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callsign-muffin · 6 months ago

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Heal Together: Chapter 2

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I'm like completely overwhelmed that anyone has even read the first chapter of my fic, well alone liked and/or reblogged it! Thank you guys so much!

This chapter is a little bit of filler, just a heads up. But I hope you all like it anyways.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.0k

There were a lot of people surrounding Rooster’s bed, they all introduced themselves but the only thing he could really think about was how scared he was for them to pull this tube out of his throat. The doctor told him that there’s always a chance he might not respond well and they’ll have to place another one. And good god, that was the last thing he wanted. The sedation medications, being unable to talk, having to have his throat suctioned constantly, and listening to the never ending sounds of the machines were his own personal hell. And the prep before this was its own level of horrible. They put a vest on him that shook him violently to loosen any crap that had built up low in his lungs while he was intubated. Then they deep suctioned the shit outta his throat, it was so uncomfortable but Y/N promised it was all to help him and keep him from getting sick again and having to be intubated again.

He looked over at Y/N and prayed that she could say something to make him feel better. All of his friends and Mav were still on the aircraft carrier in God knows where, so Y/N was the only familiar face. He guesses he could’ve called Penny, Mav’s girlfriend, but it’s a Saturday morning, she should be spending time with Amelia and getting ready for another crazy night at the Hard Deck.

“So what’s gonna happen is: I’m gonna sit your bed up really high and place a pad under your chin since a lot of gunk might come up with the tube. That’s completely normal.” Y/N explained calmly, “Brent, the guy on your left, is the respiratory therapist. He’s gonna ask you to cough a few times and on the last cough, he’s gonna pull the tube out.”

Bradley nodded, looking her straight in her beautiful, expressive eyes.

“Your throat’s gonna hurt and feel really dry, you probably won’t be able to talk for a little bit.” She continued, “But I’m gonna stay here and monitor you, listen to your lungs, suction out any more gunk, and maybe we can try swabbing your mouth with water to help with the dryness until you’re cleared to drink. Does that sound okay?”

The young doctor at the bedside scoffed, “Do we really need to have this much dialog? We have other patients to get to, Nurse.”

Y/N’s face hardened, “I am well aware that you all are busy. However, I’m not going to allow anything to happen to Lt. Bradshaw without his full informed consent, so I’m making sure he knows exactly what we’re doing. It’s his right.”

The older doctor smiled at Y/N, “This is why nurses are so important, they fill in the blanks for the patients. As physicians, we can get caught up in the science and the technicality of things but nurses are the people who remind us to remember that we’re taking care of the whole person.”

The young doctor rolled his eyes.

Y/N smiled at the older doctor and shot the young doc a look that said, Bite me, bitch. She then looked at Rooster and asked, “You ready?”

Rooster nodded slowly, he was so scared.

“It’s okay that you’re scared.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “But you see Brent, the one literally doing the damn thing to you? He’s not scared and I’m not scared ”

Brent smiled, “Not one bit. And all of those docs in their fancy white coats, they OK’d me to do this. That means they’re not scared either.”

Rooster felt a rush of calm wash over him, Y/N trusted these people, so he had no reason not to as well.

“Ready man?” Brent asked.

Bradley nodded.

Y/N sat the bed up so that he was sitting tall and placed an absorbent pad under his chin, “Let’s do it!”

“Give me a few coughs, Lieutenant.” Brent instructed.

Rooster coughed uncomfortably, it felt so weird with this thing on his throat.

“One last big cough.” Brent said.

With his next cough the tube was out and Rooster couldn’t help but continue to cough and dry heave. All the doctors’ eyes were glued to the numbers on his monitor, the only one looking at him was Y/N.

She wiped all the spit and nastiness off of his face carefully and talked to him quietly, “That’s it, let it out. You’re doin’ great.”

A few moments later the older doctor said, “His oxygen sats look great. Let us know if anything changes, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, “Will do. Can I get a standing supplemental oxygen order? Just in case his sats start to decline.”

“Of course, Carl– I mean… Dr. Parks will put those in for you right away.” The old doc looked over at the very displeased younger doctor.

Once the doctors all assessed him and felt okay leaving the room, it was just Rooster and Y/N. He gestured towards his white board, there was no way in hell he could talk yet.

Y/N happily passed it to him and proceeded to start her own assessment, listening to his lungs with her stethoscope.

That young doc is an asshole. Rooster wrote.

Y/N snorted, taking her stethoscope out of her ears and setting it to rest around her neck, “For the sake of professionalism, no comment.”

Can you call Maverick and tell him I’m okay?

“Yeah, of course.” She pulled a pen and a slip of paper out of her scrub pocket, “Just write down his full name and number.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Hi Captain Mitchell, this is Y/N and I’m Lieutenant Bradshaw’s nurse today.” You tried your best to sound as not nervous as possible. You always hated sitting at the nurses station and calling family members on the phone, usually because it was to give bad news or tell them to come to the hospital quickly to say goodbye. At least this time it was something positive.

“Oh my god,” The man choked on the other end of the line, “Is– Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. I’m sorry for scaring you.” You fiddled with the long phone cord, “He’s actually doing great. We took him off the ventilator about an hour ago and he’s breathing really well on his own. He’s working with physical therapy now, they have him out of bed and sitting in a chair.”

You could hear the joy in the man’s voice, “That’s incredible! Oh my god! I can’t wait to tell everyone, we’ve all been so worried. Can I speak to him?”

“Not quite yet, he’s not able to talk yet and will be hoarse for a little while.” You explained, twisting from side to side in the swiveling chair, “But I can see if we can charge up his phone so he can text you and call when he’s able to.”

“Thank you so much for the update, Y/N.” Capt. Mitchell gushed, “I usually have to call first for updates but this was such a great surprise.”

“Well one of the first things Bradley asked me to do for him after his extubation was call you and let you know that he’s okay.”

He let out a happy sigh on the other end of the phone, “Did he really? That’s so good to hear. Tell him I’ll be home soon and my first stop will be to see him.”

You nodded, “Will do, Capt. Mitchell. You have a great rest of your day.”

“You as well, I know you’re taking great care of him.” And the call cut off right there.

“Ooooh look at you, big shot.” You couldn’t help but smile seeing Bradley sitting up in a chair and channel surfing on the crappy hospital TV.

Bradley picked up his white board and marker from the table beside him, Did you talk to Mav?

“You mean Capt. Mitchell?” You confirmed and Bradley nodded, “He said he’ll be home soon and his first stop will be to come see you. But hopefully you’ll have busted out of this joint before then.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows and scribbled, You think so?

You shrugged logging into the computer by his bed and starting to organize his 3pm medications, “I mean, I can’t say for sure. I know that you military dudes can’t tell people exactly where you’re going or when you’re coming home on your deployments. But if things keep going as well as they are, it seems like a good possibility you could be transferred to a step-down unit and then hopefully discharged in the next week or so.”

Bradley started writing again, I don’t want to go to another unit. I want to keep you as my nurse.

You giggled, “Well that is incredibly kind of you to say, but the best part of my job is seeing patients get well enough to be transferred to a lower acuity unit and then eventually discharged.”

Bradley pouted and drew a big fat frowny face on the whiteboard.

“You were a lot less sassy with that tube down your throat, Bradshaw.” You teased as you crossed the room with his meds, hanging them on the IV pole and programming the pump.

Pumping me up with poison? He smirked as he wrote.

“Nah, just antibiotics to treat that pesky infection that almost killed you and brought you in here.”

Damn, I was hoping you were gonna say they’re steroids to get me yolked. He flashed a mischievous grin at you.

You scoffed, “I took a pledge when I finished nursing school not to harm my patients and I considered giving them drugs that would shrink their balls and give them breasts doing harm.”

Bradley snorted and let out a hoarse laugh. Though it was very quiet, you could tell it was a great laugh.

“Hey Y/N, I’m taking room 4 back from you.” Carly, the young nurse from the morning, sat in the empty chair next to you at the nurses station.

“Oh great, do you want a full report or are you good with just the updates?” You asked, pulling out your notes from the day.

She clicked her pen, “Updates are just fine.”

“So the biggest news is that he was extubated today.” You grinned.

“Really?!” She gasped, “I’ve been pushing for that but the resident kept saying no.”

“Parks?” You inquired.

She nodded and sighed, “Yeah, have you met him?”

“Unfortunately.” You rolled your eyes, “I think he shares similar feelings about me as I do him.”

“I hope you gave him hell.” She giggled, “I’m still a new grad, so I don’t have enough experience under my belt to push back very much.”

“Well if he gives you any grief on your shift, don’t let it get to you. He’s also a new grad doctor, he’s also still learning.” You assured her then went on to finish your report.

“Hey Bradley, I’m headed out for the night. Carly’s gonna be taking care of you and I’ll be back tomorrow.” You entered the room with Carly by your side.

“Thank you…” Bradley croaked, “For everything…”

Your heart melted a little bit, you knew it took a lot of effort to get the words out, “You are more than welcome. And I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll get you transferred to a less intense unit.”

Rooster pouted and did a big thumbs down gesture.

You giggled, “That’s a great thing, Bradshaw. You don’t wanna be stuck in the ICU with me forever.”

He sassily rolled his eyes.

“Carly and I are gonna sign off some meds and check your lines.” You said, “And don’t give my girl too much sass tonight; she will be reporting back to me in the morning.”

Rooster scribbled on his whiteboard, No promises.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster x y/n #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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ametrictonofaudacity · 2 years ago

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Gaps 3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, contains themes of obsession and unhealthy relationships. This particular snippet from Gaps will be an escalation, since this is a series, so trigger warning for kidnapping, non-consensual drugging, obsessive behaviors and manipulation.

There was a half full bottle of psychiatric meds in the glove box of your car. You have absolutely no clue when this got there, buried as it was under your insurance information, registration, and car owners manual, but it was there.

You turn the bottle over in your hands, reading the small label. Prazosin. You were glad to have some extra, in case Bruce hadn’t been able to get your refill this month. He had been good about it, the past couple of months while you waited for your appointment at the DMV, but it was always good to have spares, just in case. And something in your stomach urged you not to rely on the billionaire too much.

You pocket the bottle of pills. Sure, your script had been changed from prazosin to nitrazepam, by Dr. Leslie Thompkins since she was the only person that would treat you without an ID, but you didn’t like how the nitrazepam left you sluggish the next morning. You also didn’t like the thought of just how vulnerable you would be, in such a deep sleep.

Your cell phone rings. You pick up on the first ring, humming.

“(Y/N).” It was Damian. A bit of a surprise, since he didn’t really seek you out, but not an entirely unwelcome one. “You used to have a cat, correct?”

You snort. Of course one of the few times Damian calls you, it was about an animal. You didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. I had a Maine Coon kitten for a while before I moved. She was the sweetest little thing too, would always climb onto my shoulders whenever I got home from work.”

“What happened to her?”

“When I moved, I had to give her to my roommate. I visit her whenever I go to Bludhaven.” You explain, beginning your nightly routine. You brush the knots out of your hair, root around for your pajamas, drop two tablets in your hand.

“I see. I’m sorry you had to leave her behind.”

You smile, glancing at the time. The two tablets go down easy, and you double and triple check your locks. In Gotham, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

“It’s not a problem. I do have work tomorrow, so I’m gonna turn in, okay?”

“Of course. Get some rest, (Y/N).” He says it like it’s practically a demand, and you laugh when the line goes dead.

You drift off to sleep, eventually, your limbs heavy and numb.

——————

Your woken up by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Your heart stops, before thundering in your chest, slamming fast against your ribs.

Your mind races, and you force yourself to breath slow and deep, feigning sleep. The average thief wouldn’t bother to kill a sleeping person, but who knew what would happen if they thought there were witnesses. Carefully, you shift, making sure the movement looked to be the shifting of a sleeping body.

There’s a sound of crackling above you, and you don’t know what that means before the intruder speaks.

“You sure you got the dosage right? They’re moving around a lot for someone who’s sedated.” A modulated voice, indistinguishable thanks to the static. Your stomach drops, and it takes everything you have not to stiffen in terror. No average thief would have a fucking voice modulator. And what did they mean, the dosage? What the fuck did they mean?

Your fingers close around the handle of the small folding knife you kept under your pillow.

“It’s not full sedation. They’ll sleep deeply enough that we can move freely, but too high of a dosage would cause issues.” A low, gravelly voice and you feel your breath hitch. Both voices go quiet.

You hear a soft rattle as a pill bottle is picked up. Your heart hammers in your throat. You can’t remember which bottle of meds was by your bedside.

“Didn’t you get them put on nitrazepam?”

“Yes.”

“Old man, this isn’t nitrazepam. It’s an old script of prazosin.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Your eyes snap open.

You don’t even give yourself time to process the fact that there were two of Gotham’s vigilantes in your room. You don’t give yourself time to panic, or feel betrayed, because if you do, you won’t stop. You’ll be frozen and defenseless and unable to do anything.

You lunge up, throwing the blankets off yourself, and you try to twist away when the goddamn Red Hood lunges to catch you, only for his arm to wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The small fold out knife clatters to the ground, and a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Why don’t we all just cool off, yeah? No more stabbing attempts.” He sounds almost amused, but there’s an edge of danger in his voice that makes you shudder. He releases you, and you stagger away from him.

Batman hovers in the corner of the room, and even though he is the furthest from you, he feels so much closer.

“You got my script changed. Why?” Your voice is trembling, and you grimace. You don’t like the way you sound far too vulnerable.

“The old man is paranoid as hell, that’s why.” Hood grumbles, crossing his arms. He leans back, giving you space, and even though you know you aren’t any safer, you appreciate it.

“Hood. Now is not the time.” Batman growls, and Hood snorts.

“When would be the time old man? We would have avoided all of this if we had just gone with my plan.” Hood points out. You have no idea what he means.

“They weren’t ready.” Batman snaps, and you don’t know what that means. “This isn’t the place for this discussion, Hood.”

He turns to you, and for a moment, hesitates. The moment passes, and he lifts his hands, tugging back his cowl.

You stare. Staring back at you with intense blue eyes is Bruce Wayne.

So many things click in your mind. The inexplicable cancelling of your appointments. The paranoia. The way you had been struggling to work past the constant fear you were being watched. The way your things went missing when you needed them.

“(Y/N), I know you’re confused right now. Just let me explain.” Bruce says gently, and you shake your head, backing up.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. You.. how long have you been breaking into my apartment? How long have you been using my meds to do it? And why?!”

“(Y/N), you barely manage to function on a day to day basis. I was just insuring your safety.”

“My safety?! Arguably I would be even more vulnerable SEDATED in an apartment in Gotham? Why do you think I check my locks so often? Why I have lists, of every possible thing I could need? I KNOW how to take care of myself, but clearly I made some sort of mistake when met all of you!” You shriek, and there are hot, ugly tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t need this, you didn’t need him, and you certainly did not need him pulling the strings on your life.

“Alright, you clearly can’t handle this old man.” Hood turns to you, arms crossed. “Listen, I get it. Batman’s a controlling, manipulative bastard. But we aren’t having this discussion here.”

You yell when his hand closes around your arm, and raise your hand to slap him away. He tugs you forward, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there, and you yell.

A sharp pain in your neck, and your vision blurs.

You feel your knees buckle, feel yourself start to sag.

Gloved hands hold you up, and your head spins. Armored arms scoop you up, and you push at the thick Kevlar.

The last thing you see before unconsciousness takes you is white lenses staring down.

#yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam

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robocatfan · 2 months ago

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An angry summary of Speak the Ocean by Rebecca Enzor -Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Preface 2

We get another in-universe training manual. This time it’s about how to handle a mer arrival.

It tells us that the tank should be cleaned and cycled for a week - which as stated before, should actually be for 2-8 weeks! - before they set out to hunt a mer, and that all equipment like the tanks and cranes should be inspected and ready to use by then.

