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coreychick · 2 years ago

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Chapter 23: The Reason

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post specific trigger warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you. Read at your own risk.

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A fiery burn flicks under your skin as Pershing pricks your arm with a needle, sending another round of a mysterious purple elixir, coursing through your body. He says it’s just vitamins and rare minerals. Something about that explanation gives you a queasy feeling in your stomach- not that you believe him- likely there’s something more sinister threading its way through your system. Whatever it is, he hasn’t let you miss a dose since you arrived, several weeks ago.

You don’t fight back anymore. You learned early on, that fighting back gets you the special needle-the one that comes with the blue liquid. The one they stab into your neck, that knocks you out completely. You’d wake up hours later, covered in bruises, your body and muscles aching, with no knowledge of what they did to you while you were out. You hated not knowing. No, it's better to let them poke and prod. At least then, you knew what was happening. The idea of them, having full access to your unconscious body and waking up with no memory of it, was much worse than the alternative. Either way, they are going to do what they are going to do. It seems smarter to stay silent. To observe and learn what you can, to formulate a decent escape plan- cause right now, you’ve got nothing.

One walk from the brig to Pershing’s lab showed you that the ship you were on was massive. It likely could carry a crew of a thousand, though by all appearances, it’s running on minimal staff. Small squads of storm troopers, dressed in the same standard issue white plastoid armor as the two you killed, when you first arrived. Crew members of varying rank travel the halls, but there are few enough that you are beginning to recognize faces.

And then there’s Pershing. Lab Coat , from all those months ago, back on Navarro. He’s clearly intelligent, but lacking in backbone. Mando taught you to assess your opponents at the offset, determine their weaknesses, and so far, Pershing is the only weakness you can detect on this massive flying fortress.

You’d gone through all of your options at the start. Flee? Where was there to go? Gideon’s ship isn’t likely to make port anytime soon. Crew come and go via shuttle, along with supplies. In fact, this ship probably never stops moving, and one look at Pershing’s fancy ass laboratory tells you that this place might have been the intended destination for your capture all along. Commandeer a smaller transport ship? A memorized ignition sequence for a pre-empire Razor Crest, does not a pilot make.

But there is something about Pershing that tugs at you. A small, nearly indistinguishable inkling that maybe he doesn’t want to be here either. But yet, he is. And he doesn’t put up a fight when orders are issued. Again, no backbone. Still, he might be your only chance of escape. If you could turn him into an ally, get him to see you as a fellow human being, maybe he can help you escape.

Sometimes, Pershing is joined by an officer, sent to help him with certain tasks. He wears a gray uniform, sporting a few decorations on his lapel. Zero pleasantries are exchanged between the two giving the already cold laboratory an icy chill. The officer seems perturbed that he has to assist the dorky, big-brain at all, probably ordered away from his normal posting of - who the hell cares- or whatever cool job he thinks is more important.

When he’s in the room, Pershing shuts down, completely ignoring every word you say, operating on auto-pilot, as if you didn’t exist at all- just another squeaking lab rat in the room. Officer Dickhead, on the other hand, has very little patience for your commentary, opinions on how his hat makes his head look like a penis, not excluded. He swipes a syringe full of Big Blue off the metal tray, threatening to give you the big sleep, if you don’t shut your ‘smart mouth’. There’s a victorious gleam in his eye when you acquiesce, that rankles your pride- so you smile back, listing off all his vulnerable spots in your head. Throat, eyes, stomach, kidneys, groin….definitely groin.

Pershing shifts uncomfortably on his feet, his chin going down so he can avoid eye contact with either one of you. Officer Dickhead , because he’s intimidated, and you, because maybe he’s a little ashamed. When Officer Dickhead leaves, and there’s nobody else in the room, Pershing talks to you, almost like a living being and not some sort of science experiment.

“I wish you wouldn’t provoke him like that.” he says, scanning your face with a little red light, for the umteenth time.

“I wish you would.” you snap back.

He lowers his gaze to examine the readouts from his little scanner, jotting notes onto his clipboard.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. “You don’t seem like the type of person who wants to hurt people.”

“I’m not.” he says, defensively with a visible bob of his throat. “I’m here for the science…and, it’s not as if I have much choice in the matter.”

The opening you’ve been waiting for…

You place your hand on his forearm. His pen stops moving as he stares at your hand.

“Then let's work together. We can help each other, we can both get out of here.”

He turns away, leaving your hand to drop at your side.

“Impossible. There is no way out.The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on.”

The utter certainty in his voice is defeating. You want to yell, to scream that he’s a coward, because he won’t even try. Somehow, you manage to hold back. You maintain your cool, reminding yourself that you don’t have the foggiest idea how he ended up here and what he might have lost along the way. You’ll just have to keep chipping away, build up his confidence, and show him that there’s a chance. But the disappointment at his words must be written on your face.

“Please, don’t look at me like that.” he mutters.

You remain silent.

“You know, things could be much better for you, if you’d only cooperate,” he continues.

Not this again…

For weeks, Pershing has been grilling you on what abilities you have. You decided at the very beginning, not to give anything away. It’s the only card you have to play. They want you because you have abilities, but perhaps if you could convince them otherwise….. they’d what? Pull up to the nearest starport, and drop you off? No, but your survival instincts are telling you not to give them the one thing they want the most from you. So, from day one, you’ve denied, denied, denied.

“Look, I’ve nearly exhausted the testing I can do, I can’t stall things for much longer. If you don’t give us what we need, Gideon will pry it out of you. Do you understand?”

“Stall? Stall for what? You won’t even tell me why I am here!” you snap back. Well, so much for keeping my cool.

“Shhhh.” he says, placating you with raised palms. “They’ll send him back in if they think you’re being difficult again- neither of us wants that.”

“I’m not stupid. I’ve heard the guards whispering in the halls. You’re a clone scientist, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just stares back at you through tinted lenses in silence, debating with himself what to tell you.

“So, you intend to what? Clone me? Is that it?”

Again, silence.

“Bold move Pershing, most consider one of me too much to deal with.”

“Not you,” he says, surprising you. You tilt your head in question, giving him the space to answer.

He takes a step toward you, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. This is it. He’s about to tell you something vital.

“It’s not you we intend to clone….it’s your offspring.”

Your head snaps back with a jolt of confusion, your brain scrambling to make sense of his words.

“I hate to break it to you doc, but I don’t have any offspring.”

“You will.” he says plainly.

It makes sense now. The daily injections, the sore muscles and cramping. Your eyes skim the room and land on the metal cylinder- a cryofreezer- to the side. You’ve seen Pershing putting little vials in it.

“You took…my eggs?” you can barely get the words out, disbelief and fear clouding your brain.

“Yes, we have harvested some eggs, but that’s only as a precaution, if the main stratagem fails.”

Harvest, eggs. The words make you instantly nauseous.

“The main stratagem?” Your heart pounds. Maintain! Maintain control!

“Gideon would prefer to harvest the eggs and dispose of you after you’ve produced a viable subject.” He leans in a little closer. “But I have convinced him that we will have much more success, if we replicate nature’s process as closely as possible.”

Your head is swimming. Nothing makes sense.

You shake your head. “I don’t understand, what does that mean?”

“You will conceive, carry, and possibly even raise the child as your own, under strict guidance and training of course, but don’t you see? I’ve convinced him that you don’t have to die now. I saved you.”

“Saved me?” Your breathing grows heavier. “You expect me to give up my child to… the empire?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Try not to look at it that way.”

“What way should I look at it?” you say through clenched teeth, your growing anger, duels for dominance over your fear and disgust.

“We will be responsible for creating the most powerful being this galaxy has ever seen.”

We? You shake your head in defiance.

“You’re wrong. I’ve told you, I hold no power.”

“We both know that is a lie. I’ve tested your blood, your M-count is significant, you’ve already tapped into an ability that few- if any- have been reported to channel, with no training, and your personal background makes you an ideal vessel.”

What the hell is an M count? What ability is he referring to?”

“My personal background?”

“Yes. As far as I can tell, your ability suggests a strength that can be traced back several generations, making you very powerful. Albeit, your source of power is untapped, it is still there. And your station as an orphan is beneficial.”

Lab rat, indeed.

“Beneficial? Because nobody will come looking for me?”

“Because you haven't been influenced by outside sources.”

Is he referring to Jedi?

“And what of a father? Have you kidnapped a Jedi male as well, or does Gideon intend to be the sperm donor himself?”

“No. Gideon doesn’t have the ability to wield the force. We have searched high and low for the optimal candidate. Unfortunately, the pool was drastically cut down after eliminating non-compatible species for breeding.”

“Breeding!? Do you hear yourself? I was wrong about you. You’re sicker than all of them!” You spring from the table, launching yourself at Pershing. You both tumble to the ground as your hands wring his scrawny neck. His plasspecs are knocked askew and despite his lack of mental backbone, he still has enough strength to fight back physically. He pushes one of your hands away, breaking the hold you have on his neck, long enough to shout out for help. Sirens begin wailing as the labroom door opens and heavy footsteps are heard behind you. You pay them no attention, continuing your attempt to strangle every last breath out of him, seeing nothing but red.

An electric shock blasts you from behind. Your back constricts violently and every muscle in your body goes rigid and the familiar feeling of getting hit by a stun blaster vibrates your bones from the inside out. It feels like being struck by a bolt of lightning, and as the shockwave dissipates, it leaves behind a swarm of bees crawling under your skin. Your arms fall to the side and your body goes slack just as two strong arms catch you from behind. The paralytic effect works instantaneously, and you know from experience that it will be several long minutes before regaining any type of control of your limbs. Officer Dickhead presses his clammy cheek up against yours from behind, forcing your head to the side.

“That’s it. So much better this way, don’t you think?” he says, dragging your body backward toward the table.

He maneuvers you up and on top, your arms falling open, heedless to mind the orders you're silently shouting to them. Move! Claw his eyes out! Tear him to pieces! You have no control, your body is helpless to do more than keep breathing and blink. He comes around to the side of the table. A tear slips out of the corner of your eye. Not from fear, but born of pure anger. The violation, the knowledge of what they have already stolen from you…it’s almost too much to bear.

“You think you’re so smart…so funny.” he says, tracing the path of your tear with the tip of his stun blaster. The barrel is hot from its recent use, leaving a welting line behind.

“Look at you. Not so funny now, are we? Now..you’re just a pet. Leashed, soon to be broken, domesticated.” His voice lowers, just above a whisper. “I will enjoy watching them break you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of looking into your eyes when he speaks to you.

The woosh of the labroom door precedes more heavy footfall, and for the first time in several weeks, you hear the unmistakable voice of Moff Gideon. Officer Dickhead’s back straightens, coming to attention and falling silent as his superior addresses the room. Gideon takes in the scene, pausing a few extra seconds on the officer.

“Dr. Pershing. We have a problem here?”

“No, sir. Everything is under control now.”

“Good. I want a full update. Where do we stand?”

Pershing hesitates a little, but responds in turn.

“Well, sir. She’s very healthy. All tests indicate she’ll be an ideal carrier.”

“Very good. When do we expect we can proceed to the next step?”

“A few more weeks. She has some type of Moltok herbal concoction in her system- it’s very effective at preventing conception. It’s not something I can remove or that bacta can fix, it simply needs to run its course. However, the levels are dropping everyday. I anticipate it will fully be out of her system in a few weeks.”

Thank the Maker for Moltok birth control.

Gideon inhales, clearly disappointed at the hurtle in his timeline.

“And what of the speculative donors?”

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the donor pool to two potentials. When we exit hyperspace, I will send a summons for them. I will need to bring them both aboard for testing first, to determine which will give us the highest probable success rate.”

“Which sith are we speaking of?”

What the hell is a sith?

Pershing looks back down at his clipboard, flipping several papers over.

“Flint…”

“Flint? Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. His mastery of the force is impressive, he’s quite skilled with the saber and his telekinetic abilities are reported to rival even..”

“Who else?” Gideon interrupts.

Pershing looks back down at his paper, trying to decide whether or not he should continue with the next name.

“Carnor Jax.”

“Ahhh. Carnor Jax.”

“Yes sir.” Pershing confirms.

“If the two prove to be equal to the task, push for Jax. As a former member of the Imperial Royal Guard, his ambitions are more in line with our directive.”

“Understood.” Pershing agrees.

“Anything else?”

Pershing looks at you on the table. You want to scream, to voice your disgust, to threaten, to call out for help- anything, but your vocal cords won’t produce any sound.

“Yes, sir.” They turn their backs to speak more quietly, but you can still make out the gist of the conversation.

“Force-wielders grow more powerful over time, the more they use, they practice….. She’s powerful, but I don’t think she comprehends what she is capable of. She denies all of it. Her power…it lies dormant. I fear that if we do not awaken it somehow…. “

“You don’t think the ability will pass on to the offspring?”

“The power- it’s not something I can just extract and inject, we know that now. It’s beyond my ability to just recreate. I’ve seen it in testing the others. When force users wield their powers, their numbers climb. I believe the highest chance of success at passing it on, rests with her… exercising use.”

Gideon considers Pershing’s theory.

“What about Lord Hethrir?”

Pershing looks back through his notes. “Sir?”

“He was enthusiastic about the prospect of donating, even had suggestions for alternative experiments regarding force-sensitives.”

“He is not human. He is Firrerreo.”

“Are they not compatible breeders?”

Breeders? Fucking Breeders….like I’m some fucking broodmare.

“They’re DNA is near-human. I suppose it is possible, though I’d have to do some research. I’m not aware if the two can successfully reproduce.”

“Don’t rule him out. In addition to his telekinetic abilities, it’s said that he can suppress force potential in others. If he can suppress it, perhaps he can also awaken it.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Until then…” he says, walking over to the table to stare down at you.

“We’ll take matters into our own hands.”

“Sir?” Pershing asks.

“Prepare a bacta tank….and secure an IT-O.”

“Join me for a walk.” Gideon says, sometime later when you’ve regained the use of your limbs. Every muscle in your body aches as if you’d just climbed to the peak of the galaxy’s tallest mountain range.

You follow alongside, listening to the sound of trooper footsteps in perfect synchronization, pounding the floor behind you. Officer Dickhead follows too, several steps back. You keep your eyes forward as they lead you through the halls, on a route you’ve never taken before. By now, you’ve learned the path from brig to lab, having made the trip twice a day, every day since you’ve arrived- but this, this is new.

You eye the hilt of the weapon Gideon carries at his side, that wicked looking black blade he waved in front of your face when you first met. It’s temping for sure, but your hands are shackled and even if you could snatch it, you have no idea how to wield a sword. Gideon knows this, as he is clearly not worried about leaving it within your arms reach. He’s practically taunting you with it.

As you round the corner, Gideon punches in a sequence on a large control panel. Behind it, two large double doors retract. He enters a long hall ahead of you. You slowly follow, eyes fixated on the sight before you. The walls are lined with rows of large battle droids. Memories spring forth, of your capture, of the way they seemed invincible in those moments. Their exoskeletons are eerie, even in their deactivated state, docked in their ports, and illuminated by the glow of red light- dark reapers slumbering in upright metal coffins.

“Impressive, aren’t they?”

You ignore him, trying not to outwardly appear as staggered as you feel. Somehow, over the past weeks, you had failed to consider that the troopers had been here all along. Back on Tython, there were several, maybe four or five that had cornered you at the rock. Here, there must be dozens.

“A new generation of troopers, superior in every way to the ones that came before. Capable of flight, impervious to blaster fire and flame….heavily armed and with a strength twice that of its predecessor.”

It makes sense to you now, why Moff Gideon’s ship seems to run on minimal staff. A garrison of a few dozen dark troopers probably replaces hundreds of storm troopers. Maker knows they fall like bowling pins. But these….

“Dr. Pershing tells me you’re resolved to remain in denial. I must admit, for the longest time, I couldn’t decide whether you’ve actually convinced yourself, or….”

“Or what?” you finally say back.

“Or if you were simply holding out. Stalling…in hopes of a rescue.”

You laugh bitterly. “I learned long ago not to waste my time waiting for someone to rescue me.”

“Is that so?”

“And who would rescue me? I thought nothing escaped your notice Gideon? Except that must not be true, because you’ve obviously failed to notice that I don’t have a single friend in this galaxy or any other.”

He smiles and takes a step closer to you.

“Take a good look at where you are. There is no escape, and as good as your decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, is- he is no match for what you see before you.”

“Why don’t you take a look around? You obviously can’t see what is right in front of your face. I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know exactly who you are.”

“Based on what?!” you snap back. “A little rumor you heard? That story was fabricated by a bunch of nuns, desperate to get a boy adopted before his eighteenth birthday. And it worked like a charm! Did you read the headlines? ‘ Miracle boy walks after life threatening fall, Claims angel saved his life’. And guess what? It wasn’t more than a week before he was adopted by a rich family on Alderaan. Did they tell you that he also soaked in a bacta tank for weeks? Or did the kind, sweet, nuns leave that part out?”

You see just a flicker of doubt cross Gideon’s eyes, spurring you further. He prides himself on knowing all. Make him doubt everything he thinks he knows.

“And tell me Moff, what happens to your little scientist when he’s gone too long without producing results? I’m willing to bet he’s seen you kill your own men firsthand, for far lesser disappointments.”

He doesn’t respond.

“All he needed was the fuel of a fairytale. He already has his magical sperm donors anyway, hasn’t he? So now all he has to do is put the two together and as long as the child inherits at least something from the father, you’ll never be the wiser.”

Gideon remains silent, but you can see the muscle in his jaw ticking. You’ve got him doubting his people, so you press further.

“And if you really think the Mandalorian was in this for anything more than a payday, I’d fact- check the information your officers are feeding you too.” You say, glancing back toward Officer Dickhead.

“Did they tell you he dragged me all over this galaxy in chains? Looking for the highest bid? Did they tell you how many times I tried to escape? Bastard tried to sell me to Jabba’s successor before putting me up for private auction on Hunter’s World. Would have been one of the greatest cons of all time if they hadn’t caught on to his deceit. If those troopers had peeled that tin can off of his head, I bet the look on his face would have matched yours, the day he stole your cash-cow back from you. So if you happen to see him in passing, please do tell him, I send warm regards of Fuck You. ”

Gideon twines his fingers behind his back as he begins to pace the hall.

“Uh oh,” you say looking down the hall again. “Officer Dickhead over there looks a little nervous. Was he the one delivering your intel?” you smile.

Gideon turns back to pace in the other direction, stopping in front of you. He thrusts his fist into your stomach, causing you to drop to your knees. All the air in your lungs escapes in a choking rush. You cup your stomach with shackled hands, your forehead pressing into the floor. Your lungs burn, your mouth agape as your brain struggles to remember how to inhale. You desperately gasp, choking on nothing, as your lungs refuse to inflate. Your stomach burns, and you feel the veins at your temple threatening to burst as your eyes water. There’s no sound, aside from a few small squeaks that you make in an attempt to find the air. Gloved fingers scrape against your scalp, anchoring themselves into the roots of your hair. Your head is jerked back, forcing your throat up just as you feel the first tinge of air attempting to return. You begin coughing and choking, the air burns equally as bad as it refills your lungs.

He leans down by your face. “I assure you, I will get what I need from you, one way or another. And if I determine you’ve exhausted your usefulness, don’t expect to live for very long.”

He releases his grip on your hair, allowing your head to fall forward as you continue to wheeze and choke.

"Sub-lieutenant Rund.”

“Yes, sir.” Officer Dickhead replies.

“I've heard you acquired a penchant for shock-whips during your time on Zygerria.”

“Yes sir.” Officer Dickhead replies, with just a bit too much excitement in his voice.

“Do you have one on board?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Do you keep up with training?”

“Well,” he hesitates. “It’s been some time…”

“Good. It sounds like you could use a little practice.”

Fear takes up permanent residence deep in your gut, causing your whole body to tremble. You wish you appeared stronger on the outside, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing that you’re scared, but it’s an involuntary reaction when you dangle from magnetic beams in the middle of your cell. They’ve strung you up high enough that your toes skim the floor, but you can’t quite support your weight on them. The result is a terrible strain on your wrist and it feels like your arms are being pulled straight out of the sockets. Officer D relishes in the moment, taking his time to get started, and if you’re being honest, the anticipation of getting struck by a shock whip seems almost as cruel as the actual delivery. If there’s one thing you can be proud of, it’s your absolute resolve not to plead or beg, and so far you’re doing ok on that front.

His hand slides down, pulling a dark, banded handle from his waistband. He sweeps over the surface with his thumb, triggering a long whipcord to extend several meters, landing on the floor.

“Anything, before we start?”

He’s baiting you, that much is clear. He wants you to throw fuel on the fire, wants to get a reaction, cause Maker knows he’ll get off on this a lot more. You give him what he wants- not because he prompts you, but because you know he’s going to whip you either way, so you might as well throw one more insult his way while you can.

“I’m sorry.”

He raises his brows a smidge waiting for it.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s the shape of your hat. It’s totally penis shaped. You see it, right? Like, the whole part up there….it’s just like the tip of a dick.”

He smiles. “There it is.”

He ignites the shockwhip, causing an electric light to vibrate through the cord. It hums and buzzes loudly as he walks toward the door your back faces. Those last few seconds before receiving the first lash are a blur. Your muscles tense waiting for the first contact. The anticipation of pain makes your heart thunder in your chest. You repeat silently in your mind, “Do not beg. Do not beg.” You tell yourself you won’t make any noise at all, but that part unfortunately, is beyond your control.

The first lash strikes you square across the back. It’s a metal rope snapping you with a streak of liquid fire, followed by a jolt of electricity that makes your back muscles seize. You cry out at the first impact.

The second and third come in quick succession under your left shoulder blade, compounding on the still radiating heat of the first. The fourth strike begins to tear away at your shirt and there’s a new element of agony added when the fabric no longer protects your skin from direct contact. By the eighth lashing, you no longer try to balance on your toes, leaving the entire weight of your body to hang from the shackles above. Officer D is panting loudly, clearly receiving a great workout on his end. It doesn’t escape your notice that he never bothers to ask you any questions or offer you any reprieve in exchange for a surrender to cooperate.

The stormtrooper watching at the side, runs to the corner and removes his bucket, losing his last meal all over the floor. Officer D yells some obscenities, chastising the trooper's weak stomach and ordering that he be taken away.

You lose count after that, unable to prevent screaming and crying out with every new strike. Tears soak your cheeks as the sensation of being on fire starts to morph into something along the lines of being flayed by razor blades. Never in your wildest dreams had you even imagined that physical agony like this existed. You had to be on the verge of passing out, and welcome every lash that brings you closer to it.

You reach a place where you think, “Surely the next one will be the last I feel?”, but continue to repeat it with every lash that follows. That's when you feel the surprising sting of a lash across your buttocks. The previously untouched target, causes fear to surge again. Will he continue until every part of my body has received his whip’s kiss?

The answer comes with another snap across your back, slicing into the already flayed skin.

No. It was unintentional. An aim and a miss. Perhaps his arm is growing tired?

You continue to cry, willing your mind to retreat to someplace else. A dark corner in the recesses of your mind. You imagine Mando there and what you’d say to him.

You’d be proud of me…I didn’t yield.

You did good, baby. I’m real proud.

You wake from an excruciating sting. It feels like acid dripping on your back. You're face down on a table in Pershing’s lab.

“Shhh, it’s ok. It’s just me.” he says- as if that is supposed to somehow be comforting.

You cry out as the pain returns. He’s doing something to your back. You try to sit up and move, but your head swims as your entire body rejects that idea.

“Stay still. I won’t hurt you.”

“You are hurting me!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop, just be still.”

You do as he says, lying back down, but only because your body won’t allow anything else.

“I’m going to give you an injection, so you won’t feel the next part. It will sting for a few seconds, but then you won’t feel anything at all, ok?”

“Don’t touch me.” you say, unable to put any semblance of actual threat behind it.

He kneels down next to the table, so that he can look you in the eyes. It’s then that you notice he has some fresh bruising on his cheekbone.

“You’re hurt- badly. I need to put you in the bacta tank for several days. But, before I can do that, I need to remove some debris from your wounds, otherwise they will close around it and become infected. You understand?”

“Please don’t knock me out.” you say, ashamed that you actually used the word ‘please’. At least it was only for Pershing’s ears. He looks into your eyes and seems to understand.

“I won’t let them touch you while you’re under. I promise.”

