#I have a cough I guess I better get the Mexican! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cellarfulofnose · 3 months

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poison headache

The story of Maggie’s Farm comes to life in a series of diary entries from the mid-’60s. Twenty-nothing poet Bob Dylan works on the McCawell farm under the iron fist of Joseph “Pa” McCawell, his pious wife “Ma” Edith, and their harebrained son Willie. Maggie McCawell, the boss’ coarse daughter, seems to have her sights on Bob, but he only has eyes for Joan, a lovely servant girl.

March 4, 1965

They moved me from the cabin into Danny’s old room. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t know till today it’s been sitting empty all this time. It was around Christmastime that he went and got married or ran away or something. I’d marry the first girl who passed by if I thought it’d get me out of here. It’s supposed to be sowing season, but the rain’s so bad the fields are mud. I lost both boots in the north field and walked back in my socks. My only hope is that a boot bush’ll spring up in the summer. With my luck they’ll all be two sizes too big. I guess I better start saving newspaper now.

Danny’s room is nothing fancy. There’s a desk by the window and a big wardrobe. It’s small, but it’s better than six guys in five cots and one hammock, rolling over three people every time you toss and turn. They said Danny packed up and left. The room smells like he might’ve died in it. Or something did, anyway. I haven’t had the guts to open the wardrobe.

We can’t plow without compacting the soil, so I’ve been doing inventory. Started two days ago and I haven’t even finished with the cans. There’s walls of them. Pa McCawell is always going on about the Reds and making the servant girls duck and cover. I guess if there really was an atomic blast we’d be all right, food-wise. I wear a can opener clipped to my belt now. Willie said it makes me look like I’m fixing to kill a man, and if I ever try anything funny he’ll be on me like ugly on an ape. Didn’t make me take it off though. I think it scared him pretty good. I lost my knife in a tree when I first got here, so this is the next best thing.

I hope I'm sick. My throat itches and my nose is running, and now this cough won't go away. It comes in spells, I can't breathe for a couple minutes at a time. I hope it's a good old rollicking case of influenza. Or bronchitis or pneumonia or any of your old standards. You start spitting green around here and you get the day off—if you're lucky. I couldn't have been luckier the last time I had a fever. McCawell didn't want to pay the doctor so they gave me to Joan. I talked about her last week and probably a month before that. The half-Mexican kitchen girl. She’s always singing. You hear everybody say that if she’s got breath to sing, she must not be working hard enough, but she gets her work done just as well as anybody else. When I was laid up, she got my fever down and kept me on mullein tea that knocked all the crap right out of my lungs. It was like having Clara Barton nurse you, she was so good, and her black hair parted in the middle.

Joan’s something else. She’s pretty but I don’t know how to describe it. She looks old fashioned, from another time. I got here maybe a year after she did, and I feel we used to know each other before that. Before time. Like we were twin stars, or two little twin girls in the Levant. I think she knows it. She let me pick her guitar once.

Joan got sick too the last time she was taking care of me. I must’ve given it to her. She stopped singing for days, and when she started again, her voice sounded different. I don’t suppose she ever forgave me. If Pa hands me over to her again, I don’t think she’ll be too happy to nurse me, and I don’t blame her. Well, I hope it’s just a little cold or something that’ll go away in a day or two. No sense in bothering her about it.

March 5, 1965

The rain’s stopped. Willie got into a heated debate with Charlie and a couple field hands over the sowing. We’re so behind on planting, he said they better start to plow, but Charlie said they’d never get the tractor out of the mud if they started before it dried out a little. Willie blew his top and climbed up in the tractor himself. It took him fifteen minutes to figure out how to get it moving and all four mules to haul it out of the mud. You never saw his Ma so mad. I heard her tan his hide when they got back to the house, but she didn’t mention the tractor once. She was yelling at him for swearing like a sea dog in front of Maggie and the servant girls. I’ve heard Maggie say worse on a Sunday in Lent.

Willie’s lucky McCawell weren’t home. He left before dawn to make the stock auction in town, otherwise he would have made a jacket out of that boy. Ma is gonna raise hell to Pa when he gets back. Last time Willie got in hot water, he had to advance Danny two weeks' pay to keep him from running and telling McCawell. I guess Charlie gets the payout now, and he'll distribute it as he sees fit.

I don't care about money if I can't sleep. I was up half the night last night sneezing. I didn't even get a break from the cough. If this is a cold, it's unlike any I ever had. No aches, chills, nothing. Just this feeling like the air’s heavy with dandelion wisps and they're all trying to take root and bloom in my nose.

There were a couple hours in the middle of the day where it wasn’t too bad. Don’t ask me how I managed to get out of bed, but once I made it through the cans and started inventorying the boxes, I wasn’t sneezing anymore. Better for Joan, I thought, we’d both get off easy. But then right after supper it started again, just as bad as it ever was. I have to pause in my writing just to catch my breath. The cough is ugly but it’s not deep, just stubborn. No point in trying to get a day off out of it. McCawell would say I sounded fine in the house and that he ought to put me to work after supper too, since it seems to cure what’s ailing me.

There’s more to say but I can’t go on writing. This sneezing is taking it out of me. Not much to be done but to sleep it off, though I don’t know how I’ll get to sleep tonight. I was sleeping standing up today, lock-legged, like a horse, from not catching any the night before. I know where Efren keeps the horse pills, if it comes to that. Last time I took those, they woke me up with cold water. Right now that sounds like a vacation. Joan hasn’t noticed how I'm doing, and Ma won’t bless me.

March 6, 1965

It was Ma who called the doctor. Whatever it is, it got bad enough that I came down with a bloody nose. When I started in to sneeze, it wasn't pretty. I was in the barn at the time, so I came in the house looking for something to clean myself up. She saw me with blood all over my face and shirt and about started crying. I must have been coughing then, you couldn't tell her it wasn't consumption. A couple of girls hung around to calm her down. I thought I'd better leave.

The blood stopped by the time the doctor got here. He took my temperature and listened to my chest and told me I wasn't sick with anything contagious. That meant back to work, but it also meant that Joan was in the clear. I know it was ridiculous to imagine she might still end up taking care of me. Anyway, it’s better this way.

Then again, who’s to say the doctor knows what he’s talking about? He said “hayfever” and a couple eavesdroppers and I told him it’s not even haying season, and I don’t have any problem when it is. But his advice was that it must be environmental, so I should try and fix my environment. He said to change my bedding to get rid of the built-up dust, then I should stick my head in a steam bath and see if that helps. He’d been anticipating TB, so he didn’t have anything for me to take. Pa said in that case he wasn’t paying. I left when they started arguing, to go strip the bed in Danny’s room.

It was dusty all right. Set me off again pretty good. I gave up halfway through—I didn’t want my nose to start bleeding again. I got the window partway open, and I was just sitting on the half-empty bed when Maggie came in. She heard I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to come see how I was doing. I took out my harmonica because I didn’t want to talk to her. But between the coughs and sneezes, I had to give it up. It’s not that Maggie isn’t a great girl. She’s got a head full of bouncy red curls and freckles all over her body, and she wears tied-off shirts and denim shorts to prove it. I think it’s her eyes that put me off. They’re so big and round and she lines them black. She looks like an owl. Cute, I guess, but I wouldn’t be alone with her in the same room if I could help it.

Maggie said the room smelled like a swamp. That’s one good thing about all this; I can’t smell anymore, so it doesn’t bother me. She got real friendly when I told her that, saying she knew how to clear my head. Maggie likes to fixate on how all the functions of the body are linked to orgasm. She once told me an orgasm is equivalent to eight sneezes. I don’t know how she figured that, but I’d be a lot happier and a lot looser by now if she’d been telling the truth.

She didn’t try to take my pants off. She seemed to want to do it with them on. I told her if she really wanted to help me she’d boil me a pot of water and get me a towel to trap the steam. Most of the guys wish they could lay Maggie, but they’re terrified of incurring McCawell’s wrath. Some of them she flirts with just to piss her daddy off. He threatened Efren with a 12-gauge and now no one wants to look at her. It’s not McCawell I’m scared of. Something about Maggie tells me she’s not satisfied until she sees the white of bone.

I touched her up till she came, the fastest I’ve ever seen her do it. It seemed easier than trying to talk her out of it. Maggie’s not a bad girl. She’s just stuck here like the rest of us, and sex starved. It can’t be good for a girl her age. Once she calmed down, she said Pa had agreed to pay the doctor but he was taking it out of my check. She promised she’d get him to change his mind. I kept telling her she didn’t have to, but she gave me one of her nice handkerchiefs as collateral, with the little MM stitched on the border. I sneezed fresh blood into it within minutes of her leaving. Pa and Maggie and the doctor were all arguing in the kitchen, so I couldn’t boil water for a steam bath, and the bed was still unmade. I ended up just going to the shed for the horse stuff. Taking half a tablet doesn’t knock me out, and they last longer that way besides.

March 8, 1965

A lot has happened so I’ll try to tell the short version.

Danny’s room is growing mold. It’s more mold than room. I don’t know how it didn’t collapse on me. On Sunday I was picking at the wallpaper and a section of it crumbled away. The wall was black. I thought it was ants. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I ran outside and coughed until I lost my breakfast. It was Sunday, so we couldn’t get the doctor, but he couldn’t have told me anything I didn’t know by then. It was the mold that was making me sick. The dust couldn’t have helped either.

Pa won’t get the room repaired. I wasn’t even the one to tell him about the mold. It must have been Maggie or one of the girls. Still, he wouldn’t swallow it. I found out Maggie volunteered to let me stay in her room until they fix Danny’s. Now whenever Pa looks at me he gets all red with fury and can’t speak. I don’t hold it against her. He’d only take it out of my check, anyways.

Willie jumped out of his skin when he saw me. Somehow the news had warped as it traveled, and he’d heard I was dead. I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, so I let him be.

The real mess happened after I got a few doses of horse pills down. I went to go sleep in the loft when I ran into Joan. She was stealing some wine and said half was mine if I wouldn’t tell. I’d never say no, but horse stuff and booze are like fire and gasoline. We drank the whole jug. I got sloppy. I remember I wanted to kiss her—I don’t know if I did it. I told her I was in love with her and she started crying, saying Maggie was gonna fire her when she found out. She’s jealous that way. I told her again and again I wouldn’t let that happen. Joan kissed my head, and when I woke up it was dark. I waited until dawn, then I marched into the house and told McCawell I quit. He laughed and kept on eating. Even Maggie didn’t say anything.

I slept in the loft last night, and I haven’t been back in Danny’s room but for a minute to grab a few things. Already, it feels like it’s getting better. I only sneezed once after I woke up this morning. Mostly no cough either. There’s a weird sort of pounding feeling behind my eyes any time that I do cough. Could be nothing, I never know. I was out in the rain a lot yesterday before I ripped up the wallpaper; maybe that’s got something to do with it.

This is my second night sleeping in the loft. It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow. No one knows when it’ll end. Danny’s room is empty again and it looks like it’ll stay that way, but I found another jug of wine squirreled away up here in the hay. Whatever’s coming, I might not end up weathering it alone.

#title is from pledging my time

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doorrobloxstuff · 1 year

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[GDAB] The Librarian's assistant

w/usual lighting. (click for better quality, goddamn it tumblr)

daytime lighting applied. ☆BASIC INFO☆ Full Name: Rueben "Marshall" Olmeda, Rueben D'mico, Rufus Gallatin, Rueben Green, Rue, Rueben Olmeda Nicknames: Rueben, Rue, Sandwich man. Physical Age: 42. Chronological age: 71 Gender: "Male" + Xenos (doesn't really think about it too hard anymore) pronouns: He/him/it/its* *As time progresses, it'll be using it/Its more. Sexuality: Omnisexual, Greyromantic Birthday: 5/2/1952 Species: Human, but that's about to [REDACTED.] Ethnicity: Mexican-American Languages Spoken: English [Fluent] Spanish [Knows some, but unfortunately is quite disconnected from his culture.]

¤PHYSICAL APPEARANCE¤ Height: 4’7 (HAHAHAHAHAHHA WHY ARE YOU SO SMALL) Weight: 157 ibs Hair Color: haha he’s bald Eye Color: under them glasses? Orange. Skin Color: Vanta black Battle Marks(Scars, missing body parts, etc.): [Redacted] [Redacted] Some on his arms and one small bite mark on his shoulder. Type of teeth(Normal, fangs,etc): Normal lol. Type of eyes(Abnormal pupil shapes and such): They are orange and they occasionally glow in the dark. Other Forms: hHahshaahdgdggdgsggs Facial Shape: Triangular surprisingly.

