#WHATEVER its submitted its done I wash my hands if it’s blood and I’m happy to have actual free time for the first time all week

[badolmen]

Final proposal has been submitted

[essaysfromthedeep]

Wash, rinse, repeat.

A little bit about being Southern, gay, and estranged.

CW: Suicide mention

Where I am now is exactly why I didn’t want to come out in the first place. I was terrified as a teenager that I would have to leave my family behind to be happy. It turned out to be true.

I figured out when I was 17 that I was attracted to girls. I had a boyfriend. It wasn’t going well. It wasn’t his fault, of course. I tried and tried to be okay with dating him, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt three months in that I didn’t feel the same way about him. I just didn’t know why for another few months. Or I didn’t want to admit why. I’m not sure the distinction matters at this point.

I remember which class I was sitting in the first time I wrote down “I think I like girls.” It was almost lunch time, I had no friends in there and no one was paying any attention to me. I put it in a journal I later burned. It was terrifying and imprinted itself on my memory. It was also a truth I couldn’t outrun any more.

I wasn’t expecting that coming out would be so similar to the stages of grief. I remember being so angry. I tried to kill myself. An expression of anger, fear, and disappointment.

I tried to kill myself on Valentine’s day because my boyfriend so desperately wanted to spend time with me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I knew exactly where I’d rather be and why. I couldn’t take it any more.

I took, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of pills, and drank, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of alcohol. And laid down to go to sleep. I started feeling very ill and couldn’t fall asleep. I remember praying. “Okay God, if I survive this, it means you want me to be gay. And if I don’t well, I guess I’ll find out if you’re going to send me to hell for it.”

I threw up all night. The next day I felt like death warmed over, but I was alive. Now came the hard part, figuring out how to be gay. It took me 6 more years to come out in any kind of public way. I told my closest friends in high school, but that didn’t go so well. I came out as bisexual. Which, I am not. But I couldn’t be a full on lesbian yet.I wasn’t ready to give up.

I was still desperately hoping some boy would come along and fix me. Someone, anyone! That they would love me enough somehow and, even though I would never feel the same way about them, that it would be enough. It didn’t work out.

My first few years of being out to myself were full of this kind of bargaining. “I’ll just be alone forever and that will be fine. I don’t need a relationship.” I had resolved to stay in the small, rural town I had grown up in and just be the person my family wanted me to be. But the idea of being forced to be alone became unbearable. I had finally let go of some of my self hatred and honestly I wanted so badly to hit on women. Being a lesbian sounded amazing, if I could just figure out how to do it!

In college it still took awhile for me to come out, again.

I was technically bisexual at that point, so the assumption was this was a phase. I was so tired of the implication that I’d just eventually like a dude! I knew I wouldn’t. I kept pretending. Latching on to dudes left and right because I assumed (rightly) that there was more to lose when I let everyone know there would be no more men for me.

I tried to date exactly one guy in college. Attempting to be the person he wanted me to be was like cutting off parts of myself. I kept trying to make myself into something that I wasn’t to make men happy, when I was already pretty sure that I wasn’t at all interested in men or making them happy. I ‘broke up’ with him after four days.

I wish I could say that was the end of my misadventures with men, but it wasn’t. It was the last time I tried to date one. Everything else was just drunken mistakes in an attempt to try to make myself into a straight girl.

I finally gave it all up when I was 23. I had been fighting and fighting and fighting for years. I slept with one woman and it’s honestly laughable to me at this point that I ever thought I was straight.

That’s the only reason I decided to come out to my family at all.

After stumbling upon the (finally sober) realization, that I was decidedly uninterested in men, I realized that I would need to tell my family.

I didn’t want to, but I’m a terrible liar. And honestly, I was so tired of being afraid of them. To be clear though, when I came out I was still terrified of them. My timing could have probably been better, but that’s not how life is.

I decided to come out the weekend I graduated from college. I was sure, certain, in fact, that it would be alright. We would be riding the high from my accomplishment (2 degrees!) and they would love me regardless. I would tell them and then we would have a nice Christmas.

I have not been to a Christmas with my family since then.

I graduated right about the same time as all that Duck Dynasty nonsense where that guy said really homophobic stuff in GQ back in 2013. Well, my sister spent the entire weekend talking about it. Agreeing with him. Being angry because the show got dropped. “Gay people need to learn their place.” I could still direct you to the booth we were sitting at in Steak’n’Shake when she said that. There are some things that just stick with you. All gay people were going to hell anyway, why should it matter that he said it! And how dare A&E cancel them!

I left after that. Saying I was tired and didn’t want to go back to the mall. I had some friends to hang out with. Whatever excuses I could come up with. Really I went to my apartment and talked with my girlfriend for hours and hours about what I should do. I didn’t feel safe going home with them at that point. My family isn’t known for solving these kind of disagreements peacefully. And my family disagreed with my existence. What’s a girl to do? I ran away with my girlfriend for Christmas.

And this is where the Southern part of my story starts rearing its ugly head. My girlfriends parents were not sure about hosting me. I should be at home with my family. I didn’t know how to tell them, I didn’t feel safe with my family.

There’s this stigma about not being in touch with your family. Like it’s some kind of easy choice to cut them off. I already knew what my family thought of me, why am I required to open myself up to further abuse? Why am I required to submit myself to them for in-person derangement.

After the fact, when we were discussing it my mother said to me “Were you scared I was going to shoot you?” And yes. I was. That’s the thing. I know how my mother reacts. I react in similar fashions sometimes. A blind rage. You can’t see anything but your anger. I felt I was taking my life in my hands if I went home and came out. And who would know if they killed me and buried me in the back yard? Who would care? There are lots of pig farms in Arkansas. There are lots of places to hide a body.

Perhaps this is horrifying for me to say, but it was a natural conclusion for me. There are many people where I’m from who would have understood why my family did it. A jury of their peers wouldn’t convict them.

After that we tried for a few years, but the problem is I wanted it all.

I can read my parents like a book. They were so uncomfortable in my presence.

Growing up my father only referred to gay men as faggots. I had only ever heard gay used as a slur until I was in high school at least. It definitely wasn’t truly de-stigmatized for me until I was in college.

And about three years after I came out to my parents, I was tired of being tolerated. I didn’t want them to think I was disgusting. I wanted them to be able to look at me. I wanted them to be able to say the word gay and it not be a slur. And so I confronted them about it.

And my mom told me that she can only accept my relationships that are ‘biblical.’ She will never accept my marriage. And so I decided that I wasn’t going to live my life in pieces, and I told her to contact me when she could accept me for everything that I am, and that includes being a lesbian.

And now I don’t know what to do.

My family always made it very clear that if you didn’t talk to them in life, you shouldn’t show up at their funerals. I don’t know whether to grieve now, later, or both. I assume both makes the most sense.

This is excruciating, but it’s still better than sitting across the table from my mother and seeing the disgust in her eyes. The fear. Knowing that she thinks there’s something wrong with me.

My mother’s love is conditional. She loves in the hope that it will make me change. That I will repent and be born again, again. That it can save me. That she can make me straight.

After being the ‘sinner’ that’s been ‘loved’ for so many years, I have to say it feels less like love and more like coercion.

I feel like I’ve chosen the lesser of two evils. Trying to maintain contact with my family is destabilizing. So I’ll live with the guilt and the shame of not talking to the people who conceived me. I’m not sure what I continue to owe them though.

My mother left me a voicemail last week. She claims she doesn’t know what she’s done to “upset me.” She thinks I’m just punishing her because I’m mad. I’m not mad. I’m painfully aware of how little there is left of me for her to love. I won’t change. Why do I have to expose myself to her obvious disdain? What obligations do I owe her?

She brought me into this world, but the truth is she doesn’t want me. She wants whatever version she keeps of me in her head.

It’s much harder to love people as they are. And what I am now is so far removed from what she wants, I just don’t see why I have to keep trying. She isn’t going to meet me halfway, and I have to give up everything I am.

There’s no voice I can turn my mother to that teachers her to love me. The people my mother respects hate me. They teach I’m the reason why Jesus will soon return and wipe people like me from the face of the Earth and put us in hell where we belong.

I’ve heard “Blood is thicker than water” so often that I can’t help but feel like the asshole in this situation. Oh, what I’m doing to my poor mother! Have we considered what she’s done to me?

I’ve always been aware of how tenuous my relationship with my parents was. I knew there were parts of me they could never love. I’ve been keeping secrets since I was a child, hoping that I could be good enough one day that they’d like every piece of me. I’d settle for like, I think.

I grieve for my childhood. I wonder, often, what it’s like for kids who’s parents love them unconditionally. It’s difficult knowing that is something I will never experience.

I can’t blame my mother for it. I don’t think it was something she was ever capable of. It’s about as useful as being mad at the rain. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

I always want these kinds of things to have a lesson. I would like to wrap it up nice and tidy, but this is all messy ends and unfinished work.

The anger has run out of me and all that was left to do was this. Hollow myself out so the pain and sadness can’t grow and fester until they try to kill me again. You face them, you name them, you find a way to get up the next morning. You do things that make you happy. You wait for them to make you happy again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter eight: breakfast with a side of sadism

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sunshine that flowed into the room. You moaned and groaned as your body stretched in the bed, first your arms then your torso and legs, making you poke out your butt and rub against the man that was stirring next to you.

"Watch where you're putting that thing baby girl,” Kiri's sleepy and raspy voice spoke as his arm around you squeezed and he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

You giggled and held his arm, tired eyes looking around the room to see the ceiling fan running, meaning the power must've come back on. Since there was more light in the room now, you could see how Kiri decorated. It looked to be a simple man's room, a few posters here and there. Some dumbbells in the corner of the room and he had a gaming console by his TV. You smiled and turned over to face Kiri who was trying to wake up, he smiled as he saw your face and kissed your cheek.

"I think the power needs to go out more often, that was the best sleep I've gotten in a long time!"

You grinned and propped up on your shoulder, gazing down at your friend and he cuddled up into your chest and smiled. You played with his red locks and complemented how you loved when they were relaxed the way they were now; the two of you laid there a few more minutes and talked. With a sigh you turned to see a clock on his nightstand that read it was now 10AM.

"Okay Red, I think we should get up. I'm gonna go wash our clothes and towels that got soaked. Meet you downstairs?"

Kirishima nodded in agreement, humming when you placed a sweet kiss on his lips. But as soon as you tried to pull away he wouldn't let go of you and kept pecking them, making you giggle and smile.

"Kiri our clothes are gonna ruin and I need to pee!"

He smiled and gave you one last kiss and finally released you, you grinned at him and picked up his and your clothes, skipping out of the room.

You threw the clothes onto the bathroom floor and went to brush your teeth and do your business, ran to your room to put on a bra and ran back to the bathroom. Gathering all the still damp linens you jogged down to the laundry room and threw everything into the washing machine. Taking a breath you looked above you at the next obstacle, the climb for the detergent, but you remembered you had a fucking quirk.

