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jpitha · 2 years ago

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The Dreams of Hyacinth 5

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Nick comes back to reality slowly. He's on a bed and he has a thundering headache. He opens his eyes, but then squeezes them shut immediately. Sight just hurts too much right now.

"He's awake." Nick hears Selkirk talking to someone.

"Good. He's going to feel like he went on a two week bender for the next day or so, but he'll be fine. He took to the surgery like he was a natural, we gave him a few... bonus features. It's probably why his recovery is slower." That's Jameson.

"Bonus features? Jameson, bonuses from you are rarely freely given." Eastern is awake too, she sounds groggy, but a bit more awake than Nick.

"Eastern, I told you, I want you to find my daughter. It's in my best interests to give you all the tools you need."

"Uh huh. And I suppose we know the price to be paid if we fail."

"You know the price Eastern. Educate our mutual friend if you think he needs it." There's a whirr of Jameson's chair as he moves around the room. "Oh, Selkirk, don't think I've forgotten you."

"No thanks Jameson, I don't need to be stuffed full of electronics."

"Nah, you know it won't work on K'laxi, your brains are too different."

"I emphatically do not want to know how you learned that."

"You're right. You don't." There's a rustle of paper, a bag maybe? "Here. This is a K'laxi sized coronet. Put it on your head, top part between your ears, bottom and back down the rear of your head, and you should be able to interface with the same stuff as Nick and Eastern."

More rustling. Sounds like the bag is being opened. "Why didn't you just give them this Jameson?"

"The access isn't as fast. But this way, you'll feel less left out of their conversations."

"Don't assume you know me Jameson. I know where I stand between them."

"Sel, what do you mean by that?" Eastern sound groggy when she asks the question, just must have been dozing.

There is no answer. Jameson whirrs around again, probably towards the door by the sound of his voice. "That's my cue to leave. You three work it out and... I'll be in touch."

Nick heard the whirr of Jameson's chair as he wheeled himself out of the room. The door behind him closed with a soft click.

Nick tries opening his eyes again. It hurts, but he manages to keep them open this time. He looks to his left and Eastern is in the bed with him, but she's sitting up. He didn't know they were in the same bed. "Meghan?"

Eastern glares at him. "It's Eastern now. I wondered if you'd remember that. I know I was dreaming it, but it looks like we were dreaming together."

Nick squints against the pain. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better boyfriend."

Eastern smiles. "It's alright Nick. I figure you just needed practice."

But Nick was already asleep again.

Some time later, Nick wakes up, thirsty and sore. He looks over, and Eastern is asleep, snoring quietly.

He looks around Eastern's bedroom. The walls are a pale blue, and they're covered in photographs. It appears to be mostly pictures from Luna. He casts his gaze around the room, and sure enough, in a nice frame on her dresser is her photo of Empress Melody and her partner. It looks like Eastern has kept the photo from her visit.

Sick of lying in bed, Nick gingerly tries getting up. Other than a nasty wave of dizziness that passes almost as soon as it arrives, he seems to be fine. He shuffles into the bathroom off Eastern's bedroom and uses the facilities, washing his hands and drinks a tall glass of water.

As Nick walks around the small apartment he marvels at how much Eastern has put her mark on it. Art on the walls, furniture, even things like how she has plastic flowers arranged on a table near the door makes Nick think of her. He walks by the kitchen and sees dirty dishes in the sink. "That won't do," he thought to himself, and busies himself washing. The warm water is soothing on his hands, and the regular motion allows his mind to water as his body takes over the tasks.

Nick wonders what he has gotten himself into.

Back home, he was an easygoing "go along to get along" type of kid. Not really a delinquent but no honor student either, Nick stuck mostly to lifting snacks from the bodega on his street and stealing shows and games from the local network. It wasn't crime, not really. When his parents died, he used all the money he got from their estate to buy a ticket as far from Parvati as he could. When he got to Hyacinth, Nick figured that he could get a job nearly anywhere.

Three weeks after he arrived, he was flat broke and started stealing.

It was so easy. Back home petty thievery was a huge problem. Lots of young people, not a lot of jobs and plenty of time for them to work on and refine their technique. Nick found that almost nobody on Hyacinth took even the most basic precautions against people stealing things.

He eventually found buyers for his stuff and gained a very small reputation as a reliable thief. It was around then he met Eastern. She was also a thief like Nick, but her methods were much more... like her. Eastern preferred to work a distraction. She'd come in loud and brash and cause a scene and while people were running around distracted, she’d grab the merch.

Nick and Eastern worked well together. Eastern would cause a distraction and Nick would come in, boost the piece and walk out before Eastern was even done yelling and causing trouble.

Selkirk came onboard when they started getting asked to boost more digital things; apps, softs and vids. Nick understood the basics, but he was out of practice and security on Hyacinth was different than Parvati. Eastern knew Sel from other people and she set up a meet.

Selkirk was the first K'laxi Nick ever really knew, and for the first couple of weeks he was completely infatuated with her. She was smart and clever and sarcastic, insulting Nick and Eastern, but doing it with a legitimately funny joke, and she never really seemed to cross the line into making it hurtful.

As he finished the dishes and wiped down the counter, Nick thought about how lucky he was. He had two good friends in a place where friends were thin on the ground. Sure, they were neck deep in some serious stuff, but Nick began to wonder if together, they'd be able to pull it off after all.

Dishes done, he slowly walks into Eastern's living room and sees Selkirk asleep on the couch. Carefully, slowly, he settles into the couch next to Selkirk. It's not much different than sitting in the bed, but it's different enough that he's comfortable.

Selkirk yawns hugely and stretches. As she does, her hands brush against Nick. Seemingly while still asleep, she stretches out and puts her head on Nick's lap.

Nick looks down at Selkirk and smiles. He absently strokes between her large, expressive ears. She sighs in her sleep and snuggles against him further.

"Nick, where are you?" Eastern uses her newfound abilities to reach out to Nick on their personal connection.

"I'm in the living room, come on out." Nick is surprised to find how easy using the link is once it's been established.

Eastern slowly walks out of her bedroom into the living room. When she sees Selkirk resting on Nick's lap she raises her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. Gingerly lowering herself onto the couch she looks at them. "She seems comfortable. You too ever get together?"

Nick shrugs. "Couple of times." The K'laxi have been known to the humans for more than a century at this point. They get along famously. If humans and K'laxi didn't date, it would be more surprising. "I don't know though. I thought the dates went well, but nothing came of it."

Selkirk mumbles, "If you were better at reading body language you would have known I was waiting for you to initiate."

Nick is so startled that he nearly flies out of the couch. His hand stops stroking Selkirk's head.

"No, keep doing that Nick, I like it." Nick put his hand back and continue stroking between her ears. "I'm sorry Sel, I never realized. I thought you weren't interested."

She stretches again and snuggles into Nick's lap further. "I was waiting for you to make the next move. When you didn't, I figured you were still holding a candle for Eastern or something."

Nick chuckles sadly. "Hah. I mean, yes, I was left in a lurch when Eastern declared me boring and left, but there was room in my heart for you Sel."

Selkirk mumbles into Nick's lap. "Someone as hot as her, I figured I never had a chance anyway."

Eastern looks at the two of them, and nods to herself. She gets up and plops down onto the couch, and leans into Selkirk. "Sel, I never knew you felt that way. I walked away from Nick because I thought he was boring. I thought he would make me boring. I thought I wanted more excitement in a partner." She leans against Selkirk and shuts her eyes. "It turns out that boring can also be nice too. Nick is good looking, easygoing, and a thoughtful partner."

Selkirk nodded in Nick's lap, "He's a bit oblivious though."

Eastern laughed and snuggled into the two of them. "That he is. He couldn't even tell when a hot K'laxi was into him and practically shouting about it."

Selkirk lifts her head off Nick's lap. "I know! It's like he was blind."

Eastern smiles and nods. "Well, that's why we love him, right? He's so kind and loyal and just the right amount of dim."

Selkirk nods.

"Well, tell you what Sel." Eastern leans in and nibbles on Selkirk's ear. She shudders in pleasure. "I think you're pretty great too, and I also think Nick is pretty great. I have enough room in my heart to love more than one person, do you?"

Selkirk sits up. "Are you sure Eastern? I won't accept a relationship that's Nick and Eastern and over to the side is Selkirk. We're all equal."

Eastern looks at Selkirk and kisses her. "Equal partners, in more ways than one. I promise. We do so well together for business, I know we'll do well together for... other things."

Selkrik looks at the two of them. She leans over and kisses Nick on the mouth. "You're a bit dim." She leans the other way and kisses Eastern as well. "And you're an asshole. But, Ancestors, that's who I'm into. So yes. If Nick is up for it, I'm up for it."

Nick looks at the two of them. "So I'm going from no girlfriends to two girlfriends? Yeah, okay. I'm game to try. I want to make it clear. I'll probably fuck it up, and I won't do it on purpose, but I'll probably hurt your feelings. I only ask that if I do, you tell me, so I know and can do better next time.

Selkirk buries her head into Nick's lap again and he strokes her ears. "Deal." she says, muffled by his lap.

Eastern leans into both of them and sighs contentedly. "Deal." She closes her eyes.

After a moment, they're all asleep on the couch together.

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#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and aliens #jpitha #the k’laxiverse #The Dreams of Hyacinth

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magicalqueennightmare · 2 years ago

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Sins & Amends Chapter 53

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Frank comes to your side when you call him to tell him what happened to Billy

Frank hadn't been asleep but about an hour or two when his phone started ringing. "Get it before it wakes Adi up!" He heard from Karen's side of the bed in a whisper. He grabbed the phone as he sat up not bothering to look at the number "Hello?" He was met with silence on the other end and started to hang up before he heard someone take a shuddering breath "Frank?" At the sound of your voice he was fully awake. Something was wrong. You sounded like you were in shock.

"Y/N?" He called your name and saw Karen sit up out the corner of his eye and look at him curiously but at the moment his attention was on you. "Can you please come to me? I need you" "Yeah of course. Where are you at? What's going on?"

He was already up and pulling boots onto his feet before you told him what hospital you were at "Alex Moore got out Frank. He found me. He..he tried to kill me. He would've killed me but Billy protected me. Now he's in surgery and.. I don't know if he's gonna make it"

"God dammit how the hell did that asshole even get out? I'll be there as soon as I can. Just hold tight and call me if there's any changes" "Frank I can't do this" he closed his eyes at how broken you sounded.

Fuck, in all the time he'd known you even at the worst moments you always tried to hold it together for everyone around you and he hadn't heard you sound so defeated since the two of you got into that argument when you first found out you were pregnant and he found you at Maria's grave. "Sweetheart I will be there in a few minutes" "Ok" was the last thing you said before the line went dead.

He stared at the phone for a minute before glancing back at Karen then tilting his head towards the living room. She nodded then climbed out the bed, careful not to wake Adi as she walked past the toddler bed.

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

He followed her out and pulled the bedroom door almost shut before saying "I've got to go to the emergency room. Y/N needs me" "What happened? Is she ok?" The concern and worry were plain in Karen's voice when she spoke.

He nodded then said "She's ok but you remember Moore?" "The asshole that attacked her and Alice? How could I forget?" Karen's jaw had tightened at the mere mention.

He could feel the tension in his shoulders and realized his trigger finger was absentmindedly tapping his thigh while he talked. He knew flashes of that night were going through both of their heads. "Yeah well he got out. Apparently came looking to finish the job but didn't exactly take Bill into account. He got shot protecting her. She said he's in surgery and she doesn't know if he's gonna make it"

Karen glanced back towards the bedroom and he could see her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before she ran a hand through her hair to push it back from her face "What do I tell Adi? She's gonna ask for one or both of them after she gets up"

Frank let out a breath trying to think of what to tell his niece. She was still so young and now facing this "Tell her bare minimum. Her dad got hurt so her mom took him to the hospital. I went to be with them both"

Karen nodded then pulled him into a hug "Let me know if you need me. Take care of her Frank" "I will. I love you Kare. Take care of little bit" he leaned his forehead against hers for a moment trying to get his head on straight. She nodded then closed the space between them to press a gentle kiss to his lips "I love you too"

Working together you and Riley had managed to get Billy's heart back beating before you made it to the hospital but he was still losing a lot of blood internally.

You were stopped at the entrance to the operating room by a couple of the nurses who'd known you for years "Y/N you know you can't go back" you snatched away from them and Riley alike. You knew they were trying to offer comfort but you didn't want it. You didn't deserve it.

Someone else you loved had once again caught a bullet that had your name on it. You were fucking poison. How the hell could you protect your child from the world when it seemed as if merely being around you would be the biggest threat to her?

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You paced the hallway outside the double doors until the adrenaline started to leave your body and the crash that came along with that forced you to collapse into a chair. Your clothes, hands and face had blood smeared across them. Around your nails the blood had started to dry and was flaking off in red chunks.

You couldn't stop hearing the gunshot, seeing the way Billy had crumpled but only after he'd made sure you were ok. You closed your eyes to stop the flow of tears but that only made more images flash across through your mind.

Maria and the kids in their caskets, Frank bloody and half dead after that fight alongside Gunner. Curtis bloody and beaten from Lewis, Karen terrorised by Wilson Fisk. It was too much. You'd lost half your family in one day and had fought like hell to keep the rest of them in one piece and now the man you loved, the man who'd put so much on the line to keep you safe might very well end up dying.

What the hell were you gonna tell Adi? It seemed like she'd just met him and now to lose him? You bought your hands up to your face trying to will the images out your mind. You couldn't even cry and you knew that was worse than if you were sobbing.

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You didn't know how long you'd been sitting there digging through your jacket pockets before you finally found your phone. Your hands were shaking as you hit Frank's number. You weren't sure what to say but you needed him. You couldn't do this alone.

You were still staring blankly at your phone when Frank found you. You hadn't noticed his presence so he took a moment to take stock of whether or not you had any injuries.

Although you were covered in blood it didn't appear to be yours. He knew that look anywhere though. You were so lost in your own mind you needed someone to pull you out. He'd been there before and you had been the one to pull him out so he owed you.

