#wh discharge

[roosterr]

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines. 

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up  around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

[aurorawritestoescape]

FILL ME UP || Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,3k

Summary: Joel and you can’t get enough of each other

Or Joel stuffs you full to the brim

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, pwp, horny!Joel, cum kink, cum play, unprotected piv (duh), creampies, cum talk, dirty talk, fingering, sex toy talk. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions

A/n: Dedicated to all my fellow creampie lovers🤍Kisses to my beta @milla-frenchy😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

same couple HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

“Where, baby?”

“Inside, Joel, please, inside.”

“Oh, yeahh,” Joel moans when his balls draw up and he begins pumping his cum into your spent pussy. You accept it greedily with your arms and legs tightly wrapped around his body.

As soon as his cock discharges the last rope of his warm load, he falls down on you, covering you fully with his huge heavy body.

Yet his weight is never suffocating, only comforting.

Just like his love.

“That was amazing,” he mumbles into your ear, words muffled by his and your panting. For a few minutes you’re lying in each other’s arms, relishing these moments of intimacy.

Then Joel sits up on his heels between your open legs and runs his fingers through his curls, darker with sweat, pushing them off his handsome face. Your body might be satiated for now but your eyes are always hungry for him so you’re feasting on the image of his strong torso, glistening with postfuck dew. It seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

“Look, baby, I’m sipping out,” he comments while his eyes are focused on your still clenching hole, stretched by his girthy cock. You feel his cum slide down between your asscheeks, the sensation arousing especially with Joel’s lustful stare glued to your pussy.

“Oh…enjoying the view?” you ask, curling your lips, which are puffy after Joel’s kisses.

“Fuck, yeah. Can I push it back?” he asks, not tearing his eyes off your cunt, leaking his cum.

“Ok.”

Biting his lower lip, Joel brings his hand to your pussy and glides two fingers up between your asscheeks, gathering the runaway cum, and slowly and gently pushes them into your hole. You wantonly moan his name, watching his digits disappear in your pussy.

“Ya like that, baby?”

“Yes and no. Still very sensitive,” you reply, feeling a little sore, but Joel doesn’t stop moving his thick fingers in and out of your entrance, and soon any discomfort vanishes, and your walls greedily clamp around his digits.

“I have a feeling you want me to continue.”

Proving him right, you close your eyes and push your head back into the pillow, drowning fast in the pleasure of his caress.

“Damn, baby, ya makin’ me wanna go again.”

“Can you?” you purr, as your eyes flutter open.

“Not yet, minx. But I can play with you.”

With a naughty smirk, he pulls his fingers out and moves them up and around your oversensitive clit, careful not to graze it with his seed-covered pads.

“Your cum’s the best lube,” you murmur, “but I love it inside me more. Do you like coming inside me, Joel?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why? It’s not because you want me to get pregnant, right?” you smile, watching him coat your folds with his spend.

“No, I don’t. Well… I guess the instinct is still here.”

His hand slithers up your mound and to your belly where he rubs it gently.

“I jus’ love leaving you a part of me.”

Joel’s confession paired with his shy smile fill your belly with butterflies. His thumb caresses your skin and he continues,

“Also, ya know, imagining you leaking me for days gets me crazy hard. Thinking of your pussy wet and shiny with my cum when you go about your day. Damn, I’m getting hard again.”

“Really?” Your ears perk up and you lift yourself on your elbows.

“Want my dick, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.”

The next moment he grabs his cum-covered cock and pushes it into your already full pussy with one determined thrust. Joel moans, the sound alone is the best compliment.

“Damn,” he groans, as his head falls back. “I should do it more often.”

“What?”

“Fuck my cum back into you.”

“My god, Joel,” you whine, reveling in the sensation of his stiff length claiming your pussy again, while another climax is already building.

“What about you?” he asks, accentuating the last word with a deep stroke of his hips.

“What?”

Your mind is clouded with lust and pleasure.

“Why do you love me coming inside, baby?”

“Same as you, Joel,” you reply, breathing heavily while he starts pounding your cunt faster. “I love when you give me a part of yourself. And it turns me on when I feel your cum between my folds the next day— Ahh— it’s like you just fucked me and stuffed me again. Or like your cock—ahh— still deep in my pussy— filling me.”

“Damnit, baby. Gonna make me come again too soon.”

“Please, Joel.”

“What? Give you more?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

You smile, hearing his words, so sweet, accompanied by the obscene squelching of your pussy around his huge cock.

“And it’s a reminder that I made you feel good and now I get to keep the result. Like a gold medal.”

Joel chuckles, eyes hazy and blown out.

After a few moments of railing you, he growls through gritted teeth trying not to bust his load just yet,

“Ya know what I wanna try on you?”

“What, Joel?”

“A pussy plug.”

Your whole being is focused on the bliss between your legs, on the man you love, towering over you, and you think it’s impossible to be more turned on right now, but a new wave of lust floods your core and a needy moan escapes your parted lips.

“You like the idea, baby?” Joel asks through heavy panting. “Imagine me plugging you. Jus’ storin’ my cum in you. Keeping my load warm and your pussy full.”

“Like your cock is still there?” You whine, barely able to concentrate, the sensations and the arousal, overwhelming you.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds fun. Maybe not very comfortable but—“

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I wanna try.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll have your cum inside me all day. So hot.”

“Fuck yeah.”

You know your words are driving you both insane with want while his cock is rutting into you but it’s impossible to stop now.

“Imagine how hard you’ll get from knowing that I’m working, wearing it. Or grocery shopping, with your load inside me.”

“Hnggg…,” is all Joel can muster to say between your words, driving you both insane with want, and his cock, rutting into you relentlessly.

“And when the day is over you’ll get between my thighs and pull it out.”

“Shit. What’s next baby?”Joel asks, biting his plush lower lip.

“Then you’ll tell me to lick the plug clean.”

“Fuck, dirty girl.”

“Yeah. I’ll be tasting your cum and my slick, sucking on it, while your cock pushes into me. Into my flooded pussy.”

“You’ll be so fucking wet.”

“And leaking, Joel. Just imagine the sounds my full pussy’ll make when you’re fucking me.”

“Just like now. Fuck, gotta fill you more. Your belly’s gonna bulge soon with all the cum ima give you.”

“Yes, Joel.”

You’re completely gone now, eyes closed, fingers twitching your pebbled nipples, while Joel’s snapping his hips fast and hard against your ass.

“Damn, my thighs and balls are fucking drenched. So much cum already. Bet your little asshole covered in it too.”

“Ahhhh, Joel, I’m coming.”

“Yeah, c’mon, baby. Squeeze my dick, make me jizz again inside this needy cunt.”

You explode on his cock, curling your toes and crying out with euphoria, that’s shaking your body and making every nerve light up.

Your clamping pussy sends Joel over the edge, and he begins squirting his fresh load into you, still moving his cock, slowly but assertively mixing the old cum with the new inside your pulsating core.

When his balls are empty, Joel lies on top of you and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Don’t pull out,” you mumble, barely able to speak, “You’ll be my plug for now.”

Joel smirks against your cheek, before kissing you,

“Always happy to be your plug, dirty girl.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖🌺

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[ofspacecrafts]

After the shooting, Buck comes over one night after Eddie is discharged and they’re playing video games with Chris . It’s something sports related. But after Chris goes to bed they switch to something else because he’d be mad if they went to the next level without him.

It’s a game with guns and explosions which never bothered Eddie before, even after the army. But the volumes on loud and the first time Buck hits a target they both drop their controllers.

Eddie is still almost like he’s barely breathing and he’s staring at the floor.

Buck is wide eyed , gasping for air, shaking.

Eddie looks at him and reaches out a hand.

Eddie speaks first. “I don’t remember much. But guess you do?”

Buck nods.

Eddie continues “I remember the sound. And I remember you.” Eddie’s breathing is heavier and he’s shaking his legs nervously.

Buck chokes back a sob. He still can’t speak. So he moves closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s back and pulling him back toward him .

They stay like this for a while in silence. Eddie’s hand on Buck’s knee and Buck’s in Eddie’s hair.

Buck speaks first “You asked if I was hurt. You were bleeding out and you asked if I was hurt.”

Eddie inhales sharply “It’s all I remember . You covered in blood and I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Wh-what..?” Bucks voice is barely a whisper.

Eddie tilts his head back to look up at Buck. “I meant what I said. You think you’re expendable and you’re not.”

Buck blinks back tears , trying hard not to have them fall in Eddie’s head.

It’s silent for a few minutes.

Eddie let’s out a shaky laugh “Guess we should get rid of this game?”

Buck laughs too and pulls them back further onto the couch , Eddie resting his head on Buck’s chest. In this moment, Eddie knows they’re going to be ok.

Hours later Eddie blinks awake. Buck is snoring softly , his hand still resting in Eddie’s hair.

Tomorrow I’m going to tell him I’m in love with him, he decides. And he’s no longer scared that he won’t be loved back.

[medusapelagia]

Back home

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 21: hate this town) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Eddie & Gareth, Eddie & Wayne, mention of Steve/Eddie TW: f word, homophobia Words: 1000

Eddie gets inside the trailer, grabs a couple of beers, and goes back outside. Gareth takes one and cracks it open while Eddie sits next to him on the picnic table, their massive boots on the bench while they stare at the trailer.

“I fucking hate this town.” Eddie murmurs, drinking his beer so fast that it dribbles down his neck and he cleans himself with the back of his hand before throwing the metal can against the side of the trailer. On the wall, someone spray-painted the word faggot in big bold black letters. The smell of the spray paint is still lingering in the air.

It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. Things like this seem to keep happening, especially now that Steve and he are officially out of the closet. First his van, now the trailer.

Cowards. 

At their feet, there’s a bucket, two sponges, and two pairs of yellow rubber gloves.

“Maybe you should ask Wayne to move in with you.” Gareth suggests, staring at the offensive word, “The apartment you got in Indy is big enough for the two of you.” 

Eddie sighs, closing his hand in a fist. He has asked Wayne to move in with him more than once but he always refused. Eddie even told him he could have helped him find a place just for him, but Wayne is a stubborn bastard who lived all his life in Hawkins and isn't going to leave, no matter what.

And there's Benny too.

The two men have danced around each other for the past twenty years and their dance isn't going to end anytime soon.

Eddie sighs, grabbing the yellow gloves and starting to rub the side of the trailer with soapy water.

It took almost two hours but in the end, the slur was just a blurred stain that they almost managed to scrub away. 

The blue and red lights of a police car make Eddie turn, just in time to see a familiar truck parking in front of the trailer.

“Are you having fun boys?” Hopper says, getting out of the car, his right-hand thumb between his belt and his pants.

“The fuck do you want?” Eddie snarls.

“We received a few phone calls down at the station tonight, reporting a public nuisance.”

“How convenient.” Gareth chuckles, “Did we disturb the sleep of any of these dickheads? Maybe if they had called the police before we wouldn’t have had to make too much noise in the middle of the night!” Gareth replies angrily, stepping toward Hopper, while Eddie grabs him by his arm.

“Down boy, it’s not Hopper's fault if this town sucks.”

Jim Hopper frowns, taking off his hat and rubbing a hand through his hair, “Come on boys, whatever you’re doing just stop it before I have to take you to the station.”

Gareth kicks the bucket, dumping the soapy water on the ground with a low growl, “What do you think we were doing, Hop? Playing music too loud? Or screaming like hyenas praising the devil in a satanic ritual? We were cleaning the stupid trailer!”

Hopper raises an eyebrow in confusion and walks toward the back of the trailer, pointing his flashlight against the trailer's wall. The word is long gone but it doesn’t take a genius to understand that it was an insult.

“Do you know who did that?”

“They didn’t leave a signature or a confession, sorry,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes, while he grabs the discharged bucket and the gloves.

“If someone saw something…” Hopper insists.

“Do you really think that the trailer’s park inhabitants will come to the station to tell you what the fuck happen? They want to avoid the police as much as they can. I’m pretty surprised someone even called you.” Eddie chuckles softly, pinching his nose.

“I’ll ask someone to patrol the area and…”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re leaving soon.” Eddie replies, taking one cigarette from the packet Hopper is offering him, “It’s always such a pleasure to be back home.”

“This is a small town, people have a close mentality.”

“Don’t tell me.” Eddie rebukes, while Gareth is at his side seething. It’s cute how angry he gets on Eddie's behalf.

“Gonna play at the HideOut tomorrow night, for the old times' sake. You coming?”

“El talked my ears off. We’ll be there. El, Will, even Joyce. You promise me no blood or bats on stage, right?”

“I’m no Ozzy Osburne, I’m just the town faggot.”

Hopper doesn't reply, breathing in some smoke, “Steve?” he asks after a long moment of silence.

“He hates this town even more than me. Said he’s not going to step foot in Hawkins for the rest of his life. Can’t really blame him, you know?”

If Eddie was always used to being the talk of the town, for Steve became the favorite subject of town gossip was a trauma. Yeah, he punched Andy in the face when he dared to ask him who was ‘the girl’ in their relationship, but he didn’t speak to Eddie for a week after that.

A familiar coughing van joins them, “Did something happen?” Wayne asks, studying the situation before jumping to any conclusion.

“Same old story. Someone left a message for me on the trailer, but Gar and I already cleaned it up and Hop said he’s going to patrol the area, so..."

Wayne steps closer and hugs Eddie tight, “I’m so sorry, Ed. Maybe I should move with you.”

Eddie shrugs, even if he moves, Gar, Jeff, and Freak’s families are still in Hawkins. Corroded Coffin is chained to that fucking town, no matter what.

“Why don’t we go to sleep? It was a long night for everyone.” Eddie suggests, then turns toward Hopper, “Do you mind driving Gareth back home?”

The policeman shakes his head, promising once more that he’ll put someone on patrol.

Back into his childhood room, Eddie sighs. One more night and he’ll be back home.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Stars and Seas: A Drowned Tale

Years ago, I made a short story titled "The Drowned", which featured Matthew and Lyrus, a Human and a Merfolk variant called "Drowned", who fell for one another and became eternal lovers.

I'm happy to say that, years later, I have a continuation of this story just as well! Stars and Seas: A Drowned Tale features the former side character Ilias, and a new character, Thompson.

Story below the cut.

Words: 4468

Days off for Thompson were extremely rare. Hospice required constant attention from the nurse, but ever since Matthew was discharged, the man found himself with more free time than usual. Matthew was the main resident to whom Thompson was assigned, and without any new residents since, the nurse had little to do.

With a full free weekend, Thompson decided to visit the boardwalk on the edge of town. It was the location’s prime attraction, with a small amusement park and multiple boardwalk games. Pizza, chicken, fries, burgers, you name it and the stalls sold it.

Alone, Thompson wandered across the wooden planks, looking at various carnies who called to families with their children, friends with their friends, and couples with their lovers.

Yet there he was.

Alone.

The man’s heart grew heavy, but no less he walked toward one stall, and pulled out the wallet in his pocket.

“What can I get you, sir?” the lady asked.

Thompson looked up, and pointed to a bag of green cotton candy. “I’d like that bag please,” he said. “Is debit ok?”