Body Shape: Lil man. Additional Notes: He’s incredibly short, also suffers from chronic pain.

~PERSONALITY~

(God I hate writing this part ) Brief Description:

- b o o m e r brain 40 year old body

- Complaint city. Will chatter your goddamn ear off if you give him the opportunity. - Hypocritical. Often, Rueben will go against HIS own advice and morals. Especially when it comes to the killing of intruders. Which, he does have moral qualms against but is very much complicit for his own personal reasons. - Gullible. Not anymore.

- Standoffish. He can come off as hostile or cold if you don’t know him or your not apart of his family. This can range from general saltine cracker to absolutely murderously so given the scenario.

- Brutally honest. Hates lying to people and hates sparing people’s emotions.

- Skeptical. Doesn’t trust anyone as far as he can throw them. Constantly double-guessing people's and even his own. Especially towards strangers.

- Scholarly. Loves to discover new things about the world and learning new things all the time. - Bibliophile. In the same area as scholarly Not an understatement. He loves his books. Do not touch his books.

- Temperamental. Though not surface level, Rueben has been know to get angry and stay angry for a very long time if the right switches are flipped.

- Conspiracy theorist. He wants to see them aliens.

- Ambivert. Loves to talk! Good luck getting him in a social situation where he can!

- Nurturing. Though he won’t ever admit this, he does love to take care of others he does get close with.

- Always open to development -

First Impression: Distant, Withdrawn, Bitter (intruder) Loud, Chatty, Eccentric (Entity) Once you get to know them: Eccentric, Lonely, Still really loud lmao Default Expression: Frowning or grimacing with a hint of skepticism. MBTI Personality Type: INTJ-T Extrovert, Introvert, or Ambivert?: Ambivert Alignment(lawful evil, chaotic good, etc): Chaotic neutral/True neutral. Habits: Chewing on pencils, Napping, reading a book. Fears: - Losing Figure - Accidentally pissing off the Hotel - [ REDACTED ] - Figure finding out about [ REDACTED ] - Breaking his [ REDACTED ] - Figure killing him on accident - People FINDING OUT about the hotel - People FINDING OUT about Figure - People FINDING OUT about Him or [ REDACTED ] - Being accidentally killed by an entity - Really loud sounds - Asphodels Intelligence: 8.7/10 Pet Peeves: - People treating his or Figure's books badly - POLLEN - Any “Flowery” smells - Strong smells in general - Repetitive sounds made from people - The sound of coughing - RUSH - When one of his projects goes wrong - When people doubt his intelligence - Anyone standing behind him for too long - THUNDERSTORMS (makes his chronic pain worse) - Figure when it doesn't bath for a week and comes into the room "smellin like the devil's ass hole!"

[BC]》BELIEFS《

Religion: Not religious/agnostic Thoughts on government: ‘FUCK EM!’ Not a big fan. Thoughts on people in general: He mostly just sticks to his own people nowadays. Moral: While Rueben does know a clear distinction between right and wrong, he often ignores it due to the circumstances. Do they believe in: Ghosts?: Y E P. (He’s gonna date one.) Aliens?: Yep. Cryptids?: Yep. Conspiracy theories?: Yep. Anything else I didn't mention?: Nope. Superstitions: H a t e s flowers because he believes their back luck. (Plus he’s allergic to pollen.)

Also tries not to touch the hotel walls because he believes that it could try and reach out to grab him.

•°SPEECH°•

Voice Description: Super husky and tough sounding. Head-Canon Voice: John Marston (Red dead Redemption 2) 92% accuracy just a bit older sounding. Accent: Western???? Speech Patterns: Do they parrot people? (repeat phrases other people say): Most used phrases/words: Slang they use: Too many to put here. Swearing?: Yes, but not often and if it does its usually done out of excitement or in a humorous manner. Do they think before they speak?: No. Do they worry about accidentally offending someone with their words?: Depends on who. Movement while speaking (hand gestures etc): Hand gestures. Humor: us

♡LIFE♡

Occupation: Thoughts on occupation: Dream Job: Education: Past Relationships: Current Relationships:Family: Figure (Child) Seek (Child In-Law) Snare (Future Grandchild) Screech (Future Grandchild) That one mystery entity that El-Goblino mentioned (Future Grandchild) ??? ??? ??? Hometown: Current Residence: Room/Housemates: Financial Status: Source of Money: Health: - Currently suffers from chronic pain - Physically unable to have children - Has serious issues with sleep - [ REDACTED ] has also had a serious effect on both his physical and mental health Past Life/Backstory: Current Life: As of current, Rueben lives in a subbasement beneath the library.

Some things are best left in the past.

•●INTERESTS●•

Likes: - Figure :) - Engineering - The sorted chaos that is his room - Reading - The smell wood - Coffee Dislikes: - Dead animals - Harsh smells - Spiders

- People

- (dark) Chocolate Favorite Food: I C E C R E A M or M a r s h m e l l o w s both are locked in an eternal battle against each other in his brain. Favorite Animal: Indecisive. (We'd be here all day but mostly farm animals, such as dogs, runner ducks, Chickens.ect) Favorite Color: Indecisive, Purple or green. Favorite Movie Genre: 🤷 Favorite Book Genre: All of them. Favorite Style of Music: Country (LOVES old western music that tells of American folklore) Least Favorite Food: Least Favorite Animal: Indecisive: Mosquitos, Hogs or coyotes Least Favorite Color: Egg white or Yellow Least Favorite Movie Genre: - Doesn’t watch movies - Least Favorite Book Genre: We’d also, be here all day. Least Favorite Style of Music: New “”””country music”””” Hobbies:

- literally just sits around and reads books all day that’s it.

- Fixing up the hotel and maintaining the lobby

- He’s old guys what did you expect

- Reading

- Quilting

- Farming (he used to do it when Figure was REAAALLY little)

- Occasionally hunting

- Barbecuing

- Book-binding

——-

-- Template by: StrophicCata on Amino.

FOR AMB + Related aus.

everything will be explained in due time (or never idk)

#wardenrush.txt #roblox doors #doors roblox #doors figure #Rueben

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zyrafowe-sny · 1 year

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Tag 9 People You Want to Get to Know Better

@avephelis tagged me in this about a week ago when I was still a little loopy on cough medicine and @imperfection-you-will-find tagged me in this today, so I'll give it a go. :)

CURRENTLY READING:

-Clockwork Boys by T. Kingfisher (I love her worldbuilding here and in the related The Saint of Steel series, I love her characters, I'm not always in the mood for the romance B-plot)

-Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (rereading the original French a chapter at a time and then listening to the French language audiobook of that chapter - this is partly because of the Collector in TOH, partly because my French is super rusty, and partly because I'm generally way overdue for a reread)

-various fanfic on AO3

FAVORITE COLOR:

It's not easy to guess based on my stuff or clothes, but it's yellow. I love the pure joy of it and it makes my heart sing, but I only want it in small quantities. I own a lot more purple and teal, and enjoy navy, brown, and warm charcoal as neutrals.

LAST SONG:

Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan to understand a reference my partner made using a recent MoringMark comic meme template

LAST MOVIE:

Wakanda Forever. We never did manage to see it when it was in theaters/at the drive-through, but it just got on Disney+.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY:

If I have to choose, then spicy. It's delicious and medicinal when I'm sick (especially when it's spicy soup). I love vegetarian Tom Yum, vegetarian Tom Kha, and vegetarian spicy miso ramen.

I also really love the mix of sweet and spicy in pineapple and jalapeño pizza and Mexican hot chocolate.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON:

-Finally shaking off this bug

-Beta-reading A Potter's Field for theprincessofdenial (read her stuff!)

-An angsty Grimwalker Bilentine's Day fic (I've had the baby plot bunny since November or so but only started writing writing yesterday - might wind up wrapping up after Valentine's Day but that might be fine since this won't exactly be fluffy)

-A Collector one shot (started this almost immediately after watching FTF but then we got sick and this stalled out)

-A few one shots in my la familia Noceda series (most actively a couple Camila-focused one shots and a missing scene from Blood Brother)

-Plotting, writing, and revising in my Palistrom & Promises series (have to rethink Skara's characterization a little post-FTF, so I might bounce to another planned fic in this series first)

-Early stages plotting for a MannyLives!AU and other fic ideas

It's nice to have multiple WIPs/plot bunnies (I only got back into creative writing last October after a many-year hiatus - thanks, TOH!), but between executive dysfunction/bouncing between lots of things/writer's block/life, I'm a very slow writer.

I FEEL INCREDIBLY AWKWARD TAGGING PEOPLE BUT PLEASE PARTICIPATE IF YOU WANT TO

#thanks for the ask!#ask meme

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raindownforme · 3 years

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Santa Monica

Ted Nivison x read [they/them used]

(Preface; this fic is gently inspired by the song Santa Monica by the Front Bottoms)

“Maybe I’m just un-lovable.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

y/n dug their foot into the sand, spilling a bit onto their beach towel. It was late in the afternoon by now, with the sun starting to reach the horizon between the sea and the sky. Ted was standing nearby, slowly packing up everything they’d both brought to the beach. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You’re just being dumb.”

“Don’t call me dumb!” y/n picked up their empty water bottle and tossed it Ted, it bumping into his hip. He laughed at it and tossed it back.

“If you’re being dumb I’ll call you dumb. I mean, there is 1,000 percent someone out there who loves you.”

“Oh yeah? Who?” y/n looked up towards Ted, but he was slightly turned away. They could still see his face was bright red, however. “Are you sunburnt? I have some aloe vera at home.”

“Uh yeah. I think so.”

“Come on let’s head back.” y/n stood up, shoving their towel in their bag, and Ted followed. The pair made their way from the sand to the stone bike path that lead to the pier. Then, they climbed the rotting wooden stairs onto the wooden street, climbing uphill until they reached the busy paved road. They crossed, heading down a block to y/n’s apartment building. They made their way to the rickety elevator that could just barely fit the two of them.

“Fifth floor please.”

“Yeah yeah.” y/n rolled their eyes at ted and pressed the button. They shifted weight on their feet, moving around the small pile of sand that sat in the grooves of the floor. “They really should clean this thing.”

“I don’t know I just work here.”

“Ted I swear-“ The elevator dinged and the two stepped off, walking the eight doors down to y/n’s small apartment. Once inside, y/n slipped off their sandals and went to place everything on the kitchen counters. “Do you want to shower or anything? You should have some extra clothes in my room.”

“No I don’t feel that gross yet.”

“Fine just don’t get sand all over my stuff.”

“I didn’t even go in the water that much!” y/n chuckled as Ted laid back against their yellow couch. “What are you doing over there?”

“I’m just washing all the sand off everything. It kind of needs to be clean before I put it away.”

“Cool. I think I might take a shower.”

“No go ahead you know where everything is.” y/n continued on with cleaning as Ted showered. Almost ten minutes later, they heard the bathroom door open. “Hey if you’re still sun burnt-“

The stopped. Ted was wearing comfortable clothing he’d kept at their place. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No! No never mind.” y/n turned back to the sand toys drying on the kitchen counter. “There’s still aloe vera in there if you need it.”

“I think I’m good but thanks.” Ted walked over to the kitchen area, lightly pushing y/n over. “Can I get water now.”

“Absolutely not.” y/n jokingly shoved him.

“Yeah y/n?” The two kept pushing back and forth jokingly, playing around with each other as Ted kept trying to reach the Brita filter in the fridge.

“Wait-!” y/n slipped and began to tumble backwards, but Ted dropped his glass to catch them.

The glass shattered and y/n held their breath. One of Ted’s hand was securely on their back, the other gently holding their shoulder. The cup Ted had been holding shattered on the ground beneath the two of them.

“Are you okay?” Ted leaned a bit closer to y/n. He seemed to scan them over, looking for any injury.

“Yeah just don’t set me down I guess.”

“Here watch this.” Ted, the tall boy he was, took a big step across the glass pile, doing his best to pull y/n with him. “Like an angel.”

“Yeah sure.” y/n stood and went to fetch the small broom from the closet. “You didn’t step on any did you?”

“No definitely not.” Ted went back to sit on the couch. “You hungry at all? It’s seven already.”

“I know. Theres a couple places downstairs.”

“You’re still in your bathing suit dumbass.”

“Oh.” y/n looked down at themselves. They set the broom to the side and leaned it against the counter. “Just a moment.”

Ted watched as they went to their room then to the bathroom. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Don’t go in the kitchen yet!” y/n shut the door. Waiting for them to come back out, Ted went through google maps, looking at all the restaurants downstairs.

As the door opened, Ted readjusted his glasses. “Okay so theres Mexican, a bakery, some seafood, and whatever is on the pier. We could go somewhere and sit or grab something and come back.”

