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mayrose713 · 8 days ago

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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 17

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ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Chapter 17

“Wow!” Y/n looks around in awe. “Are farmers markets always this big?”

“Jeju does a mix of a farmers market and a craft fair.” Minho smiles as he holds her hand to make sure she doesn’t leave his side. “Most of the booths are venders from the island but some do come from the mainland too, why it’s so big.”

“Make sure to stay close to us at all times, princess.” Hyunjin smiles down at her as they start to walk into the busy crowd.

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to have Hyunjin in the sun after he got sunburned at the beach the other day?” She looks up at the beta’s still red cheeks.

“I made him put sunscreen on today.” Minho reassured her.

“More like had Chan and Changbin hold me down while you applied it.” Hyunjin grumbles, crossing his arms.

“What are we looking for specifically?” The omega looks around feeling that with all the booths that are set up one of them will have whatever you are looking for.

“Right now we’re not looking for anything specific.” Hyunjin grabs her other hand. “That’s what’s great about craft fairs, you might find something you didn’t know you were needing. If something catches your eye just let us know.”

“The only thing we do need is I’m wanting to get a few things for dinner tonight but we’ll grab those things closer to being done here.” Minho says while looking around them.

“What are you planning on making?” Hyunjin looks at the alpha.

“I was thinking some bibimbap and kimchi stew.”

“God I love your kimchi stew.” He hums, already excited for dinner when it’s still late morning.

They walk around the craft fair for a while, stopping at many booths. Y/n bought a few nick-nacks for her room to personalize it to be more her with some of the cash Chan had given her. Hyunjin of course tried to buy everything she thought was remotely interesting, which she deemed wasn't necessary, but she did let him buy her a few pieces of art for her room.

As the omega and beta look at some more art pieces, Minho walks off to one of the handmade jewelry booths. He gazes over them carefully but none really catch his eye until he sees a few necklaces with pendants made into shapes out of gemstones.

“I see you’re taking interest in these beautiful crystals.” The stall’s owner walks up to him, an older alpha male. “All of these are hand shaped by me in my workshop, one of a kind you could say. There are no two pendants alike.”

“Sweetheart, the poor boy doesn’t want to hear the long process of how you make them.” An older female omega places her hand on the man's chest with a small smile before looking at Minho. “Is there a certain piece of jewelry or maybe a shape you are looking for? Or a certain gemstone?”

“Ummm, I’m just kind of browsing. Though these are beautiful.” He looks over the pendants again, thinking about how Y/n would look wearing one of these.

The boys had all discussed collaring her at some point like they did with Felix after he came out as feeling more omega like. Hundreds of years ago collaring an omega normally meant they were your property but it changed to eventually mean a representation of love. Pack members normally gift an omega a collar as a form of a promise ring now and to show other alphas that the omega has a mate, or mates, if they can’t see the claiming bites. Though collars aren’t as common these days after the disease almost wiped omega’s out. Even though many alpha’s and packs have omega’s sold to them now, collars being a representation of love has not changed.

“Are you looking for a piece of jewelry for someone specific?”

Minho hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, for one of my fated mates.” He looks up at the women before turning his head to where Hyunjin and Y/n are still browsing at another booth. “She’s our omega.”

The couple look towards the omega and beta that Minho is looking lovingly at with a smile. “She’s beautiful.”

“Have you thought of collaring her?” The male asks, making the younger turn back to them.

“We’ve discussed it but when we look at collars online none ever stick out to us as one we want to give her.”

“Well you don’t want to be giving her any of these necklaces, that’s all they are.” The man grabs a case from inside the booth and places it on the table. “We do have a special selection of collars though.”

Minho’s eyes widen when he opens the case showing many beautiful collars, the pendants all shaped differently and made of different gemstones.

“You know, crystals all have different meanings right? Almost like they have powers to help with different aspects you are needing in life.” The woman asks.

“I’ve heard of that.” He nods, even though he never really believed in the crystals being anything more than pretty rocks, he feels that Y/n might see them the same way as this omega does. “What do each one of these mean?”

“Son, they all have so many different meanings.” The male laughs. “But lucky for you my wife here always knows how to narrow down the crystal selection just by looking at the person it is meant for.”

His wife gazes at Y/n for a moment before looking at Minho with a sad smile. “She’s been through a lot hasn’t she?” He looks at her surprised. “Before she met your pack she wasn’t well loved or treated? I feel that she didn’t really come to terms with her omega representation until she met you guys huh? This is her first time experiencing a real pack dynamic.”

“How did you…?”

“I told you she’s good.” The alpha sighs, not happy with what his wife deduced from the girl.

“Based on that and the fact you guys are wanting to give the collar to her as more of a promise ring, I recommend either rose quarts or amethyst.” She points to the pendants that are blush pink, violet and purple. “Rose quartz is known as the ‘crystal of unconditional love’. It's associated with the heart chakra. A popular stone for attracting love and strengthening relationships as it can create trust, tolerance, and feelings of self-love. Amethyst is known as the stone of St. Valentine, a symbol of faithful loves. A popular choice for those seeking a soulmate, it can balance emotions and bring a sense of calm.”

As Minho listens he looks at all the pendants closely, he feels more drawn to the amethysts. Many of the pendants are shaped like hearts, animals, moons, stars and so much more. He finally sees one that's a bit hidden behind two hearts and he grabs it to see that it’s a shape of a compass rose.

“This one.” Minho feels it deep down that the others will also agree that it’s the one.

“Perfect choice.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The three walk through the farmers market area, the males already carrying a few bags of ingredients for dinner, Y/n just following along with a smile as she admires everything. She then spots a booth selling little desserts that are being made fresh on little gas stoves.

“What are those they’re making?” She stops near the booth watching as one person works a stove with a fish mold on it, and another frying what looked to be little pancakes.

“They’re making bungeoppangs and hotteoks.” Minho explains watching the girl rather than the chefs.

“Have you seriously never had them before?” Hyunjin looks at her shocked when she shakes her head no. “Man, your family really deprived you of a lot.”

“Well let's get some then.” Minho walks over to the booth and orders them each a fish shaped pastry and a small basket of the sweet pancakes.

They walk over to a small rest area with tables set up for people to sit and eat.

“Eat the hotteoks first. They’re better warm.” Hyunjins already digging into his mini pancakes as Minho watches her waiting to see her reaction to the desserts.

She takes a bite and her eyes light up. “These are amazing.” She takes another bite before she has even finished chewing the first one.

“Slow down, kitten.” Minho warns as he now eats his. “Don’t want you to choke.”

She blushes and slows down, eating the rest of the pancakes before moving on to the fish shaped pastry. She takes a bite but doesn’t have the same reaction to it as she did the hotteok.

“It’s good, but I like the hotteoks better.”

“I figured you would.” Hyunjin nods with a smile watching her eat the bungeoppang.

“I’ll make you some homemade hotteoks whenever you want.” Minho smiles.

______________________________________________________________

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ohtobeleah · 1 month ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all.

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream.

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up.

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?”

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you.

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–”

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.”

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation.

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.”

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,”

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.”

“But Jensen–”

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time.

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships.

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly.

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better.

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness.

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on.

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his.

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you.

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.”

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?”

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?”

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake.

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.”

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity.

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.”

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.”

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.”

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again.

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight.

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?”

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?”

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.”

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.”

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.”

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.”

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery.

“Mr. Seresin–”

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?”

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine.

Right?

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation.

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–”

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.”

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career.

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.”

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine.

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays.

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was.

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back.

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more.

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.”

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him.

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe.

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!”

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in.

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.”

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised.

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.”

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.”

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before.

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps.

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there.

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would.

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again?

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.”

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.”

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on.

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?”

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend.

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours.

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about.

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.”

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.”

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–”

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.”

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father.

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.”

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too.

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?”

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!”

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.”

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him.

“You’re just sick, dad.”

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles.

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.”

************************

December 31st

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry.

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go.

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet.

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth.

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable.

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would.

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it.

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest.

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it.

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down.

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,”

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?”

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint.

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white.

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in.

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you.

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling.

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time.

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?”

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.”

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them.

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place?

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white.

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

#jake seresin x reader #was it over? // jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #tw: cancer #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic

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existentialterror · 10 months ago

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"Ohhh my god u think we should drive certain bugs to extinction?"

yeah I mean gene drives that just target a species' ability to, say, carry specifically the malaria malaria (or whatever) parasite are also on the table, so I'm not going to say this is literally the only way to eliminate malaria within our lifetimes, but:

A) one species can be vectors for a lot of different diseases, like:

( we didn't start the fire! no we didn't light it but we tried to fight it)

B) How many hundreds of thousands of dead children a year does it take before driving a particular insect to extinction is on the table? like, do you have a number? if not now, when can we revisit the issue?

