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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

Note

YOU DID IT oh my god you actually did it 😈 and it was so good!!! You're my favourite JQ writer! The only reason I've decided to anon these requests is because I thought you wouldn't appreciate the question to continue Like A Poem seeing the posts you made on it. I see I was right 😅 Can I show some love for Anne? I don't know if you're basing her on anyone but I always imagine April from Parks & Rec and she's just the perfect addition, so well done! Part 2 soon?

part 2 now. Wordcount: 3.8K

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A Lot Like Love

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Eleven days had crawled by since the funeral. Eleven whole 24-hour days, and it was the first time since the funeral that you had woken up and didn’t immediately think of your granddad. Grief had strange ways of finding its way into your dreams if you ignored it during the day, but apparently it took your system eleven days to let it subside. At least enough to feel somewhat normal again.

Joe had kissed you twice more since then. Just the two times, because there were always people who made things awkward, which was unfortunate. Some days Joe was busy and couldn’t come by, and then that was the reason you didn’t kiss that day. And other days you decided you wouldn’t open the store, listening to your mother’s advice to slow down whenever you needed it and then that was the reason you didn’t kiss that day. You would sometimes lay in bed at night and think to yourself that you didn’t even know where Joe lived. Or what he was busy doing. And he didn’t really know what you were doing, or even that you lived right above the store. But it felt like that was the charm of it. Of this. The thing between you that felt impossible to describe.

The second time you’d kissed, Joe was sat in your granddad’s armchair which was slowly starting to take on Joe’s shape more. He had almost jogged into the store that day and announced he’d only be there for a little bit, grabbing a book of the ledge. Joe had a��ledge now, a spot where he’d leave his books that you’d leave untouched, so they’d be there for him whenever he’d come back for them. You had been high up on a ladder and had only smiled at him, happy he’d come in that day, even if it was just for a short while. When your feet touched the wooden floorboards a little later, Joe’s focus was deep into his book, and you didn’t want to disturb, but you did want to be nice, so you made him a coffee. Because that was something that you did, something that fit within your familiarity with each other that was easy and predictable. And then, when you had placed it down on the side table next to him, he had taken hold of you by the wrist before you could get back to work. His other hand had wrapped fingers ‘round your chin to pull you in more, and he had kissed you from the chair. It had taken you by surprise a little, but there was no one else in the store and you reasoned it was a nice way to say thank you for the coffee. Apparently, that was something you did now too.

The third time Joe had kissed you was in front of Anne and a couple of browsing customers. Joe had seen an order sheet for new releases and had been really excited for a particular book he’d heard about. He had wanted to pre-order it online but had last minute decided he’d just get it from your store when you’d get it in. The day it had arrived, you had kept the copies back on purpose, and Joe had walked in and stalked his way over to the display where you’d normally put the new releases out. You’d seen him search for it, double checking for fear he had missed it by accident. But it wasn’t there. He had pouted when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, and then he’d looked at you with quizzing eyes. But you’d been ready for those eyes, leaning your elbows on the counter, holding your head up on one hand and a copy of the book he was looking for in the other. Out of pure excitement, Joe had grabbed you by the face with his elbows sticking out widely and had planted a big smacker right onto your lips with a loud comical kissing sound. They were followed by excited giddy squeals and giggles as he had launched his body at an armchair to immediately start reading.

“Is he your boyfriend now?” Anne had looked at Joe, slightly grossed out, and then at you, slightly more grossed out when she saw your face. Your eyes had turned into love hearts as you watched Joe carefully fold pages back to find the first chapter.

“No,” you couldn’t fight the grin on your face, even if you tried. Which you didn’t.

“You guys are so weird,”

“Yea.” You agreed.

It was a random Monday when you were looking up pasta recipes for dinner that night. It was late in the afternoon, and you didn’t really want to step out to get more ingredients because it was rainy, so you searched for a recipe that would work with what you had in the house still. You had taken the Monday off to grant yourself time to tidy your living space, because honestly, when was the last time you even hoovered this place?

You received a text message from Joe. A photo from the closed sign on the door of the store, followed by “not today?” and you were about to reply, “not today” when you changed your mind.

Joe had seen the dots pop up as you started typing a reply, but then they disappeared. Joe frowned. It was raining and he wasn’t planning on standing around outside for too long, but he had so hoped you’d be in today. Yesterday had been busy and hectic and he absolutely yearned for the comfort and normality of what the store and you had become to him. He had purposefully come by at the end of the day, because maybe today he’d gather enough courage to casually, very accidentally, end up having dinner with you. Maybe he could even talk you into heading out and going somewhere together.

Joe contemplated leaving when your reply took too long, when suddenly there was movement inside. The door that read ‘Personnel Only’ swung open. There you were. Joe smiled at the look of you; hair out of your face, high on top of your head and your eyes much smaller at the lack of make-up on them. He’d never seen you like that before and it felt a little special. Like this was a version of you he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

You did your best to unlock the door quickly as you saw Joe hunched in his coat, shoulders pulled up high, getting wetter by the second as the rain started picking up. When you opened the door, he slid past you and shook his head, shuddering the miserable weather off of him.

“Admin day?” he asked, unsure if he was welcome to stay for a little bit.

You eyed him for a second. Pondering.

“Do you know any good pasta recipes?”

Joe had been shocked to learn that you lived in the apartment above the store. When had you asked him to follow you into the breakroom and had opened a door that he assumed led to a pantry, he was surprised to be met with a set of stairs that cornered around up to a small landing. Two more doors. One to storage. The other to your living space.

Long ago, before were born, your grandfather had lived up there with your grandmother, but they’d moved out when they had your mother. It had been used as storage for the store since then, like an old dusty attic that just held a lot of mess. When you were 19, and desperate to get out of your mother’s house, your grandfather had promised that you could stay up in the apartment above the store, but only if you cleaned and fixed it up yourself. With school, weekend jobs and teenage life, it had taken you months before you had stayed the night up there.

Joe couldn’t believe that every time he’d been stood in front of a closed book store, he had imagined you so far away from him. On the other side of London somewhere, unsure in which direction he had to place you. Now he realized that you would’ve been able to literally see him in the street from your windows.

It’s a nice apartment. Homey, Joe thought. Roomy too. It had high ceilings, like the store downstairs, but not quite as high. And it was tidy, but only because you had actually cleaned that day. You were quick to throw Joe a kitchen towel to dry his hair a little – it wasn’t soaked, but you could see how it was coloured darker by the rain and his curls had clumped together.

It was weird to see Joe in your living room. It felt a little out of place. Like his face didn’t belong there. Joe’s face belonged to your store downstairs, you thought.

“So,” Joe said handing you back the towel and clapping his hands together before rubbing them vigorously. “Pasta?” he asked, and he questioningly reached to open your fridge. Before you could answer he’d already opened it to peer inside.

It was unfair how easy cooking seemed to come to Joe’s hands. And he knew things. Like, he didn’t have to look up how long to boil pasta, or in what way to cut vegetables, and he just guessed the amounts of them to throw into a pan and then they fit just right. “I’ve just done it often,” Joe had shrugged, underselling what he was doing when you’d taken a step back to look on, quite impressed with the whole scene. And as if your knees hadn’t weakened enough by then, Joe also cleaned up as he went! A skill you also hadn’t mastered yet.

You thought it was too early for dinner, at 4:30pm, but it smelled amazing and you could really just go for it then. When Joe turned the heat down on your stove and said to just let it sit and simmer until you’d have dinner, insinuating that he wouldn’t even stay to have some himself, you grabbed two bowls and filled them up to the brim.

You plopped down on your sofa, and Joe took a chair opposite, the coffee table in between you. “Love pasta,” you said it just to say it, not really to anyone, and you took your first bite. It was fucking delicious.

“There’s days where I’ll be so full after a meal, and I’ll still be sad that it wasn’t a good pasta.” Joe said, sharing your love. He then dug in too. You watched Joe chew, and thought, as you sat here, bowls of hot food in hand, that this... this could pass for an actual date.

“Sometimes I’ll eat a bit of pasta as a treat, too much of it honestly, and then have a whole other meal after as my actual dinner.” You one-upped him and covered your mouth with the back of your hand that was holding your fork as you laughed at yourself.

“Wow, you’re perfect.” Joe commented so casually, almost for you not to properly hear it, his eyes not even on you. Still, it was a label you couldn’t handle, wouldn’t accept. It instantly made you feel icky.

“I hate cooking.” It was fast out of your mouth. “And I almost never hoover because it’s just too much of a hassle.”

Joe paused his chewing, hesitating at your words, unsure of what you were doing, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“If someone pocket-dials me, I listen until they find out I’m on the phone to them, because I want to know if I can catch something not meant for my ears.”

Ah. Joe got it.

“And I take showers that, some days, last like, 40 minutes. It’s very wasteful.”

“Yikes, never mind, you’re a normal person,” Joe pretended disgust.

You weren’t finished.

“And when I find a song a really like, I can listen to it on repeat for days. Drives everyone around me mad, but I don’t care, if I don’t have it playing, I’ll just sing it myself. Which I’m bad at, by the way. I can’t, for the life of me, carry a tune.” You were making big eyes at Joe, eyebrows raised high, trying your best to convince him of your faults.

“Yea?” Joe egged you on, wanting to hear more.

“And you know when people say a coffee tastes bad, or they have a cup and are like ooh this is good coffee? It just- it’s literally all the same, you’re having a coffee, it tastes like coffee, it’s all the same to me, I don’t get it.” You were getting flustered, but stopped when you saw how dreamily Joe was watching you, love unmistakably reflecting in his eyes, and you weren’t sure you were digging a deeper hole for yourself or if you were climbing out of one.

“Have I lowered the bar enough on myself?” You asked, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth now too.

“Nearly there,” Joe pinched two fingers close together.

You thought for a second and then decided to pull out the big guns.

“I don’t like Harry Potter. Or Lord of The Rings. Or Game of Thrones.” And with those last confessions, Joe gasped and stabbed himself in the heart with an imaginary knife before fake dying in his chair, still carefully holding onto his bowl of food. Priorities. You understood.

“I was in that!” Joe then seemed to suddenly remember, piping up from his demise, big eyes and a big smile, awaiting your reaction.

“Still won’t fucking watch it.” You smiled at him, and he let out a hearty laugh.

Laughing subsided and you looked at each other as you chewed.

“We don’t know each other.” Joe suddenly said, his fork waving in your direction. You thought about it for a second. “We don’t.” you agreed and smiled. He was right, but you’d been around each other for months now, so you acknowledged that depending on how you looked at it, it was at least a little funny.

“So then, tell me more about you,” Joe nodded his chin up at you and leant forward in his seat, his face all pinched brows and serious eyes. “What do I need to know?” He was ready to learn.

Oof. Okay. You took a deep breath and shifted on the sofa a little.

“I...” you started carefully and thought a second longer before continuing. “I own a bookstore.” Joe huffed a laugh through his nostrils.

“I love to read.” you trailed off, your fork pricking in your pasta bowl, looking for the good bits. “I really like pasta.” you twirled a full fork around to show Joe before sticking it into your mouth.

“Stuff I don’t already know.” Joe complained, and you struggled through a full-mouthed laugh.

“I think you know enough,” you scrunched your nose after swallowing the bite down, eyes back at your food. “You’ve got the basics down, I think.” you teased and you realized that you were far too comfortable in what you and Joe were to each other then. Friends? Not really. Lovers? No. But there’d been so much flirting. And you’d kissed. Bookstore owner and customer? That would be underselling it. It was more than that, you knew for sure now. Famous actor and a fan? Technically, sure. But practically, no. Yet you were so comfortable. And it was fun. Like a hot bubble bath that smelled like artificial strawberries you didn’t want to get out of.

Joe leant back into his seat and milled your words around in his mind.

“I love Harry Potter.” He started. “And Lord of the Rings... Game of Thrones too. I like cooking. I hoover my flat once or twice a week.” You felt laughter bubbling up inside you. “Short shower guy, me. Just, in and out of there in a flash, just enough time to get clean.” Joe’s grin grew when he saw you try to repress yours. “I listen to playlists. Most of the time on shuffle. Every song’s a surprise.” you were impressed that he’d remembered all the things you’d listed earlier. “And sometimes coffee is just the worst. I just-” he placed his fork into his bowl and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How can you not taste the difference? Coffee can be so bad!” you gave your eyebrows a quick raise and your head a cock to the side as an answer. “You’ve never had a bad cup of coffee?” Joe was amazed. “Nope. They’ve all been just, normal coffee.” “Wow.”

Another silence fell.

“We’re a paradox.” Joe concluded as he finished his bowl of pasta and placed it on the coffee table. You felt your heart somersault at the mention of the collective you, slotting the two of you into a box together. Like a pair. An item. We. Us.

“And that’s when he got a phone call, which he took in the kitchen, and then after that he left.”

“And then he left?” your friend exclaimed loudly, her eyes big and questioning. She couldn’t believe it.

“And then he left.” You confirmed. You were putting new barcodes into the system at the till; boring assembly line work. Your friend was stood on the other side of the counter as she had her lunch. She’d come by on her break and kept you company as you worked.

“No kiss this time?” she asked, and you shook your head.

“Oh my God, he could've at least kissed you! I don’t know how you’re doing this.” she shook her head at you and had a bite of her sandwich.

“You’ve taken it slow in relationships before,” you pointed out, annoyed that she didn’t get it.

“Not like this. This is excruciatingly slow. Feels a bit against the law, like you’re going down a freeway at 30 miles an hour. It’s not safe!” You were happy there weren’t any customers in. Your friend was always so loud, it’d scare of anyone potentially wanting to buy a book or two.

“Can’t wait to see you break the record for longest foreplay. Weird thing for Joe to want any publicity on, but I don’t know his deal.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. You imagined what it must be like for her to watch you from the sidelines and understood that yes, it had potential to be a little frustrating, but you knew that if she was in it like you were, she’d get it.

You saw her scroll through her phone. When she found what she had searched up on Google images, she leant forward onto the counter further to show you. “This was two days ago.” She turned her phone to you so you could see. It was a picture of Joe at an event. Red carpet, black suit, gelled hair that flattened his curls slightly and he was surrounded by other important people. Celebrities and the like.

“Mmmh,” you glanced at the photo quickly before scanning another barcode and pushing some buttons on the till.

“Has he not said that there was a big premier of a film he’s in that he attended? Seems a big, important thing.”

“That’s not- that Joe is different. That’s not who he is when he’s in here.” You heard yourself say it and knew it didn’t make sense. But it did, though, you thought.

“I don’t trust it one bit. My guy is leading a double life. Here, look,” she showed you another photo of another occasion, and you could tell it was a recent pic by the length of this hair and the scruff on his face. He had an arm around a pretty girl. Model type of pretty. Thin. Gorgeous. You rolled your eyes at your friend. That picture didn’t necessarily mean anything. And if it did, you weren’t going to show her that you cared. You’d silently obsess over it later by yourself, in the privacy of your own apartment, like a normal person.

“I just don’t want you to be a side piece.” your friend sounded sincere, but it made you laugh anyway. “I think side pieces are exclusively meant for sex.” you said and gave her a pointed look.

“Hmm yea, maybe you’re right.” She closed her phone with a loud click and put it down. She wasn’t ready to entirely drop it yet though.

“You should get some. Do you not want to jump his bones at all?”

“Only when I look at him,” you joked. “Actually, that’s not true, I want to jump his bones when I don’t look at him too.” Then serious.

“I’m not a mathematician but that sounds like it’s all the time.”

“It’s all the time.” you whined; shoulders slumped.

“So then why don’t you? Your bed is literally two sets of stairs removed from this place. Heck, you could fuck on the stairs if you want, that door’s lockable. No wait-” she said, and pointed a finger at the front door of the store as if saying that door was lockable too. “You could fuck in the breakroom! After hours!”

“But we’re a paradox.” you groaned, speaking on a sigh. Like that was what had been holding you back – it wasn’t, and it didn’t explain anything to your friend.

“It’s like you’ve first-base-zoned each other, stuck in the romanticism of it all.” She was silent for a bit. “Actually, that sounds lovely. Like you’re in primary school still. You’re a paradox.” she stated matter of factly.

The door to the shop opened, and you both turned to look. Joe. Like you had summoned him by talking about fucking him on the stairs of your apartment.

“Hi,” warm eyes, warm smile. Neither of you greeted him back, you both just stared at him with big eyes. He didn’t wait for you two say anything, awkwardly nodded and walked to his ledge. He grabbed his book, took his coat off which he slung over the back of the armchair and sat down. Two pairs of eyes followed his every move, and no one spoke. When he was about to start reading, he looked at the two of you to see you both still had your eyes on him.

“Can I... help you? With anything?” a sly smile played on his lips.

“Okay!” your friend said loudly, snapping out of it, turning to you as you cleared your throat awkwardly, and she started gathering her things. “So I’ll see you next week?” she didn’t have to leave, you knew she had another 30 minutes before she had to get back to work. “We’ll do lunch and actually go somewhere instead of having it here whilst you do work?” she spoke loudly, announcing her departure mostly for Joe to understand. Then, as she slung arms into her coat she turned her back to him and made big eyes at you.

“Please fuck him! Do it for me!” she mouthed, her voice nearly escaping her throat in her breathing.

“Okay! Bye now, bye bye, bye!” you spoke loudly over her, shoving her towards the door, hoping Joe didn’t catch any of that.

— part three read Like A Poem here —

The Taglisted: @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @bagelofthelord67 @nobody-000 @lluviamg06 - add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #fanfiction #a lot like love #like a poem #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #requested #joe x reader

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midnightsnace · 3 years ago

Text

A Thousand Worlds

Summary: Fix it fic of sorts after the trauma that was episode 6 of the Loki series. Loki is in pain after discovering Mobius doesn’t remember him. He’s been living in apocalypses to avoid capture by this new TVA until he formulates a plan to get his Mobius back.

Rating: T for later chapters

Emotional angst.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

“And so that’s where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds.”

The ends of a thousand worlds. The words of his accomplice echoed through the god’s mind as he fiddled with the straps of his worn and tattered holster. The fluorescent above him flickered with every gust of wind that battled against the sides of the building that Loki was crouched down in. He slid his long legs out against the tiled floor in front of him and sat with his head propped against the wall. He sighed. Loki tapped his foot on the door of the space he was hiding in to close it, drowning out the cries of fear from the people outside in their final hours of life. There he sat waiting for the tempad to charge. Alone. Living in another world where every person he met would be dead by the end of the day. Another world where Mobius didn’t exist. His Mobius.

Was this what it was like? For her? To never be able to stay in one place for more than a day? To always see the same faces riddled with fear as they awaited their painful fate? To only know destruction, screaming, fires, earthquakes, the literal gates of hel? To be utterly alone with your only desire to live in the hope that one day your glorious purpose would be fulfilled?

Glorious purpose.

Loki scoffed. The god didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. Taking down the TVA was a complete failure. The chances for fixing the mess they started seemed impossible now as branches grew and new timelines erupted, with endless TVAs to monitor every universe. At least, that’s what Loki assumed. He knew next to nothing about what they had unleashed. It wasn’t the same TVA. Different hunters, different analysts, different ruler. Many he recognized, but they were still different people. They weren’t the same. She wasn’t the real B. He wasn’t his Mobius. And Loki was at a complete loss on how to find them again.

The first tempad he stole only brought him back to the place he snatched it from. The same Time Variance Authority where Mobius didn’t remember him and not a single file existed for Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, God of Outcasts, God of Lies. Even when he dragged the analyst through the timedoor into the roxxcart parking lot to access his memories, nothing existed of him. No laughter over silly metaphors, mischief at pompeii, not even the memory of their first encounter in the elevator. It was like they never met. This led to Loki wasting away their days hopping from one disaster to the next until his brain racked up a solution. The TVA never once did follow him. Why would they? No one remembered his brilliant discovery about the apocalypses. He could run free. But as the days whittled by, the hope Loki had began to fade into nothingness.

For awhile he kept track of the places he went and the time that had passed.

Day 1 - I finally stole a tempad and left that dreadful place. I came here first. Hoping I’d see you. But I guess that’s not how time travel works in apocalypses. No trace we were ever here. The storm reminded me of my brother. I hope to see him again one day. Now that I know we could have been friends. Everything was eventually going to be okay.

Day 24 - I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop awaiting the earthquake of 2098. Met a lovely redhead with the most peculiar of tattoos. But alas! Little does she know this friendship could never blossom in the wake of death!

Day 37 - I miss him. My brother. The pain that solitude brings makes me think of home more often. How ironic that the very place that caused me the most pain I miss. But anything is better than this. So today I visited home right before its destruction. I saw my brother. I saw Thor from afar. Oh how I wish I could have talked to him somehow and tell him i’m sorry for being such an ass.

Being there brought back memories of the silly metaphor he made using Mobius’ lunch. The corners of Loki’s mouth crept into a smile at the thought. But that smile faded away in the next second and was replaced with tears.

Day 56 - I went to Pompeii again. I stood in the shadows. I tried to picture your expressions of skepticism at my insane ideas. I tried to picture how your face lit up with pride and joy when you realized I was right. I wish I could have stayed longer but I never can anywhere I go.

He whistled like a bird before he exited through the time door.

By day 125 he had lost his will to live again. It was their fourth visit to Lamentis-1. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to journey here once more and feel both the pains of betrayal and heartache at the prospect of never seeing Mobius again. The second time they had visited Lamentis, the god decided to stay until the very last second with the false hope that maybe him facing death would create a nexus event. His mobius would come find him and save him at the last second. But the time door never came. Maybe it was because he knew there was a chance to escape and he could take it. Or maybe it was because there were so many time branches no one would care to fix a world that was about to end.

“You were always meant to be alone.”

And so this time Loki threw the tempad to the ground and waited. He watched as the lethal disaster unfolded before his eyes once more, ready to die. Alone. Alone with no one to assure him everything will be alright in the face of death. Not a single soul would know he was gone. No one would care.

But at the last second they saw something on the tempad that made them change their mind. A glimmer of hope.