“I don’t know. Mexican sounds kind of good. I’m guessing anything else is way over priced.”

“You don’t gotta worry about money with me baby.” Ted’s eyes trailed y/n as they walked back to the kitchen.

“Calling me baby now? Quite bold of you. We haven’t even dated yet.”

Ted felt his face flush and he coughed, trying to hide his face from y/n. “Y-Yet you say?”

y/n paused sweeping. “W-Well. I just- You know what I meant!”

y/n kept sweeping as Ted thought to himself. “Can I… Can I talk about something?”

“Of course you can.” y/n’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

Ted hesitated. “I don’t want to not be friends.”

The sweeping paused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Ted took a breath. He sat flat on the couch, glancing around the room, trying to not look at y/n. “I’ve been friends with you for ever now, but I don’t want to anymore. And I don’t want to because I don’t like you. I mean I do like you. I- fuck- I love you. I spend half my day thinking about it you want to do a video with me or hang out or if you need help ever. I can’t not think about it. And I know that you haven’t had the best relationships but I want to make things so much better for you-“

“T-Ted.” y/n was standing in the entry way of the kitchen, holding the broom in one hand while trying to not cry.

“Hey what’s wrong?” He stood up and rushed to their side, gently resting his hands on their face to wipe at stray tears.

“I- you’re really sweet and I didn’t-“ y/n stopped and leaned on their toes to wrap their arms over the top of Ted’s shoulders, peppering kisses on his cheek. “I love you to Ted. I love you so much.”

Ted pulled away for a moment, only to lean back in and kiss y/n firmly on the lips. They both smiled into it, y/n doing their best to pull Ted closer while minding the glass still at their feet.

As they pulled apart, y/n smiled. Tapping lightly on Ted’s shoulder. “So, a relationship you said?”

Ted laughed. “A relationship it is. You wanna go get food?”

“Yeah let me just go get some shoes.”

y/n turned around and Ted was finishing straightening up the kitchen. He put the broom back and looked up to see y/n standing by the door, holding out a hand for him to hold. “Ready baby?”

They smiled. “Ready.”

#ted nivison x reader #ted nivison #ted nivision

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

And They Were Roommates- Pt 1

A/N Trying another soulmate chapter fiction cause I’m a sucker for them :)

Marinette doodled on her wrist, tuning out the professor in favor of annoying her soulmate. She was working on the third flower when a faux cough caught her attention. She dropped her pen, flashing her professor a warm smile, as she propped her chin on her hand.

“Am I boring you Ms. Dupen-Chang?”

“Quite the contrary Professor Lupez, the history of the Mexican-American War is riveting, but if I may, I believe you are reviewing the wrong War with our finals approaching next week.”

The professor raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms to stare down the French girl.

“And which war do you feel we should be covering?”

“You hardly touched on the Korean War and dismissed any questions we might have had on the subject, it will be on the final right?”

Sighing, the professor turned back to the board writing ‘Korean War’ in large letters, tossing the chalk on her desk with more force than necessary.

“Since it is our final review day, I will entertain you this one time Ms. Dupen-Chang, but believe me when I say, I will not miss our little interactions when the semester ends.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Marinette smirked as she picked up her pen to jot down a few notes, peeking a look at her wrist in the process.

“Got caught again? Good. Pay attention in class.”

Her smirk widened as she rolled her eyes. The man always knew what to say, such the romantic. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Marinette began counting down the minutes until her final class ended. After all, American History was the least of her worries and with less than a week till her first final, she’d much rather be at the apartment studying anything else but this.

The clock had just hit the fifty mark and students were already out of their seats, Marinette along with them.

“Ms. Dupen-Chang, a moment please?”

She let out an involuntary groan as she made her way down to the front of the class. Professor Lupez was finishing packing her bag, not paying one mind to Marinette as she bounced from foot to foot, eager to leave. Finally, she took her seat, crossing her arms to look at the girl.

“Have you reconsidered Marinette?”

“Professor Lupez, I adore history, I really do. But it’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life, designing is, and I’m really good at it.”

“It’s your second to last semester Marinette, you’ll be graduating in the spring. You’ve taken enough history credits to satisfy your minor in history and you’re three credits away from having a double major. Would you at least consider that? I hate to see someone with your obvious love and affiliation of the topic not even consider it.”

Marinette let out a sigh, twirling a loose strand of hair.

“I’ll consider it Professor Lupez, but I want to finish my business degree and look into a major in business, not history.”

The professor simply nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“That’s all I wanted to hear. I hope to see you in the spring Marinette,”

“I thought you were going to be so glad to rid yourself of our little interactions.”

“Please,” Lupez rose, collecting her bag in the process. “No other student has been able to rival my knowledge. It would be a shame to never see you again.”

Marinette turned to leave, a smile growing across her face.

“You as well Professor Lupez.”

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

The jingle of keys in the doorknob caught her attention as she looked up from her notes in time to see Chloe fall through the door, dropping a multitude of shopping bags in the process.

“Is this your way of preparing for finals?” A smile tugged at Marinette’s lips as she watched the blonde adjust her hair in the mirror beside the door.

“Dupen-Chang, it’s called retail therapy. Finals are the most stressful part of college and a girl needs to be ready to look fabulous to cover the stress wrinkles.”

She shuttered, sending Marinette into a fit of giggles. Standing up from the couch, she waded through her textbooks to pick up the nearest bag. Together, the two of them managed to make it to their shared room in one trip. As the blonde began to unpack, she blindly threw a shirt in Marinette’s direction.

“What’s this Chloe?”

“Don’t be dull Dupen-Chang,” she rolled her eyes as she pulled out another shirt, examining it closely before slipping it on a hanger. “It’s a new shirt that didn’t fit me how I wanted it to, but I bought it anyways because it should look decent on you.”

“I’m touched.” Marinette wiped a non-existent tear from her eye, holding up the shirt to examine it.

She opened her mouth, only to be cut off by the sound of the front door slamming shut. The two girls shared a grim look before they made their way across the hall, standing in front of Adiren’s door, the light sounds of destruction echoing from inside.

“Adrikins? You okay in there?”

There was silence before the sound of shuffling feet made their way to unlock the door. He pulled it open to reveal red and puffy eyes. Chloe pushed her way inside, dragging him to the bed with her while Marinette leaned against the doorframe, assessing the damage he had done. All the pictures of him and David were torn up and scattered across the floor, David’s scarf laid in different spots, ripped in two, strands of yarn fraying outward.

“David broke up with you?”

Adrien nodded softly, falling into Chloe’s outstretched arms.

“Well he’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous then.”

“No, he’s not, he just found his soulmate, that’s all.” Adrien’s voice cracked as he inhaled sharply, trying to stop a new wave of tears.

Marinette sighed, joining the two on his bed, rubbing his back lightly as her and Chloe both shook their heads. The three of them had been attending Metropolis University for the past four years and every year, Adrien fell quickly and deeply in love with a guy only for them to leave just as fast, leaving him a broken mess.

“I guess we should put out for a new roommate then.”

He sat up stiffly, his eyes darting between the two girls as if daring them to argue. Chloe threw her hands up in the air, letting out a defeated sigh.

“If you’re so sure Adrikins. Mari and I can deliver him his stuff, you just get some rest. We’ll order your favorite take out and be back in an hour or so.”

He nodded, falling backwards on his bed, lost in thought. The two girls stood up, making their way to David’s old room, collecting a few stray boxes on the way.

“This is ridiculous Dupen-Chang. We need a no partner roommate policy. This is the third roommate we’ve replaced since January, all of them breaking Adrikins heart, it is unacceptable, utterly unacceptable.”

The girl just nodded as she pulled David’s suitcase out from the closet, packing his clothes as tightly as she could. Chloe continued to ramble on as the girls filled box after box.

“-and where does David plan on going? Is he just going to move in with his soulmate and hope he’s not a serial killer? That is stupid! I mean seriously, how stupid is this boy? I thought he was in the honor college?”

Marinette just shook her head, picking up a nearby pen, tossing the cap into the trash can.

“Can’t write much tonight. Threat Level Heartbreak”

Tossing the pen into the trash as well, Marinette stood, gathering the two closest boxes.

“Let’s call David and figure out where to drop this stuff off. We’ll put out the roommate ad later tonight.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Around midnight, Marinette shifted from under Adrien and Chloe, causing the two to fall into each other on the couch, neither waking. She pulled the blanket over her friends, turning back to clean up the mess they had made. She threw away the take out containers, reaching for the empty ice cream when she felt the familiar tingle on her arm.

“I have waited the appropriate amount of time, correct? Threat resolved?”

A small smile threatened to take over her whole face as she tossed the empty containers. Setting the trash bag outside their apartment door, she pulled out the pen holding her hair together.

“Threat resolved. Surprised you’re still up.”

The previous statement disappeared from her arm, a new one beginning to etch in its place.

“Wanted to make sure you survived, I know the complexity of that threat.”

She let out a quiet chuckle, leaning down to pick up the spoons scattered across the coffee table. Moving to the sink, she gently scrubbed away her marks, uncapping the pen to respond.

“I think I’m getting better at it. Easier and faster each time.”

Letting the water run, she washed the few dishes, placing them on a towel to dry.

“Your friend should make better partner choices.”

“Hell yeah he should.” Marinette mumbled under breath as she ejected the Titanic disk, placing it in its case before turning off the TV. Moving to the bathroom, she ran her toothbrush under the water, placing it in her mouth before washing her arm again.

“Definitely.”

She just finished brushing her teeth when the tingling caught her attention once more.

“Get some sleep Angel”

Her ears burned from the nickname he insisted on calling her. She always hated when the twenty four hours had passed and the ink faded on it’s own. Washing away the ink was always a quick and effective way to communicate, but if she wanted to leave a message, she left the spot alone and her soulmate would be marked for a full twenty-four hours before the message disappeared.

“Will do mon amour. Goodnight”

Crawling into her bed, Marinette pulled out her phone, sending a quick email to the University Newsletter to request a spot for the roommate ad.

“What do you think Tikki? Can we manage to get a roommate that will last at least one full semester?”

Tikki flew from the doll mansion that Chloe had insisted on buying for their kwamii’s. Something about living in comfort and luxury is better for their powers? Honestly, Marinette didn’t care, as long as Tikki and Pollen were happy, so was she.

“I think it’s something you shouldn’t worry about right now Marinette. After all, your first final is in less than a week, the less stress the better.”

Marinette nodded, placing her phone on it’s charging pad, settling into her pillow.

“You’re right Tikki, after all, I made some extra commission money this month, making rent should be easy, even without a roommate.”

The kwamii nodded, placing a light kiss on her chosen’s forehead, watching as the girl drifted off to sleep.

“Sleep well Marinette.” Tikki flew back to the dollhouse, settling into their own bed, careful not to wake Pollen. Within minutes, the kwamii was asleep.

A tingling threatened to wake the sleeping girl, but she was too tired to open her eyes to check. In perfect script, four words etched their way into her skin while she slept, something that happened every night after her soulmate was sure she was asleep.

“I love you Angel”

And just as quickly, the confession disappeared. Three years of writing to each other and neither would admit it, but they both knew. They had both fallen for people they had never met.

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life

#maribat #roommates #daminette

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tamsin-moon · 3 years

Text

Not A Fish

Notes: Javier Escuella x GN Reader, angst, near drowning, slight cursing, turns into happy ending.

If there was one thing that made your blood run cold in an instant it was when you saw one of your friends horses outside of camp without it’s rider to be found and not hitched.

This would be the feeling you were currently experiencing as you came across Boaz at a fork in the road near the Dakota river when you were coming back from a small hunting trip. You could tell in moments that the horse was on edge, as if it had just run into a predator or so and you would be slipping from your saddle to approach slowly, “Easy boy, it’s alright” you call gently as you move. Luckily the jittery beast recognized you fairly quickly and was calming as you rub his nose and up his forehead, “There we are, now where is Javier?” you ask only to get a snort in return.

If horses could talk you were sure Boaz would answer your question, but at the moment all you could do was try to retrace his steps. Mother nature seemed to be with you, however, as a recent rain had the ground muddy and you were able to pick up his fresh hoof prints after a minute of searching. Staying on foot you would grab your rifle as a precaution, but would start to follow the trail, calling to both horses to follow you before focusing and trying to ignore your heart pounding in your ears as your mind raced with possibilities.

Was he hurt? Captured? You dare not even think of the worst outcome lest the universe make it come true. Moving quick as you could to not lose the trail you would eventually come to the river bank and your brow was furrowing as you looked around. There was no sign of Javier and it was too deep of a spot to cross, not to mention the current was strong after the recent rain, what had happened? Looking around for any sign you would slip the rifle back onto your saddle before moving to the bank close as you dared, the rocks and mud were slippery that one wrong step could be very bad.

