's on her way. Get out, already. You have a date to keep and we have movies to watch."

"It's not a bloody date," he complains, patting his pockets to make sure he's got everything. "And I originally asked you."

"Yeah, but opera's boring. Here, is he meeting you there or are you picking him up?"

"Goodbye, Valkyrie."

"See?!" She shouts after him as he shuts the front door. "Date!"

[ddarker-dreams]

Online Love. Yan Shigaraki x Reader [Part 5]

Shigaraki has never had a full grasp on understanding others.

It’s never presented itself as an issue before, due to his unique lifestyle that doesn’t require him to rely upon others to the same extent most do. He doesn’t need to bend himself to the will of others. If anything, people need to mold themselves to his liking. 

There’s no place for coquettish remarks and hidden agendas for the people around Shigaraki. He wouldn’t care for it, and they’d be cut off without a second thought. 

So where do you fit into that? 

He doesn’t know himself. The black and white relationships that stay in neat, understandable boxes for him are all but wrecked by your presence. Where his underlings bite their tongue and present themselves to his liking, you feel no obligation to do the same.

You live as you please, speaking to him as you please. The rules he’s used to don’t apply to you, you don’t even know they exist in the first place. If anyone acted as you did towards Shigaraki, they’d undoubtedly be killed for it. 

There’s a fondness that’s reserved solely for you. 

Even so, he can’t help but feel aggravated at how you’ve been treating him lately. The past three days have been a miserable stretch, his mood taking a turn for the worst. Not due to anything you’ve said to him, no, but because of the opposite.

You haven’t messaged him in seventy-two hours. 

This has never happened before, in the entire time he has known you. In the past three days you’ve not logged onto any of your games, responded to his messages, or uploaded on social media. He’s aware of the fact that you’re physically fine -- a bit of stalking ensured that nothing had happened to you.

A part of him almost wishes that was the case, so he could make sense of it. It would be undoubtedly easier to digest the situation, and he could get you out of the situation with ease.

But the aspect of the unknown is what troubles him the most. His mind wonders pathetically, grasping at any straws to make sense of why you’ve been living your life normally; just without him. 

Staring at his monitor in the dim light of his room, Shigaraki grimaces at the blinking cursor in front of him. Coarse fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting so desperately to seek you out; but unsure of how to go about it. He wants to demand an explanation. 

Were you really able to live your life peacefully without him? Did Shigaraki delude himself of the symbiotic relationship he once believed you two shared? 

His teeth ache from the hours spent grinding together, neck raw from constant scratching. Sleep has all but evaded him, as he spent hours painfully waiting for you to come back to him. For things to go back into the routine he was used to. 

Your absence serves as a reminder of how much he needs you. 

Narrowing his bloodshot eyes, he abruptly stands from his trash covered desk and stalks over towards the door. How dare you ignore him, how dare you treat him like this! Did he mean nothing to you all along? Have you just been waiting for the chance to cut him off, having been secretly disgusted by him all along?

Fury masks over any secret feelings of hurt, Shigaraki intent on demanding Kurogiri to warp him over to you. He’d get an explanation one way or another. Even if he had to pry it from you. Staying idle any longer would surely be the death of him.

Before he opens the door, he hears the custom alert. The one that he had set for you, so he could always know when you were messaging him. 

Shigaraki’s mind goes blank as he goes back over to his computer. He wonders if it was imagined, only to be disproved by a message from you on his screen.

From: [First] 2:06 AM

hello tomo-kun

That... that’s it? Mouth slightly agape from confusion, Shigaraki’s mind races with countless responses. Ranging from cruel words directed at you for ignoring him for so long, to inquiring about what even caused it in the first place. But none of them are typed out as he delivers an equally mundane response. 

To: [First] 2:06 AM

Hey

Anyone else would’ve been facing the wrath of hell right now, but Shigaraki manages to contain himself. Knowing that you haven’t forgotten about him or discarded him was enough to momentarily distract him from his previous rage. Biting his finger nails that were already short from countless hours of similar activity, he awaits your response. 

From: [First] 2:10 AM 

i’m sorry that i haven’t been around... 

From: [First] 2:11 AM

i’ve been having kinda a bad time lately with some stuff. but if it’s okay with you can we play some comp? i kinda just wanna take my mind off it. if you’re not busy that is 

It isn’t concern that he feels, but an undying curiosity. If something major had happened to you, like a death of a loved one, he would’ve known about it by now. What could’ve happened that upset you this much that he wasn’t alerted about? 

Shigaraki silently ponders to himself. Maybe he needs better scouts. 

To: [First] 2:12 AM 

Whatever you want, idm

An immediate response. 

From: [First] 2:12 AM

thank u, i appreciate it

From: [First] 2:13 AM

aaa i feel so dumb. im sorry im sure i worried you. i just havent been in the mood to talk to anyone. its nothing like crazy or anything im fine, just some life stuff 

Shigaraki’s never been the best at comforting people, as it’s a task that he’s never been given. He can barely take care of himself, much less anyone else. But in situations like this, he feels you’re supposed to offer something. Only for you would he stretch himself in this way.

To: [First] 2:15 AM 

What happened 

It might seem like a lackluster response, but to anyone who knows Shigaraki it would come as a surprise. People’s personal affairs have never interested him in the slightest, but you’re a unique case. 

From: [First] 2:16 AM

wellllll its kinda stupid but ig it doesnt hurt to tell you lmao 

From: [First] 2:17 AM

ive... ive had a crush on this guy for a long time. we’ve known one another for a few years, stuff like that. anyways i worked up the courage to ask him out and he got upset at me. saying stuff like im ruining our friendship. it was just really bad, and ever since then ive been on auto pilot 

The word crush hits him like a ton of bricks. He’s incapable of focusing on anything else in that moment, as time all but comes to a stop. His breathing uneven, and hands shaky; he sits back from the light of his screen. Disgust isn’t the right word for it, it doesn’t begin to describe the barrage of emotions he’s experiencing. 

You liked someone. You liked someone that isn’t him. 

Even if he actually wanted to, he couldn’t fake a decent response to your message. All along he’s been under the impression that you may return his feelings. That all the little gestures meant you treasure him on the same level he does you, and that you would one day be his. 

Hours spent daydreaming of you sweetly confessing to him come to mind, as his vision goes red. 

It doesn’t matter how. He’s going to find out who this cesspool of human waste is, he’s going to savor tearing each limb from their body and take pleasure in his screams of agony. Shigaraki will take care of this individual personally, wanting them to suffer in the same way he has. 

There isn’t any way you could like someone else. This all has to be a joke, a cruel prank with an eventual punchline. There’s no other way to make sense of it. No one else could be even remotely deserving of your affections other than him, and no one will ever have them if he could do anything about it.

He will figure out what to do with you and your betrayal later. For now, only this apple of your eye has his attention. Countless cruel ideas flood his thoughts like a tidal wave, a malicious grin breaking out onto his face. 

Shigaraki will make them pay.

[seijch]

ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

[hees-theman]

3 is Just a Number (Chapter IV)

CHAPTER FOUR

Title: 3 is Just a Number

Pairing: Wooyoung x Female!Reader x San

Genre: Romance, BFF to lover, Eventually poly!relationship

Summary: The bond between the three of you is almost unbreakable. Wherever you go, they will follow. Wherever they go, you will join. The moment both of the guys got into a relationship, everything just got better. The three of you are happy with the current moment. That is until one of them decided to follow their own heart – and may or may not break the friendship that you have been holding onto for more than five years.

A/N: This is a bad chapter hh I’m sorry ;; Also, idk if I’m able to survive ateez’s comeback because it’s just asjkdkbdjksjk i almost cried istg

masterlist

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been a week since the incident happened. Since then, you have been staying at Yunho’s house. He is nice enough to let you have the bed while he sleeps on the couch.

His kindness made you wonder why San and Wooyoung disapproved of him in the first place.

Ever since the first night you slept in his house, he was always available for you to rant. He also lets you cuddle with him any time you want to. Sometimes, he would place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Just like that, you are slowly falling for him – that was what you wished to happen. But, not everything will turn out the way we want to, right?

Every time you hug Yunho while watching the television, it reminded of you and Wooyoung doing the same thing. When he gave you a peck on your forehead, you suddenly thought of San since it had always been his job to do so.

You know that you cannot deny that you miss your boys. Sure, Yunho can provide you all the warmth and affections you crave, but it’s different than the one you used to get.

You miss the smell of fresh foods on the table, cooked by San. You want to have your usual bantering with Wooyoung every day. You want to witness their childishness whenever they are being clingy with you.

You miss them so much and it hurts you so bad. However, you cannot do anything, simply because you are not ready to face them yet.

-

It is lunchtime, but you do not feel like eating. You were walking aimlessly around your faculty when you came across a big poster plastered against the wall – ‘PERFORMANCE ART DAY’.

Looking at the title, you are reminded of Wooyoung and San for the nth times of the day. All of this occurrence makes you forgot that they will be performing on stage soon.

You walk closer to see the date and time. Tomorrow.

Biting your lower lip, your mind starts to think about your boys. Did San get enough rest? Did Wooyoung eat properly?

It was your duty to always keep them in shape no matter how busy they are.

San tends to overwork himself without him realizing just because he wanted to deliver an amazing performance. Therefore, you had to remind him when to stop.

On Wooyoung’s side, he would practice his routine continuously, which resulted in him forgot to have his meal. Sometimes, you wonder how can a human went on a day without eating a single thing.

Just like that, it became your job to pass by his practice room to give him some food and make sure he finished everything right then and there.

It was a bad choice to look at the poster because your heart is now filled with worry. However, due to your ego, you refuse to check on them.

To get rid of the feelings, you walk away from the place and decides to focus on your class.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The show day is finally here. Faculty of Performance Arts are busy with people here and there. Aside from the performances, they are also enjoying all the foods available at the booths nearby the entrance.

Everyone is having the time of their life, except for you, who are currently munching potato chips, on the couch, while watching television.

Yunho was about to walk towards the door but his intention got halted by your presence. He let out a sigh and leans against the wall.

“Aren’t you going,” he asked.

You know what he meant. However, you choose to ignore him and go back to your own activity.

“You can’t be like this forever, y/n.”

Once again, you pretend as if you heard nothing coming out from Yunho’s mouth. The man pulls himself from the wall and stands on his feet, both hands are now in his pockets.

“I heard that those two aren’t like how they used to be before.”

The barrier that you created earlier instantly crumbled down as soon as the sentence left Yunho’s lips. Although it is not enough to make you face him, it managed to stop you from eating junk food.

“They said that they tend to practice until late at night. Sometimes, they even slept inside the practice room. They also barely eat anything and hardly be seen together nowadays.”

If you decide to put aside your pride for a while, you would have admitted that those lines pierce your heart. They sound so exhausted, unhealthy, and sad.

You swallow down your saliva, trying to regain your composure. “They are just busy with the performance-”

“You know well that’s not the reason,” Yunho cut you off. You take a brief glance at him and you can see the seriousness on his face. His bubbly expression is gone.

He let out another sigh the moment you go back to devour those potato chips in your hand.

“I know that you’re still confused, but they need you. You guys have never been separated for too long before. Y/n, you are their strengths. I’m sure they find happiness whenever they are around you – the same happiness that you gave me.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words before facing him. Those last bits sound a lot like a confession, and it makes you dumbstruck.

The room was quiet for a few minutes. The only noise that you can hear is the conversation on the television.

With a small smile, he walks towards you to ruffle your hair gently. “As much as you hate to admit it, you miss them a lot, right?”

You bite your inner cheek, refuse to give away to your feelings. An amused smile plastered on Yunho’s face as he watches you fighting with your own inner self.

He let go of your hair and walk towards the door. Before he went out of the house, he delivered a few sentences that leave you speechless.

“One more time. Give them back their happiness one more time, and show me again your smile – the genuine smile.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Somehow, you end up queueing up in front of the hall where the dance will be held. As expected, there will be a lot of people wanting to watch the show.

You were about to take out your wallet to buy a ticket. However, the woman in the booth is faster than you. She hands you a ticket with a smile, leaving you confused.

As far as you know, you did not mention the number of tickets you need. Well, you are alone. But, what if you are here with someone else and the person did not know that?

