#i jeep hoping to go to sleep and feel better but i keep waking up and feeling like shit for 6 hours and falling asleep agaib | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizisshortforlizard · 1 year ago

Text

Living Dangerously - Chapter 30

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: some swears, harassment and misogyny in the workplace

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 29 | Chapter 31

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

It turned out be a different sort of sleepless night to what Lizzy had been hoping for.

The wrong kind.

She had lain awake for what few hours remained until morning, tossing, turning, occasionally weeping. Any sleep she managed to grasp was fitful, feeling like it only lasted a few seconds at a time.

She kept replaying what had happened in the clearing, each time a little more painful. Wondering how she could have behaved differently. How it could have turned out better than this unbearable limbo in which she didn't know where she stood anymore. Whether she'd just forever destroyed one of the best professional relationships she'd ever had.

It was all her fault, of course it was.

Why did she keep doing this? It felt eerily similar to the last time she’d engaged without thinking of the consequences. It had nearly ruined someone else’s life back then, as well as her own. History was repeating itself, and she only had herself to blame.

And now, once again, she had to live with the uncomfortable reality. She’d argue that it clearly wasn’t taking advantage from either side, in fact Lizzy would be bold enough to say they were both very much in agreement. But InGen’s legal department probably wouldn’t see it the same way.

Admit it, girl. You fucked up.

Dawn came, and she finally forced herself to get out of bed and pretend to be human. She should be looking forward to going out into the park again and seeing her animals, now that she wasn’t alone and it was relatively safe to do so, but she was dreading it. Unsure what she’d do when she inevitably bumped into Muldoon again.

Pretend it never happened or meet him head on?

I don’t think I have it in me this time.

She was in the canteen, laying low, listlessly poking at her scrambled eggs with a fork. Lizzy had cooked them herself, but they were far from her usual standard and didn't taste of anything other than disappointment.

She heard the familiar Jeep engine outside, and the shower of gravel as it ground to a halt. Lizzy shrunk down in her chair, staring at her plate in dread.

I’m better at breakfast.

Be the one to wake me up in the morning.

God, why did I do it?

At least the coffee was worth leaving her room for.

It was the first thing Muldoon noticed as soon as he walked in. She hadn’t brought one over for him, like she usually did. Message received, loud and clear.

The one small act she did for him almost every day, and he hadn’t even appreciated it properly until it had stopped. That was enough to get him to talk first. Armstrong did something when she made coffee. Invoked a higher power. Witchcraft. Somehow she always got it exactly right.

This wouldn’t do at all.

“Good morning.”

“It is?” She replied dully, glancing up with red-rimmed eyes. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You’re late for work.” He pointed out. “How are you doing?”

“Well, that’s a kick in the teeth.” She muttered. “But, if you’re genuinely asking? Annoyed. No, that’s not right. Vexed? Hm. Frustrated. Mostly at myself.”

“Armstrong-“ Muldoon awkwardly stood in front of her. “I probably owe you an explanation.”

“No need. I thought you made it pretty clear, actually.” She felt the sting of rejection anew. It was more painful than she’d reckoned to talk about it. “You don’t owe me squat.”

“I could have handled things better.” He pulled out a chair to sit opposite her. “It all happened rather quickly.”

“You were handling things just fine.” Lizzy gave up on her eggs, pushing her plate away before sitting back and folding her arms. “What changed?” What exactly had changed? It was hard to explain, but what it came down to was-

“Too fast."

She blinked, confused. ”Say again?”

Muldoon wished more than anything that Baker was around to keep him on the right track, guide him with what to say.

”…moving too fast.”

”Well, thanks for the clarification.” Lizzy replied dryly. “And that’s…bad?”

It was, it didn’t feel right, to be suddenly rushing matters in the dark. Outside…fair enough, but in the back of a bloody Jeep?!

Or maybe on the bonnet of his Jeep-

No, stop that.

He wasn’t sure quite what had happened, but he’d forgotten his responsibilities. Keep her safe. And risking her career for the sake of one night together did not fall into that bracket. No matter how strongly he felt. How he felt didn’t matter. Hadn’t mattered for a long time.

“Don’t want one and done.” He tried to explain, despite the relentless stare from the other side of the table. “Can’t do it.”

Not with her. Everything or nothing at all. Anything else would never be enough. He was trying to voice that sentiment out loud, but he didn’t have the words. He barely had the syllables.

“It’s not right, either. We already knew that.“ Muldoon gave up. She’d have to trust him, he was doing his best. If she could still trust him. ”Does that help, at all?”

“Yes…” Then her face crumpled.

He looked at her closely. ”Are you lying to me?”

”Yes!” It all came pouring out in a high-pitched hurry. “You’ve been mad at me before and I’ve understood why. But, after, and when we were driving back-…I couldn’t read you, at all!”

Lizzy put her head in her hands and mumbled something beyond his range of hearing.

She thought he was angry with her? That’s what she was most upset about?

Muldoon reached out and gently but firmly pulled her hand away from her mouth.

”Again, please.”

”…really thought I’d lost you.” She whispered.

“Well, you certainly have a flair for the dramatic, Lizzy.” He kept hold of her hand, she let him.

”Are you implying I’m overreacting?” She choked out. “Because women love that.”

”To be clear, I’m not mad at you. I’ve never once been mad at you.”

”Are you sure?”

“Positive. Annoyed, maybe. Vexed? Once or twice.” Lizzy groaned when she realised what he was doing. “Frustrated…you get the idea.”

”Oh, that’s not fair.” She muttered.

“But I’d find it very hard to live with, if you were dismissed because of something I did. Or might possibly do, if we were to, er-…” He looked uncomfortable. “-you know.”

"Suppose that’s a good point. Damn you for being so rational. I love my job.” She glanced up. “The people, eh...."

"Indeed, people are awful. Most people, at any rate." He quietly agreed. "This island would be bloody idyllic if we weren't going to be overrun by guests in a few short months.”

“So, where do we go from here?” Lizzy was already dreading the answer.

“I don’t think…we are going anywhere. You and I-" Muldoon looked resigned. "-have to carry on as before.”

“Like nothing ever happened?”

”I’m afraid so. Strictly professional.”

“But that’s not what I want.” May as well say it.

“Nor me.” Lizzy wondered if him tracing circles on the back of her hand was conscious or otherwise. “But it’s what we have to do.”

Sobriety would be a distant memory if he was responsible for ruining her career.

“Still the funniest story I’ve ever heard.” She muttered after a few moments, breaking the tension.

“Good.” Her laugh. That ridiculous laugh that he couldn’t stop thinking about. “That’ll keep me going for a while.”

Lizzy nodded and managed a wonky smile. She felt like crying again, it seemed horribly like saying a goodbye. "We'll be okay, right?"

"I don't even want to imagine the alternative."

This is the right choice. This is the right choice. This is the right choice.

Doesn't feel right. Feels bloody awful.

Lizzy tilted her head, pushing her body towards him, her candour returning. “Did you like it, though?”

”Excuse me?” He had to have misheard, but the mischief in her expression was telling him otherwise.

”You heard. Did you-“

A noise from the doorway startled them both. Muldoon dropped her hand quick as a flash, Lizzy tried not to let her face fall in dismay.

Kathy Baker was clattering into the canteen, struggling yet again with her bag, which looked even heavier than when she’d left before Christmas.

“Found you, finally!” Kathy called and waved. "Oh, hey, you came back early! What gives?"

“Nothing.” In a role reversal, Muldoon quickly answered for them both, while Lizzy was the one who baulked.

“O-kay…jeez, answer faster.” Kathy gave up on her bag and abandoned it at the door, clumping over to their table, still in her winter boots. “Girl, before you ask, yes, I got the goods. Here, you’re welcome.”

She passed Lizzy a box of liquorice which was met with a pleased but slightly frantic ‘ooh!’.

“Have you been crying?” Kathy asked her matter-of-factly.

“Just allergies.” Lizzy sniffed and wiped her eyes, looking at the floor.

“Uh-huh...” Kathy darted a quick glance at Muldoon, before drumming her recently manicured nails on the back of a chair, building up. "This is kinda perfect actually. I wanted to tell you two first out of everyone, obviously, but not over the phone. I, uh...I have some news."

The way she was avoiding eye contact with both of them, Lizzy could guess what it was. She quickly forced a smile. "You got the job?"

"Yeah, I got the job..." Kathy tried her best to look dismayed, before the grin burst through and she bounced on her tiptoes. "Guys, I got the job!"

Lizzy scrambled up to congratulate, quelling the geyser of rage, dread and panic that was bubbling up inside, feigning happiness for her friend. “What’d I tell you? You’re incredible!”

”I know, I’m kind of a big deal!” Kathy giggled, squeezing her tight. “First woman to ever hold the post in the history of the Smithsonian! I’m gonna have an office! I don’t have to work weekends anymore! I’m gonna have a life!”

“Alright for some.” Muldoon wasn’t so enthused.

Kathy broke away from Lizzy, hands on her hips. “Go on then, let me have it.”

"Well done. Knew you’d get it."

Lizzy shook her head. Damn man was proud as Hell, just doing his stubborn best not to show it.

“It’s not the end of the world, I’ll be here for a while, until you can find my replacement.” Kathy pointed down at the top of Lizzy’s head and stage whispered pick her.

“How long have I got?”

”Until August. “I can hang in there until August, right? What could go wrong before then?” Kathy laughed nervously then abruptly stopped at the alarmed look they both gave her.

“Plenty.” Muldoon huffed.

Lizzy agreed with him. ”Best not to answer that.”

***

Kathy wasn’t the only one who brought Lizzy dessert as a souvenir on their return.

Rico, the youngest but not least talented member the Carnivore Team was making his way towards her brandishing a Paupério tin that was far too dented and discoloured to be new. This looked promising unless, God forbid, it turned out to contain a sewing kit. Lizzy had been burned before.

“For you!” He was calling to her as he jogged along.

Her face lit up at the sight. “That looks homemade, boy. Tell me it’s homemade.”

Rico caught up, handing her the tin. “From my mama, for you.”

“You really didn’t have to…” Lizzy tried to remain polite though she was dying to rip the lid off and tuck in. Dinner time was still achingly far away.

“Yes I did. She made me swear I wouldn’t touch any.”

Have you been making friends, niño?

I have, at least one.

The strange Scottish lady was always nice to him, even if she was scarily forthright at times, and it had taken Rico a couple of weeks to figure out that she used certain rude words not as insults, but as terms of endearment.

“I’ve got good cigarros too if you want one, but don’t tell mama about those.” He tapped the side of his nose.

“Have you done something bad?” Lizzy asked warily. “I’m not being funny, but this is too much-“

“It’s just a thank you. You look out for me.” Rico said simply. “It was rough, at the start, but you wouldn’t let me stay in my room alone. I hated it at first, when you dragged me out all the time, but I know why you did it.”

His shoulders drooped. “When I can’t remember the word for something, you don’t make fun of me. The other guys still do, sometimes.”

Lizzy hadn’t really thought about it before. But he was around the same age as her brothers. And it was true, his English hadn’t been the best at the beginning. She knew all to well what it was like to be the outsider, not being confident to chip in when everyone else spoke a different language to you. She hadn’t wanted the youngest member of the team to feel left out or worthless. The boy was good. Not long left school and already working for InGen? He was going places.

Rico was somewhat of a phenomenon. He was quiet and thoughtful, introverted, but he had a way with the dinosaurs that Lizzy was envious of. Even the most timid of creatures could be coaxed forward by Rico. He was just good at it. Something about how he spoke to them, how he moved, he had a calming influence.

People had their favourite animals, and the reverse was equally true. The dinosaurs just liked him, most were comfortable being around him.

It had made other people jealous, some who weren’t as happy to just shut up and deal with it as Lizzy was. She had even considered asking Muldoon if Rico could become a handler for the infant raptor. He would be good for her, she was certain.

“It’s just banter.” She reassured. That was true enough, but one or two of the guys had a bad habit of pushing it into cruel territory. Words needed to be had. “Although Tom really is an arse. Don’t ever listen to him.”

She resisted the urge to ruffle Rico’s hair, like an unbearable aunt. He’s a grown man. He’s taller than you.

But he had such a baby face she couldn’t help but want to look after him. Maybe it was guilt. She missed her brothers by far the most out of all her siblings. It had been so long since she’d seen them.

“What would I do without you, kid?” She glanced down at the tin gratefully. “And your mother’s baking. Seriously, she could sell these.”

“You won’t ever find out.” He sidled closer, looking like he was getting ready to tell her a secret. “Listen, I want to see Africa. The Africa you and the boss talk about. See a wild elephant.”

“All these dinosaurs right here and you want to see an elephant?” She couldn’t help but smile.

He laughed. “A wild elephant. Just promise you’ll take me along, next time you go, yes?”

”Sure. I might know somebody who could give you the tour.” Unable to resist any longer, Lizzy started breaking open the tin and she nearly teared up at how delicious the contents smelled. “Oh my God. Can you bring your mum too?”

He seemed to seriously consider it before nodding. “I’ll ask her?”

***

“Hey!" Later that day Kathy sneaked up behind her and tapped Lizzy on the shoulder. “Got a bone to pick with you.”

The old reliable Baker intuition was yelling loudly in her head, yet again. Niggling in her thoughts for several days. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. Kathy pointed a finger in accusation at her friend and cried triumphantly:

”You got laid!”

“What?!” Lizzy's eyes darted back and forth. "Shhhh!"

"You did!" Kathy gasped. "Oh my God, you did!"

”I did not!” Lizzy made a grab for her friend, trying to clamp a hand over her mouth, something, anything to stop her. “What the Hell, Kathy?”

“You’re, I dunno-“ The Team Leader wriggled free and shrugged, unconvinced. “-different?”

“Yeah, well. You’re wrong. Nothing happened at New Year.” Lizzy insisted. “Ro-uh…Muldoon and I went out for a drive, that was all.”

The at least partly true white lie that both of them had discussed and agreed on together.

“Who said anything about New Year?” Kathy raised an eyebrow. “You…did?” Lizzy stalled helplessly.

“I didn’t mention Muldoon, either. That’s where your mind went though, huh?”

”Er-“ Lizzy started to panic.

”He came back early, to check you were okay, you were all alone here for a whole night and- oh, don’t give me that look! And ‘nothing happened’?” Kathy was still sceptical. “Yeah, right!”

She recalled the moment she had first suspected things may have changed between them. She peeked through the window just before she’d entered the canteen, nearly screamed in exhilaration and then saw how quickly Muldoon dropped Lizzy’s hand when he heard the door opening. Like a hot potato. Her heart had dropped just as quickly, and she caught the noise ready to burst forth from her throat in the nick of time.

Whatever had been going on, she clearly wasn’t meant to see. “Cross my heart.”

”Really? Nothing?” Kathy was still crestfallen. “You finally had the island to yourselves, and nothing at all?”

Lizzy considered how he had made her laugh harder than she had laughed in a long time, maybe even in her whole life. A moment that regardless of whatever happened between them now, she’d likely remember until the end of her days.

Kathy was looking at her expectantly, while Lizzy’s memory was a mile or so away, in her favourite place in the park, with the stars above and the Rex rumbling away like a purring cat as the fire crackled.

”Well, not exactly nothing at all.” Lizzy’s mouth finally curved into a smile. “But if I told you, you’d probably never believe me.”

***

”Regis, why is my Jeep boxed in?”

”Uh…sorry Muldoon, I’m losing you-crrrhhhsshshhh.” The group of animal handlers all saw Ed discretely switch his radio off with a loud click.

A couple of weeks into January, New Year a distant memory, but Lizzy’s stomach still flipped whenever she heard the park warden’s voice. Carrying on as normal was working, for the most part. But she couldn’t simply forget and move on. Feelings don’t just go away, you only adapt to get better at dealing with them over time. If you’re lucky.

Fortunately, a welcome distraction was in progress. Preparations were underway for an official event on the island. The front of the visitor centre was positively bustling.

"Thought they weren't opening the park until the autumn?" Lizzy critically eyed the deliveries that were turning up left, right and centre. The supply boat that morning had been sitting much lower in the water than usual.

"These are investors, idiot. They aren't guests. They need to see we’ve made good use of their money, so that they give us more!" Tom flicked her ear for emphasis, causing Lizzy to take a swipe at him, which he dodged easily. "Or we’re screwed. So Eddie’s gotta get his nose right in there."

"I don’t think they’ve ordered enough stuff.” When she turned back to look again, Lizzy could have sworn the number of boxes had somehow tripled.

”You’re doing a great job, buddy. Keep it up!” Tom yelled over to Regis, whose neck quickly turned red under his freckles. “Don’t call me buddy!”

“Would you stop?” Lizzy elbowed him. “One of these days, he will throw something at you.”

”Hope it’s not gonna be valuable, cos it won’t have my good self to cushion the blow. He’ll miss.” His self-assurance was still grating.

”Wanna bet?” Lizzy remembered Trenton Thunder. “Baseball nut over there.”

”So Daddy played catch with him, big whoop.” Tom replied, grinding out his cigarette with his boot heel.

“Can you guys make yourselves useful and keep an eye out for the ice sculpture arriving?” Regis trotted over to them. “I gotta go do a thing…”

”Yeah, sure. We basically get paid to stand around, anyway.” Kathy replied cheerfully.

“This event-“ Lizzy queried. “-are we invited?"

”Absolutely not.” Regis denied. “In fact, you in particular are barred, Armstrong, for obvious reasons.”

”Aw, Ed!” She feigned upset. “You know that just makes me want to go even more!”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Liz.” Regis carefully pulled a transparent plastic garment bag out of a box full of packing peanuts. It contained a very short, very red cocktail dress. “So quit asking.”

“That’s gonna clash with your hair.” Tom pointed out.

”It’s for María!” Regis snarled back at him.

“That’s not fair! Why does she get to go? You have catering staff flying over.” Lizzy was still on his case.

Ed gave her a lopsided grin. ”Eye candy.”

”Huh?” Lizzy and Kathy said in unison, shooting each other confused glances.

“Okay, I see what happens.” Tom stepped forward. “Let me paint a picture for you, girls. You’ve got a lot of rich, lonely, powerful men in a room together, far away from their wives and mistresses, trying to prove who’s got the biggest dick. You need a little entertainment. Something pretty to look at. Grease the wheels.”

Regis clicked his fingers. “Bingo.”

“Oh, that’s disgusting. That’s disgusting.” Kathy was horrified.

“Nobody touch anything.” Off Ed Regis went, garment bag slung over his shoulder. Presumably to find the unwilling future occupant of the dress.

"Team Meeting, now.” Lizzy announced.

The eight animal handlers huddled.

”I move that we do something. I want to find out where all their money's going. Because it sure as Hell isn't on the animals. Or us. Y’know, the people who actually do the work.” Lizzy's expression became stormy. "They're going to take advantage of her. And Ed's going to sit back, drink his lite beer, and watch it happen."

"In another win for human evolution, public relations manager achieves upright stance sans spinal column." Kathy muttered dryly. “That’s cold, Kit.” Tom sounded impressed. “Attagirl, you’ll be as cynical as Liz and I by the time you leave this place.”

“Well, she has a point!” The Team Leader gestured. “We can’t leave María there alone. They’ll eat her alive.”

"So you agree?" Lizzy jumped on her chance. “I’m commandeering the situation?”

"Girl..." Kathy shook her head. "Girl, he's gonna kill you...getting involved…”

"I can handle Ed." Lizzy said confidently.

"Ed's not the one I was talking about, sweetie.”

“We’re gonna see Liz in a dress? Looking like an actual woman?” Tom smirked at her expression full of disgust. "Hey, you gotta. It’s a formal. You’ll need something that doesn't scream 'I shovel crap for a living'."

”Oh sure, let me just go pick one of my many ballgowns out of the wardrobe.” Lizzy gestured from her flyaway head to her mud-caked boots. "Are you blind?"

”You and María are about the same height. You wouldn’t look terrible in red, if it’s low lighting-“

”Jeez, Tom! Stop encouraging her!” Kathy moaned. “This is a terrible idea.” “As much as I hate to admit she’s right, better Liz than María.” The Texan stuck to his guns. “And you know it, Kit.”

“That’s settled then. All in favour?” Lizzy called the vote.

Six ayes were heard from the men before they looked to the Carnivore Leader for her choice. But she still hesitated.

Come on, girl.

The seconds ticked by. Tom smirked confidentially at Lizzy before asking loudly: “Kit, you wanna go grab Ed that cappuccino, or what?”

“Oh, I’m so gonna regret this.” Kathy wearily nodded. “You win.”

***

God, I'm starving.

Lizzy had poured herself into the tiny cocktail dress meant for Maria, far more petite and less muscular than she was. The Haitian was more than happy to be relieved of her duties for the evening, kissing Lizzy on both cheeks before practically flinging the dress in the ethologist’s direction and gliding away down the corridor to do God-knew-what. Watering the plastic plants, probably.

The cheap fabric was working particularly hard underneath her arms and around the tops of her thighs. As well as doing hair and make-up, Kathy had reluctantly helped pile her into the nightmare dress and zip her up. She felt like an overstuffed sausage, and already had blisters forming from the high heels, rubbing her feet raw as she shuffled around with tiny steps.

But the place Lizzy felt most under-dressed was on her left hand.

She wished she’d had the foresight to put her engagement ring back on, which she still hadn’t found the willpower to shove in an envelope and send back to Simon. At least it would offer some protection for a few hours. Lizzy looked around the room. String quartet, ice sculpture, flowers everywhere…the opulence of it made her feel uneasy.

She had a flashback to her apartment in the States, something Simon had divulged while complaining about a flamboyantly rich but cantankerous client as they were unpacking groceries together. Very rich people didn’t show off how much money they had. They didn’t have to. They tended to be quietly generous and classy about it. People who acted like they were still trying to prove something, they might be well-off, but they weren’t rich rich.

Lizzy herself had fallen for it in the beginning, but as time went on, increasingly often she began to suspect that Hammond was the latter. Everything for show. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

She caught sight of the man himself in the corner of her eye, amber-topped cane in hand, and remembered the reason she was enduring such torture in the first place. To secure better care, more money specifically for the dinosaurs. Lizzy tottered over, tugging the hem of her dress down as she approached.

“John?”

He turned and looked at her blankly. She knew what he was thinking. You weren’t on the guest list.

”It’s me, Lizzy.” She could forgive him a few moments hesitation, she’d probably never worn this much make-up in her life.

“Lizzy?”

She began to get annoyed. What happened to ‘my dear old granny was a Lizzy’? Anyway, she’d always considered herself fairly memorable.

This was not a good start.

“Doctor Armstrong? From Namibia?” She gestured helplessly, at a loss for what else she could say to jog his memory. “The ethologist.”

