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lotties-ashwagandha · 3 years ago

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LOVERS LIVE A LITTLE LONGER

pairing: sally mckenna x reader

word count: 1682

notes and warnings: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!(remember that you are valid and loved) this fic is in honor of pride <3 also, title from the song by abba. TW: alcohol, cigarettes.

summary: you and sally throw a party in the hotel to celebrate pride month

You collapsed onto the bed with a huff, ignoring the way she looked at you in amusement. “Why not?”

“No one would come,” she tried, shaking her head. “It would be a waste of time.”

“Fuck everyone else, it would be fun for the two of us.”

Sally lit a cigarette, buying herself time to think of a response.

You took this as another chance to try to convince her to help you throw the party. You were very adamant about celebrating your first Pride Month with Sally, and since she couldn’t leave the hotel to attend any festivities, you had concluded that bringing festivities to the hotel would be the perfect solution. “Nothing has happened here since that fucking fashion show, and that was so long ago.”

She gave you a look of annoyance, yet a smirk played at her lips. “That was only a few months ago, baby.”

Knowing she was right, you needed a different approach, yet as you watched her partly-obscured figure through the smoke, you knew she would never relent.

“Fuck it,” you stood and continued, “I’m throwing the damn party whether you like it or not. I’ll get drunk by myself if you’re so determined not to have a good time.”

You started toward the door to her hotel room, yet just as you suspected she might, she stopped you. She was right behind you in a silent moment, a hand clasping one of your wrists.

“Don’t leave,” she breathed – for though she knew you would never, her fear was always there, a shadow lurking in every corner, watching her in every moment.

“I’m not going anywhere… I’m going to go ask Liz if she’ll help me.”

“No, no, baby, stay. I’ll help you.”

“I thought you said it was a waste of time?” you turned around, meeting her eyes. Your voice softened upon seeing her conflicted expression. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. You’re probably right, anyway.”

“No, I want to. If it’s so important to you, we should do it… and you said we could get drunk?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, of course. And we could even play some of your music, if you’d like.”

Her face lit up, and you knew now that she was getting genuinely excited, not just planning the party for your sake alone. “Mine? That I wrote?”

“Yes, Sally, your music. We can make a playlist, too.”

“Okay,” she nodded, tears slipping from her eyes, your suggestion of playing her music touching her more deeply than you knew. “But no fucking ABBA on the playlist.”

“What the fuck? Why not?”

She smiled softly. “I know you love them, but if I weren’t already dead, I would die from how annoyed I get when I listen to their music.”

“Sally!” you chided, and for once, she laughed genuinely.

A/N: guys i love abba i promise please don't come for me

Her hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re everything to me. You have no idea.”

“I love you, so much.”

Your words caused her more tears, and you wiped them away, gently meeting her lips, a wordless oath of your imperishable love.

–

You sat at the bar, having just finished working out a menu with Liz – you had tried a variety of different drink mixes, for the two of you had decided that you needed to create some sort of specialty for the event.

You would never admit to it, but you had consumed a bit too much alcohol, and half of the Pride decorations still needed to be put up around the hotel’s lobby.

So far, you had decorated the bar in rainbow fairy lights, which cast a glow throughout the dreary lobby of the hotel. You had also covered the balconies and stair banisters in various pride flags, having gone out and bought a flag for every sexuality and identity.

All you had to do now was fill some balloons, maybe hang a banner, and put up more string lights.

You had let Sally prepare a playlist for the event, and you didn’t have any doubt that it would be a compilation of 70s and 80s rock.

Knowing Sally would scare away more guests than she would invite, you had made Tristan go around the hotel and invite a majority of the murderous souls trapped alongside you, and you were confident that there would be a decent turnout, even if you had to hunt down every guest and drag them to the party yourself. This was definitely an option you would consider if things went awry.

Never in your life had you spent so much money on fairy lights, and all of those fuckers were going to enjoy them whether they liked it or not.

A packet of balloons was on the bar, and began to fill a balloon, feeling lightheaded after a moment from the combination of a lack of oxygen and an abundance of booze.

You wished you had made someone else try all of the drink combinations.

You sighed, slightly anxious that the event wouldn’t turn out, that no one would come, that it was all a huge mistake. Only a few hours remained until the party was set to start, and you wished to call it all off.

Tying the balloon, you held back the urge to stomp on it.

Feeling the balloon being taken out of your hand, you jumped, yet you were quickly reassured when you turned and saw Sally at your side.

“I finished the playlist,” she announced proudly, and you offered her a small smile. She noticed your lack of enthusiasm immediately. “Are you okay? What happened? Was it the fucker staying in room–”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured her, though you knew she did not believe you. With a sigh, you relented. “Was this a mistake? Too much, too little?”

Relief hit her at the realization that this was all that was troubling you. “It’s perfect. Really. Nothing good ever happens in this hellhole. You’ve given everyone something to be excited about.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, giving you a quick kiss before holding up the balloon. “Now, where is this going?”

“I thought of hanging it somewhere, I’m not sure.”

“We could see how many ways you could kill someone with balloons?”

“Sally!” you hissed, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “No murder until after the party, please.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” She teased, smirking.

“Think about it this way — the more people you kill, the less people get to listen to your music.”

She considered it, and with a smile, you knew you had won. “Alright, alright… where am I hanging this fucking balloon?”

—

Music blasted through the hotel, the lights dimmed except for the multicolored fairy lights glowing through the lobby.

Cigarette smoke made the air thick and clouded, though you hardly minded as you were too intoxicated to care, sitting at the bar with Sally with a cocktail in your hand as you briefly watched the guests dance and trip over each other in their drunken state.

Sally had filmed what must have been thousands of TikToks during the earlier stages of the party, you and Liz in almost all of them, and as she kept posting them your phone was chirping non-stop from the overload of notifications.

She set her phone on the table, a look of contentment making its way to her features as she examined the crowd before turning to meet your eyes.

“You really pulled it off,” Sally grinned, lighting a cigarette. “I’m proud.”

You chuckled lightly, a bit surprised yourself that you were able to host the whole event in such a limited time. “Well, I wouldn’t have been able to without you. This whole damn party is for us, you know. For everyone who’s trapped, hidden away from the celebrations they wish they could join.”

“I’m starting to feel bad for not adding any ABBA to the playlist.”

“It’s alright, I still have eternity to force you to listen to all of their albums.”

“Oh no,” Sally groaned, feigning disgust. “Just kill me already — oh, wait,” she smirked, yet as quick as her joyousness came, it disappeared, and you noticed immediately. Like the changing of the tide, every emotion was recognizable to you in a single moment.

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you spending your life with me?” She asked quietly, and you almost couldn’t hear her over the music. “You have your whole future ahead of you, and I’ll always be here, within these rotting walls.”

You stood, moving close to her, running a finger along her jaw, and you were reminded once more that in her entirety, she was a work of art. “You are all I need, Sally. You are my future.”

She started to cry, her eyes averting your gaze. “Wouldn’t you rather live anywhere else? Away from all of the killing and manipulation? Nothing here is worthwhile.”

“Nothing but you,” you corrected, and she finally met your eyes. “I don’t care if I ever leave this hotel again — as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy. You’re all I need.”

“You’re sure?”

You answered her with a kiss, your hand trailing to the back of her neck, and it took all of your strength to find the will to pull away. “I love you, Sally.”

A song Sally had written began to play, and it was electrifying.

“I love you, too,” her response was given with a smile.

Love was all she needed — all either of you needed.

For love is all we have. All we search for is the epiphany of giving, of receiving just as we have been promised, for the truest goodness in the world has been given from our hearts.

Love could never be wrong, for it was destined.

The party continued long into the night, for everyone in attendance knew of the power they held in a spirit of love, a spirit of authenticity.

Whoever they were, they knew that they were divine — and love was all they needed.

Taglist!

@traumatisedfangirl @cordeliass @devriesgoode

if you’d like to be added or taken off, let me know! <3

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venomous--fics · 3 years ago

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Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spider verse x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

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Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute. “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always.

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list, or if I tagged you by accident!

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, mentions of death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Someone’s watching you.

Note: This one’s gonna be a bit creepy as it features a serial killer and stalking and all sorts of creepery. It’ll be about two or three parts!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bleak headline glared across your screen as bleaker weather fogged the glass of your window.

'Grisly murder suspected to be connected to previous incident'.

You shivered as the steam rose from your mug and the smell of roasted bean filled your nose. The city was on edge. Death was not unfamiliar but killings so methodical were. There was a pattern that no one could deny, even if the media left out certain bloody details.

You tapped the porcelain and turned to look at the misty cityscape beyond your building. The city had a pulse; the car horns, the puffing manholes, the endless parade of footsteps on the pavement. The immortal metropolitan was unaffected by its mortal occupants.

You closed the window on your phone as you turned back. You couldn’t finish the article. To think that any human could do that to another; that any should suffer at the hands of another… One could never truly be immune to the helpless despair. It was a chance that set one in the hands of a monster, as much chance kept one from the same fate.

You finished your coffee and ate a bagel before you readied for another day lost in the sea of people below. Another day at your desk answering phones and staring at a screen between greeting many who acknowledge your existence with impatient disdain.

The same daily ritual in the mirror; another department store blouse, another grey skirt, another pair of low pumps. You grabbed your pea coat and your leather tote and hurried out to catch your train. Twenty minutes with your favourite podcast before you pulled the cord and ran off into the concrete jungle.

Another coffee at your desk; the watery fare from the staff room machine. You sat and began your work. Fake smiles and a sickly sweet voice for every caller and visitor to the small office. Log this, change this, email that. The mindless toil bearable only for the promise of your box-like apartment and its tiny comforts.

You never stayed in the office for lunch. Not anymore. It made the days suffocating, even on rainy or snowy days. You went to the park to eat, although sometimes you weren’t hungry. You watched the ducks or the shedding trees or the teens playing hooky and puffing none so subtly near the bushes.

When you returned, you felt at least that your break hadn’t been wasted even if it had only been more sitting. Ring, ring, click, click, tap, tap, cough, cough. The hours wore on in monotony. Nothing unexpected, nothing more than tedium. The most exciting part was when the clock bid you to leave.

You were almost so lost in the endless banality that you didn’t notice the man behind you until you boarded the train. Until you sat and took out your phone. You pretended to be enraptured by the screen as you scrolled through unread emails and peeked up at him. He stood by the door. His eyes avoided yours.

When you stood at your stop, he did not move. Not until the door began to close and you were near the turnstiles. His shadow was a fleck at the edge of your vision. He was definitely following you. You thought of the article, and its precursor the week before; the suggestion that the murderer had already amassed half a dozen victims. You shrugged away the paranoia and climbed the old filthy steps to ground level.

As you turned the corner onto your street you stopped and waited. The man nearly passed you as he came around the bend and you cleared your throat. You gripped your keys in your fist, ready to stab the man with the largest one.

“You following me?” You asked as pedestrians bumped into him and passed by.

He moved out of their path and stood beside you against the wall. He smiled to himself and scoffed. His blue eyes ran you up and down and you felt as if you’d seen him before. As if you knew him from somewhere. You just couldn’t place it.

“I am.” He confessed. “You’re very… observant.”

“You’re not very subtle,” you countered.

He lifted his head and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Capitals ran across the top; S.H.I.E.L.D. and below a name and picture; James Buchanan Barnes. You sighed and crossed your arms. Your spine went rigid. What on earth could he want from you?

“So…” You pushed yourself away from the brick wall, “How exactly can I help a government operative?”

He glanced around and tucked away his wallet. “Is there anywhere private we can talk? You live around here?”

“Private? At least tell me what’s going on?” You huffed.

“For both our safety, you need to wait for that answer,” he hook his thumb in his jean pocket. “But if you don’t give a shit, I can leave you be and see what happens.”

You frowned. You were confused and slightly afraid. You couldn’t guess at what could have brought him to you. A man you’d only ever seen on a screen.

“Fine,” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, “Across the street.”

He followed you to the curb as the blood swelled in your ears. Your cheeks were hot and a chill gripped your neck. You crossed between the flooded New York traffic, aware of his shadow at your shoulder. His boots barely made a noise on the pavement as your short heels clicked noisily.

You led him into your lobby and fumbled with your keys. You shoved them into the slot and the door clicked open. He grabbed it before you could and waved you inside. You remembered him now. You rarely saw him without another. In your mind, the man didn’t exist exclusive to his old pal, Steve Rogers.

You stopped just inside the door and kept yourself from hitting the elevator button.

“Mr., er, Agent Barnes--” You began.

“Bucky is fine.” He corrected

“How do you even know who I am?” You asked suddenly. “I’m… nobody.”

“As I said, I’d prefer somewhere private,” he urged, “It’s protocol for this type of circumstance.”

“And which type is that?” You challenged as he stepped around you and hit the button.

“The type where you should stop worrying so much about me and more about yourself,” he said as the doors slid open, “Come on.” He stepped inside and turned, “What floor.”

“Third.” You answered as you entered the small box, “I’m in danger?”

He was quiet and his left hand balled into a fist then released as he stared at the numbers. You could hear the strain in the leather glove.

When the doors opened again, he let you off first and kept a step behind you as you led him down the hall to your door. You paused and looked back at him as you picked out the right key. He was impossible to figure out; stone-faced and staunch. You opened your door and welcomed him in with a flutter of fingers.

He shut the door and locked it behind him. You dropped your bag on the shoe rack and kicked your shoes beneath it. Your arches were sore as you backed up and watched him. He looked at his boots and back at you. You shrugged off your jacket and he sighed before he did the same. He reluctantly knelt to unknot the laces of his boots.

“Should I… get you something? Coffee?”

“This isn’t exactly social,” he uttered, “Can we sit? There’s a lot to… explain.”

“Sure,” you led him to the couch and sat. He lowered himself on the other cushion, on the edge as he kept an eye on you.

“Okay, so you’re first question, how do I know who you are?”

He leaned against the arm and dug out his phone. He unlocked it and flicked through its content. He turned it towards you and you frowned at the picture of yourself. You behind your desk, the phone to your ear, as you scribbled on your notepad. He dragged it over and another appeared; you at the grocery store. A third, you at the front door of your building.

“What--”

“These were found at a crime scene.” He interjected. He flipped his phone and searched through the images, “Do you know this woman?”

He showed you the screen again and you shook your head. Whoever she was, she was a stranger to you, although you couldn’t say she didn’t look familiar.

“Her?” He brought up another photo and got the same answer. Three more times as the hair stood on your arms. You didn’t know any of them but they all looked alike. They all looked like you.

“What’s going on?” You asked in a brittle voice.

“You read the news?”

“Sometimes.”

“You’ve heard about the murders? Of the women?”

You nodded and gulped. Your eyes rounded as you trembled in disbelief and fear. “Why are you here though? Why not the cops?”

“They are doing their part and we’re doing ours. You see, we found more than just the photos. Due to security protocols and to protect both of all, I can’t divulge all the evidence I can only say that it brings it under S.H.I.E.L.D. jurisdiction.”

His thumb slid across the screen and revealed another picture. One of the women with a welt across her neck and sloppily down make-up on her face. You blanched and he looked down. He cleared his throat and blackened the screen.

“Sorry,” he put his phone back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t… Look, I know it’s a lot to digest but it’s better you know.”

“But why are you here? I don’t understand… why did he have my picture?”

“From what we can tell, who it is has been following you. These killings seem to be steps on his path to you. He didn’t have anything about the other women. No photos, no writings--”

“Writings?” You gasped.

“Take a breath. Be calm.” He said. “I’m here now. To protect you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Well, I guess that’s the real bad news.” He said. “I’m gonna be your shadow. Now, since we nearly got this guy and have all his stuff, we know he’s scrambling right now. He’s hiding, waiting to come back to you but we know he’s not dumb enough to do it yet. Which is why I am here at this very moment. When he does return, when he’s watching you, I’ll be watching him.”