"should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?

yes!!!!!!!!!

#discourse //#death //#child death mention //#sorry for the unhelpful firey discourse posting you know how it is sometimes

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 months ago

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thanks for still talking about covid, and long covid. makes me feel less insane when everyone around me is pretending that nothing's wrong and everything's normal, despite that long covid has ruined my life and they all know it.

so yeah, thanks. it really helps to know i'm not the only reasonable person left in the world

Ignorance + exceptionalism = oblivious people. It's frustrating how many people prefer the comforting lie to the truth, and even more frustrating how many people simply consume information instead of learning from it and integrating that information into their understanding of the world. Covid's the big topic here, but simple airborne disease mitigation could save hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide each year from the likes of flu, RSV, measles, and tuberculosis. In 2020, public masking drove the B/Yamigata strain of seasonal influenza to extinction. Even if only 80% of people masked in public, we would see substantial drops in respiratory illness. It would literally be so easy to have a better world, but too many would rather ignore pressing threats for the facade of normalcy. Keep strong. You're not alone and you're not insane or a hypochondriac. You are responding to a risk while others would simply pretend it doesn't exist.

#mask up #public health #wear a mask #wear a respirator #pandemic #covid #still coviding #covid 19 #coronavirus #sars cov 2

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sitepathos · 4 months ago

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Random thought, but is reader inmortal?

Like, with the Megamycete (being able to regenerare any bodypart to a celular level) does that prevents reader from aging? or does it only work with physical injuries?

Could they like, live forever or would there be any side effects?

If that's the case, how long would reader live.

im just curious haha

Yeah, you pretty much are immortal.

The Megamycete has existed for four-hundred years and had grown to humongous proportions. So long as it had access to nutrients, which Gotham had ample supply of, it could live forever. It absorbed the Lazarus Pit it landed in and gained the Pit’s highly coveted restorative properties, allowing it to heal from any injury it sustains and supercharging its already impressive resilience, allowing it to resist most diseases and toxins.

And since the Megamycete resides within you, those traits pass on to you. You can take a serious hit and keep on ticking, even regenerating loss limbs (including your head) and can heal from any kind of injury in a matter of seconds. You’re also immune to illnesses and diseases, so you’ll never have to worry about getting sick or contacting diseases.

This also applies to your aging process. The Megamycete had stayed in the form you met it in for over a hundred years and was still going strong. Should your cells undergo a transformation, the mold will reverse the change.

So, you’re by every definition of the word “immortal.”

So long as the Megamycete resides within you. But you don’t need to worry about losing it. Who could possibly find a way to separate the two of you when you’re combined at the cellular level?

#asks #from gold to mold

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sirowsky-stories · 8 days ago

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Isolated Incident

My goodness it's been a minute! Hello, tumblr, wonderful to see you again 🤗

Description: When a hike doesn't go quite as planned you're forced to seek shelter for the night, only the little cabin isn't empty when you reach it.

Warnings: Marcus Pike x Female Reader, reader is defined as female but has no physical descriptions at all, mention of the bear vs. man thing, smut, minor angst.

Author's Note: This is something of a request from my good friend @bilibiche although I've altered the setting from winter to autumn because it just came easier to me right now, oddly enough. Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like it, love!

Word Count: 4720 Author's Masterlist Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Wednesday 12:38 PM

”Can I ask you a serious question?” one of your newer colleagues wonders while you’re having lunch together.

“I thought all your questions were serious…” you say with a critically raised brow, because this particular guy is of the less than goofy sort, and it bothers you how it feels like he’s labelled you as flimsy, or lax, just because you approve of a little light-hearted fun now and then.

“Well, yeah, but like serious as in; life or death.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but sure, ask away.”

“Okay. Why would you risk your life just to walk to the top of a mountain?”

You can’t help but smile a little at his apparent lack of insight into how the world works, but you soon turn serious again since it’s not really a fun topic.

“I hike because the woods are peaceful and make me feel strong and at ease with myself. And if some wild animal does decide to try and eat me, I actually have a much better chance of scaring off a bear or puma, than a man.”

He looks slightly confused by that.

“Sure, but… the leading cause of death for female hikers worldwide is drowning or falling, not encountering either men or animals.”

“And the leading cause of death for women worldwide is cardiovascular disease, but you don’t see us leading healthier lives just because we know that,” you counter, and he tilts his head with curious interest.

“So, you equate the risk of hiking to the risk of dropping dead from an unknown disease?”

Instead of trying to explain to him that you never actually weigh the dangers of anything you do, since that would just put you off of doing anything, ever, you decide to give him a comparison he might understand.

“I look at it this way: When going to a club, or on a date, is even more dangerous to my overall health than being alone in the woods, why shouldn’t I walk to the top of a mountain?”

Thursday 07:41 AM

The drive was long, especially when you’d decided to get started before dawn to get the most out of the daylight hours, but now that you’re on the trail, the fatigue has vanished and not even the light drizzle and grey skies are able to dampen your mood. You’ve only walked this trail once before, and you’re planning on exploring a different section of it this time, which is supposedly a bit more challenging as you get closer to the top, so it somehow feels like the mountain is still completely new to you.

In terms of height, the mountain is a small one, only about a thousand feet, but the base of it stretches for about ten miles in every direction, making it massive all the same. And the view from the peak is amazing since nothing else in the area comes close to the same height. It boasts impressive cliffs where erosion and the occasional earthquake has cracked the stone and generated immense landslides, and since rain is pretty consistent around here, some of those cliffs have become breathtaking waterfalls.

The woodlands are thousands of years old, untouched save for the narrow trail which is kept clear by the many hundreds of feet which tread on it every year. It’s illegal to cut down trees or start fires, or just do anything which negatively impacts the natural state of the forest, like leave garbage or dig any hole bigger than what might be needed to bury your natural waste.

And to help people keep to these rules, a volunteer group has built little cabins on regular intervals along the trails, where hikers can take shelter in case of bad weather or if they get injured. Each cabin has basic survival equipment like chopped wood and lighting tools, jugs of fresh water, first aid kits, candles and blankets. And there’s a wood-burning stove in all of them. You’ve never needed to use one, but you’ve familiarized yourself with them anyway.

Thursday 11:24 AM

The weather improves all through the morning, first with the stopping of the rain and then gradually becoming less cloudy, until the entire sky is suddenly bright blue above you, just in time for your lunch-stop. You’ve gotten high enough by now that the trees are much fewer and further apart, and there are large sections of bared rock in between, some of them chiselled smooth by millennia of rainfall and snow, and others covered in soft moss.

You don’t stay for long, both to avoid getting chilled by the autumn air, but also because your timeframe is limited. It takes roughly six hours to get to the top, and then between five and six hours back down, depending on how slippery it is, and that’s about as much daylight as there is for the time of year, so there isn’t much left over for you to sit around. Not if you wanna avoid having to stay the night.

There’s a sleeping bag designed for arctic survival in the bottom of your backpack, and protein bars as emergency food if you should need it, so you are prepared to spend the night on the mountain if it becomes necessary, but you’d prefer not to. Which is why, just as you reach the top and notice another shift in the weather, you start to feel a bit anxious. You take a few pictures up there and give yourself a moment to just sit and catch your breath, but the looming black clouds on the horizon won’t let you fully relax.

It looks incredibly dramatic, the contrast of the soft-looking woodlands with their colourful fall leaves against the dark pine needles, all caressed by bright midday sunlight, against the darkness of the incoming storm and the shadow it casts over the landscape further to the east. That weather system is going to swallow up the sun soon, and if it lingers, which it looks like it probably will just going by the size of it, you’re not gonna have another six hours of daylight. You might not even have half that.

Thursday 16:18 PM

The rain comes down so hard that even your baseball cap isn’t enough to let you have full vision in front of you, and although it isn’t fully dark yet, your flashlight is your only hope of seeing where the hell you’re putting your feet, not to mention where the trail is. You’d hoped to make it down to where you’d parked your car, but it’s taken you twice as long to walk down as it did going up, so you still have at least four hours left, and it’ll be pitch black and way too dangerous to keep moving long before then. So, when you reach the next cabin, you decide to call it a day.

