#AND SHE’S GONE OFF ALL HER MEDS SO THE ONE SOURCE SHE DID HAVE ISN’T THERE ANYMORE EITHER

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

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[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Excuses

Summary: Getting your attention requires a little creativity.

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Mild language

Word Count: 1,327

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Picking the clipboard up off the counter, your eyes scanning over the notes that’d been taken. Doctor Cho had asked you to come check on her most recent patient as something else came up.

A disbelievingly amused chuckle leaves your lips at the name you read across the patient signature and with a shake of your head you head toward the patient room. 

“Trying a hand at cooking again huh?” You ask in approaching.

Natasha smiles abashedly, eyes glancing down at her currently bloody hand, the source of the mess presented as the cut on her finger.“ I was just slicing vegetables and Clint fell from the goddamn ceiling.” She explains herself, still not meeting your gaze.

“May I?” You ask with a small smile as you nod to her injured hand.

She nods, her nervousness not missed by you, but you say nothing of it. This was, maybe the fourth time Natasha has been in here this month alone with a small injury. 

Doctor Cho had teasingly mentioned that your presence had an affect on the ex-assassin. Her main evidence being that Natasha rarely turned up in the med bay, for a number of reasons: one she didn’t like people seeing her “weak,” and two, her injuries were usually self manageable. 

Yet recently she’d been here almost as much as Peter, and with the way that kid messed around and trained that was saying something. Doctor Cho suggested she has a crush on you but you laughed it off. 

There’s no way the gorgeous, badass, Natasha Romanoff liked your dorky self. 

Natasha nearly melts at the gentle way you tend to her. Fingers barely brushing her skin but leaving a hot trail behind them. If you weren’t so focused on patching her up you’d surely have seen the blush on her cheeks. 

“Doc, can I ask you a question?” Her low voice hits your ears after a prolonged silence and you resist the urge to jump at it’s unexpectedness. 

Catching her eye, you chuckle,“ I’m just a nurse Miss Romanoff, but yes you can.” You then grabbing the roll of gauze. Her cut wasn’t too bad but no band aid would cover the whole thing and it needed to be cover for at least two days.

“Well for one, I’m just Natasha,” she gets the privileges of seeing your flushed cheeks and it makes her smile brighten,“ what made you accept the job here?”

You bite your lip,“ apart from Sharon’s glowing recommendation? I don’t know.” you shrug,“ I just thought, if you guys are out there saving everyone else I could be here to save you.”

Goddammit! If she wasn’t already crazy about you that sure as shit did it. That single statement sounded more heroic than the honor speeches she’d heard Steve give and that man is heroic. 

“Was that not the answer you were looking for?” You ask at her silence.

Her head shakes frantically and her lips tug up at the corners,“ it was perfect actually. I wasn’t expecting it but you’re very kind.” 

You jokingly swipe across your forehead,“ thank god. I’d been practicing it for ages.”

When Natasha laughs your stomach turns. God how you wished you could hear the sweet sound a million times over. And the smile that came with it makes your heart flutter.

“All done. Don’t leave it uncovered for too long but make sure that you do let it breathe. And as usual no scratching.” You advise.

The urge to pout at having to leave you is fought off. But of course she doesn’t let that be the last time. 

Over the next two weeks Natasha comes in and out of the mad bay. For a range of things: a headache, shoulder pains, a minor burn on her hand from experimenting again. 

Each visit she asked questions about you and your passion for the medical field. She laughed with you and smiled when she got you flustered. And each visit you saw more and more of that crush Doctor Cho was talking about. 

You’d contemplated whether or not to do something about it as you clearly like her as well. But it isn’t until today that you decide to. 

Natasha comes in again, this time with cold like symptoms, that are fake, but you don’t call her out on it. In fact it’s a little adorable how she keeps pretend sniffling and burrowing into the blanket you gave her. 

“Sadly there’s no cure to the common cold, just some symptom relief remedies. Over the counter medicine, rest, and lots of fluids. Preferably hot beverages.” A moment of hesitation passes but her soft green gaze on you pushes that away with ease.“ Maybe I could help out with that, take you to get a cup of coffee, or tea if you prefer?”

She freezes at your question. Her eyes widening before she looks down at the tiled floor. Out of all the things she expected you to say, this was the worst.

Not for her by a long shot, she’d love nothing more than to go out with you, to be with you and hold your hand and go on dates. No this was the worst decision for you. You’ve saved lives, herself included, and she’d done the exact opposite.

While you were a source of hope to some she was the bringer of death. The Black Widow. What were they known for again? Killing their spouses after so long together. Natasha knows she’d never intentionally hurt you but spending so much time with you would surely taint the pureness that you are. And Natasha couldn’t handle being the reason your light had gone dark. 

“That’s not a good idea.” She mumbles. 

The confusion that surges through your head nearly gives you a headache. She doesn’t want to go out with you? Had you read everything wrong? Are you delusional? Was her flirting and excuses to come see you all in your head?

Frowning, you step away from the redhead,“ o-okay. I’m sorry I just- I thought with all the flirting that maybe you- I’m sorry for reading into things.”

“No you didn’t read anything wrong,” with how sad and confused you look she has to assure you that you most certainly are not the problem.“ Y/n I do like you. I think you’re incredible and that’s exactly why you shouldn’t date me. I’m not the kind of person you should be with.”

Your frown deepens, if that’s possible,“ Natasha what? What kind of person do you think you are? Because I think you’re a hero. I’ve literally spent full nights watching over you and tending to your wounds because you hurt yourself trying to save people. Hell you’ve definitely saved more lives than me.”

The sigh she gives tells you that she isn’t convinced. And while you know it’s going to take more than just this single moment to truly change her opinion of herself, you had no reason to not try right now. 

“Natasha,” you step closer and take her cold soft hands in yours,“ you’re just as incredible as you claim me to be, if not more and I’d love to learn everything that makes you that way.” She looks up at your small smile.“ If not all you’re visits would’ve been a waste right.”

Her eyes widen for an entirely different reason this time. She had no idea you knew she’d been finding excuses to come see you. She was so sure that you were buying it. 

“I guess I’m losing my subtle touch huh?” 

“Just a little.” You tease back, squeezing her hand in yours.

With a deep breath in and a slow exhale, Natasha nods,“ I’d love to get coffee with you some time, as long as you let me treat.”

You narrow your eyes at her,“ deal, but, you have to promise not to keep hurting yourself. You no longer need an excuse to see me.”

“Alright, deal.”

[tasteforrot]

Everything Is Dumb Now

everything seems dumb now

or the problems before tuesday

or my problems before tuesday

or the problems i focused on before tuesday

idk if theyre really dumb

but probably

does he like me will it work

venus in pisces taurus sun with a cancer ascendent

moon in leo

idk why liking someone is so terrifying to me

my shrink asked me why having basic needs met seems so impossible

or.

idk

the moon was in aquarius on tuesday i think

or i remember reading “let us hope this is a good omen”

(probably chani nicholas)

for two months i refreshed nine horoscope sites daily asking the internet

what would happen

i saw something this week

about the election coverage was too… like

focusing more on what will happen in november

not what was happening at the time

what will happen vs what is happening

what do we know

idk

this past month i began calling more feelings “pain”

laying in bed thinking “i’m in so much pain lol”

um

have you ever read the attachment theory wikipedia?

i’m sure there are better sources but the wikipedia is really convenient

there are four styles.

and this one style, “disorganized” is like

something like:

the way you’re greeted when you enter a room

and the way you’re treated

was never constant so u never like,

never know when the other shoe will drop

who will abandon when

or u’ll wild out bc like, idk.

the others are what they sound like

secure attachment style is what it sounds like

ppl with disorganized attachment ruin things, sabotage things

bc what’s the point if it’s already. idk

wednesday morning

when i told my therapist i watched someone die, she said

“oh, fuck talking about the election”

but like nah

we talked about the election

and the two guys i saw wearing those red hats

the first time ive seen them irl

first thing in the morning

on my walk up tenth avenue

i almost threw up

and threw myself on them but didnt

but i did also tell her i didn’t feel anything watching him die,

or i didn’t know what i felt or if i was feeling.

i watched him become president from my bed

scared of feeling anything except the most reality as possible

a few hours before,

i watched him make a noise and then he stopped breathing

and then a nurse hit his chest and said, “he’s just sleeping”

(he wasn’t)

she said he had a pulse, he’s fine

(he wasn’t)

it took the supervisor twenty-five minutes to show up

hospice care in a nursing home isn’t a hospital

the way she said it’s about making him comfortable

the way:

there are things that are supposed to happen

people asked if i was ok

my boss hugged me

idk if it was the death or the election

or what i’ve been saying online that has ppl msging me lately

telling me they hope im ok soon

waking up is harder now

it never really was before

i learned to like mornings in college

they felt more hopeful

opportunity, routine, etc

my shrink also told me to read online

specifically disorganized attachment

but that for some reason

and who knows

it’s not all I have. that i can do and do make secure bonds

there’s some secure attachment

something like hope?

idk

she said: attachments just are

you can’t force them

an attachment is

when i told my shrink about his last breath she said something like:

isn’t that all we have, a breath

and then we take another

and keep going

that’s the only difference

other times i’ve watched people die

(and never the act)

there was the clear moment between when they were gone

(when they started taking pain meds)

not their body but themselves

“the priority is comfort”

i only realized today that i don’t know whether or not he was in pain

just that when i got to his room, alone

i’ve never seen anyone like that

i thought he was going to die right then

with me alone

so i grabbed his hand, which was blue

and trying to take off his oxygen mask

i’ve been hearing the term “oxygen mask” a lot more

put on your oxygen mask before you help others

everyone says get out of ur internet bubble

lol

i mean, i agree

i guess

but i live alone

work online

my family is three white men

(it used to be more)

who asked me why i didn’t tell them about my sexual assaults sooner

(i had)

but i guess they forgot

or it doesnt matter? idk

i dont want to have to see them today

or tomorrow

but their dad only dies once

only died once

idk

before tuesday i’d get drunk

get stoned

wake up

apologize

idk

ever since tuesday the idea of feeling anything the most amount of

pain feels wrong

not pain for pain’s sake

but anesthetizing any of the reality

of what is and is about to happen

idk

isn’t there something about how pain is a great motivator

or isnt there that susan sontag thing about not believing someone else is in

pain?

is that the thing

or how people with that disease that makes them not feel pain are fucked

i can’t believe the pain i cause by trying to avoid pain

(myself + others)

getting out of bed isn’t a problem

or wasn’t before tuesday

(now it is)

i’m right by a window and it’s cold

and i just remember it’s real

and i’m where i was where i watched him become president

but

i like routine and waking up and drinking coffee

more so i feel it around 3pm or 5pm or 8pm or 11pm

what’s the fucking point

i don’t feel that way anymore

my anxiety’s been down since all my worst fears came true

i’m not as worried for now as i am a year from now

a year and three months

momentum, etc

it’s been clearer who’s trying to lessen suffering and who’s trying to clear

their name

i’ve been trying to take up less space

or occupy space in a different way

or, idk.

it’s easier to tell ppl i love them

u dont need a reason anymore

or maybe the reason is just more obvious

it’s too much noise n it’s not enough

im getting msgs from ppl telling me to stockpile birth control

but my body rejects most types of birth control

and i haven’t found one that works yet

so like

idk

hasnt loving and fucking always been terrifying

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

Masterlist

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DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

 How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando​ 

[procrastinatorimagines]

What If...

Fandom: Chicago Fire / One Chicago

Pairing: Matt Casey x Severide!Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 2,060

Request: Hi would it be possible if I requested a Matt Casey one shot where she’s Kelly’s half sister and she’s new paramedic the firehouse. One night she tells Blake how she’s always had a crush on Matt and he overhears her. What happens when he kisses her in front of everyone at the firehouse?

Being Kelly Severide’s half-sister meant that the entire firehouse treated you basically the same; even though you weren’t that much younger they looked out of you like you were their kid sister. 

Kelly had just started working at 51 when you’d found out about him. Your dad, Benny, hadn’t exactly always been around, but when you’d told him you were moving to Chicago, he’d finally told you about your brother. It had been a shock, and you’d been angry that he’d kept it from you for so long, but you were glad to have a sibling, and you and Kelly had clicked right away.

Eventually he’d started to introduce you to the guys at the firehouse, including one Matt Casey, and you’d been crushing on him ever since. You’d tried not to, he only saw you as Kelly’s sister and nothing more, but you’d always been pretty close with him since you met, and you’d never been able to get over the feelings.

Now you were a paramedic there, and it had just gotten worse. You hadn’t applied for 51 specifically when you’d made it through training, moving from your nursing job at Med, but Boden had requested your transfer there to fill a spot on ambo 61. 

Everyone had welcomed you to 51, especially Casey, although Kelly had originally been hesitant about his little sister being out on the frontlines and in the line of literal fire. But you were a natural, and he’d soon put those fears to rest. 

It had been a few months now, and you found yourself lying on the bunk next to Gallo on a particularly slow shift, discussing his complicated relationship with Violet. “You asked her to marry you?” You laughed in disbelief, turning your head to face him from where you had been staring at the ceiling. Gallo was filling in on ambo with you for the day, Sylvie taking some personal time out to visit her new sister, and you’d both crashed in the bunk room to chat after a couple of very boring wellness checks. 

“Look, it wan’t- I wasn’t serious, it was the heat of the moment- I don’t know okay?” Gallo rambled, definitely kicking himself for being so stupid. “I should just fake my death and move to a different country, I’m such an idiot.”