“It’s Mr Hammond, tonight, dear. If you don’t mind.”

“Alright-“

“I’m fairly busy, I’m afraid. Why don’t you go and mingle? We’ll catch up later.”

“Wait, no-“ Lizzy knew well enough that there most likely wouldn’t be a later.

“Please, Miss Armstrong. Another time.” And he gently took her arm and guided her away, leaving her all alone, facing the wall as he resumed his conversation.

Not quite sure how she had lost her hold on the situation, Lizzy vowed to try a different tactic. As she was busy scanning the rest of the venue for anyone who might be worth talking to, she didn’t notice one of the businessmen swanning over to her, until it was too late to get away.

“Where’s Hammond been hiding this one, then?” American. Mid-West. Sweating profusely. “Forget the ice sculpture, why didn’t they just put you up on the table?”

Lizzy recoiled. “I’m a scientist.”

“Ah, she’s funny too. Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”

Lizzy really wasn’t a fan of being referred to in the third person.

”Really, she’s a PhD.” She flushed in anger. “She studies animal behaviour.”

And you’re behaving like an animal.

”Wait-“ He pointed at her face, closely scrutinising. “-I know you from somewhere-“

Not again.

In yet another event from her past that occasionally came back to haunt her, Lizzy had undertaken a couple of modelling jobs as a first-year student at NYU.

Nothing big. One or two jobs for the campus magazine, then it had kind of snowballed. She didn’t even know what some of the photographs were ultimately used for. But her face, and the rest of her, was definitely in print for something other than behavioural research. It offered a few extra dollars here and there, until Simon had asked her to stop, telling her she didn't have to worry about money now she was with him. She'd obliged, but it had been kind of fun, at the time.

It happened more than once in New York, sometimes a stranger, usually an older man, most likely on the subway would give her a funny look. She’d know exactly why, and she’d huddle closer to Simon and try not to make eye contact before they reached their stop.

New York and a tiny Costa Rican island, it seemed. Just her luck.

”No, you don’t!” She insisted and turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and she had no choice but to turn to face him to keep herself from toppling over in her high heels.

”How much-“

His grip hurt. Lizzy looked around in panic, searching for Ed Regis in the crowd. She didn’t want to make a scene, but if there was no other choice…Ed would help her, right?

Right?!

“Hey, back off, pal. The only one who gets to talk down to her is me.”

From somewhere close behind her came the low Southern drawl she both looked forward to and dreaded equally. The voice she hated being on the wrong side of, the one that meant trouble, had antagonised her time and time again. And she’d never been so glad to hear it defending her.

Tom’s hulking frame cast a long shadow over both Lizzy and the strange man who was intent on getting to know her better.

“Look, here-“ The investor was bristling at the intrusion.

”Move along, now, buddy.” Tom gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, a little bit harder than was polite or necessary, but not enough to get him into trouble. “Trust me, you don’t wanna find out the price for this one. It’s measured in rounds, and I don’t mean at the bar.”

The stranger grunted unhappily and finally beat it, avoiding looking Lizzy in the eye.

She relaxed slightly, her hands trembling. The smell of old cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave had never been so reassuring.

“About damn time.” She tried to act breezy, but the words sounded forced. Lizzy was more shaken than she'd care to admit. She glanced down at her wrist, red finger marks already burned harshly into her skin. Shit.

”Ma’am.” Tom tipped the brim of his stetson towards her without the slightest trace of irony. He had gone all out for the occasion, wearing a bolo tie, white shirt, dress jeans with a big belt buckle and leather boots. A real-life cowboy.

Lizzy cleared her throat, trying to restore her bravado. “Didn’t know there was a fancy dress shop on the island. Where’s your tinfoil sheriff’s badge?”

“You get straight to Hell. This is my good stetson. I’ve not worn this baby since prom night.” He flicked the rim. “You realise how privileged you are, getting to see me in my good stetson, right?”

”You have more than one?” She stifled a giggle. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a Village Person.” “You like a man in a hat.” He winked at her disarmingly, and her steel nerve buckled.

”Piss off.” She muttered weakly.

"There it is." Tom grinned in satisfaction. “On that note, what has your man got to say about you hitting the town, all dressed up?”

“Not my man, what are you on about…”

“Ah, I see. He still doesn’t know, huh?” He shook his head, tutting. “You are in so much shit.”

“I do what I like.” Lizzy scowled. “Although I don’t like this. Quite literally taking one for the team.”

“You scrub up pretty nice.” He gave her a sly look. “Trim your moustache, did ya?” “Ha!”

At the other end of the room, Lizzy spied Regis’ ginger head, still wearing his ever-present baseball cap (seriously, at a black tie?), jerk upright at the noise she’d just made. Lizzy quickly turned it into a cough.

“Insults aside, glad you’re here.” She meant it. "Dickhead.”

She meant that too.

”Save it.” Tom grumbled. “I just didn’t wanna miss the look on Ed’s face when he sees you of all people gatecrashed his fancy event.”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.” She didn't mind anymore whether he hated her or cared for her. It was a blurry line at the best of times. But she mattered to him, in some way, that much she knew and was grateful for. If he hadn’t intervened when he did…

One way or another, it would have gotten messy.

“How’s An Audience With Hammond going?” He interrupted her thoughts.

”It’s not.” She told him about how she had failed miserably at her mission. “I am very low priority on his list of people to schmooze tonight.”

Tom was eyeing up a tray of glasses making it’s way past them. “In that case, when in Rome-“

She scoffed. “Beginning to see the real reason you’re here…”

“They don’t got bourbon?” Tom grumbled at the sparse choice of red or white. “I hate wine.”

“The single malt is for much, much later this evening-“ The waiter somehow managed to look down his nose at the taller man. “-sir.”

”You’ll get what you’re given.” Lizzy took a glass of each colour and handed him the white. “It’s free.”

”How about a toast?” Tom sardonically eyed the blue InGen banner hung over the door, company slogan in italics beneath the ever-present logo. “To…Making Our Future.”

”Spare no expense!”

They clinked their glasses.

“Hell with it. Let’s pound as much of this food as we can before they throw us out.”

”That-“ Lizzy waved over a tray of canapes. “-is the best idea you’ve had in weeks.”

***

“He was talking so fast, I couldn’t keep up, and he said Hammond personally asked him to make it happen!” Rico was hurriedly trying to explain as he stumbled into the control room after the park warden. “To show the investors.”

”That may be true.” Muldoon was barely keeping his anger in check. “But there’s a very good reason we stay away from that animal.”

”Not all of us.” Arnold added loudly as he blew smoke upwards, causing Muldoon to shoot him a venomous look.

“I sincerely apologise, boss.” Rico continued, visibly trembling in fear. “H-how can I make this right?”

”Just stay out of the bloody way. Something like that, you really should have checked.” He dismissed him with a wave of his hand before shouting “Where’s Baker?!”

“Here, I’m here!” Kathy popped up from behind a console. “Ray called me, we’re watching her now. They weren’t kidding, she’s fast.”

Rico went mute, eyes downcast, he took the opportunity to slip out of the control room like a shadow while everyone else was bustling around. Nobody noticed.

Muldoon moved around to look at the screen beside his colleagues. “Arnold, can you send out an alarm?”

”Manually.”

”That doesn't sound very efficient?"

“It ain't. As in, I’m going to have to go check the manual.” Arnold looked at him pointedly, cigarette dangling. “Or you can just grab a radio and alarm everyone all by yourself.”

”You’ve got to be joking.” Muldoon ground out. “There’s no system in place?”

“Looks that way.”

Meanwhile, Kathy was wringing her hands. All the procedures she’d gone over in her head. All her studying of emergency exits, muster points and evacuation routes. All her carefully constructed contingency plans and she still wasn’t ready for this.

“What are you going to do?” She hesitantly asked.

“What’s required.” Muldoon was looking for the key to the locker in his office. “Don’t interfere.”

Kathy solemnly nodded. “In that case, what do you need?”

“I need my best shot, for backup.” He grabbed his radio. ”Kennedy, come in.”

No response.

”If anyone can see Kennedy, pass him a radio, now.”

No answer.

What a mess. Muldoon conducted a quick head count. Only six animal handlers present. Baker-Esteves-Harris-O’Reilly-Palmer-Yamada-

Another was unaccounted for. “Baker, where’s Armstrong?”

”Er…”

Oh, balls.

Muldoon impatiently took her by the shoulders. “Is she indoors, yes or no?”

”Yes, definitely.” No way would Lizzy be seen in that dress anywhere outside the function room. “Unless-“

His eyes narrowed. “Baker, it’s important for your lifespan that you tell me exactly where she is.”

Arnold had momentarily stopped typing, holding his breath.

“She’s with Tom. If he smokes, she usually goes too.” Kathy confessed nervously. “I mean, they could be outside?”

***

”Nah, you’re doing it wrong. No chewing, you’ll be there forever. Down in one, like this-“ Tom was trying to show her how to handle an oyster.

Lizzy stared at the cold shell in her palm, the corners of her mouth downturned. ”Tom, it’s looking at me.”

She’d eaten far more questionable things in her lifetime. But this was turning out to be her Everest.

”Ah, forget it. These ones are just okay, need some tabasco.” He took the offending mollusc from her and swiftly dealt with it. “Better barbecued fresh, out on the water.”

“If you say so.” Lizzy wasn’t convinced. Sub-par oysters, she’d rather not take the chance. Yet more cracks were appearing in the InGen foundations.

A very familiar silhouette caught her eye, making his way through the crowd to their secret corner of the room with purpose. He’d clearly spotted Tom’s stetson from the doorway.

“Uh-oh, busted.” Lizzy whispered as Muldoon drew level with them both.

“Kennedy. With me, now.”

Lizzy tutted. He was clearly dismissing her as ‘just some girl’ Regis had flown in for the night that Tom had decided to try his luck with. It must have been the heels giving her an extra couple of inches that was throwing him off.

“Tom, I think you’ve pulled.” Lizzy nudged his arm. Muldoon did a double take at the familiar voice, only recognising who she was the second time around.

“Oh Christ, it’s you.” He frowned. “What’s happened to your face?”

“Rude.”

“Don’t like it.” He was looking her up and down in disbelief. ”And I can bloody well see what you had for dinner-“

“Stop staring at me.” Lizzy hissed through gritted teeth. “Surprise, I do in fact have a waist under the tattie cloths they pass off as uniforms.”

“Of course. Your waist is what’s drawing the eye.”

He wasn’t at all a fan of the look, but he still couldn’t drag his gaze away from her with everything…pushed up like that.

”Aw, Jesus.” Tom seemed genuinely upset. “Not cool, boss.”

”Why are you two in here, anyway, without your radios on?” Muldoon recalled the memo Regis had flashed around about keeping a certain animal handler away from the event at all costs. “No, never mind. I don’t actually care.”

“I would love to know-“ Lizzy remarked sweetly. “-where exactly I would be keeping a radio on my person, in this thing.”

”Talking out your ass, no doubt-” Tom muttered.

Another of the investors had broken off from the herd and started to sway his way over, bleary eyes fixated on Lizzy, and the parts of her body the dress wasn’t quite managing to cover. She could already see the words say, you look familiar forming in his head as she began to back away in fear.

But she wasn’t alone this time. Both Kennedy and Muldoon abruptly stopped what they were doing and gave the interloper a hard stare so intimidating that he about-turned and wobbled straight back the way he’d came without uttering a single word to anyone.

Muldoon shook his head, looking like his motor was rapidly winding down. “Christ alive, I need to get out of here. I hate this sort of thing.”

Lizzy cocked her head. He doesn’t do crowds.

“So if you’re both done wasting time-“ He continued.

She quickly sobered, not averse to making a quick getaway herself. “What’s wrong?”

There was a faint rumble of thunder from outside and the overhead lights dipped and came back on with a flicker. The drone of conversation around them lulled, then resumed.

The next thing the park warden said made Lizzy’s ears ring and edges of her vision darken as the adrenaline kicked in.

“Don’t react, either of you-“ Muldoon dropped his voice low enough that she had to crane her neck to hear him. “-but there’s an animal loose in the park.”

Son of a- Tom was already pushing past Lizzy, making his way to the exit doors, the sea of businessmen parting before him as he cleared a path.

“Don’t react. I said don’t react.” Muldoon quickly turned to follow him.

“Hang on-“ Lizzy caught up before he moved out of reach. “Which animal?”

Muldoon gave her a certain look while saying nothing, which told her everything.

Lizzy knew exactly which animal had broken out.

“Oh-“ She reached for the wall to steady herself as the lights flickered off again and thunder boomed over the island. “Oh, no.”

***

Thanks for reading!

If you worked out what this chapter is leading up to I will personally send you a gift basket or something.

#jurassic park oc #living dangerously #welcome to jurassic park #oc: dr lizzy armstrong #jurassic park female oc #jurassic park #jurassic park fanfiction #my writing #jurassic park 1993 #jurassic park fanfic #jurassic park novel #robert muldoon #ray arnold #john hammond #ed regis

15 notes · View notes

komotionlessqueenmm · 4 years ago

Text

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(2-4)

Short story # 6

2,442 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Pairing - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - Italics means the reader is singing.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

----

"You go relax in the living room while I call my brother, I'll only be a minute." Bo instructed as they walked into his house. "Okay." (Y/n) smiled as she cradled Von in her arms, having left his stroller on the porch. Bo walked into the kitchen, calling his brother to pick up (Y/n)'s jeep. While (Y/n) walked into the living room, idly scanning the pictures hanging on the walls. (Y/n) sat down on the couch with a content sigh, gently patting Von's butt in an attempt to keep the baby asleep. Von's soft breathing and the gentle patting of (Y/n)'s hand were the only sounds in the room, that is until Bo walked back into the room. "He should be here within the next hour, I'm gonna go change outta this suit real quick." Bo explained pointing behind him to the stairs, already tugging at his tie. "Okay." (Y/n) smiled with a nod of her head, turning her attention back to Von when Bo started walking upstairs.

A short five minutes passed before Bo came back down the stairs, changed from his suit, to a mechanics jumpsuit. "So can I ask? What was with the suit?" (Y/n) wondered aloud, as Bo walked into the living room, taking a seat in a recliner he began slipping on his boots. "I was at a funeral." Bo explained as he tied his laces. "Oh I'm sorry for your loss." (Y/n) gave her condolences. "Thank you." Bo smiled softly. "It's getting pretty late, is there somewhere in town I could stay?" (Y/n) asked as she looked out the window, the sun low in the sky. "You can stay here if you'd like." Bo offered. "Oh you're too kind, but I don't want to be a burden." (Y/n) genuinely hated feeling like a burden on people. "Nonsense I've got plenty of room, and the extra company would be nice." Bo insisted, making (Y/n) smile softly. "Alright... Would it be alright if I got a shower real quick? Sitting out in the suns got me all sweaty and gross." Bo chuckled alongside her, nodding his head. "Of course, I'll show ya to the spare bedroom." Bo rose from his chair, leading (Y/n) upstairs and to the right. "Here ya go, there's a small bathroom attached." He pointed to the bathroom door after escorting (Y/n) inside. "Thank you, I shouldn't be to long." (Y/n) smiled as she sat the diaper bag onto the small bed, gently laying Von down a moment later. "I'll wait for ya down in the living room." Bo hummed as he closed the door, leaving (Y/n) be.

When the warm water hit (Y/n)'s back she sighed in content, the sore muscles of her back relaxing under the heat. Allowing herself a moment to soak up the warmth, (Y/n) closed her eyes and hummed softly under her breath. As if with the flip of a switch however, (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open and she quickly set to work cleaning herself up. However just as she was rising off, Von began crying from the bedroom. In an instant (Y/n) cut off the water and wrapped a towel around her body, droplets of water still rolling down her legs as she exited the bathroom. "See there's mama." Bo cooed at Von, cradling the fussing baby in his arms. "I hope I didn't overstep my boundaries, I was just down the hall when he started crying, and I wanted to make sure he was okay." Bo explained as he stood from the bed, handing Von over to (Y/n). "No no it's alright, I appreciate it actually." (Y/n) shook her head with a small smile. "He's just fussy because he hasn't eaten yet, I didn't want to wake him earlier." (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, pulling down part of her towel to allow Von to feed. "Oh I understand completely, I get pretty grumpy when I'm hungry to." Bo joked turning his attention to the floor, not wanting to make (Y/n) uncomfortable by accidentally staring. "Don't we all." (Y/n) chuckled softly.

"I was getting this for the little guy when he started crying." Bo changed the subject, allowing himself a moment to distract himself. "Oh that's so cute!" (Y/n) gushed at the sight of the antic cradle Bo had brought into the room. "I almost forgot about it, it's an old family cradle, been passed down several generations." Bo explained as he laid a clean blanket inside it. "Thank you Bo, you've been so kind to me, I don't think I could thank you enough." (Y/n)'s eyes became a little glossy, a smile spread across her lips. "It's my pleasure, but it ain't nothing to cry over." Bo knelt in front of (Y/n) rubbing away the stray tear that escaped her eye. "Oh I know, it's such a silly thing to cry over. It's just the passed month has been so hard, and you and Lester have been so sweet to me. It's silly I know, but I can't help it." (Y/n) chuckled through her tears, sniffling softly. "You're all on your own aren't ya?" Bo asked with a small frown, the frown deepening when (Y/n) nodded her head. "Where's the father?" Bo asked. "It's kinda a long story." (Y/n) wiped away her tears with a bitter chuckle. "Is he dead, or a deadbeat?" Bo asked bluntly. "A deadbeat of the worst kind." (Y/n) sighed. "That's a shame." Bo shook his head, raising from his kneeled position. "I'll leave ya be." He muttered softly. "I'll be waiting in the living room when you're done up here." Bo added as he exited the room, leaving (Y/n) to finish feeding Von, and allowing her to change in some privacy.

Having changed into the sweats and a tank top, (Y/n) always kept in the diaper bag. (Y/n) carried Von downstairs, smiling at Bo when she entered the living room. "Ready to go back to the garage?" Bo asked as he stood from the couch. "We're as ready as we'll ever be." (Y/n) hummed, following Bo when he went to the front door. "(Y/n)." Bo called out to her as she strapped Von into the stroller. "Yes Bo?" She tilted her head a little, having turned her attention to him. "I'm sorry about asking about Von's father, that wasn't very polite." Bo rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty for bringing up such a touchy subject. "It's okay Bo, you were only curious." (Y/n) assured him with a smile. "I don't really mind talking about it, but if someone comes around asking about me, I'd really appreciate it if you forgot about me." She admitted feeling just at ease around Bo as she had around Lester. "He's that bad huh?" Bo wondered aloud with a frown. "Worse." (Y/n) swallowed thickly, dread pooling within her belly. "Well as long as you're here, I won't let anything happen to you." Bo promised, easing (Y/n)'s worry.

"Alrighty lets have a look." Bo mused as they entered the garage, popping the hood to the jeep. "Your brother didn't stick around huh?" (Y/n) stated the obvious as she looked around the garage. "He's not much of a people person, due to a birth defect he's suffering from." Bo explained as he worked. "Oh." (Y/n) felt a bit guilty. "Well he likes people, but people don't really like him much. So he avoids them." Bo shrugged casually. "People always fear what they don't understand." (Y/n) murmured without much thought, unknowingly peaking Bo's interest even more. "He'd like you." Bo mused with a small smile, despite not having the best relationship with his brother, Bo still cared for him. "You think so?" (Y/n) smiled at the thought. "Yeah, what's not to like?" Bo winked at her, chuckling when she ducked her head to hide her blush.

"Hold on..." Bo muttered under his breath, as he checked the oil. "I thought you said you changed the oil last week." Bo frowned in confusion. "I did." (Y/n) mirrored his confusion. "It's bone dry." Bo informed her, moving further under the hood to get a better look at the oil reserve. "I think I see the problem." Bo moved to grab a flashlight, looking to where he suspected the problem was. "What is it?" (Y/n) asked as she walked over to peer at the engine. "It looks like someone put a hole in the bottom of the reserve, the oil just leaked out over time." Bo explained, his assessment making (Y/n) worry again. "Trent my ex... It had to be him." (Y/n)'s voice cracked as the panic set in. "Hey hey hey don't worry about it, as long as you're here you're safe, I won't let him get to you." Bo promised as he wiped his hands with a shop rag, pulling (Y/n) into a comforting hug after he deemed his hands clean. "He tried to kill me Bo, when he found out I was pregnant he attacked me and tried to kill me." (Y/n) wept into his chest. "I won't let him near you." Bo growled protectively, holding her just a little tighter. "I've been running from him for the past month, I just know he's gonna try finding me." (Y/n) shook in Bo's arms, raked with fear. "He won't find you." Bo promised as he pulled her back to look into her eyes, wiping away her tears. "You are safe here." Bo emphasized each word, smiling at her softly when she stopped shaking. "Thank you." (Y/n) sniffled with a smile, leaning up she kissed Bo's cheek, then turned her attention back to Von, smiling down at the sight of him sleeping soundly. "How about we leave this until tomorrow morning?" Bo pointed to the jeep, a dopey grin on his face from the kiss. "Let's go eat some dinner and relax for a bit." He suggested casually. "That sounds like a good idea." (Y/n) nodded her head in agreement, giggling when her stomach grumbled at the mention of food.

"Let me help." (Y/n) insisted as she joined Bo in the kitchen. "I'd appreciate the help." Bo smiled as he gathered everything they'd need to cook a nice hardy meal. "Well it is the least I can do, after all you've done for me and Von." (Y/n) smiled as she set to work, the pair working alongside eachother with natural ease. "(Y/n)." Bo called out softly after a few minutes, smiling when (Y/n) hummed in response. "I just wanted to say... You're a real good mother." Bo admitted, making (Y/n) drop what she was holding. "You really mean that?" She asked with wide eyes. "Of course." Bo nodded his head, being perfectly honest with her. "Thank you, you don't know how much that means to me." (Y/n)'s eyes were bright with pure joy, making Bo's heart melt a little. They continued to work in a comfortable silence, nearly finishing their task before Bo struck up conversation again. "So what do you do for a living?" He asked casually. "I'm an author actually." (Y/n) mused. "Anything I might read?" Bo asked with genuine curiosity. "Only if you enjoy horror stories, I'm looking to be the next H. P. Lovecraft." (Y/n) beamed with pride, her words making Bo chuckle. "I think I'd enjoy reading your work." Bo admitted, making (Y/n) beam even brighter.