It also notes that the mer will be drugged with quinaldine - a chemical used for the transportation of which (guess I did learn something useful from this book, huh) - for transport, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be any less dangerous.

Next, it talks about the transportation procedure, which involves lifting the mer from the boat with the dock crane and placing them in the transport tank with the head and arms facing back (“back” as in down? The opposite direction? Eh, who knows?) all while an employee keeps watch.

It also warns (in all caps) to not let the creature sit under the sun since that will cause it to foam from shock.

Once that part of the process is done, a vet is called for a simple visual examination of the mer. Seriously, that’s all they are allowed to do - they can’t even place their hands near its tank! One wonders how these mers don’t end up sick more often.

Anyway, when that’s done, the net should be hooked once again to the crane and slowly lowered into the holding tank, since dropping them so suddenly into colder waters can also cause them to foam from shock. Understandable, but considering how cold the waters of their natural habitat can get, they might be able to handle the temperature just fine.

And once the mer is fully inside and the net is removed, the lights should be dimmed and one of two fish should be thrown into the water to slow the mer to eat and recover once the effects of the quinaldine (which may last for about one or two days) wear off.

Lastly, if the mer shows aggression or dates to be just a tiny bit noisy, the electroshocker ™ should be used until they are under control.

Once again, no wonder these guys act so aggressive towards people :v.

Chapter 6- Finn

We are back to Finn’s perspective as he notes how crowded the dock behind Oceanica is (it doesn’t really feel that way, really) when the hunting boat arrives with the mer. He also notes the fishermen had to venture way out to find it (explaining why they were in the supposedly safe hunting zone in the previous chapter), and that the last day was filled with preparations, including that of the tanks he and Jen (mostly Jen) cleaned the week prior.

When the net lifts the creature (Erie) out of the boat, he and Jen are surprised upon seeing the dolphin (aka Niku) she’s hugging, since that’s proof that the theory that both species have a symbiotic relationship is true, as well as the stories the fishermen told about dolphins helping the mers steer away from boats.

And yet we never get to see any of that in the previous chapters- much less them being successful in it, considering the big amount of darkened shells.

The pair is lowered into a ten feet long and 3 feet wide transport tank that’s barely big enough for them, and while Delmara argues with the fishermen about the price for their catch - since she doesn’t want to pay them extra for the dolphin, Finn and Jen step for a closer look.

Finn then sees that the mer has the same hair color that the mer his dad found (aka the queen), and his first thought is that he knows exactly how to make her his. Ew.

But before that he remarks that she’s probably as young as their previous arrival, showing Jen that one can determine a mer’s age by how vibrant the tips of their fins are, and that the color fades with age. And when Jen comments that she’d expected the mer to be actively trying to slaughter everyone (most likely due to Finn’s constant, incessant warnings), he repeats what the training manual said about sedating the creatures.

As Delmara’s discussion continues (with Finn telling us in two sentences what they are doing instead of actually showing it), Jen suggests that, instead of separating the dolphin from the mer, they could have them perform together since that would draw in more people.

And though he notes that there’s something calculating in her gaze as she says that, that’s all it takes for Finn to be convinced by her idea and go up to talk to Delmara.

At first she dismisses him since she’s too busy cursing out the fishermen, but he manages to voice the suggestion and insists on it when she tries to refuse due to lacking a husbandry license for cetaceans. (but not before he mentally compares the woman who’s been essentially his mentor for the past few years to a Chihuahua.) Since they don’t have much time to decide due to the risk of the mer foaming under the sun, Finn persists.

And when Delmara still doesn’t relent even after he reminds her that she’d promised him a mer, notes that Jen could help due to having studied marine biology in university (but shouldn’t she already know that since, you know, she hired her in the first place?) and that someone needs to take over when he comes back to school (which I hope refers to college/ university, because this grown ass man surely has graduated by now) in August, Finn pulls out his trump card: a colored sketch he’d found in his dad’s office of the mermaid he’d discovered, which just so happens to resemble the once currently in their transport tank.

This finally is enough to sway Delmara to keep the dolphin and give the mer to him, but she warns him that he only has until the end of summer to make a profit. Finn’s mood is not affected by this: in fact, he’s so happy that he picks up and twirls Jen around when he goes to tell her the news. And since she came up with the idea in the first place, he’s making her his assistant.

She’s dismayed by this, and when she remarks at the apparent nepotism when Finn reminds her he’s friends with Delmara’s nephew, he notes that “he has a lot of responses to that, but most of them would get him smacked”, so they instead focus on moving the transport tank. Yes, them - not any of the supposed “many” employees that are crowding the dock.

Yeah, in spite of this place having enough workers to completely crowd the dock- some of whom could have done this task - it feels emptier than a bag of chips due to the fact that the only people we see doing or interacting with anything are the named characters. The others just exist to fill up space I guess.

Anyway, after reiterating that the tank is too small for the pair, Finn and Jen bring it to the holding tank room. As he calls the veterinarian over, Finn notes that while the mer is cowering instead of scrutinizing them like the rest of her kind (and that will make her easier to work with), her dolphin companion is actively attempting to protect her.

Since it’s also obscuring her from view, the vet tells Finn to hold it down- which he somehow manages to do, and then somehow gets a large cut from it a sentence later.

And I’m like ?????????

Someone please tell me how this even works, because how?!

Anyway after the vet finishes his checkup (which is not elaborated upon, to the point that there’s not even a remark about the literal tail injury!), and casually paying no mind to the large cut on his forearm after cleaning it up (which is never brought up again), Finn helps Jen crank the net up. And he notes that the mer gasps- gasps, a sound associated normally with humans - when the net lifts, but he doesn’t even think about it.

As they are slowly placing the net in the normal tanks and the mer tries to get her gills in the water (shouldn’t it be her mouth since that’s where the water enters her body?) Serge comes over, and upon seeing the creature’s hair color, suggests calling her Neon.

Jen corrects him and says that they should call her Dotty due to resembling a dottyback or royal gamma instead, and while Finn is in “nerd love” at her knowledge of reef fish, he rather go by their normal periodic table naming conventions. So after a couple of suggestions (including Cadmium, which they give to the dolphin due to being a male name), they decide to call the mer Iodine.

And once the pair is fully lowered, the group prepares to “separate these elements”. And while Jen grimaces and wonders if it’s necessary as Serge goes for the electroshocker ™ ( not before Finn warns him to not poke his mer like a jellyfish) Finn, in full corporate mode and unwilling to screw up his chance, tells her that not only will it make them easier to wake with, but allowing them to be together once they are performing will be “a good incentive to get them working. A treat for cooperating.”

… alright then.

While Jen isn’t fully convinced, she relents and everyone gets into position.

Chapter 7- Erie

After they are fully inside the tank, Erie - who’s still clinging to her guard- is surprised at the strangeness of their new surroundings and confused when the net starts to gather below them.

Niku is also confused (and Erie almost casually notes that she tasted the blood from his attack on the landfolk), but tells her to stay calm and not give the landfolk a reason to hurt her.

Just then a “loop” (aka the electroshocker ™ ) enters the water and the net shifts. And before Erie can ask what’s going on, they are both electrocuted.

As expected it hurts like hell, to the point that Erie feels like her body is burning and when it ends, they both end up floating belly up like the mers in chapter 4. And before either can recover, the net separates them.

The next five paragraphs are spent with Erie panicking, screaming and begging for her guard not to leave her as she tries to reach him through the ropes - and while he’s tense enough that she fears he might beach himself in an attempt to attack the landfolk, he just swims around and tells her he doesn’t know what to do instead of doing anything useful to save her like pulling at the net.

Eventually she’s completely lifted from the water, leaving him out of her reach and sight, only able to huff water at her.

As soon as she’s dropped into a different body of water, Erie screams for Niku and tries to reach him, but it’s blocked from doing so by a barrier that’s keeping them separated. And though she’s unable to hear him due to not being in the same space, she takes comfort in the fact that she can still see him.

Well, until one of the landfolk (aka Finn) steps between them, which causes her to back up and look at the surface in fear of the loop, and when she looks back at him, the creep smiles at her possessively. Once again, ew.

The next paragraph is spent describing how he - “a creature out of her nightmares” - looks from her perspective, with her noting his snail-like skin, the different colors of his “two tails” ( the term the text this time uses to describe the legs. Why didn’t it use that earlier instead of outright referring to them as legs?) and the large bump where his nostrils are. Once again, just like the advisor.

… you can probably guess what the author is intending to say with all of these constant reminders.

Anyway, she hears him say something she’s unable to understand before there’s a splash that she first assumes it’s the loop, but it’s instead the result of a dead fish thrown at the water, which confuses her immensely.

She then waits until the landfolk leaves to inspect the barrier, noting it’s mostly uniform and has few anomalies, including a thing resembling a tube worm (aka the tubes connecting the tanks) that connects their enclosure, but she can’t - doesn’t even try, really - figure out a way through.

So Erie only stares at Niku helplessly until her adrenaline fades and she curls up at the bottom of the enclosure, exhausted.

#an angry summary #mermaid books #mermaid #merfolk #speak the ocean #book summary #book review #ma stuff #bookblr #romance books

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ilguna · 2 years ago

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☼ drowning in love (Johanna Mason) ☼

summary; you promised Johanna you'd support her with anything she needed when she came back from the Capitol.

warnings; swearing, they shower together, torture mention.

wc; 1.6k

–

“I’ve changed my mind.” Johanna says, you tilt your head at her, unamused.

The two of you are currently inside of, what must be, the smallest bathroom you’ve ever seen. You thought that when the medical team of Thirteen said they had a private bathroom, they meant something bigger. You weren’t expecting it to be the same size as the bathrooms in the Capitol, but at least half that. It isn’t, though. Everything in here has been crammed to ensure that every inch of space is used.

Johanna’s sitting on the toilet lid, hunched over in her towel, arms wrapped around her abdomen to make herself smaller. You’re standing directly in front of her, your kneecaps touching hers because there is nowhere else to stand in here. You’re lucky that there’s even enough room for the two of you to shower together in the first place.

“Babe, that’s what you said ten minutes ago, you can’t keep changing your mind.”

She shakes her head, staring at the floor, “I’m not ready.”

“You’re going to have to do it either way.” You tell her, “If you don’t do it with me, then the nurses will do it, and they don’t really care about your feelings.”

She meets your eyes, “They’ll sedate me.”

“And then you miss out on an opportunity to start the process of healing. You can’t keep pushing it back. What will you do when the rebellion’s over and we’re no longer in Thirteen? There won’t be anyone to sedate you.” You raise your eyebrows.

“You will, if I put up a big enough fight.” She says, you think you can see a smile hinting at the corners of her lips. She’s not entirely joking, though. She knows that you don’t like seeing her in pain.

“You’ll be okay, I’ll be right here.”

“Except, I don’t want to go in there alone. What if—what if I have an episode?” She asks, you watch her shudder.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” You ask, “You know I will.”

“What if I attack you? Like Peeta did to Katniss?”

“You won’t. They didn’t use tracker jacker venom on you.” You say, “And the doctors would’ve caught it by now.”

Johanna begins to bite on her bottom lip, face contorting while she thinks. She knows you’re right, but she doesn’t want to admit it. She just wants to find a way out to avoid having to face the water. And you understand why, the issue is that you won’t be putting up with sponge baths for the rest of your life.

Her eyes dart to the door momentarily, possibly planning an escape. She won’t make it far, not with you standing in front of it. She wouldn’t be able to pull it open before you have her on her ass again.

“Johanna, the water can’t hurt you.” You slide down the wall, taking her hands in yours, “You know you’ll have control in there. You’ll be able to move the shower head off to the side if you can’t handle it, and change the temperature if it’s too close to what they used in the Capitol.”

She presses her lips together, “I don’t want to freak out, (Y/n).”

“You won’t. I’ll get in there with you. You’ll be safe with me in there, you know I would never let anything happen to you, not when I’m right there.” You squeeze her hands.

She nods.

“It’s only a few minutes, we’re just getting your body washed. You’ll feel so much better once the grime is gone, and you’re washing away their touch.”

“Okay.” Johanna breathes.

“Okay.” You echo, letting go of her hands as you get back to your feet.

You slide the glass door open, leaning in to turn the shower on. You can feel her hands grip around your wrist when the water starts. And without you even saying anything, she begins to take deep breaths in through her nose, and exhales through her mouth. A technique she was taught by the head doctor, it looks like she’s paying attention after all.

You guide her hand to the water slowly so she can feel the temperature, adjusting it the way she tells you to. She goes on the hotter side, staying away from the warm to cold range. You’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.

“Alright,” You hold your hand out to her.

“Can you go in first?” She asks.

“Johanna, if you run out of the bathroom, I’m going to be pissed.” You tell her.

“I won’t. You’ll be closer to the water.” She says, “Please?”

You watch her for a couple of seconds, gauging whether or not she’s telling the truth, and find that she is. You pull your hair up, figuring that you’d rather accidentally get the ends wet than your whole head. You then take off District Thirteen’s jumpsuit, and the underwear underneath.

You keep a hand on Johanna when you open the glass door, backing inside a few steps. This forces her to her feet, where she uses a shaky hand to release the towel, letting it fall to the floor.

“It’s only a couple of minutes.” You remind her, “One step at a time.”

“I know.” She breathes, “I don’t think I can get my face wet.”

“How about we do your collarbones and down?” You ask, “Does that sound okay?”

She hums in agreement, coming into the shower. She slides the door shut behind her, and you watch her begin to take deeper breaths. You reach back to feel how close the water is, and find it only an inch further back.

“How do you want to do this?” You ask her, “You have to face the water.”

“Just my back right now.” She closes her eyes.

You move her around, slowly backing her into the water, watching as her face twists at the anticipation. When it begins to rain down on her back, she jumps slightly, a shudder running through her body. You can see the goosebumps rise on her arms.

You step closer, placing your hands on her hips, watching her face. She’s got her eyes closed, trying to focus on not freaking out. She moves slightly to allow the water on her shoulders and down her sides.

“Do you think I’ll be better by the end of the rebellion?” She asks.

“If we keep working on it, it’ll be a step in the right direction.” You tell her, “It won’t happen overnight Johanna, as much as I know you wish it would.”

“I wish he’d chosen something else.” She mutters, eyebrows drawing in, “The District borders will finally be down and we won’t even be able to see the ocean. Finnick makes me so jealous when he talks about how beautiful the beach is. And all we’ve got are fuckin’ trees.”

“That’ll be our goal, then.” You say, she opens her eyes, “To go visit Annie and Finnick on the beach.”

“That could take years, (Y/n).” She says.

“Good thing we’re gonna live for a while.” You smile, she lets out a laugh, “Ready to turn around?”

She nods, you let go of her hips, allowing her to turn around to face the water. She lets out a breath, hesitating.

“I didn’t take you as a beach person.” You say, hoping it’ll take her mind off of the shower water, and instead put her somewhere else. She doesn’t move for a second, before stepping forward. You place your hands on her hips again.

“Yeah, well, neither did I. Finnick talks about the summers there, how he and his family would jump off the docks as kids. The water is cold and refreshing. The sand is warm, and sometimes too hot to walk on with bare feet.” She murmurs, reaching over to grab the bar of soap on the shelf, you smile slightly. “They build sandcastles and play games. It’s like a picnic we have at home, but on the beach. And the best part is the sunsets apparently.”

“I think Finnick just wants us to move there.” You laugh.

“Probably.” She agrees, “I wouldn’t mind, Annie and Finnick are our best friends. It’d be nice to be close to torture them often.”

“I’m sure it’s an option.” You say, “Even if you’re not ready to see the water, I’m sure they have houses away from the water.”

She pauses, “You’d move there with me?”

“Where else would I go?” You laugh, “Do you think I’d stay in Seven?”