But as you approach the unassuming little wooden structure, you can see faint lights through the one small window in the door. There’s no electricity out here, so it’s not like someone could’ve accidentally left the lights on when they left, unless a hiker forgot to blow out a candle, which seems unlikely. Even the rookies on this trail know better than to jeopardize their own or someone else’s chances of survival by burning down a cabin.

So, in conclusion, there’s another hiker here, and you haven’t seen a soul along the trails so you have no idea who this person might be. But you also can’t keep going to the next one, because it’s more than an hour’s walk away. Suddenly your conversation with George pops up in your head again, and you find yourself weighing the risk of sleeping in a cabin with a stranger, compared to the risk of walking in the pouring rain in complete darkness on a trail you’re not really familiar with.

“Shit…” you mutter to yourself, before slowly approaching the cabin.

You knock on the door, since it seems rude to just walk in, even though whoever’s occupying the tiny house doesn’t have any more of a claim to it than you do. It takes a few seconds, during which you don’t hear anything at all from inside, until the door swings inward and a tall man comes into view before you. He’s wearing wool underclothing, the figure-hugging kind designed to keep people warm and dry closest to the skin to prevent hypothermia, so he’s probably not a rookie.

“Hi,” you half-shout over the thunder of the rain, thinking you probably look like a drenched cat, while this guy looks more like a movie star than anyone you’ve ever met.

“Hi. Come on in,” he offers with a smile, and you only hesitate for a second because this man’s smile is as disarming as a cat’s purr.

“Thank you.”

Once inside you take off your pack and then get started on your soaked outer layer of clothing, while he politely closes the door for you and then moves over to the stove where he’s apparently in the middle of boiling some water.

“That’s some monsoon level rain,” he chats while he works. “How long have you been out there?”

“Yeah. Uh, since 7:30 this morning. I could tell from the peak that it was gonna come in fast, so I tried to keep up the pace, but the trail was still wet from the morning drizzle.”

“I came from the south trail and there was a lot of fog down there this morning, so I decided to wait and get a later start, but then I got stuck in this instead. It wasn’t on any of the forecasts, as far as I know.”

“No, it wasn’t. I chose this week specifically because the worst of the autumn rains have hit two weeks later for the past five years,” you share, since he’s being very kind and keeping his eyes on what he’s doing while you strip down to your underwear and then put on a dry set of underclothes, almost identical to his.

“Same. I’ve been coming here around this time every year for almost a decade now.”

“If you came from the south and you decided to stop here you must be doing the circle trail, right?” you ask, curious now that you’ve begun to feel comfortable around him.

There are three trails that lead from the bottom to the top of the mountain from three different directions, each one difficult in its own way, from steepness, to long stretches where the trail is impossible to see, to marshlands and tricky seas of rounded boulders that like to shift under your feet. But the circle trail takes you along all of them while also bringing you around the entire base of the mountain. It’s the hardest one and it takes a minimum of three days to complete.

“That’s right. Is this your first time here?” he wonders while you take your sleeping bag out of your pack and use it as a cushion when you take a seat closer to the stove, facing him.

“Second, but I love this mountain.”

“You’re not a rookie, though,” he observes. “You’ve got all the right gear. I noticed the bear spray on your shoulder strap, and the stiletto on the other one.”

“Honestly, I carry those mostly in case I need to protect myself from people,” you admit, to which he smiles again.

“I figured. And you’re right to do so. I know you don’t really have any reason to believe me, but I promise you won’t get any trouble from me.”

You just nod in return, and he refocuses on the stove, where his water is now steaming hot, so he pours it into a thermos and then reaches for his wood-carved cup and what looks like a packet of dehydrated soup.

“You want one?” he asks when he sees you looking at the cup.

Initially, you’re about to decline because you have your own emergency food with you and he clearly has a long way to go before he’s leaving the mountain, so you should let him keep his nutrition. But you don’t have anything you can heat up with you, except for plain water, and while you’re not exactly cold, the prospect of warm soup after a long day of walking sounds too good to pass up.

“Do you have enough to spare?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m ex-military, I know how to stay alive even if I run out of food,” he offers, and then just hands you a packet. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

You give him your name after thanking him for the soup, but while you dig out your own cup, you decide to let your growing curiosity take over.

“So, what’s a former military man with good manners doing all alone in the wilderness on a random Thursday afternoon?”

“That’s possibly the most subtle way anyone’s ever asked me if I’m single,” he chuckles, and the humour brings a playful glimmer to his eyes.

“Don’t forget the subtle hint to unemployment as well,” you smile in return while stirring the soup, and a warm laughter rocks him back a little where he sits.

“That’s right. You’re good, I like it. Well, I’m actually really crap at taking vacations, so my boss has made it a tradition to kick me out of the office around this time of year. And since I don’t know how to exist without a purpose, I spend that time out here, which should tell you everything you might wanna know about my relationship status, reminding myself how big the world is and how easily it can crush me.”

“Wow, you’re just a big bag of sunshine, aren’t you…” You say it with a smile, but the ironic tone is unmistakeable. Still, he just chuckles again.

“Alright, look, I know it sounds kinda negative, but it’s really the opposite. I’ve been in wars, seen people’s lives be destroyed by hurricanes, pulled animals out of mudslides, dug skiers out of avalanches. I’ve seen survival where it should’ve been impossible, so when I come out here, it reminds me that no matter how bad a situation I might find myself in, there’s always hope. Knowing I’m small and fragile doesn’t make me feel any less alive. It makes me feel like every step is a victory.”

Having no words to offer in return to something so unexpectedly profound, you end up just staring at him, suddenly wanting to know absolutely everything about this man.

“And the good manners I got from my mother,” he finishes with a wink, making you laugh.

Thursday 22:19 PM

You spent the entire evening talking and getting to know each other, but eventually your curiosity gave way to fatigue, forcing you to accept that no matter how interesting this man is, you’ll have to part ways in the morning, so you might as well get some rest. Learning that he’s an FBI-agent was a bit of a shock, since he looks like he belongs in Hollywood, but it’s done nothing to dull your attraction to him. And you are attracted to him. Way too much for someone you just met.

The rain is still hammering the metal roof and the fire crackles in the stove as you try and create a comfortable sleeping place with nothing but the blankets as mattrasses on the wood floor, although the padding of your respective sleeping bags helps a bit.

“I love the sound of the rain,” he quietly ponders after you’ve both settled in.

“It’s like it harmonizes with the background noise of your mind and creates a melody only you can hear,” you chime in, and hear him turn his head towards you.

You’re both on your backs right next to each other, so you turn your head as well, meeting his brown eyes, turned black by the darkness of the cabin now that you’re no longer by the fire.

“Exactly,” he whispers, and a peculiar look sneaks into the frame of his features.

Something you can’t name but somehow know in your soul all the same. And the longer you meet his gaze, the clearer that expression becomes. Until you realize that his response isn’t just referring to the rain, but to the harmony that each of you have instilled in the other, by just existing in the same space. He’s telling you that he feels it too. How the two of you just… fit.

So, with a nervous inhale setting a thousand butterflies lose in your stomach, you roll onto your side and gently press your lips to his, silently begging him not to pull away, not to reject you when you’re taking a chance. Pouring all your hope into the perception you’ve created of him as a good man. A man worth that chance, even if just for tonight. He meets your lips with soft desire, the most welcoming sensation anyone can offer, and you let all guards and barriers fall.

The sleeping bags are rearranged to accommodate you both together, then the clothes are discarded without hurry or fanfare, because this isn’t two people merely wanting a release, but seeking a connection. He settles down on top of you and you pull his sleeping bag over his back, then you lay there just looking at each other while your bodies warm one another.

“Of all the things I imagined might happen on this hike, this wasn’t one of them,” he whispers, and at first you think he’s just being sweet, but then he continues. “Which is my way of saying I don’t have any protection with me.”

Surprised that he’s even thought of it, you need a few seconds to decide how to respond.

“Same. But I still want to.”

He nods in agreement, letting his fingers trace your jawline.

“Would you trust me to pull out?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, seeking any kind of crack in his gentlemanly character, and when you can’t find it, you have your answer.

“Yes.”

The next kiss is deeper, filled with craving and lust but still so warm and harmonious. You’re both still seeking connection, figuring out how to fit together entirely without tension, and it isn’t until you feel yourselves relax into one another that he finally unites your bodies. He pushes himself inside and you both seem to enter a new dimension in your shared pleasure, somehow knowing what the other feels without words.