You stare back at him. You both know that he can ultimately do whatever he wants, but for some reason, he is asking your permission. It pains you, but something in your gut is choosing to believe him. You nod your head yes .

He delivers his injection and the pain melts away. Your senses dull until you’re only mildly aware of what the doctor is doing. One at a time, using a large pair of forceps, he sets down bloodied and charred ribbons of fabric into a metal tray next to the table. After that, your sight washes over as you're suspended into a pool of jelly. Your consciousness floats in the warm waves as all thoughts of this reality disappear.

---WEEKS LATER---

“This looks good, much better.” Pershing says as he examines your back.

“The mending of flesh is truly incredible, though I’m afraid it couldn’t be completely made new. Some of these will be permanent scars, I’m afraid.”

Not really caring, you shrug your thin robe back up over your shoulders. He walks around to face your front as you stare blankly ahead. He scans you with his little doohickey and logs whatever it is, it’s telling him.

“They tell me you’re not eating though.”

You lift up your hands, giving a little jiggle to the manacles around your wrists.

“They chain me to the bench in my cell.”

He continues to stare in question. You lift your gaze to meet his.

“They leave the food by the door. It’s out of reach.”

With understanding, he leans in a little, ignoring the trooper standing guard in the room, and whispers.

“If you were to concentrate, I believe you could move the tray.”

That’s exactly what they want me to do.

“Why doctor, whatever do you mean?” you say, sarcastically.

Pershing clears his throat, standing a little straighter.

“You can’t carry on like this.”

“You’re going to have to speak up, doctor. I’m afraid my ears are still ringing.” you say forcefully.

He pulls out a retractable otoscope and looks into your ears. After your three week stint in the bacta tank following the whipping, your cell became a hell of its own. You were barraged with sonic torture- a deafening array of arrhythmic and atonal sounds, with no discernable pattern, blasted out from the walls. Additionally, your cell was bathed in a harsh, white light, adding to the attack on your senses, making it nearly impossible to think, let alone sleep.

These daily trips to Pershing’s lab had become a welcome reprieve from the continuous torture. It was the only time you had to think. Three weeks, three precious weeks had passed in the bacta tank. That time was vital, and had pushed you ever closer to your looming deadline.

“How much longer do I have?”

“Not long, two weeks, maybe three.”

Two weeks. You have maybe two weeks to carry out your plan.

After your meeting with Gideon, many things had become clear. For one, he was right. There really was, in all likelihood, no means of escaping this ship. Two, the new objective was no longer to stay alive. The idea of Gideon taking your eggs, of potentially turning your offspring into some kind of sick spy weapon for the empire, of having little pieces of you scattered all over the galaxy, created with evil intent, was more than you could handle. You can not- will not- allow that to happen.

Your eyes subtly wander the room, landing on the cryo-freezer off to the side. There’s no doubt in your mind- that is where Pershing stores the vials of everything he takes from you. Blood, eggs, and Maker knows what else. You need to destroy it, to eliminate any possibility of that happening. And thirdly, after destroying his treasure trove of stolen biological material, you needed to also destroy his source. Me.

The only way to ensure Gideon wouldn’t be able to carry out his ambition was to remove yourself from the equation entirely. No Vessel means no offspring. And since escape was moot, that meant death was the only viable solution. And you refuse to view it as giving up. It was a means to an end and the only way to stop what was coming. The question was now, how to do it. You’d have to do it in such a way, that the bacta tank wouldn’t be able to heal you and the IT-O wouldn’t be able to revive you. Ironically, you had Officer D to thank for that bit of enlightenment.

After you had come out of the tank, you had noticed that Officer D had been curiously absent from his normal post. When asked where his bestie had gone, Dr. Pershing had replied, “Gone. Disciplined for disobeying orders.”

“What orders?”

“Not to kill you.”

“‘S’cuse me?”

“He had direct orders to beat you within an inch of your life, but not to actually kill you. He failed. Apparently, the IT-O had warned him that your life functions were close to ceasing, however he continued to whip you beyond the warning- something about being goaded by your remarks. In any event, he went too far, and the IT-O had to administer lifesaving procedures to bring you back.”

Now you know that however you decide to end it, it needs to be done in a way that prevents them from resuscitating you. Some type of explosion would be ideal. That would eliminate any lasting biological material as well as destroy the cryo-freezer, with the added bonus of ending things quickly and painlessly. The problem was, you had no idea how to construct an explosive. Every time you enter the lab, you silently take stock of the equipment and available chemicals around, but most inconveniently, nothing around you is glaringly labeled as “flammable”.

That left you with a half solid backup plan. You’d been watching Pershing closely over the last few weeks. You know exactly where he stores the syringes of paralytic drugs. If you could get him to agree to remove the binders on your wrists, you’re certain you could get to them quickly. If you incapacitate him and the one guard, you should be able to get to them in time. You could inject the paralytic straight into your heart. Done and done. You’re no doctor, but you’re willing to be that there would be no recovering from that. Yes, it would still leave your body behind, but….beggars, choosers.

The days that follow are a blur, a constant and ever-changing gamut of varying torture, ranging from sleep deprivation to hallucinogens administered via the interrogator droid. The nightmares that play out in your head are a mix of dreams and excruciating pain. When it's over, you are little more than a blubbering puddle on the floor, your heart exhausted from racing against the drugs, and your lungs are devastated from all of the screaming. Again, no questions are asked, no prompts for submission are given. It seems they are content to poke and prod, hoping they will eventually elicit you to fight back using a power you have no idea how to wield. And to make it worse, they refuse to let you die.

You receive a glorious reprieve of peace and silence after one particularly nasty bout. That’s how they seem to like to deliver it- they give you just enough time to recover before starting the process all over again. This time, your cell is quiet and dark, albeit cold. You’re used to the dark, it doesn’t frighten you like it used to. You close your eyes and try to get back to that place on top of the rock- the place your voice could be heard across the stars and where the universe spoke back. You call out for Luke, or anyone else listening, but only silence answers back. Whatever magic mojo that rock possessed, it kept it to itself.

You think about Mando and how grateful you are that he must have survived. Gideon would have used that against you otherwise. Your heart hurts when you think of how he must have felt. You hope he isn’t driving himself completely mad with guilt, because you know he will be blaming himself. His sense of duty is too strong.

Please don’t hate me for what I must do. Please don’t hate yourself either.

Warm tears roll down your cheeks as you lay on the bench, using your arm as a pillow. It’s freezing cold with your naked body laying on the metal- they had taken your clothes away for added humiliation. Pushing those dark thoughts away, you escape to a safer place. You imagine this cold cell is the dark hull of the Crest. You’re curled up in Din’s arms, soaking up the warmth of his body. You imagine the way his skin smells, the way the timbre of his voice soothes your being. The way the soft scruff on his cheek tickles the smoothness of yours.

Please, forgive me.

Forgiven.

Tell me you’ll find me again, in the next life.

I will always find you.

You take solace in his words, even though they are an illusion of your own making. The trance is shattered when the sound of your cell door opens.

Please, not now. Just a few more minutes.

You remain still, feigning sleep, with your back to the door as you face the wall. The bright overhead lights roll on and you squeeze your eyes tighter, trying to chase after the dream.

This might be the cruelest torture of them all.

The sound of several feet entering the room extinguishes any lingering attempt, and curiosity causes you to peek over your shoulder. You’re taken aback, and fear quickly plummets to the pit of your stomach. Dr. Pershing stands off to the side as two very large men approach you. You quickly sit up, remembering a second too late that your currently sans clothes. You cross your legs, one over the other and hug your chest in an attempt to cover your most intimate places from view.

The male on the left must be six and a half feet tall. He’s covered head to toe in black and red leather armor, with a heavy looking black cape that reaches the floor. His chest is broader than any humanoid species you’ve seen before. The overall appearance is menacing, but it’s his face covering that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a triangular black visor with an exaggerated oblong shape, flanked by a red cowl. At his back, he wears a double edged vibroblade that you’re willing to bet would be taller than you if placed side by side.

You try to school your reaction and not give anything away, but the rise and fall of your chest likely hints at your shaken nerves. The man on his right is nearly as tall, despite the fact that he doesn’t wear a mask. He’s human by appearances, with light skin, black hair and piercing blue eyes that seem to look straight through you. He wears a long black cape across his shoulders and silver metal armor, though you can tell by the sheen that it isn’t made from beskar. You’d put his age at about forty and would consider him handsome if it weren’t for the disapproving lines etched on his brow.

They stop at arm's length and stare down at you. You stare right back, though you can’t seem to conjure any words to speak.

“What is this Dr. Pershing?” the human male says. “I was told that the vessel was a volunteer - a willing participant in this trial.”

“You’re early. Moff Gideon wasn’t expec-”

The man cuts Pershing off, with a lift of his hand.

“Where are her clothes?”

Nobody in the room answers.

“Bring her some clothes.” he squats down to bring himself at eye level. He schools his expression to be a slight gentler as he looks at your face. You feel the slightest brush of awareness in your mind.

“When's the last time you ate?”

You remain silent, willing yourself not to crumble at the first sign of decency aimed in your direction. This is your enemy.

“Days?” he persists, looking into your eyes.

Either he reads your mind, or your silence is confirmation enough.

“Bring her something to eat.” he commands.

“What else do you need?”

It’s tempting to refuse. You’re perfectly aware that this may be a case of good guy, bad guy, designed to obtain your trust by way of his sympathies. You promise yourself that this is not a case of rapid stockholm syndrome, and that you might as well take advantage of the gifts. If they think it will warm you to their cause, they are gravely mistaken.

“Water. A shower. A blanket.... a blaster if you’re feeling particularly generous.”

He looks over his shoulder and nods to the nearest storm trooper, who then rushes out of the room.

He stands up, returning to his full height once again.

“I apologize for your treatment. Had I known, I would have come earlier…. They should be treating you like a Queen.”

Your body begins to tremble. The trooper returns, handing you a stack of clothes and the boots you had come in with. You accept it with one hand, keeping your free arm securely pinned across your chest. A few seconds later, another trooper enters the room with a tray of food and water and a blanket under his arm. The unmasked man takes the blanket as the trooper sets the tray beside you on the bench and steps away. The man opens the blanket, whirling it over your head to wrap around your shoulders. You grab the inside corners and pull it closed, tightly around you.

He turns to speak to Pershing directly. “I want to speak to Gideon now. Take me to the Dark Troopers, have him meet me there.”

Pershing nods to the troopers to follow his instructions and the unmasked man follows them out of the room.

The masked man however, remains in his position, continuing to stare down at you. Pershing, noticing this, hesitates to leave.

“Tell me doctor,” his modulated voice is dark, sending a jolt of fear through your bones. “Why you would have me waste my spend in a cup, when I could have come down here and finished the job?”

“As I said before, I need to run some tests-”

“Waste of time, I can tell you right now, my seed will take root. In fact, I’d be willing to try again…” You begin to shake, your body and mind freezing. What to do?

You squeeze the blanket tighter.

“That won’t be necessary, she isn’t fertile yet.”

“Hhhhu.” he groans. “Soon, then.” and turns to leave the chamber.

Pershing lingers back after the others have left the room. He kneels by your side placing a hand at your knee. You quickly pull away, revolted by his touch. You shake harder than before, even though the immediate danger has left the room.

Pershing sighs, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t bother responding, his apology is worthless.

“When the time comes, I can sedate you…if you want?”

“Sedate me? For my rape, you mean?” you say, boring a hole straight between his plasspecs. “How altruistic of you.”

Pershing leaves the room, a look of shame on his face.

When the doors close, the manacles at your wrist pop open and a stream of hot water begins to flow from the ceiling in the corner, over a floor drain. Before you step under the stream and enjoy the first shower you’ve had in Maker knows how long, you wonder to yourself, which one was Flint, and which one was Jax?

Today is the day. I can’t put it off any longer.

After the visit from the “potential donors”, the torture sessions stopped. Like clockwork, food is delivered, and the shower comes on once a day. They may not have provided the requested blaster or upgraded you to first class accommodations, but they have left you blissfully alone. You wonder if it’s all part of the program, meant to make you trust the unmasked man? More than likely it’s just an indication that the sands in the hourglass have almost run out. Surely they want you in tip-top shape to conceive this hell-spawn prodigy for them. You’re thankful for the calm. It’s given you time to make peace with your decision.

Today is the day.

-In the hall outside your cell, Dr. Pershing consults with Moff Gideon-

“She’s dying.”

“You said she’s fully recovered from the last session. That was a week ago.”

“She has. It’s more than that. Her systems are slowing down, we’re losing her.”

“How can that be, Dr. Pershing?”

Pershing takes a deep breath. “I believe she’s lost the will to live. It’s the only explanation. I’ve heard stories of such things, dying from a broken heart for example…. it’s not something I’ve seen before, but I believe that is what’s happening. She is the one controlling it.”

“What can you do?”

“Nothing. This is beyond science.”

“There must be something?”

“Nothing. I don’t expect her to make it to the window of opportunity. Unless you can give her hope- a reason to live. This will all have been for nothing.”

This is it. You expect your escorts to walk through the door, having come to make the daily journey to Pershing’s office, where you’ll finish this once and for all.

You’re surprised then, when Moff Gideon enters the room instead. His palm rests on the hilt of the sword, sheathed at his side. This is an unexpected visit, which is never a good thing.

Please don’t let it be too late .

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him in person- not since that day he introduced you to the garrison of dark troopers. Gideon prefers to keep his hands clean, lets his posse of underlings carry out the dirty work for him. That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy watching. You’d felt his eyes on you more than once, even if it was through a lens or a one-way mirror.

“I must admit,” he says, strolling into the room. “I didn’t expect you to hold out this much resistance. A brutal whipping, sonic bombardment, sleep, food and air deprivation…” he begins listing off. “And all the while, never using the force to defend yourself. You truly are as stubborn as they come.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Have you ever heard of a memory walk?” he asks.

Taking your silence as a ‘no’, he continues. “Imagine, having the power to see into someone’s mind, to project your own thoughts as well.” Gideon begins to pace the room while you listen.

“You could bring a dying man peace, by showing him his loved ones waiting for him in the ether…or, you could bring your enemy to their knees, force them to relive their greatest horrors over and over. Everything from their most embarrassing moments to facing their darkest fears. And all without having to lift a finger. Can you imagine what that power must be like?”

You consider it a moment. “There was that time I got my period in front of everyone, oh…and that one night stand with Dash Obrin- highly regrettable. I definitely would not want to relive that again.”

“You use your sense of humor as a shield. Imagine instead, if you had the ability to quite literally shield yourself. You have assets in reserve that you aren’t even aware of.”

You hate that he calls you out on it, reads the situation so clearly.

“Yeah, well…joke ‘em if they can’t take a fuck.”

Gideon inhales for patience. “You’re squandering what you have been given. But we have the means, the resources to teach you how to wield them.”

“Resources? You mean like that masked barbarian in the leather onesie? No thank you.”

“If you would take a moment, I encourage you to let go of that pride, you might be able to see things differently- see the opportunity that lies before you.”

“Opportunity? Only you would view an unconscionable violation of this magnitude, as an opportunity.”

“You have a gift. You are capable of power, few in this galaxy will ever understand.”

“I see.” You snort, a mocking sound of indifference. “It’s so clear now, you’re jealous.”

Gideon stops his pacing, turning to stare down at you.

“They have a power you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life pining for. No matter what you do, no matter how many lives you take, or civilizations you destroy, you’ll still never be as powerful as them.” Hoping to strike every nerve in his body, you continue. “And if you can’t have it, you’ll, what? Find a way to control it in someone else? You’ll never have the power they have.”

His jaw begins to tick, his anger showing by the twitch of his mustache. You definitely found the weakness in his armor- his pride.

“You tell me, who’s in control here? You’re the one in shackles.” Maker, his voice is grading. Every word out of his mouth comes out sounding like a lecture. He’s trying to goad you, to get you to lose your temper. And it’s working.

“Let’s face facts, your little torture sessions proved nothing, I’ve given you nothing.” you say, mocking his failure.

“You’ve given me everything!” He snaps back. “All these weeks, enduring the pain and suffering…I’ve never seen anything like it. Most break within the first few hours, but you…” he shakes his head, “Not you. You must be very powerful indeed. Imagine what you’ll be capable of when you stop holding back and embrace the power before you.”

Your heart begins to race at the implication. Is it possible that everything you went through was in vain? “No.” You shake your head.

“Did you not know? That your numbers climbed after every grueling session? You may not have fought back, but you were using the force to keep yourself alive.”

“That’s not true, that can’t be true.” All this time, it was for nothing.

“Lying to you, does nothing to serve me. You on the other hand…you are very convincing.”

Your hand begins to tremble.

Just tell him what he wants to hear, tell him whatever it takes to get you into Pershing’s lab, so that you can end this game once and for all.

“Fuck you. I don’t care what you believe.”

“If it’s any consolation, you almost had me convinced….Not about the force. I knew that was just desperation on your part.”

He smiles, with all the arrogance of someone who holds an ace in their pocket. He tosses you a small object. Out of instinct, you raise your cuffed hands to catch it midair. Opening your palm, you see a small handheld holoprojector.

“What’s this?”

Gideon turns to leave, his cape swirling around his feet dramatically.

“A reason to live.” he says, before the door closes.

Once you’re alone again, you find the courage to activate the device. A clear holo projection of Mando, in full beskar armor, alive, and well, and strong, stares back at you. His voice, resolute and intent, threatens a promised retribution, as he recites back words, once delivered to him.

Moff Gideon,

You have something I want.

You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not.

Soon, she will be back with me.

She means more to me than you will ever know.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: As always, kudus, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Inspired soundtrack in my head this chapter: The Mandalorian || Flesh and Bone - YouTube

Faithful Readers: @mandosmistress @mandomover @yeetusfeetus3000 @wildmoonflower @littlemisspascal @starwars-thirst @spideysimpossiblegirl @mominousrex @toobsessedsstuff @pickledbeskar @brunette-overalls

Taglist Request

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory #slowburn #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin #in the dark

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beyond-dental-care · 2 months ago

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

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Compromising Positions

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon: So, seeing your Juice post just now, I got another idea (oops) if it's okay to send another. I was thinking a Juice x Female reader, who gets super defensive over him, gets teased over it a lot, but goes absolutely ape shit at the guys when she finds out they stapled a sign to his chest when he accidentally drugged himself to sleep. And then after she goes ape, threatening to staple some bitches, she cleans him up and maybe some sudden release of emotions and pooooossibly smut? ^_^ maybe :D

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Being ready to pop off in defense of Juice is a sentiment that I can totally get behind, so thank you for this request lmao. I didn’t end up going the smutty route because I just didn’t feel like it fit the whole mood of this story. But fear not! There will be other fics for our boy in the future that take care of that haha. Hope you enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @mijop @garbinge @xladymacbethx @kkim120 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-read-stuff @chibsytelford (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

You tried to tune out the conversations of the guys as you wiped down the surface of the bar. They’d hardly been out of church for five minutes and they had already completely moved past everything that they had been talking about behind closed doors. You loved them all but you would be lying if you said that listening to the way that they spoke about things sometimes didn’t get underneath your skin a little bit. You’d learned to pick your battles wisely because there was only so much that you could be frustrated about all the time.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the guys reach over and give Juice a light smack to the back of his head. You looked up, eyes instantly zeroing in on what was going on. It wasn’t shocking to you that it was Tig who was doling out the abuse—that seemed to be a large part of their relationship with each other.

Juice never seemed overly bothered by it whenever the guys would rag on him. You wished that you were as good at brushing it off as he was, but every time you saw them picking on him it made your blood boil. For that reason alone you knew that your feelings towards Juice were no secret, and the guys went in on you about it just as much as they went in on Juice for everything else. It seemed like the only person who never picked on you for how you felt about Juice was Juice himself. He never said anything about it one way or the other.

“Look out, Tig,” Jax spoke up with a laugh, “keep that up and you’re about to catch some hands from someone else.”

Your frustration must’ve been instantly apparent on your face. You made a concentrated effort to relax your features, but it wasn’t much use. Shaking your head silently, you returned your attention to the bar.

“Go on, then, Y/N,” Tig said with a cocky laugh, “If you got something to say then say it.”

You didn’t lift your eyes, knowing that getting into it right now wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Juice spoke up on your behalf, though, “Leave her alone, Tig. She’s just trying to work without having to listen to you guys talk shit all the time.”

“Funny how she only seems to get uptight when it’s about one person in parti—”

“Are you done?” you cut him off.

Tig held his hands up in mock surrender, “Sure, doll,” he turned to Juice, “Should start bringing her with you on runs. Maybe she can keep you safe out there, too.”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying something that would undoubtedly make the situation worse. You tossed your cleaning rag onto the surface of the bar before turning and walking towards the door of the clubhouse. Without missing a beat, you swiped a pack of cigarettes off of one of the tables as you went. You could hear the guys murmuring behind you but you blocked it out.

You were lost in your thoughts, camped out on the picnic table outside the clubhouse, when someone came and sat down next to you. Glancing over, you saw that it was Juice. You didn’t have to fully look at him to know the expression that he had on his face. It was the same one that he always had whenever the guys gave you a hard time—a mixture of pity and being flattered.

You shook your head slightly, “You don’t need to check on me, Juice. I can handle them.”

“You realize I can handle them too, right?” he gave your shoulder a playful nudge with his own.

Despite your annoyance, you smiled as you took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers. You let yourself make full eye contact with him, “I never said that you couldn’t.”

You passed him your cigarette and he took it with a smile. The two of you didn’t say anything else about what had just happened, opting to just sit and enjoy each other’s company silently. Juice was one of the few people in the world that you could enjoy silence with, and you knew that in moments like this when you were cooling off from being frustrated, it was truly a blessing to have him around.

A few days ticked by and you managed to not get yourself into any more arguments with Tig or any of the other guys. Every now and then when things were getting a little rowdy in the clubhouse you could feel the guys looking at you, waiting for you to speak up and insert yourself into the middle of it. It took some conscious effort on your part, but you stayed out of it.

You were just starting to get ready for your next shift at the bar when you heard the door to the clubhouse open. You didn’t look up at first, too immersed in everything that you were doing to try and straighten up a little bit. The only thing that caught your attention was the quiet groan that filled the room.

Looking up, your eyes went wide when you saw Juice. You had so many questions but you weren’t sure if you really wanted answers to any of them. You went to walk up to him to offer a helping hand but he waved you off as he walked back to his dorm. Every fiber of your being was telling you to follow him, but you didn’t. Part of you knew that you weren’t going to get any answers from him, so instead you stormed in the opposite direction from him to find the other guys.

You flung the clubhouse door open and were greeted by the sight of the guys huddled around the table, all laughing and joking around. You had a feeling that you knew exactly what they found to be so funny.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” you made a direct line for Tig.

“Whoa, whoa,” he laughed as he took a step back from you, “why do you assume that it was me?”

“You telling me it wasn’t?”

“Depends on what you’re talking about.”

“What the hell happened to Juice?”

“Maybe you should keep a better eye on your boy, Y/N,” Jax said, trying and failing to stifle his laughter, “and he wouldn’t land himself in such…compromising positions.”

You weren’t naïve enough to think that Juice couldn’t get himself into difficult situations on his own. He didn’t always think things through. But you also knew that when he was putting himself in sketchy situations, the guys were the first ones to try and capitalize on it.

“Alright then, VP,” you turned your attention to Jax, “what did he land himself into this time?”

“Your boy knocked himself the fuck out. Thought he was taking vitamins when he…wasn’t. That’s on him for popping whatever gets put into his hands,” Jax was shaking his head as he spoke.

“That doesn’t explain why he walked into the clubhouse practically naked and bleeding.”

“The blood was probably from the staples,” Tig chimed in with a laugh.

“The what?” you managed to keep your voice below a yell, but barely.

He continued to laugh as he motioned for Chibs to hand you the sign that had been discarded onto the table, most likely tossed there by Juice when he finally made his way back to the clubhouse. You snatched it from the man’s hands, unfolding it and reading what it said. As you continued to put the entire situation together, you saw red for a moment.

“You stapled this to his fucking chest?” you folded the sign in half and proceeded to start hitting Tig in the head and chest with it, “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tig was holding his hands up to try and block the onslaught of slaps coming his way.

“Y/N,” Jax reached to grab your arm to stop you and you ripped it from his grasp.