"Duh (Y/N), you're so dumb!"

"So you finally admit it?"

You gasped as Bakugou popped his head around the corner and looked at you with a famous shit-eating grin, you rolled your eyes and flipped him off with one hand, using your quirk with the other to open the cabinet door and make the detergent float down to you.

"When you get done come help me cook!" He growled and walked off.

You stuck your tongue out when he was no longer in sight and continued to put all the clothes on to wash before walking out and into the kitchen.

"I'm only helping because I'm hungry, not because you said please!"

Bakugou grinned and placed some peppers and onions on the counter, handed you a knife and told you to dice them. You did so as he started to crack a few eggs and whisk them.

"So what did you and Kirishima do last night for you to end up in his shirt?" Bakugou asked without looking at you.

Your body stiffened as you realized you were still in Kiri's shirt and how it must've looked. Quickly you started to explain yourself and how the two of you went to a café and got caught in the rain on your way home, also about how the power went out before you could change and leaving Kiri to lend you some clothes.

"So you slept with him?"

"Not like it’s any of your business but yeah.”

Bakugou nodded and went about his task, making a silence grow between you, making your brain start to spiral out of control and overthink about whether the blonde was bothered by what happened or not. Out of sheer nervousness you couldn’t help but want to explain things further.

“N-nothing happened you know. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

Shit - why did you feel like you had to tell him that? Oh yeah dirty conscious maybe cause they’re best fucking friends that both like you.

"I'm sorry," you rebutted.

Bakugou looked at you with confusion, “Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

You shrugged your shoulders, now feeling even more dumb. You knew Bakugou had feelings for you and that he tried to hide them at times but you expected more of a reaction out of him when you admitted to kissing his best friend before him. It kind of hurt for him not to react more dramatically for some reason.

"I just ... never mind I guess. How do you want these onions cut?"

Bakugou told you to just dice them into small chunks and grabbed a pan out of the cabinet. He was alarmed by the sudden change in you, he expected you to be a little happier especially since you spent the night in Kiri's bed. Or just happy in general since that was usually the type of person you were, it was odd to see you quieter than usual, the hero actually grew to enjoy how you’d literally never shut up. He loved hearing you, whether it was dumb jokes, babbling about something he could care less about or shit talking with him.

"Ah - shit!"

Bakugou heard you gasp and hiss, making him immediately turn around. You were flinging your hand in the air and that’s when he saw blood on the cutting board. His heart dropped and he quickly forgot whatever was in his hand and was by your side in no time.

"What the fuck you idiot! Can't you be more careful!" He growled, grabbing your hand and inspecting the small cut on your finger.

Bakugou grumbled about how hopeless you were while he grabbed your hip and easily sat you on the counter by the sink. Next he gathered some paper towels and told you to wrap them around your finger so he could get a first aid kit from one of the drawers. Once he retrieved it, he ordered you to run your finger under some water and wash it. You did as instructed, after that you watched Bakugou as he dried the cut and applied some ointment to the wound and bandaged it.

"I'm sorry Suki," you apologized and squinted your eyes.

The blonde grunted and placed his hands on your thighs as he looked down at your head hanging low. He had to admit, he couldn't handle seeing you hurt even if it was by your own careless mistake, that just pissed him off even more. But he calmed himself because accidents do happen and it was a small one, you were fine.

"What the fuck are you apologizing for? So you cut your finger, its my fault for thinking you could handle such a daunting task apparently!" Bakugou joked and touched your chin to make you look at him.

Your eyes were rimmed red, making him wonder why you were so damn emotional over a cut finger, or -  did he make you cry?

"Don't worry, it’s just the onions, I'm not crying,” you quickly stated, sensing the concern from Bakugou when his face contorted. “And I'm sorry because I just thought ..." you trailed off not wanting to finish your sentence.

The blonde chuckled and looked into your eyes, "You thought I'd get jealous over you kissing my idiot friend?"

You shamefully nodded your head, making him scoff.

"You fucking worry too much. So what you kissed him, I don’t give a shit. Do whatever your pretty little heart desires, we don’t mind.”

"Suki, I don't think I – "

Bakugou’s hand on your thigh squeezed roughly, making you shut up and gasp as he leaned his face closer to yours and your cheek. Lips dragging from your cheek down to your ear. You let out a breathy sigh, causing the hero’s thoughts to blur as he tried to hold himself together and resist. He wanted nothing more than to take you right there on the counter, to stop fucking around and get his own first kiss - but Bakugou did love teasing the fuck out of you; to see you squirm and loving all the little noises you tried to suppress from him. The blonde chuckled, fanning your ear with his warm breath and causing your thighs to clench as you bit your lip.

He growled lowly and nipped your earlobe, "But tonight, you're all mine princess and I expect the same fucking treatment."

Just like the night before when Bakugou had you cornered in the hall, you melted on the spot, submitting, wanting. You tried to respond, even though your brain was slightly malfunctioning, but a cheery voice managed to slice through the haze and sexual tension between you and Bakugou, making you jump and push him away. The snide male only smiled and chuckled at you.

"The hell happened, are you okay mama?"

Kiri was quickly by your side and inspecting your bandaged finger.

"She's fine, the brat just cut herself trying to dice an onion," Katsuki answered.

Kirishima's face went from worried to relieved, you apologized for your carelessness once again and he smiled softly.

"It's fine sweetheart, we're just glad it wasn't a whole finger that got severed!"

Next thing you knew, your body was being lifted from the counter and your feet setting back on the floor, "How about we take over from here and you go pick a movie for all of us to watch while we eat?"

You looked at the red-head and back at his friend. These two were either really that chill about this whole situation going on between the three of you or they were just really fucking good at hiding their jealously. Either way, you were still too mind-fucked by Bakugou to even care, so you went along with it. Before leaving you asked once more if they were sure they didn't need help, the two smirked and nodded.

"Okay then, well I'll be in the living room if you need me!"

The two men continued to cook after you skipped away, Kiri washed the knife and cutting board that had a little of your blood on it while Bakugou cut up another onion. They both looked at you in the living room on the floor,looking through the shelf full of movies, and smiled.

"So, you only kissed her?" Bakugou finally spoke.

Kirishima smiled and nodded, "I know you're thinking I bitched out or something, but I didn't. I think we should just take our time with her you know? Plus its unmanly to rush her and unlike you I’m not in a rush to get my dick wet. I mean if shit happens it happens, but I say for now if we can just fool around and once she finally feels like confessing, we both pounce on her, that'll get our point across clearly."

Bakugou grinned wide. "For once you don't sound so stupid Red!"

"I'll take that as a compliment bro!"

Now Bakugou was more impatient than ever to have you for himself tonight, he was pent up and planned on breaking you down no matter what.

"Guys, I'm starving is the food done yet?"

It had been more than 15 minutes later and the smell of food had you drooling as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your empty belly.

"Yes you gremlin, come make a plate!"

You squealed and eagerly rushed to the stove-top, the duo had made some omelets and they looked delicious. "I love you two so much! Thank you!"

The two smiled at you and both kissed your cheek at the same time, making you blush and giggle, it felt so … normal and natural. You didn't question it, they were cute! So together each of you made a plate and went to the living room where you piled on the couch together. Once again you were the center of a KiriBaku cookie, your back leaning into Kiri's side and your legs draped over Bakugou's lap.

"So what are we watching mama?"

Kiri asked while taking a bite out of his food.

"Scream ! My favorite horror movie!"

Both of the boys shrugged their shoulders, not objecting to it. Halfway into the movie you had offered to take everyone's plates into the kitchen, when you came back you sprawled out on the couch again, this time you laid on your side in the fetal position as your head rested on Kiri's lap and he played with your hair, your legs resting on Bakugou's lap while his arm hung over you thigh. The three of you were comfortable as you laid across them and watched the movie together.

You were now at the climax of the movie, where Sid, Stu and Billy were in the kitchen, the boys telling the girl their plan. You grinned, watching closely and quoting along,

"Sid, don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative!"

Bakugou smacked you on the ass and glared, "Do you ever shut up, all you've done is quote this shitty movie, how many times have you seen it?

You turned to lay on your back and kicked the blondes knees with an offended look, "Too many times to count! And don't call it shitty, it's a classic Baka-gou!"

Katsuki growled at you sticking your tongue at in a teasing manner, soon a devilish grin crossed his lips, making you freeze. His red eyes looked up to his friend behind you.

"Hold her down Eiji!"

Your eyes widened as you looked back and forth between the two, finally resting on the red-head you pouted. "Kiri, don't listen to him, be a man!"

A sheepish smile crossed Kirishima’s face and you panicked, quickly trying bolt and crawl off the couch, but the boys were fast. Kirishima held your arms down and Bakugou pinned your legs between his knees as he started to violently squeeze and tickle your entire body. You screamed with laughter.

"You fucking sadists!"

[withastolenlantern]

They boarded the jet without fanfare, and Davis keyed in his credentials and submitted the flight plan. Chatham settled into one of the plush chairs midway through the cabin and opened a terminal to begin her situation report. Before she knew it the autopilot had spooled up the turbines and they were aloft into the rapidly darkening sky, chasing the sunset as it crawled its way east. She looked out through one of the windows and saw Jamaica, still green and verdant even in the twilight, quickly disappear, just another speck amidst the breakers, swallowed by the massive sea. 

They flew in silence most of the way, Chatham working on her report and Davis just sitting quietly across the cabin. He nursed a small glass of whiskey from the Earl’s bar in the rear, mainly swirling it against the sides of the frosted crystal, staring off into space.

“You’ve been atypically quiet, Mister Santomas,” she said looking up from the terminal.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve never been shot at before. Never killed anybody either. I think that’s catching up with me a little bit,” he said, continuing to stare at the floor.

“Best not to make a habit of either, I’ve found,” Chatham responded. 

“Puts things in perspective a little,” the engineer confessed. “What if it had been me, falling lifeless through that hatch?”

The detective put down the terminal and leaned forward toward him. She’d been through this existential crisis before, many years ago in a bivouac in some coastal Indian city she couldn’t remember. Earlier that day she’d fired her weapon for the first time in anger, shooting a suicide bomber out of mid-air as he leaped over rubble and sprinted toward her squad. Afterward, she stood over the body, silent, staring at the hole in the insurgent’s chest. It was bigger than she had expected, somehow, and when she’d closed her eyes that night it was all she could see; a gaping, oozing portal where a person used to be, and it threatened to pull her in and consume her whole.

“But it wasn’t you,” she said.

“Tell me one thing I’ve done that matters,” he challenged, with a sudden ferocity that startled her.

“I mean, I’m...” she started to argue.