The woman nodded, reaching to pull the bag off its hook from the overhang. “That’ll be five dollars,” she said. “Anything else you need?”

“Actually yes. May I please have a bottle of water?”

“Sure thing!” The woman set the cotton candy down, then turned around to a small fridge, and opened it, pulling out one bottle of water. “Alright, that’s another four dollars, so your total comes to nine!” She scanned the two items.

Thompson pulled out his card, and placed it against the machine. Once it beeped, he returned it to his wallet, and input the pin. The machine rang a gentle tone, and he nodded, then grabbed his food and drink. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a great day.” He forced a smile to her briefly.

The woman nodded. “You, too.”

Turning away, Thompson located a table in the distance, just outside the amusement park. With even steps, he made way toward this.

Two young men stood outside the park entrance, fumbling for cash to pay the fee.

“Damn. Guess we spent more at the diner this morning than I thought,” the smaller man said, chuckling.

The other smiled, and kissed the first. “Worry not, my dear. I’ve got this covered.”

Thompson’s heart sank even deeper hearing this conversation. Two men. In love. Yet here he was still alone. He glanced toward the lovers briefly, then stumbled.

“Lyrus, I told you to stop covering me!”

“Well really it’s my father covering us both.”

Turning toward the two young men, Thompson quickly approached. “...Matthew?” he asked.

The smaller man turned around, his mouth immediately falling agape upon seeing Thompson. “I–you… Thompson?!”

“Yes!! It’s me!!” Thompson cried, a smile coming to his face. He reached for Matthew, wrapping his arms around him gently. “Oh my god!! Look at you!! You’re–you’re completely healthy now!!”

Smiling warmly, Matthew returned the hug to his old nurse, nodding. “I am!! I feel great!!”

Thompson separated from him, and looked upon the young man who now stood. He stood. Matthew’s legs were riddled with cancer before, and left him confined to a wheelchair for the most part, save for good pain days. But Thompson looked at Matthew’s wrist.

Upon it was tied a single small bracelet of seashells, the rope made of dried seaweed.

And Lyrus’s wrist held one just the same.

Thompson nodded, smile never waning. “Healing is a magic in and of itself, isn’t it?” he asked.

There, Matthew stumbled slightly. “Wh–what do you mean?”

“Getting better in any way. It seems to bring people together, doesn’t it? You two have each other now, and that’s incredible. It’s perfect. The magic between you both seems to have done more than modern medicine ever could.”

Matthew fell silent, his blood running cold.

But Lyrus stepped up, smiling. “You know, Thompson, sir. Matthew has told me much about you in the time we’ve been together. I was hoping to meet you someday.”

Thompson smiled gently. “I’m honored to meet you all the same, sir. And I truly wish both of you a great eternity together. Even though… I’ll likely never see Matthew again.”

“Perhaps there will be more meetings,” said Lyrus. “You never know what the future holds, after all. Things change. People change. That is the magic of life.”

Nodding, Thompson’s smile now waned slightly. “Well… I hope you both have a great day. And a safe return home. May the tides pull you to safety.”

Lyrus bowed to him. “And may they never tempt you into the depths all the same.” He pulled Matthew into himself. “Come on, hon. Let’s keep our little date going.” Together, he and Matthew handed the cash to the person at the front gate, and entered inside.

Thompson sighed, and walked to the table. Situating himself, he opened the bag of cotton candy, and began eating it silently. Pondering. His heavy heart beat slowly and painfully against his chest, and he turned to look at the beach, its gentle waves lapping away at the sand as children played about, and people of all ages spoke and smiled. 

But Thompson himself frowned, for he was alone as always.

Forever alone…

====================

That evening, Matthew and Lyrus returned to the castle of Limrias. As both sat together at the table alongside Ilias, they ate their dinners as a family.

But Matthew seemed oddly quiet. His gaze was distant, almost as though the man focused on something beyond the present.

“Are you alright, hon?” Lyrus asked.

“...No.”

“Talk to me.” Lyrus put one webbed hand on Matthew’s shoulder, and reached the other to brush his hair behind a finned ear. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s… it’s Thompson. From before,” Matthew said, sighing. “He looked… I don’t know. Sad? I could feel it. All his sorrows flowed into me like they were my own. I know Drowned can feel connections to one another through the bonds we have. But can a Drowned do the same with a Human?”

“It’s possible,” Ilias said. “You and Thompson had a great deal of investment in one another before you became Drowned. Those feelings of love still remain, and through your love for him, it’s very likely you could feel a bond between yourself and him as you would any other Drowned.”

Matthew nodded. “Thank you. I just… I wish I could help him. He always seemed so happy when he was around me, but I know he’s been through a lot. He never told me what he experienced, though.”

Ilias cut into a filet, and stabbed it with his fork. “Is he still nearby? Still at the boardwalk?” He placed the filet piece into his mouth, and began to chew it.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to meet him, and thank him for having cared for you all these years,” Ilias replied. “He seems as though he could use such thanks, and he should know you’re in good hands now.”

“Dad, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lyrus asked. “He knows Matthew and I are Drowned, but that’s dangerous enough in and of itself! Do you really want to risk revealing yourself, our king, to him?”

Shrugging, Ilias stabbed the last piece of his filet. “If he already knows about us, then what’s the harm in showing him myself?” He bit into the piece, and swallowed it, setting his fork and knife down. “You two go enjoy yourselves for the night. I’ll be back by morning. Promise.” The king smiled at his two boys, and swam from his chair, then pushed it in. Without another word, he exited the room.

====================

Upon the beach, Thompson sat solitarily, knees to his chest as the waves crashed in the distance, their extended falls reaching the man’s feet. The water kissed him softly. Thompson reveled in what little peace this brought him.

Looking up into the horizon, boats and ships sailed across the night, far out into the dark, every star above illuminating their shapes.

How he longed to leave this land and see the world as those people did… Maybe things could be better elsewhere…

Thompson sighed, burying his head in his knees, shoulders dropping.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

The man jumped, and looked up. There, his eyes fell upon a tall, broad man, roughly his own age, whose hair and beard appeared black and salt-worn, hints of gray running through their lengths. He smiled kindly to Thompson.

“Mind if I take a seat?” the man asked.

Thompson scooted to his right, shaking his head. “No, please. Go ahead.”

Bending down, the stranger sat carefully, placing his hands against the sand to steady himself as he lowered into a sitting position. Upon both his wrist lay two gorgeous bracers of seashells, tied in place with colorful seaweed.

Thompson’s eyes widened at their sight. However, he remained silent.

The stranger gazed up at the stars meeting the sea afar. “Matthew’s told me lots about what you’ve done for him. I’m grateful. For you. For all your care and help given to him over the years.”

“You’ve done more for him than any medicine could have,” Thompson said .

“I don’t mean just medically, but emotionally as well.” There, Ilias smiled kindly, and turned toward the Human. “He’s struggled a lot. Learning to be part of a family when he’s never had one is certainly a difficult thing. But he tells me he learned what he could from his love for you. Matthew always tells me you’re the father he never had.”

“Well I’m not much to go by. I don’t have a family, either…”

Ilias raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“No. It’s a long story. You wouldn’t care for it, I promise.” Thompson sighed heavily, his demeanor lowering into sorrow.

Pausing a moment, Ilias readjusted himself. “I’ve got time. And Matthew is worried. He tells me you’re sad. I see it in you that you are. Maybe talking would help ease the burden?”

Thompson shook his head. “I can’t. It’s no use. I’ve spoken to therapists for decades now, and it doesn’t do anything to make this better… Not what with I’ve been through…”

“Well… what about talking to a friend?”

Pausing a moment, Thompson glanced toward Ilias, eyes wide. He saw, there, the king’s kindly smile, and welcoming self, so genuine and gentle. How could he say no to this man? Regardless, Thompson looked away, shaking his head again. “It’d be wrong to burden another with my troubles. Especially a king…”

Ilias chuckled a little. “Friends exist to carry the burdens of one another in part. Nobody can make it through life alone. And if you do not tell me now, I will continue to visit each night you’re here until I gain your trust enough that you speak. It wouldn’t be right in my heart or mind to let such a great and kindly man as yourself suffer alone.”

“Why do you think so highly of me?” Thompson asked.

“Because you kept Matthew safe. And Matthew has opened my heart to trusting once more.” The king took a deep breath. “I spent more than a millennia distrusting Humans. They’ve proven to be enemies of my people for ages now, polluting our home and using it for selfish gains. But Matthew and Lyrus fell for one another more than a year ago now. And I’ve seen since then what good Humans are, and what good they bring. Lyrus, my son, was so lonely and broken until he met Matthew. Those two healed each other’s hearts and lives, and their love has, in turned, healed me.”

Thompson’s eyes nearly welled with tears now. He gulped the sadness back. “Love is… it’s something I’ve not had in a very long time…” His tears began to fall.

Ilias lifted a finger, and the teardrops shifted from Thompson’s face, floating away toward the sea.

Eyes wide, the Human watched his sorrows move from himself and join with the water beyond. He shook his head. “I’m… a lot like Matthew in a sense… I, too, love men. I’m how he realized his own sexuality. But my parents–my entire family both immediate and extended–they shunned me for what I am. They called me a disgusting whore, and threw me into the streets. I tried to go back! I tried so many times!! But eventually they moved, and I never knew where to! I had nobody and nothing!!

“My boyfriend at the time, he proposed to me, and we were planning our wedding. We found out he was pregnant, and both of us felt ecstatic! The future was bright, and we’d just gotten an apartment together here in the city. But… this hardly lasted…” Now Thompson’s tears fell in a large stream, and the man sobbed violently, clutching his knees to his face as he pressed his forehead into both harshly. “Kevin, he–he miscarried. Just a few weeks into the second trimester. We were devastated, and the doctors found out why this happened.

“Kevin had late-stage ovarian cancer. He was dying. And no amount of medicine would ever help save him…”

Ilias’s face dropped, his heart sinking into an abyss of sorrow. He reached for Thompson, but retracted his hand before it could touch him.

Thompson tensed, biting his lower lip harshly. “I was alone. I had nobody. No family. No partner. No love. And I tried. I tried to find someone else! But I’ve been broken!! My sorrows are too great, and my pain is immense! Nothing makes it better! Nothing!!” He rammed a fist into the sand, trembling. “I’m lonely… I’m broken… And I see no reason to keep going. Ever since Matthew left, there’s been little hospice work to do. It’s like I’m not needed anymore. Nobody needs me, and I am needed nowhere. I can’t keep going like this…”

Shifting toward the Human, Ilias sat on his knees and wrapped himself around the balled-up Thompson, hugging him softly. “You’re needed. Always. That I promise.”

Thompson sobbed, his heart weighing itself down into the depths below. "If I fell into the ocean to my death, far away from any land, would the world even notice? Would I be forgotten?"

"The ocean would remember," Ilias replied. "The waves would carry your soul forever with their every rise and fall. The very creatures which live within it would see your descent, knowing another joins them but not in life. They would mourn. The sea is seemingly paired with death, but we can only take so much tragedy before it becomes too much. Perhaps this is why the Drowned were created. To prevent such sorrow from ever taking over."

"But I am not worthy of mourning. I'm nobody. And I am worth nothing. Not even life." Thompson shook rapidly, tightening his fists.

"Has the world truly taken so much from you that you've forgotten how to receive all the same?"

The Human shook his head. "I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever been given anything in my life before..."

Ilias grasped one of the Human's hands, and stood up. "Then come with me a moment. I wish to give you something."

Thompson shook his head. “Please. Don’t–”

“You need to see this. Please. Just come along.”

With a scoff, Thompson pushed himself upright, shaking his head, standing to meet the king. Gently, he was pulled toward Ilias. Into him.

Ilias held Thompson close and walked toward the water, then into it. Once deep enough inside, the long mer tail formed, and fins extended from his wrists and ears. His green eyes glowed bright against the darkness, clearly made to peer through the depths of the seas. Here, he clutched Thompson softly, and carefully began to swim out. Away from the shore.

Thompson watched as the sand grew further and further away until it no longer remained visible. He spoke not a word, just letting his sorrows run rampant through himself.

After several minutes, Ilias stopped, and shifted Thompson in front of himself. Here, the king smiled warmly, and pointed upward toward the vast, starry sky.

Tears streaking his face still, the Human looked up where the king pointed.

"Centuries ago, sailors used the stars to navigate the oceans, and cross them safely. All the same, those stars told stories and gifted them to children who looked at them in hope,” Ilias said. “No matter where you are in the world, the stars are always there. No matter where you are in the world, the water is always there. Nature is inherent. It's eternal. Hope and safety are always here. Waiting for you to find them. You only need let the world guide you."

Thompson gulped his sadness down again. "Then why? Why has my life led me away from the world? Why am I so blind to the future that I can't even see it?"

"When you spend forever in the dark, it hurts to look at the light. But it's there no less.” Ilias looked Thompson in the eyes. “I am here."

The Human’s mouth fell agape. He shook his head. “N–no.”

“Why not?” Ilias asked. “Why not accept love for a change?”

"I... I can't. How can I ever love again when I will lose you, or you will lose me? I couldn't bear to be with a man who has two sons, knowing you’ll all live forever and I won't–that you'll all be of the sea, but myself of the land. I am nothing compared to you! I am... nothing… Even as a person, I am nothing..."

"You are a great man with a great heart as vast as the seas," Ilias said, holding Thompson tighter now. "I never thought I would feel this way for a Human, but all the same, every Drowned was once Human. We aren't so different."

Thompson hiccupped, shaking. His aching heart seemingly sank into the ocean itself as he remained within it, held by the king.

"When a Drowned Embraces a Human, their love is gifted all the same. A bond is forged between the Drowned who makes another. These bonds create families. Parents, children, lovers, siblings. They are eternal and endless. There is no breaking the bond of two Drowned who’ve joined together. And they feel everything between one another. Joy and pain. Love and fear. Any and all emotion is shared.

“But I feel it all, even without such a bond between yourself and I. Your sorrow is great, and your pain greater. You fear and you grieve, but I am here. And I love. I love you, Thompson. Sweet Baris. I wish for nothing more than to see you happy–to see your smile and know your joy not as my own, but for you to feel yourself. You deserve happiness. I can bind us together in eternity beneath the very waters in which we tread, and I will hold you as my own. You will never be alone again. I promise."

The torrential tears dripping from Thompson’s eyes began to fall into the ocean. "I’m not worth it… I never will be…What have I done that's worthy of this?" he asked. "To gift me not just any Embrace, but yours? Why?"

Ilias smiled gently, pressing into the Human, holding him closer. "Because you are you. And all are worthy of love for the mere fact that they live. And I love you. The world takes so much that we often forget we can give all the same.

“Just as well, none must be worthy of the water's gift to receive it. One must simply embrace its love as their own. And I know you long for love. But look no further. We are here. Together. Between the stars that guided us to my kingdom, and the seas in which it resides. Please. Come home with me, Baris."

Thompson sobbed into the king now, harsh and ugly. "But... Matthew. He doesn't need me anymore. He has you. All the Drowned."