The following morning (Y/n) and Bo went back to the garage bright and early. "You don't have to sit around down here with me you know." Bo pointed out to (Y/n) who had perched herself upon the gas stations counter. "I know, but I thought you could use the company." (Y/n) mused as she rocked Von's stroller back and forth with her foot, her journal on her lap. "I'll admit the company is nice, but the view is even better." Bo flirted with a wink, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "I have to agree, the view is very nice." (Y/n) quipped right back with a cheeky grin, her words making Bo laugh.

Subconsciously as she wrote (Y/n) began humming a melody, which eventually led to her singing softly. "You are what you are. I don't matter to anyone. But Hollywood legends. Will never grow old. And all of what's hidden. Well, it will never grow cold." Bo stilled in what he was doing, focusing on (Y/n). "But I lost myself when I lost you. But I still got jazz. When I've got those blues. And I lost myself when I lost you. And I still get trashed, darling. When I hear your tunes." (Y/n) relaxed a little, singing a little louder. "But you are who you are. I won't change you for anything. For when you are crazy. I'll let you be bad. I'll never dare change thee. To what you are not." Bo moved to lean against the doorway leading into the gas station, watching (Y/n) with a pleasant grin. "But I lost myself when I lost you. But I still got jazz. When I've got those blues. I lost myself and I lost you too. And I still get trashed, baby. When I hear your tunes." (Y/n) continued writing away, almost in a daze. "I put the radio on. Hold you tight in my mind. Isn't strange that. You're not here with me. But I know the light's on in the television. Trying to transmit, can you hear me. Ground control to Major Tom. Can you hear me all night long. Ground control to Major Tom." Von stirred a little in his sleep, but remained asleep. "Well I lost myself when I lost you. But I still got jazz when I've got the blues. I lost myself and I lost you too. And I still get trashed, honey. When I hear your tunes." (Y/n) smiled to herself as she hummed the melody out. "Are you sure you don't sing professionally?" Bo asked when she finished humming. "I'm sure." (Y/n) chuckled, flattered by his words. "Maybe you should." He winked before turning his attention back to her car, his words making (Y/n)'s heart swoon.

----

Woof Bo is really getting out of character...

Oh well! That's the beauty of fanfiction.

Anyways part two is complete!

Let me know what you think. （＾_＾）

PS the song (Y/n) was singing is Terrence Loves You by Lana Del Rey.

267 notes · View notes

fluffyk97 · 3 years ago

Text

Basic backstories, setup and just few little things about Werewolf Cole Au. A synopsis if you will?

There's no elemental powers, Overlord, Zane isn't a nindroid, etc. Just basically a regular world with small real myths such as Werewolves.

Werewolf wolf forms aren't humanoid, but really are just big 6ft tall wolves.

Kai and Nya do live in a house near the woods and their parents were never kidnapped so they were raised by them. However they both are in a line of work that has them not home most of the time.

Kai & Nya found Lloyd on the streets being bullied from other kids. Kai immediately couldn't stand it and stepped in. When asked where Lloyd lived so they could take him, Lloyd said he didn't have one.

After a long video call later, and a quick visit by Maya, Lloyd was able to be adopted into their family and enroll in school under the name Lloyd Smith.

Kai is 20, Nya is 18, Lloyd is 14, Cole is 21, Jay is 18, Zane is 23, Pixal is 22, Skylor is 21. Excluding Cole till later, they're just a big friend group.

Kai is trying to find a good College to get into while working at Skylor and her Mother's small Noodle Shop. There is no Chen because I said so.

Skylor and Kai used to date in Highschool, but found to be better friends instead and now are just close friends.

Jay & Nya are in highschool Senior Year, and are together.

Zane & Pixal was friends with them in highschool, but now are in College together. Also a couple, and they love to visit when they can and video chat.

Lloyd is in Middle School. He's managed to make few friends there but his best friends are his adopted siblings, their friends, and his adopted cat, Meowthra.

Cole was childhood friends with Jay back in another town until one day him, his father and mother had to suddenly move out without a word to anyone. So to Jay, his childhood friend just one day disappeared.

There are Werewolf Hunters after them.

Cole gets his wolf side from Lily.

Lily doesn't pass away when he was younger, but is sick. Lou moves them to the Town where the gang are, hearing about how it's nice and close to some woods, good clean air, and he did some digging and saw nothing about Hunters being in the town because the Forest and its wildlife are supposed to be protected.

Cole is trying to figure out what to do for his mother and always goes out to the woods at night to let himself be a wolf, especially because he doesn't have complete control of his transformation like Lily.

Unfortunately Hunters did follow them.

The Hunters one day went to eat at the Noodle Shop and talked about going hunting in the Woods. Kai overheard, and he knows the Woods are not to be hunted in. Kai tried leaving a voicemail to Skylor but his phone unfortunately died mid message. He wasn't sneaky enough about it and the Hunters did notice.

At the end of his shift, locking up the Noodle Shop, Kai is jumped by the Hunters so they don't have a goody goody try and ruin their hunt.

Kai managed to get away and did run off into the woods, hoping to lead them off his tail, not find their way to his house, while also hoping to manage to get home through the woods.

Kai of course loses the Hunters, but unfortunately his ankle did get sprained pretty bad and he stops to sit against a tree once he's sure he's safe.

That's when Cole finds him after smelling some of his blood.

Kai never heard of any reports of wolves in the woods, especially none that are 6ft tall. So understandably, Kai freezes up in fear while also knowing he wouldn't get anywhere if he tried.

Cole approaches, luckily just have hunted something himself so Kai's blood doesn't affect his hunter instincts too much.

Cole slowly approaches Kai before licking his wounds. He turns Kai around and grabs him by the back of his jacket, carrying him off to his little den he set up for when he's out in the woods.

Kai freaks out and is about to yell before he hears the distant sound of a Jeep driving through the woods which leads him to shut up in fear its the hunters.

This also has Cole rush to the den.

The den is set up with a large bedroll, campfire and few other necessities because Cole goes to it when he's a human as well. It surprises Kai, but he doesn't complain when the big wolf sets him down and carries over a first aid kit.

Even after patching himself up, Kai still can't get up, but it seems the Wolf in front of him basically saved him and maybe has an owner. Plus, out of fear of running into the hunters, he decides okay he'll stay for the night.

Cole does notice Kai starts shivering when trying to sleep, so he goes over to offer some warmth. Kai while uneasy with a big wolf next to him, accepts it, not wanting to risk going against it and it is nice.

This leads to both of them falling asleep and Cole completely forgetting he's going to change back in the morning.

So Kai wakes up being hugged by this large shirtless man. His screaming wakes Cole up, leading him to screaming as well as the scramble to get apart.

The den is surprisingly close to Kai's house, so as Nya is about to head out on her bike to find out why Kai didn't come home last night, she hears him screaming in the woods.

After the screaming stops, Kai and Cole stare at each other. Kai in complete bewilderment, glancing around for that wolf from last night unaware it was Cole. Cole meanwhile is frozen, slapping himself mentally for some reason helping this random stranger as a wolf and not thinking about him turning back in the morning.

Nya calls out for Kai though, drawing his attention away from Cole and allowing him a moment to slip away.

Kai after realizing he was left alone, decides to get up, limping out of the den to call out to Nya.

Kai is brought home and his wounds are more properly treated. A call to Skylor to look out for the guys that jumped Kai and to let her know what's up.

Kai tells the story about the Wolf. Lloyd gets excited wanting to find a big nice Wolf himself, but Nya quickly dismisses it to it most likely just being a dream passing out in the woods. Hoping to delude Lloyd from going and searching the woods for said Wolf, while also not believing it herself.

Kai is basically forced to stay home till they know the Hunters aren't going to go after him again, and to heal up his ankle.

Kai keeps thinking about that night while during his little house arrest, and even dreams of the man he woke up next to, turning into the 6ft Wolf that helped him.

One night when he's okay to walk again and Nya is at Jay's house with Lloyd to help him study, and for a little sleepover, Kai sneaks out back to the woods, finding the den again and hopes to come across the Wolf again.

Cole wanders in as a wolf and freezes noticing Kai waiting for him. He was no different from Kai, constantly thinking about the other in numerous ways since their encounter.

Cole unfortunately wasn't so prepared for another meeting and turns to run away, but finds himself freezing when Kai cries out "Wait!"

Kai slowly approaches Cole.

"You can understand me, can't you?" Cole looks Kai in the eyes and nods to Kai's slight surprise.

"Are you that guy I woke up next to?" Cole whines in response, in fear of Kai knowing.

"It's okay! I... well its little weird to think about, but... wow I was actually right? Haha, I don't know how to feel about this, but I won't go ratting you out don't worry!" Cole's ears perk up in surprise.

That's when the familiar sound of a Jeep reaches both their ears. Smelling the air, Cole whines, recognizing the smell of Hunters, moving to turn and run again, but Kai stops him again.

Kai offers and brings Cole back to his house to help hide him. Cole feels like he should reject, and not trust so easily, but he finds himself following Kai easily.

That's when Kai walks in with Cole, ducking through the back door and see Nya and Lloyd who just got home because the sleep over got cancelled.

After a lot of panic and explaining later, Nya agrees to help out Cole, wanting more explaining from him if Kai saying him turning into a human is true.

Lloyd is very excited to see such a big wolf and starts talking to Cole a lot. It surprises Cole, but he also finds it enjoyable to see a kid so excited to actually see him like this after growing up and being told by Lou he should never show his secret to anyone.

Lloyd does bring Meowthra to Cole, and while Kai and Nya were expecting the usual Cat vs Dog or this case, Wolf, Meowthra surprisingly really likes Cole and they get along fine.

Lloyd helps Kai give food to Cole once they hear the wolf's tummy growl.

The next morning, Cole wakes up in the living room as human and he does explain what he is. Pleading for the trio of siblings to not say anything, especially after he smelled Hunters and learned they're the ones who hurt Kai. They of course agree to the promise.

This starts the cycle of Cole coming over some nights as a Wolf and staying the night.

Cole is excited to talk to people again after being on the run and being hidden for so long and a nice distraction from worrying about his mother.

Kai finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with Cole until he realizes he's actually falling in love with a werewolf.

Overtime the rest of the friend group also accidentally learn about Cole but agree to keep the secret. Jay especially being really happy to see his childhood friend again and getting an explanation why he disappeared so long ago.

Kai find himself talking a lot about Cole to his siblings and Skylor. Cole does the same to Jay about Kai.

Of course they do confess at some point. Or basically forced to by everyone.

Cole keeps all this a secret from Lou because his father has grown to always have a constant worry of his son and wife being hurt because their Wolf sides. He talks to Lily about everyone though when he thinks she's asleep, but she does hear it all and is happy to hear her son is happy. She doesn't tell Lou until Cole is ready.

Cole is a clingly bf when him and Kai are together, being very touch starved from only having his mom & dad for so long. Kai loves attention, so it works out perfectly.

Cole as a wolf will sometimes just pick up Kai to bring him t lay down with and enjoy cuddles. When human, he loves to come up from behind for a hug.

Kai brought Cole to work one day and Cole fell in love with the food there ofc.

When Cole first ate cake around the others, he was a wolf and they did immediately get scared with mindset of chocolate bad for dogs. Morning came and Cole reassured he was fine and is still okay to eat anything he can as a human, as a wolf.

Cole does still struggle with gaining control of his transformation but that mainly affects to him turning into a wolf every night. Lily can turn into a wolf anytime she wants.

However sometimes Cole finds himself losing to his wolf instincts and needs to hunt or gets hostile.

First time Cole loses himself as a wolf he is hostile, but Kai slowly approaches him, treating it like he would for Lloyd when he has panic attacks, and brings Cole out of it. Mostly succeeding to get close because Cole smells his own scent on Kai.

They all do try and pitch in to find a way to help Lily, and stop the Hunters.

#ninjago #ninjago au #werewolf cole #Lavashipping #kai smith #cole brookstone #long post #nya smith #lloyd garmadon #jay walker #zane julien #skylor chen #pixal borg #This ended up being a lot more than i was thinking of writing down #But hey #I say I love this au #werewolf Cole au

71 notes · View notes

pedrosbisch · 3 years ago

Text

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

#santiago pope garcia #tf fanfic #pope x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #tw alcohol #fanfic

52 notes · View notes

spunky-89 · 4 years ago

Text

When it Rains it Pours

A/N: I’m back again, who knows for how long, but what matters is that I made a thing and I get to share it with you all.

WARNING I made a self fulfilling fic during a dark time so it might be triggering to those with depression and I do talk very briefly about self harm....so yeah

WC: 3k

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

Life was wearing you down. It felt like everything was going wrong. You were failing two classes, your car was totaled, your mom was sick, you weren’t sleeping, your parents were arguing all the time now, and that was just scratching the surface of your problems. Not to mention the fact that your mental health was plummeting. The only good thing you felt you had left was your boyfriend, Stiles. He was always so supportive and he was there whenever you needed him. But soon enough, you knew you would lose him too.

It was late in the evening, lacrosse practice had just ended and you were waiting by Stiles’ jeep. It was cold and dark and you were beyond tired. But as soon as you heard him approach you slapped your fake smile on and pretended everything was fine. And apparently, you were a good actress cause he never noticed. He went on and on about practice and coach and the latest supernatural crisis. It actually made you calmer, hearing him ramble. Somethings never change and you were glad for that. Like your tradition of always stopping to grab a bite to eat after Friday practices. You desperately wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold this facade of being okay. So with a heavy heart, you asked him to just drop you at home, making the excuse your mom needed something from you. Like the wonderful boyfriend he was, he offered to help and you could just order in. But you declined, promising to call him first thing in the morning. As you opened your front door you could hear your parents arguing again, but you kept your smile up and turned to wave at Stiles. As soon as the door was closed you let out a deep breath, dropping the fake smile and trudging to your room. You threw your bag on your desk chair and headed straight for your bed. You just laid there thinking as you tried to muffle the sounds of your parents arguing with a pillow over your head. You woke up hours later, somewhere around 2 a.m., and realized you fell asleep in your clothes. You quickly changed into something comfier, climbing right back into bed. You decided to start working on your upcoming english essay, but you struggled to come up with any words. Or better yet, you had the ideas in your head, the problem was getting those thoughts on paper. You barely realized you’d been up all night, the only reason you did was you noticed the sunlight beginning to filter into your room. You sighed and put your books and laptop away and tried to grab a few hours more sleep. You didn’t really succeed, falling asleep around 8 and waking back up at 9:30. You sent a quick message to Stiles to let him know you were staying home to study and to call if anything life-threatening was occurring. He asked if you wanted company but you denied. Not thinking you’d be able to put on a fake smile today. So you went to the kitchen to grab some food before you locked yourself in your room, determined not to do anything but study and do homework. You got so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice your phone blowing up with texts and calls. You didn’t notice that lunch came and went without you eating anything. You didn’t notice your severe dehydration, nor your hunger. You were numb to everything. So much so you ended up falling asleep at your desk to the sounds of your parents’ screaming match.

You kept this pattern up for about 3 weeks. You slapped on your fake smile at school and pretended you were fine. If someone asked you just said you were anxious about school and grades. Everyone bought it.

With each day you were becoming more tired and drained. A part of you told you to tell someone, to get help, but the other, louder, part said no. So you kept it all in. It was starting to show. Your grades were slipping more, you were gaunt (luckily makeup kept anyone from seeing that), and you only wore baggy clothes to hide the obvious weight loss from not eating. It almost hurt that no one noticed your terrible state, but you didn’t blame them. How could they if you acted like everything was fine? What they did notice, was you pulling away from the pack. You didn’t show up to pack meetings, and the ones you did come to you never stayed for chit-chat. And worst of all, you hadn’t been alone with Stiles in weeks. You knew he would figure you out, he always could. But you didn’t want him to. He was already dealing with enough, he didn’t need to be worrying about you too. The pack would try and corner you at school but you learned to be slippery, learned to evade the wolves, other supernatural creatures, and the humans.

You could tell you were hurting Stiles, and that killed you, but you thought maybe distance would be good. He could focus on other things and not have to deal with you. Yes, you decided, he was better without you. They all were. So you made a plan. You would break up with Stiles by saying you didn’t like him anymore and you were sick of the pack. That way it was kind of breaking up with everyone. Then you would have your mom pull you out of school and you could take online classes instead, limiting your chance of seeing the pack.

It was a Wednesday, after school. It was pouring outside but you knew Coach would still make the team practice. This was your opportunity. You sat in your car in the driveway of your home and called Stiles. You prayed he wouldn’t answer, as that would make things harder. When you heard his voicemail pick up, you took a deep shaky breath.

“Hey Stiles, um look, I know it’s kinda shitty to do this over the phone but uh, I don’t think we should be together anymore. I just don’t feel the same way I did, and I know it was wrong of me to drag this out and make it worse by distancing myself first, but I thought it would help lessen the pain. I’m sorry, I wish you the best.” As soon as you hung up your sobs were echoing through the car, meshing well with the sounds of the downpour. You didn’t do what you’d wanted, which was to sound like you were just uninterested and over the pack. Instead, your voice was shaky from holding back tears. You hoped Stiles wouldn’t notice and it would be enough to cut ties with the whole pack.

It took you about half an hour before you were able to get out of your car and start to head inside. By the time you got to the door, you were soaked. Your hands shook as you tried to get the key into the lock, but between the anxiety and the freezing rain, you had no luck. Then you heard the familiar rumble of Roscoe and you tried twice as hard to open the door, but you couldn’t so you just cursed as tears started to mix with the rain, hindering your vision. You could hear his feet slapping against the pavement as he ran to you. You tried to take a deep breath and focus but it was impossible.

He shouted your name but you ignored him, almost cheering when you got the door unlocked. You tried to enter and close the door before he got to it but you weren’t quite fast enough. As you were rushing to slam the door he put his hand out and shoved against it, keeping you from closing the door.

“Stop fighting me and just talk to me!” He exclaimed.

“Just go away!”

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on,” he grunted as he shoved hard and managed to slide in before you managed to push back.

He grabbed your arm to try and turn you to face him but you chose to walk past him out the door, just trying to get away from him, knowing you would just take back everything you said, just to feel his arms around you one last time.

“Where are you-” He started to call after you but ended up giving chase instead.

So you started to run. You didn’t know where you were running, you just knew you couldn’t stop. Unfortunately, with the torrential downpour, you were having a hard time seeing and ended up tripping over a pothole and falling to the ground. Your body ached and your skin stung at the contact with the street, but you ignored it and tried to push on. Unfortunately, your fall gave Stiles enough time to catch up to you. He grabbed your arms and helped you up, never once letting go of you.

“Let me go Stiles.”

“No. Not until you explain yourself.” He shouted over the rain.

“Just go home!” You cried out.

He just shook his head and stared at you, standing in the middle of the street, the rain still pouring.

“Why? Why follow me? Why bother?” You asked finally, having to shout to be heard over the rain.

“Because I will follow you anywhere! Even into the middle of the street during a massive storm.” He called back.

“Why?”

“Because I love you!” He yelled, his voice letting out hints of frustration.

It was your turn to just stare at him, tears mixing with the rain as it flowed down your cheeks. You still felt numb, felt like none of this made sense, that he should be happy to be rid of a burden like yourself. You lost all sense of self and felt your legs give out from underneath you, though you were lucky enough to not hit the ground again as Stiles was there to catch you and swiftly lift you into his arms.

Slowly he walked the two of you back to your house, but you barely noticed, too stuck in your head. You didn’t even notice how hard you were clinging to him. He carried you into your room and sat down on the end of your bed and just held you as you cried. You occasionally babbled something like an apology, but he would just shush you and continue to rock you gently.

When the tears slowed slightly and you were able to make complete sentences, you decided to just come clean about everything and if he left you, you would understand.

“Listen Stiles, I-”

“Nope, stop right there. Before we talk about this, we need to get into some warm, dry clothes before one of us ends up sick.” He said with finality. As he said it you finally realized some of the numbness you felt was because you were cold and wet. You nodded as you went to fetch some dry towels and clothes for both you and Stiles. You had stolen enough of his clothes and he had left so much that half his wardrobe seemed to be at your house. The two of you dried off and changed in silence. You were shaking the whole time and once you had finished toweling off your hair, you suddenly were terrified to face him. So you kept your back to him and fiddled with the towel in your hands. The tears had stopped, but when you thought about the boy standing behind you, they started to well up again.

You felt his arms slip around you and take the towel gently from your hands, putting it on the dresser before he tightened his arms around you and just held you. When he laid a kiss on the side of your head the tears started to flow once more. When the first sob bubbled out, he turned you around and just stroked the back of your head in a soothing manner.

“Why are you still here?” you managed to ask between sobs. He sighed and led you back towards your bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them before opening his arms and inviting you in. You climbed into his arms like so many times before, but what used to feel like heaven only made your heart clench in fear, terrified you were going to lose the one good thing you had left in your life.

“So what’s going on with you, what happened?” He asked gently, laying on his back as you curled into his side.

“Does it matter?” you spoke quietly.

“It does to me.” He said grabbing your one hand and holding it tightly before laying a kiss on it.

You sigh as you try desperately to find words that describe the awful feelings you were feeling. He waited patiently, playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

“I guess I-I just give up. I feel so numb now because like I’ve given all I can and it’s never enough, so why bother trying right?” You spoke slowly. You felt him go rigid as he turned your hand over to look at your wrists then pulled you to sit up and took your face in his hands, his eyes darting around your face.

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.” He spoke with fear in his voice.

“What do you…” you trailed off as you cocked your head a little bit, trying desperately to decipher his question/statement.

“Please tell me you haven’t been- been hurting yourself.” He all but begged, his voice breaking as he did.

Oh. Your brain paused for a moment, registering the look on his face as he watched every twitch on yours. The real fear and worry you saw on his face stopped you, you knew he cared but you didn’t think that it was enough to cause this reaction to his query.

You shook your head in response, still at a loss for words.

“Promise me you aren’t lying. Please, just be straight with me.”

“I’m not lying,” You recoiled at his seeming distrust of your answer, pretty much saying he didn’t believe you. His hands dropped from your face as you tried to move away. But a hand pulling you back kept you from going too far.

“Hey, hey, hey, please don’t do this. I’m just trying to be sure because if you are then I-I-I don’t know what I’d do but I’m just worried and you’ve shut me out for weeks and now this- I just want to know what’s wrong so I can try to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, Stiles, I’m broken and in pieces, I am not your jeep that you can just duct tape back together.” You spoke, a harshness peaking out, covering all the other emotions. You heard him sigh as he tried to get you to look at him but you refused.

“Of course I know that. But I’m not going to just sit here and let you- let you suffer and deteriorate. I can’t do that.” He said.

“Why? Why not? Why won’t you just let me rot away in my room, huh? Why don’t you just leave? Be thankful to be free of me.” You all but yelled.