You turned back to him, not afraid to go toe-to-toe with the VP. He might’ve held an office in the club, but he was just another blonde biker at the bar as far as you were concerned, especially in this moment.

You shoved the sign into his chest, pushing him back in the process, “What? You got some smart shit to say?”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to. Juicy is a grown man, he can handle his own shit.”

“You think it’s not a big deal?” you stepped in close to him, “You put two staples in his goddamn chest and you think it’s not a big deal?” you shoved him once more for good measure, “Get me a goddamn staplegun! We’ll see how big of a deal it is when I’m drilling shit into your chest!” you shook your head, “I swear to fucking god, Jax, I should put some staples into your fuckin—”

You stopped short when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You whipped around, ready to fight, but you were met with Juice’s eyes. He was still going without a shirt, but he’d taken the time to go put pants on. You were assuming that he could hear your rage from inside the clubhouse and it prompted him to come outside. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes and you would’ve been more enamored with it if you weren’t still focused on the two wounds that were bleeding on his chest.

“C’mon,” Juice tried to redirect you back towards the clubhouse, “it’s fine, Y/N. I’m alright.”

You turned back around, staring daggers at all the guys, but mostly Jax and Tig, “This isn’t over with,” you huffed and shook your head, “Motherfuckers.”

Before you could say anything else, Juice started nudging you back towards the door. You were grumbling underneath your breath as Juice continued to usher you into the building. When you were inside and it was just the two of you, you turned to him and let the anger fade away slightly.

“What the fuck is the matter with them?”

He laughed and shook his head, “We’re all a little fucked up. Can’t just hold it against them.”

“I’ll be mad at you later, don’t worry,” you sighed, unable to pry your eyes away from his injuries, “At least let me clean you up a little? I’m no doctor but I feel like I could still help you out a little bit.”

He smiled and nodded, glad that he had a way to pacify you a little bit for the time being. The last thing he wanted to be dealing with was you going on a rampage with a staplegun. You went and dug out your first aid kit from behind the bar before following him back to his dorm. The two of you sat on the edge of his bed. You wanted to stay completely focused on the task at hand but you were only human. You chastised yourself for your wandering thoughts.

“Considering you took a bunch of mystery pills,” you said with a slight shake of your head as you laid out your supplies, “you don’t look too worse for wear.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he chuckled as he watched your calculated, meticulous movements.

“Trying to sweeten you up because cleaning out these cuts is gonna hurt like a bitch,” you managed a smile, “Don’t want you to end up hating me too much.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

You tried to ignore the heat rising in your face as you set about cleaning the torn skin on his chest. He cringed and cursed under his breath when you swabbed the cuts with alcohol. You fought the urge to apologize but it was difficult.

You were leaning in close enough to feel his breath on the side of your neck. It was taking all of your self-control to stay focused on placing bandages on him. Your hands begged you to let them wander but you kept it together. When you pulled away and looked at Juice, there was something in his expression that made you feel like he was reading every thought that had been crossing your brain as you worked.

“What?” you tried to sound less nervous than you really were as you started to put your medical supplies away.

“Were you really about to threaten to put staples in Jax’s dick?” he couldn’t keep his laughter in any longer.

You smiled as you set your first aid kit off to the side, “I sure fucking was.”

“Felt like you really meant it.”

You waited for his eyes to meet yours, “I did.”

He laughed, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, “I know I spend a lot of time telling you not to worry about the guys, but I hope you know it is nice to know that someone has my back.”

You nodded as you tried to focus on both the feeling of warmth coming from his body and the words he was saying, “Of course. I’ll go after anyone with a staplegun for you. No questions asked.”

He chuckled before leaning in and pressing a kiss against your temple. You nearly melted into a puddle in his arms at the contact. He let his lips linger against your skin for a moment, “Thank you.”

You rested your hand on his thigh, allowing yourself to lean completely into him. His arm wrapped tighter around you and you smiled as your cheek rested against the bare skin of his chest, careful to not touch the bandages you had just dressed him with.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

When he didn’t say anything else, you pulled away so you could look at him. There was a small smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he looked at you. Your eyes searched his, trying to figure out just what he was thinking.

His free hand came up and rested on the side of your face, and you instantly leaned into his touch. The palm of his hand was rough and calloused, but despite that you couldn’t deny that it felt like it was in its rightful place resting against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut as you soaked up the moment. Juice chuckled quietly, not expecting you to react so quickly and comfortably.

It gave him a little boost of confidence as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes, smiling as your heart began to speed up inside your chest.

“Wanna know what would really make me feel better?” you could hear that he was trying not to laugh as he spoke.

“What?” a giggle slipped out past your lips.

“If you let me kiss you.”

You laughed, reaching up to rest one hand on the back of his neck, “For your health.”

You could feel the smile still on his face as he pressed his lips against yours. Everything else that had been happening suddenly faded from your mind—the only thing you could think about was how right it felt to be kissing him. His thumb traced lightly along your cheekbone as he leaned into you. You couldn’t win out over the urge to smile as you continued to kiss him, and you could feel the laughter starting to vibrate in his chest.

He pulled you so that you were straddling his lap, keeping his lips locked onto yours as he did. Your hands cradled the back of his head as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You could feel the warmth of his body seeping through your shirt and the only thought coursing through your brain was that he felt like home.

When he finally pulled his lips off of yours, they were still curved up into a smile. You could feel the warmth flooding your face as you tried to stifle a laugh, biting down lightly on your bottom lip. He ran his hands up and down your sides and you pressed a quick, light kiss to his lips.

“Feel better?” you finally said, your laughter beginning to escape you.

“I think so,” there was a playful glint in his eyes, “but just to be sure, could you do that again?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head despite the fact that you knew you were never going to say no to him, “Anything for you.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years ago

Text

A Piece of You - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

Warning: Spencer in prison, angst!, language, post prison!Spencer, PTSD symptoms, fluff ending

Word count: 5951

Short summary: Reader finds she is pregnant just as Spencer is sent to prison.

A/N: Y/F/N means your first name. Y/L/N means your last name. Y/N means your name. And Y/C/M means your comfort movie. I chose for the baby in the fic to be a girl, but feel free to change it when you read it. I found a blog post on the internet that stated Reid was in jail for about 84 days, so I added some to accommodate time for travel, etc and am going with it. I also changed a few things, like Spencer coming home without the reader knowing and I didn’t include his mother as much either, to add to the storyline. And I added/made up a few details with the whole prison call/visit things so it may not ring true. Link here: click

A warm pair of lips placing feather-lite kisses on your face pulls you away from the comforting arms of sleep. You sluggishly open your eyes, blinking the blurry figure leaning over you in the darkness of the bedroom into focus.

“Spence?” You drawl out, reaching a hand up to weave into his curly hair. “Don’t go.” He lets out a small laugh as he gently unthreads your hand from his hair. “I’ve got to go Y/N.” He says reluctantly, moving to rest his forehead against yours for a moment. You close your eyes, reveling in the intimacy of the moment.

“I love you.” You murmur, your breath fanning across Spencer’s face. You reach up enough to press your lips against Spencer’s in a tender kiss. “Come home safe.”

“I love you too Y/N. Go back to sleep.” He says as he brings the comforter back up over your shoulders. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

If you had known that the kiss you’d given Spencer before he left for his trip to Mexico would have been the last you’d be able give him for the next 89 days (you had been counting), you would’ve made it more than a sleepy, wet kiss as you yearned for your bed. You would have hugged him tight, pressing your face into his chest, deeply breathing his musk in as you listen to his heartbeat. You would have pulled him in for two, three, four more kisses, murmuring words of love between each.

Most importantly, you would have told him what you had found out only the night before when he had been at work, that you were pregnant. If only you had known what was to happen, you could have saved yourself from the hell to come.

---

No matter the case, Spencer always made sure to call, or at the very least text, you once a day. But after two days of radio silence, you were starting to worry. You had called him twice, leaving him a message each time asking him to call you when he could. You sent him quite a few text messages as well, becoming more and more concerned as time passed but you receive no call back from him.

By the fifth day, despite having sent a number of additional text messages and leaving enough voicemails to fill Spencer’s inbox, you still hadn’t heard from him. You are so worried that you can hardly focus at work. In fact, you are so distracted by thoughts of Spencer being kidnapped or him being shot and bleeding out in an alley that you got pulled into your boss’s office and reprimanded for your “airhead behavior”, as your boss had put it. When you arrive home, you are gripped with such anxiety and fear that you can only grab one of Spencer’s large sweaters and curl up in bed with it. You can’t even bring yourself to take off your shoes.

The ringing of your phone early the next morning pulls you from the trance you had been in all night. You frantically start looking for your phone and quickly find it on Spencer’s side of the bed, answering it without looking at the number.

“Spencer? Is that you? Are you okay?” You blurt out, not allowing the other person to talk before you are firing questions at them.

“Is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?” The voice on the other side asks quickly, stopping you. You immediately know it isn’t Spencer, just as much as you know that it isn’t someone you know.

“Yes. May I ask who this is and what it is regarding?” You ask nervously, your heart quickening as you wait what feels like an eternity for them to answer.

“I’m Penelope Garcia and I work with Spencer at the FBI.” She pauses for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to continue. “You were the most called number in the call log on Spencer’s phone and I felt like this is something you should know, as he seems to be someone very important to you, and vice versa.” The brokenness of her voice causes the worry in your chest to bubble up again. “Spencer is in jail...in Mexico.”

“Wh-what?” You struggle to wrap your mind around what she is saying as you climb out of bed, rushing to find your discarded jacket and set of keys from the night before. You aren’t entirely sure why you’re rushing, or even where you’d be going, but that doesn’t slow you down. “Was there a case in Mexico? What happened?”

“There wasn’t a case. He took some personal days and went to Mexico for some experimental medication for his mother. He...um..he was arrested for murder, but he doesn’t remember anything.”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to sit in one of the living room chairs as you try to fight off the sobs rising in your chest. “Is he, is he going to stay in Mexico? I mean, is he, no, when will...he didn’t do it.” You stammer out, as you try to slow your racing thoughts, stop the inevitable tears from falling, and make your word coherent.

“Miss Y/L/N, I don’t have the answers to those questions yet. But, I can keep you updated if you’d like. The team left a few hours for Mexico to help Reid. They want to get him transferred to a prison in the states.” Her voice is comforting, but does nothing to tamp down the feeling of impending disaster that is rising in you. You manage to get out a shaky goodbye to Penelope before you lose grip on your emotions.

You struggle to get a proper breath through the onslaught of tears as the reality of the situation hits you. Your phone clatters to the floor as you bury your face in your arms, drawing your legs up to yourself as you try to push it all away. Eventually the tears slow and stop. You gradually unfurl from the cramped up position you had been in. You numbly make your way to the kitchen and somehow manage to make yourself breakfast. The rest of the day passes in a hazy blur, with you almost forgetting that you were supposed to be at work (you called in sick once you remembered, but your boss wasn’t happy the call was coming in three hours late). You spend the night, clutching Spencer’s pillow and wishing that this were all a dream. You don’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, when the exhaustion of the last few days finally overtakes you.

The ringing of your phone wakes you later that morning, serving as a reminder that you have to face the day ahead, as much as you don’t want to.

“Y/F/N? This is Penelope with the FBI. I called you yesterday about Spencer.” Her greeting has you sitting up, trying to clear the foggy cloud from your brain so you could think.

“Penelope, have you found anything else out? How is Spencer?” You plow over any possible pleasantries as you ask the question that had been on your mind for the last day.

“The team was able to get him extradited to the United States.” She starts, her words helping to ease some of the anxiety that had built up since you had learned about Spencer’s imprisonment. “He isn’t out yet, but the team is working on his case. In the meantime, I’m setting up a visitor schedule. If you’d want to come down to Quantico, I can help you fill out the necessary paperwork and get on the schedule to see him, if you’d like.” You quickly voiced your agreement and after getting directions and setting a time, you hung up with Penelope, your mood considerably elevated for the first time in days.

A glance at the clock has you scrambling out of the bed and to your closet. You had completely forgotten about the doctor’s appointment you had scheduled days ago, before your world had been flipped upside down. You manage to get dressed and ready to go in less than ten minutes, arriving at your appointment only a few minutes late.

Your appointment is short as the doctor just does a routine exam, confirming your pregnancy and letting you know that the baby was healthy so far. You receive a list of different things to avoid (such as caffeine and smoking) and a few different things that are beneficial to your, and the baby’s, health (such as prenatal vitamins). After your appointment, you quickly stop at the store to pick up a few things suggested by the doctor, before heading back to Spencer’s apartment, where you had been staying. Although he had never officially asked you to move in, you had been staying at his apartment most nights for the past few months and had your own drawer and spot in his closet. And with the events of the past few days, it had just felt right to stay, almost as if you had one small part of him still with you.

You go to bed early that night, really early, in hopes of getting the time to pass quicker. The prospect of seeing Spencer has you anxious and excited at the same time, making sleep nearly impossible. After a few hours of tossing and turning, with no sleep, you climb out of bed and get dressed. You grab your purse and keys before leaving the apartment. You walk the short distance to your car and start it. Despite knowing that you would be hours early to your meeting with Penelope, you still start the drive to Quantico and the FBI building.

After almost an hour in the car, and twenty minutes with security (in which they had to confirm your meeting with Penelope before they gave you a visitor credential), you finally made your way to the floor where the BAU team worked. Your eyes scan the bullpen and immediately you recognize Spencer’s desk, even though you had never seen it before. You recognize the pattern in which the items are placed and the semi-clearness of his desk space; it is identical to the desk he uses for work at home. You make your way towards it, tracing a finger along the fake wood edge as you take a seat in his desk chair. Sitting here, you can almost feel his presence behind you, his voice speaking up, sharing an idea he had or some crazy fact, his fingers tapping along the edge of his desk. You take comfort in the feeling as you rest your head in your arms on his desktop. It isn’t long before you are closing your eyes and falling into a light sleep.

A tap on your shoulder jerks you awake, causing you to fly up in a sitting position and blink at the harsh light of the bullpen. “You must be Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m Penelope Garcia.” A cheery blonde, wearing a bright orange dress and matching hair accessory, as well as holding a bright pink pom topped pen.

You stand, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit before offering a hand out to her. “Yes, that’s me.” She takes your hand but instead of shaking it, pulls you into a hug. You are taken back by her forwardness, but give her a squeeze in return.

“Let’s go see what we can do to get you on the visitor list.” She says softly, leading the way to what you could only describe as her office, although it more resembled a cave, filled with more types of technology than you would know what to do with.

Penelope gestures to a black swivel desk chair set next to the wall. “Here, take a seat. I’m going to pull up Spencer’s information and see if we can get you some visitor paperwork.” She says as you take a seat in the chair. The longer you sit there, the more nervous you feel. Unconsciously, you rest your hand on your lower stomach, right over the small bump that was starting to form.

You don’t realize that you are zoned out until Penelope clears her throat. “Are you okay?” She nods at your hand resting on your stomach. You quickly pull it away, straightening up in your seat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

She gives you a long stare before speaking. “I have some good news and some bad news Y/N.” You nod, waiting for her to speak with bated breath. “The good news - you can call Spencer.”

You wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “And the bad news?”

“I can’t add you to the visitor list. It seems that Spencer doesn’t want you to come see him as a visitor.” She can’t look you in the eye as she says that.

You are quiet after that, not entirely sure what to say. The thought that he doesn’t want to see you hurts. But you also know Spencer, and whatever the reason, you know he has one.

“He can take a call in about five minutes if you want to get on the call list.” She says, looking up from one of her monitors at you. You nod quickly, before voicing your agreement. The five minutes of waiting seemed to go on forever, but finally, she is patching through to a prison phone. “Here you go, he should be on the other line now.” The fact that she immediately gave the phone to you, instead of taking some of the time to talk to him, had you smiling gratefully at her. ‘Thank you’, you mouth as you take the phone.

“Spencer? Is that you?” You ask, your heart in your throat as you wait to hear his voice.

“Y/N, it’s so good to hear your voice.” He speaks quietly, the low quality of the phone call causing his voice to crackle.

“I know you didn’t do it Spencer. Whatever they are saying, it isn’t true.” You whisper, clutching the handset close to your ear, as if that would bring him closer to you.

“Y/N...I don’t know-” He starts but you cut him off, knowing he was going to tell you he wasn’t sure what had happened.

“I know Spencer, but I also know you. And that isn’t who you are.” You say thickly, as you fight back the coming tears. “I want to see you Spencer. Why don’t you have me on your visitor list?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to see me here.” You start to argue that it doesn’t matter, but some yelling in the background cuts you off, after which Spencer says, “I’ve got less than a minute Y/N before I’ve got to hang up.” He says solemnly, the sorrow in his voice echoing the sorrow you felt.

You push aside the topic of seeing him, not wanting to waste what little time you had left talking to him by arguing. “I love you Spencer. Don’t forget that okay? I don’t care how long it takes, we-I will be here when you come home. You have a lot of people here in your corner Spencer. They will get you out.” You push back the tears as you talk, not wanting him to hear you cry.

“Gosh, I love you and I miss you. I wish I was th-” His voice is cut off, followed shortly by a dial tone.

You grip at the handset, calling “Spencer? Spencer?!”, wishing for him to respond.

“I’m sorry Y/N. The call ended.” Penelope says quietly. You hand over the handset, moving to sit back in the swivel chair against the wall, roughly wiping away the evidence of your tears as you do.

“What do we do now?” You ask through the tears.

“We wait. The team is working on his case and I will keep you updated on everything that happens. Do you need anything?” She asks, giving you a good look.

You are telling her before you consciously realize what you are doing. “I-I’m pregnant. I just found out and I haven’t had the chance to tell Spencer. I don’t know what to do. I want to tell him when I can see him face to face, when he can enjoy it for what it is, a blessing. But I hate hiding things from him.”

Penelope gives out a little squeal, bouncing up from her chair to hug you tight. “Oh, you are gonna have a baby Reid!” She says loudly, taking a step back from you. The look on your face must have given away the shock on your face because she is quickly apologizing. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. What can I do to help Y/N?”

“I just, I need someone to talk to. I miss him, a lot. It’s hard to be going through this alone.” You whisper, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“Girl, you don’t have to ask. I’d love to be your friend.” She says excitedly, giving you a soft shoulder bump. “And I’m going to do everything I can to get the boy wonder home to you.” She gives you a small smile. “And your little one.”

---

The days follow a routine after that. Work, talking to Penelope, and the occasional doctor’s appointment. Penelope comes to some of the appointments as support, which you appreciate, and when you find out the gender, she insists on going shopping for baby items with you. You are able to talk to Spencer a few more times, although each phone call is shorter than the last, and leaves you missing him even more.

Each doctor’s appointment is harder than the last. All you could think of when you hear the baby’s heartbeat is that Spencer wasn’t there. All you could think of when you feel the baby move for the first time is that Spencer might never be able to feel your baby move like that. He might never get the chance to feel your baby kick. All you can think of when you hear the gender of your baby is that Spencer might never get to experience that excitement, that joy, of imagining all the future things that might be in store for the baby.

---

Late one evening in early May, after a long day at work (which you had spent almost entirely on your feet) and a feeling of nausea that had lasted all day, you dig through Spencer’s side of the closet and grab one of his cardigans. You pull it on, wrapping around you as well as you can with your growing belly getting in the way.

You grab one of the many books resting on Spencer’s side table, taking it with you as you head to the living room. You pull the afghan blanket off of the back of the leather wingback, carrying it with you as you move to the dark leather couch. You get comfortable, wrapping the blanket around your legs and waist before opening the random book you had grabbed.

It isn’t long before the story has your eyelids drooping and your muscles relaxing, giving into the cloud of exhaustion that hung over you. The book, forgotten and half-open, falling to the floor doesn’t wake you, and neither does your cell phone, distant and tinny, as it rings from the bedroom. You don’t wake at the jingling of a key in the lock or the opening of the apartment door. However, the heavy thud that follows the apartment door falling shut has you jerking awake, one hand coming to rest on the swell of your abdomen, the other on the back of the couch. You struggle a bit to sit up, but when you do, after taking a moment to study the intruder, you realize it’s Spencer.

“Spencer?” You whisper, moving slowly from the couch, not entirely sure if he was real or a figment of your imagination. Either way, you didn’t want to scare him away. You stop when you are a foot from him. You search his light brown, almost hazel eyes, the pain and darkness within them, swirling around and hardening his expression. You tentatively reach out with your hand to caress his face. Your fingers slowly graze his stubble covered jaw before you move to rest it against his cheek.

He leans into your touch, bringing his large, rough hand up to cover yours. Your eyes fill with tears, causing your view of him to become blurry and before you can stop yourself, you are throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can get.

He is quick to return the hug, but after a brief moment, he becomes stiff, his arms sliding loosely down your back. You step back, feeling hurt and confused at his sudden rejection of your affection.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur as you roughly wipe a hand across your face, trying to get rid of the tears that were running down your face.

“You’re pregnant.” He states, his eyes no longer looking at your face, but instead, your belly.

Your heart beats faster, a rush of excitement going through you. This was it, the moment you’d been waiting for. You’d finally get to tell Spencer that he was going to be a father.

“Spencer, it’s ours.” You answer softly, gently taking his hand in yours and placing right above where the baby typically kicked. “You’re going to be a father.”

“I-I am?” He questions in disbelief. His hand, which had been rigidly resting on your belly, slowly relaxes just as the baby kicks. He jerks his hand away, stepping back and bumping into the door. He brings his hands up, pushing them into his hair. His fingers grip onto the long, curly locks as uses his palms to cover his eyes.

“No, this isn’t happening, it’s a dream. I don’t deserve this.” He is rambling now as he slowly slides down the door, landing in a sitting position. His face is still covered with his hands as he continues to ramble. “This isn’t real. I don’t deserve this.”

“Spencer?” You murmur, keeping your voice low, but audible as you kneel down beside him. You place a gentle hand on his arm, afraid that your touch might startle him. He doesn’t move as he continues to talk to himself. You bring your other hand up to cradle his still covered face. You stay this way for a long time, holding him as much as he’ll allow in his closed off position. Eventually, he stops muttering to himself and is quiet. You shift then, until you're sitting next to him against the door.

“Lie down, Spencer.” You whisper softly, brushing a lock of his hair back away from his face when he turned to face you. You slide your hand from his hair and over his shoulder, gently pulling him down towards you. He didn’t resist, placing his head in your lap and allowing you to run your fingers through his hair.

The two of you stay that way until your butt goes numb from sitting in the same place for so long. You squeeze Spencer’s shoulder with your hand to get his attention. “Let’s go to bed, Spence.” You say. He slowly gets up, offering you a hand as he does, avoiding any accidental brushing of your stomach as he did. You keep his hand in yours as he leads the way to the bedroom, only letting go when you move to your side of the bed and get in. He is gone for a few minutes, coming back with a low-slung pair of gray sweatpants and an old college T-shirt on. He gets in bed, but instead of wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close as he usually did, he simply laces his fingers through yours.

Weeks pass this way, with you and Spencer going back to life as it was, or at least as much as the two of you could with Spencer’s new work schedule and the fact that you were getting closer and closer to your due date. The fact that things remained the same though, as they had been when Spencer arrived home for the first time, was what worried you.

Never once did Spencer engage in the conversations you started about the baby or the nursery you wanted in the small spare room across from the bedroom you and Spencer shared. Whenever you commented that the baby was kicking, he found some excuse to leave the room. He still only ever held your hand at night, completely avoiding your ever-growing belly both in bed and anywhere else. It was almost as if he was trying to pretend as if you weren’t actually pregnant, as if what was happening wasn’t reality. Not only were you constantly uncomfortable, tired and just all around ready for the baby to come, but you were frustrated that Spencer still acted as if you weren’t pregnant, as if anytime within the next few weeks you wouldn’t be handed a newborn, making the two of you parents. You had finally had enough when you had mentioned going shopping for baby supplies about two weeks prior to your due date and he ignored you, continuing to wash the dishes. At first you thought he hadn’t heard you, so you repeat yourself, but when he acted much the same way a second time, you slam your hand on the table.

“Spencer, you can’t ignore this pregnancy. It may not be something you want right now, or ever, but you can’t just ignore it.” You snap at him, the irritation you had been feeling at his callous behavior finally surfacing. He doesn’t answer as he continues to wash the dishes from dinner. You can tell he heard you though, by the unnecessary sheer force he was using to scrub the plate in his hand.