You laughed even more, glad you weren’t in his shoes as he tried to navigate whatever his relationship with Violet was. “Okay, enough about me, what about you? You got anyone? I won’t tell your brother I swear,” Gallo promised with a grin, changing the subject away from his embarrassment. You might have called him out on it and kept the conversation going, but you knew he was already getting it from Ritter and Cruz, so you didn’t push it anymore.

“Me? Nah, living the single life,” you answered, mind going to your ever present and annoying crush on Casey as you picked at the cuffs of your sleeves, grey CFD sweater a size too large.

Gallo caught the distant look in your eyes, “...but there is someone you like?” He asked slowly, your turn to feel embarrassed as you felt your cheeks heat up. Were you that obvious? “Oh, there totally is!”

You and Gallo had become good friends, both having joined the station at around the same time, even though you’d known everyone else for years, you’d still been navigating the place together. Could you tell him this? You hadn’t told anyone, especially not your brother, but you wanted to get it off your chest. 

Gallo gave you an encouraging look, and you knew he wouldn’t let it go now, and you didn’t want him trying to find out when you weren’t alone, so you took a breath and told him after casting a final look to Casey and your brother’s dark offices. 

“I might... have a little thing for Matt,” you said quietly, nervously awaiting his reaction as he eyes went wide.

“Captain Casey!?” Gallo gasped as he sat up, way too loud for your liking. You put your finger to your lips and shushed him, sitting up so that you were facing him.

“Would you keep it down? I don’t want the entire firehouse to know,” you slapped his knee a little and he nodded, still visibly amused. “Look, I- I’ve had feeling for him for a long time, but it was never going to happen then, and it certainly isn’t going to happen now, I mean, I’ve always just been Kelly’s kid sister and now I actually work at the firehouse.” 

“Why did you never go for it before?” He asked, and you couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it. What if he said yes? What if he said no? You’d played countless scenarios in your head as you’d had a drink with him at Molly’s, worked with him at Med or spent time with him at 51 and Kelly’s, but reality was a lot more daunting. 

“Because he’s... Matt, even when he wasn’t my superior he was still my brother’s best friend, I’d have better luck at trying to cross a mine field with an aweful lot of mines unscathed,” you told him, running your hands through your hair. You’d untied it when you lay down, but now you figured your put it back up for something to do with your hands other than self-consciously pick at your sleeves.

“Maybe he likes you too and he has the same fears as you do, namely the wrath of Lieutenant Severide, not that I could blame him,” Gallo suggested as you shook your head.

“Oh yeah, because that’s likely,” you said sarcastically and he raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘you never know’, “I’d rather just try to get past it without making anything wierd, it’s my problem not his.”

Gallo was about to reply when the alarm bell sounded, a pile up that required all vehicles to attend. You and Gallo jumped up and headed for the door, but not before you caught sight of Casey emerging from his quarters.

Your stomach dropped at the realisation that he’d been in there the entire time. His light had been off and his door had been open a crack so you’d naturally assumed he wasn’t in there, but he must have gone in there for a nap before you and Gallo got back from your wellness checks. 

Praying he had been asleep the entire time you made your way to 61, Gallo giving you an ‘oops’ look as Casey headed past you both to Truck, but the look in his eyes when they briefly met your told you that that was wishful thinking, he’d heard you alright.

You did your best to compartmentalise that as you climbed into the drivers seat next to Gallo, you had a job to focus on, you’d have time to think about faking your death with Gallo and fleeing the country in embarrassment later. 

-

Fires out, people safe, no casualties; one crisis averted, one more to deal with. Gallo had tried to reassure you that Casey hadn’t heard any of it on the drive back, but he wasn’t even managing to convince himself, let alone you. 

So you’d made a beeline straight for the showers when you got back, going out of your way to avoid Casey in what little time you had left on shift. Who knew, he might just forget all about it?

Alas, he didn’t. You’d nearly made it out, making your way into the crisp morning air as the sun came up, just wanting to get back to your car and bury yourself under your covers, forgetting all about what had happened. Then Casey had caught up with you.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up a second,” Casey called from behind you, the sound of quick footsteps approaching as reached you. You swallowed, ignoring your feeling of dread as you turned to face him.

“Hey... er... what’s up?” Smooth Y/N, really subtle, you thought to yourself as you mentally ran through potential names to put on your fake passport. Casey gave you a small, conscious smile, and you knew he wanted to bring up what he’d overheard you say earlier, but didn’t know how. Neither did you, which led to a very awkward few seconds where you imaged the ground swallowing you whole. 

Finally, Casey spoke up. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I heard my name and I was going to come out but then I heard... more and I thought it would be better if I just stayed in my office, and then the bell went off-” He stammered. 

Turns out it wasn’t the whole firehouse that heard Gallo practically yell Casey’s name, just Casey himself. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t try to- I don’t know what I’m trying to say honestly, obviously I never meant for you to hear that and I don’t want this to be weird or anything so if we could just like pretend I never said anything and-” You were talking way too fast but you couldn’t help it. Casey had said your name a couple of times as you spoke, to try and get you to slow down or stop but you’d just kept going.

So instead, he’d tried a different method of shutting you up, and he kissed you. You stumbled back a little, very much surprised and caught off guard, Casey stepping back quickly as your brain tried to process what had just happened, mouth moving slightly but no words coming out. You probably looked like you were short-circuiting.

“Just to clear up any doubts about how I feel,” he told you, hand still lingering on your arm as you regained your senses. In all the fantasy scenarios you’d run through in your head, Casey kissing you was better than you could have expected. 

“Wow, okay,” you said, unsure of how to respond but Casey chuckled a little and you began to relax, matching his smile, very much forgetting that you were both still just outside of the firehouse. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice said intentionally loudly and you and Casy jumped, looking away from each other towards the source, Kelly. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw clenched as he stared at his best friend, and then his sister. 

You risked a glance behind Kelly, to see that your kiss had been very public indeed, basically the entire firehouse kind of public. Gallo even gave you a thumbs up and you would have laughed if your brother wasn’t standing so close, looking like he was debating punching Casey.

Stella was giving you a look that was a mix of support and sympathy, but she rightfully wasn’t inserting herself into this, the rest of the firehouse seemingly waiting for Severide’s reaction before they said anything. 

“The hell took you guys so long?” You brother said finally, to the shock of both you and Casey as a smirk spread across Kelly’s face. Casey’s shoulders visibly relaxed and you let out a little sigh of relief. Were you confused? Yes. Were you going to dare question it? No chance. 

“You’re not... mad?” Casey did dare and Kelly laughed, shaking his head.

“Why would I be mad? Okay, sure, in the beginning when I realised you guys were into each other? Yeah, I was mad, but I’ve had years to get over that,” he told you both as you caught Cruz reluctantly handing Stella what looked like a twenty. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, glad he wasn’t mad as you glanced at Casey, a grin on his face as Kelly offered out his hand to shake as some kind of sign of approval. 

Casey shook it as Kelly added: “hurt her we’ll all bury you,” he informed his Captain matter-of-factly with a head nod towards the rest of the firehouse who sounded their agreement.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Casey replied immediately as Kelly winked in your direction. 

“Walk you back to your car?” Casey offered, probably wanting a little bit more privacy to talk, and you quickly accepted, going red from the attention, following him away from the firehouse as Kelly jokingly made a sign that meant ‘I’ll be watching you’ in Casey’s direction. 

All in all, not the day you had been expecting, not that you were complaining.

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

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

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha​ @oldminniemcg​ @iemcpbchoices​ @tsrookie​ @fayeswiftie​ @levinsdowneyy​ @brooks-eden​ @poudredevie​ @queencarb​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @lucy-268​ @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend​ @alwaysmychoices-sideblog​ @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @the-pale-goddess​ @lem-20​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @liaromancewriter​ @ohchoices​ @archxxronrookie​

[the-last-millenial-disaster]

I read ur hc's about omen! its really good~ as for the hc where omen makes rounds to check on everyone, what if one day he finds that someone went missing (not like seriously, the missing agent was prob doing something stupid where they never are found,,,unless you wanna go the angst route-)?

Okay first of all, thank you for the ask! I really appreciate it.

(this might get too long and off topic but oh well here we go)  

I had a bit of a dilemma with this one at first, because who would Omen miss if he didn’t find them during his rounds? For who would he blink twice? I kind of imagine Omen as a middle aged man employed in some university teaching physics or something similar. The proffesor that would be cool if he wasn’t so mean. Before Kingdom of course. So I believe that he generally cares for everyone around him, but doesn’t show it in any way. So assuming he’s the oldest or second oldest of the V protocol he adopted the same mindset about the agents as he had for his students - they need someone to challenge and push them to the very best of their abilities.

So when one of the chaos children in the V protocol isn’t in the building at 00.30 in the morning, Omen stirrs

Worry is not a good word for it, because he doesn’t necesarrily care where they are, or what they’re doing

But he’s curious - he likes to be aware of where the agents are

He isn’t one to form attachments easily

But after his transformation, after he left his whole life behind, these people were the only family he had

If Brimstone is the dad, Omen is like, the uncle noone knows how to feel about

So of course he’d prefer if they live

But then, kingdom decides to roll in another agent, seemingly out of nowhere

Enter: Skye

Omen being the distrusting ball of darkness he is, doesn’t approach her, doesn’t talk to her, nothing. Just. Observing.

He’s totally one of those people who will burn holes in your back with searing stares and expect you to hear their thoughts

Hurt one of these idiots and I will annihilate you

(This probably isn’t what you had in mind for angst, but I couldn’t pass it up I’m sorry)

Imagine this:

Omen is doing his rounds as per usual going methodically trough each room from the bottom floor up

He sees Breach going off on his punching bag, checks if Raze’s workshop’s still standing, oversees the labs with Killjoy up to her elbows in everyone’s broken equipment and even says hi to Viper

It’s one of his good days

But then he nears Skye’s door

He almost passes them, but then...what the hell why not

So he quietly checks the room...and it’s empty

A few questions pop into his head

Where is she and what is she doing

He continues his way and clears the complex of Skye

Where could a complete newcomer go, on one of their first days in the base no less?

He doesn’t like this. At all.

After checking on the last storey, he quietly shroud steps on the roof

The place is calm, Sage’s garden giving it a cozy ambiance while still keeping the space fresh with hints of wilderness that strech across the west grounds of the HQ property

Omen likes to read there, or simply just come to desocialize

A faint but beautiful bird song echoes trough his head

But

Hold up

It’s a good hour past midnight

What bird is singing such sweet melodies in the dead of the night?

A quick flash reflecting in the dome catches his attention

He amost immediately spots the source

It’s gone as fast as it started, but he caught a whiff of red hair dissapearing into the bushes

There you are

And so it began

Skye heard Omen teleport to the edge of the forest and ever since then they’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse

Sometimes Omen hunts, other times Skye tracks

Skye finds Omen fascinating - one second she has his trail and the next she has to find it all over again

Things escalate to short conversations can you imagine

You might think they don’t have much in common, but you’d be wrong

They’re both trackers, hunters, and that exact fact is why Omen started trusting Skye to not stab him in the back

Noone else knows about Skye’s nightly wilderness escapades

It’s almost like playing tag - Omen doesn’t know but Skye is keeping score

As for a little bit softer route:

Omen is very aware of his surroundings

A big part of it is his teleport - he can’t do shit if he isn’t familliar with the layout of the land

But he also likes to keep tabs on people

That’s why he’s doing rounds - or at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself

Most agents are in the common room that night, watching some sort of an action movie

Omen never understood what people have to gain from that, but what he did know is that this is Cypher’s sort of gig

But he doesn’t see him anywhere

So Omen promptly makes his way to his room, dodging the tripwires and ignoring the warning signs on the door

Cypher isn’t home

He checks the comms tower

...and Cypher isn’t over there either

Now he’s got Omen’s attention

He goes to the conference room and checks the logs - Cypher might have gone to a minor or more of a hush hush mission

But he doesn’t turn anything up

Where is he?

Since he’d literally rather parnoia himself than initiate a conversation he makes his way to the shooting range

Cypher is smart, he’s probably fine

...right?

Like most nights, Omen hovers around the base, trying to decide what to spend his time on

If it were a normal night, he’d be poring over some scientific article or simply stealing a historic novel from Sova’s collection

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Cypher

He still hasn’t come back

And so Omen finds himself patrolling from one entrance to another, and just when he’s about to actually go outside and track that idiot down, his target staggers trough the staff entrance

If he didn’t know better, Omen would’ve thought he was drunk

But the way Cypher clutches his side, drags his leg and silently curses in arabic tells him that he’s injured. Badly.

Cypher doesn’t spot Omen

Instead, he limps over to the elevator, leaning heavily against the wall the entire time

He punches a button and sighs in relief when the doors open immediately

Since his little ‘walk’ wasn’t in the books, Omen assumes he’s not going to the med bay

He can practically feel Cypher’s pain and anguish from the rising elevator

If you won’t get yourself help, I will

Omen first makes sure that Cypher managed to get his sorry ass back to his room without collapsing

Then he straight up ults to med bay, scaring the crap out of the on-call physician

He goes to the only doctor that doesn’t ask many questions and directs him toward Cypher’s room

The medic’s intervention saved Cypher’s life

And he never found out how the doctor knew to come and treat him

Whenever he tried to question the said doctor, he got the same answer

I didn’t ask any questions, and neither should you

(A/N: Again, thank you for the ask and thank you for reading!)

[fallenrepublick]

Missions

The day is nigh, my friends. It’s part two of Circumstance, featuring our favourite fish boy Kit Fisto!

1

Warnings: None

When you heard people speak of “heading towards the light,” you imagined in your head something… brighter, as if you were walking a ray cast down by the light of a single sun. This was dimmer, murkier, the shine muddled and strange around the edges as opposed to the sharpness you were expecting. Your side still pained you, though the burning from before left in its wake a deep soreness that surely would dissipate with time.