“Its fine,” he said, waving the detective off. “It’s not you. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve heard it all. I’m reliable. I get things done. I’m ‘good at my function’.” He made finger quotes as he listed off descriptors. “But those are the qualities you look for in a washing machine, not a person.”

Chatham tried to interrupt, but he continued. “When I’m gone, it won’t matter. In the course of human history, I don’t even rate a footnote. Fuck, the shareholders won’t even notice, and I’ve done nothing but make them money. No… no they’ll probably be happy because they can replace me with someone cheaper,” he scoffed, turning his eyes to the floor. “I haven’t accomplished anything with my miserable existence that’s worth a damn.”

The detective sat quietly, unsure of what to say. She knew from her own experience that whatever arguments she might present to the contrary would fall on deaf ears. When one fell in to these depths, no rhetorical ropes could pull you out until you’d resolved to make the climb. Her companion continued to fume, obviously if quietly. “You’re probably not… wrong,” she hazarded. “In the grand scheme of things, I don’t know that any of us really matter. Not as individuals, anyway. I mean, I have a Military Cross and I keep it in a fucking sock drawer. When I’m dead, they’ll etch a fancy symbol on my tombstone, and that’ll be the last anyone thinks of me.”

He looked up at her, his gaze deep and penitent. “This is all a fucking show, you know,” he said, gesturing around the laboratory. “It’s a sham, like me. HenRI is more than capable of running everything in here, at least to the Board’s liking. They put a body down here because it ‘humanizes’ the Consortium, makes the investors feel like they’re doing business with a human enterprise, and not just a machine. When Diaz passed away, they thought about letting HenRI run all of Operations. It’s not like we really do any meaningful R&D anymore; there’s no point when they’re shutting down most of the fabs. But the Earl knew better, and he was nervous about giving a virtual intelligence that much control. He wanted someone… pliable. Someone he could trot out to glad-hand and speak the customers’ language, but wouldn’t make waves. I’m no more than HenRI’s secretarial functions in flesh and bone.”

“I don’t believe that, even if you do,” she replied.

“Diaz killed himself, you know.”

“What?” Chatam said, taken aback.

Santomas shook his head in the affirmative, pantomiming a finger gun. “Forty-five to the temple, a no-doubter. He was sitting in his office; he printed the gun himself, in one of the dev lab fabs that were off the network. I found the code on the server a couple days later.”

“Christ,” the detective swore.

“Janitorial drone found him one night, 3 AM, his body slumped over his desk. Only threw up the flag because of all the blood. HenRI notified me, and I had to break the news to Jaime, his partner. The Consortium bought his silence, of course; he took the payout and their kid and moved back to the States. Haven’t heard from him since,” he explained.

“Did he leave a note?” she asked.

“Not as such. It’s… it’s probably my fault, if anything,” Santomas said, starting to choke up. “I know Jaime hated it here in Wales and they were drifting apart at the end. Looking back, I think I was the closest thing Yangervis had left resembling a friend. His parents fled cartel violence in Colombia when he was five, and they landed in Texas. They had trouble making ends meet in the US. His dad was killed robbing a convenience store; his mother sued the state and the settlement was how he was able to afford his initial studies at A&M. He started the autofabs, in my opinion anyway, as a way to relieve some of that economic anxiety for other families so they didn’t have go through what he did. We were so successful at first, but then Black Tuesday happened, and I think he blamed himself for all the layoffs that followed.

Looking back, I keep wondering if there weren’t signs I should have recognized. He used to gripe all the time about expanding capabilities and finding ways to streamline distributions to do more for the growing poor. I just… I never realized how far down that particular rabbit hole he’d gone. We had a memorial here, and then a week later the Earl offered me his job. I should’ve said no, but I’m too much of a coward.” The engineer wiped a single tear from his cheek with his shirt-sleeve.

Chatham leaned forward and patted his leg gently.“You saved my life today,” the detective replied. “That’s what you did that matters. There was no cowardice in that.” 

The rest of the return flight passed uneventfully. Santomas dozed off, snoring gently from across the cabin. She completed her after action report, which would no doubt raise a few eyebrows come morning. The detective considered what ridiculous excuse the home office would come up with to explain away a clearly recurrent trend. Pirates were not typically so organized, or methodical; they were opportunists mainly, and it seemed more than coincidental that multiple Consortium facilities several thousand miles apart could be targeted with some sort of coordination. Curiously the mercenaries in the fab had only been stealing weapons and other physical gear; there was no sign of the mysterious fluid they’d found on the African skiffs, although it didn’t mean they hadn’t already loaded it onto the hovercraft before she’d interrupted them. Larger forces were obviously at work here, but she could not yet determine to what end.

The landing gear engaged the tarmac on the private runway at Cardiff and broke her from musings. Santomas had woken at some point, and was now manipulating some data on a holo display. He smiled lightly over toward her, an unspoken acknowledgement of the previous day’s stressors now past. The jet’s reverse thrusters roared to life, and they taxied slowly into the Consortium’s hangar.

“I’ll be in the lab going over the data we scraped,” the engineer informed her as she stood and collected herself. “Go home and get some sleep. Call me if you come up with anything.”

“I will,” she replied, descending the narrow staircase out of the jet. 

The early morning sky was a light grey with the sun just barely peaking above the Bristol Channel to the east. She stumbled across the terminal groggily and used her HRMES credentials to bypass the normal immigration lines. A drone taxi was waiting for her just outside the baggage carousel, and she flopped into the rear seat with a weariness she could feel deep into her bones. The car rumbled to life and in a span of time she could not, nor wanted to recall, she was home.

The lights came on automatically as she entered her flat, Gibson had turned on the kettle reflexively as she’d entered. Sleep was all she really wanted, but the heat from the kettle was inviting and she poured the warm water into a mug with practiced ease.  

“Good evening, guv. We’ve had an encrypted communique,” the flat informed her. “Highly unusual.” 

“Oh?” she asked, steeping a tea bag into the mug.

“Yes. I was unable to decode the packet or identify the sender’s IP address. It appears to require a vocal code confirmation.” The flat projected open a holo screen and opened the message. The only contents were a line of text, commanding “Fancy a drink?” 

Chatham cracked a knowing smile. “Earl grey, with honey,” she spoke aloud to the holo. The screen transitioned to a sonographic representation of her voice, and then overlaid it against a similar image. As they slid together, she could see the graphs align, and the encrypted video message opened.

“Hello, dear,” the Lady Swansea beamed from the holo.

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Love More

Link to song: Love More by Sharon Von Etten

Synopsis: Feyre is stuck.

TW: Dark thoughts, mentions of abuse.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 13: Love More

Locked me in.

He locked me in.

I could still hear his footsteps in the hallway meandering towards the elevator.

“Tamlin!” I yelled, voice cracking beneath the weight of the immensity of what he'd done. Outside, beyond the door which I was pressed upon, the chime of the elevator sounded. More footsteps, another chime.

Then silence.

Trapped.

I was—

The breath escaped my lungs as I stared back at the four corners of the office. Just like in that car, where I'd been stuck for hours amidst the blood, shattered glass and concrete—

A scream tore from me. My hands, peppered with cuts from the night before, reached for the closet door handle. No matter which way or the other I turned it, it remained stubbornly shut, unwilling to submit to my insane efforts. That doesn't mean I stopped trying.

Fingernails, frail and brittle, cracked beneath the metal. Blood was trickling down my hands from the torn cuts, just like the ones on my thighs—

He did this to me. He did this to me.

I stood up, unwilling to admit defeat, unwilling to believe that my fate had been sealed in an executive floor's janitorial closet. With all the force and adrenaline in me, I slammed myself against the wooden door. After a few fruitless tries, I gave up and finally looked to my chair, picked it up, struggling for a few moments with its awkward weight, then threw it against the door.

It didn't budge. Not a single bit.

No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, I was trapped.

His pet. His supposed obedient wife, forced to keep quiet. Stay in line.

I'd done everything for him. My hands had bled more times than I could count in the name of our love. But here I still was, fighting tooth and nail for everything I was.

Which wasn't much, because he'd diminished me to nothing.

He made sure that I was nothing without him.

I shook with the burden of the realization. Like an earth quake, my fault lines trembled, and everything came crashing down.

I screamed.

I let go of everything I'd kept trapped for the last 2 years. I released myself, so wholly and completely until my voice was hoarse and my fingers were numb from clawing, banging at the door, trying to break free, hoping to any god listening to me that a miracle would occur. When I couldn't bare it anymore, I slumped against the wall, slid down until I met the cold tile floor. Something material like blocked my way, though, and through the mess and blur of tears, I looked over and saw—

My purse.

Like a starved wild animal, I lunged for it, rifling around it until my fingers wrapped around my cellphone.

My eyes closed. I sobbed for a few seconds, clutching it to my chest.

Further within one of the side pockets, a piece of paper, crumpled from being crammed against lip balm and tissues, held my only reprieve.

I punched the number as quickly as I could.

On the third ring, a gentle, familiar voice answered full of concern, “Feyre?”

“Alis,” I choked, bracing myself against the cement wall, “help. Oh God, please, please—”

“Where are you?” Her voice had no room for sympathy or pain. Only cold, calculating calm. I could hear her high heels clicking

“The executive floor. He's gone. He locked—” I choked on a sob, fresh tears streaming down my face I wiped away immediately. “He locked me in my office.”

“I’m coming right up.” Her voice was filled with urgency. Relief swept over me once I realized it wouldn’t be much longer until I was free. Until I could finally walk away from here for good.

“Stay on the phone, Feyre. Breathe. Big deep breaths.”

A breath rattled through me, shaking, but still enough to wash me with some sense of calm amidst the turbulent chaos. “Good. That’s good. Another one. Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” I let out with my exhale.

“Where? What did he do?”

“Um, my,” I hiccuped and wiped at the mucus collecting on my nose, “my head and he dragged me so my arms too—”

In the hallways, I could hear the chiming of the elevator. I sobbed with relief, and not caring that there was blood all over my hands—probably all over my face—not caring that nausea swept through me or that the room felt like it was spinning. I just needed to get out of here. I just needed to get away from him.

The line went dead. Distantly from the hallway I heard, “Feyre? Where are you?”

“I’m here,” I croaked, voice weak from sobbing, “I’m here!”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway until they were just outside the door. I kneeled before it, still unable to stand, hands clutching the bloody doorknob.

“Let me out,” I pleaded, “let me out.”

“Fuck,” I heard from outside. “No!”

“What is it?” The door made her voice distant, muffled.

Frantically, desperately she cried, “It isn’t a slide?”

“What?”

“I need a key. I don’t—” A sharp intake of breath. This time, when she spoke, I could hear her desperation creeping through. “I don’t have a fucking key!”