“Spencer,” you pause, waiting until he is looking at you before continuing. “You have to find a way to accept it. This baby is coming.” Your tone is softer now, but your words don’t hold any less bite.

“I can’t accept it Y/N. Accepting it means it’s reality.” He lets out a harsh, joyless laugh. “And the reality is that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a baby. And I definitely don’t deserve this life with you.” He is no longer facing you, rather his back is to you, his shoulders tensed and hunched.

You place a tender hand on his elbow, wanting him to turn so you could see his face. Instead he roughly pulls his elbow out of your hold, flinging soapy water through the air before returning to the plate. “Spencer, look at me.” You try to speak clearly, steadily, but your voice cracks, betraying the emotion behind your words.

He does as you ask, but his face is twisted and dark in a way you had never seen before. “Damnit Y/N. You have no idea what I’ve done or who I am.” He is yelling at you now, waving a half washed dish to emphasize his point, causing you to take a step backwards. “You think I should be the father of that child,” he gestures wildly at your belly, “when you don’t even know who I am, what I am.” He drops the plate and the sponge, letting them clatter loudly against the metal basin of the sink, as he walks towards the front door of the apartment, his hands still dripping wet.

“Where are you going?” Your words are barely audible as you try to force them past the growing lump in your throat.

He ignores your question as he grabs his jacket from the coat rack by the door and leaves the apartment. The loud thud of the door closings clangs against your ears, the tears you had been trying to hold back freely falling now. You were beyond angry at him, despite knowing you shouldn’t be because he had gone through hell the past few months. You couldn’t bring yourself to wait for him to come back. You were tired of the constant bickering and the numerous different times he had chosen to ignore any mention of your pregnancy or the baby.

You quickly fill your duffle bag with the things you’d need for a few days as you called Penelope. The phone rings three times before she answers with a bright, cheery “hello, Garcia.”

“Penelope, hey. It’s Y/N. Can I stay at your place for a few nights?” You ask as you zip your bag closed. “I need some space from Spencer.”

“Of course girl. You’re welcome anytime.” She says warmly. “I’ll get the couch made up and Y/C/M queued up on the TV.”

“Thanks Penelope. I’ll see you soon.” You end the call and upon reaching the kitchen, you find a piece of paper and a pen.

Spencer,

I am going to stay with Penelope for a few days. I just need some space.

I’ll be back in a few days.

I love you.

Y/N

You magnet the note to the fridge, where Spencer will be able to find it. You then grab your bag and make your way out of the apartment and down to your car. The drive to Penelope’s doesn’t take long, and when you knock on her door, she is there, holding a pint of your favorite ice cream and the TV remote. “Come here girl.” She proclaimed, pulling you into a side hug.

The two of you watched feel-good movies well into the night. It is really hard for you to get comfortable, despite being on Penelope’s comfortable sofa, but you chalk it up to being 38 weeks pregnant and partaking in a ‘girls’ sleepover’. When you finally become too tired to keep your eyes open, you rifle through your bag, finding your toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m going to brush my teeth Penelope.” You say, standing up to go to the bathroom. A wet sensation washing all down your legs has your frozen in place. The pinching sensation in your back intensifies, causing you to sit back down. “Penelope..” You call through the pain.

“Huh? Y/N?” Penelope answers groggily, sitting up from her relaxed position on the oversized chair. If the situation weren’t so serious, you’d be laughing at the way her hair was standing up in random directions.

“Penelope, I think I need to go to the hospital.” You say, letting out a breath as the pain subsided. She is at your side within moments. “What’s wrong? Is it-oh.” Penelope stops as she sees the evidence of your leaking amniotic fluid on pants. “Let’s go Y/N. We’ve got a baby Reid on the way.” She says cheerily, helping you up. She grabs your bag, which was sitting by the door and helps you out to your car, opening the passenger door for you. The drive to the hospital goes much slower than you would like as a combination of traffic and increasing contractions makes the thirty minute drive feel twice as long.

Upon reaching the emergency room, you are wheeled into a private birthing room with Penelope following closely behind. She stays with you throughout the next six hours of labor, leaving only once near the end. The closer the birth of your child gets, the foggier you feel. At one point, someone else enters the room, hovering near the head of your bed, but you can’t focus enough to see who it is.

After six hours and twenty-eight minutes of labor, you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. Shortly after birth, she is placed on your chest, a bright pink and green striped blanket placed over her backside. You laugh through the tears as you look into her eyes for the first time, an overwhelming feeling of love overtaking you. The hustle and clatter of the doctors around you slowly fade away as you get lost looking at the face of your newborn daughter.

“Y/N, she’s…” Spencer’s voice startles you as he trails off, causing you to take in his lanky form, framed by the hospital room door. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

“This baby, she’s a piece of you and me and if all I’ll ever get is a piece of you, then I’ll be happy. I love you and I want this life with you, but I can’t force you to love us either Spencer.” You pause, wiping away the tears falling down your face in frustration. “No matter what you think Spencer, I won’t ever stop loving you, just as this little girl won’t ever go a day without knowing who her father truly is. A kind, compassionate man who gave himself wholly and completely for the people he loved, regardless of what that meant for him. That’s who her father is.” You are looking at the baby in your arms now, her bright wide-eyed look bringing a small smile to your face.

You aren’t paying enough attention to Spencer to realize that he had come closer, almost to your bed, and was now staring at the girl in your arms in amazement. “She’s so small.” His words are thick with emotion and cause you to lift your head to look at him. His hazel eyes are glistening with unshed tears as he stares at his daughter.

“Do you want to hold her?” You question, slowly moving her towards his hands, which were hanging awkwardly out in front of him, as if he had anticipated your question. He hesitates a moment before nodding so you place her in his arms.

He cradles her against his chest, holding her as if she was made of glass. His eyes never stray from her face as they study her features, almost as if he was memorizing what she looked like in case he never got to see her again. You lean back against the stiffly starched hospital pillows as you watch them, exhaustion pulling at you.

“You would never have to force me to love her, or you.” His words snap you from the light doze you had fallen into. He is no longer standing as he watches the baby in his arms, now he is sitting in the chair next to your bed, the baby sleeping soundly in his arms. His eyes bore into yours as if he is trying to tell you with his eyes what he was struggling to with his words.

“I have never stopped loving you.” He looks down at the baby girl in his arms, running a gentle finger over her small cheek. “I just don’t understand what I did to deserve this, to deserve you and her.”

His words break your heart and you place a hand on his knee. “Spencer, of all the people in the world, you deserve this. You deserve love and a family. You do. And I’ll be here, no, we’ll be here everyday to remind you, of who you are and what you do deserve.” You whisper, squeezing his knee as you look at him through teary eyes.

He leans forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Thank you.” Those two words, uttered softly near your ear, hold more meaning than the typical words of gratitude and they meant the world to you. They meant he would stay, even if it wasn’t always easy, even if it wasn’t always what he felt he deserved, he would stay.

Tagging: @twilightlover2007 @brandydel @thisiscalm-andits-doctor (I added a few more of you who liked the post I made about this fic. I hope that’s okay!) @aaronhotchnerr @emofairyprincessofarkansas @sunflowersandotherthings @impala1967dwinchester

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tuellertrails · 4 years ago

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We’re 3 weeks into our hike so far, here are a few things I have learned

- Wake up EARLY in the desert. Because it will get hotter than hell and you will die of heatstroke if you hike in the heat of the day.

- Take your shoes (foot prisons) off at every opportunity. Your feet will thank you

- The higher you go in elevation, the harder the hiking is, the less hot it becomes and the more beautiful the scenery is. The desert has its own kind of beauty, but being in an alpine environment with lots of trees and the smell of sun warmed pine needles is my favorite place to be (besides a comfortable bed watching TV and eating snacks, of course). We’ve had several days of hiking where we’ve done over 5k feet of elevation, and I find that I am particularly prone to swearing and exhaustion on those days 😂. But the incredible views do make up for it somewhat! It’s all part of the experience.

- Ibuprofen (Vitamin I) and Benadryl are a hikers best friend.

- Pack out fresh food whenever you can. Vegetables and fruit have never tasted so good.

- Kindness is EVERYWHERE. We’ve received food, cold drinks, rides, camp chairs to sit in and many other kindnesses from trail angels, other hikers, family members and random people. Everything is appreciated.

Speaking of kindness, we spent several hours one day waiting out the heat of the day in a small hut next to the wind farm made for hot, suffering PCT hikers, with a cooler of cold water for us to enjoy. It was 95* even in the shade 🥵. We did not leave early enough that day, but it gave me the chance to wait out the heat and look at my phone 😂.

Here’s some highlights/points of interest from the last 100+ miles

- We heard a great story from Trail Angel who gave us a ride out of Julian, who heard it from a different hiker that she gave a ride to. So the hiker was hiking down the trail (early on, around mile 15) when he hears a voice say "hello". He looks down and sees a guy laying in the bushes in a sleeping bag with mud on his face. "Oh, uh... hello" the hiker says. The man responds "Would you like to be blessed with magic sand?" And holds up a pile of sand in his hand. The guy wasn't sure if this dude was on drugs, was going to throw the sand in his face or what, and he's contemplating how to side step this very weird man when the dude stands up and reveals that he is completely naked and says "You should really use mud. It makes the best sunscreen". Glad that it wasn’t me, poor guy.

- We went through a small town in Warner Springs who had a gas station and some picnic tables, so basically a hiker haven. We spent a couple of hours eating gas station food, and I gave another hiker a shot in the butt 😂. Nursing skills always coming in handy out here. Landon consistently says that the gas station hot dog was one of the highlights of the trail.

- My feet are MUCH better than they were. Getting inserts and some foot compression socks were a game changer for me. I now can walk many more miles without having to stop so often to roll out the golf balls on my feet. Despite this, hiking is still hard and we still find new soreness, aches and pains every day. But I do think that we are toughening up and able to do more miles than we did the first week. My blisters are mostly hardened now, and we have done as many as 18 miles in a day at this point.

- Water can be very scarce, and you have to plan out your water carries very carefully. One water source in this last stretch was a big water tank a few hundred feet from “Mikes Place”. Mikes Place is near the trail and has a big water cistern for hikers to go and get water, but they also let hikers camp and party there and sometimes feed them. There were some comments on Guthooks (the hiking navigation app we use) about how Mikes Place was kind of sketchy and borderline sexist, but we went down there with our hiker friends Sarah and Clyde, hoping for some food. Mikes place was interesting to say the least. It was a run down one story house that looked rather shabbily built, with a blanket as a wall in one section. It’s in a few acres of property, and there are all sorts of random things in front of the house. An assortment of stools and chairs, some lawn games like croquet and darts, a fire pit, a few coolers, and then even more random things like a sword stuck in a stone (a replica like in the movie). There was also an old painted car on one end, a shabby outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven and a greasy grill and lots of bowls and plates and utensils, and lots of other items spread out across the property. It seemed a little hoarder-y to us. They had Johnny cash playing in the background which kind of fit the vibe of the place. There were a few hikers there eating already, and a more stout gentleman wearing a t shirt, shorts and flip flops whose name was Scott. He said that there was no food left but that we could cook our own if we wanted, and we were like "ummm, sure?"  So he brought out the ingredients for breakfast burritos and we got to cracking eggs and slicing veggies and fired up the very greasy outdoor grill, and within about 15 minutes we were eating breakfast burritos. Scott was a little weird. He would pop in and out of where we were cooking and then disappear again, I guess he was nice enough but he just gave off a bit of a weird vibe. Apparently Mike lives in San Diego and Scott is a caretaker of his place for now, along with another guy named Spirit who we met a little later as we ate. He was a older guy, with long white hair in a ponytail and beard, wearing a dirty green zip hoodie with what looked to be a hand painted "VVR" on it, jeans and chacos. He chatted with us briefly, he is a hiker who has hiked the John Muir Trail every year since 2014 and then decided to go work at VVR, a resort in the Sierras, after visiting it so many times. He said he was headed up there in a few weeks. Anyways, we are our burritos, washed our plates, said thank you and left to go filter water from the tank up above, leaving some money in the donation box as a thank you. The food was good but I definitely wouldn't have felt comfortable being there by myself, Mike’s Place was a little...dirt baggy, but I’m glad I got to experience it all the same. Apparently Scott is hiking now, and showed up at the campground in Idyllwild a few days later, drunk as a skunk and vomited all over 😂.

- We’re 10% done with the trail! Which really puts into perspective how long this hike actually is 😂. We had heard that our trail legs would start to come in after 3 weeks, but both Landon and I agree that we’re still quite sore and wake up with different aches and pains every day. We are definitely running a major calorie deficit at this point, burning upwards of 4K calories per day, burning much more than we are eating. This is ok with us, as we could both lose 30 Lbs or more and still be in a healthy weight range! Our friend Jamie, who hiked the trail years ago with her husband, says that we are losing our “town fat”. But we both agree that our clothes are feeling a bit looser than they were before. Who knew that 3 weeks of near continuous intense exercise would do that? We are slowly getting more fit, so hopefully those trail legs will come in soon here in the next few weeks.

- Remember the girl I talked about in our last post a few weeks ago, who woke up our friend at 5 AM and told him that she had no pants? Well, he came across her again a few days ago. She was topless, sitting in a stream in her underwear, playing a ukelele. And much to his chagrin, she remembered him! 😂 Not exactly a meet cute.

- Though there are definitely some eccentric people out here, 95% of the hikers and people we meet are wonderful. We have met the most incredible people as we hike, and are grateful to have made some good friends. They say that trauma bonds you, and all of the hikers have similar trauma out on trail 😂. We all know how hard this is, how beautiful, and have experienced first hand the heavy packs we carry after filling up our food and water, and the different aches and pains that accompany hiking day after day. Ive seen some pretty gnarly feet 🦶among the hikers out here, covered in blisters and cuts, with blackened toenails and foot fungus. Our feet are constantly getting beaten up! I’m glad to know that it isn’t just us experiencing the aches and pains. Ive always been a bit of a social butterfly, and after a year of isolation due to the Covid pandemic, the extrovert in me is absolutely loving the social aspect of our hike.

We will be getting off trail for four days this next weekend to go to a family wedding and sadly, a funeral as well. We were saddened to hear that Landon’s Grandfather has passed away, after suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years in the last years of his life. I never knew him before the Alzheimer’s had affected him, but I was told that he was smart as a whip, very funny, and a great story teller. Landon has fond memories of his grandfather, going on family trips and hearing his many stories. Even after the disease progression, Arlin was a very sweet and gentle man who was happy to give you a hug and listen to you talk, even if he didn’t quite remember who you were. We feel very lucky to have been able to spend some time with him and with Landon’s Grandmother the week before the trail, and he will be greatly missed by all. We are looking forward to getting off trail for a few days to reunite with our family to both celebrate and mourn together.

Thanks to everyone for the love and support in our PCT journey so far, this has been the most incredible experience of our lives so far and we’re grateful for every second, no matter how tough, of this great adventure.

- The Tueller’s

#pct #pct2021 #pctclassof2021 #tuellertrails #hikertrash

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honestynhedonismthings · 4 years ago

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Hell and Back

I’d already been through the wringer. I suffered from a case of sepsis which I found out later was caused by a cut I’d received while having my new mirena inserted. I was getting a new mirena inserted after earlier in the year falling pregnant with a unviable embryo, meaning it wasn’t implanted in my uterus. I miscarried that pregnancy, it was never viable to begin with but it hurt just as much to lose it. It was later discovered I’d fallen pregnant because the mirena I’d had in at the time was dislodged and actually broken, hence getting it replaced when I found out. The most shocking thing wasn’t even the mirena saga, it’s the fact that after my ectopic pregnancy, I’d spent a lot of time and money on doctors who all told me that it was very unlikely I would ever conceive naturally. The sepsis was caught early because being a medical student, I know to keep my own records, and was able to help my doctors retrace my steps and figure out how what could be causing me to be so sick as it was an unusual type of sick for me. I’ve been through a lot in my life, I know my body and I know when something isn’t right. Fast forward to post recovery and you’re being helpful and nice and its familiar and we fell into old patters and slept together.. more than once.. A mistake really but when emotions are running high, sometimes you lose control. It stops anyway, we stop talking. I’m doing well, I’m being a teenager for the first time in my life and everything is sorta normal. I missed my period. I never miss my period. I took 12 pregnancy tests and threw out my pack of smokes after taking the first one. I was pregnant. Scared shitless and pregnant. You’re the only person I’ve had unprotected sex with. I couldn’t believe it. After the miscarriage, I double checked with the doctors again and they still said I’d never have a viable pregnancy and here I was, pregnant, with my ex boyfriend’s child when we’re both finally moving on. I spent that night at the hospital. Shortly after finding out I was pregnant I began to have pains in my stomach, I assumed it was anxiety and ignored it for a few hours until the pain got worse and I feared this pregnancy was ectopic as the pain was so similar to that of an ectopic pregnancy and having already had surgery for that when I was 16, I wasn’t ready to do that again. After a few hours and tests at the hospital, I was free to go home and Chad bought me dinner and I cried. I instantly knew you wouldn’t believe me. You were always in denial about things that were right in front of you. The biggest being that we weren’t good together, the second being that Chad and I are the same person basically. You were stalking my private Tumblr blog, as you were known to do. That’s how you found out I was pregnant. I’d written a journal entry about the whole thing and you messaged me accusing me of lying and came to my house to confront me. I had evidence waiting though, I knew you. Everything I said had to come with evidence when we were together so I knew I had to be especially prepared this time. You’d already accused me of lying in the previous unviable pregnancy; even after I took a pregnancy test with you right there, even after you followed me to the pregnancy advisory centre and accused me of not having an appointment, records confirm I did. You came to my house and I gave you my ultrasounds, the 12 pregnancy tests, the discharge letter from the hospital and a pregnancy record book signed and dated from my GP, you still thought it was bullshit. I was devastated and done with the conversation. I was strong. Until I got sick. I had hyperemesis which is morning sickness on steroids and I’d had it the entire time I was pregnant. For 8 weeks I couldn’t drink or eat. Every day I would try and take a prenatal vitamin because I hadn’t decided and I wanted to do but I wanted to do what was right until I had, but every single day it would come back up and I would cry at my own body hating me. My own body had been against me from the very beginning and it killed me. During those weeks you would ask me to come with you to McDonalds and you would sit there and tell me it’s over with her and you want to be with me but we can’t have a child right now. You sat there and told me you loved me and we would be together and have a family the right way but I had to get a termination now. I tried so hard to be strong but I always ended up in tears which made me that much more tired. I could barely stay upright as it was. I was so nauseous, every day I thought I’d pass out trying to get to the bathroom. Chad used to come home during his lunch breaks to find me laying feotal position crying in exhaustion because the nausea meant I never slept, anger for you trying to manipulating me, hunger, sadness, but probably worst of all was the the all consuming love I felt for the baby inside me. I’d been told it wasn’t possible. All I’d ever wanted was to be a mum and there were so many obstacles in the way but there she was, innocent in all of this. Perfect. But you didn’t care. She was your obstacle, she was an inconvenience to you and that made you determined to get what you wanted. I most likely would have come to that decision anyway because right now I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else except for Chad, he’s my soul mate. The problem I have is that the decision wasn’t mine. It was a manipulation. I can’t come to terms with what happened because I know I didn’t make that decision for myself. I respect her memory every single day and every single decision I’ve made since has been so one day I’ll be ready for her. That day you took me to the pregnancy advisory centre, I couldn’t fight anymore, I’d given in to your manipulation. I was so tired and sore and hurt, I needed you to take care of me, you’d been in my life for so long and I momentarily forgot everything else, in that moment I just needed you to make it okay. It was only supposed to be an initial consultation. I’d been there before, I knew the drill. I knew in the back of my head I still had a little time for a sign from the universe, something that would tell me it’s okay and I’d be at peace with it because it would have been my decision. But they had a cancelation and of course I’d already been fasting, I hadn’t eaten for weeks. It was happening too fast and you were right there looking so happy that there was no way out. I couldn’t tell you no and that I needed more time. We both know how that would have gone down. All of a sudden there’s a nurse putting an IV in my arm and I’m crying asking for you but you’re not there. I’m all alone. And before I know it, she’s taken from me. Sucked from me with a medical vacuum cleaner like she’s nothing but she was my everything. And I’m awake and I’m still crying for you, I’m yelling at nurses to get you but it’s like they can’t hear me, begging them to bring you here, trying to get up and not being able to feel my legs. Watching people walk past me like nothing happened and I have nothing to be upset about because I came here, you didn’t put a gun to my head. It was a different type of gun and it was pointing at my heart and when she was taken from me I had nothing. Eventually someone brought me out to see you and I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’m crying and you told me you loved me, I didn’t know it would be for the last time. I had no idea just how alone I really was. She was gone, and the next day so were you.

And it’s really only because of Chad that I’ve come out on the other side better than ever. Instead of putting the pieces back together for me, he gave me the time and understanding I needed to put myself back together in a new way and become a better person. Have I made mistakes, fuck yes, but who hasn’t. I can’t regret a single second of it because it’s all what got me to now and I’m the best version of myself right now. I never thought I’d actually make it to 21 and here I am and I actually want to be here. For me.

#mystoryisntoveryet #schizoaffective #disorder #pregnancy #miscarriage #termination #domesticviolencesurvivor #recovery

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airis-paris14 · 5 years ago

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Redemption 11

Summary: One person, a secret, and and ocean tore them apart. Six years later, they find their way back together. But a rekindled love is not Redemption.

A/N: So I never actually posted this?!?!? I don’t even know what happened with that. But sorry for my haitus. I should be back more often now. 12 coming soon! I missed Y’all!

Zari’s feet drug her up the street towards her solace. The sun sunk behind the horizon as she reached the brick staircase leading up to her house. She rummaged through her purse, her hand clutched around her keys. She flipped to the house key and inserted it into the lock. On, two, three clicks granted her entrance into the house. She pulled off her sneakers and threw her keys into the hall bowl. Padding softly into the living room her heart soared at the sight. Her parents sat sleeping on the main couch. Her father’s arm wrapped around his wife. Isha was wrapped in a blanket on the end of the sectional. Aiden lay softly snoring on his father, who was on his back asleep in the middle of the floor. Zari snapped a quick picture of the two sleeping together before heading up stairs. She slipped into a warm shower before changing clothes.Zari heads back down the stairs, only to find her mother starting dinner.

“How was work?” the older woman smiles, pouring the pasta into the salted water. “It was fine.” Zari answered, plugging her phone up on the counter. She grabbed the tomatoes and began pan roasting them. “So when are you going to tell me what really happened?” Zari’s mother raised an eyebrow, grabbing the chicken from the refrigerator. “What do you mean?”

“Zari. You loved your school, your family, your home, and you love T’Challa. I just don’t understand who could’ve had enough power to make you leave everything behind. Then you don’t call anyone for years? We thought you were dead.” her mother fussed, slicing the chicken into thin pieces. Zari was silent, adding the peppers to the pan with tomatoes. “That morning, after I went to brunch at the palace, I went to the palace infirmary. I confirmed that I was pregnant and I was headed to the pharmacy to pick up the vitamins, when the king cornered me in the hallway.”

“T’Chaka?” her mother frowned. “Yes. He had learned from the doctors that I was pregnant and offered to allow me to get an abortion. In exchange, I could never tell T’Challa that I was pregnant. I wanted to keep the baby. T’Challa and I had talked about being married one day, and we both wanted children. It came alot earlier than intended and in a much different order, but I knew this is what I wanted. I felt that he would want the same.” Zari explained. “You did the right thing. That man is just as crazy about that boy as if he’s been there from day one.” Mrs. Abu smiled.

“I know,” Zari smiled, staring at her new screen saver of the two. “T’Chaka did not feel the same though. When I informed him that his son had a right to know, he backed down and let me head on my way. That night, Isha and I were planning how to tell you and baba over dinner, when the dora knocked.” A shadow passed over her mother’s face as she recalled the night. “They took us to this tent in the middle of nowhere. They separated me and Isha and put me on a plane. When I woke up, I was in New york.” Zari frowned, reaching to turn the hot pan off. Her mother watched as she poured the vegetables into the pasta. The older woman pulled the chicken out of the oven and stood next to her daughter. Zari poured the sauce over the pasta mixture, flinching slightly as it began to sizzle before settling back down.