Casting your gaze about again you would spot boot prints and by your guess they were Javier’s, there was only the one set so it had to be. It looked as if he had just been standing on the bank, maybe walking it some, but then you would see it. Some marred prints that were a mixture of hoof and boot and you had to swallow, taking a deep breath to not panic. He must have fallen in or Boaz knocked him in on accident and with the current he would have been swept away quickly. You knew he could swim, though, so as long as he had not hit his head there was a chance.

Mounting your horse quickly you would spur into a canter, rushing down the shoreline as quickly as you dared as you looked for any sign and about a mile downriver you would spot him on a large rock in the middle of the river. He was still mostly in the water, but luckily in a bit of a crevice and holding himself out, looking around. Yelling to him a moment later, “Javier!” and feeling a slight relief as he looked over to you, coughing as he called back, “Y/n! Little help por favor!”

Thinking fast as you could there was really only one thing you could do and you would be getting out your lasso. It would take three tries, but you would manage to get it over him on the third as he was a decent distance out and luckily the crevice kept him from slipping as he got it more securely around his torso. “Hold tight!” you call, tying the rope securely around your saddle horn and keeping a grip. Mostly you would let your horse do the pulling and in a few minutes you would pull the man onto the shore, not surprised as he began to retch up water. At least he was still conscious.

Off your horse seconds later you would be by his side, helping to get the rope off of him and rubbing his back as he spat the last of what was trying to come up from his stomach, “Damn that’s vile” he curse as he push himself to sit up with your help. Your heart rate slowly coming back down from the adrenaline rush you would resist the urge to hug him, for now, as squeezing him would not be a good idea. You did not miss the grateful look he threw your way, though, “Gracias Y/n, I was starting to think I was going to drown there. How did you find me?”

You would hook your thumb at Boaz, who had continued to follow you, and would give the man a smile, “Saw him on the side of the rode all jittery. Followed his trail to the river and figured out what happened” you would explain to him before seeing him cough again. He needed to get dry clothes you knew and camp wasn’t too far off, “Think you can ride? Would be best to get you back home” you say gently and when he nodded you would be helping him up slowly.

“Mind if I ride with you, will probably fall off if I try by myself” he would say as you got to the horses and you could hear the slight tone in his voice, hating to look weak like this, but you would just give his hip a squeeze where you had your hand bracing him up, “Sure thing” you assure. Making sure he was stable leaning on your horses shoulder for the moment you would swing up into the saddle before carefully helping him up behind you. Once you were sure he had a grip on your waist you would start back at an easy, but quick pace and made sure Boaz was still with you.

“So what happened?” you ask gently as you ride and you would practically feel him sigh behind you as his chest was against your back. Yes he was wet, but you did not care about that at the moment. “I was fishing and a muskrat or something came darting out of the water, Boaz got spooked. Next thing I know he bumped me and I slipped” he explain, the embarrassed tone clear, “I got lucky with the rock and that you came along when you did” he add a bit quieter at the end.

All in all you were just relieved you had showed up in time, in truth you cared deeply for the man and you were already quite close. After losing so many in Blackwater and how bad things had been if you lost Javier you would probably completely shatter, but you had yet to make anything more than friendship known. Hand resting over his own a moment you would give it a squeeze, “You’re going to be alright and it was an accident, could have happened to anyone” you try to assure as the camp trail was coming into view.

Sean on watch would call out to you, “Everything alright there?” You would just give the Irishman a wave as you called back, “Just an incident with the river!” before passing by and trotting up to the hitching post. Spotting Charles nearby you would call out to him and when the man noticed Javier’s state he was hurrying over to help him down before you were getting down yourself, “What happened?” he ask, worry clear as day and Hosea would be noticing as well as you explained. “Javier decided to try to be a fish, it did not go well” your try to joke and were smiling as the Mexican man cracked a little smile.

“Very funny” he retort before coughing a bit, Hosea nodding, “I’ll get some medicine together, Charles you get him back to his tent for dry clothes” the older man instruct before glancing to you and seeing you were wet yourself, “You too, don’t need you getting sick either” before shooing you all off. Nodding you would watch them go for a moment before you were heading towards your own tent to change and try to calm your nerves more. If anything the incident resolved you in the fact you needed to get your feelings out into the open.

Unfortunately the rest of the day you would seem to get stuck in one chore after the next and it would not be until late in the evening that you would get a chance to go and check on him. With a thought you would grab a bag of peppermints from your tent before you were heading towards the main campfire. His tent was near it so you reasoned he would be at one of the two, so when you found him at neither you were concerned. Charles, though, would be on one of the crates and saw you coming, nodding towards the overlook area, “He went that way”

Out of everyone at camp Charles seemed to be the only other person who knew you had feelings for Javier and encouraged them as, unknowns to you, he knew Javier felt the same and was hoping this finally brought you two together. Thanking him you would change your course, seeing him settled on one of the stones looking out at the view as you approached. Not wanting to sneak up on him you would keep your footsteps louder and smiled as he looked over to you, “Hey,” you heard him greet before patting the spot next to him on the rock.

Coming over you would sit next to him and look him over, “Hey, you are looking better. How do you feel?” you ask in an easy tone and would watch him rub his throat a bit, “Probably won’t be doing any singing for a bit, my throat it raw, but otherwise just a bit sore and tired. Hosea’s medicine seems to be keeping a fever away” he assure you and it did have you relieved on that. An incident like that could have consequences after the fact you knew well so you were glad he was back at camp.

“I had a feeling your throat might hurt so I brought you these<” you then say after a moment and offered him the bag of peppermints. “When my throat is sore these help a lot, just suck on them, don’t chew” you explain and would see him blink before taking them, putting one in his mouth after opening it up and the silence would just seem to fall upon you both. It was a comfortable one as you looked out to the view, but you were almost jumping after a moment when you felt his shoulder against your own.

Feeling your cheeks warm a bit as you look over you would find he was looking right back into your eyes, something different in his gaze that just sent a shiver through you. Before you could think of a sentence he was speaking, “You know what scared me the most today, Y/n, wasn’t the river or drowning. I was afraid I was going to die before I got to tell you how much I care about you…how much I want to be closer to you. I should have made a move before Blackwater, I was going to try, but then everything went to hell.” The way he spoke you could tell he meant every word, watching for your reaction and you were uncertain what to say.

Your silence would seem to dishearten him, though, and you could see a sad tint coming to his gaze so you would act. You would figure out words in a minute, but for now you would just lean in and let your lips find his. Hands sliding up to his shoulders his own would be finding your waist as he wasted no time in kissing you back. When the need for air became too real you would pull back, finding your own words, “When I saw Boaz a million possibilities ran through my mind, but I had to force myself to not think of the worst. I was terrified I was going to find you dead before I could tell you the same.” You admit before your arms were wrapping around him to pull him close.

You could feel him relaxing in your arms and both of you just held each other tight, “Next time you decide to go fishing after a huge rain, take someone with you alright?” you would say after a bit, feeling and hearing him chuckle as he kissed the side of your head, “You’re right and I promise. Hopefully that will be you, but first I will have to get a new fishing rod” he muse as the tension of the day finally was beginning to fade.

#rdr2 reader insert #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x gn reader #gn reader

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'Curiosity' : an new chapter for "The woman with an strange name" is out !

Chapter Summary : After the confrontation in 'Nothing Gutch and the capture of the Mexican gang leader Karla Rivas, Bell is returning with the others to Redemption now wondering what could happen next......

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart , @smokeywhalee (If anyone want to be added, feel free to tell me, same thing for my main fic "Redemption of an Spirit in an Cold War')

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It was seeming to that shooting was becoming Bell's daily basis, having shot her guns almost every day from now but like she thought when she first entered the city of Redemption, she knew that her guns weren't going to stay silent for a long, long time. She knew how the city was under the rule of Adler's gang, violence was the keyword of that city, nothing for the moment could change that and she knew it and now, she just wanted if possible to not have the finger on the trigger.

After that standoff and the fight with the Mexicans, it was looking like one problem was neutralized with the capture of Karla Rivas and now, everyone was going back to return to Redemption. Adler's gang, the sheriff & Bell having suffered nothing too fatal while the Mexican gang was mostly killed, wounded, or managed to flee away, removing a big problem from Adler's numerous ones as now, his enemy was now on the back of his horse, hogtied & trying to curse.

"A good day everyone!" Adler scoffed as he, Bell, Azoulay & Hudson were engaging themselves through the main street of Redemption after a long ride back here, looking at Rivas back on his horse. "See, welcome to Redemption, Rivas." He joked around, making a tap on her back.

"Mmmmhmmm...mmm." That was the only thing that Rivas could say during the whole ride, a fold covering her mouth and her war paint starting to drip all over her face due to the big heat.

"You should have spent better on your stupid war paint." Hudson was seeing that from his horse and it was making him laugh. "But at least, you got lucky that miss Bell didn't put a hole in you." He added, turning around to look at Bell who wasn't laughing at all along with the sheriff. "What? You don't find this funny?"

"Should I find this funny?" She asked back to him in a harsh tone, looking at him with desperation.

"Why not ?" Hudson said, keeping a funny expression on his face as the group was passing through the sheriff's office but as Adler ordered on the way back, Rivas was going to be kept prisoner below Adler's house for 'interrogation'. "It's not my fault to find things funny."

"To say that we almost got killed because you provoked them to shoot." She told him, remembering what he did that started the gunfight.

"And what? I wasn't going to walk away without firing a bullet." He defended himself about that.

"What an idiot !" She whispered to herself but everyone was able to hear that in the group, Adler was unsurprised as the sheriff's eyes went wide.

"What the fuck did you just say ?" Hudson demanded in a raised voice, no longer funny.

"I said that you were an idiot, Hudson!" She raised her voice too, giving her real thoughts to him. Her voice was so loud that the people who were witnessing the group walking on their horses through the street were stunned to hear that.

"Hudson, don't do anything," Adler ordered, having predicted that Hudson will try to draw his revolver to make her shut her mouth.

"Russ', you know the rules in here," Hudson said in a clear voice, wondering why his boss & friend was asking him to not do anything, she wasn't playing by the rules. "You said..."

"I said things but you stand down and stop been rude towards her or I will let the sheriff & her arrest you." He warned him in a normal voice as the group was arriving near the portal of his house, causing him to get down his horse, soon followed by the others. "Now, stop be rude and get Rivas in the basement." He ordered to him and Hudson complied, taking Rivas on his shoulder to bring her into the house.

"And what now ?" Azoulay questioned Adler as the trio, with Bell, was passing the portal.

"Now? I'll give you something to thank you both for your services today." Adler replied as the three were arriving near the front porch of his house. "Wait here, I'll come back." He gestured to them to stay on the porch as he entered the house, leaving the sheriff & Bell on it.

"So, what a day, right?" Azoulay said, putting his hands on his waist while looking into the main street of Redemption.

"I woke today after having a good night, thinking that everything will be fine and instead, we had to fight a gang of Mexicans in a ghost town." She stated, thinking about that in her head. "I just want to lie down & rest in my bed now." She added.

"It's not every day that we're doing this but I understand your point," Azoulay told her. "Been days that I didn't shoot with those and I didn't lose any of my skills." He continued, looking at his revolver at his belt, still impressed by what he did today.

"You're a great shooter, I can say that." Bell agreed on that point with him, also impressed. "You were also in the army?" She asked him with curiosity

"No, I just learned how to shoot." He replied with a smile on his face, tapping her shoulder in a friendly way before making a cough out of his mouth, putting quickly his hand in front of it. "Like you who learned with someone." He said, raising his eyebrow to her with curiosity. "Tell me, was it Wyatt Earp ?" He demanded, remembering the discussion of the last night in the saloon.

"Are you like Woods, sheriff ?" She smirked at him, slightly annoyed by these questions about it. "I'll tell one day if you all stop to be curious."

"As he said, everyone is curious in this town." He makes her remember that but she was keeping her ground, she will not resign to give what he & the others want from her.

"So stop been curious and I will tell." She suggested before the door behind them was opened, revealing Adler with two packs of dollar bills in his hands.

"Here's your payment for today." He told them, handing over the two packs to both of them. "100 dollars in each one, enough for you to have a drink, all you want." He revealed how much there were in them as the two were checking up the packs.

"And now ?" Bell questioned him.

"Now? You can go, day's over, thanks for your services." Adler responded to both of them before he shut off the door in a gentle way, allowing the two to go away.