You settle your hands on his lower back, letting one slowly slide up to the nape of his neck, making him shiver, and he scrapes his teeth against your shoulder in return, generating the same response in you. His hips are firm but rolling with each push to give you more friction, and every time you shift yourself to alter the angle between you, he follows your lead, letting you show him what you need.

And when the pressure builds and the need takes over, you’re already so attuned to each other that it happens organically. But then, just as you’re about to fall into the rapture, you feel him tense. Holding back, to let you come before he has to pull out, but in doing so, he breaks the harmony.

“Don’t,” you whisper through strained breaths, tightening your arms around him. “Stay.”

He doesn’t question it, he wants it just as much as you do, and the moment the tension eases, you’re suddenly falling together, and it’s better than anything you’ve ever experienced before this moment. Every time his muscles curl, your body responds, and vice versa, until you’re both so drained that your bodies won’t move at all anymore.

Friday 06:11 AM

The dusky light of dawn wakes you, and Marcus is the first thing you think of. He’s still there, having only just managed to lift his torso off you before he passed out last night, but his arm is resting heavy over your stomach and his legs are still entwined with yours while he sleeps soundly, nestled against you. For a few minutes you just watch him sleep, wishing that time would stop today and let you stay here with him, but then he stirs.

You don’t say anything even when he eventually opens his eyes and smiles at you. You just keep looking at him, and he quickly figures out why.

“You’ll see me again, honey,” he promises in a husky morning voice, and you want to believe him.

But life has taught you not to expect you’ll get to keep the amazing. It always seems to come and go according to someone else’s will, never listening to what you want or need. So, you close your eyes and try to burn the image of him into the backs of your eyelids. A kiss graces your lips then, and in his touch the promise seems so real.

“We should pack up,” you hear yourself say, even though that’s the opposite of what you want.

He lets go of you when you sit up, and a part of you wishes he’d forced you to stay with him, even though that would only prolong the inevitable. You each pack in silence. There’s no fire this morning, because then one of you would have to stay until it burned out, which means that breakfast is simple and quick.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says when you’re pulling your pack on, “I’ve done it myself so many times, trying to cut ties before I get hurt, but I’m not gonna let you do it to me.”

“Marcus… I want to keep you,” you admit once you’ve clipped all the straps into place. “I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this connected to another person, of course I wanna see you again.”

“Then why are you trying to say goodbye to me?” he understandably wonders, and you sigh deeply, looking for the words.

“Because connection is hard. Relationships are hard. And I’m soft… You look at me and you see this strong woman out here all alone, ready to take on anything, but underneath all that, I’m just scared,” you explain, somehow feeling smaller while you watch him quietly absorb and consider his reply.

“We all are.” He says it so simply, and yet the words sound so heavy.

Resting your hands against your hips, you lower your gaze to the floor and try to silence your fears for a minute.

“And what if we work?” you question, watching him as he tries to follow your logic.

You can see the moment it clicks. The moment he realizes what you’re really saying. Because in the end, it isn’t this moment that’s going to solve anything.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“But that’s the thing… I finally have my life figured out. I finally have the house I’ve scraped and saved for my entire life, the job that makes me happy and lets me live the way I want to, the true friends that I can depend on for anyth-…“

“And yet, you’re still alone,” he gently cuts you off, and the look in his eyes is so sad it makes your chest tighten. “Because you’re scared. Just like I am.”

You step out of the cabin without another word, setting a careful pace on the slippery track, still saturated with water even though the rain has stopped, and the sun is about to rise to a mostly clear sky. He doesn’t have your number, nor do you have his. Walking away means ending this relationship before it’s even begun, but somehow it feels like the easier path. Still, every step taking you closer to your car makes your feet feel a little bit heavier.

The woods deepen, growing wilder with the lower altitude, until you need to keep your arms up in front of your face to keep the branches from scratching it. You emerge from the path onto the road exactly where you’d entered it yesterday, and your car is right there waiting for you. The drive home feels longer than any journey you’ve ever taken.

Friday 10:32 AM

Your house somehow looks lonelier than before. Even the flowers in your garden seem to have lost some of their colour and the chirping of the birds sounds hollow to your ears. And all this is because of him. Because for a few hours, you experienced true harmony, and now nothing could ever compare. Part of you regrets ever meeting him, and another part regrets walking away. But it’s done.

The rest of the day is endless and too short at the same time, spent in a haze of confusion while you do the laundry, cook, clean up the kitchen, shower and try to watch something on TV. All while Marcus fills every corner of your mind, every second that passes. When you eventually fall asleep it’s with an anxious restlessness which has you twisting and turning, waking up every thirty minutes, and dreaming strange things in between.

Monday 07:46 AM

“I thought you said the hikes make you feel better…”

“Huh?”

“When I asked you why you’d risk your life to walk up a mountain you said it was because it makes you feel better,” George reminds you at the breakfast break, but you still have no idea why he’s bringing this up.

“Yeah. What’s your point?”

“Only that you look more like you’re feeling worse.”

“Thanks a lot…” you scoff. “It wasn’t a great hike.”

“How come?”

“It rained most of the time.”

“And here I thought all you outdoorsy people didn’t mind rain.”

“It just wasn’t a great hike, okay,” you snap at him, not at all interested in talking about this with him, or anyone else, for that matter.

“Alright, I’m sorry I asked.”

He’s quiet for a while after that, scrolling on his phone like everyone else in the break room. But just a few minutes before your break is over, he suddenly looks up from his device with a very puzzled wrinkle between his brows.

“Uh, who the fuck is Marcus Pike?”

You literally drop your own phone onto the table and just stare at your colleague with absolute shock. And when he doesn’t get a response, he glances back down at his phone and then looks back up at you, even more confused.

“Why is he asking about you? How the hell does he know we work together? How did he even get my number? Who is this guy?”

“He’s… an FBI-agent,” you finally reply, and George turns a shade paler.

“Why does an FBI-agent wanna talk to you? And why would he go through me?”

“My number isn’t that easy to find, I guess he decided to take a shortcut.”

“Again, why?”

You’re not remotely interested in sharing the details of your meeting with Marcus with your coworker, so you counter with a question instead.

“What exactly is he asking?”

“He just texted me asking if I could pass the phone to the woman sitting across from me. Wait… How does he know where in the room we are?”

“Because your idea of phone security is sharing your data with absolutely everyone,” you admonish, then snatch the device from his hand.

The moment you see the message, a call comes through from an unknown number, so you take a breath and then pick up the call before you can change your mind.

“Hi,” he answers, identical to the way he did when he answered the door at the cabin, and it immediately makes a lovely warmth spread through you.

“Agent Pike. This is unexpected,” you reply, highly aware that you’re in a room full of people who are all listening.

“You’re surprisingly hard to find, honey. But once I figured out where you work, your address was a piece of cake,” he confidently announces, and there’s something in his voice that makes you feel like his confidence is about more than a victory over a technical limitation.

“Where are you, right now?”

There’s a soft laughter on the other end, and right then, you can hear birds in the background. The same chirps you always hear from the trees around your house.

“I did promise you’d see me again.”

THE END

@harriedandharassed @pedrostories

#marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfiction #au fic #the mentalist au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

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ryngzmn · 6 months ago

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taking a sick day

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x reader

SUMMARY: when cap gets sick, you volunteer to be his personal nurse for the day.

WARNINGS: not proofread, might be OOC steve☹️

WORD COUNT: 1k

A/N: this is now my longest fic yay! also, I know steve can’t rlly get sick bc of the serum but I see a lot of fics where reader is sick so I wanted to swap the roles🫠

Steve thought he was immune to all Earthly diseases, disorders, and infections after taking the Super-Soldier serum.

But he was recently proven wrong after getting struck with a bad case of the flu.

He always stayed in bed, not that he was necessarily bedridden, per se, he was just too lazy to walk around his private quarters.

Really, the only time Steve got out of bed was to make himself some food or go to the bathroom. Other than that, he stayed curled up under the covers.

When the other Avengers learned about his recent misfortune, they quickly formed a little meeting to discuss who would keep watch to make sure he recovers fine.

As if his immune system wouldn’t fight it off by the next morning.

At this revelation, you immediately volunteered. Maybe a little too quickly considering the smirk you got from Tony.

In truth, you liked spending time with Steve. He was fun to hang out with considering he’s been around for well over a hundred years.

In your excitement, you almost missed Steve’s room, quickly backtracking a few steps before knocking and waiting for his reply.

You heard a muffled “come in,” from the other side, and it sounded nasally, too.

Opening the door to Steve’s private quarters, you were met with him in the kitchen, a simple white shirt and sweatpants on. He was standing in front of the toaster, leaning against the counter.