“It’s y/n, right? This is the ticket reserved for you,” she said.

Although you are still clueless, you take the ticket from her and mutter a soft ‘thank you’. You flip the ticket around and you saw a note that instantly makes you smile.

“It’s not much but we hope you will enjoy the show. We love you – WooSan”

You forgot how sweet both of the boys can be towards you.  No wonder everyone love them a lot. They deserve all the love and happiness in the whole world.

Without further ado, you enter the hall and look around for your designated seat, just to find out that it is nearby the stage.

As you sit down, you can see that you are near the stage where you can clearly see the performance. Unconsciously, a soft smile forms on your face.

They even thought about the position, huh, you thought.

A couple of minutes have passed and the show finally starts. The light slowly dims itself and you can hear the music starts to play.

You watch as one by one enter the stage with their dance routine. The way they move their body matches the rhythm of the music perfectly. It is mesmerizing to watch.

Suddenly, your eyes fell on a familiar figure. One of the person you have been missing. Choi San. He is moving gracefully on the stage as if he is in his own world.

He was making a turn when his gaze fell on you, resulting in his eyes widen and almost fall down on the floor. But, being one of the best dancers, he manages to cover up his mistake.

You were panic for a while, yet you quickly regain your composure once he continues his dance routine.

The performance resumes until it reached the end. Everyone in the hall claps their hands loudly, delighted by the performance.

Not long after that, the next group was called up to take over. That is when you saw the one and only, Jung Wooyoung.

Seeing him reminds you of that time when you asked him the reason he is not in the same team as San’s.

“First, I know I can't keep my hands to myself if he's around. Also, our style is different. He prefers energetic, while I’m more to sensual.” Those were his responses to your question.

The only difference between San’s and Wooyoung’s stage is that he is already looking at your way. San must have informed him about your presence.

His gaze is a mixture of anger and longing, and it pierces your heart.

The music starts and they all start to move according to the beat. Your eyes stuck on Wooyoung as you watch his body flows perfectly to the music. He is a great dancer, just like San.

On stage, he is not the prankster annoying Wooyoung that you know. He is just, Wooyoung.

Without realizing, a tear escaped from your eye. You did not know that watching them grow up while doing what they love can make you feel proud and happy.

Memories of the three of you suddenly came into your mind. All those happy, sad, mad, and crazy moments. You remember everything – and you want to experience it once again with them.

When Wooyoung’s team ended their performance, you had to excuse yourself to the washroom. You turn the tap and wash your face with the water.

If only, if only you are willing to put your ego aside, you would have gone back to them. But, you are not ready to face them. For you, the thing that happened between the three of you is too much.

With an exhausted sigh, you get out of the washroom, just to found two young males leaning against the wall.

Your eyes immediately study their features. Due to the distance between you and the stage earlier, you can barely see the flaws on the boys’ faces.

But now, you can see how swollen their eyes have become. Even though they are wearing makeup, their eye bags are still visible to you. Their lips look dry too. It is obvious that they did not take care of themselves.

“Have you been well?” San’s question breaks the silence between you guys. Likewise, you did not respond verbally, so you just nods your head.

“How was the performance,” the younger male asked. You look at him and force a small smile on your face.

“It was nice. Good job.”

The surrounding become quiet once again until San decided to speak up.

“We miss-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off. You know what he was about to say, but that is the last thing you want to hear coming out from his mouth.

“Why? We can’t miss you now? Is that it?” As always, Wooyoung’s sudden outburst never fail to make you feel irritated.

“You can, if it’s just a friend. But, it’s not just a friend, is it? You can’t love someone else more than that when you both already have each other-“

This time, Wooyoung decided to interrupt you. “Where is the rule that says you can’t have a relationship with more than one person?”

You took your gaze away from Wooyoung as you bite your lower lip. San who has been watching your actions move closer to you.

Just by looking at you, he can sense that you are keeping something inside your heart and mind, and he needs to know about it.

“What exactly are you thinking, y/n?”

Your head hang low. The frown on your face clearly shown that you are still puzzled with everything that had happened.

You play with your fingers as you contemplates if you should or should not let your guard down – and the earlier won.

“I… I don’t want to be labelled as a stealer. Besides, this thing is… rare.”

Wooyoung softens listening to your reasoning. He did not know you would feel that way when San told you about their feelings towards you.

He thought that you are disgusted with the idea. He bite his inner cheek and clenches his fist. He is mad at himself for misunderstanding you.

In contrast, the older one chuckle to himself softly before standing in front of you and pat your head.

“But, don’t you think it’s special because this kind of relationship is rare?”

You puffs out your cheek a bit, but did not give any responds to him.

“Also, you aren’t a stealer. I told you, that we both love you and it’s solely on us. You did nothing wrong, my princess.”

It is understandable when a blush suddenly crept onto your face. No, it’s not peculiar for San use nicknames to call you. But, it is the first time he called you like that ever since that day.

Wooyoung squints his eyes a bit as he witness how shy you suddenly become. To say that he is jealous, well, yeah, he is, a bit.

Even though you tried not to be biased with any of the boys, he still envy San for having it easy. It feels like San knows what you feel and think – And that, annoys him slightly.

Without wasting any chance, he grabs your hand and put it against his face, his eyes lock with yours.

“Just come back home. We miss you. We rarely went back just because you weren’t there.”

You wanted to pull away but instinctively, you begin to caress Wooyoung’s face with your thumb. It is still soft, just like how you remembered.

You were lost in your thought until Wooyoung lean to your hand even more. Quickly, you take your hand away from his face, startling not only him but also San.

“I’m sorry, boys. But, I think I need more time.”

[too-gay-for-marvel]

broken

a/n: listen. i had fun writing this one, and i enjoyed it, but i am so done with it. this was the most writers block ive had in so long. i promise im not dead, im just busy being as unproductive as i possibly can

Word Count: 1855

Warnings: none

Pairing: Carol x Reader

“This sucks.”

Carol turned from her spot at the counter to see you throw your book against the wall. It had been a long three days, and you still had a lot of time left before you could go on another mission. She almost felt sorry for you. But then she remembered what you had done to get in this position in the first place, and she didn’t feel so bad anymore.

“Shouldn’t have been so careless,” she shrugged even though she knew you weren’t looking at her.

“It was Sam’s fault,” you mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

If she were a good girlfriend, she would have gone and sat with you. Maybe she would have pulled your head into her lap and offered some snacks or a movie or a game. A kiss or two on the forehead to show she was with you until the end.

But no one ever said she was a good girlfriend.

“Sam wasn’t even on the mission.”

“He told me to do it!” You shouted back, and Carol could see you throw your arms into the air in indignation. It was pretty cute.

“If your friends told you to-”

“-Without question.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Carol complained as she finally fully turned around to face you.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “I take no convincing to make bad decisions.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled to herself.

You both went quiet and Carol could partially see the look on your face from over the back of the couch. She knew that glazed look in your eyes and the way you were zoned out at the ceiling. And even though she wanted you to know she wasn’t happy with you, she knew she needed to have mercy. Only for a little bit.

She slid off the counter stool and made her way to the couch where she could just stare down at you. You didn’t move, though, instead still staring at the ceiling. Carol could only imagine how infuriating this probably was, and even though it was absolutely your fault, she felt for you.

“Move over,” Carol said a little harsher than intended. When you still hadn’t moved, she nudged your unbroken leg with her knee, and when you looked at her she raised her brow.

“Fine,” you sighed before lifting your legs enough for her to sit down.

“Your leg is heavy,” Carol complained when you set your legs back down.

“It’s a cast, Carol,” you huffed, “it’s gonna be heavy.”

“You know what would have fixed this problem?”

“’Don’t break your leg,’” you mocked, “yeah yeah, fuck off.”

You sighed and threw an arm over your eyes before you both went silent. That was exactly what Carol had been about to say, and she had to hand it to you; you knew her better than most. But you went quiet, so she decided to instead just run her fingers over the new markings on your cast.

It seemed everyone had signed it in some way or another. Rhodey, Nat, and Bruce had signed it like normal people. There was a flower on your knee that Steve had drawn. Sam and Bucky had written a mini argument down your calf. Clint had, of course, drawn a dick (and a poorly drawn one at that).  Tony had written the number for an escort service on the top of your thigh “so you can always see it.” Even Hulk had managed to scribble out his name.

“When did this happen?” Carol asked as she looked back up to your face.

“Couple days ago, I guess,” you shrugged without looking down from the hole you were staring into the ceiling.

“Where was I?” Carol chuckled nervously to herself. But she knew the answer.

“Away,” you confirmed with a small voice. And it broke her heart.

You knew going into this that Carol would have to be gone for unknown amounts of time. She loved being home, but she had a responsibility to keep everyone safe, and that meant a lot of distance at the worst of times. And in her defense, as soon as she had gotten word that you’d gotten hurt she had rushed home.

And then had to leave again for almost two weeks.

“Let me up,” Carol said softly with a pat to your good leg. You finally looked down and raised a brow at her, but raised your legs anyway so she could stand.

She ignored the look she could feel you sending her way and continued walking to the kitchen. It took a little longer than she had thought, but she eventually found the junk drawer and dug around. There were scissors, matches, random batteries… and an orange marker. Why orange? She had no idea, but it would work.

Instead of sitting under your legs again, Carol kneeled in front of the couch. She took the cap off with her mouth and started drawing, up on your thigh. It wasn’t going to be pretty. Okay, it was going to be borderline hideous. But that wasn’t the point.

“What are you doing?”

Carol’s hand stopped when she noticed you had raised yourself up onto your elbows. Your frustration seemed to have melted away - even if temporarily - to be replaced with curiosity. Which was understandable because she may have been ruining your cast, but honestly? She didn’t care.

“Leaving my mark,” Carol answered as she went back to drawing.

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly.

“I know I don’t, I want to.”

“No, really, it’s okay.”

“Baby, just let me finish-”

“-I don’t even know what that is,” you whined as you gestured toward the beautiful new drawing on your thigh.

“What do you mean you don’t know what it is?” Carol asked. She had finally finished and was now focused on you. And the almost terrified look on your face.

“It’s a mess!”

“It’s Goose!”

“If that’s Goose, then I’m a Skrull.”

“Wait, are you?”

“Carol,” you warned.

A silence fell over the both of you as you stared each other down, daring the other to make the first move. Carol stared into your eyes and searched for something, she didn’t know what. The tension was so thick it was almost hard to breathe. But when the corner of your mouth slowly tilted up, she couldn’t stop her own smile and the tension devolved into laughter.

It was so nice to get to see that smile on your face once again. You hadn’t smiled or laughed since the accident, and even though Carol couldn’t blame you, she had missed it. She had missed hearing you laugh at the team or smile to yourself when Goose came over to lay on you.

She had missed you.

“If someone makes fun of me, I’m blaming you,” you managed to choke out around your laughter.

“Now you’ll always think of me,” Carol retorted, completely ignoring your threat.

“For better or worse,” you shot back with a smirk that quickly turned into a wide-mouthed yawn.

Carol’s eyes flitted to the clock on the wall and noted that it was far too late to still be awake. Even though the both of you were homebound for a while, she knew how grumpy you could be if you didn’t get enough sleep. Okay, maybe she got a bit grumpy too, but that wasn’t the point. She was going to pretend it was all for you.

“Let’s get to bed,” Carol said softly, but she still didn’t get up from her spot on the floor.

“I can’t walk.”

“I’ll get your crutches,” Carol shrugged.

“They’re not… here,” you mumbled, and she noticed you desperately trying to avoid her eyes.

“Where are they?”

Yet again you avoided her gaze, and Carol couldn’t help glaring at you. She knew you could still see her, and she hoped you just caved. You needed those crutches for when no one was around, so where could they possibly be? She would understand if Tony had taken them, or if Clint had tried to use them and lost them.

But you looked guilty.

“Y/N?” Carol tried again, and you looked at her out of the corner of your eye. “Where are your crutches?”

“I… can neither confirm nor deny the location of my crutches,” you stated, sounding an awful lot like Tony when he was trying to get away with something. “But they may have been thrown out the window.”

And the truth comes out.

“How did you expect to get around?” Carol asked as she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I…,” you paused and, with a sigh, dropped your head. “I didn’t think that far.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Carol sighed. She should have been more disappointed but, knowing you as well as she did, it wasn’t really a surprise.