Any hope Loki had, a glorious purpose he had left to fulfill, it was in finding Mobius. It was the only desire left that fueled him to keep existing. He was all that mattered. His only friend. The only person left among the universes who trusted him and saw beyond his flaws. The only person left who hadn’t betrayed the fragile levels of trust the god could give. He was his hope that one day, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

And so he found himself walking the streets of New York in the summer of 2197, on the brink of some disaster he knew nothing about. Not a single idea when it would happen, where it would occur, and what he was doomed to witness. He saw something that could potentially lead him to his destination. The tempad had given him an alert for an aura match - two of the same people in one place. An oddity. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

They weren’t just any entity either. They were registered hunters in the TVA database. Which meant one had to be from another universe.

And he knew the TVA would be coming for them.

He had to get there first.

Loki speed walked down the sidewalk frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening. He couldn’t read any signs of fear or confusion on the faces of those who passed him. He didn’t know how much time he had.

Upon hearing shouts of anger, Loki broke out into a run across the street towards the source, dodging every dystopian vehicle that nearly collided with him in the process. It was coming from the roof of the parking tower. With a snap of his magic, Loki teleported himself to the top, hiding behind a parked vehicle to assess what he was working with.

There were two agents standing about 10 feet away who looked nearly identical, one waving her arms frantically while the other looked on stoically, possibly from shock, with a pruning stick in hand. Loki locked eyes on the tempad fastened to the belt of the frantic one. Then he glanced at the one in the other hunter’s hand.

Well shit.

Now he had to figure out which agent had jumped from the other timeline. He quickly flashed himself closer to the two, but not before one caught on that someone was there.

“I was given orders by a man to…what was that?” one of the hunters asked.

Loki crouched down farther on the other side of the wall. He reached for a dagger, ready to pounce once their suspicions subsided. They listened intently to the words from the first hunter for the first clue on who to attack.

“He sent me here to grab this,” the hunter pulled up someone on her tempad, “entity and leave. Those were the orders given to me. So if you’ll excuse me.”

The other hunter planted herself in front of her clone. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’ve told me everything I want to know. How are you me? How is this possible?”

The first hunter was from an alternate timeline. Loki took that as his cue. But before he could sneak behind the hunter, he was shot backwards by a blast of energy from a ring of light.

Out from the ring stepped a peculiar man with graying hair who was wearing blue robes and an assymetrical cloak that sparked the curiosity of the confused hunter. Within a split second, the portal closed behind him. Loki laid very still on the concrete and held his breath in the hopes that the man would believe him to be dead.

“You know I can tell when someone is playing dead.”

Loki grimaced and winced as he heaved himself off the ground. He came face to face with the strange man, his hand lingering in the air where he placed the pocket for his dagger.

“You.” was all the man said.

“Am I supposed to know you?” the god questioned.

“You always manage to show up in New York again at the most in-opportune times.” The man raised his hands and Loki mimicked his movements, summoning his daggers in place.

“I’m gonna assume we’ve met before sir, perhaps in the future? I don’t know! And i’m terribly sorry about New York! Look let me explain…” they lowered their hands in their attempt to make peace with the angry man in front of him.

“Dr. Strange.” He kept his fist in the air, golden sparks flying from whatever spell he had in mind to attack the prince with. “And until you prove otherwise Im going to assume you are here for hostile reasons.”

Loki blinked. Well he’s kind of not wrong, they thought.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t prove anything else.” and with that the god blasted the sorcerer into the nearest column with their magic and teleported across the space.

Loki noticed that one of the hunters had disappeared. He assumed she had returned to the TVA. The other was charging towards him fast. He whipped out his daggers to face his attacker, but suddenly his feet were dragged out from under him and he hit the concrete hard. He was being dragged backwards, body scrapping against the concrete. So fast, that the god could barely think about what was happening to him.

When he came to his senses he cut the magic ropes with his powers and rolled across the ground. So he was dealing with another magic user, this “Dr. Strange.” Loki teleported again before he was up on his feet to where he was standing directly behind the hunter.

“D-11…” Dr. Strange said with a hint of caution in his tone.

So this was the man Hunter D-11 was working for. Before the hunter could turn around to face them, Loki snatched the tempad off her belt and snapped himself to the furthest side of the building. Dr. Strange reacted quickly and stood his ground in front of Loki, prepared to attack again.

“Loki, perhaps we can work out some type of deal. What is it that you want? Maybe I can help you. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

Offer him a deal? Nah.

“I’m done trusting people I’ve just met. All they ever do is stab me in the back.” he conjured the time door behind him.

Strange titled his head. “You do realize we can follow you right straight back to the TVA?”

Loki turned to face him and D-11. “You’ll never find me. You won’t know the first place to look.” The time door closed with Loki inside of it, before the two even had a chance to reach their hands out to follow the god.

…….

And that’s how Loki had ended up here. At Roxxcart again, waiting for the new tempad to charge up before hopping through timelines again.

He breathed in deeply as he felt the bubble of excitement, relief, and happiness build in his chest for the first time in months at the prospect of achieving his goal. Being reunited with the only one who mattered: Mobius. His Mobius.

But as he released his breath in a sigh, his chest tightened again and worry clouded his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if this was just another dead end? What if this was just another one of the countless TVAs that might exist in the vast multiverse?

At first, all Loki felt was sadness and regret in the days following Sylvie’s betrayal. But now all he felt was anger boiling deep inside him. That same unwelcome feeling he experienced after discovering his father lied to him. The feeling that harbored in the abyss of Thanos’ chambers. The feeling that never left his soul until Mobius looked him in the eyes and assured him that he didn’t have to be the villain in his story.

She had taken everything from him and he was afraid he couldn’t wash away the resentment this time. He wanted desperately to feel anything besides the pain he had known for the past year.

He needed to feel love again.

“He cares about you.”

Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He picked up the tempad and tapped the time door request for the TVA home base. He drew in a shaky breath as he paused in front of the portal.

This was it.

He was either about to be reunited with his greatest source of happiness, or find himself hiding in apocalypses again for months as he searched for another plan.

And he would do it. He would search through a thousand worlds to find him.

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stylesberries · 4 years ago

Text

Fireflies

Summary: Harry has been acting weird for a couple of weeks, but when y/n finally finds out the truth, it’s far from what she assumed.

Genre(s): fluff, a tiniest bit of angst maybe?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning(s): Harry being a cutie patootie that he is :,)

Harry has been acting weird for a couple of weeks now and you started to get suspicious. He would come home late most of the days and keep you waiting in your bed. The other days he would mysteriously disappear in the morning. “Went out for a run.” He would tell you. What kind of run lasts for five hours?

Of course, you would never suspect him of cheating on you. He has proven his love to you over and over again, and one had to be completely oblivious of what love is, not to notice how head over heels in love he was with you.

However, the way he was acting made you overthink. You were worried for him and his well-being. All of the worst things that could happen took over your mind. Health issues, disagreements with the management, bickering within the family, and many other possible problems that he could have been facing filled your mind to the brim.

Here you were now, sitting at your kitchen table, eating dinner alone. Harry still hasn’t come home and it was already nine o’clock in the evening, when he promised to get home at six.

You trusted Harry. You really did. However, you didn’t want him to use the fact that you trust him with everything you have, to get home late for the second week in a row. You wouldn’t have been against him staying out late if he had just told you he truth.

You sat in your seat and rolled the pasta you made on a fork. All of your appetite has vanished even before you started making the food, but you still forced yourself to eat, to get your mind off of your ever wandering boyfriend.

As you started to get into your food, you heard the keys turn in the front door. No food for you today.

Your name wasn’t called like it usually is, when Harry walks into the front door. The only sound you heard was the shuffling and the clacking of keys being placed on the table in the hall.

You could tell that Harry was trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid you noticing him.

As he tried to pass the kitchen door quietly, you got up from your place and walked up to him. He was wearing his blue sweater, corduroy flares and a face of someone trying to hide something from their girlfriend.

“Harry?” You asked sternly.

He turned his head to you and put on a smile while pushing something behind his back.

“Hello, love. I-I didn’t want t’disturb you, s-so I-um-” He tried to lie to you, although he knew pretty well he was awful at lying and I was too good at catching lies.

You turned your gaze to his hands that were hidden from you behind his back.

“Harry, what’s behind your back?” You asked straightforwardly.

He looked uncomfortable and seemed to have been taken aback by your question.

“It’s um-” He brought his hands forward. They held a black folder visibly full of papers. “It’s m’folder with song ideas.” He seemed unsure of the statement himself, but you put the blame on the fact, that he was left dumbfounded by your actions. What was that about though?

“Why were you hiding it from me then?” You seemed honestly confused because he always shared his songwriting process with you.

“Was just writing a song f’you, but I will show it t’you when it’s completely done.” He blabbered to you.

Seems like a plausible reason to hide the folder from you. It was strange, because he would write his song ideas in his phone now, but you brushed those thoughts off.

“Okay then, love. I thought you were coming home at six.” You turned to the clock on the wall to see that the time is 9:24.

Harry followed your gaze and realized that he had indeed come home a little overtime.

“Got carried away in the studio, baby. ‘M sorry, should’ve informed you.” His shoulders sank, as he realized that you had been waiting for him for over three hours.

“It’s okay, Harry. But please, next time you’re planning to get late, tell me, alright? I thought something happened.”

The sternness in your voice subsided as you walked closer to Harry. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. He pulled you closer and placed his cheek on the top of your head. You felt his jaw move on top of your head, but before he got a chance to make a sound, you spoke.

“I’m worried for you, baby. It’s driving me insane. What’s going on? I know it’s not just studio. It has to be something else. You’ve never acted like this before. It scares me.” You whispered the last part almost to yourself, but you knew that the man heard you clearly.

“I didn’t mean t’worry you, precious.” He took time to think his words through. “I know, I’ve been actin’ off these days, baby. I promise you it’s nothing y’should worry about. It’s the album release coming up. I didn’t mean t’cause you anxiety, angel. ‘M so sorry.” He genuinely seemed sorry, and you felt the need to kiss his pouty lips.

That evening you went to sleep spooning Harry and brushing his curls out of his face. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. All you wanted to do was keep him safe and warm.

When you woke up, Harry wasn’t there anymore, which didn’t surprise you, as it wasn’t the first time you found yourself curled up in the blanket all alone.

You pushed your sleepy body off of the bed and pushed your feet into the slippers at the bed. You brushed your teeth and thought of what you’ll be getting yourself busy with on this Saturday morning. All of the documents you had to go through for work were already sent back to your company, and you found yourself wonder what other errands you had to run.

You opened the calendar on your phone to check your schedule. You were startled to find out that it was your birthday today. You were so anxious about the way your boyfriend has been acting, that your own birthday was clean forgotten.

Your mood was instantly ruined when you understood that Harry left you alone on your birthday, but as you walked down the stairs to make yourself some breakfast, you felt the smell of pancakes lingering in the air.

The corners of your lips flew up and you ran to the kitchen to catch your boyfriend red-handed.

Harry heard the loud steps coming his way, so he turned to the door and placed the scoop back into the bowl of pancake batter.

“Who’s this lil’ cheetah running m’way, huh?” Harry teased you loudly and spread his arms, welcoming you with a hug.

You jumped into his arms, and he caught you to pick you up and hold up by your waist.

“Legs ‘round m’waist, birthday girl.” Harry laughed against your chest as you did as he told. You placed your arms around his neck and let him place a kiss on your jaw.

“I thought you left me on my birthday.” You pouted at him, when he withdrew from your neck.

You could see regret overflow him, before being replaced with endless love.

“How could I ever leave the love of m’life on ‘er birthday? What kind of love is it, if I’m not by your side on your day, angel?” He stared right through you, as if directly at your heart.

His words took you by surprise, and it was written all over your face. Harry noticed you questioning his words.

“The love of your life?” You asked him softly, looking right into his loving eyes.

“The love of m’life.” He nodded with a smile on his face.

After sharing a moment full of love, you sat down to enjoy the slightly burnt pancakes, while discussing your plans for today.

You both changed out of your sleeping clothes and left the house to go to the new bookshop you’ve been wanting to go to for some time, but never got a chance to.

After hoarding several books, both for you and Harry, you asked Harry if you could get some ice-cream.

“Ice-Cream it is then, m’love.” Harry smiled and pulled out of the parking to get on the route to your favorite ice-cream parlor.

After you dropped one of your ice-creams and got another one, Harry told you that he has a surprise for you.

Harry told you that he will take you to a special place after the sun sets, and you couldn’t be more excited. You kept asking him over and over again about where he’s taking you, but he wouldn’t crack.

When you were finally on your way to the place, you kept thinking about how lucky you are, watching the sun set. You realized that all of the anxiety that you felt in these last two weeks was completely unnecessary.

Reaching the place after an hour long ride, Harry helped you out of the car and led you away from the road. As you walked closer to the place he was leading you to, you could see a beautiful field full of a variety of flowers that surrounded a small lake. Harry seemed full of anxiety as he lead you to an old stone platform by the field. You would expect there to be a table with a candlelit dinner, but there wasn’t a single source of light near you, except the stars, that scattered in the dark clear sky and several fireflies, that bee-lined around the trees that surrounded the field.

“Harry, this place is beautiful.” You were speechless and this was the only sentence you trusted yourself with saying.

Harry led you to stand in the middle of the platform, looking upon the night sky. You could tell he was in deep thought, but you couldn’t tell what was bothering him. Harry, as if hearing your thoughts, turned to you and smiled at you softly.

“It is beautiful. Took me a while to find a place worthy of you.” Harry kept looking at me with his eyes full of adoration.

You weren’t completely sure why he formed his sentence like that, but you were sure you were not here to just stargaze.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Harry. He walked back to the car, which wasn’t too far away from the stone platform, and left you standing there full of confusion.

He opened the trunk of the car to get something. On his way back, you could see that he was holding the black folder that you caught him sneaking into the house just yesterday.

“Is he going to sing me a song?” Your thoughts were all over the place at this point, once again interrupted by your nervous boyfriend.

“Y/N.” He called you by your name with such seriousness that made you listen to him even closer than before.

“I lied t’you.” He started. “The folder had nothin’ to do with m’songs.” You were already dumbfounded because Harry never lied to you, so it had to be something very important for him to do so.

He pulled the elastic band off of the cover of the folder and opened it. He passed you the folder and spoke again.

“You were right when y’said that the past couple of weeks I’ve been actin’ weird. The fact that y’know me s’well scares me sometimes, t’be honest.” He tried to make a joke to ease his nerves.

As he spoke, you let your eyes skim the first page. It was a model of beautiful stone house with French windows and dark green tiling on the roof.

“We’ve been together fo’ almost three years, love, and I’ve never been happier. I hope y’feel the same.” He shyly questioned.

You couldn’t get yourself to answer him using words, so you nodded with a soft smile. You looked into his eyes and saw how little sleep he’s been getting written all over his face. Now you felt like everything made sense. All of his late nights in the studio and his constant excuses to get out of the house.

“I want t’spend m’whole life with you, Y/N. All of it. I want t’marry you and start a family with you. I know that you’re not ready t’get married yet, and I’m not pushing you. This place doesn’t mean that we have t’get married right away or have children right away, I just want t’start building our new home here.” He took my hands into his shaking ones and brought them to his chest.

“Right where you’re standing.”

His words made my eyes well up with tears, as I looked at my feet. “Right where you’re standing.” His words echoed in my head, as I felt his heart beating hysterically.

“I thought this would be a perfect place. The air here is great.” He started slowly. “I know you wouldn’t want our babies t’grow up breathin’ the car exhausts.” He added coyly.

At this point his heart was racing, and he could only look down at his feet. Noticing you pull your hands out of his hold, Harry was afraid to look up at you to see that you are turning to leave him alone in the field, he stupidly thought you’d want to live in.

“Do you actually think that I could ever say no to this, Harry?” You gently smiled at him and brought your hands to his cheeks to caress his face with your thumbs. Your fingers felt wet on his skin and as you realized the reason, your face softened even more.

“My boy, my precious baby. Of course I want to spend my whole life with you. I could never want to share this life with anyone else. And children? Your children are the only children I’ll ever want to bear, in every meaning of that word, and you know it.”

As your heart spoke for you, you could feel Harry relax and let himself look at you. The wet traces on his cheeks were only getting more defined just like the smile on his face.

“I dunno what I’d do if y’said no.” Harry stands still, as you bring your lips to his and let yourself collect the tears on them.

“Why would you even think about it, if I’ve already said yes?”

Your lips connect as a firefly passes next to you, standing right in the place of your nearing future.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #watermelon sugar #fine line

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izzabeean · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2 : Denial

SUMMARY

You didn’t expect your first week of university to end with a break-up… Especially when your ex decides to visit you in your dreams. You need a distraction and are quite surprised with what awaits you.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 1,533

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

cw : mentions of alcohol, smoking

a/n : This is so silly and I’m not quite sure how realistic this is but it’s all a learning process.

masterlist

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The campus library becomes the calm safe haven you’ve been longing for after a busy morning. You spent most of your time after classes hovering between bookshelves, browsing the vast volumes, but today you were on the hunt for a very specific book.

Whispers among other students float above your head as you tune into the hushed environment narrowing your eyes at the row of literature.

When you near the end of the aisle, you look up to see the desired novel sitting on the top shelf.

You sigh and attempt to reach for it while standing on your tippy-toes, but it barely grazes your fingertips.

A scoff huffs under your breath.

It’s almost like it’s taunting you, the way it’s just out of reach and looming over you, casually sitting on the shelf without a care in the world. No, you weren’t about to ask for any help and most definitely too stubborn to grab a stool- you treasure your pride. Instead, you take a deep breath and jump trying to inch the spine off the shelf.

But you’re still not close enough.

“Let me get that for you,” a voice chimes from behind.

Your heart hammers in your chest from the sudden remark. Sometimes the smallest things can easily scare you, for instance, when a stranger sneaks up behind you in a quiet library. But you try to suppress the shiver as you turn your head to take a look at the culprit.

The tips of your ears start to burn up as you are faced with a stern man. His tall, solid body towers over immediately causing you to freeze and feel a lot smaller in his presence.

Perhaps it’s wrong to judge anyone at first glance, but he is scary as hell.

He reaches over your head and you catch a glimpse of his well-built physique as his shirt rides up. You blink registering what’s going on and before you can the book is in front of you. Then you take the novel smiling while trying to suppress the build-up of nerves coursing through you.

The exchange is awkward and silent, but as you stare at each other his eyes almost feast on you with their cold expression. The look sends your gut in a twist. You cannot deny that he looks intimidating, but observing him now, a sliver of you finds him attractive.

“A thanks would suffice,” he utters, his eyes fixated on you.

The sound of his voice is deep and serious but there’s just something about it that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry,” you utter, biting the corner of your lip. “Thanks.”

You feel your face burn up under his gaze searching for something else to say. It takes every ounce of you to contain the embarrassment taking over your entire body, but before you can even stop yourself…

------

You wake.

The room is dark except a tinge of light seeps through the closed curtains. Your brain is trying to piece together the strangely realistic dream that was practically identical to your first moments of meeting Ushijima.

The night is still, nearly silent except for a subdued tone of sirens in the background. You shift a little in your bed, suddenly aware of how awake you are after tossing and turning trying to slip back to sleep. You know you need to get some rest, but your anxiety grows as morning nears.

Upon the realization that you probably won’t get any more sleep, you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket, hopeful the fresh air will clear your thoughts.

You lock up your apartment and stroll down to a 24/7 corner store a couple of blocks away. It’s late enough that the walkover makes you a bit paranoid of your surroundings-- it’s not often that you go on a late-night stroll, or go to a shop this late, especially by yourself.

The store's door chime greets you as you walk up to the front counter spotting an employee whose face is hiding behind a newspaper.

“Excuse me,” you sigh.

He looks up from his newspaper with a scowl plastered on his face.

“A pack of smokes, please,” you squeal, conscious of the fact you do not appear to look like an avid smoker, but the habit returns in times of stress and right now you are exceedingly stressed.

“ID, please,” he responds.

Your face pales at the request as you pull out your ID and he analyzes it. “What do you want?”

You blink, “Anything.”

The man clicks his tongue.

You ignore the judging stare from the cashier, retrieve the random pack of smokes with a “thanks” then stroll through the sliding doors to take a seat outside on the curb.

You light up a cigarette. Breathing in the burning toxins, the rich smoke burns your throat. Your lungs scream from the unknown substance and you quickly exhale the cloud with a cough.

Fuck, it hurts, you think. But you take another drag and this time it burns a bit less.

As you alleviate your heartbreak with the smoke, the emptiness sets in. You pause looking up at the dark sky cast above you. Your cheeks feel a bit numb from the cold, and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think back to Ushijima’s words from earlier.

The sudden sound of your phone startles you. Pulling it out of your pocket, an image of Oikawa illuminates the screen and an irritated groan escapes your lips as you take another hit.

You didn’t expect a call this late at night from Oikawa, but he never seems to know his boundaries according to the fact that it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. It’s a mix of loneliness and desperation that causes you to answer.

“Hello,” your voice is thick, placing the cold phone to your ear.

“Y/N-chan,” there’s a hint of slur in his voice, as he hiccups heavily into the receiver.

You roll your eyes. “Tōru, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk! I--” he stumbles on his words. “I just want to see how dinner....” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

The question really took a knife to the heart as you try to hold back the emotions that are bursting at the seams. It wasn’t Oikawa’s fault, you hadn’t told him yet.

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” you sigh.

“Y/N,” Oikawa breathes. There’s a bit of neediness in his voice. “I hope he makes you happy...”

The sentiment is there and you can tell he means well but you squeeze your eyes shut at the comment. Your heart hinges and you try to breathe slowly avoiding any staggering gasps that can be heard.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” your throat tightens as you choke on your words.

Before you have the chance to say anything more, you hear the phone being pulled away from Oikawa, and an unfamiliar voice answers on the other end.

“Sorry about that. Oikawa’s a bit drunk. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Have a goodnight.”

The line cuts.

Once again you’re met with the dead of night.

It was difficult to process tonight's earlier events, even as you sit outside having a smoke. You never thought you would ever get to this moment, especially when it’s been so long since you last really cared for someone like Ushijima. You’d only known him for a year, but right now it feels like he’s the only thing you’ve ever known your whole life.

------

Morning arrives too soon.

The horrible taste of nicotine coats your mouth and the smell of smoke engulfs your hair making you gag. It’s 8 AM on a Saturday and you’re sure you only got a couple of solid hours of sleep upon returning from your late-night adventure. You’re a little less hysterical and a bit more numb compared to six hours ago.

You didn’t expect to wake up until later in that afternoon, but your head is pounding making it so much harder to sleep off the break-up. You get up to take a painkiller hoping it helps subside the chronic unpleasant sensation.