“No,” I moaned, sobs contorting my body once more “no, no, no you have to let me out—”

“I’m gonna call the police,” she swore and I heard her dialling from beyond. My eyes widened with panic and I could feel my stomach bottoming out.

“No. You can’t. Alis, I need to leave him. He can’t find me. If the police is involved, he’ll get out of it and he’ll find it—”

“Feyre, you’re not making sense.”

“Alis, if you care about me, you won’t call the police, because I will end up right back here. Please.”

Silence. The walls were closing in. I needed to think, I needed to—

“Rhys,” I choked out, “Call Rhys.” There was nobody else I trusted, nobody else I knew that would help me—truly help me—right now.

“What’s his number?”

I read it out to her, and Alis began frantically speaking into the phone, but at that point I couldn’t even listen anymore. There was nothing else to focus on but the tight quarters around me pressing down, the fact that the love of my life, the person I trusted more than anything could do this to me—

Outside the door I heard footsteps fading away. Panic seized me, and I cried out, “Don’t leave me!”

Alis came back and said assuringly, “It’s okay, Feyre I’ll be right back. I need to buzz them in from downstairs.”

“No, please, please don’t—” I begged, but she left.

Left, like everyone else in my life had.

Not knowing how or why, I backed myself into the far corner of the room and hunched my legs up to my chest, then covered my head with my arms. Everything hurt. I was a pulsing, throbbing organism of pain, my mind reeling with the madness threatening to consume me whole.

“Let me out,” I whispered under my breath, the only anchoring lifeline I could hold onto. “Let me out. Let me out. Let met out…”

All the while, flashes of images circulated through my head.

First meeting Tamlin out on the greens of the university. He’d run into me full force, and we nearly got into a screaming match—my friend had to haul me away from him. Little did I know he was the guest lecturer for my intro to business class, and I was sitting in the front row.

The charm in his smile when he asked for my number. That despite our first impressions, he told me he had to stop himself from staring at me the entire lecture.

All the dates, the flowers, the nights we spent together wrapped up in an embrace, wrapped up within each other. He gave me everything.

And he didn’t care that I lived on the south side. He didn’t care that it was nearly a half hour commute to each other’s places, and whenever we were at mine we never stayed for too long. He didn’t care that my bedroom could barely fit more than a single bed, or that my sisters and father were either never home or in a bitter mood.

Then the accident happened. And everything changed.

He asked me to move in with him. I said yes, because I didn’t know what else to say—I was in shock. I was devastated. A part of me died that night, stuck beneath the overturned car. But whatever else was left of me, I gave to him. I loved him. Wholly and completely.

Eventually, he also swayed me to drop out of school. I wasn’t doing well—I was on academic probation—and an art major, business minor degree wouldn’t do me much anyways, so what was the point? I could work. I could live with him, and I didn’t need to worry about money. Not like I used to. So I got the job at Hum’s. And for a while I was so happy. Until I wasn’t.

Until the dull threat of life spent in ease, comfort, without purpose loomed before me and I began to lose myself. Until I began to feel stifled within my own home, my own skin.

Until I found the box of pills. Until I fired those four rounds and bodies dropped to the floor.

Until Tamlin first put his hands on me, and siphoned the rest of my being through the very touch I thought had healed me.

And now, hunched over in the office, I mourned my life, because I knew there was nothing left after this. Nowhere else to go. I was done. Finished.

Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.

A loud crash sounded from the corridor. I didn’t even look up. I just curled further in on myself, whispering, wishing it could just be over with here and now.

Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.

Light flooded through the space, but I didn’t look up. There were voices shouting at me—I knew those voices. I knew these people. They couldn’t touch me, though—I was dirty. Blood stained my hands, my clothes, everything.

I nearly protested as warm, calloused hands took mine and peeled them away from where they clutched the back of my head. Slowly, a face came into view, and Cassian’s shattered gaze met mine.

“Come on, Fey,” he coaxed gently, “I’ve got you.”

Carefully, awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around him, and he manoeuvred me so that his elbow sat in the bend of my knees, his other at the small of my back. Then I was being lifted, up, up—

At the familiar scent, familiar embrace, I burrowed into Cassian’s chest, stifling my sobs into the crook of his shoulder.

“Her purse,” Alis’s voice said. Cassian’s arm shifted to take it in his hand, “and her coat. Where are you taking—”

“Somewhere safe. She’ll be alright, I promise.” Cassian’s voice was cold and deep as he spoke to the woman.

“Okay.” Alis sighed. I felt her hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t have the strength to look up from where my face was hidden. “Take care of yourself, Feyre.”

We began to move, and more light met me—I was out. Finally out.

“Hit P2, it will take you right down to the lot. I locked the elevator doors temporarily so no one can get on.”

“Thank you,” Cassian rumbled.

The whoosh of the elevator door was the only warning I had before we descended. I was shaking, and I was so, so cold—

Cassian held me tighter against him. He murmured softly, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Feyre.”

The doors opened some time later, and the damp, cement smell let me know we'd taken the elevator straight to the parking garage. A car door opened, echoing across the wide space, and Cassian quickly manoeuvred me into the SUV's back seat. I finally opened my eyes, only to see another familiar face before me.

I wept at the sight of Rhysand, and his gaze was one of pure and utter anguish. Anguish, and the threat of a thousand burning fires glowing in his eyes, most likely for the man who put me in this position in the first place.

Rhys looked past me and said to Cassian, still braced against the side door of the SUV, “Azriel’s behind us. I need you to go with him and surveil their apartment.”

“Got it,” Cassian nodded, and before leaving, stretched his fingers out to gently squeeze my shoulder. Without another word, the door shut, and the driver hit the gas. When I saw a flash of blonde hair, I knew it was Mor who floored the pedal, tires screeching beneath us as we exited the parking garage.

I looked out the back window, watching as Spring Corporations building grew further and further away.

I left. I actually…I actually left.

Without anything but the clothes on my back, the purse Cassian had slumped at my feet, and a few hundred dollars to my name.

He was right. I was nothing. Without him, I was nothing.

My attention turned back to Rhys, who was still watching me intently. I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, but it came out in a sob.

“You’re free,” Rhys said, hands reaching up to cup my cheeks. The sincerity, the gentle determination in his eyes made me believe him. “You got out. You’re free.”

I collapsed into him, and Rhys held me against his chest as I wept with relief.

[lonelylavenderluke]

Curious thoughts// Chapter three

American Horror Story: Apocalypse

Micheal Langdon x (Cordelia’s daughter) Reader

Rating: mentions of blood, emotional pain, (I think it’s angsty I’ll let you guys decide)

Tag// @frozenhuntress67

+++===+++===+++===+++===+++===+++

I could hear Stevie singing as I walked towards Michael, the feeling of pure joy fresh at the arrival of our sister witches. Yet when I looked at Michaels face he didn’t look happy, he wore a distasteful facade. Reaching out I cupped his check rubbing my thumb against it in gentle soothing strokes, his attention turned to me and any sign that he’d been irritated washed away. “Thank you...” I murmured leaning to press a chase kiss on the corner of his lips, “I did what your mother asked for that’s all” he admitted stating the facts as if I hadn’t been there myself. Shaking my head I glanced down to see Misty dancing freely like she once did when preparing for the seven wonders all those years ago, “you’ve brought my family back, that makes it more than just a simple task” I argued with a stern look. He seemed to submit to this nodding in agreement with me, “are you happy?” He asked innocently tilting his head as he waited for my reply.

“Now that I’m back by my best friends side? Of course I am Michael” I smiled sympathetically.

We stayed like that for a few moments longer before he broke the silence between us.

“Follow me..” he whispered into my ear, tenderly taking hold of my wrists before leading the way away from the gathering of witches and warlocks, to the silent isolation of his room. We didn’t care what anyone outside of the doors wanted or felt, tonight was our night, my chance to show him just what loyalty was. It was our night to remember and no one could take it away from us.

Everyone who went into that office came out with the same expression. Fear, uneasiness.

I would linger round the corridors watching as the others went into the room. As curious as I was to what they spoke about, I distanced myself from everyone over the course of the time since Langdon had arrived, to say I was avoiding him was an understatement.The moment I felt him nearing where I was an uneasy feeling filtered into my body forcing me to leave which ever room I was in for the safety of my own bedroom. My nightmare the first night in which he was here, terrified me. I could barely remember as to why but something about him being here scared me yet gave me hope.

There was a knock at my door as I sat there on my bed reading about different types of plants used in medicines. Looking up I called out “come in”, slowly it opened to reveal Ms Mead standing there, “Mr Langdon would like to see you for your interview” she stated with a pointed look, quickly shutting my book I got up to follow her. The atmosphere became darker but relieving as we got closer to his office, “knock before you enter” was all I was told before being left outside the door.

Hesitantly I wrapped my knuckles against the wood, waiting patiently for a reply.

“Enter” the words I heard before slowly sliding the door open, quietly entering before closing the door behind me as I did so.

He wasn’t facing me, instead busying himself with writing about something instead. “Have a seat... I should apologise for it being so late, but from the more recent interviews I’ve conducted I insisted to Ms Venable for yours to happen today....” he explained stopping upon looking up at me a look of shock etched into his expression. “Is everything okay sir?” I questioned timidly slightly startled by his reaction upon seeing me. “No...” he murmured leaning back in his chair his eyes never leaving me. Glancing round I check for an sign of harm before sitting down in the chair across from where he sat. “Who are you?” He questioned without any warning, staring him dead in the eyes I answered him, “My name is Adelaide Lestrange, I’m 22 years old, my birthday is on Hallows Eve, I grew up in California”. In response to my words he stood up circling me as if hunting me like a carnivore would hunt its prey. “If you lie I will know it, call it a gift or curse but I will know the moment it leaves your mouth do you understand Miss...” he tried to intimidate me and yet he couldn’t even force himself to say my name. “And if you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over, and you will die here painfully.Are we clear? Good now what is your sexual orientation?” He questioned as he came to stand in front of me “I’m pansexual... I’ve never been in a relationship though”.

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

“No. What does that even have to do with this interview? Why is that where the sanctuary is?” I argued back staring him down as if I held power within the conversation. “No, your accent there is a slight Louisianan accent to it” he replied sincerely throwing me off any thoughts I’d been up until know.

“Tell me about your nightmares”

The insides of me felt like they’d dropped from a mile up, shakily I demanded “how do you know about that?”. Only four people within the outpost knew about them, “I heard you screaming before you woke up earlier today, it was quite distressing in all honestly” he answered hesitantly before looking away into the fireplace. Flashes of what I’d dreamt consumed my conscious mind.

I was crying in pain.

My body felt numb as I saw blood everywhere it was like I wasn’t even in control of my own body.

“Mama!” I was calling out in desperation. “Mama please! Please! Don’t let them die!”

“I’m in pain, I mean I normally experience pain when I wake up from them but in this one I was in actual pain, I didn’t feel like I had control over my body” I began to tell him, carefully planning what words to say without risking anything slipping.