She knew what she had to do.

“Come here,” Carol said far softer than she had intended. Not that she wanted to be harsh, but she was going to have a talk with you later about not throwing things out of windows.

You squinted your eyes at her until she held her arms out, and you quickly relaxed again. She bent down and slid her arms under your back and your knees, being careful not to jostle your cast too much. When she stood up you quickly wrapped your arms around her neck and let her start carrying you.

“This is so romantic,” you whispered as you buried your head in her neck. The feel of your breath on her skin tickled.

“Don’t get used to it,” Carol shot back, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling when you shook with hushed giggles.

When she reached your shared room, she was about to just toss you onto the bed until she remembered your leg. So instead she walked over and set you on your side of the bed, helping you arrange yourself so you could get settled. Since you were already in pyjamas - and had been since you got out of the medical wing - she only had to get herself changed and turned the lights off before climbing into bed.

“Carol?” You whispered after a few minutes of hearing nothing but the fan.

“What?”

“My cast is itchy.”

“You’ll just have to get over it,” she sighed. She didn’t even open her eyes; it was too dark to see anyway.

“But it itches really bad.”

“Where?” She conceded.

“My knee.”

“Baby, you can’t even reach your knee,” Carol explained even though you knew that already. “You’re just going to have to ride it out.”

You groaned, but otherwise went silent again. And Carol thought that would be the end of it for the night. She would get some sleep, you would get some sleep, and you could both relax tomorrow. You both needed it, and maybe you could both talk a few things out. Something you both needed.

“Carol?” You whispered again, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah, baby,” Carol mumbled.

“I have to pee.”

Carol sighed. This was going to be a very long night.

[mytardisisparked]

Into the Bright Unknown

Obi-Wan Kenobi enjoyed being Duke Consort, he really did. He loved being married to Satine, teaching Korkie how to function at political events, and assisting in affairs whenever Satine needed him. But, the truth of the matter was, Satine really didn’t need his help that often. She would ask him to help regulate debates and be a voice of reason during sessions with her cabinet, but there truly wasn’t enough work to keep Obi-Wan busy every day. 

Besides that fact, leaders of other systems sometimes expected Obi-Wan, as the man in the royal family, to be the political leader, ignoring the word “Consort” pegged at the end of his title. Satine knew it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault and certainly didn’t blame him, but he knew it still bothered her. He quickly realized that he would need to stay out of the political spotlight unless absolutely necessary in order for Satine to be a functioning leader in the eyes of the more patriarchal systems around the galaxy.

So, he began looking for a worthwhile hobby.

Which is how he found himself holding a very angry, underfed tooka as the vet wrapped the catheter she had just stuck in its arm.

“All right, let’s put him back in the cage and get the IV hooked up,” the young woman said. Obi-Wan smiled and slid the tooka in the cage on top of a soft blanket, petting it gently on the head. 

“There you go, boy. Sorry, I know that wasn’t fun, but you are going to feel a lot better once we get some fluids in you.”

He carefully attached the drip to the catheter and shut the cage door. The tooka was still giving off intense waves of displeasure in the Force, but at least he had calmed down from the furious state he had been in when he had first arrived at the clinic.

Obi-Wan stood, brushing the fur off of his scrubs.

“Nice work with the drip.” The doctor smiled at him. “You’re really getting the hang of this.”

He smiled back. “I have a very good teacher.”

Obi-Wan had met Dr. Della Mendegro about three months ago. He had found a small bird outside with a broken wing and rushed it into her veterinary rescue clinic. She had been shorthanded that day, so she had asked if he could assist with preparing the bird for surgery. Obi-Wan had always had a way with animals, so he did, successfully calming the small creature and earning himself a mark of respect in Dr. Mendegro’s mind. He had been volunteering at the clinic ever since, finding his ability to connect with living creatures through the Force incredibly helpful.

“Have you thought any more about my suggestion?” Mendegro asked as they washed their hands.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “I have.”

“And?”

“I haven’t decided.”

The young woman scoffed. “Better think faster. Applications are due next week.”

Obi-Wan merely nodded and promised to make a decision soon. They finished cleaning the clinic, checked on the malnourished tooka one last time, and closed up, heading off in different directions.

As Obi-Wan walked back towards the palace, he looked up at the bright spire of Sundari Academy rising over the city. Seeing the school and the possibilities that lay there filled Obi-Wan with both excitement and dread.

Could I really be a veterinarian and Duke Consort?

He forced himself to look away from the Academy and watched the sidewalk move beneath his feet instead. It would be hard, balancing his education and his royal responsibilities, but it would also be a way for him to stay out of the political limelight. He was certain that the time it would take in a day to do his schoolwork would be no more than the time he spent at the clinic. And, of course, if he got his license, Dr. Mendegro had offered to hire him and allow him to set his own working hours.

Then, of course, there’s the matter of potentially starting a family.

He and Satine hadn’t spoken about it much, but they had both been hinting lately that they might be ready to try for a baby.  They hadn’t said it explicitly, but if they were to become serious about trying to conceive, that might interfere with Obi-Wan earning his degree and getting his license. Should they succeed in having a child, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he would want to be a vet anyway; he would want to spend as much time with their child as possible.

Then again, kids do like small creatures... An image floated into his mind of a little girl standing next to him as he ran scans on a vhe’viin, excitedly watching him work and learning alongside him.

He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to talk to his wife.

Surprisingly, she was sitting on the couch in their apartment when he returned home. Her guest for the day, a dignitary from some other Mandalorian planet, had left early because of a family emergency.

“How was your day?” she asked, rising to peck a kiss on his cheek.

“It was good.” He licked his lips. “Satine, I- I need to talk to you about something.”

Her gaze grew concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Obi-Wan offered her a small smile, running a hand down her arm. “No, not really. I just have an idea I want to run by you.”

She nodded, pulling him over to the couch. “I’m all ears.”

“I- um.” He swallowed. “I was thinking about going to school.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “School? Didn’t you learn enough at the Jedi temple?”

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh. “Well, yes, but I was thinking of studying something a little less Force-based and a little more... veterinary.”

“Ah,” Satine folded her hands in her lap. “You want to be a veterinarian?”

He nodded. “I think so, but I’m not quite sure. It’s just that I have been enjoying working with the animals at the rescue and- I don’t know, I thought I might like to get a license so I can help more. There are a lot of animals to be taken care of, and I would be a great deal more useful if I had a better education and a degree.”

Satine smiled. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head. “You do?”

She laughed. “Of course! It would be good for you to have a job you truly enjoy outside of your work here at the palace. I know how much you like being around animals; it seems like a perfect fit.”

Obi-Wan smiled for a second, but his expression grew a tad nervous again. “What about starting a family?”

“You being off at school would certainly complicate things, but I see no reason we wouldn’t be able to balance our responsibilities together.”

“But what about Korkie?”

“What about him?”

“Will he be okay without me at all his political dinners?”

Satine laughed again. “He can survive a few dinners on his own. You have taught him well.”

“I suppose, but what about-”

Satine stopped him by placing a gentle hand to his chest. “Ben,” she said knowingly, “what is this really about?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just coming up with excuses now.” She ran a hand over his cheek. “What’s really holding you back?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just trying to be logical.”

She studied his face. “No, I don’t think that’s quite it.”

“Well then, what is it?” he scoffed.

She gave him a soft smile. “I think you never had a chance to plan out your life because you were always going to be a Jedi. Now that you have an opportunity to choose your path, you’re afraid to move forward.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I thought I chose my path when I decided to leave the Order and marry you.”

“You chose a path, yes, but this is the first time you are truly being faced with the question the rest of the galaxy faces at a younger age.”

“And what question might that be?” he asked.

Satine grabbed his hand and ran a thumb over his knuckles. “‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”

He didn’t want to admit it, but Satine was right. This was the first time he was really taking advantage of the fact that his future was now a choice. His next step was up to no one but himself, and, frankly, it was a little terrifying. No one was there anymore to give him orders, to tell him how to train, to tell him what decision to make.

His future was up to him and, he realized with a smile, he wanted this. He wanted to be a vet.

“So,” his wife squeezed his hand, “would you like help filling out your application to Sundari Academy?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and smiled, squeezing her hand back. “Yes. Yes I would.”

---------

Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this strange AU that came to my brain this morning. I really love how Obi-Wan connects to animals in basically every form of Star Wars media, so I thought that, if he weren’t a Jedi, he might have become a vet. Anyway, I might write a continuation of this later on because it is a fun AU. 

Also, please understand that it took every bit of my self-control not to name this fic Obi-Wan Kenobi: Space Vet.

Peace out.

[ladyideal]

Get Well Soon

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 1829

Summary: You help a colony pack up from a planet, and caught a rather nasty bug on the way back. After nearly two weeks, a cure was finally found. A particular doctor became rather reluctant in giving you it, as there were side effects that could be rather life threatening.

A/N: First off, I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense. Not entirely sure what I was trying to write. Was trying to get as close to the symptoms of the coronavirus, and ended up adding some of my own. Stay safe everyone, and remember to WASH YOUR HANDS. :) 

(gif wouldn’t load. Credit to @discoveringenterprise​, who’s taking up requests!)

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up,” Leonard mentioned, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. You had try to dodged away, but he was too fast. “You’re showing the same symptoms as the others.”

“I just need sleep, Len,” You argued. “’m not sick.”

The Enterprise was ordered to evacuate a Federation colony immediately. Planet 52XX was promising for some time, until the larger than life hurricane was spotted a year or two after the first settlement. Yet, the colony held out until the very last minute. With the hurricane larger than Jupiter’s own and encroaching onto the colony within two days did the Federation finally called it quits.

The planet was slightly more arid than the climate on the ship. In response, the lower decks were cleaned, and the second, more smaller Medbay was stocked ready for the colony members to come through for increase fluids. Temperature was raised, and the humidity was lowered to copy the planet’s climate. Steadily, they would be acclimated to the rest of the ship. 

Other than that, the colony were thin, but healthy.

As Captain, you and two teams were beamed down to the surface of the planet to help with the evacuation. Well, it was mostly you and one team speaking with the adults, and the other team herding the kids towards the shuttle. In just the five or six hours needed to get everyone on shuttles, a thunderstorm passed through, soaking literally everyone within its vicinity.

Everything went seamlessly. Life aboard the ship continued. 

Three day passed before the two members of the two landing teams was found unconscious, and immediately quarantined within hours after being brought down to the Medbay. Then another the next day, and another. Within five days after the original evacuation, everyone that was involved in the landing party were isolated. 

Len had messaged you the notice earlier, but you’d ignored it for the most part. Being friends with him since the Academy, and dating for a solid two years now, you’d learned to never question him on his medical expertise. However, you had other plans. Command was hailing you every other hour, demanding for reports on the status of their failed colony.

Your boyfriend observed you in concern, as you played around with the peas on your plate. “Then you wouldn’t mind coming to medbay with me, so I can take a look.”

“It’s just a waste of time, Len,” You insisted anyways. “It’s just a low fever and a slight cough.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Humor me.”

You sighed, reluctantly chasing after the offending peas with a spoon and eating them. “Let’s go, I guess.”

It didn’t take long for Len to settle you in an isolation room. One hour being quarantined, and finally away from work, your exhaustion returned in full force, sending you into bouts of coughs and the beginnings of a rather nasty pneumonia. Your boyfriend gently brushed away an errant hair, affectionately tucking it in behind your ear.

“Get some sleep, Y/N.”

In a day, your health spiraled out of control. Your fever soared into the dangerous zone, and the pneumonia worsened, puzzling all the doctors on board. The colony members were fortunate enough to not have encountered any significant diseases, and none ever had any symptoms like you did. It was just a brief mission; get them ready, and back up the ship. There was minimal contact with them, and yet both landing parties were afflicted with a life threatening disease.

Your joints ached, and you felt as if every inch of your body was on fire. It was becoming a fight for your life. Even Chris’s gentle touch as she cooled your forehead with a cool washcloth was too much for your senses to take. The medication dripped steadily from the IV was helping, but it was going to be a long recovery ahead. 

“Leonard,” You whimpered weakly.

Christine sadly shushed you, humming tunelessly in an attempt to soothe you. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Jim join your boyfriend, standing outside the isolation room. 