“Well, no.” She says, carefully rubbing the soap over her skin. It’s still tender from the scabs that have recently fallen off. “I just thought you’d be more against it.”

“We’ve lived in Seven our whole lives, I’m sure it’ll be okay if we move somewhere new for a while.” You tell her.

“That’s true.”

You lather her back in soap, so it’s less effort for her. She rinses the scentless bubbles down the drain, and then steps out to dry herself off. You get rid of the soap that she’d accidentally gotten on you, before shutting the water off.

When you step out, you’re able to see Johanna wiping her eyes, sniffing. She looks at your briefly, eyes already turning red.

“Hey,” You pull the spare towel around your body, before pulling her into a hug. She wraps her arms around you, letting out a sob. “It was so easy, you didn’t even think about it.”

“I know.” She places her forehead on your shoulder, “I know, I’m afraid it won’t be like this every time.”

“It can be, though.” You press a kiss to her cheek, squeezing her tighter, “And I’ll be here with you the entire time, I promise.”

513 notes · View notes

bridaltrain · 5 months ago

Text

talladega

summary: percy takes annabeth for a night swim and it's only one of their many mistakes (9k, explicit, mortal AU)

She turns seventeen quietly.

Quiet, in Luke’s bed, midnight passing through her phone screen without a single notification to accompany it. He’d opened the window for a smoke and he stands at the sil now, holding one out to her without a word, dressed only slightly more decently than when he’d been on top of her. She climbs onto her knees and out of the furnace of the blankets. Still hot, even at 12 AM, but what else can she expect from July, with a broken AC. Her heart thrums slowly in her chest, worn and sedated. Blinking up at him, she sits on folded legs, hands on the bare mattress—they’ll have to adjust the sheets.

Annabeth has never smoked before, but she’s seen him do it enough times. His face is plain, a little flushed, but plain. When she leans in, she really thinks he’s going to let her, this time. Idiot.

His laugh is dull and breathy, snatching the cigarette back and bringing it to his own lips and she wonders what the difference is to him, between letting her smoke and breathing in his.

She latches onto a pillow, hiding her bare chest behind it, as if it matters. He isn’t looking. The ceiling fan buzzes concerningly above them and she can hear May groaning down the hall. Neither of them pay it any mind.

“Still too young?” she prods, and this is the first thing Annabeth will say as a seventeen year old version of herself.

Her voice stalls in the apartment’s still air. Hesitant, trying to be brave.

He steps close to the side of the bed, and takes one side of her face in a big hand. She remembers what her doctor had said, about how girls don’t usually grow much more by this age and she thinks, unsure what to make of it, that she will always feel this small with him.

“If one day you want to,” he rasps, “it won’t be because I talked you through it.”

True to form, for him. Her first time hadn’t been bad, but it certainly hadn’t been gentle either. He was over that by the time he stumbled upon her, after a teenage lifetime of being his mother’s husband and then her caretaker. And Annabeth—well, she had never been the kind of girl who needed to be cared for. She raised herself with braced fists and scraped knees and Luke had gotten a thrill, she believes, of wrapping her up when she didn’t need it and he wasn’t required to do it. Her first time had not been gentle, but it was sweet. On a blanket layed out on the dirt, in the clearing way out of the city that they’d made theirs. It was spring. A butterfly landed on her shoulder just as he shrugged off her private school sweater and he’d smiled so softly, she had been reminded at that moment that he loved her. It was spring, and she was reborn.

This is what Luke does. He balances his sweetness with blood and Annabeth wishes she hadn’t fallen for the cigarette. Always so fucking eager.

He bends down, kissing her head and for a moment his blond hair curtains her view. “Happy birthday, kid,” he says.

She doesn’t know how old she needs to get before he stops calling her that.

Muffled, the sound of a door opening vibrates through the night. He drops his forehead to her scalp, breathing in deep. It’s moments like this, that Annabeth wants to lace her arms around him, hold him and the scared little kid that still lives inside him. Sometimes, she’s almost sure that he wants it too.

But this system is a delicate thing and she does not have the authority nor the heart to disturb it. She refuses to feel selfish for it because Luke needs her to feel good for something, too, and what’s more pathetic than dripping his tears on the girl exposed bare on her knees in front of him.

May cries out and her son stills.

And then, Annabeth knows it’s time to go.

She’s learned to be quick getting dressed, making herself somewhat presentable again. He escorts her out the front door before his mother can see, hunched over by a photo frame hanging on the wall between their rooms. Luke, eight years old and smiling wide in his little league uniform. He kisses her one more time at the door, and she looks at him, unable to spot the resemblance between him and that little boy. Blue eyes dull like May’s and a smile that stretches like it hurts his cheeks when he waves her off. Beautiful, anyway and always. Her heart aches like a pinched bruise as she takes the stairs down and out of the building.

He and Percy don’t live all that far apart. A couple blocks and a couple minutes if she walks fast, though Annabeth has never been particularly scared of nighttime.

She thinks there’s something other girls have that her parents had missed when they made her. The red light for danger. A cautionary yellow, even. An absent switch in her brain that she sees normal girls often flick on, at parties and school dances and dark hours. Annabeth knows danger, knows it as well as the turns she takes to make it to Percy’s. It’s only that she’d never been great at telling herself to stop.

Checking her phone again, she finds a text from Silena, a missed call from Katie. An Instagram DM from Rachel Elizabeth Dare, which is fucking stupid because there’s a reason she doesn’t have Annabeth’s number and an even better one why they’re not friends. It’s obvious she’s doing this to spite her. Playing pretend as the bigger person. She wonders if the three of them are together right now, and quickly tries to wipe the thought from her mind. Her friends wouldn’t do that to her, she’s sure.

“Annabeth.” Percy stands on the sidewalk in front of her like an apparition, shadowed into his simplest form in just the lamplight, yet there’s no doubt that it’s him. Tall and a little awkward, adjusting to the new growth spurt and eyes that catch the moonlight, shifting shades of the sea. And when she gets closer—red. Wounds poorly dressed and bleeding through, eyes rubbed raw, brown skin peeling like his face had been scraped against the wall.

Her stomach turns. She’d been waiting for a text.

“Percy,” she whispers, though she really means it to sound like baby.

Distance closed between them, his arms wrap around her, strong and shaking, and his lips are warm on her neck when he speaks. “Saw you coming.”

They’re at the opposite end of the block his apartment sits and from this she can tell two things. First, that he must’ve been sitting in his car, because it would’ve been impossible to spot her from his window. And, second, that he’d been hiding. She thinks about Luke, leaning into her, safe behind a locked door. Shuddering, too, because he wouldn’t allow himself to stay hidden for long. His parting kiss is still warm on her lips and she hopes with everything in her that he’ll make it back to bed alright.

She twists the hair at the base of his neck around her finger. “You’ve got night vision?”

“Don’t need it,” he mumbles. “You’re like the sun.”

“I don’t think your head’s right.”

“Probably.” Still holding on tight, he brings his nose to hers and grins sideways. “Happy birthday, Annabeth. Feel different?”

The side of his face that hasn’t been scraped is purple and sickly, a cut splitting the tail end of his left eyebrow. He’s so puffy he almost looks baby faced again and she wants to throw up into his neighbor's shrubs.

Instead she mirrors his smile with glossy eyes and shakes her head. “Just feel like me.”

They pull away after a moment and her phone buzzes in her pocket and it could only be Luke because she keeps everyone but him and the boy in front of her on silent. He shrugs as if telling her to check, but she keeps her hands firmly at her sides. She’s with him. And he’s bleeding.

“Is…is he up there?” she asks, gesturing towards his apartment. The blinds are open and the light is on, a flickering yellow, not warm or welcoming. You can tell just by looking at it that Sally isn’t home.

Percy twists his battered hands. “He’s asleep.”

She falters.

For as long as she’s known him, he hasn’t ever been able to fight back. Which, had been a stupid question to ask when they were twelve. Somehow, she’d been leagues more athletic, though the most sport she’d ever done was run from home on the bad days. He was shorter, too, and craning up at him now she misses what it had felt like to hug him like she could protect him at all. It was a stupid question, but she’d asked it regardless and Percy answered not without rolling his eyes at her first. He’d snap my head off, he’d said. Which may have been true for the time before puberty had kicked the boy he is today into full gear. Broad shoulders that propel him to first place in every swim meet and arms that ripple with lean muscle and hands that can cut like a knife. She never supported the school fights, but she’d be an awful friend to not be proud of him after he won.

Now, Percy doesn’t fight back and it always comes back to Sally. But his knuckles are split and there’s a strange inkling of satisfaction on his face and he says he’s asleep.

“How long?” she treads.

His chest inflates with deep, heavy breaths and she notices there’s a hole at the neckline of his shirt, an old one she’d picked out for him at Goodwill back to school shopping, keen on how it would look on her, too. “I think…” he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t think we should go up.”

Annabeth nods slowly. “My place?”

“Is that where you wanna spend your birthday?”

It’s not where she wants to spend any day, really. Almost completely, she lives with Luke. Until his mother has an episode and then he sends her off, and she crashes with a friend. Her room at home belongs to a girl she isn’t and Annabeth is in no mood to comb through the cobwebs.

“What other option is there?”

He shrugs and tries uselessly to hide the wince. “We get in the car.”

“And drive?”

“Wherever you want, birthday girl,” he says lazily, a flirtatious invitation, and if it were anyone but him it might’ve sounded sleazy.

In his passenger seat, Annabeth decides she wants to take him to the hospital. The problem with this is that she is in the passenger seat and Percy is behind the wheel, and when his skin peels he requires to be the one to rip it off entirely. The last thing he’d let her do is bring a doctor to question and poke at him, peering into his shitty little home and for no payoff. This isn’t a unique story, he’d told her. Gabe wouldn’t stay gone forever and his mother would suffer for it then, so he wrecks himself in the meanwhile.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” She says this like a confession, although she hadn’t meant it like one.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You need new bandages.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re really not—”

He snaps, “Would you drop it?”

Bewildered, she huffs, staring at the side of his face as he refuses to meet her eyes and she’s getting really fucking sick of the stony expression he wears so often these days. “I don’t get why you won’t just let me help.”

“I never said I needed it.”

No, she agrees. There’s a lot he doesn’t say, like what he was doing with Rachel last weekend in Montauk. The worst part was that Rachel hadn’t outright mentioned it either. Like it was a secret, like it mattered. Instead, she’d posted half-truths. A picture of her freckled legs on a Finding Nemo beach towel. A seashell. A door frame made of teakwood that hadn’t seen an easy day in a decade, a bed of messy white sheets on the other side of it.

“You haven’t said anything for a while.” Her voice is soft, which makes it sound even meaner somehow.

The engine revs and his hand strangles the shift stick. If he wasn’t bleeding from his knuckles they would be snow white. He hauls the car out of its tight parking space in one excellent motion, with confidence that tells her he knows where he’s going.

“You haven’t asked.”

“Okay. Are you dating her?”

His expression hardens, and she imagines what he might’ve looked like when he knocked the lights out of his stepfather, if there’s much of a difference. He starts on what she thinks is the path to his old school, but can’t imagine why he’d be taking there. Why he’d even want to see that establishment again.

“No,” he says. “Did you get back with Luke?”

“No.”

The sound he makes is between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, because you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

She rolls her eyes, rolls her head to face out the window. They pass an old bar, killing flies even on a Friday night. Discreetly, she checks Luke’s text and relaxes into the worn leather when she knows that he's okay.

“Is it crazy to want to see you?”

He’s silent for a beat, driving the car straight but without a steady speed. She watches the speedometer flicker like a flag in the wind.

“Check your jaw,” he says eventually, quiet and rough.

Annabeth hooks her fingers into the vanity mirror, pulling it down, unready to grapple with her reflection. The two braids that rest on either shoulder are frizzy and begging to come undone. Her lips have turned a deep shade of red, bordering on purple. She tips her head back, getting a better look at her jaw—the hickey is more unsightly than it is surprising. His teeth had carved marks into her skin and she doesn’t even really remember when he’d done that, but it stares back at her now, blue and angry, and not even the traffic lights shining on her face can drown it out.

“It doesn’t mean we’re dating,” she mumbles, though she wishes she had said it a bit stronger. Who is he to take another girl to Montauk?

He holds onto a breath as he speeds through the yellow. “It’s casual, then.”

“It’s…” she recalls the day she and Luke had broken up, years ago, and she thinks about how nothing has changed. Their relationship isn’t orthodox, working better without the pretense of being his girlfriend. “It’s just how it is.”

Percy shakes his head. It’s not often he gets to be a condescending asshole, and he’s eager for the opening. He says, “He’s using you.”

For what? she wants to say. Sex isn’t difficult to find for boys like Luke Castellan, and Annabeth is hardly the best at it, anyway. Mostly, she does a lot of laying down, which works for a boy who hates to keep idle. He’d hardly appreciate it if she got up on top of him, she thinks.

“Maybe I’m using him too.”

“It’s different. He’s—he’s older.”

Exasperated, she throws her head back against the headrest. “Can we not.”

His school would usually take thirty minutes to get to by car, a fact she knows because she’d ridden with him and Sally on Monday mornings, stopping through his drop off lane first before taking her back to boarding school for the week. In the empty streets, it only takes a fraction of the time and she can see the familiar LED sign out front, red letters wishing a good summer.

“You’re not over the Rachel thing, so we kinda have to,” he says.

“Those are completely unrelated subjects—you brought up Luke. And you took her on a cozy little Montauk date to get back at me.”

Again, he shakes his head, saying nothing. The school sticks out like a sore thumb in front of them. Percy cruises to the back of the lot, hidden under the shade of an out of place tree and its drooping branches.

He doesn't look like how he drives, she thinks. So at ease taking her here, sliding between white lines, one hand on the wheel. The other rubs his jaw, and he appears every bit the antsy sixteen-almost-seventeen year old boy he is. Skin that wrinkles as he drags it before returning taught in place, and it’s too dark to tell now that the car is off but his tan is not anything special for having spent a weekend on open sunny shores.

Annabeth swings her car door open wide, the vacant spots next to them spanning out until the curb cuts through in a painted red patch, discouraging students from crossing straight into the pick-up lane. She thinks of Percy, just a little younger, eager to see his mom, dreading to go home, stepping onto the red and getting promptly yelled at by a school employee. Remembers the playful roll of his eyes when he’d see her in the passenger seat. He’d slip into the back without much complaint though, because on the days she cut class to come along, Sally was reliable in taking them to the burger place a couple blocks down.

(“Share a shake with me, Percy, please?”

Sally smirked and he sighed deeper into the booth beside her.

“What if I want my own?”

She pouted, eyeing the laminated image of the strawberries and cream shake front page on the specials menu. “I can’t finish the whole thing, but if I don’t have this I’m gonna think about it for the rest of the day, Percy, how am I going to study for pre-calc if I’m thinking about a milkshake?”

Percy surrendered and got upwards of three sips before Annabeth was licking the remnants of cream off the bottom of the straw.)

He trails behind her on the way to the side doors, the opposite end of the school where the outdoor pool carves into the pavement, which she’s realizing must be where he’d meant to take her.

“It’s locked,” he says uselessly.

Luke had taught her the credit card trick soon after they’d met. To impress her, she thinks. And it worked because he’d stayed up all night with her in the dark library, his chest warm against her back in the kid's corner while she read and he watched her read. She was young and enthralled by a hunger she’d spent so long beating down. Needless to say, she was impressed.

Annabeth does not have a credit card—but a school ID works all the same.

“That’s not gonna—”

The lock comes undone with a satisfying click and she places her hand around the nob, elated when it turns.

She smiles, smug. “What were you saying?”

It’s an old school with horrible security measures, but that’s unimportant. She lets herself in, hears the door stall as he does as well and hopes that he’ll follow just as compliantly to the nurse’s office.

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” he warns, half-heartedly, knowing he’s already lost this fight.