"That doesn't mean he can't use more love. You need it all the same. And if he does not welcome you then know that I do. I will be the one who brings you home and gifts you the Embrace." Ilias leaned in, and kissed Thompson on the cheek. "I will bind us together in eternity, and hold you as my own. You'll have a family–two sons, Matthew and Lyrus–and of course, me. Loneliness will never reach you again. Of that I swear."

Thompson trembled, trying to breathe but he couldn’t. He shook his head, sobbing harshly. “Does it hurt? Letting the magic take you?"

"No. It's peaceful. Your very soul is engulfed in serenity, and you know, in that moment, you're forever saved from all death and sorrow."

With a harsh cry, Thompson clutched the king dearly, clenching his eyes shut. "Please... Please just help me!!" he begged. "Make this stop! Take my pain away! Please..."

"I can give you what you need to make it leave in time. It will not fade immediately. But I will be there every moment you need someone. I will always love you, Baris. That will never change." Ilias smiled warmly. “You will learn to live in peace, not rest in sorrow. Let your mortal pains wash away into the sea. It’s time to come home.” The king lifted his hand to Thompson's heart, pressing it against him. The palm began to glow, and he shifted his face to see Thompson's, meeting the man's lips with his own which he kissed gently while pushing him backward, leading them both below the water.

The glow began to overtake Thompson, who kissed Ilias back, a warmth spreading from his heart through his entire body. The very tears upon his face washed away into the sea which now held him completely. And the man welcomed it.

As the glow intensified, both lovers remained connected for a long moment before Ilias backed away, shifting his hand off Thompson.

Slowly, the bright illumination faded from the man entirely as he lay within the king's loving embrace. And there he rested, a long, finned tail now in place of legs, and matching fins upon his wrists and ears. Gills opened from his sides, and he breathed through them, taking the water into his very being, merging himself with it at long last.

Ilias smiled. "Welcome home, my king."

Thompson–Baris–opened his eyes and looked at himself. Now Drowned, he gazed upon his new form in silent awe, examining the long tail and strange fins, the webbing between his fingers. And there, a feeling of serenity filled himself, overtaking his entire being. Baris sat upright, and threw himself into Ilias, clutching the king tighter, a wholeness and unity of sorts driving him toward the man.

A unity with his lover, Baris realized. A unity with his future–with the very seas in which he now lived and breathed.

Both parting slightly, Ilias’s smile only grew. "You are the greatest man I have ever met, and I will never be far from you. Even if I am, our eternal bond will hold us together. I feel your elation. The relief in your heart. And I am happy all the same. You’ve needed this for ages now, and it is yours to keep. I’ll make certain you never lose it."

There, a smile formed upon Baris’s face. He kissed Ilias passionately, deeply, holding the king against himself as he wrapped the long tail around his lover, pressing into him. “Thank you. Thank you, my love. My king. I… I love you. So much.”

“Please. Call me Ilias.” The king smiled, joining his tail with Baris’s, and both held one another for a long moment in silence.

Minutes passed, and finally Baris unlatched from his lover, shifting backwards. He looked at himself entirely now, and chuckled a little, smiling.

Ilias looked puzzled at his lover. “What’s funny?” he asked.

“I… I just realized a slight problem."

"Oh?"

"I can't swim."

Ilias suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh, gods! That is quite a problem, now isn’t it?” He grinned, and pat Baris’s shoulder gently. “Well there's no time like the present to learn. It's not that hard. I'll show you."

Baris grasped the king’s hand, who led him down into the depths, flicking his tail gently while keeping his and Baris’s arms parallel to themselves.

After many minutes, Ilias let go, and motioned for Baris to follow him.

And without missing a beat, Baris continued. Swimming close by. Swimming.

He was free.

The Drowned cut through the water with ease, as though the very universe parted to let him and Ilias pass, and both made their way toward a glistening, large kingdom with ornate bridges and city buildings spanning across the entire ocean floor.

This was the beauty of Limrias.

====================

Within the castle, Matthew and Lyrus lay within one another’s arms in their bed together, cuddled up smiling and content. Both looked outward from the window to the kingdom far below, then to each other, their minds at ease and their hearts entwined in love.

However, a knock came to their door. “Lyrus? Matthew? Are you awake?”

Ilias, they realized.

“We are! We’re coming!” Lyrus called. He helped Matthew up, and both held hands as they swam to the door. But Lyrus grasped the handle, and pulled it open.

There in the doorway, both smiling, hands together, Ilias and Baris tread as one. As Drowned.

Matthew’s eyes welled with tears. He charged Baris, and threw his arms around the man, squeezing him tight and pressing into him. “You–you’re–”

“I’m home,” Baris said, leaning into Matthew gently. “I’m grateful. For all of you. I owe you everything.”

“You owe nothing but to love your life,” Matthew said. He looked up at Baris. “Please. I know you’ve been hurting. I know you’ve been sad. But give this a chance. It’s going to get better now. We’ll all make sure of it.”

Baris nodded, smiling even more. “I know. I will. I promise. I will live, with you, and we will always be together. My heart is open to love, and I have that of Ilias. And I couldn’t ask for anything greater.”

Lyrus swam toward Baris and Matthew, putting one hand on each. “You have my love all the same. Gods know my dad needs it more, though.”

Everyone laughed, and leaned in, hugging one another.

And there, Baris felt it. The bonds between all of them. Each person of this family loved him, and all the same he loved them. Their feelings flowed through one another as though part of each other despite each belonging to different people. They were united. And nothing would ever tear them apart, for, nature’s love in the stars and seas had brought them together at long last.

[jackactuallywrites]

Spirits and Ghosts

Warning: I’m putting this at the top because this fic is pretty dark! Alcoholism, referenced suicide, Soap is dead, Ghost is completely broken, mildly dubious consent cause you’re both drunk shagging

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Everyone is devastated after Soap’s death, most of all Ghost. He knows you know he’s coping with alcohol, and comes to talk to you, he doesn’t know that you’re drinking too

Notes: I just love a bit of hurt/comfort after all the mushy fluff

Word Count: 3,270

ao3 link

Special thanks: @xxven ily

There was a palpable heaviness hanging over the base with the knowledge that one of your own was gone. You’d never had the pleasure of truly befriending Soap, yet you still felt his absence, a hole in the worn fabric that made up the base. His jokes, his laughter, that obnoxious Scottish accent that echoed down the halls, something you’d found irritating then, but now you would have given anything to hear it one last time.

None amongst you felt that loss more keenly than Ghost.

You were intel, so it was in your job description to keep watch, not only on whoever the government had designated as the enemy but on your own, digging into your comrade's personal lives and finding out every last little secret that could possibly be used against them. Skeletons in the closet didn’t even come close to describing the graveyard in Ghost’s past. Supposedly, he was numb to the trauma, empty of every human emotion after everything he’d been through, but you’d been watching him. There had been something motivating that man, some ironclad little spark at the centre of his being, yet it had died with Soap.

Never once before had his moniker been so accurate. The man truly was haunting the base, a ghoulish spectre wandering the halls at night, his eyes dead and cold, his body animated by something unknown. At least, that was until you took it upon yourself to break into Ghost’s room.

Alcohol.

That was what was motivating the man to keep going, a growing pile of spirits underneath his bed. It was the perfect crime; nobody would ever get close enough to the man to be able to smell his breath; even if they did, he wore a mask, the alcohol-tinted air smothered by a layer of fabric and resin. You knew that Price and Gaz kept an eye on the man, but how close could they truly get to him? Even by military standards, Ghost was closed off. So, you came in. Covert amongst the covert, supposedly for the ‘good of the task force’, though yet again you were questioning it. What good would come of reporting Ghost? You’d read his psych evals; the man was not one for therapy, and understandably so, meaning he would be discharged honourably if he was lucky, but you knew how that story ended. At the end of a rope.

The laptop in your office mocked you with its bright glow, lighting up your dismal notes of alcoholism and trauma, but you couldn’t bring yourself to transfer the notes into his official documents just yet. A man’s life was on the line, and this was not something you took lightly. What you needed was your routine.

It was simple enough; you’d get yourself a nice cold lemonade and then put in enough vodka to drown a small animal, though never enough to completely rid you of your conscience and allow yourself to be engulfed by everything you forced down. Considering you were planning on writing up Ghost for a drinking problem, it felt hypocritical, but everything you did was. Spying on your own soldiers to keep them safe. The lines were already blurred, no matter how straight you tried to make them.

Your room was a perfect prison for you, your laptop safely stored in the securely locked server rooms, only accessible by a sober you the next day. For now, it was just you and your notes, the ones that would be responsible for condemning a man. The words felt heavy on your heart as you flicked through your notepad, your mind already swimming with alcohol as you reread what you’d written of Ghost, of his pain, his guilt, his trauma. He was a good man, from what you could tell, but there was no room for empathy. You had to do what was best for the task force.

When you heard the knock at the door, you felt your soul leave your body. You switched up your drinking room every time, never using the same one twice, always having your office as where you would be found after hours. Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to believe that you yourself weren’t watched, but you knew how and where they’d monitor you, and you’d gone out of your way to avoid it. Or so you’d thought. Could you have messed up? No, you’d done everything perfectly. This was just some horrible coincidence.

Another knock at the door, firmer though still quiet, was enough to rid you of that thought. Someone was out there, someone who knew you were in that room. Your sidearm was never far from your hand, and you kept it in hand as you approached the door, hoping that your dishevelled appearance would be put down to being roused from an early night’s sleep rather than from an empty bottle. Professional. Courteous. That’s all you had to be for the next minute. You could do that.

You might have been able to if it wasn’t Ghost on the other side of the door—Ghost, whose fate lay in your hands, fragile and delicate like a baby bird. He made no attempt at upholding any sort of professional courtesy himself as he pushed past you into the small room you’d taken as sleeping quarters that night.

“I know.” His tired voice brokered no disagreement, but you still made an effort. “Know what?” He sunk onto your bed, precariously close to your stash of alcohol, resting his forearms on his thighs, his eyes firmly on you, “I know you know everything.” You remained quiet, as was always best in this situation, allowing Ghost to reveal how much he knew. “Don’t.” He knew, of course, he knew, he’d been briefed on those exact tactics. You looked back at him, trying to be resolute though your head was swimming, “I’m just doing my job, Lieutenant. As you do yours.” He scoffed, but you pressed on, “It’s for the good of the team, Riley. You know that.” “There is no team without Soap.” He was a man in pain, in distress, yet he was too close. You couldn’t have him in here, not where your secrets unravelled. “Go sleep it off, Lieutenant.”

For a moment, it seemed like you’d escaped closer scrutiny by the skin of your teeth, but Ghost’s eyes had shifted to the small gap in between the bed and the end table, where you’d stashed the bottle, having given up on the charade of diluting it with lemonade quite some time ago. His eyes slowly returned to you, and you felt him examine you, not just your physical appearance but your posture, the slight haziness in your eyes you’d tried to play off as exhaustion.

“Are you drunk?”

There was no doubting the absolute incredulity in his voice, and you knew you’d been caught. Honesty, that was your best policy now, mixed in with a heavy dose of untruths. “I’m off duty.” “I know your schedule.” “Unscheduled leave.” He pushed up from the bed and crossed the room to you, trapping you between him and the door, glowering down at you. “Liar.” A different tactic was needed now, and you tried to look earnest, “The death of Soap-“ He didn’t let you finish, placing his hand over your mouth to silence you, his glove soft against your skin, “Don’t you fucking dare.” You could feel how precarious your situation was now. Ghost would never hurt you; you knew that much from his files, but he might report you. You could take him down, but you’d be sentencing yourself to go down with him.

After a moment, Ghost removed his hand from your mouth, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at you, allowing you the freedom to explain yourself as though there was anything non-incriminating you could say. You hesitated momentarily before deciding there was no other way out of this. “I’m drunk.” He narrowed his eyes at you, “I could report you.” He looked you over, no doubt weighing his options, so you reminded him, “So could I.“

For a moment, the silence seemed to stretch out into eternity between you, both considering the mutually assured destruction you could unleash. Ghost was the first to deflate, sinking back onto your bed and reaching over to grab the bottle of vodka. He held it up to you in a mock toast, his voice dark, “Here’s to the best and the brightest of the forces.” You relaxed a little, taking the bottle from him. “There’s another bottle in the drawer.” He didn’t need telling twice, pulling the drawer open and taking out the second bottle, unscrewing it as he pulled off his mask and balaclava. You’d read about his face, but seeing it was something else. He was handsome, even with the crooked nose, the untidy greying stubble and the heavy purple bags under each eye. You held out your bottle to his, “Here’s to mutually assured destruction.” His voice was soft as he clinked his bottle against yours, but you could still hear the name on his lips. “To Soap.”

Nothing compared to the blissful feeling of alcohol carrying you away from your worries. Your entire body felt light, slightly tingly, as if there was a slight lag between your mind and your limbs. It was a delightful feeling, the feel of the carpet underneath your fingers, and you stretched out your hands, exploring the new textures that brushed against your skin, stroking along the fabric and noting the bump of the stitches.

“That’s my leg you’re stroking.”

Ghost’s voice was soft, and you laughed, moving your hand away from his leg, “Sorry, sorry.” You cracked open an eye to see him leaning his back against the bedframe with his eyes still closed, a slight smile on his lips, “I don’t mind. S’nice.” The lines between professional and person were already beyond blurry and had been since the very first sip of alcohol, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You returned your hand to his thigh, exploring the waterproofed fabric and how your fingers slid over it smoothly, feeling the ridges of the pockets and then the coarse material of his belt. He shifted, laying his arm on the bed frame behind you, his forearm draping over your shoulder, and you allowed yourself to lean into his chest, enjoying the close contact.

It was obvious to you where things were going; no matter how slowly they were progressing, the end result would undeniably be the same. You shifted away from him, using every last ounce of your self-control to put some distance between you, placing your hands in your lap. “Ghost. We can’t- I can’t. It would be wrong of me.” He reached out for your face, his gloved fingers soft against your cheek as he gently turned you toward him, “I just want to feel good again.” You could see the earnestness in his face but also the pain and exhaustion in his eyes, the undeniable sorrow that lingered. At the end of a day like this, feeling good was all you wanted, too.

Ghost seemed to feel your resistance fading away, his hand shifting from your cheek down, his fingers stroking over your jaw and then around to the back of your neck. His grip was gentle but quietly insistent as he pulled you toward him, your boundaries slipping as you gave in, letting your hands reach out to grab his jumper and pull him closer to you, his lips crashing against yours, firm and desperate, his fingers sliding up into your hair, holding you tightly against him.

A single kiss was all it took to destroy the facade of professionalism entirely.

Ghost wasted no time, breaking the kiss to take his jumper off, revealing the plain green T-shirt underneath, and you eagerly hooked your fingers underneath the hem to take it off for him. He raised his arms to allow you to strip him, waiting for you to take his t-shirt off before he started on yours, easily pulling it off of you and then gently pushing you back onto the carpet, using his knee to nudge your legs apart and then wrapping them around his waist as he leaned down to kiss you again, using his arm to brace himself so he didn’t crush you underneath him.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, but he felt too good against you, one hand tangling in your hair, his lips moving down your neck, sucking and biting at your skin, the other hand pulling your hips against him as he ground into you. The alcohol heightened the pleasure in your skin, and you let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to become lost in the sensation. Even the slightest sign of pleasure from you spurred Ghost on, and he leant back from you, leaving you panting on the floor as his hands darted down to your trousers, swiftly unbuckling your belt and button and then yanking the zipper down, tugging your trousers off and tossing them to the side.