“Still nothing?” The blonde spoke. 

The CMO crossed his arms across his chest, but shook his head. His face was expressionless, but Jim knew better. He knew having you in the isolation room and severely ill was taking a toll on the doctor. There was a significant weight on him to take care of you, and all he felt was a failure in keeping you safe. 

“It doesn’t look good,” Leonard paused, briefly glancing up at the monitor that displayed the numbers to your vitals. “We’re doing all we can for her.”

“She’s a fighter,” Jim assured his best friend. “She’ll pull through it.”

The doctor was silent for a minute, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose her, Jim. I can’t.”

“And you won’t, Bones. She’s got you. She’ll be okay.”

A week and a half went by before any good news came around. The fever had loosened its grasps on you, but you were still warm, and everything absolutely ached. It was selfish you knew to keep your boyfriend by your sides at all times, especially since he still had other patients to take care of. So as much as your soul ached for the skin to skin contact, you kept quiet. Leonard, on the other hand, did his best to stay with you as long as he could. He would catch you up on the recent ship’s gossip, how Joanna was, and how Jim and the rest of the Bridge had sent you Get Well messages. 

Today was no different.

You were curled up on your side, mindful of all the monitor leads and IV tethers. Resting your eyes, you didn’t realize a presence beside your bed until the figure heaved out a heavy sigh. Despite the cannula nestled in your nose delivering a steady stream of pure oxygen, it was still hard to breathe.

“Len?” You croaked, cracking your eyes open. 

Your boyfriend met your gaze. Even though he’d donned on his protective gear, you could still see his red rimmed eyes, and the dark circles beneath them. Almost instinctively, you reached out for him, only for him to grasp your hand in his gloved ones. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” He sounded strained, even to himself.

“You look awful, love,” You admonished gently, rubbing little circles on his hand in a futile attempt to get him to relax. “I’ll have you know that your office isn’t a place for you to sleep in.”

Leonard didn’t answer immediately, dropping his gaze to the vial rolling in his free hand. Curiously, you followed his attention too. With the joke falling flat, you figured out that he was wound up and too serious. All business, and no fun. 

“What’s that?”

“A cure,” Your doctor flatly replied. 

You brightened up at his words, but frowned since he wasn’t feeling the same. For now, you reserved judgement.

“Then?” You propped yourself up on an elbow. 

Leonard sighed again, making a show of reaching the hypospray and loading the blue tinged liquid vial into it. Once he readied it, he caught your gaze again. This time, instead of happiness, there was apology swirling within his eyes.

“Science pulled through late last night. There’s a lot of side effects to this. Nausea, headaches, chills, and a significant chance of having seizures. In your current state, I’m not sure if we can pull you back from that.”

Your frown deepened.

“But if I take it, I’ll have a chance, right?”

“Yes, darlin’.”

“Then let’s do it,” You watched as your boyfriend got to his feet, and paced in front of your bed. “I already feel worse then I did before I went to nap earlier.”

“Sweetheart, please. You’ve still got a fighting chance with all the immunity boosters we’ve given,”  He cursed afterwards, shaking his head.

“Len,” You spoke after a pause. “C’mere.”

Your boyfriend obediently shuffled back towards your bed, and sat back down on his stool. Reaching out for his hand, you kept your gaze on him and pouted.

“Please?”

He looked like he was going to argue, but thought better of it and stripped one of his gloves off. You spent the next few minutes reveling at the skin to skin contact, and briefly closed your eyes. It was awhile before you spoke again.

“I know you’re not ready to let me go, and I-I-I don’t want to either. But this is my one and only chance to stay with you, Len. I don’t want to go anywhere, but be by your side,” You breathed out, rubbing tiny circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. “I know the risks, love. This is me giving you my informed consent to go ahead, to give me a fighting chance.”

Leonard continued shaking his head. 

You caught his gaze, observing the swirl of anger, desperation, sorrow, apologetic, and most of all, love in his. Gently squeezing his hand, you smiled slightly. The muscles in his neck were strained, and the way his hands clenched and unclenched, as though they were itching to do anything, was a sign of his desperation.

“For us.”

“Y/N, you’re the captain of this goddamn ship. What if-?”

“Leonard, listen to me,” You interrupted. “There is a long list of what ifs that could happen. We won’t be getting anywhere if we start into those questions. However the fact still remains that giving me that is the only logical choice.”

“Logical?” The doctor rounded on you again. “Sweetheart, please don’t tell me that Spock’s been giving you lessons.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Len, it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first in a long time, you could see the hurt and the fear flicker across his face. The entire time you were severely sick, he was careful in not worrying you for as much as he could. Rounding towards your bed again, he made a show in readying the hypo and priming it. 

Gently, he splayed a hand across the column of your throat, and glanced back at you. You nodded your consent one last time, as though you would have changed your mind in just a short amount of time. There was a slight fear, but you were ready to fully fight off this damn disease and get back into Leonard’s arms once more. 

Without much flair, he pressed the hypo to your neck, and injected the slightly blue substance. Tossing it aside when done, your boyfriend sat back down on his stool, head in his hands. 

“One hour,” He declared, voice muffled by his hands. “If you’re not having any seizures, we can talk about bringing you out to the main wing soon.”

You settled back against the biobed, and waited alongside him. 

Star Trek Tags: @mournthewicked​ Join the taglist!

[kzzzo]

chapter 5 - don't let it bring you down

"but don't let it bring you down and turn your face into a frown"

series masterlist - here

previous | next

a/n: wrote this right after i posted chap 4 and it's already 4 am 😃 im still not sleepy rip. so as i said, ive been writing the whole night so i don't know if this chapter makes sense sksksks

-

Kuroo had a volleyball game coming up in two weeks which made him busy after school. He hadn’t been able to pick up the triplets from daycare and look after them. As for you, he only saw you in the mornings and briefly during classes as they had volleyball practice even during class hours. To say he misses you is an understatement. He even went as far as setting the picture he secretly took of you as his lock screen wallpaper so that you were the first thing he sees when he turns on his phone. He made sure to be careful as to not let a stranger who doesn’t know of your circumstances see it.

Akaashi approached Kuroo who was sitting on the floor with his head tilted back. The curly haired male handed him a bottle of water before sitting down next to the bed haired one.

“Bokuto and I could feel how much you miss (Y/N) from a mile away.” Akaashi bluntly stated.

“Really, now.” Kuroo replied, too tired and (Y/N)-deprived to think of a snarky reply. He chugged down the water Akaashi gave him and stood up to leave. “Well, I’m going first.”

“We’ll be going, too.”

With that, all three of them went back to their respective homes. Upon arriving home, Kuroo went straight into the bathroom to shower in able to go straight to bed. Stepping out of the shower topless while drying his hair off with a towel, he fishes his gym bag for his phone only to be met with anything other than the said device. He felt his heart race. Just when he had something to hide in there, he just had to lose his phone. He poured out the contents of his bag into his bed and he felt the fatigue in his body leave him.

Meanwhile back in the university, a student who had business in the gym saw a phone light up. She picks up the phone and turn it on to try to identify the owner. The lock screen was a photo of a woman carrying what seems like a two-year old baby. She takes a closer look and was finally able to identify that it was you.

Back home you were doing your homework when you hear a series of knocks on your door. Opening it, you were met with Kuroo looking quite jittery and pale. You furrow your brows before asking him what was wrong.

“I, uh. Can you do me a favor? My phone’s missing and I’m pretty sure the location’s on.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Come in. Do you want some water?”

“I’m fine but thanks anyway.”

The two of you work together to locate his phone and he was so relieved to find out that it was just in the university, most likely in the gym. Then he remembered what he had set as his lock screen a few days ago. He quickly thanked you then rushed to pick his phone up, silently praying that no one saw his wallpaper. He didn’t think that you’d be ashamed of your sons, but then you didn’t really seem like you intended to tell people you’re not close to seeing as people usually don’t have anything nice to say. He wanted to respect that decision of yours but because of him losing his phone you might have a hard time. When he got to the university his phone was at the lost and found which only means that someone had seen his lock screen. Fuck.

The next day rolled around and you were in Kuroo’s backseat with the triplets as usual. The two of you drop them off at the daycare and when you went back to his car, he seemed paler than before. He was also tapping the stirring wheel repeatedly, something he does when something is bothering him.

“Tetsu,” the way he flinched at the sound of your voice had you even more worried. “Are you okay?”

He debated whether he should tell you what he’d done. If by chance someone did see it and the news had spread, it’d be his fault and there was a big chance that this would be the last time you’d talk to him. However, he didn’t want to keep it from you and wait before you find out yourself. He sighed, here goes.

“Listen, (Y/N). I just want to say that I’m sorry in advance,” your brows furrowed, heart beating faster. “Why don’t you go grab my phone then turn it on.”

You do as he says, eyes widening at the candid photo of you and Masao. It was surprising, but you didn’t get what was making him so troubled.

“Remember when I left that behind at uni last night?” He glanced at you to check your reaction. Your expression remained confused. “I got it from the lost and found. So, that being said… it’s highly likely that someone saw that lock screen.”

It took you a few more seconds to get what he was saying and then, oh. Oh. You got it. There’s a big chance that at this very second, people would be talking about you and your sons. You didn’t know whether to laugh or what. It was like high school all over again. You were sure of one thing, though. You were scared. Scared of having to walk through the hallways with all eyes on you, hearing their whispers. The disgust and disappointment evident in the way they looked at you.

Your silence made Kuroo even more tense. He couldn’t read your expression from the little glances he’s taking as he drives. You carefully place his phone back where it was before speaking.

“Oh.” You reply shortly. Tears were starting to pool around your eyes and you were sure your voice would break if you speak. You didn’t want Kuroo to see you being weak and worry so you turn your head away from him. He took this as a sign that you were indeed mad at him, his heart broke thinking about how he ruined everything between the two of you.

When you arrived you quickly stepped out of the car and walked ahead. Usually, Kuroo would open the door for you then you’d walk together, but of course, today would be different. Maybe even the following days, weeks, months, years. Who knows? All Kuroo knew was that he fucked up and he’d driven you away from him.

You wiped away your tears before entering the building. Just as you’d suspected, almost everyone was looking at you weird and whispering amongst themselves. You were even able to hear one of the few things they said.

“I heard that the child looked like it was already at least two, that means…”

You clenched your fists and carried on. When you entered the classroom, you were surprised to see people sitting down in their respective seats quietly. Too quietly. You expected the classroom to be the place where there’d be more people talking about you. It still didn’t change the fact, however, that some others have their eyes on you.

“Mornin’, (Y/N)!” Bokuto greeted. You smiled back at him curtly. Akaashi was looking at you with worry but you didn’t notice as you immediately sink into your seat.

Classes dragged on longer than it used to and lunch became unbearable as you decided not to join your three friends. Instead, you lock yourself in a bathroom stall, head tilted back as you try to stop your tears from falling. You thought you’d be safe there but you were proved to be wrong when at least four girls entered, gossiping about ‘that freshie who already has a child.’

‘Please, let this day end already.’ You thought.

When the classes were finally over, you went straight home instead of at work, wanting nothing else but to wrap yourself in your blanket and cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t even realize that you haven’t picked up the triplets from the daycare when you’d fallen asleep.

Kuroo was staring at your number on his phone, debating whether to call you or give you space. When he was about to turn his phone off and shove it into his gym bag, he felt it vibrate. However, instead of your name popping up like he hoped, it was an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Sir Kuroo! I’m the triplets’ teacher. Ms. (Y/N) hasn’t come to pick the boys up. I know it’s only been twenty minutes but Ms. (Y/N) is never late unless she calls to say so. She wouldn’t answer her phone either. I was hoping you could check up on her.”

He felt his heart beating faster. “O-okay. I’ll pick the boys up on the way as well. Thank you for calling me.”

“Okay, I’ll have the boys ready. Have a safe drive, sir.”

The call ended and Kuroo slung his gym bag on his shoulder. He turned to Bokuto and Akaashi who were also taking a break from practice.

“Guys, I’m going ahead. The triplets’ teacher called, apparently they haven’t been picked up yet and (Y/N)’s not answering her phone. Cover for me.” He didn’t even wait for their response when he practically sprinted to his car.