“Don’t overdo yourself,” a familiar voice said smoothly following a hiss of the door opening. “We don’t want to undo all of that work, now do we?”

Heavy eyelids aside, you felt far better than when you had passed out, a newfound energy taking residence in your body. And in your shaky attempts to sit up, you felt a careful hand on your back, guiding you in case your attempts were in vain, and turning your feet off the edge of the bed for you to lean against the wall instead. You weren’t looking at him.

His hands reached for your side, making you flinch and grab his wrist as a natural reaction, your heart suddenly racing quick enough to induce a headache. His dark round eyes lifted to you, your expression reflecting less of a warning and more of a plea to move away. His brow furrowed, and though he clearly understood, freezing his movements in response, he still protested.

“I have to change your bandages. An infection will only make this more difficult,” he reasoned, his voice no louder than when he had entered the room. Placing a hand over one of his hearts, he offered a smile, somehow comforting your wired nerves. “I promise I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

Hesitantly, you released his wrist, keeping a sharp gaze on his movements, hands ready to stop him at even the slightest hint of hostility. But the moment never came, his words truthful, the motion of unwrapping your old bandages barely noticeable. And slowly, yet surely, your guard lowered.

“You mentioned your mother,” he tried, slightly frowning as he concentrated. “She’s-”

“Gone,” you said before he could finish. “Pirates got to her when I was a kid. Couldn’t do much about it then, still can’t now…”

Kit set aside the wrappings, inspecting your wound. It was darker, less irritated or inflamed. Feeling the edges with careful fingers, he nodded with satisfaction when you didn’t react negatively.

“And your father?” he asked as he began wrapping your abdomen once more with fresh coverings. The blinding white was almost poetic, and you’d have laughed at the irony of it all had your side not hurt you so.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you replied instead flatly, your nose scrunching up as you thought about it.

He couldn’t help but give a small laugh. “Fair enough.” A beat passed. “Sometimes I wonder how different everything would be if I knew my parents. I’m supposed to be thankful for where I am, and of course I try to be most of the time. Though I sometimes find myself wishing things were different.”

You watched the stars pass by the window to your left, the peace in the deadly vacuum of the galaxy a welcome presence, each light the source of life for so many species and worlds that even you hadn’t memorized them all. And yet, even with all these creatures, all of these beings, you still stood utterly alone against your cruel reality, feeling closer to the cold space between the stars than the warmth they brought on their surfaces.

“Why can’t it be different?” you said eventually, scanning his now melancholy actions as he secured your bandages. “Jedi are free to do as they wish after they become masters. Can’t you leave?”

He sighed, head shaking, green lekku reflecting the med-bay’s soft light as he moved. There was a strange hint of regret as he did so, and you didn’t notice your breath had caught in your throat, either from apprehension or expectation, you couldn’t tell.

“It isn’t so simple…” His words trailed behind him, deliberation over whether or not to continue passing through his mind as the stars did outside the window. “What we do in the Jedi Order, painful as it is for us, is necessary to the Galaxy. I couldn’t leave the Order without a sufficient reason…”

His eyes met yours, expectation weighing heavily in the air between you. Though he had finished bandaging you long ago, his hand hadn’t moved from your waist, the touch doing little in terms of stabilization, only being there for the sake of it. And to your shock, it didn’t bother you in the slightest, a small part of you hoping he didn’t choose to remove it, the feeling the closest thing to affection you’d had in some time.

And you wanted to give him what he expected, a question, suggestion, or even a request to leave, to find a way to escape the same type of chains you had been forcefully removed from. But you couldn’t.

“They’ll be after me.” Reaching down, you rested your hand on his own, ignoring the slight spark you felt against his fingers, and pushed his hand away. “I failed my mission, but… I owe you this much. Leave me at the next planet and get out of there. I can handle the rest.”

“And then what?” His response wasn’t a bitter one, though he wasn’t good at hiding disappointment. “You can barely stand by yourself, let alone fight. No, I will stay with you until you’re fully healed and safe.”

“What’s the point? You’ll just get hurt.” The frown that painted his face told you there was little use arguing. He would never budge no matter how much you tried. In a way, it sent relief rippling through you, to know you weren’t entirely on your own.

But it melted into a lighthearted grin, the kind that was annoyingly infectious, even to an enemy, and he stood, patting your head lightly.

“I’m a Jedi Master. I can handle it. Now get some rest. I’ll let you know when we land for supplies.”

As he stepped away, reaching the door, you mustered enough courage to ask, “Why are you doing this? I’m your enemy… you should be trying to give me to the Order or… kill me or… something, right?”

“You aren’t my enemy,” he said assuredly, turning his head back towards you. “And besides, I’m starting to like you.” Almost jokingly, he gave you a wink before closing the door behind him.

[xfandomwritingsx]

A Diamond Tint - Lee Christmas - Part Two

-gif source unknown-

Description: Learning Christmas is engaged was not part of your evening plans.

Warnings/Labels: None

Approx. Word Count: 1,600

A/N:  One more part left to go in this one.

Part One 

-

It’s nearly two months later, well after the job’s done and you’ve gone back home when there’s a knock at your door sometime after midnight. When you look through the peephole and see Lee’s familiar face hidden in the shadows of a dark hood, you tuck your gun back into your waistband and open the door.

“Hello babygirl,” he greets smoothly, despite the split lip with dried blood on it. His hood tries to hide bruising on his face and by the way he’s leaning on the doorframe, hand clutching his ribs, you can tell he’s had a hell of a day.

“Get in here,” you sigh. Stepping back from the door, you give a nod of your head to coax him to get his ass inside. “Shirt off,” you tell him as you close the door behind you and slide the coat closet door open to grab your med kit from the top shelf.

“One of these days I’m going to make you buy me dinner before you take my clothes off,” he calls from the living room, already settling himself into the comfort of your couch like he’s done too many times before. You return to watch him grimace as he starts to lifts his shirt off his head, his coat already shed onto the armrest.

“Shut up and hold still,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. You open the med kit on the coffee table and sit down next to him, turning your focus to his ribs. He lifts his arm to allow you to gently poke and prod at him, examining the purple bruising. When you’ve assessed the damage enough for your liking and determined the ribs aren’t broken, you grab his arm and slowly lower it back to his side. You lean forward to rifle through your kit for some gauze and alcohol to clean his face.

“You were right,” he says roughly as you grab his chin and turn his face forward.

“Usually am.” You’re more focused on dabbing the cut on his cheek and trying to decipher how deep it is than what he’s saying. “What about this time?” He winces at the sting and you pull away, back to your kit. “I’m going to need to stitch that.”

“Don’t you dare,” he snaps, gently smacking your hand away from grabbing at the thread. “You suck at stitches.” Your jaw hangs open at him, slightly offended even though you know he’s not totally wrong. “I’ve still got the scar on my thigh from when you stitched me up with bloody fishing wire.”

“It’s all I had!” you defend with a small laugh.

“I’ll do it myself later.” He leans back on the couch, satisfied when you come back with a butterfly bandage instead of a needle and thread.

“Turn,” you direct him after applying the bandage to his cheek. Giving a gentle push on his shoulder to guide him, he turns to face the armrest of the couch so that his back, full of scratches and bruises, is facing you. Using a clean towel and a bottle of water, you start to clean the blood off of him. “So what was I right about?” you ask as you work. He hesitates before answering.

“I went home before I came here,” he says a little more quietly, head tilted down. Your fingers still for just a moment, but you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. “Figured you had a point about hiding all this.” There’s a small shrug of his shoulder. “She wasn’t alone.” That stops your motions entirely.

“Shit,” you whisper. It’s not surprising, but you know it still hurts him and you hate that.

“Yeah.” He turns his head to look at you, but his eyes can’t quite get to you at this angle. You pick up some clean gauze and tape and try to refocus your efforts on patching him up.

“I don’t actually enjoy being right about these kinds of things.” You apply the tape carefully. The largest gauze pad you have doesn’t cover the entirety of his scratches, but it does enough of them to satisfy you. “You alright?” you ask carefully, unsure how or even if he wants to talk about it.

“Doesn’t hurt any more than my ribs do,” he jokes dryly.

“Well if you actually wore your vest properly with the insert I got you, your ribs wouldn’t hurt as bad,” you playfully scold, finishing up on his back.

“I told you. It restricts movement.”

“Well quit complaining then.” You put your hands on his shoulders and tip upwards to get close to his ear. “Or better yet, quit getting shot at,” you tease.

“I’ll work on that.” You chuckle and scooch away, giving him room to face front again. You fiddle with your kit, piling up used rags and wrappers on the table and slipping unused materials back into their designated places. You see him shake his shirt out a little and notice the blood stains on it.

“I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” you tell him.

“So what does it mean,” he starts with a false confidence in his voice, fiddling with the ruined shirt in his hands. “That I’m not feeling too bad about walking away?” You try not to make your surprise too obvious and keep putting your things away.

“No?” You give him a questioning look and stand up with your closed med kit. He raises his voice so you can hear him as you go to put it away and grab him a plain black t-shirt.

“I had some time to think on the way over.” It’s almost a two and a half hour drive to get to your place so you can only imagine everything his mind went over. You stay quiet and let him continue. “I thought she was what I wanted. Nice girl to settle down with. Pretend to have a normal life.” You come back to the living room and he takes the t-shirt you’ve brought.

“But?” you prod gently when he hesitates again.

“I settled for her because I thought she was the best I could do.” It’s hard to hold your tongue, to tell him something like no shit, I could have told you that years ago dumbass but you manage to stay quiet again. “Maybe I never wanted to admit what I really wanted because I never thought I could actually have it.” He’s looking down at the shirt clenched in his fist and you casually cross your arms over your chest.

“And what is it you actually want?” His eyes slowly rise up to meet yours and there’s a look in them you’ve only ever imagined seeing before. Flirtation, teasing, fun; those had all been there, but the way his eyes dip down to your mouth show an unmistakable desire for the first time. Your legs go numb. “No.” Your arms uncross and you point a sharp finger at him. “No, not now.” You are practically scolding him, but if you don’t, then you’re going to end up in his lap and one of you needs to be a responsible adult at the moment. “We’re not- you’re not doing this right now.” You shake your finger at him for emphasis, but it’s not deterring his heated look. You huff and find yourself stepping away from him. “You just ended a long term relationship, an engagement,” you remind him. “Just like your ribs, it’s going to hurt a lot more in the morning. You need time to heal from it all before you give me that look.” Your internal confliction turns external and you start plucking all the bloody rags off the table and into your arms. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes dropping with disappointment. “I hear you.” He shuffles the shirt in his hands and starts to carefully slip it over his head. A thought occurs to you as you drop the rags into the nearby trash can.

“Did you end it?” you ask. “Or did you just sneak out and she doesn’t know yet?” His head pokes through the shirt and glances at you with a slight guilt in his eyes. “Lee!” you shout, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Okay, step one; actually tell her it’s over, you jackass.” You retreat one more time into the hall to grab the spare blanket and pillow, knowing he’s going to crash on your couch.

“I’ll work on it!” he yells back to you.

You pause at the closet for a moment to breathe. The hell are you supposed to do now? He’d been off limits in just about every way for as long as you can remember and now he just… wasn’t? You aren’t exactly prepared for that. Not to mention there’s a happiness you’re struggling to repress because thank god he wasn’t going to marry that woman, but in the same thread, you don’t like Lee getting hurt in the process.

You take another breath and squeeze the pillow and blanket close to your chest for a moment before carrying it back to him on the couch. He nods in thanks when you extend them out towards him.

“Hey,” he says firmly, putting his hands over yours around the bedding and holding you in place. Flutters in your stomach cause a slight heat in your face as he demands your focus. “If you’re worried about being a rebound, don’t be.” Words are caught in your throat and you don’t even nod your head. His hands slide across yours to grab the fabric of the bedding and take it from you. “I ain’t looking for just a bit of fun.” He tilts his head just a little. “Never was with you.” You swallow roughly and fail to form words. He smiles at you and puts the bedding in his lap. “Thanks for these.”