“They’ve already expelled you.”

“I meant with the law.”

The nurse’s office door, thankfully, is not locked. Inside, it smells like lemon and bleach and she sees a bowl of lollipops on the countertop depleted almost to the bottom. Mid July, summer school is in full swing and it’s for this reason the office is fully stocked. Not the hospital, but close enough.

They turn on the lamp next to the patient’s chair, and she crooks a brow until he sits down. It’s hard to miss the hurt that flickers over his bloodied features, fighting down the ache. He nods to the cabinet on his right and she kneels, fishing out the supplies.

She sets the bandages, alcohol, ointment, beside him on the chair, pointedly keeping her gaze down. He tries to reach for the supplies and she quickly bats his hand away.

“Annabeth,” he says.

Cotton pad saturated with alcohol, she brings it to a nasty scratch down the side of his face. He hisses, but steadies himself before saying again, “Annabeth.”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t take her.”

Her fingers shake around the tube of ointment. His hand clasps around hers.

“She was hosting some beach clean-up thing in Montauk and needed somewhere to stay—I wasn’t there with her. It wasn’t a date.” His face, when she can bring herself to see, is open and honest. Maybe a little desperate. “I’m not dating her.”

She chews her lip, trying hard to fight the relief that crashes down on her. Pointless. He’s her best friend before anyone else’s anything and she is so relieved.

Annabeth finishes working quietly. She cleans his hands and soothes his knuckles and sticks band aids where there’s still active bleeding. It’s an easy and practiced process, which makes her a little sick to think about.

“You’ve kissed her, though,” she says, her words careful. The band aid wrappers crinkle in her palms before she shoves them in the trash.

“If one kiss is indicative of dating, you and Luke must be planning a wedding.”

It’s a very sixteen-year old conversation they’re having. But Annabeth is seventeen—and single, may she add. “You have a very narrow view of sex, Percy.”

“Is that what he tells you?” he says, and she knows exactly what he thinks of sex and kisses and dating. Simply parked between the white lines—love, for boys like Percy, is only ever good. Love is his mother’s crooning voice and soft hands and confectionary scent she wears. It’s his memory of his father, lost at sea, a warm glow, an adoring smile. The man who came and swept a young Sally from her life of misery and monotony, who showed her how rough ocean waves can be a friend under his sails. A man who would have stayed, had he not been taken from them. Humanity split in his household in a perfect binary; the Sally Jackson gold standard and the Gabe Ugliano bar set deep in Hell.

Annabeth was not raised on love. She doesn’t think her father is capable of it—which is not to say he’s a horrible person for it, only that he can’t help it. Her mother had no qualms leaving her on the doorstep of a broke graduate student, and she surely didn’t care enough to send any letters. Frederick did what he could, meaning he did not do a lot. By the time she came to him, eight pounds and 3 ounces wrapped up pastel hospital cotton, he had already devoted his life to an intellectual pursuit she couldn’t fit in, no matter how tiny. The unlucky thing is that babies only get bigger. It wasn’t enough to keep her fed on formula and apple sauce, to lay her in bed as many times a day as she would accept. Annabeth quickly became old enough to take care of herself; she wanted to be loved, even if she wasn’t sure of what that meant.

She wonders, sometimes, how far she would have gone searching for it if Luke didn't find her first.

“You’re an asshole,” she decides. Because seventeen isn’t old enough to make her graceful.

For whatever reason, Percy laughs. “Yeah. Thank you. For patching me up.”

“I would rather not have to.” She leans back against the bed, their shoulders touching. “On my birthday, too.”

“I got you a present.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It’s at home, in my safe.”

She quirks a brow. “You got me a gun?”

Of course, she’s joking. She knows that he’d hid it to keep Gabe from pawning it off for money to gamble, but she really does want a gun. He’s asleep, Percy had said. It would be an honor to do him one better.

“You are so lucky there aren’t cameras in here. Talking about firearms after breaking and entering, Annabeth, who raised you?” And then, “Don’t answer that.”

He lets himself down from the patient’s chair and the paper beneath is wrinkled, but not torn so neither of them say anything. She watches him walk to the doorway, feet planted on the tile.

“I didn’t take you here to spend the night in the nurse’s office.”

Percy is massaging one hand with the other, wringing them together with the same stress that weighs on his forehead and shades his eyes a little darker, and she wants to kiss it all better.

It would be cruel to make him doubt himself anymore than he already does. She reaches out a hand that he takes, leading them through dark hallways and out to the pool.

It’s covered, obviously. She suspects Percy is used to doing this because he instantly finds the machine to retract it, working it without hesitation. Everyone needs a place to go, she guesses.

Annabeth sits on the edge, shoes discarded. She dips her feet in once the cover has been pulled up in front of her. It’s not as hot now as it was back at Luke’s, still she didn’t expect the water to be freezing.

“You just gotta give it time to adjust,” he assures.

Fingers meekly gripping the hem of his shirt, he turns around. A second passes while a car honks down on the road, and then another before he takes it off. It’s endearing, she thinks, feeling her face heat. Though he has no reason to be self-conscious, not when she was a reliable first row attendee at his swim meets. Scars drag down his brown skin in streams of red and white, and there’s a scratch by his nape that looks particularly fresh and her mind conjures up the image of Gabe with his jagged crusty nails, digging into his tender skin, forcing his head back to get up in his face.

He’s very beautiful. Lean muscles working shyly as he moves, a face just about as pretty as God can give a boy. Quiet and angry and eager. Leaving his jeans on the deck and getting in the water to wade to her. The ripples distort his body and it's a purposeful veneer.

Annabeth suddenly feels very gross sitting in clothes that had once been on Luke’s floor.

Girls dream of having someone like him, she knows. Rachel had wormed her way into Annabeth’s friend group just to get close to him, but he could never get himself to revel in the attention like anyone else might. He declined dates with a weak I’m busy, sorry and he would keep being busy for as long as they would ask. He went with Annabeth to school dances or he didn’t go at all.

She’s not oblivious—she knows he’s waiting.

It’s black and white with him. Or, he wants it to be. She’d messed it up for him before, young and reckless and desperate. The memory leaves a sour taste in her mouth now; fourteen years old, in the corner of her dark room in her parents house. The floor, not the bed, because Percy had come to her running, drenched in sweat and springtime rain and blood, and dropped to his knees on the carpet. He’d said he did it himself. He’d gone through and reopened every little wound that patched itself over and the sobs that racked his body were too big for a kid his age, she remembers thinking. It was all too big. The police, his stepfather, the charges all dropped. Annabeth was just as young, at a loss for what to do as she cried with him. Later, she would think the only thing he needed was her presence. Someone to talk to, a friend who would listen.

At the time, she could only think about how much pain he must’ve been in. And that recently, with Luke, she’d learned of something that could numb it.

The kiss was fraught and messy. She thinks neither of them really knew what to do with it, even though it was not Annabeth’s first kiss, it was the first one she had to take the guiding role in because Percy knew even less and she kissed him until their lips were swollen and his cries had turned into breathless groans.

They were very young.

It’s a weird thought—she looks back at having sex with Percy with something like shame. None of their friends their age were doing it, too, and so they knew they had to keep it secret from them at the very least. And yet. They’d also kept it a secret from each other, even though they had done it together, even though neither of them would ever forget. She had felt dirty and wrong and—infectious.

It was glaringly apparent that he would have never done anything close to the sort had she not initiated it. Had she not already lost her virginity to a boy her friends didn’t know about yet because they wouldn’t get it. Luke was her first love in every sense; Annabeth was also wise enough to know their relationship wasn’t right. Sex with him hadn’t made her feel bad about herself, though. His praise, his touch wrapped around her like a halo.

Yet she remembers the silence from Percy in the week following what they’d done, she remembers thinking that she’d been doomed to a life of wrong kinds of love, and that she had become the poison.

She’s older now. And not much has changed, she realizes. Except Percy, paused a foot away from her in the water as his phone vibrates back where he’d left it, knowing now what he hadn’t those years ago. Knowing, and still waiting for her.

“You don’t have to answer it,” she offers, finding her voice.

He doesn’t listen.

He’s pulled away from her again, back where he’d started. At the other side of the pool, his phone shines in the night as he answers the call and the rest of the night is contingent on this one moment. His finger, a green accept button, and a choice.

For the first time, it occurs to her she may not be the only one missing the cautionary switch in their brain.

She knows by the way his face drops that the voice on the line must be the last one he’d ever wanted to hear.

Like on autopilot, Annabeth tugs off her own clothing, stripping down to her bra and underwear. Her hands grip the deck as she lowers herself into the shallowest end. She walks until she can’t and then half-strokes her way to him. Just deep enough that the water comes up to cheeks if she stands firmly on the soles of her feet.

Percy listens to Gabe berate him like his hands are tied. The line is unstable and his voice is drunken, but she makes out enough. You’re fucking lucky your mom isn’t home, ya know that. Fucking useless. I’ll kill you. Try coming home, boy. I’ll kill you both. She never wanted your sorry ass anyway. Useless bastard. Ruined what was left of her miserable fucking life.

She shakes her head, wishing it could stop, knowing it’s not her place to cut the call. Percy, she mouths, vocal chords failing her.

His eyes are hard set and it’s difficult to tell if he believes what he’s hearing. The logical part of her knows it’s not true. Sally lives for Percy, and Annabeth knows she regrets Gabe every day. She wishes she could tell him this, but he won’t hang up and if Gabe hears her voice it’ll only set him off even more.

She shakes his arm, urging him to wake up, to do something. She wants him to have the satisfaction of hanging up. If anyone deserves the last word. Where was the boy who’d smiled so smugly, who’d knocked out his life’s bully without any remorse?

Paralyzed, apparently. Frozen still until an angry growl and something like glass smashing rings over the line before it cuts.

“Percy?” she’s holding onto the edge with one arm to keep her head out of the water. Her braids are half-soaked.

He stands with his chin comfortably as dry as his eyes.

“He’s lying Percy, please tell me you know that—”

“It’s okay, Annabeth,” he says, scarily calm.

“No, it’s—”

“It’s okay,” he repeats. His hands find hers, gripping them tight and she thinks he’s trying to stop them from shaking. “Don’t worry.”

This is a horrible thing to ask of her, but she sees the expression on his face, open and in need, and she’s starting to understand what he means. Because their first time together had been fueled almost entirely on her worry and he doesn’t want that now, and when he inches closer to her, dropping a hand down to her thigh to coax it around his waist to hold her steady in the deep end, she sees the green light.

This time, Percy gets to kiss her first.

keep reading on ao3

#pjo #luke castellan #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percabeth #percabeth fic #smut #reposting sorry #everything up until the rated e part is on here but i think some of the italics didnt transfer so #someone kissed you and it wasn't me #lukabeth #my fic

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months ago

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Hi!! Can i have number 41 from the country romp prompts ‘ well look in my eyes, I dont want to hide, I’ve been waiting for you all damn night’ with Dwight Hendrickson please .

Tagging: @kmc1989 @Atrxdixs @princesschyanne @words-and-seeds @cookiedoughmeagain

Companion piece to:

Nightmares - Dwight has always had nightmares.

On The Rocks - Dwight finds you on the beach after a fight about Wade Crocker.

Lightshow - Dwight knows that something bad's happened when the lights to flicker.

You spend eight hours in surgery, that’s how long it takes for the surgeons to repair the damage that Wade Crocker did to your body. Dwight’s beside himself the entire time because all he can think about is how he can’t stand the thought of losing you.

When they do allow him to see you, you’re attached to a ventilator and under heavy sedation because your Trouble it has a way of reacting when it thinks you’re in peril and they can’t take the chance of you shorting out the electrics in the hospital.

“How long will she be under?” He asks the doctor as he stands beside your bed, his fingers entwining with yours.

“Until the lungs healed.” He’s told as the doctor checks your vitals. “We can’t take her off the sedatives until then in case she panics and destroys the ventilator.”

He doesn’t need the doctor to tell him how dangerous this is. The longer you’re attached to that machine, the more chance you’ll become dependent on it, that you might never come off it.

It takes six weeks for you to heal to a point that they feel comfortable enough to remove the ventilator and reduce the sedatives. Dwight visits every day, changing out the flowers for fresh ones and filling you in on Haven’s recent antics. He stays as long as they’ll allow before they kick him every evening.

One the day they stop the ventilator, he helps them to clear the room of all the electronics, shifting them into the room across the hall instead. It’s agreed that your doctor will be there to monitor your vitals, whilst Dwight maintains his presence as a calming influence.

The lights flicker as you start to come around from the sedatives, and his hand seeks out yours, clasping it tightly.

“It’s alright. I’m here.” He tells you as he uses his fingertips to brush the hair away from your features. The lights stop strobing and your eyes flutter open, coming to land on him as he looks down at you with an encouraging smile.

“Hey baby.” He whispers, his voice a little rough. “Welcome back.”

Love Dwight? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#dwight hendrickson #dwight hendrickson x reader #haven #haven syfy #adam copeland

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 3 months ago

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The family of it all!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

Yeah! Family!

36 for ⚡️:

---

“Like, what if… What if she’s had the baby and not told us?”

“I think we might need to sedate you, actually,” Eddie says.

“Hey!” Buck complains. “These are reasonable concerns!”

“On a scale of one to ten, how traumatic was your last coma for you?” Eddie asks. “Because we might just want to put you in one until the baby is here. Best way to pass the time.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Buck complains.

“I am, first of all,” Eddie replies. “Second of all, you do need to relax, okay? I promise if something is worth worrying about, I will also start freaking out, and we can freak out together. A baby not being born before her due date is not one of those things.”

He makes a valid point. One that’s potentially too logical to ignore.

Buck takes a deep breath. “Fine. You’re right.”

“Usually am,” Eddie replies.

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Should we really visit the statistics on that?”

Eddie scowls at him. “Let me have this.”

If Buck thinks Eddie is dismissive of his completely normal fears - not paranoia, thank you - then Chim is downright mean. He laughs, on the due date, with how stressed Buck is.

“Are you kidding?” Chim practically cackles. “Please tell me you haven’t forgotten how long Maddie went overdue. Like actually overdue. Over a week, Buck!”

Another valid point, but…

“Okay, but we don’t know that Lourdes won’t also-”

“And!” Chim interjects. “You’re not living with Lourdes, so you don’t know.”

---

36 for 🧟:

---

Besides, he has other things to worry about.

For one, he hasn’t had another chance to talk to Eddie properly. Eddie is spending a lot of time talking to Shannon. Which makes sense, right? They have a kid together. This whole history. They each thought the other was dead. Of course that’s who Eddie is talking to. But it has Buck worrying. Something that isn’t his right to worry about. But nevertheless… What if Eddie leaves? What if he decides to go stay with Shannon and the others? It would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Honestly, if Buck were a better person, he’d just suggest it. But he’s not. So he goes to the beach to hide instead.

He sits on the beach and he looks out at the sea, and he thinks about loneliness. He thinks about how it’s the end of the world, and twice he’d somehow found someone who made him feel excited about the future. Abby and then Eddie. Abby owed him more than Eddie does now. But… But isn't it ironic they’ll probably end up in the same place?

Life has always been pretty transient for Buck. Nothing has ever felt permanent. Not until he met Bobby and everyone else. And maybe he just has to accept that that’s the permanent thing for him. He’s luckier than most people, if that’s true. But Buck isn’t stupid. He sees how Maddie and Chim are looking at each other. How Bobby and Athena have seem to become a unit. All within a handful of days. It hurts that he might be the only one without that, when the dust settles on whatever this period of commotion has been.

He’s in the middle of feeling sad for himself, and feeling dumb about feeling sad for himself, when he hears someone walk down the stairs to the beach. He turns to look and is surprised to see Abby, making her way towards him. He’s not sure what she’s doing.