“Mama!” I cried as my mother cradled me the best she could whilst the others rushed round to try and stop the bleeding. “She needs to go to the hospital” Zoe argued from her place by my other side, “no dear, doctors and nurses won’t be any help” spoke from where she stood holding towels. “Please! Don’t let them die!” I wailed throwing my head back in agonising pain.

“There was so much blood, from where I don’t know but I was begging for it to stop, begging for someone to have not died” I paused looking back at Langdon unable to hear any interruptions from him.

His expression was hidden but the aura that he gave off seemed pained as if I’m wounding him by telling him of my dream.

“Go on” finally encouraging me to continue.

“I don’t... I don’t remember much after that apart from... from the feeling of emptiness and abandonment, I was calling out for someone, calling for them by name and I felt desperate for an answer but I don’t think I ever got one” I concluded sullenly as an ache began to form in my chest that was growing more and more as I waited for a response. He stood up, a pained look showing in his eyes without a single emotion showing in his expression. “What was the name?” He requested solemnly folding his arms behind his back. Hesitation flowing through my movements as I have him the satisfaction of an answer, “Michael”.

“Michael...Michael please someone.... I need Michael to.... Michael god Damnit!” I cried out praying he’d be able to feel my pain through whatever bond pairs us together. “It’s his please please he has to know...” I whimpered.

“I... was...I was calling ... for a person.... called... Michael” I recited in a broken-hearted voice, my insides felt like they were on fire.

Nodding slowly, he turned to face me with his arms still behind his back.

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean...”

“Who .. are... you? A very simple question with a very simple answer” he throatily demanded as if desperate for me to answer.

“I already told you” I responded looking him dead in the eyes.

“No you didn’t... out of everything that you’ve said to me... why don’t you remember!” He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air in frustration, the candles within the room went out instantly, yet it felt like a normal act to me. “Sir I am telling you everything as truthfully as physically possible, my name is Adelaide Lestrange, I was born and raised in Los Angeles, California and my birthday is on Hallows Eve” I answered stubbornly watching his frustration. He moved forward falling onto his knees in front of me as he took hold of my hands.

“Whatever they’re doing to you.. it’s over... you don’t have to lie anymore to anybody especially me, I heard you Elisha I heard you please I’m on my knees begging....you have to remember” he pleaded his eyes staring into mine, I felt confliction brewing up inside me. He seemed so familiar and the words he spoke felt like a lullaby that I would hear all the time but nothing about him seemed to remind me of anything.

He was a stranger to me.

And yet I knew exactly who he was.

“I’m sorry... I don’t know what your talking about” is all I could say, pulling my hands from his I force myself to stand, looking down at him as he still kneels there staring up at me with pleading eyes. “What have they done to you... it’s you... I can sense it’s you but... it’s like they’ve locked you away and given you to someone” He murmured in a whimpering manner as if finding out one of the most painful things in the world.

“I’m sorry Mr Langdon but you’ve got the wrong person” I stated moving to leave. “Don’t you dare!” He growled energetically leaping to try and grab at me the fireplace seemed to explode with flames mimicking his rage.

“Stop it! Enough!” I shouted throwing my hand out in defence.

He froze, like everything else in the room froze.

Turning away I ran out of the office, crashing into grays as they walked by doing their jobs. I could hear, Gallant and Andre calling after me as they saw me running for my room. The door slammed shut locking it self as I hid in the furthest corner of the room, before anything could cross my mind I began doing something I thought I’d never do I started praying to anyone who would listen to me.

[absolute-barbarism]

Willpower (Captive Prince)

(Also on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123658 

Try as he might, Laurent cannot stay awake forever. Through his hazy recovery, Damen catches a rare glimpse of him sleeping by his side; it's not as sweet as he thought it would be.)

Are the cicadas always this loud?

As far back as he could remember, that was the first conscious thought Damen had in waking up. They weren't bothersome, but within sealed bedchambers, the once lulling rhythm was unusually noisy enough to rouse him from what felt like days of slumber. From what were days of slumber. A timeline was impossible to form; slave baths, Kastor's corpse, kissing Laurent, Laurent guiding the physicians, Laurent conversing with Nikandros, firm, unwavering, pale...

With a great deal of pain, Damen shifted to his side.

...Has he been here this entire time?

No matter how fuzzy the mental timeline, Damen couldn't recall a moment without Laurent in the forefront. Nor a moment where he sported anything but a ripped, dirtied chiton, which had become less alluring by the second and more saddening in its stead. He faced the Regent's trial in this garment, faced Kastor's practiced blade in the minutes after it was over and done. Had he had a moment, all this time, to even acknowledge his success? I fight to win, Laurent had once said, but Damen continuously wondered if he fought not to lose. He lay next to him, exhausted, and Damen knew he slept only because he couldn't keep his eyes open by the immeasurable willpower his driven mind exerted.

Perhaps he held no concern or pride for his victory now, but once his wound was to heal, Damen could vividly see himself hoisting Laurent up in his arms and squeezing him tight, smothering him if he had to in all the pride he felt for him. There was a chance he would be less likely to kick him if he was recently injured, so he could probably hug him all he wanted. Pleased by the thought, Damen let his eyes flutter closed, imagining what it would be like to see him in a chlamys instead of this bloodstained chiton.

Softly, Laurent made a sound, and Damen's eyes snapped back open.

As with all of Laurent's vulnerable side, it was easy to mistake it for a figment of his imagination. The sound was slight, a quiet hum from within his chest, but Damen's gaze rested on him long after whether real or not. Above his slumped figure, he caught that the window had been opened long ago, certainly not a decision made by any physician. Laurent would have opened it himself in an attempt to air the room from the stench of blood and medicines after they'd finally been left alone. That being said, it didn't look to serve as much of a relief.

Never before had Damen seen someone sleep so heavily and tense at the same time. Every joint appeared locked like rusted gears, desiring to move if only they could. Where his lashes would normally grace the tips of his cheekbones, his eyes shut tight instead, brows furrowing now and then before the expression would fade and reappear moments later. Even in his sleep, he was distressed. Damen would have thought it silly if he didn't have good reason for it this time. From the little habits he took joy in knowing of, Laurent didn't care to submit to his body's needs often. Underneath his closed eyes, he was probably fighting to wake himself back up and order more people around.

Through the little twitches of his fingers upon the sheets, Damen wondered if he'd been like this all night, or if he'd even fallen asleep that long ago, when another sound halted him. Not a sound but words, unrecognizable to him at first through both sleep and accent. The word, to his surprise, was not Veretian. It was Akielon.

Over the shift of his thumb turning fabric in towards his palm, Laurent had murmured, achingly, "Please."

Damen froze up where he lay.

A word like that from Laurent only came soaked in sarcasm. To hear it any other way was not as enjoyable as Damen would have fantasized. It wasn't really enjoyable at all. In the Kingsmeet, in the great hall, in the slave baths, no one had gotten under Laurent's skin but him, and that wasn't a feeling he enjoyed either. Not like this.

Whatever dream plagued him, he was pleading to nobody but Damen, trying to watch over him still. Alone, still. He held faint traces of the face he'd made when he first saw all the blood, desperate for a solution to a problem he hadn't had any time to react to, desperate to get everything back under control. His twitching hand and shuddering shoulders brought that to light, and Damen could feel his heart sinking among the ridiculousness of it all. Laurent's cheek was pressed hard enough into the pillow to leave an embroidery imprint whenever he shifted enough. Unable to watch any longer, Damen reached out.

Again, it was a great deal of pain. The first thing he caught was a strand of flaxen hair, tangled between his fingers and discolored with swipes of blood. Laurent made another sound, something of displeasure, and Damen's hand slid into his instead. The soft skin there was equally caked in blood, leading him to wonder if at any point he even bothered to wash his hands. Or if he had, and they'd simply gotten bloody again. The sheets themselves were not white either, as there weren't many opportunities to hoist Damen off of them, injured or not, and replace them over and over. It wasn't as though Laurent had an aversion to being dirty, but it felt wrong either way.

With his hand in Damen's, he seemed to relax only the slightest bit, one muscle at a time. Yet he fought even that, his eyes shutting tighter as if to deny himself the notion of things being all right. Damen squeezed his hand, but he only withdrew further. Thinking hard, he eventually whispered, "Laurent," and captured his sleeping attention.

"Laurent, we did it. We won, both of us. I told you you weren't going to face him alone-" Talking, he realized, was much more painful than he anticipated. Asleep as deeply as he was, Laurent thankfully didn't notice enough to wake up and tell him to stop overworking himself. "You saved my life," Damen said. "You've earned a good rest more than anyone."

Unthinkingly, he stroked his thumb against Laurent's cheek, pushing back the strands of hair that'd fallen over his face. "I'm not going to die on you," he said. "Not after you did everything to keep me alive. You deserve to sleep easy."

After a moment, Laurent nuzzled into his hand, and Damen continued to caress his cheek with a relieved smile. "Don't worry about me. I won't leave you behind."

"You buffoon," Laurent muttered, his eyes still closed. "I'm never going to fall back asleep if you keep talking. I wasn't that worried about you."

Damen took a minute to regain himself. The ease with which Laurent could vanquish his vulnerabilities left him in awe every time. But he was used to this by now, enough to resume stroking his cheek even though Laurent was beginning to flush at it now that he was fully aware. "You were having a nightmare," Damen told him. "I don't think you're really giving yourself a break after saving two nations from centuries of war."

"I didn't save them. You saved them, and I saved you." Laurent's eyes were open now. To Damen's shock, they were red. He made no mention of this, speaking with the familiar lack of concern that drove him crazy. "I will admit that without me, your country would fall prey again to Kastor's type soon with your unbearably forgiving heart."

"You really did save me."

"If you continue speaking, I will kill you and then we'll be even."

"You care about me."

"Much less than you give yourself credit for."

Damen suddenly doubled over in pain. Laurent sat up, his eyes wild as he pressed a hand to Damen's shoulder. Grinning, Damen looked up at him. "You do care about me."

"...You're...not hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"Good."

Laurent flicked his forehead rather harshly. At that Damen did recoil, more exerted than he thought he would be from only pretending to be in pain. It was karma, he supposed. After a minute, Laurent laid himself back down, though he kept a wary gaze as if another stunt might be pulled again. There were no intentions of that.

"I'm happy you're here," Damen said. "I don't like physicians." He didn't like this room, either. His father died in this room under the watch of physicians, who poked and prodded at him uselessly with the intolerable odor of anesthetics. He remembered it more vividly than anything before Kastor's overtaking. If his father could be visibly pained by it, it felt like being in these very chambers would never let him out alive. But Laurent was here, and he would eviscerate anyone who wasn't doing there job up to his standards.