All you can mutter is a feeble, “Yeah.”

~~~

I know this isn’t a popular one of mine, but some people out there enjoy it so I’m going to finish it. Likes, comments, and reblogs mean a lot more to me on these little, lesser liked pieces!

Feeling super generous? Buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

Keep up with my progress on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

[littleredlie]

Intervention (S1P4)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical and she returns back after a two week break. However, we learn that she didn’t spend her entire break off and instead focused on her sister’s murder.  Based off S1E11 of Chicago Med

2.3k+ Words (Short chapter)

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Hayden Everett (mentioned), Will Halstead, Maggie Lockwood, Connor Rhodes, Kevin Atwater, Adam Ruzek, Jay Halstead (mentioned), Sarah Reese Warning:  mentions of rape and murder, idk what else ??? A/N: Yikes, I started writing this chapter and ended up writing the next chapter so I had to write the end of this one and the beginning of part 5. This part was hard to write because the episode didn’t have much action to put Morgan in and so I made it a kind of Morgan-centric episode. It’s very shot, I had no idea what I was doing. Part 5 is better and I’ve already started part six. Sorry in advance. And we will never talk about this chapter again.

Part Three

“Hey Morgan, welcome back.”

“Hey Mags, how’re you?” Morgan tosses her stethoscope around her neck and picks up a few papers sitting on the desk.

“Nope, nada. I wanna hear how your vacation went. You’re gone for two weeks and not a single person hears from you. You do not deserve to hear about any work drama until you spill.”

“I think you are being overdramatic. And not that you need to know, but Connor heard from me,” Morgan shrugs, not daring to look at the nurse. Maggie had an eyebrow raised and was giving her a look; it was similar to the one she did during Jay and the doctor’s interaction.

“You two really have history don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for almost 15 years. He knew my sister first, but he and I were just closer.” At the mention of her sister, Maggie sends her friend a soft but the latter still isn’t looking. “And we made this ridiculous promise while we were drunk about how we were always gonna be there for each other, and yet, neither of us have broken that promise.” Morgan is quiet for a second as she thinks about the time she and Connor had as friends, but then she moves on. Like she always does when it comes to her personal life. She never lingers on it long enough for people to try and figure her out. “My vacation though was very quiet. Hayden and I drove up to a resort  up north and rented a cabin. We skied, went to spas, ate luxurious food. She had to leave for an assignment early so I just relaxed and did a little research too.”

“So you went all the way to a resort just to work, eventually.”

“The work’s never done Maggie,” with that Morgan leaves with a smile, heading to   the first patient of her day. Maggie just watches her receding back.

Before Morgan can make it into her assigned examination room, someone walks up to her, placing a gentle hand on her lower back.

“Hey Fitz,” Connor says, a small smile on his face.

“Fitz? No one’s called me that since med school,” she chuckles fully stopping to look at him. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to welcome you back. You look good.”

“Yeah, I guess time off was vital. But I have to know,” she pauses, the anticipation building and Connor waiting. “Does everyone know about Olivia? I’d suspect everyone would come to you for some clarification.”

Connor pauses, contemplating whether or not to spew out a white lie. It was true a few people came and prodded for the truth. And he briefly heard whispered conversations among colleagues before they would stop when he got near, but he knew what the topic was. Connor also knew how private Morgan was. She always had been, and after Olivia’s death she just became more closed off. But she also didn’t like being lied to. “Yeah, people know. I’ve tried to handle it, but it has its own life.”

“I guess it’s okay. I just…. I don’t know.” She shrugs and Connor rests his hands on her upper arms.

“Will you be okay?” His voice is sincere and Morgan wants to hug him, but maybe not right now.

“I will be,” at that Connor is about to pull away but Morgan stops him. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for being a bitch before I left. You know how my family gets me.”

“I understand. I do. And I’ll always give you the space you need.”

“Yeah, I know. But I probably shouldn’t push away my best friend. I need you, especially now.”

Connor pulls Morgan into a quick hug and is going to say something but a commotion arises from the ambulance bay.

“Dr. Rhodes, can you get this, please?” The two doctors pull apart and turn to the pleading charge nurse. “We’re slammed.” 

“I’m on it!” He answers back and throws a ‘talk later’ look to Morgan over his shoulder.

She nods back to him and finally turns her direction to her primary goal. With notes open about the patient on the tablet and a smile on her face, Dr. Fitzgerald returns to work.

          ❦

Three hours later, Morgan is on a roll. Treating patients as quickly and efficiently as she could. She had seen her usual coworkers, except Will. She may or may not have been avoiding him. And it was about to get easier, because after her lunch break she was heading up the OBGYN. She loved emergency medicine, but always felt that there weren’t enough available people in the emergency room that specialized in the field. Just like Connor was pursuing cardiothoracic surgery and Natalie was focused on emergency pediatrics, Morgan focused on obstetric and gynecology emergencies. It interested her just as much as emergency medicine did and after losing a pregnant patient when she first got her match, the choice came easy to her.

“Dr. Fitzgerald.” Maggie calls, pulling the doctor in her direction.

“Yes ma’am. What can I do for you?” Morgan leans her body on the desk as the ensuing chaos of the emergency room flutters around them.

“I just need a signature here for your last patient’s discharge papers.” 

“No problem.” Morgan pulls out a pen from her pocket and signs the paperwork. During this, Will siddles up to her. Maggie notices first and wants to usher him away, since she (along with everyone) noticed that Morgan was ignoring him, but the redhead ignored the nurse’s glares and he turned to Morgan, who still hadn't noticed that he was there.

“Morgan.”

Morgan’s plump lips fold into a thin line as a breath catches in her throat, she was avoiding this. Slowly placing the pen back into her jacket, she finally lays her eyes on him. “Dr. Halstead.”

“It’s good to see you back.” He starts, trying to catch her eyes which were fluttering around the hospital floor, evading. “I was hoping we co–” a ringtone interrupts his words and Morgan notices it’s coming from her. She breathes out a sigh of relief when she pulls it out. It may have been petty, but she wanted to stay angry at him a little longer. 

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Without a response, she answers the phone without looking at who it is, and walks away. “Hey, are you here?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’re in the parking garage, top floor.” His answer beckons her to start walking to the hospital employee parking lot.

“We?” Morgan questioned. 

“Yeah, Adam’s here.”

“Kevin!” She screeches, annoyance bubbling inside her. There was a reason she didn’t ask for Adam’s help.

“He’s my partner Morg, I couldn’t blow him off.” Kevin answers back and she pushes out an agitated sigh.

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll be up there in a few.” Morgan hands up and stuffs her cellphone back into her lab coat pocket.

The weather isn’t bad when Morgan hikes herself up to the top of the parking garage.  She can see the two policemen leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee.  She’d met Kevin years ago through his younger brother Jordan. The younger kid ended up in the hospital and Morgan was the one to treat him. They got to talking, found out they had some things in common, and it was one of the closest connections she made when she first moved out here and after Olivia’s death. Dating wasn’t an option between them, the way the two cared for each other was something close to two siblings and again, the fact that she dated Jay wasn’t helping. She didn’t want to dip her toe into the police dating pool again.

Morgan knew Adam through Kevin and Jay. And she made the mistake of introducing Adam to her roommate. Those two were quite the pair. Hayden used him as an inside source when it came to her articles and he used her to do things that he as a police officer legally couldn’t do (Morgan wasn’t necessarily supposed to know that though). Together, they made an agreement to warm each other’s bed when it was needed. Morgan of course thought it was stupid as Adam was a mess when it came to his love life, Hayden reassured that it was no strings attached and they were practically best friends when they weren’t sleeping together. 

Other than that, Morgan and Adam didn’t have a bad relationship, she didn’t want to ask him this favor because she knew he’d tell Hayden. And Morgan doesn’t want her roommate on her back.

“Hey boys,” Morgan called out to them, her body leaning through the open passenger window. She gives a strained smile to Adam and he gives her one back, knowing why she didn’t ask him to do the favor. Without saying anything, Kevin passes the folder she asked for.

It was surprisingly thinner than what she expected it to be. This killer has been on the loose for a while and she’d hoped that the police would listen to her anonymous tips that tried to tie together all his crimes. But the evidence showed that they didn’t.

“This is all they have Kev?” Morgan flips through the pages, disappointment written on her face. 

“Yeah.  I tried digging up some more, but that’s all that was available.”

“God, cops are so fucking useless.” She huffs out, completely missing the offended faces on the two detectives. “I have more in my own files than this. I tried taking it in, but I keep getting shut down.”

“Morgan, you can’t do this by yourself.” Adam finally speaks up, placing a hand on her wrist. She pulls her eyes away from the paperwork to him. 

“But it seems like no one else wants to do the work. Olivia’s case has gone cold and I feel like the longer that it goes unsolved, the harder it will be to get justice.” Olivia’s throat aches as a sob threatens to creep out. There are tears brimming in her eyes and she turns her body away from the two men.

“I understand that, doc. But, you already have to worry about your patients and yourself.” Adam starts, glancing at Kevin, trying to get his partner to say something. The black man is unsure what to say, he’d recently learned about Morgan’s sister when she first asked him to acquire the files. 

“Why don’t we take a look into it?” Kevin says and Adam wants to hit him upside the head. Adam had promised Hayden that he would help Morgan move on, which meant getting Olivia’s investigation out of her mind. If he and Kevin pursued this case, Morgan would never let it rest.

“Would you really do that?” Morgan almost throws herself into the car, hope filling in her chest. “You’d do actual investigating?” Kevin hesitates when he meets eye contact with Adam,  but the look on Morgan’s face destroys him.

“Yeah, I’ll try to do some work in between my regular caseload.” There’s a soft smile on Kevin’s face while Adam sighs out then turns his head to look at the giddy doctor.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me Kevin. You too, Adam.” Before the second man could say anything, Morgan’s phone goes off indicating the arrival for one of her pregnant patients. “Looks like I have to go. Why don’t you come over tonight and I’ll give you everything that I have.” She smiles at both of them. “And Adam, please don’t tell Hayden or Jay.”

“Jay?” Adam questions. He understood why she didn’t want him to tell Hayden, but Jay?

“Yeah, Jay. The two of us are in a really good spot right now and I don’t want to jeopardize that anymore that it already has been.” Adam nods, understanding. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, Morgan makes her way back into the hospital.

          ❦

Between patients Morgan finds herself peeking into the folder that Kevin gave her. One name stands: Isaac Elway. Apparently, his sister was a victim to the same killer that ended Olivia’s life. Details of the horrific crime, along with her sisters, were displayed in the paperwork. Morgan’s read the information about Olivia’s case numerous times before, but it still breaks her heart and it constantly keeps her up at night.

When she has no more patients, she pulls out a card with number on it. It’s Elway’s. She dials the number, her fingernail being demolished by the teeth in her mouth. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she’d been searching for answers for years. This was the first time she had heard of Elway and she had to know what he knew. Why was phone number in the file? Was he that important.

The phone rings and anxiety rises in Morgan’s throat. Eventually she had to get answers, that’s why she had Kevin looking into more details. No one answers the other line, just the automated voicemail message and a beep. Morgan quickly debates in her head whether or not to leave a message,  but ultimately she does.

“Hi, Mr. Elway this Dr. Morgan Fitzgerald at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center.  I am calling in regards to Sabrina Elway’s case file and it’s relation to another case. This isn’t a topic would like to discuss over the phone so I’d appreciate it if you would give me a call back. Thank you.” She hangs up the call and shoves the phone back into the pocket of her scrubs. 

“Dr. Fitzgerald, I need an OB consult on a patient?” Dr. Reese pokes her head through the door, oblivious to the emotions ripping the attending.

“Yeah, give me a moment.  I’ll be there.” The intern nods her head and retreats back towards the nurse’s central desk.

Morgan watches Sarah leave and then her eyes graze over the presence of her fellow doctors and the patients inhabiting the emergency room. She needed to accept that she will get her answers soon and that she could not speed the process of the world. She couldn’t afford getting distracted or she’d put herself and her patients in danger. She leaves the doctor’s lounge and heads back to her job, finally relinquishing control of her sister’s case.

Part Five

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Language, Blood, Death, and Smut.

Chapter 8

If you could rewind time you would in an instant. 

You couldn’t put your finger on when everything had gone to shit.

Sure you were there, you saw as the team split in two in the compound, difference of right and wrong and opinion driving a pointed wedge into the bond that had been forged. But still a big part of you hoped things wouldn’t get as bad as they had.

That hope faded the day of the signing.

It had all happened so quickly there was no possible way you could’ve stopped it.

One second you’re meeting King T’Chaka and Prince T’Challa alongside Natasha, then the building is blown up, and the next thing you know, you’re waking up in a medical bed. 

You groggily open your eyes, all your senses fading in. You hear the TV in the room and you sit up quickly, which is a bad move. 

“I’d slow down if I were you, you took a pretty big hit.”

Following the voice, you find Doctor Cho, head of the Avengers med team. She walks closer with a clipboard in hand.

“Can you tell me what you remember?”

You hold up a finger, eyes glued to the screen.

“Bucky?” You find yourself whispering in disbelief.

The news was claiming he blew up the UN in Vienna. Blurry security footage put him at the scene.

You didn’t know much about the Winter Soldier, only what Steve, Natasha, and old S.H.I.E.L.D records had disclosed. He was under HYDRA control, marked dangerous, he saved Steve from drowning after S.H.I.E.L.D went down, and he vanished.

But he’s been quiet this entire time. Not once had anyone been able to find him and he just popped up to blow up a UN building.

Shaking your head, you look away from the TV, focusing on Doctor Cho. You answer her previously asked question,“ everything except coming here.”

“Right, well, you’ve sustained injuries to your torso and head. Nothing too serious, just some bruising on your shoulders and ribs and the cut on your head. Miss Romanoff says the chairs kept the explosion from doing any major damage.”

The lack of Natasha’s presence was the first thing you noticed, and then the TV.