#daisies and briars writes #things we're all too young to know fic #go and kill go and die fic

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meruemhq · 3 months ago

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Someday, Somewhere, Somehow, You'll Love Again. [Chapter 2]

Master List

The situation just got a shit-ton worse.

Megumi couldn’t stop the sharp edge of panic from creeping into his chest as he stared at your form in the cage. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Tonight was supposed to be a quick job—get in, torch the place, and get out. No complications, no witnesses. Yet here they were, with the unmistakable scent of distressed Omega pheromones thick in the air, a caged Hybrid lying in front of them, and time slipping away with every passing second.

He didn’t even know how to begin processing what he was seeing. Hybrid Omegas weren’t just rare—they were cherished, protected, practically sacred in their world. The hierarchy of their society didn’t afford much grace to Omegas like him or Yuuji, but Hybrid Omegas? They were treated as something entirely different. While Prime Alphas were rare—1 in 1,000—Hybrid Omegas were even scarcer, appearing at a statistical rate of 1 in 10,000.

They didn’t just obey instincts—they were instinct. Their animal traits weren’t just for show; they came with a profound connection to the primal rhythms of nature. And here you were, curled up like a wounded animal, with your spotted bunny ears pressed flat against your head, your mahogany skin glistening faintly under the harsh light.

Why would a Hybrid be bound, sedated and clearly abandoned in a place like this? What bullshit had Yuuji gotten them into now?

“Megumi,” Yuuji said, crouching beside him, his voice breaking through the haze of panic. “Breathe. You’re freaking out.”

Megumi’s hands trembled as they gripped the lock cutter. “She’s a Hybrid. Do you have any idea what kind of heat this is going to bring down on us? On Gojo and the organization?”

Yuuji placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Focus. We need to get her out of here first. Worry about the rest later. We can’t just leave her like this.”

The calm in Yuuji’s voice steadied Megumi enough to get to work. Things like this were always easier for Yuuji to handle—to digest. Toji had joked that Megumi wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle, and Gojo had defended him. But what if his deadbeat father was right? What if Megumi was just playing a game he was bound to lose? But Yuuji was right—all that would have to wait. They needed to get you out of here.

Together, they freed you from the cage, undoing the ropes that cut into your wrists and ankles. You were dressed in a dirty white sleeveless dress that looked more like rags. You stirred faintly but didn’t wake, your dark curls brushing against Yuuji’s hoodie as he draped it over your shoulders. Your scent, thick with fear, tugged at Megumi’s protective instincts, even as it made his stomach churn with unease.

“We need to make it look like she didn’t make it,” Megumi muttered, his thoughts racing. “Cut her hair and clothes, leave some DNA. If we don’t leave a trace, they’ll know that she got out.”

Yuuji hesitated but nodded, his face set in grim determination. “Fine. But we’re not shaving her bald. Just enough to leave behind.”

They worked quickly. Yuuji used a pocket knife to cut the rags that covered you. He had to wrestle to get it off your arms and through the hoodie’s sleeves, but he managed. He then trimmed a chunk of your curls, leaving enough to survive the fire. Your dark brown strands fell to the floor, blending into the dirt and debris. It was a terrible haircut, but they were working with what little time they had.

“Done,” Yuuji said softly. He lifted you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. “I’ll get her to the van. You finish up here.”

Megumi nodded, grabbing the gas can and pouring its contents over every surface in the back cage. The sharp, acrid smell made his eyes and nose sting, but he didn’t stop until the entire room reeked of fuel. When he was satisfied, he went back up to the floor opening in the shipping container and lit a match, watching the tiny flame flicker in the dim light before tossing it down the stairs. The fire roared to life instantly, devouring the remnants of the facility as he turned and ran for the van.

In the van, you lay across Megumi’s lap, your body still and fragile beneath Yuuji’s oversized hoodie. Your head lolled to the side, ears twitching faintly in response to the rumble of the engine. Megumi placed a hand on your forehead, noting the feverish heat of your skin.

“She’s burning up,” he muttered.

Yuuji glanced at you from the driver’s seat. “She might be in shock. Or it could be her Hybrid physiology. I don’t know, man. They don’t exactly teach us this stuff.”

Their world was ruled by instinct, but it wasn’t without structure. Prime Alphas like Gojo Gojosat at the top of the hierarchy, their overwhelming presence and pheromones impossible to ignore. Alphas followed, then Betas, with Omegas like Megumi and Yuuji at the bottom. Hybrid Omegas, though technically beneath even standard Omegas, were treated like delicate treasures—rare, beautiful, and utterly dependent on the goodwill of those around them.

The idea that someone could cage and mistreat you was unthinkable. But then, Megumi thought bitterly, their world wasn’t exactly kind to anyone who fell outside the lines of power.

“What the hell was she doing there?” Yuuji asked, breaking the silence.

Megumi shook his head. “I don’t know. Could be trafficking. The Zen’ins and other organizations like them make money off selling bodies.”

The Zen’ins were a topic Megumi liked to avoid. He would have been sold to them if it weren’t for Gojo.

Yuuji gritted his teeth. “But she’s a Hybrid. That’s... it’s sick.”

“Yeah. But some people don’t care. To them, she’s just another commodity.”

“That’s illegal.”

Megumi shot him a look. “We’re not exactly saints either.”

“Yeah, but we’re not monsters. Weed doesn’t hurt anyone—not like this.”

Their conversation was cut short when you stirred, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Megumi froze, his heart lurching in his chest.

“She’s waking up,” he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and unfocused, before you began to thrash weakly, your body trembling with panic. The distressed whine of your pheromones spiked, filling the van and sending Megumi’s instincts into overdrive.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. He reached out, gripping your legs and holding them still. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

But you didn’t stop, your foot kicking out and catching Yuuji on the shoulder. The van swerved violently, and Yuuji cursed as he fought to steady the wheel.

“Hold her!” Yuuji shouted.

Megumi pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest. His mind raced, searching for a solution. Whenever he panicked, Gojo would hold him by the neck, pressing his scent gland to Megumi’s face until the world felt manageable again.

It was worth a shot.

Megumi tilted his head, pressing your nose to his scent gland, pumping calming pheromones that he hoped would work on you. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice low and calming. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

The effect was almost immediate. Your body went slack against his, your breathing slowing.

“She’s responding to you,” Yuuji said, his voice tinged with relief. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Megumi replied, his own relief tempered by the lingering tension in his chest. He grabbed a water bottle from the center console and pressed it to your lips. “Here. Drink.”

Even in your half-awake state, you drank greedily, and he had to pull it away to keep you from choking. “Easy,” he said softly. You whined at the empty bottle. “I’ll get you more.”

You whined again but eventually relaxed, your head resting against his shoulder as your eyes drifted shut.

By the time they reached the house, dawn was breaking over the horizon. The faint light did nothing to ease the weight in Megumi’s chest as they carried you inside, working quickly to start a bath and gather food from the kitchen for you.

As Megumi guided you to the prepared bath, you wasted no time in removing Yuuji’s hoodie. Megumi wanted to give you the decency of looking away, but the short time you were shirtless before him revealed scars that stood starkly against your mahogany skin—a testament to whatever hell you’d endured.

You were too thin for a bunny Hybrid, your ribs visible beneath your delicate frame. Megumi also found it suspicious how comfortable you were stripping in front of him.

Yes, Omegas were more comfortable with each other and often sought solace in one another over Alphas. But that was only under certain circumstances—close companionship or shared unmated status. You were unmated, as evident by the lack of claim marks on your neck, but Megumi was a stranger to you. There was no need to be so open.

Yet, when he looked closer, your body language told a different story. Your gaze stayed fixed on the ground, your hands balled stiffly at your sides. You were afraid and trying to hide it.

Megumi pushed Yuuji—who had returned with fruit bread and water and was openly staring at your ears and tail—out of the bathroom to give you space. He only returned when you shyly peeked your head out from the bathroom door.

Dressed now, you clung to Yuuji’s hoodie. Megumi added his boxers to your makeshift outfit so you wouldn’t be completely bare.

He sat you down to trim your hair evenly. You remained silent but leaned into his touch, purring absentmindedly—a good, healthy sound for an Omega. It was much different from the distressed whines you’d made earlier. Megumi found his own purr echoing yours.

“She likes touch,” Yuuji murmured as he ran a hand gently over your legs, his touch soft and careful. He sat on the floor near you, eyes low with sleep.

You had started dozing off as well, your head leaning back on Megumi’s shoulder. Your freshly washed, even hair allowed him to get a good look at your face.

Megumi picked you up—not as easily as Yuuji—and guided you to his bed. Once your head hit the pillow, you curled up instinctively, your ears twitching faintly. You yawned but didn’t speak. Yuuji coaxed you into eating some of the fruit and bread he had brought.

“She’s still burning up,” Yuuji muttered, his palm resting on your forehead.

Megumi’s mind raced with questions. What kind of medicine could you take? How different was your physiology from his or Yuuji’s?

Yuuji joined you in bed, curling up on one side of you. Megumi positioned himself on the other side, hoping the arrangement would make you feel safe rather than trapped.

There was so much to do. As you drifted off, Megumi scrolled through his phone, reading news articles, academic papers, and subreddits, trying to find any information he could about Hybrid Omegas—about you.

The door slammed open, jolting Megumi awake. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep. The sun was much higher in the sky.

“Megumi!”

Satoru’s voice was as loud and cheerful as ever. Megumi had forgotten Gojo’s obsession with scaring him awake. And, as always, he never knew how to read a room.

He threw himself onto the bed without hesitation, startling Yuuji and you awake.

You immediately began to cry out, the room filled with the sounds and scent of your panic. Yuuji, being closest to you, pulled you into his lap, sleepily cooing soft, calming words to you.

Satoru, for once, went silent. His usually bright eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as his gaze locked on you.

“Why,” he finally said, his voice low and dangerous, “is there a bunny in your bed?”

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #alpha satoru gojo #Alpha sukuna #alpha nanami kento #alpha fushiguro toji #a/b/o #omega fushiguro megumi #omega itadori yuji #yakuza au #jujutsu kaisen #x black fem reader #x black reader #dead dove do not eat

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dr-abitat-blog · 4 months ago

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Day 30: "You're not making sense."

@ailesswhumptober

T/W: Hallucinations, paranoia, degrading mental health language, forced sedation

We’re all in danger.

Don’t tell me how I know, I just know. I’ve…I’ve seen it. Yeah, I know that sounds crazy, but I’m being totally serious right now. I have seen it. The sights. The faces. The sounds — all of it plays out crystal clear in my mind, just as it has from the first moment I was hit by it. The vision.

Anna in the middle of the corridor, her red hair flying around her, screaming.

Multiple hands holding her down.

Masked faces surrounding her on a table.

Flashes of the other boys’ faces — Ash, Levi, Alex — all of them.

All of them, shrieking, machines whirring, lights flashing. Red.

Red. Red. RED.

They’re not here to help us.

That is the only conclusion I can make. The images, the visions — it was all too clear. Way too clear. It had to be real!

And if it’s real, then I have to warn the others!

That’s exactly why I’m sprinting madly down the corridor right now — because I can hear her, Anna, screaming. Her high pitched horrified wails are exactly like I heard them before. This is what I saw — and if I act quickly enough, I could save her! “Anna! Anna! Calm down!” “N-no, no, get away from me! Get AWAY!” My feet skid to a halt. All the other teens are gathered around her as she paces in the middle of the corridor, clutching at her head, shrieking, raking her nails down her skin as if batting off invisible bugs. It’s…nothing short of a nightmare.

“Anna!”

I push through the crowd, ignoring the gasps and exclamations as I try to reach her. “A-Anna you have to calm down! Don’t give them a reason to take you!” Wherever she is, it’s not here. She doesn’t hear me. All she does is wail louder. My blue eyes widen as I stare at her, helpless, before peering desperately at the others. “C-come on, help me calm her down!” “Dude, there’s no way she’s calming down!”

“Yeah, look at her! She’s lost the plot!” “Sam!” I grit my teeth tightly, shaking my head hard.

“Guys, listen to me! You don’t understand! We need to get her calm or—”

“There! She’s over here!”

My stomach turns to lead.

T-too late.

The doctors and nurses round the corner. They immediately start trying to herd us to the side, blocking us off from Anna so that they can get to her easier.

“Don’t crowd her — give her the space, she can’t feel threatened.”

“A-Anna…”

My eyes peer at Ash for a moment. His green eyes are wide with horror, pressing back against Levi. I know Anna is his friend — and I also know that he’s not like the other patients here. He…he at least listens to me.

Maybe…just maybe…he’ll have my back on—

“Will we be needing a sedative, Doctor?” “I think that would be best,” Dr Richards replies, shaking her head, “She’s a danger to herself right now. We need to—”

“No — get away from her!”

I take a confident stride forward, trying to block their access. “Leave her alone! I-I won’t let you take her!” “What on earth are you talking about, Trenton?” My eyes flicker to the other side. Dr Voss has joined us now, folding his arms, concern flashing in his gaze. “We just need to settle her down before she hurts herself. If you can just step aside—”

“Not happening,” I retaliate, shaking my head hard, “I-I know what you’re doing to us — what you’re going to do to us.”

I swish my head back towards my open-mouthed wardmates, frantically gesturing. “Listen, you have to believe me! We’re not safe here!”

The others immediately start murmuring. A familiar red head scoffs.

“Oh joy, our resident schizo’s at it again!”

“What the heck are you talking about, Trent? We couldn’t be any safer here. It’s a hos-pital.”

“Yeah, what crap are you spouting about—” “This place — it’s not what you think it is!” I continue, yelling above their accusations as I point at Dr Richards, “They’re not helping us — they’re hurting us — and they’ll hurt her if we don’t—!” “Trent, I think you need to calm down—”

“No! I’m not crazy I—”

“The hallucinations have come back, haven’t they?”

Her voice sounds so soft…so concerned…

Could I be…wrong?

“N-no, I saw it! I—”

“I’m so sorry, Trent, but right now…”

Her eyes meet mine. “You’re not making sense.”

Her declaration cuts through like a knife, sending me a sad look. “I understand this is upsetting Trent, but you need to step back. We’ll take it from here.”

“No—NO!”

They start moving towards her. Before I’m aware of what I’m doing I leap at Dr Richards and claw my hand across her face. It only takes a second for me to suddenly find myself pinned against the ground by the other nurses.

“No — nngh — get off me! Get OFF!” I kick and yell, twisting viciously against them. My blonde hair flies in my face as I struggle and writhe—

“Sedative — now! Trent you — nngh — need to calm down! We’re trying to help you!”

Behind me I hear Anna screaming and struggling in protest. That only makes me kick up a fight even more. My wild eyes peer from face to face of the others, Dr Voss and Nurse Taylor holding them back. Not a single one of them runs to our aid. They just…stand there, watching, open-mouthed.

“Sedative ready!” “Good — Trenton, please stop struggling—!” “NO! NO!” I throw back my head in a terrified wail as the sharp tip pierces my skin. The cold feeling of the drug coursing through my veins soon fills me. Desperate, I lock eyes with Ash, reaching out one final time. “A-Ash! Don’t listen to them — DON’T LISTEN! THEY’RE PLANNING THINGS FOR US! BAD THINGS! Don’t…d-don’t let them…let them…hur…”

My words slur into an unintelligible mess. Fog crosses my vision. Colours pulse in and out. The last glance I get is Ash’s teary gaze before the darkness entirely takes over.

#whumptober 2024 #whumptober #ailesswhumptober2024 #whump prompt #whump event #oc whump #fic #banner by cafekitsune #whump writing #hallucinations #paranoia #conspiracy #forced sedation #why won't anyone believe me?!#Hehehe

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crevicedwelling · 2 years ago

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Could you help me sex my P. whitei? I have two- Jolene and Angelina. I don't know the best way to sex them. Do you put yours on a slate of glass to look at their under carriage or do you restrain them? Can you use the molts to? I've tried looking online and found a few threads on arachnoboards but they were for different species and one mentioned sedating them and pushing out a spermatore organ or something 😳. Here's tax: Angelina before and after her first molt in my care. When she dried her eyespots became pink and now she looks like she's blushing all the time.