"Well, I think that you got your rest for today," Azoulay exclaimed as he was putting the bills in his jacket and the two, starting to walk away from the porch to leave the property.

"I hope so," Bell muttered, putting her own bills in her satchel, and then, her eyes were now focused on something...someone, miss Park, sitting down near a tree along with a sort of sketchbook in her hands. "Uhm...I may have to try to talk to someone here, you can leave without me." She explained, her eyes still on miss Park.

"Wait, don't tell me that you want to talk to her?" Azoulay guessed, knowing that behind him was miss Park.

"Got to try, we all have one life, sheriff," Bell admitted, making a tap on his shoulder. "Go on, I'll be fine."

"Don't get yourself killed !" Azoulay warned her in a worried voice as he resigned himself to leave her doing what she wanted to do, leaving her alone as he left the property through the portal.

Bell couldn't really resist talking to Miss Park when the occasion was too big for her to not take and here was a perfect moment, she was alone, no one around her to avoid her to do what she wanted to do and if someone was going to do so, she either going to defuse the situation or threaten the person but now, she needed to talk to miss Park, she was starting to love her but it was still doubted in her head even after that discussion earlier with miss Park.

"Miss Park?" Bell started to call her out in a low voice as she was walking towards her, having removed her hat along the way.

"Oh, miss Bell, what a surprise!" Miss Park exclaimed, looking up to see the woman she talked with earlier that day, stopping what she was doing on that sketchbook. "I saw you coming back with the others, what was this about ?" She questioned her.

"Had to help your husband," Bell replied, sounding low.

"Please, don't call him my husband, he's an idiot." She said to her in a funny & serious voice at the same time and it was making Bell slightly laugh about it. "Come on, have a sit." She gestured next to her and Bell complied, sitting on the ground, keeping her hat in her hands.

"So...Uhm...what are you doing ?" Bell demanded, looking at the sketchbook in miss Park's hands.

"I'm drawing, it's better than staying in my room as the other told me." She replied, good eyes by looking at what she was drawing and she knows that Bell was maybe going to like it. "Here's what I was making." She removed the page of the sketchbook, handing it to Bell to look at.

"Who is....that's me ?" Bell asked, discovering that it was herself, holding her two pistols in her hands...a beautiful drawing she got in her hands...she was amazed, surprised at her highest point.

"Let's just say that you became someone that I would like to know more about." Miss Park stated in a half-seductive voice to her, making Bell blush away.

"As I was said, a lot of people are curious about me but you...it's something else," Bell revealed, almost willing to open herself to miss Park...she was loving her for sure now... "I don't know what to say about this, it's wonderful," She added, passing her hands through the drawing, a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Miss Bell." Miss Park expressed her gratitude towards Bell.

"Please, just call me Bell...only Bell," Bell advised her in a good & moved voice.

"Of course, you can also call me only Park," Park suggested too and Bell nodded. "You can keep the drawing with you, it's a gift..."

"Miss Park !" Another loud voice came in and Bell looked around to see Hudson himself arriving near the duo. "I think that you should go back to your room as Adler said, now!" He ordered in a clear & harsh voice to her, gesturing to the front door of the house.

"As you wish, sir!" Park whispered, rolling her eyes around as she got up from her spot & start to walk away from the tree.

"Listen to me, Miss Bell." Hudson watched Bell's arms as she was going to left the property for good since that she couldn't stay here forever. "I don't like your attitude and I don't like you and what you're doing here so be aware and watch your back!" He suggested, making himself clear to her.

"Seems that someone is not happy here, you want me to arrest you for the outrage to a deputy ?" She scoffed as a means to defuse the situation, removing his hands off her. "Good day, Hudson." She saluted him as she put her hat back on her head before moving away, not forgetting to salute discreetly Park from the portal.

She was now leaving the property, a drawing of herself made by Park while she was away and to say, now, it was sure that her feelings towards Park were like...real now, she was amazed by her beauty, her moves...she was loving everything in her despite she was described as 'Adler's property' but she was taking the risk, she loves her and she could do anything to help her flee but was the feelings mutuals?

For her, it was a doubt, more into yes but it was still doubt. She left the property as the evening was starting and now, instead of going to see anyone, in particular, she wanted to go to her hotel room and directly go to sleep as the day was so exhausting for her. She just wanted some damn peace without having a finger on the trigger of her guns for once and when she arrived at the floor of her room, she was surprised to see Maxis standing near her door.

"Sam?" Bell asked, wondering what she was doing here.

"Hey, Bell, how are you?" Maxis asked back to her, removing herself from the wall she was leaned on.

"Uhm...I'm good, all fine." Bell responded, moving to unlock the door of her room. "What are you doing here ?" She demanded.

"I wanted to know if you wanted some company tonight." Maxis proposed to her as in fact, she was feeling more secure with Bell and Bell...she was happy to sleep with someone... a woman.

"Yes, it's a good idea but..." Bell said, opening the front door of her room after unlocking it. "Just for sleep, I had a long day." She clarified but it wasn't something bad for Maxis, she just wanted to be with Bell now.

"As you wish," Maxis told her with a smile before Bell entered the room, letting Maxis enter too before closing the door behind her. "A long day as you said..." Maxis whispered as she was already sitting on the edge of the bed while Bell was stripping herself from her holsters, putting them away on a free chair.

"Got to help the mayor with a problem," Bell explained, removing her hat from her head and putting it on a dresser before removing her own pants away, letting them on the ground. "I'm just damn exhausted," Bell breathed before she lay down on her bed just next to Maxis.

"I can see that," Maxis smirked as she installed herself along with Bell, looking at her in a flirty way. "I've been wondering all day where was my beautiful darling." She exclaimed, moving her hand above Bell's chest before moving it along to touch Bell's cheeks.

"I'm just in front of you, Sam." Bell smiled, getting her own right hand to stroke Maxis cheeks...it was weird because...she starts to have feelings for Maxis too...loving two women in the same town..."Sam...I think I love Park." She revealed to her but Maxis kept her smile on her face, not even surprised.

"It's good, you love her and...I'm here." Maxis said, getting closer to Bell on the bed.

"Yeah but...it seems that I'm starting to love you too, is that weird ?" Bell demanded as she was in doubts now, why she was loving two women here? It couldn't be normal for her. "I don't want to hurt you, you know."

"That doesn't hurt me, darling," Maxis commented before she moved her lips above Bell's ones, taking her by surprise. "You can love anyone you want because you need to know that I fell in love with you too." She told her with a smile.

"I love you...I love Park." Bell whispered silently, thinking that it was bad to think about that, she was new in that type of thing since she just discovered her feelings towards the women but now, she fell in love with two women at the same time...damn..."I don't know what to think about it."

"Think all you want but you know that your feelings are still here," Maxis affirmed as she wrapped her arms around Bell, putting her head above Bell's shoulder as Bell was looking at the ceiling, still trying to find out what to do...she needed to know...

"You know that you're not alone here."

#cod cold war #cod bocw #cod black ops cold war #call of duty cold war #cod cw #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #fem!bell #helen park #samantha maxis #western au #cod fic

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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Thought I Couldn't Top It, Huh? OVER 2000 Questions! (Truly the Longest!) Created by distortedcognition

Part 1

Time and date right now: It’s currently Monday, August 30, 2021 at 3:37AM. How far do you want to get? I’m gonna get through the whole thing, just not all at once. =>This or That<= Pie or cake? Cake. Chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla. Black or white? Both. Ceiling or floor? Floor. Couch or bed? Bed. Cough or sneeze? Uh, I guess sneeze. On or off? That really depends. Closed or open? That really depends as well. Brush or comb? Brush. Long or short? Depends also.

Big or small? It depends, stopppp. Wet or dry? Sigh. Under or over? I’m not good at choosing, apparently. Fly or fall? Fly. Falling isn’t fun. Smile or frown? I’d rather smile than frown. Tears of joy or tears of sorrow? Tears of joy would of course be better, but I’m only familiar with tears of sorrow. Hot or cold? Cold, unless we’re taking coffee and foods meant to be hot. When I say cold I’m mostly talking about temperature wise. Warm or cool? Same answer ^^^ Rough or smooth? Smooth. Cat or dog? Dog. Snake or bird? Bird. Shark or T-Rex? T-Rex. Past or present? Past. Science fiction or fantasy? Both. Dull or sharp? Sharp. Live forever or die young? Live forever. Books or television? Both. Jump or skip? Skip. Fast or slow? Depends. Run or walk? Walk. Disney or Warner Brothers? Disney. Belle or Jasmine? Belle. Gaston or Cruella Deville? Cruella Deville. Food or friends? Food. ha. Odd comparison. Colors or black and white? Colors. Cute or pretty? Cute. Good or evil? Uh, good. Fruits or vegetables? I eat more veggies than fruits, but even that’s not a lot. Milk or juice? I’ll say milk, but almond milk specifically. I don’t drink it by itself, I just use milk with like coffee drinks, with cereal, milkshakes, and to dip cookies in. Hot chocolate or gingerale? Hot chocolate. Beer or wine? Neither, I don’t drink. Movies or cartoons? Movies, but I still watch some cartoons. Pillow or blanket? Blanket. Moon or stars? Stars. Sky or sea? Sea. Explode or implode? Jeez, both aren’t good but I certainly don’t want to implode... Tree or flower? Tree. Mountain Dew or Sprite? Mountain Dew. Ketchup or mustard? Both. Meats or veggies? Both. Straps or strapless? Straps. Water or Gatorade? Water. PS2 or Xbox 360? PS2. History or geography? History. Geometry or algebra? Ew, neither. Basketball or volleyball? Nether. Not a sports fan at all. Basketball or soccer? ^^^ Basketball or tennis? ^^^ Basketball or baseball? ^^^ Basketball or football? ^^^ Basketball or swimming? Swimming. Volleyball or soccer? Not a sports fan... Volleyball or tennis? ^^^ Volleyball or baseball? ^^^ Volleyball or football? ^^^ Volleyball or swimming? Swimming. Soccer or tennis? Still don’t like sports. Soccer or baseball? ^^^ Soccer or football? ^^^ Soccer or swimming? Swimming. Tennis or baseball? No. Sports. Tennis or football? ^^^ Tennis or swimming? Swimming. Baseball or football? My dislike for sports still hasn’t changed. Baseball or swimming? Swimming. Football or swimming? Swimming. Chinese or Mexican food? Mexican food. Red or orange? Red. Red or yellow? Yellow. Red or green? Green. Red or blue? Blue. Red or indigo? Indigo. Red or violet? Violet. Orange or yellow? Yellow. Orange or green? Green. Orange or blue? Blue. Orange or indigo? Indigo. Orange or violet? Violet. Yellow or green? Green. Yellow or blue? Blue. Yellow or indigo? Yellow. Yellow or violet? Yellow. Green or blue? Green. Green or indigo? Green. Green or violet? Green. Indigo or violet? Violet. Fall or summer? Fall, hands down. I hate summer. Winter or spring? Winter. Rain or snow? Bothhh. Mud or dirt? Neither. Snakes or spiders? Uh, NEITHER OF THEM. Fido or Fluffy? Fluffy. Rainbows or stars? Stars. Blue or gray sky? Gray sky. Prairies or forests? Forests. Lakes or streams? Both. Fish or caimans? I guess fish. I don’t like reptiles. Roses or daffodils? Roses. Bauhaus or Rosetta Stone? Rosetta Stone. I’ve never heard of Bauhaus. Sisters of Mercy or Skinny Puppy? What? Green Day or Fall Out Boy? Both. From First to Last or My Chemical Romance? My Chemical Romance, but I like a couple songs by From First to Last during my emo days. The Monkees or The Beatles? The Beatles. David Bowie or Billy Idol? I like some songs from both, but wasn’t a big fan of either one. Helloween or Skid Row? No idea. Britney Spears or Vanessa Carlton? Britney, but A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton is a fave. The Goo Goo Dolls or 3 Doors Down? Both. Duran Duran or Madonna? Madonna, but I do like “Hungry Like a Wolf” and “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran. John Williams or Danny Elfman? Both. Mozart or Beethoven? Mozart.