“Am I clear to leave or do you need to run some tests?” 

“No, you’re clear to go, just let me unhook you.”

Doctor Cho makes quick work of unhooking you from the heart monitor and taking out the IV. The second you’re unhooked she double checks your injuries and sends you on your way with a warning to take it easy.

As you’re leaving out you take in the outfit you’ve been put in. Black Stark Industries sweatpants, a plain grey t-shirt, and black trainers.

You make your way through the facility with ease, finding the two heads of your team. Tony was going at it with Steve, with the news report you saw, you already know what chaos is ensuing.

They’re the only two in the room, causing you to look around. Federal agents walk around but your eyes settle on your red headed girlfriend.

She turns to you as you approach and a small smile graces her lips,“ you’re awake.”

“Yeah.”

“How’re you feeling? You threw yourself in front of me the second the bomb went off.” She informs you.

Nodding, you subtly take her hand and she laces her fingers with yours,“ I remember. Doctor Cho says I’m fine though. Just some bruising.”

Her eyebrow quirks and she smooths the thumb of her free hand over the cut on your head,“ just some bruising?”

“I’m fine Pretty Girl.” You assure her with a smile.“ But everyone else isn’t.” You send a glance to Tony and Steve in the glass room.

Natasha sighs, filling you in on everything that’s happened since the bomb. All you knew was that they said Barnes bombed the building. She tells you that King T’Chaka was killed and all about Prince T’Challa going after Barnes. You’re not in the least bit surprised when she tells you about Steve and Sam going for Barnes by themselves. 

You just know this means everything is spiraling down fast and with your number one girl being okay and in front of you, you’re inclined to worry about your best friend.

“Do you have my phone?” 

She narrows her eyes but pulls your phone out and hands it to you anyway.

Giving a gentle smile, you squeeze her hand, before walking away and dialing the compound.

It rings twice before you hear Wanda’s voice.

“Y/N?”

“Hey Wan.”

“You said you’d be back.” Her accusatory tone is laced with sadness.

Sighing, you drop your head,“ I know, and I planned to, I just got caught up in all kinds of things.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? There’s a reason Tony has me trapped in the compound.”

Tony locked her in the compound? Honestly it makes sense with everything going on. But has he really not told her about anything?

“He’s just trying to keep you safe Wan, we all are. Things are really tense between the team and the government right now and we don’t want them finding any excuses to hurt you.”

“They already have excuses.”

“All the more reason that you stay there. We’re doing our best to fix things.”

“Your efforts won’t mean anything to them.”

“Come on Wan-”

“I have to go.”

“Wanda don’t-” But she’s hung up already. 

“Dammit.”

A gentle hand runs up your shoulder, the touch familiar and as calming as it can be given the circumstances.

Your body moves with the heavy sigh you give and when you face Natasha you give a soft smile.

“Did you know Tony locked her up in the compound?” You ask.

There’s no accusation in your tone, you’re just curious.

But when she nods you’re hurt. Why hadn’t she told you? Did she not trust that you’d keep it quiet or did she think you wouldn’t understand?

“Y/N, I know how much you care about Wanda, I wasn’t sure-”

“It’s fine. Let’s just focus on whatever the hell is about to happen to our friends.”

As gently as possible, you take her hand off your shoulder and walk away to the surveillance system.

Tony raises an eyebrow at you but limits conversation to that. You both look to the cameras as Bucky’s interview begins. Natasha stands as close to you as possible.

She knew she’d regret not telling you, but having seen how much you care for Wanda, she went with her gut and kept quiet.

No you hadn’t blown up at her, shouted and accused her of not trusting you. But your silence said more than your words would have.

You have always been willing to talk to Natasha about anything, whether you were upset with her or feeling cheesy and romantic, you used your words to express yourself. Saying nothing at all to her scared Natasha more than anything.

The doctor had spoken to Bucky for all of two minutes before the power shut off.

Tony immediately looked for source of the power outage. One glance back at the now empty glass room, you know Steve and Sam went for Bucky.

Federal agents were running around working to get the power back up and Agent Ross demanded to get eyes on Barnes.

You knew that wasn’t the problem though. It’s definitely a problem but not the problem.

More important than that, you wonder who the hell just questioned Bucky.

Wasting no time, you, Tony, and Natasha hurry upstairs.

“Please tell me you brought a suit.” Natasha says as calm as ever.

Tony unbottons his jacket and answers,“ sure did. It's a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button. I'm an active-duty non-combatant.”

“And it’s lovely, but also not bullet proof.” You remark, inciting a raised brow from him. You simply shrug.

Sharon Carter hurries by, telling you three to follow her and you do, putting ear pieces in on the way. You end up right at the fight.

With Bucky distracted by other agents you all manage to get into position.

Natasha and Sharon go after Barnes the moment he’s taken Tony down and once Sharon is down you attack as well.

He has Natasha pinned to a table, metal hand choking her when you slide in, kicking his leg and making him let her go.

Your eyes widen as he punches at you with his metal hand, quickly rolling away and jumping up you aim a kick at his side and he grabs your leg, flinging you into a cluster of tables.

Had you not already been injured you would’ve gotten up faster but that didn’t matter, Prince T’Challa seemingly appearing out of thin air, goes for Bucky and they’re quick to leave your like of sight.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest when you start to sit up. Your head pounds a little but your worry shifts to the red head you just watched get choked.

Groaning, you push yourself up, clutching your side in pain, and going over to her.

She’s still breathing heavily, eyes on the ceiling in slight shock.

“Hey, eyes on me Romanoff, you’re okay.” You tell her, free hand gently gripping her shoulder and pulling her into a sitting position on the table.

When she focuses on you her eyes scan your even more injured form but you don’t let her dwell on it, instead turning to Tony and Sharon.

Tony’s still on the ground, a bruise quickly forming on his cheek, but apart from shock he’s other wise okay. Sharon however is out cold.

You squeeze Natasha’s shoulder before going over to the blonde and kneeling down. Her chest moves with shallow breaths so you know she’s not dead but that doesn’t mean she’s okay.

“Come on Carter.” You grumble, sliding an arm under her legs and one behind her back, ignoring every bit of pain you feel.

Both Natasha and Tony watch you as you carry the blonde.

“Don’t just stare at me, get up, come with me to medical.” You nearly snap at the two.

A brief pause, then they’re getting up, and following you. Or at least they start to.

When they see Secretary Ross they follow after him and after you’ve taken Sharon to medical, you go to where they are.

Natasha’s voice is the first to meet your ears,“ what happens when the shooting starts? What, you gonna kill Steve Rogers?”

You frown, eyes instantly snapping to the Secretary as he answers.

“If we’re provoked. Barnes would’ve been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers.”

“Which is better how?” You speak up.“ Had you killed Barnes this would be an even bigger shit show.”

The secretary eyes you,“ there are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.” His gaze shifts to Tony.

They go back and forth until Mister Secretary tells Tony you all have 36 hours to bring them in.

Your eyes don’t leave Ross until he’s completely gone.

Tony slumps into his chair, hand running over his chest, mentioning the numbness of his arm. Natasha stands and places a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

For the briefest moment you see him about to say no, but he pulls it together and says always. Before you all launch into a plan.

Natasha and Tony make their plans clear before looking to you.

You heave a sigh,“ I have to go to the compound.”

They both hold uncertain gazes.

“If Steve tries to reach Wanda I have to interfere. If he involves her any further it’s game over for her and I can’t let that happen.”

Natasha steps to you, hand finding your wrist,“ you know it won’t be that easy.”

“Has it ever been?”

********

Fast isn’t fast enough. When you get to the compound there’s an explosion in the distance.

Heart pounding, you race to find Wanda. Eyes darting in every possible direction.

Steve came for her just like you thought her would.

Fear starts to creep in. It plays on every doubt you’ve had about all of this working out and it makes you move faster.

You run into her, and surpisngly Clint, at the entrance.

Looking at Clint, you quirk an eyebrow,“ you know your best friends on the other side of things don’t you?”

He shrugs,“ it’s not often that Nat and I see eye to eye. But it’s good that you two have each other’s backs.”

“Guys,” your shoulders drop,“ we should all have each other’s backs. Forgive me for still singing kumbaya but, there’s still a chance we can fix things.”

They both stare at you, taking in your words,“ you join Steve and this gets near impossible to come back from.”

Clint is the one who replies,“ you know it isn’t that simple.”

“But it is! All of this is making it harder.” Your arms gesture around you, mainly to the smoke billowing in the distance.

The building literally shakes and for a moment you wonder if it’s another bomb, you wonder who else is here. And then you remember: Vision.

Wanda doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at her and it’s clear she did something to him. You know she would never truly hurt him but they got past him somehow and you know it wasn’t Clint.

“Y/L/N get outta the way.” The archer’s eyes plead with you, knowing that if Vision gets to them again they won’t be able to leave.

But you don’t care, you’re goal here is bigger than whatever his reasons are.

Ignoring him, you look directly at your best friend,“ I told you I’d come back. I’m here now Wan and I need you to trust me.”

“I did.”

Your heart breaks at her words.

“Did you know Stark was going to lock me up here? Before I told you.” She asks, clarifying in the end.

Taking a small step forward you answer,“ of course not. Had I known it never would’ve happened. I want what’s best for you but I know you’re not a threat and you’re not a prisoner.” You take another step and Clint raises his bow, an arrow aimed at you.

“Clint I swear if you shoot that thing at me I’m gonna snap it in half with your head.”

Of course you won’t actually hurt him but his threatening action pisses you off. He’s not listening. Neither of them are.

“Don’t you two care about this team at all? Or are you too hooked on listening to Steve’s ideals?” You snap, now standing about a foot away from them.

An arrow is still pointed at you but you know he won’t use it, not yet at least. You’re hoping not at all.

“I just watched Barnes kick the crap out of Tony and Nat, only for Steve to aid in his escape. Steve is loyal to a fault, one that makes him and Barnes look guiltier. He’s dragging you into a fight that doesn’t have to happen.”

Wanda’s green eyes search yours,“ you don’t get it do you?”

“No you don’t get it Wanda!” You’re emotions spike, the stress of everything bringing you to this angry state.“ The second you leave this compound, the second you meet Steve where ever the fuck he asked you to, you become the threat they think you are!”

That familiar fear flickers through her eyes but vanishes just as quickly.

“You’ve done so much good and you’re about to jeopardize that for Steve’s agenda and I don’t fucking understand! Why does that matter more than your freedom?”

It’s with this words that you see you’ve lost her, determination now set in her eyes.

“You forfeited my freedom when you signed the Accords.”

When her eyes glance over at Clint you move out the way of the arrow he fires at you. The end is blunted so you know it was most likely electrified or a net.

You barely make another move when Wanda’s magic wraps around your ankles and wrists, bringing them together and forcing you to the floor.

“Wanda please don’t do this.” Sad, angry tears start to roll down your cheeks but she leaves you with an almost expressionless face.

You call her name until her red magic is no longer trapping you. She’s long gone and you know it.

“Fuck!” Your fist nearly smashes into the wall but it’s stopped by the red synthetic hand of Vision.

The androids eyes look into yours,“ we can still save her.” He tells you.

A huge part of you wants to believe him but you know it’s not going to be nearly as easy as he says.

“Come on, we need to meet Tony and the others.”

*******

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[iloveyou3thousand]

Avengers tower/compound get attacked while Peter is pregnant and can’t defend himself (sort of angsty)

There was so much possibility to make this really really angsty but I steered clear of that lol

CW: Mpreg, mention of child death (but no actual child death), angst with a happy ending

—————————————————————————————

“Hostile missiles incoming.”

FRIDAY’s voice is unnervingly pleasant when she announces the threat, and everybody present in the building goes still for a second.

“Time until impact, twelve seconds.”

And just like that, suddenly everyone is moving.

“FRIDAY, evacuate the building,” Peter hears Tony say from the communal kitchen in the next room over, voice drawing nearer while he orders for specific lockdowns and to initiate protocols. He’s dispatching several suits, which is both reassuring and kind of terrifying. But only because there’s nothing Peter can do.

Tony steps into view, and hurries over to Peter to help him up from where he’d been sitting on the couch in the living room.

“I want you to go down into the basement gym and call for a lockdown when you get there, alright? You’ll be safe there,” he says, and Peter nods, wide-eyed.

The gym. Alright. He can do that.

He’d much rather be up with the rest of them fetching his suit and doing what he does best. But in his situation… It’s probably wisest if he does as Tony tells him. Besides, what’s he going to do about a missile?

Peter gets a quick kiss on the head before Tony is off, if not to stop the missile, then to get others to safety, or lead the team. If it weren’t for the imminent threat Peter would have been proud of him.

All he has to do is go down into the basement gym and lock himself inside and wait for everything to be over. Except when he gets to the elevator, it’s out of order. Probably locked through one of Tony’s protocols. All that’s left for him is the stairs, which wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t been carrying around a 35-week-old baby in the shape of half a planet on his front side.

Peter takes a deep breath and starts his descend. What else could he do? Even if he’d get downstairs exhausted and out of breath and ready to collapse, at least he’d have brought the one important thing right now to safety.

He’s halfway down the second flight of stairs out of many when the missile hits. The impact comes unexpectedly, shaking the foundations of the building, and the very ground on which Peter is standing. He stumbles sideways and grabs firmly onto the railing to keep himself from falling, ducking his head to shield his face against the dust that the impact shakes free from the stairwell and comes raining down on him.

He’s instantly worried. He wishes he at least had Karen so that he could communicate with Tony… All he can do is straighten up and continue down and trust that Tony knows what he’s doing. Tony’s good at this, and he’s been doing these kinds of things for years – one little attack isn’t going to break his win streak.

But when a second missile hits and the ground shakes beneath Peter’s feet once more, he’s struggling to hold onto his hope. He reminds himself that things have just been stressful lately, and he’s not used to some of these things anymore because of how long he’s been out of commission. Tony can handle this. Tony has the suits and the team and he’ll manage.

Peter continues, covered in dust, stepping around rubble and keeping a hand above his head as if that’s going to help protect him if something falls down on top of him.

As if that’s going to help the way the stairs above him are crumbling.

As if that helps when they inevitably come crashing down.