As he began undoing his own belt, you took a moment to appreciate how attractive the man was, the way the muscles in his arms bulged as he fumbled with the buckle, the black tattoos that wrapped around his forearm, the hungry look in his pale eyes as he took in the sight of your body, the dark blond hair that trailed down his stomach. He undid his trousers, pushing his boxers down, his cock finally springing free. You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, how desperate he was for you, and you bit your lip in anticipation, feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Ghost didn’t bother to take his trousers completely off, already leaning down to tug your pants off, sliding them over your legs and throwing them aside. He gripped your thigh as he positioned himself, grinding himself into you to coat as much of himself as he could in your wetness before he slowly pushed into you, the pressure at your entrance building before he slowly began to sink into you, a throaty growl emanating from his throat as he buried himself inside you. You knew you should have been more careful; you should have thought of protection, but all you cared about was how he felt against you, his hand moving to your thigh to hold you in place as he thrust into you, angling your hips so he rubbed up against that perfect spot inside you.

Without warning, he shifted back to pull you on top of him, positioning you in his lap, placing his hand on your hip and grinding you against him. His other hand reached up to cup your face, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his own wide and desperate. He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, his other hand grabbing your ass as he rocked you against him, his voice throaty as he rested his forehead against yours, “You feel so fucking good.” His hand moved from your ass and grabbed your hand, pushing it down between your bodies, his voice desperate and pleading, “Come on, baby, make yourself feel good for me.” You weren’t one to deny yourself pleasure, so you did as ordered, pushing your hand between your bodies and beginning to rub circles around your clit, feeling that familiar pressure build in your core, shifting your hips against him to angle him more perfectly, and he rubbed his thumb over your cheek, “Just like that, sweetheart, come on.” He let you control the rhythm as you rocked against him, resting his hand on the small of your back, his voice strained, “Come on, darlin’, come for me.”

Your body couldn’t hold on for longer, your rhythm starting to stutter as you pushed down on him hard, trying to get him as deep as possible as you finished, your nails digging into his shoulders as he held you closely against him, whispering soft words of encouragement into your ear, “Just like that, sweetheart, just like that.” You let your head fall forward onto his chest as you rode out the last sparks of pleasure, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you against him, stroking your hair with his other hand.

Ghost was still underneath you, seemingly content to just have your pleasure, but you weren’t finished just yet. You shifted on top of him so you were straddling his lap, gently placing your hands in the centre of his chest and pushing him insistently. He looked at you questioningly, but he allowed you to lay him flat on his back, his hands sliding down your back and to your waist, allowing you to take control. You could feel the hesitance in his touch, and you began to rock your hips back and forth, feeling how his hands began to tighten on your waist, his head falling back onto the carpet, and his jaw clenching as he thrust up into you. You found your rhythm quickly enough, balancing on your knees as you rode him, feeling that familiar tightness inside you as he hit you just right, everything still sensitive from your first climax, your voice a breathy whisper as you slid up and down, “Fuck, Ghost.”

“Simon, it’s Simon.” His voice was tight, as were his fingers on your waist, beginning to pull you down onto him more forcefully, “Say my name.” You couldn’t help but reach back down to rub yourself again, feeling everything tingle and tense, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep the rhythm just right, “Fucking hell, Simon.”

The simple utterance of his name seemed to bewitch him, and he let out a deep groan, gripping onto your hipbones as he began slamming up into you, yanking you down to meet him every time, almost lifting you off his cock entirely before he buried it back inside you. You could see the frantic desperation in his movements and feel the tightness in his legs as his body began to tense up, but he slowed, panting out in short, heavy breaths, “I’m close, darlin’, I should probably-“ Both alcohol and arousal were clouding your better senses, and you dug your nails into his chest as you ground yourself against him, right on the verge of finishing yourself, the nail in the coffin of any intelligence, “Come in me, Simon.”

Ghost needed little encouragement, completely lost in the sensation of you finishing around him again, and he thrust forcefully inside you before sitting up and pushing you down to the floor once again, pulling your legs tightly around his hips as he fucked you hard, pounding into you fiercely, the carpet harsh against your back as he thrust deep into you one final time, growling out a throaty, “Fuck,” as he finished.

Not anything about your decisions had been smart, from fucking Ghost to letting him finish inside you, but you just couldn’t summon the energy to care anymore. He felt too good, and you’d needed it; you’d needed an excuse to break free of the constraints. He collapsed to your side as he pulled out, yet brought you with him into a tight hug, burying his head in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair as his heart slowed. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said, and you simply enjoyed the closeness, resting your head against his chest, the dark thoughts in your head blissfully silenced.

[countrymusiclover]

15 - Message from Little Brother

Part 16

Dr. Redheaded Neighbor

Tag list - send an ask to be added @annieradcliff @watermeezer @zaidatorcuatomorgado @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @melvia-ito @dreamgemini09 @anonymousmuffinbear

Will was heading out to his car swaying his car keys in his hand until someone flashed their headlights in his direction where he raised his hand so he wasn’t blinded by the lights.  He finally noticed it was his brother Jay sitting in the driver's seat.  “Come here!” 

“Jay, what's up?” He asked his brother. 

Jay snapped back not saying another word till the passenger door was closed.  “Get in the car.  What do you know about Ray Burke?” 

“He does some real estate, owns a bar and a construction company-“ 

Jay cut his older brother off.  “And a reception hall.  You went to see him.” 

“He wasn’t feeling well so I made a house call.  How do you know?” Will sent him a confused look. 

Jay reached inside his jacket pocket showing him a small recording device before hitting the play button and playing a conversation between his brother and Ray.  “Hey, Ray.  I just wanted to let you know that your blood work looks good.  But I do recommend you follow up with a cardiologist.” 

“I’m not going to a cardiologist.  I want you, Will.  You know, I’m giving you that hall for two grand.  That’s practically for free.” 

Will shakes his head at his brother.  “Yeah, wh - are you listening to my calls?” 

“Rays.” Jay replied. 

Will raised a brow.  “Rays?”

“PD and the FBI have been investigating him for, like, two years, and look who waltzes in…my brother.” 

Will questioned still not following why he was involved.  “Why are you investigating him?” 

“Cause he’s a gangster.” Jay rolled his eyes. 

Will raised up a hand not believing what he was hearing from his sibling.  “What, he pays off a building inspector every once in a while?”

“Try money laundering, fraud, embezzlement.  Now you’re involved with him.” Jay throws his hands up in the air. 

Will brought a hand up to his forehead, sighing heavily.  “Oh, I’m not involved with him.  Hey I’m using his hall.  It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is.  So whatever you’re doing, stop.” Jay sternly looked at his brother needing him to understand how serious this situation could get if remained involved. 

Will’s phone vibrated in his pocket where he took it out seeing it was an unknown area code phone number.   He pressed the cell phone to his ear to figure out who was dialing him.  “Is this William Halstead?” 

“Yeah, this is him.” 

The caller was a male voice that responded back to him.  “This is Lieutenant Griffin.  Ms.  Easton has you listed as her emergency contact.” 

“Is everything okay with her?  Is she injured?” Will asked in a very nervous tone in his voice. 

Lieutenant Griffin began explaining the situation to the civilian doctor.  “She was brought back to the medical tent after she passed out from an explosion.  She has regained consciousness but we are formally discharging her until further notice.” 

“Why?” He glanced at his brother who was listening to their conversation. 

The Lieutenant avoided the question.  “I can’t disclose that information.  You’ll just have to ask her when you see her tomorrow morning when she’s returned home.” 

“She’s coming home tomorrow?” Will still couldn’t comprehend the fact that his fiancé would be coming home sooner than they both anticipated. 

The higher officer responded before hanging up the phone.  “Yes, Mr.  Halstead.  She will arrive on a helicopter at the Chicago International Airport.  Have a good night.” 

“Hey, look at me Will.” Jay grabbed his brother’s shoulder once he had put his phone in his pocket.  “You need to stop dealing with Burke, especially if Mallory is coming home.  You don’t want this guy coming after her if you don’t hold up your end of the deal you have with him.” 

Will shook his head no pushing open the car door, shutting it and heading over to his car leaving the hospital parking lot.  “I’m helping him out to let her have the perfect wedding.  I’m not gonna stop helping Burke.” 

Mallory’s pov

Taking a nap in the seat of the helicopter I had been getting more tired than I used to and now I knew why.   I didn’t want to tell Will the reason through the phone or in a letter that would take months before it even made it into his hands.  

“We’re about to touch down, Easton!” The driver of the helicopter got my attention when he called over his shoulder causing me to wake up and he woke Maxon up who was asleep on the metal ground too. 

Leaning up in my seat I unclipped my seatbelt, reaching over and shrugging my backpack on.  Picking up my duffle bag I glanced out the door when we lowered the chopper down onto the landing platform of the airport.  The ladder dropped down where I slowly walked down the steps with a huge smile spreading across my face when I saw the man who was my fiancée. 

“Mallory!” Will called my name running across the rooftop until my body collided with his.  He wrapped his arms around my waist lifting my feet off the ground, twirling me around in circles.  “Ohhh I’ve missed you so much.” 

Maxon barked at us once I was back on my feet and placed one of my hands on the side of my fiancés face.  “I missed you so bad too.  And there’s something I gotta tell you -“

“Awe don’t worry, Maxon.  I missed you too.” Will heard my dog bark again meaning he wanted some attention so he bent down on a knee running a hand through his fur, receiving a happy tail wag. 

Brushing hair that the wind blew in front of my face I cleared my throat gaining his attention again.  “Will, can we head home now.  I’m kinda tired and there’s something I need to tell you.” He nodded in agreement where we grabbed our stuff driving back to our apartment. 

Once we had gotten everything unpacked and Maxon was laid down on the wooden floor taking a long awaited nap.  Slipping a sweatshirt over my head I plopped down on the couch simply wearing leggings watching Will warm up some leftover chicken and rice we had bought on the drive home.  He hands me my bowl sitting down beside me, focusing his gaze on me.  “So you had something you wanted to tell me.  What's going on, Mal?” 

“It's not exactly something we've talked about so I totally understand if you're not ready.  I mean we're not even married yet.  So the idea of me being pregnant with your child is like crazy-” 

Will cut me off causing me to drop my hands from being up in the air not realizing I had just blurted it out like I did.  “You’re pregnant!” 

“Y-yeah I am.” I chuckled lightly, taken back by the fact that he seemed so overjoyed about this.  “Wait so you’re okay with this.”

Will quickly scooted across the couch capturing my lips with his own.  I hesitated for a moment before I began kissing him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I deepened the kiss until he broke it by putting his forehead against mine.  “I’m thrilled, Mallory.  I - I didn’t want to pressure you into anything too soon.  But I want all of it Marriage, kids, a family with you.” 

“I want all that with you too, Will.  And now we can have that cause I’m back home.” I nodded with a cheeky grin on my face. 

My fiancé leaned forward kissing my forehead where I nuzzled my head underneath his chin.  “We’re gonna be a family, all four of us.” Laying my head against his chest he wrapped his arms around my waist while Maxon jumped up on the couch and laid at my feet. 

[jaybleu25]

Scars Fade Over Time (Part 3) - SPM Aftermath

(TW: Injury)

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

…

After about a week, Luigi was finally discharged from the hospital. The bandages on his head were finally removed, but the stitches were still healing. He had to be careful.

Mario helped his brother get home, carrying him on his back. Luigi's balance was a little bit off, due to the situation with his head and also from resting in a bed for so long. The moment they got home, the first thing Mario did was go and get Luigi some clean and comfortable clothes from their closet. He had been wearing hospital attire for seven days straight, after all.

Luigi took the clothes from Mario, heading to the bathroom to take a shower. He felt it would help him feel a bit better after everything that happened. He missed the warmth that came with it.

As he walked into the room however, he froze the moment he saw the mirror.

At the corner of his eye, he saw white streaks in his hair. Taking a closer look, he finally got to see what he looked like after everything that happened. He looked clearly tired, with several black markings on his face. He had never seen something like that before.

He thought he was hallucinating. What was this person, or thing, that was staring back at him?

Frightened by himself, Luigi lost his footing, stepping backwards and falling to the ground. Hearing the commotion, Mario immediately rushed over to the bathroom, opening the door and seeing Luigi on the floor, terrified.

"Lu, are you okay??" Mario asked, filled with concerned. "What happened??"

"What happened to me..??" Luigi whimpered.

After taking a moment to understand what was going on, Mario realized Luigi was referring to the mirror.

"Oh..." Mario muttered, realizing he forgot to tell his brother beforehand. "Don't worry bro, it's okay. It's nothing bad. The doctors said it isn't doing anything to you. It'll go away after a while."

"Wh-What is it??" Luigi asked, growing more concerned. "What is this..??"

"It's just a sort of...after effect, I think," Mario explained. "It showed up after the thing with Dimentio."

The moment Luigi heard that name, he immediately felt a strong pain in his head. It felt almost as if someone had hit him with a hammer. He grabbed onto his hair tightly, groaning in pain.

"Luigi, what's wrong??" Mario asked, filled with worry. "Did you hit your head??"

"N-No..." Luigi muttered as he sucked air through his teeth. "I d-don't know what...this is..."

Wanting to quickly help, Mario dug through the cabinets in the bathroom, searching for a mushroom. They kept a few emergency mushrooms in there just in case, along with an extra first aid kit. Finding one, Mario handed it to Luigi, helping him to eat it.

Luigi swallowed. Slowly, the pain would ease up a little, and Luigi would loosen his grip on his head.

"There..." Mario said with a soft voice. "You okay..?"

"Mhm..." Luigi hummed nervously. "Thanks, bro..."

Mario would nod, and Luigi looked back up at the mirror, still sitting on the floor.

"I-I don't like it..." Luigi muttered.

"Don't like what?" Mario asked.

"I look scary..." Luigi clarified.

"No, no, Lu, you aren't scary," Mario comforted.

"N-No, I mean...t-to me..." Luigi explained.

Luigi looked down at the ground, hugging his clean clothes that he was originally going to change into. Mario thought for a moment.

"Hey...don't worry, Weegee," Mario reassured. "It's not going to be there forever. It's gonna go away eventually, okay?"

"Are you sure..?" Luigi asked.

"That's what the doctors said," said Mario. "They know what they're doing. They said it's harmless."

"Okay...i-if you say so..." Luigi responded.

Mario then stood himself up, helping Luigi stand up as well. Luigi stumbled a little in the process.

"Are you still going to shower?" Mario asked.

"Yeah..." said Luigi. "I want to try and get it off."

"Okay, well...be careful of your head, remember?" Mario reminded. "Your stitches are still healing."

Luigi agreed, and Mario left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Once Luigi was alone, he finally got out of the hospital clothes he was given, finally getting to feel the nice warm shower. Unfortunately, however, while the initial warmth at first was nice, Luigi's focus soon was brought back to the markings on his arms and face.