I don’t recommend putting amblypygi on smooth surfaces, since they’ll want texture to cling to and will get nervous and may bolt. instead, it’s pretty easy to get a look at their ventral surface by holding them on the back of your fingers, flipping your hand over, and then spreading your fingers:

they should stay fairly still through the process, or at least all of mine do, even the babies whose legs barely extend long enough.

males will have a U-shaped genital operculum, as in photos 1 and 3. the female in photo 2 has a W-shaped genital operculum, flatter at the bottom and with a slight bend upward in the middle. 2 and 3 are large older animals and might represent extremes, but I have had no issues with sexing my 5th instar juveniles a fraction of their size.

molts can probably be sexed, but I find it easier to just use the live animal. I have not heard of any good keepers sedating an amblypygid like one must do with centipedes.

if you get photos of your animals and would like my impressions of them, I would be happy to take a look.

#bugs #arachnid #amblypygi #care ask

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walker-extended-universe · 10 months ago

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Sammy Reborn, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Relationship(s): August Walker & Dean Winchester, August Walker & Cordell Walker, Cassie Perez & Cordell Walker

Tags/Warnings: Kidnapping, Drugging, Investigations, Delusions, Obsession

Written for @medwhumpmay Day 4- Sedated

Summary: In which August tries to make a move and Walker tries to keep his wits about him.

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

------

Cordell stumbled into the ranch house at around 4am, got a couple hours of sleep, then made his way to the family breakfast table to break the news to his family.

He and Cassie had spent hours looking through traffic cam footage the night before and hadn’t had much luck. They did manage to identify the car most likely used by the kidnapper but the license plate they pulled from the footage was fake and tracking the car had proved to be almost impossible since the driver mostly used side streets away from the cameras. All they knew was that they were looking for a black 1967 Chevy Impala (which they put the APB out for before leaving) and that whoever did was long gone.

Not exactly great news.

He hesitated before the doorway and took a deep breath. He couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Mornin’ everyone….” He tried to smile but he wasn’t sure it was convincing. “I…I have something to tell you. Something important.” He didn’t wait for his mama’s concerned questions before barreling through it. “Last night, August was kidnapped while taking out the trash at the Side Step. We don’t know who took him or why. All we have right now is the vehicle the kidnapper was driving and we’ve got a state-wide ABP out on it right now-”

“Wait, what? Last night?” Stella turned in her stool, breakfast forgotten. “Why didn’t you tell us as soon as you found out?”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” Cordell muttered. “Colton’s the one that called it in. And after that….. I needed to know what we could find out. I wish I had better news but at this point there’s not much we can do. We’ll have to wait for someone to report the car and that’s honestly the best we can hope for. Until then, all we can do is investigate things here, try and find out if anything suspicious has been happening around August lately. I’m not dragging all of you in for interrogation but we’ll need to have a talk about what he’s told you -if he has- and we’ll need to track down some of his school friends too.”

He watched as his family slowly absorbed the news. There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

“He didn’t mention anything strange to me,” Liam said slowly. “Stel?”

She shook her head. “No, but I know some of his school friends; I can talk to them and see if they know anything.”

“Do you know if he kept a journal?” Bonham asked. “He may have put something in there.”

He shook his head. “Not one that I knew of but it couldn’t hurt to look. But I’ve got to get to work, see if there have been any updates.”

“Cordi, honey, it’s been one night. You can at least get some breakfast before you go,” Abby insisted.

“But-”

“If there’s a big update, they’ll call you. And you won’t do August any good collapsing on the job. Eat.”

Sighing, Cordell sat down and started eating. He knew better than to argue with that tone.

—-------

August woke up with a groan. His head hurt and the loud music wasn’t helping. Why was Stella blasting Led Zepplin anyway?

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you Sammy? Here, let me turn that down.”

The lowered volume did help August’s head but that voice didn’t help his nerves. It was the same voice from the alleyway. The guy that jumped him and knocked him out.

“You wanna stop at the next exit and get something to eat? I’m a little hungry myself. I bet you are too. You gotta get something besides a salad this time though. I know you’re on a health kick and all that but you’re too skinny.”

August made himself sit up and open his eyes. He wasn’t sure what this guy wanted or why but he figured it’d probably be smart to play along for now. Just until he could find a way to contact his family. “Where are we?”

“We’re just coming up on Texarkana. I’m good on gas for a bit but I think we need fuel for us before we go much further. I know I’m starving.” The guy took the next exit but he was going too fast for August to see where it was.

August was feeling hungry too, but he didn’t think he could trust anything this guy would give him. But maybe he could use this to get some more information. “I’m not that hungry, actually. Thanks though, Mr….?”

His captor laughed. “Sammy, I know you’re hungry. And don’t call me that. I know I’m older than you, but come on, I’m just your brother.”

August had so many arguments he could make but none of them seemed like a good idea in a moving car. “Fine. Where are we going?”

“Just a little diner I know. You’ll love it.”

August very much doubted that but, again, he didn’t think it was a good idea to get into it.

It was another half an hour of his captor singing off-tune before they pulled into the diner parking lot. It was a grungy place that looked like it had been open a few decades too long- then again Gramps swore up and down those places made the best food (besides Mawline’s, of course). And August actually was a bit hungry, not that he felt like admitting it.

“Yeah, I know it doesn’t look like much,” the man said, unlocking the doors. “But I’m sure they have some kind of salad for you. But I am gonna order you a burger; you’re too damn skinny, Sammy.”

August wouldn’t mind a burger. It would give him the energy to run away if nothing else.

And being here gave him some options. He didn’t have his phone anymore, but there were people here. If he could get away from this guy for just a second, he could get someone to call his dad. That would have to be good enough until he could find another way to talk to his family.

“Well, howdy Dean!” The waitress standing behind the counter greeted them with a blinding smile. “Been a while since I’ve seen you. A few months at least. And who’s this fella?”

The man, Dean, returned her smile and pulled August into a one-armed hug. “This is my little brother, Sammy. We’ll have my usual, Debbie.”

They were given a table near the front window while they waited for whatever Dean’s usual was. August spent his time looking around the diner. There was a decent crowd, not so busy that he wouldn’t be able to get a waitress’ attention for a few seconds but busy enough that he could do it without drawing Dean’s attention. Hopefully.

“Alright, here ya are!” Debbie plunked two plates in front of them. Dean’s “usual” was a heart attack on a plate- a greasy bacon burger with an overwhelming side of fries.

Normally, August would dig in with glee. He was a growing boy and while the Walkers weren’t exactly health nuts, something as greasy as this was definitely a rarity.

But, normally August hadn’t been kidnapped by some weirdo. So that killed his appetite a bit.

“Come on, Sammy, eat up,” Dean said around a mouthful of food. “We gotta hit the road if we wanna be home by sundown.”

August ate some fries and looked around the diner, waiting for the right opportunity. If he could just get a waittress’ attention….

He saw one of the young ladies in a uniform going into the restroom area. Bingo.

“Hey, uh, I gotta hit the head. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean muttered, entranced by his burger.

August quickly dashed to the back of the restaurant. There was a “No Entry- Cleaning” sign on the door but he opened it anyway. This was more important.

“Didn’t you see the sign?” said a very annoyed voice.

“I- Yes, but this is important.”

“I don’t care which burrito you ate, I’m cleaning.” A very annoyed woman poked her head out of one of the stalls. “You can wait five minutes.”

“I really can’t. It’s- I don’t actually have to use the bathroom but….” How was he supposed to explain this?

The woman’s face softened a bit. “Are you okay? If you ate the Dynomite blaster-”

“It’s not that. It’s- You know that guy I came in with.”

She nodded. “Yeah, Debbie said he’s your older brother.”

“He isn’t. He’s not my brother at all. I don’t even know him.”

Her eyes widened with understanding. “Do you need to sneak out the back?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think that would work. That guy is…. Scary. And I don’t even have my phone on me. But my dad’s a cop and I know the tip line for where I live. If you could just call and tell them I was here, that would help a lot.” He could just play nice with Dean until his dad rescued him.

Right?

“Uh, well… I don’t-”

“I’ll be okay, I promise. Just- Let me give you the number.”

She handed him her order pad and he quickly scrawled the number for the Ranger tip line and his name. Hopefully he wouldn’t be stuck with Dean much longer.

He thanked her and quickly went back to his table. Feeling slightly better now that he had a plan in place, he went straight for the burger. He didn’t know if it was actually a good burger or if he was just hungry, but it tasted like the best thing he’d eaten in months.

“Woah, slow your roll, Sammy. I don’t need you getting sick in the car.”

August rolled his eyes. “I haven’t eaten in hours, I’m starving.”

“Suit yourself.”

As soon as they finished eating, Dean threw some cash down on the table and motioned for August to get up. He did and immediately felt queasy. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that burger in less than a minute after all….

—-----

It took longer than Dean thought for the drugs to knock Sammy out. He’d made the dose smaller so it wouldn’t hurt Sam by accident. He’d have to adjust it for next time, but it did the job for now.

Sam fell asleep about 30 minutes into the car ride and Dean turned the music down for him. “Sweet dreams, kiddo,” he murmured, stroking his hair. “We’ll be home soon.” It was a 10 hour drive, but with Dean at the wheel they’d make it in 5.

He hated to drug Sam for the ride. He wanted to sing along to the radio with his brother rolling his eyes at him the whole way. But Sammy was still confused and Dean didn’t want to risk losing him again. He just needed some alone time with Sam and then things could start getting back to normal.

It wouldn’t be an easy transition for Sammy- kid always was stubborn. But, just like when Dean got him back from Stanford all those years ago, he would eventually come around. He’d stop having all those big dreams about leaving Dean behind and living a “normal” life, whatever that meant.

And it would be better this time. There would be no Dad to drive him away, no Jessica to keep him away, no Ruby to poison his mind, no Lucifer to claim him, not even Castiel to ruin him. Sammy would be all his this time. Just like he should be.

And if his other “family” tried to come after him, to take what isn’t theirs anymore, Dean would take care of it. Just like he always did.

—---------

Cassie rewound the traffic cam footage again, just in case she missed something. Even a taillight would be something more than what she had. And she had to give something to Walker. She had to.

She glanced over at the conference room where he was staring blankly at their- equally as blank- caseboard. She would bet anything he was currently running through the stats on survival of a missing person versus how long it took to find them. She certainly was.

Her desk phone ringing jarred her out of her thoughts. “Texas Rangers,” she answered.

“Uh, is this the anonymous tip line?”

She sat up straighter. “Yes. What do you have to report?”

“Uh…. God, this is gonna sound weird….”

“Nothing too weird for the tip line, believe me. What did you see?”

The woman sighed. “God, this is dumb. I shouldn’t’ve let him go. I shoulda told him to sneak out the back and just called the cops right then. What was I thinking?”

“Ma’am, I can’t help you or him unless you tell me what’s happened.”

“Right, right. Uh, well, these two guys came into the diner earlier. The older one called the younger one his brother and he ordered from Debbie. But then the younger one came and found me while I was cleaning the bathroom and told me they weren’t actually brothers and told me to call this number.”

“Right.” Cassie grabbed one of the report slips and started scribbling down information. “Can you tell me anything else.”

“Well, the older one is a regular. Debbie knows him well. His name is Dean I think. He called the younger one “Sammy” but then the kid told me his name is actually August Walker. Said his dad was a cop and that’s why I had to call this number.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else you can tell me about the man August was with?”

“Uh, well he’s older. I’d say in his forties maybe? He’s white, he’s got green eyes, and I’d say he’s about six feet tall. He always pays in cash, he drives one of those classic cars- a black one- and I think he’s from somewhere in Kansas? I think that’s what Debbie said.”

“That’s great. And can you tell me the address of this diner?”

“Oh, right! I forgot.” She gave up the address and Cassie did her best to keep all the details straight. “They were here about half an hour ago. I couldn’t call sooner because we were busy; this was my first chance to take a break.”

“That’s still helpful. Thank you.” She hung up and picked up her report slip. She smiled as she read over everything again. This was good. This was a lead. This was a chance. They could bring August home.

“Hey, Walker,” she said, rushing toward the conference room. “We just got a tip on August. A waitress in Texarkana called in about him. Whoever took him stopped for lunch and August was able to get away long enough to get help.”

His head snapped toward her and he zeroed in on the slip in her hand. “Really?” he said. “Texarkana? They must’ve been driving all night…” He snatched it from her and read over it. “This is good. We can work with this. We should probably get in touch with the PD there and see if we can get camera footage from the diner and the surrounding streets. Also put an APB on this description.” He was moving around the conference room frantically now, adding to the still sparse case board.

“I’ll let James know,” Cassie said, backing out of the room to let Walker do what he needed to do. His son was missing; he could sweat out as much nervous energy as he needed to.

#walker #walker fic #walker fanfic #crossover #supernatural #supernatural fic #my writing #my fic #medwhump may #tw drugging #tw kidnapping

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shion-yu · 10 months ago

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Day 4: Sedated

Cliff/Elliot drabble for @medwhumpmay! TW depression, suicidal ideation.

Cliff can’t feel his face. The meds he’s on now make him feel so numb, but not necessarily better. He thinks less about dying, but it’s simply because he thinks less about everything in general. Everything’s just… blank. Before he was miserable, but now he’s empty. He’s lost track of which medications they’re trying now. He doesn’t really care, just knows he wants to stop taking them.

He’s been here since Tuesday - the psych ward. After his last relapse, the high dose prednisone messed with his head too much and Cliff said some really crazy things. Elliot got scared and brought him to the hospital. He doesn’t remember most of what came out of his mouth, but he knows the short version of it is that he wanted to die. He still kind of wants to die, but whatever these pills are make him too tired to think about it all the time. Instead he just sleeps as much as they’ll let him.

Elliot visits him every evening, but Cliff tells him there’s no point. He can’t keep his eyes open long enough to have any meaningful conversations and he doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking anyways, lest Elliot make that same face that’s somewhere between pity and grief. It’s not the way he wants Elliot to ever look at him.

The doctor tells them that it’s going to be hard to find the right combination of meds. Despite how agitated, nearly psychotic the steroids make Cliff, it’s extremely dangerous for him not to take them. The meds for his sarcoidosis, his seizures, and his depression all interact. They can potentiate or cancel each other out. If Cliff doesn’t take the steroids, he’ll die from his illness. If he does take them, he might kill himself. It sounds like a terrible balance of two evils.

Elliot’s sitting in front of him, peering at him worriedly. “Cliff?” He says quietly. “We’re gonna figure this out, baby.” The way Cliff’s hazel eyes look entirely blank scares the shit out of him. “You’ll be home soon.” He leans forward and tucks a strand of greasy red hair behind Cliff’s ear. He adjusts Cliff’s oxygen and kisses his forehead. He thinks to himself that the scrubs Cliff is wearing are too big on Cliff’s thin body. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Okay?”

For several seconds there’s no answer. Elliot’s not even sure that Cliff’s heard him, but then Cliff slowly meets his gaze and whispers, “I don’t wanna be like this anymore.”

Elliot’s heart breaks. His own blue eyes fill with tears. “I know. Just hang on a little longer for me.” He gives Cliff a long hug and Cliff doesn’t have the energy to lift his arms and hug back, but his fingers twitch with the intention of doing so. Then Elliot has to leave him behind on the locked unit for her another night, hoping that somehow they figure out how to keep Cliff both alive and living at the same time. Because whatever this is right now, it’s not the solution.