Men at Work or Men Without Hats? Men at Work, but ya just can’t help but sing along to “Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats. The Arrogant Worms or Voltaire? Not familiar with either one. Dark Muse or Inkubus Sukkubus? Not familiar with them either. Queen or Black Sabbath? Queen. Rush or Pet Shop Boys? Rush. Johnny Hates Jazz or Deep Blue Something? Deep Blue Something. Supertramp or Steppenwolf? Not familiar with either one. Enormous mansion or humble abode? Ha, I thought we were still on the bands for a sec. Anyway, humble abode. Teaspoon or tablespoon? Uh, don’t really have a preference it just depends. China plates or crystal figurines? Crystal figurines. Knife or spork? Spork. Bedroom or basement? Bedroom. Antiques or chrome? Antiques. Wide screen televisions or ornately-designed windows? Ornately designed windows. Carpet or wood? Wood. Blenders or washing machines? Washing machines. Pen or pencil? Pen. Couch or bed? Bed. Kitchen sink or bathroom sink? Bathroom sink. Sitting on the roof with a friend or swimming in your backyard with them? Swimming. Phones or AIM? Aw, RIP AIM. Pillow or footrest? Pillow. Sharpies or ducks? Sharpies. How did you come up with that comparison? Personality quizzes or story quizzes? Personality. Gaia or Neopets? Oh wow, I remember Gaia. Anyway, I’ll go with Neopets. Attempting to use proper grammar or purposely butchering language? Proper grammar. Having to read the poetry on Quizilla or writing your own? I don’t read poetry, but I’d rather do so than attempt to write my own. Gold or silver? Both. Lipstick or lip gloss? Lip gloss. Sunny or rainy? Rainy. Edgar Allan Poe or Oscar Wilde? Edgar Allann Poe. Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom? Johnny Depp. Lindsay Lohan or Hilary Duff? Hilary Duff. Pringles or Doritos? Doritos. MTV or VHI? MTV. Vampire or mermaid? Vampire. The Internet or television? Internet. Romantic comedy or romance tragedy? Romantic comedy. Comedy or drama? Drama. Comedy or horror? Horror. Comedy or fantasy? Fantasy. Law and Order: Criminal Intent or Law and Order: SVU? I don’t watch either one. The OC or Laguna Beach? (Why have I succumbed to asking this question?) I liked both. Blind or deaf? Uhh. Blind or mute? Mute or deaf? Shrimp or crab? Neither. I don’t like seafood. Crab or lobster? ^^^ Stickers or stamps? Stickers. VHS or DVD? DVD. VHS or CD? CD. CD or DVD? DVD. Paris or New York City? Both. Philadelphia or Chicago? Chicago. MySpace or TagWorld? Myspace. I’ve never heard of TagWorld. MySpace or Facebook? Facebook. Myspace died a longggg time ago. Mall goth or TRUE goth? What’s a TRUE goth, exactly?

Emo or punk? Emo. Emo or prep? Emo. Punk or prep? Punk. Punk or goth? Punk. Goth or prep? Goth.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #over 2000 questions survey series part 1 #this or that #long survey #about me

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noladyme · 4 years

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The Crown Princess of Charming - part 13

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom @edonaspanca

“I know you from somewhere…”, the bearded biker, who’s whiskey I’d stolen during my performance, said. I now noticed, he had a V. President patch on his cut. We were seated at a table in the clubhouse. Jax had placed me on his lap; hiding his erection from our tryst against the wall outside. “Yeah?”, I asked. “From where? Debonair?”. I’d danced at the club a few times; before quitting to teach full time. “Nah, my old lady would kill me”, the biker answered. “You a teacher?”. I cleared my throat. “Used to be”, I said; and took a swig of my beer. Jax rubbed my back; knowing it was a hard topic for me. “Still are… will be”, he said. “Where do your kids go to school, Mike?”. “Richardson”, Mike answered. “7’th and 8’th grade”.

I narrowed my eyes at my new acquaintance. “You’re… Harry’s dad”, I smiled. Mike nodded. “Yeah, that’s my boy. And you’re miss Rose”. “Cat”, I grinned. “Good to see you again”. We shook hands. “Small world”, the bearded biker smiled. “His grades have gone to shit, since you left”. “Well… I’m surprised he even maintained a B+ while I was there… he spent most his time looking up my skirt”. Mike laughed loudly. “Like father, like son”. “Tell him I said hi”, I smiled. “Will do”, Mike said. “Hey, why’d you leave?”.

I grimaced slightly. “Needed a fresh start… away from Chicago”. Mike looked from Jax to me, and smiled. “Seems you found it… though I never took you for the type, to end up an old lady for the Samcro VP”. I leaned back into Jax’s arms. “He’s not so bad”, I smiled; feeling Jacksons nose nuzzle my neck. “Except for the occasional road-rash I gotta patch up”. Mike took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, I heard you took a tilt, man. You good?”. “I’m fine”, Jax said. “Just a meth-head with a rifle. It’s good”. I frowned at the thought.

“You, uh… get that info you were after up north?”, Mike asked. Jax grimaced. “I got what I needed”, he muttered. “Good. Let me know if Chicago can do anything”, Mike said. “I gotta go call my old lady”. Mike left us for the door.

I chewed my lip. “Did you really get everything you needed?”, I said quietly. “I got enough”, Jax muttered. “Still need something to convince Clay”. “Like what?”. “I don’t know yet. But all this shit that’s been going on…”. He took a swig of my beer. “I got an ATF agent using my old lady to get to me; and Mayans moving in on our turf – angry that we’re moving drugs for white power”. “Mayans?”, I wondered. “Another club. Mexicans. The one’s we’ve been hauling for until now”. “Not anymore?”. He shook his head. “They’re pissed… don’t like our new racist partners…”. “I don’t blame them”, I muttered.

I sighed. “How do we end this?”, I asked. He stroked my cheek. “You don’t have to do anything”, he smiled. “I’m not putting you in harms way”. “Jax…”, I sighed. “Just, let me know if I can do anything. Please”. I kissed the corner of his mouth. “Right now, your job is making sure my boner isn’t on full display”, he grinned. I rolled my eyes. “Professional boner-hider”, I muttered. “You could be a boner-ender”, he chuckled; and bounced his legs a bit; making me rub against his lap. “What does that even mean?”, I said. Jax bit his lip; and smirked at me. “Come on”.

He patted my butt to get me to stand up; and pulled me in front of him – leading me down the hall to the makeshift gym; and closing the door behind us.

I spent the next 10 minutes on my knees; mouth full of Jax. It wasn’t a bad place to be.

---

For some reason; I wasn’t hungover the next morning; which worked out perfectly, as I needed to go in to town to pick up my phone.

Jax was splayed naked across the bed; and couldn’t help myself, but pinch his perfect ass-cheek. “I’m awake”, he groaned. “I’m gonna go pick up my phone”, I smiled. “There’s coffee on the pot; and your son will be home in an hour. We’re taking him to the doctor, remember?”. Jax let out a desperate sigh. “I feel like shit”, he said. “Advil on the counter. Toaster waffles in the freezer. Have at it”, I said; picking up my purse. “I love you”. “Love you”, Jax muttered into the pillow. I walked out into the hallway. “Don’t mix whiskey and tequila, next time”, I called after him. “Don’t offer body-shots, then!”, he croaked. I grinned, and left the house.

My phone was bright as new. They’d had to return to factory settings, so I spent a few minutes ion the car, setting it up to my liking. All former messages where gone. Joshua’s messages… I’d never have to deal with them again.

I picked up some groceries; smiling a hello at some hungover Chicago Sons hanging over their bikes outside the coffee shop – and was about to start my car; when my phone rang. “Hi, Cat. It’s Ally Lowen. Can I come by the house today?”. “Yeah, I guess… is there a problem?”, I asked. “No, I just have some paperwork for Jackson and you to sign. Guardianship over Jackson’s son”. My heart jumped. “Yeah… yeah, sure. Come by in an hour?”. “See you then”, Lowen said, and hung up.

I drove down the street with a wide smile; stopping at a red light. Suddenly someone knocked on my window; making me jump. Outside stood Darby; a menacing grin on his face. I pulled the .38 from my purse; and held it in my hand on my lap; as I rolled down the window. “What do you want?”, I snarled. “Relax, lady. I just need to get in touch with your old man”. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Come by the clubhouse…”, I smirked. “You know they’d kill me if I get within 100 yards of that place”, Darby sneered. “Like I said… come by the clubhouse”. Someone honked their horn behind me. The lights had turned to green. “Look, just have him call me”, Darby said; and threw a piece of paper at me. I revved the engine; and sped away.

Back at the house, Gemma was nursing a hungover Jax, by chiding him for mixing different kinds of drinks. “You know better, Jackson. I told you…”. “Yeah, I know, ma’”, Jax moaned. “Cat already had at me”. Gemma looked at me. “Good. Tell me how the doctor’s appointment goes”. “We will”, I smiled. “Jax, Lowen called. She’ll be by in 30 minutes. Papers to sign”.

Gemma frowned. “Trouble?”. Jax shook his head. “Nah”, he said. “They’re guardianship papers”. Gemma smiled broadly. “For Cat?”, she said. “Shit; that’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks”. Jax smiled slightly. “Yeah. It’s the right move”. I blushed.

Gemma kissed my cheek. “I’m happy”, she said. “For you and Abel”. She picked up her purse, and went to leave. “The baby is in the playpen. Once his father sobers up; maybe he can drive you to that appointment… otherwise; you drive!”. I smiled, and said goodbye.

Jax leaned back; and downed his coffee. “Am I still drunk, or are you looking more beautiful than usual?”. “You’re not getting out of this, Jax”, I said. “You ripped apart my favorite bra last night”. He pouted. “I’m sorry… I’ll buy you a new one”. I rolled my eyes.

“I met Darby…”, I muttered. Jax instantly tensed up. ”What did he do?”, he growled. “Nothing… he wanted to talk to you”. I handed him the piece of paper; which had a phone number written on it in a fast hand. Jax frowned. “I’ll call him… later”, he said quietly. “Make sure he doesn’t go near you again”. I smiled softly.

Jackson went into the living room; and picked up Abel. “Hey, my man. How you doing?”, he muttered. “Let me strew some wisdom on you. Don’t let a woman offer you body-shots, when you’re already neck deep in beer and whiskey”. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Sure, make it my fault”, I grinned. “Go get dressed. I’m not sure Lowen will be comfortable around you in just your boxers”. “I can put on my cut…”, Jax smirked. I frowned. “Pants, Teller!”.

He handed me Abel; and went to put on some clothes.

A little while later, we were once again seated at the kitchen table with Lowen. Jax was bouncing Abel on his shoulder. “These papers mean Cat can bring Abel to doctor’s appointments, right? Take care of him, if anything happens to me?”. I frowned at the thought. “Yes”, Lowen said. “She will have most of the same rights as a legal parent… Have you talked this over with your ex-wife?”. Jax shook his head. “Does she need to sign anything?”, he asked. “You have custody of Abel, so no”, the lawyer answered. “But she’s still his parent… she has legal rights”. Jax frowned. “If she sobers up; we’ll consider letting her have visitations”. I smiled slightly at him. He met my gaze and returned the gesture.

I ran a hand through my hair. “I know this isn’t why you’re here… but do you have any news of my case?”. “Nothing yet”, Lowen sighed. “They’re still stalling. But you should consider yourself a free woman. There’s no warrant for your arrest; and you’re not officially a suspect of murder”. “But Jax is?”, I asked. “Again, not officially”, she said. “For now, it seems all they have to go on is your self-defense story”. “Good”, I muttered.

Jax squeezed my hand. “We’ll be fine, babe”. Abel let out a slight cough again. “Sorry, we gotta take him to the doctor’s”. “Of course”, Lowen smiled. “If you’ll just sign these. I’ll get them filed right away”. She handed Jax a document and a pen; and he scribbled his signature on it. “You sign here”, Lowen said; and pushed the papers towards me. I wrote my name on the dotted line. Lowen packed up. “I’ll get going. Take care, and call me if anything comes up”. She let herself out.

Jax smiled at me warmly. “Thank you, Cat”, he said. “Thanks for taking on my boy like this”. I leaned over and kissed him. “Together, right?”. Jax laughed quietly, and nodded. “Let’s go get him checked out.

---

The doctor’s appointment was quick. Abel had nothing wrong with him but a small cold. He needed a little extra tlc, and to be kept warm; without moving into a fever. Jax seemed relaxed and happy on our drive home. “Let’s get coffee”, he said. “What?”, I said. “Like a family… let’s go get coffee; and hang out with our kid”. “Abel needs to rest”, I said. “He’ll rest, while we hang out at Gary’s”. “Ok”, I smiled.

The coffee-shop was mostly deserted, save for a few elderly patrons. It was the middle of the day; and most people were at work. Jax went up to the man behind the counter. “Hey, Gary!”, he smiled. “How’s your…”. “My mom’s fine”, Gary grinned. “Thanks… how’s your boy?”. “My mom’s been in here, huh?”, Jax chuckled. “She told me about his cough. Seemed worried”. “He’s good”, I said; Abel in my arms. “Just a cold”.