As he stood there in the shower, Luigi kept trying desperately to wash them off. He started with his arms, since they were the only ones he could properly see at the moment. However, no matter what he did, the markings wouldn't go away. He started getting frustrated, trying to clean a bit more intensely, but it just led to it starting to feel like it was burning from how hard he was doing it. Starting to get even more upset, he even started to cry.

He didn't want to look like this. He wanted it to go away. He wanted to be back to normal.

He didn't want to have these scars on him.

-END?-

-------

Note: I'm a bit iffy on this ending since it doesn't really end well, so if I end up coming up with a more positive ending, I'll post it as a sort of 'epilogue'. To clarify a bit though, just know that the 'scars' do end up fading away over several months.

Update: I have made a good ending!!

-------

Part 1: Here!

Part 2: Here!

Part 3: You're already here!

Part 4 (Epilogue): Here!

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 22

anakin x reader

a/n: ok big news in this chapter….ngl it’s kinda long and wordy, but i wanted it to b that way- hopefully it’s not too hard to understand eeek- i also just wanna thank all of u for reading :)

it’s time to go home, but is it even home anymore?

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, hospitals, self hatred, depressive thoughts, existential news

_______________________________

Anakin was finally being released from the hospital today and everyone was relieved. Though as the week progressed he became increasingly hostile with the staff. 

He was just ready to be home and be alone (relatively). 

Earlier in the week you had explained everything to him- what you felt, what you expected, and what you wanted to make this work.

Surprisingly he was quite compliant with your wishes which gave you great relief- you really did want him to better himself. 

His desire to be with you was insanely strong and he made sure you were serious when you said you would allow him back into your life several times.

He wasn’t going to mess up this time. 

Over the rest of the time there the two of you spent more time together having actual conversations and even laughing with each other again.

He was far sweeter to you and everything seemed to be going well; though he did need to work on how he treated others. 

For example…Today he was throwing a fit because he finally noticed his prosthetics weren’t in the room. 

“Where the fuck are my legs, its been a week, I want them back” he barked at one of the nurses who only came in to change his catheter. 

“Ben took them back to your place, he said you wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon and plus he didn’t want you to overexert yourself by attempting to walk around.” you interjected before the nurse could explain. 

She nodded at your explanation,

“What about my arms? Or would that be too much too?” he rudely remarked. 

“We have had to administer you lots of IV fluids, so your arms are pretty bruised from the needles. It would not be the most pleasant experience to wear your prosthetics at this moment-”

“But I can wear them?” he confirmed.

“Well, yes. But-”

“Anakin,” you snapped.

He turned his towards you to see you eyes glaring with warning as if to say “give it a rest”.

He sighed and left the topic alone, “nevermind, just do what you have to do”. 

The nurse finished up her duties and not long after the primary doctor that had been checking up on Anakin the last few days came in before the discharge.

“Good morning Mr. Skywalker, I bet you’re ready to go home” she greeted. 

“You have no idea,” Anakin responded. 

“Alright, I’ll try to get you out of here as quickly as I can- but before you go, some of your labs came back this morning and…we have some unfortunate news” the doctor with the clipboard in her hand said solemnly. 

“What is it?” Anakin asked, his excitement for going home subsiding momentarily. 

“There is no treatment we could give to postpone the process… but we just wanted to let you k-“

“what is it” Anakin demanded.

“Your liver is failing”

Your stomach dropped.

“it’s fatal”

You let a small, “What?” slip and the doctor diverted her attention towards you. 

“Yes, unfortunately there is nothing we can do other than put him on the donors list, but that is not a guarantee…”

You wanted to ask if there was anything else that you could do to slow the process, when Anakin asked;

“How long?”

“Well the list is quite long, bu-”

Anakin shook his head, “no- how long do I have?”

You could feel your heart racing… No.

Anakin couldn’t… This couldn’t be happening. 

You walked over to the small couch in the room and sat down- Anakin looked over to you with a worried look. 

“Are you alright, mam?” she asked, ready to intervene if there was an issue. 

“Yea, I’m fine” you assured, but Anakin wasn’t quite sold.

“y/n…” he called with a concerned expression.

In return you nodded, “I’m ok, Anakin, truly”.

You saw him glance down at your small bump before focusing his gaze back to the woman in the white coat. 

“Well, as you were asking earlier, it's really anywhere between 5 months to 2 years; it's really different for each case”.

“Is it almost guaranteed I will make it at least four more months?” Anakin asked. 

The doctor nodded, “most likely, if you maintain a healthy lifestyle and follow the prescribed orders, you should be just fine ‘til then''.

“Alright” Anakin sighed before looking over to you, “I just want to make sure I’ll be around to see our baby”. 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly; that was the first time he had ever referred to the child inside of you as “our”... plural.

Him and you.

This was his child and he was finally accepting it.

As much as that made your heart happy, he still needed to prove that he could be mature, show growth, and apologize for everything he had done… and you meant everything. 

“Of course Mr. Skywalker, just follow the hospital’s instructions and you should be able to meet your little one” the doctor gave a small smile before heading for the door. 

“Once again, I’m sorry that I had to be the bearer of bad news…and bad news so late… I wish the two of you the best”.

Soon, it was just you and Anakin again; the silence was deafening… Anakin was dying and he finally admitted that he was having a baby with you.

What were you going to do?

_________________________

The next few days were quite slow; you had been staying with Anakin to help him with anything he needed, but since he the news about his liver , he really hadn’t gotten out of bed. 

It seemed as if all of his desire to be (frustratingly) independent went out the window. 

He was definitely depressed. 

You really were only there to give him his medications, wash, use the restroom, and to prepare food for him. Other than those minimal tasks, you had nothing to do but worry about Anakin. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet; it wasn’t like he talked alot before, but he would at least make a quip or even complain about something…but he was giving you nothing.

You worried about what was going on inside his head- Ben had told you Anakin struggled with issues of self worth and unhealthy thoughts when he was feeling down.

Today was no different, you had helped him transfer to his chair so he could at least get out of his stuffy room for a moment while you tidied up, dusted, and changed the sheets. 

You came back out to start making lunch and saw that he had put on his arms when you weren’t watching- not that you wouldn’t have helped him. You sighed and chose to not address it (better to pick your battles). 

Anakin sat uncomfortably as you prepared lunch in the small kitchen; his arms were rubbing on his bruised stumps and the weight was making his arms ache. He should have just left them off. 

You set a plate in front of him before you went back to the kitchen to grab some of his medications. 

“I'll be back- I’m going to finish up in your room, alright?” you said; only eliciting a small hum from the man. 

He sat emotionlessly at the kitchen table with an untouched turkey sandwich. He was having difficulty grappling with his mortality and felt even worse because you were cooped up in his small ass apartment having to help him with everything. 

Once you finished in his room he asked to be taken back. You stole a glance at his plate still full of food. 

“Anakin, you have to eat” you sighed tiredly. 

“I’m not hungr-”

“Anakin you’ve said that the past three meals- you need to eat” 

He looked up at you; your head was in your hand and you massaged your temple with closed eyes. He was causing you distress- just like always…

“Sorry” he said quietly as he bit into the sandwich; he was going to finish this thing for you. He needed to try… for you.  

You thanked him for eating and followed him back to his room to help him back into bed. Before you could leave again, he asked for you to join him; just to have a moment off of your feet.

Of course you obliged 

It was an odd feeling being next to him again… you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you relaxed together at the house. It had to have been before the fight. 

Not long after you laid down, you couldn't help but cuddle up to him. It had been so long since you felt his comforting warmth- you missed it. 

For the first time in weeks you felt like the two of you may be able to be ok again. No matter Anakin’s health complications, you still wanted things between you to be restored to how they were (at least relatively). 

Maybe his liver complications were contributing to your desire to make amends- if something happened, you would have ended on bad terms (or at-least not on the terms you wanted).

His sadly apparent mortality was weighing on you; you needed to make sure he felt cared for and loved, if his life was coming to an end…

After around an hour of comfortable silence, he asked if you wanted to go to the living room and put on the TV.

As much as you would rather had stayed there with him, he probably asked to watch something to distract his existential mind. So without protest, you rose to your feet once more and helped him into his chair.

You took a seat in the recliner and he took a perch on the couch; some show he had been watching was on in the background as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. 

Out of nowhere, Anakin spoke;

“I’m gonna fuck up that kid” 

“What?”

“If i even live to see ‘em…I just mess everything up, I don’t want to ruin that kid before they’ve even got a chance…”

“Anakin, you aren’t going to mess up the kid, what are you talking about?” you said, placing your phone down on the end table near the recliner. 

For a few moments Anakin was silent and still; he looked as if he were contemplating something. You debated going over to the couch to take a seat by him, but he began to speak, so you stayed put. 

“Why are you still here?” he asked, not in an accusing way, more like a desperate plea. 

“What do you mean?”

He huffed and turned his head to the side, “After everything that’s happened- everything i’ve done… why do you still stay?”.

Your face fell. 

Yes, he was absolutely awful to you and you shouldn’t blindly forgive him, but you knew why he was the way he was, and you could see his sincerity. It hurt your heart that he felt unworthy of love.

“Anakin…” you said softly, “look at me please?”.

He kept his head turned from you, “I-I cant”.

You sighed and got up to sit beside him on the couch. He flinched when you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I stay because I care for you… I still love you, Ani” you hadn’t said those words in a long time. 

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Maker, he hated being vulnerable, but he couldn’t help the rush of emotions that took him over when you said those three words.

You heard him sniffle and began to rub his back. It was a hard thing to see; instead of a grown man, he seemed like a scared little boy; the way he tried to close himself off by shielding his body, his silent indications of tears… your heart broke just a little.

He had baggage, a fuck ton of it. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to be there to help him lighten the load.

You rested your head on his shoulder and stayed like that for a moment trying to think about what you should say; when you finally had something, he had already turned towards you. 

His beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears ready to fall, he bit his bottom lip, and his brows wavered as he drew them together.

He wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. You reached out a tender hand to caress his flushed cheek but he backed away and shook his head.

“Ani…” you called. 

“W-Why do you want me?” he choked out.

After he said it his eyes widened and he drew his mouth into a thin line, as if acting like he didn’t say it would mean that he didn’t just vocalize his insecurities. 

“I don’t understand” 

He exhaled and slouched a little before looking at you again, “Why? Out of everyone in the world…..y/n- You could have anyone you wanted- someone whole.”

You knew he was referring to his emotional and physical state. 

“You are young, talented, beautiful, and kind… so incredibly kind. So, why me?”.

You tilted your head to the side with a endearing expression.

“Because I love you”

“I’m pathetic Y/N… I know it’s cliche as fuck for me to say this, but you’re too good for me.” he sniffled.

“People know I'm different, no matter how hard I try to look normal when I walk, or do daily tasks- They can tell I'm not the same. A-and the people who do know me and stick around, like Ben, Satine, Rex, Ahsoka-”

He paused to look at you and his tears spilled over.

“You.”

You knew he just needed to get his emotions out, so you refrained from interrupting him.

“I'm just an absolute asshole to, for no fuckin reason other than the fact that I hate myself and think that I’m just weighing you all down. Fuck! I’ve been weighing Ben and Snipps down since the accident and it only took me, what? Like three weeks? To go and bug you for help”.

He sobbed and rested his forehead in the palm of his mechanical hand. 

“I’m self destructive; I ruin my relationships, I waste everyone’s time and now, my behaviors are catching up with me- with my liver and it's no one's fault but my own. There is no one to blame except for myself, I couldn’t tear myself away from the goddamn bottle and now I'm gonna die from my own actions- not the bomb, not sustained injuries, but from drinking… I’M SO FUCKING STUPID!” he cried. 

“Anakin, you are not. You are human. And as much as I know you hate to admit it, you have emotions.” you finally spoke, as you resumed rubbing his back. 

“I-I can't do anything right-”

“I don’t need you to be perfect; no one is.”

Gently, you brushed a few stray strands of sandy locks out of his face; he still was looking forward at the wall.

“B-but me? Out of everyone-” he questioned with a pleading tone… he truly didn’t understand.

“I didn’t want anyone in the world. I just wanted you”

He pursed his lips into a thin line.

“I still just want you,” you admitted. 

His watery eyes widened as you placed a gentle hand on his damp cheek. 

“You need to be kinder to yourself. Addiction is hard, it's not just something you can will away and it’s not all your fault anakin. It's more complicated than that” you provided some insight to the man in front of you. 

“I-I’m sorry- I’m so sorry” he cried.

You drew him into your chest and the familiar weight of his polycarbonate arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

“Shh, shh. It’s going to be alright Ani- We’ll all be here for you” you said, alluding to Ben, Ash, Satine, and yourself.

He whimpered as he tried to hold you tighter. 

“Everything is going to be alright…” you repeated, half trying to convince yourself too. 

“Everything is going to be alright…”

***

a/n: alrightyyyy, this one was kinda everywhere- sorry!! i hope the angst isn’t getting too old lmfaooo

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker

[leiawritesstories]

Ahaha, I have another because I’m greedy 🙈 But this prompt for Rowaelin, please??:

I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.

Thank you!

hehehehe okay so both you and @tomtenadia asked for this one and I really really hope this delivers 😈😁🥰

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 2.2k oops

Warnings: some angst and hurt BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT I PROMISE and it's followed by so much comfort

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin blinked back into reality and found herself in a hospital bed, her body covered in a cotton gown, aches and dulled pains creeping back into her consciousness as her head cleared. She shifted and found her left arm in a sling, immobilized. She shook her head gently, trying to bring up the memories of just how the hell she'd ended up in the emergency room instead of back at her hotel.

"Good to see you awake," a woman's voice said from her right. Aelin turned her head to find a nurse, about her own age, clad in the same blue scrubs as the other staff. "You've been asleep for a solid few hours, probably thanks to the medication."

"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.

The nurse pressed her lips together. "Do you remember a car accident?"

Oh.

Just like that, the memories flooded back. Aelin had been sitting in the back of a taxi, heading from a coffee shop where she'd been at a casual post-session meeting back to her hotel in downtown Doranelle. As the taxi had driven through an intersection, a driver had run the red light in the opposite direction and hit the rear side of the taxi. Her memories got a little fuzzy after that, mostly just snippets of shock, confusion, flashing lights and sirens, and a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance.

"You remember?" the nurse asked. Aelin nodded. "Good. That's a good sign that you likely don't have a concussion." She scratched a few notes onto her clipboard. "Now that you're awake, we can finish discharging you. You're stable, so we won't need you to stay here."

"So I can go home?" Aelin signed the papers the nurse handed her.

"No."

"What do you mean, I can't go home?" Still a little out of it from the medication they'd given her, Aelin blinked at the ER nurse. "You just told me I don't need to stay."

"Let me clarify, then," the nurse replied. "You've been cleared to go home, but you have not been cleared to go home alone. You'll need someone to take you--and no, a taxi or an Uber doesn't count." A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips at Aelin's disgruntled frown. "It's for your safety, Miss Galathynius. We don't want to see our ER patients back here within a few hours because they tried to do something they shouldn't have done."

Aelin sighed. "All right. You can call my emergency contact." She leaned back into the hospital bed. "I'd ask you to call my parents, but they live over a thousand miles away, so that isn't possible."