“I am sorry.” Mrs. Abu watched her daughter’s back stiffen. “I am so sorry,” tears flooded the older woman’s eyes as she embraced her daughter. A shudder went through Zari’s body as she broke down in tears. She wrapped her hands tightly around her mother, snuggling into her embrace as she cried for the first time in years. The two stood crying, holding each other tight for the first time in five years. The older woman was the first to pull back, running her thumbs over her daughter’s tears. “I am so proud of you. The woman, the mother that you have become.” the older woman cried, wiping her own tears in between wiping her daughters. “I missed you everyday,” Zari admitted. “I wanted to call but they took my beads. I didn’t get them back until two days ago, T’Challa. I don’t know how he got some, but he did and I was going to call-”

“I know. That is how we found you. When he registered the beads with you again we were all notified that you were back on line. Isha had a friend sneak us out of the country to come visit you.” Mrs. Abu explained. “What did I tell you the first time we got seperated in the market?”

“We will always find our way back together.”

“Nothing can keep us apart,”the mother reassured. Zari smiled, pulling her mother back in for another hug. The sound of the pasta sizzling again pulled the women apart. Zari turned off the stove top before wiping her own eyes once more. “They tried to wait up for you,” Mrs Abu pointed to Aiden and T’Challa. He tried to convince Aiden to take a nap until you got back. Baby boy wouldn’t agree until he offered to let him sleep downstairs so he could see you when you came home.” Zari grinned at her mother. “He adores you. They both do.” her mother clarified.

“Mama?” Aiden’s sleepy voice greeted Zari as the child in question walked around the corner. “Hey baby boy.” Zari smiled pulling him up into a hug. “You hungry love?” Zari asked. The kindergartner nodded. His mom helped him up onto a bar stool. Zari made a small salad with strawberries before placing some of the pasta and half a chicken breast on his plate. The child mumbled a sleepy thank you before digging in. “He’s definitely your son.” Zari glanced at her mother. “Why do you say that?” Strawberries on salad were the only way you would eat salad too. Zari smiled. The sound of someone walking interrupted her rebuttal. T’Challa rounded the corner, blinking once his eyes focused on Zari in the kitchen. “Good morning your majesty,” Zari smirked.

“Your back.” The king paused, “How long ago did you get back?” Zari set his plate on the counter next to Aiden. “About two hours ago,” she took a wet rag cleaning off the counter around the sink in front of them. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You all looked so peaceful,”Zari chuckled, displaying her new home screen. The king smiled before beginning to eat. “I think I am going to go get a quick shower before I eat,” Zari’s mother excused herself and headed up the stairs. Zari made herself a plate before joining the two on the island. “How was work?”

“Boring.” Zari sighed. “I’d rather hear about what you two did today.” Zari grinned at Aiden.“Baba took me to that really tall building downtown. I met all these nice people. Oh, and I met Mr. Stark! He was so smart!” Aiden rambled on. At the mention of Tony Stark’s name Zari glanced at T’Challa in shock.”

Where’s my grandson?” Zari’s father’s voice rang out from the living room. Aiden glanced at his mother for permission before running to his grandpa. “You took him to meet Tony Stark?”

“It was business,” T’Challa explained. “Aiden seems to have enjoyed himself,” Zari chuckled grabbing her plate and Aiden’s to wash. “Do not remind me. I hoped he would have forgotten by now.” T’Challa sighed, watching her wash the first plate. “I must say, I am quite jealous,” Zari rinsed the plate. “Why would that be?” the king questioned, finishing the last of his food. “I was not able to meet the amazing Mr. Stark. I mean he’s so strong and rich. I can’t help but hear that he is handsome as well.” Zari teased. T’Challa joined her at the sink, wrapping his arms around her to wash his plate while she rinsed hers. “Why should you want to meet him, when you have someone so much better in your life?”

“Who would that be?” she feigned ignorance.”Do not be cruel entle,” the king frowned. “I’m sorry love,” Zari smiled, “Besides, you are much better looking than Tony Stark.” Zari amended. “I know,” the king smirked moving from behind Zari. He wiped his hands before passing the dry towel back to her. “So what happens when you go back to Wakanda?”

“Well, I hope to begin screening candidates for the first Wakandan citizenship tests. Right now it is only open to applicants of African Descent.”The king explained. “That’s exciting.”Zari smiled. “As well as stressful. If I do not get this right, and these people do not acclimate to the country, the elders will never let this happen again.” T’Challa frowned. “It is a good thing. Just trust your intuition.” Zari reassured. “What will you do?”

“Well, the show opens in a month. Then I work on the show, until I decide I am ready to leave. Or it is ended. Then, I play the waiting game for a new job. Maybe work on my clothing line.”

“Maybe you and Aiden can come to Wakanda. Visit for a month or two over the summer?” T’Challa asks. “I don’t know T’Challa.”

“He deserves to get to see his home. His family? My mother and Shuri are going to love him. I would like to tell them before it gets out to the media. I want to claim his as my own. Zari, he is the next in line for the throne. He has to come back at some point.”

“The throne?”

“Yes, he is my son Zari.” T’Challa rebutted. “I know, but he’s only five.” Zari insisted. “I am not saying he will take the throne tomorrow. But he will need to get a wakandan education. Soon.” the king emphasized. “I know, I know,”Zari sighed. “Just, let me think about it ok?”

The king nodded, “Of course.”

“Speaking of, how is Shuri?” Zari asked. “She’s great. She’s grown up so much. Smart, smarter than me at that age.”The king admitted, “but, she doesn’t need to know I ever admitted that.”

“Of course,” Zari smiled. “She runs the department of technological advancement now.”

“Alone?” Zari gasped. “For the whole country? How old is she now? Sixteen?”

“Yes. Only sixteen.” The king smiled. “We thought we were doing something special at sixteen. All we did was run for student government.” Zari laughed. “And we won,” the king added. “That we did. Back when things were simpler.”Zari sighed. “Did you ever think we’d be here?” She gestured to the house around us.

“Yes, albeit in Wakanda. With baba still alive, and us just engaged.” The king replied. “And Aiden?”

“Maybe in another seven years from now.” the king added. Zari smiled. “Me too.”

“May I take you out tomorrow?” T’Challa asked. “Thought we were going out friday?” Zari frowned. “I changed my mind, I can not wait any longer.” The king insisted. “Then I guess we’re going out tomorrow night,” Zari smiled.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

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#tchalla #tchalla fanfiction #blackpantherimagines #tchalla imagine #tchalla x reader #tchalla x black! reader #tchalla x black!oc #tchalla x oc #tchalla x you #bpapfics #t'challa x black reader #redemptionfic

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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666

hi i’m a little drunk/hungover lmao so just a disclaimer if some of the answers sound a lil too out-there

What is your middle name? ‘Middle name’ is always a tricky term given the different naming customs in the Philippines. My second given name is Isabelle, but what means middle name here is basically my mom’s original surname before getting married, and I’m not giving that away haha. What was your first job? I haven’t had my first job but my first legit internship was at a PR firm. What is your favorite pizza topping? It’s not the most popular opinion out there, but barbecue chicken. I tried BBQ pizza once and never looked back. What was the name of your first imaginary friend? Katrina was the name of my first and only imaginary friend. I was annoyed it wouldn’t talk back to me, so I ditched her after like seven minutes. What was the name of the first pet that you loved? Tobi, my rabbit. He was a sweet one.

How tall are you? Somewhere between 5′1′ and 5′2″ but definitely not 5′2″. List three celebrities that are your height. Lady Gaga and AJ Lee are sort of my height, but I can’t think of a third one. What was your first CD? Pretty sure it was the Camp Rock soundtrack. If not, it would be Beyoncé’s I Am... Sasha Fierce. Idk, they came out the same year. Does your zodiac sign fit your personality? I’m a Taurus, and I’d say most of the descriptions/habits attributed to Tauruses apply to me, but then again so do the descriptions for all the other signs. What is your zodiac sign? ^ What is your Chinese zodiac sign? Year of the tiger. Does your Chinese zodiac sign fit your personalIty? I never cared for Chinese beliefs, so I don’t know how Tiger babies are supposed to be like. What is your favorite color? Right now it’s pastel pink but I also like black, sky blue, and mustard yellow. What was your first favorite color? Purple, because it was my great-grandma’s favorite and all her stuff used to be purple. Which travel destination is top on your bucket list? Right now, it’s Thailand because of all the museums, temples, and street food. Plus I want to conquer Southeast Asia first before I head out to other continents, haha. Have you ever been on a missions trip? Never. Back in my old school they used to give out envelopes to each of us once a year so those who were willing could donate to fund the people going on such trips, but that’s pretty much my only experience with the whole thing. What's your shoe size? My feet can fit in either size 6.5 or 7 shoes. What grade were you in when you had your first crush? My first legit non-celebrity crush was embarrassingly my Grade 5 science teacher. But if we counted reality in the picture, it was Andi, in Grade 6. What color hair did your first crush have? Black. Does anyone know who your first crush was? Not really. It was a small crush and she’s since migrated and is hella straight, so it would be weird to bring up a crush I had ten years ago. It probably wouldn’t be as weird if we stayed close, but we have definitely drifted apart since then. Who was your first celebrity crush? Ashley Tisdale. And that crush was also the reason Ashley was my favorite girl’s name throughout my childhood and tween years haha. Do you keep a diary or journal and write in it frequently? This is essentially my diary. I wouldn’t say I post frequently, especially when I’m busy with school. I usually post during weekends when I have some free time. What was/were the best years of your life so far? The latter half of high school was great, and so was the second half of my time in college. The thing with me is that my adjustment periods in new experiences usually initially go down messily and miserably for me and it takes a while for me to warm up to the environment and the people. But once I do, I end up having the good time I had been envisioning and wishing for. Do you have regrets? I have one big one, but that’s it. I don’t like storing regrets in my head. What do you regret the most? I’ve always felt sorry for myself for having a hard time adjusting in new places. It something I could never help; my first years in high school were marred by failing marks and having no friends, and my first years in college were also spent having no friends, no place to stay in but my car during my breaks, and a lot of self-pity crying and self-harming in said car. I know it was something I felt and couldn’t get out of during the time, but I wish someone told me to just not be afraid and start doing stuff much earlier. There’s been a number of opportunities that I let fly by me just because I was depressed and moped around all day. While I’m grateful for the experiences I have now, I just regret the fact that I could have had more if I didn’t adjust so badly. Are you double-jointed? Nope. What are you allergic to? No allergies. Have you ever owned a designer purse? A couple, but tbh they are hand-me-downs from my mom. Do you wear contacts or glasses? Glasses. I can’t imagine wearing contacts, I hate the idea of putting, dropping, or inserting anything in my eyes :/ Have you ever had to use an epi pen? I have not. Do you prefer online shopping or in-store shopping? In-store for clothes so I get to try them on or see their actual size; online shopping for literally everything else. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Like I said in a previous survey, I still question it to this day. I’ve been in one relationship so I don’t really have a grasp of what I want, but it’s never bothered me... it’s not something I feel pressured to know or discover. Demisexual seems to fit me best, so that’s what I go by most days. Did you ever dream of running away from home? I did, as most disgruntled, emo, puberty-stricken teenagers do. What color was your first phone? I think the phone itself was gray? but I got it with a red Winnie the Pooh case. Who do you know who is colorblind? I may know someone, but I’m probably not aware that they are. Do you know anyone with Down's syndrome? Yesssss, one of my aunt’s has Down’s and she is the sweetest, most adorable person. How much do you weigh (only answer if comfortable)? The only time this question has been asked politely lmao. I’m a little under 100 lbs. Have you ever been overweight? Never. I’ve always been either underweight or just...healthy weight lol. Name one friend you miss. [continued from yesterday, so I’m definitely not hungover anymore haha] Sofie. She used to be a best friend, so I miss her the most out of all my past friends. Have you ever made a huge mistake? I’d be surprised if anyone also aged 21 hasn’t made a big mistake in their lives. What pharmacy do you use? My family never really needs to go to pharmacies. Our go-to drugstore is Mercury Drug, if anything. Do you take a lot of prescription meds? Nope.

Do you take vitamins? I used to, but my mom stopped buying when I was like 15 or 16. How many pairs of Lularoe leggings do you own? Zero. Do you prefer skinny jeans or jeggings? Both sound uncomfortable, but I’d wear skinny jeans between the two. What color is your Christmas tree? Green. What color Christmas tree do you want to have in your hosuse someday? Just plain old traditional green would be fine. It makes everything feel Christmassy the most. What color house did you grow up in? It’s white with a red roof and a maroon gate. Have you ever been baptized? If so, how and where? Yep. I got a Catholic baptism and if I’m not mistaken it was in a church in Makati. Do you ever feel embarrased and think to yourself, "I'm so stupid"? Duh. Do you think you look better with long or short haIr? Short hair. I actually just got a haircut (my first in nearly two years) and finally got bangs like half an hour ago lmao. What type of wedding do you want? I don’t know about ‘types’ of weddings... but my dream wedding would be big but still traditional, held in a huge venue with lots of flowers with either an all-white or pastel motif (or a bit of both) and 200-300 guests with delicious food and an open bar and a great live band. Who is someone you wanted to be able to trust but just couldn't? An old friend back in Grade 5 who ultimately taught me how much trust is supposed to mean, Marielle. Do you read a devotional? No. What's your favorite devotional? Where did you go on your first plane ride? My family and I went to Boracay. Who is your favorite Disney princess? Rapunzel from Tangled. Are you taller or shorter or the same height as your mom? I’m a bit shorter. Do you wish you could afford expensive make-up? Nah, I never wear makeup so it wouldn’t make sense for me to buy them to begin with. Do you make some of the stupidest decisions? I make at least one every day. What country would you most like to visit? Morocco! Or Turkey. What is your heritage? Filipino. What was your first job? I haven’t had a job. Did you like your first job? What are all the jobs you've had? What are jobs you'd like to have? These days I look for money more than fulfillment, so I think I’d be happy with any job that makes me loaded at the end of the day lmao. Have you ever experienced something supernatural? I have not, but I’ve endlessly heard stories from family and friends who have. Do you believe in God? Absolutely not. Do you love God with all your heart? Who is your best friend? Gabie. Do you make your bed every day? Yeah I do. My mom requires me to and besides, it feels so much better coming home to a neat bed. How do you most commonly wear your hair? I usually wear it down. Which family member did you get your hair color from? All Filipinos have black hair. What is your natural hair color? ^

#survey #surveys

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years ago

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Found and Lost

remember me expounding on a bizarre post-apocalyptic android!Pidge AU in this post?? well, here are ~4800 words!!

setting somewhat inspired by that in Nausicaa

if you’re scared of creepy crawlies (specifically centipedes) you might want to skip that...attack at the end of the last scene; also warning for non-graphic (implied really) nudity

enjoy!!

The first thing Lance had noticed about Outside was how humid it was. The air filtered through his breathing mask sat heavily in his lungs, and the mask itself stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Sweat pooled in the small of his back underneath his pack, and he worried he drank the water in his canteen too rapidly in his effort to avoid dehydration. The mask’s lenses fogged up, but he couldn’t wipe it away without taking it off and exposing himself to the air’s toxins.

Moss covered every inch of the ground, absorbing the sound of his footsteps like a plush carpet. Leafy vines flowering in a myriad of colors and textures wound around tree branches and massive trunks and along the ground. Roots arched up so high Lance had to watch his step and climb over them. Insects with gossamer-thin and brightly patterned wings fluttered through the air, alighting on flowers and touching his gloved hand when he held it up.

The beauty of it took his breath away - and would do so quite literally if he wasn’t careful.

Very little sunlight penetrated the thickly intertwined branches overhead, just enough to see by but not nearly enough to be blinding. Motes of dust and pollen spun through the air, and a small yellow lizard lounging on a sunny root caught his eye when its pink tongue lazily flicked out of its jaws.

Lance had never seen so much color - so much green - in his life.

He rested his hand against the trunk of a tree, gazing around this forbidden world…wishing he had someone to share it with.

Something glinted in his periphery, and when Lance turned his head, his eyes shot open at the sight of sunlight flashing off metal.

His grip on the rifle tightened, heart skipping a beat. Had he come across an expedition by accident or was it something more sinister?

But when standing still and listening told him nothing, he crept closer to the source of his trepidation, pushing away the vines that grew thickly over a…

Structure, Lance realized, his eyes widening.

He stood before a gaping doorway, and the glint of metal had come from mostly corroded hinges that no longer held a door.

Humanity hadn’t always lived trapped behind a wall, shielded as well as they could be from a world that could kill them with a single lungful of unfiltered air.

He stepped over the threshold, his rifle at the ready, wary of anything lurking in the shadows. Cobwebs stuck to his clothes, making his skin crawl, but they were few enough that he was only disgusted rather than fearful.

His boots crunched over broken glass, a rotten wood floor creaking as he ventured deeper into the structure. A low croon made him freeze in place, but a heartbeat later a dove launched itself into the air and flew past him with a flapping of its wings.

Lance sagged, tension deflating from him. So he only startled a bird…

The further into the building he stepped, the darker it grew. He fumbled in his pack for the torch and flicked it on, casting the light around a room littered with scraps of wood, lichen and mold-covered beams exposed under a holey ceiling.

“Any minute now,” he mumbled, “something’s going to fall from the ceiling and eat my face…”

Water dripped steadily from an unknown source, the sound filling the room and getting louder as Lance sneaked through another doorway, this one with a decomposing wooden door still hanging from its hinges. His light fell on a sink in the corner with a rusted faucet, drops pooling in its opening before falling.

“Bet I wouldn’t need a purifying tablet before drinking that,” Lance mused sarcastically. He turned out of this room and back, pausing in another doorway.

The torch shone on a face.

Lance’s breath caught in his throat, a strangled shout escaping him as his heart raced. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a piece of wood before catching himself in the doorway.

When he calmed enough - when his heart didn’t pound in his ears and he could breathe again - he approached cautiously. If someone died while on an expedition and no word was brought back to their family, then Lance could—

Oh, right, he wasn’t allowed Outside.

He shook that concern away - he should be more worried about whatever killed them rather than who would kill him once he returned home - and crouched beside the body.

Round, pale face, relaxed expression, closed eyes, light and wavy brown hair that brushed ears, spectacles with shattered lenses perched on the edge of a nose, vines creeping in through a window and wrapping around the body…

It took seconds for him to recognize there was something very strange about this person.

“Y-you’re not human,” he breathed. No one could survive exposure to the toxic air this far from the Wall’s protective bubble, not for long, and whoever this was hadn’t a single sign of decomposition on them - no gaunt cheeks, no cold complexion, no maggots writhing under their skin…

And when Lance dared to tug off his glove and stroke their cheek, it felt as smooth as porcelain but as soft as silk under his thumb.

He pushed aside the dense vines, delicate white petals falling to the floor, in an attempt to disentangle the body and tug it out. His lip curled when the motion disturbed a rat that skittered away with an indignant squeak, and his fingers tore sticky cobwebs to shreds.

Heat rushed to Lance’s face when he revealed a little more than he expected.

Rags hung off the slight body, but they were so frayed and eaten away that they left little of a feminine figure to the imagination.

Lance averted his gaze and guessed, “So you’re…kind of human.”

He sat back on his heels with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the moldy floor, considering. A part of him wanted to take them - it? Her? - back home with him, but it was obvious they - it? She? - wasn’t alive. No hint of breath whispering from her nose or lips, no warmth emanating from her skin, no heartbeat under his ear when he pressed it to her chest.

(He tried not to think about what else touched his ear…)

But she looked perfectly intact, even healthy despite her pallor.

If he did carry her with him - which would make defending himself from attack by dangerous animals…hard - he’d have to find some way to sneak her through the Wall without alerting the guards and incurring Marco’s or Veronica’s wrath.

Lance sighed and picked his way to the structure’s entrance in time to watch the shadows lengthening, the dense flora coming alive with the screeching, croaking, hissing, and howling of hidden fauna. In the moonlight that filtered through the branches and bathed the forest in a pale white light shapes and shadows moved, concealed and all the more sinister for it.

His skin prickled with tension as he flicked off his torch to avoid attracting a predator to the unnatural light, and he retreated into the crumbling building.

So much for returning home before sunset…

There was no way one of his siblings wouldn’t find out now, no way his absence hadn’t been noticed.

Lance returned to the room with the not-human body, shrugging out of his jacket - the humidity retained so much of the day’s heat he didn’t need it for warmth - and draping it over her front to avoid…looking. He sat before her with his legs crossed, taking off his pack and digging through it for a nutrient packet. He dumped the contents into his specialized canteen, shaking to make sure it dissolved properly, and inserted the straw into the opening in his mask.

The stuff tasted foul on his tongue, plain vitamins and minerals and proteins with no real flavor. But he swallowed anyway, sipping slowly to avoid finishing it too quickly before he found a water supply to replenish the water in his canteen.

Exhaustion crept into his muscles after the hours of trekking, and he longed to take off his mask and dump water onto his face. He already missed his evening routine…

Maybe his mother had a point, forbidding him from training as an Excavator.

Lance lay down on the dirty floor, his pack serving as a lumpy pillow. He clutched the torch, flicking it on and off out of boredom as he waited for sleep to take him.

But the noise of Outside kept him awake, the hair on the back of his neck rising as if something watched him.

The torch’s beam landed on a pair of brown eyes.

“Ah!” Lance shouted, bolting upright and scrambling backwards away from her, careful to keep her in his sight as he reached for his rifle.

A strange whirring sound came from her, and her lips turned down into a slight frown. “W-w-w-what happened?” she whispered, so low he almost didn’t hear her.

Lance raised his hands, waving them while his heart pounded an uneven rhythm. “I-I didn’t mean to turn you on!”

She closed her eyes, almost as if opening them had cost her too much effort, and hummed. “I-I was low on ch-charge then…”

He crawled towards her, curious despite the tension in his limbs, and when he hovered just in front of her, her eyes flicked open again. “Charge?” he asked, raising a confused eyebrow. “Like…batteries?”

“Hmm…” she sighed, eyelids slipping shut again. “N-need light to ch-charge…”

Lance blinked, his mouth hanging open until he understood. He fumbled for his dropped flashlight and shined it on her face.

Rather than squinting like would’ve been expected, she opened her eyes and smiled. “S-sunlight is better,” she explained without much intonation, “b-but artificial light will suffice until s-sunrise.”

“So…what are you?” Lance wondered before he could stop himself. “You look like a girl”—he swallowed and pushed the image of what his jacket hid out of his mind—”but you’re…not human.”

“Good observation,” she said in what might’ve passed for a sarcastic tone. “I-I’m the android KT-005, but m-my programmer n-nicknamed me P-Pidge…”

“Well”—Lance pressed his thumb to his chest—”you can call me Lance, even though I’m a—”

But she ignored him. Her head turned, something audibly spinning in her neck, to take in their surroundings. “W-where is he?”

“Who?”

“M-my programmer…M-Matt…”

“I don’t know who that is,” Lance told her, his brow furrowing. “No one lives here - no one can live here unless they want to be dead in a few days.”

The girl - android, Pidge - frowned. “B-but h-he promised he’d come back,” she said. “I-I told him I-I’d go get him if he didn’t…”

She sounded so much like a confused child Lance’s chest ached. “Whoever he was, he’s long gone now.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, although he didn’t know if she could feel it. “I’m sorry.”

“N-no…” Pidge’s face screwed up, nose wrinkling and lip curling; it was such an obvious expression of pain despite the lack of tears.

And Lance, not knowing what else to do for a grief-stricken stranger, embraced her.

It felt like hugging a pillar, something that wouldn’t - perhaps couldn’t - return the gesture. She sat stiffly in his arms, didn’t even tremble - although he didn’t know if that was due to her lacking charge or a feature of being an android - or sob.

But she rested her forehead on his shoulder, and Lance took that for reciprocation.

“H-how long has it been?” Pidge asked, bursting their bubble of silence.

He confessed, “I don’t know…a few centuries since the air became too toxic to breathe.”

“O-oh. Th-then that’s why you wear a mask.”

“Yeah, if I take this off I’d die quickly.” He pulled away from her, his hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes when she glanced up. “I’ll spend the night here and leave in the morning…” His eyes narrowed, and he wondered, “Do you want to come with me?”

He couldn’t leave her alone.

“I-I don’t know…” Her gaze drifted down, a deep frown on her face.

“There’s no way your programmer is still alive,” Lance pointed out. “He’s probably been dead for centuries, and somehow you survived without any damage.”