“Why? Are you serious?” He said softly, “Do you really think that low of yourself that you forgot all that we’ve been through together, the moments we had, the love we shared.” His voice felt like knives as he added, “Or at least the love I thought we shared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart breaking at the implications of his statement. You had gotten off the bed at this point and had backed towards the corner of your room, holding your arms tight across your stomach as you tried to curl in on yourself. They were right, the voices in your head were right. All you did was end up hurting him, now he hates you. Well, it’s not like you’re surprised, you weren’t worthy of his love, but hate, maybe you deserved that.

He groaned as he ran his hands down his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, stop doing that! Stop trying to hold onto me! Let me go, I’m not worth this.” You said aggravatedly, tears once again pouring from your eyes. This was it you thought, this was the end. You wanted to sigh of relief but you were too devastated to do so.

“Who decided that huh? Who decided you weren’t worthy? Cause to me I’m the one not worthy of you.” He said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind and selfless, and so many other wonderful things. And I’m just a spazzy kid who brings nothing but trouble. Who has almost gotten you killed multiple times.”

You just shook your head feverishly as he advanced towards you. You tried to shrink back but you could only go so far and when he reached you he took your face in his hands and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever do so. And of course, you melted into it. He was the love of your life and nothing compared to the love you felt in that moment. His hands moved to wrap tightly around you, holding you impossibly closer.

“Don’t push me away, let me help you.” He murmured against your lips. Your eyes stayed closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know how,” you almost whimpered,

“We’ll figure this out, together.” He promised. You just nodded and let him hold you. And at that moment, you had hope again.

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf fanfiction #angst #but happy ending

105 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

eyes full of stars

word count: 3.1k

warnings: insinuated!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, slight sexual innuendo (kind sorta maybe, minors please be aware)

recommended listening: cowboy like me | taylor swift

a/n: it’s cold and snowy. to combat the winter blues i wrote about a sunny minnesota summer with brock :))

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Brock this carefree.

The season was hard on him. There were large periods where he didn’t put up any points, and trade rumors started to circulate. Halfway through, before the playoff push even started, the negative social media comments came rolling in. You frequently saw fans request a trade or say that the organization should regret drafting him. Brock did his best to brush everything off, but it was beginning to waer on his mental health. You’re devastated when they fail to make it to the postseason, but you know it’s for the best. The injured team will spend the offseason recuperating and be ready for the next one. Besides, it means you and Brock will get to spend more time on the lake.

So here you are, packing the car for the twenty-seven hour drive to Minnesota. Brock insists on driving, says it’s relaxing, but you aren’t sure you agree. Prone to car-sickness so fierce you can barely look out the window, you’d much rather fly. Everything is exasperated by the fact you’re a nervous traveller to begin with, afraid of taking a wrong turn or missing an exit. You’re a terrible road trip partner but at least Brock could talk to the dogs. Coolie and Milo loved car rides, and you can typically hear your boyfriend having full on conversations with them as you fade in and out of consciousness.

“Ready to go babe?” Brock asks as he closes the trunk. The question is delivered with a bright grin, and despite your anxiety you return it with ease.

“I don’t really have much of a choice do I?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he moves towards you. Sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans he kisses you lazily. It’s comforting and all-consuming at the same time; doing a great job of occupying your mind with thoughts of him instead of the journey ahead. “I suppose not,” he says, planting a final kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be fine. You can take a Gravol right before we cross the border and you’ll be asleep before we hit Seattle.”

It’s the best plan of attack, so you agree immediately. After taking one last run into your shared apartment to use the bathroom and make sure everything is in order, you make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat of Brock’s jeep. Music filters through the speakers at a low volume, and you focus on the retreating skyline of Vancouver. You’re excited to get back to Minnesota, to relax and see your boyfriend in his natural habitat. Countless days are about to be spent lounging lakeside enjoying each other’s company. It will also be nice to spend time with Brock’s family: they’ve been incredibly welcoming over the years and you can’t wait to catch up with them. You know Brock’s itching to spend time with his nephew, and just to be at home.

Just as Brock said, you’re asleep before Bellingham. It’s fitful, and you’re frequently woken up by the dogs barking a little too excitedly in response to something Brock said. However, it does a good job of keeping you from emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor. Somewhere in Idaho, a good seven hours after you left Canada, you awake for the final time.

“Look boys, Mom’s finally awake!”

You laugh at the comment and lean over the center console to ruffle his hair. It’s still long from the season, and curls slightly around your fingertips.

“You’re hilarious.”

Brock takes his right hand off the steering wheel, unravelling yours from its resting place and entwining your fingers together. He places a kiss to the back of your palm. “You know I’m just teasing,” he whispers. “I know these drives are hard on you. Thank you for doing it twice a year.”

Instead of answering verbally, you squeeze his hand tighter. Though it’s true you hate driving through five states, you’d do it twice a week if it would make Brock happy. It seems a bit much to convey with a single gesture, but you can tell from the smile that graces his features that Brock understands. The two of you sit in silence, enjoying the scenery and trying to scout for a rest stop. Coolie and Milo are getting antsy and you’re also due to stretch your legs.

After letting the dogs run around to release some energy and using the bathroom, you start the final leg of the day. Missoula, Montana, is the destination. Not quite the halfway point, but close enough that you could tackle the rest of the miles tomorrow, the city has a wide variety of pet-friendly lodging. You insist you drive the rest of the way, giving Brock a well deserved rest. Looking at the interstate for hours can cause serious highway hypnosis. Not even twenty minutes after getting back on the road he’s asleep, snoring softly as he rests his head on the window.

You take a moment to admire your boyfriend. He looks so relaxed and peaceful, and the forehead creases that are starting to develop from over analyzing hours of tape disappear. Brock looks years younger, and you know the youthfulness will creep back into him the longer you’re in Minnesota. You can’t wait to see him without any cares again.

Less than two hours later, the hotel creeps up on your left. Pulling into the first available parking space, you turn the car off before waking Brock.

“Brock, we’re at the hotel,” you say softly, jostling his shoulder. “Let’s get checked in and then we shower.”

The mention of washing off a day’s worth of travel has him letting the door fly open. You had made sure to pack your overnight bags in an easily accessible spot, and work at getting them out while Brock wrangles the dogs. For being cooped up all day, they’re extremely well behaved. Once cleaned up you imagine you’ll take them on a long walk and grab some food.

“Hey, give that back. Milo!” you hear Brock yelp, and peek around to see what’s happening. The younger pup has Brock’s bucket hat between his teeth and is in the process of tearing across the parking lot.

With a giggle you call him back. “Milo, come here baby,” you say. Without a second thought, the dog bolts towards you, knocking against your shins when he fails to stop in time. You lean down to scratch Milo’s ear, and as soon as you ask him to drop the object he places it in your open palm. “Good boy,” you coo, letting him lick the side of your face.

“He’s your dog alright,” Brock huffs from where he’s standing, Coolie running circles around his ankles.

You toss the hat over the roof of the car as you laugh at him. “You’re just jealous he listens to me.”

“I sure fucking am. He’d be an absolute nuisance if it wasn’t for you.”

The rest of the night is spent unwinding from the long day. Dinner consists of the greasiest burgers you can find, and you roam around the city hand in hand, the dogs leading you. By the time you get back to the hotel you’re spent. Sleep takes over rather quickly, and you’re dozing off before Brock gets back from brushing his teeth. Once ready for bed, he slides his body against yours. The pair of you fit together like a puzzle, and after a quick kiss you let sleep consume you.

The second day of travel is much the same, except you do a better job of staying awake. You take a different anti-nausea medication and frequently switch with Brock. Conversation flows easily, ideas for summer excursions and repairs that need to be done around the house. The Boeser’s are kind enough to lend you their lake house during the off season, but the property can be a lot to manage. Brock takes it all in stride, and somehow actually enjoys spending hours mowing the grass. He says it’s relaxing, mind numbing work, so you let him handle it. Country music flows from the car speakers, and eventually talking turns into a full on concert. Milo and Coolie do their best to harmonize with Brock, and it’s too cute not to post somewhere. You sneak your phone from your pocket and manage to catch some of it on video, posting to Instagram immediately. Those from the Canucks organization you have on social media will love it; Brock’s teammates will most definitely chirp him for being tone deaf.

It’s late by the time you pull into the driveway of your temporary home, almost eleven. Grabbing only the essentials and leaving the rest to be unpacked tomorrow, you unlock the door before flopping on the couch. The dogs follow suit, laying on top of you. When Brock walks in he shakes his head, but still leans over to kiss you.

“Make sure you text your mom and let her know we made it,” you call to his retreating figure. “And let her know we’ll be over in the afternoon once we get situated.”

You swear he flips you off, no doubt poking fun at your maternal instincts. “Yes ma’am,” he replies.

“Ma’am?” you shriek. “I am not fifty. You’re so gonna get it Boeser.”

After gently nudging the dogs off your legs you’re chasing after him, laughing all the way. Brock’s a lot faster than you, being the athlete he is, but you don’t give up hope. In a last ditch attempt to get him back, you launch yourself forward, square into the middle of his back. The change in weight distribution has him falling to the floor, sprawling the width of the hallway. Both of you are giggling messes, delirious from lack of sleep and the knowledge you get to spend four months of uninterrupted time together.

“I love you, you know that right,” Brock murmurs into the crook of your neck. He dots chaste pecks along the skin and you sigh at the feeling.

Pulling him closer, you make sure to properly enunciate your words as you respond. “Yes sir.”

Brock eyes darken visibly, and he shifts his body so he’s resting on top of you. “You’re in for it now,” he groans, dragging himself to his feet. You quickly follow, meeting his lips in an eager kiss. The pair of you stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom, bodies intertwining like ivy vines, and Brock makes sure to kick the door shut to ensure your pets don’t interrupt the salacious activities he has planned.

☼☼☼☼

You settle into a routine fairly quickly. Mornings are spent alone while Brock works out, and afternoons are for lounging in the sun. The hours after the sun fades away are spent huddling around a bonfire with friends, and midnights are for just the two of you. Sometimes Brock lets himself rest and spends the day in the middle of the lake doing his best to fish, leaving you to spend time with his mom and sister. They’re lovely; warm and welcoming, making sure you’re never too lonely or bored. You and Brock also spend a lot of time with his nephew, doting over the toddler. Seeing your boyfriend with him makes you want kids, but that’s a conversation that is yet to be had in any serious light.

Sometimes you join Brock when he does typical professional hockey player in the summer things. It turns out you're quite the golfer, and have put him to shame many times. Countless days are spent helping him fix the roof of the lake house because he insists on doing it himself even though he knows nothing about roofing. At least seven phone calls to his father and a desperate run to the hardware store later, it’s completed; sealed and free of cracks. Though you’re a terrible fisher, Brock tries his best to teach you. Truth be told, you don’t have any interest in the sport, but his tongue pokes out slightly when he’s thinking about how to explain a concept and you think it’s adorable.

Coolie and Milo are loving being able to roam free, and you both spend a lot of time outside with them. You’re only ever really in the house at night, reading or playing games on the patio furniture Brock’s mom picked out. It’s peaceful; existing like this. You swear you could do it forever.

Being home allows an invisible weight to be lifted off Brock’s shoulders. There’s a pep in his step, and he’s always smiling. Even the intense at-home workouts can’t seem to bring him down. You’re delighted, how could you not be? It’s as if the only things that matter to him are enjoying a few beers lakeside and coaxing you out of shorts in the dark. You suppose that’s the truth.

☼☼☼☼

It’s incredibly warm out. The sun beats down on your back as you turn the pages of your novel, half listening to the conversation Brock is having with his friends. A group of you are on the boat, enjoying one of the last full days of summer. Later in the week you and Brock will pack up the car again, making the long trek back to Vancouver. You’re sad time has passed so fast, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to be back in the city. It’s your home, and the boys seem to be really fired up for the new season. You have a feeling some really good hockey is going to come out of Rogers Arena.

“Yo Y/N, who’s the better driver. Me or Boes?”

The question pulls you from the fantasy taking place on the pages, and you look to see who’s speaking to you. It’s Brock’s dearest childhood friend, someone you consider family at this point. “It’s absolutely not Brock,” you shrug. The comment earns a loud laugh from everyone and you find yourself joining in.

“Ouch babe, that hurts,” Brock says as he slides into the free space next to you. Casually wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, he leans down to whisper into your ear. “Looks like you need to be taught a lesson.”

His words have a vaguely sexual connotation, and you look around nervously. Your swimsuit won’t cover the flush that will be sure to rise on your skin if Brock tries anything. Everyone seems to be engaged in their own conversations, but you still feel queasy about getting caught. Though Brock’s friends are the type to laugh it off, you’d be absolutely mortified.

Before your brain can overthink anything else, you’re being lifted from your seat. It only takes two seconds for Brock to hoist you over the side of the boat and throw you into the cool water. You land with a glorious splash, but take your time coming to the surface. Partly to bring your temperature down, partly to make your lover squirm.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you yell to him from below, but the bright smile you flash him lets Brock know you don’t mean it.

He sets his hat on top of your book before climbing over the edge. “Shut up,” he fires back, diving gracefully to join you in the water.

A small splashing match breaks out, and soon everyone else is in the water, picking sides. You swim until your skin is wrinkled beyond recognition, pruned and puckered something akin to a raisin. Only once the sky begins to redden do you head for home. Brock keeps the boat at cruising speed, and you sit comfortably in his lap. Once back on land, dinner is quickly thrown together. A mish-mash of what’s left in your fridge and what others have brought, but it works. The boys huddle around the grill and everyone else swoons over the dogs, who are on their best behaviour.

Later in the night, once the dishes are cleaned up and some guests with day jobs have left, you settle into Brock’s side at the fire. Not caring if you get chirped for the PDA, you hold his face in both your hands and rest your forehead against his. The scruff that’s grown in since the last time Brock shaved tickles slightly, but you’re too in love with him to care. It’s been so refreshing to see him relaxed, acting without a care in the world. Hopefully the attitude he currently has will stick and not disappear once you hit the Vancouver city limits.

Brock takes a sip of his beer before offering the bottle to you. You gingerly place it to your lips, making a face at the taste. He laughs at your reaction, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Still tastes disgusting,” you mutter, reaching for your own drink to wash away the taste.

The fire crackles gently behind you but you barely register the sound, in your own little world where everything is perfect. It’s you, Brock, and the dogs living in a house similar to the one you’re currently residing in, living life to the fullest.

“You gonna come back to me, space cadet?” Brock chuckles, tracing the outline of your nose.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you apologize. “Was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Us. The future. Living in a lake house just like this one and spending all our time being so in love with each other that our friends constantly make fun of us. Maybe having kids in a couple of years. How I love seeing you like this; so at peace and full of life.”

In lieu of a response, Brock kisses you passionately. It’s a soft kind of passion: one that holds you tenderly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. He tastes like the Coors Light he’s been drinking, but somehow the idea of beer is much more appealing when mixed with Brock. You lose yourself in him for a while, relishing in the gentleness of his hands resting on your waist. Eventually you return some of your attention to the others, but even then you can’t find it in yourself to focus. Your mind is filled with nothing but love for Brock.

It’s seems that he’s feeling the same way, because he continually leaves kisses across your shoulder blade. “I really, really love you,” Brock confesses, and you feel him smile through the thin material of your worn hoodie.

You intertwine your pinky with his and let them sit comfortably in your lap. “I love too. So much that it’s all consuming.”

Brock often leaves you breathless in more ways than one, but sweet sentiments like this will always take the cake. Especially when they happen on summer nights where he’s free to be his authentic self.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#why tf did i spend so much time detailing the car ride lmao #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser fic #vancouver canucks imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

235 notes · View notes

maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 3

I’m really happy that this has gotten some positive feedback, this fic is like my baby. Thanks to everyone for reading!

---------

It had been a week since getting out of the hospital and five days since the funeral. It was an odd feeling, and it didn’t make it better that it was a closed casket funeral since they had been burned so badly. It was probably for the better, that meant that the last time I saw them they were wishing me goodnight, smiling, happy, alive.

I wanted to try to get back to normal. Uncle Noah told me that it was too soon too. He said he wished he spent some more time at home with Stiles, but he didn’t have much of a choice being the sheriff. But life goes on, even if I wanted to go back in time if just for a moment. Maybe getting back to something I enjoyed would be helpful in coping. Moving into the Stilinski house had been only a little strange. I had spent the night here before, especially when I was younger and Stiles and I would pass out in the living room watching Power Rangers or Disney movies. The only thing that bothered me was that I wouldn’t be going home after this, I had my own room with new sheets, new clothes, and only a few things that had survived the fire. Uncle Noah had painted the walls a soft (your favorite color).

Everything seemed to be perfect, if you could even call it that. However, along with the fact that I lost practically everything, the person who took everything from me was still out there. Michael’s apartment had been cleaned out, his family was no longer in their home, they all just vanished.

I stared at myself in the mirror, fiddling with the locket that Stiles had given me for my sixteenth birthday. Inside was a tiny picture of us at a birthday party when we were kids, our faces painted like cats, cake around our mouths. I smiled and thought back to the hospital.

Uncle Noah left the room after giving my statement, leaving Stiles and I in the room.

“Just so we’re clear you do mean Derek Hale. Main suspect in the fire that killed his family Derek Hale.” He asked.

“Stiles, even if he did do it, why would he help me get away from Michael? If he was so crazy, why would he offer to drive me away? Why would he drive me to the hospital?” I sat up in the hospital bed.

“Maybe so he could murder you himself?” He scoffed.

“I highly doubt that.” I looked out the window. But what he said did bring up a question. Derek and I were in completely different circles in high school. He could have completely ignored me and gave me back to Michael. But he didn’t. He helped me.

I wanted to thank Uncle Noah for taking me in, so I insisted on making dinner tonight. To be honest, home cooking probably wasn’t standard at the Stilinski house. Some sort of pasta dish would probably be good.

After giving my appearance a final once over, I made my way downstairs. Stiles was on the couch, eating ramen noodles.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the store, you wanna come?” I asked.

He looked up mid-noodle slurp, “Uh yeah, of course. You want me to drive?”

I scoffed, “So I can feel every bump in the road?”

“Hey, Roscoe is a smooth ride.” He defended his Jeep.

“I think that’s an oxymoron.” I grabbed my keys from the hook by the door, “Let’s go.” I smiled. He threw out his noodle carton and slipped on his shoes. Interactions like this made everything easier.

Around nine, I was just watching videos on the computer, hoping that it would numb my brain enough to go to sleep. Dinner had been cut short because Uncle Noah got a call from someone and went out saying he would be home later. But that didn’t mean Stiles would go to bed, even if his first day of sophomore was in the morning.

“Hold it.” I called, not looking up from the screen, his footsteps were loud enough to wake the dead. I spun around in the computer chair, folding my fingers together, “And just where do you think you’re going, Mr. Stilinski?”

He straightened out his body, “Oh, just getting a drink of water.”

I titled my head, “Really? You’re not going to go get Scott so you can find the body in the woods?”

He squinted, “How did you know that?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s tapped into police radio?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, “So are you gonna tell Dad?”

“Of course not.” I hummed, “But I’m going with you.” I stood up, zipping up my jacket. The outfit had already been prepared after the police radio chatter explained that there had been a body reported in the woods.

“(Y/N), I don’t know if that’s a good idea seeing that… you know.”

“I’m a big girl, Stiles. I can handle it. Plus, we probably won’t even find it.”

The whole way to Scott’s house was him essentially making me swear a vow of silence. As if he couldn’t trust me, he told me everything and I never tattled.

At Scott’s, I waited in the car while Stiles made his way to the front door where Scott almost took Stiles out with a bat. After some convincing, Stiles and Scott made their way to the Jeep.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Scott smiled as he got in, shoving his inhaler in his pocket. The smile was a sad one, something I would have to get used to. I was the girl whose parents were killed.

Close to the destination, Scott brought up a good question: "So which half of the body are we looking for?“

We both looked at Stiles who said: "Ahh, I didn’t even think about that."

"And what if whoever killed the body is still out here?” Scott added. This made me realize that maybe coming was a mistake. Michael was still on the loose, who was to say that this wasn’t another victim. And worse, that could have been her body out in the woods, or at least half of it.

“Also something I didn’t think about."

“Did you think about anything?” I piped in before we finally parked outside the main trails into the woods.

About fifteen minutes into our hike, I stopped to make sure Scott didn’t fall too far behind. He had the worst case of asthma I had ever seen, he couldn’t walk for very long without needing his inhaler. I knew how much he wanted to play lacrosse, but I really didn’t think it was possible.

Midthought, I was pulled down the trail with Scott by Stiles.

“What the he-” I began, but Stiles shushed me. The sound of dogs rang out in the darkness. Without thinking, I started running with Stiles, leaving Scott behind. Our running was stopped abruptly by a dog, who barked and snarled at us from the ground.

“Heel! Hang on, hang on.” Uncle Noah called to the officer restraining the dog, “This delinquent belongs to me. And so does this one. This I didn’t expect.” He looked from Stiles to me. I stood up, brushing the dirt off my behind.

“I was uh…babysitting.”

“Right. Babysitting.” He nodded along, very clearly not believing me. He looked back to Stiles, “Where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Who?” Stiles asked, “Scott? Scott’s home. Said he wanted a good night’s sleep for back to school tomorrow. It’s just me and (Y/N). In the woods. Alone.” I elbowed his side at his terrible lie.

Uncle Noah brought up his flashlight, looking in the trees and called for Scott. When he got no answer, he put the light down.

“Well, young man, I’m going to walk you back to your Jeep. You too, missy.” He wrapped an arm around both of our shoulders, “We can all have a little conversation about the invasion of privacy.” I took one last glance in the woods, hoping Scott was okay. And if Michael was the one to do this, I really hoped that Scott would be at school tomorrow.

The next day was the beginning of lacrosse season, meaning the beginning of work. Around one in the afternoon, I made up my lacrosse bag and had a quick lunch and went out to my car. I opened the driver’s side door but I paused, having an eerie feeling crawl up my spine, like I was being watched. I checked my surroundings but saw nothing. Without another thought about it, I made my way towards the high school.

I made it just in time for lacrosse practice to start, Coach Finstock was on the sidelines. He had his usual look of discontent. I made my way to his side. He looked at me out of the corner of his vision, then back to the players making their way on the field.

“Is there any way you could She’s the Man this and be on the team.” He asked.

I held onto the strap of my bag, “That would be cheating, Coach. But I would if I could.” He patted me on the back.