Peter yelps when the concrete beneath his feet suddenly shifts, and he feels the ground he’s standing on start to tilt as if it’s falling. His heart leaps, and if he’d have a moment to think he would be grateful for his fast reflexes, because he jumps into action almost immediately. There’s a door down the next couple of steps and he practically flies down them, almost losing his balance when the concrete falls apart where he was just standing.

He makes it to the door safely as part of the stairwell starts coming down, throwing the door open and spreading his arms and legs in the doorframe despite how desperately his body tells him to at least keep a protective hand on his belly.

It’s too late anyway.

Peter screams as a last resort in the hopes that it will reach someone, but the sound of falling stone is deafening all around him, and he closes his eyes as he holds on for dear life.

.

“…Peter?”

“Peter?!”

Tony scoops up the younger man’s body when he finally finds him among what’s left of the collapsed stairwell, faceplate peeling back so he can look at him, tilt his face toward him and give his cheek a gentle few pats.

“Hey. Hey, Peter, come on now.”

There’s a tremor in his voice. Nerves, anxiety. Peter’s chest is moving but barely. He must have inhaled a lot of dust, and the first thing Tony is going to do once he gets something more of a sign of life is carry him the hell out of there and make sure he gets the medical attention that he needs.

Peter’s eyelids flutter, and he gives a dry cough.

That’s all that Tony needs.

He hauls him up and flies him out of there, excruciatingly careful not to jostle him too much as they touch down on safe ground. A big part of the building collapsed before the Avengers could get to the source and eliminate the threat, but the med bay was fine. They’d targeted the communal areas and private quarters. Someone had really been out to hurt them.

Tony carries Peter inside and is immediately swarmed by the medical personnel on duty. Of course they experienced the attack as well, and were ready to tend to the team’s injuries.

They take over, taking Peter into a room, and immediately set about getting the dust out of his lungs and checking him for further injuries.

“The baby,” Tony stands by, helplessly, trying to tell any doctor that would listen, “The baby, you need to check the baby. Tell me she’s okay.”

Tony is ushered out by a nurse and pushed into another room where he’s told to strip the suit so he can be checked over, too. He doesn’t usually go to the med bay. Doesn’t feel the need to, for the most part. But they have him cornered with nowhere else he can go, and he resigns to his fate, thinking maybe this is his best chance at getting updates on Peter.

He doesn’t stop asking about his boyfriend. Or the baby. The next two hours or so pass by so slowly that it nearly drives Tony to insanity.

When someone finally comes to give him some news, it’s Rhodey.

“Did they tell you anything?” Tony asks before he’s even through the door properly, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise fine – thank god.

“You have to come with me,” Rhodey said, and now that Tony looks at him a little closer, he can see his face is set with nerves. That can’t be good.

Tony hops off the bed he’s sitting on, his heart starting to pound in his chest as they cross the corridor, leading down toward the room Peter was initially taken to. Rhodey refuses to give any more information, but he’s got his hand on the small of Tony’s back, which is both reassuring and panic inducing.

There is so much that can be wrong with Peter. Or the baby. Or both. When Tony pulled Peter from the rubble, he didn’t look injured aside from maybe a minor cut on his forehead, which meant that he could have a concussion if something fell on it, but other than that he was just covered in dust and nothing else.

And yet there is so much that could have gone wrong in the time it took Tony to bring Peter to the med bay. And the time after, in which the nurses tended to whatever injuries Tony had accumulated.

Tony is thinking the worst as they approach the open door slowly.

Maybe Peter passed away. Maybe the baby did. Maybe they both did. Maybe they were trying to pull their baby from the lifeless body of her carrier and maybe…

Tony is about to be sick when he hears it.

It comes drifting down the hallway from the open door into Peter’s room, and when it reaches Tony’s ears his knees nearly buckle.

Never has a baby’s cry felt so familiar before.

He’s in the door opening in seconds, a wrangled sob bubbling up his throat when he finds Peter sitting up tiredly in a hospital bed, holding the littlest baby Tony has ever seen.

“Tony,” Peter rasps when he notices the man in the door opening. His voice sounds absolutely wrecked but his eyes light up despite the clear exhaustion in his expression.

Tony heaves the biggest sigh he’s ever had, and with tears in his eyes he approaches the bed.

“Mr. Parker, I am never letting you take the stairs ever again.”

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 3

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I ao3

    The door to his hotel room closed with a hum and a soft click of an automatic lock. This time, he did take the cab, walking back would give him way too much time to really think about what Misty had said. It made Takemura feel like a coward, running away from her like that, but he couldn't help it. If he stayed there any longer, he’d fall apart. Right in front of her, all the pieces he’s been so desperate to hold together for the last few months would disassemble and there’d be nobody to pick him back up.

    Takemura threw the heavy wool coat onto the still pristine bed, the impact creating a small sea of wrinkles on the otherwise perfectly straightened linen. The hotel he chose was no Konpeki Plaza, but it was still far from the sleazy, off the road (and off the radar) motels he had a chance to familiarize himself with during his last stay in Night City. The room, with its generic, yet tasteful decor remained perfectly impersonal, walls devoid of any stains, no blood or other fluids on the dark carpet, fresh towels handcrafted into fantastical shapes neatly tucked on the bed. The only thing that made it feel lived in was a fainting fragrance of cologne, left behind by the previous guest.

    Takemura paced around the room for a few minutes before finally setting himself on the chair in the corner of the room. Whatever he was hoping he’d achieve by going to V’s funeral, he didn’t feel it. The guilt was still there. Just a few months ago he was so convinced that he’d be able to offer her an alternative, one that so few of this world could even dream of having access to, and she declined. He didn’t understand it then, but he did now. Strangely, this realization gave way to a different thought, one that he’d been trying to push as far back into his minds as possible, with little success. It wasn’t only V that Arasaka has failed. For the first time in his life, Takemura almost felt like Arasaka had also failed him.

    He couldn't really blame the company for not having the tech that is yet to be created, or for doctors and scientists who’d only sight and shake their heads. Those six months ago it finally hit him that even Arasaka has its limits, despite their far-fetched attempts to prove otherwise. What he didn’t understand was the way he was so decisively removed from the inner circle of the Arasaka family, transferred to a city almost 700km away from Tokyo, and given a job that he wasn’t suitable to do, his knowledge steaming from experience and practice. After all, he was a soldier, not a clerk. All he wanted was to continue serving, a modest gratification for the lengths he went to in order to uncover Yorinobu’s plot. V would certainly say that he deserved more. Takemura wouldn’t dare, even within the confines of his own mind.

    After a moment of hesitation, he pulled up his comms. It was stupid. Pointless. Above all, it probably wouldn’t even work, but despite all of that, he still found himself selecting V’s number. Before he knew it, a steady melody of an awaiting call rang in his ears. At least the number hasn’t been disconnected. Yet.

    Takemura didn’t know what he was expecting, exactly. There was nobody to pick up the phone anymore, and yet he was hoping that calling V’s number this one time would make up for all the times he didn't. Takemura let out a deep sigh, gestured to end the call and soon was left with an empty screen with basic contact information. And yet, when he now looked at it, it wasn’t empty at all.

    How on Earth didn’t he notice it before? He checked the date again, unable to believe that for all the time he spent staring at this one specific entry of his long contact list, he didn’t notice this aggressively yellow icon, gleaming next to V’s icon on his interface. Was it even possible that he missed it? What was he doing a little over three months ago, anyway?

    He barely remembered, that period of his life little more than a blur. Should he even open it now? Wouldn't it merely be opening old wounds, ones that even time didn’t seem to heal? After all, Takemura doubted there was anything V could say to him that’d push him from the path he found himself walking. There was no turning back, not when he was nearing the end of it, but he still opened the voice message.

    “Hey Takemura, it’s V. Been a while, huh? You must be back home already, bathing in all that Arasaka glory. Is the local cuisine as good as you remembered? I’m still waiting for you to show me that famed real food of yours. Onigiri with...what was it again? Umeboshi? Hope I’m not butchering the nomenclature too much. Anyway, I came back to Night City, moved in with Judy shortly after. I didn’t want to rush things with her, but considering the circumstances, it just felt right. Did I even tell you about her? Met her on the job and we clicked right away. You’d like her, I’m sure.

    I’ve been doing some small jobs, mostly for friends, in between dodging Viktor like the plague, but, uh...there came a time I couldn’t do either anymore. It was Judy who practically dragged me to his clinic and then the whole carousel I’ve been so desperately running away from started rollin’. Scans, meds, all of that, at first it felt like I was back at the Arasaka clinic, except Viktor actually listened to me and gave me some fuckin’ room. He has me on a cocktail of meds that get me through the day, but honestly...I hate seeing that expression on his face every time I come see him. I know he’s tryin’ to hide it, but between you and me, he’s doing a pretty shit job.

    Anyway, enough of me talkin’...I feel that maybe we didn’t end things on the right foot that time at the clinic. I know you wanted what you think was best for me, but you know what? Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.”

    The message ended with a beep and Takemura just sat there, eyes fixed on the ground. And then he played it again. And again.

    Halfway through the third, he heard a knock on the door. One quick scan of the people behind it told him it wasn’t housekeeping, so did the urgency apparent in the way his visitors made the door shake slightly with the impact. He stood up and walked to the door, letting the thick carpet muffle his footsteps. Before opening, he grabbed a gun from his coat and tucked it behind his belt, just to be safe.

    Two men stood at the door, a familiar signature written seemingly all over them. Takemura wouldn’t say he was relieved upon seeing them, though. Not at all.

    “Can I help you with something, gentleman?” he asked, switching to Japanese, just for politeness' sake.

    “You are to come with us.” the shorter one said, eyes obscured by the blue-tinted glasses he wore.

    “That is not possible. My flight leaves soon and I am afraid I will miss it if I take any detours.”

    “Takemura-san,” the man said, a hint of a smile appearing on his otherwise expressionless face. “this is not a request. Arasaka-dono wishes to speak with you and I assure you, you wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

    He was right. Takemura wouldn’t.

    “Alright then, allow me to just grab my…”

    “That isn’t necessary. We will take care of your luggage.”

    Takemura felt his stomach drop, the same uncomfortable feeling one has when walking down the stairs and missing a step. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but instincts were often hard to fool and the man in front of him didn’t inspire any warm feelings in his heart. Not many people working at Arasaka did, but as long as he stayed in line, he felt safe. Only now, when he had crossed it, he felt how thin it truly was. And how much he’s lost his edge.

    Takemura turned back to grab his coat and put it on, but instead of bringing him comfort, the heavy material felt as if it was bringing him down. Something weird seemed to be happening with his optics too, the image glitching every few steps. He wouldn’t show it, though, walking out of the hotel with his head held high and mind racing to come up with various scenarios of how he should proceed.

    The car was parked right next to the main entrance. One of the men opened its door to let him in, but Takemura stopped abruptly, hit with an all too familiar feeling. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of cold sweat covered his brow. Takemura reached out to steady himself on the doorframe and felt one of Arasaka henchmen lean in behind him, the barrel of a gun digging into his ribs and a hand reaching for Takemura’s own weapon, still tucked behind his belt.

    “Quite a kick, right? Now, let’s not make a scene here.”

    “I thought I was to talk with Arasaka-dono.”

    “You will, but first, let us drive to a more suitable place.”

                                                                ***

    Takemura doubted that an abandoned parking lot in North Oaks is a place suitable for anything, especially a conversation, but at this point, he didn’t have much to say on the matter. Before they drove into Westbrook, his interface was completely gone and all he could rely on were his senses, devoid of the advantages implants previously gave him. Takemura could feel cyberwithrawal symptoms setting in, slowly building up into the most unpleasant crescendo. Then again, with the way his night was going, maybe he won’t live long enough to have to suffer through it.

    “What are we doing here?” Takemura asked after they all got out of the car. The driver, too, slightly older than his companions, with a steel hand obscured by a long sleeve of his coat. The place was scarcely lit, only one of the big, industrial lamps still working, providing a shaky, unreliable source of light right where they were standing, the three men next to each other, Takemura facing them from a short distance of maybe three meters.

    The driver stepped forward and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Takemura would surely feel his body tense at the sight if he wasn’t trembling so much at that point. To his surprise, the man didn’t pull out a gun to shoot him with, but a shard. Without any additional explanation, he plugged it in and his hard stare vanished, replaced by a stream of data reflecting on his eyes.

    “Takemura.” the proxy said, unintentionally mimicking Saburo’s voice.

    “Arasaka-dono.” Takemura grit his teeth and bowed to greet the men, fists clenching at his sides to stop his hands from shaking.

    “I am sure you know why you find yourself here. If it is any consolation, it is not only you that can be blamed for your current position. Hanako made a grave mistake asking you to speak to that woman. She planted a seed of doubt into your heart, one that soon grew into a weed and started eating away at your soul. There is a way to remedy that, however. You can still reclaim your honor by finishing what you started in Takamatsu. Right here, right now. There is no need for you to come back to Japan.”

    “Arasaka-dono, I…” Takemura started, but the man raised his hand, silencing him in one gesture.

    “Ishihara here will be your second, should your hand falter. I do not wish for you to suffer.” the proxy turned to the man to his left, the one with the glasses, and gave him a small nod. He stepped forward, revealing a small package he’d been holding, and placed it on the ground in front of Takemura, who immediately knew what it was. He recognized the maroon silk. As he looked back up at the three men, they didn’t move. They simply waited.

    And so Takemura kneeled, eyes fixed on the silk-wrapped sword in front of him. He leaned forward, carefully unwrapping the material until the blade laid bare, waiting for Takemura to grab its handle. Ishihara moved behind him, footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor.