He walked up trying to make as much noise as he could so he wouldn't startle you but when he touched your shoulder you jumped defensively until you realized it was him then the facade crumpled as you stepped into his arms "Frank it's bad. It's all my fault"

He froze and held you out at arm's length so he could lean down enough to look you in the eye. There was blood smeared on the side of your face and your eyes were red from crying but he could see that stubbornness you'd always had under it all.

You were going to try to blame yourself for this and he'd be damned before he let you "You didn't shoot him so it's not your fault. It's that damn junkie's fault. I should've killed him instead of letting them lock him up"

You sniffled twice and he knew you were holding back tears when you shook your head "Frank don't you see? Maria, the kids. Those bullets had my name on them. Rawlins lied to Billy but I still should've been the one to die that day. Now this. he didn't even know who Billy was. He shot him because he was protecting me. I'm fucking poison. Who else is gonna be next? You? Karen? God forbid if something happened to Adi. I can't do this Frank. I can't keep hurting people I love"

God dammit he'd never wanted to shake you as bad as he did right then. His grip tightened on your arms just enough to get your attention and once he was sure he had it he said "Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N. Maria and the kids died because Rawlins was an evil son of a bitch who got what he deserved. Bill got shot because he fucking loves you and when you love someone it's instinct to protect them. None of this is your fault. You're not poison or any other bullshit you believe. Hell you've patched a lot of us up. You put us back together. I know this is hard but I also know you've got that damn stubborn streak a mile wide and can put your mind to anything right?"

You nodded after a moment so he loosened his grip but stayed where he could look you in the eyes "He's a stubborn asshole. I've known him for even longer than you have. Me and him have been through hell together and have put each other through our fair share. One thing I know? He loves you and Adi and this isn't enough to keep him from you. Now put it in your mind he's gonna pull through ok?"

"Ok" your voice sounded a little steadier so he nodded and moved his hand to your lower back "Now let's see if I can get you some scrubs or something so you can get cleaned up and out these bloody clothes"

One of the nurses had gotten you a pair of scrubs and even offered to let you use the nurse's shower after she checked your vitals at Frank's insistence.

Frank told you he'd hang around the operating room so if anyone did come out while you were getting cleaned up. You'd hesitantly agreed because while you desperately wanted to check on Billy you couldn't stand knowing it was his blood drying all over you.

After standing under the hot water long enough you felt like you'd taken a layer of skin off you climbed out and dried off then deposited the towel into the bin that was in the corner of the room.

Once you were dressed in the scrubs you pulled your shoes back on complete with the hospital socks you'd been given along with the scrubs then gathered your bloody clothes in the personal belonging bag you'd been given and went in search of Frank.

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When you walked out into the hall you ran smack into Frank's chest with a grunt from him and a gasp of surprise from you but luckily he managed to grab you before you fell.

"Frank what's going on?" You asked feeling your stomach knot up worse than it already was but he shook his head "Nothing bad sweetheart. I found a doctor that apparently isn't sure if he's a fan of me or just scared shitless. Either way I got him to check on Bill. Surgery is going good. The bullet missed his organs but nicked an artery. They're closing up and should have him a room in ICU in about an hour"

You let out a breath "Are they hopeful for recovery?" He nodded "Yup sounds like he was pretty damn lucky he had a paramedic right there the moment he hit the ground" you let out a watery laugh "You're saying that to make me feel better"

Frank shook his head and motioned back down the hall "I can find him again if you don't believe me. Doc said the reason he's gonna make it is because of you. So wanna talk again about you being poison? Looks to me like you once again saved one of the men in your life" you threw your arms around Frank's neck in a hug he gently returned.

When you pulled away he glanced at his watch "I'm gonna text Karen. When Adi wakes up what do you want her told?" You ran a hand down your face before agreeing with what Frank had already said "bare minimum. He's hurt. Me and you are here to check on him. I can't let her see him post surgery. He's got to be alert before she sees him"

Frank nodded then said "Who knows by the time little bit gets to going good he might already be awake" "That's got to be the first bit of optimism I've ever heard from you Frank" you said with a half laugh and he shrugged "For Adi? I'll be a bit optimistic" then started to text Karen.

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You and Frank were sitting together right outside the doors of the operating rooms fending calls and texts from everyone from Alice to Sam and everyone in between.

They'd heard one way or another and wanted to see what was going on. Alex had died in surgery. Billy tore his jugular beyond repair when he'd stabbed him and that little piece of information had given you a little peace knowing he was finally dead. He couldn't hurt no one else.

You'd just hung up with Matt and Frank with Curtis when Doctor Morales the surgeon who worked on Billy came walking out and headed towards where the two of you sat. "Are you Mr Russo's family?"

"Yes sir. This is his fiance and I'm basically her brother" Frank answered before you had a chance so Doctor Morales nodded then went into explanation of what they'd done to Billy. "He'll be healing for a few weeks but all in all he should count his lucky stars you were there. Had you not reacted so quickly with your training he wouldn't have made it. As soon as we get him settled in a room I'll send a nurse to escort the two of you"

You and Frank both thanked him then after he walked away Frank patted your shoulder "He's gonna be fine" you nodded then nearly whispered "I'll believe it when he wakes up" you'd seen too many cases where the doctors thought everything was fine then some unforeseen complication would occur. He had to wake up for you to feel better.

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

#au billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #the boys fanfic #sins and amends masterlist

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survivorofhellskitchen · 1 year ago

Note

“i need to know that you’ll be okay. if something happens to me…”

@dctrreids

Her bottom lip quivers as she grips his hand, forcing her gaze to look away from him at his request. At his impossible request. She couldn't promise him that...she wouldn't promise him that. If he was gone, every part of her would be gone too. There was no moving on after Spencer Reid. There was no moving forward. Forever she'd be stuck...and okay- okay was the farthest thing she'd ever be without him.

But she didn't want him worrying about her, especially not when he had himself to focus on. Slowly Karen brings his hand to her lips before leaning forward and kisses his temple. "Hey...don't- don't even think like that. You've made it this far...t-the surgery is going to be fine...a-and then you'll start healing and then...then I'll take you home."

Another kiss is given to his forehead now. "I...I won't relapse...i-if that's what you're asking. But nothing- nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing. So don't...don't even think like that, because I'm going to see you...I'm going to see you right after you wake up. Nothing is going to happen. I promise."

#dctrreids

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elliebear666 · 2 years ago

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Was none of it real?

Was it all a facade?

How could I have loved her so deeply, so wholly and entirely...? Doubt only occurring when I split, or became angry and had an outburst about something stupid.

Only for her to care so little?

I want to let go. But... I fucking can't. I cling to her desperately because she was everything. And I find other people that mean everything... but... as paradoxical as this may sound, it isn't the SAME everything.

Her everything was... autumn leaves and blue skies, followed torrential rain and thunder that shook the windows in their frames. Her everything was... dirt and pine leaves in the forest as we painted silly pictures among the trees, followed by stupid fights and jealousy and yelling.

I wanted her everything. The good and the bad. And my everything wasn't good enough. Not the deep, lasting bond of unending loyalty and love I offered. Not the poems and sweet words and passionate sex, all of them backed by a roaring fire of love and attraction and desire to make her happy.

But... I couldn't. My stupid, pathetic problems. My worthless shit. My inability to be a fucking decent person.

God I... I can't.

Please just... I want to stop caring. Please. I'm so tired of this.

I know I can't let go of words once they've been written. I was writing her into my future. An entire life. And because I was too pathetic, or unable to work, or too jealous and possessive, or needy, or emotional. I'm a crybaby, right?

Yeah. I am 😭🤧

But... all the intensity of the love I felt for you was so real. I didn't need anything from you but attention and time and love.

We could have had a relationship without sex and I would still have been madly, madly in love with her. Maybe because I needed bottom surgery. Maybe that would have changed things.

But... maybe she isn't into girls.

Maybe we weren't compatible. I just...

I couldn't have stayed Matthew for you. I'm not Matthew. I never was. But god fucking damn it I weighed my options. I've considered how I might have hid myself, just so we could have shared love.

But then... I would have been the only one giving true love.

If she ever loved Matthew... she didn't love me.

God fucking damn it. I'm so fucking sorry I'm sobbing I'm sorry I hate this. FUCK

I fucking hate you. I can't stop crying. I keep pushing thoughts of her down, trying to disown them. But I can't.

WHY DO I CARE!? FOR SOMEONE THAT I MEAN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO!? THAT I HAVE BEEN JUST... IMPOSSIBLY AND MADLY IN LOVE WITH FOR YEARS WITHOUT END

It isn't a mere emptiness in her absence.

It is pure, red hot pain. I feel empty only because I cannot stand the ache of the burns.

I fear this pain will not end.

No more dramatic displays of "neverending torment."

The truth?

I was... I just...

I think I might always love her. Despite the abuse. The breadcrumbs.

I don't know what it was about this woman. But she ignited every cell in my body. Days may go by where I don't think about it. I'll bury it. Cover it up.

Set it on fire.

But somehow. Some fucking how, memories of her continue to haunt me like a hundred thousand spirits. Screaming at me for my failures and inability to provide for the needs of someone that seemed perpetually dissatisfied.

I would have loved her every waking and sleeping moment. Until the day I died.

But I was toxic and controlling and jealous. "I don't share." Just... I'm sorry.

Please be happy now. Please find contentment and peace and joy and love. Please.

If you do, I can at least celebrate that for you.

I couldn't see past my obsession and pain.

In the end... I just want you to be happy.

I hope you find that greener pasture.

Because mine is brown and dying.

I dream about her still. I see her in my dreams and I hear her voice.

The last one I had... all I remember was her telling me, "I don't love you."

I know. I know. But hurts so much. It kills me and I don't even want to wake up in the morning. I have tried to bury her under sex and relationships and flirtation and friends and anything. But the ghost of her still claws its way out of the grave and latches onto me, telling me how I was never good enough for her love.

I just wasn't good enough.

I've never been good enough.

Maybe I never will.

So... god? I know I never believed in you. Ever. I may have prayed to be a woman, prayed for the abuse to stop. Prayed desperately to be Sarah, the name I'd chosen as a teen.

But... please take her memory from me. Strike her from my thoughts so that I can live my life and find some semblance of happiness. Even if I always felt like something was missing, a piece of me that I couldn't put to words, not ever.

That would be preferable to my mind being inundated with heartbreaking memories of what I lost. Or perhaps what was never mine.

Please take her memory from me. Fucking please.

It's killing me. It is fucking killing me. Please take it away. Please.

I'll never ask for anything again. Just please take her out of my head. So that, even if I saw her on the street, I wouldn't recognize her and become crippled with agony and overwhelming feelings of guilt and loss and self-loathing.

Please take her away from me.

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thewidowsghost · 3 years ago

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I’m Right Here (Max Mayfield x Fem!Reader)

My first post surgery post! :)

This contains major spoilers for Season 4 of Stranger Things.

Main Masterlist

Within another heartbeat, (Y/n) (L/n), Max's girlfriend of two years, follows.

Max opens the door to the back of Steve's car, clutching an envelope.

"Max," (Y/n) jogs up the hill to stand beside Max.

"(Y/n), please, just wait in the car," Max says, not being able to bring herself to meet her girlfriend's gaze, knowing that soon, they would no longer be together.

"Max, just wait. Max, please!" Max can hear the grief in her lover's voice and she stops.

"(Y/n), just wait -"

"Just listen to me. Just, please," (Y/n) turns her girlfriend and lifts Max's chin with a finger. "I know something happened back there with your mom," (Y/n) says, her hand falling to brush Max's cheek with a thumb. "Was it Vecna?" she questions, her tone softening.

"I told you, I'm fine," Max replies and (Y/n) meets Max's blue gaze. "Okay? I mean, as fine as someone who's hurtling towards a gruesome death can be."

This time, Max catches the pain that floods into her girlfriend's gentle (E/c) eyes.

"Max," (Y/n) says, her thumb brushing across Max's cheek again, "you know you can talk to me."

"Yeah," Max replies.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?" (Y/n) questions. "I want to help. I don't want a letter," she shakes the envelope in her non-dominant hand. Her other hand drops to her side. "I'm right here. I'm here. I love you."

Max just stands still, blinking once before she repeats the last three words (Y/n) had spoken.

"I'll be right back," Max turns away from (Y/n), charging over to where Billy Hargrove was buried.

(Y/n), defeated, turns back and grumbles her way back to the car.

. . .

About five minutes pass when Steve finally can't take it anymore. He charges up the hill, to kneel beside Max.

"Max," he shakes her shoulder. Then he sees her eyes, rolled up in the back of her head, the blue of her irises barely showing. "Max! Max! Max!" He repeatedly yells her name, attracting the attention of the other three teenagers hanging by the car.

(Y/n) is the first to charge up the hill, almost tripping over multiple tufts of grass. She skids to a stop on her knees, roughing up and staining her jeans but she doesn't care about that now.

"Max!" (Y/n) shakes her girlfriend's shoulder roughly, hoping to pull her girlfriend out of her living nightmare.

. . .

Max is pinned up against the pillar, vines closing around her neck and pinning her arms and legs to the pillar.

Vecna stands feet away and he takes a few steps closer to her.

Max watches him out of the bottom of her vision, her eyes crossing slightly when he stops - less than a foot in front of her.

Max whimpers, struggling against the bonds to breathe.

. . .

Dustin charges back up the hill with Max's cassette player and all of her tapes.

"What's her favorite song?" Dustin asks, spilling the player and tapes onto the ground.

"Uh," (Y/n) scrambles through the pile, finding the correct tape. She jams it into the player, throws the headphones onto Max's head, and hits play.

. . .

Max's favorite song, Running Up That Hill, begins playing inside of Vecna's mind prison, and Max's eyes fly open.

Max can see that a portal had opened up over Vecna's shoulder and she stares at it, watching as her friends try to wake her.

"Max, wake up!" she hears Dustin yell.

"Max, I'm here!" (Y/n) adds, placing both hands on Max's shoulders and shaking furiously.

"They can't help you, Max," Vecna says, turning back to his victim. "There's a reason you hide from them."