It crosses your mind that you need to get out and be somewhere else, not within the confines of your apartment or your mind. So after a substantial amount of self-care and priming, you head out to Oikawa’s apartment.

It’s not uncommon for you to drop by unannounced, in fact, this was a lot better than stirring in your thoughts alone at home. Somehow it feels more comforting to spend time with Oikawa than you’ve ever imagined-- despite the fact you didn’t have many friends. But he always gave you the attention you desired at any given moment and the thought of that eases you as you knock at the front door.

It takes a moment for Oikawa to answer, undoubtedly after a night out drinking.

But as the door opens, you are met with a tall muscular tanned man. He cocks his head looking at you quizzically, and subsequently opens the door a bit more, enough that you can peer past him into the apartment.

You don’t know who he is, but he’s hot.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa tooru

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 4 years ago

Text

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 26

Chapter Selection

I laid awake, slowly getting over what was my boyfriend. I had been working at the BAU for three months and it was painful everyday. Eventually

That's what I told myself day after day... eventually the pain would subside and I could at least have him as a friend. Regardless of what happened between us I still wanted him in my life. To be there for me, though we couldn't be a couple.

It still felt raw, the breakup. Seeing him everyday and watching him push through the sadness behind his eyes was in itself painful.

I didn't want to see him hurt...

Aside from that fact the team and I seemed to get along. Garcia and Emily took me for drinks and the occasional team outing. Aaro-- Hotch never really came to those most likely because I was always there. That's how Hotch was though, how he grieved... alone.

And he was grieving, so was I but I needed to keep the appearance that nothing was wrong, Hotch was always like this, strictly work and barely hanging out.

With a team of profilers you would think they knew there was something between Hotch and I.

While I was in my mind I didn't hear the door knock. Dragging myself out of bed, I walked down the hallway and Emily stood in the doorway holding a coffee out for me. "Brought you this."

Though they never brought it up, never mentioning it.

Hotch and I would keep it professional on the few cases we had within the month I was at the unit. Not causing a scene, he never treated me differently. Not giving me special privilege's or being too harsh... just normal, I was just another member.

"Thanks... it's a little early don't you think." Emily walked in and I shut the door behind her. "You weren't sleeping."

"Are you going to continue or do I have to force it out of you." I took a sip of the drink in my hand.

"True but why aren't you." She laughed and looked down. "Spent the night with someone and I didn't feel like going home yet." I raised my eyebrows going to sit on the couch.

Emily followed and sat across from me, both of us swinging our legs on the cushions, getting more comfortable.

He did only because Rossi was hounding him about being social.

"His name was Derek and I met him last night at the bar. You could've gotten some too but you refused to go out with us." I glanced down and avoided her eyes.

I hadn't gone out because I knew Hotch was going to be there, the first time in three months.

I didn't need Emily or Garcia to try make me hook up with someone else. I didn't want Hotch to see that, it would be like rubbing salt in an open wound for both of us.

"Why'd you stay home anyways? Already getting tired of us." She teased.

"Yeah... that's not the reason, I just wasn't feeling it last night." She scoffed seeing past my very obvious lie. Ignoring it though knowing there was a good or decent reason I didn't tell her the truth.

Emily switched the conversation, "How are you and Hotch?" I put my head on the cushion behind me and took a second to answer. Shrugging my shoulders I answered, "Fine."

She took a sip on her coffee, "I'm only asking because he was a bit of a hard ass when I first joined. Figured he'd be giving you a tough time as well."

I let out a small oh and we talked for the next hour. She told me that I needed to meet JJ and one day we'd all go out and have some fun. For the way Emily described her she seemed like a good person, I wished I could've met her.

Interrupting our conversation both our phones went off, "Of course." We both grounded out and checking our phones.

"There goes our day off." Flipping it over I saw the notification, we had a case. "I'll need to set that up though, I'd be nice having the whole team together."

Emily said while standing up and going to the door. We said bye and I closed it behind her, walking back into my room I sat on the side of the bed.

Hotches cologne was so faint, it was almost completely gone. Averting my eyes from his section of the bed I walked to the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

Putting on some light grey pants and a white dress shirt. I was ready in half an hour, on my way out I turned off the lights and grabbed the remaining coffee Emily bought me. Although it was now cold.

Pulling into the parking lot I made my way down the side walk. Going into the lobby I decided on taking the stairs to the bullpen.

"Y/n", Garcia called out and opened the glass doors for me. She held it for me, she was holding the file in her hands, "How was your morning?"

I let out a sigh and put on a smile, "It was good, Emily bought me this." I raised the almost empty cup.

I found myself dreading work, I loved my job and I was grateful for it but being around him. I saw him looking at me through the window of his office while Garcia and I went into the round table room. He took that and continued on, getting himself up and following us.

Taking a seat on the other end of the table, Hotch walked in. I didn't look at him but I could feel his gaze lingering on me. What I looked up he turned his eyes to the file in front of him.

Emily walked in after Hotch and Morgan joined her. "What's going on mama?", I glanced and smiled at Morgan as he took the seat next to me.

We never worked together, he never had me with him ever. I was always paired with everyone else, and the team wasn't blind to it. They thought he hated me and wanted to get rid of me.

Obviously I knew that wasn't true but that didn't stop those thoughts from entering my mind.

"Nothing, just tired." He nodded and we all waited for Garcia to start. With Hotches okay Pen continued.

"Alright my lovely's, even though it was our day off that doesn't stop the cases as we all know."

"Garcia...", Hotch said raising his eyebrows.

"Sorry sir... we are wanted in Dallas, Texas. There were kidnappings throughout the last two weeks and this unsubs victims are children 9 - 12. Never staying longer than 24 hours the children's bodies all turned up the next day in the woods tied to the trees. There was a reported kidnapping 3 hours ago and obviously because of the other kids they didn't want to wait so... yeah."

"If I could have your attention you can see what he does to them and..." Garcia cringed as the image flipped onto the screen and she looked away from the tv.

It was a little girl tied up with what looked to be nylon rope. There were holes in her chest and around her body. Bruises up and down her torso and legs... she had been beaten.

"Let's go", Hotch took a few more seconds of looking over the file and he closed it, standing up going to his office. I watched as he walked away, looking as his body turned the corner of his office.

"Nice view?", Emily came up behind me taking notice of what had my attention.

"What?"

"You think we didn't notice you staring at Hotch, specifically him walking away."

I scoffed and let out a nervous laugh, "I don't know what you're talking about."

I went out to my desk and got ready, grabbing my bag. Everyone was ready to leave, the jet was leaving in an hour.

When I did decided to leave the car I saw his form in front of me. Hotch noticed I was behind him, on the way up the stairs into the jet he held out a hand helping me on. "Thank you", I mumbled and sat in the back by myself.

I rode with Morgan and Reid over to the strip, they kept their comments to themselves about what they thought was going on with Hotch and I.

When we got there they exited the car and went straight to their seats while I stayed in the car for a little while longer on my phone.

While I was walking away I heard a faint 'you're welcome'. He joined the others in the center, Rossi being the last on on we were ready to leave.

Four hours later Hotch spoke, "Alright let's get started."

....................

Permanent taglist : @oreogutz @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @qtip-blog @aberrant-annie @errorcosplay67

#aaron hotchner fanfic #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #writing #aaron hotch fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Criminal Minds

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talesmaniac89 · 5 years ago

Text

Well, Hello There Stranger - Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Sam informs you that Dean’s suffering from temporary memory loss and has forgotten you. Yet, when you meet your boyfriend, it isn’t the cold eyes of a stranger that meets yours.

Triggers: Fear, Worry, Temporary Memory Loss (Next part is fluffy, I swear!)

Y/N = Your name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour

Read Part 2 Here

---

“(Y/N), before you go in there… There’s something you should know,” Sam was standing at the door when you nearly threw yourself out of the car as soon as you’d parked the beat-up old truck next to Dean’s Impala. Your phone with the many missed calls from Sam as you’d chosen to focus on the road lying forgotten in the car, telling the same story the younger Winchester was clearly going to force you to stop to listen to.

The big guy had to physically reach out to stop you from trying to rush past him and into the room. Your earlier conversation with the younger Winchester still ringing in your ears and making you deaf to his words.

“I know you’re a few hours away, but you need to come back to the motel (Y/N). Dean got hit, and… Shit... Just come,”

Dean was in there, and something was wrong. Hell… You might not have been given enough information to know what was wrong, but that was all you needed. Your Dean, the man you loved more than life itself, was in trouble. There was no way you weren’t going to be by his side.

“(Y/N)! Listen to me!” Sam stood in your way once more, stubbornly separating you from your boyfriend with just his body and the flimsy motel room door. It hurt you, physically and mentally, to hold your body still and stop from rushing past him to be with Dean. But, as you squared your jaw and set your pained, angry eyes in the youngest Winchester, your anger quickly faltered a little at the worry that has stained his hazel eyes. Quickly replaced with the whispers of soon to be heartbreak.

Oh God… No.

A thousand different scenarios were playing out behind the door and in your mind. Each was as true as the next until you could see what was hiding behind the thin motel room door with your own eyes. Like some twisted and cruel form of Schrodinger's Cat, with your heart playing the part of the feline. Unwilling to let you know whether your heart was broken or whole until you opened the door and confirmed yourself.

“Dean’s alright… Or, well, he will be,” Sam hurried to add the words as an arm reached out to steady you. Clearly seeing the pain darken your (Y/E/C) eyes as your heart acted the part of Schrodinger's plaything; not whole nor shattered, just somewhere in the painfully grey middle.

“Then just let me see him Sammy! I need to see him,”

You could hear the barely controlled hysteria through the shake of your own voice as you looked up at the hunter who was forcefully holding you in place. Unwilling to let you run to your boyfriend’s side. Though your whole body, every fucking gasp of air, was crying out to him. Aching to be near him.

Yet, even with the promise of Dean’s life being safe, Sam didn’t release the hold on your shoulders. Nor did any of the worry in his eyes subside. Dean was alright, or would be, yet something was still wrong. And if Sam wasn’t worried about his brother’s life… That could only mean that worry was focused elsewhere.

“What’s wrong with him?” You added, much more quietly, as you realised the truth hiding behind the hesitant worry in Sam’s eyes. He wasn’t worried for Dean’s safety; he was worried about how you would react to whatever was on the other side of the door.

“Hear me out… Please, don’t think it’s as bad as it sounds…” Sam’s words were still hesitant. His hands finally dropping from your shoulders, now that he knew you weren’t going to run in guns blazing to save your boyfriend from whatever threat, real or imagined, that was out to hurt him.

“Spit it out Winchester,” You flinched at the harsh steely cut in your tone as soon as it left you. But you couldn’t control it, not until you could see that Dean was in fact alive and well with your own eyes.

“The curse… It rebounded when we were trying to get it under lock and key,” The younger hunter’s voice barely rose above a whisper as he relayed the news to you. The knot in your stomach growing into a tangled mess that resembled the collection of protective charms on your side of the bed you shared with Dean.

“Dean was hit…”

“What does that mean Sam?” Your words came out shaky and breathless as you tried to remember the finer details of the curse. The small, unassuming book that hid the curse had just one word printed on its cover in pretty cursive letters.

Memories.

That was exactly it. The damned curse stole people’s memories. In the back of your mind, empty eyes and vacant souls stared back at you from the many lives the curse had already stolen. Painting a warped image of the man on the other side of the door. Forest green eyes empty, like a long-forgotten field left to wither. Unable to even remember his own name.

“It’s… Not as bad as it sounds. The curse didn’t manage to fully work, it’s just some backlash. Cas says it should correct itself within the next 24 to 48 hours. At first it was correcting itself faster, but it’s slowed down and...” Sam said, speaking over the broken sob that threatened to explode into the empty motel parking lot.

“He just… (Y/N), Dean can’t remember anything from the last four years,”

The worry in Sam’s eyes suddenly made sense. Four years ago, Dean Winchester didn’t have the faintest clue who you were. You’d met him on a hunt, two years and five months ago, the two of you were soon coming up on your two-year anniversary. Two years of blissful happiness by the side of your soldier. So, that meant, the man hiding behind that door, your Dean Winchester, didn’t have the faintest clue who you were. Of what the two of you shared.

You’d been discarded by his mind. The picture-perfect memories you shared were nothing more than a crumpled and faded polaroid to the hunter, with your smiling face scratched out and forcefully removed from the equation.

He wouldn’t remember the quiet nights spent wrapped in each other's arms soothing away the pain of another lost friend or ghosted kisses over still forming bruises. All the empty promises of an apple pie life after you finally managed to get rid of all the evil bastards. He’d have forgotten all your inside jokes, all your little shared quirks, the comforting morning routine you’d easily slipped into as you woke up by his side every day. All of it, every little memory that was more precious to you than life itself, was lost to him.

Dean couldn’t remember you. He couldn’t remember ever meeting you, or… Loving you.

“Oh…” Was all you managed to push out, suddenly unsure if you wanted to enter the small motel room. If what would meet you were the eyes of a stranger.

A man who’d look at you like you were just another piece of a puzzle he couldn’t make fit. Another case. Would you be able to deal with watching his green eyes, that usually burned like a forest fire, look at you with the blank disinterest of glancing over a stranger he’d pass by on the road?

“But! It’s only for a day or two. Castiel is sure his memories will return, and soon. Hell, he’s already showing signs of getting better. Before you came… It was 14 years,” Sam’s eyes were pained as memories of earlier hours, while he waited for you to join them, sprung unwanted up in his warm eyes. So much had happened in those fourteen years. And with Dean’s memories gone, it’d been up to Sammy to be the strong one. To weather every question.

“Things were returning faster, but still… The memories started slowing down at around the six-year mark and now…”

“I’m sorry Sam,” You whispered, unable to think up any words of comfort that wouldn’t just add to the man you considered a brother’s hurt.

“Don’t be… It’s, hell, this is going to sound kinda mean, but… It’s kind of funny,” Sam gave a choked laugh. A small sad smile replacing earlier worry, though you could still see some pain in his eyes.

“Funny?” For a second you worried the curse backfiring had led to some unwanted side effects as you gave Sam an incredulous look.

“I mean, yeah, at first it sucked. Not knowing if he’d get better. But now… He’s not really digging into the future or asking loads of serious questions. He’s just making outdated early 2000s jokes and asking if the Office is still on or if Led Zeppelin has made a comeback,” Sam said, a tired whispered laugh betraying the mixed emotions behind the words.

“So… Dean knows that he… He knows?” You stopped yourself from vocalising the amnesia. Unable to deal with how just the thought of his forgotten love for you sent sharp shots of pain through your very core.

“Yeah, we told him. I couldn’t just let him be. I mean, he didn’t know who Cas was at first, but I needed to make him understand that he was a friend, and that he’d lost his memories,” Sam said with a shrug. “I just… I didn’t want you to go in there not knowing. He will remember you (Y/N), it’ll just take a little while longer,”

“Thanks Sammy, I’ll be fine… Just knowing he’s healthy and that he’ll be right as rain soon is already enough,” You sighed, steeling your heart for what waited in the motel room at the same time as your body visibly calmed down. The tension that had rested there since you jumped in your car and broke every speed limit to make it to Dean’s side finally gone.

Sure, it would probably still hurt a bit to see no recognition in Dean’s eyes. Or feel the warmth of his love seeping through you, like you always did when his eyes met yours. But it was only temporary. You were a big girl, and you’d get through this bump in the road as well. No use crying or screaming, it was only a few hours, it wouldn’t hurt… Not too bad at least.

Who were you kidding?

It would hurt like hell. But it would hurt a lot more not to be by his side. Not when he needed you there. Even if he didn’t know it right now. Even if it wasn’t temporary, you still would’ve stayed. You’d help him make new memories. After all, the best part about your memories was making them with him.

“If you’re sure…” You shook away Sam’s hesitant question with a small shaky smile. Choosing to reach for the door instead of letting him talk you out of it. No, you weren’t sure. Shit, you were basically never sure about anything. As a hunter, over two thirds of your life was uncertainty. But you wouldn’t let that stop you.

Not when the person on the other side of the door was your Dean Winchester.

Taking a careful breath to swallow the sob that threatened to act as a knock and signal your arrival you let the cold motel doorknob ground you. Mentally preparing yourself to meet his blank eyes head on and wait…

Wait for your Dean to come back home. To come back to you.

Next Part

---

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love

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scenes-in-between · 4 years ago

Text

Trust No 1 (Part three)

“Who authorizes you? I mean, what gives you the right? Who ARE you?!”

“I’m the future, Agent Scully. And I risked my life being here.”

“Well then why do it? I mean, why meet me?”

“Because you can reach Mulder. Mulder needs to know what I know or he may have no future. Perhaps no one will. Another car is parked on the main road, half a mile out. If I see that you haven’t contacted Mulder in the next 24 hours, I disappear and you never see me again. Do you understand, lady?”

Scully stalks away, seething. All of the theatrics, all of the waste, and for what? A two-minute conversation that raised more questions than it answered? What was the point of any of it?

Scowling, she pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket - because apparently it was absolutely necessary to blow up her clothes and her gun and inspect her watch, but Mr. Mysterious had no qualms about letting her keep her phone? - and punches the speed dial for Monica Reyes. Monica picks up immediately.

“Dana! Thank god. We’ve been trying to reach you all day. Where are you?”

“At the end of a very long and very stupid wild goose chase,” she grumbles. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get in touch earlier. How’s William?”

“He’s just fine. John’s in the kitchen right now heating up a bottle for him.”

“Agent Doggett stayed with you?” she asks, surprised.

“Not the whole day,” Monica says. “After that couple left, he went to the office for a while, but then he came back a few hours ago when we still hadn’t heard from you. Seriously though, where have you been?”

Scully answers with a groan, then gives an abbreviated account of the day’s events as she continues making her way back to the main road. Her foot catches on something in the dark and she stumbles, cursing. Of all the times to be without a flashlight…

When she gets to the part about the car and the remote detonation, Monica says, “Holy hell, Dana! Do you need one of us to come get you?”

“No, he said there’s another car parked up the road. I’m heading toward it now.”

“But are you sure that’s safe?” Monica presses. “What if it’s rigged to explode, too?”

“Whoa, wait, what’s rigged to explode?” Scully hears Doggett say in the background, and she shudders at the thought that she spent the entire day driving around on top of a bomb. However, the fact that she’s still alive right now is a fairly good indicator that she’ll be able to get home safely.

“If he wanted me dead, he had ample opportunity,” she says. “No, what he wants is for me to contact Mulder, which I can’t very well do if I’ve been blown up. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

What she’s not sure of is exactly where she is right now. It became harder and harder to track her relative location after she left the interstate. The very notion of spending who knows how many more hours on the road fills her with a mix of exhaustion and dread, and she’s angry all over again at the phenomenal waste of time today has been.

“Maybe you can help me figure out where I am, though,” she says. “It was too dark to read the street signs, the last couple of turns he told me to make, but I was on Route 17 going north for a while, somewhere between Norfolk and Fredericksburg. It’s not much to go on, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.”

“I’m on it,” Monica tells her. “Can I use your computer?”

“Of course.”

“Here, you can talk to John while I pull up MapQuest.”

Ahead, Scully can just make out the bulk of a vehicle in the darkness. She reaches to unsnap her holster out of habit and grimaces when her fingers catch nothing but the fabric of her waistband.

In her ear, Doggett barks, “What in the heck’s going on? Where’ve you been all day, and why is Monica talking about things being rigged to explode?”

Scully sighs. “I’m going to let her fill you in on the details because I would just as soon not go through it all again right now. Short answer is that I’m fine, just tired and frustrated. I’ll be on my way home soon, hopefully. I want to thank you, though, for helping to look after William. I really do appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re welcome, but I didn’t do all that much. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She approaches the car, again wishing she had a flashlight. It’s too dark to see anything through the rear windows, but the front of the car at least appears to be empty. Cautiously, she reaches for the door handle; it’s unlocked, and the interior light comes on when she opens the door. There’s a piece of paper on the driver’s seat.

“Son of a bitch,” she murmurs, picking it up.

“Agent Scully?”

“You can tell Agent Reyes that I don’t need her help after all. I’ve been left a map.”

“A map?” Doggett asks. “So where are you?”

Thirty miles. She is all of thirty miles from Fredericksburg. It is going to take her less than two hours to get home. It could have taken her less than two hours to get here. Of all the stupid, pointless, absolutely and completely asinine...

“Just a bit southeast of Fredericksburg,” she says tightly, glancing at her watch. “I should be home by nine.”

“All right then. Be careful.”

“Yeah.”

***

This isn’t the first time Monica has been asked to watch William, but it is the first time she’s had to try and put him to bed.

And he is not having it.

She’s never seen him like this. She’s never felt him like this; William’s energy is always vibrant -- she’s known that since the night he was born -- but it’s usually contained, like the potential energy in a compressed spring. Tonight, it’s like a storm, howling around him as he wails in her arms.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. Should we call Dana?”

John chuckles at her, evidently unconcerned, because of course he can’t feel what she feels.

“There’s nothing wrong. And there’s nothing she could do even if there was. He’s just tired.”

“No, John, I’m telling you, something is--”

“Here,” he says, holding out his hands. “I’ll show you.”

She passes the squirming baby to her partner and steps back, nerves jangling. John gathers William against his chest and starts to walk around the living room, gently bouncing him while murmuring softly. At first, Monica can’t hear what he’s saying over the sound of William’s cries, but as the boy gradually quiets, John’s words become clearer.

“There you go, easy does it, your mama’s gonna be home soon, don’t you worry, atta boy…”

He’s asleep within minutes, energy storm subsided. Monica shakes her head, a little abashed at having so comprehensively misread the situation.

“You were right,” she says quietly.

“Eh, nothing I hadn’t seen before, that’s all.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, his gaze still trained on the top of William’s head as he slows the bouncing to a gentle sway. “Luke certainly did his share of fussing.”

She didn’t know him then, of course. She’s only ever known him as a grieving father; this is the first time she’s gotten a glimpse of what he was like as a dad, and it makes her unexpectedly emotional.

“I’m gonna see if I can go put him down,” he says, and she nods, watching him go before turning to pick up the few scattered toys and take William’s dinner bottle back to the kitchen.

***

By the time she has retrieved her own car from where she left it parked this morning, after stewing on the whole drive home and running through the day’s various cryptic conversations over and over, Scully has come to three conclusions.