"As long as you have an emergency contact on file, that will be fine." The nurse placed Aelin's normal clothes in a small pile on the chair next to the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes to let you know who's coming for you."

"Thanks." Aelin managed a half smile before tilting her head back and groaning. Gods. Of all the days and times to wind up in the ER, it had to be now, during her work trip to Doranelle. At least their healthcare system was well-funded and well-run; the staff who she vaguely remembered tending to her when she came in were polite, professional, and expertly trained. Muffling a grunt, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripped the handrail, and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her legs at once. Shakily, she managed to stand up and reach for her clothes.

There, she got stuck. She couldn't get out of her hospital gown alone because the damn thing was tied in the back and her damn arm was in a sling to immobilize her injured shoulder.

She'd just screamed a string of foul curses into the pillow when there was a knock on the door and the nurse reappeared. "Good news, Miss Galathynius! A Mr. Rowan Whitethorn is on his way to pick you up."

Ah, shit. The thought of Rowan Whitethorn seeing her like this was almost enough to make her wish she'd been kept at the hospital.

"All right," was what she told the nurse. "I hope he's bringing food, because I am bloody hungry."

The nurse laughed. "I'm sure he'll be able to get you all the food you want once you're out of here." She handed Aelin a small paper bag. "There is a small quantity of pain medicine in here. I'd recommend taking it once or twice a day, depending on how severe your pain is, for the next four to seven days. You can take over-the-counter pain medications as well. After seven days, stop taking the prescription medication. If there's any left, you can bring it to any pharmacy here and they'll discard it."

Aelin nodded along. "Okay. Thank you." She flashed a soft smile at the nurse, who'd been nothing but kind to her.

"Of course." The nurse offered her a small smile in return and left the room.

Aelin considered whether or not it would be worth attempting to get into her normal clothes before Rowan got there and decided that it wasn't. If he had to walk her out of the hospital still wearing the godsdamned gown, then he would. Damn shoulder.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Rowan Whitethorn pushed open the door and burst into the hospital room. His crisply pressed suit was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, his collar undone, and his eyes were wild, almost panicky, as he crossed the room in two long strides and cupped Aelin's face in his hands.

"What the hell?!" She pulled away from him, hissing at the sharp twinge of pain caused by the sudden movement.

He stepped back, hands up. "You what the hell? Give me a fucking heart attack, why don't you, Galathynius?"

She rolled her eyes. "You barely even know me, Whitethorn. Shut it with the heart attack nonsense."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "Why the hell am I your emergency contact?"

"Because I'm a thousand miles from home, I don't live here, and you're the only person at this fucking seminar that's bothered to learn my name." The small rant spilled out of Aelin before she could stop it. "I needed to have someone on file, and your stupid face is the first name I thought of. You're lucky I had your business card, or I'd be stuck here until I convinced the nurse that I could Uber back to my hotel without dying."

Rowan's cranky expression morphed into mild shock, then concern. "So you weren't going to explain why in all hell your arm is in a sling and there's bruises all over you?"

"They're not all over me," she huffed. "There's some minor bruising on my clavicles, arms, and left cheek. And anyone who asks why I'm wearing a sling deserves to be told to shut the fuck up."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "Fine. I'll drive you back to your hotel." He offered one hand.

She held up her good hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Business. I need to change into my own clothes." She frowned. "But with this bloody sling, I can't get the gown untied."

To her immense shock, a blush spread up his angled cheekbones. "Um...should I call the nurse?"

"This is an ER, Whitethorn, not the regular hospital ward," she deadpanned. "I've been discharged, so as far as they're concerned, I'm no longer their patient. You can help me."

His blush deepened. "I..." He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual impassive mask. "Fine. Tell me what you need help with."

She turned, presenting her back. "Untie the gown, please."

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "she's trying to kill me" and carefully untied the gown, keeping his hands as far from her skin as possible. Which wasn't very far, since he was literally undressing her.

Aelin was still wearing her bra and underwear beneath the gown, and because she wanted to have a little fun, she let the gown drop to the floor instead of holding it up to herself. Rowan emitted a strangled cough and wheezed behind her. She smirked. "Is something wrong, Whitethorn?"

"Nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Where are your clothes?"

"On the chair. Hand me my pants, please." He did, and she pulled on her slacks. "Blouse." The blouse was a little more trouble. Aelin got it halfway on and stopped, unable to wrangle her sling arm into the unbuttoned blouse. "Shit."

"Here." Unexpectedly, Rowan had picked up her sweater and draped it over her injured arm, careful to keep his touch light. He let her slip her good arm into the other sleeve, then buttoned the three big buttons on the front of the loose sweater. "Does that help?"

"Yes." She flashed him a small, hesitant grin. "Thanks."

He clutched his chest. "Polite words from Aelin Galathynius? What world is this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a jackass, Whitethorn, just let me grab my purse and we can get the hell out of here."

"Not so fast." He snatched her purse before she could reach it. "Are you supposed to be carrying this?"

"I still have one good arm," she sighed. "Give it to me." He raised one pale brow in disbelief. "Yes, Whitethorn, I can carry my purse. It's not too heavy for the limit they gave me."

Satisfied with that answer, he handed her her purse and held the door open as she walked out. "I'm parked kind of far away," he admitted as they left the ER building. "Couldn't find a closer spot."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "It's my arm that's injured, not my legs."

Her traitorous legs chose that very moment to wobble, betraying her strong façade.

"Mhmm," Rowan drawled, a smirk curving his lips.

She scowled. "Shut it."

He mumbled something indecipherable and, without warning, lifted her off her feet. "We'll actually get somewhere if I don't have to put up with your toddling," he teased.

Aelin's mouth dropped open. "Toddling?!"

His smirk grew. "Tell me you weren't as unsteady as a toddler and I'll call you a liar, Ae." The nickname fell from his lips as easily as his dry sarcasm.

"You're horrid," she grumbled, folding her arms.

"And look at that, we're already at my car!" he announced, triumphant. She sighed and let him help her into the passenger seat.

As they headed down the streets towards downtown Doranelle, Rowan flicked a glance over at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Remember the accident that blocked up half of downtown earlier this afternoon?" she asked. He nodded. "I was in the taxi that got hit."

If he hadn't been driving, he would have stopped in his tracks. "You--what?"

"Rowan." Instinctively, she reached over and placed her good hand on his forearm. "I'm okay. It wasn't a huge crash."

"It wasn't--Aelin, do you know what happened at that intersection?"

"I remember my taxi getting hit."

His throat bobbed. "The driver that hit your taxi skidded on black ice and T-boned another vehicle. It was...it was bad."

She gasped. "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he murmured. "You were injured, Ae." He shifted one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap it around her good hand. "There were some serious injuries, but everyone made it to the hospital in time and it seems like they're all stable. Police arrested the driver for DUII and reckless driving." His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand. "It's been all over the news and social media."

"I had no idea," she repeated, softly. "I...I'm glad everyone seems to be okay." She leaned back into the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.

At the hotel, Rowan surprised her again by parking, helping her out of the car, and grabbing a small duffle bag from the backseat of his car before accompanying her inside.

"What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath as he walked beside her to the elevator, his steadying hand on her lower back.

"I've been given orders to see you safely home," he drawled, mirth lighting his eyes.

She frowned. "I'm at my hotel, in case you haven't noticed."

He nodded. "You are. And I'm going to make sure you get to your room safe and sound."

"You going to pat me on the head and tuck me into bed, too?" she griped.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind putting you to bed, Aelin," he whispered into her ear. The heat concealed in his lazy words barreled down her spine, awakening a part of her that had absolutely no business being so active when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

She stepped out of the elevator before Rowan and led him down the hall to her room, where she stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her key card to the lock. The small screen flashed green, the door unlocked, and with her hand on the half-open door, Aelin turned to face Rowan, her calm voice belying her thundering heart.

"Stay with me, Ro?"

More emotions than she could count flashed across his face. He followed her into the hotel room, closed the door, and leaned himself against the door frame, resting the weight of his gaze on her.

"I'd love to."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[veryveryverytemporarily]

So I wrote this ficlet for Christmas then didn't post it because I wanted to add to it, but then the converstaion with Aaron about ghosts made me realize I'd written the same idea haha. So here it is anyway...

‘Oh, Aaron, I was hoping I’d see you. Can I have a word? Not here, outside?’

There was something about her eyes, so he’d put back the mince pies he’d been going to buy and followed her into the night.

She’d kept walking until she was out of earshot of customers choosing vegetables, and then she’d turned and looked up at him, face lit by sparkling angels high above them on Main Street.

‘It’s about Christmas.’

‘Did my Mum put you up to this? I’m not joining her for the Dingle dinner this year, I’ve told her that.’

‘No, not your Mum. This is about my Christmas, well, mine, and yours, too.’

She was searching his face, and something about her expression made him suddenly breathless. He took a step backwards, buried his hands in his pockets.

‘So, wh…what then…is it that you want me to babysit Harry? Is it that? ‘Cos you know I will...,’ he could hear a tremor in his voice.

‘No, Aaron, not that.’

Her eyes were like saucers looking back at him and he felt his strength seeping into the night.

‘There’s no easy way of telling you this…,’ she said.

‘Telling me what?’

She reached up and held his sleeve, he could feel his heart blundering around in his chest even before she spoke. Hadn’t he had enough knocks?

But he knew what she was going to say, and when she did speak, her words were just an echo, as if time had splintered and sent him ahead so he opened his mouth…

‘It’s Robert,’ they both spoke in unison.

‘…isn’t it?’ he added weakly, looking down at the glistening black surface of the road where he could see stars reflected.

‘Yes,’ Vic was still holding his sleeve, anchoring him. ‘Robert’s coming home. He’s been released.’

He stood at the top of the drive going down to the Mill. Watching.

He saw his Mum outside wearing dark glasses against the afternoon winter sunshine and a warmer round her wrists. Paddy, calling out to her, wrapped in a red scarf, held Evie’s hand as they made their way over towards the entrance of the Woolpack.

Bundled up in a kid’s fur coat, Evie saw him from the distance, smiled, and waved.

He waved back, then when Chas turned in his direction, he looked away. He had no space in his head for the aggro. Not today.

So, instead he returned to watching the turning at the top of the street. Watching for a taxi.

‘I’ve got a return flight booked to Southampton to bring him back. He said he’d manage on his own, but he’ll be disorientated in the big wide world and I want to make sure he gets here alright,’ Vic had said. ‘I don’t even know how much cash they give them, the discharge grant or something, I read about it on the families forum.’

‘Seventy-six pounds,’ Aaron had stated.

‘And then what? Left to fend for yourself on the street if you haven’t got family?’ Vic observed darkly.

‘Well luckily he’s got you,’ Aaron had answered, swallowing. What he’d wanted to hear her say was ‘And you.’ But he wasn’t Robert’s family anymore, was he? What would Robert want him to be?

His stomach felt hollow. What if Robert didn’t want him around at all?

‘Wendy’s going to have Harry until I’m back,’ Vic went on.

‘Does she know?’

Victoria shook her head with a frown as she focused on extracting a blue shirt from its wrapping, and changed the subject.

‘I got him this, and those boxers, and socks,’ she gestured with her chin, ‘and that sweater and these jeans, do you think they’ll be alright?’

She held the jeans up.

Aaron blinked and nodded.

The wool sweater Vic had got for him was midnight blue. He’d reached out when her back was turned and touched the cuff of it.

Darkness dropped swiftly. In his head, the street was haunted.

Like an ancient battle ground, wraiths, and phantoms: In the haze beneath the fur tree with its fairy lights, Aaron could see them.

Finn for one, hair combed and neatly dressed with his cupid’s bow pout, popping over to the Wooly for a pint of Christmas sherry.

Jackson waiting by the bus stop, raising a can of beer to his mouth, still asking the eternal question - Did you love me?

And there was Gerry; goofing about, trailing along behind him as he went out running - but no, he mustn’t think of Gerry because that would make him think of Liv. And thinking of Liv was impossible.

He straightened his back.

A way behind him a door opened and lit the drive so he could see his shadow on the sparkly tarmac appear and disappear again. He heard footsteps and boyish voices, and then Suni and Nicky passed him with a courteous but cautious evening, and close behind them Ethan, who stopped, eyelashes fluttering over shining cheeks.

He had to admit that he’d been flirting. Now he felt incredulous. One day he’d apologize, but not tonight.

Ethan was talking but he’d had to say pardon because he hadn’t been listening.

‘It’s Suni’s first venture out since, well, you know. We’re taking him for a pint; do you want to join us?’

‘No,’ Aaron answered abruptly, and then added, ‘Thanks but, no, anyway.’

‘Oh, well, have a good night then,’ Ethan replied.

Aaron hardly registered his confused frown as he walked on. None of it mattered, he was deleting his recent past, like scrubbing out lines in a badly written text.

He was looking to his real past; all the memories; a heady treasure trove full to overflowing, lost but maybe if wishes could come true, he might hunt it out and unlock it all over again - and x marking the spot was a small cottage on Main Street.

As if on cue the full beam of headlights rounded the corner and a taxi crawled into the street and slowed to a stop, engine turning.

He reeled forward, his heart erratic.

But then Suni, Nicky and Ethan appeared again and he realized his mistake.

He stroked a hand down his face and tried to calm his breathing as the taxi reversed accompanied by the sound of receding laughter, and left him to the silence and the ghosts.

And then in his pocket his phone buzzed. Vic leaving a text.

I thought you’d be here. We’ve been back ages.

He’d been trying on the clothes and his long pale fingers were pulling down the hem of the sweater over his midriff, when Aaron stepped in over the threshold.

His skin was ghostly white, his cheeks hallow. His hair was long and he’d got some sort of beard going on. For a moment it was hard to reconcile this man with the image he’d been carrying round in his head of the husband he’d lost.

But his eyes; grey -green like the sea at Filey on a blustery spring day, staring back at him like he would sweep away all his defenses, his eyes were all Robert.

And it took all his strength not to reach out and hold him, like a possession: His possession. His man; his only man, finally here in front of him.

[jollynoryia]

https://pin.it/3E16VSl6e

Tbh would love to see you and F1shcakee!! fight, because it'd just be you beating the shit out of them even when you're handicapped with an eating disorder

I'm going to chew her up and vomit her back out again (because that's what I do with everything I eat anyway)

Then I'm going to bitch slap her, because the deepest darkest malice whitin the bottomless pit of fire pain and piss in hell isn't enough to handle my hatred for that discharge stain looking faggot (wh*t)

Im going to take my shotgun off the wall and fire three warning shots into her forehead and leave her like a bowling ball, since she apparently likes miss diAreiah there so much

If I ever see anyone supporting Whit they better get on their knees at the edge of the bed and tremble while praying they never have the misfortune of crossing paths with me ever

Pull up if you dare

GUYS THIS IS A JOKE?. 😭

[therealpactcommander]

Commander Week Day 5 - Love

- a snippet from a larger writing piece that's still being worked on

Thorne trotted up to his two short friends, who were busily chattering with each other.

“Commander! Perfect timing. You read Rama's letter?” Gorrik chirped.