We sat down at a table. Jax texted Gemma to let her know Abel was all right; and we spent a few minutes enjoying our coffee; and holding hands. Jax took Abel from my arms; and held him against his chest. “You gonna call Wendy?”, I said quietly. “She’s at a rehab down south”, he muttered. “I’ll call her… promise”. I smiled and stroked his cheek. “Thank you…”, I said. “Why are you thanking me?”. I sighed. “Because you listened to me about her… and, I guess, for giving Abel a chance to know his mother”. Jax smiled slightly. “I love you”. Abel let out a cooing sound. “He agrees”. We laughed quietly together.

There was a rumbling of engines down the street; and Jax looked up. “Chicago leaving?”, I said. “No”, he said; looking at the bikers driving by. “We need to get home”. He stood up; and pulled my hand for me to follow.

Jax drove through two red lights to get us home. “What’s going on?”, I asked. Abel was fussing in the back seat, and I was worried. “Mayans”, Jackson muttered. “Once we get home, you get inside and lock the door. Don’t let anyone in, unless they’re club, Lyla or my mom. I’ll have Rat come over. He’ll stay until I get back. Keep your gun on your body”. “Jax…?”, I said. “It’ll be fine. Just do as I say”.

He pulled in to the driveway; and jumped out to get Abel from his seat. Handing me the baby; he kissed me deeply; and jumped on his bike. “Inside!”, he bellowed, and started up the engine. “Go!”. I ran inside with Abel; and locked the door behind me.

---

Rat came over 20 minutes later; looking over his shoulder. I let him in, and locked the door behind him. “What’s happening?”, I demanded. “I don’t know”, he answered. “Jax told me to stay put. Keep an eye on you”.

Abel was crying, and I paced the floor of the living room. “Can I get you anything?”, Rat asked. I felt Abel’s head. He was warm, but I didn’t think he had a fever. “Teething ring. Freezer”. Rat returned seconds later with the ring; and I put it to Abel’s mouth, to sooth the teething-pain. He began to settle down.

My smartphone rang. “Hello?”, I said. “Catherine… it’s agent Stahl”. “Ok, bye”, I snarled; about to hang up. “Catherine! Listen… Charming is full of Mexican bikers; can you tell me anything about that?”. “I don’t know; why don’t you ask them?”. “They don’t seem to want to talk…”. I hung up.

I paced the floor a few more seconds, before handing Rat the baby. “Can you put him down for a nap?”. Rat nodded, “Yeah… I have a little sister”, he muttered. “Good. Go”, I said.

Rat went into the nursery; and I called Jax up on my phone. “Cat?”. He sounded occupied. “Stahl called me. Asking about Mexicans”. “Shit… Look, it’s… not good”. “Lockdown again?”, I asked. “No… not yet. Just stay put”. “I will”. “I’ll be back when I can. Stay safe. Love you”. “Love you”. He hung up; and I sank into the couch.

Rat came back from the nursery. “He’s sleeping”. “Thanks”, I muttered. “If you’re hungry, grab something from the fridge”. Rat disappeared into the kitchen; and I sat down on the couch.

The burner phone was ringing in my purse. “Hello?” “Babe, it’s me”. “Jax; what’s happening?”. “Don’t use your phone when calling me”, Jackson said. “Cover it in towels and a trash-bag. Have Rat put it in your car”. “Why? What’s going on?”. “Just… please. Do it. Don’t talk”. My breath hitched in fear. I grabbed my android; and went into the kitchen – covering it in a kitchen towel; and throwing it into a bag. I handed it to Rat; mouthing the word car. He grabbed my keys from the counter; and went outside.

“It’s gone”, I said into the burner. “What’s going on?” “We think it’s been bugged”. “What?”, I said. “I just picked it up this morning!”. “The electronics store called TM yesterday. They didn’t know where else to reach you”, he said. “The guy said your phone looked weird inside; but that they’d put it together the way it was”. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”. “Some crow-eater picked up the call”, he snarled. “She wrote it down; but was to drunk to tell you when we came to the clubhouse last night”. “Shit… Stahl… what did she hear?”. “Depends on where it’s been up until you broke it”. “I… always kept it with me”. I swallowed hard. “Jax… everything we talked about…” “I know, Cat”, he said. “Did you have it on you after Kohn…?”. “Yeah… in my purse mostly. Up until it broke. When would they have had a chance to mic it?”. “Maybe Kohn did it. Before you left Chicago. To keep an ear on you”. I felt sick… Josh had access to me for weeks… months. “I broke it once before. Had it fixed in a shop near my apartment”. “What store?” “Can’t remember. It was in Karlov Avenue…”. “I’ll have Mike make some calls. Stay put, babe” “I will…”. He hung up.

Bile rose in my throat; and I ran to the bathroom; throwing up violently into the toilet. Rat came to my rescue with a hairclip and a glass of water. He tied up my hair. “My mom would drink…”, he muttered. I was about to say something; before I had to lean over the toilet again – letting out another stream of bile. Once I’d finally stopped retching; I took the glass of water; and drank it all. “Thanks, Rat”, I muttered. “Can you… I need to brush my teeth”. He nodded; and left me alone.

I stood up; and grabbed my toothbrush – furiously brushing my teeth to remove the taste of sick in my mouth. I looked in the mirror. You’re never leaving me… You’ll always be here… screwing up my life.

I let Rat know I was going to try to get some rest; and went into the bedroom – closing the door behind me; and turning on the baby-monitor. The burner-phone was in my hand; and I crawled into bed, staring at it. After a while of hyperventilating; I more or less passed out, into a fitful sleep. I only woke some hours later; to crying sounds from the monitor.

I sprang into the nursery; to find Opie soothing Abel. Chibs was with him. “Where’s Jax?”, I whimpered. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t he here?”. I began sobbing. Chibs went over to put his arms around me. “It’s ok, my love. Jackson is fine”, he said soothingly; as I hiccupped against his shoulder. “He’s meeting up with Darby”. “What about the Mayans?”, I rasped. “What’s going on?”.

Chibs made me sit on the couch; arm around my shoulder. “Just a show of force, sweetheart. Nothing else”, he said. “We’re taking you to the cabin”, Opie said. “Why?”, I asked. “Clay and Jax wants you out of the reach of Stahl”, he answered. “She don’t know about that place”. I tried to calm my breathing. Opie continued bouncing Abel up and down gently; making the baby calm down. “Get your things. Enough for a few days”, Chibs said. I looked at Opie. “I got the baby”, he said.

I went back into the bedroom; Chibs following me with a backpack for my things. Throwing clothes and essentials into the bag – among those, the blue flannel – I pulled on my sneakers; and followed the scot outside. “My car?”, I said; reaching for the keys. “Leave it”, Opie said. “Rat’s taking your phone to the clubhouse to get checked out”. I nodded; and followed him into a van. Opie set Abel’s car-seat between us; and started the van; driving down the street. Chibs followed on his bike; and Tig and Happy came down the road to join our caravan.

---

We arrived at the cabin a few hours later. Opie carried Abel inside for me; and the others checked the perimeters for unwanted company. Opie grabbed a cooler from the van; and produced a sandwich and a thermos of coffee for me. “Lyla…”, he muttered. “You need to eat. Rat said you threw up”. “Yeah”, I whispered. “Cat… are you…”. “No, I’m still not pregnant”, I sneered. He looked down. “Sorry… I’m just…”. “I know”, he said. “I get it… Jax will be here as soon as he can”.

He went to check up with the others. “Opie?”, I called after him. He turned to face me. “Thank you…”. “Welcome”, he muttered; and a smile ghosted his face.

There wasn’t a cot for Abel in the cottage; so I made a makeshift border on the bed in one of the bedrooms – making sure he didn’t roll off it and hurt himself. He fell asleep quickly – tuckered out from the drive. I went back into the main room. It was too quiet; so I turned on the tv – needing any kind of sound to block out the silence. I put on The Goonies which was laying under the cover of Karate Kid; and sat down on the couch – staring into space.

A while later; Chibs came inside. “I sent Opie home to his kids. How are you holding up?”. I tried sending him a smile; but instantly fell into tears. The scot came over; and took me into his arms again. “Hey, hey… you’ll be fine… everything is fine”. He kissed the top of my head. “What’s happening?”, I croaked. “Did I get you all into trouble?”. “No, luv’”, he said. “No more than we already were”. “I’m so sorry”, I whimpered.

Chibs sighed; and pulled me to lean against him. “You know, I used to run with the IRA…”. “You?”, I sniveled. “Yup. Those people will slit you from neck to dick; if you so much as look in the direction of a cop”, he said. “This… you did nothing wrong. Even the army would be able to see that, if it was them you were hold up with”. I sighed. “I’ve been carrying a live mic with me on club grounds… having conversations about murders… I’m killing your club”. “The Sons never say die!”, Chibs smiled; and looked towards the screen, as a young Sean Astin was uttering the same words to his friends in the movie. I chuckled at his joke; feeling a little better.

Chibs sat with me for a while; before taking a call in the kitchen. “Jackie’s done with his meeting. He’s driving out now”. I exhaled in relief. Chibs sat back down, and lit me a cigarette. I took a deep draw from the smoke; and put my head on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, scottie”, I smiled. “Tell it to my ex”, he grinned.

---

I fell asleep against Chibs’ shoulder; waking up to the sound of Jax’s voice. “Hands of the goods, Chibby”, he grinned. I sprang of the couch, and into his arms. “You thought I wouldn’t come back? Trade me in for a brit?”. “Oy!”, Chibs barked. “I’m a free Scotsman!”. Jax chuckled. “I got her, man… thanks”. Chibs stepped over, and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome, brother”. He went outside.

“Are you ok?”, Jax said; stroking a lock of hair out of my face. “I’m… what happened?”. Jax walked us over to the couch; sitting down. He took my hands. “Juice checked your phone. It was bugged”. I scrunched my face up in anger. “When?”. “Mike made some calls. The electronics store pulled up an old receipt. Someone payed extra to have it installed. They didn’t remember who; just that it was paid in cash. Looks like Kohn”. “He had me tapped for months… probably heard everything”, I said. “That’s how he knew about you. He listened to our calls”. Jax shook his head. “It’s more than that”, he said. “The bug picked up everything it heard. Not just calls”. “Shit… if Stahl has access to the receiver…”. Jackson clenched his jaw. “She does”, he muttered. “Lowen called while I was with Darby. Stahl sent her transcripts of the recordings from the motel. Warning us that she’s coming for us”. It was all coming to a head.

I stood up and began pacing the floor. “Oh my god… Jax, she knows everything!”. “She can’t prove it…”, he said. “She has recordings of everything we’ve ever said when my phone was in the room… She heard my fight with Kohn. Heard me telling you, he needed to die. The gunshot… Jax, she even heard us have sex a few days later!”. Jax sighed. “The recordings were made illegally. They won’t hold up in court, and she can’t arrest me yet”. “She can twist and turn it in her favor”, I said. “If she takes me in again… what if I can’t say the right thing? What if she gets something out of me, by making me say something she already knows?”.

He got up; and took a hold of my shoulders. “That’s why you’re here. We’re not letting her get to you”. “Clay…”, I whispered. “He’s on the same page. Knows it wasn’t your fault”. He pulled me into his arms. “Look… you’re safe here. And we’re safe as long as you stay here… away from her”. “How are you going to explain my disappearing?”, I asked. He shrugged. “You got scared. Split”, he said. “Abel… We just signed those papers”. “It got too intense for you. You couldn’t deal with it; and took off”. I let out a shaky breath, and buried my face in his chest. “I’m taking him back to Charming tomorrow morning. Leaving him with Gemma”. “And after?”, I asked. “I’ll be… searching for you up north. Stay in state, so they don’t put out an APB on me”. “You’re not staying here”, I whispered. “I’ll come back when I can, Cat”, he said; and kissed my forehead. “How long? We can’t do this forever”.

He smiled encouragingly at me. “Darby gave us the name of the prosecutor Ollie’s been working with”, he said. ”I think I know how to get us out of this”. I shook my head in wonder. “How?”, I asked. “I’m gonna see if I can make a deal”, he said. “Get us out of business with Nichols… the state prosecutor wants him; and we’re gonna give him to them”. “What does that have to do with Stahl?”, I frowned.