Number one: nearly everything that man claimed to know about her, he could have learned by bugging her apartment and going through her garbage bins. What did he really give her that was concrete? Knowing her clothing size seemed eerie at first, until she remembered the receipts she’s thrown away from a handful of recent shopping trips. Her childhood clown phobia? She and her mom were laughing about that in her living room a month or so ago. The rest of it -- resting heart rate, ATM pin, college boyfriend, et cetera -- was only specific enough to seem unnerving without actually proving that he knew any of it.

Her emails to Mulder would require some additional access, but that could be as simple as someone following her to the cafe. It’s probably one of the “regulars” that she -- blithely, it would seem -- dismissed as a potential threat.

Number two: while her apartment has definitely been under surveillance, apparently for quite a while, Mulder’s has not. The “one lonely night” the man mentioned? She’s reasonably certain he was referring to the night she asked Mulder to stay after the IVF failed, and that was not their first time together. If, as he said, the events of that night surprised him, then he could not have known about what they had already been doing at Mulder’s place. Or, for that matter, what they had been doing at her place before that night. So now she also knows approximately when the surveillance actually began.

Number three: if this man genuinely does have useful intel about super soldiers -- and that is an extraordinarily big “if” -- then it may in fact be worthwhile to call Mulder home. The idea terrifies and thrills her in almost equal measure. On the one hand, there is nothing she wants more than to have him home. Nothing. But on the other, if she has miscalculated, and calling him out of hiding only ends up getting him killed, she will never forgive herself.

In the end, it is Agent Doggett’s words from yesterday that settle the issue for her. If we know who these super-soldiers are we can go after them. This is somebody giving us a way that can make it safe for Mulder to come home.

How else are you going to get him home?

It’s a risk, possibly a big one, but ultimately, it’s one she has to take. He has been gone for almost seven months. This is the first time in those nearly seven months that there has even been a chance he might be able to come home. If she lets this chance go by, how much more time will pass before they get another one?

She walks into her apartment having made up her mind. There is a giddy, fluttery feeling in her stomach that is only temporarily eclipsed by ravenous hunger as she steps through the door and the smell of Thai food envelops her. Reyes and Doggett look up from where they’re sitting, at her kitchen table, takeout cartons amassed between them.

“Hope you don’t mind, we got takeout,” Reyes says, standing. “We didn’t know if you’d have a chance to eat, but if you’re hungry, there’s a bunch left.”

The last thing she ate was a bag of almonds from the gas station, hours and hours ago. To say she’s hungry is a massive understatement.

“Mind? I could kiss you both right now.”

Doggett’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and Reyes laughs. “I’ll get you a plate.”

Scully nods. “I’m just going to change and wash up.”

On her way to the bedroom, she grabs a plastic bag from the closet. The likelihood is slim that there will be much in the way of usable trace evidence on the clothes she’s wearing, but it would be irresponsible not to even look. She opens the bedroom door quietly so as not to wake William; by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, she can see him sleeping peacefully in his crib, and she smiles, some of the tension from the day melting away. Though she would love a shower, she's too hungry, so she settles for changing into sweats, carefully folding and bagging the "borrowed" outfit, then washes her hands and face before heading back to the kitchen.

Doggett and Reyes have tidied up their dishes and are in the process of putting on coats and shoes.

"We'll let you get some rest," Reyes says, though she’s looking at Doggett when she does. “Whatever else you might have to tell us about what happened today can wait until tomorrow.”

“Unless,” Doggett adds, in a tone that sounds like he’s continuing an argument from earlier, “there’s anything you think we need to know now. Or if you don’t feel safe staying here alone, knowing that this Shadow Man may well have eyes and ears on you.”

“Is that what we’re calling him?” Scully asks, arching one eyebrow. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. As violating as it feels to be surveilled by some NSA creep--” she emphasizes the words, fully assuming that she’s being listened to right now “--I don’t have any reason to believe that William and I are not safe here.”

“Well I still don’t like it,” Doggett says, frowning. “Why don’t you let us post a couple agents out front, just in case?”

“I really don’t think that’s necess--”

“That’s a good idea, actually,” Reyes interjects, then drops her voice to a murmur. “Especially in light of what happened this morning. We know you can take care of yourself, Dana, but we also don’t know exactly what we’re up against, here. Maybe the answer is to try and watch the watchers, find out who they are, see if we can figure out who else the Shadow Man is working with.”

Scully sighs but has to admit that’s a sensible course of action. Either the knowledge that she’s being watched over will deter this so-called Shadow Man and his associates, or it won’t, in which case they could be exposed and identified.

“All right,” she agrees.

“Good,” Doggett says. “I’ll take first watch until I can get someone else over here.”

As soon as they leave, Scully makes herself a plate of food and takes it to her computer desk. If the Shadow Man is able to access her emails even when she sends them from the internet cafe, it seems pointless to wait until morning to write to Mulder. The giddy feeling from earlier comes rushing back as she types.

Mr. Hale,

I am overjoyed to tell you that circumstances appear to have changed. Exercise caution, but put the plan in motion. I cannot wait to see you.

All my love,

Dana

She clicks “send” with her heart in her throat, wondering where Mulder is and when he’ll be able to read her message. How long it might take for him to make the necessary arrangements and begin the journey home. He could be in her arms as early as tomorrow, a notion that seemed impossible just 24 hours ago.

She powers down the computer -- according to their plan, his next communication will come via text message from a burner phone -- and picks up her plate to finish eating in the kitchen. A glance out the window as she stands up reveals Agent Doggett sitting in his truck across the street, cell phone held to his ear. She sighs, regretting the additional work and worry she’s given her former partner but also deeply grateful that he’s got her back, he and Reyes both. She appreciates them more than she can say.

With any luck, all of this will soon be over. Mulder will come home, the Shadow Man will give him the information they need to take down the super-soldiers, and things can go back to… well… “normal” for them, anyway. It’s maybe too much to hope for, but right now, she will allow herself to be comforted by the fantasy, at least for a little while. When she finally crawls into bed, later, she falls asleep with her cell phone on the pillow beside her, imagining the sensation of being wrapped securely in Mulder’s arms.

***

“Holy shit,” he breathes, reading her email for the third time.

The library’s just about to close, and he had checked his email one last time before leaving, more out of impulse than any actual expectation that there would be anything there. The surprise of a new email was immediately eclipsed by the surprise over its contents.

Home. He can go home. He and Gibson both, even. No more hiding in the desert. No more ache of longing binding his stomach and keeping him from sleep. It almost sounds too good to be true, but she called him Mr. Hale, the code phrase they established before he left so he’d be able to tell a genuine summons from a trap. This is the real deal.

Which means the threat is past. Maybe Skinner cut a deal, hell, maybe Kersh did. Who knows? Who cares?! He gets to go home!

The grin on his face is massive as he logs off and heads for the door.

***

“You’re leaving," Gibson says, before Mulder has even closed the front door behind himself. "You promised you wouldn’t. But I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to keep that promise.”

It's still weird, Gibson knowing what he's thinking about before he's even said anything, but it doesn't throw him for a loop the way it used to.

“No, we’re leaving, Gibson. Both of us.”

Gibson scoffs. “You know I’m not going anywhere. It’s not safe. You might be able to outrun them if they catch us, but I--”

“Scully said it’s safe. And yes, I’m sure the message really was from her.”

Gibson stares hard at him and Mulder thinks as forcefully and loudly and clearly as he can.

We can both be free. I swear. I will protect you.

“I believe that you believe that,” Gibson says finally. “But I don’t think either of us knows for sure whether that’s really true.”

“Look, I know you’re scared. And you’re right that there are no guarantees. But for the first time since I left Washington, there is at least a chance that it’s safe for us to get out of here. If we don't take it, I don't know when another one is gonna come along. Do you really want to hide here for the rest of your life?"

"If it doesn't mean dying horribly and having my head karate chopped off by an alien replicant? Yeah. I'm fine with that."

Mulder’s thoughts flicker, involuntarily, to Dr. Parenti’s severed head in a jar, to the gash in Skinner’s forehead, to his own memory of being hurled across Parenti’s lab by Billy Miles.

“Exactly,” says Gibson. “I’m not letting that happen to me.”

“I trust Scully,” Mulder says, thinks. “She wouldn’t call me home if it wasn’t safe. She’s too smart and too cautious to take a risk like that.”

This, at last, seems to convince him, if only somewhat. He may not trust Mulder’s judgment, but he apparently trusts Scully’s, at least enough to finally sigh and say, “Okay. I hope you’re right.”

Despite Gibson’s reluctance, it takes almost no time at all to pack. They don’t have much to take, not bothering with spare clothes. Mulder shoves the stuff he printed about Mount Weather into his backpack, along with a little food, the fake IDs from the Gunmen and all of their remaining cash. They’re out the door and on the road in less than twenty minutes.

On the way to the train station, Mulder stops to gas up the motorcycle and buy four prepaid cell phones from the convenience store. Two hours later, as they’re getting ready to board the train that will take them eastward, Mulder types Scully’s number into the first phone and sends a single-word text message.

“Midnight.”

Once the message sends, he opens the back of the phone, pockets the battery, and tosses the phone in a garbage can.

#x-files fanfic #TXF: Trust No 1 #scullyfic #mulderfic #gibson praise #monica whalesong reyes #john doggett #msr #mulder on the run #a/n: this installment of scenes in between was originally going to be in two parts #and then it turned into three #aaaaaand now it's gonna be four #there are just too many gaps to fill in #hopefully no one minds ;)#i promise it won't take me as long to finish and post part four #as it did to finish and post part three

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

Text

Fate and Phantasms #50: Spartacus

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re going on a glorious quest to destroy oppressors with Spartacus! He’s a Barbarian/Paladin combo who fits a very unusual combat niche, right where “Too tough to kill without using your best stuff”, “Too weak to justify using your best stuff”, and “Too annoying to not kill” meet. Sparty runs around grappling and pinning more damaging combatants, not doing much in the way of real fighting, right up until the DM stops paying attention to you. Then you explode.

Check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the summary of the build over here.

Race and Background

Spartacus’ build isn’t “balanced”, and we really need the feat, so he’ll be a Variant Human. This gives him +1 Constitution and +1 Charisma, because odd numbers make me queasy. He also gets proficiency in Survival, because leading an army around the roman countryside for three years is hard if they can’t eat, and the Grappler feat. You have advantage on attacks against creatures you’re grappling, and you can pin them by double grappling them, restraining both of you until the grapple ends. Spartacus likes giving people hugs. It’s not his fault their spines aren’t strong enough to handle them.

Spartacus obviously has the Noble background- jk, of course he has the Gladiator background, giving him proficiency in Acrobatics and Performance.

Stats

Your highest stat is going to be Constitution. Spartacus is the second hardest berserker to kill off, and #1 is literally a god. Strength is second, his muscles aren’t just for show. Third is going to be Charisma; you’ve been in leadership positions before, and you’ve got a winning smile. Your Dexterity is a little low-you don’t get out of the way of stuff. Stuff gets out your way. Fifth is Intelligence. You can talk, but you don’t have much to really say. Finally, dump Wisdom. Madness Enhancement, berserkers... you probably get it by this point.

Class Levels

1. Barbarian 1: Starting off as a barbarian gives you proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as Athletics and Intimidation. The gladiator background probably should have had athletics, but whatever, you still got it.

First level barbarians can Rage, getting a whole bunch of strength based goodies in exchange for not using magic for a minute, or as long as you can keep hitting people, and as long as you’re not wearing heavy armor. To help with that, you have Unarmored Defense, making your AC with no armor based on your Constitution and Dexterity. When you told the oppressors to break their swords on your skin, you meant it. Not yet though, real armor is still a lot better for your. As a side note, I’m not sure what AC a metal diaper/fetish gear comes in at, but it’s probably some kind of medium armor.

For your weapon, we’re going with a Shortsword. Your muscles are big, your sword is not. (Also lets us keep a hand open for grapples and other neat stuff later in the build.)

2. Barbarian 2: Your Reckless Attack gives you advantage on this turn in exchange for giving enemies advantage until your next turn. You typically just run into wherever the oppressors are, so yeah, you’re a little reckless. You also have Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dex saves against things you can see, like traps and spells. That’s not going to help much with your dexterity score, but it’s a nice though.

3. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians set down their primal path, and you become a Berserker! When you do, you can Frenzy instead of rage, letting you use your bonus action each turn to make another melee attack. At the end of your frenzy, you take one level of exhaustion. Like I said in the Lu Bu build, this is objectively terrible. Unlike Lu Bu however, you’re not getting any skills to replace this, and it is pretty in character for you, so.... just try to be careful with it.

4. Barbarian 4: At fourth level you get your first ASI, which is going straight into Strength. I hope you like having 16 strength, because that’s all we’re getting this build.

5. Barbarian 5: Fifth level barbarians get an Extra Attack, letting you attack twice per action, or three times per round with your Frenzy. You also get Fast Movement, adding 10′ of movement to your speed if you’re not wearing heavy armor.

6. Barbarian 6: Sixth level berserkers can go into a Mindless Rage, making you immune to the charmed and frightened effects while raging, and suspending any such effects you already have until your rage subsides. Ironically, controlling Spartacus’s mind just makes him more likely to hit you.

7. Paladin 1: Now that your mind is safe, let’s get some real firepower. Gods aren’t your cup of tea, but blind fanaticism and blowing people up with charged energy. 100% Spartacus. First level paladins get a Divine Sense, letting you spend an action to locate any celestial, fiendish, or undead oppressors who are within 60′ of you a couple of times per long rest. Fiends steal people’s souls, that’s oppression. Gods make you do stuff you don’t want to, that’s oppression. The undead are gross, that’s probably oppression.

You also get Lay on Hands, giving you a pool of HP to can hand out as an action equal to five times your paladin level. This is mostly your healing factor while raging, but if you want to break character for a bit and heal other people, I won’t tell.

8. Paladin 2: Second level paladins get a Fighting Style. Unarmed Fighting from UA Class Feature Variants lets your fists deal 1d6 damage, or 1d8 if both hands are free. The real reason we’re taking it though is because now when you start a grapple, you can deal 1d4 bludgeoning damage immediately, and you deal another 1d4 with each attack you make while grappling. Spartacus isn’t that hard of a hitter most of the time, so every bit helps.

Paladins also get Spells at this level, and more importantly they get Divine Smite. When you hit a creature, you can burn a spell slot to add 2d8 radiant damage to the attack. Add 1d8 for each level above 1 the slot you used is, and add another d8 if the enemy is a fiend or undead. Technically you’re supposed to get this power from getting hit, but somehow I don’t think that will be an issue for you.

Your paladin spells are based on your Charisma, but we’re mostly here for buffs, so your score doesn’t matter that much. Cure Wounds and Heroism are more ways to sub in your healing factor, as long as you aren’t raging.

9. Paladin 3: Third level paladins take a Sacred Oath for their subclass. The Oath of Glory from the sunny shores of Theros is a perfect fit for a musclehead such as yourself. They get two Channel Divinity options: Peerless Athlete is a bonus action that gives you 10 minutes of advantage on Acrobatics and Athletics checks, doubles your carrying capacity, and adds 10′ to your long and high jumps. You may not be as strong as Heracles, but this will certainly help keep him pinned. Inspiring Smite lets you divvy up 2d8+your paladin level temporary hit points to nearby friendly creatures after you hit something with a divine smite. Spartacus can have a little healing, as a treat.

Glory paladins also get oath spells at this level. We’ve already talked about Heroism, and Guiding Bolt doesn’t really fit this build, so... moving on.

10. Paladin 4: Hitting fourth level in another class gives you another ASI, which is going straight into Constitution. We’re in the paladin class for buffs, and buffs require concentration. We’re also giving you an ungodly amount of HP, so this is a two birds one stone situation.

11. Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins get a feature we already have and 2nd level spells. Enhance Ability makes you especially powerful in one ability check of your choice for up to an hour with concentration. The strength option also doubles your carrying capacity, constitution gives you some temporary HP, and dexterity cushions your fall a bit. (You could also use it on mental saves, but... why?) Magic Weapon turns your weapon magic, and gives it a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls, for again, an hour with concentration. A lot of high level oppressors resist nonmagical attacks, so this will be useful.

12. Barbarian 7: Now that we’re done getting our explosions ready, we can return to the barbarian class. Seventh level barbarians have a Feral Instinct, giving you advantage on initiative rolls. You can also negate being surprised by raging at the start of combat. Normally this would be a no brainer, but you’ve got some magical effects that might come in handy in certain encounters.

I know, I wasn’t expecting Spartacus to be the thinking man’s berserker either.

13. Barbarian 8: Another ASI, let’s max out your Constitution for the best saves and the most health. Remember: this applies to your health retroactively as well. You’re not gaining 1 HP here, you’re getting 1 for each level.

14. Barbarian 9: Your Brutal Critical lets you add another damage die to your attack when you deal a critical hit. A shortsword only comes with d6s, but damage is damage.

15. Barbarian 10: Tenth level berserkers have an Intimidating Presence. Your winning smile might not win you any beauty pageants, but terrifying the oppressors is a good second place.

You can use your action to frighten a creature, who has to make a wisdom save equal to your paladin spell save DC. If they fail, they’re frightened of you until the end of your next turn. However, you can use your action to extend the fear by another turn, without a save. It also ends if they end their turn without you in sight, or they end their turn more than 60′ away from you, but nothing’s perfect.

If they succeed, you can’t frighten them again this way for 24 hours.

16. Barbarian 11: Your Relentless Rage lets you keep fighting after death. Maybe. When you drop to 0 hp while raging, you can make a DC 10 constitution save, and if you succeed, drop to 1 hp instead. Each time you succeed, the DC goes up by 5. Finishing any rest resets the DC. You have huge guts, so now it’s time to put them to use.

17. Barbarian 12: Use your last ASI to grab the Tough feat for 34 HP now and 2 more every time you level up. If you’re not able to take a Meteor Swarm on the chin and keep on trucking, can you really call yourself Spartacus?

18. Barbarian 13: Your Brutal Critical improves, and now you add two dice to your critical hits. Again, not huge but appreciated.

19. Barbarian 14: The last goody from the berserker subclass is Retaliation, letting you react when a creature within 5′ of you hurts you to hurt them right back. Being a human wobbuffet is Spartacus’ entire deal, and now you can do exactly that.

20. Barbarian 15: Your capstone feature is Persistent Rage, meaning your rages now only end when you want them to.

Pros:

You have All The Health. Nearly 300 hp, plus plenty of healing and temporary hp, plus damage reduction from rages. This is about as much health as you could possibly squeeze out of a build bar going full barbarian or powergaming as a barbarian/druid.

You also have multiple ways to heal yourself without using spells, meaning you’ll be able to rage without having to bother your healer too much.

Smites + on demand advantage = a lot of damage, fast. Grab an annoying spellcaster and start whaling on them until 20s pop out.

Enhance ability and your Channel Divinity options let you quadruple your carrying capacity for some silly power. If somebody’s moving house, you could probably move their house, literally.

Cons:

Your damage without smites is rather lacking. Keeping a hand open for grapples and spells means you’re not holding any heavy weapons, so your brutal criticals are somewhat wasted.

A lot of your damage and advantage comes from grappling, so fast and flying enemies can be an issue. You can use a reckless attack for the same amount of advantage without having to grapple, but you’re here for a long time, not a good one.

Finally, rages and spells don’t mix. You’ll have to weigh out your options and -urgh- think about what the situation’s like before you give in to your rage.

Just grab whoever’s oppressing your party the most, don’t let go until they stop moving, and everything will work out somehow.

Next up: It’s time to get Golden, baby!

#dnd 5e #Fate Grand Order #fgo #spartacus #Fate and Phantasms

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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Congrats on 200+ followers!!! You deserve it!!!!!!!! Can you please do a bakugo or todoroki angst and smut where it’s a villain au and the reader finds out??? Idk I had a dream about it and I immediately thought of you because I know that you’re the perfect person!!! Sorry if it’s not detailed enough Also ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

villain!todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: angst, smut, cursing, villain shouto

word count: 4,437

a/n: oh man, this was supposed to come out with a bakugou part as well because i have no self control and wrote them both. i haven’t quite finished bakugou because i am still adjusting to this new life schedule I have (and my roommate has me sleeping before my crackhead hours so i’ve been writing a lot less, but it will come out i promise!!!) anyways this is kinky public sex. like 100% straight up. i’m a bit nervous if you guys don’t like the smut but it’s the best i can do LMAO enjoy!!! also i dont really know if there was an actual villain au so i made it my own...with inspiration from horikoshi

Life was hard as a normal civilian.

To be quite honest you were mad that you weren’t blessed with some amazing quirk so you could be a hero. Instead, you had to be successful elsewhere. So you were a second-year university student with a quirk that allowed you to see probability in everything. Which, don’t get it wrong, helped you with multiple-choice tests, but besides the occasional better route to places, it wasn’t that extraordinary.

Your boyfriend, however, was a hero, and a massively successful hero at that too! With only his hero debut two years ago he was currently the number three hero on the Hero Billboard Charts, it was insane. To be quite honest, you had met him during his debut when you had nearly died because of a villain. It had traumatized you.

You had already despised villains with all your being before that incident.

You had been in an eerily similar situation when you were younger when a villain swept you off the street and held you hostage on the tallest building of Japan. Since that moment, you were sincerely against every and all villains, none of them could be excused in your eyes. Nothing they did in the act of violence was justifiable.

But again, you guessed that the entire morality of people truly changed when people could suddenly do things that normally should not be possible. For instance, one of your classmates could physically remove his eyeballs from his eyesockets as part of his quirk and it made zero sense to you. It was a great party trick, but a terrible quirk.

You felt your hands shake slightly, a wave of dizziness hitting you as you finished walking up the hill. A few years ago, you had started suffering from anemia, your red blood count had taken a deficit hit and no one could explain why. Doctors had seen you countless amounts of times, but no one could explain to you why your blood had suddenly taken a hit. They had run tests, even going as far as culturing your cells in a lab in an attempt to find a solution, but everything was normal. So it left both the scientists and you stumped. Reaching into your backpack, you removed your daily pills to alleviate most of your symptoms and swallowed them before continuing on your way.