When he picked up the boys, they were staring at him with a curious look on their faces. Kuroo wasn’t able to pay mind to it as he couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the three were safely seated in their car seats, they drove to where you worked but alas, you weren’t there. Your boss explained that you didn’t come in that day and that usually you’d call when you weren’t coming in. This didn’t make Kuroo feel any better at all. The only place he knows to check was your apartment.

Back at your apartment you’d just woken up, panicking when you saw that it’s already dark out. You tried to recall if you even picked up the boys. When you remembered that you didn’t, you sprung up. Muttering a string of ‘oh shit’s, you run out of your room. You were about to open the door when someone from the other side beat you to it. Kuroo was standing in front of you, hands on the triplets’ shared stroller. Without a word, you grab the stroller from him and slammed the door on him. You were 100% sure that there were clear traces of the breakdown you had earlier so in fear of having Kuroo see you in that state, you had no choice but to cold heartedly slam the door on him.

Once again, Kuroo Tetsurou’s heart broke.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 5

AO3

Beta reader was @thesnadger!

Some thoughts on where to go next.

Martin is as helpful as he can be.

Their business finished, Jon and Martin exchanged a friendly “See you tomorrow” and went their separate ways. Jon turned on his heel and took the first turn out of sight. Martin, still holding his groceries, pressed his head against a nearby building and said under his breath, “God, you’re predictable. Smiles at you once and you’re done for. Must be a record.”

It had been a nice smile, though. Maybe at some point he would get to see a non-nervous one, the kind where the person’s face seems to open up like- No, he was not going to fall into poetic daydreaming, not this soon. Good lord.

He stood up straight, fixing his hair and checking for any witnesses. With the coast clear, he started the long walk home. It was fine. Martin wasn’t a complete idiot. He would accept the good news that Jon didn’t despise him and would roll with it, trying his best not to muck it up with more stupid mistakes. Then, with either their time used up or the investigation completed, all three of them would be gone.

The thought struck him hard, and Martin almost stumbled from the emotional whiplash. It had been, what, a day and a half? Surely not long enough to miss them that much, especially the person who had only just started being nice to him ten minutes ago. But Martin knew himself better than that.

Jon had been nice, just as Tim and Sasha had been nice, and he was going to miss the company when they had to leave. It was natural to feel sad about it, he told himself, but eventually their leaving would be a relief. The one-sided affection would have no room for hoping or growing otherwise. At the same time, he might as well enjoy the company of interesting people. Interesting people who wanted to help him, even! Jon had said he’d wanted to work together to figure things out, so that’s what Martin would try to do.

As long as it didn’t get him fired. As long as nothing they did fucked over any chance of employment. As long as his place of work didn’t eat him out of a hunger for vengeance.

Pushing those sour thoughts deep into the back of his consciousness, Martin focused on the morning’s events the rest of the way home. Plans of action formed in his mind, most of them related to the task at hand, a few needing to be waved away as wishful thinking. There was work to be done.

It took quite a bit of digging through crumpled and disorganized paperwork he’d saved from many unsuccessful attempts at employment, but after lunch, Martin sat on his bed with his original work contract. At the bottom was the signature of Peter Lukas, and in the bottom left corner was the stamped Lukas family crest, which Martin had seen every day on a small plaque adorning the lighthouse interior, right over his desk.

It was a simple and rather generic image of a black and white shield, framed by an albatross and a laughably inaccurate seal that Martin couldn’t help but gawk at years after he’d first seen it. He wondered if the artist responsible had had to work with someone telling them what a seal looked like from memory or if the family just hadn’t cared too much for accuracy. Based on the strange ideas Peter would spout at times of how the ocean worked, Martin would bet on the latter. Maybe the whole family was just like that?

Either way, it was equal parts ridiculous and unnerving as it lurked over Martin’s shoulder during the work day but didn’t have much use to him otherwise. He was no expert on symbolism and there was nothing he could see that would relate the crest to the task at hand.

Martin leafed through the work contract, glazing over benefits and salary before stopping on the section labeled “Employee Assignments and Other Expected Duties”.

“Sec. III. The employee agrees to the following non-exhaustive list of duties:

-Be present at the premises between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, Monday through Friday, including lunch break. -Complete bookkeeping for the employer, Mr. Peter Lukas, using materials delivered to the premises on Monday morning. Delivery will always be completed by the employee's set arrival time at 6am. If nothing is delivered, contact the main house for further instruction to procure materials. -Clean the interior of the premises at regular intervals, including the main entrance, bathroom, kitchen, and upper floors. -Between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, complete the maintenance list of the top floor (see Sec. IV). This must be completed once every day of the week, including Saturday and Sunday, between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm. There is a zero-tolerance policy for lack of completion. -Inform unexpected visitors of the proper procedure for scheduling a paid tour of the premises (See Sec. V) -Accept packages and sign for if necessary.

Martin looked over the list, biting his cheek. He’d grown lax on staying until 4pm, but with Peter’s general lack of awareness, it had never come up. Otherwise, the duties seemed in line with what he remembered. He looked down to Section IV.

“As referred to in Sec. III, the employee will complete the following tasks during the hours of 6 am and 4 pm every day, including Saturday and Sunday:”

Following this was the list he had long ago written down and taped to his desk. There were no details relating to the purpose of each task, just procedure. He’d kept to the instructions consistently, every switch flipped and seemingly-pointless button pressed, though he’d been very close to missing the 4pm mark on several occasions because of the dreaded walk to the top. This list, again, wasn’t much help. He went over the document a few times then set it aside and flopped onto his back, scattering some loose papers to the floor.

He’d need to find some other angle. Research was a non-starter for him without experience, and as far as his town knowledge was concerned, it wasn’t wrong to call him forgetful in that area as well. It was likely he’d have to accept his part as an amateur tour guide. It didn’t feel like enough, but starting Monday, he’d be back to working and have no time to help anyway, unless their work somehow kept them late into the night.

Jon had been nice with all the working-together talk, but Martin knew he wouldn’t be of much use at all. If he wanted to be helpful, he should begin prepping for dinner.

-

As evening turned to night, Martin and his mother sat at the dining room table in silence, interrupted only by the light clinking of plates and utensils as they finished the pan-fried chicken and vegetables in front of them. Weekends were always better meal days, always leaving Martin feeling more satisfied with his cooking with all the time he had to focus on it. His mother showed no greater signs of enjoyment than eating without complaint.

“Mum, can I ask you something?” Martin ran his thumb against the smooth metal of his fork. “It’s about work.”

Martin’s mother paused from eating another bite of her meal. “What is it?” she asked, frowning.

Swallowing hard, Martin said, “How much have you had to deal with the Lukas family? There’s this research project being completed and it’s involving a lot of history, so I thought since you’ve lived here so long-”

“Long enough, yes.” Martin could see her nostril twitch. “They came in long before I did and will most likely stay until the fish run out. Otherwise, I kept to my business and they kept to theirs. No reason to get involved with people who wouldn’t bother walking down the hills on foot.”

“Right, it’s just-”

“I don’t feel like talking, Martin,” she said, her voice cracking slightly at his name. “My throat is too sore.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll get you some more water.” He picked up her glass to refill and bit back any other questions. Next to the sink was his mother’s pill case with the current day’s compartment still full. “We’ll get your meds done now, then. Should help a bit.” His mother didn’t respond, having already returned to her dinner.

Afterwards, she requested to step outside. “The night air is good for my lungs,” she argued as a matter of fact, and with no way to dissuade her, Martin completed their little ritual of walking out the door and standing in the fog-filled night in silence, his own face covered in an old scarf. His eyes watered in the dry, salty gale, and he wondered how much time it had taken for his mother to withstand the sting without any tears.

-

By mid-morning the next day, Martin had finished his duties upstairs. Sitting at the table, he listened to the group’s progress from after he had left them the day before. Spread across the table were photocopies of what looked like legal documents, some of the bare spots between them filled with used mugs of varying sizes.

“We weren’t able to stay there for long before it closed, but we were able to look up some records at the library yesterday,” Sasha explained, sifting through the papers. “Not a terrible archive, all things considered. We’re going to head there again tomorrow morning for a more in-depth look. We didn’t even get to looking for details on the construction of this place.”

“But!” Tim waved one of the copies above his head. “We did get some info on the Lukases themselves. Current residents in town, major stakeholders, that kind of stuff. And-” He pressed the sheet close to Martin’s face. It was a copy (of a copy) of a newspaper article featuring the lighthouse, with some figures standing at the entrance, including one Peter Lukas. “Martin, d’you know anything about the person who worked here before you? He’s one of the younger ones in the family, standing on the left.”

Martin scratched the back of his neck, squinting at the photo. “A bit? Evan Lukas, he was really nice from what I’d heard.”

Tim frowned, lowering his arm. “‘Was’?”

“Yeah, he passed away before I started working here. Peter said it was some heart thing. Runs in the family.” Tim slumped. “Sorry! I’m surprised the records didn’t say so. It was a pretty big deal, really shook people. It made the front page, though I never read the details.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Jon asked, tapping on the rim of his empty mug.

“Sort of? We went to school around the same time and were only a few years apart, which was weird since you wouldn’t expect him to go to a state school with a family like that? Anyway, that was years ago, but even after that you’d hear about him. He was gone for a while, actually, but somehow he ended up in this old place a few years back and, well, y’know.” Martin rubbed his hands.

“Hmmm.” Tim leaned back in his chair, flipping a pencil between his fingers. “Okay, well, that’s one person we probably can’t talk to outside of spookier means. Is there anyone who knew him well?”

Pausing for a moment, Martin said, “I think… no, yeah, he was engaged, but his fiancée left town pretty soon after he died. Don’t know anything about her except she wasn’t a local.” Silence stretched over them as Tim sat in his disappointment

“Well, shit,” Tim let out in an overblown sigh. Sasha patted Tim’s shoulder in sympathy. He grinned at her. “That’s all I’ve got, then. Time to call it a day?” he asked, earning himself a pinch on the ear.

“We’ll just have to go over the items we have until tomorrow,” Jon said, his sigh brimming with exhaustion. “Who knows, we might’ve missed something the first time. Before that, Martin, who was the person we missed yesterday? Would they be worth talking to?”

Hesitating, Martin responded, “Maybe? But if you’ve already got a way to look up historical stuff, it might be better to skip this one.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him and his stomach dropped at the attention.

“It’s just, he’s an eccentric person, difficult to track down, and while he knows the Lukas family pretty well, it’s only because their families do business. His family, the Fairchilds, they’re not a huge family in this town, but this guy, Simon, he’s, well. He’s this small, old man, right?” Martin tapped his foot, looking for something to say to end his babbling. “And you know the cliff behind the lighthouse? It’s got at least 150 meters straight down to sea?” The three nodded, and Martin smiled, his brows furrowed.

“Years ago, he dove right off the damned thing.”

-

Tim gaped over the railing, his breath floating over the edge. Sasha and Jon gaped slightly less, and from a safer distance, though that didn’t seem to save Jon from the effects of the harsh, cold wind that sent him shivering through a nothing of a windbreaker. Far below the cliff’s edge, down past the wind-worn rock and smattering of trees, through a thin layer of fog that cradled the seaside, there waited an incredibly harsh landing of sea and stone.

“But there’s a fuckload of rocks down there?” Tim sputtered.

Martin kept his gaze straight forward. “Yeah.”

“And even if he just hit water, I mean-”

“Made it out just fine.”

“And you were thinking of just skipping this guy? I don’t care if he’s unhelpful, I want to see if he can fly or something.” Tim stepped from the safety rails, giving one a good pat.

Sasha crossed her arms, eyeing the drop. “Do you know where we can find him?”

Martin scratched his face. “Most of the time he comes here to see Peter for business. Peter absolutely hates it since it’s usually out of nowhere, and Simon always claims he does it because he likes surprises, but I think he just likes to be irritating. Otherwise…” Turning to look at the lighthouse, Martin said, “I do know where Simon lives, and while I can’t guarantee he’ll want to speak to you about anything specific, he definitely loves to talk.”

“Is there anything he’s said to you about the Lukas family? Or the building?” Jon looked at Martin intently, clearly doing his best to not shiver.. “Anything that might’ve seemed like nothing more than gossip or reminiscing?”