“You can’t-- You can’t move me?”

“Scaring him away won’t do anything. You’re safer if we can catch this guy. We can’t let him know that anything’s changed.” Bucky said.

“So… I’m bait?”

“You’re safe.” He insisted. “You’ll have my number, you can call me anytime. And I won’t be far. Not really. And I don’t work alone. You’ll be protected.”

“Why are you telling me then if you’re just going to let him keep following me?”

“Well, we waited until it was crucial to let you know,” he said, “And given his desperate circumstance, we think you should now.”

“Do you know how long--”

“Months, years, we’re still combing through the evidence. We only know he won’t stop.” He shifted on the couch. “And I’m telling you because there’s a few things I need from you.”

“Like what?” You scoffed.

“A key to this place. Just in case. And we’ll need to keep a close eye on you. That means, you’ll have to wear a bug and we’ll be tracking your location.”

“What?” You shook your head. “That’s… a lot.”

“We need to know if anything happens immediately and we need to be able to get to you. If you do this, it will help us get him sooner and hopefully, that means that you won’t have to do it for long.”

“I’ll have to have the key made,” you said quietly.

“I can take care of that,” he stood and you watched him cross the room.

He went to the coat rack and reached into your jacket pocket. He took your keys and set his phone on the small round table just beside the shoes. He placed one key on his screen and it made a chirping noise, he turned it over before doing the second key. He dropped them back into your pocket and grabbed his phone.

“This,” he stirred around in his own jacket, “Has a mic and tracker.” He held up the golden chain with the small pink rose ornament. “Wear this and that’s it. That’s all we need. If you take it off, hang it somewhere it won’t be obstructed.”

“Okay,” you got up slowly and took the necklace from him, “Um, thank you, I guess.”

“Look, I know it’s all a bit fucked up but it’s to keep you safe.” He said. “And you are safe, okay? I’ve dealt with much worse than this creep.”

👁️

There was rarely a morning when you were eager to be awake but that morning came crashing down on you with a sense of doom. You rolled over and opened your eyes. The golden necklace hung from your bedside lamp, dangling, calling to you, reminding you of the man who had stalked you back to your apartment. And the other man who loomed in the shadows. A stranger who apparently knew you well.

You sat up and clipped the necklace around your neck so you wouldn’t forget. Was it Bucky listening to you? Was he even listening so early? You stood and ambled across the room with a yawn. Today, the rain left a sheet of frost on the window. Was it winter so soon?

You drank your coffee without tasting it and chewed on a piece of buttered toast. Your phone buzzed. Private number was all it said but you knew who it was.

‘What time do you leave?’ Bucky asked. You typed in the number and nothing more. He already knew which train you took.

You dressed as you did every day. You pulled the necklace over the collar of your shirt and sighed. You felt awkward as if you were living in a simulation; a facsimile of your meek existence.

Ready to face the day and the unknown, you set out as you flicked away another message; ‘You have a break? What time?’ You’d answer him after you got to work. You couldn’t be staring at your phone knowing that someone was undoubtedly watching you.

You stood on the train, too antsy to sit. You waited by the door, ready to bolt off at the slightest sign of trouble. You played with the rose charm without thinking. Your phone buzzed and you quickly drew your fingers away.

Another message from your private caller. 'There's disturbance on the mic. Stop touching.' You almost laughed. It was comical. You'd be an awful spy but you weren't anything close. You were prey.

What would have happened if those pictures had not been discovered? You hated to even think of it. So you pushed away the thought and got off the train.

The streets felt darker even as the grey sky paled. Pedestrians were villains, each one sinister and plotting. When you got to work, you were out of breath as you had nearly broken into a sprint.

You sat and clocked in. You took out your phone and responded to the texts but got nothing back. You hung your jacket on the rack in the corner and went about your usual routine but nothing felt usual. The incessant ringing of the phone and the chatter of the office added to the chaos of your mind. You tried to distract yourself with your work but found yourself fidgety and anxious. Every unfamiliar face that walked through the doors was a potential suspect.

When you took your lunch, you stayed in the office. The break room was empty as you sat and your phone vibed in your blazer pocket. You answered the private number and unwrapped your granola bar.

“You on lunch?” Bucky asked, you confirmed with a mumble. “Are you okay?”

“Am I? What’s going on? Anything?” You stilled the crinkling of the wrapper, suddenly sick to your stomach.

“It’s not going to be that easy or fast. Right now, he’s waiting for us to look away but he could also be in a panic which means he could do something impulsive.” Bucky explained.

“Impulsive? What does that mean?”

“Look, you don’t need to be afraid. I got this. This is nothing compared to what I usually--”

“Nothing?! Well maybe you’re used to this but I’m just a secretary, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing or what to do!” Your voice was shrill as you crushed the granola bar in your hand.

“Take a breath,” he said firmly. “Calm down and proceed as usual. I’m here. I’m watching.”

You sniffed and struggled not to hyperventilate. When you finally got your breathing under control you nodded into the phone and murmured a pathetic ‘okay’.

“Hey, you don’t need to be afraid, okay? Not with me around. So far you’ve been lucky. We figured it out before he got to you and now we’re way ahead of him and he doesn’t even know it.” Bucky coaxed.

“Yeah, I guess,” you deflated and stood from the table; restless.

You went to the kettle and flicked it on. Shaena was always offering you peppermint tea; you’d take her up on that. Maybe it would help calm you down.

“How about tonight I’ll come buy with a pizza and we can go over protocol?” He offered. “And it’ll be good for you not to be alone.”

“Pizza?” You frowned.

“Well, you know, I’m sitting on surveillance all day, I don’t exactly get to relax,” he explained. “...you can say no but it’d be my treat.”

“I’m sorry I’m panicking. I’m just… scared. I didn’t sleep-- I--” You choked on your voice. “You don’t mind?”

“Do you?” He returned.

You sighed and opened the cupboard to grab a mug. You tapped your fingers on the countertop.

“This must be really boring for you,” you said. “You don’t have to--”

“If I’m being honest with you, it’s supposed to be freezing tonight and I don’t exactly get to hang around in a five star suite. You’d be doing me a favour and have the extra security of some goon with a metal arm.” He chuckled.

“Alright,” you threw your hand up. “But I don’t like pepperoni.”

“Damn…” he uttered, “Well, I guess we all have to make sacrifices.”

👁️

You were slightly less frantic when you left work. Bucky texted you to assure you he was there… somewhere. You took your usual route. He explained it was best not to change your routine. You didn’t want to tip off the creep.

The train ride was slow and jittery. The frigid air of the looming New York winter crept in between the door and you shivered as you got off at your stop. Your heels clicked around you as you gripped your bag and the phone in your pocket. You struggled not to look around and try to search out your stalker.

You unlocked your door and dropped your bag beside the shoe rack. You kicked off your heels and rubbed your legs together to warm up. You hung your jacket and took your phone out as you began to pace your apartment.

How close was Bucky? How close was the killer?

You kept checking your messages and then slammed your phone on the coffee table. Stop! You were driving yourself crazy. You made yourself sit and flipped on the television. You put on an old sitcom and tried to settle in. You squirmed on the couch and found it difficult to follow the episode.

Your phone lit up suddenly and made you flinch. The sky was already dark through the window as your ringer blared over the television. You reached for your cell; Private Number. You answered clumsily and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You rasped.

Silence. You blinked and repeated your greeting. Still, the line was quiet. You shook your head and hung up. Before you could toss your phone, it shook again and cried out a melody. You answered again.

This time heavy breathing greeted you. It got louder as you listened and a trickle of ice rolled over your spine. You ended the call and stared at your phone. A third call. You slowly hit the green icon and then turned the phone to speaker.

“Don’t you ever hang up on me.” A man snarled in a crackly voice, “Ever.”

“Who… who is this?”

“Shhh, baby girl, I won’t hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” He said, “That’s all I want.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” You gulped.

Another silence. This one long and exaggerated, pierced only by a metallic whisper. “...You,” he purred darkly, “I want you, baby girl. I want your blood, I want your screams.” You shook as you dropped the phone, his voice muffled but his words clear, “I want that precious little cunt.”

You sobbed and bent to grab the phone again. Your thumb hovered over the red button.

“Baby girl, I told you about hanging up on me. I hope that’s not what you’re thinking of now.”

You said nothing as your eyes burned with frightened tears and you looked down at your necklace. Could Bucky hear? Where was he?

“Soon, I promise, we can be together,” the stranger cooed, “You and me. All alone.” He took a deep breath, “All mine.”

“Please, leave me--”

The line clicked and went dead. You stared at your phone and jumped at the sudden knock on the door. Your fingers curled around your cell and you stood. You crossed to the door. You peeked through the peephole. Bucky stood with a pizza box. You opened the door sharply.

“Where were you?” You snapped.

“What?”

“He just called!” You nearly shouted.

“Keep it down,” he warned as he stepped inside and you retreated. He closed the door and locked it. “He called?”

He went to the kitchen and set the pizza down. “Just now?”

“I thought you were listening? I had him on speaker.”

“I… I’ll have to play it back. I was on my way, I didn’t--”

“You-- you-- The things he said,” you croaked, “You can’t imagine and, and… how did he get my number? You said he would be hiding!”

“Well, these things aren’t exactly cookie cutter--”

“What if he’s watching me right now? Looking in through my window and--” Your voice was shrill as you rung your hands and brushed by Bucky. He followed you to the window as you twisted the blinds shut. “He’s going to kill me like he did all those girls. He’s going to--”

“Come on,” Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the window, “Just breathe.” He turned you to him and placed his hands on your arms. He rubbed them through your blouse. “In, out…” He began to guide you, “On my count; one, in, two, out…”

Your eyes rounded and you struggled to calm yourself. You were shaking but managed to measure your breaths in time with his voice.

“That’s it,” his hands framed your face as he leaned in to look you in the face, “I’m here now and if you need me to, I’ll stay all night.”

You nodded dumbly and grabbed his forearms. His metal thumb stroked your cheek and you slowly pulled his hands away.

“Bucky…” You whispered as he slowly dropped his hands. “Thank you.”

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ebonyforged · 2 years ago

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@slayersurvived:

With the secrecy, Dmitri had an inkling that there was some sort of risk involved with her work. Which is why he didn’t comment on it much, but with her being frank about the danger involved, he could definitely understand her worries. He was never involved in such things, but…well, they met that the prison for a reason. Just the translator at the time, he wasn’t exactly clued into the deeper reasons as to why they were there. If it was the monsters or a certain prisoner, Dmitri hadn’t had the right to dig into that, but with how things played out he had a feeling it might have been the former.

“I…understand. I suppose,” he replied, not too sure how to feel about everything. He knew he had his own risks, considering what he saw and survived, he had no doubt that his government would be trying to find him. If that would extend to the Americans as well, he wasn’t sure, but he definitely wasn’t looking to draw attention to himself. Perhaps with their combined caution…

Well, he couldn’t guarantee that nothing would happen. Still, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Dmitri released his hold somewhat as she shifted back to look him in the eye, he couldn’t help but sit up straighter at her words. He had been attempting to look for ways into trying to contact his son and his mother, but things hadn’t worked out so far. He had been directed toward Murray about that, but (understandably) he was hesitant. More than anything he wanted to see his son safe and with him, however…

“I want to take whatever help I can with that,” Dmitri started, still trying to process everything, “Yet…I know how things are in my country. They will probably expect me to try contact and are probably monitoring…everybody who knew me. I do not want to put that additional danger on you. How challenging would that be for you?”

Since they left Russia, or even since Dmitri was first ruled a traitor, Ebony hasn’t wasted any time thinking about her most recent master beyond the obvious — the matter of her ticking clock. Dmitri and her were both kept largely out of the conversation, translations left too vague or wrapped in code for her to understand. At the time she didn’t even care, but now. . . she can only hope she wasn’t protecting someone who was involved in it all.

As expected, her mention of Mikhail and the potential help she could offer instantly calls his attention. She knew it would. Now that she has brought it up she has to make sure she isn’t setting him up with empty promises. She will happily put in the work, but not everything is a matter of effort or resolve.

“My hope is that among the chaos word didn’t spread that we all escaped together. Even as you were imprisoned, as much as I hated it, I acted as though I was just as shocked as everyone else. After that, everything was so chaotic that it’s unlikely anyone cared about where I was, of all people. Well, except for you.” She can’t help but allow a smile at that, despite the subject of their conversation. “I think that if we take that and my background into account, I’m likely the best person for this job. I’m not saying it won’t be challenging, but even if it puts me in danger further down the line, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Nor the last. Ebony settles her hands warmly on the sides of Dmitri’s neck, her thumbs brushing along the line of his jaw. She wants to kiss him again, but refrains. Now’s not the time. “I know it eats away at you, Dmitri. Let me help.”

#slayersurvived #v; It’s time for some old-fashioned rebellion. {memories past}#reposting without the relationship tag so the normies dont find it </3

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

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I Think I'm OKAY

genre: Angst, hurt comfort

length: two parter

warning(s): Feelings of abandonment, self-depreciating thoughts, suicidal thoughts (briefly), feelings of not being good enough, feelings of being unneeded and unloved

A/N: its just been a day guys. And Ive been think about this all day so I just wrote to get tge thoughs out of my head.

this takes place a few months after the epilogue of Everything Undesired where Azalea is still coming to grips with the fact that she's not her father's heir like she always thought she had been. Mammon and Arella really did try to make time for her but things just never worked out in their favor and it ended up giving their daughter abandonment issues.

She’s lost. Not physically but mentally- Azalea doesn’t know where to go or what her purpose is. Ever since her older brother returned from where ever the hell he’s been her whole life, she’s felt more alone than ever before. From her parents being busier than ever helping Cyrus readjust to life here in the Devildom to her twin brother being curious enough about their new older brother to spend all his time trying to get to know him, no one has time for Azalea any more.

Whenever she tries to reach out to either her parents or her brother she gets blown off. It’s always ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it.’ or ‘I’m sorry, I forgot that was today.’ Forgot? How does one just forget about their child? And Azalea is sorry too. She’s sorry for existing. Maybe everyone is just tired of her. Maybe they didn’t need her anymore? After all, she was just her father’s back up plan. A back up plan. Yeah, it sounded as bad as it hurt- to think that’s the only reason he kept her around all this time. Despite how she might try, all she could ever do is fuck up. Why would her parents ever need a child like that?

She feels abandoned, unneeded. All she ever wanted was to make them proud- she pushed herself to maintain the perfect grades just for their praise. Hell, she’d even forced herself to take advanced placement and honors courses just for their approval but they hadn’t even noticed. And it’s not like she hadn’t tried to show them. The last report card she got in her last year of middle school had a note attached to it stating that when she entered RAD, she’d be welcomed into the advanced courses but of course they had been too busy to even look. Both of her parents assumed nothing had changed so they just didn’t need to see something they had seen hundreds of times already.

Why did they stop loving me? The half-demon thinks to herself, Was it all the fights? Was I not good enough for them? I wish I could make them happy the way my brothers do. I wish I was perfect like them, maybe then they wouldn’t have forgotten about me. Maybe I would still belong. What did I do wrong? Azalea can feel the tears dripping down her face. I’m crying? Again? Pathetic. People like me don’t cry.