“I-I can’t walk without more charge,” Pidge said, her eyes flicking up.

“Do you have batteries?”

“There are photo-voltaic cells under my synthetic skin,” Pidge said. “Th-they need to charge if I’m to gain more mobility.”

“How long does that take?” Lance asked.

“A-an hour in direct sunlight, more if indirect.”

Could he spare that long in the morning? Even at high noon little sunlight made it through the dense growth overhead…

Well, he’d made it this long; what was another half day?

“All right, well, let’s get some sleep,” Lance said, lying back down.

“I don’t sleep. I only shut down.”

“Then…do that?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling. “Wake me up if you hear or see any—”

“I only shut down when I lose all power,” Pidge said almost clinically. “If you turn off your flashlight, I will shut down within a half-hour, and you will have to carry me outside in the morning.”

“I can do that,” Lance said, raising and flexing an arm while flashing a smirk. “You don’t look—”

“I’m heavier than I look.”

His face fell, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes and grumbling, “Guess we’ll see in the morning. For now, I’m going to sleep. And can you close your eyes? You don’t blink, and it’s kind of freaking me out…”

***

Finding a spot sunny and sheltered enough proved harder than Lance expected, and the sun must've been well and truly over the horizon, warming the earth and turning the air a yellow-green, by the time Pidge's eyes flickered open.

"You ready to go?" he asked, crouching over her.

Pidge blinked slowly and said, "No...how far away is your residence?"

Lance raised an eyebrow. "I think I trekked about ten miles yesterday." He rifled in his pack and tugged out the wrinkled map he'd use to navigate...only to realize he hadn't bothered to make note of landmarks - except the structure where he found Pidge, which wasn't even on the map - or leave any other trail for him to follow back to the Wall.

He groaned, his shoulders slumping and dread curdling in his gut. His eyes drifted to Pidge's, taking in her curious gaze, before he turned back to the forest with his hands tight on his rifle.

How was he going to confess to her that he was lost?

But she spared him the need when she wondered, "Are you expecting something to attack us?"

Lance sighed - of course they wouldn't starve because the forest and the predators that stalked through the trees would kill them (or maybe just him since Pidge wasn't made of flesh and blood) before they even made it through his rations of nutrient packets and purification tablets! "Yes," he admitted to Pidge, "I am."

A heartbeat later, he realized how that sounded and spun towards her, kneeling on the ground and reassuring her, "But that won't happen! You're safe with me."

Well, she'd be safer with a trained Excavator, but she didn't need to know that.

Pidge frowned. "What are you expecting?" The machinery in her neck whirred as she turned her head, taking in the dense vegetation, the forest alive with the calls of birds and the hissing of reptiles and the buzzing of insects. "I-is there a war?" Her gaze roved down to stare at her small hands - visible because he'd rolled up the sleeves of his jacket for her - while she mused, "If it's been centuries, surely it would've ended by now..."

Lance blinked. "War?" He shook his head - it didn't matter - and scoffed, "Only war these days is man versus nature...and nature's winning."

"Then whose attack are you expecting, Lance?" Pidge insisted, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Uh..." He had to mentally congratulate himself for managing to worry an android, which...weren't they meant to be emotionless? But before he could ask about that, Pidge prodded him in the ribs.

"H-hey!" he exclaimed, pushing her hand away. "I'm glad you're getting your mobility back, but can you not—"

"Answer my question," she said, her fingers weakly fisting in his shirt. "Are you in danger?"

Lance licked his lips, her use of "you"...startling. And from this close he could see the details in her eyes, the shutter like that of a camera behind her pupils, the yellow color not as...yellow as he'd thought.

Brown...her eyes were brown.

"Lance?" Pidge prompted, jerking him from his thoughts both with his name and with a tug on his shirt.

"W-what? Yes, I'm in danger, and so are you." He grabbed her hand and pulled it off his shirt before bolting to his feet and circling their vicinity, peeking around the wide trunk of a moss-covered tree. "It's more dangerous at night, but there are plenty of predators creeping around during the day that would just love a taste of your flesh." He glared over his shoulder at Pidge before tapping his wristwatch.

"I don't have flesh, or blood for that matter," she pointed out. "If something attacks, it would be wiser to focus your energy on defending yourself since nothing will be interested in consuming me."

“Well, you never know what a stinging bear is in the mood for,” Lance said, forcing a smile onto his lips in a pathetic semblance of joking.

“Bears don’t sting…”

“Maybe not in your time.” Lance stretched with his arms extended over his head, a groan escaping him. His back and neck ached from sleeping - or dozing; the forest’s night sounds kept him from a proper rest - on the floor, and he longed for his own bed in the city, safe behind the Wall and far away from anything that would want to eat his face off.

Never mind that he got the chance to rescue helpless, sleeping androids like Pidge…although the efficacy of his rescue was still up in the air.

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “So you have…feelings.”

“Yes.” Pidge toyed with a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket, an awfully human mannerism. “I suppose you’re accustomed to androids with none.”

“Well, androids are just a thing of stories now,” Lance told her. “We have more important…things to build.” Ignoring a twinge of guilt at his word choice, he propped his rifle against his shoulder and paced in a short line. “I guess an android without feelings would be as shocking to me as an android with them.”

“Stories?” Pidge stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. “No more androids?”

“None, except…I don’t think you’re the first that Excavators find? I mean, I guess I’m not technically an Excavator”—he rubbed the back of his neck as heat rushed to his face—”but I’ve seen some of the stuff they bring back.” His gaze drifted from the top of her head - her untidy mess of hair draping to her shoulders - down past the hem of his coat that brushed just under her knees. “None of it is in as good condition as you are, Pidge.”

Pidge raised an arm, examining the back of her hand. “That’s because my skin was of the latest synthetic model.” Her fingers flexed, no trace of blue blood vessels trailing under her skin. “I was - and am, I suppose - the only one of my kind in more than one way. A pity the skin was wasted on me…”

When her eyes fell, Lance guessed with a tightening in his chest that she thought of her programmer again.

“What do you mean by wasted?” he wondered.

“My programmer designed me to establish deeper connections with humans,” Pidge explained with an almost faraway look in her eyes. “I can feel, even if I can’t express it in a human way, and I can long, and I have a will.”

“So you express it in an android way?” Lance half-teased, a smirk pushing at his lips.

“I express it in my way,” Pidge told him, shrugging. “I can’t cry or blush anymore than I can bleed, so I have to find some other way to make my feelings known.”

“And you were the only one like that?”

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “No one wanted an emotional android,” she said. “Anyone my programmer tried to sell the designs to always said that if they wanted someone who could tell them no, they would…find a human partner.”

“Partner?” Lance frowned, crossing his arms. “What do you—”

But Pidge’s face twisting in distaste and anger told him everything he needed to know, his own skin running hot in answering fury.

“That’s—what the hell? Your programmer built you for—”

“No!” she snapped, her anger turning onto him so suddenly he took a step back. “My programmer only wrote the code that makes me function, and he designed me with the capacity to forge multiple and varied emotional bonds.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, stunned by her vehement defense of her programmer. “So he was like your…father?” he said lamely.

“He was my brother,” Pidge corrected, her face screwing up. “His father also became mine.” But her expression smoothed eerily before he could even consider comforting her.

Lance sighed, shifting his feet, and asked her, “How much longer till you can walk? We need to be on the move soon.”

Once he figured out which way to walk, he remembered with a creeping shame and a shiver of fear.

Pidge wiggled her bare toes, a grimace of effort crossing her face before she said, “Another ten minutes until I’m able to walk, but another hour until I’m fully charged, which I would prefer since I have been so long drained of—”

“No time,” Lance said. “Can you charge as you walk?”

“I charge as long as there is light,” she said, scowling at him.

“Good, so as soon as you can stand—”

Lance cut himself off when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His grip on his rifle tightened, and he stepped backwards towards Pidge, wary as his eyes scanned the surrounding trees.

“Lance?”

He waved a hand towards her, bidding her to stay quiet, though his heart pounded so loudly he feared it wouldn’t make a difference. The scent of rot reached his nose, his lip curling in disgust.

The shadows shifted, branches shaking, and a long, sinuous, many-legged shape slithered between them.

It hissed and charged.

Lance’s blood froze, his eyes wide and legs refusing to budge, but Pidge’s shout of alarm unstuck him. He scrambled to angle his rifle, finger finding the trigger, but it refused to budge.

“No, no no no—”

His heart raced so fast he would’ve feared it giving out if not for the nightmare bearing down on him, its mandibles clicking and grating, the jerky motion of its body making his skin crawl. He tried shooting again, not even bothering to aim, but it stuck.

Every expletive he’d ever heard escaped his lips as he threw the rifle aside and fumbled for the long knife at his belt. The hilt sat clumsily in his gloved hand, and he doubted it would make any kind of dent in its tough carapace, but he stood his ground.

“Lance, get out of its way!” Pidge shouted.

“And let it take—”

“It can’t kill me!”

Her voice sounded closer this time, but he didn’t register why until a gunshot fired from behind him.

Silence descended over the forest for half a heartbeat.

Until the giant, unscathed centipede hissed in fury and turned.

Lance turned with it, his eyes shooting wide at the sight of Pidge kneeling, her teeth gritted and his rifle clutched in her hands. “What the—”

She fired a second shot, flinching at the gun’s kickback, but she held firm.

But the monster only grew more enraged, barreling past Lance and targeting Pidge.

“No!” He dove towards her - she was clearly still weak from the way she hobbled backwards with a gasp - intent on shoving her behind him, but recoiled when something fizzled on his clothes.

Drops of liquid burst from the monster’s mandibles, eating through his sleeve and burning into his skin. Lance grimaced, pain shooting deep into his nerves, and clutched at his arm. But he was undeterred; with Pidge so immobile, he needed to get to her, to grab her and flee—

A snick of metal echoed through the trees, and a distant gunshot fired.

Something struck the back of the centipede’s neck, making it rear on its hind legs with a pained screech.

Lance took advantage of it and ran for Pidge, scooping her up. But before he could turn and run, he faltered, her shocking weight making him stumble.

“I told you,” Pidge said, trying to hop out of his arms.

“But—”

“I think I can walk now,” she protested, and she slipped down before he could stop her.

Her feet landed heavily, sinking into moss, but she kept an arm around his neck.

A gaping hole in the skin at her neck, peeking out over the collar of his coat, caught his eye, his breath catching in alarm. “Pidge, you’re—”

The monster trumpeted, startling hidden birds into flight, and dove for them.

Lance held Pidge close to him, pinching his eyes shut and bracing himself against more of the creature’s venom. The drops could burn through his flesh, but they wouldn’t get to her.

The attack never came.

Metal sliced through soft meat, a disgusting squishing sound that drew a wince from him, before something big fell and the ground trembled under his feet.

Lance dared to squint through his eyelashes, but his eyes shot all the way open when he spotted the arching, segmented body of the monster lying prone, its many legs sticking into the air at odd angles.

Over it stood two figures: Shiro, reloading a rifle, and Keith, polishing the blade on a long knife.

His breath caught as relief filled him. His legs finally gave out, and he fell to his knees, trembling. Pidge went with him, her arm still looped around his shoulder and leaning heavily against him.

“That’s a centipede,” she said hollowly. “Why is it so big?”

Shiro approached after shouldering his rifle, his eyes wide behind his face mask, and said, “Your Highness? What’re you doing Outside?”

“‘Your Highness’?” Pidge echoed, her eyes wide as she turns her head towards him. “But there isn’t any royalty in this—”

Lance elbowed her in the side, earning himself a grimace when her ribs proved harder than he expected and the shock traveled up his arm.

But her speaking brought her to the Excavators’ attention, and Keith’s brow furrowed as he laid eyes on her. “What happened to your mask?” he demanded, crouching before them.

“And…who are you?” Shiro wondered. “I know all the Excavators, and you’re not—”

“I found her,” Lance interrupted before Pidge could introduce herself. “She, uh…she’s my friend.”

He mentally kicked himself; he’d been inventing stories and excuses for his rule-breaking his entire life, so surely he could do better?

But finding a living human alive Outside - much less an android, something not human - already defied reality.

“You do seem…close,” Keith observed dryly.

Heat rushed to Lance’s face, but before he could retort, Pidge sighed and confessed, “I’m KT-005, but my programmer nicknamed me Pidge. I was…shut down for more years than I can count with limited data, but Lance woke me by accident last night. I…” A grimace crossed her face and lifted her eyes to Shiro’s. “Nothing is as I remember it, but I need to know what happened to my programmer and his father.”

Shiro held her gaze for a long heartbeat. He glanced at Keith, who only stared back with wide, bewildered eyes before shrugging, and at Lance. “So you snuck Outside and found a—what are you, miss?”

“An android,” Pidge replied. For a second she almost looked shy as a slight smile pushed at her lips.

“Whoa,” Keith breathed.

Shiro, though, looked less shocked, less impressed. He raised his hand - the cybernetic one painstakingly replaced by Duke Lotor’s mother - and curled his metal fingers into a fist.

A rapid whirring from Pidge drew Lance’s attention back to her. When he took in her wide eyes, fixed on Shiro’s hand, he shook her and muttered, “Pidge, what’s wrong?”

She pointed and said, “His hand, it’s…just like”—her eyes narrowed, her grip on Lance tightening—”a prototype my programmer and his father designed.”

#filed under: AUs i may or may not expand on #voltron #plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #reem writes fic #i haven't posted fic in a bit or even written that much lately #but i also finished the first draft of my zine fic last night so #to celebrate i post a fic i've had done for over a week lol

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musingsofazumbamind · 6 years ago

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9 Tips for 9 Days Out: The Road to #zincon2019

Treat these 9 tips with a caveat of “if you want to”... these all have purpose for me but may not be the right “to do list” for you.

1. Do they know you’re leaving?

Tell or remind colleagues at work and your boss which days you will be gone

Call your bank and credit card companies, who may already know from your purchasing habits that you will be taking a trip but the clarity is important. You really did buy that costume including the bow and arrow set on the same day you bought a flight to Orlando.

Remind your significant other, children and dog that you will be going away for a few days and it’s important!

2. Fill a bunch of buckets now!

Give 200% in your classes, they are going to miss you while you are gone!

Remember and specifically pay into the Love Language of your significant other or most needy friend. Are they Words of Affirmation, Gifts, Quality Time, Physical Touch or Acts of Service?

Get in the pool with the kids! Do the fancy box braids now! Try the science experiment that came as a gift for Christmas. Treat the kids as a priority before you prepare for ZinCon, especially if you are a parent who “never does this”.

3. Consider your transportation.

Flight, train, bus all set?

Need an app to get around Orlando, like Lyft or Uber? Download it now.

Take a look at who is helping you get from the airport to the hotel. I suggest Mike or Patrizio, they also take you to a grocery store before the hotel, their contact information is in the files of the Official ZinCon Group on Facebook. (Did you already join the official Zincon Facebook group?!?!)

Take a look at who is dropping you at the airport and bringing you back home, sore and exhausted. Consider how you might remind them gently now that they are doing this, and think of how you will thank them when the time comes.

Will your transportation accommodate you buying food at a grocery store, or will you buy fresh items from the Walgreens across the street or the Publix about a mile away?

4. This week is the time to print!

Tickets or itinerary for flight

Confirmation for the hotel or other fun you will be having in Orlando

When the registration email comes, print your barcode and session handouts

Make a copy of your ID or passport for the front pocket of your checked luggage, just in case it gets lost

Pre-Convention or Post-Convention party tickets

5. Let’s talk about our health…

Refill necessary prescriptions

Bringing your c-pap machine to sleep (or other necessary medical devices)? Replace the tubes and face mask cover now.

Something aching? Call your doctor or nurse on call to ask questions. Questions over the phone are free!

Make necessary appointments, especially if you need to make them for medicine refills

6. Make THE LIST and start packing. You will need at least one, large, functional and wheeled piece of luggage.

With printed #zincon itinerary in hand, treat each segment of the day as a reminder of what you will need. Each session, masterclass, training or party will need:

A dry outfit meant for movement (I have 9 segments not including Fitness Concert and Theme Party, so I pack 9 outfits and buy 1 outfit at the Zumbawear store)

Socks (if I pack this way for my particular schedule I end up having 10 pairs)

Underwear (if I pack this way for my particular schedule I end up with 12)

Appropriate shoes (I pack 2 different fitness shoes for session, 1 functional sandal/between sessions shoe, 1 nice but comfortable pair of dressy sandals for the afterparty

Accessories (i.e. soca sessions ask you to bring a bandana or flag; #jamjunkies like bringing highlighters to the sessions; Theme Night will need all the layers and fun items for your costume)

A way to carry small items, especially at the Fitness Concert where backpacks are not permitted. I use a hip belt for running that fits along my waistline. Some folks have a wrist pouch for just their room key. Or yes, invest in a fanny pack that you only use 1 night a year!

Having the play-by-play of what those 4-5 days will include will give you a sense of space in your luggage. You may want to leave room to purchase those daily outfits or shoes at Convention, especially if your costume (including a wig or wings or crossbow that takes up space) can be thrown out or left in the room. I always leave space for the one outfit I will buy and wear at Convention.

I know folks who hand wash some of their belongings and drip dry them at night to make room in their luggage. Maybe ask your roommates if they mind you doing this as it takes up space.

Leave room for what you know you need to purchase. Things like:

Souvenirs for your people and/or pets

Clothing or items from the Zumbawear store. Not just for yourself-- some folks might send you on a specific mission to buy what comes out that week! You may want to check the outlet store for giveaway items for folks in your classes.

If you aren’t comfortable traveling with a certain something, just know it will cost at least 50% more in Florida. (I ALWAYS pack my sunscreen but some folks don’t like doing that for fear it might explode in flight. My favorite brand costs $24 in the hotel store, so it just makes sense to bring it for me.)

Many folks like ZJ Ria from Michigan and ZJ Court from Arizona pack each segment in its own gallon sized Ziploc bag and mark it with the day and session where it will be worn.

I always make my carry-on the “One Happy Day in Florida Bag”. It holds my small purse with a credit card, medicine, makeup, ID, a swimsuit, fitness shoes, socks, underwear, reading material and my phone and phone charger and I ALWAYS wear Zumbawear on the plane. It’s a conversation starter for sure! I feel like I could purchase, or have help from Home Office, for anything not packed in that bag.

7. Outside of your daily packing for Zincon itself, take a look at what you need to THRIVE. I pretend I’m living in my normal day for that.

Vitamins & meds

Water Bottle

Deodorant, light-smelling body spray, body wipes

Shampoo, conditioner, dry shampoo

Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss

Hair brush, comb

Flat iron, bobby pins

Makeup

Sunscreen, hat if you want more coverage from the sun

Fiber, tums, ibuprofen

Functional shoes like running sneakers or athletic sandals for wearing between sessions

Shoe inserts or toe separators, whatever brace your ankle needs while you sleep (if you use them, definitely keep using them at Convention!)

Backpack (if you use the one we all get in our free swag, be sure to label it very specifically as yours--bandana on the loop, giant tassels, loud key chains)

One sweatshirt or light jacket -- the OCCC is the coldest building in all of Florida, especially when you’re sweaty!

Notebook & pen or some other organizational system like your ipad or a binder and markers

Pajamas

Something from home to help you sleep. Melatonin? Your diffuser? A pic of your family? A stuffed animal? A symbol of your faith for stillness and meditation? Every day will be exhausting in the best way, and although your body will say “SLEEP” your brain may still be racing.

Swimsuit

Sunglasses

Chargers and devices, I especially like wearing a Fitbit at Convention but I have actually forgotten the charging brick. The step counts are insane! Get ready!

One non-athletic outfit. At some point a sundress or a t-shirt and shorts will feel really nice!

*Note* If you are heading to a club at any point, maybe the pre- or post-convention party, consider non-athletic wear especially where you feel confident and comfortable. Many clubs will not allow you in if you are wearing Zumbawear.

8. Consider all your plug items or devices. Ask yourself the following questions:

If I LOVE to take pictures, which device will do that and does it have the space for 1,000 pictures? If not, start deleting and backing up as necessary.

Do I need batteries for what I’m bringing and do I have those batteries? Think of your white noise machine, your electric toothbrush, your portable hair crimper…

Is this something I need to THRIVE for only 4-5 days of a fitness convention?

Is a roommate already bringing something on this required list? Some roommates plan each “required” item--one friend brings the blender, one the K-cup coffee maker, one the mega box of K-cups and one the flat irons.

*Note* You can look online to see what your hotel includes. Some already have small coffee makers, hair dryers, a fridge, toiletries and irons.

9. And now, time to recover! Wait, what?

Convention is a whirlwind, a neon-filled Disney for the happiest and most passionate fitness instructors in the world. What will you need to start each day, end each night, with positive intentions?

Foam roller

Essential oils

Ice packs

Yoga mat

Emu oil, Biofreeze, Tiger Balm, Icy Hot or other topical creams

STRETCH now, especially your neck, and get it ready for looking upward at tall stages or getting “Apeshit” in the Beyonce session. Stretch each night at Zincon before bed and again in the morning if you can. There are also mindfulness or yoga opportunities in the mornings before sessions start--check your badge for the location.

ICE and be smart now, because whatever aches today will ache exponentially in Florida.

FINISH what’s hanging, like your Theme Night costume, the puzzle on your coffee table, the giant project for work or those haircuts for your kids. The less on that reality To Do List, the more open your brain will feel for Zincon.

REST and RESET now, as you can, because learning, loving, hugging, smiling, listening, moving and feeling all deplete your emotional and physical stores. But also, learning, loving, hugging, smiling, listening, moving and feeling will refill your quality of instruction and energy for the rest of the year. It’s absolutely worth it!!

See you soon, #zinmembers!!

#zincon #zincon2019 #zumba #zumbafitness #jamjunkies #zumbainstructor #zumbalove #zincommunity #zumbacommunity

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kaishakai-blog · 6 years ago

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Being a Surrogate Mother for your Sibling

Let’s go ahead and start this with the fact that I’m not usually a ‘sharer’. I’m the type where my business is my business and I’m sometimes leery of sharing with even my friends and family with the exception of my best friend but after thirteen years of knowing each other it’s kind of to the point I don’t think anything will scare her off. That being said, I am in fact here to share. I’m not really doing this because I want to put my business out there but because I think it could help. If things come across a little disjointed I apologize, I’m just doing this to get it out there.

I recently served as a surrogate mother for my brother and his husband. And before anyone asks or starts getting ideas, the husband is the biological father not my brother. You would honestly be surprised how many times I got asked that question once someone found out the story behind the pregnancy.

The whole idea started as a running joke back in 2010 when the two were dating and after they got married I said if they ever got serious about it I would be their surrogate. Well, Christmas of 2017 they got serious about it and approached me about being their surrogate and I agreed. We had all researched it on our own and there were lots of questions that we found answers to but others not so much, it’s like we couldn’t find anyone who was in the situation we were in. And that’s why I decided to post this.

To start, for anyone considering being a surrogate you really do need to sit down and talk a few things out beforehand. Whether you are friends, family, or strangers you need sort of a guideline on what to expect.

- Will a contract be needed?

- How do you plan on going about getting pregnant

- Medical insurance [surrogate’s insurance vs the parents’ insurance]

- Compensation [not as in payment for the baby that is very much illegal but as in doctor/medical bills, missed work, maternity clothing, etx.]

- How involved do the parents plan to be in the pregnancy

- Birthing plan

- The surrogate’s role in the baby’s life, if any

First and foremost all of you need to sit down and discuss whether a contract/surrogacy agreement is needed. This can help some things go easier but it can complicate others and it adds onto the cost side of things. Being that I was a surrogate for my brother and his husband we skipped this part. From the way it was explained to us, the main time this would have been taken into account was in guaranteeing that they would cover the medical expenses without the binding agreement they can back out at anytime and the surrogate is stuck with the bills and for the birthing. If a surrogacy agreement has been drawn up then the decisions are taken to the actual parents. If an agreement is only verbal with no documents to back it then the decisions are taken to the surrogate.