“Good to have you back, (Y/L/N).” He blew his whistle, “Alright, gather ‘round, ladies. Let’s keep this short so we can practice and maybe get something down today. This is (Y/N), my assistant coach. If I see any of you hormonal monsters so much as look at her the wrong way, I will make sure this season will be hell for you. That means you, Greenberg.” After some more instruction, he sent the boys off on their way. Stiles waved at me before starting to run laps. Since it was the first day, Coach said that just sitting in the bleachers would work for today. To be honest, it felt like he was taking it easy on me, if that were even possible for him to do. I sat up on the bleachers, watching all of the players run. I did see Scott so that meant he survived the night in the woods.

“Hi.” A soft voice came from beside me. I looked up, seeing a brown hair girl had made her way to sit besides me.

“Hey.” I said back, she didn’t seem familiar at all, maybe a new kid in town.

“Come to watch your boyfriend?” She pointed to Stiles, whose legs seemed to work out of sync with his body.

“Oh no no, that’s my friend. I’m also the assistant coach.” I held my hand out, “(Y/N).”

“Allison.” She shook my hand and looked back out at the field.

“You’re new, huh?” I asked.

“Is it that easy to tell?” She chuckled.

“Nah, you just didn’t look familiar. Was your last school into lacrosse too, or…?”

“Oh uh, no, I came to see him.” She vaguely pointed in the direction of Scott.

“Scott? Yeah, he’s a nice guy.” I smiled.

“I know. He gave me a pen in class today, which was a life saver because I lost mine.”

After a moment, a redhead I knew all too well sat down besides Allison. Not that I knew her personally, Lydia Martin was just the girl that Stiles had been in love with since… ever.

“Are you the girl whose house burned down?” She asked. Her subtlety was immaculate. Allison, looking mortified, gave me an apologetic smile.

“Ahuh.” I shrugged, getting up from my seat, “I can’t really see the field. I’m gonna get a different angle. It was nice meeting you, Allison.” Before they could say more, I took the steps down to the grass.

“McCall!” Coach called, “Get in goal.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “You think that’s gonna be a good idea? He’s never played goal before.”

“I got a feeling.” He said, also crossing his arms and calling the players to line up and make shots at the goal. I gave Scott a quick thumbs up. Coach blew his whistle, Scott grabbed at his ears like the sound was too loud. The player sidearm shot the ball at the goal, hitting Scott in the helmet and sending him on his back. I winced, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stiles had the same reaction. This might not go well.

To my surprise, though, Scott got back up and caught the next ball that came at him. The next player to come up seemed to have an angry walk in his step.

"Who’s that?” I whispered to Coach.

“Jackson Whittemore.” He looked back, enthralled in the fact that Scott was doing well.

Jackson Whittemore was the town rich boy and did pretty well in lacrosse from what I understood. He also had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mars. He whipped the ball as fast he could, it was impressive. But it was no match for Scott’s new goalie skills.

After practice, Stiles, Scott, and I made our way back to the woods - this time in broad daylight- to find Scott’s inhaler that he dropped. He mentioned that while he was out, he was attacked by an animal and got bitten.

“I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.” He explained.

“Smell things?” Stiles scrunched up his nose, “Like what?”

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.” He motioned towards Stiles. Stiles looked skeptical but when searching his pocket did find the pack of gum.

“How many sticks left?” I asked, a little amused.

“Uhhh.” he sniffed, “Two.” I took the gum from Stiles' hand and opened it.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Two sticks.

“So this all started with a bite?” Stiles took back his gum, sticking it back in his pocket.

“Could this be some kind of infection?” Scott asked.

“I actually think I’ve heard of this. It’s a different kind of infection.” Stiles shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He gave me a side eye, I nodded.

“Are you serious?” He asked, getting more exasperated. We both nodded.

“Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.” Stiles said.

“What is that? Is it bad?” Scott asked, the panic setting in.

“The worst.” I exaggerated.

“It’s worse about once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of the full moon.” Stiles sighed, as if this “infection” was terminal. The fact that Scott hasn’t gotten it yet just told me that he wasn’t paying attention during Monster Movie night. Stiles and I threw our heads back and howled towards the sky.

“Come on, guys, this isn’t funny!” Scott glared.

“Didn’t you tell your mom about it?” I asked, then realized how stupid of a question it was. If Ms. McCall had found out how late he was out and that he was in the woods looking for a body, he would have been grounded for sure.

“Of course not.” He shook his head. After that, the boys had walked a little bit ahead, still going on about Scott’s new super infection. I took a little more time looking in the bushes to see if Scott’s inhaler had fallen off the trail. The thing was bright red, it shouldn’t be that hard to find. While I searched, I zoned out everything else in the world. I thought about my parents. There was still so much that I didn’t know that they never got a chance to teach me. The last night they were alive, they had mentioned something offhand.

“(Y/D/N), when are we going to tell her?” Mom whispered, biting her nails. They spoke in the hallway, not realizing I could hear. Dad paused for a moment, then looked down at her.

“We’ll tell her tomorrow.”

I never found out what they were going to tell me.

The other thing that I couldn’t seem to get off my mind was Derek Hale. He practically risked his life to help me. If I saw someone with a knife like Michael was, I would like to believe that I would do what Derek did, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides that, I couldn’t get his face out of my head. It would be a lie if I didn’t think he was attractive. The way he looked at me with those dark green eyes. It made you feel a certain sort of way.

I looked up from the bushes I was searching and realized it was way darker than it had been and that Scott and Stiles were nowhere in sight.

“Scott? Stiles?” I called. No answer. What did answer though, was a flash of rain.

“Great. I’m lost in the woods, where there is a dead body. And even a murderer.” I moped out loud. I found my way back to what I thought was the trail and started walking. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and saw that it was completely dead. So much for calling in a rescue. Thunder roared in the sky, making my pace faster.

By now it was dark, just flashes of lightning making it easy for me to see where I was walking. I walked for what seemed like forever until I found a large house in the middle of the woods. The place seemed vaguely familiar. It was in disrepair and looked like no one had been there in years. For now, it would probably be better to wait out the storm and start walking when the rain ended. I pushed the door and stepped inside. It was still wet inside from the parts of the house that were missing, but in places where there was still roof, it was dry. I looked around, seeing something on the wall, partially burned. It was a triskelion with a name underneath. Hale. I was standing in the remains of the Hale house.

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice made me jump and turn around. Derek Hale stood in the doorway, a lightning flash lit up his face and for a moment his eyes looked blue before going back to their green color.

“I’m sorry, I just got lost in the woods and then it started raining. I-I’ll leave now.” I walked towards the door to go out again but he grabbed my arm tightly.

“Don’t go out there.” He said, looking behind him.

“Why?” I asked in a hushed voice. He looked me in the eyes, looking pretty terrifying frankly.

“You were followed here.” He said, making my blood run cold.

“Was it…?” I took a deep breath, “Was it Michael?” He shook his head, pulling me further into the house.

“No, something else.”

“Something else? What do you mean?” I asked, pulling my arm from his grip. He stopped and looked at me confused.

“Didn’t you smell it? Hear it?”

“Look, Derek, I know we never talked in high school and you barely know me, so I’ll just let you in on a little secret: I can’t smell when something is stalking me in the woods.” I looked over my shoulder at the door. There was a creaking sound coming from outside that was pretty consistent with walking. He glared out at the creaking, taking his jacket off.

“Put this on.” He held it out to me.

“Why?” I asked. Looking from the jacket to him.

“It will put my scent on you.”

“Your freaking what?” I raised my eyebrows at him. Maybe he was crazy. I was stuck in an abandoned house with whatever was outside with a crazy person.

“Will you just put it on?” He barked. No need to make a crazy man mad. I took the jacket and slipped it on. Like any other jacket it smelled like leather, but this had something else, a musky smell that would be very pleasing if the situation was different.

“Go out the back and run.” He started walking towards the door, “Now.” He didn’t need to tell me twice. I took off running as fast as I could out the back door and up the long drive way that connected the Hale property to the main road. And, like an absolute angel, Stiles appeared in his Jeep, stopping right outside the entrance to the overgrown driveway.

“(Y/N)!” He called over the rain. I ran to the jeep, got in and slammed the door behind me.

“Go, go go go go.” I said hastily, put on my seat belt and he took off.

“Why weren’t you answering your phone?!” He shouted, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I didn’t charge it before going out in the woods.” I panted, looking over my shoulder to make sure the something Derek had been talking about wasn’t behind us.

“Whose jacket is that?”

“Derek Hale’s.”

“Why do you have his jacket?!”

“Listen, I could explain right now but apparently I was being stalked back there so put this thing in gear and drive faster.”

Last night after getting home, I explained to Stiles what happened. We both agreed that it did sound like Derek was a little crazy. But the fact was that something in the woods bit Scott and it was probably better that Derek had found me instead of whatever it was.

The next morning, everything should have been a dream. The whole situation would make more sense. But Derek’s jacket was hanging on the back of her door which meant that instead of encountering Derek being a dream, it was reality. Stiles would be in school by now and Uncle Noah was definitely at work, if he even left last night to begin with. Maybe a walk would take my mind off things. I got dressed and ready and was about to walk out of my room when I caught myself grabbing Derek’s jacket to put on. This jacket wasn’t mine, I shouldn’t be wearing it. I didn’t need to have Derek’s “scent” all over me but I grabbed it anyway. There was the possibility that I would see him while I was out since I had been seeing him a hundred times more than usual. I opened the front door, seeing Derek who was just standing outside the door.

“We need to talk.”

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

Read part 4 here!

Part 3 down. And trust me, this part needed a lot of work from the “original” material.

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Message me or comment below to be added to the tag list!

YSM Tag:

@nyotamalfoy

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic

61 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Text

I Hope We Never See October (3/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Not gonna lie, I forget I'm writing this story, remember, and then the moment I sit down to write, I get called away. But here's part three!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

His head is pounding. It’s been awhile since it has pounded like this. Usually, it’s from a lack of sleep from the nightmares or the stress. This morning, he knows it’s from the rum. He did everything he could to cancel it out – coffee, water, food, medicine – but his head is still pounding. He is a bloody lightweight now.

Huh.

Killian is making it sound like that’s a bad thing, when really, it’s good. A week ago he was standing with a beer bottle in his hand early in the morning tempted to drown his entire day away. Last night, he made it the entire day without wanting to get pissed and only had two small drinks to toast his friends goodbye.

That’s progress.

This hangover, though, damn. It’s a sign he’s making progress, but damn.

Or he’s simply getting old, which is something else he doesn’t want to think about.

“Fuck,” Killian moans, pressing his fingers against his temples as he opens his eyes. His neck is also killing him, probably from how he slept on this damn couch all night. He should have driven home, but he didn’t trust himself to. Besides, Ariel had offered the couch before she went to bed.

Emma had too.

He’d nearly left after she offered. She was likely only doing it because she assumed Ariel or Eric already offered. He gets the feeling the woman doesn’t like him, which usually isn’t something that happens with him, and that intrigues him. It also makes him realize how much of an asshole he is.

How has he gotten to a point in his life where he expects women to always fancy his company?

Killian sits up, his muscles aching, and slowly, he rises from the couch. The lights in the house are all off, and he knows he can leave now with no one knowing the wiser that he slept over, that he felt bad enough to not be able to drive home. Or maybe that he didn’t want to spend another night in that giant house by himself.

The floor creaks beneath him with each step he takes, but no one seems to stir. Killian finds a notepad and pen in the kitchen and quickly scribbles a note to Ariel and Eric. He said his goodbyes to them last night, and he’ll talk to them on the phone at some point today. He doesn’t need to stick around to say another goodbye this morning. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t risen, and they won’t be up for hours. Killian finishes his note, grabs his wallet and keys from the counter, and heads out the front door to his car. It takes him a moment to find his car, to remember what said of the road they drive on over here, but he eventually spots it across the street under a large tree when a light from the house turns on.

Killian turns to see it’s coming from an upstairs window, and Emma Swan is standing between the curtains. He nods, and he swears he sees the slightest nod in return before the curtains rustle and she turns off the light.

She didn’t get in until two this morning, and she’s up at six. How the hell is she functioning?

Then again, how is he functioning?

Killian’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and after he gets in his Jeep, he checks the message.

Elsa Jones: The girls say thank you for their new Leggo set. My bare feet do not.

Killian laughs and puts his phone back in his pocket. That’s how he’s functioning. He may have flown across an ocean, but he’d never leave Ally and Sophia. They’ve already lost enough, and Liam will have his head, someway and somehow, if he doesn’t do everything he can to make sure all his girls are happy.

To make sure Killian is happy too.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispers to himself as he cranks the engine, “it’s too early to be thinking like this.”

He should be able to have at least a little reprieve from the voices in his head.

-/-

Killian doesn’t leave the house much over the next few days. He doesn’t have reason to. He’s got everything he could possibly need in the house, including his own private stretch of beach that he walks along a few times a day, but the repetition of nothing begins to drive him mad. He trains in almost the same way as he did when he was playing, and while that takes up a good portion of his day, it’s not enough to keep him occupied. He reads the books that the owners of the house left behind but finds it’s mostly romance novels he can’t stomach. For a day or two, he binges Netflix, leaving a permanent imprint of his ass in the couch cushions, but there’s only so much time he can spend staring at screens.

Elsa and the girls call more than once a day with them being on summer holidays, and he gets a call or two from Scarlet, who finally had the bullocks to ask Belle out to dinner. That was good to hear since Killian has been giving Will shit about doing that for years now, and it’s good to see that people are moving on with their lives.

He’s not, not really, but he’s not trying to move on so much as he’s trying to not be a total disaster every day.

Sitting in this house alone all day every day isn’t helping. Why did anyone think sending him to be alone would be a good idea in the wake of his brother’s death? He knows it’s more so the scum English tabloids would leave him alone and he could fix his public image so he doesn’t go broke before he’s forty from loss of sponsorships and possible opportunities to get involved in the league, but damn, this was a bad idea.

At least he’s not drinking himself to sleep anymore.

Or drinking himself awake. He thinks that feat is slightly more impressive.

Killian puts his bottle of water down and opens the door that leads to the deck. It’s cool out today, the sun hidden behind the clouds, and since he cannot stay here anymore, he decides he’ll go for a run. It’s been years since he ran outside and not on a pitch or a treadmill, but maybe it’ll be a good distraction. He’s noticed more people filling into the houses around him, the summer tourists showing up in large droves now, so at the very least he can pass time watching people while hoping no one watches him.

It takes him little time to get dressed, lace up his trainers, and pop headphones in his ears before he’s out the door. The roads aren’t flat around his house, so he drives the Jeep a few miles until he finds smoother, less crowded ground. Maybe it’s a way to keep him from running that little bit longer, but mostly he knows his knees need the flat surfaces right now.

He really has gotten old, hasn’t he?

Eventually, he finds what looks like a good path behind a long stretch of beach, finds a place to park, and then he starts running.

It’s horrible, which was expected, but he does it anyway. There are families lining the beaches, music playing from speakers and phones, and he watches as boats skip out on the water. Maybe he should rent a boat for a weekend and take it out. It’d be nice to be out on the water again. He hasn’t been since Liam’s death, the fear of something similar happening to him despite the unlikeliness, but maybe one day while he’s here. It’s not as if he has anything better to do.

Killian runs until the endorphins kick in and then again until his legs get tired. He’s an idiot, however, because he doesn’t think to turn around to his Jeep.

Bloody hell.

He stops and reaches his hands over his head, stretching out his shoulders, and looks to see what’s around him. It’s mostly beach, but there are several restaurants and shops a few blocks down. He notices the familiar Blue Dog Tavern sign and the long deck filled with their outside seating. That means he’s minutes away from a populated area of shops and restaurants where he could cool down and catch his breath, but he still walks toward the Blue Dog. There’s another diner around here he went to that was horrible, and he doesn’t feel like taking the chance again. He’s still over his phase of twenty-four-hour diners. He doesn’t think he can handle more sticky tables.

Killian cools down on the walk to the restaurant, taking in the people walking along the sidewalk, and he dodges them until he’s inside and the cool air is hitting against his skin. It’s past the prime of the lunch rush, so the place is mostly empty. He thinks of going to the bar again, but as he wants to stay as out of the way as possible, he asks the hostess to seat him at a booth in the corner.

“Is someone coming to meet you?” she asks, smacking her gum as she hands him a menu.

“I’m afraid not. Just me today.”

She smiles, popping her gum again, and leans forward, casually popping a button on her shirt. Killian tries not to snicker at the obvious attempt, mostly because she is attractive, but the last thing he needs is to burn more bridges at one of the few places in towns he likes. “Well, if you want company, all you have to do is come find me. I’m Marina.”

He raises his brow. “Seems like you were born to work by the ocean then.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because your name is Marina.”

She cocks her head to the side and laughs. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, love.” Killian smiles and nods toward the front. “I believe you’re needed.”

She jumps and walks away, obviously putting a little sway in her hips when she moves, and in another life, he’d ask her to join him for lunch and meet her after her shift. He nearly does it now, but the man he’s been and the man he’s trying to be war with each other in his mind.

No burning bridges, he reminds himself. He’s done enough of that in his lifetime.

He orders water and coffee and avoids eye contact with Marina as much as possible, especially when she keeps finding ways to come by his table despite there being no other customers in his section. He texts Will and Rob, sends Elsa some pictures of the beach to show the girls, responds to Ariel about him doing another video conference with a hospital back home, and then he puts his phone away and tries to focus on his meal.

Unsurprisingly, it does not take a hell of a lot of focus to eat a sandwich and chips.

The music coming over the intercoms keeps him occupied for awhile, so does the television hanging over the bar until someone changes it to ESPN, and eventually Killian starts fidgeting for headphones and something to do while he waits for his meal to settle and drinks another cup of coffee. He needs to start the trek back to his Jeep, but that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Heather, I get that you don’t want to be here, but your uncle and your parents want you here. And you either need to take it up with them or start doing some actual work.”

Killian recognizes that voice, and he sinks in his booth. He was hoping to get away with not running into her here today, if only to save himself the headache. He doesn’t have any paper money on hand, so he can’t pay and leave, and he imagines there’s very little chance he’ll avoid her when she’s walking right toward him with Heather, his server from last week.

She’s in those bloody jean shorts again. They barely cover anything and hug her ass to show it off, and the blouse she’s wearing is fitted to her skin. Her hair is down, hitting past midway on her back, and she looks just as gorgeous as she has every other time he’s seen her…which is exactly why he needs her to not notice him.

So, of course, she does.

Right after she teaches Heather how to clean the tables, she looks up and over at Killian, raises both brows, and walks toward him with her arms crossed beneath her chest. “Anything I can help you with today?”

“The check may be nice, Swan. Lovely to see you again.”

“Uh-huh.” She looks over her shoulder, holds up a signal toward Killian’s server, and he hustles to the back, presumably to get the check. “I can recommend other restaurants in the area. This place is great, but I promise there are better ones.”

He shrugs. “I like the food and how calm it is during off hours. Are you enjoying your house with no Fishers in it?”

“I don’t mind when they come to stay.”

It’s a lie if he’s ever heard one. Killian points to his temple and taps. “I know this may surprise you, but I’m actually quite perceptive.”

Her smile is tight, and she tucks her hair behind her ears. “The Fishers are great landlords, and I can’t complain.”

“I’m not going to tell them what you’re saying, love.”

She smiles again, and he can tell she’s still faking it for him. “All I can say is I’m glad not to have strange men scaring me in my kitchen at two in the morning. Now they simply show up at my work.”

He lifts his glass. “It’s good food, and you’re right, I don’t know of many other reliable eateries around here. Some of them seem a little too…made for tourists.”

“And the Blue Dog Tavern doesn’t? I mean, come on. We have a giant blue animated dog cutout outside. We’re on all those lists of ‘Places in Martha’s Vineyard you have to visit.’ We’re made for tourists like you.”

“I am not a tourist.”

“Says the man who is renting one of the big houses out in Edgartown and staying here for the summer. I’m guessing you go to the beach and lounge around the pool and go through way too many of the bad books the owners of the house have on their shelves.”

Killian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the booth. That was a little too spot on. “How do you know where I’m staying? Wait, no. Ariel, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, and God, it feels like a hell of an accomplishment to get her to smile. “She went on and on about the great Killian Jones.”

“Ah, so you know who I am then?” He leans forward and waggles his brows, flashing his brightest smile.

“Yeah, a rich British tourist who is friends with my landlords.” Someone calls her name from across the restaurant, and Emma holds one finger up. “Your check will be with you soon. I’ll ask Marina to give you some other restaurant recommendations on your way out. You’ll get sick of this place soon enough.”

“I’m perfectly happy with it, Swan.”

She shrugs and walks away, and Killian chuckles to himself. He doesn’t understand this woman at all, but she intrigues him.

He knows that’s a dangerous game to play.

Killian gets the check, pays it, and before he can escape, Marina corners him to give him more recommendations. She ends up veering into bars and clubs on the island and the surrounding towns, asking him if he wants her to show him around, but he declines and takes the list of places. Maybe he’ll check them out, but the last thing he needs is to go to a club. A bar, maybe, but not a club. He’s learned that there’s a hell of a difference.

He’s also learned that he’s bored to tears in this place, and no amount of calls to Ariel and Elsa can solve that boredom. He finds himself googling pre-season training information, checking up on mates and rivals, and while that’s a bit of a slip-up, he does manage to still stay away from looking himself up. He never used to have the urge to google himself or to read any of the tabloids, but ever since his retirement, he’s been curious. Were people sad? Happy? Did he leave any kind of lasting impact? Or did they all just see him as the drunk, washed up old man with a dirtied past?

That is a path he absolutely cannot go down, and since he’s already run a half marathon today, he decides to shower and get dressed to go to one of the places Marina recommended. If his time alone doesn’t start to get less depressing, he thinks he’s going to have to fly back to London and bother Elsa and the girls until they kick him out. He’ll pay for the remaining time on the house, but he won’t be staying there.

While the sun sets, Killian drives down new roads on the island, going to different towns and neighborhoods to see what others are doing, before ending up at a bar near his house. Marina said it was a spot for locals with good food and a quiet energy, so he doubts Marina has ever stepped foot into it. Killian pushes open the old oak door, and the lights inside are dimmed, the music quiet. There’s a guy playing guitar in the corner hidden between two pillars, and Killian finds himself sitting at the opposite end of the bar on a stool that’s cushion squeaks when he sits down.

Charming.

“You eating, drinking, or both?” The bartender asks, wiping his hands off with a cloth.

“Eating. Have any recommendations?”

“You have an objection to seafood?” the old man asks.

“Not a one.”

“Good. I’ll fix you up with the daily catch.”

Killian nods as the man makes his way through a door behind the bar, and then Killian swivels on his stool, looking around the place. He doesn’t know about the food yet, but Marina was right. It definitely has a quiet energy to it. There are people in nearly every booth and at every table, but there’s a hushed tone except for a laugh in the booth nearest him. His eyes are drawn there, and to both his surprise and horror, he finds Emma Swan with her head tilted back with laughter.