She hurriedly wipes them away as she looks up at the stars that dot the night sky of the Devildom. She’s pretty high up on a rooftop. She wonders if a fall from this height might kill her or would it just leave her badly injured- the idea’s tempting. She’d come up here to clear her mind and sort out her feelings with how things had changed- how everything she thought she was meant to be had been ripped away from her, but it had just made things worse. She thought she was okay with all this change but after trying for months to find something new to do with the rest of forever, she found out the only thing she was ever any good at was getting into fights. Sure, she’d taken up sports on her uncle Beel’s suggestion but that led to even more pain when time after time, neither of her parents could be bothered show up.

Her phone lights up with a text from her father.

Dad:

Why weren’t ya at dinner today?

Azalea:

Why weren’t you and Mum at my meet today? Ya know like you promised ya would be?

Dad:

‘Zay c’mon don’t be like that. We said we were sorry but something important came up and we couldn’t make it

Azalea:

Sure whatever you say old man

Its what you always say

It's always something more important ain’t it?

Something more important than me.

Dad:

Azalea

Azalea:

Shove it old man. I don’t wanna hear it right now.

She always gets the short end of the stick. For parents that claim they care about her, they sure had a shitty way of showing it. As the family’s resident trouble maker, she’s not good enough for them. Whatever, she doesn’t even need them anyway. She deserves better than a family that doesn’t care. A family she no longer has a place in. And that was fine by her. Now that she’d finally admitted it to herself, she found it would be easier to ignore her entire family and live life depending on only herself.

With a shuddering huff, the girl shuts her D.D.D off and shoves it in her jacket pocket. She leaves the roof top, still in tears headed for the House of Lamentation.

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“Arella, I have to go and find our daughter.” Mammon sighs as he gets his jacket on.

“She’s still upset about the track meet, isn’t she?” The black-haired human frowns “If you’ll give me a moment, I can ask Aurelius if he’ll watch Mahlon and I’ll go with you. This is something we should address together.”

“I don’t think we got the time to waste, Hon. She stopped respondin’ ta my texts and isn’t answerin’ her phone. If I don’t go now, she might so something to herself. I’ll be able to cover more ground quicker if I fly since she could be anywhere- even up high where we wouldn’t be able to see her that easily.”

“Then go on, I’ll talk to her when she gets home.” Arella nods as her husband leaves.

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She enters her room through the garage door entrance. She really didn’t need to considering Azalea was the only one home currently. She knew Aurelius and Zulima would be gone for the rest of the weekend but still she locked her door to prevent any unwanted visitors- mainly her parents as she knew they’d probably come looking for her after the message she’d sent to her father earlier.

She looked over at the stack of unopened akuzon boxes- all gifts sent to her by her parents as ‘apologies’ for various things. Yeah sure, gifts were nice when they were for things like birthdays or Christmas but not when they were used as a way to placate her feelings when her parents missed things like track meets or science fairs or school functions that they promised they would be there for. It felt like a shallow apology so Azalea never opened any of them. They were starting to collect dust now.

Just because greed is her sin doesn’t mean its satisfied by material objects alone. There was more to it than that. Her sin specifically manifests with being greedy for healthy interpersonal relationships- things like money or material objects only did the bare minimum to help keep it under control and satisfied. She wanted her parents’ attention and only that so when they failed to keep their promises, it hurts her deeper than either of them understands- Azalea doesn’t even have the words to describe how it hurts her.

As she plops down on her sectional and flips on the projection of stars and constellations from the human world to calm herself down, she thinks about the way her greed is eating her alive as she turns on some music- a song her friend from the human world showed her called ‘I Think I’m Okay’. It was a song she really related to for some reason. As the song plays on loop, she thinks about how when she was younger- before her youngest brother was born- she was always of healthy weight and body condition. Nowadays with the lack of ability to satisfy her sin, she was just skin and bone. Despite eating constantly, she always feels like she’s starving and she’d be lucky if she weighed in at 90 pounds soaking wet- all of it coming from the weight of her bones and muscle. Her body is just burning through everything too fast and at this point Azalea doesn’t know whether or not she even has the energy to waste to transform into her demon form anymore.

The half-demon hears a faint knock at the door. Maybe if she doesn’t answer then whoever it is will get the hint and go away. As she watches the door open, a scowl appears on her face. Of course her father would pick the lock on her door. She doesn’t know why she’s even surprised right now. He never knows when to leave well enough alone.

“We need to talk...” Mammon says as he sits down on the couch next to her.

“I don’t wanna. Get lost.” the teenager rolls on to her side away from her father.

“Too bad. I’m not leavin’ until we do.”

“Then prepare ta die in here cuz I refuse.” She can’t let him fool her into accepting his apology when she knows full well he doesn’t mean it.

“You really are just like your ma sometimes- stubborn as all get out.” He sighs. “I see ya never opened yer packages. Why?”

She continued to ignore him. How can she get out of this? Maybe if she closed her eyes, she could fool him into thinking she was asleep.

Just get frustrated and leave already. It’s what ya always do when I won’t talk to ya.

She waits an hour, two, three but still he doesn’t leave.

Man is this getting annoying! Why won’t he just give up and go home already?

“Well, since ya won’t talk, I will. Ya know, Mom and I really are sorry we couldn’t be there this afternoon... I know you’re upset about it but we got called to an emergency meeting at the castle and we... kinda... forgot what time it was by time we were done. I know we don’t have a lot of time to spend with ya anymore but things are just so crazy right now... it’s difficult and when ya act like a brat like this it doesn’t make things any easier.” And Mammon realizes too late that he’s said the wrong thing and put his foot in his mouth.

“Right... cuz that’s all I am is a spoiled brat...” Azalea can’t help the way her voice quakes. “I’m a brat because I asked for you and mum to pay attention to me over the boys just this once and you two let me down and now, I’m getting blamed for being as upset as I am. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

“Azalea, that’s not what I meant and you know that,” Mammon places his hand on her shoulder to turn her over and is shocked when all he feels is bone and muscles that are beginning to atrophy. “What are you doing to yourself? Yer nothin’ but skin an’ bone, Baby.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE WHOSE DOING THIS TO ME!” she roars as she hops up from the couch. “IT’S YOU TWO. YOU’RE THE ONES DOING THIS TO ME!” and then her voice suddenly drops. “But you would notice that if you spent more than five seconds with me. My greed is eating me alive and it’s your fault. I’ve tried for months to get you or Mum to spend time with me and I get forgotten about every time because something ‘more important’ comes up or you also make plans with Aurelius or Cyrus and choose to do that over spending time with me. It’s either that or you both choose Mahlon over me and it’s literally killing me. I get that they all need you guys too and I’m not more important than them but it feels like they’re more important to you than me. And I hate it because...” She lets out a sob as she sinks to her knees, “Because you two are the most important people to me.”

Mammon looks at his daughter with a horrified look on his face. His only daughter feels like she’s not important to them but she was right in a way. Both he and Arella had been choosing her brothers over her- not intentionally but he can see why she would come to that conclusion. This was a very crucial time in her life having had everything she thought she was taken away and she was lost with no clue where to go. He and her mother should have been right by her side, helping her find a new path in life this whole time but instead they got so wrapped up in work and other things that now their daughter was suffering the consequences.

“No, baby that’s not true.” The demon says as he wraps his little girl up in his arms. “You are so important to us too.” He rubs her back as he rocks her back and forth, “We love you so much and I’m so sorry we haven’t made ya feel like that. We’re gonna do better from now on. I promise, okay?”

Azalea is hesitant to nod. How many times had she heard the word promise and then had that promise broken but even now as she’s wrapped up in her father’s arms, she’s starting to feel the overwhelming weight of her sin slowly start to go away. She just rests her head against his chest as her puffy teary blue to gold eyes start to slip closed ever so slowly.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.” He says as he runs he hand through her hair and places a kiss to the top of her head.

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Find more on my masterlist

#obey me next gen #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon angst #om! mammon #obey me oc #arella #azalea

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sorry-apsalar · 3 years ago

Text

Everything's Going to be Okay

First off, this fic contains temporary character death. Everything's going to be okay though, don't worry.

Second, I've been sitting on this fic for months, like half a year maybe. I wanted to write more but this was the only part I was actually interested in writing. I've tried several times to continue and do a more complete thing but it wasn't happening so I've decided to just post this because it's complete enough even if it's not the full story of events following this.

Fry really didn’t want to wake up but the cold metal hand patting his cheek was insistent in drawing him back towards consciousness. “Come on Fry, I know you ain’t dead yet so hurry up and open your eyes already. It can’t be that bad, can it?” There was an odd note to his voice, an emotion Fry couldn’t quite place, especially since he was fairly sure he’d never heard it in Bender’s voice before. Meaning it was probably a good idea to wake up and see what he was upset about.

With a groan, Fry forced himself to open his eyes. He was leaning back against an uneven wall. Bender hovered over him, one hand out stretched to tap Fry’s check, the other held a lantern, its light dim and lens cracked, it was seemingly the only source of light in whatever space they were currently in. A large splotch of something wet and red was smeared across Bender’s front, it looked an awful lot like blood but that didn’t make sense because robots didn’t bleed.

“You’re awake,” Bender said as he withdrew his hand from Fry’s face. He sounded… relieved? “That means you’ll be fine, right?”

Fry wanted to push himself up a bit further but… the fact that everything seemed to hurt told him not to. “What happened?” They’d been going into a scary looking cave to deliver a package to the client who’d ordered it who was supposedly inside. Presumably they were still in that cave since they certainly weren’t outside. So… what had happened? A cave-in perhaps? That would explain why it was so dark and perhaps why Fry had been unconscious.

“It was a trap. Those bastards tried to kill us. They failed though, look see, even the lantern survived.” Bender gestured with it, making it sway back and forth a bit harder than Fry was comfortable with given how it was their only source of light.

“Why’d they try to kill us?”

“How should I know? It doesn’t matter though because they blew the fucking cave up on top of us and now we’re trapped behind a damn wall of rocks and dirt. I’d tell you to dig us but uh…” he looked Fry up and down a grimace, “yeah. That means I have to though. Ugh, I hate manual labor.”

“What?” Fry’s brain seemed to be running slow and the pain made it rather hard to think. Why had Bender been looking at him like that? And why did everything hurt so much?

Bender said something in response but Fry missed it as he looked down at himself at last. He clothing was soaked in something warm and red… blood, he was covered in blood. It was impossible to tell where it was all coming from in the in low light of the damaged lantern but surely it couldn’t all be his, could it? But then where else would it have come from? And further down, his leg lay twisted an odd angle that no human leg was supposed to bend and it might’ve just been his imagination playing cruel tricks on him but it looked like part of his bone was sticking out as well, covered in more blood.

“Fry!” Bender snapped in a tone that suggested he’d been trying to get Fry’s attention for a little bit now. The ‘wet red stuff’ on his front made more sense now; he’d moved Fry to lean him up against the wall. “You hit your hit too or something?”

“Uh… I don’t know.” He honestly had no way of knowing anymore. “But what… how’d this… happen?” He gestured vaguely at himself.

“The explosion and shrapnel and stuff turned your soft meaty body into swiss cheese. It didn’t do much to me for obvious reasons.” He hit a fist against his chest, making a hollow clang. “And a big boulder landing on you fucked up your leg. You were lucky though because it probably would’ve killed you if it had hit you somewhere else. But you’ve survived some pretty bad stuff in the past. Even if that was with immediate medical assistance, which we don’t have down here, you’ll still survive this, right?” That odd note was back in Bender’s voice as he finished speaking

“Uh… I don’t know.” He certainly didn’t feel like he was going to be all right after this. Though he hadn’t felt that way during all the other times he’d taken serious bodily harm either. But unlike those times there weren’t any doctors nearby with their nigh-on magical healing technologies. They were trapped in a cave on a planet in the middle of nowhere without even basic medical supplies which didn’t bode well for him. But… “I hope so.” Hoping was all he could really do.

A few seconds of heavy silence went by in which Bender was still as a statue before he jerked out of it. “Well, I’m going to get to moving boulders and stuff. Those punks are so going to pay for this as soon as I’m out and uh… I guess after I take you to a doctor too. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He placed the lantern down on the ground next to Fry before turning to leave, presumably heading in the direction of the cave in.

Fry watched him disappear into the darkness, wanting to call him back but… as much as he didn’t want to be alone, his only chance of surviving this was Bender getting him out and to a doctor. So… “I love you,” he called after him instead just in case this was his last chance to say that.

Bender’s footsteps paused. “Is now really the time for being all sappy and stuff?”

“I don’t see why it’s a bad time for it.”

“Fine, I love you too so don’t you dare fucking die or I’ll never forgive you.”

Fry’s small laugh quickly petered out because it hurt too much. “I’ll try my best,” he forced out in a weak voice.

Without Bender there to keep him focused, Fry quickly started having trouble staying awake. Even with the pain every tiny movement and even breathing brought, sleep seemed to beckon him. If he fell asleep now though would he ever wake up? So he fought it. … It was a losing battle though.

It was awfully cold too. So much so, his hands and feet soon began to grow numb from it. Which was odd because hadn’t the planet been rather warm, even inside the cave? He’d complained about it to Leela before heading off with Bender while she stayed back to refuel the ship, using the ship’s backup fuel canisters; she’d told him to suck it up and deal with it. So why did it feel so cold now?

He didn’t want to die in the cold, especially alone. … More like he didn’t want to die at all, there was still so much to see and do. He still hadn’t mastered the holophonor. And there were still so many TV shows left to watch with Bender and video games to play on his phone while avoiding work. And so many other things too. He couldn’t die yet, not like this, he wasn’t ready. … But he’d never would be ready, huh? And he didn’t really have a choice in the matter; he was dying whether he liked it or not and… he didn’t want to do it alone.

“Bender,” he tried to call out but his voice failed him and it came out rather weak instead.

Despite that, the sound of Bender shifting rocks stopped. A few seconds later, he emerged back into the weak lamplight. “What?” The annoyance in his voice and stance were forced. “I’m trying to get us out of here which you should be grateful for since I don’t normally do that type of thing.”

“I… I’m dying,” Fry choked out. “I’m… not going to make it.”

“Nonsense, you’re still breathing so it’s fine. You said so yourself… sort of.”

Fry whimpered as he shook his head. “I’m cold and numb and… it hurts so much. But… I just want to sleep.” He didn’t even have enough energy to be as panicked as he should be. “I don’t got much time left.”

“Well… I’m trying to get us out as fast as I can, what more do you want from me?” Lacking any real energy, Bender’s attempt at callousness failed. He had to know that even if the way to the ship was clear, getting to anywhere with proper medical facilities would take a couple hours at least. Fry was growing increasingly certain he didn’t have that long, let alone however long it would take to dig out of the cave too so…

“I don’t want to die alone.” That had always been one of his biggest fears, that he’d die alone and no one would care. He didn’t have to worry about the latter at least but the former was still scary. “Please Bender I… I… just please… I don’t want to die alone.” That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

Still as a statue, Bender stared at him, his expression unreadable, for several seconds before he jerked back into motion. “If that’s the case then I guess I just got to use this sooner than I thought I would.” As he spoke, he opened his chest compartment and reached seemingly all the way to the back to pull something out. A small black metal box. He flipped that open to pull out a rectangular object with a switch on it and wires coming out either end of it. One of which ended in what looked an awful lot like the brain scan caps in science fiction movies.

“What’s that?” Fry asked as Bender leaned over to put it on him.

“Don’t worry about it. Just… trust me when I say everything’s going to be okay, all right?” Bender secured it in place under Fry’s chin, tight enough to be uncomfortable. Fry didn’t trust himself to be able to loosen it though so he let it be as Bender sat down to lean back against the wall next to him.

“I love you. You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had or could’ve ever asked for and the best…”

“What did I just say?” Bender’s annoyance was real this time. “As much as I like it when you acknowledge how great am I, you’re talking like you think this is the end.”

“But… it is.” And Fry was struggling to even stay focused enough to say the things he wanted to say, how much longer before even that was too much for him?