    “You served the Arasaka family well through the years, but even a strong man like you is not immune to change or destructive influence. You surely understand that this is the only way.”

    Takemura did not see it like that. To go on his own terms, reconciled with his mistakes, that was the death he hoped he’d face. This felt like theatrics, a lot of effort put into making him feel like he had a choice where there was none. Takemura allowed his gaze to leave the proxy’s face and look beyond the guards, resting his eyes on the wall so densely covered with graffiti that none of it was legible. A vine crept up the stone, forcing its way into the cracked surface, destroying it even further in its primal pursuit of expansion. Below that, a pair of yellowish, feline eyes gleamed, just outside the circle of light.

    Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.

    “I do.” Takemura turned his head to the side slightly, just enough to see Ishihara standing behind him, his own sword in hand. Will he wait for Takemura to plunge the blade into his abdomen and only then make the cut? Or will he swing the weapon as soon as Takemura reaches for the wakizashi, intent clear enough in that simple gesture? He didn’t know, but Takemura wasn’t in any position to make bets.

    He leaned down and allowed his hand to reach for the wakizashi, still looking to his left. As expected, just as his fingers brushed the wooden handle of the sword, Ishihara swung his own, aiming for Takemura’s neck. The man reacted on instinct, throwing his arm to block the blade while his other hand grabbed the sword in front of him, fingers tightly closing around the handle. Takemura felt Ishihara’s powerful cut slice through skin and muscle, only stopping at the chrome reinforced bone. The blood soaked his sleeve almost instantly, splatters staining both of their faces, but Takemura grit his teeth and turned, blocking and forcefully guiding Ishihara’s blade away from himself, drastically widening the cut as he lunged forward to drive the wakizashi through the Arasaka agent’s chest. It went in with a grisly, wet sound of tearing flesh and bone. Takemura didn’t stop and turned once more, ignoring his opponent's desperate gasps, dragging Ishihara’s already limping body along, shielding himself from incoming bullets.

    The echo of shots rang wide through the empty parking lot as Takemura practically ran forward, pushing the already dead man in front of him with his full body weight. When his opponent realized he’ll have to reload soon, he took a few steps back, a glimpse of fear going through his face as he wrestled with the magazine. What it was he saw in his eyes that scared him so much, Takemura did not know, but seizing the occasion, he retracted the blade from Ishihara’s body, letting it drop onto the ground like a sack of flour, and lunged forward. Just as their bodies met, the other henchmen managed to fire, but only once before his dominant hand was sliced off in one strike, strong enough to sever the tissue and the wires that held it together. The man screamed as he saw his arm fall to the ground, but before the sound had the chance to echo off the ruined walls, it was cut short.

     Takemura could already feel his left arm lose sensation, growing weak and limp with every ounce of blood he kept losing, but it didn’t matter now, nor did the chills or the way his entire body rebelled against being cut off from augmentations so abruptly.

    The proxy didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, still standing those few meters in front of Takemura. He was armed, holster clearly visible at his hip, but he didn’t draw the gun. Takemura turned to face him, adrenaline still rushing through his veins and keeping him upright. Knowing it won’t be for much longer, Takemura made a few steps forward and stopped, weapon still in hand, his other arm hanging uselessly at his side.

    The proxy hummed.

    “An honorable death or a lifetime of shame. It greatly saddens me that you, of all people, chose wrong.”

    And just like that, the conversation was over.

    Takemura didn’t wait until the proxy fully regained awareness of his surroundings. Hardly honorable, but he doubted he could sink any lower and with the state he was in, letting the man come to his senses would almost certainly mean death.

    Cursing under his breath, Takemura went over to the agent’s bodies and patted them down, but didn’t find what he was looking for. He stood back up and turned to the car, feeling his legs grow weaker with every step. He somehow managed to drag himself onto the driver’s seat and lean to the side to open the glove compartment, throwing the bloodied wakizashi onto the passenger's seat. Dark spots obscuring his vision, Takemura was going in blind, frantically searching for the injector with his good hand. The wave of relief he felt when his blood-soaked fingers finally landed on the familiar shape was almost enough to knock him out on its own, but he forced himself to power through. Tearing off the safety lid with his teeth, he stabbed himself in the chest with it and pushed the plug.

    The effect was immediate. Another rush of adrenaline made it feel like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, it’s breathless beating throbbing in his temples, but the darkness creeping up on him disappeared. Takemura knew the effect wouldn’t last long, but he hoped it’d be enough to at least pull up a first aid kit from under the passenger's seat. When Takemura finally managed to rid himself of the coat and the jacket beneath it, he realized the extent of the damage. His arm looked bad. Really bad. If not for all the blood, he’d surely be able to see  bone and wiring, just barely keeping the limb together. His personal link was shredded, that’s for sure. The coagulants he tried using a second before clearly not working the way they were supposed to, Takemura tried bandaging his arm with one hand and somewhat succeeded, if not for the bright, red blood that soaked through the second he finished tying the knot.

    With a trembling hand, Takemura started typing in the address but found himself missing every other letter, too unsteady to hit them right, smearing blood all over the little screen. The autopilot seemed to take the hint, though, and for the first time in his life, Takemura was grateful for the existence of autocorrect. He confirmed the address and clenched his fingers around the wheel. He’ll try driving it for as long as he can, he told himself, but if he passes out on the way at least there’s a chance to roll up at the door of someone who knows what to do with the body.

    Takemura didn’t remember much of the ride, his hand half-heartedly sliding in the steering wheel, smearing the blood on the fine, fair leather. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness, head swimming with every sharp turn the car took. Eyes on the road, he kept telling himself, fingers clenching on the wheel to the point where it was almost painful.

    After what felt like ages, the car pulled up into the familiar alley and stopped, a cheery voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination. Takemura unfastened the seatbelt and almost fell onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding tripping over the edge of the car by grabbing the open door at the last moment to steady himself. He could see people around him, their terrified glances, but no one moved to help him. Those last few meters felt like a lucid, colorful dream. Takemura could hardly walk straight at that point, the world around him akin to a badly cut film. Maneki nekos waving their little, mechanical paws. Scent of incense so sharp it was almost unpleasant. Porcelain set falling to the ground, breaking into hundreds little pieces, impossible to put back together. And a beautiful carpet, no doubt woven by hand, surely only a human could put colors and patterns and threads together so beautifully. Such a waste, he thought before he finally gave in.

    Misty will never get the blood out.

[staarshines]

Sooooo, I don't know if you'd be up for this, but what about a bit more elaboration on the shattered datapads? I'm curious...

Running into Recruits || P.D.

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1.2k

A new—and apparently hotshot—recruit runs into you on a particularly bad day, causing you to lose your temper. (Based off of “The Prince and His Princess”)

[A/N]: I tried to go to sleep last night but this idea just wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone and it turned out so much longer than I thought it would 😭

Running around.

That’s all you’d been doing today: running around from one corner of the base to another.

Threepio had alerted you that General Leia had a meeting with the new recruits in ten minutes as soon as you landed and she needed to know the outcome of this mission, so first, you sprinted to her office. Then, you needed to go check in on your squadron in the med bay, which was back near the hangar. A notification on your datapad alerted you that Leia had some more questions and another possible mission she needed to tell you about before she headed into the meeting, so it was all the way across base again. Now, you were getting a message from your favorite mechanic that you were correct: the unusual humming you had heard while engaging hyperspace again? Due to your generator leaking.

Talk about shitty days.

Your legs are burning and all you want to do is sleep because you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been awake: thirty hours? Maybe more? You swear if you didn’t have any dignity, you’d walk to the side of the tarmac and take a nap there. But commanders can’t exactly nap around base.

“Apparently they can’t nap at all,” you grumble, squeezing your eyes shut in response to the blinding sunlight that D’Qar would always receive. “I’m done. After this, I’m telling Leia that I’m taking leave and sleeping for a week straight,” you whisper to yourself while clutching your datapad tightly, needing to voice your thoughts out loud to even recognize them.

Something bumps into your calf and catches you off guard, making you whip around to see an orange and white droid rolling past you faster than you’ve ever seen a droid move—maybe a BB unit? God, people really need to watch their droids. What you definitely don’t expect though, is someone completely body slamming into your back, pushing you to the ground. The wind is knocked out of you and you can’t breathe for a second, feeling whichever idiot that wasn’t watching where they were going get off of you and begin to apologize profusely.

“Oh Maker, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you! It’s just that I’m late…” he trails off and offers you a hand but you swat it away, getting up by yourself and pushing the hair out of your face.

“Watch it!” you complain, smoothing down your shirt and giving the man an incredulous look. He’s fair-skinned with wild curls bouncing off his head, and a face that looked like it was chiseled by the Maker himself. But right now, you’re too focused on the fact that he knocked you over and shattered your datapad. “Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry! I just have to get to the new recruits meeting, and I’m already late—”

“Well don’t go toppling people over, especially since you’re new. That’s not how you make friends.”

“I know—”

“You shattered my datapad. Seriously? Leia’s gonna murder me,” you mutter, looking at the mess of glass and steel on the ground. “What is wrong with you?”

“It was an accident—”

“Accident my ass! The Resistance is done for if all of the new recruits are like you,” you mumble, shaking your head and massaging your forehead. You find him staring at you, head tilted, which only somehow succeeds in making you angrier. “What the hell are you doing staring at me? You have a meeting to get to!”

“Right, sorry— I’m gonna go now—” you roll your eyes as he trips over his words—and his own feet for that matter—running past you while you huff in frustration. 

“And watch that droid!” you yell after him, sighing and returning your gaze to the mess that was your datapad two minutes ago.

• • •

Leaning on the side of your X-Wing, you’re watching him talk with some of his fellow new recruits from afar. It had become apparent that you’d overreacted a while after he ran off, but you had too much pride to go up to him and apologize. As any commander does, really. 

You scoff at yourself because you don’t even know his name and now he probably hates you and thinks you hate him when it’s the exact opposite: you want to get to know him better. A lot better. And maybe that’s just because you’ve found that he’s the outgoing one in front of other people, but in front of you he was tripping over his words like there was no tomorrow. Did he want to get to know you better too?

Now you’re just overthinking and jumping to conclusions, you think, silently chiding yourself. Why was it that you would always be harsh to any man you ever found attractive? You didn’t even know his name, and you’d yelled at him in front of the entire base on the tarmac. Smart move.

He suddenly catches your gaze, the moonlight being the primary source of light since the main hangar lights shut off a while ago. You had stayed behind just to check up on your X-Wing and make sure everything was in good condition; getting thrown out of hyperspace wouldn’t exactly be fun. His features are even more beautiful in the shadows, and you swear you can see him flash you a smile before turning back to his friends. Maybe the smile was just wishful thinking. You shut your eyes and let your head rest against the durasteel, all thoughts of sleep evaporating from your mind and being replaced by him. And you didn’t even know his name.

“Hey.” You raise your eyebrows because shit, your mind is really imagining his voice now? This is a new level. “You okay?” It takes you a second to realize that he’s next to you and that you haven’t gone crazy. Or at least completely crazy. Opening your eyes, he’s right in front of you with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine. Just had a shitty day,” you tell him with a small smile, a bit surprised that he was asking how you were doing when you’d lectured him for a good five minutes straight.

“I probably didn’t make that any better, did I?” You shake your head quickly to discredit his theory, sighing.

“It wasn’t even your fault. Being a commander on the side of a war that’s losing is exhausting,” you admit, running a hand through your hair. “I wanted to apologize for earlier today. Nothing was going my way and you bumping into me was just—”

“It’s not your fault. Seriously,” he adds, seeing you raise your eyebrows. “I should’ve watched where I was going. Bumping into people isn’t exactly the best way to make friends,” he quotes, making you unable to hold back a smile.

“It’s really not.” You two stand in silence for a second, each of you knowing the other has something to say but isn’t saying it. “Come on, spit it out.”

“What?”

“That look. I know that look. Say it.” You can practically read his mind, and for some reason, there’s a feeling inside you telling you to say yes. 

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” You’ve always been skeptical of the entire “love at first sight” thing, but meeting him made you realize it might be real. It just might.

“I don’t even know your name,” you laugh softly.

“Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Poe. I’m Y/N.”

•

•

•

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @agentpeggybarnes, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @wemisshim3000, @arabellathorne

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades, @arkofblake, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess, @propertyofdindjarin, @loshiflow, @coldbreadbouquetworld, @melvls

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon (hiatus strikethrough), @seekerofmagnificentmysteries, @poe-damnnn-eron, @lapilark, @peterhollandkait, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol, @ghoullflower, @twomoonstwosuns, @writefightandflightclub, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can you do a fluffy piece with Yvette and MC when Yvette is finally cured?

“Vinca, have you seen Yve–ah…” MC pinches the bridge of her nose, “This would be really sweet if you didn’t have your phone out.”

Vinca makes a shooing motion with her free arm, “Buzz off princess, you’re going to ruin the show.”

The “show” being Yvette laying down in a literal pile of puppies.

“Hahaha–oh, you’re a fierce one, aren’t you?” Yvette coos at the puppy licking her face, “Yes you are! You’re my pretty little pup!”

Vinca has to bite her fist to stifle her laughter.

“Where did you even get all these dogs?!”

“I can control animals, you do the maths,” Vinca scoffs, “No wonder you couldn’t cut it in med school.”