You walked up the stairs to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, a simple three-bedroom, with a two-bath apartment that he paid for with his earnings. “I’m home.” You call out, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you dropped your books onto the ground, trading your shoes for some slippers before walking into the common space where Shouto sat in his casual clothes.

“Hi, there,” Shouto greeted you as you groaned softly, trudging over to where he lay, and collapsed onto his lap, “Long day?” He asked, his fingers massaging your scalp softly.

“I had to sit throughout the worst lecture of all lectures because in my philosophy class we were discussing if ‘villains deserved to have second chances after inflicting damage on civilians.’“ You mutter into your boyfriend’s neck as he holds you gently in his arms.

“And your position?” Shouto asked, although already knowing your answer.

“They don’t, if heroes can’t get away with hurting other people without licenses, why in the world would I expect any less for criminals.” You say in a defeated voice as you remember most people in your class hadn’t agreed with your viewpoint.

“What about if they’re inflicting damage because they got caught and didn’t see any other way out?” Shouto asked, picking away at your thought and you groaned again.

“Instead of being my incredible stupid smart boyfriend, can you just agree with me? Everyone already said everything you could think of and I’m sad.” You pout trying your best to disappear within your boyfriend’s arms. A small chuckle vibrates through your boyfriend’s chest and you can’t help the smile on your face as he places a kiss on your head. He was the best.

You found yourself later that night collapsed onto your shared bed, your face buried in the pillow as you longed for the next day to come. You had no classes the following day, and with Shouto having–at least so far–an open day, the two of you planned on making it a 24 hour date day. You trailed your tired gaze over to Shouto who was standing by the doorframe, his eyes concentrated on his phone, a very stiff and angry look on his face.

“Everything okay?” You ask, your voice muffled with the pillows as you watched Shouto typing away, his attention not on you in the slightest.

“Yeah…” Shouto trailed off, his face set in a small scowl as he turned off his phone screen and walked over to the bed, “The office called in, they made a stupid mistake that I need to… fix.”

You sighed softly, his office was always messing things up and you thought it was very unprofessional of them.

“Hopefully they’ll be able to work it out tonight without you, come on and sleep Shoucchan,” You yawn as your boyfriend comes to lay in your arms. “Just sleep.” You encourage.

“Okay…” Shouto nods his head as he wraps his arms around you as well, and you feel warm as sleep takes over you in the best of ways.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You woke up to an empty bed, your eyes looking over at the clock on Shouto’s bed-side that read four in the morning, and you were confused. Where was he?

You sat up and quietly walked to the bathroom, but found it empty and it made you even more disoriented, where was he?

There was a low growl, almost a snarl like snap coming from the living room, and you walked over quietly to see Shouto sitting down on your couch, surrounded by villains. Villains you recognized as the ones on Shouto’s debut.

His back was to you, the villains not even the slightest bit aware of your presence as Shouto spoke.

“How the hell, could you mess this up? Again?!” His voice is low, angry, a whole new tone to it, and it was something you had never imagined you could ever hear from your boyfriend. “I supply you with so much blood, and you can’t even produce what I need you to achieve?”

Your breathing slightly quickened as you stilled in the hallway, disappearing back into the shadows.

“I have been taking y/n’s blood for years, and you’re still unable to come up with a resolution. It’s making it seem unusual to me, you aren’t deluding me, are you?” Shouto’s voice echoes through your mind as a choking breath escapes your lips, and you panic as the pleading voices of your boyfriend’s company subsides.

You turn on your heel, running back into the room, slamming the door.

Your breathing was staggered, your fingers trembling as you heard footsteps in the hallway. “I’ll deal with you later,” Shouto’s voice speaks, “Get out before you can’t.”

You didn’t know who he was talking to at this point, and despite being in only your sleepwear, you ran to the fire-escape of your room and left the house. The sound of the doorknob opening almost screaming through your ears.

You climbed down the ladder as fast as you could, uncaring of the shooting pain going through your feet. Your heart clenching at the revelation of what was being kept from you.

You ran.

And ran.

Eventually, you found yourself collapsing in the middle of the street as tears fell down your cheeks, what the hell was happening?

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Your head rose up from your childhood bed weeks later, it had been three weeks since you had last seen Shouto. Three weeks later and your anemic symptoms had all disappeared. Three weeks later and Pro-Hero: Shouto was still a name people loved. Three weeks later and not a single word or encounter with villains or your boyfriend and you weren’t really sure what you were expecting.

Everything just felt entirely wrong.

You still had feelings for Shouto.

Your feelings towards villains hadn’t changed though.

You now hated Shouto.

But you still loved him.

You missed him.

You resented him.

He had violated your body, for your blood, something you couldn’t comprehend as to why. Was everything between the two of you fake? Something created to obtain your blood?

Was everything a deception?

You walked aimlessly to university, your usual friendly personality had been scuffed to death at the moment, and you ignored the hello’s that still came your way. You sat down in your philosophy class later that day staring out the window, uncaring of the lecture that was taking place on the ethical and moral dilemmas that had resurfaced with the introduction of quirks and how even today it was in place.

Your eyebrows scrunched as you saw a figure in the alley behind the building move into the sunlight, and your face muscles tightened as you saw Shouto standing there. Wearing casual clothing, staring right back at you as if he knew it was you looking at him.

You watched in slight horror as he picked up his phone as if he was signaling something to you, and a small buzz alarmed you of a text notification.

shouto: come here

You felt your blood chill slightly at those words. Why was he finally reaching out towards you? You knew that he knew that you remembered his dark secret. Despite having this information you weren’t going to be telling anyone, especially not anytime soon.

Your hands shook as if you were suddenly anemic again as you quickly grabbed your backpack and left the classroom, ignoring the curious gazes on your figure as the door closed behind you.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you listening to him? He didn’t deserve to speak to you, and what if it was going to be a threat? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if it was a threat. You would cry for sure, but god, you craved seeing him.

Without even fully realizing it, you found yourself stepping into the alleyway where Shouto was hidden in the shadows by himself. Your fingers tingled with uneasiness as you subconsciously moved your arms to shield yourself from him.

Shouto watched you from his position against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulder leaning against the bricks.

God why did you meet him in this alleyway, it was a secluded area on campus already, and if he decided to kill you no one would find your body for weeks.

You begin to mentally panic as you tried to figure out a way to get out of the trap you just walked into.

“What do you want?” You whisper softly, refusing to look at him directly and you watched as Shouto’s feet shifted as he readjusted his stance.

“I think that’s what I am supposed to be asking,” Shouto’s voice speaks to you, but it seems sharper, so foreign to you, not the man you love.

You moved your gaze to look directly at Shouto who was staring at you, almost curiously, as if you were a subject he was analyzing.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You defiantly assert your facial features set in stone as you refused to let him read any emotion that was racing through your mind.

“Hm, well,” Shouto smirks softly as he takes a step closer to you, and you automatically take a step backward. “You wanna know why I lied about my profession.” His tone suggests that he’s guessing, but you knew he could read you like a book.

A noise struggles in your throat as you refuse to acknowledge his questions.

“Simple. Being a hero is bullshit, what’s the point in being a savior to undeserving people who merited the actions of the everyday villains. It seems wrong, you would never understand, y/n, but that’s okay. Besides, there’s something so liberating doing things that aren’t… expected of you.” Shouto’s voice almost taunts you as your eyes narrow slightly as he takes another step towards you, and instinctually, you step back.

“What else would the opinionated y/n have?” Shouto says as he brushes his shaggy hair out of his eyes, their piercing colors drilling holes into your soul. “Your blood, huh? Now that is something you’ll just love. You see, your probability quirk is amazingly powerful, did you know that? The number of scenarios you can use it is unlimited with the ability to be correct ninety-nine out of a hundred times. Your quirk is good luck, and you were an idiot for never noticing it.”

Now that hit a nerve, and your lip trembled the ever so slightest as an aloof chuckle leaves Shouto’s mouth, another step forward for him, and another step backward for you.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” Shouto smirks again then a sigh leaves his lips, “You had amazing potential, my love, but your anxiety just kept you from achieving everything. So yes, I did seek you out intentionally for your quirk, but you had this fear that I could never get you over, so I had to get your blood in an… artistic way, you can say.”

You felt like you were suffocating when your back hits the wall, but you don’t react to the feeling of the harsh brick against your back as you concentrate on the man you don’t recognize in front of you. “But of course, why did I need it?” Shouto clicks his tongue as a hand comes to press against the wall next to you, trapping you. “It will act as the ultimate judgment for every person in the world, and we needed a lot, but it turns out I had a vermin in my midst, that’s why it took so long.”

He traces a finger against your face and everything he says slams into you. Maybe you didn’t know Shouto as well as you thought you did, you were in love with a villain after all, but there was something so artificial in his words that after months of feeling numb anger flared within you. You can feel nothing but anger and hatred seeping through you towards this man before you.

“You can’t possibly think you’re superior enough to enact judgment on everyone, because of what? You save a few bad civilians?!” You spat at him finally feeling emotions and energy run through your body as your hands come up to shove Shouto’s shoulders with unknown strength and he staggers back. “Are you fucking kidding me, Shouto?!”

Your face scrunches as he takes a step backward, and now you’re on the attack. “Are you some fucking idiot? You think you can act like my boyfriend for two years and expect me not to pick up personality traits of your own? I can practically smell the anxiety from your body, you dick!” You storm as you shove Shouto again. “Your words are too pretty, too fucking rehearsed, dumbass, you’re a leader by action, you idiot, not by words! God, is someone fucking feeding you that little speech?! You’re a fucking villain, not some martyr, so you can shut the fuck up, and go feed your feeble-minded words to assholes who believe that they are the ones to shape the world! Go tell this sob story to the world, how about to your mom, let’s see how many people fucking agree with you then, Todoroki.”

You feel as if your blood is on fire as you have Shouto up onto the wall, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly opened in shock. Your breathing is harsh, fast, panting, as your eyes glare into Shouto’s eyes that are quickly turning from shock to anger to lust. You don’t even know what’s happening to you until you feel your hands grab the collar of his shirt and slam your lips against his own.

Your lips connect with his lips at every touch in a hard fashion. Your fingers fisted into his shirt as you slam your taller boyfriend–was he even your boyfriend–into the wall. You’re intensely aware of his fingers gripping your hips as your bodies came to be mangled onto each other, leaving no room between your two bodies as you continued this angry kiss.

You felt as Shouto let out a low growl, his weight shifting and he shoved you against the wall. His hands moving from your hips to cup the bottom of you ass, roughly grinding his crotch against yours, and fury went through your body.

Why did he have to fuck this all up for the two of you?

The kiss was getting sloppy, your teeth clashing too often, breathless heaves panted into each other’s mouths as your tongue slipped into Shouto’s mouth. You defiantly press your tongue against him, not allowing him the victory of entering your mouth as your hands leave your grip from his shirt to grasp onto his hair, tugging on it sharply that makes Shouto let out a tantalizing moan. This wasn’t fair to Shouto, you knew that’s how he saw it, and just as you guessed, he moves his hands to better grasp your ass as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist immediately. His hands removing yours from his hair to slam them up against the wall.

A pained but lustful moan escapes your lips from this action, and you rock your hips painfully slow against Shouto’s crotch and sigh in victory as Shouto removes his lips from yours, “F-Fuck,” Shouto curses, his grip on your hands lessening slightly, and your eyes crack open to see Shouto’s head thrown back, and a mewl leaves your lips at the sight of your man stuttering because of you.

It doesn’t last long as suddenly, Shouto’s lips are back on you, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses trailing down your neck, his teeth biting down almost animalistically with every other kiss, but fuck does it make your toes curl. “Yes,” you praise the man between your legs as you roll your hips against Shouto’s in a way of retribution, and the lust and fury of Shouto’s eyes are connected with yours.

You gasp breathlessly as Shouto’s hot tongue licks slowly between the cleavage of your breasts, combined with the harsh tug of your hair sends your head snapping back, “Fuck you,” You spat, angry with yourself that he knew exactly how to please you in the best way.

“I plan on making you do that for me,” Shouto growls lowly, as you slam your lips back onto his own.

A muffled cry leaves your lips as you feel his hands go under your shirt and massages your breast harshly through your bra, “Don’t you dare fucking think that this is going to make things okay.” You snap as you grab Shouto’s hands increasing the strength on his already harsh grip on your breasts.

“I didn’t.” Shouto laughs as his head goes under your shirt, and you can only wait helplessly as you feel your bra unclasp and a harsh roll of your nipples between his fingers sends you through another moan. You feel anger resurge through your body as you can feel the victorious smirk on his lips as he bites the sensitive underside of your breast.

With your hips still rolling away on his own crotch, you don’t hesitate as you blindly unbuckle the belt on Shouto’s pants and slip your hand through the waistline, your hand seizing the base of his cock. You hear a hiss from Shouto, and you almost laugh in manically glee of making the man you shouldn’t want tremble.

“You’re a bitch.” Shouto gasps as he removes himself from your breasts, and goes to press wild, uncontrolled kisses onto your lips. And the coil in your stomach is tightening as he jerks against your pumping hand and rolling hips.

“And you’re a coward.” You hiss as Shouto drops you to the ground, your legs wobbly from the uncontrollable emotions you had long submitted to, the pool of heat in your underwear only seeming to intensify as Shouto slams your stomach into the wall.

“Now, are you going to behave correctly to the big bad villain who has you trapped?” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth biting softly onto your earlobe, shoots of tingles resonating through your body as you feel his hand move from your waist to your inner thighs, too close for comfort, not close enough for the relief you desperately sought.

“You’d be a bigger idiot if you thought I would simply submit.” You breathlessly reply as his fingers trailed up higher, and your hips rolled slightly as his fingers touched between your legs deliciously soft, and you fought another mewl leaving your mouth.

“Ah, don’t stop yourself from making sound,” Shouto grinned against your neck, “Tell the world how much you hate me.”

You could only pant as Shouto’s hand unbuttoned your shorts and let them drop to the ground as his fingers went inside your panties, and brushed against the hood of your clit, “Fuck off,” You repeat as soundless moans leave your lips, your head thrown back again as his fingers slip into your opening, slowly moving as his other hand goes to tease your clit in a way that causes you to bite onto your tongue to contain the pleasure-filled scream ready to leave your mouth.

“Do you want me?” Shouto breathes harshly against your neck as he ground his hard pelvis into your ass, and you could only nod your head as his fingers pumped into you. The heat in your stomach only grow as the coil in you felt tighter as both the pumping and teasing intensified, “Fuck, love, aren’t you just fucking wet as always.”

You let out an exasperated cry as his fingers leave your dripping sex, and you can only watch with hooded eyes as Shouto brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking your juices off his fingers. “Fuck me with the same passion you have in hating me,” Shouto whispers as he twists your neck to kiss you in this twisted position, and you moan as you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and before you can even savor the feeling of his tongue on yours, his jeans are bunched by his knees, and you’re completely bent over, your underwear joining your shorts on the floor.

“You want this, you want me?” Shout asks again his voice almost a growl, his facial features intense as he drops his own underwear and is stroking his already pre-cum leaking cock.

“I swear to god, Todoroki,” You hiss staring at the man who had your heart seem almost unsure of what was the right thing to do, “If you don’t finish what I started, I will never forgive you.”

That’s all it takes, and the uncertainty in Shouto’s mind is made up and all you could do is let out strings of curses as he slams into you from behind in one quick movement. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” Shouto groans as you pant, your hands shake against the wall, god did his dick in you send you to another planet.

“Fucking move already, pussy.” You snarl and smirk as Shouto takes it as a challenge as starts thrusting his hips, ready to kill any doubt you had in your mind.

And then you could do nothing but scream out encouragement as Shouto’s hips slam into yours, harshly, at speeds you never envisioned the two of you reaching before.

Every thrust sent you grasping for support on the brick wall as he continued thrusting into you, his fingers gripping you waist as curses leave his lips.

Your jaw drops and a shrill gasp leaves your mouth as the coil in you tightens significantly at a certain angle he comes in, “Like that?” Shouto laughs although you could hear no humor in his voice as he comes in at that angle again, and you can barely control the sob of pleasure that rips out of your mouth.

“Sh-Shouto!” You arch your back and despite the position, Shouto is edging, you can feel the tremble in his thighs, his tell when he was almost over the edge. “Fuck me, faster!”

Shouto doesn’t disappoint you as you feel his hands grasp your hair and he snakes a hand back to your clit, and you find yourself clenching your eyes in concentration, trying not to satisfy him with cumming first.

You smiled in victory as shuddering gasps left Shouto’s lips as you felt his thrusts progressively missing his usual targets, and with a drawn-out groan from him, you felt him cum in you, and you couldn’t help yourself as you looked over your shoulder and saw Shouto’s face filled with relief.

His hips stilled for moments, but your own hips didn’t stop, and another string of curses left Shouto’s mouth as he focused distractedly on your own orgasm. His body rocked into yours, and your hips met him in every motion, your lip trembling as his fingers danced against your clit.

The coil in your heat tightened and tightened, and when he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your clit, the coil snapped and you could only see white as an immeasurable amount of pleasure ripped through you, and a scream sagged through your body as you came undone.

You whined as you felt him exit you, and you slowly straightened back up, you felt uncomfortably sore. Quietness filled the alleyway as the two of your straightened out your outfits turning towards each other, then you locked eyes, and it finally hit you. This was goodbye.

Your breathing staggered as Shouto’s lips were on yours again, and you feel overwhelmed. Your fists are clenched on his chest, his fingers hooked onto your belt loops. Your brows are brought together, and you can tell both of your jaws are clenched. It almost felt like a magnetic pull between you two, but you had to deny it. So you shift so that your foreheads press together, your lips just brushing, just barely, so faintly touching until you pull away completely with a shaking exhale, your forehead dropping into Shouto’s neck.

“I am in love with you, but I can’t love you knowing what you are.” You whisper as you break away, grabbing your bag and leaving Shouto alone in the alley, wiping tears that inevitably fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

and thats all for now folks, i also updated my masterlist again so if you wanna read more crap i write, check it out :D but yes! the blood stealing is weird i know, i was told but i am so outta ideas i just rolled with it ;) anyways let me know what you tHINK I LIKE HAVING OPINIONS ON WHAT I WRITE PLEASE SEND ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT IT MAKES ME SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY

KK LOVE YOU ALL, LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL FOR MORE

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki scenario #villain!todoroki #todoroki smut #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha scenarios #mha #mha x reader #mha todoroki #mha scenarios

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thecassadilla · 5 years ago

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Positive

Word Count: 1,659/AO3

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Summary: Rapunzel and Eugene get the best news of their lives.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Day 6 of New Dream Appreciation Week - We’re Having a Baby! This is another Modern!AU because that’s my forte, apparently. Just like yesterday, this isn’t really my area of expertise - I have never been pregnant, and only one of my friends has had a baby recently. As a general disclaimer, this fic does focus on Rapunzel and Eugene unexpectedly finding out that they’re having a baby. There’s nothing graphic, or descriptive, or anything, but the implications are obvious. It’s rated T just to be safe.

She didn’t think anything of it, at first. She was just a little more tired than usual. A little was a bit of an understatement, though - she could hardly keep her eyes open every time she wasn’t moving. But they were in the process of moving from their apartment to their new house, and so she chalked it up to stress.

She became slightly concerned when she felt lightheaded one evening after arriving home from work. She made it to the couch, and within a few seconds the feeling subsided. Once it had passed, she tried to put it behind her and went on with the rest of her day, but the thought still lingered in the back of her head. She avoided telling Eugene about it, because she knew he would freak out and she didn’t think it was something to be really concerned about. The Internet wasn’t much of a help, unsurprisingly; seeing results like ‘congestive heart failure’ quickly made her click away and not look back.

A couple of days passed before she started to feel persistently nauseous - it wasn’t severe, but rather a constant, low level sense of discomfort. At first she blamed it on the smell of paint fumes in their new house. But the sensation never went away, and it got to the point that the sheer thought of eating was enough to make her feel sick.

And then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. They were sitting on the couch one night after dinner, and she was leaned up against him, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She kept dozing off and waking up, and just as she was about to close her eyes again, her attention was brought to a commercial on the television; an advertisement for a pregnancy test. She felt herself tense up as she watched the couple on the screen smile in delight at their positive result and she felt a chill go up her spine.

“Eugene?” She asked, looking up at his face.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response.

“Did you see that?”

He looked down at her. “What?”

“That commercial.”

“The insurance one with the talking lizard?”

“No, the one with the pregnancy test.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah?”

“Have you ever thought about that?” She wondered aloud. “Thought about us having a baby?”

He shifted beneath her, and she sat up so she could get a better look at him. “Of course - I mean, if that’s what you want. I know we’ve talked about it in the past, and you’ve always said you wanted kids, but sometimes people change their minds.”

She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I haven’t changed my mind; I still want that.”

“Great, me too,” he smiled slightly, leaning back against the couch and turning his attention back to the television for a second. When he realized that she was still staring at him, he looked back at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

She wasn’t able to form the words, and a strangled type of noise escaped from her throat.

“Because we could start trying, if you want,” he assured her, taking her hands in his own. “I know this probably isn’t the easiest subject to talk about.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Or...we can wait?” He guessed, cocking a brow. “You’re giving me mixed signals here, Rapunzel.”

She took a deep breath before finally blurting out the thought that had been swirling in her head for the last two minutes. “I don’t think we have to try.”

He gave her an odd look before huffing out a laugh. “I mean, technically -”

“No,” she cut him off. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Oh. Oh,” he said, his eyes widening at her revelation.

“I’ve just been so tired lately, like, I can’t even eat a meal anymore without my eyes closing, and I’ve just felt sick to my stomach, but I thought it was because we were painting the house and there was that time I almost passed out -”

“You almost passed out?”

“But Google said it was congestive heart failure and -”

“Congestive heart failure?!” He exclaimed, his face blanching. He looked like he was about to pass out, himself.

“I’m not dying!” She clarified, moving her hands to cup his jaw. “At least I don’t think I am. I didn’t even think that I could be pregnant until I saw that commercial, but it makes so much sense.”

He nodded slowly, unsure of what to think or say. “Right,” he finally answered. “But you don’t know for sure. We don’t know for sure.”

“No,” she sighed, dropping her hands.

“Well, what are we waiting for? We could go to the store and get a test, and we’d have an answer.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Let’s do that.”