“I told you, everything’s going to be okay so just trust me and shut up already, talking’s a waste of energy.”

Fry did trust him but… he didn’t seem to know what was going on. Was it denial or him not understanding how death worked? Couldn’t be the latter, not solely anyway. Maybe a little bit of both then? Fry didn’t have the energy to explain though.

Bender was fiddling with the wire coming out of the other side of the rectangle thing. It split off into two plugs. One of which Bender opened his chest compartment to plug it into himself or into something else inside him. The other he stared at for several seconds, seemingly unsure what to do with it before shrugging and pulling it into his chest compartment too. He went much deeper with that one, his arm stretching up inside himself.

“What is it?” Fry tried again, having to force the words out. Perhaps if his mind didn’t feel so cloudy he’d be able to come up with even guess but… he had nothing.

Bender didn’t even glance his way as he instead pressed the switch on the box connecting them. A strange hum filled Fry’s head, loud but not unpleasant, especially since it seemed to lessen the pain a little, making it even harder to focus and think.

Bender said something that Fry couldn’t quite understand for some reason as he leaned back against the wall and took Fry’s hand into his own, intertwining their fingers. His tone was reassuring though, which was rather unlike him but… it was nice.

Fry squeezed his hand as hard as his failing strength would let him. He wasn’t dying alone or unloved and… that was enough right now.

~~~

Fry came to slowly. Something was off though. He opened his eyes to the sight of a cave wall several feet away. It didn’t look normal though, it was like he was looking at it through a night vision camera. Why was he even in a cave? … Right yeah, the delivery mission and then waking up in pain… he’d been dying and now wasn’t? He certainly didn’t hurt anymore which was a huge plus all on it own.

“See? I told you everything would be okay,” Bender said, sounding rather pleased with himself. But when Fry turned his head to the left to look at him to ask what exactly had happened, he wasn’t there. Hmmm… weird.

Fry turned his head to look to the right next and was met with the rather peculiar sight of himself. But everything about that sight was wrong. He was unnaturally stiff and covered in blood, the latter of which made sense based off his recollection prior to waking except for the fact that it looked mostly congealed now. … Dead was the only word that could describe it, he was looking at his own corpse.

He yelped as he pulled away because what the actual fuck? But the corpse – hiscorpse – was holding his hand and wouldn’t let go and… Suddenly he was holding still and looking away, though not by his own volition.

“This is going to be a lot more troublesome than I initially thought,” Bender said, the location of his voice indiscernible

“Bender? What’s going on?” Fry didn’t like whatever it was. But then again he was still here while his body was very dead. Was he a ghost?

“I guess I didn’t exactly tell you what I was doing. But I’m sure even you can figure it out fairly quickly.” Bender’s hand, that was also his own somehow, rose in front of his face to give a small finger wave. Things just kept getting stranger but one thing was pretty clear, he seemed to be in Bender’s body somehow, looking down at himself and seeing Bender’s open chest compartment with the two wires coming out confirmed it.

“I’m a ghost possessing you?”

“Close but not exactly. I downloaded your mind onto my hard drive” As he spoke, Bender carefully pried his hand out of corpse Fry’s stiff grip. It was coated in a thick layer of congealed blood.

Fry shuddered in disgust, looking away again as he tried to shake it off. It didn’t work though; despite being made of metal he could still feel it clinging to him or… more like to Bender.

“Stop that!” Bender reinserted control and tried to wipe it on Fry’s jacket before Fry pulled it back.

“Can we please not touch my corpse? It’s weird and… I don’t like it.” Touching one’s own corpse was not a thing anyone should ever even be able to do, let alone actually do if given the chance.

“It’s not really you anymore so why does it matter? But fine, whatever, if you insist. Let me take this off though.” Bender at least had the kindness to let Fry continue to look away as he reached over to take off the wired cap off Fry’s corpse. He then unplugged himself from the device, a rather odd feeling sensation, before putting the whole thing back in its box and then that back in his chest compartment.

“Why didn’t you tell me that that thing was going to download my mind or whatever?” Fry asked as he wiped off what could of the blood on Bender’s hand onto the rocks making up the floor – which wasn’t as effective as he would’ve liked but what else could he do? “That would’ve been a huge comfort, you know.” Knowing he wasn’t going into oblivion would’ve made the whole dying thing a lot less scary and upsetting. And it’s not like Bender didn’t have enough time to explain, he’d had plenty.

“In case you refused.”

“Why would I ever refuse?”

Bender shrugged as he stood up. “Humans and other living things are peculiar about their bodies for some reason. I’ve heard of instances where your kind have refused stuff like that in the past so I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“Well, those people were dumb.” Fry would’ve never even considered refusing such a thing even if sharing a body with his boyfriend was really weird and seeing his own corpse was all kinds of horrible that he’d probably have nightmares about later. “Is this like a permanent situation though? Are we going to be in the same body forever?”

“Fuck no. As much as I love you, I need me time sometimes too so I’m transferring you to your own body as soon as possible when we get home.”

Good, Fry wasn’t a huge fan of sharing a body either. He wanted his own body, preferably the one he’d had before. That wasn’t an option though so he’d take what he could get. … But then again, he’d presumably be uploaded into a robot, basically making him a robot, right? That would be pretty awesome. Heck actually, he was technically a robot now, wasn’t he?

“Can I bend something? … If that’s all right with you?” It was Bender’s body and he really didn’t want to impose, especially since taking on Fry like this was probably not his idea of a good time but he’d always admired Bender’s strength and now that was kinda his so… he really badly wanted to bend something just because he could now.

Bender sighed and fondly shook his head – conversing with him when they were in the same body was really weird. “Sure, if there’s something around here to bend, you can bend it.”

Fry looked around, carefully avoiding glancing at his corpse. Unfortunately, they were in a natural cave and thus the only thing around was rock wall and the boulders and stuff, making up the cave-in, nothing all that bendable. Well, there was the lamp, its battery had run out while they’d been ‘sleeping’. Still careful not to look directly at his corpse, Fry located it and snatched it up off the ground.

Its already cracked lens shattered as he bent it with ease. It was only a small lantern but it was still made of pretty sturdy metal and he could bend it all out of shape in any and every way he pleased. It might as well have been putty in his hands.

Bender kindly let him play with it for a while before interjecting. “As much fun as this is, we really need to get out of here.”

“Right uh… yeah.” Fry opened Bender’s chest compartment and quickly placed the mangled, unrecognizable remains of the lantern inside. That was another something he’d always wished he could do. It was like having a giant pocket, one he didn’t have to worry about stuff falling out of or being pick-pocketed. “How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, maybe the same way we came in.” Bender turned to face the rockslide. In hindsight, that had been a rather stupid question. “So get to digging meatbag. … I guess I can’t really call you ‘meatbag’ anymore, huh?”

“Nah, you can still call me that if you want to.” It would be weird if Bender didn’t occasionally call him that after all the years he’d been doing it.

“All right then meatbag, get to work.” Bender pointed to the cave in but made no move to start digging them out himself. “But then again, you doing it would technically be the same as me doing it and you’re already dead so there’s no need to rush anymore. So, actually let’s just wait for Leela to come save us instead.”

Under normal circumstances, Fry would’ve been more than willing to go with that plan. Even now it was tempting but his corpse was only a few feet away and he’d rather not think about that or the fact that it would probably start rotting soon and that was not something he wanted to see any part of. With all that hovering over him like an oppressive cloud, he wanted out of here as soon as physically possible. So, he stepped forward to start of the rock pile. “I think I’d prefer to dig out.”

“Really?” Bender groaned. “Fine, whatever, I’m not helping though.”

Bender’s initial attempt at digging out had cleared only about enough to be noticeable. Despite how long it had felt to Fry at the time, he clearly hadn’t been long at it before Fry had called him back. But Fry was making good progress. Up until he started to feel dizzy anyway, messing with his coordination and balance. It was almost like he was starting to get tipsy or something.

“That’s enough,” Bender said, breaking his silence as he took back control of his body. Fry’s instinct was to fight that because he wanted out of here but it was Bender’s body, he was just a temporary passenger.

Bender stepped back from the cave in but thankfully didn’t turn around. He opened his chest compartment and somehow knew just where to reach to pull out a beer. He downed the whole thing in one go and instantly Fry felt better. Right yeah, because robots ran on alcohol. After tossing the empty bottle aside, he pulled out another and down that one too, finishing with a flame belch.

“And that’s the last one,” he said as he tossed the bottle off somewhere too. “So no more digging or we’re going to run out of fuel faster.”

“I thought you always carried a lot of extra bottles though, especially when we go out on missions.” They’d all been in enough crazy situations by now to bring extra everything they needed when going out. Especially when it was to a particularly distant planet as this one had been.

“Yeah, I do, but do you have any idea how much power it takes to upload a human mind into anything, especially when it needs to be done quickly? And it’s not like there’s an outlet anywhere nearby so all that power had to come straight from me. So you better be grateful, especially since I have to put up with you in my body for who even knows how long.”

“Oh uh… I guess that would probably take a lot of power, huh? Thanks, I… really appreciate this, like a lot.” More than he knew how to put into words; if Bender hadn’t done this, he’d be… who even knows what or where, probably oblivion would be his guess. But instead he got to continue to exist after death. This didn’t count as being alive anymore though, did it? He was still dead, his corpse was mere feet away, just not gone. That was… creepy to think about so he wasn’t going to anymore. “You’re really awesome for doing this for me.”

Bender chuckled smugly. “Yep, I’m great and awesome.”

Fry wanted to hug him but… well actually he could sort of. So, he did, he was hugging himself too but it still counted, right? Especially since it was Bender’s body.

“This is really weird,” Bender said but didn’t put a stop to it. When Fry got his own body, he’d be sure one of the first things he did with it was give Bender a proper hug, for now though, this would have to do.

“What if Leela assumes we’re both dead and thus doesn’t even try to dig us out?” And thus they would be trapped in here until Bender ran out of fuel and then what would happen next? … They’d die, right? Meaning Fry would die again. He wasn’t ready to face death again, not so soon after the first time.

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen. She’ll know I survived so she’ll at least want to dig me out.”

That was a fair point actually but it only calmed Fry’s nerves for a short time because… “What if the assholes who attacked us went after her too and now she’s also dead or dying and…”

“This is Leela we’re talking about here. You really think she’d let those chumps get the best of her?” Another good point.

“But… but…” On top of not wanting to potentially die again Fry also really wanted out of here. He wasn’t normally plagued by claustrophobia or anything like it but the longer he spent in the presence of his slowly rotting corpse, the more he wanted away from it. Refusing to look in its general direction didn’t make him any less aware that it was there. “Look at how much progress we made? Surely we’re almost out. I bet if we cleared just a few more rocks we’d begin to see…”

The ground shook beneath them accompanied by a loud but muffled boom. Whatever it was also raised a cloud of dust from the cave-in as it shifted, most of it collapsing outward away from them. It didn’t clear it, not even close, but it did make as sizeable hole in it through which light could be seen. Not sunlight but a lantern, its light growing stronger as the person holding it stepped into the breach. It was Leela of course.

“See I told you,” Bender said smugly before starting for her. “It’s about damn time you showed up. We’ve been trapped for ages.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I kind of had to deal with an army of aliens trying to kill me and steal the ship. And then I had to steal some explosives because the ones we have the ship were too powerful and probably would’ve made the cave in worse and possibly crushed you guys. All that kind of took a…” Leela paused as Bender pulled them up onto the rock next to her. “Is that blood on your chest?”

“Yep, and hand.” Bender lifted the hand still coated in Fry’s dried blood. “I need a shower.”

“Where’s Fry? Is he okay?”

“That depends on your definition of ‘okay’.”

Leela stepped past them to jump off the rock. Which unfortunately was far enough into the cave to allow the circle of her lantern light to reach Fry’s corpse. She gasped and presumably ran over based off the sound of her footsteps but Fry didn’t see because no way was he looking in that direction anymore. Instead he focused on the cave wall on the other side.

“He’s dead.” Leela’s voice was full of grief and shock. Fry truly hadn’t died unloved, he had friends who cared about him too.

“Yep,” Bender said, “but don’t worry, he’s…”

“How can you be so indifferent to this?” Leela was almost yelling. “I thought you loved him. How can even you be so…”

It was Fry’s turn to interrupt now because the last thing Bender deserved was Leela’s ire. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Well… I guess that does depend what your definition of ‘fine’ is because I am still dead which is… pretty awful and disturbing and scary. But… other than that I’m fine.”

There was a heavy beat or two of silence before Leela found her voice again. “W-what?”

“This is what you get for not letting me finish Leela.” Bender crossed his arms and tapped his foot in annoyance but thankfully respected Fry’s desire to continue to stare the wall and not look in that direction. “Before he died, I uploaded his mind onto my hard drive. So he’s basically sharing a body with me now.”

“Oh uh… but how? I thought the technology to do that kind of thing was super expensive and not portable.”

“Well, I stole a prototype portable version.”

“Wait, that thing was only a prototype?” Fry had assumed it was tested and safe. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

“You wouldn’t be here right now, duh.”

“Well uh… I guess that’s good,” Leela said. “Why’d you put him into your body though? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to carry something else around for that purpose?”

“I did but I didn’t think I’d have to use it any time soon and filled that flash drive up with porn. So when he was dying I had to decide if I wanted to delete all that porn or delete a few extraneous things from my hard drive and deal with sharing a body for a little while. It’s a lot of porn, most of it good too, so it wasn’t really a hard decision.”

“What’d you delete to make room for me?”

“The last traces of the code meant to make me follow the Laws of Robotics and a few other things so unimportant I don’t even remember what they were.”

“What’s the Laws of Robotics?” Fry was pretty sure he’d never heard of such a thing before.

Bender shrugged. “How should I know? I just deleted everything having to do with them other than the name. There’s no way I ever followed them though so it doesn’t matter. Now let’s get out of here, I’m so done with this cave.” He turned and started for the exit.

“What are we going to do about Fry’s body though?” Leela called after them. “Is okay to just leave it?”

Fry halted, earning a small annoyed sound from Bender but this was important. He still didn’t look over his shoulder at Leela as he answered her though. “Burn it and spread my ashes on the moon.”

“Why?” Unsurprisingly Bender didn’t understand. That was fine though, he didn’t need to, to follow Fry’s wishes.

“Because the very few times I thought about what I wanted to have happen to my body after I died, that was what I decided I wanted. It’s in my will.”

“All right Fry. We’ll burn your body. Bender and uh… Fry let’s go get some stuff for burning from the ship.” As she spoke, Leela climbed back up onto the rock next to them and led the way out.

“What else is in your will?” Bender asked as he followed.

“All my stuff is supposed go to you, except my space heater and all my food, that goes to Leela.”

Bender chuckled. “Sounds good to me, we don’t need the heater anymore anyway, especially since I still have the one installed in me. I don’t know what I’ll do with any of your junk but it doesn’t matter.”

“Wait what? No! I’m still here so my stuff going to you doesn’t really count.”

“Nope, too late, you died and already brought your will up for this weird moon thing of yours so all your stuff’s mine now.”

In hindsight Fry probably shouldn’t have even said anything about that part of his will but it was too late now. Though, it didn’t really matter much anyway, Bender had always had a ‘your stuff is my stuff’ attitude that had only grown stronger since they’d started dating. So really, Bender being the legal owner of all his stuff probably wouldn’t change much. … Sharing a body for however long they would have to probably would though. Being transferred to his own robot body would certainly change stuff too. In how many different ways though? … That wasn’t something he needed worry about yet. For now he was just glad to still exist.

#my writing #futurama #frender #philip j fry #bender bending rodriguez #temporary character death

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cocobuttterbby · 4 years ago

Text

I can play too

This fic is loosely inspired by the song 2 by h.e.r

Pairings: black reader x spencer reid

Warning: language, some implications of smut,

Summary: Spencer has been acting like he's single, so the reader plays that game too.

Keep in mind im, not a good writer

With that being said

Enjoy </3