Fuck.

She’s definitely going to think he’s stalking her, and as hungry and bored as he is, he’s still tempted to leave. So of course, that’s when Emma stops laughing and looks directly at him.

Bollocks. Utter bollocks.

She blinks and stares at him a little longer, her brows raising before falling, and then she turns back to whoever is sitting in the booth with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her arms moving, but he turns on the stool until he can see her no longer, wishing at the very least he had a water to nurse.

“Hiya. Come sit in our booth with us.”

Killian twists and looks at the brunette who’s now sitting next to him. “Pardon?”

She sticks out her hand, and he takes it, shaking it. “Ruby Lucas. You’re Killian Jones, the – ”

“There’s no need to – ”

“ – the guy who scared Emma half to death at her house in the middle of the night,” Ruby completes, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “And I must say, you are much more attractive than she described.”

“So she talked about me then?”

“In her own special Emma way.” Ruby tilts her head back toward their booth. “And in my own special Ruby way, I’m inviting you to eat dinner with us. It’s me, Emma, and this super wholesome woman named Mary Margaret who will take you home and bake you cookies while asking you about your childhood because she had a good one of those.”

Killian chuckles, cheeks still flushed from him thinking Ruby knew who he was earlier – he is a pompous, entitled ass obviously – and from being invited to their table. “I couldn’t intrude.”

“I insist that you do.”

He likes her, he decides. She’s stunning and funny with no filter, but she reminds him too much of a dirtier version of Anna. It’s a rather peculiar comparison, but it’s true. It’s also half the reason he agrees to switch tables, rising from his stool and walking toward the booth. The other half a reason is the blonde woman with her face pressed into her forearms against the table top.

She looks beyond thrilled for him to be joining them.

“Oh, Emma, you were right, he is handsome!”

Emma bangs her head into the table as who he presumes is Mary Margaret smiles at him from across the booth. Killian slides onto the seat and elbows Emma’s side before patting her shoulder. “It’s alright, darling. I told all my mates you were beautiful, so we’re even.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs, grinning at her, and slowly, she peels herself off the table. “Just so you know, I’m only here because Marina recommended it.”

“Remind me to fire her in the morning.”

“So,” Mary Margaret interrupts, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “tell us about yourself, Killian. Where are you from? What do you do for work? How long are you planning on being here?”

“Good God, Marg,” Emma sighs, slumping down, “give the man some room to breathe.”

“What? I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy is what you are,” Emma corrects.

“Aren’t we all?” Killian shuffles in his seat, hoping they move on to another subject, but when Mary Margaret turns to him, he knows she isn’t one to forget. “So, how long are you staying?”

“I have the keys to the house I’m renting until the first of October, but I imagine I’ll leave sooner.”

“And why’s that?” she asks.

Killian shrugs as the man behind the bar drops off a glass of water at the table and tells Killian his food will be ready in ten minutes. “I’m afraid no matter how nice it is here, I don’t know many people. I miss the people I’m closest to. A man can only spend so much time alone.”

“Then why’d you book a house for so long?”

“I needed to get away.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“Marg,” Emma interrupts, placing her hand over her friend’s, “please. You don’t have to know everything about him. Not everyone wants to reveal their entire life to complete strangers.”

She’s right. He doesn’t. But for some inane reason, he doesn’t think he’d mind revealing most of his life to her.

He has obviously lost his damn mind.

But it’s nice to spend a night with other people, to be included in the conversation, and while Mary Margaret and Ruby are delightful, he finds Emma captures his attention, not that this surprises him.

What does surprise him, however, is how much friendlier she is in this environment. He knows it’s her friends and not him, and maybe the glass of wine she had with dinner, but it’s nice to see her laugh freely and blush when Ruby tells stories of Emma he cannot imagine knowing otherwise. He can’t imagine Emma ever scaling a building to break into an ex’s apartment to get her favorite sweater back, but then again, that seems exactly like something she would do if she wanted it badly enough.

He fancies her.

He has no business fancying her, none at all, but when he ends up driving all three women to their homes because Ruby and Mary Margaret had too much to drink and Emma can’t drive the stick shift in Ruby’s car, he accepts Emma’s invitation inside for a cup of coffee.

He also accepts her invitation upstairs into her bed.

To hell with the consequences and burning bridges. He’ll deal with those in the morning when he isn’t so enticed by the trail of freckles running down Emma’s bare stomach.

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

93 notes · View notes

kinkykinard · 3 years ago

Text

When Everything is Gone (I’ll Be What You Want)

Fandom: 9-1-1. Prompt: missing scene for @buddiebingo. Pairing: None - mentions of Eddie x Ana, lots of mutual pining, Buddie feelings realization. Word Count: 2800. Genre: fluff. Rating: teen+. Summary: In the wake of the shooting, Eddie and Buck grapple with some big feelings, though it appears that they're the only two who can't make out just what those feelings mean. Note: Beta’d by @dearestdiaz and @fireladybuckley - thank you both for your tireless cheerleading, encouragement, and suggestions. Without the two of you, this fic never would have seen the light of day. Title from “Astronauts” by Rachel Platten. Gif by @fireladybuckley.

Read it on AO3.

Buck drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel in his Jeep as he sat outside Eddie’s house, glancing at his watch every few seconds as if keeping constant tabs on the time would help it go by faster. It was early and he didn’t want to intrude in case Eddie was still sleeping, especially since Pepa had taken Christopher with her after the previous evening’s festivities so that Eddie could have a little bit of time to recuperate without having to ready the boy for school. Buck knew Eddie was an early riser by nature, but he was also acutely aware of how enticing sleep was on high doses of painkillers and the last thing he wanted was to bother Eddie too early.

He needed to see him, though. He had lingered close to Eddie the night before, hugging the other man for just a beat longer than the others had. He’d needed the reassurance that Eddie wasn’t just alive, but that he was okay. Buck had been there when Eddie had been discharged, he knew that Eddie’s shoulder would mend, he would regain his range of motion, but no one had said anything about the trauma. Buck had only witnessed the shooting and he could barely close his eyes without being catapulted into a panic attack. He couldn’t begin to imagine how Eddie wasn’t more perturbed, and by staying close Buck hoped he could be there to support him if - when - he broke down.

Unable to wait any longer, Buck pulled his keys from the ignition and hopped out of the Jeep, jogging up the sidewalk to Eddie’s front door. He raised his hand to ring the doorbell, but stopped just shy of making contact. Still not wanting to wake Eddie, Buck changed his mind and reached for his keys instead, easily locating the one for Eddie’s front door. He slid it into the lock and turned it slowly as though even the quiet click of the bolt sliding open might wake the other man.

Stepping into the house, Buck craned his neck and listened for any noise. He couldn’t hear any snoring, but that didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t asleep. Creeping in further, he closed the door in his wake and slowly walked through the house, making his way through the living room and toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

“Ouch!”

Buck frowned as Eddie’s pained cry reached his ears. He paused at the end of the hallway, slipping the keys in his hand into his pocket as he strained to listen more closely. He could see shadows being thrown from inside the bathroom and he realized belatedly that Eddie wasn’t alone. Cursing himself for not calling ahead, Buck hovered, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this.”

He was surprised to hear Ana’s voice, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. She’d been at Eddie’s side throughout most of his hospitalization, and there was no reason for her to step back now that he was home. Still, Buck’s heart sank a little at the thought that he wouldn’t get Eddie all to himself for a while like he’d hoped.

“Here, maybe I can get this off and then all you have to do is stick the new one on.”

Buck debated just leaving, giving Eddie and Ana some space, but something about the conversation he’d dropped in on piqued his curiosity and he forged ahead. The floor creaked beneath him as he walked, and he knew they’d heard him when they suddenly fell quiet.

“It’s just me,” Buck announced as he stepped around the corner, pausing in the door frame. He took in the sight before him; Eddie was seated on the toilet, his shirt off, the dressing over his wound pulled back at one corner but otherwise intact. Ana, clad in an oversized pair of nitrile gloves, hovered nervously in front of him, various dressing supplies laid out on the counter at her side. Her glove was stuck to the small bit of exposed adhesive on the dressing, and it was obvious she was having trouble working at it with the excess of nitrile between her hands and the bandage. It was clear, too, that she was concerned with hurting Eddie if the apologetic crease to her brow was any indication. Buck smiled at the scene.

“Hey, man,” Eddie said with a grin. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Buck chuckled. “Ah, but you were expecting me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Buck waved a hand over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the house.

“I can wait in the kitchen while you two finish up,” he offered. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Ana shook her head, reaching up to pull off her gloves.

“No, please, stay,” she insisted. “I’m terrible at this anyway - I’m sure you could do a much better job.”

Buck smiled, ducking his head a little, catching the amusement in Eddie’s eyes at her statement. He met the other man’s gaze.

“Only if it’s okay with you.”

Eddie grinned.

“There’s no one else I’d trust more,” he murmured.

Ana clasped her hands together with a smile.

“That settles it, then; I’ll step aside and let a professional handle this.”

Her words drew laughter from both men and Ana took that as a cue to step down. Buck moved back, giving her room to pass in the doorway, and filled the gap she’d left behind as soon as she was gone. It was so easy, so natural to pick up where she’d left off.

Without missing a beat, Buck pulled on a pair of gloves. He glanced down at Eddie’s chest where the bandage Ana had only just begun to pull off was curled back at the very corner, the adhesive catching on the chain of Eddie’s St. Christopher medal where it hung around his neck. He regarded the image on it for a moment, his eyes tracing the outline of the saint and the child on his shoulders, the lines and grooves in the medal blackened and tarnished with age, standing out in stark contrast to the silver relief. Buck’s first instinct was to take it off, to set it away to have it polished later, but he thought better of it as the memory of Eddie’s chest in the wake of the gunshot - bloody and barren of the medallion when Buck had torn his uniform open - flashed in the forefront of his mind. With the image came the impression of the coppery scent of Eddie’s blood on his hands, the warmth of it in stark contrast to how cool Eddie’s skin had been. Echoes of Eddie’s pulse, quick and weak against his fingers but nowhere near as fast as his own - driven to its limits by adrenaline - pounded in his head. The recollection of the way the fire truck had lurched beneath them, nearly dislodging the hand Buck had been using to apply pressure to Eddie’s wound more than once, reverberated through his body and made his hands shake just the littlest bit.

Dispelling the memories, Buck settled for reaching up with a gentle hand and pushing it out of the way instead, not wanting to tempt fate. He pulled the medallion around to the back of Eddie’s neck, letting it drop and pull the chain away from the wound under its weight, leaving him a clearer field to work with.

“This might hurt a little,” Buck murmured softly, glancing briefly up at Eddie as he reached for the bandage.

Eddie chuckled softly.

“Do your worst.”

Buck rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grasped the corner of the bandage, carefully peeling up enough of it to hold onto. He held his fingertips to Eddie’s skin, applying a bit of pressure to offset the stinging of the adhesive being pulled away from where it had been stuck for nearly a day since Eddie’s last dressing change at the hospital. It held fast, but eventually started coming away. Buck flashed Eddie an apologetic glance, but to Eddie’s credit he didn’t so much as flinch.

It took a minute, but eventually Buck was able to remove the entirety of the dressing without disturbing Eddie’s skin too much. He gently smoothed his fingertips over the redness that remained in the wake of the bandage and reached for a few pieces of gauze. Wetting them with a bit of water and a gentle soap, Buck carefully washed around the wound, his eyes flicking up to Eddie’s face every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t causing the other man any unnecessary discomfort. Eddie smiled through it all, though, sitting perfectly still.

Far more still than he had for her, anyway, Ana thought.

She watched the two of them from the hallway, standing in the shadows outside the sliver of light that spilled out from the bathroom. The way Buck touched Eddie was so easy, so familiar. The way Eddie didn’t shy away from the contact spoke volumes on the level of trust they shared. The soft smiles they shared were intimate, private in a way that she knew they had both already put her presence out of their minds. Not intentionally, she knew - neither man had an unkind bone in their body - but because their focus had been so consumed with one another in the wake of their shared trauma that there was no room for anyone else. It made her heart ache a little to see what she’d wanted so badly for herself with Eddie playing out in front of her with Buck instead, but she understood. She knew that the heart wanted what it wanted, even if the head wasn’t always on board at the start. It was obvious, watching them, and she smiled a little sadly as she slipped away quietly, leaving the two of them to work through their feelings without an audience.

Buck switched the wet gauze in his hand out for a clean and dry wad and pressed it to Eddie’s chest below his wound. WIth his free hand, he carefully poured saline over the sutured skin, washing away some of the debris that had crusted over it, catching the drips with the gauze pad. He worked slowly to cause as little discomfort as he could, and eventually he got the wound clean. He inspected it closely for signs of infection before pulling back a moment to let Eddie’s skin dry.

“How’s it look?” Eddie asked, pulling his head back and glancing down in an attempt to get a peek at the wound.

Buck glanced up to meet his eyes, smiling.

“It’s healing well,” he acknowledged, his expression softening a little into apology as he continued. “Gonna leave a scar, though.”

Eddie nodded with a hollow chuckle.

“It’ll match the other one.”

Buck’s gaze flicked to Eddie’s other shoulder, taking in the puckered, darkened skin left behind in the wake of Eddie’s first gunshot wound. The edges of Eddie’s recent wound were already beginning to fade into the same tone as the older scar and Buck had to stop himself from reaching out to touch the imperfectly healed skin on Eddie’s left shoulder in reassurance. He settled on speaking instead to dispel the pull he felt toward the tender gesture.

"Scars tell stories.”

He picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment, squeezing a bit out onto a clean gauze square before carefully dabbing it onto Eddie’s wound.

“Scars raise questions,” Eddie corrected. “I’ll be the one having to tell the stories, and I’m not sure I want to.”

Buck hummed, setting the used gauze aside and carefully positioning a clean square over Eddie’s wound. He tacked it into place, using the ointment beneath to keep the gauze steady as he cut a fresh strip of adhesive with which to secure it on.

Eddie was an intensely private person, Buck knew, and it suddenly struck him how uncharacteristic it was of him to even be having such a discussion. For Eddie to be letting Buck take care of him in such a vulnerable state. The simple act of changing the dressing suddenly had a lot more gravity to it, and Buck’s touch was even lighter, more gentle as he smoothed the bandage into place over the gauze, finishing the procedure.

“And that’s it,” Buck murmured as he sat back, stripping off his gloves. “How’s it feel?”

Eddie slowly, carefully, experimentally shrugged his shoulder a little. The dressing pulled taut a bit and wrinkled when he rolled the joint forward, but otherwise stayed firmly in place. He winced at the movement but smiled as he settled again, giving Buck a thumbs up.

“Feels good. Thanks, man.”

Buck dipped his head, smiling and feeling his cheeks flush a little. There was something unmistakably intimate about the moment and it took Buck a second to shake it off. Glancing up, he watched Eddie reach for his shirt and noticed something he’d forgotten.

“Hold on,” Buck interjected.

Eddie stilled, watching Buck as the other man reached for him once more. Buck’s fingertips brushed the base of his throat, gently tugging at the chain that held his St. Christopher medal. The pendant shifted with the chain, tumbling over Eddie’s shoulder and landing against his chest over his heart, right where it belonged. Buck straightened it, facing it forward, his fingertips lingering for a moment as he ruminated on its significance.

Eventually, Buck pulled away and gave Eddie a hand with his shirt, his mind still reeling from the unchecked thoughts and feelings swirling there. He’d never considered his feelings about the shooting, about Eddie as anything noteworthy before, but somehow, in the cramped quietude of Eddie’s master bathroom, he’d begun to see things in a different light. Somehow, he’d gained some perspective.

“How about a coffee for your troubles?” Eddie’s voice broke through his reflection.

Buck laughed with a nod, busying himself with putting away the unused supplies for the next dressing change. Eddie brushed past him on his way out of the bathroom, leaving Buck to fathom in silence for a moment longer before he, too, made his way out and toward the kitchen in Eddie’s wake.

The remainder of the morning passed as they always did, in companionable silence over breakfast, broken occasionally by teasing banter and the clink of silverware against ceramic. All too quickly, Buck had to take his leave, but not before checking to make sure Eddie would be alright on his own. It hurt him a little bit to leave the other man so soon after they’d regained some semblance of normalcy, but the world wasn’t about to stop turning so that he could probe a little further into whatever feelings he’d only just begun to uncover.

Eddie watched Buck go, smiling to himself as he shut the door only after Buck’s Jeep had disappeared from view down the street. He reached into his pocket, slipping his phone free and firing off a text to Ana. He’d realized at some point that she’d disappeared, and he was surprised - though not overly bothered - to find that he hadn’t missed her. What he was surprised about, though, was the fact that she didn’t seem to have been missing him, either, when a message back appeared on his screen a moment later.

I think there’s someone else you ought to be asking out to dinner tonight, Edmundo.

Three dots bounced at the bottom of the display as Ana’s words sank in and a second message popped up before he could write anything back.

Go get your man before someone else does.

Eddie blinked at the screen, his mind stuck somewhere between I’m sorry and what are you talking about? His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he debated on a response, but he couldn’t settle on either. Eventually, he found the right words after all.

I think I will. Thank you.

Simple, concise, and enough to earn him a smile and a thumbs up emoji. Chuckling softly, Eddie closed Ana’s chat window, pulling up Buck’s instead. He had no idea how he was going to do it, to confess everything that had been building up inside of him for longer than he cared to admit, but he supposed he might as well start as he always did and see where things went from there.

I 'm thinking pizza for dinner tonight, you in?

Three dots again, and then -

Like you even have to ask. I’ll bring dessert.

Eddie chuckled as he set his phone on the counter. Whatever else changed in his life, whatever happened to him, some things would never change. Buck would never change. It was that constancy that Eddie was banking on as he sat down to drink the last of his coffee and to consider what, exactly, he was going to say later on that night.

#9-1-1 #fanfiction #Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #Buddie #mutual pining #feelings realization #post-4x14 #brief mentions of Ana Flores #Buddie Bingo

51 notes · View notes

toosicktoocare · 4 years ago

Text

prompt: i would literally commit a crime for a buddie sick fic in these trying times,,, i don’t even care what the specifics are just,, hngg buddie sickfic ❤️👄❤️ (big mood, anon)

(I got another anon that asked for Buck taking care of sick Eddie as well. I just lost the dang ask before I could post the fic.)

Ever since Maddie’s kidnapping, Buck cannot, for the life of him, sleep well. His subconscious is gripped in a muted fear, keeping him trapped in interrupted, light slumbers. Maddie and everyone at the 118 pester him regularly about it, giving him various options to help with sleep, but he’s afraid of the foggy mind that comes with over-the-counter medication, so he convinces himself he can run on low fumes, boosting with caffeine as needed because a tired mind is still a clear mind, albeit a little slower.

When his phone rings at 2:07 a.m., Buck jerks awake, mind previously edging the line of a dream, and he fumbles blindly for his phone, squinting at the light to see “Eddie Diaz” flashing across his screen.

His stomach bottoms out, and he presses answer and swings his legs over the bed, feeling cold with fear. “Eddie? What’s wrong?” He can hear crying on the other end, and he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as he kicks around in the dark for his abandons shorts. “Eddie!”

“Hey, sorry. One sec.”

Eddie sounds panicked, Buck thinks, taking the steps down to the first floor two at a time. He can hear Eddie trying to reassure Christopher that everything’s going to be okay in the background, and he pauses, briefly gripped in a paralyzing fear, briefly brought back to the tsunami, to losing Christopher.

“Look, I’m sorry for calling so late. Chris has been sick since the end of my shift, and I just can’t get his fever down. With his CP... I’m taking him to the ER.”

Buck’s half out the door, shoes barely on his feet, when he realizes he��s still shirtless. He snags an LAFD zip-up off the back of a chair and stumbles back to the door, arms sliding into the jacket. “What hospital?”

“I... I didn’t even ask. You’ll come?”

“Of course I’ll come,” Buck spits out, already out the door and taking the steps out of his apartment building two at a time. “What hospital?” He repeats as he runs out of the building and all but rips his jeep door open. He nods absently when Eddie rattles off the details, mentally mapping out the quickest route.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Be careful.”

Buck rolls his eyes because of course Eddie is going to still worry for his well-being, and he ends the call and peels out of his parking spot.

***

“Hi,” Buck starts, breathless, heart trying to catch up to the rest of him, “my name is Evan Buckley, and I’m looking for a young kid. Christopher-”

“Buck.”

Buck whips around from the receptionist desk to see Eddie slipping out a set of large double doors, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, he only assesses. Eddie’s pale, which, Buck thinks, is to be expected if he’s been up in a near-constant state of worry after a 16-hour shift. His cheeks are red, and Buck’s quick to peg it on exertion, on Eddie racing into the hospital with Christopher, his own heart also working to match the rest of him. And, he’s shaking, and Buck knows cold nerves all too well, still feeling chilled himself.

His eyes fall to Eddie’s, and then he crosses the room to him quickly and gathers him in his arms tightly. Eddie slumps against his chest, and Buck tightens his arms around him.

“How’s Chris?”

Eddie lingers for a moment, clinging to Buck, before he pulls away with a low sigh. “He’s okay. Just a persistent virus.”

Buck nods, a frown playing at his lips. Without Eddie’s body flush against him, he feels colder than normal, and on instinct, he smooths the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead, lingering there before moving to cup Eddie’s neck.

“You sure he’s the only one with a virus? You’re really warm.”

“I...” Eddie sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve been feeling a little off, but Chris...”

“Right, where is he?”

Eddie leads Buck to Christopher’s room, and as soon as he steps in, Christopher’s face lights up in such a way that Buck’s steps falter.

“Buck!”

Though sounding a little weak, the contagious energy is still centerfold, and Buck leans toward it, finding his footing and matching Christopher’s smile with his own.

“Hey, buddy! Heard you aren’t feeling so hot.” Buck eases himself onto the edge of the hospital bed, staring at Christopher’s vitals for an extended moment before turning toward him, assessing the same way he assessed Eddie.

“Yeah, I feel bad.”

A sympathetic frown pulling at his lips, Buck spares a glance to see Eddie flopping down onto a chair pulled to Christopher’s bedside. “I bet you do, but you’re going to feel better in no time. You’ve got the Diaz genes.”

“And daddy will feel better too?”

Buck finds Eddie’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak, stopping when Eddie shoots him a very clear look that all but screams “don’t.”

“I’m sure your dad will feel a lot better when you’re better.”

“That’s good,” Christopher mumbles, and Buck nods, patting Christopher’s leg.