With Jon staring at him, Martin’s brain sputtered to a stop. “I-I don’t think so? Like I said, he’s eccentric, so it’s hard to pick apart anything he says as being sincere or as a joke. He told me he was once a firebreather, and I still don’t know if I believe him. Sorry, I know that’s not super helpful.” Martin rubbed the back of his neck.

Jon relaxed his gaze, his corner of his mouth quirking down just a little. “It’s all right. If we can get a hold of him, we’ll ask him some simple questions and hopefully sift through any confusion. Right now, we can all stop giving ourselves vertigo and get back inside. It’s freezing out here.” Jon made a show of shoving his hands under his arms and walked back to the lighthouse.

“Poor guy’s circulation is shot, honestly. Could get hypothermia walking into a basement,” Tim teased behind his hand, not bothering to lower his voice as he leaned toward Sasha and Martin.

“Ha. Very funny.” Jon sent a withering glare over his shoulder and slipped indoors. They followed him back inside, and while the other three sat to discuss possible interview questions, Martin got another round of tea going. He had to have some of those to-go paper coffee cups somewhere in these cupboards, but no amount of looking revealed them. Instead, he managed to find one lonely travel mug and contemplated his options.

Would it be too obvious? Would Jon consider it him joining in on the teasing? At the thought of Jon stubbornly standing outside in a too-thin jacket, Martin resigned himself to whatever reaction he would receive. Either way, he'd get something warm in Jon’s hands so the little pang in his chest would go away.

When Martin brought him the mug, Jon looked suspicious but didn’t complain.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part nine) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±5050 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part nine: Everyone deals with the aftermath of the fight differently. Worried about Dean, Y/N goes out to look for him, but doesn’t find the man she got to know in the past weeks. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Save Yourself - KALEO (Y/N and Dean scene), Burden - Foy Vance (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     The evening has set in completely, a clouded sky obstructing a view of the galaxy above. Normally, a dark blue would stretch out above the ranch, blending into a lighter tone at the horizon in the west where the sun sank down hours ago. But today the sky is black. No moon nor stars decorate the night’s ceiling. Almost as if the weather knows that it’s not the time to be breathtaking. No one will look up to appreciate her anyway. 

     Y/N vacuumed the bunkhouse, then gave the kitchen a good once over, just to keep busy. Jo took her example and scrubbed the bathroom. At least the therapeutical cleanup isn’t for nothing, because there was enough sand between the floorboards for the footing of a new arena, and there were several organisms living on leftovers in the refrigerator. Wranglers are a bunch of swines, that much Y/N knows. She neatly folds the wrung out the cloth that she used, leaves it in the sink, and stares through the four-squared window. Still no sign of Dean. Honestly, she’s not sure if it would be reasonable to expect Ash back tonight, since he doesn’t have to show up for work in the morning. But Dean isn’t going to stay away, is he?

     While she is cleaning the faucet until she’s able to see her own reflection in the copper, she moves past denying how worried she is about him. Staying here and letting him be, as Jo put it, feels wrong. A breath of air rolls from her lips when she eyes the wall clock again. Ten minutes to nine; he’s been gone for almost two hours. For a moment she contemplates what to do next. She can still ride Meadow, even though she intended to give her the day off. It will keep her busy, for sure, her horse will probably offer some comfort, too. But she cannot take away the concern she carries for the head wrangler, only he can do that. With three determined steps she’s by the door opening, and is about to push away the fly curtain, when she hears stumbling, coming from behind. Jo just exited the bathroom, almost tripping over the stick of the mop while holding up a bucket of water. She has purple rubber gloves on, her blonde hair looks quite similar to the rag she is holding, and her shirt is pulled into a knot above her belly button. It’s quite a peculiar sight.

     “Where are you going?” she asks, perplexed. Surely, Y/N isn’t going to leave her friend to scrub the floor alone.      “I’m gonna go to the stables. I think we did enough cleaning for one day, or a week,” she excuses.      “To the stables, my ass. You’re going after Dean, ain’t ya?”      Y/N opens her mouth to counter Jo with a firm ‘no’, but when she looks at her friend, she drops the act. One cocked eyebrow, that same judgemental grin she gave the intern when she commented on her boots being too clean for a ranch hand, the day the cowgirl picked her up from the airport. Darn, Jo is on to her. And so she presses her lips together and sighs.       “He seemed upset,” she utters.      “He’s a dude, he’ll live. Men are mad for a minute, walk it off and by the time they turn around, they have forgotten what the whole thing was about. They’re like goldfish,” her friend scoffs.      Y/N snorts at that comparison. Clearly the ranch owner’s daughter has a strong opinion of the other gender.             “I’m just going to check on him, alright?” she promises.      “Do what you gotta do,” Jo replies. “You know where I’ll be.”      Thankful Y/N smiles at her friend, then moves the fly curtain out of the way and steps outside. Jo might think it’s stupid of her to let Dean get under her skin, but that doesn’t mean she will leave her to struggle with it alone, in case it backfires. Odds are that the wrangler is going to hurt her feelings somewhere down the line, the numbers are not exactly in his favor. But knowing that Jo will be there with a safety net ready to catch her, is reassuring. After a mocking ‘hate to say I told you so’, she will be her friend. 

     Grateful, Y/N walks down in the direction she saw Dean disappear hours ago. The air is thick, as if another thunderstorm is about to break out. The wind died down completely, leaving the lands in silence. The only sound she can detect, is a rhythmical pound every so many seconds, much like a pile-driver. Y/N isn’t far off, because when she reaches the cattle pens, she finds Dean, slamming a post into the ground with a sledgehammer. Seems like she wasn’t the only one who kept her hands busy to get through the evening.       Clearly still worked up over the fight he had with Ash, Dean swings the hammer over his head with everything that he’s got and hits the pole on the head. His grey shirt sticks to his torso, sweat shimmering on his skin, brought out by the lampposts that light the driveway. Veins lay thick on his forearms, dust and dirt smudges add to the shades in his dark features. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so caught up in the work that he fails to hear her footsteps. In silence, she watches, both intrigued and intimidated, but eventually gathers the courage to announce herself.      “Dean?”

     He pauses his action for a brief second and looks at the timid woman, bewildered. Out of breath, he takes her in, but decides not to respond and heaves the hammer again in order to smash it down, driving the post deeper into the ground.      “It’s getting pretty late,” she adds, hoping to get some kind of response that is more than just a look.      “I have to finish this fence,” he returns, his voice monotone, as if he is trying to restrain every emotion.      “The fence will still be there tomorrow,” Y/N returns.      “I’d rather fix it now.” He hits the pole again. “At least this fucking fence –” and again, “– I can fix.”      Oh, yeah; this is definitely a good way to deal with things. Y/N watches him jam the sledgehammer down a couple of more times, overworking his body.       “You’ve been going at it since 4 AM,” she counters, trying to convince him. “Please come inside?”      “I’m fine,” he replies bluntly, between swings.      Y/N huffs, sarcasm evident. “Yeah, I can see that.”      The head wrangler doesn’t respond, yet keeps grinding. He feels the young woman’s eyes on him, though. She is reading into his actions, his words, his behavior, and it’s bugging the hell out of him. 

     Cautiously, she moves in a few steps closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”      He drops the sledgehammer on the ground with a loud thump and turns to her, chest heaving and clearly annoyed.      “Do I look like I wanna talk about it?” he scolds between breaths. “I told you I’m fine!”      Taken aback by the hostility in his voice, Y/N stares at him. This is a side of Dean she has never seen before. Sure, he gave her a cold shoulder when she turned him down on her first night at the ranch, but the darkness that clouds his eyes now is different. He has closed himself off and as he was rebuilding the fence, he pulled up a wall as well. She understands that he’s hurt, but he is the second friend to lash out at her tonight and it’s more than she can handle.      “You know what? I won’t waste your time then. I’m certainly not going to waste any more of my time on you,” she spits, acrimony on her tongue. “Good luck with your damn fence.”

     Angry, Y/N turns on her heels before he can spot the tears burning in her eyes. Hurried steps take her away from the man that gets to her more than she should let him. You dumb goose. How could you have been so naive? Jo was right to warn her every single time she did. She has known her cousin her entire life and still Y/N begged to differ. For hours, she’s been worried about the guy who is only nice to his intern when he thinks he can seize the opportunity to get her into his bed. She empathized with him, and this is what she gets in return. A snarl from that selfish dick when she tries to help him. The cowgirl can hear him call out for her, but she ignores it. It’s not until she hears her name again close behind her, that she hesitates.      “Y/N…”      Strong yet tender fingers lock around her wrist and stop the woman who tries to flee from him. The action spins her around, but she avoids Dean’s eyes. When Y/N does glance up into those green orbs bouncing over her features, she can detect the dismay in his expression. If there is anything that she does not want him to see, it’s the tears that threaten to roll down her cheeks.           The bitterness that affected his temper a moment ago is gone and guilt replaces it. Shit, what has he done?      “I’m sorry,” he says, not a trace of swallowed pride. “You’ve been blamed for things that ain’t your fault enough today. You didn’t deserve that.”      He loosens the grip on her wrist a little and lets his fingers slide down her smooth skin until he holds her hand, squeezing it gently. There are so many emotions from both sides of the spectrum coursing through Y/N, but the most evident is the sensation that races up and down every nerve like a racetrack, the start and finish where he touches her. She looks down at their entwined fingers, at how her hand, soft from the all-purpose cleaner, fits in his palm. This is the first time that there is intentional physical contact and it shuts down her brain and sends her heart into overdrive. 

     “You’re not fine,” she manages to say. “I’m not a simpleton, Dean.”      “I know you’re not,” he acknowledges. “It’s just that…”      He pauses, hesitant about his next step. Opening up about the things that occupy his mind and keep him up at night is not something he’s comfortable with. His entire life he only had a few of those conversations, a few with Bobby, the others with Ellen. He only talked to them because they already knew a thing or two about his past and the issues that it brought along. But apparently the newest member of the crew is able to pierce through that veil and see behind the mask he thought he wore so well.       “Dean… I know this isn’t all about Ash, and whatever it is that is bothering you, it’s okay. You can talk to me.” Y/N squeezes his hand, ensuring, letting him know she’s ready to listen.      The anger she felt a moment ago when he shut down on her has disappeared as the ice on the lakes at the end of winter, back in Freeport. She isn’t even sure how this happened, but standing here in the wide-open spaces, lingering in his touch, it feels so good and so safe. It brings a calm over her she didn’t realize she longed for. 

     “I - I don’t really talk about this stuff,” the head wrangler admits. “I dunno, it feels like when I do, I just rattle shit up… It wouldn’t do anyone good.”      He lets go of her, before the girl he feels attracted to starts to wonder what the connection means, but runs his thumb over her knuckles gently before her fingers slip from his. The moment he pulls away, the wrangler already aches for her touch. Uneasy, he turns away and rests both his hands on the mid rail of the fence, his hunched shoulders blocking a clear view of his face. He cannot let her see it. He cannot let her see him.      “So that’s your strategy? When something bad happens, you bury it?”       Y/N isn’t judging him, he can tell by the way she asks the question and is looking at him, curious and sympathetic. What she is doing, though, is trying to understand how his mind works. What if she’s able to decipher his code? What if she can speak this foreign language that he made his? What if she figures me out?      Just the thought of letting it all rise to the surface scares Dean to death. Knowing that the one person he wants to impress, who he wants to do good by, will be able to tell how broken he truly is. And yet, despite the fear that is eating him up inside, he cannot pretend. He cannot lie to her.      “Yeah, I guess I do,” he admits. “Usually it works for me.”      “But not always,” she knows.      “No, not always.”