Memories begin flashing in Max's mind - her and (Y/n) dancing at the Sno-Ball, their first kiss, Max teaching (Y/n) how to skate, her and El getting ice cream at the mall.

"You belong here," Vecna says.

"You're not really here," Max growls.

"Oh, but I am, Max," Vecna replies. "I am," he raises a clawed hand above Max's head and lowers it until it almost touches her face.

. . .

Sobs rack (Y/n) as Max rises into the air. "Max! Max!"

Her friends around her also begin screaming Max's name.

. . .

More memories flash before Max's eyes - riding her skateboard around Mike in the gym, trips to the arcade with her friends, scaring the party members on Halloween, cuddling with (Y/n) on the couch.

"I'd be running up that road. Be running up that hill," the lyrics pierce through the fog that had been closing over Max's mind.

"I don't want a letter," (Y/n) shakes the envelope in her non-dominant hand. Her other hand drops to her side. "I'm right here. I'm here. I love you."

Max forces her way through her bonds, stabbing Vecna in the shoulder with a rock.

As the bridge of the song builds, Max charges for the portal.

Vecna stares after the girl, then raising his hand, sending rocks and parts of the house to land in the water.

One lands directly behind Max, and she tips, falling into the water.

Max scrambles to her feet, continuing to sprint for the portal.

. . .

Max's eyes return to normal, and she falls to the ground.

Max pants, her eyes wild, and (Y/n) pulls Max into her arms.

Sobs wrack both girls.

"I've got you. I've got you," (Y/n) whispers, pressing kisses to Max's cheek and hugging her tightly.

"I'm here," Max gasps, grabbing onto (Y/n)'s bicep and running her fingers down (Y/n)'s arm, "I'm right here."

. . .

(Y/n) returns from the bathroom of Mike Wheeler's basement to find that Max had disappeared from the couch they had been sharing for the night.

(Y/n) rushes over to Nancy, who was talking on the walkie with Eddie and taps her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with urgency.

"Hey, Eddie, I'm gonna have to call you back," Nancy says and the two teens run up the stairs, (Y/n) taking them two at a time ad they relax when they find Max at the table.

(Y/n) sits down beside Max at the table. "Hey," she reaches under the table to rest a hand on Max's knee.

Max pulls her headphones down on her neck. "Hey," she says.

Nancy sits down in another chair. "You okay?" she questions.

"I'm good," Max smiles over at (Y/n). "Someone kept blasting music in my ears throughout the night for some reason."

(Y/n) flushes, her cheeks reddening, but she knows Max was just teasing her.

"I'm right here," Max says, smiling a little more.

Word Count: 1122 words

#max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x fem reader #max mayfield x female reader

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magalidragon · 4 years ago

Text

Silent Shadows | Chapter 14: the journey | a teaser

"How are things with you and Arsehole?"

That was pretty not at all subtle. She rolled her eyes. "Arsehole?"

Arya shrugged. "He's been a total toolbox the last few days, I wanted your take on why." She wagged her tongue and eyebrows. "You not putting out or something?"

"Arya!"

"What? Maybe he just needs to get laid."

She rolled her eyes, her turn now to be irritated. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the exam table, wrestling with telling Arya the full truth. It wasn't like she didn't know. By now, six months after she'd gone to Essos for her surgery, things had shifted, enough so that the ones closest to her and Jon were fully aware of them.

It had gone around town rather quickly, the vet moving in with the deaf wolf owner. It took a few months, her possessions slowly migrating from the apartment above the office to Jon's house-- their house-- until one morning Jon just asked her flat out if she wanted to move in. He had been very Jon about it all.

He was brushing his teeth, while she washed her face, side-by-side sinks, very domestic, and after he spit out the toothpaste, met her gaze in the mirror and signed: "Do you live here now? If not, you should." Then he turned around and walked out.

Dany raked her fingers through her hair, letting it fall out of the messy braid she'd tugged it into that morning, in a rush to get out and to the clinic in time for her first appointment. The distance between the house and the clinic had been the only thing she didn't much care for when it came to moving in with Jon. She began to rebraid her hair, quietly speaking to Arya. "It's jus tbeen hard, the last few months."

"I know," Arya murmured.

They were referring to Ghost's attack, the terrifying moment when they thought that all would be lost. She had been more scared than any moment in her life combined, focusing on every ounce of training in her bones, healing the animal that gave her loved one his voice. Without him, Jon could not speak, and with everything else in their life, losing Ghost was not an option.

Thank the gods that had not happened, he was recovering well, still weak and slow, but healing. So was Jon, his heart having been ripped from his body at the sight of his beloved companion bleeding in the snow, and lying in the operating room while she stitched him together. They had been through too much to let it get to them, but it had been exhausting.

Six months of constant upheaval, they were still there. She figured Jon was allowed a few days to be an arsehole, even if it pissed off Arya. "I told him I didn't want to do another round yet," she mumbled, digging her toe into a groove in the tile. It was aged, desperately needing replacing, just another thing on her 'to do' list.

Coat rustling, Arya moved back from the window, and went over to stand next to her, lightly touching her hand. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It is what it is, you know?" The surgery had been successful, Mel said, removing scar tissue and other adhesions, and so with the first round they hoped it would take, but she was prepared for the worst. It hadn't, which had been devastating for them both.

She blamed herself for getting Jon's hopes up too. He was all in, from the moment he'd appeared in that hospital hallway to the way he'd 'artfully' proposed he'd be her donor. They didn't speak much about another round, until two months later, and that hadn't worked. This time she was saving up for another go, knowing Jon could afford it but not wanting his trust fund to be depleted because her stupid body couldn't do the one thing that it should do as a female.

Arya quirked her lip. "It just isn't time. Ghost's attack, moving in together...perhaps it's for the best right now."

"Yeah, I tell myself that too." They didn't bother to prevent it, didn't stop, but she was growing weary of 'scheduling' their lovemaking to when it was most conducive to pregnancy. She chewed her bottom lip, thinking of the box that was in her bag, waiting for when she went home, just in case. She was late. Maybe this time...

She didn't want to tell Arya just yet. She didn't even want to tell Jon. Sometimes she didn't even want to tell herself. It was a constant struggle. She chewed on her bottom lip a moment and then forced a smile, when Arya gave her a furrowed frown. "I'm fine," she lied.

"Uh-huh."

Of course Arya would not believe her. She was so protective. It was a blessing and a curse. She patted her hand, reassuring. "Seriously. Things will be fine. We're also getting used to things."

"Like what? Can I help? Gendry moving in with me was the weirdest thing ever. I thought I knew all his strange habits but then..." Ayra shuddered. "Men."

Dany laughed. She shrugged and knelt down to pet Lady, needing something to do with her hands. "Oh just all kinds of things. I had to get a sleep mask for his light alarm. Learning how to approach him so I don't scare him. Sometimes the silence can be a lot. I don't watch much TV but it's odd."

"He doesn't care about that, you know."

"I know, but I do." There were also the flashing lights on the microwave, the oven, and some other assistive devices she hadn't realized were even there until she moved in. Strobe lights in place of smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. Red blinking light over the door if someone was there, motion detected. There was also a vibrating device in the bed, she'd discovered, that could be hooked up to alarms to wake him, but he didn't use it.

"Freaks me out sometimes," he signed, when she asked why not. He smiled lecherously. "But we can find an alternative use for it."

Jon, always the resourceful one.

She clipped Lady's leash to her harness, standing and passing it over to Arya. "Then there's just the weird habits. You're right, men are weird."

"Jon has to be the weirdest."

"I don't know about that, but he does have some quirks." He hated laundry, waited way too long to do it, and it drove her insane. There was also the way he sometimes 'pretended' not to hear when she knew damn well he'd seen her signing, feigning surprise when she asked why he wasn't 'listening.' Usually when it was related to chores. Otherwise they had settled into a routine.

Arya walked out of the room with her, allowing Lady to lead the way to the door. "Well if you ever need a drink, let me know. Tormund misses you."

"I know, I have to stop by and see him."

"Rickon also says he wrote a song about you, he wants to send it to you, but needs your email." Arya rolled her eyes. "I shudder to think what he says in it."

Dany laughed. She liked Rickon and it seemed Rhaegar did as well. He had connections to the music industry in Essos and was looking into getting RIckon's band a few gigs. "I'll let Rhae know."

"Your hottie brother is so weird."

"Ew! He is not a hottie!"

Arya shrugged. "Sansa has a crush on him, don't tell her I told you that."

Dany pretended to gag, opening the door for Arya and Lady. She gestured for her to leave, with a flourish. "And with that, I bid you farewell. I also need to burn out my eyes, because my brother is not hot." Annoying and melancholy, yes. Hot? No way.

"Whatever. I think he's hot."

"Arya!" She made a face, sticking out her tongue. "Well, then let me tell you that your cousin is super hot and kept me up all night long last night with his..."

"Ew! Shut up!" Arya slapped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes tight. "La, la, la, la!"

She smirked. "Two can play that game."

"Goodbye bitch."

"Later." She made another face and waved, Lady hopping off excitedly towards the truck. She leaned against the door frame a moment longer, watching Arya drive away. It was nice to have someone close. Someone to joke with when things got tough. Her friendship with Arya had been a constant for her to rely on during her time in the North, even during those hard times with Jon. Missandei was so far away. Even if Dany was still trying to convince her to move there, her best friend hadn't budged, citing the cold was too much for her.

After a few minutes, she closed the door and flicked the sign, closing up for the Friday afternoon. Gilly had already left, to go deal with some sort of school drama involving her sons. Dany finished up and did some paperwork, trying to distract herself from what lay ahead at home

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #silent shadows #coming soon #a ‘look at me’ post as someone once called these

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

❛ A LOT OF SAND AND WAVES ❜

with Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa.

Request: none. Yesterday I went to the beach with my family and that fluffy idea came to me like a flash light. Thanks to everyone who help me to decide!

Word count: about 3.1k

Warnings: none. Just a bunch of fluff.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @thedevilsmoonshine

Masterlist.

“Hey, girl!”

“Hey, what’s up, Leti?”

“Are you working?”

“Yeah, till four, why?”

“Don’ ask me how I did it, but I convinced the guys to go tomorrow to the beach. In San Diego”.

“Sounds good, but I’m not sure if I could go. I have a surgery waiting, and you know…”

“Yeah, your hands. Is it too long?”

“Maybe six or seven hours, not sure”.

“C'mon, mami! You said you don't work until next Thursday!”

Gilly's shouts make you laugh rubbing your eyes.

“Okay I'll try, I'll try. I promise”.

“We will go to Mission Bay. So if you want, we see you there!”

Hanging up the call and giving a last sip to your coffee, you throw the empty paper cup to the bin. Checking the hour on your phone, you know that it's going to be a long, long night. But the idea of spending some time with Bishops makes you tickle in your stomach. Coco introduced you to the crew almost a year ago, like a friend, and he stole your attention. At the first party you joined them, you were almost the whole dawn with him. Dancing, drinking, talking. He was more interesting and funny than you could think, and maybe you felt somekind of connection that you never felt before. So, yes. You would like to go with them, but you have to wait till waking up tomorrow to find out if your hands can handle a four hours trip driving.

“Good morning, bella durmiente! How was the surgery?”.

“Hm… my hands are fucked”.

“So, it went well, we have to celebrate it”.

“Yeah, but… not sure if I can drive to San Diego”.

“Oh, c'mon, please… We're gonna stay here by night too. Coming back tomorrow, take a bus! I'm sure Bishop would b—”.

“Stop!” You say laughing loud to your phone over the bed, while you do some exercise with all your fingers to bring back some mobility.

“(Y/N), you know that it's an amazing opp— Angel already bought you a ticket. In one hour. Sending you by email, bye!”

Before you can complain about it, she has already hung up the call. You end up serving some coffee in a termo, before picking up your towel and some clean clothes, besides an external battery and some hygienic stuff. Bandaging your hands, over a thin layer of cortisone cream, you're ready to walk to the bus station of Santo Padre, ten minutes away from your house. At least, you have three hours of trip to rest a little more, falling asleep as soon as you sit down on your seat. So the next time you open your eyes, you're already in San Diego. Waiting for the other passengers to get out, closing and opening your hands once and again, you step out then. Carrying your bag in your right shoulder and your phone in the left hand, you wear the pair of sunglasses looking for Bishop.

“Eh, boxer”.

His hoarse voice calls your attention, finding him next to the entrance, resting against his motorbike. You can't help but draw a soft and tired smile on your lips, leading your steps towards him, raising both hands on air to show the man your cool white bandages with black stripes. The mexican receives you into his arms in a gentle and dearly hug, surrounding your lower back and your neck for some long seconds.

“The guys are waiting for us to have lunch”.

“Cool… Last time I ate was nine and it was dark”. You just say placing well on your bag, before setting on the helmet.

The drive doesn't take you more than ten minutes, grabbed to Bishop's abdomen and with your chin over his shoulder. You can see him smiling like a fool, knowing that he's delighted that you're going to join them. But mostly, because you are with him. The warm and soft breeze of San Diego makes you close your eyes, fully relaxed, focusing on the smell that floods your lungs, mixing the salty ocean's and Bishop's scent. Your arms surround his body somewhat tight, feeling one of his hands caressing your right thigh with his huge hands placed on and his thumb making the honors over your skin, bristling it without mercy. But much to your regret, the engine stops some short minutes before, standing up from the bike when you're able to do it.

“Give me your bag, querida. I'm going to be your nurse today”. He says, after keeping the helmet you used with the other.

“Qué caballeroso…” (What a gentleman). You tease him, as if normally he isn't.

“Just earning a beach-quickl—”.

“Fuck, Bishop!” You laugh, hitting his shoulder, regretting it immediately when a lash of pain crosses your palm.

“That's called karma”. He says walking backwards to the entrance, pointing you with a finger. “The women are always asking for men's sincerity, and when we give you… You're too violent to be this small, preciosa”.

“Pendejo”.

“YAY, YOU CAME!” Leti looks surprised, making you twist back your head confused.

“Sounds like if… I had another option”. You purr with your lips, before greeting the guys. “Tell me y—”.