"You'll be seeing them even longer if you don't stop talking." It occurred to Damen that he wasn't frustrated with the words, he was worried for the strain in his tone. Reasonably so; talking took a lot out of him that he hadn't noticed until now. His stomach was aching with a pain he wasn't yet acquainted with. Dragging his hand a little heavily over Laurent's shoulder, he thought to have pulled him closer, when really his fingers just pressed against the back of his neck and Laurent scooted in in response. Equally too exhausted to make much of it, he closed his eyes again and rested his head under Damen's chin, tucking his arm to avoid elbowing his stomach through the night. Damen relaxed into it, the pain in his muscles dulling.

"I love you," he said.

"Damen."

"Sorry." With a sheepish smile, he curled his fingers against the back of Laurent's neck, allowing the cicadas' cries to fade from his mind. No matter how pained, he was at peace. They won, and they were here. Once he was better, they could celebrate together. Laurent shifted just slightly underneath him, and after a moment mumbled, "I love you, too."

"I love you more."

"Damen."

Damen gave a breathy little laugh, too tired to do more than that without hurting himself anyway. His arms were full of Laurent, as was his mind. Before long, he fell into a true sleep unlike the days of unconsciousness, and Laurent held himself still against him. For a while he stayed like that, relaxing one muscle at a time, his pulse still wild under all of Damen's weight. Soon, that relaxed too. Into the darkness, he faintly whispered, "I love you most," and in the minutes after that, he found himself in a slumber just as restful, sighing in tandem with Damen's breath.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Broken People Chapter 4

(AO3)

“What did you do to my arm?” Bucky growled, grabbing Tony by his throat and lifting him onto his toes.  He heard the guards down the hall stop in their tracks to stare.

“I don’t know what- I’m sorry, I can fix it!” Tony pleaded. “Don’t-“ he made a gurgling sound like Bucky was choking him into silence.

“Now,” Bucky demanded, narrowing his eyes at Tony warningly. He shoved Tony towards the maintenance shop, stalking after him as Tony hurried down the hall. Behind them the guards said something to each other, and Bucky prayed they wouldn’t come investigate. But eventually they just kept walking the other way, and his shoulders relaxed in relief.

Tony hurried to let himself into the maintenance shop and came around one of the desks as if grateful to put it between him and a furious Winter Soldier. As soon as Bucky came through the door and slammed it behind him, Tony hit a button and the red lights on the cameras in the room started to blink.

“Ha,” Tony said, and held up his middle fingers at them. Bucky found himself smiling, and when Tony turned to face him, looking smug and victorious, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Tony’s.

When he pulled back, Tony looked stunned.  Bucky immediately felt ashamed. “I’m s-”

But Tony silenced him with another kiss. “No more apologies,” he whispered against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky felt hands framing his face, cool and rough with callouses, as Tony kissed him again and that was the happiest Bucky could ever remember feeling.

(Watch out for the break!)

Too soon, though, Tony pulled away.  “We don’t have much time,” he said regretfully, and Bucky nodded as they got to work.

Bucky had negotiated thirty minutes of time alone with Tony once he woke up, and he spent the time holding his hands as he gave him back their memories, every word that they had ever passed back and forth after the chair.  A knock on the door was a one minute warning so he squeezed Tony’s hands one last time and let go.  “There are people here who need to talk to you, doctors to make sure that you’re ok.  They’ll give you everything you need, yeah?”

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Tony glanced at the door and Bucky understood.  “If you want to see me again, just ask. I'm not going to be far away.” Bucky’s hands itched to touch, wanting to wrap around Tony and never let go, but instead he clasped them behind his back and stepped aside for the doctors to come in.

Bucky was dozing lightly when voices in the hall woke him. He sat up sharply when he realized that one of those voices was Tony’s, yelling angrily. Then his cell door was opened and Tony was shoved through, still cursing.

“This one is starting to forget who’s in charge around here,” one of the guards said with a sneer. “Put him in his place.”

When he saw the purple swelling near Tony’s eye and the blood on his chin from a split lip, Bucky didn’t have to fake an angry snarl as he stood and approached the guards.  The guards backed away quickly and slammed the door, this time apparently more interested in making a quick escape than staying to watch.

“Bastards,” Tony spat, kicking the door. “I caught them stealing from the armory and they threw me in here for plausible deniability.”

With a long exhale, Bucky captured Tony’s chin and held him still while he pressed cool metal fingers to the bruise around his eye.  After a moment Tony sighed and leaned his head into the touch.  “I think what really might have pissed them off is when I kicked one of them in the nuts,” Tony admitted. Bucky snorted in amusement.

“Anywhere else?” Tony wasn’t moving like he was injured, but-

“Them or me?” Bucky huffed and Tony grinned like he thought he was clever.  He pointed to the cut on his lip and said, “Kiss it and make it better?”

Bucky had been wrong. This was the happiest he could ever remember feeling.  With a slow smile he buried his hands in Tony's silky hair, feeling the strands curl lightly around his fingers, and held Tony still as he leaned over to brush a barely there kiss across the cut on Tony's mouth, tongue flicking over it lightly. Tony made a quiet noise, almost like a sigh, and his eyes slid closed whiel Bucky pressed another feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his eyelids and temple.  He rested his forehead against Tony's and they breathed together for a few moments; then Tony made a thoughtful noise deep in his chest and tilted his head up to capture Bucky's mouth, tongue running over the seam of his lips until Bucky let him inside with a groan.  As his tongue thrust inside, hot and wet and eager, curling around Bucky's, setting a rhythm that Bucky felt at the base of his spine, Tony's hands slid under Bucky's shirt.  Bucky inhaled a ragged breath at the feeling of Tony's hands on his skin, nails raking up his ribs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.  Bucky went still, breathing shallowly, not wanting to do anything that would make Tony stop, that would interfere with the miracle of Tony's body pressed eagerly against his own.  His knees got weak when he felt how hard Tony was; he wanted to drop to the floor and put his mouth on him, press his thumbs to the hip bones that sometimes showed above the line of Tony's pants and hear the noises as Tony came apart above him -

Noises.

"The guards," Bucky whispered against Tony's mouth with whimper.  They were approaching quickly; someone must have noticed that Tony wasn't where he was supposed to be.

Tony groaned and bit Bucky's lip as he pulled away, then suddenly there was a screwdriver pressed against Bucky's carotid artery.  Bucky suppressed a smile as Tony said, "Get your fucking hands off me," and backed away, almost running into the guards as they opened the cell door.  Bucky sat down on his cot, knees wide, and saw Tony's eyes go dark as he eyed the thick line of Bucky's erection.

"Did we interrupt your fun?" One of the guards leered but Bucky ignored him, keeping his eyes on Tony's until the cell door slammed closed.

“So?” Steve asked expectantly as Bucky joined him in one of the observation rooms. “How did it go?”

Bucky shrugged.  “It will take a while for all of the memories to come back.” He watched the video feed as Tony submitted to the doctors’ poking and prodding. “What’s going to happen now?”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, which meant that he disagreed with what he was about to say but wasn’t committed to fighting about it yet.  “Fury got a warrant allowing him to keep Tony here until ‘such times as he can be proven to not be a threat to national security.’”

Bucky went still as rage swept through him.  “So he just went from one prison to another?” He said carefully.

Steve heard the note in his voice and stepped between him and the door, holding his hands up even though Bucky hadn't moved. “Look, you have to admit that there is at least a possibility that he has trigger words you don’t know about.  Fury's just playing it safe.”

Bucky’s mouth opened to protest and then he shut it again, turning away and running his hands through his hair, tugging a bit in frustration.  “How do you prove something like that?”

Steve shrugged helplessly.  “But it sounds like Stark Industries is trying its best to get Tony out of here, so maybe let the lawyers duke it out while Tony…” They both glanced at the screen, where Tony was staring into space while doctors recorded his vitals and took blood. “Gets better,” Steve finished.

Bucky stared hard at Tony as they sat across from each other in the personnel carrier, flanked by members of the insertion team on each side.  His handler had decided that Tony was to assist in the mission, to gather intel and leave behind a computer virus.  Bucky had gotten a sinking feeling when he’d heard the mission briefing, and the longer Tony avoided meeting his eyes, the worse it got.

It’s a test, Bucky’s instincts were screaming.  Tony’s obedience was being tested, and from the set of Tony’s shoulders, he was going to fail. As Bucky went the motions for the mission, every step felt like he was going to an execution.  He knew exactly when Tony would make his move, and he knew the others were expecting it too, knew it from the way they were watching him.

Don’t, Bucky pleaded in his mind. He wanted to pull Tony back, pull him away from the wolves that were waiting for him to run.  But when the team split he left without looking back.

When his mission was done, he jogged back to the extraction point with barely concealed urgency.  The personnel carrier was waiting with the engine running and Tony had been thrown into the back, arms and legs bound with military grade zip ties. He was scraped up and bloody but alive. His eyes were unrepentant when they met Bucky’s.

The team leader grinned and nudged Tony with the toe of his boot.  “Caught him trying to escape, just like the boss thought.  What do you think is going to happen to him?”

Bucky went cold and his chest tightened as he climbed into the carrier, remembering what they’d done to him when he’d tried to escape.

“Tony’s been asking for you,” Steve said, finally cornering Bucky in the kitchen.

“I know," Bucky sighed and braced himself on the counter, hanging his head. “But I can’t just…make small talk while I wait for him to remember all the things I…to remember everything.”  When Steve was silent, Bucky glanced up to see Steve studying him. “What?”

“Buck, what do you want to happen here? With Tony?”

“I want him to be happy.  After everything, he deserves that, to be able to do whatever he wants and not be afraid anymore.”  Bucky’s heart squeezed at the thought; God, Tony was going to change the world and Bucky couldn’t wait to see it happen.

“Do you want to be a part of that?”

“I…” Bucky took a deep breath to keep his voice steady.  “He deserves better,” he said instead of answering.  Tony deserved someone beautiful and smart and competent, someone who could lift Tony up instead of dragging him down.  He looked down at his hands and remembered washing Tony’s blood off of them and swallowed against the queasiness.

“Bucky, you deserve good things, too,” Steve said softly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t understand, Steve.”  “Hit him again,” his handler ordered. “Until he learns to stay down.”  When he met Steve’s eyes, his gaze was bleak. “With Hydra, he was my reward.  But I was his punishment.”

“Well, this would be disappointing if it wasn’t so predictable,” his handler said as he considered Tony, still bound and little more banged up from where the insertion team had dragged him inside and thrown him into the sparring cage. The other Winter Soldiers were starting to circle and in the corners of the room guards were taking bets. “What should we do with him?”