***

Buck’s carefully quiet as Eddie putters around his house, watching as Eddie measures out Christopher’s medicine, as he hovers over Christopher until he falls asleep, and he only intervenes when he’s sure Eddie can breathe deeply without the fear that Christopher is going to take a turn for the worse.

“He’s finally asleep,” Eddie mutters, coughing into his fist. “All dosed up, fever’s finally down. I’ll contact his school in a few hours before my shift; see if Carla can take him for a the full day.”

“You aren’t going in.”

Eddie stops around a yawn. “What?”

“I texted Bobby. He’s pulling coverage for the next few days so you can rest.” Buck can pinpoint every emotion that flicks across Eddie’s face: confusion, frustration, exhaustion. He’s seen them all, sometimes daily.

“Buck-”

“Eddie, you have a fever. You’re exhausted, and you are only going to get worse if you go on three hours of sleep.”

“Since when did you become the responsible one?” Eddie sighs lowly, and Buck laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“It’s my week to be responsible. You had it last week.”

Eddie hums around a small smile and rubs at the ache on his forehead. “I really appreciate you coming, Buck. I don’t think... I just... It was really nice to have you there.”

Buck gets to his feet, and, for the second time that night, crosses the room and pulls Eddie right to his chest, hoping that he can ease some of the worrying pressure, even if just for a moment.

Eddie snuggles into him, frowning as he thumbs Buck’s bare chest, exposed where his zipper’s slipped down a little.

“Where’s your shirt?”

“Ah, I kinda forgot one when I rushed out.” Buck smiles sheepishly when Eddie pulls back, and he cups a hand to Eddie’s cheek, too warm for his liking.

“Okay, Diaz, it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

Buck snags Eddie’s hand and guides him to the bedroom, ignoring Eddie’s questions the whole way. He makes easy work of tugging Eddie’s jacket and jeans off, and he urges him into the bed in nothing but a short sleeve under shirt and boxers.

“Buck-”

Buck disappears into the bathroom, still promptly ignoring Eddie, and he comes back with a glass of water, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a thermometer.

“Buck, I’m fine.”

“Mmhmm, sure. Open.” Buck waves the thermometer in front of Eddie’s face until Eddie sighs and opens his mouth wide enough for Buck to slip the thermometer under his tongue. While waiting, he presses two fingers to Eddie’s neck, counting the flutter of heartbeats beneath his finger prints until the thermometer beeps.

“101.7,” Buck reads aloud, frowning. “Heartbeat’s a little fast. Any other symptoms?”

Eddie gives him a knowing look, but Buck doesn’t back down, matching Eddie’s narrow gaze until Eddie caves.

“My head and throat hurt. I’m freezing, and I’m tired.”

Nodding, Buck tugs at the blankets until they are covering Eddie up to his chest. He shakes a couple of pills into his hand, offering them to Eddie with the water.

“Seems like you definitely got Christopher’s virus.”

“Perks of parenting,” Eddie mutters around a wince, the pills grating against his throat. He hands off the cup, sighing contentedly when Buck smooths a cool palm to his forehead.

“You should save yourself. This thing apparently moves fast.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie grabs Buck’s wrist and pulls his hand away, a tight frown on his lips.

“Buck, you have a shift in a few hours. You need-”

“Bobby took me off the schedule, too. At least for today. I’ve been instructed to call him later to update him on how you and Christopher are.”

“And you agreed?”

“Someone has to make sure you and Chris are okay,” Buck says as if it’s the most obvious thing and the world and equally the easiest decision he’s ever made, and Eddie shakes his head.

“No, Buck, you really don’t have to... What are you doing?”

Buck’s just kicked his shorts off across the room, and he’s setting an alarm on his phone as he crawls into the empty side of the bed.

“Okay, I’ve got an alarm set for 6 to check Christopher’s temperature, and I’ll wake you at 7 to check you over.”

“Buck-”

Ignoring Eddie, Buck drops his phone on the night stand and cuts out the light, snuggling into the bed with a low sigh.

“Evan.”

“Shh,” Buck shushes, patting blindly until his palm cups over Eddie’s mouth. “I’m sleeping.”

“You’ll get sick.” Eddie mumbles, slapping Buck’s hand away.

“Okay? I don’t know if you remember, but I got a clean bill of health from the hospital, so bring it.”

“You’re so dumb,” Eddie sighs, and Buck laughs, blindly reaching around to pat Eddie’s too-warm cheek.

“Sleep, loser.”

#9-1-1 #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fox #9-1-1 fox #Buddie #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #sickfic #fanfic #prompt #my writing #my 911 writing #christopher diaz

207 notes · View notes

mandelene · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I’m a big fan of the FACE family, especially the father/son interaction between America and England. I don’t know if you’re taking drabble prompts right now but if you are could you do one with Alfred seriously hurt/sick and Arthur doing the comforting? The setting is not important it can be nation-verse or not, I just really need some Arthur and Alfred hurt/comfort in these trying times. Thanks so much and cheers from Poland!! <3

I hope this suffices, and sorry for taking so long to get to it! 💕

Just a Little Banged Up

Word Count: 921

He wakes to the feeling of someone petting his head—it’s warm and protective. The rest of his body feels sore and achy, like he’s been repeatedly hit with a hammer, so the soothing fingers against his scalp are a welcome distraction.

When Alfred cautiously opens his eyes, he squints against the bright lights in the ceiling, and it takes him several exhausting seconds to realize where he is. He’s in bed. In a hospital. The comforting hand belongs to Dad, who is sitting at the bedside, looking like someone has just died.

What the hell happened?

“There you are, love,” Dad says as Alfred blinks through the double vision distorting the world. “It’s all right—you’re all right.”

He tries to speak, but even his throat hurts. He reaches up a hand to massage his neck, but that’s when he realizes he’s in a neck brace. “...What’s going on?”

“You were in a car accident. You’ve been admitted to the hospital...We’ve all been very worried about you—Matthew and Papa just left to get some food, but they’ll be back soon,” Dad says, keeping his voice low and quiet. His hand continues its gentle strokes against Alfred’s hair.

He remembers now, but it’s a bit of a blur. He was on his way home from the gym, and a black Jeep ran a stop sign. The guy hit the driver’s side of his car, and the last thing he recalls is the sensation of being thrown to the right and feeling a giant, crushing weight on his chest.

“You’re going to recover,” Dad assures as he leans forward and presses a worried kiss against his brow.

Alfred swallows hard and grimaces against the pain. “…How bad?”

“Two broken ribs, a concussion, whiplash, a compound fracture of your fibula in your left leg, and a myriad of bruises. You were conscious for quite some time before being taken for surgery for your leg. Do you remember any of that?”

“I don’t think so…I had surgery? Oh, man…Ughhh, my head really hurts.”

Dad pats the knee of his uninjured leg and says, “You’re due for another dose of pain medication. Your nurse should be here any moment…It’s good to see you awake and able to hold a conversation.”

Alfred squeezes his eyes shut and can’t help but let a small groan escape him. “What happened to the car?”

“Don’t worry about that, poppet. What’s most important is that you’re going to be okay with rest and physical therapy.”

“So, I’m guessing that means it was totaled?”

Dad sighs, and Alfred can see that he’s trying his absolute hardest not to be emotional. “Yes. To be frank, it’s a miracle you weren’t gravely injured, Alfred. You could’ve…You could’ve been killed.”

Please, don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry, especially over me, Alfred thinks. He tries to move his neck so he can look Dad in the eyes and shoot him a dumb smile, but the brace has him completely immobilized.

“I’m okay,” Alfred tells him, fighting against his own tears now. “I’m sorry for scaring everyone like that.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just so relieved...”

Oh, no, he can feel it coming. He’s a grown adult! He’s not going to cry. No, sir! Not today!

He bursts into tears against his will a moment later, and poor Dad tries his best to be comforting by offering him the gentlest hug possible, mindful of his ribs, neck, and head.

“It’s okay now, my dear boy,” Dad whispers, carding a hand through his hair again. “Don’t worry about a thing. Matthew, your papa, and I are going to take good care of you once you’re able to be discharged. We’re here for you.”

“Yikes,” Alfred jokes, swiping at his tears with his right hand and then regretting it upon realizing he’s tugging on his IV. “Then, I’m definitely in big trouble.”

Dad very lightly slaps his left shoulder to chide him. “Ungrateful brat.”

Alfred manages a raspy laugh. “You’d know better than anyone else.”

His nurse then comes in with his pain medication, and within just a few minutes, Alfred begins to feel a difference. The pain slowly ebbs away bit by bit, and suddenly, a feeling of intense lethargy washes over him. His eyelids flutter, and Dad gives his hand a little squeeze.

“Sleepy?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Good—that’s from the medication. Your body needs sleep to heal, so try to rest.”

“No, I’ve gotta stay awake now that I know you let them do surgery on me. Clearly, I can’t trust you,” Alfred teases.

Dad scoffs. “It’s not like there was a choice in the matter unless you wanted to wake up to a bone protruding from your leg!”

“Ouch. It was that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Gross…But kinda gnarly. Do you have pictures?”

“Alfred!”

“What? I’m curious. It must have looked naaasty.”

“Go to sleep. I don’t know why I was so concerned about you,” Dad huffs, but Alfred knows he’s not actually irritated. That’s just Dad-talk for “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Okay, goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, poppet. I’ll be right here should you need anything...And no more surgeries for now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay...Just one more thing—if I do end up spontaneously dying, tell Mattie he can’t have my PlayStation 5 because I’m taking that thing to the grave with me. Do you know how long it took me to get my hands on one? I basically had to sell my soul.”

“Alfred!”

“Fine, fine. I’m going to sleep.”

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #aph face family #drabbles #hurt/comfort #car accident #hws america #hws england #not taking drabbles right now but tackling the ones in my inbox

77 notes · View notes

txtdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

Void - Chapter Three

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

WARNINGS | dark content, swearing, gore, weapon possession, etc.

A/N | So this hasn’t been proofread, but I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and u guys enjoy it anyway. Thanku for reading! <3

SONG REC | Wires - The Neighbourhood

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

The sun is dipping behind the horizon, colors melting against sky as the car rolls along the freeway. The majority of the younger boys are asleep in the car, it is silent, and Yeonjun is stressed out.

Of course, who wouldn’t be? He almost lost his life to something that looked like it walked straight off the set of The Walking Dead. And Yeonjun has never forgotten his weapon - ever. It’s in that moment that he knows.

He has to get rid of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Soon.

The silence is uncomfortable as he drives. Neither is speaking, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she isn’t asleep.

After a few minutes of the silence ticking along with the minutes, Yeonjun feels like he is going to burst. And then, finally, she speaks.

“Listen… uh- Yanjun-”

“My name is Yeonjun.” The older boy sneers, accent thickening as he enunciates his Korean name, still annoyed. He realizes just how annoyed he always is with her.

“Right, sorry! Yeonjun.” He stays quiet, letting her go on.

“I’m really sorry for what happened back there. I may have overreacted a little bit.”

Yeonjun scoffs as she continues, “And I just want to thank you for saving my life. I really appreciate it.”

The girl sticks her hand out as if he’s not driving, and after he gives it a side glance, she retracks it.

“Maybe we can be friends, you know, work together?”

Yeonjun almost swerves off the freeway at 90 MPH.

“Here’s how this is gonna work...” He searches her eyes for a second, noticing how she sits up straighter. She replies quickly with a, “Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, this isn’t some fucked up stockholm syndrome situation. I didn’t tie you up and throw you in the back of my Jeep because I thought you were too precious to save, and I definitely didn’t do it because I wanted you with us. I did it because it was the only option, got it?”

The girl blinks at him.

“It was the only option, and at this point you’re just deadweight to us now, okay? We aren’t going to work together, and we sure as hell aren’t going to be friends.”

It’s silent for a lot longer this time, before Yeonjun hears the girl reply back in a whisper, “If I’m just deadweight to you, why did you save me?”

“Jun, where are we?” Soobin grumbles suddenly from the backseat, stirring a bit as he starts to wake up.

“Just about there, Soobin. Go back to sleep.” Yeonjun replies as he pulls off of I-86 and into what seems like the local college town of the area. He decides to ignore the girl’s question as he turns on the radio. Of course, it’s just the low sound of static, but it’s better than listening to her questions again.

The farther Yeonjun drives into the town, the more he starts to notice the tattered college flags hanging from the unlit street lamps, and all of the broken windows in every building they pass. As he drives with caution, Yeonjun can tell how eerily quiet it is, apart from the radio. He spots the girl looking out the window, and decides to do the same, allowing himself to survey their surroundings.

A few home style diners and restaurants dot the blocks they pass, along with small gas stations (probably empty), and a few fast food places as well. The road guides him to a gentle curve, and then he realizes that he’s going in the direction of an underpass. For some insane reason he doesn’t completely understand, the lights along the inside leading to the other side are on, and they guide him to something that is shocking for him to see. The underpass opens back up at the end in a way Yeonjun can only feel like exiting a time machine would be. The tunnel cuts off, barren and with the walking path fences on either side rusted and destroyed.

But that’s not the part Yeonjun is paying attention to.

The buildings are breathtaking. They are old stone, brick, and clearly had been worked on to keep their vintage roots. One of the buildings on the right has huge archway windows on the second floor, which the moon reflects off beautifully. The street lamps are winded with decorative mistletoe, but the ribbons attached are tattered and almost black. Yeonjun sees what used to be bars, restaurants, all different colors. Green, red, and a pretty maroon color. He’s almost sad to see all of this - to get a glimpse of the real world back in front of him.

The farther he drives, the worse it gets. The town is beautiful, and he can only imagine how beautiful it used to be in the world before.

“This is old town.” The girl says softly from the passenger seat as Yeonjun approaches a huge park, even more trees on display and decorative lamps. He almost thinks he sees a fountain before he looks back at the girl.

“What did you say?”

“Old town. Like, downtown. The original one for the city.”

“How…” Yeonjun is surprised the girl knows as his curiosity intensifies.

“I uh… I used to live here. I went to college here.” She clarifies, avoiding his gaze now.

The older boy is even more surprised than he was before. She looked old enough to be in college, but he didn’t even consider it. Someone else having a life before all of this, much like he did. He never considered it until now.

“Up ahead it’ll take you to the fairly decent houses, lots of cops and bankers used to live on this side of town, but the houses will be trashed most likely. The long road past that will take you up the mountain to the super rich houses on top. Those might have some food and supplies, but it’s more dangerous. The high school is to the right, but the college is back around the way we came. Up to you.” She nods, not speaking anymore. Yeonjun is surprised she’s even helping him, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Thank you.” He says awkwardly, turning back around the way they came. He figures the college is their best bet. More buildings to search for safety in, and all relatively close to the gas stations.

She says nothing as he makes his way back toward the college.

The drive to the campus is somehow more tense than before, and Yeonjun is grateful when they finally pull into the main parking lot, in front of a building labeled, Museum of Natural History.

“The SUB is up ahead.” The girl speaks flatly, and Yeonjun gives her a confused look.

“Student Union Building. They have an event center inside, super spacious, just incase.” She clarifies, looking at him again.

“Sorry, I just never went to college before this all happened…” He explains, finally parking the Jeep.

The parking lot extends to a walkway that goes under the second floor of the SUB, and Yeonjun finds himself parking there to keep the car hidden. It’s almost like the whole slab of the SUB’s second floor is covering the walkway for a few yards, and then connects to the neighboring Museum’s second floor too. Past the end of it all, he sees a grand cement staircase leading up to the side door of the building. It’s perfect.

He pushes the gearstick into park and finally cuts the engine, sitting silent for a few moments.

The smaller girl is still gazing out the windshield, eyes scanning along the huge quad slowly.

“Is it weird to be back here?” Yeonjun doesn’t know why he asks, but he can clearly see the girl is visibly upset as she has her hands bundled in fists.

Without answering, she unlatches her seatbelt, swings open the door, and steps into the cold. After her feet hit the ground and she slams the door closed, the rest of the boys in the back groggily come to.

“We’re here.” Yeonjun sighs, turning on the upper light and pocketing the keys, “Grab your stuff, we’re setting up camp for the night.”

And then he’s getting out of the car himself, slamming his door and heading for the trunk.

“Hyung look, there’s a giant tiger statue back there!” Kai says with excitement, motioning back through the door they just came in through.

“It’s a Bengal.” Y/N corrects the youngest boy before leading the group farther in the empty building. The inside is pitch black, but the moonlight allows Yeonjun to see their surroundings, just barely.

To their right there is a huge staircase leading to the lowest level of the building, and a long hallway filled with multiple tables and chairs, like a huge eating area. Next to the help desk in front of them, small restaurants are grouped side by side as the window parallel shines even more light on all of the walls. The girl drags them to the left, taking them toward the offices and hallway that lie ahead.

“Fuck.” She says when she finally sees the door. It is bolted shut, with wooden planks and furniture piled against it. There is no way they’re getting in.

“Plan B?” Yeonjun asks annoyingly, making the girl brush past him, feet stomping along the way.

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” She snaps as she drags them back past all the small food places, leading them toward a staircase near the side of the building. Yeonjun can’t help but make another snarky comment at her. Soobin laughs under his breath. The youngest boys look shocked.

“Doesn’t this place have elevators?”

She glares at him when he speaks again, and juts her chin to the elevator along the right wall as they walk into the stairwell, saying nothing as she climbs up the stairs.

The boys all follow her, saying nothing at their interaction.

“Hey, Y/N, do you know where we’re going now?” Soobin speaks up, his voice timid as he catches up to the angry girl.

“Yep. Clearly the elevators don’t work but the top floor is our safest bet. There are tons of big rooms where we’ll be safe in. Unless you guys wanna spend the night in the bowling alley or the movie theater.” She throws in the last options offhandedly, knowing both will just be annoying to settle down for the night.

The two youngests perk up at this though, all voicing their excitement.

“There’s really a bowling alley and a movie theater here? This place was so awesome.”

“It is awesome.” Y/N clarifies, swallowing thickly before she leads the rest of the boys up the remainder of the flights.

Once on the top floor, Yeonjun knows why the girl chose it for their spot. There are dozens of lined rooms down the hall on either of them, and huge windows that show the entire campus and more, the land extending for miles upon miles. He can even see the mountain just off campus, trees swaying in the wind.

“Here you go.” She says, finally shrugging off the backpack she was actually able to retrieve from the trunk, “Home sweet hallway.”

The largest room is to their right, which gives them a view of both doors on either side of the hallway. Yeonjun nods a bit before appointing the group to set up their own sleeping bags and spaces.

The three youngest always stick together, all chatting about whatever is on their mind as they set up their sleeping bags, and Yeonjun notices that Soobin is back to chatting with Y/N easily, saying something he can’t pick up as he starts laying out his sleeping bag as well.

It’s like that for a few minutes, all of the boys laying out their sleeping bags, whipping their blankets in the air to get it into shape before laying it on the thin material of their makeshift bed. Yeonjun honestly cannot wait to sleep. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even think much about the fact that they can’t eat dinner. He hopes they will be able to find some food tomorrow.

“Hey Jun?” Soobin asks, catching the attention of the older boy as he looks up toward him.

“Where is Y/N going to sleep?”

All eyes settle on the girl sitting criss-cross on the floor, shivering lightly with her coat draped over her shoulders. Soobin frowns at Yeonjun before motioning toward her obviously, and the older boy just sighs.

“It’s not my problem Soob-”

“She can sleep in my sleeping bag if she wants.” The younger boy offers, already looking back toward the girl again. Yeonjun feels his heart leap up into his throat. He has to try hard to not eagerly deny the fact that she very much cannot sleep with Soobin.

It’s not that Soobin is a bad guy - quite the opposite actually. And the last thing Yeonjun needs is to hear the girl giggling from Soobin’s goofy antics all night long. No, he will not have that.

“She’ll sleep with me.” Yeonjun says firmly, nodding before he kicks off his shoes and places them next to his flimsy little blanket layers on the ground.

“Not happening.” Y/N finally speaks up, glaring at Yeonjun, “I’d rather get mauled by a zombie.”

“Be my guest then, that is, if you don’t freeze first.”

Yeonjun grins sarcastically at the shivering girl, and even though she is wearing multiple layers, he knows she’lll still be freezing if she doesn’t contain enough heat to get her through the night.

“Jun.” Soobin tries to interject, but the blue-haired boy just glares at him.

“Not a debate, Soobin. Go to sleep.”

The tallest boy looks sadly at the girl, before turning on his back away from her. The rest of the boys do the same, leaving her shivering in silence.

Yeonjun doesn’t know what time it is when he feels movement from his side. His eyes snap open in fear quick enough, though, and he almost reaches for his bat next to him before a soft voice breaks through the darkness.

“Jesus, relax. It’s just me.”

The girl’s teeth are chattering as she crawls under the layers of blankets Yeonjun has above his body, and he doesn’t say anything as the side of her body is suddenly flush against his.

“Thought you’d rather be mauled to death.” He rasps, still half asleep as he nuzzles further into the blanket.

“Shut up, will you?” The girl responds, voice still low so she doesn’t wake the others.

It is quiet for a while, both of them just breathing together. Yeonjun doesn’t know if it’s awkward, but he’s too tired to care. After driving for so long, it starts to take its toll.

“Yeonjun?” The girl says softly, causing the older boy to glance over at her. She sighs before speaking again, “Who were you before all of this?”

The boy blinks at her, mind reeling before he stares up at the tiled ceiling again.

Does he want to do this? Does he really want to open up to the girl who he can’t help but fight with every single second?

He doesn’t have much of a choice as he opens his mouth, and his exhausted body starts speaking honestly.

“I lived in Korea.” He explains, but he doesn’t know why she cares enough to ask. He doesn’t know why he cares enough to explain. He wouldn’t have asked about her, but it’s clear she had other intentions.

“I worked for a company called Big Hit. It’s like a company that trains and creates Idols. Kind of like celebrity performers.”

The girl listens intently to his words, not speaking as he goes on.

“This was our first debut, coming to America. I always dreamed about coming back. I studied in California for a few years when I was younger, but it was always my dream to come back. You know you’ve made it when you make it in America.”

Yeonjun shifts to his side to get more comfortable, and suddenly realizes how close they actually are. He can feel the girl’s breath across his cheeks, and he has to keep himself from pulling away with anxiety.

“I- um… the rest of the boys were in a group with me. We were all idols. But when the virus hit, we got stranded here. Our managers died in a car accident, and we were lucky to make it out alive. We all just want to go back home.”

He doesn’t know why, but somehow he can’t stop. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at him, listening, or because he hasn’t talked to anyone like this in a long time.