“I did”. Taza just says, seeing you pout at him before hugging you. “I will give you a massage later”.

“Mi angelito de la guarda”. (My guardian angel). You can't help but sigh a little alleviated, knowing that he brought a cream he makes with weed oil, coco water and aloe vera.

Actually, it was a good idea to come to the beach, having so much fun in the lunch by seeing all the men more relaxed than in Santo Padre. Being normal people. A family enjoying two days off from all the problems and the dangers they're sinked in every damn day. Bishop was focused on you the whole time, serving your drink in the glass, cutting your food into pieces so you can have to do any effort (...). Everything under the sideways looks of the others. Sometimes you look like another couple with simple gestures, that both do delighted.

After having full enough your stomachs, the guys lead you to the beach where they left the umbrellas and the towels, placing yours next to Bishop's and sitting there after taking off your clothes, but on your black bikini. Unveiling your hands, you do your best to spread the sunscreen all over your body, until the mexican grabs the bottle from your fingers to sit behind you with a ‘lean forward’ on his lips. Feeling his cold hands because the cream on your back gives you a soft chill, curling your legs against your chest and resting your chin over them. Closing your eyes, focusing all your senses on every move he does, you try not to fall asleep. Starting by your shoulders and pressing your neck with both thumbs, his hands travel down your spine making sure he's helping you to get somewhat less tense, at the same time that puts well on the sunscreen.

When it's ready, he stands up on his feet to grab Taza's cream to help you with your hands. That time, he kneels in front of you, spreading it from your forearms to the tip of your fingers, so carefully and concentrated, that you can't help but look at him with a goofy smile until it's done.

“Thank you”. You just say.

“Anytime, querida”. He whispers, pulling a tuft of your hair behind your right ear, leaning towards you to kiss your cheek. “What do you want to do now?”

“I think I need twenty minutes more of sleep, but you can go with the guys to the water, if you want”. Shrugging your shoulders, you let your back fall down to the towel.

“I spend too much time with them, and I haven't seen you a single second for the last four days”. He chuckles lying by your side, straining an arm under your neck to put you closer to him. “Let me enjoy at least twenty minutes”.

His resigned sigh makes you laugh almost in silence, while his free hand gets placed on your back, leaving some ephemeral caresses from top to bottom. And you feel as if you were in paradise. You're practically drinking each other's breathings, with closed eyes and your nose touching Bishop's. Your fingers get tangled slightly in the short hair of the mexican, taking pleasure of the peace that it's surrounding you right now.

“I didn't want you to come”. He mutters from nowhere, not opening his eyes, not opening yours. With a calm tone of voice, a little sleepy.

“Why?”

“You were tired, your hands hurt. You need to rest, (Y/N)”.

“I'm resting now. And I couldn't ask for a better way to do it. I think I'm gonna complain about my hands often, so you will take care of me”.

Bishop chuckles drowsy, shaking his head just for a second.

“Anything else, su majestad?” (Your Majesty).

“A kiss”. Murmuring, you get somewhat comfy under his arms.

You're aware of the same desire to kiss you that he feels for you, as you feel, but on the other hand, you weren't expecting him to really do it. His lips gently press yours, before catching them among his. Traveling down one of your hands to the side of his neck, Bishop holds you closer, keeping a low pace of his mouth enjoying the taste and the touch of yours. Unconsciously and by inertia, your left right surrounds his waist. His fingers touring your thigh slowly, makes your first kiss a little better. Biting softly his lower lip, you steal him a heavy sigh, stretching your skin under his huge hand. He wants you closer, and you too. But for the moment, that's pretty enough.

“You should complain about your hands often”. He mumbles almost touching your lips with every syllable.

“I will”.

Sinking your face into his neck, you're trying to fall asleep focused on his breath, hearing a bunch of steps over the sand coming closer. Some whispers talking about you two, thinking that you're sleeping but you're actually trying not to laugh, feeling how Bishop gets a little tense because of the low comments.

“Don't forget I'm your fucking boss”. Bishop growls, freezing everyone's blood. And you can't help but break into laughter.

“Shit”. Coco soughs hiding behind Angel's back, because the oldest Reyes is the tallest of all.

“Nah, c'mon, Bish. Enjoy your d—”.

Before Angel can finish the sentence, the mexican hits his leg, making him fall down over Coco. A lot of cursing in spanish appears under the umbrellas, getting mixed with the loud laughs that make you sit up on your towel almost drowning. Watching them trying to get up only makes it better.

“Oh, man, I wish I could record it”. Gilly's laughs are over the others, with an arm on Creeper's left shoulder. “Damn, prez, repeat it, please…”

“Stop bothering him”. You say holding the angry man between your arms, before lying again on your towels.

“Pendejos mal paridos…” He barks mumbling.

“Don't listen to them”.

“I'm… going to fuck them up as soon as we retur—”.

“Obispo, stop”. You chuckle, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek.

Finally, you are able to sleep for some minutes, while the guys share some beers playing cards, listening latin music in a low volumen to not continue annoying him. And even if you don't rest for more than twenty or thirty minutes, it's like you have been sleeping for the whole day, because of the comfort you feel under his grip and the caresses in your hair. Opening again your eyes, you raise up your head over his shoulders to find half of the crew on their towels, and the other half playing with a bouncy ball on the shore, just like kids. Taking the advantage that no one is looking, to avoid that they tease you again, you press your lips onto his. Slowly, calmly, with his arms hugging your body tightly as Bishop tucks his tongue in your mouth peacefully looking for yours. You feel some tickles in your stomach when they meet, as he feels more relaxed. El Presidente really is into you. He really has more feelings than he wants to admit, until he knows that you have the same sensation on your chest every time you are close to him. Now, he's seeing it. That maybe you two are having a good opportunity.

And you don't want to stop, drowning a slight gasp against his mouth when it gets a little intense that you expected, forgetting for a second where you are and who is surrounding you. Fucking the especial moment when you hear Coco saying that the hotel rooms are already booked, and that you can ocuppy yours whenever you want. Bishop is about to get up, when you stop him by a hand on his chest. You're going to take care of it this time. Shaking the sand on your body, you wear his sunglasses, walking towards the crew in the water. Coco is looking at you somewhat confused, while the president calls Taza, Tranq and Riz attention to enjoy the show. And before he can say anything else, or ask about what you are going to do seeing how you open, close and repeat the gesture with your right hand, you hit his temple with your palm. And it hurts a little, but the laugh is worth everything.

“Yo! Mami! What was that?!” He complains offended.

“A wave”. You just say, provoking that every laughter of your friends gets louder.

“Mami…” He pouts at you, rubbing that side of his face.

“Do you want a tsunami?”

He doesn't answer, while Leti starts to cough in tears.

“I imagined”. You add then, narrowing your eyes under the aviator sunglasses.

Coming back to the umbrellas, the eldest members clap at you while making them a feigned reverence.

After having a deserved shower in the room you're going to share with Gabriela and Leti, you fall down over the bed waiting for them to get ready for some party time after dinner. And while they choose dresses, more makeup that you have never put on and high heels, you choose some comfy shorts, a white body with bare back and your sneakers. Of course, you're not in that mood after four horrible nights working. Before leaving the hotel, you apply a few more cream on your hands, feeling so much better and using clean bandages to cover them. Meeting the guys at the hall, you go out to find a place to have some dinner, ending up in the same restaurant you have been at noon. The food is pretty good, so you go to the secure one. But this time is a little different since then.

You can't avoid having your right hand on Bishop's nape, caressing his scalp while the table talks about everything and nothing at the same time, laughing and enjoying. Urging you to put your right leg over his left, hanging from it, he caresses your thigh a little assorted as if it was something normal, and natural on him. But it's not, and that makes that gesture more special. You couldn't ask for anything better, until he kisses your cheek without expecting to place his free arm over your shoulders, without caring about if Coco or Angel dares to make another of their occurrences. You two are very sure that you made them understand to not fuck up with Bishop in front of you, even if you find it funny.

Outside of the restaurant, after having a revitalizing dinner, the crew begin to propose different plans. But the mere fact of thinking in a crowded place, with loud music and a mix of smells, makes you yawn inevitably. Leti is killing you with her gaze.

“Yo! Bitch, don' you dare to tell me that you're goen' to sleep”.

“I did—”. Trying to excuse yourself, Bishop interrupts you.

“She doesn't. But I am an old man who needs his eight hours of sleep”.

“Then, good night, mummy”. She's about to take you off from his arms, while he turns around to give her his back.

“I need a nurse to take care of my disabilities”.

“C'mon, Bish! You've been hoarding her the whole day! And I invited her, not you!” She frowns while you laugh. “I hope at least you make her cum…”

“Leticia!” You shout, while Coco palms her nape.

“Mummies don' cum, you dumbass, they just… lie do—”.

“Angel, I swear I am going to break your legs next time”.

“Whatever, Tutankhamun. Enjoy your night”. Your friend rolls her eyes with a heavy sigh.

“We can come back next week, when I have holidays”. You say palming her forehead, making her laugh before leaving back to the hotel.

And you just get separated in it enough time to clean your teeth and grab the charger for your phone, going to his room after that. You're not nervous, but a little excited of having some time alone. Finally. Not to do anything specifically, but to enjoy him being de-stressed. While he's in the bathroom, you take off your clothes to wear the shirt he has left for you on the mattress. Smells like him and that it's driving you insane, crawling over the bed to fall close to the pillows, fighting against your tiredness to not fall asleep this soon.

Having your eyes closed, you feel the side next to yours sinking a little, until his strong arms find your body to wrap it against his chest after turning off the lights. Turning under his grip and intertwining your hands and your legs, Bishop rests his cheek on yours, being able to see part of the pacific ocean from the window in front of your eyes. It's magic. Pure magic.

“Listen…” He mutters getting somewhat comfy, having a deep breath his nose sinked into your neck. “Maybe I can't promise you a life that a normal man could give you, but I'm going to make it worth every second”.

“Bish”.

“Hm…?”

“Do you love me?”.

“Yes, I do, preciosa”.

“That's everything I need”. Turning just a little, you smirk softly at him. “I don't want a normal life. I want to spend it with you”.

“I hope you never regret these words”.

“I only could regret them because they aren't enough to express how I feel when you're close to me. When you touch me. When you pronounce my name”. Replying that, you lie down again under his grip, leaving a soft kiss on his right forearm. “I love you, Bishop. I couldn't regret it”.

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hellchilde · 4 years ago

Text

The Thing With Feathers

wow it feels like ten million years since i posted a real fic

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén, Song Lan | Song Zichen & Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen & Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei

Characters: Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Disabled Character, Blindness, Blind Xiǎo Xīngchén, Lack of Communication, Established Relationship, brief scene with blood, Recreational Drug Use, (but it's just weed), Alcohol, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Cock Warming, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation Vibes

Words: 8970

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to throw your life into sharp focus it to stumble over a dying criminal in the street and let it consume your life.

Or: Xiao Xingchen finds Xue Yang injured alongside the road and the rhythm of the carefully constructed life he has with Song Lan no longer seems entirely stable.

It happens when he's walking home from class.

This time, the reason for Xiao Xingchen's loss of vision is not so noble or meaningful. Sometimes things happen for a reason, but sometimes things just happen and it's shit luck and you have to make due with the cards you're dealt. Sometimes you're too young when your vision deteriorates to nothing, but at least that means you don't have to see their pitying looks in the encroaching darkness. But sometimes, there is a good man who is there for you and can help you pick up the pieces when your life changes too quickly for you to deal with. That is a spot of good luck, because this man is someone you love and could picture a life with, even if it's not the life your parents had intended, or the life you set out to start back when the possibilities were endless. This time, Xiao Xingchen learns the lines of Song Lan's face with his fingertips before his sight is completely gone, and lets him reshape their lives to accommodate this unforeseen obstacle to what could have been a story of happily ever after.

With a white cane in hand and a determined set to his face, Xiao Xingchen walks the increasingly familiar path between home, subway, school, subway, home. Never did he plan on learning a new language in his late twenties, but that language is braille, and he refuses to be totally helpless in a world designed against him. Audiobooks help, but he can't listen to them while he walks, has to stay vigilant with his remaining senses or let himself be pummeled by people who won't see him. Shame the onus has to be on him. So it might be dark, but maybe it's not, when he trips over something and sprawls inelegantly, embarrassingly to the ground. His cheeks and ears are burning, he dropped his cane but finds it quickly. Stupid, stupid, he should have felt it.

He reaches back to feel what he tripped over, and feels fabric, flesh. He gropes his way up, increasingly concerned when the person doesn't move or make a sound, and he smells blood. Then finally he feels the blood, sticky and warm but cooling, and is worried he is feeling a corpse until he feels the chest rise and fall and hears the wheeze of breath. He snatches his hands away, worried, and scrambles for the phone in his pocket. It has a voice-to-text option, and that makes up for the lack of buttons. He's never had to dial 9-1-1, and he thinks his voice on the line to the operator is nervous and panicked. He can't even tell her for certain which street he's on, except that it's five blocks from the campus where he had class.

That must be enough. The EMT's arrive and take stock of the situation, and they reassure him, and when he asks them if he can ride in the ambulance, they agree without too much argument. The ride to the hospital is horrible, though, because he has no idea where he's going or how far away and every turn makes him motion sick. He still doesn't consider leaving behind the man he found. The emergency room is chaotic, but one of the EMT's spares the time to lead him out to the waiting room, and someone eventually gets him some water.

“He's in surgery, and then they'll be admitting him for observation,” one of the staff says to him. He's already given his report to the police, explained his innocent side. He's not a suspect for what appears to be a violent crime, but they took his contact information. Otherwise, Xiao Xingchen doesn't know much. “You don't know him, so … you can go home if you want. I'm sure he would appreciate the kindness of a stranger.”

“Were you able to find an emergency contact?” he asks. So far, he has been the only visitor present.

“No,” the staff says. “Don't worry, the police are looking into it.”

“I would prefer to stay with him,” Xiao Xingchen says, because he does always try to be noble, even without a sword in his hands.