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎꧁☮︎︎꧂♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Recently, Spencer has been acting strange and not in a good way either. When y/n calls him like she usually does he never answers, or when he does he answers with an attitude and he ends the call quickly which has been not sitting right with y/n at all.

Y/n went to go drop off some lunch for spencer today because she wanted to see him and also see the team too. Y/n walked to the elevator with an FBI guest pass on her shirt and took the elevator to the usual floor they were on; she's been here so many times so she doesn't need help to find the floor they were on and the team loves her so she's always welcome to see them.

As she walked out of the elevator, she was welcomed with the sound of a gasp by Penelope, to which she smiled and a warm embrace from her as well. Penelope loudly announced that y/n was here to which the team got up and walked to where she was and exclaimed how much they missed seeing her even though she was here two days ago; Spencer was the only one who didn't go over to see her even though that's his girlfriend which everyone caught on and questioned it but they kept the questions to themselves.

Y/n looked at him with a puzzled look as she walked up to him “Spence I cooked you some lunch” he gave her an annoyed look to which she stopped in her tracks; she knew that he wasn't stupid and he knew that he wasn't stupid either but right now he's acting like he was. She set the bag down and pulled him to a quiet place where they could talk “Spence what is up with you lately? You've been acting weird with me.” he rolled his eyes and sighed like she was wasting his time; to put it nicely y/n was beyond pissed at this point, but she kept her cool “ok so be it. You wanna act like im wasting your time then please be my guest but don't ever think you can treat me like im sort of an idiot because promise I can play dirty too”.

Y/n walked away from Reid feeling irritated and gave the food she cooked to the team so they can all share and walked out of the building with a plan. Since Reid wanted to act single, she can too. She called up her friends and told them that they're going out tonight and Reid isn't stopping her.

9:30 pm

Y/n hopped in the shower and brushed her teeth, and stepped out of the bathroom. she got her hair done in a lace front so she took it out of the bonnet and brushed it out, curled it, and put on some light makeup. She was picking out the dress she wanted to wear when spencer came in; he walked up to the room they shared and opened the door to their room and looked at her. Y/n turned her head to look at him and went back to picking out her dress “what are you doing?” she knew that he was going to say that but she ignored him and turned to him with two dresses in her hands “which one should I wear? This one or this one?” she held the two dresses that hugged her curves nicely up to her towel-covered body.

Y/n could see that reid was getting mad but she didn't care and she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip out of it and put it back on her vanity “again. What are you doing” she turned to him and crossed her arms with a bothered look on her face “if you must know reid. I'm going out tonight”. Reid put his bag down on the bed and walked up to her “why?” she took off her towel and put on her panties and a strapless bra and finally answered his question “well last time I checked im grown so I can do what I want and you said it yourself that you're single so that must mean im single too if my math is correct” she walked passed him and sat on her vanity and started to put on her jewelry.

Spencer was pissed but y/n frankly didn't care at this point, if he wanted to act like this then so can she. Y/n finally settled on a black dress that hugged her curves wonderfully, she texted her friends that she was ready and he stood in front of her trying to prevent her from leaving the room, he declared “you're not going anywhere” to which she laughed at and glared at him “like im gonna listen to you. The last time I fucking checked I was single to you so if you can please move that would be greatly appreciated”. She stepped on the bed around him and walked to the door to where she can put on her heels; he was right behind her still talking to her but she stopped listening to him.

Y/n finally had enough and turned to look at him “now understand something. According to you and how you've been fucking acting it tells me that you're single and if im being generous with my math it means im single too. Am I correct? On top of that im grown so im gonna need you to stop trying to control me like im a damn child. So, please if you can kindly get out of my damn face that would be appreciated, and if you can figure out whether you want to be with me or not that would be great” and with that, she shut the door and walked out the building.

~at the club ♡︎~

1:20 am

Y/n was already 20 shots in and was having the best time of her life. She was grinding on her friends and singing along to every song that came on. Her favorite song came on and she rushed to the dance floor with her friends, they were all dancing and taking more shots. What she didn't see was spencer walking around trying to find her, y/n was too busy grinding on her friend to notice spencer walk up to her.

Y/n turned around and saw him and quickly sobered up, *he looked so good when he was mad* she thought to herself, he stretched his hand under her chin and lifted it to make her look at him “its time to go y/n” she pulled away from him and shook her head no. She remembered that he pissed her off earlier to she didn't wanna listen to him, he slightly thought was she was doing was amusing but he didn't want her to know that so he looked at her friends and walked up to then “hey do you guys mind if I take y/n home? She and I have to talk about something”. They all nodded their heads and he thanked them and picked up y/n and walked out of the club with her on his back.

Spencer put y/n in the car and started to drive back to the apartment. Y/n faced away from him while he was driving “I figure that I should apologize for the way I was acting” she silently nodded her head to let him know that she was listening to which he smiled at “tell you what I'll properly apologize to you when we get in the room” to which y/n instantly looked at him with a smile “can you start that proper apology right now?”

Needless to say, that y/n accepted his apology that night.

♡︎♡︎♡︎

Ok, so I know that I ended this in the most anticlimactic way possible but please forgive me I don't write smut scenes that well cuz again. I'm. Not. A. Great. Writer but anyway I hope y'all liked it

#Spotify #criminal minds #black reader #spencer x y/n #black girls #spencer reid #spencer reid x black!reader

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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years ago

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Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this.

()()()()()()

Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right?

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after.

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine.

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed.

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it."

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off.

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast.

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!"

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here.

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused.

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!"

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two.

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead.

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads.

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere.

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick."

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?"

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd.

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone.

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?"

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's.

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon."

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know."

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees.

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked.

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them.

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you.

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again."

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it."

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know."

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged.

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh.

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested.

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

#jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sickfic #spn #spn cast

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vidalinav · 4 years ago

Text

I think the reason why I abhor the Inner Circle now has nothing to do with Nesta, but the way that they have no consequences for their actions, regardless of Nesta.

I can admit that Nesta has flaws, but Nesta has suffered the consequences immensely, whether she deserved all of them or not, because she was painted as a “bad” character that “belonged to Hewn City” that was “a waste of life,” that was “embarrassing,” who needed to straighten her attitude, because she was ruining relationships or not gaining them by being mean or verbally aggressive or pushing people away, regardless of the trauma she had. At some points it was a healing arc, at some points it seemed more like a retribution, which largely depended on what other characters were present. Like that was her accountability. Eris, because he’s treated as a “villainous”/ morally grey character, has consequences. Because no one trusts him even when he actually does okay. Because he suffers in silence. Because people hate on him and that he has no one. Tamlin, even has consequences, because again he’s alone. He’s bitter, he’s having an emotionally hard time. He doesn’t have a court anymore. All things that he may or may not have caused himself, but he was painted as the bad guy and so he suffers like the bad guy. Lucien, who didn’t really do anything, but like once in ACOMAF, suffers consequences, because he’s not welcome for a time being anywhere, and now he’s sort of roaming. Jurian, has consequences, because well... everything that happened to him, which you know personally is not really deserved because you know human slavery. So all of them, have or had consequences for their own actions. Other characters, namely the IC, thought of them badly at some point or still do, and they were ostracized in such a way that they paid or are paying essentially for their “crimes.”

Which to me is perfectly fine, IF, the people who are “good” but did “bad” things also have to suffer consequences. Even narratively, like feeling bad... showing remorse... feeling guilty... other people yelling at them... making them understand the other POV... cosmic punishment... something awful happening to them because they did this... other people not thinking well of them. Anything!

BUT THEY DON’T. And this is where the imbalance is very noticeable, and unfortunately to me makes the IC look really bad, even in the narrative’s pursuit of pushing this idea that they’re very good.

Which you know might be a POV thing (or SJM’s favoritism but I digress), but Rhys for example is a trash ruler. He may not be bad to Feyre. He may be caring to some people. He may want to put his family first. He may care about the little city he lives in, but on a regular basis he wants to burn Hewn City down. Why he still has that city? Idfk. Why everyone in that city is painted to be a bad person? I don’t know either. He may have outlawed clipping, but on a regular basis there’s still a shit ton of crimes against females. He has a city and a temple full of proof, and the explanation for that is that well... there are consequences. But what are they? And also, why are there not more infrastructures to stop this? Like I understand that the Illyrians are a traditional people, but is that the excuse we’re going with? Which of course, he’s only one person, this is not his fault, but now he’s literally trying to have a whole ass country sign a peace treaty for what reason? Is there a reason he’s not focusing on the problems of his OWN court like they don’t exist? His own inner circle have so many problems, and what is happening with them? Why the hell did he make that promise to die with Feyre, but also why didn’t he tell anyone about it just in case. Because he’s literally the ruler of a court. Let’s not forget that instead of being just a strong-willed High Lord who’s just and fair and who’s trying to do what’s right by his people, he’s still putting on an act. Why? He’s the most powerful person, they say ALL THE TIME. He clearly is not. Let’s not forget that he has done so much crime, and what really were his consequences? Like if Nesta can’t be excused by her trauma, Rhys CANNOT be excused by his trauma, except Rhysand’s actions were in the range of murder and Nesta’s was being mean lol. So I think it’s hilarious that to the IC at least he’s fucking fantastic. Like okay.

Amren, as another example, basically works in the same way as Nesta. Where she is harsh, but people put up with it. But again, Nesta is looked at very harshly, and Amren is not??? Even when she’s sort of a tyrant and she’s a... little bit of a colonizer and she doesn’t really give people respect. And she’s shown to be a bit of a... do as I say type of person by any means necessary even deceit and manipulation which is not frowned upon even with “friends.” What are her consequences? Even in Nesta’s POV she takes a knee. Does that make sense?

Going even into just inter group dynamics, Mor for example, is not very... should I say? Honest. I hate to villainize her like the whole thing is her fault, because it’s obviously not. But... she literally is playing with a man’s feelings and knows she’s playing with a man’s feelings, but she doesn’t tell him because??? Like she doesn’t even have to tell him why, but she hasn’t told Azriel she doesn’t like him? And then she also got Cassian involved... I mean, it’s Cassian’s fault for that, you know, cause she didn’t force him, but... uhh. And then, let’s not forget that Mor was awful to Nesta in ACOWAR, when Nesta was actually pretty decent to Cassian. They had many moments. She saw those moments. And Mor was not nice AT ALL. Cut the crap, of saying oh Mor was just protective of Cassian because Nesta was mean. No she wasn’t! Or you’re forgetting an entire fucking book. She may seem like that now, but that was a change of character to be honest, I don’t know where that came from, because in the beginning of that book she was an awful person, and in ACOWAR she was not a benevolent person either. But where are her consequences????? Actually she has a bit, because you know Eris points it out a lot, that she’s a liar. Nesta says she’s a hypocrite. She’s dealing with her father, she has to hide who she is to fit in the group which is sort of changing her narrative. So, I count that as some form of consequence, which is probably why I don’t hate her too much. I understand her a bit, but damn... she was not that bright and bubbly and who’s really going to call her out on that?

Sigh... Onto the next one. My love. Cassian.

I know he’s loving and very sweet. But he has his head so far up the IC’s ass, that I’m like ugh...Mostly my critique with him is that he gets to say everything he wants even when it’s horrible and down right dramatic, to a girl who already hates herself, and who he learns hates herself and if he was smarter he could have connected those dots way earlier and that she was suffering thoughts of not wanting to exist because she obviously was by her ACTIONS, and still he says the most horrible things. Sure, he offers remorse, but like... we didn’t even see him apologize. Like I hate that Nesta can say horrible things, and omg Nesta’s mean. But Cassian says horrible things, and it’s like omg Nesta what did you say? I mean that’s how the narrative was structured. Nesta said something about Rhys it wasn’t even that big, “everyone hates you.” Nesta offers some anxiety about the mating bond, “I’m shackled to you.” Like... yikes. She doesn’t want to accept his gift, “I don’t understand why your sisters love you.” Sigh... I love Cassian but damn, he literally has no consequences. No one is calling him out, no one thinks bad of him, nothing. He’s the sweet, lovable guy and nothing else. Psssh. I mean, he mostly says this only to Nesta, but Nesta isn’t going to think bad of him, which is not right. Because he sucks sometimes, and what? Nesta needs to learn to take the pain of his insults. Okay.

Elain, is not technically an IC member, and tbh I don’t know who the hell she is or what she feels, so I can’t talk about her too much. Except for the fact, that she is also not the greatest person in the world. I know that you cannot expect your sibling to hold the world for you, but as people have pointed out, Nesta was not asking her to help her with her own trauma, she was asking for time to heal, like Nesta had done for Elain. Because Nesta protected Elain’s ability to heal. And when Nesta tells her this, she just doesn’t understand and doesn’t seem to care about understanding her POV, and cries and once again Nesta is the bad guy. And then you know she offers that “you only care about what my trauma did to you.” Another lack of understanding, because Nesta is fearful of the cauldron, and her own sister doesn’t stick up for her when the IC are obviously trying to push her into something she’s saying and showing she’s not comfortable with. I don’t see how you cannot see this scene as a manipulation, when it is outright said that they would use Elain later to do that. And tbh if Elain really wanted to do something she could at any moment, no one is stopping her. I mean Nesta may put up some fight, but if Elain wants it she can have it. She’s not an uwu baby. But the scene did show that no matter what Nesta feels, once again Elain is the victim and Nesta is the one in the wrong. And then later when Nesta is trying again when she goes to solstice, which you know based on logical reasoning, would have been probably hard for her, Elain is like “Did Feyre pay you to come? Be nice.” Sigh... And still, Elain is the sweet one and Nesta is the one who deserves that. Even in her own narrative, Nesta doesn’t deserve anything. What are Elain’s consequences? I certainly hope Nesta and Elain are not close to begin with in the next books, because I honestly feel that Elain now has proven twice that she is not helpful. Just like Nesta didn’t help Feyre, Elain didn’t either, though Nesta paid for that a lot in other people’s opinions of her, which they did not hold against Elain. But now she also didn’t help Nesta. But both Feyre and Nesta have helped Elain, and they’re both now considered to have “coddled” her like what wack shit? Isn’t that just another way that they excuse Elain for not taking accountability of her own life? Is that not also making her a victim of other people? When again, if she really wanted to fight or go somewhere or do something, who would stop her? The perspective on Elain is very weird. Anyway.