So they took a trip to the 24-hour drug store and spent a bit of time in the “family planning” aisle, trying to decide which test to buy. They ended up choosing three different brands, and were both relieved when they walked up to the teenage cashier, who seemed to have more of an interest in her phone than what they were purchasing. The entire drive home was nerve wracking, and cloaked in an awkward silence.

Her heart was pounding in her chest by the time they got back into the house, and she thoroughly read through the instructions on one of the tests.

“It says it’s best to use first morning urine,” she explained, biting her lip.

“Just go for it,” he insisted. “Save the other two for tomorrow morning.”

She nodded, closing the bathroom door behind her. A few moments later, the door reopened and they found themselves sitting on the cool tile floor in front of the sink; the test out of their view and a timer set for three minutes. They sat quietly for a few moments.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m nervous,” she spoke up, her hand subconsciously pressed against her lower abdomen. “But I don’t know why. We’ve been married for over a year and we have a house, and everything is...stable. I guess I’m nervous because we haven’t really talked about it and it’s so unexpected.”

“Hey, I hope you're not worrying about me, sunshine,” he said, a flash of concern in his eyes. “I know this wasn’t planned, but I’ve always wanted to be a dad. I’ll be thrilled if the test comes back positive. And even if it doesn’t, and we’re on the same page, we can always try for real.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'll be so happy if it's positive.”

After what felt like the longest three minutes of their lives, the timer finally beeped.

“Do you want to check? Or do you want me to?”

“We can both look,” she said, pushing herself up off the floor. He followed suit and watched from her over her shoulder, resting a hand flat on her back. Taking a deep breath, she picked the test up from where it rested on the sink and flipped it over in her hands. She glanced down at it and got her answer; two pink lines. Positive. Pregnant.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, dropping it and bringing her hands to cover her mouth. Tears pooled in her eyes and she couldn’t contain her smile.

“We’re having a baby!” Eugene exclaimed excitedly, wrapping his arms around her.

“I can’t believe this,” she cried, the tears cascading down her cheeks. “I’m just so happy.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he gushed. “This time next year there will be a tiny human here. Our tiny human.”

“Our baby,” she beamed.

“We’ll have to dedicate a room for the nursery. And buy baby stuff. We’ll have to come up with a name. There’s so much to do!”

“Not tonight, though, I’m too tired,” she giggled, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “But I’m so excited. More than excited. I don’t even know how to put what I’m feeling into words.”

“Just a few hours ago, I didn’t even know this was possible. That this was going to happen,” he said. “I really can’t believe it. In a couple of months, there’ll be a third person living here.”

“February,” she confirmed. “I did the math in the car - the baby will be born in February.”

“Oh god, we don’t have that much time then,” he remarked, sounding slightly panicked.

She laughed. “Eugene, it’s June. We literally have eight months.”

“I better start practicing my dad jokes,” he added.

She shook her head at him, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll have to call the doctor tomorrow and find out what we do next.”

“This is literally the best day of my life,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, our wedding day is right up there next to it, but nothing can beat this.”

“This is the best day ever,” she corrected. “I can’t believe I was so nervous. And I can’t believe this is real.”

“I was not expecting the day to end like this at all. I think I’m in shock.”

She yawned, then, and reached up to rub her eyes. “I really hate to cut this short but I am absolutely exhausted and I’m about to fall asleep standing here.”

“I don’t know how you can sleep; I’m definitely not going to be able to sleep tonight,” he chuckled.

“You don’t have a baby draining all of your energy,” she pointed out with a laugh, her hand fluttering to her lower abdomen.

He placed his hand over hers and smiled. “Let’s get you to bed, then.”

“I love you so much,” she smiled back, suddenly throwing her arms around his neck.

"I love you, too," he promised, lifting her off the ground and squeezing her. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

#new dream appreciation week #tangled #rapunzels tangled adventure #rapunzel x eugene #new dream #day six #my writing

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grapefruitsketches · 5 years ago

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Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Days 24-30: Chapter 3, Nest, Part I (Day 26)

Part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series:

Also available AO3 (I finally remembered to post first so I can add the link here): link

2,824 Words

Chapter 3: Xiao Xingchen awakens to a sudden sound.

A quiet hillside. A light rain. A familiar taste of sesame which he delicately licked off his fingers. Brushing Zichen’s hand as they both reached for the fruit laid out on the blanket at the same time.

A shout, and Xingchen snapped into consciousness. He was in a bed. His bed. His bed in the Cloud Recesses guest house.

“Mmn, Zichen?” Xiao Xingchen pushed himself up to sit up on the bed and rubbed his temples, trying to wake himself up. As the fog of sleep left him, he was able to register what exactly had woken him, and cut himself off mid yawn, jolted into high alert. A shout? In Cloud Recesses? He patted the around next to him. First close, then, further from his side, becoming more and more desperate. He found only empty space. No Zichen.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled, legs still asleep even if his mind was wide awake, towards the far side of the room, where he kept Shuanghua. He longed for the days he could comfortably sleep with Shuanghua within arm’s reach, but the first (and only) time he had tried to since his reawakening, he had been unable to sleep, kept awake by images of unconsciously reaching for it in the night. Swinging it. Zichen once again becoming its innocent victim. He had remained stiffly awake for the better part of an hour, exhausted, frustrated, until he had finally given up and moved the sword to its new resting place. A place that now seemed foolishly far from where he slept. He chastised himself for his own weaknesses, leaving him less able to protect himself, find Zichen, because of his own fears and lack of control.

Traversing the room seemed like it took an eternity, his ears still straining for any hint of what that shout had been, where Zichen was, but only catching a faint rustle of wind as it caught the branches outside. He finally reached the sword. Even now, though, he found himself unable to pull the sword from its sheath, not trusting it or himself to correctly identify a threat. Not until he knew where Zichen was. Despite this, his hand still gripped the hilt firmly.

What time was it? It was not a morning where they had Inquiry lessons, Xingchen knew. Was it a day when Zichen had guqin lessons without him? Had he gone to library to read poetry, as he had taken to doing recently? Those days when all he did was practice scales, precision, dexterity, no hint of the language Xingchen would one day understand? Leaving the room so as to let Xingchen sleep in, as he worked to extinguish the exhaustion that had haunted him since he reawakened? That would explain Zichen’s absence, but he usually at least woke Xingchen up to say goodbye before he…

The sound of the door sliding open, footsteps, and it slid closed again. Xingchen focused on the sword’s hilt, ready to draw but not wanting to until he was absolutely sure whoever (whatever?) entered was a foe, not a friend.

“Who is it?” he sounded far more confident, stern, than he felt. He was rattled. His voice was able to resist any effect, it seemed, but he received no answer.

The door slid open once more. Another sound of footsteps, Xingchen started to pull the sword from its sheath, not far, just enough to shorten the time it would take to free it, to swing it at any danger in one fluid motion. The shaking in his hands became apparent as the loosened sword struck the sides of its sheath, though it wasn’t clear whether the hand holding the sword or the sheath was more at fault. Memories of the last times it had been drawn. Against him, against Zichen. He shook his head. If Zichen was in trouble, he would get over that, he would draw the sword again, he just had to be sure that that was truly what was going…

“Xiao-xiong!” the voice was loud, urgent but cautious.

Xiao Xingchen huffed out a relieved breath, with several more breaths following in rapid succession. It was the unmistakeable sound of Wei Wuxian’s voice. He let Shuanghua fall comfortably, innocently, back into its sheath and dropped it, the sound of the sword clattering to the floor loud in the room’s quiet. Two hands met his now sagging shoulders as he caught his breath, boosting him so that strong arms could wrap around his chest. Xingchen let himself lean into them.

“Zichen,” he sighed, able to recognize the shape of this embrace anywhere.

“Wei-gongzi,” Xingchen added, panting, grateful for Zichen’s support, “I am sorry for… the disturbance.” He was ashamed to think of what Wei Wuxian must have walked into - Xiao Xingchen, poised to strike, (lethal) sword half-drawn, no threat in sight. And… had that been Zichen who had walked in at first? Had Zichen once again been met with the sight of the man who supposedly loved him prepared to attack, without any way to safely and vocally reassure him that he was no enemy?

“Xiao-xiong…” the sound of Wei Wuxian’s voice came again, still from the opposite side of the room, near the door, softer, apologetic, “I’m sorry we woke you - Song-xiong tried to quiet them in time but…”

“It’s… fine.” Xingchen replied, his heart pounding from the whiplash. Zichen was here, he was ok. No need for a sword. They were both safe, he swallowed, turning his face towards the sound of Wei Wuxian’s voice, “Who was it you were trying to quiet?” he was grateful that he was able to keep his voice mostly to its usual even cadence. Zichen didn’t resist as Xingchen lightly pulled away, gently releasing of Xingchen from his grip, apparently satisfied that Xingchen was now able to stand independently. There was a light caress, Zichen’s hand on his cheek, before Zichen’s hand dropped, reaching instead for one of Xingchen’s hands. The added comfort of fingers interlaced, palms touching, calmed his heart.

Xiao Xingchen thought he detected a smile in Wei Wuxian’s voice as he replied, “The shout was because Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen just arrived. Jingyi couldn’t contain himself.”

Xingchen nodded, “I am sorry to have interrupted their reunion.” His mouth was dry, his relief had become pure embarrassment at having overreacted so severely to an excited childish shriek. He displayed nothing more than his usual reserved smile, however.

Song Zichen squeezed his hand before letting go entirely. Xingchen heard the shuffle of papers, the gliding of a brush across a page.

Wei Wuxian read Zichen’s message aloud, “They should have known better, not to shout in Cloud Recesses. It’s not your fault. I am sorry you didn’t get the chance to sleep.”

Wei Wuxian added, “Song-xiong is right, you know. Jingyi’s just lucky he’s growing up now and not twenty years ago when the punishment would have been… more severe.” Wei Wuxian chuckled darkly.

Xiao Xingchen nodded, familiar with the Lan clan’s disciplinary reputation. “Jin Ling is… the Jin Clan Leader now?” he said slowly, trying to remember Zichen’s thorough briefing on current affairs through Sizhui’s patient voice, “And Ouyang Zizhen is… I’m sorry, I don’t remember that name.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Don’t worry about it. For all intents and purposes, right now all either of them are treated as here are as Jingyi and Sizhui’s close friends…”

He was cut off by a wail at the door, “Gentle Breeze!” an unfamiliar, sobbing voice shouted, in open defiance of any of the Cloud Recesses’ noise restrictions, “You’re a-a-alive!”

A pile of voice fell in after the sobs.

“I’m so sorry for the intrusion-“ Sizhui’s voice.

“Hey! You can’t just go bursting in on-” a second unfamiliar voice said, huffily.

“You’re one to talk. What if you had woken Xiao-xiong just now?” Xingchen knew that to be Jingyi.

“Shut up, you were the one shouting not two minutes ago even after Song-xiong-!” the huffy voice retorted.

A sharp exhale escaped from Xingchen, then another, and another in short succession. Zichen’s hand found his arm again and squeezed in concern as Xingchen raised his free hand to cover his mouth. But as the gasps became more obviously laughter, Zichen’s hand once again relaxed. Xingchen couldn’t stop laughing. Minutes ago, he had been in a panic, ready to fight any enemy that dared harm Zichen, only for this apparent foe to have been revealed to be merely a boy excited to see his friends. He shook with laughter, trying to breathe deep to stop his outburst, but taking longer than he should.

After the laughter finally subsided, Xingchen regaining his usual composure, Wei Wuxian introduced the two new voices in turn, Ouyang Zizhen still sniffling as he gave his name, Jin Ling primly stating what an honour it was to meet him. They both already seemed familiar with Zichen, who they each greeted with variations of how nice it was to see him again, and how well he looked.

“It is an honour to meet each of you.” Xiao Xingchen answered, smiling as he bowed in each of their directions, feeling awkward at the reverence with which these youths spoke to him. He was sure their golden cores were younger than even the most recent of his worthwhile deeds, “May I ask where you and Zichen met before?”

“Ah, Xiao-xiong,” Wei Wuxian cut in nervously, before any of the Juniors could speak, “these disciples… they were there when we met with Song-xiong four years ago.”

Realization dawned on Xiao Xingchen, “With Zichen… in… Yi City?” his blood froze at the town’s name, words he hadn’t spoken since his revival, thoughts he didn’t want to let in. A link he knew existed (Song-xiong… Yi City) but that he didn’t want examine too closely because of the further associations that town’s name would inevitably bring. He’d gotten only the bare minimum of an explanation of what had happened, and was vaguely aware that Sizhui and Jingyi had been there, based on minor corrections Sizhui had made while interpreting Zichen’s recounting of the events to Xingchen. He must have wavered, because suddenly he was aware that he was leaning on Zichen’s hand not just for comfort but for support.

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian answered slowly, carefully.

Xingchen nodded slowly, mind drifting off to another time… he tried to bring his mind back to the present, breathing in deep. He focused on the smell of tea, which was never quite absent from any place he and Zichen occupied for more than a night. The feeling of his feet grounded on the floor. Zichen’s hand on his arm. The faint sounds of breathing, his own, and more importantly, Zichen’s beside him. He breathed out, his shoulders relaxed as he remembered to bring back the smile that had fallen off his face at some point.

“Of course,” he said, taking a moment to purse his lips, subtly wetting them after his mouth had become uncomfortably dry, “I am glad you were all there to help Zichen.” When I could not. He left unsaid.

The sound of a brush being dipped in ink, writing on the page, but this time, the message didn’t seem to have been for him, because instead of translating, all Wei Wuxian said was, “Come on, you four. Time for lunch. Xiao-xiong, Song-xiong, you should join us for dinner, near the Western guest rooms where Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen are staying. Jin Ling claims his cooking is not to be missed. I don’t believe it, but you should come anyway.”

The minor protests Xiao Xingchen heard about how they were still full from breakfast quieted quickly. Xingchen could only assume Wei Wuxian, or more likely Zichen, had cast quite the warning look at the young cultivators.

“I hope to have more time to meet each of you later.” Xingchen bowed, earning a variety of cheerful responses as the five pairs of footsteps shuffled out.

He sighed as the door slid shut, carefully pulling Zichen’s hand off his arm. He made his way back to the bed and sat down, head in hands. The young cultivators’ enthusiasm was infectious. Xingchen hadn’t laughed like that in a very long time. Their pure joy at seeing him had been hard to resist. But… He rubbed his temples. They had been louder than anything he had been confronted with since his revival, and he wasn’t sure if his current headache could be credited to their volume, his lingering exhaustion, or that they reminded him of another young one he had once taken under his wing (a girl who probably would have been better off without him, one whose sacrifice could be credited for any life he or his partner currently led).

He felt tears again paint his face and he wanted to scream in frustration. Today was a normal day. He’d woken up alone but only because the one he loved was trying to help him get some more sleep, despite the excitement of close friends reuniting. These were good things. Safe things. So why did he feel so battered?

He pressed in on the sides of his head, as though trying to force its contents into a shape that made more sense. He was safe. He was, against all odds, alive. He was supported. He was someone who was - who had always been - so composed. Able to weather anything with a smile and gentle words. Now, here he was, once again breaking down into what were becoming daily tears over basically nothing. He had experienced some tragedies many years ago, but who had not? Hanguang-Jun. Wei Wuxian. Lan Sizhui. Zichen. All had lost so much, had suffered so much, had had to live through years, hard years, which he had blissfully bypassed, only vaguely aware of his self. But now here he was, unable to hold himself together because he had been treated poorly just one time. Because he had permanently lost just one person who was close to him. No, not lost. Had killed them himself through his own blind trust. He should mourn A-Qing. He knew that. She deserved at least that. She was a hero, and had been so innocent, wandering into a conflict that should have been Xiao Xingchen’s alone to deal with. But she, not Xiao Xingchen, had noticed the danger first, even though he should have known. He had been so foolish. Was he even grieving her in the way she deserved, or was he only using her to fuel his own meaningless self-pity? His sobs grew harder, now audible.

A gentle hand on his thigh. Xiao Xingchen shook his head, moving himself away from the touch. He wanted to hide away, isolate himself from those he might harm, those he might worry. He was not worth it. Not if even here, now, he cried. Not when he felt so sorry for himself despite being shielded from the world, supported.

A clumsy plucking of strings of a guqin in the corner of the room. Safe, the chord said. The second and most recent word Zichen had asked to learn. And then, the first he had studied: Love.

Xiao Xingchen’s breathing choked, his sobs now impacting his breaths. I know, he thought, So why am I acting like this? Feeling like this?

After Xingchen had drained his supply of tears, once his breathing had returned to something more normal and the hiccups had subsided, Zichen went and got them some food. Xingchen assumed he was not gone long, but he could not be sure since he had fallen into a doze (that might have been sleep) shortly after he left.

Despite not having eaten anything since last night’s dinner, and understanding that it was now mid-afternoon, Xingchen found he had little appetite upon Zichen’s return. Somewhere in his mind, he was aware that his stomach called out for food, had even heard it growl not long ago. But the bun wouldn’t slide down his throat like it was meant to. The dough stuck as it went down.

Still, he tried, sipping slowly at the broth provided, clenching his fist and jaw as he managed to mechanically get the soup down, bit by bit.

After far longer than it should have taken to eat this fairly light lunch (breakfast?), he finally finished his meal and carefully piled the bowls in the middle of his tray, feeling no better, just maybe slightly nauseous.

“Thank you,” he whispered, laying his hand out on the table, an invitation, and apology after pulling away from Zichen so violently earlier. His hand was picked up gingerly, as though it might break, and lifted, lifted, until he felt Zichen’s lips brush against the back.

Safe. Love. The touch said, just as clearly as the guqin’s chords, but just as hard to swallow as the meal he had just finished.

Next: Chapter 4, Nest, Part II: Dinner, featuring Jin Ling's cooking and a much needed conversation between Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian (also Wen Ning appears, finally).

Chapter 4 should be posted within a day or two! It was meant to be part of this chapter, and is already written but unedited. This chapter became so absurdly long I just had to split it.

#the untamed #mdzs #cql #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #wei wuxian #the junior quartet #untamed spring fest #still tagging that for organizational purposes sorry!#my writing #songxiao fix it series

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snezfics-n-shit · 4 years ago

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Whumptober Day 27: Flu

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Characters: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth

Notes: Some 7-year-gap sick!Hobohodo fresh outta the oven. The flu is a powerful beast. Phoenix has been sold the ever common lie that the flu is “no big deal” and “just a really bad cold.” Today he pays the price for his naivety. Also do I really gotta say, established Wrightworth ahead.

Miles couldn’t help but look at his watch as he witnessed another extended coughing fit that sent Phoenix curled up into a ball. He sighed through his nose as he remembered Phoenix swearing up and down how he had every intention to get his flu shot. Actions or, more accurately, inaction spoke louder than words.

“I think that was,” Phoenix wheezed, “the longest one yet.” He rolled himself on his back on the bed he hadn’t left since returning from the walk-in clinic. “I was kidding when I asked you to keep time.”

“I thought it would be worth a try.” Miles took the oversized water bottle from the end table and handed it to Phoenix. “You’ve barely touched your water. The first rule of the flu is to stay hydrated.”

“How can I drink anything if I’m busy coughing?” Phoenix frowned as he took a long drink of the water. “I’m never calling a bad cold ‘the flu’ ever again.” He groaned. “I think I’m dying.”

“You could have gotten your flu shot when Trucy and I went to get ours, you know.” Miles gently took the water bottle and placed it back on the end table. “I have to admit, I never knew the flu was quite like this.” He pressed his hand on the cooling patch stuck to Phoenix’s forehead; it was still cold enough to stay a while before needing to be replaced. “I, too, was under the assumption it was hardly different from a cold.”

“It felt like one at first.” Phoenix recalled; his breathing was labored as he spoke. “Yesterday morning I thought I was just getting a cold, then I just went to lie down for a couple hours. When I woke up, I--” The coughing started again. Miles rubbed his back and made gentle shushing noises until the fit subsided.

“You did that, yes.” Miles remembered the previous evening vividly. Phoenix had just gotten out of the shower when he started coughing like he was now. Miles found him on the cold bathroom floor, coughing up a storm. By the time Phoenix was done, the strain had discolored his cheeks, which is what originally prompted the trip to the walk-in clinic this morning. “It was a sight I think I would rather never see again.”

“I’d rather never cough like this again.” Phoenix complained. “Not to mention everything hurts.”

“Oh, love.” Miles cooed. He kissed Phoenix’s cheek. Despite Miles having had his flu shot, Phoenix wasn’t willing to take the risk in kissing him on the lips. “Does blinking still hurt?”

“Yeah, that’s the most painful part.” Phoenix turned his head, putting the dark circles under his eyes on full display for Miles. Between the pain that came from the slightest movement of his eyelids and the near endless coughing fits that sent him doubling over, sleep was hardly an option despite him desperately needing it.

“I hope this means you’ll take flu season more seriously next year.”

“Believe me, I will.” Phoenix promised and kissed his boyfriend’s hand. “I wish I could just go back and get the shot, knowing what I know now.”

“I’m afraid that can’t be done.” Miles sighed. “You’ll just have to remember this for next time, dear.”

“You know, just the fever dreams alone scared me straight, I think. I keep having this one where I’m in court cross-examining a witness, but he starts making clones of himself. The witness was also a turnip for some reason.” He liked seeing Miles find amusement in the surreal productions of his fever-influenced subconscious. “You can laugh, it’s pretty funny when I’m awake enough to think about it.”

“In hindsight like that, maybe, but it wasn’t at all funny when your fever spiked early this morning.” Miles fought his smile just as quickly as it formed. Even with Phoenix’s permission, it didn’t feel right to laugh at his suffering. “And you woke up in my car screaming because you thought you had been kidnapped.”

“You could’ve told me what was going on first.” Phoenix wiped his nose on the edge of the comforter. With any other ailment, Miles might have gently directed him to a tissue, but in this case, he was far more lenient.

“I tried to. You were just completely out.” Miles caught a glimpse of the current time on his watch, paying more attention this time now that he wasn’t simply keeping time. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“There were some ice cubes that melted in my water. Does that count?”

“No.” Miles stood up, making the decision that Phoenix was going to eat something. “I’m going to make you some soup.”

“I just said I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’re getting something in your system. That’s final.”

. . .