You walked over, taking a moment to look at his facial expression. It was mostly blank, but his eyebrows were furrowed a bit from how shitty he probably felt right now.

“Making some toast?” You questioned, awkwardly trying to make some conversation.

Steve nodded wordlessly in response, grabbing the toast and throwing it on the plate after the toaster dinged annoyingly.

He grabbed a butter knife and started spreading some jam onto the darkened bread.

You watched intently before speaking up after clearing your throat to get his attention.

“After you finish that, I can make you some soup?” You offered with a smile, and Steve looked over.

“Sure. That sounds good.” Steve matched your smile.

You nodded as Steve took a bite of the toast, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

—————————————————————————

Soon after Steve finished his toast, he trudged back into the bedroom and left it cracked open for you.

You were making some chicken noodle soup for him, except you didn’t really know how to cook homemade chicken middle soup so you used the stuff in a can.

Steve was staring up at the ceiling when he heard the microwave beep from afar, signaling that his soup was ready.

He craned his head just enough to see you walk in, sitting next to his legs as you placed the soup onto the bedside table.

“Here, let me help you.” You mumbled, gently grabbing his hand and putting your free hand on his upper back to help him situate into a sitting position against the headboard.

After Steve was comfortable enough, you grabbed the soup and carefully placed the warm bowl onto his lap — which thankfully wouldn’t burn him since he had a thick comforter.

Steve took a spoonful of the soup, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as the warm broth hit his tastebuds.

While he was off in his own personal heaven switching from eating the noodles and pieces of chicken to drinking the broth, you placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

You fought the urge to immediately take your hand away from the burning skin.

Yeah, you knew he always ran warm, but he was never this warm. And it freaked you out a little bit.

“Jesus,” You cursed, pulling your hand back after keeping it there for a few moments.

Steve looked up, letting out an oblivious: “Hm?”

“You’re burning up, Steve.” You quickly got up to go grab a washcloth from the connected bathroom.

Steve watched your fleeting figure for a moment before going back to his soup, eventually finishing it and placing it on the bedside table.

You came back after a few seconds and placed the washcloth on Steve’s forehead before laying him back down.

“You done with the soup?” You asked quietly, pointing to the now empty bowl with a few remnants of carrots and celery along with some seasoning.

Steve nodded and you grabbed the bowl, walking back into the kitchen to wash it out.

“Why are you even in here?” Steve inquired once you returned. “You don’t need to be taking care of me like this.”

If Steve was being honest, this moment of vulnerability reminded him of when he was young. When he had a number of medical issues and his mother was working multiple jobs to help him simply live.

He was shaken out of his somber trance when you spoke up.

“Well we had a small meeting of who was going to watch you to make sure you recovered fine.” You explained with a breath.

“And I volunteered to do it.”

Steve let out a low hum of acknowledgement, his head lulling back against the pillow as he weakly readjusted the damp cloth on his forehead.

“You didn’t need to, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Steve mumbled.

“But I appreciate the gesture,” He added as an afterthought, not wanting to sound rude.

You chuckled, getting up once you noticed the time.

8:06 P.M.

It wasn’t necessarily late, but you wanted Steve to get a lot of rest so you got up anyway.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch, if you don’t mind,” You paused for a moment to see if Steve would tell you to just go back into your quarters and come back in the morning.

But he didn’t. He didn’t have any sort of reaction so you took that as a good sign and continued speaking.

“So just call me if you need anything.” You flashed Steve another smile before turning and walking out of his bedroom, dimming the lights and leaving the door cracked open.

Just in case.

—————————————————————————

tags! : @ryvkkr (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for marvel fics🙏)

#ayla writes #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fluff

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seat-safety-switch · 5 months ago

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I have a filthy confession to make. I still love Volkswagens. No, not the current ones, with their humming-coughdrop efficiency and Teutonic stereos made entirely of hovering touchscreens that you can't get rid of even when you go to sleep at night. No, I mean the real shit: water-cooled cars from the 80s and 90s.

Yeah, I hear you air-cooled folks in the background screaming at me about how spending ten thousand dollars for approximately 36 horsepower is a way more fun way to exist. To you, I have no polite reply. You have gone so far down the rabbit hole (get it?) that there is simply nothing that can be done to rehabilitate you into regular society. For the rest of us, I think we can all acknowledge that the Mk3 GTI is underrated.

Sure, when they were new, and even when they were a little bit old, nobody liked the Mk3. You've got the Mk2, which is fun and zingy, and the Mk4, which is luxurious and fast. The Mk3 is... neither of those things. So everyone threw them in the bin as soon as they could, and went to go buy Audi Allroads instead. Joke's on you, suckers. You accidentally made those shitboxes into rare collectibles and I hope the exploding-heater-core coolant burns to your face and genitals heal quickly.

Thing is, there's just something about these terrible cars. Maybe it's because they're boxy. Possibly it's because I have a compulsive hoarding behaviour that makes me want to rescue unloved vehicles from oblivion. Most likely, though, it's because I still harbour a delusional fantasy that it's possible to buy a car – any car – for under one thousand fucking dollars, and surely these hated shitbaskets must be somewhere near the bottom of Kelley Blue Book value.

For me, the disease is so bad that I'll sometimes drive past farmer's fields in the most racist part of the outskirts of my city. I hope that they have an old Mk3 GTI just sitting there, up on blocks. That there's some kind of combination of honeyed words, fast-cash-flashes, and freshly-deceased owners that will let me escape with a five hundred dollar one. And then, I will finally be able to live my fantasy of owning and operating a car I didn't want twenty years ago.

I'm sure you feel the same way about the Mk3 GTI, too. If you don't, maybe you should go take a look at one. Then tell me which farmer's field it's in and if his widow is willing to accept cash, or if she would strongly prefer Venmo.

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katyakurae · 3 months ago

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Hey, after today's doodle, I'm curious and testing an idea...

The punishments Heaven imposes on the damned are many and quite colorful. They depend on the crimes sinners committed in their days on Earth, the ones which leads them towards Hell, but also depend on their emotions. In some cases, even on their luck.

Alastor curses his damn luck.

Among the punishments there is a particularly funny one: a disease. A plague, as some call it, which revolves around two factors. Whether the sinner is in love and whether his love is reciprocated or not. If that tiny tragedy happens (a sinner falls in love, but the demon object of their affection does not reciprocate) then he will start coughing up flowers and blood. A beautiful, terrible and incurable disease, capable of causing death hundreds of times. None, fortunately or not, permanent.

Alastor has caused several sinners to become victims of this disease. There are many who cough up red lilies because of the Radio Demon. The most notorious case was Vox, although his illness stopped when Alastor disappeared for seven years.

One day, a terrible day, at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor finds himself vomiting white roses. But the orders of Lilith, his queen, holder of his soul, prevent him from leaving the hotel, Charlie and above all...

Lucifer.

As facts:

Hanahaki is not mortal in this AU since sinners are already dead, just really fucked up and painful.

(Or it is, but not for good)

Alastor has caused some cases of hanahaki here and there. Vox is the most notable of all, but he seems to have "healed".

(Not really, but that would be another story entirelly different 👀)

Anyway, he is used to see the effect those wreched flowers cause, but thinks he himself would never succumb to that

Until one day... surprise, he finds himself in love with Lucifer... who still awaits his wife and belive with all his heart Lilith will come back to him.

Angst :)

#hazbin hotel #appleradio #radioapple #alastor #alastor the radio demon #lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer magne #the radio demon #upcoming fanfic #or actually upcoming fan comic #hazbin hotel comic #hanahaki #hanahaki au #angst #hurt/comfort #bloom into my chest

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blossom-works · 1 year ago

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His Sunshine

Agent Leon S. Kennedy has been through hell after hell. Never having a break from the chaos. His heart has hardened over the years since Raccoon, leading him to turn to alcohol for temporary release. Who would have thought that fighting bioterrorism was the reason that Agent Leon S. Kennedy found his peace and comfort?

Warnings: Mentions of child/human trafficking, death of children, alcoholism

*OC is Asian cause let's face it, Leon has a thing for Asians (Ada and Shen Mei)

When He First Met the Sun

"Hunnigan, what the hell are you trying to say?"

Through the heavy-duty phone screen, a woman with brunette hair has to inform her long-time friend and co-worker of the horrors of his upcoming assignment.

"We have intel that whoever is in charge of creating this strain of the virus is using children to spread the disease. Trafficked children..."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Instead of taking another shot of pure liquor, Leon opts to drink straight from the bottle. The burning liquid glides down his throat, numbing the man even more.