“Sounds like he needs some support with this whole Min situation.” Thorne chuckled.

“Luckily, he has us to back him up. Gorrik and I will be there to help. Although, we were thinking…” Taimi hummed.

Gorrik finished her sentence with a smile. “It might be nice if you also had someone to bring with you…”

Thorne’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh..?”

“Since we're pressed for time, we decided to take some initiative, and…” Taimi tried to hide a sheepish smile, only increasing Thorne’s dread.

“You didn’t.”

Gorrik chuckled nervously. “Don't worry, Commander! There's no pressure whatsoever. We're just there to have a good time and to help Rama! But… Yao is at the Sunjiang Lab.”

Thorne turned and walked away before the two asura could see his rising blush- yet, by the way they both laughed quietly to each other, they had.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” Yao looked over as Thorne walked up.

“Yao! It's great to see you without a crisis involved!” Thorne chuckled, trying to keep himself from running the other direction.

“Ha, no kidding. Don't know if I've seen you NOT yelling and waving a weapon around.” They chaffed.

“‘You any good at making small talk and waving utensils around?” He was surprising himself with how calm he sounded.

“Hmm, that's a lot of pressure,” Yao teased with a grin. “But I think I could handle it.”

“I'd like to see that.” Thorne smirked. “Meet me at the Red Duck?”

“Absolutely. ‘Wouldn't miss it.”

~~~

What am I doing? What am I doing?!

Thorne tried to control his trembling as he approached his team standing in front of the Red Duck. He took deep breaths, wondering if he should just run in the other direction. Say he was sick- technically, he had snuck out before he was discharged by a healer, so it wasn't too far off.

“We’re all here now. Perfect! It's showtime!”

Too late.

Yao grinned as Thorne walked up. “Shall we, Vætkisson?”

Thorne’s face was too hot, but he forced the words out of his mouth anyway. “Long time no see, Yao.” He mumbled. “You look… refreshed.”

“Really? I don't know if I feel refreshed.” Yao chuffed. “But you're looking a lot better too! Um- not that you looked bad before… you know what I mean. Heh.”

Thorne absentmindedly touched the scars on his cheek. “W-what?”

“Commander! Over here!”

Thorne was grateful for the distraction.

Min looked over and chuckled. “Well, look who it is. It's been a while, Commander. Glad you both could make it.”

Thorne shuffled into his seat, staring down. He picked at his food as he listened to the awkward conversation unfolding to his left.

“Psssst! Commander! Do something! Get us off the sushi topic!”

Thorne panicked, opting to just squeeze his tea cup until it shattered in his hand. He stared at it for a moment before remembering people were looking at him. “Wh-whoops. How clumsy of me,”

He heard an exasperated waiter shout and stomp away.

“uh- Maybe we need to have Minister Min here investigate the caffeine content of this tea and see if it exceeds regulations!”

“Uh- right!” Thorne followed up, staring at the human across from him.

“Here, let me wrap up your hand.” Yao offered, taking a bandage out of a satchel and walking over. They took Thorne's hand gently and put a gauze on his palm, wrapping it securely with the bandages. “Stop hurting yourself, yeah?” They teased, returning to their seat.

“Right…”

“Well, are you having fun, Commander?”

“Me? Uh- I…” Thorne stammered before taking a moment to think about it. “... I am. This… this is nice. Maybe I should get out more…”

Yao laughed, waving their jade claw at him. “You get out plenty! You just have to make sure you schedule some fun while you're out there,”

Thorne smiled. “Alright,”

Chatter went on for a while, and Thorne finally stalked over to Gorrik. “Normally, I'd never let anyone "set me up" like this…” he mumbled. “But… you chose well.”

“Well of course, Commander! Who knows you better than Taimi and I do?” Gorrik grinned. “Well, depending on how things go, perhaps ‘someone else’ might get to know you quite well.” He smirked, surprising Thorne with his ability to express such humor.

Thorne’s face burned, his tail thrashed, hoping he didn't notice. (Which, he would. Of course he would.) “Don't push it,” he said simply.

~~~

“I had a great time tonight. Thanks for coming out,”

“This was so much fun! More importantly, I think Min had fun. Happy to help!”

Yao shuffled nervously as Thorne looked back at them. “Commander, I have a confession... I've never been on a date before...even as a friend…”

“I'd have never guessed,” Thorne chuckled. “Just… glad you joined me. I'm having a great time.”

“Aww, me too!” They beamed. “And it was a nice way to take my mind off things. You're a blast to hang out with- even when we're not saving the world.”

Thorne blushed again. “Could say the same for you, Yao.”

“I had a lot of fun, Thorne.” Yao grinned. “I… Thank you for inviting me.”

Thorne held his tail in his hands, ears wiggling with conflicting emotions. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss on Yao’s temple. They looked up at him in shock, and Thorne realized with horror what he had just done.

“I- I have to go find Ivory!” He yelled, face red. Before anyone could say anything, he turned around and sprinted out of sight. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

[hamatosami]

Fire and Ice (a TMNT fanfiction)

Chapter 4: Twisted Tales

Notes: I am so grateful for the love on this story! Please note that all of my stories are 18+

(ALL OF MY STORIES ARE 18+ MAY OR MAY NOT CONTAIN SEXUAL CONTENT, LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, GORE, DARK THEMES) PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY 🫶🏼

👈🏼 previous chapter here!

“My loneliness engulfed me and my fear held me in shackles”

I continued to hold her hand until Donnie came. If anyone could help her it would be him. I checked for her breathing far too many times, making sure she was still alive.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She was hot and breaking a sweat. My hand slipped from under her to feel her head and she firmly grabbed my wrist.

I thought she was unconscious. Her eyes were too swollen to tell.

”Wh— ishhur nmm” she mumbled. Her hand shook around my wrist. She was so terrified that she tried to keep herself conscious enough for me to stay and lucky for me, her eyes were too swollen to see me.

I held her arm back. My hand propped under her neck to assure her there was someone there.

Talk to her Raph! You have to keep her talking.

”What did ya say?” I asked. She huffed hard. Breathing hurt her and she had blood dripping out of her mouth.

“Name.” She said barely opening her mouth. 

I was taken back. I knew she definitely couldn’t see me now.

”Raphael.” I answered finding my self getting more and more anxious at how much time she had left. I could be the last person… well creature she talks to. “As long as I’m here you’re safe. I promise.” I tried to comfort her.

She took another deep breath and became limp once again. My heart beat so fucking fast. 

A loud thump from the roof shook behind me.

Thank fucking God.

”Raph I’m here!” Donnie exclaimed and April hopped off his back. When April saw who it was her face turned into complete panic.

”Nooo!!” She ran faster than the speed of light.

”You know her?!” I asked now feeling a thousand times more guilt than I ever felt.

”I was just with her an hour ago… I don’t understand, how did this happen?!” Her face dropped.

Donnie ran to her side instantly checking her vitals.

”Foot clan members. The ones Leo told me to follow. I seen the one douche chase her out of that apartment.” I pointed. Her face went from upset to furious.

”Levi…he’s her boyfriend. Him and his friends at the college we go to I’ve been watching for days, I had suspicions they were clan members, that’s why I became friends with her, to get a lead. It turns out she’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Her boyfriends an asshole.” She explained. My heart fell for this girl. I looked over at Donnie anxious to know her condition.

”Damn it!” Donnie rarely swears. My heart raced faster than ever.

“What is it Donnie?!” I said a little too rough.

”I think she’s bleeding internally. Her temperature is spiking fast. She needs a blood transfusion and fluids immediately. She needs a hospital I can’t do anything without an ultrasound and my equipment.” He stuttered frantically.

“Will she make it to a hospital?” April asked now crouching down to her friend.

“You’ll have to get her there now!” Donnie said as he was watching his watch. April aggressively called an ambulance.

“Hello?! I need an ambulance here stat!” April yelled into the phone.

——————————————————

Eve’s POV

Its been a few days since my attack. I was slowly but surly healing. No fractured bones. Just a lot of bruising and a mild concussion. April was by my side every moment. She went as far as contacting the school for me. As for my parents I made it apparent to her not to tell them. They would pressure me to go home if they knew.

I was getting close to being discharged from the hospital. Today my social worker and the police were here for me to give a full report on Levi. This was something I thought I’d never have to do. Part of me was relieved that I could finally continue living freely, but a shameful other part of me was feeling heartbroken that I would never see Levi again. I did love him. At one point… the connection to your abuser is something a lot of people don’t talk about.

He was the only person I had left.

Another part of me was nervous how things would be at school. Would his friends try to hurt me? How would my classmates treat me? I could hear it now. “Eve fakes assault to put Levi in jail.” I already knew those rumors would start.

My stomach twisted in so many knots. My loneliness engulfed me and my fear held me in shackles. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’d like you to tell me what happened.” The social worker said. Her eyes painted on me ready to engorge my testimony.

I felt a lump in my throat trying to remember the very little I did know. April held my hand and nodded me to continue.

”Umm well I was coming home from the coffee shop around 8pm. I didn’t answer his text right away so he got angry and waited for me at the door. He wouldn’t let me in my apartment and got aggressive with me.” My voice started to shake remembering his hands around my throat. 

“What happened then?” She urged. My breathing became rapid now confessing of the things I would usually lie about. I knew the plain truth, but saying it was hard. I had become so accustomed to lying that the truth felt vile.

”He strangled me…” I whispered. My fingers trailed to my neck that was heavily bruised. I remembered the scent of his breath…

A tear poured over my cheek. I felt too numb to even wipe it away. I let my tear loosely hang at the bottom of my chin. My eyes zoned away as I dissociated.

”What happened after that?” She asked again. I zapped out of my darkened state and looked up at April again.

“I managed to get away. I spat in his eye and ran as fast as I could. I tried to call 911, but I fell. That’s when him and all of his friends hurt me. I don’t remember much after that.” I looked at April again knowing she was the one who rescued me.

”What happened again April?” I looked at her with honest eyes. She gulped and smiled to try and lighten up the atmosphere.

”I had forgotten that I asked her to hold onto my keys for me.” April continued for me. “As I walked back I saw her running from him. I tried to get there as fast as I could, but I was too late.”

”Wait.” The social worker took her glasses off and sat up a little more in her chair. “So you mean to tell me that you single handedly fought off 5 grown men by yourself?” She said disbelieving.

Aprils mouth slightly gaped. Her offense clearly spread through her face.

”Yes mam I did. I study mixed martial arts, and for the record I’m pretty damn good at it.” She sassed.

”Shes telling the truth.” I jumped in. The social worker averted her eyes back to her binder of all of my pictures and information. 

“Eve I need to to tell me every name you know that was there.” She said.

”Well there was Levi, his best friend Michael Stewart. I think I saw Malik Worthington and I don’t know what he looks like but I heard the name… Raphael I think and D-Don? Donnie?.” I said scratching my head.

April looked at me faster than ever. Eyes shocked as hell. I didn’t understand why…

”Well Eve I think I have everything I need. We’ll get that PFA filed and with my team I’ll make it sure that he never touches you again.” She said standing up.

”Wha- what about school?” I said nervously before she quickly tried existing. She turned around.

”I’ve already contacted the school officials. Him and everyone who was involved are about to be expelled.” My heart sung and sunk at the same time. I would never hear the end of this at school.

The next day I was discharged. April insisted on staying with me for a few days. This girl was probably the most giving person I’ve ever met. She barely knew me. No matter how much I tried convince her I was okay, I saw the guilt behind her eyes. 

We’ve become so close within the past couple days. It honestly felt so good to have someone genuine by my side. The school administrator said I didn’t have to go back until next week so after school April would come straight to my apartment. 

We found that we both REALLY loved watching the bachelor. The new episode aired tonight and we prepped all day for it. Plenty of assortments of wine and snacks along with some candles, fuzzy blankets and some cozy pajamas. It was the perfect way to spend the a rainy afternoon.

As the episode ended and we finally simmered down from all the drama we just watched. I was excited to show her what I’ve been working on for my current events project.

”Youre suppose to be relaxing.” She implied as I shuffled through my papers.

”Yeah, but I really think you’ll find this story cool!” I said. I handed her a folder of all of my research.

“Ancient Japanese operations featuring the Big Apple.” She said uneasy. I rolled my eyes.

”Yeah it needs a better title I know. But look at how interesting this is!” I flipped the page for her. “See? A lot of Japanese Americans in the city are reporting that a lot of crime in the city is coming from a secret clan of ninjas. I thought it was bogus at first until I looked at a lot of the evidence. See this? Remember that robbery that was all over the news a couple weeks ago? Look at the symbol they left behind.” I pointed.

Her eyes looked uneasy.

”And look here, I took these right outside of our campus.” I pointed again. April remained silent and I couldn’t help but notice the sudden shake in her hand.

I had a lot of time on my hands since I was lounging around all day. My research was impressive in my eyes, but the more that I showed her of this “Foot clan” the more silent and resentful Aprils energy was.

”So. What do you think?” I looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“Well.” April cleared her throat as she adjusted herself in the couch. She was oddly comfortable. “It sounds interesting, but isn’t this project suppose to be interactive?” She asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Well that’s where I was hoping to ask for your help.”

April raised an eyebrow.

”I was wondering if you were willing, to maybe let me interview your friends and ask them a few cultural questions.”

“My friends?” She but her lip nervously.

”Yeah… you said they were Japanese right?” I hesitated slightly. April scrunched her face and shook her head. Something was off with her and I had no idea why.

”Oh yes. Those friends.” She nodded. “I don’t know how to say this, but they’re not really… people-ly.” Her lips became tense.

”People-ly?” I repeated.

“Yeahhhhh.” She chuckled. “They don’t really do well with people.” She seemed like she was sugar coating everything. I started to gather that she didn’t really want me to meet her friends. I knew her intentions were pure, but I couldn’t help but feel a little left out. Maybe I wasn’t cool enough for her cool Japanese friends that teach her martial arts.

I decided to keep my follow up question to myself then. Since I was pretty much a coward and knew nothing about self defense, I was going to ask if her friends could teach me a few things.

I threw that idea out the window quick.

”It’s okay. I understand.” I said trying not to look hurt about it. “It just means I’ll have to interview some of the kids at school. Talking to new people is not something I’m good at, but I need the practice.” I said. 

April smiled and switched her focus to the TV. 

“Well it’s still raining, you know what movies go perfect with rain?” She said.

”What?” I asked pulling up my blanket.

”Twilight.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! IF YOU ENJOY, LIKE, COMMENT AND FOLLOW. IT LETS ME MNOW TO WRITE MORE!

“Please, please

Don't leave me be

It's not true

Take me to the roof

Told you not to worry

What do you want from me?

Don't ask questions

Wait a minute

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

Baby, I don't feel so good

And all the good girls go to hell

Bite my tongue, bide my time

What is it about them?