To start, how do you want to go about getting pregnant? The traditional method is definitely out in our case and while going to a doctor to have it done is an option it’s also costly. After researching it some we chose to do the homemethod. For anyone who hasn’t researched this much, what that means is that if you’re not already tracking your period you should start to help identify when you’re ovulating. Once you know the general window of when you’re ovulating they sell Ovulation tests which can help you pinpoint your ‘peak fertility’ period. Once you have that down it’s a matter of how you’re going to get impregnated. There were tons of jokes about using a turkey baster and some articles mentioned using one of the small medical syringes but we went the slightly easier route and used the flex menstrual disc. With these, you simply have the ‘donor’ masturbate into the cup and once he’s done you insert it like you would during your period. From all of the articles I read the best time to do this is before going to bed. It’s also advised, after inserting the cup, to lay flat with a pillow under your behind to help tilt your hips, and masturbate to help ‘open the way’ and increase the chances. Needless to say, it’s awkward all around, almost painfully so at times, but the only thing to do is just laugh it off and remind yourself that this is all for a very good reason.

Most articles I read said that it could take several tries, months upon months or even years depending, but luckily for us it only took two tries. The next step, which should definitely take place before actually trying to get pregnant, is to figure out the insurance. Some insurance companies will cover a surrogate while others won’t, the best thing to do is to call your insurance company and talk it over with them to see what options you have. Whether they cover the surrogate or not you’ll also want to look at the surrogate’s insurance. If the surrogate can be covered under the parents’ medical insurance you should still compare the two and see which has the better coverage.

Next is the matter of compensation. Once more I will clarify that by ‘compensation’ I don’t mean as in a payment for the baby. The fees for doctor visits and the various tests run throughout the pregnancy can add up quick even with insurance and then there’s the hospital bills from having the baby. You should sit down and figure out who exactly is responsible for these. In most cases this would be the parents, not the surrogate, in which case you should figure out how you’re going to arrange to have the bills paid. Will you pay them once they’re cleared through your insurance and the parents will pay you back later, do they plan to give you a stipend up front to pay the bills out of, or will you give them the bills and they will pay them directly? Then there’s the daytoday things that come with pregnancy such as the specialized clothing and vitamins, will the parents help with this or will the surrogate cover these expenses?

In our case my brother and his husband offered to cover all of the bills and expenses that came with the pregnancy and we used my insurance, Blue Cross and Blue Shield, which we were told is the best option for pregnancy here in Illinois. I had a deductible of $5,500 after which my insurance would cover 80% of the bill. When I first chose a doctor I explained the situation to her and they ran the numbers for me. For the hospital I chose the average cost of having a baby, from the first doctor’s visit to confirm the pregnancy up to the delivery, with only the required tests and with a complicationfree vaginal delivery, the overall cost was calculated just under $11,000. Taking my insurance and deductible and everything into account we were looking at about $6,000. Unfortunately for us there were some slight complications during the delivery so when it was all said and done our bills totaled $7,500.

This also leads into the topic of how involved the parents will be in the pregnancy. I don’t just mean physically involved either, though that is a good question. Will you be staying with the parents during the pregnancy so they can have the full experience or will you continue living on your own? Before you get pregnant you need to see if there are any rules for the pregnancy. To start, do the parents wish for you to abstain from sex during the course of trying to get pregnant, do they want you to continue abstaining during the course of the pregnancy? While you are pregnant do they want you to follow a diet? Are you allowed to take medicine during the pregnancy? While this may be your body and you may be the one carrying the baby, you have to remind yourself that this is their child, so they very much have a say in what you eat and drink and which medicines you take throughout the pregnancy.

After you have a rough draft of the pregnancy down you should discuss how the labor/birthing should go. There are plenty of indepth labor and birthing plans but when it comes down to it the doctor’s main concerns will simply be making sure mommy and baby come through safely. There are bullet points you will want to make clear though.

- Who will be in the room during the birthing (most hospitals allow a certain number during labor and then limit it to 13 for the birthing itself)

- Do you want anything to help with the pain (epidural, morphine, alternative drug, or no drugs]

- Who has first contact with baby?

- Who will cut the baby’s umbilical cord?

- If it’s a boy, will he be circumcised or not?

It’s a very good idea, once you’ve chosen a hospital, to arrange a tour of their maternity ward where you can be shown around the area and given the opportunity to ask questions. Going into this you already want to make sure your doctor knows that you’re a surrogate but you’ll want to bring this up on the tour as well to see what special arrangements can be made. We went into this without a legal agreement but we discussed the options with the hospital we chose. At this specific hospital they have it so that if you are a surrogate, at the time you come in to have the baby two birthing suites are reserved, one for the surrogate to have the baby and recover, and a second for the parents to stay with the baby. In our case we chose to stick with just one room and my brotherinlaw stayed with me and the baby and cared for him during our stay. My brother couldn’t ‘official’ stay with us without a bracelet since they opted not to have a surrogate room but the hospital staff were very nice and understanding. He was allowed to come up even after visiting hours had long ended but he chose not to stay, instead going home to care for their dogs and to make sure the house was babyready (baby was only ten days early according to the doctor, three days early by our own count, but he was still a little of a surprise).

The hospital we chose allowed three people to be in the room with me during the birth itself and I chose to go drug free. Entering into this the only rule I had was that under no circumstances did I want an epidural drugs were fine, a giant needle into my spine was not. I made this clear to the doctor early on and she had me choose a safe word just to be sure. Her logic was that when in pain you say things and demand things you otherwise wouldn’t. With a safe word, I could demand an epidermal but until I said that specific word, they would know it was just the pain talking and not me. For those interested my safe word was actually two foreign words that essentially translates to assmunching butt fairy from hell and I never did say it. I will admit that labor hurt, it really did. There were times where I thought about asking for something to help with the pain but it never actually got the point that I did. For me, having that damn IV put in my hand hurt worse than having the baby.

After having the baby they offered to let me hold him or to place him on my stomach but we’d agreed that my brotherinlaw would have first contact and, since my brother is a little squeamish, to be the one to cut the umbilical cord. I will admit, not being the first to hold him did hurt a little but I had to remind myself that he wasn’t my baby to begin with. I think it helped a little too that due to the complications I had to go in for surgery right after having him. After I was brought back into the room my family were all there and once I was awake enough to I got to hold him.

The final thing here is the surrogate’s role in the baby’s life, if she has one at all. This is something that should be discussed before and throughout the entire pregnancy. How you feel before the pregnancy, how you think you will feel during and after the pregnancy, can be totally different to how you will actually feel come time baby is here. Ten months is a long time and there are lots of thoughts and feelings that come up during this time. The best thing to do is to just sit down beforehand and get a general idea and then to sit down throughout the pregnancy and rehash. Even if things haven’t changed it’s a good idea to sit down and talk about it to make sure and to reassure everyone involved.

From the get go, from the moment they first brought the idea to me, my brother and his husband made it very clear that I was going to be the baby’s mother. After I agreed and after they started telling people, they made it clear that they were the fathers and I was the mother. Some people would still look at me differently when they heard and one or two even made comments on how I was ‘just the surrogate’. Others couldn’t see how I was willing to ‘give up’ my first baby, especially once we learned it was a boy. Some couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around the fact that I wasn’t just acting as a surrogate but I was doing it for my brother, like that was somehow harder than being a surrogate to a stranger. For me though that made it all the easier.

Yes, there were moments in the pregnancy where it was a little hard. I was growing this little person inside of me who I knew I couldn’t keep. It was a struggle to maintain a balance of not becoming too attached and not getting too detached. It was a struggle, especially living with my grandmother who has always been looking forward to me having my own child. She would keep wanting to go shopping for baby things and I would have to remind her that he’s not ours to keep and that even if he did stay with us at any point, it wouldn’t be until he was a little older and that it would be best to just hold off and get things as they were needed.

It was hard at work sometimes too because people weren’t really sure how to treat me. Those who were in the office with me and who knew the story didn’t want to outright ignore the fact that I was pregnant but they didn’t want to bring it up either since it wasn’t ‘my baby’ and those in the warehouse who didn’t know the story would always be asking questions on how the pregnancy was going and what my plans were once he’s here and they either thought I was woefully underprepared to be a mom or seemed to guess that I wasn’t planning to keep the baby and so sort of tiptoed around the pregnancy as well.

My friends, when I told them about it, they didn’t judge or ask a whole lot of questions. They accepted it and supported me and anytime I felt down they always knew how to cheer me up. Some of my family weren’t really sure how to handle it all but my friends were there for me and that helped a lot.

Actually having the baby was the blessing everyone always talks about and I will admit that it hurt knowing I wouldn’t be the one taking him home with me. That I wouldn’t be the one who can go around boasting about this precious little angel. That I wouldn’t be the one who would have to deal with the midnight feedings and the teething and the crying for no reason fits. But I knew all of this going into it.

Even though I am the baby’s biological mother and they’ve made it clear I am still going to be his mom, we all agreed that my brother needed to adopt him in order to set things straight legally. Not because we had to but because my brother is going to be his dad, he’s the one who is going to help raise him, who will have to take him to the doctor, sign his school notes. While my brotherinlaw can do all of that fine by being on the birth certificate, my brother can’t. After being released from the hospital they had to go to the pharmacy and fill a prescription for a vitamin and my brother wasn’t allowed to get it. For all that he’s the baby’s dad in our eyes, he’s not in the eyes of the law.

So a few weeks after the baby was born I met with this family lawyer he’d talked to and signed away my parental rights under the stipulation that my brother and his husband were the only people I approved of to adopt him. Doing this did hurt, it felt like I was giving him up when he wasn’t even mine to begin with. I knew this, and I knew I wasn’t really signing him away or anything, he was their baby from the very start and I would still see him, but I still felt like a failure when I signed those papers. I’m sure it was mostly just the hormones but anyone who is thinking of being a surrogate needs to understand that this is something you will end up having to face. Hormones are demonic little beasts and no matter how rational you are or how prepared you think you are, actually standing in front of the judge and having to verbally say that you agree to terminate your parental rights and verbally agreeing to forfeit any further claim to your child, that is a hard thing to do. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t giving my baby up but instead I was making it so both his dads could have legal claim to him. It also helped that my brother would call to check to see how I was doing.

My brother likes to tell me that I am always welcome to stop in and see the baby whenever I feel like it and I keep reminding him that I’m trying to make sure we’re all settled first. One of his husbands main fears, and probably one of his too, was that I would change my mind and want to keep the baby for myself. We talked about it constantly, where I would try to reassure them that this was their baby and I had no plans or means of keeping him, but the fear was always there. Since having him I’ve stayed back, wanting to make sure they feel secure in the fact that he is their baby so that they don’t freak out thinking I’m going to literally steal the baby anytime I pop in asking to steal him for a little while.

The baby is now thirteen weeks old and I have seen him in person six times since we left the hospital in October. Most of the updates I get on him are from my brotherinlaw’s facebook page or from the pictures my brother will randomly send me and while sometimes I do wish I was a bit more involved, I also remind myself to have patience. He’s only three months old and there are still years and years ahead of us all.

I went into this knowing the baby wasn’t going to be mine. At best, I will be his mom who he visits on weekends or who babysits him while his dads have date night. At worst, I’m simply his aunt who he sees on holidays. Either way I’m involved in his life and I was able to help my brother and his husband have something they couldn’t have on their own.

#surrogacy #surrogate #surrogate mother #sibling love

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 6 years ago

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Holding On to Pieces of Us - Chapter 3

SMUT advisory! @spartanguard I am so excited to see what you have up your sleeve for this chapter. Thank you @hollyethecurious for beta services rendered. @kmomof4 CSSNS fucking rocks, thank you! I put in my cut line!!!!!! **Edited to include what @spartanguard had up her sleeve! Go check out her fabulous manip here.

Ch. 3 Rating E 8.5k words ao3 ffnet Tumblr: ch. 1 ch. 2

Emma was woken by loud pounding on her door and two concerned voices yelling her name. Rising from the couch she squinted at the blazing sunlight filtering in through her window. “Coming!” she shouted with annoyance.

“Oh my god, Emma! Where the hell have you been?” Mary Margaret’s words were as strong as the hug she wrapped Emma in. “We’ve been so worried.”

David hugged both women, sighing in relief, “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“I’m fine guys.” Emma broke away from the group hug, and sheltered her eyes while walking to the window to draw the curtain.

“Where were you?” Mary Margaret pressed.

“Wait, how’d you know I was back?”

“Your car is in the driveway,” David said as if it should be obvious.

Emma’s eyes went wide, before quickly schooling her features. “Geez, I’ve been gone like a day. I went for a hike after my appointment and got stranded in the rain, I decided to find high ground and rough it.” She immediately regretted mentioning the appointment when she saw both of their eyebrows raise in expectation.

“So? What’d they say?”

“I have uh… it’s just a vitamin deficiency. In fact, that reminds me, I have to go pick up my prescriptions.”

“Come out with us for breakfast, first?” Mary Margaret asked.

“No, I can’t, I have to shower, when I got home last night I went straight to bed. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” She wasn’t trying to be rude as she ushered them toward the door. But she had to figure this out. How the hell did she get home? How was her car back? How much time had she lost?

“Alright, we can take a hint,” David said, throwing his arm around her shoulder and giving her a half hug. “Dinner tonight?”

“Perfect.”

“Our place or yours?” he asked.

“Mine.” Emma slapped a smile on her face, ready to agree to anything just to get them out of the house.

“And never, ever do that to us again. Call or text… or something.”

“Got it, mama bear,” Emma ribbed Mary Margaret. “Who knew I’d have such wonderful parents as an adult, after a childhood with none.”

“I’m going to start taking that nickname as a compliment,” Mary Margaret laughed.

Emma just rolled her eyes, smile still firmly in place until she shut the door behind them.

“What the hell?” She was more confused than ever now. She’d finally gone completely off the deep end and created that alternate universe where it was just her and Killian, but she had also blocked out a complete period of time where she would’ve had to drive herself home.

Deciding to investigate, she walked out to her car, but not before donning her darkest pair of sunglasses. “It’s so fucking bright,” she muttered, the irony was not lost on her that the weather was in direct opposition to her current mood.

Opening up her car, she sat down in the driver’s seat and was immediately assaulted by his scent. It was just as strong as her imagination had conjured last night. She was about to go back inside when she noticed that the seat was scooted too far back, she pressed the toggle to adjust it to her settings.

Reaching over to grab her jacket from the passenger seat, she startled slightly as she remembered she also wasn’t able to account for how she’d come to be in different clothes than she’d worn yesterday. When she lifted the jacket a piece of paper fell in her lap, picking it up Emma was bewildered to see Killian’s unique handwriting.

Swan,

Please forgive me love, I did not want to leave you last night. I have been away from you for too long and I was ill prepared for your presence. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to control myself. As promised, I will return to you tonight.

Yours,

Killian

“Oh my god! It was real?” Emma’s free hand flew to her neck, praying for the mark upon her body that would further prove he existed.

Grabbing all her belongings that had been magically waiting in her car, including her phone Emma raced back into the house. Her heartbeat was frantic as she approached her bathroom, hand still caressing her neck. When Emma looked in the mirror and revealed the area, she was exhilarated to see two faint puncture marks. She didn’t even care if it was insane. Killian was alive! Well, technically undead, but he was still in this world.

There was so much to do. She started with a long, hot shower where she washed away the grime from her wilderness trip and the anguish of a year. After dressing in leggings and a tank top, and primping for the day, a day where she would see Killian, she cracked open her laptop. She researched everything she could about vampires, searched the world wide web like an addict, until her stomach audibly protested its neglect over the last two days.

Steak, Emma thought. Steak sounded beyond divine. She didn’t really feel like sitting out at a restaurant by herself, yet she didn’t want company, at least not the company of anyone who was available. Running to the grocery store she bought a family size pack of boneless ribeyes and headed for home. She pulled out all she needed to prepare one of her favorite steaks, thinly sliced garlic inserted into slits in the steak, marinated in worcestershire and barbecued to medium well.

The moment she set to her task though she felt as if she was going to lose her lunch, a lunch she hadn’t eaten. Chalking it up to being over hungry, she forewent the prep. Emma practically skipped outside to light the barbecue and threw the slab of meat on the grill. It smelled divine as she waited impatiently for it to finish cooking. Medium will do, she thought as she plated up her very plain steak.

Emma cursed her impatience as she felt the sting along her skin from standing too close to the barbecue for too long. As she cut into the steak though, she realized she couldn’t have been standing there too long as the steak was rare, not medium, or medium rare, but rare rare. And it looked delectable.

She practically moaned when the first bite graced her palette. It was so tender and juicy… and bloody. Her eyes popped open, having closed them in delight of the first taste. “No way,” she murmured. Sensitivity to the brightness of the sun, aversion to garlic, skin tingling after standing outside, eating a bloody steak? “Am I…” Emma’s hands shot to her mouth where she felt her teeth, no fangs, she thought with an air of disappointment.

She laughed out loud at the absurdity of her situation. Either she was experiencing some post bite symptoms, or she was psychosomatically exuding vampire traits. Either way, what the ever loving fuck? She’d been ready to call it quits two days ago, now she had a renewed vigor for life, or whatever she would be living with Killian. Because yes, she already knew her answer. She wasn’t going to live without him for one more moment, she was going to embrace a future with him, even if it was different than the one she’d hoped for a year ago.

Emma spent the remainder of her day researching more about vampires and tidying up her place, even the bedroom that she hadn’t slept in for a year. She had every intention of bedding her man tonight, she would’ve last night if given the chance. She freshened up and dressed for the evening while the sheets finished drying, then made the bed. Dusk was settling outside and her body tingled in anticipation. She chuckled when she heard the knock on her door. He was earlier than she’d have thought was possible for him to be out. But perhaps so long as the sun wasn’t shining, he was okay, or maybe he was just as impatient as her.

“You don’t have to knock, you’ve obviously taken to coming and going as you please,” she called out as she walked to the door.

“Hi!” Mary Margaret and David greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi,” Emma croaked, after staring blankly at them for a good five seconds.

“And what do you mean coming and going as we please?” Mary Margaret questioned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we were more than entitled to stop by this morning after you went missing,” David added. “And we’re invited tonight!”

“Right, of course, “ Emma said. “I thought you were somebody, uh, nevermind. My mistake, you are most definitely allowed to check up on me, and yes, I did in fact invite you over tonight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could she tell them, she couldn’t say she forgot, or wasn’t feeling well. She was all dolled up, hair, some light makeup, a dress, heels. Shit!

“You’re so dressed up... oh my gosh! Do you have a date tonight? You look like you’re ready to go on a date. Oh my god, she has a date,” Mary Margaret gushed. “I’m so happy for you, Emma! Let us get out of your hair.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Give her the wine, David. Maybe she and this mystery man want to get a little liquored up.”

“I don’t-”

“Do we know him? Nevermind, details tomorrow! Let’s go honey,” Mary Margaret told David all but pushing him back through the still open door.

“I don’t have a date,” Emma yelled, then softly added, “as such.” Because really, how was she going to explain that she was going to see her missing boyfriend who was now a vampire? How was she going to explain that her friends weren’t going to see her again? She wasn’t questioning her decision, of that she was one hundred percent decided. But the finer points, the particulars, those were going to take more thought than she’d even thought to consider.

“You got all dressed up for us?” David asked suspiciously.

She wasn’t going to lie to them, but she didn’t feel like just busting out with the truth was going to help matters either. David would have her 5150’d before Killian got there. Turning swiftly, she headed to the kitchen where she uncorked the bottle of wine, took out three glasses, poured every last drop evenly between them, promptly handed her guests their drinks then drank deeply before either could offer up a toast.

“Look, I don’t know how to possibly say what I need to say without you both thinking that I need to be committed. I’m just going to have to show you. But while we wait, let me tell you about my appointment.”

“You’re kind of not making too much sense, Emma, are you sure you’re okay?” Mary Margaret asked.

“I’m sure I am going to be,” she answered cryptically.

“What are we waiting for?” David asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it, of that I am sure.”

“Ooookay,” Mary Margaret drew out her word as though she already thought Emma was crazy. “Then while we wait for the big reveal I want to hear about these vitamin deficiencies and what the doctor is doing to fix them.”

“Well we still have to eat right? How does steak sound?”

The Nolan’s both nodded their heads signaling that steak sounded great. “I’ll go light up the grill,” David said. He barbequed the steaks while Emma and Mary Margaret prepared a salad and roasted potatoes.

After some small talk about office gossip and the latest cases while dinner was prepared, the trio sat down to eat. “So, Emma, what’s the news?” David asked.

“So, it turns out I don’t have any vitamin deficiencies after all.”

“Well that’s good news,” Mary Margaret beamed.

“I actually have stage four brain cancer,” Emma said, cutting into her steak and avoiding eye contact. She didn’t want to see their pity, but this could hopefully bolster the support she would want from them when it came time to tell them when, why, and how she was leaving them.

Mary Margaret’s fork and knife clattered to her plate and she fixed Emma with a stern glare. “That’s not even funny!”

David just stared at Emma, mouth slightly ajar, silently assessing her demeanor.

“It’s not supposed to be funny, M. It’s not a joke.” Emma spoke in a low voice before glancing briefly at her friends pain filled eyes. Hopefully Killian would get there soon so she could tell them that despite her diagnosis, she was not sentenced to death.

“What are the treatment options? When do you start? How can we help? We’ll have to talk to HR to get you taken off the rota-”

“David, I, uh, I’m not going to seek treatment, it won’t be nece-”

David stood up from the table so hastily that the chair flew back and tipped over hitting the floor with a clatter. “What the hell do you mean you’re not getting treated? Over my dead body!”

Mary Margaret began to sob loudly in her seat as David stood with his hands on his hips, face red with anger. This was not at all how she had seen things playing out. Where the fuck is Killian? “As I was saying, treatment won’t be necessary.”

“Why the hell are you just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I… I promise this will all be explained in just a few minutes. Let’s just finish our dinner.”

“I’ve lost my goddamn appetite,” David cursed, causing another loud sob to burst from Mary Margaret who could count on one hand how many times she’d ever heard her husband curse. He calmly turned around, picked his chair up off the floor and pushed it in, then walked outside.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret sniffed, “please tell us what we can do to change your mind. You just have to get treatment. Not even trying is like giving up hope.” Reaching her hand across the table she squeezed Emma’s. “Back when Killian... disappeared, I- I don’t remember everything. But I remember that whatever happened snapped something inside of me, I broke… but David came to see me everyday, and then you came to see me. And I knew I had to fight. I knew I needed to hope for the best. Believing in the possibility of getting better could be a powerful- holy shit! Daviiiid!!” Mary Margaret screeched at the top of her lungs.

Emma listened as her friend started in on one of her hope speeches, when suddenly Mary Margaret paled, cursed, then screamed for her husband, all right before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted right out of her chair before Emma could do anything.

“Bloody Hell!”

Emma’s head whipped around toward Killian’s voice, “Thank goodness you’re here!”

“Maybe I should come back at a better time?”

“NO! This is the perfect time. The shit has hit the fan, David is ready to haul me to the hospital to receive involuntary treatment, and Mary Margaret is about to preach hope like never before.”

“What the hell is going on?” David shouted running in from out back. “What is the scream- Who… I… Wha- Emma, what the fuck? Is this why you’re all dressed up?”

Emma couldn’t help it, none of this was good, but it wasn’t bad either, she giggled. “I told you, you’d know it when you saw it.”

“This isn’t funny Emma, my wife is passed out, and you’ve taken to finding a stand in for your dead boyfriend. No offense,” David added cordially, looking at the man in black leather.

“None taken, mate,” Killian smiled.

“Wow, you really do look just like him, and you got the accent down. Is it real, or did she ask you to talk like that?”

“I assure you, it’s real.”

“David!” Emma chastised. “I didn’t ask him to do any such thing. This is Killian, the real Killian.” Emma was now on the floor with Mary Margaret’s head cradled in her lap. Her friend was still out cold.

“Enough, Emma. Do you have any idea what this could do to her if she wakes up and this rent-a-Killian is here, do you even remember what happened to her when he disappeared?”

“Of course I remember,” Emma snapped. “I remember every painful moment of the last year.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. He’s real, David, and I don’t care if you believe me. I can explain everything if you’d give me the chance.”

“Fine, but I want him out of here for when Mary Margaret wakes up. I don’t want this putting her back in the hospital.”

“Fine,” Emma answered petulantly. Apparently not everyone was going to warm up to this development as quickly as she had. “Can you wait in our room, just for now. Please don’t leave though, Killian?”

“As you wish,” was all he answered before he vanished from the spot he had been occupying.

Emma rolled her eyes, “He always did have a flair for the dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

David didn’t answer. He was frozen in his spot, jaw hanging open, eyes wide as saucers.