#medwhump may #shionwrites #oc: cliff #oc: elliot #tw: depression #hospital setting

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gnabnahc317cb97 · 4 months ago

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We All Fall Down Part 2

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 3.2K

Synopsis: After a terrible attack, Chan and your friends pull together to support you through the trauma you deal with daily now.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI. This story will have elements of an attack and an attempted sexual assault as well as PTSD/panic attacks. If any of these topics can be triggering to you please do not read! Cursing/strong language, violence, attempted sexual assault, depictions of PTSD/panic attacks. I think that's all but if I missed something please let me know and I will add it asap!

When you arrived to the hospital the paramedics wheeled you back to the ER and asked Chan to go wait in the lobby.

“No, I’m staying with her.” He did want to leave your side but the staff insisted that until you were settled in your room and seen by a doctor that Chan needed to stay in the waiting room. As he walked out to the lobby the seven other men came rushing in the front entrance. They all ran up to Chan half of them talking over each other trying to figure out what was going on with you. Chan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and put up his hand instantly silencing them all.

“I don’t know anything yet. They have to get her settled in a room before they’ll let me go back.” Everyone’s shoulders slumped with defeat. The front doors to the lobby slid open again as two police officers walked through with a beat up handcuffed man. Changbin’s fists clenched at his sides as Chan, Jisung and Minho all glared. The other four didn’t need to be told who he was. They knew by the other’s reactions. This was the man that had hurt you. Jeongin took a step towards him but Chan put his hand on the youngest’s shoulder.

“Jeongin.” Chan’s voice was low and serious.

“No. Don’t even think about it. You’ll just get yourself into trouble and it won’t do anyone any good. We need to be here for Y/N. Come sit over here with us, we’ll all wait for the doctor together.” Jeongin looked at Chan with angry tears welling in his eyes. He wanted to hurt that man, more than he’d hurt you but he listened to Chan and followed the others to the seating area. The guys all sat there for what seemed like forever before the doctor came out and walked up to them.

“You’re the gentleman that came in with Ms. Y/L/N correct? Mr. Bang?” He directed his question at Chan.

“Yes! Is she okay?! Can I go back now?!” The doctor nodded.

“We’ve got her settled and sedated. She has a concussion, some contusions to her face, and a gash on the back of her head that will need a few staples. You can go back now but only one of you. The rest will have to stay out here.” The guys were all fuming hearing the extent of your injuries but relieved the doctor seemed to think you’d be okay. Minho turned to Chan.

“You go back we’ll wait here. Tell her we love her and we’re all here with her. We’re not going anywhere.” They all nodded in agreement with Minho’s words. Chan turned to the doctor and followed him back into the emergency department. The bright lights and smell of antiseptic stung Chan’s eyes and nose as the doctor lead him back to your room. When they got to the door the doctor stopped Chan a moment.

“She may be a little out of it. She was asking for you and extremely upset when we got her back here so we had to sedate her. Just be aware she may be drowsy, a little disoriented, and not make much sense right now.” Chan shook his head in understanding and proceeded to enter your room. When he saw you curled up on the hospital bed you looked so small, so frail. He had to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He walked up to the side of your bed and looked down at you. Chan reached over to tuck some stray hair away from your face as soon as his fingers touch you you practically jumped out of your skin. You started to slide to the other side of the bed attempting to get as far away from whoever was touching you. When you looked up you had fear plastered on your face and you were shaking uncontrollably. Chan was cursing himself for being so dumb. He should have let you know he was there before ever trying to touch you. He just saw you laying there and he didn’t even think.

“It’s okay Y/N it’s just me, it’s Channie.” He kept his voice calm and put both hands up in front of him trying to show you he wasn’t going to hurt you. When you realized it was Chan in front of you your face softened a bit and you relaxed back down a little, still shaking. He wanted to reach out and grab your hand, comfort you, but instead he opted to inch a little closer to your bedside. You still had that lost look in your eyes that made Chan’s heart feel like someone was reaching in his chest and squeezing it with all their strength. He cleared his throat trying to get a grip on his emotions for your sake.“The guys are out in the waiting area. They said to tell you they love you.” You gave Chan a half-hearted smile and relaxed all the way back down into your bed again. Knowing they were all nearby put you more at ease. Chan pulled a chair next to your bedside and sat down in it. He wasn’t going to leave your side again if he could help it. After a moment the doctor knocked and came in the room, this time with a nurse and the tools needed to staple the gash on the back of your head. The doctor had you sit up and face Chan with your legs dangling over the side of the bed. Chan sat in front of you hands resting on the bed on each side of you but not touching you.

“I’m going to give you a local before we start to staple, you’ll feel a couple bee stings and then you should only feel a little pressure.” When the doctor stuck you with the needle you gripped one of Chan’s arms and squeezed. You closed your eyes tightly fighting back tears. Chan put his free hand over yours running his thumb along the back of it.

“You okay?” You opened your eyes and saw his worried face looking up at you.

“Yea, just hurts…” You answered quietly. As the doctor stuck you again your eyes scrunched back closed and you squeezed his arm again. You sucked in a quick breath of air before holding it. Chan continued to stroke your hand soothing you.

“Just breath, just breath…” He repeated quietly taking deep breaths in and out. You followed his breathing as the doctor finished giving you the local. When it was time for the staples the doctor was right. You didn’t feel much other than a little pressure any time a staple was placed. Chan was thankful you weren’t in as much pain for that part it seemed. When you were all finished you laid back again and immediately grabbed for Chan’s hand. He smiled and gave your hand a light squeeze reassuring you he was there and not going anywhere. The doctor stood getting ready to leave again.

“Those staples will need to stay in for at least 7 days. We’ll make an appointment for a week out to look at them. If everything looks good then, we’ll remove them. I’d like you to stay in the hospital for the night so we can run some scans and observe your head injury but as long as everything comes back normal you should be able to go home first thing tomorrow. Try and get some rest until then.” You nodded and the doctor turned to Chan.

“May I speak with you in the hall a moment?” Chan shook his head and stood to follow the doctor but you wouldn’t let go of his hand. He wrapped his other around yours gently.

“I’ll be right back I promise, I’m not leaving.” He looked at the doctor who shook his head.

“See? Two shakes baby girl and then I’m not letting go of this hand, got it?” You nodded again and finally let go of Chan’s hand. Chan followed the doctor out of the room. As soon at the door closed the doctor turned to him.

“I’m going to suggest setting up a therapy appointment for Ms. Y/L/N as soon as possible. After going through such a traumatic event the mental wounds can and will take longer to heal than her physical ones. She’s seemed resistant to discuss anything that happened with our victim advocate so I think it would be best if you talked to her about considering it.” Chan agreed and told the doctor he would talk to you about therapy. When he went back into your room you sat upright quickly. You looked nervous.

“What did the doctor say? Is there something wrong?” Chan shook his head no and sat on the edge of your bed taking your hand again and gently holding it in his.

“No, no. Nothing is wrong. He just… he wanted to suggesting talking about what happened today with someone. You know I’m sure it was terrifying and…” You cut Chan off.

“I’m not ready.” He understood it only JUST happened.

“Of course. It doesn’t have to be today or even tomorrow, but he’s gonna make an appointment with a therapist for you and I don’t think it would be a bad idea for you to go. Just to see.” You laid back in the bed and closed your eyes trying not to think about it but as soon as your eyes were closed all you saw was that man’s face. Your heart started to race and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“C-Chan…” you managed to choke out his name as a cold sweat started forming on your brow. Chan could see you were in distress.

“Hey, hey. I’m here it’s okay. Look at me yea? Deep breaths. You’re okay…” You looked in to Chan’s eyes and followed his slow deep breaths again as tears started to rim your eyes. He pulled you close and held you as you let lose and started to cry. He held you like that until you finally fell asleep in his arms and you both stayed like that until a tech woke you to take you for a CT scan.

“Can I come with her?” Chan asked the tech.

“Sorry, it’s not a very big room but it should be quick.” You looked at Chan nervously. Having him near made you feel safe you didn’t want to go without him.

“I’ll go update the guys while you get your scan and I’ll meet you back here okay?” Chan pushed your hair away from your face and you nodded as you leaned into the warmth of his hand.

As they wheeled you off Chan did as he said he would went back out to the waiting area to update the rest of the guys. They were all spread out. Felix, Hyunjin, and Jisung were asleep leaning on each other. Changbin was staring at his phone but seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Minho was flipping through a magazine and Seungmin and Jeongin were playing a game together on their phones. When Minho saw Chan walk out he sprang up from his seat alerting the others of Chan’s presence.

“Well!?” Changbin asked first. Chan motioned for them to all sit back down and sat with them.

“She’s gonna be okay. They’re keeping her for the night for observation and she can go home tomorrow.” Minho shook his head immediately.

“There’s no way we can just send her home alone tomorrow hyung.”

“No no way I’m letting that happen. I haven’t talked to her about it yet but I think for now it’s best if she stays with us. I’m staying with her tonight so I’ll talk to her about it. I want you guys to go home and get the guest room ready. Minho I want you to pick us up tomorrow morning and bring her keys so she can get what she needs from her place on the way. The rest of you, as difficult as it maybe, need to stay on schedule tomorrow.” No one even thought about arguing with Chan. When he stood up to go to the back again the rest stood, stretched, and prepared to go back to the dorm for the night and do what was asked of them. While the other guys headed out the door to the van Jeongin stopped Chan.

“Hyung? Is she really going to be okay?” Chan shook his head.

“Yea but….” Chan debated saying anything more not wanting to worry the maknae.

“She’s got us right? She’s gonna be alright Innie. Try not to worry.” Jeongin gave a half smile and surprised Chan when he hugged him tightly before running to catch up with the rest of the guys.

When Chan made it back to your room you were already back from your scan. You had curled up on your side and fallen asleep again. You were swallowed by the warm hospital blanket covering you. When Chan saw your bruised face again it made anger boil up in him but he bit his cheek and kept himself in check. He was relieved to see you finally looking peaceful as you rested. He sat next you in his chair and watched your shoulders rise and fall with your gentle breathing for a while. Finally, the exhaustion from everything that day hit him. He propped his feet up and sunk down in his chair. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep.

You stood in the shower stall. The grout was dirty and the water spraying from the nozzle was a sickly brown color. Before you realized what was happening the water was up to your ankles. You tried to clear the drain so the water would flow but what ever was blocking it wouldn’t budge and the water kept rising. It was to your knees now. You tried to open the shower door but no matter how hard you pressed against it you weren’t strong enough to force it open. The water continued to rise, now up to your chest. You beat against the glass trying to break it, yelling for help. No one was there and the water still continued to rise. You took a deep breath as the murky water came up over your head. You held your breath and fought to swim but only sank. Just when you thought you couldn’t hold your breath any longer you saw a hand plunge into the water reaching for you. You grabbed and held on tight as your savior pulled you up. When your head broke the surface you took a deep gasping breath. As your eyes focused you looked to see who your savior was. Your eyes met the cold face of your attacker. Before you could take another breath he shoved your head back under water and held you down as you thrashed and fought.

Chan bolted awake to the sound of your screams. He sprang out of his chair already by your side as nurses came running into your room. You thrashed in your bed as two of the nurses tried to restrain you and another was working on getting meds to sedate you. Chan’s hands cupped your face firmly.

“Y/N! WAKE UP!” He shouted hoping you would hear his voice over your own screams and come to.

“Y/N PLEASE!” He gently shook you as he continued shouting your name. Your eyes flew open wide and wild. You instantly swung causing the nurses to back up. Your hand connected with Chan’s face but he didn’t let you go. Instead he continued to hold your face in his hands. He lowered his voice trying to get control of his emotions and the situation.

“Baby girl, listen. Are you hearing me? It’s Chan, it’s your Channie.” You stopped fighting against him and stared blankly into his eyes. One of his hands smoothed the sweaty hair away from your face as you tried to get your bearings. When you finally realized where you were and what was happening tears started streaming down your face. Chan pulled you close, your head resting against his chest as he ran his hand through your hair.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, I’ve got you now.” The nurse went to put the meds to sedate you in your IV and you stiffened in his arms.

“NO! Please! I don’t need that!” The nurse looked at you and then Chan who nodded in agreement with you.

“She’ll be okay without it.” The nurse bowed her head in understanding and dropped the IV line.

“I’ll just get the doctor to check on you.” Her and the other two nurses left the room. You looked up at Chan needing to see his face. To remind you again that before was just a nightmare, not real. When you looked at him you saw a scratch bleeding on his face.

“Oh my god! I hurt you!” You reached towards his face with your fingers swiping at the blood. Chan grabbed your hand and held it close to his heart.

“It’s fine it’s just a scratch, it doesn’t hurt.” That didn’t matter. You had hurt him. You pulled your hand away and scooted away from him trying to distance yourself as if just being near him you would hurt him again. Chan’s face fell. Being near him grounded you in reality but you weren’t going to let that happen at the risk of hurting him. Before Chan or you could get into it further the doctor knocked and came in the room.

“I hear your having some bad dreams?” Your eyes lingered on Chan for a moment longer before looking at the doctor and nodding.

“Yea but I’m fine now. Please don’t sedate me again.” The doctor shook his head.

“No no, we won’t but I would like to send some meds home with you today to help you sleep through the night. At least until you start speaking to a therapist. Do you live alone Ms. Y/L/N?” You nodded.

“About that…” Chan interrupted. “Me and the guys talked about it and we think you should come stay with us for a while.” You were going to refuse. You JUST hurt him how could he want you to stay and put the others at risk from your outbursts as well as himself. The doctor spoke before you could protest.

“I think that would be best especially with the meds I’ll be prescribing.” You knew you couldn’t say no now.

“Okay…” Your voice was quiet. You could feel your heart starting to race already. You weren’t sure how you were going to handle going back to where you were attacked already. You also didn’t like putting your friends in such a position. You were resistant to do it but knew there was no sense in arguing the matter especially if the other guys had already agreed to it.

“Good. We’ll get your prescriptions and appointment schedules printed for you and then get you discharged Ms. Y/L/N. If you need anything in between now and your appointments don’t hesitate to come back and be seen.” When the doctor left Chan went to grab your hand again but you pulled away.

“Don’t. I’m serious Chan. I already hurt you once what happens if...” Chan cut you off. His voice was firm and controlled so much more than your own.

“It is a scratch Y/N. JUST a scratch. I want you to listen to me now. REALLY listen to me okay? I’m gonna be here for you through this. We all are. If you fall down we all fall down do you understand me?”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

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sweetjulieapples · 8 months ago

Text

"Dear Commander" Chapter Seven - Modest In Temper.

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The stress of war and troubled pasts begin to take their toll.

full chapter below

Particles of dust look like magic in the sunlight. There is beauty here in the mundane. It is safe among the walls of tomes. No stories, but there is guidance.

“Congratulations, my dear cousin.”

He shouldn’t be here! They’ll be cross with him again. Why won’t he listen? Can he not hear me? The armor is cold against my face. Red sword is listening. They’ll find us! What is the cost of this embrace?

“Everyone knows about the harrowing. They’re all speaking of it.”

Why is he laughing? Run, now! His hazel eyes show no fear. Or were they green? How much time? Time is a circle.

My mouth is open. Run, Jon. Please! Swords are drawn, footsteps approaching! Her voice is echoing. Is she me? I am no longer her. Listen to her if not me!

“Cousin!” his voice is saying it over and over. A chant. A threat? Distorted Pleas!

His kind face now sinister. Jon’s eyes are red. Red like the sword.

My hands are burning! Blood? Why is there blood?

“Herald.”

How does he know? Jon can’t know.

“Wake up, Herald!”

Juliette sat up straight, eyes wide and breath heavy. Shadows from the trees outside swayed upon the walls of her tent. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she noticed Cassandra kneeling by her side. The seeker watched her closely while her face bore a look of deep concern.

Juliette let herself flop back onto the bedroll. “Was I doing it again?”

“What do you think?” Cassandra asked with heavy sarcasm. Her previous look of worry had quickly given way to her usual cold gaze of focus.