I’d also say Azriel doesn’t suffer any consequences. For obvious reasons, because he seems to torture people and no one bats an eye, but also because he seems to have such a weird mindset even it’s not outright stated. Again with the whole Mor situation, how has no one told him that holding onto this crush is fucking creepy and counterintuitive to the mindset of family they’re trying to create? Like you visibly made someone obviously uncomfortable, and nothing? No one calls you out. No one thinks bad of you, even Mor, the one uncomfortable. So weird!!!

But basically what I’m trying to say, is not that I hate these characters, because they’re very interesting to read, even if the quality of writing is so-so compared to other SJM’s series. They’re not totally bad or villains but they definitely do some stuff that should probably be recognized as something wrong, because all of them are morally grey characters. Just the lack of understanding they showed Nesta should be something that is called out, the lack of understanding they don’t really show each other for those who call themselves family. No one had to be accountable in this book, except Nesta. Which is odd, I think, because there’s two POVs, and Nesta has a problem with everyone which are not entirely her fault. Because the opinions of other people, at their core, are the responsibility of the other people. They could have chosen to be more understanding, but they didn’t. They could choose to be better people, but they don’t. And I’d say that the lack of accountability that the IC have contribute to them never changing. Now, this may change with more books. But at least in this book, this idea is not promising. We got no scenes of the IC talking to Cassian or Nesta like they understood or empathized or changed their mind about anything, none that made them seem like they felt guilty or wrong. Even Rhys went into Nesta’s head and saw all of her trauma, and then still said he wanted to kill her because of a situation he, himself, created. This book was a mess. But they’re messy characters which might be because of poor plotting, but could be on purpose. Idk.

But the point I’m trying to make is that the more the idea is pushed that the IC are these good, benevolent people, who do no wrong, who are the saviors, the more I think they’re horrible people. Because all of things they do that are wrong don’t get held against them. They don’t have to pay for that crime. And if they did have to be accountable for those mistakes, for their own thoughts and actions, I would hate them a lot less. But I think this is also why I tend to like SJM’s “villains” or “asshole characters” more than her “good” characters because the assholes get to grow and the good characters just get more annoying. But it remains to be seen I guess. I certainly hope they have some more development, but not holding my breath... Just my opinion, which I don’t know if I articulated well. So... Anyway

#it is what it is #anti sjm #anti inner circle #nesta archeron #nessian #long post #anti rhysand #to be safe #all antis

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

arrangements.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i LOVED writing this one, and i’ll have you know that the kitchen scene was taken directly from my life - when my yiayia passed, my theo came to stay with us and did the exact same routine my yiayia and i used to do in the morning so my mom could sleep in. when my mom woke up in a panic, she heard us in the kitchen and knew she could go back to sleep :’)

words: 1.8k warnings: food mention

summary: “so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.” ― robert louis stevenson, lay morals

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You pad down the hallway, fingertips gently pushing the cracked door to what was formerly Jack and Haley’s room when they lived with Jess. Now, Aaron and Jack take the room while you take the couch.

Nobody wants to be alone.

Jack’s awake, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

When he sees you, he smiles and opens his mouth. You press a finger to your lips before pointing at Aaron, still sleeping. Be quiet, baby.

You step further into the room, leaving the door open, and gingerly pull the covers away from Jack so you can pick him up. He immediately latches onto you and you straighten, leaving the door cracked as you leave the hallway.

When you’re down the hall and past the arch of the kitchen, you can finally talk. “Alright, Jack. What do you want for breakfast?” You set him on the counter in Jess’s kitchen, ruffling his hair.

You’re exhausted, having barely slept last night, but Jess and Aaron have a whole day of planning and funeral arrangements ahead of them. Jack’s breakfast and morning routines are the last things they need to worry about.

He thinks for a minute. “Cereal.”

“Alright, bud.” You open the cabinet, displaying the options. “Do we want Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, or Kix? I think your dad has Chex in here, but -“

You make matching yuck faces.

“Yeah, I thought so. So what’ll it be?”

“Cheerios.”

+++

Down the hall, Aaron wakes in the guest room with a start, finding Jack’s side of the bed empty. He throws himself out of bed and only stops when he hears your voices in the kitchen.

“...Cheerios it is, then. Do you want to use your monkey bowl, or do you want to use a big bowl and we can share?”

He heaves a sigh of relief.

“Big bowl.”

You laugh a little, and it almost brings a smile to his face. “You sure? That’s pretty ambitious.” Nevertheless, he hears a light clink of ceramic as you pull one of the deep bowls from the cabinet by the sink.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He sounds exceedingly confident for someone who eats like a bird.

“Alright. Breakfast will be a team effort, then.”

Aaron creeps forward, surprisingly light on his feet, knowing there’s a place in the hall where he can see into the kitchen without getting caught.

You’re still in your pajamas and so is Jack. The boy watches as you pour a decently-sized bowl of cereal - just about enough for a four-year-old and a late twenty-something to share. Aaron’s eyes follow the casual touches you bestow as you set up, pressing your palms to the sides of his face and kissing the top of his head, running your hand over his shoulders as you pass him for a pair of spoons, helping him settle on your hip with one arm while you grab the cereal with your other hand.

They’re alright.

Without thinking too much more about it, he turns around and goes back to bed, flopping down like a bag of rocks and falling right back to sleep on top of the covers.

He’s too tired to do much else.

+++

You’re with Jack most of the morning, and you’re almost surprised Aaron hasn’t already been running around in a panic to find him.

After breakfast, it’s cartoons and then reading. He helps you fold the blankets from your makeshift bed on the couch - you make a game out of it before you settle down.

Aaron rises again to hear you reading The Giving Tree, and he does his best to swallow his tears. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember what that book sounds like in Haley’s voice.

It’s already harder than it should be. More than half his life knowing her, and he’s terrified of forgetting what her voice sounds like, what her laugh feels like in his arms, the exact color of her eyes.

“‘Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.’

“‘I am too big to climb and play,’ said the boy…”

Aaron sits in the hallway, against the wall and out of your sight, and closes his eyes, listening to you read.

He took a shaky breath as you reached the end of the story. There were tears pressing in at your voice, but you did an excellent job of remaining steady as you continued to read.

“...’I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy. ‘Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’

“‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’

“And the boy did.” You pause, turning the final page. “And the tree was happy.”

There’s quiet for a moment.

“Why are you sad?” Jack asks.

“That story always makes me feel so much that sometimes the feelings come out of my eyes, but I’m not sad, bud. I’m alright.”

“Oh. Does that happen?”

You hum. “Does what happen?”

Aaron can almost see the thoughts working across Jack’s face. “Do sometimes you not know what you’re feeling when you’re crying?”

“Yeah, that happens, sometimes.” There’s a shift, and Aaron’s fairly sure you set the book down and brought him further into your arms. “The more words you know, though, the easier it is to figure out what you’re feeling.”

“How many words do you know?”

You huff a laugh. It almost makes Aaron smile. “I know a lot of words. Between me, your dad, and Uncle Spencer, we probably know all the words.”

Then, Jack screeches a laugh and Aaron knows you’re tickling him within an inch of his life.

That’s a good enough excuse as any to ‘wake up,’ I suppose.

He rises and wipes his tears away, mindful of his double black eyes and the cut across his nose. He probably looks a fright, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You look up as he rounds the corner and you offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You push Jack off your lap and he easily scrambles toward Aaron, who picks him up with only the smallest twinge of protest.

“Oh, be careful with Dad, honey.” You remind him, leaning over the couch.

Aaron kisses Jack’s temple. “You’re alright, bud. Just no jumping on me for a couple of days, okay?”

Jack nods, tucking under his chin. “We had breakfast.”

“Did you?” He asks, looking at you like he doesn’t know.

You nod. “I can put something together for you, if you’d like.”

“We’ve got to get going. We’ve got -” He stops for a second. “We’ve got things to take care of today, so we need to get Jack ready to go.”

Standing, you stretch and level him with an unamused look. “Nope. Not having that. I’m making you and Jess breakfast and taking Jack for the day so you can do what you need to do without worrying about anything. Just let me know when you’re done so I can have what I assume will be dinner ready when you get back.”

He raises an eyebrow, but it’s not as animated as his dubious looks have been in the past. Is it worth arguing with you?

You mirror his look. Is it ever?

He sighs and looks at Jack again, telling him that he’ll stay here with you while, “Aunt Jess and I run some errands. Does that sound okay?”

Jack looks over at you and you nod encouragingly.

“That sounds okay.”

His parroting draws the smallest smiles from Aaron, who kisses Jack’s temple again, breathing him in. You can’t even imagine what’s going through Aaron’s head right now. If it were you, you’d never want to let him out of your sight ever again.

When he sets Jack back on his feet, Aaron turns back, headed for the hall bathroom. You get Jack settled with the second round of cartoons for the morning, and make your way down the hallway.

Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring straight down. “Hi.”

“Hey.” You stay put in the doorway, giving him some space.

He takes a shaky breath and lets it out heavily through his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It would be absolutely batshit if you did, Aaron. You’re supposed to feel that way.”

He’s quiet, still.

“But you’re not alone. I’m here as long as you want, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.” You step forward, slowly and deliberately so he knows you’re coming.

He loves you so much. Even though Jack’s in the other room, you’re the only one keeping his feet on the floor. He’d have let himself waste away without you here.

Jess does her best, but she’s trying to bury her sister. That, of course, comes with its own nightmarish baggage.

You wait for him, standing at his side until he can finally straighten up and open his eyes. They’re so tired. You wonder if the sleep he’s had has been any sort of useful.

He opens one of his arms, and you wrap yourself around him, your hands flat against his abdomen.

“I wish I could do more for you. For Jack.”

You can feel him shake his head. “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here.”

“I miss her.”

He heaves a sigh, and you’re glad to hear it’s deeper than a few days ago. He is, after all, still healing. “Me too.”

“Take your time today. I can always delegate tasks if you run out of energy and need to call it.” You stare at a random spot on the wall as you talk, your cheek pressed against him.

“What would I do without you?”

You shake your head. “I dunno. You’d probably spend less of your time annoyed at work, but the rest of it would be pretty boring.” You pause. “Your TMJ would probably be a lot worse, too.”

There’s no laugh, but you think maybe he thought about it. After a moment, “Thank you.”

I love you.

“Anytime.”

I love you.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years ago

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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Older Dramione

This feels very much like a Part One, and if you’d like more please let me know! (if anyone even sees this!).

Synopsis:

Draco, eight months after becoming a widower, nearly loses his son too in a vicious attack at Malfoy Manor. In the aftermath, while he’s being questioned by the aurors, there’s no one to look after little Scorpius, who just won’t stop howling. In desperation, and remembering how good Hermione had been with his kids, Harry brings the baby up to her office. In the end, the only thing that will calm the child is the soft hum of Hermione’s voice as she sings to him. Of course, that would be how Draco Malfoy finds her, wouldn’t t it? And then, eleven years later, Hermione meets him again...

(Warnings for past Ron/Hermione, and implied infertility. No explicit Ron-bashing, but it’s implied that their relationship couldn’t take the strain and he looked elsewhere. I may develop it later, but it won’t be a Ron-bashing fic. They’re just ultimately incompatible in this universe).

___

“Hermione…” Harry’s voice cut through her thoughts as she stared at the paperwork in front of her.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, jerking to her feet behind her enormous desk, eyes wide at the sight of Harry’s face. He was ashen, and it took a lot to shake Auror Potter these days. “Is it Ginny? James? Albus? Merlin, Harry, what’s happened?”

“They’re fine,” he said heavily and with a strangely detached intonation. “It’s… It’s Malfoy.”

That drew her up short. “Draco?” she frowned, wondering why he’d be so concerned about his former schoolboy nemesis. They hadn’t seen him in years. No one had. “What about him?”

“He… There was an attack.”

Her world tilted strangely. He’d always been there in the background, though the last time she’d seen him had been years ago at Theo’s wedding. He’d looked so good then, and happy too, with Astoria smiling at his side. She seemed to have softened his sharp edges, though the two had merely nodded when their eyes met across the room while Theo kissed his husband silly in the middle of the dance floor. That had been a good night, but that had been years ago.

“Harry, what happened? Is… Is he alright?”

“I’m not really here about Draco…. It’s about his son, Scorpius.”

“I don’t understand.��

Harry stepped into her office and closed the door. With his status as Head Auror, he was the only one who could barge in on the head of the DMLE like this, and she welcomed it. “As I understand it, he left Scorpius in the care of his nanny for the afternoon so that he could go to Gringotts and sort out some business there, and while he was gone… the nanny and Scorpius were attacked. The nanny… she died protecting him. We’ve managed to keep it from the press at the moment.”

“Harry, where’s Draco now?” She scowled, coming around to the side of the desk. “I should have been informed, this is my department, Harry…”

“He’s being questioned.”

“Questioned? By whom? Why? Harry —”

“We need to know all we can about it. There were Dark Arts involved, Hermione. Some really nasty curses. This is Auror stuff for now. If it becomes your department, you can handle it personally if you like but…”

He sucked in a breath and suddenly looked much older than he was. She was viscerally reminded of Remus Lupin for a heartbeat.

“Mione, I haven’t got anywhere I can leave Scorpius, and he hasn’t stopped screaming since he got here. You… You were always so good with my lot… is… is there any chance I can leave him with you. I know he’ll be safe here…”

She blinked. “Harry, I —” What was she about to say? That she didn’t have time? That she didn’t have time to take care of a frightened child? What could be more important than that? The stacks of parchments and fluttering memos orbiting her desk would say otherwise, but she was head of the department, dammit. Someone else could handle that. “Of course.”

Harry’s shoulders went slack and he exhaled. “I’ll bring him up.” And with that, he was gone.

She heard Scorpius long before she saw him, howling like a mandrake.

When the eight month old child was brought into her office, red-faced and screaming, her heart went out to him. Harry - who had seen his fair share of babies and drama with his own little brood - looked distinctly uncomfortable holding the squirming child in his arms.

There was a rarely-used sofa in Hermione’s office, and she took the wriggling baby from Harry and sank down onto it. “You can leave me with him,” she said quietly, marvelling at his silver eyes and tiny hands, currently balled into feisty little fists. “Tell Penelope that I am unavailable for the rest of the day and to be disturbed only in absolute emergencies, and even then only by you.”

Harry nodded.

“Or by Draco, if he’s free and wants to reclaim his gorgeous little howling hellspawn,” she laughed. At the sound of it, Scorpius took a gulping breath, and paused his dramatics, blinking. “Oh, you didn’t like that, hmm?” she chuckled, tapping his tiny little button nose. “Well, if the shoe fits…” she said.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Harry mumbled. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“Honestly, despite the terrible circumstances, I’m grateful for some time off, Harry. I can’t remember the last time I put something else before work.”

“Probably the last time Albus made a noise like that,” he snorted, hand on the door. “Shout if you need anything. I’ll be down in interrogation with Malfoy.”

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Go easy on him. He’s only been a widower for eight months.”

The comment brought a quiet look to Harry’s green eyes, perhaps imagining himself in the same boat, and he nodded.

It took a long, long time for Scorpius to settle, but after nearly two hours, she had resorted to letting the boy play with her curls while she sang. He liked the melancholy folk songs, she discovered, so after four renditions of Scarborough Fair, and two of Go Your Way, she settled on Let No Man Steal Your Thyme. That one hurt even more than Go Your Way, but Scorpius was fascinated.

Hermione wasn’t the best singer, but her husky alto suited that last one so well that she almost forgot to be shy about singing, even for a baby.

Tears flowed as the words stuck in her throat and she cradled the little one close to her, cupping his head as she rocked him. Pain and heartache welled up in her as she fought down flashes of Ron’s callous betrayal, but she forced her voice to remain steady.

For when your thyme is past and gone

He'll care no more for you

And in the place your time was waste

Will spread all over with rue