"The president has created a specific team for this assignment. He wants you and the BSAA to partner up with an agent from the FBI. She was specifically asked for by Chris Redfield."

"Chris is on this mission too?"

"The president wanted his expertise in this. It'll be a four-man team. You, Chris Redfield, Jill Valintine, and the FBI agent. Chris said that he'll be picking you up at your current location. You are to meet the FBI agent at 1500." Hunnigan hangs up the call, leaving the drunken man to his own endeavors.

Just when the hell is this hell going to end? Since '98, things have only gone downhill. It seems that all Leon ever does is fight these bio-engineered monsters while losing people by the hundreds. This is hell. Leon is living in hell. A never-ending cycle of death and carnage.

By the time Chris gets to the bar, Leon has already finished one entire bottle of tequila. Lord knows how Leon's liver is doing. Stumbling, Leon leaves the bar to stumble in Chris' car. On his way out he forgot to pay his tab, which Chris had to pay for (but not forgetting to make a mental note that Leon owes him).

"You reek of alcohol." Chris grimaces as he rolls down the back windows.

"Yeah, so? You smoke."

"Not as much as your drink."

Chris opens the glove compartment to pull out a file. "Here, you can go over the mission on our way to the FBI headquarters. That is if you're sober enough to even read."

Leon snatches the file from Chris, mumbling how he can read "Thank you very much". He has to shake his head to get his eyesight to work. The contents of the folder are gruesome. Pictures and names of children that have gone missing fill the thick folder. Some of the last few papers are of what is suspected to be people in charge.

"Hunnigan told me that you recommended an FBI agent to the president."

"Yeah, she's the youngest sister of one of my buddies back in the day. She works in the department of human trafficking and child exploitation. She's only worked there for about two years, but she's one of the best in the field."

"Hold on, you said she's only been employed for a little less than a year? She's a rookie!"

Chris scoffs. "And? As I said, she's currently one of the best agents that specialize in this field. If we're going to accomplish this mission, we're going to need her expertise."

"And how old is this chick?"

Doing some quick math in his head, Chris answers "23".

"She's a kid."

"And she's one of the best the FBI has to offer. That says a lot, Leon." Chris further defends. He must really believe in this chick's skills to defend her like this, Leon concludes. Shutting up, the two men travel to the agency in silence.

FBI Headquarters:

In a small room sits three people. DSO agent Leon S. Kennedy. BSAA operator Chris Redfield. BSAA agent Jill Valentine. Each of them has folders and folders of information that was apparently collected by the FBI agent they will be working with. Impressive for a woman who only has less than a year's worth of experience.

The door clicks open and reveals a woman of Asian descent with a short stature wearing a basic black and white suit, with three-inch stilettos. Her black hair is tied into a high ponytail that stops at the nape of her neck. Her features are soft and the color of her skin tells people that she most likely came from a bloodline of Southeast Asians.

"Apologies for the wait. The president sent someone to deliver some useful information."

Jill asks what that information is.

"That we are given almost all clearance to the highest level. With the president's approval, we can obtain Pentagon-sealed information. Not even the CIA can tell us 'no." You sits down at the last empty seat.

"Woah, it seems he really wants us to catch these guys."

Lean speaks up, "Then we should get started."

You go over the contents of the mission. For a woman who has been working as a federal agent for less than a year, your work ethic is top-tier. Even Leon silently admits that you are well-equipped for your job. And you are sort of a cutie. You talk about how the FBI and CIA are certain that BOWs are stemming from trafficked children. Any questions they have, are answered a couple minutes later during your presentation.

At the end of your presentation, you address the elephant in the room. "So now that I've told you everything that I know. It's time you tell me how to deal with BOWs."

Chris is the first to speak up. "Shoot them in the head. It's the only way to kill them." You nod.

"Are you up for it?"

To you, it sounds like Leon is challenging your competency. He wants to know if you will be a hindrance on this mission. Sure, you are a smart cookie but how will you hold up facing a human-turned-monster? Can you hold yourself in battle? Or will you need to be babysat along the way? In truth, Leon wants to prepare himself when he eventually loses another person in this cycle of hell.

"Agent Kennedy, I understand the reasoning behind your question. In truth, I don't know. Unlike the three of you, I have never encountered a BOW." A sufficient and honest answer. You go on further. "This mission is a give and take. I give you my expertise on human trafficking and child exploitation, you give me the galls to kill those things. You teach me how to kill BOWs, I give you the information you need to outsmart these bastards and get these kids out of hell."

Standing up, you tell your team that you will meet up here again tomorrow, at six sharp. Only this time, it will be at the FBI's helipad. The rumored place of operation is near the Mexican border. The four of you will be stationed in a remote area in Southern Texas for the duration of the mission.

Texas:

"Hey, why do you wake up so early in the morning? Are you getting some extra work in?" Jill asks as the four of you are eating some take-out.

On day two, your teammates kept asking you why they were waiting before barging into the supposed hideout. You understood that for them, barging in with the information you have is a norm for them. But they forget that they are not just dealing with BOWs but human trafficking. If any piece of the collected information is wrong, it could jeopardize the entire mission. You told them, "I'd willingly turn into one of those mutants before compromising the children's chance of freedom."

They stopped bugging you after that. The three of them stepped back to let you take the reigns. They really did forget that there is another part to this mission other than to exterminate BOWs.

"Sort of. I wake up early to do my morning workouts."

It is no surprise that you work out. Everyone in this damn house works out, but to do it so early in the morning and not take a nap during the day is crazy.

"Why so early?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I usually wake up early to go running at the park near my place, but since we're not in D.C., I'm extending my workout to make up for it." The conversation is then directed to how you know Chris.

"My brother was his junior in the Air Force. Redfield once came to our home back in Georgia for...was it Christmas or Thanksgiving of '93?"

"It was Thanksgiving. Your mom invited my family to come over."

"Wait a minute...You were born in '87, so that would make you either six or seven at the time." Jill says.

You and Chris hum before Chris starts teasing you. "She was so infatuated with me at the time that she kept calling me her 'boyfriend'."

Groaning, you throw a pen at Chris who ends up catching it. To further your embarrassment, Jill and Lean start laughing. You can feel the tips of your ears getting hot.

"Dammit Redfield, I was six at the time! Stop bringing up old shtick!" You huff.

"What? It was cute how you would want to sit next to me. You even 'fought' your own mom because she sat in 'your' spot." Chris turns his head and whispers to his other colleagues, "She was so cute I still have photos from that day", making them laugh even more. "Side note: Why do you keep calling me by my last name? We've known each other since we started 'dating."

"Because we're on the job. When we aren't working together I'll start calling you Chris again." You say as you roll your eyes. Getting Chris to stop embarrassing you is equivalent to getting a pig to fly. It is never going to happen. "Plus given the age hierarchy, you're the oldest one here, grandpa."

"A grandpa you once called your boyfriend," Chris smirks. To an outsider, it might seem like Chris and you are flirting, but you are not. One, because it would basically be pedophilia considering you two met at the respective ages of six and twenty. And two, because you and Chris see each other as siblings it would also be a case of incest if the two of you were flirting.

Half-joking you say, "I guess I've always been into older men."

To get the attention off of you, you then ask how Jill and Leon know Chris. Like they did, you sat and listened to their (less embarrassing) stories. By the end of the night, you find yourself getting a bit closer to Leon and Jill. Chris excuses himself to take a call and Jill excuses herself to take a shower. Leaving you and Agent Kennedy on the ground floor.

Leon is the one to break the silent barrier, albeit, not in the greatest way.

"So, you're into older men huh?" You can practically hear his smirk from behind the laptop.

You decide to humor the man and play along. "What's it to you?"

Leon shrugs. "I don't know, maybe after we finish this mission we can go grab dinner sometime?"

"Are you asking me on a date Agent Kennedy?"

"Depends on if you say yes."

"What if I say no?"

"Then it could be two friends having dinner together." Leon shrugs again. You chuckle and shake your head in amusement. You close the laptop and place your intertwined hands on top of it.

"I don't do flings, Kennedy." You tell the man honestly, making sure to make direct eye contact to show Leon how serious you are. Leon holds his hands up in surrender.

"Then we can go out as friends." He compromises. "There's nothing wrong with two friends hanging out over a meal, and it wouldn't count as a fling."

You are not opposed to the idea, but you do want to poke fun at the legendary Leon S. Kennedy. "I'm afraid not. I don't consider us friends, Kennedy. We're co-workers."