“I’m sorry,” Juliette wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“This is the second night in a row.” Cassandra stood and looked down at The Herald with hands on her hips. “Do you do this often?”

Juliette shook her head, “ Nobody has ever said anything about it.”

“Did you have these nightmares in The Circle?”

“Cassandra,” Juliette sat up and gave her a serious look. “The Circle was the nightmare.”

Turning to exit, Cassandra grunted affirmatively. “Join us if you can’t sleep. We’re all awake.”

Once alone, Juliette rolled her eyes and threw down her arms with force. She silently berated herself for mentioning The Circle, in such a dramatic fashion no less! The more she spoke of it the more she was convinced that people didn’t believe her. Ostwick somehow had the reputation of being sedate. The nightmares were new, the constant memories were not. It was hard to think about the fall of the Circles of Magi without guilt. She made it out alive. She should be grateful.

Val Royeaux was a shit show -- Varric’s words, although Juliette whole-heartedly agreed. Instead of smoothing things over with The Chantry, they were met with a public display of power abuse by The Lord Seeker and his templars. An embarrassing blow for The Inquisition’s reputation. The ordeal had Cassandra fuming. Her temper was on show with less patience and far more aggression in her actions. The camp’s makeshift training dummy didn't stand a chance.

Juliette was met with the warm glow of a camp fire when she crawled out of her tent. Swirling embers, fragrant smoke and the hum of chatter lingered in the air. She wrapped a blanket over her shoulders and embraced the cool night breeze with a smile. This kind of freedom was something that she could get used to.

“Lady!” Varric sang out with a grin. “Can’t sleep?”

Cassandra stood up from the opposite side of the fire and walked over behind him. He expected as much, yet still flinched when her hand clipped him over the ear. “Have some respect,” she spat out before retreating to her own tent. Juliette stood watching with tired eyes, hardly surprised by what she had just seen.

“She’s in fine form,” Varric muttered sarcastically. “Have a seat?” he asked The Herald. With a soft smile she accepted and carefully huddled towards the log that he sat on, careful not to let her blanket drag on the ground. “So, nightmares huh?” he asked, reaching for a glass bottle beside him. “Want something to drink?”

“No,” Juliette shook her head quickly. “Thank you.”

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot. Are you holding up alright?” Varric asked between gulps of, whatever that horrid smelling drink was.

Juliette chuckled under her breath and shrugged. “It’s one of those situations where you either laugh or cry. Sometimes a bit of both.”

“Or squeal in your sleep loud enough for half of Thedas to hear.”

A faint smile and a sharp exhale was Juliette’s response. “Or that.” She sounded defeated.

“I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful.” Varric turned to Juliette and cocked an eyebrow. “Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

“Not bad for a girl who spent most of her life locked in a tower.” Juliette’s grin was an attempt at deflecting the less than amusing reality of her situation.

“I couldn’t write this shit.” Varric looked up at the stars and continued, “You know I’m from Kirkwall, right?”

“Yes, you may have mentioned it several times or so,” Juliette was amused with her sarcastic remark. Although she joked about Varric’s on-road storytelling, she loved every moment of it. She often wondered that if, when all this mess was over, she could someday read his novels.

“Well, get ready for the eighth. Mages and templars, and innocent people caught in the middle. Some things never change.” Varric sighed, “What happened there , that shit is hard to forget.”

“We heard about it in my circle. I thought it was all just silly rumours at first. We couldn’t see what was happening outside the walls.” Juliette looked down at her feet, glumly. “Until…”

“Yeah, you chantry kids are the very definition of traumatized.” Varric held up another bottle. “ Now you want to drink?”

“No,” Juliette laughed. “There’s a hole in the sky, yet that liquid scares me more.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he took a swig and let out a satisfied “Ah.” There was a moment of silence while they sat, contemplating the weight of the conversation that hid behind jests and stifled laughter. “Cullen was there in Kirkwall,” Varric spoke with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Juliette was caught off guard when she heard his name. For days she had tried to avoid thinking about him, and given that there was plenty else racing through her mind, she’d found some success. Being away helped, of course. All the progress that she thought she was making unraveled with the mention of his name. Juliette did well to conceal a nervous gulp before listening closely to what Varric had to say next. “After all that happened it’s hardly a surprise that Curly spends so much time with a serious look on his face. You could almost forgive the brooding.” Varric paused when he noticed Juliette’s expression. “What’s that look for?”

Sporting an awkward grin, Juliette answered with, “nothing.” She was thankful for the questions that popped into her mind so that she could move the conversation along without lingering on the dumb way her face reacts at the thought of Cullen. “You call The Commander ‘Curly’? That’s funny.”

“He’s doing something weird with his hair, I don’t know. Catch him in the rain and I’m sure the curls will come back.”

Swiftly pushing the image of Cullen soaked in rain away from her mind, Juliette blinked a few times and continued. “You call Cassandra ‘Seeker’. And Solas…” she smirked and slowly asked “Chuckles?”

“That’s right,” Varric said proudly.

“Do I have a name?” she asked .

“Lady,” he replied with raised brows as though it was an obvious question.

“Oh, that’s underwhelming,” Juliette pouted.

“Is it not enough that people are calling you The Herald of Andraste?” he laughed.

“How about The Lady? It has much more flair.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You last a day without Bianca and I saving your ass, then maybe you’ll earn your title.”

Juliette nodded and playfully rolled her eyes. “I won’t go holding my breath.”

“We had your back you know,” Varric said seriously.

Juliette looked his way mid-yawn. “When?”

“In the plaza at Val Royeaux. The look on your face when the templars tried to drag you away said enough.” Varric’s voice softened, showing compassion. “If you’re shaken by all that’s happened, nobody would blame you.”

Juliette could feel her nose and cheeks tingle underneath her eyes as tears almost began to form. She looked forward and watched the flames of the campfire. Her blurry eyes saw swirls of orange while a lump of emotions formed in her throat. She swallowed before whispering, “Thank you, Varric.”

She couldn’t remember a time where someone had let her feel like it was ok to…feel. Since she was a small child, Juliette was taught to hide her emotions.

Modest in temper, bold in deed.

Lady Trevelyan often forgets her family’s motto, however not without guilt and shame.

“Anyway,” Varric broke the silence. “Cassandra would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

The Inquisition sigil glistened with every slash of the sword as sunlight and snow reflected from the steel. Skilled manoeuvres ensured a thrilling clash of blades in a sparring session that began to draw crowds from the tavern. Patrons watched with excitement as the men competed, exhibiting their strength and impressive ability. The clang of colliding metal and low grunts of exertion rang out through Haven’s grounds before a few gasps could be heard from those spectating. A well timed parry ensured that a sword fell to the ground, the snow catching its fall.

The scar tugged at Cullen’s lip when he smirked, “I think you’ve had enough.” Without protest, the lieutenant retrieved his sword, accustomed to The Commander’s smug victories. “You’re improving,” Cullen admitted, turning his back and adverting his focus to the trebuchet site.

“I think you’re slowing down, Commander,” the lieutenant remarked with a grin. Surely he was mocking in the wake of defeat, yet his words stung more than he knew. It had been a few months now since Cullen had accepted Cassandra’s offer to join as The Inquisition’s Commander. He saw this as a chance to redeem himself, a new path shown to him by The Maker. Cullen chose to leave Kirkwall and in doing so he decided to break free of the Templar order, including it’s Lyrium leash. The withdrawal had proven challenging, nevertheless Cullen persevered. He was confident that he had made the right decision, although insecurities made way for intrusive thoughts. He worried that he was losing strength, and more importantly, focus.

Ignoring the taunt, Cullen turned to the lieutenant. “Save your energy, The Herald is due back any moment now. I believe Seeker Pentaghast will want that training session sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, Commander,” the lieutenant nodded. “I’ve a brief plan for our session but is there anything specific you’d suggest?”

“No,” Cullen replied. “I trust you’ll have plenty of input from Cassandra and…” He noticed Leliana standing by the steps with folded arms. No words were needed, her glare spoke volumes. “Excuse me,” Cullen spoke and rushed away.

Leliana held notes in her hand and wasted no time with greetings. As soon as Cullen was close enough to hear, she began, “They were met with resistance, you should hear this.” She spoke while walking back towards the chantry, expecting that Cullen would follow.

“Are they alright?” he asked with worry.

Leliana simply replied, “Yes.”

“Well?” Cullen asked, sounding irritated.

“They’re descending the mountain as we speak. Come to the war table.”

Once inside, Cullen managed to get a less cryptic summary of what transpired in Val Royeaux. He shook his head and tugged at his hair in frustration. “You can’t be serious!”

“And in the middle of the market, no less,” Josephine said with an unimpressed tone.

“I told you this was a terrible idea!” With furrowed brows and a huff, Cullen held out his hand, gesturing for Josephine to pass back the report.

“We had to do something, Commander,” she glared, hoping that Leliana would come to her defence. Instead, the spymaster walked out of the room.

“The Lord seeker did what?” Cullen scoffed and slammed the report onto the table. “Just as well that Cassandra and Varric were able to step in when they did. This could have ended up a lot worse.”

“How would you have done things differently, then?” Josephine asked with folded arms.

“I wouldn’t have sent The Herald into an ambush for a start!” Cullen snapped.

“They’re back,”Leliana poked her head in the door, silencing the argument. Josephine rushed out the door leaving Cullen alone at the war table. His headache intensified when he looked over the report in full. He had hoped that gathering support from the Templars would be simple, that it would make some sense. The Chantry was supposed step in and Templars are supposed to protect. The possibility of allying with mages terrified him more than he was willing to admit. It baffled him that the others encouraged its consideration. The war was trying enough without any clear indication of who is the actual enemy. Politics and power were a looming shadow over everything he stood for. He needed The Inquisition to work. He needed to be a part of something better, something good. If not to atone for his past mistakes, perhaps to at least soften the screams of the memories that haunt him at night.

Through the open door he could hear conversation. Cassandra’s shocked voice echoed through the chantry when she learned from Josephine that they already knew what had happened. Leliana informed of her agents in the city and greeted The Herald graciously.

The Herald. It was quite an ask to put his faith into a person he barely knew. Even as a devout Andrastian, the pragmatic in him longed for answers. Nonetheless, he realised the importance of her position. Her title held enough weight to benefit their cause and he had no trouble respecting that. What that meant for him on a personal level, he was unsure. Cullen had let too many thoughts slip into his mind and that lack of control was frightening. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt for her. He would often become frustrated with himself when he failed to resist a glance in her direction or the excitement that he would feel upon hearing of her achievements while she was away. Juliette had him curious in ways that made him feel almost grateful for their time a part. He wanted to get closer, to know more about her. He found himself wondering if, there wasn’t an impending doom upon the world, could he ever become close with a mage?

Cullen closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The world was falling a part and he had a job to do.

Mid-conversation, The Commander joined. “It’s a shame that the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.”

Juliette looked up at him with scornful eyes. “That’s what you Templars do best though, isn’t it?” Her gaze was cold as ice when she spoke further, “Turning a blind eye to corruption and abusing their strength.”

Cullen was shocked. The last time that he and The Herald had talked, she spoke softly and with kindness - to him at least. Her sweet giggle at his chancellor joke hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her shy smile and rosy cheeks were a startling contrast to the woman that now stood before him, bitter and resentful. Her words cut through him like a knife and the answer to the question that he asked himself in secrecy was clear. She couldn’t trust a Templar.

He wrinkled his nose in anger. “Do not think for a moment that I condone The Lord Seeker’s actions, Herald. Or any other ill doing on a Templar’s part in Val Royeaux." Juliette looked to the floor with her arms folded tight. Cullen stared at her with a disappointed expression.

“We made contact and now we have options,” Josephine said with optimism, breaking the tension in the room with her words.

“Do we?” Cassandra asked, sarcastically.

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe - the mages may be worth the risk.” Josephine looked up from her clipboard, expecting a reaction from her statement.

“You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!” Cullen argued.

Juliette shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “I just got back and I’m not going to argue about this.” She turned towards the door and said “Now if you’ll excuse me I —”

“We need to discuss this,” Cassandra said with a stern voice. ”Properly and now.”

“Uh,” Juliette exhaled dramatically. “You people aren’t going to let me rest, are you?”

A few hours had passed and Juliette was exhausted. She huffed with slouched shoulders and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She glared ahead and grumpily muttered to herself, “No rest for The Herald.”

“Now,” the lieutenant began. “There’s apostates to the right, renegade Templars approaching from the left.” He pointed towards the trebuchet construction site. “And over there is one of those…”

“Rifts,” Cassandra added with folded arms and watchful eyes.

“Right,” he nodded. “Demons are spewing out towards you, Herald.” He walked closer to where Juliette stood before asking, “What will you do?”

“Well, Lieutenant,” she began with a hint of snark in her voice. She folded her arms and looked towards the sky. Staring at the breach that thundered above could have given her inspiration, if not bought her time to make up an answer.

“The enemy is approaching, Herald!” the lieutenant yelled, startling Juliette. “Will you stand there or take action?”

“I…um…” she flinched as he moved closer towards her.

“What do you do, Herald?” he boomed.

“Hide behind Solas!” she shouted.

“Ugh,” Cassandra dropped her face into her palms. The lieutenant scrunched his brows and shook his head in confusion.

Juliette jumped at the noise of low sniggering behind her. She spun around with wide eyes, only to scoff when she was met with the sight of Cullen. “And The Commander has stabbed you in the back,” the lieutenant said with an arrogant grin.

“Very funny,” she rolled her eyes. “Was this the plan all along? To sneak up behind me?”

“I’m just on my way to the trebuchet, Herald.” He cleared his throat when his eyes met hers. She looked tired but less angry than earlier in the chantry. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to overstep, as entertaining as he thought this training session could be. “Good luck, you’ll need it,” he murmured towards the lieutenant when walking away.

Cassandra soon approached and hastily asked, “Can we move this along? There’s much to cover and little time.” While Cassandra and the lieutenant discussed strategy, Juliette watched Cullen from afar. He spoke with the men working on construction with expressive hands and paced the area carefully. He seemed to be completely engrossed with the building site, something Juliette didn’t understand. It was just piles of wood and complicated drawings to her.

Juliette knew that she should have felt ashamed for the way that she had spoke to Cullen earlier in the day. It wasn’t fair to take her anger out on him. While her behaviour was embarrassing, she didn’t regret it. Memories of Val Royeaux and the circle clashed together in her mind and her fear was becoming harder to ignore. She wondered, and worried, that if she were to wake and find that her mark had disappeared, would she still be here? Would the people turn on her? Would she be tossed aside by The Inquisition like the way that her father had denounced his daughter after the magic manifested? Would Cullen want her locked away, like the Templars that chased her from Ostwick?

Being around Cullen was harder than she anticipated. Her attraction towards him was undeniable, though hardly appropriate. She had no expectations, a life in the Circle had taught her that much. Yet working alongside him, trying not to let thoughts of him consume her mind - it was frustrating. He was frustrating. A representation of all she resented, no matter how many times he would say ‘I am no longer a Templar.’

She couldn’t shake the fear, the little voice nagging at her, that he’d send her back to a circle given the first opportunity. His rigid defiance, the way he tenses up when someone suggests approaching mages for support - his stance on the matter was clear. A shame, really. There was something about him that she found alluring, his smug smile and those moments at the war table where their eyes would accidently meet. It gave her butterflies. But it was far easier to be angry at him than to be infatuated from afar.

Juliette sighed heavily. Her hand itched and the edges where the green glow radiated stung like a sunburn. She held up her palm and stood still until both Cassandra and the lieutenant had noticed.

“I’d like my nap now.”

#dear commander #dragon age #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #commander cullen #cullen dragon age #cullen x trevelyan #cullen romance #cullen fanfic #dragon age fanfiction

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