The door creaked and she jumped. Instinctively turning little Scorpius from the doorway and setting her own body between them, she soon found she need not have been so protective. Draco Malfoy stood on the threshold, his silver eyes wide and full of tears, his lips parted in a gesture of astonishment.

“Draco,” she said, standing carefully from the sofa. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, but eventually he cleared his throat. “Granger…” he whispered. “I… I mean…”

“Please,” she said, stepping over to him and holding out the tiny child. “Here… Careful, he’s not long been asleep.”

“Potter said he wouldn’t stop screaming. I nearly broke the wards trying to get to him…”

She chuckled. Scorpius still had his little fingers gripped around a curl and Draco was staring at it. “I’m surprised anything stopped you,” she said. “Here,” and handed him over.

Draco took him so gently that something twisted in her gut and she almost lurched back from him for no good reason. Scorpius grumbled and fussed in his sleep as she pried his strong fingers off her hair and she stroked the back of his smooth, now pale, cheek. “Shh, little mandrake,” she smiled. “It’s alright now. Your father’s here.”

If she’d been told, at the age of eleven, that Draco Malfoy would be cradling his son like he was the most precious thing in the universe, she would have laughed, but seeing it now, it only warmed her heart.

“Thank you, Granger,” Draco said in a hoarse rasp without taking his eyes off his boy. “I can’t tell you… I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“I think I can hazard a guess,” she said with a wry twist to her lips.

“You and Weasley have children, Granger?” he asked, still staring at his son.

Pain lanced through her chest, but she kept her face perfectly schooled. “No, but I’ve seen my fair share of late nights and fussy babies from Harry and Ginny.”

At that, Draco looked up sharply, his piercing eyes searching her face. “I see,” was all he said.

“Harry and his team will do everything they can to figure out who was behind it, Draco. They’ll get them.”

His face darkened. “Azkaban will be too comfortable a place for them after what they did.”

That’s the Malfoy I remember, she nearly said, but instead, she stroked Scorpius silky white hair once and then rolled the tension from her neck while Malfoy crossed to the door, his tiny son held tight to his chest. He looked thinner than she remembered, and more haunted around the eyes, but she supposed that the grief of his wife’s death was still near. Theo - a surprisingly close friend of hers these days - had said Malfoy hadn’t left the manor at all since Astoria died. Perhaps this was his first outing. Oh God, she thought. What a thing to happen on his first day from the Manor.

“Take care of yourself, Granger,” he said from the doorway, and she realised that she’d been staring at him without really seeing him.

“You too, Draco,” she said. “I hope perhaps to see you again, though under infinitely better circumstances.”

That clearly surprised him, but he managed a tight-lipped smile, a nod, and then he was gone.

She sank down on to the sofa, feeling the loss of the little boy’s weight in her arms anew, and with a flick of her fingers, she wandlessly closed and locked the door to her office, and burst into tears.

___

“Mum!” Albus whined, yanking Ginny along while their younger sister slid her tiny hand into Hermione’s and trotted along at a more sedate pace. “Come on! We’re going to miss the train!”

Ginny shot Hermione a frantic look over her shoulder, and Hermione just rolled her eyes. They still had enough time.

“I want to go through on my own!” Albus said with a serious little frown on his adorable face when they paused in the main concourse of the station. “Can I?”

Ginny nodded. “Wait right on the other side for us though. Do not go wandering off. It’ll be chaos back there.”

The earnest young boy nodded and turned his trolley towards the barrier. Hermione watched as Ginny as Albus vanished into the brickwork, unseen by muggle eyes. “It’s no easier the second time around, Hermione,” she said.

James, two years older, just rolled his eyes and slouched through after his little brother with the unimpressed face of a thirteen year old.

“Go on,” Hermione chuckled at Ginny. “I’ll bring Lily through.”

Reunited on the other side, Hermione’s eyebrows rose at the sight that greeted her almost immediately. Amid the bustle and rolling clouds of steam, a tall, slender man stood with his back to them, silver-white hair neatly combed back, and with his hand resting on the shoulder of a young boy who could have been a carbon copy of himself at that age. Hermione’s mind actually slipped a little sideways at the sight of them.

There was a bubble of empty space around them though, as if they carried the plague, and people shot them furtive looks as they scuttled past. Malfoy kept his hand on his son’s shoulder, and Hermione remembered with a jolt that she’d once held the boy who now stood beside him. Scorpius. Malfoy’s little mandrake. That had been in another life, it seemed to her then.

“That’s Malfoy,” Ginny whispered, sounding scandalised as she half-turned to Hermione. “He hasn’t been seen in public for… years. I heard he’s a complete recluse… I’m surprised he didn’t pack his son off on the train with some governess or something…”

“Don't gossip, Gin,” Hermione chided her best friend. “It’s unkind.”

The guard gave a shrill whistle, and the platform scurried into a maelstrom of last-minute, frenzied activity. Goodbyes from weeping parents, yells and laughter of reuniting students, hooting owls and yowling cats… it was a familiar cacophony and somehow it soothed her. In the chaos, Malfoy and his son disappeared amid the smoke like ghosts.

Once James had said his goodbyes and scuttled off to be with his friends, a sulking Albus hugged his mother, and she ruffled his black hair. “Your father’s so proud of you, Albus,” she said.

“Yeah, but he’s not here today is he?” he said in a softly sullen voice as he stepped back.

“He’s not in the country, Albus. He would have been here if he could, and he’ll be here when you come home for the holidays. He’s booked the time off already,” she said, clearly trying to hold it together.

“Yeah, til there’s an emergency then as well.”

“Can I have one last hug before you go?” Ginny asked and reluctantly the boy wound his arms around his mother’s waist again. “Thanks, love. I’m so proud of you.”

Hermione cupped his cheek fondly as he pulled back, and said, “You’ll be fine, Albus. Whatever happens, we’ll all be proud of you, alright? You can always owl us if you need anything.”

“Yes, Aunt Hermione.” The kid nodded and they helped him heave his trunk onto the train and stow it in the luggage area.

As the engine left in a cloud of steam, Ginny looked at her wristwatch swore softly. “I’ve got to go. Come on, Lily,” she said, taking the quiet young girl’s hand. “Ready to side-along? Mummy’s going to be late.”

“You’re always late,” Lily said innocently and Hermione hid a smirk behind her hand.

“Not one word, Granger,” Ginny snickered at her. “Thanks love. I’ll see you for dinner on Thursday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hermione smiled, hugging her briefly in an awkward side-hug before they both disapparated, leaving her alone in the swirling steam.

When it cleared, she found that the only other person on her section of the platform was Draco Malfoy. He stood with his back to her, staring after the train like a statue as the white clouds cleared in the wake of the departing Express.

Taking a chance, Hermione approached him. He flinched when she appeared in his peripheral vision, but when he saw who it was, he stilled. “Granger…” he said warily. Age had done nothing to his looks except perhaps to enhance them, though he still bore shadows under his eyes and carried a pinched look that reminded her of their sixth year at Hogwarts.

She smiled openly though. “Draco.”

His gaze slid inexorably back to the retreating engine as it dragged the carriages behind it, and he blinked a few times, eyes glassy. His throat worked as he swallowed thickly, and then he frowned. “You seeing your own off today?” he asked, still staring.

The dull pain still made itself known, but she shook her head. “No. I’m… I’m here for Ginny’s younger boy, Albus.”

“I see.”

“Harry was a wreck when James went away.” At Malfoy’s frown, she clarified, “His first born.”

“He’s not here today?” Malfoy asked with familiar sarcasm lacing his tone and turning to face her. “Couldn’t stand it a second time round?”

She sighed and swept her wild hair back out of her face, watching as Malfoy’s eyes tracked the movement with the intensity of a grey owl. “He’s on assignment and couldn’t get away. He left a letter in Albus’ suitcase, but the kid’s still hurt. How’s Scorpius handling it?” and by extension, you?

Malfoy managed a weak, lopsided smile that carried none of his previous sneer and sting. In fact, he looked washed out. His cheeks were gaunt in a way that reminded her unsettlingly of Lucius in his latter years among the Death Eaters. Malfoy inhaled sharply through his nose. “Better than I would have done, in his position. He’s… He’s worried about the legacy I’ve left him, I think. Rightly so.”

Hermione nodded, hair still blowing about her head like a dandelion. “Albus too, with Harry.”

Malfoy raised one icy eyebrow and snorted in a very ‘Malfoy’ way. It was almost reassuring. “For different reasons, I imagine.”

“Yes and no,” she said, continuing unflinchingly. “Obviously Scorpius will have to deal with the unsavoury nature of your role in the war, but Harry’s successes weigh heavily on his children too. The pressure they feel is, regrettably, immense. In that respect, I’m almost glad I —” she cut herself off abruptly. “Anyway. All we can do is support them.”

Malfoy was looking at her with the strangest expression on his face. “Indeed,” he finally said. “I should return to the Manor.”

“Have a drink with me,” she blurted, and he turned his head like an owl in surprise. It might have been funny if his face wasn’t so difficult to read.

“Beg pardon?” he snorted.

“Sorry. I… I didn’t mean to impose myself on you, Draco. I don’t blame you if you’d rather not. I just… You look like you could use a drink.”

“At elven o’clock in the morning? What kind of degenerate do you take me for?”

Was he joking? She thought she saw a little burnished glint in his silver eyes. “Come to the Leaky with me and find out,” she said. “I’ve got nothing all day.”

He narrowed his eyes. Finally, he whispered, “Merlin’s beard, you’re actually serious.”

“Perfectly, but there’s no pressure. I’ve got some things I need to see to in Diagon Alley first. We could have lunch if you’d rather.”

He opened his mouth, said nothing, closed it, opened it again, and then, to her astonishment, he laughed. It was a bitter, brittle little thing, but still, it touched his eyes. “Alright. Lunch it is, Granger. I’ll see you at twelve thirty at the Leaky.”

Her mouth lifted into a smile and her heart leapt. She felt like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation and the slight elicit feel to it. This was Draco Malfoy after all. But she’d seen him watery eyed and desperately worried for his infant son, and she would never look at him the same way again after that.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m kind of new to being active in the fandom on here, and shy.

If you want more from this AU, let me know too!

You spoke! and PART TWO was written. Find it here, and check my masterlist for more parts in the future!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3 (updated, should work now! Sorry!)

#dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #older dramione #hermione granger x draco malfoy #dramione story #scorpius malfoy #he's now officially 'draco's little mandrake' in hermione's mind and you can't change mine about that either

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pterodactylterrace · 4 years ago

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Guys Like You Chapter 16

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 16

Chapter Summary: Meet the family

Rating: 18+

Warnings: None for this chapter

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15}

"How well does she do on flights?" Henry asked quietly, nodding for Faye to slide in first to take the window seat.

"She gets sick on longer flights." Faye explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, resting the snoozing child in his lap, her chubby cheek pressed against his chest as a small bit of drool tumbled from her lower lip.

"It's a little under an hour, do you think she'll be ok?"

"She didn't get sick until after the third hour when we came to England."

"Hopefully she'll just sleep the whole time." Henry sighed, smiling fondly at the child snoozing on him. To say he was excited to introduce his girls to his family was an understatement. He had been practically vibrating with giddiness for the last two days. That in turn wound up Kal and Briar, which meant no one wanted to go to bed. Faye had counted herself lucky to get the child tucked into bed and finally asleep before 11pm the night before. Certainly not enough time for any sort of decent rest before their 6am flight. She could also tell Henry hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, the dark circles under his eyes a dead giveaway, no matter how many times he insisted he was fine.

Maybe they could all catch a nap during the flight. That sounded incredible, though Faye wasn't sure if her nerves would allow her to actually sleep. Henry had assured her over and over that his family would love her, but she had a nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept asking her 'but what if they don't?' Would Henry leave her if his family didn't like her? What if they didn't like Briar? She could be a bit much at times. Maybe they would think she was an awful mother who couldn't control her child. She just had to keep reminding herself that Henry wasn't like that. He wasn't a controlling abuser. He wanted to see her happy. He actually loved her and she was slowly learning how to be loved in return.

Henry reluctantly slid the child from his lap and into her seat before take off, buckling the now grumpy toddler in while Faye gave Briar her stuffed bunny in an attempt to pacify her for the time being. That only resulted in the rather amusing image of an incredibly angry looking toddler hugging a very well loved stuffed bunny, glaring daggers at the seat back in front of her. The second the fasten seatbelt sign went off, Briar was back in Henry's lap, smugly snuggling back into his chest with her bunny tucked under her arm.

"I swear, she likes you more than she likes me." Faye sighed, shaking her head at her daughter.

"I never tell her no." Henry shrugged, giving the child a small squeeze.

"I've noticed." Faye grumbled.

"How do you expect me to say no to that face?" Henry challenged, nodding down to where Briar was already sleeping on him, her cheek squished up against his chest, more drool slowly soaking into his shirt.

"What if she wants to do something dangerous?"

"That's why I have her wonderful, strong, beautiful mother nearby." Henry smiled at her, chuckling at her annoyed look.

"So what are you gonna do with any future children?" Faye shot back, not missing the way Henry's entire demeanor lit up.

"I'll just have to follow your lead." He offered, trying to tame the smile from his face. This was the first time she had mentioned any more children since their scare, and just the thought was enough to make him dizzy with excitement.

"Breastfed that kid for a year and a half, and this is the thanks I get." Faye grumbled to herself, moving over to the middle seat to use Henry's bulky shoulder as a pillow.

"As much as I'd like to say I'll help you every step of the way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be useless when it comes to that."

"Such a shame, your tits are bigger than mine."

"They are not." Henry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Mmhmm. Mine only look nice when I roll them up into a bra so you can't see how deflated they are."

"They're the perfect size for my hands."

"And your tits are still bigger."

"Fine, but I still don't think I can breastfeed a baby." Henry relented, his face heating up when he realized the flight attendant had made it to their row with the drink cart. Her look of confused horror was one Faye would remember for years to come.

"I think we're good." Faye half laughed, Henry dropping his head in embarrassment. Sometimes people just walk up at the wrong time in a conversation.

Faye was apprehensive at first when Henry told her his brother would be picking them up from the airport. What if he instantly didn't like her? Would he just leave her there or something? It would make for a very uncomfortable car ride to say the least. Thankfully Niki and his wife turned out to be just as nice and accommodating as Henry kept assuring her they would be. Naturally, Niki stuffed his younger brother into the back seat, allowing his wife to stay up front in spite of her half hearted protest. Faye had the feeling this was an ongoing thing between them.

The sight of a toddler seat in the back, hooked in and ready to go made a strange happiness swell in her chest. Faye was grateful they had taken steps to keep her daughter safe, while Henry was slightly annoyed that he was now crushed even more. With a simple look from Niki's wife, Faye understood that this was just how the brother's were, antagonizing each other whenever possible. Niki wasted no time filling Faye in on a few stories from Henry's childhood, telling her about the time he brought a turtle home and tried to keep it in the bathtub to hide it from his parents. Then he moved on to the time he split his pants at his cousin's wedding when he was fifteen and spent the entire reception trying to talk to the bridesmaids with his underwear showing. The last one he squeezed in before his wife stopped him was when they were all younger and buried him in the snow, having convinced him that's how an igloo was built.

No one hesitated to get out and start unpacking the car once it was parked in front of a rather quaint looking house, Niki tossing Henry's bag at him, Henry 'accidentally' shoulder checking him into the back of the car good natured retaliation. Niki's wife had already gone inside to announce their arrival, giving Faye a chance to talk with her daughter before meeting everyone.

"Now remember sweetie, we need to be on our best behavior for Papa's family today, ok?" She reminded, crouching down and straightening out her daughter's jacket.

"I a good girl." Briar stated firmly, nodding her head in self assurance as she grabbed her mother's hand with her mitten covered fist.

"Yes, you've been a very good girl, even though I can tell you're really tired. I'm very proud of you, sweetheart." Faye praised, giving the child her stuffed bunny before leading her after everyone else.

"And then-" Simon wheezed, pausing to catch his breath through his laughter. "And then Henry comes back inside, covered in mud, sticks in his hair, and he's just like "well, he's not under THAT bush!'." Faye wiped a tear from her eye, holding her aching stomach. She had lost count of the stories that had been retold, everyone seeming to take a turn at ribbing each other. Henry even told the story of Faye accidentally gluing her hand to a makeup brush when she was trying to apply prosthetics. It felt almost too easy settling into his family. He had been completely honest, they were very accepting.