"What if I believe that we're friends?"

"Then I guess we're at a standoff." You tease.

Leon takes the challenge. "Then I guess I'll have to convince you otherwise."

You stand up and throw away your takeout container. Grabbing the laptop you head upstairs to where the rooms are. "I guess so," you call out from the stairs.

When He First Felt the Sun's Rays

Your apartment is filled with the scent of different herbs and spices. A harmonious smell that you hate the fact that you have to open your balcony door to let some fresh air in. Your hair is held up by a clip and you are in a white shirt, a thin flannel, and a pair of jean shorts. Classic "girl next door" look. You take a piece of laffa and dip it into the hummus. You have music playing in the background as you finish grilling the chicken kabobs.

You get a notification on your phone that there is someone at your front door and not a second later, they are knocking. Wiping your hands on a kitchen towel and turning down the heat, you answer the door.

"Hey, Leon." Your old colleague greets you back with a bouquet of parchment-wrapped flowers. Thanking him, you let him inside of your apartment and find a place to put the flowers. Walking into the open concept room, you yell out to the DSO agent.

"And don't forget to take off your shoes!"

Leon immediately kicks his shoes off and is hit with a waft of comforting spices. "Smells good in here."

"Thanks, I hope you like Middle Eastern food 'cause that's gonna be dinner. If you're a bit hungry I left out some hummus and laffa out on the island counter."

"Laffa?" Leon asks but still takes a piece of the bread and dips it into the bowl of pureed chickpeas.

"It's a flatbread. Think of Indian naan."

"Did you make it yourself?"

"No, I bought the hummus and bread from a local Middle Eastern restaurant nearby. Everything else though is from scratch."

Leon tries to go around the island to offer you his help but his left foot steps on something soft. A loud "arf" scares Leon and forces him to look down. A body of blond hair scurries across the floor towards you, scratching at your legs.

"Oh shit, I didn't mean to step on your dog." Leon apologizes. The medium-sized dog is now in your arms, seeking your comfort.

You wave off Leon's apology. "Don't worry about it. Shiloh always gets so excited to meet new people that she forgets to stay out of the way. It was an honest mistake so no biggie."

Leon manages to walk around without stepping on a dog this time. He reaches his hand out to pet the top of the dog's head as another apology. It accepts his apology and their tail starts wagging again.

"Her name's Shiloh, huh? What breed is she?"

You put Shiloh on the ground so you can put the kabobs on a platter. "An English Cocker Spaniel. I got her while I was still living in Georgia."

Leon is too busy with your dog to listen to you. He is bent down on one knee and Shiloh is climbing onto him. Begging him to keep petting her.

"Leon!"

"Huh? What?"

You roll your eyes and place your hands on your hips. "I asked if you could help me set up the table."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He spits out in embarrassment.

Together, you get the table ready for your fourth date in a row. Since you got back from Texas, Leon has not stopped pestering you to agree to go on a date with him. The first date was the unofficial date and the second was the first date. Making this date at your apartment the third official date with Leon. To your surprise, Leon is a total gentleman. You thought men like him liked to "date" women for a while in the name of fun. So far, Leon has only been able to change half your mind about him.

The unofficial date was a simple walk in the park followed by lunch at a diner. The second (first) date was at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History where you could geek out. Leon found your dorkiness cute. The third (second) date was a nice dinner at a steakhouse. Leon found out that you gave the waitress your card and told her that you would be paying for yourself. When you parted ways, Leon told you that he would get back at you for your little stunt. And the fourth (third) date is dinner at your apartment.

During your dates, including the unofficial one, the two of you have been getting to know each other a lot better. The two of you talked about your childhoods, hobbies, and stupid shit you did as a kid. Leon is a little confused as to why you failed to mention you have a dog.

Leon hums in delight. "The food is good. Didn't think you would be such a good cook."

"All thanks to my mom who would drag me and my sister to the kitchen whenever she would cook." You shiver at the unpleasant memories. "What about you? Do you cook?"

"Not like you," Leon answers honestly. "Just basic meals."

"Mmm...sounds sad." Leon laughs as he agrees with you.

Dinner went by wonderfully and Leon even helped you clean up. You purposefully put some food in a separate Tupperware for later. After the table is clean and the dishes are done, you propose that the two of you play a couple games of Smash Brothers, igniting the competitive side of Leon. Sitting next to each other, you try to kill off the other's character. After some 1v1 games, you paired up to play against bots in 2v2 games. To further challenge Leon's competitive side, you switched to Mario Cart. You end up getting a text from one of your neighbors to quiet down.

The reason why you two are now cuddled on your couch, watching an old Barbie movie. Why is the famous Agent Leon S. Kennedy watching an early 2000s Barbie movie? Because you wanted to. That is all the reason Leon needs to watch the damn cliche, animated movie about a doll. Shiloh has plopped herself on the other side of Leon. Like you, she has nuzzled herself into his side. When the movie finishes, it is close to ten.

"Think it's time to call it a night?"

Reluctantly, Leon nods. For the duration of the movie, Leon has been petting Shiloh's head, lulling her to sleep. By now, your dog is fast asleep in doggy dreamland. Getting off of your date, you head to the kitchen to grab something. Stretching his legs, Leon gets off the couch and heads to the foyer. When he turns around to say "bye", Leon is surprised to find you standing behind him with a cloth-covered item.

"Here, it's some leftovers from tonight's dinner. Just heat the bread in the oven so it won't get soggy."

For some reason, the gesture warms Leon to his core. Never once has he had a woman pack him leftovers. Not even his own mother. The sweet act touches Leon so much that it sort of scares him. Like scares him, scares him, and scares him because he wants more of you this. Your soft face and sweet eyes. Fidgeting your feet because you are embarrassed. The soft smile on your lips is just screaming at Leon to kiss you.

"Thanks...I'll remember that." Grateful, Leon takes the meal from you and the two of you awkwardly stand in your foyer. "So, uhh...I'll be off now."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll walk you out."

The two of you step out of your apartment and hug each other. Unlike your previous hugs, this one is tighter and longer and more intimate. You have to force yourself to release the hug or else you risk never letting go of the man. You whisper a "good night" to Leon and he returns the favor. Deciding that life is too short, you pull Leon back to you. Cupping his cheeks, you bring his face to yours and you kiss the irritatingly attractive man.

There are a few times Leon has been surprised. Both good and bad surprises and Leon is more than happy to count this feat as a good, no, a wonderful surprise. He purses his lips and uses one hand to hold onto the widest part of your hips, bringing the two of you closer. The new closeness gives you a burst of confidence. In the silence of the hallway, you can hear the faint smacks from your lips on Leon's. Your left thumb rubs over the growing stubble on Leon's cheek.

Leon always thought that your lips looked supple and soft. Finally able to feel them the way he wants to, your lips are supple and soft with a dash of chapped. Who knew kissing you could feel so addicting? To calm the animal inside of him, Leon compels himself to pull away. His mind is going haywire when he feels a string of saliva break.

When you open your eyes, you look too good. More attractive than usual. Too attractive to the point where Leon has to chant "Not now. Not now. Not now." in his head. What puts a crack into Leon's self-control ability is when you peck his lips a few more times.

"Goodnight Leon."

Out of it, the only thing Leon can do is nod, making you laugh a bit. That is before you look over his shoulder, which is still hunched over from having to bend down to your height.

"I can see you two."

Your neighbors that have been nosily watching, quickly pop their heads inside their apartment and close the door. You smile and roll your eyes. "Neighbors." You kiss Leon's stubby cheek and shoo him away.

Leon gives you a charming smile and tells you that he will text you later. When he is a couple of steps away from the elevator, Leon hears you call out to your neighbors again.

"I can still see you two!"

When the Sun Knew He Would Clear the Dark Clouds to Let Her Shine

With his wrists tied together, Leon manages to use his legs to kick the infected away from him. JD is too inexperienced to aid Leon, so he needs to hurry or else they will both die in this hellhole. Before Leon can get the upper hand two shots are fired, killing the two infected. JD checks himself to make sure he is not bit or injured anywhere. Leon sits up and looks around to see who is responsible. It could be a friend or foe.

"You know when you said you'll wait for me to finish my case, I didn't think to find you in an underground bunker."

A part of Leon is relieved to see you, knowing that he has at least one person he can trust. The other part of Leon is PO-ed that you willingly threw yourself back into fighting BOWs. The DSO offered you a position for your extraordinary work back in Texas, but you declined. "I'm crazy to be doing what I do, but I'm not that crazy to fight BOWs for a living."