“Close your mouth, you look ridiculous.”

David snapped his jaw shut then scrubbed both his hands over his face and through his hair. “Just what the everloving fuck is going on, Emma!”

“Keep your voice down! Your wife is going to have a meltdown if you don’t get your foul mouth under control.”

“She’s already having a meltdown! Explain. Now.”

Emma stood up and grabbed Mary Margaret below each arm, “A little help?”

David grabbed his wife’s ankles and they moved her to the couch. Returning to sit at the table, they stared at each other for a moment before Emma began the whole tale. Everything from her hallucinations that weren’t hallucinations, to Scarlet’s arrest, to her diagnosis, to her trek into the woods, to the discovery that Killian was their vigilante killer, and finally to what he was and what he could offer her.

“Now if you need more proof that it’s really Killian, then you’re going to have to talk with him. I’m sure there are things he can say or do that will convince you.”

David’s jaw was having a hard time staying in the correct position tonight. He felt as though he might need to physically hold it up. Either Emma was completely mad, or the world as he knew it was changed forever. He looked over at his sleeping wife, wondering if she’d be able to handle this development, and was startled to see she was awake with silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

Rushing to her, he knelt down by her side and slid one arm under her back and one under her knees. “Come on, it’s late, let’s get home.”

“No,” Mary Margaret whispered. She sat up and looked first at Emma, and then at David. “I want to know. I need to know if it’s him.”

David sat down next to his wife, and wrapped her hands in his. Looking at Emma with a pleading look in his eyes, he beseeched her one final time. “I want to believe you, Emma. Really, I do. But if this is some kind of hoax, or twisted reality you’ve created, I’m begging you to stop it now.”

“I swear to you both, it’s not,” Emma vowed, while walking over to take a seat.

“Are you sure, hon?” David asked Mary Margaret who nodded her head vigorously in response. “Bring him out then.”

“Okay.” But before Emma could even call his name, he reappeared, this time sitting on the loveseat along the opposite wall of the couch, right next to where Emma had sat down.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret yelped, hand clutching her chest.

“Sorry, Snow.”

Mary Margaret’s sharp inhale morphed into a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh my gosh! It’s him!”

“What?” David and Emma asked in unison.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Emma started, “I know it’s him, but what the hell happened in point five seconds that has you convinced?”

“He called me Snow.”

David and Emma shared a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Mary Margaret said. “When David took me to Cabo for a week, I came back bragging about my tan. Killian laughed at me and said I was still white as snow. He even went so far as to show me that his arms were still tanner than mine and he hadn’t even had to leave dreary Maine for it. Ever since then he’s called me Snow.”

Emma laughed at the simplicity. “Well there you go Sir Skeptical, your wife is a believer. And here I always thought he was making fun of you because you always get so excited when it snows.”

Looking at David, it was apparent that he was still a bit unsure.

“Come on, mate. What do I have to do to convince you? Your favorite drink is the daiquiri, even though you rarely order them because you don’t want the guys to laugh at you. You have a thing for fairies, Tinkerbell, Crysta, even the fairy godmother in Shrek. You prefer loose fitting boxers to boxer briefs because you don’t want your boys to suffocate, oh and you... eh, you like that thing the wifey does… you know with her pinky fing-”

“Alright, that’s enough Jones!” David’s blush shot from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Mary Margaret burst out laughing, while Emma had a look of distaste on her face, “TMI Killian, but you got him! He’s a believer.”

David finally let out a chuckle. “Of all the shit you know about me, you chose to start with those?”

“You could’ve stopped me at anytime, Dave.”

“I’m starving,” Mary Margaret cut in, “let’s eat and you can tell us all about the past year.” She sounded so enthusiastic one would think she was talking to a friend who’d left to explore the world.

The four settled at the table and Killian regaled them with his tales from life as a vampire. Although he left no detail out, he did make sure to censor the gorier parts.

“Lately I’ve been exploring Cartographer’s Bluff. Do you remember that portal I told you about Swan? When we took our first camping trip?”

Emma nodded, while Mary Margaret and David looked at him cluelessly.

“I’ve heard rumors for years that there’s a portal to another… realm, a place where a diverse spread of supernatural beings live. It’s why the maps we look at show more land than we see when we are hiking. That land does exist, but it was cursed, locked away beyond a portal that isn’t visible to the human eye. Supposedly the supernaturals lived in secret among humans for years, but over time people started to suspect something otherworldly about the community in general and so they decided it best to go into hiding to protect themselves.”

“Have you found it?” Emma asked.

“I did, it’s a very faint field protecting the area, but I can see it. I haven’t had the nerve to crossover.”

“Why not?” David asked. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

“Of course, but I guess a part of me always wished, or hoped that I’d be with Emma again. I don’t know if the portal is open to come and go as I please, or if I’d be trapped there forever.”

“You’ll always have me now.” Emma reached out for his hand and squeezed it when he laced their fingers together.

“Ha!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. Placing her hand on top of both of their hands she smirked at Killian. “Guess you can’t call me Snow anymore, seeing as I’m waaaay more tan than you now, and I didn’t even have to leave dreary Maine to do it.” She laughed heartily as she mocked his own words.

“It would seem you are correct, it only took my death to achieve this feat,” he deadpanned.

Mary Margaret’s laughter immediately ceased, and her eyes turned down sadly.

“Snow, it was a joke. Please forgive me, it’s too soon for such flippancy.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… it made me realize that your solution to Emma’s condition is to make her a vampire. Does that mean that you two will leave?” The woman’s big green eyes filled with tears again as she contemplated losing her friend.

“We haven’t thought that far in advance,” Emma said hurriedly, trying to head off a huge discussion before she and Killian had a chance to discuss it themselves. “I promise you both I won’t disappear again without telling you where I’m going.”

“Emma and I still have a lot to figure out, but you guys will be the first to know outside of us,” Killian added.

David and his wife both nodded their heads solemnly, taking their friends at their words. After finishing dinner, cleaning up, and the reiteration of promises, the couple took their leave. They were wise enough to know the couple needed this time to formulate their plans.

As soon as the door shut Emma turned to Killian and launched herself into his waiting arms. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!” She hugged him with all her might and relished the feel of his arms wrapping strongly around her.

“Oi! Such language. You kiss me with that mouth?”

“You’ve never complained before.”

“I suppose not. Now what is it I’m not to do again?”

“You are never to disappear or magically poof me away and leave without a word again.”

“It was for your safety. I was having a hard time controlling myself with you, always have.”

Emma looked up at him with a seriousness in her gaze, but momentarily found herself lost in the bright blue hue of his eyes tonight. “Your eyes are so blue tonight, they were pale yesterday.”

“I wasn’t properly prepared yesterday. Tonight my thirst is quenched I suppose you could say.”

Emma huffed, and broke from his embrace.

“What is it?”

“How? I mean, you didn’t drink that much from me last night. I don’t want you to… you know. You don’t, like… I mean… are there others?”

Killian just stared at her as she continued to stumble over her words. “What is it you’re asking, Swan?”

A rosy shade of pink colored her cheeks as she realized she was going to have to come right out and ask. “Are there other girls?”

“Other girls for what?”

Emma rolled her eyes at his obtuseness, silently cursing him for making her a jealous brat. “Do you drink from other females?”

Killian burst into laughter, his eyes alight with love for this girl.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, then she spun on her heel and stormed to the bedroom.

“Wait up, love.” He got to the door just as it was slamming closed and stopped it with his foot. Emma was laid out on her back, arms folded across her chest, staring at the ceiling.

Laying next to her on the bed, he took it as a good sign that she didn’t tell him to leave, or even turn away from him when he slowly crooked his arm across her stomach. “Emma Swan, are you jealous?”

She growled in irritation, but still didn’t turn away. “No,” she muttered petulantly.

“I think you’re jealous,” he crooned.

“Well what the hell do you expect, I mean you were hard as a rock last night when you drank from me. You think I want you doing that with someone else?”

“Mmmm I was,” he growled, splaying his hand across her stomach, “but you know what darling? I was hard as a rock because it was you.”

Emma turned her head, “Yeah?”

He nodded his head. “After I left you here last night, I knew I couldn’t see you again without first quenching my thirst. Remember the stockpile I have at the, what did you call it? House of horrors? I drank my fill before seeing you tonight so I could control myself.”

Emma giggled at the title and at assuming the worst. How could she so quickly forget the mini blood bank he had back at his place. “Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly. Turning her body toward his she scooted further into his embrace.

“Nothing to apologize for. I imagine I’d feel the same if you were to let someone else taste you.”

“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about, I don’t know any other vampires.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about that kind of tasting.” Killian arched his eyebrow and licked his lips.

Emma watched as he transformed from man to vampire, his fangs clicking into place in the blink of an eye. Her heart rate soared, but not out of fear. As surreal as this all still was, she was turned on by his fangs, as was proven by the swirl of want she felt between her legs at the thought of him tasting his fill of hers. “Oh, that’s only for you.”

“Only me? Even after a year?”

“I don’t know if I’d have ever moved past you, Killian. I might’ve become an old spinster. But I assure you, after only one year, yes, only for you.” Leaning in, Emma touched her lips to one fang, then the other before taking his mouth.

Killian groaned into her mouth when he tasted her tongue on his. He tightened his hold at her lower back and kneaded her flesh, wanting to feel more of her. “Your soft, wet, mouth tastes just as delectable as I remember.”

He’d always loved to kill her with words. She felt that familiar swell low in her belly, and she pressed into him further. “What else do you want to taste?”

“Everything you have to give.”

Their eyes mirrored each other’s, beautifully colored irises, blue versus green, barely visible around wild pupils. “Take it,” she whispered. Before she could take notice, Killian transported, where he had been laid beside her he was now standing next to her side of the bed. Emma took the hand he offered her and stood up with him.

He removed his black leather jacket, then took both Emma’s hands and placed them on his chest. She didn’t need to be led further, Killian had always enjoyed when Emma undressed him, with her eyes and especially with her hands.

Slowly caressing the planes of his chest, down to his abs and then back up again, Emma pulled the shirt from his jeans at the same time, then set to the task of unbuttoning it. With each new bit of skin that was exposed she felt new want blossoming. Her hands caressed his pecs, fingers skimming through his thick chest hair, then moved up to his shoulders to push away his shirt.

Even though he couldn’t blush, she saw a shy modesty bloom under her scrutiny. He still had his tells, she noted as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. A sure sign he was a little shaken. “Just as gorgeous as I remember,” she murmured. Moving forward, Emma inhaled deeply at his neck then feathered light kisses along the column of his neck as she deftly unfastened his belt. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into his skin as she unzipped him.

“I missed you too, my love.” Taking her face between both hands he brought her mouth to his to cement his words.

Emma slid his pants down his hips and thighs while he kissed her senseless. She felt his hard length against her stomach and couldn’t help the giggle that stole from her mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“No blood, no heartbeat, and now no knickers? I seem to remember you had quite the collection of those hot little boxer briefs that packaged everything so… deliciously.”

“Perhaps I forewent my knickers for your easy access.”

Emma laughed again, “Good idea. Goddamn you look so good. You’re just missing one thing.”

“And what would that be?” He quirked his eyebrow as she unfastened the necklace, his necklace, she wore.

“I want you to have it back, now that you’re here to stay.” Emma stepped behind him and fastened the necklace for him. She kissed his neck and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I also want to feel it drag along my body when you’re on top of me,” she whispered into his ear.

An involuntary shiver coursed through his body at her seduction. Then she was gone, the warmth of her body no longer pressed to his, and he found himself desperate for her touch.

When she walked back around him, she faced away from him, toward the bed, then swept her hair upward with both hands signaling Killian to unzip her. The dress fell to the floor seamlessly, and she whipped back around to face him, without warning she jumped up and clung to his body. He caught her as if she were a feather. “So it’s true what they say? Vampires have super strength?”

“Aye, there are many things that are different about me now, Swan. We could discuss them all at great length if you’d like?”

“Uh-uh, not right now. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“Shut up and get inside me, Killian Jones.”

“As you wish.” He laid Emma out on their bed and crawled between her thighs, then kissed her lips once, before setting to leisurely teasing every inch of her body. He ran his lips down her neck before feasting on her breasts like a man starved, all the while inhaling deeply, her scent like a lifeline.

Just as she’d wanted, Emma could feel the delicate drag of the pendants on his necklace along her throat, then down her sternum as he kissed his way down her body. “Hurry up,” she whined. “It’s been a year,” she added when he chuckled at her impatience.

“Don’t I know it,” he murmured. “Let me enjoy these a bit more.” He sucked and teased his fill before moving further down her body, finally settling where she wanted. Killian massaged her hips, up and down her rib cage, then placed his mouth upon her.

The moan that emerged from Emma would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t busy being so impatient and greedy for his mouth. She fisted her fingers into his thick hair, encouraging his actions.

Killian hummed his approval into her folds when her delectable taste graced his tongue. He worked her quickly, but expertly, his tongue seeking everything she had to give. He brought two fingers to her entrance, soaked and ready to be penetrated and slid them in without warning at the same time as he sucked her clit between his lips.

“Yes,” Emma gasped at the sudden but welcome intrusion. It’d been far too long, and she was on the brink of utopia from just one thrust of his digits. She bucked her hips to meet the curve of his fingers, the wet slide music to her ears. The sound of sex had always been a turn on for Emma, and after a full year, it was as though the sense was heightened.

Killian added a third finger to her divinely swollen flesh and delighted in her cries of passion as she immediately came. “That’s it love, let me hear you.” He coaxed her through her aftershocks, waiting patiently for her to come down. “Hearing you get off is second only to watching it, Swan.”

“Then allow me to come again… for your pleasure.” She smiled like the cat that got the canary, before adding, “Tell me how you want to watch me come.”

Before Emma could process a thing she was straddling his waist while he lied out on the bed. “What the-”

“Super speed,” he shrugged throwing his hands behind his head.

“So that’s true too. What about super stamina?”

“Oi! My stamina was always super.”

Emma collapsed onto his chest in a fit of giggles. Her vampire boyfriend was still a drama queen. “Oh, Killian. That wasn’t a complaint.” She braced her hands on either side of his head and pushed up so she could look down at him. “I never had any complaints in that department,” she purred as she slid her still wet folds up and down his length. Emma watched as his eyes rolled shut. “You like that?”

“Fuck yes, you’re so warm and wet. I want to feel you wrapped around my cock, love.”

She kissed him briefly then licked and gently bit her way along his jawline. “As you wish,” she murmured into his ear.

Killian’s eyes sprang open as he didn’t want to miss a moment, she just felt so good. He watched as she braced her left hand on his chest and gripped his shaft in her right to line him up to her. His cock strained as he felt the warmth of her entrance, and he swore she was teasing him. “Ride me, Swan.”

Hearing those words brought back a flood of memories, so many nights spent making love. Torn between slamming home and making him beg, Emma slowly sunk down onto him until he was fully sheathed. She didn’t move, she needed to adjust to the way he stretched her, she also wanted to savor the full feeling she’d been deprived of for so long.

Killian didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes again until he felt her forehead rest on his. He brought one hand to her hip and the other to the back of her head. “I love you, Emma.” He punctuated his words with a fervent kiss, hardly giving her a chance to answer.

His words and ardor spurred her to action and she withdrew her hips before gliding back home again. Emma alternated between kissing him and watching him. The muscles of his body moved smoothly under his skin as he guided her hips. She got lost in the way his arms flexed, his stomach tensed and settled, the tick of his jaw, and she thought watching him in the throes of passion might be the most gorgeous thing she’d ever witnessed.

Killian moaned and whispered encouragement and obscene words to her as she worked herself closer to another peak. He was mesmerized by the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, but only when he could pull his eyes from her expressions of heat, happiness, and wonder that all made their way across her face. He knew the moment she reached that crescendo, when she threw her head back in ecstacy and called out his name. And again, hearing her come undone was second only to watching. Pumping into her still, Killian’s orgasm started to crest through him and he was inundated with a maddening desire to bite and feed from the woman who’d just thoroughly ravished him.

Emma watched as Killian’s release took him. He was beautiful, but something was just slightly off. His eyes paled a shade, and he looked slightly feral. Then it dawned on her. “Drink,” she commanded. And once again she found herself in a new position without experiencing how she got there. She was laid out on her back and Killian was poised above her now, still thrusting deeply into her. She didn’t say anything, but only swept her hair aside and offered her neck.

Without another moment’s hesitation Killian sunk his fangs into her tender flesh and pulled deeply from her thrumming vein. Her breathy moans had him fucking into her harder, as he realized she loved his bite. The swell of her walls against his cock had him seeing stars until he finally let go and let the pleasure take him on a ride.

The moment her skin was pierced Emma entered a state of euphoria. She felt pleasure course throughout her body, settling in every nerve ending. The way his fingers grazed her skin was perfect, the way his chest rubbed against hers was perfect, and the way he stroked against her clit with every thrust was perfect. Her whole body tensed as she sensed Killian’s orgasm, and then a wave of pleasure like none she’d experienced before swept her up with him, and her body relaxed as gentle wave after wave washed through her.

Not for lack of want, Killian withdrew his fangs from her neck. “That was…”

“What ha-”

They both chuckled at the utter fuckstruck tone to their voices, and Emma collapsed against Killian’s chest.

Running his hands through her hair he enjoyed the warm press of her skin against his cool body. “You are so warm. I’ve missed you so much, my love. Tell me you’ll stay with me forever?”

If he had a beating heart it would have stopped at her hesitance to answer. Taking in a deep breath he didn’t technically need, he tried to find his center again. “I understand. I didn’t mean to pressure you, please know that I will accept any decision you make.” He kissed the top of her head, then rolled them so they could get comfortable.

There was something off with the way her body rolled so listlessly as he moved them. “Emma, are you quite alright?” Brushing her hair away from her forehead he saw that her eyes were open, but glazed as if she wasn’t seeing. “Emma, love, wake up,” he shouted as he shook her gently. Killian checked for her pulse, but even with his heightened senses could only detect a weak and fading pulse. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing her after he’d only just got her back. But he couldn’t fathom turning her without her permission either. “Please, wake up. Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. Holding her limp body tightly to his, he prayed to any god who might hear him for Emma to wake.

“Emma!” Killian was sitting up in bed holding her tightly with his forehead rested on hers. She was still breathing but it was shallow. He pressed his lips to hers and a broken sob spilled forth. Emma’s whole body jerked in his arms as she struggled to inhale.

“Breathe love, just breathe,” he soothed her.

“What happened?”

Killian still had her held tight in his arms, unwilling to let her go. “You tried to leave me, you were barely breathing, and your pulse was almost nonexistent.”

“Why are you bleeding?” Emma brought her hand to his face and brushed her thumb across the drops of blood on his cheek.

“Shit, sorry. Will you be okay If I go to the bathroom to clean up?”

Emma nodded her head. “I’m fine. But why are you bleeding, did I hurt you?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Killian stood up from the bed and raked his hand anxiously behind his ear.

“There’s that blushless blush,” Emma teased as she watched him. “What is it, bashful?”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered. “Crying is a messy affair when you’re a vampire.”

“I’m not going anywhere, all you would have to do if I was dying in your arms is turn me, then there’ll be no getting rid of me.” Emma stood up off the bed and held her hand out to him, “Let’s get cleaned up. If that’s what comes out of your eyes when you cry, I’m sure I need to bathe after what we just did. Unless you’re ready for round two.”

“I’m always ready for you, but we need to talk first.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed, knowing that serious Killian with his good form, morals, and integrity was going to make an appearance.

~CS~

“Are you hungry?” Killian asked as he dried his body.

Emma watched his naked form as he toweled off, her eyes were quite focused as she enjoyed the show. “Only for you,” she murmured as she slipped on her silky robe.

“On the contrary, I can hear your stomach,” he chuckled.

“Stupid vampire hearing,” she muttered while drying her own hair. “I can eat anytime, I’d rather make up for the last year by having you again. I haven’t gotten to... you know.” Licking her lips she crudely gestured a blow job, then smiled devilishly as he began to harden before her.

“Naughty vixen,” he smirked, “I promise you, once we’ve talked, if we move forward together-”

“What if, Killian?” she interrupted. “There is no if, only when.”

“Well then, after we talk, when we move forward together, you’ll have an eternity to suck my cock.” He waggled his eyebrows at her scandalized expression, while throwing on a pair of his old worn sweats.

Emma feigned offense before bursting into giggles. “I love you, you filthy animal.”

“Come on.”

Before she could make another attempt to lure him back to bed, he poofed them to the kitchen where she was sitting on the counter watching him practically warp around the kitchen while preparing her pancakes, eggs, and sausage. She was almost dizzy.

Once he’d prepared her plate he swooped her up and transported them both, food and all to the back patio. “Now we talk.” He sat her in a chair at the small dinette and sat across from her.

“Talk, talk, talk,” Emma rolled her eyes before scooping a bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Mmmm, just as delicious as I remember,” she commented through a full mouth.

“So classy.” He watched as carefree Emma returned. She’d been such a shell of herself over the past year.

“Shut up!” she laughed, punching him in the arm. “Actually don’t shut up, you talk all this talk you need to talk, and I’ll eat.”

“As you wish. All the things I am about to say aren’t to discourage you, but I do need to say them, because I want you to really think it through before you make your decision.”

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“No more food to start, you won’t be able to enjoy those light and fluffy pancakes, nor your beloved garlic steak. No sunlight... tanning, the pool, the beach, all gone. A warm body will be a thing of the past, and no more beauty sleep, not that you ever needed it. You won’t be able to be around humans for a long spell, it’ll just be you and me.”

Emma reached across the table and entwined her fingers with his. ��I don’t see the problem with any of that. I would give up food, sleep, my warmth, my heartbeat, the sun, moon, and stars to be with you.”

“Fortunately you wouldn’t have to give up the stars, Swan.” Killian squeezed her hand lovingly as he gestured toward the star laden sky with his other. “We can always enjoy this. Alas, those are the more superficial things. We would never be able to stay anywhere forever if we intended to live among the living, they’d realize we were different if we maintained our youthful good looks for too long. You’d have to watch every human you love die, eventually. And… no babies.”

Emma contemplated his last two thoughts as she pushed around the bits of food left on her plate. For the majority of her life she hadn’t wanted kids, she’d never had a mom and was quite sure that she didn’t know the first thing about how to be one. Only once Killian had come into her life had she even considered kids, they’d discussed it a time or two. Ultimately, had everything worked out happily ever after, they probably would’ve had a couple kids. But now, the fact was, she wasn’t going to have kids either way, she probably didn’t have nine months left to try, and she could handle that.

“David and Mary Margaret,” she murmured, they were a different story. Her eyes watered as she thought about them growing old and eventually dying as she and Killian would remain never changing.

“I can… enthrall them, I suppose you could say.”

Emma stared at him blankly.

“You know, enchant, glamour, hypnotize them.”

“To do what?”

“To forget. Everything about us, it would be as if we’d never existed in their minds.” Killian watched silently as an array of emotions flitted across her face, a bit of sadness, some nostalgia, and even the hint of a smile.

“No, I can handle it. I don’t want you to… mess with their minds. Wait! Have you messed with my-”

“Never love,” Killian cut her off, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emma stood up and tugged on Killian’s hand. “C’mon.” She led him to their swinging loveseat. After guiding him to sit criss cross she sat opposite him so they were facing each other. Grabbing both his cool hands in her warm ones she laced their fingers again placing them in her lap, and looked into his eyes.

“I know you may think I am being quick to jump, and flippant, but Killian, I know in my heart that I’m making the right decision. Some might think me weak for not moving past your death, but the fact is, I could have moved on, I just didn’t want to. I had no desire to live in a world without you in it. You were, are the greatest and only love of my life, I had no desire to move past that. I would have lived out my life however I was able to navigate without you, but now I don’t have to, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”

“Gods I am blessed, if a demon like me can be blessed.”

“You are not a demon,” Emma whispered, wiping at the bloody tear that traced the curve of his cheek.

“Knowing all that you know now, I don’t understand how you can still love me so unconditionally, but I swear you won’t regret it for even a single moment of our eternity.”

“Good.”

Pulling Emma into his lap he threaded both hands into her hair and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“Prove it. Take me back to bed.”

“One track mind,” he chuckled.

“Better yet, who needs a bed. Take me right here, vampire.”

“You’re amazing, Emma.”

“I love you, Killian Jones, enough talking now.”

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