The staff member, maybe a nurse or a receptionist but probably not a doctor, reaches out to touch his hands where they're clasped protectively around his cane. He makes a face because he wouldn't have accepted the touch if asked permission, but at least it's kind. “You're a good man,” the staff member says. “We'll help you to the waiting room near where he'll be resting.”

At some point, someone gives him a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a cup of coffee. The sandwich is ham and soggy, but he eats a little of it, and the coffee tastes old and watery. At some point, Xiao Xingchen sleeps in his chair. At some point, someone informs him that the man made it through surgery and is sleeping. At some point, Xiao Xingchen awakens to the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“You didn't come home,” Song Lan's voice says, strained. “I was worried.”

“I'll be home soon,” Xiao Xingchen replies. “I have to make sure he made it through. I'm the one who found him, it's my responsibility.” He doesn't like the hospital, which is cold and antiseptic, and his chair isn't comfortable. He's still going to stay. He has to, even if he has to rely on the kindness of strangers to find the bathroom.

Song Lan sighs, too familiar with this side of him. “Call me to come pick you up,” he says quietly. “The hospital isn't far.”

Xiao Xingchen says goodbye and hangs up and only resents a little that the offer makes him feel helpless. He rubs at his eyes, which feel gritty and sore, and locates the remains of his soggy sandwich to at least get something in his stomach. He listens to the sounds of the hospital around him, beeping machines and ringing phones and quiet voices and people rushing by in non-skid shoes. He seems to be politely ignored, or perhaps forgotten, but he doesn't know how long it's supposed to take until he learns what happened.

At some point, another member of staff approaches him and sits beside him, clearing her throat softly. “I have some news, Mr. Xiao,” she says, accented Mandarin. He tries not to be insulted that they think his English isn't good. “The police have found out the identity of the man you found. Apparently … he's wanted for murder, and some other crimes. He works for some very bad men.”

Xiao Xingchen frowns, the information hard to take in. A criminal? He saved a criminal?

“You did a good thing,” she continues. “They'll bring him in to face justice. They wanted me to thank you.”

He manages to nod, trying not to reveal how shaken he is by the news. Why should it bother him so much? He doesn't know this man and has no connection to him other than finding him mostly dead on his walk to the subway. And yet he still feels betrayed. He did something good, he saved a man, and he turns out to be a criminal. It doesn't feel fair, but so little in his life feels fair.

His intentions have been to stay until the man wakes up and introduce himself, get to know him, but he no longer wants that. Instead he digs out his phone as soon as the nurse leaves and dials Song Lan's number to request a ride and pulls himself to his feet, legs feeling stiff from a long night spent in an uncomfortable chair. He still has that feeling that he should at least peek in on the man that he saved, but then, what's the use in that when he hasn't peeked at anything since his vision gave up on him?

It doesn't take very much help from others to make it down to the front of the building and out the doors – the elevator had braille, and the flow of traffic was relatively logical. He takes a breath of fresh air and stands by the curb to wait for Song Lan, his cane clasped in his hands. He hasn't bothered to ask the time, but by the temperature outside and the birds and the angle of the sun he can feel on his skin, he guesses it's midmorning. He's been out all night. No wonder Song Lan was worried.

He hears the car, and the door opens, and there's Song Lan's voice instructing him to get in. He reaches out to feel the edge of the car door and then climbs inside, settling gratefully into the familiar passenger seat to let Song Lan pull away from the hospital.

“Did he wake up?” Song Lan asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don't know,” Xiao Xingchen replies, collapsing his cane back down to make more room in the footwell for his legs. “They told me they found out who he was. A criminal wanted for murder, with mob connections. I didn't want to stay after that. I'm sure they'll arrest him.” He's still not sure how he feels about that. Bad, bad, like there's rocks in his stomach.

Song Lan thinks about that, his driving much smoother than that of the ambulance, mindful of not taking the turns too quickly. “Well, it's a good thing he's off the streets,” he says at last. “And good that you didn't let him die. It's best that he faces the consequences of what he's done.”

Xiao Xingchen nods and chews on his bottom lip, turning towards the window to feel the sun on his face. He's tired, more tired than before, and he thinks he'll sleep all day even if it'll totally throw off his sleep schedule. He feels depressed, for no reason he can put a finger on. How had he been the one to stumble on that man?

He takes Song Lan's help here and there to get inside, finding it reassuring to always reach out and find him there, and then they are safely behind a door and he finds the bed and collapses into it. When he wakes up again, Song Lan is stretched out beside him, breathing deep and even in sleep. Xiao Xingchen sighs, rolls over, and scoots unobtrusively out of bed to find the cigarettes he has hidden in a corner of the closet in case of emergency. He secludes himself on the fire escape to smoke in peace and rub his temple while he attempts to figure out what he's feeling.

He hasn't figured it out by the time he's finished one cigarette, and he has just enough self control to cut himself off after one, then retreats back inside to at least pretend to do some work.

The next time Xiao Xingchen hears about Xue Yang (which is the name of the man he saved, that murderer and mobster and … rapist, for all he knew) he is on the news. He emerges from their bedroom one morning in search of the coffee pot and some breakfast, and Song Lan actually has the TV on, a rare occurrence this early in the morning.

“... released from City Hospital this morning, in custody of the police,” the reporter says. “Xue Yang has known connections with alleged crime lord Wen Ruohan, and charges against him include murder, arson, assault, armed robbery, and fraud. Yang will be facing these charges in a court of law, following investigation into the listed charges, and is currently being kept in custody at an undisclosed location. Yang was found two weeks ago by a civilian on the street following a vicious stabbing, supposedly an attempt on his life carried out by a rival gang. The investigation into Yang's attack is still ongoing with no suspects.”

Xiao Xingchen feels his face fold into a frown, and he steps forward until he finds Song Lan, letting him press a bowl into his hands and starting to eat without really tasting.

“I guess he can walk now,” Song Lan comments with a dry voice.

“What does he look like?” It doesn't matter. Xiao Xingchen still wants to know, to satisfy some perverse curiosity about that evil man he happened to save from bleeding out on the street.

“Like a punk,” Song Lan says. “Like a smug little punk. Like he's going to get away with all of it.” He sets his bowl down and leans in to kiss Xingchen's cheek, running his hand over the other as if he can smooth out the frustration there. “Don't listen to too much of this. I'll be back tonight.” And then he leaves, the sound of his footsteps circling the kitchen island, pausing to pick up his coat and bag, pausing to slip on his shoes, and then the sound of the front door.

Xiao Xingchen takes a few more bites of the food – it's oatmeal, and it's alright, but it's not the way he would have prepared it – and the news is still on in the background, now on to some other story that he cares less about. He puts the bowl down and goes for coffee next, still half the pot left and soy creamer set out nearby. Thoughtful. Song Lan takes care of him.

He doesn't follow the direction. He gets his tablet and sets it up to search for this Wen Ruohan guy. He doesn't keep enough track of the news to have any idea about organized crime, but once his tablet understands what he's asking of it, it pulls up some articles. The text reader's voice renders the shocking events dry and bland, but at least it's something. It makes it sound like Wen Ruohan has fingers in pretty much every bit of crime in the city, maybe further out too. Not surprising that a criminal like Xue Yang would take up with him, do some of his dirty work. The top of the pack never lets that kind of thing touch him. That's why they can't make anything stick when it comes to bringing charges against him. The movies get that much right.

His next search is for Xue Yang himself. Most of what pulls up is the recent stuff about him being in the hospital, the stabbing, the murder charge they want him for this time. Few of the articles he finds come with image descriptions, so if there are pictures, he doesn't know what they are. He can access the public parts of Xue Yang's criminal record. People keep getting his name wrong, calling him “Mr. Yang.” He listens to the text reader list the dates and bare-bones facts of the previous charges. Some of them he had been arrested for, served time. Others seemed to disappear too quickly.

When Song Lan comes home, he is still on the couch, bent over his tablet, hair uncombed and falling over his shoulders and still wearing the loungewear he had put on that morning, which doesn't really count as clothes. He startles when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, too wrapped up in what he had been listening to and thinking about to pay attention to the sound of the door opening or Song Lan saying his name.

“What are you … oh,” Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen feels the presence of him reading over his shoulder. “I see you didn't follow my advice.”

“I wanted to know more,” Xiao Xingchen says, feeling oddly defensive. He switches the tablet dark so Song Lan can't read over his shoulder. “Maybe he's a smug punk, but I saved him. I want to know what kind of man I saved.” Why he's weirdly obsessive about this, he still doesn't understand. Why he wants to know more of these dark details. It isn't like it gives him a thrill – well, not a good thrill, that would be kind of sick. It isn't like he's ever even interacted with Xue Yang. Except that he spent a good portion of one day covered in his blood and waiting for him to wake up at the hospital, and for some reason that made it feel like Xue Yang owed him something.

Song Lan sighs so it stirs the hairs on the top of his head, then pets them down again. Not the first time Xiao Xingchen has forgotten to comb his hair, especially on days he stays in. It's a worried kind of touch. “Will you please turn it off for a little while for dinner?”

Xiao Xingchen considers being contrary and refusing, but his stomach rumbles as a reminder that he only broke away long enough to eat some pickles and crackers in a lunch that required minimal effort but could hardly be counted as real food. He submits, then, pulling Song Lan's hand down from his head to kiss his inner wrist. He rises to his feet to follow Song Lan to the table, sits beside him and takes the prepared plate. Song Lan must have guessed some of his mood that morning, because a couple of the dishes are among his favorites from this particular restaurant.

That softens him, and he feels a little bad for considering being contrary or brushing off Song Lan's worry as being patronizing. Guilty, even. Doesn't Song Lan have enough to deal with without his boyfriend being bratty? It's the unfortunate truth of their circumstances that Song Lan shoulders more of the financial responsibilities, more of the housekeeping, more of the cooking. Xiao Xingchen does what he can, and he's gotten to be a pretty fair hand at cooking even without being able to read labels. It's still more for Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen finishes up his pad see ew, wipes his mouth clean, and gets up to drape himself over Song Lan's lap. His chopsticks clatter lightly on the edge of the plate, and then his hands settle on Xiao Xingchen's waist. Xingchen feels a smile spread over his face, and his hands slide into Song Lan's hair, and he leans in for a kiss.

Being intimate like this has changed. As his sight faded, his other senses sharpened. In some ways it's useful, like being able to so distinctly smell the differences between spices, but his skin is now also more sensitive. Every touch, every brush of lips or teeth, has the potential to be overwhelming. It had caught him off-guard at first, the sheer electricity of it lighting him up more vividly than any lit room. It had been intense enough to scare him, and hence to scare Song Lan, and since then his touches had grown increasingly light and gentle, wary of startling him again. Or perhaps it is that Song Lan is no longer so certain of sharing himself with someone who can no longer see him. He has never been the most touchy-feely person, and Xiao Xingchen wouldn't blame him if the shine of their relationship had faded by now. Occupying that strange liminal space where he was part caretaker, part boyfriend – that can't be easy.

So how can Xiao Xingchen ask for that firmer touch, the way they could get so carried away with each other the way they used to when they were younger and more carefree? What right does he have to demand even more?

He still kisses Song Lan wild and reckless, soft lips and sharp teeth catching at Song Lan's mouth, kissing the flavor of Thai food off his lips. Song Lan sighs against him, hands slipping up under Xiao Xingchen's oversized cardigan and the t-shirt underneath, circling against his waist. There are calluses on his fingers, just rough enough to feel, and at least while they're kissing Song Lan isn't protesting. Xingchen squirms slightly, trying to get his hands to slide down, as if he could wiggle them down. They stay where they are, though Song Lan's grip tightens, starting to dig into his skin.

Xiao Xingchen breaks the kiss to pant softly against Song Lan's lips, only now realizing that he has one hand tangled up in his hair, the other pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady thud of Song Lan's heart beneath his skin. His own heartbeat feels like it's echoing that beat, knocking up hopefully against his ribs. Maybe this time … maybe this time it would work out. Maybe this time he could somehow convey the kind of attention he was craving, and maybe Song Lan would be amenable to fucking his brains out.

Sure enough, Song Lan shifts his grip, finally down even if it is over his yoga pants, cups his ass and stands up with him clinging koala-style. Xiao Xingchen has no intention of letting go, pressing kisses into Song Lan's jaw, his throat, over his lips, wherever he can reach, his arms settling around Song Lan's strong shoulders and his back arching to press closer against him. This is better, this is closer to what he wants.

Song Lan deposits him on the bed, doesn't drop him, just setting him carefully on the mattress like fine china. But still he crawls over him, whispers kisses into his skin, teeth scraping lightly down his throat. The light touches make Xiao Xingchen gasp and writhe, his skin feeling so oversensitive that he can't even stand still wearing his clothes. Song Lan hovers over him, on his hands and knees, still barely touching him except for the brush of his lips.

“Zichen,” he breathes, needy, eager.

Song Lan pulls back, and Xingchen can just weather the feeling of being watched, breathing and trying not to feel self-conscious beneath the weight of Song Lan's gaze. His fingers are still in Song Lan's hair, twisting and trying to pull him back down. He bears it for a few moments, then stretches up to try and find his lips.

But before he can make it, Song Lan's hand takes his own, unpeeling his fingers from his hair and kissing his palm before pressing his hand to Xingchen's chest and sitting up. The gesture has an air of finality to it, and Xiao Xingchen can't help it, he covers his face with his hands. It's like being blind has erased any ability he had to control his expression, and he can only imagine what his face is doing right now, because it certainly feels all twisted up and hurt and mad and frustrated.

“I'm sorry,” Song Lan says, because he isn't good at reading people but he isn't blind, and he sounds regretful. “I'm sorry, it just wasn't...”

Xiao Xingchen rolls away, taking a moment, then sits up, his back facing Song Lan. “It's fine,” he says, as though merely saying the words will make it so, and he knows his voice sounds too tight. “It's fine,” he repeats. He wishes there was a switch in his body that he could just turn off, rather than having to sit with the coiling warmth still lingering in his stomach, refusing to dissipate just because Song Lan is no longer touching him.