As suggestions were called out Tony blanched and struggled to sit. Bucky’s hands curled into fists at the cruder ones, stomach turning.  His mind raced for an out, a way to shield Tony from-

After a moment the handler waved his hand and everyone fell silent, silent enough to hear Tony’s harsh breathing.  “Well, you know, if he wants to be free so badly, maybe we should let him go.”  A nasty laughter erupted through the room.  “How long do you think it will take for him to beg to come back?”

Bucky forced himself to stay, to listen to Tony pounding on the metal door to the bunker and pleading to come back inside.   He listened while the pounding grew weaker and weaker until his handler checked his watch and gave Bucky the nod.  The sub-zero temperatures hit Bucky like a wall of ice as opened the door, the wind gusting snow inside the entrance.  He picked Tony’s limp body up and carried him to medical, praying that it wasn’t too late.

“So how long are you going to keep him here, Fury?” Bucky said, slamming the door to Fury’s office while his secretary winced behind him.  “It’s been a week.  You haven’t found any triggers and Tony has jumped through all your little hoops and passed with flying colors.”

“Barnes,” Fury said calmly, waving a hand at the chair across from him.  “Have a seat. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Bucky scowled and closed the door behind him. “What?”

Fury leaned his elbows over the desk and interlaced his fingers. “You said in your report that you were instructed to bring Tony Stark to Hydra after Howard and Maria Stark were dead.”

“Yes,” Bucky said flatly, never happy to be reminded if that. "And?"

“Did you ever find out who gave the order?”

“My handl- Pierce,” Bucky corrected.  “Everything went through Pierce.”

“Did you ever wonder why? Why take Tony? Why not kill him too, or leave him at the scene?”

“No,” Bucky said slowly, after a long moment of thought.  “I assumed Hydra saw him as a potential asset, so…”

“Possibly,” Fury allowed, leaning back in his chair. “But what if it was less about what Hydra was getting, and more about Hydra was…removing?”

Bucky sat back too, and thought.  “You think Hydra was getting Tony out of the way? Why? For who?”

Fury nodded.  “Obadiah Stane took over Stark Industries as a temporary measure when Tony Stark went missing.  He’s never taken the steps to have Tony declared dead, even after all this time. Odd, since he's been gone for almost two decades.  But then, if he had, the company would probably gone public and he would have lost control of the company and the Stark fortune.”

“And now Stane is trying to get you to release Tony,” Bucky said, feeling his insides go cold.  “But...that would mean that Stane would have to step down, right?”

“Unless a tragic accident happens.” Fury spread his hands wide.  “I mean, the possibilities are endless.” He started counting on his fingers.  “Suicide, he snaps and attacks someone and is killed in self-defense, crazed fan kills him in a murder suicide, even a car accident.”

“So you’ve been keeping him here for his own safety? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Until I know how Stane found out that Tony was here, I don’t trust anyone but you and Steve.  But Steve’s got a shit poker face, so. Right now, it’s just me and you.”

Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Fuck.  So what are we going to do?”

“Well, first, you’re going to have to suck it up and talk to him,” Fury said.  “Because he hasn’t stopped asking for you, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he starts to think we’re keeping you separated on purpose.”

[riverjynx]

Blindly, Hopelessly, Perfectly

Poe Dameron x Reader

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Days could go by in simple, monotonous smiles. Just half smiles. Its all you could conjur in the face of blind faith; the blind faith that it could somehow end up meaning something. A few friendly flirts and corny jokes later they might.

Nothing happened. It was just routine. Just doing your job. Just.

It wasn’t enough anymore. You weren’t helpless, you couldn’t afford to be. A mechanic barely makes enough to feed themselves even highly trained ones. But you couldn’t afford to complain either. Just do your job. Just.

~~~

The nights and day merged and you couldn’t distinguish between them anymore, and your painful ignorance to self care left you plummeting. You worked hard to tick everything off your checklist but the constant need of repairs created an endless loop trapping you inside your workplace, alone and exhausted.

Proving yourself worthy of being an important and irreplaceable member of the resistance was the task you accomplished after many daunting nights with no sleep, no interaction or food. This was the price you were willing to pay.

~~~

He watched you fall, Watched your smile fall with you. The days where you couldn’t move from exhaustian and he remembers picking you up each time. Each time. A smile, a hug, a reassurance a cocky grin as you flirted back and forth, stood your ground and never ever showed that the workload got to you.

The resistance required the blind faith you were all too happy to submit to and it nearly killed you. It hurt him a lot deeper than he liked to admit. This is how he witnissed first hand your inner strength to continue with your work, realise the time and effort you put into the resistance. It took your sweat, blood and tears to make the repairs in the bloody hole the First Order ripped in the galaxy. With no recognition

And he admired you.

Then he couldn’t stand it no more, friends were supposed to help each other. Gods he hated the word friend, he wanted so much more. A time and place, a time and place.

~~~

Another dark night droned on and you took a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding after switching BB-8 back on. The little tyke rolled around you beeping with happiness and joy and childlike giddiness. You allowed yourself this one moment to just relax slightly under the workload and sit on the floor laughing at BB-8’s antics. As he whizzed around the room in glee.

He saw. He saw this wonderful miracle unfold before him. You were happy, in all his days of knowing you, you’d never been so… So content.

And it warmed his soldiers heart. He wanted- no needed more. More of this kind of happiness from you when you finally accept you’ve done a good job and relax even a little to take the mandotory time to just breath.

There was another exchange of smiles when he picked up BB-8. (A little later than the alotted time but just so he could watch you just a little longer.) BB-8 was still brimming with joy as he zoomed around poe earning a deep chuckle.

It was more than just smiles. It was a thank you. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore and he needed to give you the help you adamantly denied.

“Gods Y/n when was the last time you slept?!”

Your unsureness of answering this sudden question brought your lack of strength and the physical numbness you were enduring to the front of your mind.

The nausea caused you to almost collapsed but you steadied yourself, you could handle yourself, you were no damsel in distress and you could certainly give and take punches emotional and physical. The mantra you taught yourself repeated as it blazed through your thoughts dashing any fear and guarding yourself with relentless stubborness to back down and a cheeky grin to hide your weary soul behind.

“Two days ago. Why my caring flyboy?”

“And the last time you washed?”

“I wash every day thank you very much. I make sure to do that. What about you marblemana with the heart of stone?”

“But the last time you properly took care of yourself; ate a full meal not just scraps, had a nice long hot bath not just a cold shower to wake you up into alert mode, Slept in a bed not on the floor for a few hours? Before you joined the resistance a year ago Y/n. Surely you understand where this is leading darlin’.”

You couldn’t say anything because it was all true. You didn’t allow yourself luxiouries, you could have them later, after work finished. Work never finished and you were neck deep in seconds.

“I miss you Y/n. The person I knew on Yavin 4, the person to joke with me and teach me how to build a makeshift droid. I really do miss those moments with you Y/n and I’m sorry to be selfish but you’re gonna for once put your stubborn defences down and share a bed with me so I know where you are and you will sleep a goodnights sleep. Also, the general herself is interfering with your heavy workload and its no longer yours alone to carry which it shouldn’t have been in the first place. Come back to me Y/n. Please, I will beg if I have to and you know I will so wipe that silly grin off your face.”

“You’ll beg? I’d like to see that.”

“I bet there’s a whole lot more you’d like to see as well…”

“Oh yes. I’d like to see you try and catch me!”

Before the last word even escaped your mouth you bolted with whatever energy you had left to Poe’s quaters. Gods you were free from your loop, unburdened and refreshed with a new vigour and enthusiasm where you could see the work you’ve done and what you’ve accomplished from your small office. And for once in a very long time, you were proud.

Yes you had given in to Poe easily without a fight because you knew it would happen, sooner or later, you knew that someday someone would demand you to break out of your loop because you couldn’t do it yourself. You never had the energy to make a stand against yourself except for now. Now was where you would live, not hoping for the future and relying on hope, but also seeing the change you were making, day by day amd bask in the happiness it brought you to make a difference somewhere.

~~~

Poe couldn’t not smile at your sleeping form, the gentle dozing where you were no longer at a bittersweet war with yourself. But a peace swept over you like a cotten blanket smothering you in warmth. Gods was he lucky. You gave him hope, hope that the resistance was stronger than it had ever been with brave souls thriving.

In his smile, he knew he loved you. In fact, he knew from the moment you stepped off the lander from Yavin 4 and your first words being:

‘Well don’t just stand there you skinny boys in suits, lets get to work!’

And this time he fell, he fell in love with you and he wouldn’t ever deny it.

“And to who do I owe this pleasure of waking up to this glorious face?”

“I guess my parents for making me.”

“Smartasses get soreasses.”

“I know.”

“Oh for gods sake Poe you always lead back to sex and stop winking with that pretty little face.”

“You were the one that said it you idiot.”

“You’re the one thats holding me so tight as if I might disappear- Poe can’t breath!

I hate you.”

“And I hate you too my little frumpkin.”

“I may be little but how dare you compare me to a frumpkin.”

“I could have said my little porg but frumpkin sounded better.”

“A deadly, disease ridden plant that regurgitates its faeces on predators to eat them. Yeah cute nickname Poe.”

“I know I’m just the best boyfriend ever.”

It was out in the open and he didn’t even mean to say it, of course he wanted to but not yet. Too late now though, he’d just face the rejection and carry on. He would still be here for them always.

“You can be when you want to be my flirtatious flyboy. But I love you all the same.”

Didn’t even miss a beat and through his happpiness, they sealed it with a kiss.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Stfu that was cute and you know it. Oooo I love it. I’m so happy now and its deadass long. Fuckin hell.

This is River, signing off.

[lolainblue]

Presque Vu   Chapter 21

   As Raina lay there trying to recover, her breathing changed from ragged pants to deep gulps and then suddenly she was sobbing, so deeply that her whole body shook.  It was a strange feeling, not like a normal cry, where the sadness seemed to be creeping in until it became overwhelming, but completely the opposite, like a release valve had been turned and all the negative things she had been holding were being washed away.  She knew there was no stopping it but she didn't want to stop it.  It felt cleansing and wonderful.  

   Of course, the guys were all over her immediately, removing all the remaining playthings and wrapping her in a big soft blanket. Shannon lifted her into his lap, stroked her hair and murmured reassurances while Jared went to fetch her a glass of juice.  

   “I knew this was going to happen with her,” Shannon said when Jared returned.  “She keeps herself wound way too tight.”

   Jared kissed her forehead and handed her the glass.  “You need to try to drink that,” he told her, still sounding as authoritative as he had a few minutes ago.  When she took it and began to drink his voice softened.  “Do you understand what's happening to you? Are you okay?”