“I loved dancing. I trained as an Idol for years, but it was all worth it because I loved it. Before all of this, I studied really hard, and I enjoyed hip hop the most. It was my favorite to dance to. Just being able to move my body freely to the music, I loved every second of it.”

Yeonjun stops now, not really knowing what else to say. He feels embarrassed, a bit flustered, and he tries to take the attention off of him as he asks, “Who were you before all of this, Y/N?”

The girl is still, eyes glossed over as she bites her lip a bit. Yeonjun can see it’s hard for her to talk about it, but she still does. She still opens up to him, because he did to her.

“I was… I was a student. I worked my ass off at community college to come here, and I got scholarships and grants just to be able to live here on my own. I had a rough time in high school, but college was supposed to change everything for me. I was living alone, trying to make friends, and just attempting to start my life. I came from a small town, where people get trapped like poison. No one comes out of my hometown unless they’re willing to risk everything for it.”

Yeonjun can feel his heart beating steadily against his ribcage as the girl speaks, and he can’t help but feel understood by her. He takes a deep breath to stomp the feeling down.

“I remember I was so excited to finally start. I was studying marketing and creative writing. I loved writing so much, I was so excited to be able to do what I loved. It may not seem like much, this town, but it’s all I had. It was the only chance I had at becoming someone else - someone better.”

She looks over at Yeonjun suddenly, and is surprised when he nods for her to continue.

“I grew up in this state my whole life, and my only goal was to leave. All I ever wanted was to leave.”

The smaller girl can’t help but get choked up, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Yeonjun easily slides the blanket farther over her shoulder, hoping the softness will comfort her a bit.

It takes a bit for her to finish, but once she does, Yeonjun knows she is exhausted.

“So that was it. I made it here, and then the virus stole it all from me. My education, my family. All the hope I had. Just… gone.” She says, eyes now closed as she lies next to him. He doesn’t know what to say, and he truly doesn’t think anything he can say will make her feel any better.

“You should rest.” He whispers to her, hand moving up before he realizes what he’s doing.

Before Yeonjun knows it, he’s wrapping his arm halfway across the girl, holding across her chest in a hug, his hand holding onto her right shoulder gently.

He slightly expects her to swear at him. He also expects her to punch him in the face.

She does neither.

Instead, her breathing evens out, and she falls asleep like that. With her body finally warm next to Yeonjun’s, and a single tear slipping down the side of her cheek.

Yeonjun allows himself to fall into a deep slumber soon after.

After all, tomorrow, they have to get a move on.

99 notes · View notes

wildlittlefoxsworld · 4 years ago

Text

My world crashed almost into pieces | The Old Guard | Andy x Fem!Reader

A/N: So, something new from me ;) I hope you like it and have fun. I think it's not easy to write Andy as a character, she has no many facettes and she is a strong and brave woman, but I try to protray his soft side mostly in my stories. So, that's for everyone who likes soft Andy ❤

Summary: You get injured on a mission and you doesn't wake up. Andy waits anixously for you come back. When you heal she doesn't leave your side and shows you all her love for you.

Warnings: tempory reader's death, major angst

TOG Masterlist

***

„Don’t you dare to leave me,“ she mumbled again and again while watching your body didn’t show any signs of healing. If she must bet, she would say fourty percent of your skin was burnt and from the impact of the explosion you were flung backwards, so you suffered a few broken and silvered bones that cut through skin.

Andy was full of your blood and the car seats were stained as well, but she didn’t care, all she wanted was you to come back and open your pretty eyes. Joe was driving like a mad-man to get away from the men that were following you in black jeeps and Nicky and Booker leaned out of the windows to fire back.

Andy took your injured hand in hers and was careful so she didn’t crash it. Your face was deep red and the raw flesh was stretched over your skull. Of course you died; no human body could survive an explosion, the injuries were too much. She was grateful that Joe handled fast enough and had lifted you in his arms, because all of you needed to get away there as fast as possible. The whole mission was a disaster and she hoped that you didn’t have to pay a price for that.

“Come, babe, wake up. Don’t leave me,” she begged you and felt the tears forming in her eyes. You were on her side for over two thousand years now and when her time hadn’t come yet, then it couldn’t be your time to die now. She wouldn’t know what to do when you wouldn’t revive. You were her whole world and to lose you would break her heart into pieces. Only the thought of a life without you made it hard for her to breathe. She blinked her tears away, but there came only more.

The car ride went chaotic, but Joe succeeded in leaving the jeeps behind them. He looked in the rear-view mirror and met Andy’s gaze. She shook the head slowly and Joe growled angrily. Andy knew that he would be by her side if you wouldn’t make it and she would take revenge, but she didn’t want to think about this scenario. She still had faith that you will come back to her.

The group arrived at one of their many safehouses, well it was just a small cabin, but better than nothing. Andy planned to go here after the mission one way or another, but she never thought that it would be the four of them and your dead body.

“How is she doing?” Nicky asked worriedly and opened the door to lean over your face. He hoped to find any signs of you starting healing. He could imagine how Andy felt in the moment, he wouldn't feel different if it would be Joe. Andy was focused on your face as well and stroked your unharmed right forearm.

“How long?” Joe whispered from the driver seat after he turned around.

“Too long,” Andy replied with trembling lips. “Maybe half an hour already. Why isn’t she healing?”

“She has probably inner injuries too. You know that big wounds need longer to heal. She will be fine,” Nicky assured her and Andy looked hopeful at him. Nicky always found the right words to calm her down, but the waiting stressed her immensely.

Your family waited impatiently that you started to heal. The seconds and minutes were crawling slowly and the silence was unbearable. Andy would give everything she had to hear your laugh again.

The noise when your bones began to crack back in their places and your skin grew back over the red flesh, let Andy flinch, but all of them let out a sigh of relief. Andy didn’t notice that she held her breath the whole time since Nicky spoke.

“Now it won’t take any longer, only a few seconds,” Joe said smiling slightly.

Andy nodded slowly, but never kept her eyes of you, she watched how your body healed in every place that was injured and she laughed weakly when you took your first breath. Your eyes flattered open and you tried to focus on anything. You looked directly at her.

Your whole body hurt when you came back to life. In one moment you killed a man who tried to attack Nicky from behind and in the next moment everything went black. You knew you had died, but you recognized that you lay with your head in Andy’s lap and she was watching you worriedly. You noticed tears on her cheeks and now you were really confused.

“Why are your eyes so red?” you asked confused and knitted your eyebrows together, but you received no answer and Andy’s arms wrapped around your upper body to pull her close to her chest. Your face was buried in the crook of her neck while Andy was rocking back and forward with you.

You were sure something went horribly wrong that made Andy so emotional, because she was hugging you desperately and caressed your hair tenderly. “You’re okay, you’re here,” she whispered again and again more to herself than to you.

“Yes, I’m good, Andy. What happened?” you asked and your voice was muffled. She didn’t let go and you decided to hug her back. You wrapped your arms around her waist and squeezed her gently, to let her know you were there and it would be okay whatever got her so sad and worried. But it seemed your words made it only worse, because Andy began to shake with sobs.

She laid a hand on your cheek and made you looking at her. “Don’t you ever do this again to me,” she said sternly and kissed your forehead for a long moment, she didn't care that there was blood everywhere on your new healed skin. Andy didn’t want to talk about what happened to you. All she wanted was holding you in her arms and listening to your frequent breathing and your steady heartbeat. Your body had been so cold, but now the warmth was spreading in your torso and limbs, but Andy still needed a few minutes to realize that you weren’t dead anymore.

A rock in the size of the Mount Everest fell from her heart the second you openend your eyes. She never felt so happy in her entire life and she would never let go of you again. Never keeping her of you again. Not ever letting anyone hurt again.

“We should go inside. The both of you need a hot bath,” you heard Nicky’s voice and you thought that you must sat in a car with Andy and the others. Slowly the whole situation made sense to you and you assumed that you took too long to revive from the death. But there would be no chance that Andy would explain everything to you, because she didn’t answer your question the first time and you knew her well enough that it meant she didn't want to talk about it.

“Nicky is right, Andromache,” you tried to get her attention and she shifted carefully with you in her arms. She went out of the car, but never let go of you and helped you to stand on your feet. She studied you intensely and wrapped an arm around your middle to push you gently in direction of the small cabin.

You didn't complain when she lead you straight into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. You walked over to the mirror and looked at yourself.

“I look awful,” you commented giggling your reflection, but Andy shook her head. She reached for your shoulders to peel off the rest of your remaining clothes. It stuck to your skin and you felt dirty and itchy. You needed a hot shower and Andy had the same idea in her mind, when she pushed you wordlessly under warn water. A few seconds later a pair of arms wrapped around your body and Andy nuzzled her face to your neck. You weren't used to so much affection from her. Naturally she showed affection when you were alone or when she had a very good day then in front of your family too, but now she was desperate to touch you, feeling you close to her.

“I'm fine, my heart.”

She hugged you harder and started to place kisses on the side of your neck. You turned around in her arms and dug your fingers in her upper arms. She watched you attentive and her eyes still showed worry, pain, sadness, but there was as well relief and her love for you. You understood that she almost lost you today.

“I'm fine,” you reassured her and you leaned your forehead against hers. “You won't lose me, ever, my heart belongs to you and I will be always by your side.”

Andy wasn't good with words, bur her actions showed more than thousand words. She raised a hand and her fingers traced over your eyebrows, cheeks, the soft curve of your lips, her thumb opened your mouth with gentle pressure and then she kissed your lips. Your mouths met from time to time in soft kisses until they moved slowly and sensual. Andy treated you like you could break from the slightest touch of her, but on the other side she wanted to caress all the parts that were injured, feeling only smooth and flawless skin.

Your spine tingled in anticipation when you pulled back and saw Andy's eyes were a few shades darker. The worry was replaced with lust and adoration, her kisses grew deeper and passionately, her hand in the small of your back made you upper body aching and her tongue find the way in your mouth. You will give her everything that she needed and she could take everything that she wanted.

“I was barely so scared in my entire life,” she muttered and the confession took her a lot of bravery, but it didn't matter, she didn't need to be brave or strong in the moment, not here with you.

You didn't answer anything, you simply hugged her with your arms around her shoulders and stood in silence with water raining down on you that turned pink on the way down.

Clean from the dirt and blood you went in the small bedroom that you shared everytime you came to the cabin. She tugged you under the blankets and cuddled you from behind in a firm grip like she thought you could disappear when she fell asleep.

You found sleep while listening to her breathing. You felt secure and happy to be with the woman that meant… well, there wasn't existing any words to describe your love for Andy. She was your other half and the constant in your life. Your feelings grew over the centuries for her into a love so deep that no ocean was big enough to contain it.

Andy whispered lovely words and sweet nothings in your ear what woke you up slowly and you felt the kisses on your face, neck, clevage and chest. Her hands caressed your heated skin from under the blankets and pressed to her hot body so long.

“I need you,” she stated clearly with authority in her voice. You were surprised for a moment, but the worry was back in her eyes and you nodded in agrerment.

“You got a bad dream?” you asked softly. She kissed you desperately as an answer to show you her need to be close to you.

“I'm here. We're both safe here,” you reassured her, whispering against her lips and Andy claimed your mouth again and again. You knew she didn't want to talk, only touch and feel you.

***

Like, comment and reblog ;)

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #the old guard x reader #andy x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #andromache the scythian

359 notes · View notes

set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

Text

all this time been burnin’ with a fever

prompt: labor (leftover from day 6, used as an alt)

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

heyo! i am gonna be honest i cannot figure out whether this fic sucks or is okay. i straight up have no idea. but oh well. hopefully it’s ok! this fic is pre-buddie but i suppose it doesn’t have to be? idk its a lil different from the usual pre-buddie stuff i write. also i don’t mention it in the fic but i don’t want people to worry about him so chris is like, at a sleepover :) hope you enjoy this! (title from deleter by grouplove)

When Eddie had laid down in the bunk room, he’d felt just a little bit off. He had attributed this to the current heat wave sweeping through Los Angeles, but now, he’s not so sure.

The alarm is going off and around him, his fellow firefighters are climbing out of their bunks to respond to a worker trapped under heavy equipment at a factory. Eddie gets out of bed with the rest of them, trying to pretend like his head isn’t spinning from the movement. He takes the stairs down to the truck, not liking his chances of going down the pole with his weirdly-sweaty hands.

He feels very slightly better when he sits down in the truck across from Buck. Slightly. His head has stopped spinning. Other than that, he still feels like absolute shit. He’s hot, and horribly sweaty (he can feel his hair sticking unpleasantly to his forehead), and his whole body aches like...like something. His head hurts too much to think of an appropriate metaphor.

“You okay?” Buck asks. It takes Eddie a moment to register the fact that anyone has spoken at all, and another moment to figure out a reply. By the time he says, “I’m fine,” he’s pretty sure there’s no way in hell that Buck believes him.

“Are you sure?” Buck asks, immediately after Eddie says he’s fine. Eddie sighs. He really doesn’t have the strength to insist right now.

“Yes,” he says, and hopes that it’s enough.

“Really? Cause, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but you look kind of terrible.”

I know, Eddie thinks. I feel it, too. He says, “thanks, Buck. You’re so nice,” instead, and Buck just shakes his head.

A few minutes later, they arrive at the factory. Wanting to prove to Buck that he’s okay, Eddie shoots up from his seat as soon as the truck parks and determinedly makes his way outside, fighting through a rush of lightheadedness and forcing himself to keep moving normally.

The team heads into the building, the 911 dispatcher relaying information about their victim’s location.

“First floor, back right corner.”

Bobby leads the way, and Eddie sticks close behind him. The air-conditioning in the building has been turned off, and the atmosphere inside is choking and dry. He feels himself start to sweat even more, and wonders how that’s possible.

“Wow,” is the first thing anyone - Buck - says, when the victim comes into view. Both of his legs are pinned under a very large machine, which appears to have fallen on its side. He’s conscious, but clearly going into shock. Hen and Chim get to work on him right away, as the rest of the team analyzes the machine and waits for the paramedics to give the go-ahead to lift it away.

“You’re good to go, Cap,” Chim says, after a moment. “He’s stable for now.”

“We’re gonna need all available hands on deck for this one,” Bobby says. Hen stands up from next to the patient to join in the effort, while Chim remains with him, monitoring his vitals.

Bobby instructs everyone to different positions around the machine. Eddie is at a corner, and he braces a hand against it as they prepare to lift. He can’t remember a time when he felt this weak, but he knows he has to fight through this, has to give everything he’s got and more, to make sure that they get this man free.

“On the count of three,” Bobby says, and Eddie puts his hands on either side of the corner, pressing his feet firmly into the ground. He can do this. He has to do this. He feels so, so bad.

“Three, two, one!”

They all lift simultaneously. The machine creaks and squeaks and comes up off of the ground, and there’s a dragging sound, and Eddie’s legs are starting to shake, and his vision is going dark around the corners and his head is hurting more and more and -

“He’s out!”

They settle the machine to the floor. The second Eddie’s hands leave the metal, everything goes dark.

Eddie wakes up to the overpowering smell of ammonia. He reaches out a clumsy hand to bat the source of the smell away and hears Buck’s voice.

“He’s awake!” This is not directed at Eddie, but the next thing he says is. “I can’t believe you.”

Eddie opens his eyes and finds himself staring up at Buck’s face, half-illuminated by what he assumes is a flashlight. “What happened?” he asks, trying to sit up.

Buck’s hand presses him back to the ground, which is where he was heading anyway - even moving slightly upwards had made his head start to feel funny, and he really doesn’t want to pass out. Wait -

“You passed out,” Buck says, his voice not quite snapping at Eddie, but getting there. “We set down that machine, and you hit the floor. You wanna explain that?”

Not really, Eddie thinks. “Don’t feel good,” he says, and this time it’s Bobby who speaks to him, stepping into his field of view for the first time and bending to crouch next to him.

“I bet you don’t. You’re dehydrated and running a fever.” Eddie senses that there’s something else Bobby is going to say, but he’s interrupted by Buck.

“Even though you told me you were fine,” Buck says. “You passed out, Eddie. You’re just lucky that the patient was stable enough for Hen and Chim to check you over and make sure you weren’t, you know, dying or anything.” He sounds angry, and Eddie doesn’t blame him. He can’t believe he passed out on the job. He’s stronger than that, better than that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Save it,” Buck says. “You think you can get up without passing out again? We need to get you back to the station.”

Eddie shrugs against the ground. This must be a good enough answer, though, because the next thing he knows, Buck’s hands are grabbing onto his own, and then Buck’s standing and pulling Eddie to his feet.

Everything starts to spin, but Eddie resolutely does not pass out. He does lean forward until Buck is practically supporting all of his weight. They walk back to the truck, awkwardly, Buck all but carrying Eddie, Bobby walking next to them.

The ride to the station is quiet. Eddie leans his head against the window and wishes that the glass was cool. But it’s warm, just like everything else, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so hot in his life. I want to go home, he thinks, and it’s not until Buck replies that he realizes he’s spoken out loud.

“You’ll go home,” he says. “We’re just going back to the station to get your stuff, and then I’m driving you there.”

Some kind of hopeful feeling rises in Eddie at the thought of Buck bringing him home, caring for him, even, but he squashes it down and protests because he has to. “You don’t have to -”

“I’m doing it. End of story,” Buck says. Eddie flinches a little at the hardness in his voice, but he knows he deserves it.

They arrive back at the station, and Buck tells Eddie to wait in the truck while he gets their stuff. Eddie slumps down in his seat and closes his eyes and tries to tell himself that he’s going to be fine, that it’s just a fever, but he’s aching and sweaty and exhausted and frankly miserable, and having a hard time believing that anything is ever going to be fine again.

“Hey,” Bobby’s voice distracts him from his rapidly darkening thoughts. Eddie opens his eyes and sits up a little on the seat. Bobby sits down across from him and touches a hand to his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

That is...not what Eddie had been expecting him to say. He’d expected a stern talking-to, at the very least. Maybe some yelling. Not concern.

He finds he doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Not really.”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

Eddie shrugs. “I only felt a little off before going to sleep. I thought it was just the heat. It wasn’t bad until I woke up.”

Bobby nods sympathetically, and Eddie wonders why he’s not mad. Before he can think the better of it, he’s asking.

“I am upset with you,” Bobby says, but his voice is gentle. “Coming to work sick doesn’t just put you in danger. It puts the team and the people we save in danger too. You should have told me how you were feeling before we went out on that call.”

Eddie nods. “I know,” he says, “it was stupid.”

“I won't argue with that,” Bobby replies. “I want you to get home and get some rest and plenty of fluids, and don’t even think about coming back here until you’re feeling a hundred percent.”

“Okay.”

Bobby stands to leave the truck at the same moment that Buck returns, his and Eddie’s duffle bags thrown over his shoulder, keys to his Jeep in hand. “You ready to go?” he asks, voice still distant but slightly less cold.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, carefully making his way out of the truck, bracing his hands against it to keep his balance. Buck steps closer and takes on some of Eddie’s weight without either of them saying a thing, and they walk out into the parking lot.

For the first few minutes of the drive, neither of them says anything. Then, they stop at a red light, and Buck turns to look at Eddie.

“You passed out,” he says, stressing the words.

“I know,” Eddie replies. “Don’t have to remind me.”

“We were on a call, and you just passed out,” Buck continues. “Do you know what that was like? Hearing something fall to the ground and realizing it was you?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He’s too tired to formulate any kind of response, and anyway, he’s pretty sure that these are rhetorical questions.

The light turns green, and Buck starts driving again. “It was terrifying, Eds,” and a bit of softness creeps back into his voice with the use of the nickname. “We didn’t know why you collapsed. Honestly, you’re lucky that the ambulance already had a passenger, or you’d probably be at the hospital right now.”

“It wasn’t...wasn’t that bad,” Eddie says, suddenly realizing how much worse things could be - he could be in the hospital, for what is nothing more than a fever.

“Yeah, we figured that out pretty quick when Chim started checking you over. Your fever wasn’t dangerously high or anything. You’re just sick. Normal sick, nothing scary. Chim said all you needed was some rest and some water and someone watching over you to make sure you actually got those things.”

Eddie nods, although Buck is looking at the road and can’t see him. “Glad it’s you,” he says.

“What?”

“Glad it’s you,” he repeats. “Watching over me. I didn’t think...I mean...you’re mad at me. But you’re doing it anyway.”

Buck pulls into the driveway. “Of course I am,” he says. “Watching over you. And, I mean, I’m mad at you, too. Do you have any idea how stupid it was to go on a call like this?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I just…”

“I know.”

Buck parks the car and gets out, and he’s opening Eddie’s door for him before Eddie’s hands have even found his seatbelt. Buck reaches across him and undoes it, wincing when his hand touches Eddie’s skin.

“You really are burning up,” he says. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

A few minutes later, Eddie is in bed, dressed in lightweight pajamas and lying on top of the covers because it’s way too hot beneath them. There’s a large glass of water and a bottle of tylenol sitting on the bedside table, and Buck is in his bathroom getting a damp washcloth that Eddie had tried to insist wasn’t necessary.

As soon as the cloth touches his forehead, though, he changes his mind. It feels wonderful against his overheated skin, and he sighs contentedly.

“Told you that would make you feel better,” Buck says, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “You need anything else?”

You, Eddie thinks, but Buck is already here, taking care of him and worrying over him and making sure he’s comfortable even though he’s also still a little mad at him. It should be enough, Eddie thinks, but all he really wants is for Buck to lie down next to him. He can’t quite bring himself to ask, though. Even in his feverish state his inhibitions haven’t been lowered that much.

So he doesn’t ask Buck to lie down next to him. The extra body heat would probably be unbearable anyway. But that doesn’t mean that Buck doesn’t stay. He does, and doesn’t give Eddie much of a choice in the matter.

“I’m gonna go crash on the couch,” he says. “If you need anything, if you wake up and feel worse, anything, I’m right here, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

He can hear the soft smile in Buck’s voice when he replies, “always, Eds.”

thanks for reading!!!!! i hope you liked this fic :) i feel like i usually write something that is like a little more hopefully pre-ship but i have become such a slut for pining!eddie so. here.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump6 #i guess since thats the prompt lol #think i tagged the other one i did like this wrong my b #911 #eddie diaz #labor #aka ignoring illness and working anyway #fever #my writing #i say things #oughghh complaining for a sec but work was so much 2day....too many people. idk why we were so much busier today than yesterday like.#its tuesday who tf is checking into a hotel on a monday afternoon?#apparently a Lot of ppl #anyway in other news i am currently listening to a buddie playlist. its so nice but idk how people can make such good and long playlists!#none of mine top like. 15 songs lmao and they all Suck!#ok shuttin up. goodnight!

20 notes · View notes