He feels Song Lan touch his hair lightly, then the shift of the mattress as he stands up. The ensuite shower turns on shortly after, and entertains the vindictive thought of forcing his way in and pushing Song Lan up on the shower wall and just...

He doesn't know what. Song Lan had already made his “no” very clear, and Xiao Xingchen has no intention of crossing that particular boundary. He knows there wouldn't be any coming back from that. Taking care of himself feels equally out of the question. It's not what he craves, and doing it alone feels empty.

He goes to clean up after their dinner, finding some comfort in scrubbing off the plates and plunging his hands in the soapy water. It doesn't perfectly redirect his energy, but it takes the edge off. Then he steps out to the fire escape again, retreats, cowardice. The cold, damp wind slaps him in the face, and he takes a lungful of the foggy air, pressing his back into the wrought iron to feel it dig in.

He should tell Song Lan. There are things he should say, explanations, verbalizing his desire and upset and love and frustration. How it feels to be treated as an invalid, even when Song Lan does it so soft and gentle. Song Lan will tell his part too, the part where his desire can't always keep up with Xingchen's and that particular quirk where touching makes his skin crawl, where he treasures Xingchen and wants to protect him by wrapping him up tight in bubble wrap, kept and sweet and placed high on a shelf never to be touched.

He kicks the fire escape, just to make himself feel a little better, and wedges himself in. He should have brought his tablet. He could have done more research. Without it, he just listens to the sounds of the city at night, traffic and ambulances, someone singing, a baby crying in the distance. He lets it all flow and melt around him, lets his body relax into becoming the ambient temperature of the fog, cold and misty and amorphous.

By the time Xiao Xingchen retreats back inside, his thoughts are as cool and calm as the air outside. He slips into bed, fitting into the space behind Song Lan, slotting in, his knees in the crook behind Song Lan's knees, his cold nose tucked against the back of his neck. Song Lan smells clean, and Xingchen feels sorry for earlier, silly for letting himself get carried away. He's happy here. He is happy.

That thought circles his brain as he drifts off to sleep.

Time passes. Xiao Xingchen dials back his research to what he thinks is a normal amount of interest. There is always news to follow – Xue Yang seems to be at the same time the media's darling and their favorite villain. The tabloids keep commenting on how he looks, calling him angelic and sweet-faced while at the same time condemning him for what seemed like an ever-increasing number of crimes. Song Lan quickly learns to simply leave him to it, and in return Xingchen can moderate himself so he doesn't lose entire days to sitting on the couch and burying himself in news and police reports.

Life is pretty much normal. There's a routine, a rhythm, comfortable and familiar. Xiao Xingchen further adjusts to life in a world that isn't built to accommodate him, his steps ever more certain on his path. He can visualize his future stretching before him, and none of it looks bad. No surprises, no tragedy. He figures losing his sight is bad enough to fulfill the quota for drama for this lifetime.

Xiao Xingchen listens to the trial when it starts. From what he can tell, this is apparently very fast, but he doesn't know enough about the American justice system to confirm that. There's plenty of media coverage on it, but despite their efforts to highlight the most exciting parts, the trial itself seems to be fairly dull, nothing like the TV shows. That doesn't decrease Xiao Xingchen's interest, but it does help to prevent him from focusing too much on it.

Song Lan has a launch party for work. Xiao Xingchen doesn't know enough about computers to know what it's really for, some piece of software or another, something Song Lan has been working on for months. It's a cause for celebration, and while Xingchen doesn't relish the need to dress up, he lets Song Lan help him with it. Most of his wardrobe is in interchangeable shades of neutral, white and black and gray – he made sure of that before his sight was gone. But it's better to be safe than sorry and accidentally choose something inappropriate or clashing. Anyway, he knows Song Lan quietly enjoys dressing him, making sure he looks nice. It suits the same part of his personality that's so good at the nitty-gritty details of code, a fierce, strict streak of perfectionism.

Xiao Xingchen has no doubt that they make a sharp picture when they arrive. He left his cane at home, since it would be too cumbersome in a party setting, and thus holds Song Lan's arm to navigate their way inside. It's a club, it smells like a club, alcohol and bodies and several layers of perfume and cologne, and there's music playing with a low bassline that reverberates in his ribcage. It's probably dark, which means that people will be asking all night long why he's wearing his dark tinted glasses. Hopefully sticking close against Song Lan's side will decrease the need to explain.

Parties like this are always a little awkward. Xingchen is friendly and willing, but he doesn't speak the same language as these technology prodigies. Maybe he could have wandered and found other partners of Song Lan's coworkers, but he was always wary of losing track of Song Lan in an unfamiliar place. And Song Lan is good, he's considerate, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in whatever conversation he gets involved in that Xingchen falls by the wayside despite being attached to his arm.

It's still fun and interesting to be out of the apartment, chatting with people, picking canapes off the trays, accepting the drink that Song Lan passes to him. It's one of the fruity ones that he likes, but strong enough that he can taste the alcohol under the juice. He's playing the role of arm candy tonight, but he lets it be fun, lets himself be the sweet and sparkly juxtaposition to Song Lan's dry, serious demeanor. Song Lan's coworkers forgive him easily when he doesn't know the more technical details and humor him by talking about other, more accessible topics.

Inevitably, though, they turn back to talking shop, and Xingchen tries to follow but it all starts to sound like gibberish. He sighs and ceases to pay much attention to the conversation since they're not really paying attention to him, and he sips his drink, wishing the music were better. Though, of course, the inevitable result of sipping a drink all evening is that he has to use the bathroom. Xingchen realizes it with some dismay. There's no good way to bring it up without sounding like a complaining toddler, but he doesn't even know which way to point himself to find it if he were to just wander off. So he just … waits. Song Lan will have to go eventually as well.

Except the situation is steadily growing towards urgent, and Song Lan shows no indication of breaking away from his conversation, focused the way he can get sometime. Xiao Xingchen starts to fidget anxiously, hoping to somehow telepathically convey what he needs. Unfortunately, he doesn't magically develop psychic powers. He's inches from giving in to the embarrassment of asking to be escorted to the bathroom when he feels another hand on his free arm.

“Hi,” a female voice says, one that he doesn't recognize. “Song Lan, do you mind if I borrow him for a minute?”

Xiao Xingchen could curse, and desperately hopes that Song Lan makes up an excuse to keep him from being pulled to another conversation with strangers. He can't focus on being friendly when his body is screaming at him. He feels Song Lan look up in surprise, finally breaking from his own conversation.

“Oh, right, of course,” he says, gently taking Xingchen's hand from his arm to pass him over to the woman. “Xingchen, this is Wen Qing. She's a doctor and a friend.”

“Alright,” Xingchen says, voice cracking, shooting Song Lan what he hopes is a desperate look before Wen Qing tugs him away. He's panicking, he thinks he might die, he wants the earth to swallow him up. He clears his throat and touches Wen Qing's hand, her pace never slowing. “I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, but...”

Before he can finish, she pulls him through a doorway. Their footsteps turn echo-y, and he feels a glimmer of hope. She continues pulling, then places his hand on what feels like the handle of a urinal. He makes a sound, desperate still, and feels for the edges of the porcelain before letting go of her entirely so he can relieve himself.

“You looked like you were suffering over there,” she says, only far enough away to give him the space he needs to get the job done. “I know how Song Lan can get too intense in his conversations and forget the world around him.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, shooting a small smile in the direction of her voice. “Unfamiliar places are always a little difficult, especially without my cane. I hope it wasn't too obvious.”

“Not to the tech nerds,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder to help lead him over to the sinks after he gets his slacks fastened up. “They might be geniuses, but they're oblivious to any kind of subtlety. Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Xiao Xingchen says again, washing his hands and then relaxing a hip against the sink. He isn't in a rush to go back out to the music he doesn't like. “So you're a doctor?”

“Cardiac surgeon,” Wen Qing clarifies. “I normally don't get to see below the belt. But don't worry, I'll remain professional.” It sounds like she's smiling too. Xingchen isn't surprised to find that she's friends with Song Lan, with that dry kind of humor.

“I wasn't too worried about it,” Xingchen says. “Do you come to a lot of these things?”

“A few. I was dating one of them for a while, made some friends. They keep inviting me, and the appetizers are good, and every once in a while I get to help somebody's poor boyfriend find the bathroom.” He feels her pull his jacket straight, adjusting his collar slightly. “So. Been together long?”

“Since college,” Xingchen tells her. Maybe she isn't very close with Song Lan, to have not heard the story before. “Actually, we met in the airport when I arrived in America. I was so lost and overwhelmed, and he stepped in to help me find my way in a new country and a big city. It was just a happy coincidence that we ended up going to the same school while he was getting his graduate degree. And then from there, it's basically just history.”

Wen Qing laughs and touches his shoulder again. “Somehow, I doubt it's 'just history,' but we can leave it at that, if you want,” she says. “That's very sweet. I'm just glad you look as lost by all their talk as I am. Do you smoke?”

“Ah...” He doesn't want to lie, but also isn't sure about how likely it is his answer would get back around to Song Lan.

“Doesn't matter,” she says quickly, taking his arm again to lead him out. “Come hang out with the wives. We're all the wives, regardless of gender.”

Together, they wind through the party, past snippets of conversation and a speaker rolling out bassline in waves. Wen Qing pulls him out of a door, and the sound of music is dampened. A comforting cloud of cigarette smoke wafts around them, and there's a soft hum of conversation.

“Hey, wives,” Wen Qing crows. “I bring fresh blood.”

“One of us,” someone chants, and Xiao Xingchen grins and gives an irreverent salute.

The wives are apparently the company he was craving. He no longer has to pretend to understand or be interested in the technobabble, and instead he can pluck crackers smothered in cream cheese and prosciutto off of the platter that they stole from the catering staff and sip from the bottle of wine that they had also stolen. He can listen to one of them chatter about a thesis project on Emily Dickinson and steal drags from cigarettes and blunts passed to him. It's closer to the way he and Song Lan operated in college, parting for their own friend groups before drifting back together, and the wives are closer to the kind of people he would choose for friends, free to be bohemian while their significant others take advantage of the tech boom and bring home the bacon.

Xiao Xingchen hasn't bothered to check the time on his phone, but it feels late by the quality of the air and the conversation. They've stopped talking about anything of substance, and he's leaning on Wen Qing's shoulder. He's a little drunk and a little high and feeling soft and easy. Song Lan's touch doesn't even startle him when it comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Let's go home,” he suggests in a low murmur, and Xingchen peels himself up. The wives moan and complain, and someone reaches for him, fingers catching on the edge of his jacket with a soft cry of, “Chen-chen, don't leave us!”

Xiao Xingchen gives his goodbyes and makes his promises to stay in touch – his phone is full of their phone numbers. He leans on Song Lan to make their way out and down to meet their car. They slide into the back seat, and their hands find each other on the seat, fingers folding together in the most intimate touch Song Lan would allow in public.

“Time's it?” Xiao Xingchen asks, sleepy and smiley and soft.

“Close to one,” Song Lan replies. He sounds a little drunk too, and his thumb runs over the space between Xingchen's thumb and index finger, fitting into the hollow. “Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums and smiles more. “They were nice. Wen Qing was helpful, and you know how useless I am when you talk shop.”

“I should have known you'd get along with them. I should have introduced you earlier. I'm sorry you were bored with me.” He snorts softly. “Chen-chen.”

Xiao Xingchen's giggle is significantly less dignified, but at least it's not too loud out of consideration for their poor driver. “You know I can't help if they think I'm cute!”

Song Lan doesn't protest, but he doesn't have to. They're back home, and he thanks the driver, and comes around to help Xingchen out of the car and back into their building. They're quiet due to the late hour, so the sound of the keys feels like it echoes in the still night air. Xiao Xingchen lets himself inside with a sigh of relief and kicks his shoes off, and opens his mouth to suggest they go to bed only to have Song Lan's lips and teeth and tongue providing an effective gag.

Song Lan backs him against the wall in the entryway, and his hands span Xingchen's waist, broad and solid. Xingchen can taste the alcohol in his breath, but he probably tastes the same. His head spins, his stomach flips, feeling simultaneously over- and under-fed on those canapes, but thrilled with possibility. The kiss is rough, with teeth, not like delicate good morning kisses or gentle good night ones that he's gotten used to. This kiss demands, and expects him to answer – and so he does.

Xiao Xingchen moans into it and grips back at Song Lan's shirt, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Sleep is no longer on his mind. Instead, he has to get his hands on Song Lan's skin or he might just evaporate. He tugs until he can get Song Lan's shirt out of his slacks and he can slide his hands underneath, flat against the skin of his stomach. His skin is warm, solid, and he can feel the frantic rate of his breathing beneath his touch. It feels like a dream, like it's so much that it can't be real, and at the same time it's so real, so perfect, everything he wants.

It feels like Song Lan needs this as badly as he does. With hands tight around Xingchen's arms he pulls him away from the wall, further into the apartment. Xiao Xingchen assumes they'll go to the bedroom, to the bed as usual, but he finds himself bent forward over the couch instead, the familiar fabric under his fingers and the back digging into his stomach. Song Lan presses against him, rubs against his ass, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his back. Xiao Xingchen lets out a shaky breath and pushes back against him, just as demanding and desperate.

Finally, finally Song Lan reaches around to get his slacks unfastened, pushes at them impatiently, and locates the zipper to shove it down. Xiao Xingchen squirms to help get them down his legs and winds up with them stuck around his knees, but at least it's some relief. Song Lan seems to think that's enough; his fingers grip into the flesh of Xingchen's ass, squeezing and massaging and spreading. He pants into the couch cushions, his breath coming back hot and wet against his cheeks and the sensitive tip of his cock bumping up against the back of the couch in a way that isn't altogether pleasant but at least it is some sensation. He's hard, he needs it, his skin feels like it's sparking with heat at every brush of Song Lan's fingers.

He remembers with some despair that they don't have any lube in the living room and is just about ready to straighten up, drag Song Lan back to the bedroom so they can do it properly. Then he hears something tear and feels slick fingers slide against his ass. Song Lan came prepared. Such a good, thoughtful boyfriend, even if it is frankly out of character for him to anticipate sex like this. When it happens, if it happens, there's so much delicate kissing and foreplay and it's consistently in the bed or the shower where they're prepared. But he can't even speculate on it, Song Lan's fingers feel too good, pushing the lube inside him fast, impatient. He wants to spread his legs but he's trapped by his slacks and can only pant helplessly against the couch cushions.