   Raina nodded weakly and hoped that would be enough.  There was no way she could verbalize everything that was going through her head at that moment. She had spent years with Dan secretly searching out other people's adventures on the internet, reading about all the things she was convinced were never going to happen to her, but that she had desperately wanted.  She was glad now that she had, her intense reaction would have felt overwhelming and confusing otherwise. She got about half the glass down before she had to hand it back to Jared, her hand shaking as the sobs continued to wind their way out of her.  He just sat the drink aside,  rubbing her back and telling her she was going to be just fine, just let it out.  Then he got up and started to run a bath.

   As intense as her tears had been they dried up much more quickly than Raina would have thought.  By the time Shannon scooped her up and carried her to Jared where he was waiting in the bathtub she at least had dispensed with the outright sobs and graduated into sniffles and the occasional ragged breath.  She still didn't feel capable of conversation, but Jared seemed to understand that and just wrapped himself protectively around her.  He let the warm water of the bath help do the work of relaxing her, pouring it over her body and into her hair while he hummed softly behind her.  She could hear Shannon in the shower, and even though the three of them were too much for the tub it was reassuring to know he was still close.  When Jared began to lather up her hair she thought she might be ready to talk again.

   “I'm okay.” It came out as much a question as a statement.  Jared kissed her cheek and rubbed the fruity smelling shampoo into her scalp.  

   “Yes, princess, you are okay.  You did so well.  I am so proud of you.” He worked his fingers through her long curls, detangling them as he went.  “It takes a while to come back down afterward for some. We'll talk about it all when you're ready. Just let me take care of you now.”

   Such a simple request would have been so difficult for her just a month ago. Hell, even last week she had bristled after too much attention and caring from Jared. Now she felt all the remaining tension leaving her as he gently rinsed the shampoo away and graduated to conditioner.  By the time he had finished with her hair and carefully washed her aching limbs she was a relaxed, pleasant puddle. Shannon eventually reappeared next to the tub with the biggest, fluffiest bath sheet Raina had ever seen, beckoning her to get out and get dried off.

   “I know you brought a bag but I have something for you,” Jared said as he got out of the tub and began to dry himself off.  “I bet you brought one of those little nighties to wear to bed tonight right?” Raina nodded.  “As much as I love those things, I think something snuggly is more in order.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Trust me.”

   He knotted the towel around his waist before retrieving a bag from the closet which he handed to her with a smile.  Once she unveiled its contents Raina had to laugh. It was a soft pink hooded onesie and a pair of pink and purple striped socks that looked like they could have come from Jared's own drawer.  

   “Come on, put it on,” insisted Shannon, who had already slipped into his own gray and black striped outfit. She looked at Jared, who was slipping into a pair of soft black pajama pants.

   “Thank you,” she said, her voice starting to return to normal. Raina dressed while the pair of them fussed over getting the bed back in order and building what looked like a giant nest of pillows and blankets.

   “What on earth are you two doing?” she asked.  “Are we having a slumber party?”

   “Come on Porcupine,” Shannon beckoned from where he had begun bouncing in the middle of the bed.  “Don't shut me out now.  Let me cuddle you!” He shouted the last part dramatically as he threw his arms open.  Raina surprised herself by crawling eagerly into them.

   Jared disappeared for a few minutes then reappeared with an armload full of food – fruit and cheese and oddly enough, popcorn, and some bottled water.  He settled in on the other side of her, pressing one of the bottles into her hand before wrapping his arm tightly around her. She let herself curl into his chest while Shannon turned on the television, surfing through the channels as he drank his own water. Jared kissed the top of her head and ran his fingers through her damp hair.  “How are we doing baby girl?” he asked softly.

   “I'm...” Raina tried to find the right word and then shrugged.  She felt relaxed and happy, and she knew that her brain was still settling down from the flood of chemicals she had unleashed.  There was a sort of peacefulness that was settling in on her, and a profound need to snuggle into him, to be touched and held.  He seemed to feel it too, only breaking contact with her to attend to necessary things like the bath and the food, but now that they were settled in he seemed determined to hold onto her.  At least for this part of the process, it felt like whatever was happening was happening more between her and Jared than with Shannon.  She wasn't sure why that was.  He had cradled her when the tears started, dried her off after the bath and been the one to pull her into bed to begin with.  But it was Jared's touch she craved right now.  Shannon didn't seem to be bothered by it all, snuggling up next to them while he munched on the little cheese squares and flipped through the TV channels.  

   “You need to eat,” Jared insisted, pulling the bowl of goodies closer to her.  She grabbed a few chunks of pineapple and a piece of pale yellow cheese without even thinking to argue.  He grabbed a few pieces of fruit too, popping them into his mouth as he rested his head on hers and sighed against her.  Their little session seemed to have had quite a calming effect on him as well.  

   Shannon eventually settled on a nature documentary and three of them passed the time quietly, letting themselves recharge while the television cast flickering shadows around the bedroom.  Raina could feel the last of the adrenaline leave her body and drowsiness began to overtake her.  Jared noticed the change in her too and rubbed her hand to rouse her a bit.

   “Before you go drifting off to sleep, I want to check in with you a bit, if you feel like you can talk now,”  he said.  

   “I can,” she replied.  Shannon turned off the television and kissed her shoulder.

   “So now that you've had time to come down a bit, are you still okay?”

   “I'm great,” she smiled.  “Really, I promise.”

   “You didn't use your safe words at all, not even yellow.”

   “I didn't need to.”

   “Are you sure? Because you've never done any of this before, and we have no idea where your limits are.  I was sort of expecting to have to back down at least once but you just kept going.”

   Raina did a quiet review of their previous session. “I did almost quit when Shannon was down my throat, and the lack of air was getting to be too much.  But then he finished and I didn't need to.”

   Shannon pulled her hand over to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her palm.  “It doesn't bother you when I call you a slut or tease you does it?”

   Raina shook her head.  “No. I know you don't mean it a nasty way.  I kind of like it, I like it that Jared is one way with me and you're another.”

   “So it wasn't too much for you?” Jared asked.  “I kind of feel like that was the first time, the first time for real, and we pushed it a bit.  It's okay if you want to slow down.”

   “Are you kidding?” Raina said, a little laugh creeping in.  “Don't you understand how much I have wanted something just like this? You're making my fantasies come true.  Slowing down is the last thing I want.”

   Jared made a growling noise.  “Hmmm, baby girl.  You're going to have to tell us all about those fantasies sometime soon.  But for now, you have work tomorrow and we have rehearsals and since everyone is good, I think we should all get some sleep.”

   Raina left work early again on Friday for her follow-up with Dr. Minchin. She submitted a new blood draw and then sat endlessly in the waiting room until her turn was finally up.  The doctor wanted to check the bruises on her back again and Raina was thankful there weren't any new ones to have to explain.  Once she had examined her, Dr. Minchin pulled out her folder.

   “Well Ms. Gallo, all your tests came back normal so there don't seem to be any underlying issues we need to be concerned about.  Your numbers from the draw today look much better as well.  You probably just inherited a predisposition to anemia and you'll need to be more conscientious in the future. The Vitamin K deficiency was probably brought on by the several doses of Keflex for that stubborn respiratory infection you had a few months ago and your diet was insufficient to properly restore your reserves.  This also can be avoided in the future easily enough by taking proper care of yourself.” Dr. Minchin gave Raina a firm stare at that point. Raina tried not to smile, thinking of her own hovering busybody who would probably gloat over the reinforcement of his hypothesis.  “But as I said, your numbers look much better today and I think we can forgo the second injection and just stick with the prescriptions that I gave you on Monday.”  

   Raina left the office with a profound sense of relief.  She had been reassured by Monday's visit but until those tests came back she hadn't known for sure she was out of the woods.  Now she wanted to celebrate and even though she found herself suddenly with a surplus of boyfriends she knew they were both too busy right now for anything that wasn't an emergency.  And Cassie was long overdue for an update. She swung by the bakery and picked up Cassie's favorite treat, chocolate eclairs, and headed off for a little girl time.

   As soon as Cassidy realized Raina had a lot to dish they chased Aaron off, sending him out for a drink with a buddy.  It hadn't been hard at all to convince him to go, and Raina got the feeling that Cassie had probably been riding him a bit too hard lately.  As the size of her stomach had increased so had her anxiety and demands, and though it was just an annoyance at work, at home it was probably something that Aaron was happy to get a break from.  Raina felt a twinge of guilt, she hadn't been there much for Cassie since the brothers had come into her life.  She resolved to do better moving forward.

   Rather than start in on her own revelations, she listened while Cassie cataloged her latest aches and pains and showed her pictures of the nursery furniture she had ordered.  It all felt incredibly normal and reassuring.  Raina found herself unexpectedly throwing her arms around Cassie for a hug.

   “Hey, what the hell was that about?” Cassie asked with a laugh.  

   “You're a good friend and I want you to know how grateful I am for you,” Raina told her.  “I know I'm not an easy person to be friends with. But you mean the world to me, Cassidy.  I just wanted you to know that.”

   Cassie started to tear up.  “Dammit Raina, look what you did, went and set off my pregnancy hormones.  I haven't cried in at least six hours,” she joked.  “You know I love you too.  But seriously though, what's gotten into you?”

   Raina told her everything.  Well, mostly everything.  She, of course, skipped over the actual details of the previous night but made sure Cassie got a general impression.  “This is all just between us though, okay?”

   Cassie scoffed.  “Like I would tell.  Are you sure this is what you want though Raina? You never mentioned anything like this before...”

   “Well, how in the hell would that conversation have looked?” Raina took another eclair and tore it in half, scooping some of the filling out with her finger.  “Hey I really liked last night's Game of Thrones episode and oh, by the way, I really want a guy to tie me up and and tell me what a slut I am.”

   “Well not like that obviously,” Cassie said with a roll of her eyes as she took another eclair herself.  “But we've talked about sex stuff before.  You could have mentioned it.  I wouldn't have judged.” She got a conspiratorial smile on her face.  “I have a pair of handcuffs.  I love when Aaron lets me cuff him to the headboard and ride him like the mechanical bull at that country bar with all the sawdust on the floor.”

   Raina blinked at Cassie for a minute.  Cassie was tan and blonde and leggy and relentlessly optimistic and perky.  She had always reminded Raina of the tour guide Barbie in the Toy Story movie.  And tall, good looking and muscular Aaron was her perfect Ken doll like counterpart. The thought of them doing anything even the least bit kinky had never even occurred to Raina, and the mental picture she had now made her burst into laughter.  Cassie immediately joined in the revelry, and they laughed together until they had tears running down their faces.  

   “Clearly we need to talk more often,” Raina said when she regained her breath.  As she watched Cassie finishing off her pastry she wondered how much she had cheated herself over the last few years, not just in her relationship with Cassie, but in her relationships in general, making assumptions, not asking questions and leaving herself walled in.  She felt like a new person today.  And she liked herself more than she had in a long time.  She could only hope it would last.

@nikkitasevoli @msroxyblog @maliciousalishious @meghan12151977 @fyeahproudglambert @snewsome756 @