MC takes a deep breath. Vinca is basically a feral raccoon when it comes to social interactions. She scratches and bites everyone, then sulks in her trash bin when she doesn’t get anything from it. As long as MC doesn’t engage, Vinca will give u–

“Don’t get jealous, you’re still her favorite bitch,” Vinca smacks her chewing gum obnoxiously.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the human equivalent of stepping on a lego?” MC scowls, “And I use the term ‘human’ loosely.”

“Ooh, someone’s cranky. Did the widdle baby skip her naptime?”

MC’s expression hardens, “What’s the difference between you and an asshole?”

Vinca laughs, “Cute. Come back next ye–”

MC interrupts with a spinning kick, knocking Vinca’s phone out of her hand and into the pool.

“The answer is ‘absolutely nothing’. Bye!” MC walks—she’s walking quickly, not running—towards the stage.

She’ll probably pay for that later somehow, but for now, MC will savor the sound of a fuming Vinca storming off in her obnoxiously high platforms.

Yvette is distracted by the puppy pile until MC clears her throat.

“Who–Oh!” Yvette sits up with a tinge of red on her cheeks, “Hello, darling. Eager and early as always, hmm?”

MC’s lips quirk, “It looks more like I’m late to the party.”

“You’re always welcome by my side,” Yvette pats the floor next to herself.

Of course, three different puppies take that as a cue to run over and try to stick their heads underneath Yvette’s hand for more pets.

“I don’t think the puppies feel the same,” MC slowly scoots towards Yvette’s other side. She sits down and sighs happily when Yvette wraps an arm around her waist.

“They’re eager and earnest in their affections,” Yvette pulls MC closer, “Sound familiar?”

MC nuzzles Yvette’s neck—because she can now!—causing Yvette to giggle.

It’s so carefree and giddy and it makes MC’s chest swell with emotion because it’s such a rare sound.

Or at least, it used to be. Now that Vuzgamad is dead and the curse gone, Yvette is finally free to live her life—for the first time since she was a child. Her time is no longer consumed by her hunt for Vuzgamad, and her stress level is at an all time low since she doesn’t need to worry about burning MC (well, anyone, but mostly MC).

Also, Yvette’s options for “stress relief” have widened considerably, and—like a good girlfriend��MC has been very eager to help her explore these new methods.

“By the way,” MC murmurs, “Vinca might be a little cranky later.”

“More than usual?” Yvette starts running her fingers through MC’s hair.

“Yeah, uh…I might have kicked her phone into the pool.”

Yvette pauses, “Cranky may be an understatement, MC.”

“In my defense, she was using it to record you, and it didn’t seem like she had your permission.”

“Hmm…” Yvette’s hand starts moving again.

“She also ‘reassured me’ that I’m your 'favorite bitch’,” MC grumbles.

Yvette stops, and MC can feel her entire body tense, “I will have words with her later.”

Yvette pulls back to make eye contact with MC, “You are more important to me than anything else.”

“I know, babe,” MC cups Yvette’s cheek, “Trust me, I’m not letting one of Vinca’s rude jokes convince me otherwise.”

Yvette moves MC’s hand and kisses the inside of her wrist, “Of course, but I still take offense at the implication.”

MC shivers at the intensity of Yvette’s gaze, “Can I kiss you?”

Yvette blinks in surprise, “Of course, darling.”

MC is already leaning in before Yvette finishes her sentence. She originally intended to keep the kiss chaste, but Yvette makes a sound that’s so hot, and MC wants to hear it again.

“Hmm…MC, we're…” Yvette pants in between kisses, “We should go somewhere more…private.”

A puppy licks one of MC’s hands, “I don’t think the puppies want to let us go.”

As if sensing that their source of pets is about to leave, half the puppies plop themselves on Yvette’s lap. MC ends up with a few on her own as well.

“Well, at least they have good taste,” Yvette keeps one arm wrapped around MC and uses the other to give pets and belly rubs, “They deserve a good home, too.

“…Yvette, we’re not adopting all of these puppies.”

Yvette pouts, “How about five?”

“Two,” MC crosses her arms.

“Three,” Yvette kisses MC’s cheek, “We can certainly afford it.”

“Yeah, but dogs are messy,” MC sighs, “Your penthouse isn’t exactly puppy-proof either.”

“I suppose you’re right. Some of the flowers in the garden are rather delicate, too.”

“How about we start with one,” MC holds up Yvette’s “pretty little pup”, “She seems fairly attached to you. We can donate to local shelters if you’re worried about the others.”

Yvette reaches out, and the puppy wriggles out of MC’s grasp into Yvette’s arms, “Yes, that sounds pragmatic. I’ll make arrangements soon, but for now…”

Yvette kisses MC.

“I’d like some quality time with my favorite girl.”

Written by @jadetea-writing

[dharmadischarge]

Annunaki chapter 1

"Dying is a wild night and a new road."

– Emily Dickinson

"Love never dies a natural death."

-Anais Nin

"We all float down here."

-Pennywise, the clown.

1

Cynthia "sam" Lynskey: was a chubby, tired librarian. Who had been looking for a fix. "I am in control,"; she wanted to tell herself, yet she knew this was a regret waiting for honesty to validate it. She is standing in the hall of a house, Out in the hills. The lights are grim with heavy shadows. Heavy contrasts of black and glowing gold highlighting whites of skin.

The preacher and his family were squatting in a dilapidated hell-hole they called home (or at least a place of business which, if we were honest, that is kind of what home is). The walls had holes from punches in the plaster with splintering cracks. Roaches that were long-dead sprinkled across the carpet that is piss-yellow from decades of nicotine stains.

A single couch in this room and a stained mattress her eyes are locked onto in the next room. That Sam is uncomfortably familiar with; she was responsible for some of those stains—over six months of talking herself down from sobriety, talking herself down from pride or dignity.

The couch was near the entryway, with a trinity of sleeping, dirt-covered "white trash." One child, the rest could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. Sam's clean floral dress and translucent scarf aligned her with a world of, "I am fashionable even if it looks like Sunday best for the Walmart crowd."

She was waiting next to the preacher's bedroom, which in her mind meant that she would be eating out his wife tonight. "if I have to fuck two of you," she thought, "then I better get double." Out of a kind of politeness, Sam started to cough, looking at the women sitting on the couch before saying,

"you look good tonight, jenny."

The door opened to a short fat man wearing a black colored button-up shirt and a straw hat fedora before the women could respond.

"Hi, preacher," said Sam.

"hey," he said, standing to the side so she could enter.

Sam walked into the room, anxious and excited. She had been out of her meds for most of the day and agitated at a world that didn't seem to hurt as much as she did. The excitement left, however, when she saw the kid in the corner of the room. He had a nervous smile.

"who's the kid? and why is he here?" Said Sam glaring with evident frustration at the preacher, who didn't seem shaken from her exclamation

.

. "I'm, no fucking kid," The kid's voice shook.

The preacher said, "calm down, boy." then he looked at Sam, "It's his birthday."

and turning red in the face, she whispered, "so?"

"how much you have?"

"Just a twenty? but we had an agreement."

"and we still do, Just it's not me. It's the kid,"

"I'm not a kid,"

"How old is he?"

"he just turned eighteen. Now before this gets any more awkward, James, show her your id."

The kid listened and did what he was told.

"it says July 12. That's today," said Sam.

"You wanted a ladder? I'll give you that and two oxie."

"I want it in advance," Said Sam.

"no." said the preacher, but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint. He lit it, taking a hit, holding it out to Sam while he said, "we have a deal?"

She said nothing but took a hit off the joint held it in so long when she finally breathed again. There wasn't all that much smoke. She looked at the kid and held it out to him. His legs were shaking as he walked over to her. Then he sat on the bed.

The preacher said, "I will square it off when you're finished." then left, closing the door behind him.

She rubbed his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed his neck. "let me see your tits." he said red-eyed. "she didn't say anything but pulled down the front of her dress. Awkward hands fumbling towards violence, pinched, and fished.

"Hey, you're hurting me." said Sam

"shut your face," Said James.

"This isn't working," said Sam, facepalming.

"Hey, come on, I'm sorry." then he stood up, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Just lay down, kid," she said. "I will do the rest."

He lay back, and she took his small sour cock in her mouth and began with eyes closed to fulfill a bargain. And when he was hard, she said, "Let's get this over with." lifted her skirt. Her pussy had stubble where she had shaven it yesterday. She laid back and guided him into her. Her distracted mind was saying, "you pull out, this isn't an all cum served buffet." he went on humping while she covered her eyes with arms. After ten minutes, she felt him squirt it off and then kiss her lips more fragile than she thought him capable of while all evidence of decency was gone when he continued to grope and play with her despite the tears.

Sam wiped his mess off of her, not hiding any disgust, and waited for the preacher to get her pills. The kid gave the preacher deliberate and obvious a self-assured smile and walked out.

"So who was he?" said Sam,

"James? He is my sister's boy. his dad thought he was a queer, and they ask for a favor."

"so what was I? his birthday present?" Said Sam.

"no, can't give away what you don't own; your more like a runt that is almost useless with its mouth taped shut so the fighting dogs can get a taste of blood." Said the preacher.

Hair frazzled, she tried to straighten it up and saw James sitting on the porch's warped stairs. He was smoking a self rolled cigarette; he didn't look at her.

"Those will kill you," she said, going by.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," said James.

"I let you do it, so don't worry about it," said Sam.

Then, as if he was trying to impress her, he looked up to the sky and said, "there are not even any stars, no sir, not tonight."

She got in her car, turning the key, a rough idle than the reverse. She saw him in her headlights, still on the front porch as she drove off into the darkness and was comforted by it.

2

The drive home was pleasant enough — the whitewashed walls of her house revealed itself through the tall grass around it. Sam's life was in the valley, where the mountains glowed on the horizon. With the majority of civilization hidden behind walls of a prison. The privately-owned prison/factories of indentured labor.

"shit," said Sam as she paid closer attention to the lights from the city hiding the stars. Dreamy, stoned eyes and a whisper of "it ain't that bad."

She saw the black cat for the first time while making her way up the creaking stairs of the porch. She did a dance of cracking the door and "shoo, shoo, I got nothing for you." trying to escape from its overt friendliness. The way it tried to rub against her shin as she ascended the stairs. Following her from the first of her "shoo's."

In a magnificent leap, it landed on her back, climbing up her dress, running over her bare shoulder, and leaping as she leaned down to pick up her keys. the door is pushing open as she reached for the black cat, Sam saying softly, "oh, damn it."

She lit the lamp and looking for any glare of reflection in the black cat's eyes, hoping it would give away the location that it was hiding in. She said, "oh fuck you," then Sam exhaled in exasperation. "You can, fucking stay, but I am getting high and going to bed." she locked the front door then went upstairs carrying the lamp to her room.

"Cynthia, why do they call you, Sam?" The voice was scratchy, calm, and with no visible source. Sam sat down the lamp on her end table and went back down the stairs.

"excuse me," she said, looking around.

Then she reached for the drawer that held the revolver; her father had owned before his passing. There she saw the black cat, sitting on the kitchen counter, staring into her eyes out of the darkness, and it started to sing. "jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care. Jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care, the monster's gone away."

Then she saw a spiral of smoke, and the cat was gone.

"Sam?" said a voice behind her. "is this what you were looking for?"

she felt the barrel push against her spine. "Maybe," she said, embarrassed that she had said anything.

The gun pulled away, and she heard a chair drag across the floor beside her.

"Sit down, please." said the voice.

Sam sat down and crossed her arms on the table. Walking casually to the chair opposite her, she saw something not human, but at least humanoid.

"I'll be staying awhile," it said. but was then noticing how wounded she seemed.

"It's for your good," then it held up the gun, and it turned to dust in its hand.

"he laced me with LSD? Didn't he," she said to herself.

"no, I am not a hallucination." said the thing,

"what are you?"

"I am a god or a monster, you could say. I'm not from here. You can call me Teki, and I am a cosmic tourist."

"tourist?" said Sam.

"If you are going to ask a question, you really should ask less ambiguously...for example. What is a cosmic tourist?" after a painfully long silence, he raised his scaly eyebrow and leaned forward as if to say, 'are you serious?'.

Sam, surprised, said, "I'm sorry; I am a little high right now."

"don't let me stop you go on ask your question."

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole, even aliens?"

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole? That is a good question."

Then he held his chin as if in deep thought, rubbing his gill-like whiskers. "maybe that is the core of tourism? I might just be looking for someone to surprise me. someone to make the whole mess worth it" then, clapping his hands together once he said, "it's settled; you will be my new passport."

"So, What does that mean?" said Sam.

"Well, my last one died, so I have been stranded for over a month in this hell hole. looking for his replacement, but luckily I found you."

"Your passport died?"

"My former one, yes, but I am hoping to replace him"

"I am a person, not a passport."

"A passport has to be a person. It is the nature of passports to be conscious and alive. Though your feeble human mind can't comprehend much, that isn't your fault. But alas, there is the downside of traveling to these obscure corners of the zoo. If your passport dies, then well, you are stuck with a serial killer monkey, for forty or fifty years."

"Fuck you."

"oh, come on, you will have a better life than here. Didn't you ever find it strange that a hundred-foot wall surrounded your whole tiny world?"

"well yeah."

"Well, now you get to go beyond the wall! Think about it; there is a universe out there, and not all the stars are artificial like in the zoo."

"can I think about it?"

"no!" he said with a smile.

"your first job is to dispose of this body," he said as he opened the closet door revealing a shriveled grey octopus creature with humanoid legs and eyes.

"Can't you make him disapear? Like you did my dad's gun?" said Sam.

"I could, but this little fella was with me for almost a century, and he deserves a burial."

"you do it."

"I," said Teki, with false pride, "am a God, and we don't do manual labor."

"well, I am tired, and that is just as good a reason," said Sam.

"Well, he doesn't have any bones...let's go burn him in the yard. Just know that your funeral will be just casual."

"he's your friend. Why am I supposed to be sniveling." Said Sam. Teki, in his first sincere moment, looked at her emotionless, and picked up the tentacled creature, and carried him out to the front yard.

After he laid the alien down, a suit appeared over his sexless body, and he solemnly closed his hands together. Him standing in his new funeral attire before his expired passport. With eyes closed. With startling immediacy, he raised his hands and said, "let there be light!" and the dead creature was in flames. Sam sat on the porch for awhile but was told by Teki, "it could take a few hours for this guy to cook down. You get some rest, and I will see you in the morning." So that is what she did, curled up under her quilt. She thought about how she would kick the preacher's ass for lacing her drugs with hallucinogenics.