Thoughtfully, Song Lan's clean hand reaches down to brush his hair out of his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The fingers inside him spread once more, then slide out, and that's all the warning he really gets before he feels Song Lan's cock press steady and inexorable inside him.

The sound he lets out would be embarrassing under any other circumstance, low and broken and wet. It's been long enough that he almost can't handle the stretch. It's almost too much and makes him choke. His knees feel weak. His spit is making a wet spot on the couch cushions. Song Lan still doesn't stop, not until his hips are pressed flush against Xingchen's ass. His breath is coming heavy now, ragged. He's thoughtful again when he pauses to let then both get used to it, his hands resting on Xingchen's hips, one of them tacky with drying lube, and he pets soothingly at one hipbone like Xingchen is a skittish horse.

Like that, Xiao Xingchen remembers that he's supposed to breathe, and he takes a deep, shaking breath before letting it out loudly, and he can feel it relax down his spine. Song Lan pets him again, approvingly, then eases out of him only to slam back inside. Xiao Xingchen chokes on another cry, and that seems to encourage him, the pace rough and quick.

Time ceases to exist. Xingchen can't see, obviously, but the pleasure feels like starbursts of color in his mind. The apartment is very quiet, except for the wet slap of skin and too much lube (Song Lan was always careful like that) and their labored breathing, punctuated with moans and whimpers punched out of Xingchen's throat. It is so rough, he knows he is going to be sore, aching and remembering this for days. But it's so good too, Song Lan's cock stretching him and hollowing him out, making a space inside him. He's so hard it hurts, and his own cock is leaking. Song Lan's hand reaches down to cup it protectively, preventing it from smearing over the back of the couch. The pressure is maddening without friction to go with it, and Xingchen sobs out his pleasure, trembling and pushing back on him.

When he cums it's a punch to the gut, fingers white-knuckled against the couch cushions and a cry ripping out of his throat. His heart feels like it's hammering so hard that all he can hear for a few moments is the whoosh-whoosh of his heartbeat. But he realizes quickly that Song Lan has felt it. He drapes himself over Xingchen's back, fucking him hard and fast, racing towards the end. It must crash into him too, because he grunts and transforms into a heavy, shuddering weight, pressing him into the couch, his cock twitching inside.

Time still doesn't really exist. They might stay draped over that couch for hours, for all Xingchen can tell. His ass is sore, he can barely breathe, he's going to have bruises where the couch is digging into his midsection, and he feels like he hasn't been this happy in months. It's not just the sex – though, to be fair, the sex is amazing and a big part of it. It's what comes with the sex. He feels connected to Song Lan like this, special, needed. And then, taken care of, because eventually Song Lan straightens up and helps him up, drops down to help him work off his shoes and slacks so they can walk back to the bedroom. His arm supports Xingchen around the waist because he's for surewalking with a limp right now. He helps him get his shirt off and brushes his hair back over his shoulder and kisses his cheek, so sweet.

Xiao Xingchen makes to go to the bathroom. He still smells like smoke and wine and sex, and Song Lan won't want that in their bed. But before he can pull away, Song Lan pulls him back in close, nuzzles his hair and kisses him again in a way that makes his heart feel soft and warm, honey in his chest. He lets Song Lan lead him to bed, even though he has the distinct sensation of cum slowly starting to leak out of his body.

“Here, keep it in,” Song Lan rumbles low, curling up behind him and pressing his fingers into Xingchen, pressing it back inside. Xingchen sucks in a breath, his body feeling oversensitive and raw but good. It's not too much. Then there are some sounds behind him, and then he feels Song Lan's cock press into him again. That is almost too much, and he makes a small sound, not sure if he could handle a second round.

But it's not to fuck him. Song Lan settles, their bodies pressed close, fitting perfectly. Song Lan's nose presses into his shoulder, and he kisses there a few times. Without too much preamble, they fall asleep.

The next morning, of course, they are stuck together. It's a little disgusting, but there isn't a thing that Xiao Xingchen would have changed about the night before. He stirs a little, then makes a sound of complaint, his body protesting the movement from the waist down. Song Lan wakes up next, and Xingchen can practically hear his grimace when he remembers the position they were stuck in.

He's as careful as he can manage when he pulls away from Xingchen's body, pressing a gentle hand to his arm to indicate he should stay still. There are some bathroom sounds, water running, and then Song Lan returns with a warm, wet washcloth to gently wipe him clean. Xingchen has to bite his knuckle; his ass feels raw, sore and swollen. He can feel precisely how hard they went. He still doesn't regret a moment.

Song Lan treats him soft and sweet that morning, brings him breakfast in bed and combs his hair. They're both quiet, Xingchen because he's hesitant to say anything that will break the spell, and Song Lan because he seems exhausted from socializing so much the day before. Sometimes it's harder than others. Then to recuperate, he's quieter than usual, minimizing his interactions, sometimes even with Xingchen himself. Xingchen doesn't take it personally, and usually uses the time to indulge his own inner introvert and work on his own projects.

Nothing wrong with that, except that they continue to not talk about it. Xingchen can't make the shape of his desire into words, the way Song Lan's touch lights him up, the way he craves the desperate way they came together after the launch party. Song Lan's touches feel apologetic, half guilty, wary of pushing too far, like he's afraid of his own attraction. They haven't had to navigate anything like this before, where before they were coasting on instinct and now the waters feel choppy.

Xiao Xingchen finds it a welcome distraction to turn to the trial. There's no shortage of material – Xue Yang continues to be the media's darling or scapegoat by turns, sometimes both in the same article. He figures out how to find the best news channel to listen to what he can, certain amounts of testimony from witnesses and arguments from lawyers. He thinks its a small blessing that he himself was such a useless witness when it came to the stabbing incident, so he hasn't been called to court. In any case, that's how he first hears Xue Yang's voice, surprisingly young, always irreverent and teasing, even when he's supposed to be taking the court show seriously.

And it really does seem like a show. The prosecution is fighting as best they can, but the defense is barely working at all, their questions lazy and confident at the same time. The judge doesn't seem in any kind of hurry to help the prosecution when the defense steps out of line. Everything is played to the media like a huge circus, and everyone is marching towards a foregone conclusion.

Then, as quickly as it started, it's over. The media coverage disappears overnight. It's not old enough to be old news, but that's how it's treated. Xiao Xingchen has to search and search to find anything about the conclusion, and all he can find is basically a footnote stating that a settlement was reached, which sounds frankly preposterous. The charges against Xue Yang included murder! He hadn't thought it was possible that a settlement could be found against a potential murderer, especially when the prosecution had brought witnesses and evidence galore. It feels profoundly unfair, a sincere lack of justice, and he wonders how natural-born Americans feel about their supposed “justice system.”

His dissatisfaction with the finale of the trial makes it hard to put it all behind him. He struggles with sleeping and focusing on his projects and his studies, he's snappish and short-tempered and withdrawn from Song Lan. Even if Song Lan asked what is troubling him, he has no confidence that he could articulate it to any understandable degree. So Song Lan can't help, and Xiao Xingchen doesn't know how to help himself.

It's on a random day when Xingchen hears a knock on the door. That's unusual – Song Lan left for work, but he would have texted if he forgot his keys, and Xingchen doesn't think they're expecting any deliveries. He debates just leaving it, pretending he's not home, but the knock comes again, more insistent.

Heaving a big sigh, he picks himself up from where he had been lounging, attempting to read and feel somewhat productive but mostly just feeling listless. It crosses his mind that Song Lan might have gotten it in his head to do some kind of gesture, getting him flowers or something – not that flowers aren't thoughtful, but he thinks the gesture is now lost on him since he can't see them. He doesn't think he brushed his hair this morning, but this delivery man will just have to tolerate him looking a little messy. He finds the door and opens it, trying to put a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asks, and waits for a response.

None comes. He waits a few moments, then frowns. Was something dropped off? He considers bending to check for a box, but there's a feeling rising, a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that tells him he's being watched. But if there's someone there, why aren't they speaking? Why aren't they telling him why they're there? Belatedly, he realizes this might be some kind of burglar who could take advantage of him. He doesn't have a weapon, but there's an umbrella in the stand next to the door and knives in the kitchen, and though it's been years he still has his martial arts training. How much that will help, he doesn't know, he hasn't even attempted to fight anyone even to spar since he lost his sight, and he doesn't think running through the exercises and stretches in the morning will really help if someone actually attacks him.

Whoever is at the door still hasn't spoken, and it's making his nerves go haywire, his heart pounding even though he hasn't even moved. Maybe he's being stupid and getting freaked out over nothing. Maybe there's no one even there, and there's no reason for his skin to feel nervous cold/hot. “Hello?” he says again, this time significantly less confident, his voice giving out halfway through.

There's another few moments of silence, then a wild cackle, not an attractive laugh at all. It feels familiar, somehow, though it's not until Xue Yang speaks that Xiao Xingchen recognizes him.

“Wow. I guess you're real, huh?”

#xiao xingchen #songxiao #song lan #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #my fanfiction #cql

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Mourning

Requested: yes

Prompts: “I let you down. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?” ; "We have to tell him. He deserves to know." ; "He won't be able to handle it. He'll self-destruct." ; "You are always the 1st priority to me.”

Warnings: heavy angst (mentions of blood, stab injury, detailed hospital arrival, miscarriage, death), sad

Authors note: This made me shed a tear. The ending is sad but hopefully positive. Good luck!

You happily skip to work. Turns out your morning sickness is the first sign of your early pregnancy. You hold your still not visible belly and greet everyone in the district with a cheery voice.

Sargent Platt looks at you weirdly but decides not to press it as you lean against her reception desk. "Hello."

"What happened to you? You're glowing," She scans you top to bottom over the desk. You don't give her anything to make her suspect. With a bright smile and a wink you start waking up the stairs. You make the best of your current emotions because you know the moment you throw up again you'll have your day ruined.

You experienced the sickness quite early, but you went to the doctor after a full two weeks. You just didn't think anything of it. A yesterday it got so bad that you ditched Jay and drive yourself to the doctor's office. You're 7 weeks along.

You didn't mind. You knew Jay would be happy about this baby. A few months ago you brought up the subject and you two said that when you get pregnant, at whatever time or point in life, both of you will be happy whether or not the baby was planned.

"Good morning sunshine," Your boyfriend's voice startles you. He stands by the coffee machine with a cup of hot steamy coffee in his hands. He raises the cup, "You want some babe?"

"Nah I'm good," You approach him with the same glow and give him a kiss.

"Someone's happy," He notes and sits next to you at the table. You decided that, since today is Friday and you both don't have work tommorow you'd suprise him with the big news on a sunny Saturday.

Different ideas of how you'd tell him start blowing up in your head. One better than the other. He is going to be so happy.

You shrug innocently.

"Halstead, Y/LN. Noise complaint at abandoned building, thought you two might want to check out." Your Sargeant, Hank Voight announces. Since today started off calmly you just shrug and stand up. Those calls aren't that bad. "I'll have patrols near you two just in case."

"Don't worry we got this," Jay says and grabs you your jacket. You stand in front of him as he helps you put it on. An image flashes in your mind briefly. You with a big belly standing in front of Jay as he helps you put your jacket on. You smile.

"Alright. Let's go," You say and follow your boyfriend outside.

***

You hold the flashlight above your gun. You can see Jay's light behind you and that incourages you to step in further. Both of you swore that you heard a woman scream. It was loud and clear. But even if your hearing was messing with you (it didn't because you both heard the same thing), in places like this one, unexpectedly, you can find a lot of dope. Different types of drugs all gathered up at one place. It was worth looking into for sure.

You and Jay decide to separate from each other just for a little bit. When your whole unit is together in situations like this one, Jay and you never separate. But you needed to cover as much ground as you could.

You turn several different corners and find no thing and no one. You move your hand to grab your radio. At that small moment, with calculated movements a masked person jumped at you with what looked like a knife. The look in his eyes gave you creeps and you didn't have time to react before he stabbed you.

Not once. Not twice.

Three, four, five, six times.

After that you could barely stay conscious. Blood was pouring out of you like Niagara falls. And so were your tears. They traveled down your face in messy streaks. My baby.

Then you hear a gun shot. The masked man fell right down next to you. You didn't know where to look. You clutched your stomach. He hurt my baby.

"Y/N babe look at me. Hey stay with me!" Jay's rough hand cupped the side of your face and clutched your bleeding stomach. Instead of holding his hand over yours because he wanted to feel the baby, he held it close because he didn't want you to bleed to death.

"We have an officer down, critical condition, stabbed by the offender! The offender is down dead shot fired by the police. I need an ambulance here immediately!!" Jay was barking orders into his radio like a crazy maniac. He didn't want to loose you.

"Baby please stay awake. Talk to me Y/N please!" Your head is lies in his lap. His shirt is now gone completely, it's nested at your bleeding belly already soaked completely. You're barely holding on, you keep gaging and vomiting blood. And just this morning you couldn't be happier for vomiting.

"I-I'm sorry Jay."

***

"Doctor Rhodes! Stab victim, you're going to Baghdad!" Maggie instructed and Connor immediately fled towards the incoming patient.

"Y/N Y/LN, 22-year-old female. Heart rate 100, BP 50/30. Found diaphoretic, in respiratory distress, and covered in blood. 6 stab wounds to her abdomen. We performed intubation on the scene." Silvie Brett recited your dangerous condition as you were rolled into the Gaffney emergency department. Connor Rhodes was schocked to see you. "Page Will. Now."

Your vitals were jumping at dangerous heights. "Alright let's transfer on my count. One, two, three!"

"Jesus Christ... Y/N?" Will couldn't believe his eyes. Jay was just outside shaking because of your condition. Will read your stats on the monitor and came to assist Connor. Will pressed his stethoscope over your chest and listened carefully, "There's diminished breath sounds on the left side."