"What the hell are you doing here? How'd you find me?" Leon demands as you cut the restraints on his wrists.

Sarcastically, you ask him if that is how he greets you after you saved his ass from getting infected. "Hunnigan told me about your little stunt so she gave me your last known coordinates. I called your cell earlier which gave her a few seconds to find your general area. I followed the corpses, which is how I ended up here."

Before the conversation can go anywhere else, JD interrupts. "Woah! I knew American women were hot but seeing one of them in person is a whole lot better!"

You look at the punk male in disinterest. Comically, the guy tries his best to look cool but in fact, does the opposite. "So, you single?"

"Umm...I'm flattered but I'm actually getting married in a couple of months."

JD hunches over himself. "Awe man! Why are all the hot chicks always taken!"

"Probably 'cause she's with the hot guy next to you."

Confused, JD looks to his side and is face to face with Leon's brown sweater. Looking up, Leon is staring down at the short man with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Almost like he is challenging JD to say another stupid thing. The Eastern Slavic male nervously scratches the back of his head and whispers an apology to the American male.

Sighing, Leon tells JD that when he does decide to use the gun, to shoot the infected in the head for an instant kill. JD leads you and Leon further down the bunker and into a narrow hallway where a metal door is. Leon and JD try to pry the door open while you watch their backs. The grunts and noises from the door gain the infected's attention.

What creeps you out is that one of the infected's head slits open to reveal flesh-like tentacles. Leon calls out to you, telling you to get yourself on the other side of the door. A little annoyed that JD cannot force himself through the crack, you plant your foot on his back and manage to push him through the door. Leon tumbles inside the room after you and chains the door within a couple of seconds.

If you were not creeped out before, you definitely are now. When the three of you reach the surface, you end up witnessing how the citizens of this country are being infected. Like a scene from a sci-fi movie, an alien-looking creature is forced down a person's throat. Truly a parasite. The three of you take a quick break before reaching the cathedral. Uncharacteristically, Leon starts to once again, complain that he was shipped off here without anything to eat.

"Are you really that mad they didn't provide you with any breakfast? I get why you're pissed our vacation got cut short, but over breakfast?"

Leon shrugs his shoulders and looks at you like you are the crazy one. Then again, you are not surprised your fiance is bitching about not eating. The man gets hungry as fast as he gets hot. Seriously, if you are not blasting the AC at home, a puddle of sweat will form around Leon. Reaching into your vest, you pull out a wrapped snack.

Tossing it to him you say, "Here. Protein bar. Should hold you over for the next couple of hours." Leon thanks you a million times over, happy to finally have something in his stomach. You offer another bar to JD and he too thanks you for your generosity. You ask the two of them to fill you in on the missing details since you basically came to the country blinded.

When you and Leon eventually leave the cathedral thanks to JD's help, you end up meeting the woman who had Leon's heart long before you met him. A couple of minutes before meeting her, you told Leon to go ahead and go inside the parking garage. You will stay behind for a bit to make sure neither of you were followed. When you eventually go inside the parking garage, you spot Leon talking to a woman with short, black hair.

"So, shall we continue from that night?" She flirts.

Yes. You know who this woman is. In fact, you knew about her before you met your soon-to-be husband. Claire once told you about Leon when she used to crush on him. She would rant about how the DSO agent was practically wrapped around some other woman's finger. Who is this woman in question? Why, none other than the infamous Ada Wong. The woman that brings the ugly insecurities out of you.

"I don't think so, Ada. I don't know if you've heard but I'm getting married soon. Don't plan on fucking that up."

Ah, so the rumors are true. Who would have thought that the puppy she leashed years ago would slip off of its collar and run off to someone else?

"I heard. She must be something if she was able to steal you away." Ada taunts.

"She is. She's more than I could ever want and even a little more than that. She's the reason my endless cycle of hell has stopped. I'm not losing her." Leon wanted to add "And I was never yours to begin with," but he knew that was a lie. For the longest, Ada tugged at Leon's heart and even his soul. He could never get her out from the back of his mind even if he tried.

When he met you, that annoying gnat slowly started to disappear. You taught Leon how to live again, not just how to survive. When he was actually in D.C. and not somewhere else in the world, Leon looked forward to running with you and Shiloh every morning. Five days a week. To put it simply, Leon's hardened heart started to crack the more time he spent with you. There is no possible way to ever thank you for the light you bring to Leon's dark and lonely life.

Ada, as much as she hates to admit it, knows that Leon is telling the truth. He truly does cherish this woman. His eyes hold that conviction. She guesses that her game of cat and mouse with the former RPD is officially over. They both knew their past together would always be there, but now they would truly be going their separate ways. Her heart tugs a bit at the fact. Not that she would admit it out loud. She bids farewell to Leon before using her grappling gun to escape through the hole in the roof.

When Leon hears another pair of footsteps, he points his gun to his right, ready for another fight. He does not expect the love of his life to tackle him with so much force. Unknowingly, Leon cleared all of the insecurities you had about Ada. In fact, Leon would never know that you knew about his past with Ada or about her in general. Not even when he died as one of America's greatest heroes at the age of eighty-three.

When He Knew He Could Not Live Without His Sunshine

Leon knows how shitty his life has been since '98. Nothing seemed to be going right. In fact, it seemed that everything was going downhill since Raccoon. His apartment was bare as a result of how often Leon had to get up and leave at a moment's notice. Leon would drink his sorrows and pain away. He relied on alcohol, but now, he relies on you. A little too much he thinks but you do not mind. You know the shit he has seen and done. You know the shit he has to do to protect the innocent. You know the burdens Leon has to carry.

You make doing what he has to do a little bit easier every time he comes home. Leon used to wake up in an empty bed but now he wakes up to you sleeping next to him. Sometimes Shiloh will sleep between the two of you or favor one person over the other. On the rare occasions that he does get to sleep in, Leon loves to be woken up by you and Shiloh. You would have finished your morning workouts and have made breakfast. While Shiloh licks Leon's face, you kiss the one spot she missed, his lips. Probably because getting kissed on the lips by a dog is pretty gross, but you take what you can get.

Leon loves the quiet moments with you. The one where it seems like the world is in perfect harmony. No BOWs or maniacs wanting to turn the human race into the living dead. No orders from the president or the people under him. No guns. No explosions. Just you, him, and a cocker spaniel in the comforts of your shared home.

Leon loves it when the two of you cook together. You always seem to get a bit bitchy when things are not done your way in the kitchen (a trait that was passed down from your mother), but Leon deals with it. He tries to follow your instructions to the letter to make you proud. Even more so, he loves the end result. Sitting together at the table with delicious food the two of you made together.

Leon can list hundreds of reasons why he loves you, but it would never be enough. No list will ever be long enough for Leon to write down the different things he loves about you. About the things you bring into his life. His heart pounds whenever he thinks about you. He gets all giddy when he knows he is coming back home to you. He mourns the days when he has to leave because of some stupid assignment. It scares him whenever you put yourself in a battle against BOWs because you always have his back. Even if you hate BOWs as much as the next person.

The first time you shared an "I love you", Leon wanted to take you away to a secret location and live the rest of your lives there. Leon wants to be selfish and keep you all to himself, but then his sun will not be able to shine as brightly. Leon loves you. He desperately loves you. He will do just about any and everything to keep you by his side. Leon Scott Kennedy is hopelessly in love with you. It is the whole reason why he is at your childhood home in Georgia.

Knocking on the front door, he waits for one of your parents to open it. He called your parents a few days ago to tell them that he was coming to visit and asked if they could not tell you about it. Leon has just gotten back from a mission overseas so he looks a little roughed up, but he cannot let this opportunity slip. Your mother answers the door and lets Leon inside.

He is welcomed to a homemade meal, family style. A table set for three people. During the meal, your parents ask Leon what the hurry was. They worry that something has happened to you and Leon is here to bring them the horrible news.

"No. No. She's doing fine." Leon looks down at his watch. "In fact, she's probably on her way back to our place right now." The DSO agent knows your weekly schedule. He memorized it so he would always know the general area where he could find you if a disaster happened.

Leon looks directly at your father. "I came here to ask for your blessing to marry your daughter."

Yes, in the two years of knowing you and the year and a half of dating you, Leon Scott Kennedy wants to be with his sunshine for as long as time permits. His sunshine that gave his life anew. The sunshine that he loves dearly. His sunshine.

---

P.S. I wrote this in two days when I should be focusing on my class work. Whoops...Stay focused kids.

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