His mother was warm and inviting, pulling her in for a hug and whisking Faye off to the kitchen, putting a glass of wine in her hand before she had even said hello to anyone else. It felt so good to be around a family again. Faye had been close with her parents and her siblings, especially her twin sister, and it was times like this that reminded her of what she had given up to chase her dreams. She had promised to try and be home for Christmas, but life got in the way of her going back the year before. Now it was coming up, and she was wondering if Henry would be alright with going all the way across the ocean just to meet her family. Were they really that serious? She knew they were pretty serious, having moved in together, but she didn't have any prior experience to compare her current relationship to. Would he want to spend Christmas with his family? They were all really nice and probably always spent the holidays together. Would she be interfering with a tradition by asking him to spend Christmas with her family?

"So how did you two meet?" Marianne interjected, everyone suddenly shifting their attention to the couple.

"Uhh... met at work?" Faye offered up, turning to look up at Henry to see if he had anything else to add. Always the eloquent half of the pair, Henry had plenty to tack on, telling them about how this sassy little makeup artist wouldn't give him the time of day no matter what he did to get her attention. He'd tried talking about her tattoo's: nothing. He'd tried talking about the show: nothing. He'd tried to ask her about her life: nothing.

"It wasn't until Briar's birthday that I got anywhere. I swear, if you weren't such an awful baker, you would have never even looked my way. Poor Briar made sure everyone knew you were no good at it too. Briar!" Henry called, smiling when the little girl came running in the room, a dinosaur in one hand and the other covered in a sock. "Briar, how's mummy's baking?"

"Yucky." Briar informed flatly, the adults roaring in laughter while she rushed off to go play with the other children again.

"She's actually managed to simultaneously burn and completely undercook a tray of brownies once. It was amazing."

"Wasn't that also the time I mixed up the salt and the sugar?"

"It was." Henry confirmed, pressing an adoring kiss to her temple.

"That reminds me of the time you accidentally used garlic powder instead of nutmeg in the apple pie one year." Piers turned toward his wife, laughing at her loving glare.

"Alright, alright. Enough." Simon jumped in. "We all know what needs to be discussed. Who is stronger, Superman or the Incredible Hulk?" The entire family seemed to groan in unison; this must be an age old debate.

"Superman, obviously." Henry scoffed.

"No way, the Hulk is indestructible!" Niki threw back.

"So is Superman." Charlie pointed out.

"A little bit of kryptonite and Superman is useless." Simon intervened.

"What are the odds of having kryptonite on hand, though? If we're going to be using weaknesses, when Banner couldn't shift into the Hulk during Infinity War should definitely be brought up." Faye countered.

"But we're not talking about Banner, we're talking about the Hulk, as in he already shifted." Niki complained.

"Didn't the Black Widow have some lullaby thing that turned him back?" Charlie mused.

"Come on, Faye. We all know you're just siding with Superman because you're sleeping with him." Simon teased, Faye rolling her eyes in response. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

By the time they returned home just two days later, Faye was utterly exhausted but filled with joy. His family was so warm and inviting. They actually liked her. They didn't look down on her. They didn't question why Henry was with someone like her. They just accepted her and her daughter as one of their own. Two more to add to the Cavill Clan.

Now that they were back at home, it felt almost empty compared to the jam packed house they had just been in. Kal was all too happy to meet everyone at the door, his food bowl still full from the last visit from the dog sitter while their mail was stacked neatly on the kitchen table waiting for them.

Henry left the bags by the bottom of the stairs to take up later, sorting the letters into two separate piles. A large envelope addressed for Faye caught his eye, curiosity prompting him to bring it straight to her.

"What's that?" Faye asked, tossing the clothing from the bags into a laundry basket.

"I don't know. Looks important. Maybe it's informing you that you just became Queen a small unknown country."

"I've always wanted my own country." Faye chuckled, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the papers inside, her face falling more and more with each passing second. Her blood ran cold as teardrops stained the paper.

"What? What's wrong? Faye, you're starting to worry me. What does it say? Is something wrong?"

"My ex... my ex is trying to sue me for custody of Briar."

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @nostalgicb-txh

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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All this trans!Nie Mingjue really makes me want some trans!Jiang Cheng, and if you want too, maybe him ending out pregnant instead of his core being melted, because if I remember correctly Wen Zhuli was honorable, so if Jiāng Cheng did get raped by one of his subordinates, I feel he’d try too limit Jiang Cheng’s suffering.

“It’s not that I’m especially opposed to an alliance by marriage, but who were you planning on having marry in?” Nie Mingjue asked Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu politely.

They blinked at him.

“I think,” Madame Yu said dryly, after a few minutes, “that we were planning on A-Cheng marrying in. Women usually do.”

“But your son isn’t a woman,” Nie Mingjue said, which he thought was quite reasonable.

“I don’t have a son,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Only two daughters.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “You have an older daughter and a younger son. Hasn’t he told you?”

“Ah, you mean – by Qinghe standards,” Jiang Fengmian said. He sounded uncomfortable with the idea, which made Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrow and Jiang Fengmian immediately drop the notion of saying something more along those lines. After all, Nie Mingjue himself was a man ‘by Qinghe standards’, as the other sect leader put it, and starting trouble with Qinghe wasn’t on the agenda for today. “Sect Leader Nie, I appreciate your concern, but my daughter –”

“Son.”

“My daughter is a woman. We don’t practice Qinghe ways here.”

“It doesn’t really matter what you practice in the Lotus Pier,” Nie Mingjue said. He was wearing his best pleasant smile, which most people said looked like he was about to start chopping people into pieces. It was, at the moment, a fair description. “From my perspective, with my Qinghe ways, you have a son, who is a man. However you wish to treat him or raise him is up to you, of course, and I’m still willing to arrange a marriage between him and Huaisang, to be maintained or cancelled at their will when they’re older, including a marriage in which Jiang Cheng marries into the Unclean Realm. But what I will not tolerate is Huaisang getting confused by being told on one hand that he has a wife and the other a husband. He’s very fragile after our father’s death; I’m sure you understand.”

Jiang Fengmian, who’d been about to protest, shut his mouth, his desire for Nie Mingjue not to bring up, yet again, the fact of his father’s murder at the hands of Wen Ruohan – a murder that would need to be answered for, one day – outweighing his desire to argue back.

It was a petty move, but Nie Mingjue was aware that he had very few cards to play against the older and more influential man, and that meant he had to use them all no matter how petty to get what he wanted.

Mostly, in this case, for Jiang Cheng to be treated the way he so obviously identified. The damage that could be done by people who didn’t understand this sort of thing was incalculable – it was worth sticking his nose into another family’s business, no matter how rude, to try to make a difference if he could.

There were long few minutes of silence, in which Nie Mingjue stood his (tenuous) ground and Jiang Fengmian considered possible responses that would result in even more awkwardness.

Just at the point that it was getting intolerable, Madame Yu snorted, a surprisingly inelegant sound for such a refined woman.

“Let him be a son and a husband, then,” she said, her voice a little waspish. “If he changes his mind later, he can resume being a daughter, and there will be no loss.”

It wasn’t exactly how Nie Mingjue had intended on settling Nie Huaisang’s marriage, but it seemed a worthwhile conclusion, even if Jiang Fengmian was clearly not entirely on board.

“Very well,” he said. “Are we agreed?”

The marriage was unofficially dissolved when the boys were twelve, if by ‘dissolved’ one meant that the entire Jiang sect had entirely forgotten that their young master had ever been a young mistress, even Jiang Fengmian. A casual comment to Madame Yu that she ought to consider finding someone to marry in to their sect so that the heir could be officially confirmed, rather than wasting him on a cutsleeve marriage out, was more than enough for the entire concept to be permanently misplaced.

(Not that he thought they would make a bad pair, but if that was the case they could always figure it out for themselves later on.)

As far as Nie Mingjue was concerned, that was the end of it.

And yet, years later, it was at Nie Mingjue’s tent in Heijan that Jiang Cheng came, a twisted expression on his face.

“I have a problem,” he said, and touched his stomach lightly in a place a little too far down to suggest a stomachache. “I don’t know what to do about it, and – when I was younger, Huaisang said – well. I thought you might have some insight.”

Nie Mingjue let Jiang Cheng into the tent and put up a silencing array behind him, the sort used to protect news delivered by the most important spies.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” he said honestly. “It’s not a problem I’ve encountered on a personal basis, if you understand my meaning. Do you want to keep it or not?”

Jiang Cheng settled down where Nie Mingjue led him, still grimacing. “I don’t know,” he said. “The idea of bearing a child for any one of them disgusts me beyond telling. But on the other hand, what did the child have to do with it? It seems unfair not to give it a chance to live.”

“It’s not a child yet,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. He could do math, and the fall of the Lotus Pier wasn’t that long ago. “There’s no way that it’s quickened this soon after. Right now, it’s a problem that can be eliminated with a bowl of medicine, if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m considering it. It’s only…on one hand, even if it’s not a child yet, it could be a child, if I let it. A Jiang child, with me as its father, and obviously my Jiang sect could use as many new members as possible, no matter what the other half of their biological origin. But on the other hand – wouldn’t it be irresponsible to carry a child now? I’m leading the Jiang sect’s efforts against the Wens, trying to avenge what they did to me, to my parents, to my sect, and a child would be a distraction from that…and Wei Wuxian, who might have helped me out, is still missing.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t comment on Wei Wuxian, even though he itched, as he often did, to remind Jiang Cheng that no matter how atrociously Jiang Fengmian had behaved – and no matter what the condition of his birth had been, legitimate and incorrectly categorized – he was the son and heir of the Jiang clan.

Not the child Jiang Fengmian had brought in and treated as if he’d been the son he’d never had.

(Really, Nie Mingjue didn’t understand places like Yunmeng. What was the point of not recognizing misaligned reincarnations like theirs? It wouldn’t make it any less true.)

“Depending on the way it affects you, you could be out in the fields for months still,” he said reasonably. “Certainly plenty of mothers in Qinghe don’t go into isolation until there’s only a few weeks left. And even if you aren’t, I can take charge on the battlefield while you consult on strategy from the backend, the same way you would if you’d been taken out of the field because of an injury – Lan Xichen is doing much the same thing, when he’s not acting as courier, and he’s doing it because he’s a terrible general rather than any logistical reason.”

“But it’s not an injury.”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him. “You’re making it very difficult to resist making some sort of pun about the Wen sect’s swords, Sect Leader Jiang, and I don’t even like that sort of crude humor.”

Jiang Cheng took a second to get it, then snorted. “I supposed you could say I got ‘stabbed’ a few times, yes.”

“Only a few times? They really are worthless dogs.”

And now Jiang Cheng was laughing, even though he was trying to stop himself. “That’s terrible, stop it…you know, I suppose, if you look at it from a certain perspective, I really am just suffering from – from post-stabbing complications.”

“Seems reasonable enough to me.” Nie Mingjue poured Jiang Cheng a cup of the tea that had already been cooling on his desk – a little rude, but better than wasting time making a new pot. “If you do decide to keep it, you can leave the child with Nie Huaisang once it’s born, if you like. He’s always liked children, and it’s not as if I’m going to let him get anywhere near a battlefield, now or ever.”

“Are you sure he’s not a woman?” Jiang Cheng asked. He sounded almost wistful, which suggested that the arranged marriage they’d set up so many years ago might even have a chance of resurrecting; Nie Mingjue would have to slip Nie Huaisang a hint. “With the fans and the birds and the pretty things –”

“He says he isn’t, and so he isn’t,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. “I admit it’d make it easier if he was. No one outside of Qinghe would question his below-average talent or his love of frivolities if he was a woman, however unfair that might be, and it’d make things easier for him.”

“You’d still yell at him to practice his saber.”

“Of course. What does saber have to do with gender?”

Jiang Cheng smiled and shook his head. “Thank you,” he said. “I still haven’t decided one way or another, but…it’s good to know there’s a way to do it, if I want, that doesn’t mean that – I’m not as brave as you. I don’t want people to know.”

“It’s not a matter of bravery,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s common etiquette. Anyone who spends time thinking about another person’s genitals that isn’t planning on courting them is wasting their time.”

Jiang Cheng snickered. “No, I mean – people know about you, that you’re misaligned. You’ve never been shy about it.”

Nie Mingjue was pretty sure Jiang Cheng was thinking about the incident during a discussion conference some years back when he’d been shouting at Jin Guangshan over something or another – loud enough to be audible across half the city, it seemed, based on the number of people who talked about it afterwards – and ended the rant by telling the other sect leader to suck his non-existent dick.

“I’m not really a shy person,” he said dryly, and Jiang Cheng pressed his lips together in an evident attempt to avoid descending into giggles – he’s definitely thinking about the suck-my-dick comment. “Also, Qinghe is a bit more open about these things; it makes it easier, not having to explain exactly what it means or doesn’t mean. Don’t be too hard yourself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t seem convinced, but nodded anyway.

“It’s not just that,” he said, though obviously it was, in some large part, that. Jiang Cheng’s complicated relationship with Wei Wuxian was proof of it, if nothing else. “It’s also – people can do math. I don’t want people thinking I’m weak, or a pushover.”

“No one who has seen you wield Zidian is likely to make that mistake,” Nie Mingjue said, but he could tell from the set of Jiang Cheng’s shoulders that that wasn’t enough. “It isn’t weakness, you know. Anyone can be captured, anyone can be tortured – some people will have to live without a leg or an arm, after what they suffered, and that’s the lucky ones that didn’t die. That’s all it ever is in war – just luck, good or bad. If I walked into a Wen ambush next week, I’d be as liable to complications from a Wen ‘stab’ as you, but it wouldn’t be because my strength wasn’t enough.”

“I guess,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s just – if I kept the child, people would have to know, wouldn’t they?”

“Says who? If you retire from the battlefield due to complications from an injury for a few months, then the assumption will be that you found out that you got some poor girl pregnant and took on the child once you knew. If you do want people to know that you carried it, well, children come and go at their own speed.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Let some gossip overhear you talking about how you were already carrying the Lotus Pier’s next heir before any Wen set a foot on Yunmeng soil, and everyone will put together the rest. You know how it goes.”

“I suppose I do, at that.”

“Huaisang could probably put together a convincing story,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s really very good at identifying every possible point in time and place where someone could be having sex, even if the actual personalities involved make it highly unlikely. And then he illustrates it, usually.”

Jiang Cheng was smiling, and his shoulders were straight again – his burdens lifted, however temporarily.

Good.

“Let me know what you decide,” Nie Mingjue said. “I know just enough about medicine to be able to mix you up what you need using just the medicine I already keep in my general collection, so no one would need to know, if that’s what you choose. And if you choose the other way, well, I have the medicines to help support that, too.”

“You keep that much medicine?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the tendency of the Qinghe Nie towards qi deviations –” Of course he had. Everyone had. “– but we have a habit of keeping an awful lot of medicine on hand.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jiang Cheng said, and he was frowning a little, thoughtful, but not as stressed as he’d been earlier. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Really, don’t. If I let it get out that I give advice, every misaligned sonofabitch that wants to get a promotion will start showing up at my door with problems that are really just an excuse to get a chat in with the sect leader, and then where will my troubles end?”

Jiang Cheng, who was dealing with similar problems, smirked. “That doesn’t seem like my problem. At least people know better than to ask anything of me.”

“That can change,” Nie Mingjue said threateningly. “I’ll get Huaisang on it; see what happens to your reputation then.”

Jiang Cheng held up his hands in surrender as he retreated.

Nie Mingjue wondered for a moment which way he’d pick, but then remembered that it wasn’t his business and also that there was a war on that needed his attention a bit more.

Personal problems could wait.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #I'm thinking of continuing this one #could be fun #trans JC #trans NMJ #pregnancy #discussion of abortion #Anonymous

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