I’m the bad guy”

[redgoldblue]

hello hello, for the ask game: 🌤️☔ and because that's sun + rain and i can never resist a rainbow emoji anyway: 🌈

thanku! 🌈🌈 we all know what wip i'm using for this

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

I was shocked, going through the doc by how little pure dialogue there is. apparently when i'm essentially writing ~30k of Emotions from the POV of a guy who hates acknowledging his emotions, a lot of it is internal/physical description. or at least mixed in with it.

actually. wait. i think maybe my favourite dialogue isn't even between Steve and Danny, it's Danny and Harry:

“Should I be offering congratulations or slapping the both of you upside the head?” “What?” “Yes, I rather thought that might be the case.” Danny spreads his hands in what he thinks is an appropriately ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ gesture, and follows it up by saying, “Harry, what the fuck are you talking about?” “Were you two ever going to discuss the fact that you’re in love with each other, or are you just planning to keep muddling along in the hopes that one day you’ll trip and fall into bed together?” Before Danny can come up with any kind of response to that, Harry raises a hand and amends, “No, sorry, you’re already in bed together. In the hopes that you’ll trip and fall onto each other’s cocks.”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

Danny brushes his teeth, combs wet fingers through his hair, washes his hands on autopilot. Then he sits down on the closed toilet lid and lets himself shake out of his skin. It’s almost habit now, this moment after Steve is discharged where the relief that he’s not actively dying clashes into the terror that medical professionals are no longer watching him, and the resulting noise reverberates through Danny’s body and sets him falling. He has no idea how long it ever takes, just that he sits with elbows braced on his knees staring at nothing until the flood of emotions recedes and leaves him with nothing but the dirty sand of exhaustion. That’s the usual path. Except that today, there’s a knock on the bathroom door and Steve’s voice calling, “Danny? You okay?” He can’t get out more than a grunt in response, still falling, drowning. The door cracks open, and Steve repeats, “Danny?” through the gap. Danny manages something that sounds more like human language this time, but it’s still not any form of comprehensible words. Or enough to stop Steve pushing the door fully open and crossing the few steps to stand in front of him. Then he drops to a crouch, resting his palms on Danny’s thighs for a moment before he reaches for Danny’s hands where they press hard against his own jaw and temple. Danny lets him take them, lower them, then slips his fingers down until he can find Steve’s pulse on both sides. It’s there, strong and steady, and Danny shuts his eyes and curls further towards Steve. There’s a reason he does this alone. He’s just having trouble remembering what it is right now.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

I can do one better - I can do soft and fluffy. mwahaha

Danny tucks the flower through one of Steve’s buttonholes to free his hands up. Steve, of course, looks down at it first like he’s baffled, and then rapidly like his pupils are on the verge of turning into hearts and popping out of his skull like a deranged cartoon character. Danny snorts. “You’re such a fucking romantic.” “Wh- hey,” Steve says, abruptly defensive, and Danny waves a hand at him before he can get any further up in arms. “Calm down, buddy. It wasn’t an insult.” Steve raises his eyebrows doubtfully. “Much of one,” Danny allows. “Not really. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

wip asks

[whentranslatorscry]

Vol 4 The Testament of Okitegami Kyouko

Chapter 1. Kakushidate Yakusuke Being Hospitalized (1/3)

1

Crunch! came a sound much like the crushing of an egg.

Its source: my body.

Oblivious to what had happened, utterly confused about how— such words were too flowery for the situation. Before the thought 'utterly confused' even had a chance to register, my consciousness faded. All I could glean was— so this is how it feels to die.

2

Well, if we could die whenever we wanted, life wouldn't be much of a struggle, and while life is fleeting, it is also stubborn to the core.

After hovering at death's door for a full week, I awoke in a hospital bed, learning that a middle school girl had fallen from the roof of a building, her body crashing down directly onto me as I walked home. 

Somehow or other, it seems I'd cheated death. 

If I was expected to savor this miracle however, to humbly thank the heavens for this misfortune that had fallen upon me quite literally—was a bit much. It made me want to curse the heavens and ask what grudge they held against me.

Simply in the sphere of my everyday life, I consistently and constantly am embroiled in all sorts of crimes, from the smallest to the most heinous. Each and every time suffering wrong accusations, continually treated like a suspect, shouldering blame to the extent that it feels like a backpack. After a long while, finally— for the first time in forever— I found a job. Why on earth did this have to happen as soon as I found a job.

To lay out the extent of the damage: I did survive, but my right arm and thigh were severely fractured, so it goes without saying that I can't work for the time being— forget work, I couldn’t even write or eat— needless to say, the job was done for.

Using the opportunity of drafting resumes to also start writing something like memoirs, given my present crippled state, I felt I might have to become a writer for real.

Hearing my words, Kondou-san who came to visit gave me a stern talking to.

"Might have to become a writer? Oh, you don't know how hard it is to be a writer!"

Kondou-san served at a major publishing company, Sakusousha, where in his early thirties he already held the position of the head of the Comics Weekly magazine department. Perhaps because of his previous stint in the novels department, he wasn't tolerant of careless remarks like those I had just made. 

Before I could apologize for my blunder, Kondou-san chucked and said,

"Young people who underestimate writers are the ones who, unexpectedly, easily become writers—you've got real potential there. You could easily spin your everyday experiences into any number of books. This experience is indeed precious."

Was he mocking me? Or encouraging me? Both seemed possible, yet neither quite right. I figured I should take his words positively.

"And you know,"

Kondou-san went on, slicing a great deal of apple by the bed. It pained me to have my former boss do such a thing but, as an injured patient with a disabled right hand, all I could do was accept his kindness. Moreover, he would dislike it the most if I were to show such reserve—we are just friends now, and he wouldn't even allow me to use polite language.

"In the world of manga, a girl falling from the sky is quite a coveted event. But when it actually happens, it turns out to be such a tragedy... You've had your fair share of miserable experiences, but isn't being hospitalized quite rare for you?"

"Yeah, well, that's true. It's precious."

Considering what it was like, it would seem I got away with minor injuries, and according to the attending physician, as long as I remain conscious there would be no threat to my life. The broken bones, they weren't likely to cause any lasting damage either. The doctor assured me firmly that I could be discharged today if I was up to it—perhaps a polite way to hint that the hospital was running short of single rooms. 

"Don't think like that, no need to stay any longer than necessary, not with hospital bills being what they are. My goodness, gotta thank your parents for that sturdy body of yours."

"I guess so. I'm filled with such gratitude I could cry..."

I never hesitated to tell people about the inconveniences of my tall stature, surpassing one hundred and ninety centimeters (and I believe it to be the very reason for my constantly attracting unwarranted attention and suspicion). But if it was thanks to my height that my life was saved this one time, I could only call it a blessing in disguise.

"They say broken bones mend stronger once they heal. Not that I need to be any stronger."

"Ha-ha, that's just folk wisdom, though."

Folk wisdom, is it?

"it's not muscle after all; can't magic itself back to health," he added on. As expected of Kondou-san, so learned and well read.

Speaking of, I seem to recall some Greek philosopher or other who supposedly died when a tortoise shell fell on him and cracked his skull. Although meeting the body of a fallen middle school girl could be said to be no less misfortunate, at least it didn't become the cause of my death. Maybe my luck was not as bad as it could be.

What's more, I wasn't the only one saved.

The fallen middle schooler also managed to escape death by a hair's breadth, thanks to my chance presence below to break her fall. She fell from the seventh floor of a mixed residential and commercial high-rise— under normal circumstances she should have been dead by now. It was because she had me as a cushion that she wasn't.

A middle schooler—to be precise, a first year in middle school.

A girl not yet twelve years old— at the most she could be called a child, not even an adolescent.

This too was why she was saved.

Had my hulking physique been a size smaller, or she been a grade higher, neither of us might have come out of it unscathed. 

While I was now awake though, she was still hovering at death's door in some other hospital. Can't really say we both were unscathed. I couldn't know what state she was in, I'd just had heard that she was in a coma. But one thing can be assumed: it wasn't a state that would allow me to smugly proclaim, "It was thanks to my self-sacrifice that her life was spared."

…Not to mention that even if the treatment worked and she woke up fine, she may not thank me at all—because.

Because she'd jumped off that building of her own free will.  

Yes—a suicide jump.  

With a will and shoes neatly arranged.  

With no hope of rescue, she'd aimed for the asphalt road.

A guy like me walking beneath her was just an unwanted interference with her resolve—a nuisance in her eyes. Hence, despite my good intentions, I got no gratitude in return. 

Call me shallow if you will, but since I was heavily injured because of this and will almost certainly be fired, I was hoping I could at least be a hero for saving a child's life—when actually, I just served as a thing to break her fall in her attempt. 

Well, if you consider what suffering must have led the twelve year old girl to decide to take her own life, maybe it's not something to say "just" about, and compared to witnessing her crashing to the ground a few seconds earlier, things could have turned out worse.

She may not thank me, she may blame me, and maybe I should be proud to have saved a life all the same—even if it was the result of a mere accident.

Even if it's the result of bad luck, that's how it is.

"Hahaha, you're such a nice guy."

Kondou-san was really mocking me now.

"I wonder why someone like you is always accused as a criminal. Couldn't get off even this time, could you."

"......" 

To hear it depressed me very much. 

Misfortune being already a daily occurrence, I could never not feel depressed when wrongly accused— this time, though, was depressing to an exceptional degree.

Simply walking down the street, someone fell from above and crushed me, landing me in hospital with major injuries....However, since both of our lives were saved by that incident, depending on how you look at it, it could be considered not a heroic tale, but at least a miraculous survival case, a positive thing. 

But people saw nothing of the sort.

While I was unconscious all the TV broadcasts had apparently made it appear as if I had positioned myself under the fallen girl so as to deal her a final fatal blow.

What a final blow, she didn't even die— how do you have to twist and contort the facts to make it sound like that? In my haste I went through all the newspapers from the past week. The coverage was so outrageous I gave up halfway through reading.

In short, all the media pegged me as the culprit, accusing me of attempting to murder a middle schooler. Couldn't escape being implicated even with my life hanging by a thread— am I to carry this undeserved blame all the way to my grave? Truly an unprecedented, tailor-made misfortune just for me.

I considered my tendency to be falsely accused as having reached its peak.

I'd never fancied the thought of becoming a great detective, but it seemed I couldn't even be a victim. Perhaps because the "victim" was an underage schoolgirl, thankfully my name had not been plastered in the papers, which could maybe be counted as my solitary redemption.

But at this rate, it was only a matter of time until my real identity as 'secondhand bookstore clerk (25)' became public— not that it bothered me, but I felt terribly sorry for my boss who hired me.

"Secondhand bookstore clerk (25), eh? Who asked you to leave your job in publishing to work in a secondhand bookshop. That's what you get for having a foot in two boats."

It left me speechless how sharply those at the forefront of publishing could speak. 

But it did feel a bit like betraying my old boss.

I worked at the publishing company under Kondou-san for a time, and I was falsely accused and dismissed without a chance to defend myself. So I didn't really owe the company anything special.

But that's neither here nor there. To say my present state is some kind of divine retribution would be overstating things a bit, don't you think? 

"I doubt it'll actually come to that, but… just in case the police believe the media stories and come knocking, I should probably have a detective at the ready..." 

I muttered to myself, only half in jest. 

I wasn't sure what sort of detective to call for a situation like this still... My phone contacts had the business cards of several agencies, but I couldn't think of one offhand that specialized in dealing with falling girls. If anything, I'd love an expert at handling media circuses... A professional in media control, that would be...

That's when Kondou-san said,

"How about Okitegami-san?"

"Oh...? Nah, this kind of case is not suitable for Kyouko-san. Not Kyouko-san. Maybe it's the least suitable for her out of all the detectives out there."

Kyouko-san— Okitegami Kyouko. Calling her on was something I did in the past at Kondou-san's request; I'd introduced her to him as a detective. Should I say she was an oddball of a detective? A somewhat peculiar one, anyway.

Hence, she was perfectly suited to handle the trouble Kondou-san had been facing at the time. However, her particularities made her clearly unfit for this case.

From my numerous experiences (generally one should not have this many), recovering a normal life after being put through a media circus requires a long battle of endurance. Precisely because of this, there's absolutely no chance here for the detective with the fastest case-cracking rate to swoop in and "solve any case in a day".

"I was just thinking, what a blessing in disguise it would be to take this opportunity to get closer to her, you know?”

"Hahaaha… very funny, Kondou-san. You know as well as I do there's no chance for progress with Kyouko-san."

"Not with that attitude.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and continued.

"Well, since you'll get someone else to restore your image..."

He handed me a peeled apple.

"Could you call Okitegami-san for me?" 

"Huh? What do you…"

"That is, I..."

He said.

"I've got another case that I would like the forgetful detective—to forget."

3

Kondou-san was not only a friend but a benefactor of mine. I of course had no reason to refuse him.

During my past stint working at the publishing company I had found myself wrongly accused, and it was only Kondou-san who spoke up for me. For him I wouldn't think twice about going through hell and high water.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I, Kakushidate Yakusuke, had been perennially awaiting an opportunity to repay his kindness. Yet on this particular day, the abruptness of his request akin to a sudden blow left me stunned beyond measure.

Could Kondou-san have gotten into some trouble while I was hospitalized? His predisposition to misfortune must be on par with mine. Most people wouldn't require a detective more than once or twice in their lifetime. Especially not in such a short period.

"Listen here Yakusuke. To me it's not as sudden a request as it seems, nor am I trying to exploit your situation. The problem I'm facing and the predicament you've fallen into aren't entirely unrelated."

"Not entirely unrelated?"

"Not only, it's largely related to you…if I must be honest with myself, it's causing me a great deal of trouble. I imagine you're pretty troubled as well, and though I probably don't measure up to your level of trouble, it's still a considerable headache."

Speaking up to here, Kondou-san showed a weary smile— which I had missed as my thoughts were consumed with my own stuff, but now that I looked at him, I couldn't help seeing the exhaustion on his usually vibrant face.

What could've happened in the week I was unconscious? It was apparently largely related to me, but I didn't have the slightest clue. My obliviousness wasn't anything new, though.

"Something up with Satoi-sensei again?"

That Satoi-sensei was Satoi Aritsugu, one of the manga artists Kondou-san edited for, and also a wildly popular author for the magazine he was chief editor of.

The robbery at Satoi-sensei's studio that I had introduced Kyouko-san to was the last time we met. Satoi-sensei had left an impression on me as the temperamental genius type, so I figured she was was good at getting into trouble as she was at drawing.

But I was totally off base. I'd make a terrible detective.

"Satoi-sensei is doing great! Better than ever. The incident seems to have inspired her creatively. And Kyouko-san's personality was like stimulation to her."

That's excellent news, though it made me feel anxious on a personal level. I had wanted to write about Kyouko-san's detective adventures before someone as brilliant as Satoi-sensei put them to manga.

It seemed she wasn't one to draw mystery manga, thankfully...

"Then is it another mangaka?"

"You catch on fast, Yakusuke."

I was actually quite embarrassed by his praise.

I just didn't believe Kondou-san had any personal troubles, hence I figured if he needed a detective it had to be about his editorial work.

Nothing more ordinary or mundane than that, really.

"Well, it's not a manga artist I work with directly... I doubt you've heard of him yet. Fumoto-sensei. Fumoto Shun."

As you might guess, I hadn't heard of him.

However, "yet" was the word here. I surmised this must be an up and coming new manga artist likely to gain more fame and recognition going forward.

Next