Something didn’t feel right when Miles set foot in the kitchen. Every time he opened a drawer or the pantry, he felt his heart sink as he thought of just how miserable Phoenix must have felt. Miles had to keep reminding himself Phoenix would benefit from the brief peace and quiet. He fought the urge to disturb Phoenix’s potential sleep as he followed the recipe on a laminated card that once belonged to his father. He had only been granted ownership of his father’s recipe cards a few years ago, so he hoped he could do them justice with so little experience. Knowing Phoenix’s reluctance to eat anything in the past 24 hours, Miles poured the soup in a mug rather than a bowl. Perhaps if it was presented as a drink, his boyfriend would be more willing to take it.

“Where were you!?” That was Phoenix’s greeting of choice when Miles entered the bedroom. “I tried calling you but you wouldn’t pick up!”

“I was, wait,” Miles pulled his phone from his pocket to find notifications for several voicemails, “you called? I was in the kitchen for hardly an hour.” If only his ringer stayed on.

“You disappeared on me!” Phoenix accused. “Why would you do that?” He rubbed his right eye with his wrist; his face was redder than before. Whether that had come from more coughing or possibly crying didn’t matter, since neither one was preferable. “I can’t believe you would just leave me alone. The room was spinning and you weren’t here!”

“Well, it’s obvious your fever hasn’t gone down at all.” Miles took a deep breath. “I told you before I left, I was going to the kitchen to make you soup.”

“O-Oh.” Phoenix looked down, ashamed of his rash assumption. “I think I forgot that part.”

“It’s alright.” Miles sat beside him and handed over the mug. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, so I thought I’d give it to you as a drink.” His thoughtful approach got a laugh out of Phoenix; that was good.

“You should, uh, delete those voicemails.” Phoenix blew gently into the mug. “They’re kind of embarrassing now that I think of it.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You were afraid.” Miles gave the same assurance Phoenix had shown him many times before. “I will delete them, however, as you requested.”

“Thanks.” Phoenix pressed the mug to his lips and smiled as the warm liquid met his tongue. “This is amazing.” He drank some more.

“I’m glad it could please the man who insisted he wasn’t hungry.” Miles teased. “You’re actually the first person I’ve made this for. The recipe belonged to my father, but it was under Mr. von Karma’s possession until he passed. I also recall my father saying it was my mother who wrote it down. I think of this as a sort of game of cooking telephone.”

“I bet you’re a cooking telephone champion.” Phoenix expressed his opinion by taking a longer drink from the mug.

“Slow down!” Miles instinctively took the mug just in time before Phoenix needed to cough again, likely caused by drinking too quickly. “I’m glad you like it, but don’t push yourself.” He set the mug down on the end table so he had free hands to rub Phoenix’s back. “Let me know when you think you’re done.”

Phoenix needed to catch his breath for about half the time his coughing fit took. He flopped backwards onto his pillow with a weak groan.

“I hate having the flu.”

“I can understand why.” Miles offered him the water bottle, frowning at how little Phoenix drank since Miles left for the kitchen. Phoenix hesitated at first, but gave in as soon as it was clear Miles would not be backing down. “I’m relieved you’re not trying to go to work like this.”

“I was already stupid for not getting a shot.” Phoenix took a few more small sips of water before Miles allowed him to put it back on the end table. “I’d be a real idiot to go to work on top of that.”

“Phoenix. Darling,” Miles locked eyes with him, “I’ve let a lot slide because you’re sick, but I won’t allow you to speak of yourself in that manner.” He scolded lightly, softening his words with a kiss on Phoenix’s forehead. “Do you understand?”

“I think so. You already have let me get away with a lot.” Phoenix tested the waters by wiping his nose on the comforter again.

“You’re starting to push it, love.” Miles chuckled and caressed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Remember, I love you.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

Miles didn’t leave his spot as he watched Phoenix doze off into what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep. He noted how pale Phoenix was and how his slightly overgrown stubble somehow managed to make him look more sickly. Was it unrealistic to hope if Miles watched him long enough, he could witness the color returning to his face within the hour? Possibly, yes, but that wouldn’t stop Miles from staying by his side for as long as he could.

#whumptober #whumptober 2020 #sickfic whumptober alt #snez attorney #the flu changes you man

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amazonianbeauty · 5 years ago

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It Happened

Chapter 2: Before the Storm

Word Count: 4638

The walk to your room was worse than any walk of shame you could have ever imagined, your legs felt like lead with your stomach in knots. You had to hold on to the wall to steady yourself on the way there. When you finally made it to your destination, you closed the door and collapsed to the floor curling into a ball and crying. You hated yourself for cheating, disgracing your vows, and most of all for betraying Steve. You felt the bile rise into your throat and made a dash to the bathroom, not sure if it was pregnancy hormones or your guilt taking over but you were hugging the porcelain hard.

After 10 minutes of vomiting everything your stomach had to give, you stepped into the shower replaying everything that had happened. The thoughts eating away at your resolve brought on a new wave of tears, that then made you turn the water temperature up until it was stinging as it hit your body, vigorously you scrubbed your skin with the soap and washcloth as if that would wash away your sin. After the tears had subsided, you toweled off, brushed your teeth and crawled into bed. Steve’s scent hit your nose as you lay down on a pillow, God was it torture, bringing on another round of tears making you cry yourself to sleep. You spent the rest of that day and night periodically crying and sleeping off the headaches that followed your bouts of tears.

In between the space of being awake and asleep, you felt warm and secure in bed, snuggling backward into the arms you were enveloped in, a familiar voice whispered into your ear.

“Good morning wife”, Steve spoke, you could feel him smiling into your skin.

You turned around and sat up, you looked Steve over and touched his face, your fingertips trembling as they lightly ghosted over his lips. “It’s you Daddy.” You smiled at him teary-eyed, pouncing to grab him in a tight hug. Steve chuckled and kissed the top of your head, “Yea it’s me baby, who else would it be?” Your eyes shot up to his and your smile faltered, of course, because of your husband’s acute senses he didn’t miss a beat. “Sweets, what’s wrong?” his eyes showing you the beginning glimpses of worry. “Nothing my love, I’m just so glad your back, and I missed you.” He gazes into your eyes and cup’s your cheek, “I missed you too baby.”

You lean into to kiss him and he meets you halfway, he quickly takes over the kiss. Your tongues tangle with each other, then Steve lays you down placing passionate kisses up and down your body. You want him so badly, to taste his skin and his essence, to feel him inside, for you souls to connect on that deeper level again as if that can erase your misdeed. You know you must come clean, the longer you wait the worse it will be, but you can’t bear to tell him now. You don’t want to ruin his homecoming and the moment. Your heart settles with your mind that you will tell him soon, and then you give yourself fully to the moment. When Steve makes it back up your body, you turn him over so he lands on his back against the mattress. You kiss him deeply, and move down to his neck, placing sloppy open mouth kisses along the way. You never did bother with leaving passion marks on Steve, his super-soldier healing factor made such minor bruises disappear within minutes. He sat up and squeezed your supple breasts together with his hands, suckling each nipple and making you quiver.

You bring his chin up and kiss him again, as you lean your body into him to get him to lay back in bed. You move down his body quickly and take his cock into your hand before he can try to sit up again. You place innocent teasing kisses on to the tip and shaft. Looking up at him briefly through your lashes, you see the big beautiful grin you fell in love with smack dab on his face. Yes, you love to see that grin, but that isn’t what you're striving for here. You give him a naughty smile, and turn your attention back to his cock. Stroking it slowly as you lick the tip like a scoop of ice cream on a cone. His hips jerk upward at the feel of your warm tongue against him, and you know you’re headed in the right direction. You took him into your mouth, sucking on him as your hand went up and down his shaft. His hands tried to make their way into your hair as he pushed up into your mouth. You took the hint and went further down on his cock making your nose touch the skin at the base of his cock. Steve groaned loudly, sitting up to pull you from his cock. He rolled to his side, got up on his knees and pulled you flush against his bodied. You could feel his stiffness touching your hip, Steve whispered into your ear, “Get on your hands and knees kitten.” You giggled and kissed him before quickly moving down to the edge of the bed, arching your back with your booty propped up in the air like a bitch in heat. God did you love it when Steve took you from behind, you could feel all of him in this position and he loved the way your ass looked bouncing back after every hit from his pelvis.

Steve came up behind you, rubbing his hands up your thighs to your ass and gave both cheeks firm squeezes, he lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed in slowly. You tremble as you feel him enter you, he grips your shoulders and whispers into your ear, “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Steve always the caring and concerned lover, always made sure you were alright every step of the way. You nod your head in response. He pulls out slightly and slams back into your cunt. A high pitched mewl escapes your mouth, matching Steve’s groan at the impact. Steve picks up the pace quickly, pounding into your wet cunt. You feel his grip tighten on your waist and shoulder, as he works out the tension he’s held from the mission on your body.

As husband and wife, having sex was always like this after each mission and you didn’t mind when Steve took you this way. It saved Tony from having to buy as many punching bag replacements and you got to see Steve’s true carnal side. No one got to see this side of him, with Steve having to carry the weight of prestige that followed being America’s Golden boy. You felt it your duty as his wife to indulge him when this side came out, it was full of raw, unbridled passion. The position, the emotions released, all of it mattered, it was your way of submitting to your husband and letting him know that you were there to help carry his burdens. You felt your orgasm coming quickly, drawing you out of your thoughts. The wave hit you making you scream his name over and over until you were gasping for air. Steve followed right behind, feeling your cunt gripping his cock, he pushed in further holding you steady as he unloaded into you. You collapsed with him catching himself on his hands above you and rolling over to his side facing you. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply, then pulled back and searched your eyes to make sure you were alright. You smiled and nodded back at him, reassuring him everything was alright.

Steve fell asleep quickly, but you sat awake laying on his chest. Your short mental reprieve gone and the reality of your situation flooding your mind. You knew you would have to tell Steve about your infidelity, but you were scared. As you should be, you knew how Steve operated on the right side of things at all times. Cheating was wrong in a relationship, he’d told you that many times when comforting you after you and Bucky’s break up. Now that you and Steve were married, you knew it was going to hit ten times worse, and with it being his best friend (twenty times worse), who was also your ex (thirty times worse).

"I am so screwed", you thought to yourself.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you wake up the next morning to Steve’s sweet kisses and wet hair nuzzling into your neck.

“Good morning kitten.” Steve said as he gazed into your still sleep-filled eyes. You smiled and rubbed his hair, “Good morning Daddy.” Steve kissed you and pulled the covers back, causing you to sit up slightly and give him a curious look.

“Come on kitten we have to get up, the whole team is having breakfast together this morning to kind of unwind from the mission and we have 10 minutes to get ready.”

You got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and hopping in. Steve came in a minute later and began combing his hair in the mirror.

“Kitten did you go to the infirmary while we were gone, you look like you’re feeling a lot better than you did when we left,” Steve said.

You suddenly remembered that you had forgotten to tell Steve about the pregnancy. You decided that now wasn’t a good time, you still needed to tell Steve about you cheating on him. So, you held back the good news for now, because depending on your husband's reaction to the bad news, you weren’t entirely sure the pregnancy would be considered good news.

"Because there’s nothing worse than finding out your ex is pregnant with your child", you thought.

"Yea they said it was a stomach bug…just a little 24-hour thing.” You said nervously over the glass door, thankful that it was frosted glass, so Steve couldn’t see the frown on your face.

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better, I didn’t even think to ask you last night before I took you,” Steve said shaking his head at his lack of oversight.

You stuck your head out of the glass door, “Steve please don’t send yourself on an undeserved guilt trip. If I wasn’t feeling well, I would have told you.” You smiled at Steve hoping to erase whatever guilt he was trying to build up.

Steve looked up at you and smiled, “Somehow I doubt you would have.”

You smiled mischievously at Steve, “Well, I can understand your doubt because Lord knows I do love it when you take me.” You winked and bit your lower lip, causing Steve’s eyes to narrow in lust. Just as you were about to step out of the shower towards Steve, he crossed the space quickly and shut the shower door.

“Hey!” you squeaked out looking at Steve in shock.

Steve smiled and shook his finger at you, “Oh no kitten, we are not about to be late to breakfast.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to Steve, “Fine, spoilsport. I’ll be out in 5.”

“Good girl.” Steve said, “I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

You finished washing up, then went to brush your teeth and wash your face. Looking at yourself in the mirror, your eyes darted away from your face. Unable to look at the adulterer staring back at you. You went into your bedroom and got dressed, then walked into the living room to meet Steve. You two rode the elevator down to the communal floor and walked into the open floor style kitchen hand in hand.

When the doors opened at your destination, you looked around and saw the whole team there, your eyes darted from each face giving them a smile until you laid eyes on Bucky. You saw him stare back at you, you looked away and he turned his attention back to Nat who had her legs draped across his lap.

“Ok, since the love birds are here, we can finally get started,” Tony said grinning at you and Steve.

“Sorry we're late, it was my fault everybody.” You said looking at Steve with a grin, he looked at you with a smirk of his own.

“Oh, don’t try and cover for Steve, Y/N, it def looks like it was a collaborative effort,” Sam said, glancing back and forth between the two of you with a grin.

You turned your face into Steve’s shoulder and giggled, then heard an annoyed grunt come from across the table. You looked over and noticed Bucky staring at you again, you glared back at him, your eyes darting towards Natasha and then to the table. Natasha picked up on the tenseness in your body.

“Y/N, are you alright?”, she said.

You weren’t sure where she was coming from with that comment. You no longer hated Natasha for her part in Bucky breaking your heart, but you two weren’t exactly friends either. She called your name again snapping you out of your thoughts, “Y/N?”

You looked up again at Natasha, “Oh…um, yeah I’m fine, just a little out of it today. Kind of feel like I’m all over the place.” You gave her a fake smile that she read a mile away.

“Well, that can happen to you when you let your husband sex the soul right out of you.” Sam cackled, him and Tony were having too much fun at your and Steve’s expense.

You looked at Steve as he was just about to tell them to stop when everyone heard Bucky yell at the table. “Enough!” Everyone looked at him in shock, “Can we get through one meal without all the sexual innuendos?” You didn’t dare look at Bucky but could see Steve’s face full of appreciation at what he thought was Bucky coming to his rescue yet again.

“Damn, alright Barnes, sheesh!” Sam said rolling his eyes at Bucky’s outburst.

“Oh, ho ho, what’s the matter Barnes, Nat not letting you bury your bone?” Tony replied. Sam and Clint burst out in laughter, Sam because of the challenge and Clint because he knew Nat was going to make Stark pay for his comment later.

“Usually your all for making Steve squirm when it comes to things of a sexual nature.” Sam quipped.

“Why the sudden change in heart?” Tony edged on. Everyone was now looking at Bucky, expecting more out lash.

Bucky smirked and pulled Natasha up into a deep, passionate, tongue filled kiss. You heard the wolf whistles going on around you, save for Steve, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt the tiniest feeling of jealousy. Your hand gripped Steve’s tighter, as you watched Bucky and Natasha make out. They finally broke apart their kiss, Bucky turning to Tony with the smirk back on his face.

“That answer your question, Stark,” Bucky replied sitting back down and wrapping his arm around Natasha’s waist.

“No, it didn’t, but thank you for the show,” Tony replied with a grin.

Everyone dissolved into their own conversations, you made up your mind to keep your attention focused on your husband, and to ignore Bucky, which didn’t go over easily. You could feel him staring at your every so often. It was unnerving, like he was toying with you to see how you would react. It was then that you felt you needed to remind him that you had a husband that you loved dearly.

"If you had done that earlier when he made a pass at you, you wouldn’t be in this position now, stupid slut." your mind lashing out at you again.

You willed your conscience to shut up, turning your body slightly towards Steve, and leaned over and whispered into his ear, all the filthy things you wanted him to do to you when you got back to your room, then you started to tease his ear with your tongue. You could see the blush rising on his skin, you then let your hand slide down to his shirt covered chest moving towards his crotch when you heard the sound of metal being crushed. You and Steve looked up to see Bucky’s metal arm gripping a part of the table causing a major indentation.

“Buck, are you okay?” Steve asked him, his voice full of concern.

Bucky blinked and looked down at the table, looking back up at Steve and replying, “Yeah I’m alright, just need to talk to you later about something.” His eyes darted towards you, seeing your eyes grow big like a deer caught in headlights.

This was it, he was going to tell Steve and ruin everything, Steve would divorce you, Natasha would be upset with Bucky. She wouldn’t leave him though, because he was the “love of her life”. Then you would be all alone, everyone would hate you for betraying Steve.

No fuck that, if I’m going out, I’m going out with a least some shred of decency.” Your mind had decided.

You whispered into Steve’s ear, “When you’re done, can we go back to our room, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Steve looked at you with slight worry, you smiled at him hoping to quell his worries until you could drop the horrible news that would destroy the life you two were trying to build.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything kitten?” Steve asked, noticing you hadn’t put anything on your plate.

“I’m not really hungry at the moment.” You replied staring at your plate in front of you. Steve put down his utensils and grabbed your hand in his, which made you look up.

“Come on, if it’s bothering you enough not to eat, then it can’t wait!” You silently cursed your love of food, it tipped Steve off when you refused to eat.

You glanced back one last time at the table as you and Steve walked back to the room, you caught Bucky staring intently at your retreating form, knowing that he saw the single tear falling down your cheek.

As Steve shut the door, you fidgeted by the door, staring down at your feet. Steve looked at you worriedly, he’d never seen you in such a mess.

“Kitten, we’re alone now. Tell me what’s wrong?”

You sniffled, finding it difficult to let the words escape from your lips.

“Y/N, talk to me, sweets.” He shook his head, “I can’t help the situation if you don’t let me know what it is?” Steve walked over to you and pulled you closer towards the couch he’d been sitting on.

Well it’s now or never, you made your bed (Y/L/N), now it’s time to lay in it…

You looked up at Steve, memorizing his face as if it would be the last time you would ever see it again. You huffed out a breath, “Steve…I..I..slept with Bucky while you and the team were away on the mission.” You kept your gaze down at your shoes afraid to look at your husband.

“(Y/N), what did you just say?” Steve looked at you, his hand deathly still as they held your own.

You struggled to repeat what you just revealed to him. You looked up at him this time, “I had sex with Bucky while you were gone Steve, I’m so sorry, I made a mistake.” Before you could tighten your grip on his hands he stood up and walked to the end of the couch. You looked silently at him, catching his gaze at you just as he threw the end table and lamp at the nearest wall, them smashing completely into pieces. You jumped out of your seat shocked at his behavior, Steve never acted this way when he got bad news, but you willed yourself to remember the severity of the situation. This wasn’t just regular bad news, this was life-altering news.

“(Y/N) why?” The calmness in his voice, giving you a creepy feeling.

You didn’t have a reason why, you know you’re in love with Steve, but there was a part of you that still loved Bucky. You just weren’t sure why that part made you sleep with him. You remained quiet while trembling in shock, you’d never seen Steve like this, his chest heaving, anger and hurt rolling off him. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard banging at the door.

“Steve?” Sam called out.

“Y/N?” Bucky called out.

“Are you guys alright in there?” you heard Tony’s muffled voice from behind the door, one of them twisting at the doorknob.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., block access into our room,” Steve said to the A.I. system, he stepped closer to you, as fear locked you where you stood.

“Y/N, I’m only going to ask you one more time…why?”

“Steve, I made a mistake…”

“I didn’t ask for your sorry ass apology, Y/N, I asked you…” Steve faltered back and shook his head, “Never mind, forget I asked.” He made his way towards the door, and you ran in front of it to stop him, placing your hand on his chest.

“Steve please wait, we need to talk about this, baby please don’t leave.”

Steve pushed your hands away from his body, “Don’t touch me.” He stepped forward again expecting you to step aside. "Y/N move." He stood there waiting for you to move, turning in a circle and trying to calm himself down, he raised his balled fists to his eyes, as if he was in pain.

“Y/N, MOVE!” Steve yelled. You shook your head no, knowing if you moved you wouldn’t know if or when you would see Steve again.

“Steve, please…” you begged as Steve shoved you aside, he swung the door open, not bothering to look at the startled faces near the doorway as he made his way to the elevator.

You stayed on the floor crying into your hands, shocked but not surprised at his reaction. You heard footsteps approach you, a set right near you and two sets away, probably surveying the room. Someone crouched down beside you and whispered in your ear, “Doll did he hurt you?”

You pulled back and started to laugh wildly. “Did he hurt me? You have the fucking nerve to ask me did he hurt me?” You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling, “God, I wish he had because I fucking deserve it.”

Tony and Sam looked at you in incredulity, not sure what to make of what you just said and the slight destruction of the room. By now Wanda, Pietro, Natasha and Vision had made it into the room.

“No one is allowed to hurt you, Y/N, no matter the reason,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. You scoffed and shook his arm from around your shoulders.

“Yea, you say that but it’s always you that ends up hurting me.” You stood up from beside Bucky, you had, had enough. Turning to glance at Natasha and then back down at Bucky, you decided if your ship was going down, so would there’s.

“You cheated on me with Natasha, left me for her, married her. You moved on with your life, and I didn’t interfere once. And when I finally find someone who loves me, the way I’m supposed to be loved, you have the audacity to come back and fuck it up for me again.” Your whole body was shaking, fists balled up at your sides, you felt like you were going to explode.

“Y/N I didn’t make you have sex with me.” Bucky glared at you, glancing out of his peripheral at Natasha.

You shoved your finger into his chest, not afraid of the outcome at this point. “Your right, you didn’t, but you damn sure knew what you were doing when you slow danced with me, kissed me, and made out with me while I remind you, walking me backwards towards my old bedroom. You initiated and I dumbly followed like a pig going to slaughter.”

You rubbed your hand down your face and looked back at Bucky.

“You should be glad though, you got exactly what you wanted...Steve leaving me, so now you don’t have to worry about me being with your best friend anymore.”

You looked around the room, at everyone, different looks of shock and disbelief across their faces, only one with anger.

Natasha

You walked over to her and looked into her eyes, you felt the need to be petty, rise up in you but you wanted to be the bigger woman and felt you had caused enough commotion for one day. You walked out and caught the elevator to your floor. Walking to your old room, and laid in bed for the rest of the day. Day turned into night as you shut yourself off from the rest of the team, no one came by the room, knowing there wasn’t anything that could be said to help rectify the situation. When you woke up from one of your dozing spells, you looked over to see that it was 3 am and looked over knowing Steve wasn’t there. You asked F.R.I.D.A.Y., if there had been any missions the team had been called out on, but none had been mentioned. You wondered where he was, was he just blowing off steam, or doing something worse. You then thought to ask the AI if Steve was in the building, again getting a reply of no.