"Blood is gathering around her left lung. Alright, April give me the kit we need to do a tube thoracostomy." April did as Connor said and preped his request. He cut a small line with the scalpel and inserted the tube. Blood spilled everywhere.

"Give me the ultrasound." Will instructed and April handed him the transducer on which she put one some gel. Will glided the transducer across your belly to look for any more internal bleeding. "Her major organs seem to be fine..." then he moved it downwards and was shocked to see a small baby inside. "She was pregnant."

He looked outside towards Jay and immediately knew you didn't tell him. Hell, he didn't even know if you knew. The baby was still so small, but it did have a heartbeat before the stab wounds. Will cursed.

Your vitals dropped rapidly at that moment. "She's in V Fib!" Connor yelled.

"On it." Will immediately hopped onto the bed and started doing compressions. He kept repeating, c'mon Y/N c'mon. Jay who stood outside lost it completely when he saw what was happening. Security and Dr. Ethan Choi had to hold him down.

"Charge to 200," Connor said as he grabbed the the padels. "Everyone clear."

Will pulled away and Connor shocked you. Nothing. "Do it again."

After three more tried Connor wanted to announce asistoly. "No, no, no Y/N c'mon. Connor one more time."

"Will she's gone."

"No Connor one more damn time please!" Will was on the verge of crying. Connor nodded and charged them again. "Clear."

You were brought back to life. "Okay let's get her to the OR immediately! She needs a diagnostic laparotomy and a D&C."

You were rushed out. Will stood in the middle of the trauma room surrounded by blood. "How is she?" Jay had tears around his eyes, he was tense and uncontrollably shaking.

"I don't know Jay... I don't."

For a second it looked like Jay was going to punch him square in the face but instead Jay leaned against his brother's shoulder and cried like never before. "I was supposed to ask her to marry me tommorow."

Will's heart broke at his words.

But what broke him even more was the fact that his younger brother lost a baby he didn't even know he'd have.

***

"She just went through a major surgery, I'd like to monitor her before we go any further." Connor told Jay. The whole Intelligence unit was there. Everyone was deeply concerned about you.

"What are we going to do Will?" Connor and he stood by your bed and watched your sleeping form.

"She knew about it I'm sure of it," Will said. "Let's talk to her when she wakes up. Page me when she does."

Will went to attend his other patients and after a few hours you woke up. "Hey Y/N how you doing?"

You tried to get used to the bright lights but with no avail. Everything seems foreign to you. Dark spots blurry your vision but you blink them away. My baby.

Tears spill down your cheeks uncontrollably. "M-my...baby."

Connor and Will share a look. "Y/N does Jay know?" Will asks you before he sits down next to you.

You shake your head. "I...I was only 7 weeks along." There's pressure in your throat which makes you cough, "I wanted to tell him tommorow." Your heart broke at your words. You blamed yourself for your recklessness.

Will sighed, "We have to tell him. He deserves to know."

You shake your head rapidly at that proposal, "He won't be able to handle it. He'll self-destruct." You know Jay. Maybe even better than Will. He would be heartbroken.

"Y/N as your doctors we have to tell him," Will fought back.

"As my doctors you have to keep my charts a secret." You tried to blink the tears away but they wouldn't go away. You were fighting a battle within yourself. You wanted to tell Jay but he's been through enough. "I lost my baby today. I found out that I was pregnant today."

"Y/N but Jay was the father of your baby. He has every right to know that he lost his child whether he knew about it or not." You understood where Will was coming from. The truth in his words hit you like a truck. He was right.

"Then...let me tell him Will," You squeeze his hand. "Let me."

"I'll go get Jay," Will announces and rushes out of your ICU room to get his brother. To get the love of your life.

"You're doing the right thing, Y/N. I'm so sorry for your loss." Connor says softly. You just nod weakly and turn your head away from him. Connor leaves not long after and you sob. Just this morning you were skipping to work, delighted about the news of your unborn baby. You did a stupid thing by going to work today. You put your weak hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

Drained you once again slip into unconsciousness.

"Hey Y/N take it easy..." Jay. He's helping you sit up on the bed a little. His eyes are red rimmed from crying and he looks like he didn't sleep for weeks. He's still in his grey shirt, it's covered in your blood. He didn't change because he never left your side. "God I was so worried."

You hold his hands in your lap and bring them to your lips. You press a small delicate kiss on both of his knuckles. "I'm so sorry baby."

You shake your head, "This isn't your fault Jay."

"Yes it is. I was supposed to protect you. I let you down. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?" Tears gather around his eyes once more.

"Jay..." You try to pick your next words carefully. "Can you give me my bag?"

He turns his head and stands up. Your bag sits on one of the chairs in the corner. He grabs it and sits back next to you. "Open it. It's in one of the pockets."

The best way to tell him about it is to show him. You stop breathing as you watch him pull out the ultrasound from this morning. The shock on his face is enough for you to break down is cries. "I'm so sorry."

He holds your hand in his as he looks at it. At first, a smile broke out on his face but then it was replaced by devastation. He realized you lost your baby because of today. That fact that your baby died from stab wounds broke his heart. You almost died from those stab wounds.

His silence killed you. You wanted him to yell at you. Anything. Just not silence.

Jay Halstead is a strong man. But when it comes to you all of his guards come down and he shows you his heart. He was hurting now. He lost his child but he was in no way angry at you.

The two of you cried together. You mourned the loss of your unborn child.

You blamed yourself and he kept reassuring you. He didn't have the heart to tell you that turns out, there's a lot more to the abandoned building noise complaint and to the man who he shot dead. And he was going to find them all.

"You are always the 1st priority to me." He cupped your face and kissed the free spirited tears away. "We're going to get through this. I love you Y/N Y/LN."

He loved you more than the world. You smiled weekly and kissed him. You poured all your emotion into the kiss. You were scared and sad but you will get through this. With Jay by your side and one day, you will have a family.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago med #chicago #tw: miscarriage #tw miscarriage #tw: death

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missyslittlepet · 5 years ago

Text

((Requested - It's readers birthday and Heartman surprises them with vines.

It's not very long but I really hope this is kinda what you were after????? Enjoy!!! 👍🏻💙))

Happy Birthday Raven! I Can't Swim.

"What do you fancy for breakfast?" You asked Heartman as you walked to the kitchen.

"Now that you've gained some strength back after your surgery you can have whatever you want. My treat."

You were so happy that he finally got a heart transplant meaning he didn't have to stick to his twenty one minute cycle anymore. You had been together for about a year when he agreed to it having fully moved on from the search for his family.

"Can I get a waffle?" He asked with a grin. He had been on strick healthy foods to help with the recovery so he was ready to get his teeth into something tasty.

"CAN I PLEASE GET A WAFFLE?!" Your brain had the words out before you even thought about it. The reaction was so natural considering how long it had been since you had watched that video.

Heartman jumped at your sudden outburst making his glasses go askew. You laughed again at his reaction, he was so cute sometimes.

"(F/n), you can't go making me jump, I still don't know just how much this new heart can take." Heartman joked.

"I know," You laughed. "I'm sorry Heartman. It was instinct, honestly. I used to love vines."

"Vines?" Heartman asked carefully adjusting his glasses before looking over them at you.

"Yeah, Vine." You grinned excitedly.

Heartman squinted in confusion and you felt your smile drop.

"Oh come on! Please tell me you know what vines are!"

"I can't say that I do (f/n), sorry. What are Vines?"

"Oh my God, how did you miss out on vines?! They were short videos on the internet before the Death Stranding. Just a few seconds long but they were so hilarious! Me and my friends used to communicate solely in vine references, it was great!"

Heartman smiled at your enthusiasm despite not having the faintest idea what you were talking about. He could tell that these 'Vines' meant a great deal to you.

"Ah well," You sighed fondly at the memory. "I'll get you those waffles!"

You beamed at him before returning to your task.

He watched from his chair as you pottered around the kitchen making him his food. The smell floated through the air and made his mouth water. He adored you and appreciated all that you had done for him over the past few years. You were his rock when he lost him family and when the Death Stranding finally ended he realised that you had become his world. You were always helping him in some way. Whether that be through his mourning or getting him waffles.

Heartman knew your birthday was tomorrow and he was yet to find a gift for you. Despite knowing you so well he still struggled with finding gifts for you. He had been searching for a way to show you how much you meant to him but nothing was as heartfelt as you deserved. He had considered proposing to you but he didn't want to be cliche and wanted to make it really special.

However, now that he had found out about your love of 'Vines' he thankfully had a few ideas. He decided he would wait until you went to your meeting with Die-hardman before getting started since he knew you would be trapped there for hours.

Heartman had missed his research and now he had something new to get his teeth into. Due to Sam successfully connecting the Chiral Network it meant that he now had access to archives from before the Death Stranding. He quickly typed in 'Vines' into the database and thousands of folders popped up. At first all he could find was information on plant samples but he was determined to find what he was looking for.

After an hour and a half of searching he finally found a folder containing videos and social media posts. From what you had described he thought he was in the right place. He browsed the video titles and found one called 'Iconic Vines That Cured My Depression And Watered My Houseplants' and decided it was a great place to start. He opened up the video and watched intently not sure what to expect.

"Two bros chilling in a hot tub. Five feet apart cuz they're not gay!" The video was of two men and lasted only a few seconds.

"What on earth?" Heartman said pushing his glasses up his nose. He leant in closer to the screen.

"Every time you yell at your kids put a quarter in your no yelling sock and pretty soon you'll have a weapon to bea-"

Heartman couldn't help chuckle at that one. The more he watched the more confused he became in the most wonderful way. The humor was ridiculous but he loved it and found himself laughing along with them. Before he knew it he had binged several compilation videos and had a whole set of notes to create some birthday surprises.

Your cuff flashed as you sat in yet another meeting signaling you had received a message. You were thankful that this was the last meeting of the week. They were getting more and more frequent as they were discussing plans for repairs to old delivery equipment. Of course this meeting just so happened to be on your birthday. Lucky you right?

You hadn't gotten the chance to speak to Heartman before you left. He still slept a lot despite his recovery almost being over meaning he was still fast asleep when you were getting ready. He looked so peaceful and you kissed his forehead and snuck out the door, careful not to wake him.

After half an hour more of listening to renovation plans the meeting finally came to an end allowing you to check your mail. You felt a smile tugging at your lips when you saw Heartman's name pop up. You always loved seeing what he wrote to you.

"Good afternoon love, I'm sorry I wasn't awake to see you off. I hope you're having a great birthday and I can't wait for you to come back home to me. Missing you always,

- H x "

You grinned at your cuff before making your way back home. You knew the drive would take forever.

Heartman stood back to admire his creations. Truth be told he was really proud of himself. He never considered himself good at gift giving but this time he was excited. He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you saw what he had been planning. With a grin Heartman placed the last tray down on the table and waited for you to arrive home.

When the door finally slid open Heartman jumped up and ran towards it to greet you.

"Happy birthday (f/n)!" He said as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and gave you a kiss.

"Close your eyes." He said before you could come any further into the house.

You looked at him suspiciously before doing so anyways. Heartman took your hands in his and began leading you through the house and into the living room area.

"Okay (f/n), you can open them!" He said awaiting your reaction eagerly.

Slowly you opened your eyes and were met with trays of food on the table.

"Welcome to Chilies! I hope you're hungry!" Heartman's grin grew wider.

"What is all this?" You laughed looking at the strange choices of food.

"Could I interest you in some Freeshavoca-do?" Heartman asked pointing to some guacamole in a bowl.

You felt your smile widen.

"Or perhaps some hurricane tortillas?" Heartman could tell that his references were being recognised.

You were beaming at this point. You couldn't believe what he had done for you. Now all the foods made a little more sense to you.

Heartman gestured at a plate of chicken strips.

"Fuck ya chicken strips!" You both shouted in unison. Heartman's new heart melted at how happy you were.

"Oh Heartman!" You pulled him into a hug. "Thank you so much, this is the best present ever!"

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

"This is actually your present." He said taking a step towards the table and picking up the gift box from it. He handed it to you and waited.

You bit your bottom lip as you took the lid off. When your eyes fell upon the wrapped object you started to laugh knowing full well what was under the paper. You quickly ripped it open and put on your best child's voice.

"An avocado... thanks!" You giggled and placed the box back on the table.

"Actually," Heartman laughed. "This is your real present." He pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to you.

You took the second box and opened it still laughing from the avocado. Inside was a USB stick. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrow.

"It contains thousands of vines so you will never have to miss them again!" Heartman looked so proud of himself. "Happy birthday (f/n)."

You brushed your finger over the USB stick and felt tears come to your eyes. To anyone else they were just stupid videos but they held so many memories for you. They transported you back to before everything went to shit, made you relive moments with those you had lost a long time ago. No one had ever given you a gift that thoughtful before.

"Heartman... I... Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me... How much you mean to me..." You smiled blinking away your tears. "I love you so much."

"And I love you too (f/n)." Heartman rested his palm against your cheek and you nuzzled into it. "We could make a night out of this and play them on the big screen if you'd like? I've grown quite fond of them."

"I'd love to!"

You quickly ran to set it all up while Heartman shut out the day light and set the lighting to pink and blue.

The whole night was amazing. You both cuddled up and feasted on the vine related food while laughing like a pair of hyenas. You were over the moon that he seemed to enjoy vine humor just as much as you did. When it started getting late and you started yawning Heartman stood and switched the screen off.

"Come on, you look tired." He smiled warmly, hold out his hand to you.

You took his outstretched hand gratefully with another yawn. You went to start grabbing the plates but he stopped you quickly.

"Don't you worry about those love, I'll tidy this up. It is your birthday after all." Heartman smiled grabbing the plates from the table. He hummed to himself as he made his way to the kitchen area.

"This bitch is indeed empty. Yeet." Heartman chuckled loudly throwing the plates in the dishwasher.

You shook your head and laughed at the butchered attempt of a vine quote and wondered how you ever got so lucky. This truly was the best birthday you could have ever asked for. Vines, food and Heartman. What's not to love?

#death stranding heartman #heartman fanfiction #heartman imagine #heartman x reader #heartman #i loved this request so much #heartman fics

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