     He’s quiet now, his gaze locked on the soil that has become solid again after this morning’s rain. Y/N observes his body language; how he’s turned slightly away from her, head tipped down, resting his arms on the fence as if he needs something to lean on. It’s a stark contrast to the confident smile and bright eyes that she got used to. This is a part of him people rarely get to see, Y/N is very much aware of that. What she’s also aware of, is how delicate the situation is. Pushing him to talk will only trigger the opposite, and so she lets him be. The words she leaves between the two of them have only one purpose: to make him feel better.      “If you don’t feel like talking, that’s alright. But what happened to Ash, you know he was wrong to take it out on you, right? This is not your fault.”      Even in the dim light she can see his jaw flex, confirming her suspicion that he does, indeed, blames himself for his friend’s departure.      “It was my decision. One I had to make, but still. At least I should’ve been honest with him. He had a hunch that something wasn’t right and I could have eased him into it. Instead, I told him everything was going to be alright. Who does that?” the handsome wrangler ponders, able to kick himself in the head for his tactic. “He’s family, he deserves better.”      “You tried to protect him,” Y/N soothes.      The cowboy scoffs and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. “And look how that turned out…”

     Dean appreciates the cowgirl’s efforts. Hell, he admires her for them, because she could have walked off and let him rot after that snarl he gave her, and it would have done him justice. The thing is, Y/N wasn’t far off when she assumed that he wasn’t just upset about Ash. His whole life he has tried to protect the people he loved at the expense of himself, without question. One person stands out from all the others. A boy with hazel hair, bangs hanging in front of his eyes which used to look up to Dean admiringly. Always carrying some book around, always reading and studying. Quiet, observant, smart, a will of his own, even at a young age. A boy Dean fought for to keep safe, tried to make sure he would land on his feet alright, and be given all the opportunities he deserved. A boy who he took the hit for, every single time. A boy who would call Dean his big brother. A boy called Sam. He failed him, just like he failed Ash today.

     “Hey…”      The woman who is breaking down his walls brings him out of the trance he was stuck in, her voice alone having that effect. He turns to her again as she steps closer and looks up at him.      “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but sometimes it’s easier to open up to an outsider.”      She’s not done with her pledge, but Dean interrupts her either way.      “You’re not an outsider,” he makes clear. “I know you’re not from here, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong. In fact, I think you are exactly where you should be.”      The words quiet her, leaving a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart. Feeling accepted and welcome, she lets her eyes glide over the dark desert lands on her right. Her surroundings look exactly the same as it did on the evening she arrived on the property. She remembers how alien this world seemed, witnessing a landscape like she had never seen. Her gaze captures the overhead sign above the driveway, ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ carved out of the worn pinewood. Maybe Dean is right; maybe she is exactly where she needs to be.      “Well, outsider or not…” She restores eye contact, a calm exuding from her that soothes him. “You can always knock on my door.”      For the first time tonight, she can spot a glint of relief in his expression. It’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s there.      Dean is not going to make any promises, though. Not because he doesn’t want to get close to her; on the contrary. But revealing what he’s truly about, what has inflicted the scars which haven’t healed even after all those years, it will scare her away.       “Thank you,” he responds, grateful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

     It’s a good enough answer for Y/N and she smiles back, glancing up into his eyes. There she is again, trapped like a butterfly in a spider’s web, unable to move or look away. His breathing has slowed and is back to normal after the exertion, but beads of sweat are still forming on his forehead, a drop rolling down his temple. He wipes his brow with his forearm, barely breaking eye contact. They both sense it, the change in the atmosphere, just like when the two had a moment under the Joshua tree. God, he wants to kiss her so bad that lust almost wins the battle it’s fighting with his confidence. He is offered another chance to make a move, but he’s not going to take it. This smart, kind, and strong woman deserves much better than the damaged man that he is. He breaks the tension by glancing down briefly while clearing his throat. When he looks back at her, he could swear he sees disappointment in her gorgeous eyes and regret stabs him in the gut.       “I’m, uh - I’m gonna finish up that fence,” he stammers, making a fist and pointing his thumb over his shoulder.       “Need a hand?” she asks, recovering quickly from the letdown.       Dean seems stunned by her offer, because he frowns at the intern after a double-take. “You want to help me fix the fence?”      “I’m only offering once,” she warns jokingly.      The head wrangler grins, amused. “Well, in that case. Yeah, I could use a hand,” he accepts.

     The cowgirl walks past him, eyeing him over her shoulder as she parades away. He stares for a second, smiling at the sight of her picking up the sledgehammer along the way, which apparently is heavier than she anticipated. The clumsy way she handles the large tool makes him chuckle, joyful for the first time tonight. No wonder, because without trying, she is absolutely stunning. A warmth spreads through him in waves, and he is highly aware of it. He recognizes the sensation. It has washed over him several times already, always when he laid his eyes on her. The girl with bright eyes and messy hair after a hard day’s work, despite her efforts to contain her locks. The girl who cares for others, who is kind to every living creature on this planet. She is beautiful in every way, inside and out. Under the yellow ray that falls down on her from the lantern above, she turns around. The spotlight creates dark shadows on the ground, but at the same time, it illuminates her features with a warm glow. 

     “Are you coming or what? That fence isn’t gonna fix itself,” she challenges.      Dean scoffs with a laugh, appreciating the attitude. Then he heads her way, stopping her when she almost loses her balance after heaving the large hammer above her head.      “Why don’t you give the sledgehammer to me, before someone gets hurt,” he mocks, holding out his hand.      “I can handle a hammer,” she returns, huffing defensive.      Doubtful, the wrangler looks back at her. “I think the fence is gonna disagree with you there.”      “Do you want my help, or not?” she recalls, letting out a laugh.      “Yeah, I want your help,” he admits. 

     The words lay deeper than would appear on first notice. It’s not intentional and Dean is worried for a second that she will pick up on what he really wants; he wants her to help him. Help him to heal, help him breathe, help him to love. No one has ever come through to him like she has already, and that’s exactly why he won’t make a move. He is beginning to understand what this all means, what is happening to him. How he feels about the newest member of the crew, is different. It’s mind-blowing and exciting, yet at the same time, it scares the shit out of him. The space she has occupied in his heart is growing steadily, but he can’t allow himself to act on it, because he simply can’t be selfish with her. That’s okay, though. Having her around as a colleague and a friend for the limited time she will stay with him trumps not having her in his life at all.       “I’m gonna give this pole a couple more knocks on the head. Can you fetch the new woodwork?” He nods at the wooden planks, stacked up in the back of his truck, a little further on the driveway.

     Reluctantly, Y/N lets go of the hammer and turns to get the new material for the fence. By the time she brings three new rails over, he has leveled the post with the others still standing. While she holds the board in place, Dean nails it to the post. In order to hold still, Y/N stands close to the head wrangler as he secures the fence. She fixates on the plank she’s holding, trying to ignore the fact that she is seriously invading his personal space. He smells like the damp earth below their feet and a hint of deodorant mixed with hard work; it’s the opposite of a turn-off. Trying to distract herself, she listens to the ticking sound of the head on the pin, until all the new woodwork is mounted to the posts. Sometimes he pauses for just a short second, his gaze burning her skin. Once he’s done, Y/N picks up the broken pieces left by the cattle when they stormed through, and carries them to Dean’s Chevrolet, where she lays the wood down in the cargo bed. Now that she and the handsome wrangler are a few more feet apart, she feels like she can breathe again, missing him close by at the same time. As she leans against the truck, he loads up the last of the wood that he didn’t use for the restoration. Again, his eyes linger on her briefly; the poor guy just cannot help himself, can he? Suddenly she feels bold.

     “Ash was right about one thing, though.”      “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” he wonders, as he dusts off his hands.      She grins cheeky, biting her bottom lip. “You are desperate to get in my pants.”      Dean stares at the cowgirl flabbergasted, eyebrows shooting up. Whoa, where the hell did the shy girl go? One question surfaces in the sea of thoughts that her remark triggered; what is her angle? Does she want him to get in her pants? The handsome wrangler scoffs nervously and looks down flustered, as he rubs the back of his neck. But he doesn’t deny it. He can’t.       “What, no comeback?” she nags, expecting either a smart or flirty return.      “There are some things I just can’t argue with,” he chuckles, a blush pushing past the freckles on his cheeks. “Ain’t no reason to get cocky, though.”

     He winks at her flirtatiously, his bright green eyes joined by a smug grin and Y/N cannot help but laugh. Who would have known that she missed Cowboy Casanova? It’s good to see he got his wit back, because he had her worried there for a second. She has spotted the pattern, though. Whenever he is forced to deal with an issue he wants to steer clear of, he dodges the matter by either making fun of the situation or by shutting down completely. So this is his defense mechanism, this is his armor. But beneath all the silence and the horse crap, he admitted straight up that he wants her. Ash might have implied that the head wrangler is only following her like a lost puppy because he wants to keep counting the girls he had in fives, but Y/N knows that’s not all that there is to it. With nothing more than a look, he made it pretty clear he feels something for her that Friday evening after training when they had a moment under the Joshua tree. Now that assumption has been confirmed. 

     As the gears in her head are turning, she begins to walk across the gravel parking lot back to the bunkhouse, but it’s not just her grey matter that is doing overtime. Contemplating his own words, Dean gets behind the wheel of his Chevrolet. The fact is, he wasn’t just flirting. He’s simply telling the truth. But hasn’t that been the case the entire time? The wrangler is hungry for the new ranch hand, he’s pining so bad that selflessness alone is stopping him from running up the driveway and closing her in his arms. Strangely enough, it has nothing to do with sex, or greed, or any other sin, despite what others might think. For a moment, he worries if she might have read into his words just now. He doesn’t want to give her hope, or does he? Fighting his mind, he sighs; he’s so tired he can’t even think straight. 

     With a flip of the key, the engine comes alive, only to drive a couple of hundred yards. After steering the black pickup to a spot next to the shed, Dean leaves the transmission in park. He will unload tomorrow, today he’s calling it quits. A grunt passes his lips when he hoists himself out of the car again. Damn, if his muscles are sore now, he doesn’t want to picture how bad it’s going to hurt in the morning. Maybe a long hot shower will do him good, he definitely needs one to rid himself from the filth he’s covered in.       The head wrangler strolls up the trail that leads to his bed and finds the girl he’s losing himself to, watching the bunkhouse from some distance. When Dean levels with her, he sees why she stopped. On the bottom steps of the porch, two figures sit and talk: one of them is Jo, the other is Ash.       “Well, what do ya know,” Dean huffs, surprised.       Relieved, Y/N smiles. “Seems like he came around. Go talk to him.”

     His chest constricts a little with the thought of the confrontation alone and he hesitates. His friend is most likely still mad at him. What if doesn’t want to settle this? What if he screws it up again?       When Y/N detects that the man next to her is in two minds, she nudges him reassuringly with her shoulder, smiling at him before he gathers enough courage to step forward. The pair are walking up to the steps, when Jo spots them. The cattle worker next to her looks up now too, shame and uneasiness draping his features when he sees the head wrangler. The blonde cowgirl gets to her feet, picking up her hat that she had put down next to her.      “I’ll leave you guys to it,” she says. “Comin’, Yankee?”       Y/N nods and passes Dean, shortly squeezing his arm supportingly as she does.      “Good luck,” she whispers, as she glances over her shoulder.            He nods at her thankfully and takes Jo’s spot on the porch stairs, as the two girls retreat inside. An awkwardness fills the air within seconds, thick and suffocating, yet neither of the men say anything in order to break it. After what feels like minutes of going over what has been said and still needs to be, Ash gets up. Motionless, Dean sits on the step, forearms on his knees, fingers forked together. He hears his friend’s footsteps on the floorboards, followed by the rattling of the bamboo fly curtain and then the eerie silence; Ash has walked away. 

     Pained, Dean closes his eyes and presses the knuckles of his clasped hands against the bridge of his nose. The tightness in his chest that he felt when he realized he had to face his friend has turned into an uncomfortable ache now. It seems to be a recurring theme in his life, people walking out on him. Fuck, why is it so hard to do this? Why can’t he just tell Ash he’s sorry? He takes a breath and lifts his head, staring at the lights coming from the neighbors property, several miles up the road. Then something moves into his peripheral vision and he turns to find a can of PBR beer handed to him. Dean’s eyes move up to see who is holding the beverage, the weight falling off his shoulders when he sees the guy who rocks the mullet. The head wrangler takes the cold refreshment while Ash sits down next to him again. They both open their cans and take a slug of the golden brew. The silence returns, but it’s a much more pleasant one this time. Without saying a word, they’ve made peace. That does not mean, though, that nothing should be said. 