Three more days passed as you started to get worried, you still hadn’t left your room. Not that the others hadn’t tried to get you to at least come out and get something to eat or drink. Even Bucky tried to get you to come out of your room, F.R.I.D.A.Y. stopping him from getting in as you instructed. You then heard when Natasha, slapped him upside the head and dragged him away from the door. You mentally said a “thank God” for the redhead, for the first time in a long while. You left dozens of messages and tried calling on day 5, but found Steve’s phone was off, sending you straight to voicemail.

After day 7 you sent a message to Tony, asking if he’d heard from Steve, hearing a no from him got you even more worried. “You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you? What if he’s hurt? Or Hydra has gotten a hold of him?” you asked Tony frantically over the phone.

Tony sighed into the phone, "Y/N I’m sure he’s fine, I can’t track him because he’s turned everything off, cell phone, comlink, trackers. He probably just needs a little time to collect himself. I’m sure he’ll be back as soon as he’s ready. Don’t worry yourself hon, ok? Now, will you please come out of your room and eat something? I’m pretty sure when he makes it back, he won’t want you to be skin and bones.”

You spoke with Tony a few more minutes, agreeing to come out of your room and eat something. When you came out of the elevator, you weren’t expecting everyone, minus Bucky and Natasha to be there. Tony had pulled one over on you, making you believe everyone was otherwise occupied. You tried to head back to the elevator but Wanda caught you before you could and steered you towards the table. You sat, too ashamed to look at anyone, you weren’t exactly in the mood to sit for the judge and jury.

Tony broke the ice saying that you were still their teammate and that you and Steve’s personal business would remain personal and wouldn’t be up for discussion. You gave him a small grateful smile and ate, you declined the invitation to watch movies and retreated to your room.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #steve x reader #steve x y/n #bucky Barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky #steve #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky x female reader #steve x female reader #possessive bucky

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rhodanum · 5 years ago

Text

COVID-19 roller-coaster

Despite its personal nature, I'm making this entry public, since it may be of aid to others as well, in these circumstances. Particularly for people who might end up having highly atypical symptoms like I did.

Long story short, I've been scarce from most forms of social-media for over a month because I caught COVID-19 some time before my country instituted lockdown measures. I was in hospital from the start to the middle of April (roughly two weeks) and started showing symptoms as early as March 18 (runny nose, sneezing, that I ascribed to a common cold, since at that time they weren't considered something that could present in the case of COVID-19). It took me well over a week and a half of battling symptoms at home and calling four ambulances in that time-frame, always getting dismissed on account of my symptoms not matching up with the standards presentation (aside for the runny nose and sneezing, the vast majority of my symptoms have been gastrointestinal, neurological and renal in nature, not pulmonary) before I was finally tested (on April 1st) and admitted to hospital the following day, when the test came back positive.

My timeline of events has been the following (and I'm still currently symptomatic + showed one new COVID-specific symptom even after two negative tests and discharge from hospital):

March 18 - March 23 -- constantly runny nose, post-nasal drip, sneezing all the time, a light cough. Nothing too bothersome, I dismissed it as a seasonal cold. At this point I started burping heavily, out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason.

March 24 -- woke up with a terrible back-pain, roughly in the area of both kidneys. The pain lessened as the day went on. In the evening, I had my first very clear neurological symptom -- my eyesight filled with a sort of black static (like a TV without cable signal), to the point where I could no longer read letters, discern my own features in the mirror or tell how many fingers my father was holding up. Thinking I was having a stroke or hell knows what else, I called an ambulance. The static-like effect lasted around 20 minutes and was completely gone by the time an ambulance crew arrived. They checked my blood-pressure and it was high due to the panic (174/109), so they dismissed the static as a result of the high BP and gave me an ACE-inhibitor pill to lower it.

March 25 -- started feeling kind of grotty around lunch-time. At around five in the afternoon, I vomited up all of my lunch completely undigested. An hour later, the true wave arrived. I went to the toilet with explosive, orange-colored, watery diarrhea, massive urination (wasn't drinking more fluids than usual) and vomiting, all at the exact same time. I'm not joking in the slightest when I say that I had my head in the sink, to puke and my ass in the toilet, to pee and shit out orange water, all three at the same time. The puking subsided, but the diarrhea and the urination kept up and, for the next two hours, I went to the toilet to shit and pee every fifteen minutes. By this point I was getting dangerously dehydrated, so we called our GP. She, suspecting it might be Norovirus, told me that the diarrhea needs to be stopped ASAP and my father went to buy me the necessary medicine.

March 26 -- the diarrhea was relatively under control due to the medication, but I was still pissing buckets and having to constantly drink tea to stay hydrated, with how fast my kidneys were clearing fluids. The light cough that started on March 18 got a bit worse, but not by much. I had no appetite whatsoever and attempted to eat a little at lunch, but only ended up puking again. I was worried enough about the whole thing that I called an ambulance again. The doctors claimed it couldn't be COVID-19 (by this point I was reading reports of diarrhea as a common early symptom). He listened to my lungs and said they're clear. Then he gave me an anti-emetic shot in the bum (so I wouldn't keep throwing up) and tapped my kidneys a few times. When I flinched, he said it might be a urinary tract infection and prescribed me a list of medication, with the antibiotic Ciprofloxacin at the front of it (keep this one in mind, it's very relevant for what happened next). I didn't actually have any pain when I urinated and the urine itself wasn't dark, but rather almost as colorless as water. I was just peeing far too much and the area round my kidneys was tender.

March 27 -- woke up with a persistent cough early in the morning and a sensation of tickling in the throat, which made the cough worse. This morphed into a very specific kind of migraine, starting from the very back of the skull and radiating to the front, to the point where the backs of my eyes hurt terribly as well. Still peeing a ton and drinking tea and water to stay hydrated. General state of malaise, as if there was something terribly toxic in my body, leeching all the strength and vitality out of it. Started taking the UTI antibiotic (Ciprofloxacin). My eyelids were twitching involuntarily and I had an up-and-down sensation, with some parts of the day being slightly better (able to sit at my desk and watch an episode of a show) and others, just one or two hours later, making me feel so horrid that all I could do was lie motionless in bed. Still had no appetite and force myself to eat a bit of vegetable broth Dad made for me.

March 28 -- horrendous night between the 27th and the 28th. A sensation like a knot developed in my throat and got worse and worse. To the point where, at around three in the morning, I could no longer swallow my own saliva. I could still breathe perfectly fine, no shortness of breath of anything else like that, but the feeling was as if my esophagus went and swelled shut. I had to gather up a large quantity of saliva in my mouth, tip my head back and struggle for several dozen seconds, to be able to swallow. I very nearly choked when trying to take my medication in the morning, after a sleepless night. The inability to swallow subsided, but the sensation of a knot in the throat remained. Feeling of malaise and weakness grew worse. A sensation of brain-fog came on and I could no longer focus on anything. I attempted to read fic on my phone and just ended up reading the same chapter three dozen times, because my brain could no longer process the words. Difficulty speaking and articulating my thoughts. I could still think well enough, but translating said thoughts to words or writing was incredibly difficult. I spent a whole minute just trying to get the word 'insulin' out through my mouth. I knew it, I remembered it, I just couldn't transform it from a thought into a word without a great deal of effort.

March 29 -- another nightmarish night. Not due to problems swallowing, but inability to actually fall asleep. All attempts went the exact same way:

closed eyes and attempted to fall asleep

started hearing a loud, constant and almost nonsensical monologue in my head, in my own voice, often jumping from one language to the other (English, Romanian, Italian, etc all languages I knew). It's difficult for me to describe the contents now, since they barely made any sense, but they were almost everything from a recitation of a shopping list all the way to narratives that didn't make any sense ("and then, get this, the clock bashed his face in!")

started seeing images behind my eyelids, almost as nonsensical as the words -- parades of wild color, me falling through Salvador Dali-like landscapes, images shifting hundreds of times per minute

None of these were dreams, everything was happening while I was still awake and struggling to fall asleep. I'd close my eyes, struggle mightily to empty my head and go the fuck to sleep... and within seconds, the cavalcade of words and disjointed images would erupt again, with me having almost no control over it. After a few minutes I always found the strength to jerk up and open my eyes, which silenced the voice and ended the images... but then I'd have to try closing my eyes again and the circus would repeat again. This happened hundreds of times over the entire night, before I was finally able to fall asleep for a few hours, at six on the morning.

Woke up absolutely soaked in incredibly foul-smelling sweat. So much of it that my bedsheets were wet as well, not just my pajamas.Used what little strength I had to strip the bed, take a shower and change my pajamas. By lunch I was feeling the worst I'd ever felt, shaking convulsively without having any kind of fever and begging 112 (our emergency number) for help. Several friends were worried I might be going into some kind of shock. Our ambulance service was swamped and Dad used his connections to get a hazmat-equipped team to come home and test me for COVID-19. The hazmat team claimed, like the previous ambulance crew, that I couldn't have COVID-19 since I didn't have a fever and wasn't coughing my head off. I pressed to get taken to the hospital and tested, but between them berating me for taking the risk and Dad looking petrified at the idea of me going to a hospital (and getting exposed, at this time he was still convinced I just had a strange flu), I caved and remained home. They said I was probably having an anxiety attack and left.

March 30 -- yet another sleepless night with visual and auditory hallucinations whenever I attempted to fall asleep. Utterly desperate and frantic, I spent the night scouring the Internet for links between COVID-19 and other viral illnesses and hallucinations. In the end, while reading the prospects for all the pills I was taking, I found the culprit -- the goddamn Ciprofloxacin, the antibiotic for the presumed UTI (the area around my kidneys still kept hurting, but the urination continued to be painless, clear and frequent). Hallucinations and psychotic episodes were listed as one of its 'rare side-effects'. Not so rare in my case and other researchers are now taking a hard look at it and other antibiotics in its family, since the numbers of people who end up hallucinating while on the things is apparently larger than previously suspected.

I immediately contacted my GP, who was shocked at what reaction my body ended up having to Cipro. Nevertheless, she immediately switched me over to another antibiotic we had in the house -- Augmentin, a more broad-spectrum one, but one I'd taken in the past for bacterial infections and responded well to. Urinating slightly less and able to eat a bit more, but the pain in the kidney area was getting worse.

March 31 -- night hallucinations continued, but at a slightly reduced intensity, once off Cipro. Woke up completely covered in horrible-smelling sweat once again. Left arm numb and then painful, a reaction I was left with after a long bout of the monster-flu two years ago left me with peripheral nerve-damage due to the immune system going completely bonkers and attacking the nerves. This symptom appearing again made it clear that I was experiencing autoimmune issues once again, as a result of my immune system fighting against the SARS-CoV2 virus.

The pain in the kidney-area was growing worse and worse, even with the Augmentin treatment. By evening, I'd called a fourth ambulance in roughly seven days. The paramedics were even more dismissive than the last crew, said I just had some sand or maybe a small kidney-stone and to wait it out at home. They completely refused to take me to the hospital, claiming that I ran the risk of a COVID-19 infection over a small issue.

April 1 -- a slightly better night of sleep, the hallucinations reduced to 10% of their previous intensity, so clearly an effect of the Cipro. The brain-fog was still presence and further research pointed to it as a possible effect of COVID-19, rather than the antibiotic. Woke up drenched in sweat once again, with my cervical area hurting horribly, my kidneys in pain as well and my left arm numb once more. Completely furious and utterly fed-up, I said "fuck the ambulance service!" and begged Dad to take me to the nearest ER by car. By this point I was fearing for my kidneys and feeling so horrid that I was 100% willing to take the chance of COVID-19 infection, if I didn't have it, just to figure out what the bleeding fuck what happening to my body. He refused initially, fearing I would be infected, but was left with no choice in the matter when I threatened to walk to the hospital by myself if he wasn't willing to help.

At the ER closest to our apartment, a hazmat-equipped doctor working triage had me sit down and fill up a questionnaire of symptoms. Even without fever or difficulty breathing or persistent cough (my cough came only in the morning and lasted just a few minutes each day), everything else was enough to make him note "possible COVID-19" and give me a paper to present to our national institute of infectious diseases, so I could get tested. So Dad and me left the ER and drove to Matei Bals Institute, where the doctors were rather puzzled by me, coming in without a fever and not coughing my lungs out. The chest x-ray turning out perfect (nothing in the lungs) only seemed to increase their skepticism, but they nevertheless tested me, before sending me home and telling me I'd receive the result in 24 hours. Their only recommendation was to talk to a nephrologist on the phone, re: the kidneys.

April 2 -- felt slightly better, though still under heavy malaise and the kidneys were more painful than ever. At about nine in the evening I got a phone call from our local public health authorities, who told me that my RT-PCR test for COVID-19 was positive. Honestly? Instead of being frightened, I was relieved. After almost two weeks of the strangest collection of symptoms I'd ever had, I finally had an explanation as to what on earth was causing them and was vindicated re: the four ambulance crews that dismissed me. The authorities sent an ambulance that picked me up, right along with Dad (quite unwillingly in his case, he only had some sniffles and a minor indigestion, despite having nursed me for well over a week). We got taken back to Matei Bals Institute, where Dad was tested and sent back home (since he didn't have much in the way of symptoms and they had no reason to keep him) and I was admitted into one of the wards. The time was roughly two in the morning.

April 3 -- barely slept due to the noise and light in the ward. Had blood drawn, for blood-work. Malaise as terrible as ever. Started treatment with HCQ (Plaquenil), the anti-malaria drug. The rest of my ward-mates were absolute sweethearts, but I was much too weak to do much other than get out of bed to trudge to the communal bathroom down the hall. Urination (which had slowly reduced in frequency from March 25) still a bit more frequent than usual. Begged the doctor for something to let me sleep and was given a few metallic-tasting, oily drops to drink in the evening. Had the first good night of sleep in well over a week.

April 4 -- at this point, the kidney pain got so bad that I could barely walk to the bathroom and would grit my teeth in pain whenever I sat down in the bed. Asked one of the nurses for help, with no visible result. The pain was getting worse and I could no longer get out of bed, just lying there in a listless lump. Several of the other people in the beds next to me went to pound on the door separating the 'red zone' from the 'green zone' and demanded that the nurses or doctor see to me. In the end, a young nurse came and struggled for almost thirty minutes to get an IV in me. She was inexperienced and, coupled with having to wear three pairs of gloves and a visor on her face, she could barely see or feel my veins. The result was that she ended up blowing thee of my veins (two on the right hand, one on the left) before she finally managed to get the IV needle in and secured it. Then I got put on a heavy-duty regimen of IV Ceftriaxone (antibiotic), hydration fluids and painkillers, for the next few days.

April 5 - 7 -- slowly got better on the IV regimen. Gained a bit more strength, the pain in the kidney area subsided and I could walk again. Gave urine samples twice and they came back clean (no bacterial infection in the kidneys or urinary tract). On April 6 we were told that the whole lot of us (the seven of us crowded in that ward and everyone else in the same wing of the Institute) would be transferred the next day to Colentina Hospital, just a stone's throw away, which had been officially designated as a COVID-19 support unit. The reasoning was that we'd be placed in smaller wards and the Matei Bals Institute could focus on the critical and very difficult cases, that required everything from oxygen support to full intubation. My IV needle was removed on April 7 and we, dragging our luggage after us, walked from our wing at Matei Bals to the entrance to Colentina, just two hundred meters away. We were dispersed all over the Internal Medicine wing and I got lucky enough to be placed in a room with just two beds, sharing with a lovely 81 year-old lady, who was COVID-19 positive, but utterly asymptomatic. Got blood drawn again and also had an EKG done (no cardiac abnormalities). Also had another x-ray, lungs still entirely clear. Got tested for COVID-19 once again, but the result came back 'inconclusive' the next day. The treatment with Plaquenil was ceased and I received no further medication, save for what I requested to handle inconsistent stools.

April 8 - 9 -- kept getting stronger and stronger, able to sit out of bed and walk for extensive periods of time. Bowels still somewhat disturbed and shifting between constipation and diarrhea and then back again,with the stool always being a bright, sun-yellow. Otherwise no pains or other malaise present. Got tested for COVID-19 once more on April 9.

April 10 -- some of the first ever symptoms I had, in middle March (runny nose, sneezing, stomach constantly full of air and always burping) came back at this point, along with noticeable muscle soreness in my upper arms and shoulders, even though I'd never made any great physical effort. The test taken on April 9 came back 'negative', so the doctors ignored me when I told them that I was having old symptoms come in for an encore. Tested once again.

April 11 -- the burping and stomach-distention due to air grew worse. The 'knot in throat' symptom returned. The test from April 10 came back 'negative' as well and since I fulfilled the criteria of two negatives in 24 hours, I was discharged and had Dad come and pick me up. The Colentina doctors, completely inexperienced re: COVID-19, claimed that my gastro symptoms were likely caused by something else.

April 12 - 16 -- uncertain period, with the typical 'up and down' pattern making a return. One day I was feeling fine and had energy, the other way I was wiped out and could barely get out of bed. Frequent urination (once every twenty minutes) decided to make a return as well and I broke down in tears. Also got a brand-new symptom -- pink-eye straight out of nowhere, which has also been associated with COVID-19 infection.

April 17 -- worst day since the first ones in hospital. Completely exhausted and dealing with a horrible pain at the base of my skull, that was pulsing slowly, radiating down the spinal column and up into the skull. Doesn't respond to Paracetamol and I didn't want to risk taking Ibuprofen. Getting dehydrated due to the constant urination once more, so I started drinking water with electrolytes whenever I could. Fell down on my way to the bathroom, when a veil of darkness passed over my eyes for a few seconds. Everything was spinning and I felt as if I was disassociating and floating away from my own body. Felt better only after more water with electrolytes.

April 18 - 20 -- still felt crappy, but marginally better than on the 17th. Pumped myself full of vitamin C, vitamin D (have a long-standing deficiency there), magnesium and potassium from bananas, kale, spinach, probiotics from yogurt with live cultures in it, to re-balance my likely ravaged gut flora. My appetite, decent in the hospital and shot to pieces again on the 17th, was slowly making a comeback once more. Still burping and full of air no matter what I ate, still pissing frequently. One of the things with COVID-19 was that it made my GERD flare up about ten times worse than usual. Started treating it with a proton-pump inhibitor (Omez) which handled the extra acidity and the heartburn, but not the burping and trapped air. Kidney region started hurting again and at this point I didn't know if it even was the kidneys themselves (both urine samples and blood-work in the hospital showed no problem whatsoever with the kidney function, in spite of the weird symptoms) or just nerve-pain in the area of the kidneys.

April 21 - 23 -- slowly gained strength once more, able to get out of bed and work at my PC. Pain in the kidney region came and went, urination slowly started to reduce in frequency once again. Still drinking water with electrolytes, taking vitamins, eating as varied as I can.

April 24 -- best day so far today (hope I don't bloody jinx it). Energy levels almost back to my baseline, though still left with burping, constant air in stomach and general laziness in digestion. Stool of normal frequency, color and texture after the probiotic regimen. Left with lingering nerve-pain in the cervical area, the shoulders, the lower left ribs in the front and the lower back. Urination frequency reducing to more normal levels once again, feeling less like a constantly dehydrated prune.

It's been... almost five weeks since the first symptoms. A long and exhausting ride and I still don't know what might pop up again. But still far preferable to those poor souls who end up unable to breathe and in full-blown ARDS, needing to be sent straight into the ICU.

Why did I have another flare-up, after two negative tests? Your guess is as good as mine, right now. I have a few theories:

consistent with those articles coming out of South Korea, false negative results might be more widespread than we suspect, in some cases. Either because the virus might be able to hide in the central nervous system and pop back up again for another tangle with one's immunity or because the immune response can lower viral concentration in the body enough for a test to come back negative, without the virus actually being defeated for good.

the test results are correct, the virus is gone from my body and all of what I'm still dealing with are a the result of post-viral systemic inflammation. Not an unlikely thing, since I have a short history of dealing with autoimmune bullshit after that flu two years ago left me with enough nerve-damage that I was unable to walk for a whole month and took six months to recover fully + still wake up with the left side of the body temporarily numb and huge pain in the spinal column if I ever sleep on a shitty mattress, that doesn't offer decent back support.

I want to do more blood-work, see if markers for autoimmune activity show up, but unfortunately, that's pretty difficult to do now, with most hospitals up to their eyeballs in COVID-19 and private clinics charging an eye-watering price for such tests. Dad is almost broke until pay-day, due to how much money he spent in the last month on medicine for me, so it will have to wait or we'll figure something out if my situation worsens again and it becomes imperative to get treatment against autoimmune response. Taking this thing one day at a time.

An overview of my COVID-19 symptoms, good to keep an eye out for:

Gastrointestinal:

explosive, orange, foul-smelling diarrhea

excessive flatulence

vomiting

aggressive flare-up of GERD

excessive burping

swollen, painful stomach due to constantly trapped air

difficulty swallowing

feeling of knot stuck in throat

lack of appetite

Neurological:

temporarily failing vision due to static-like images over the eye's perception

twitching eyelids

nerve-pain in the cervical area

migraine starting at the back of the head and radiating to the backs of the eyes

nerve-pain in all sorts of odd places, coming and going (the left ankle, the left front rib, the right back rib, the kidney area)

dizziness

brain-fog and temporary difficulty with focusing / with coherent speech

Renal:

very frequent urination, though blood-work indicated no disfunctionality with the kidneys

Upper respiratory:

runny nose, post-nasal drip

sneezing

light cough, early in the morning, accompanied by a ticking in the throat sensation that set it off

Unsure how to categorize:

foul-smelling night-sweats, intense enough to soak through clothes and sheets

pink-eye

No shortness of breath, no fever, no lung involvement in my case. This is a virus that the human body responds to in ridiculously varied ways, from that cute little old lady at Colentina, who was totally asymptomatic, to me, where it manifested almost like bloody cholera (the violent diarrhea, vomiting and pissing at the same time, like something was trying to squeeze all of the water out of my body), to one of my ward-mates at Matei Bals, who had developed pneumonia and required moderate oxygen support and was well on the mend when we got dispersed, to the unfortunate souls who end up in ICU with ARDS.

Take care of yourselves, be vigilant and stay safe.

#rho rambles #covid #covid19

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