     “Ash?”      “Hmm?”      “I - uh… I’m-–”      “– Yeah, brother. Me too.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part ten here

[jackryanfanfic]

I, His Isthmus | Chapter Two

Pairing | Jack Ryan x Cathy Muller

Genre | H/C, Angst, Friendship, Romance

Warnings | Blood, PTSD, Nightmares, Medical procedures

Word Count | 2K+

Rating | T

Summary: In which Jack takes an unexpected nap and Cathy battles her demons.

Cathy snipped the last stitch on Greer's wound and reached for a cloth to wipe away any remaining blood. Once she had sterilized the area yet again, she applied a patch bandage and removed her gloves.

Leaning back in her chair, she stretched, lips turning up in amusement as she watched Jack pace the limited floorspace.

He looked a little better now; it seemed he'd had a clean set of clothes in his backpack, if not a comb.

Something twisted at Cathy's heart and her smile faded. Jack's very posture exuded a weariness deeper than mere physical exhaustion. His eyes held that distant, haunted expression she had once tried so hard to chase away. How long it had been since he'd slept?

She pursed her lips, remembering his response to her message.

Jack caught her looking. "My turn?"

"Yeah, almost." She paused, crossing her arms. "Um, earlier, when you said you were relatively okay...What exactly did that mean? Because we've already established that your idea of relatively okay and mine are very different."

He shook his head. "A few cuts and bruises. Nothing significant. I think somebody's bullet must've nicked my arm at some point."

"Let me see."

He sat on the vacant bed and began to unbutton his shirt. "Let the record state that compared to him," he nodded in Greer's direction, "I'm just peachy." Wincing, he pulled his left arm from its sleeve. A once-white washcloth was sloppily folded over his bicep, held in place with a few rounds of masking tape.

Cathy snorted. "Don't quit your day job. This is a shoddy piece of work." She tugged at the tape.

"My day job is the reason you broke up with me."

And there it was.

"Jack..." She sighed. "No, this is the reason I broke up with you." She gestured to his arm, now bleeding freely. "That's the reason I broke up with you." She swept her hand back to include Greer. "I can't do this, Jack. You can't even do this. Look at you--it's eating you up now, just like it was then. I wanted to help you, Jack. I did. But you wouldn't let me in, and I..." She shook her head. "It wasn't healthy. For either of us." Her fingers stilled, voice softening. "I had to get out, Jack."

He bowed his head. His face was turned away, but she could see that her words had cut deep.

The tense quiet that followed gave Cathy more than enough time to agonize over her choice of words.

Jack broke it, his voice a whisper. "I miss you."

She looked up. Jack's eyes were on her face, his intent gaze disarming. A second that felt like an eternity passed, but then he gave a half-hearted smirk and turned away.

"I miss you too," Cathy said softly, surprising herself with her sudden transparency.

He let out a sigh so deep that Cathy had to move her hands away for a moment to avoid hurting him. She passed her hand over his shoulder. "Try and sit still for me?"

"Sorry."

"You'll need stitches." Turning his face toward the room's single lamp, she examined the cut on his cheek. "Maybe here, too." Their eyes met suddenly, and she removed her hand. "But that can wait until after the transfusion."

"Right," he said, rising.

"Ah--you will want to be lying down."

He complied.

Moving the chair so it sat between the beds, she set up her equipment on Jack's. She frowned, scanning the room for something she could repurpose as an IV pole. There was a coat hanger in the corner. That'll do.

Dragging it over, she hung up two plastic pouches, one empty, and one filled with a clear liquid. She rubbed an alcohol wipe over Greer's wrist and inserted a needle, which she taped in place and then connected to the full bag via a thin rubber tube. "Fluids," she explained, "water, electrolytes, et cetera." Two more tubes were connected to the empty bag. "Now for the tricky part. I hope you don't get queasy around blood?" Now there was something that had never come up over dinner at Buster's.

He chuckled. "Not lately."

Greer was now hooked up to the second bag, and she moved over to Jack. "Roll up your sleeve? You will experience moderate to severe dizziness and/or nausea, possibly fainting or a tingling sensation." She tied a band just above his elbow, pulling it tight and proceeding to swab the crook of his arm. "All are perfectly normal with a procedure like this. Make a fist for me?" She found his vein and inserted the needle, quickly connecting the last available tube to the needle's small attachment. She shifted the empty bag a bit. "Alright. That should do it."

Sure enough, blood began to flow almost immediately through the tube and up to the bag on the coat hanger. Cathy nodded in satisfaction.

"Wow. That stuff makes good time," Jack observed as Cathy crossed to the other side of the bed.

She sat, re-opening the small case that held her suture equipment and resumed her work on his arm. "Mm. So, why don't you tell me what happened? And why you're in this charming establishment with me instead of at a hospital with an on-duty doctor who specializes in something other than epidemiology?"

He hesitated. "Suffice to say I stumbled across a paper trail that incriminated some very powerful people. I guess I got too close. Greer picked me up at the airport today, and on the way back to Langley...all hell broke loose." He sighed. "They'd, uh...They'd look for us at the hospitals."

She nodded. "Okay. So what's next? What will you do after this? Greer is in no condition to go running around chasing terrorists, or whatever this is."

"I know a guy who can set us up with a safe house. I guess...I guess we'll go from there." He gently grasped her wrist, effectively halting her work. "I didn't plan this, Cathy."

Her expression softened. "I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse. What you do...it's important. I know that. And I know it's necessary." She attempted a smile. "I just hate to see you in trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak, but afraid of what he would say, Cathy beat him to it.

"Try not to move that." She nodded towards his arm. "You'll jostle the needle and tear the vein. Then you'll be needing a transfusion."

He let her wrist go, gingerly repositioning his arm at his side.

Well, that's one way to kill a moment.

After a few minutes of Cathy working in silence and Jack staring at the ceiling, he started, hands bracing against the mattress.

"What's wrong?" Cathy asked in alarm.

He blinked a few times. "You weren't joking about the dizziness," he huffed, slowly settling into the mattress once more. "Sorry."

She waved his apology away. "Nothing quite like feeling like you're going to fall when you're already lying down." Checking the monitor clipped to Jack's IV, she added, "It won't be too much longer."

His eyelids fluttered. "Tha's probably a good thing."

She squeezed his shoulder. "You know, you're probably saving his life."

A few more moments passed, Jack struggling to remain conscious. Cathy put a hand on his face, trying to draw his focus. "Jack. Hey, it's okay. You're safe here, and you need rest. You can let go."

His eyes found hers once more before they rolled back and his lids slipped closed.

She rubbed her thumb in a circle over his cheek. Tears sprang into her eyes. Seeing him again, in pain and alone, left her with the same cold hopelessness she felt when there was a patient who was beyond her help. It was a pain that even the practiced professionalism which shielded her from so much else in the workplace had never been able to fully shut out. But this was worse. The tears spilled over, and she swiped them away, refocusing her attention on Jack's arm.

She completed the stitches and had just finished wrapping it in gauze when she spotted something.

A white tear in the skin of his left shoulder, about three inches below his collar bone. She stopped short. The last time she had seen that scar, it was still a red and angry wound. She had tended to it herself. It healed better than she had expected it to--Jack hadn't done the best job of limiting his movement in the weeks after his injury, notably prolonging the healing process. A week or two before they parted ways, she had given him a salve to help with the scarring. She never expected him to actually use it, but looking at it now...The corners of her mouth turned up of their own accord. He must have been using it.

She looked at his battered face, and her heart swelled until she thought she could not bear it. She loved him.

A sliver of doubt about her decision wormed its way into her mind, and for the first time since she had left him, she didn't push it away. "I truly do miss you," she whispered.

Why did you leave? The voice was accusatory. "I loved you," she whispered, looking at his face, which somehow seemed much younger in sleep. No, the voice rebuked, not loved.

The truth socked her in the gut.

I love you.

She pressed a hand to her face as guilt broiled up inside of her. "That's why I left," she whispered. It had been a pattern in her life--a lesson she learned early on. The people she loved would leave or betray her, breaking her heart and making implicit trust nearly impossible. It was easier to shut people out before the inevitable hurt they would cause. She still remembered the way her father had slurred the words at her on the night her mother died, his hot breath reeking of scotch in her face. "You can' trust anybody, Cathy girl; the people y' trust always come back ta bite'cha."

He had proved that statement time and time again himself as she grew up. The disappointments and broken promises piled up as she watched him become swallowed up by a business where success depended on being the first to strike and the last one standing. There was no trust, just business. If she had a dollar for every time she'd heard him say that..."It's just business, just business, just business."

So she learned. She kept everyone at arm's length, too far for a double-crossing to cause much pain, all the while vowing that she would never be like her father. Her work relationships were just that--work relationships. There had been times over the years when she found herself speaking to a date in her "doctor" voice, and there were times when her date responded in kind. Just business.

She had armored herself in loneliness and told herself she was happy that way. Pathetic.

Jack had been...different. He was honest, genuine. Perhaps too much so. In an environment where half-truths and cryptic answers were all too common, she had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He took her off guard, kept her guessing, made her laugh. She learned, of course, that part of his honesty was an act--he had skeletons and secrets just like everyone else, but those core virtues remained true of him. Her walls had crumbled. For the first time she could remember, she hadn't felt so alone. She was happy--not merely satisfied or content, but happy.

Then a terrorist tried to blow up the hospital she worked in, and Jack had been shot. It was a minor wound that would cause little-to-no lasting issues, but if that bullet had hit two inches to the right?

Even now, she closed her eyes against the thought.

Now, alone and without the excuse of distraction, she could see that the pain she felt had been as much her own fault as Jack's. She had drawn away, gradually, subconsciously allowing her fear to dictate her next move.

Remorse burned her throat, and she angrily smeared at the tears that were now dropping rapidly. Jack needed her. He had told her once, a few weeks after he had opened up to her about the crash. She asked him about the nightmares, cautiously, afraid he would shut her down with an "it's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me." Instead, he met her gaze, a small smile on his face and an enormous glow in his eyes. "Yeah, uh...They've been a little better."

And she had left him alone because she was scared. Scared she would lose him, scared he would leave, scared of the vulnerability they were opening themselves up to. Her lip curled down in scorn. Selfless Doctor Cathy.

On auto-pilot, she stood, checking the monitor and disconnecting Jack and Greer from the transfusion equipment. You messed up. Fix it. Her mind raced for an answer, and she desperately tried to quiet it as she checked on her patients.

Greer's color was a bit more human, but Jack's skin was now pale, cast yellow by the dim glow of the lamp. She pressed her thumb and index finger to her eyes, trying to rub away the dull ache developing behind them. "Electrolytes," she muttered. They'll need electrolytes. Gatorade?

She thought she had seen a vending machine at the end of the hall. Neither showed signs of waking any time soon, so she snatched the key from the nightstand, her wallet from her purse, and stepped into the hall, locking the door behind her.

Sure enough, there was an ancient vending machine rumbling against the far wall. As she neared, she saw that the face of the machine was dented and cracked, as though the people who had come before her had held boxing matches with the poor thing rather than getting drinks.

Scanning the options, she was relieved to see Gatorade. She fed in two dollars and smacked the appropriate button, waiting as it hissed a sputtered before releasing the bottle with a clunk loud enough to make her jump. Struggling with crumpled bills, she repeated the process. This time she braced herself for the clunk.

She checked the expiration date on the bottles, just to be sure. Grabbing her change, she turned to go--

And hesitated.

The hall suddenly seemed like far too short of a walk. The questions she had momentarily pushed aside descended upon her once more like smog.

Breathing deeply, she lifted her chin and walked.

Her feet moved slowly even as her mind raced, and by the time she reached the door, she had reached a decision.

________________________________

A/N: I hope this brought some enjoyment to everyone’s quarantined lives. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! Chapter three should be up soon--it’s all written, I just have to find the time to post. :)

If you missed any preceeding chapters, I’ll link them here. Questions/comments/crit always very welcome. Also, ask box is open for requests/prompts anytime!  

Be well, yall. Take your vitamins, drink your water, and hang in there. The sun will shine on us again. ;) <3

P.S. I have a couple fanarts for this fandom. I was considering posting them here, but they’re not fanfiction, so...thoughts?

Prologue:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/611939538664882176/pairing-jack-ryan-x-cathy-muller-genre-hc

Chapter One:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/612751574766321664/i-his-isthmus-chapter-one

Request Guidelines:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/190676569367/taking-requests-yayyy