He sighed. “Sit down, babe. This is gonna be a long one”. He pulled out a chair for me; and I sat down across from him. “Stahl wants to kill the club, through me. She get’s me on murder; she can pull RICO on us; pull out all old charges; and run them again”. “She did set you up”, I said. Jax nodded. “ATF has been hounding Darby’s business as well – but they’re lower grade than us. Stahl contacted him… let him know he could avoid being charged, if he agreed to lending a hand to a federal agent; with his case”. “His case…”, I said quetly. “Stahl put Kohn in contact with Darby”, Jackson confirmed. “I can’t say for sure that she knew, Kohn was going to use Darby to drug you, but I wouldn’t put it past her”. I scoffed. “So that bullshit about Kohn calling him on his own accord…”. “Just that… bullshit”. “And the motel? Stahl told Darby where I was, so you’d go after us… Kill Joshua”. “Darby was pissed she hadn’t told him he’d be going after a Samcro old lady”, Jax snarled. I smiled sarcastically. “And she apologized by giving him the address of the motel”, I sneered. Jax nodded. “That thundercunt was using all of us…”.

Jax swallowed. “With Darby’s info; we have proof that she set me up for murder… but it doesn’t change the fact that I did it”. He bit his lips. “If I can make a deal with the prosecutor; go away on something else…”. My breath hitched. “What are you talking about; going away?”, I said. He looked down. “Clay wants to keep moving drugs… but he’s more concerned about reputation than money – and the way Nichols went behind our backs; got that Nord killed, and dumped him on us, to start shit…”. “He believes that?”, I asked “Darby more or less confirmed it. Said Nichols had been looking for a reason to move in on us… he gave white-power green light to go for his cousin. Said he screwed his ex”.

I was confused. “So… Darby agreed to have his cousin-brother killed… dumped him on you… to have a reason for the alt-right to move in on you? Why?”. “He wanted free range to deal. Nichols promised to help… broke that promise, when he decided to use us as mules”. “And the Mayans?”, I said. “They’re just pissed. They still wanna deal with us; but not before we get Nichols out of the picture”.

“So Clay gets to keep the drugs…”, I muttered. “For now…”, Jax said. “Look, the club runs for them for a few years… keep it safe. I’ll work on getting us out, when I come back”. “From where?”, I whispered. Jax looked down. “I’m gonna have to give the prosecutor something, besides Nichols… I need to go inside”. “Prison?”, I whimpered. “I’ll make a good deal, Cat… It won’t be long”. My chin began trembling. “No… you can’t do that, Jax!”, I said; tears running down my cheeks. “Please…”. He took my hands. “It will be fine… I’ll be fine”. “They’re taking you away for murder!”, I yelled. “No, they’re not”, he said. “The evidence against me won’t hold; Stahl knows that. Anything I give the state prosecutor will override what she thinks she has, and be seperate from her RICO-case… I’ll make sure you are kept out of it. You don’t get charged due to self-defense; and I go in on some other charges… muling; possession… something. In return; we hand the prosecutor Nichols”.

I closed my eyes. “How long?”, I asked; tears still staining my cheeks. “I don’t know, yet”, Jax muttered. “I’m meeting with Lowen tomorrow… Cat… this is the only way”. I opened my eyes again. “Ok…”, I whispered. He squeezed my hands. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I love you; and I will do anything to keep you and our boy safe”. He smiled. “This is it, for me. You are…”. He kissed my knuckles. “I’m going to make sure Stahl never touches you again. The alt-right will disappear from Charming, once Nichols is gone. He’s the one with the pull there… We can move on with our lives”.

I took a deep breath. “I’ll take care of Abel… however long until you come back… he’ll know…”. I began sobbing again. Jax stood up; and walked around the table to pull me into his arms. “I know… I love you”. “Say it again”, I muttered. “I love you, Cat… Marry me”.

I pulled back. “What?”. “Marry me”, he repeated. I shook my head. “You’re doing this now? While I’m on the run, and you’re getting ready to go to prison?”. “No better time”, he smiled. “You’re the one…”. I sniveled. “You gonna pull out a violin orchestra, and a thousand red roses, prince Charming?”, I chuckled. He grinned. “Smartass”, he laughed. “Just give me an answer”.

“Sure…”, I muttered. He raised a brow at me. “Sure…?”, he said. “Yes!”, I smiled. “When you’re back… I’ll marry you”. Jax face lit up; and he let out a relieved laugh. “Cat…”. He pulled flush against him; and kissed me deeply – only coming up for air; when Happy, Tig and Chibs came into the cabin.

“What’s happening?”, Chibs said. “We’re getting married”, Jax grinned. “To each other?”, Tig asked. “Idiot…”, Happy muttered; and stepped over to grab the both of us in a bearhug.

Chibs and Tig joined in on the hugging. “When?”, Chibs asked. Jax grimaced; and looked at me. “After… we have something to finish first”.

Jax spent the night over; under; and – most importantly – inside me. After everything we’d discussed, it was a bittersweet union. At one point; I even shed a few tears – Jackson kissing them away for me. “I love you”, he whispered; as he thrusted into me; making me shatter beneath him. “I love you”, I replied; once I could speak again. “Always”.

---

The next morning, Jax kissed me goodbye. Opie arrived with the van; letting Jax drive his son back to Charming in it – he himself riding on Jax’s bike. Happy was babysitting me – again – and Tig and Chibs joined their brothers on their trek back home.

“Karate Kid?”, Happy asked. “I was watching The Goonies last night… fell asleep before it finished”. Happy’s face lit up. “Yes! Jerk alert!”. I grinned; and sat down to watch the movie with him. “Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder”, Happy muttered. “Jax said he’d break my arm".

I spent the morning nervously checking the burner-phone every chance I got. At around noon; Happy took it from me. “He’ll call when he can”. He put it in his pocket. “I’ll let you know. You need to chill”. He realized before I did, that my constant looking at the phone, was stressing me out. “Sorry…”, I muttered. “Wanna play Uno?”, he asked. I frowned. “I hate Uno…” “Me too”, Happy grinned.

He served me eggs and bacon for lunch – this time with a salad on the side. “Why don’t you have an old lady?”, I asked him, as we ate. “I did… she died”. “I’m sorry”, I said. “Don’t be. She was a bitch. Stole my tarantula”. That was that conversation.

In the afternoon, I was going stir crazy. I stepped outside to get some air. Happy followed; and began throwing rocks at the birds in the trees. “Got one!”, he smiled; as one of the birds fell to the ground. “Happy… birds are our friends”, I said. He frowned. “They’re spies for the government”, he declared.

My burner rang in his pocket. He picked it up. “Yeah…?”, He looked at me. “Still alive, in spite of the birds… yeah, ok. I’ll tell her”. He snapped the phone shut. “Clay… they’re coming up here tomorrow. All of them”. “Jax?”, I said. “Still at his meeting. Be here with the others”. I nodded.

We watched Gremlins – 1 and 2 – before I finally gave in to boredom; and decided to turn to alcohol. Playing Never have I ever… with Happy, turned out to be a terrifying ordeal; and I went to bed early; cuddling up in Jax’s blue flannel. For some reason; his scent never left it. Sharp mint; and musky leather – with a side of indescribable Jax.

I fell asleep to the sound of Happy laughing at Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

---

I woke up at dawn; Happy still deep in his 80’s marathon. “Do you ever sleep?”, I asked with a raspy voice, as I sipped at my coffee. “About twice a week”, he answered. “I don’t like it. Nightmares”. “Birds?”, I said. “Everywhere…”, he said; voice gravelly.

I chowed down on some cereal; and went to have a smoke outside. Happy once again followed – refraining from rock-throwing this time. “You’re a good old lady”, Happy muttered. “Whatever happens these next few days, we got your back”. “Thanks”, I smiled.

There was a rumbling of engines from down the gravel road. Happy sprang up; and got in front of me – gun at the ready. Recognizing his brothers; he stood down. Clay, Bobby, Piney and Tig got off their bikes; and joined us in front of the cabin. Piney gave me a short hug. “How’s my old place treating you this time?”, he smiled. “You’ve got a pretty bad-ass movie library”, I said. “Yeah… I bring the kids up. Show them the classics”.

We went inside. Someone made a fresh pot of coffee; and soon we were gathered around the table. Clay lit a cigar. “Jax has a meeting with Lowen this morning”, he grumbled. He didn’t look happy. “Wasn’t he with her yesterday?”, Bobby asked. “They’re meeting with the state prosecutor…”. He looked towards me. “We have something coming up, brothers. You won’t like it”. Tig frowned. “What’s going on, man?”. Clay sighed. “I’ll let Jax fill you in. All you need to know right now, is that we’re working on a plan to get ATF off our asses completely… We set up chapel here when everyone arrives”. His eyes met mine. “You’re invited”.

#jax teller x oc #jax teller fic #jackson teller #jax teller #jackson teller fic #soa #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

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Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) Fanfiction. Chapter VI

Summary: Javier and Steve reunite and reflect on their past and their present and the hurtful memories they have to carry from their time in Colombia. Meanwhile Isa struggles with her everyday life and not having news from Javier for days is starting to worry her.

Word count: 2,6k

Warnings: PTSD talks, mentions of violence. (This is me trying to solve one plothole from season 2 from a character I really liked and hated at the same time👀)

A/N: So this took longer than I thought, I completely lost the inspiration and words didn’t flow I had to restart this many times. I guess I will look at this in a few weeks and think I should have revised even more, but I promised to post this today, so there it is. This is plot and more plot with a little bit of angst and fluff at the end.

Series masterlist

Chapter VI: Old Friends

Time is a curious thing; here they are many years after: Their bodies are not the same; the jeans are tighter around the belly and the hair is already grey in some parts, wrinkles around the eyes bear witness of the years that had pass through them, but nonetheless the conversation flows as if not a day has passed.

The empty beers sit to the side of the table leaving a small pool of their condensation over the wooden table. The music is loud at the bar and Javi and Steve had been quite for a few minutes now. The question floating above them making the air thicker every second it passes without addressing the matter.

“I should have reach to you sooner” Javi says holding his half bottle, is it the fifth or sixth he has finished?

“Don’t worry about it” Steve shakes his head and leaves his bottle on the pile “I called a few times, but I thought you needed time to process it all”

“The thing is I didn’t” Javi shows half a smile “I really fucked up and when they gave me Cali I thought I could redeem myself. Tried to do it by the book, tried to outsmart them” he leans on the table “and what happened? It was a fucking charade” he snarls

“You did well getting all that shit on the news” the blond agent taps on his friend arm “Shit! I wanted to quit myself when I saw it”

“They didn’t give me another option. But...” Javi crosses his arms over his chest when he feels that familiar feeling, the words and feelings choking him

“You didn’t want to”

“Fuck, I’m a middle age man! This is what I’ve been doing for my whole life? What was I supposed to do?” he exhales deeply, a burden is lifted out of his chest

“Everybody said it was unfair if it helps” Steve consoles

“I guess not Stechner” Javi scoffs

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve comes close “He disappeared. For real, MIA. Nobody has heard from him in years”

“Well, I don’t wish death to anyone...” Javier shakes his head:” who am I kidding? Fuck him!”

The two of them laugh out loud for a few minutes; the waiter guessing that their laughs deserve another round; leaves two cold beers on their table with a wink

“For Stechner, I guess”

“May he rot in hell” and they drink together

“So...about that wife of yours” Steve has been dying to ask more about Isa and Connie has tasked him with getting all the information he can gather.

“Isa” Javier reaches for his wallet. In the small plastic pocket inside it, there’s a picture of the three of them on a photo booth, the same day they had to go to the mall to get Elvi’s photo for her school application.

Elvira is seated on their laps while Javi and Isa smile at her

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You’ve been always lucky with the ladies, Javi”

“Well, I am. I don’t know how she bears with me. I give her too many headaches”

“Connie was happy when they stopped asking me to go on field operations. Not gonna lie, it felt good for a bit getting back to a desk and just do paperwork. But then...” Steve blue eyes look glossy in this light and after too many beers “I saw myself reflected on the glass doors of the office and shit, it hit me; I was old and dying on a desk. And then you called”

“I understand”

“When you said you were married with a kid, I really couldn’t believe that you and I were once those dudes in Colombia”

“It feels like a million years ago”

“And just a few days ago at the same time” completes Steve and Javier nods

“What does she know? your wife, how she handles all that?”

“She doesn’t. When I met her she was...first of all she had left Laredo before everybody knew me for the Escobar shit, so when we met, we were just two strangers. We could talk and I could kick everything under a rug and let her form an opinion about me by herself without interferences” his gaze wanders over the tables: families having a quite dinner; a couple that has an untouched plate in front of them while they kiss and talk in whispers.

“And after you married?” Steve asks interrupting his thoughts

“I just told her the necessary” he shakes his head the necessary is almost nothing.

“Well, it’s better that way, but I couldn’t hide it from Connie. Man! I was out control; everything and anything could trigger me. I was anxious, paranoid all the time. I woke up in the middle of the night, got my gun out of the safe if I heard a car tire exploding or any loud noise and I’d had my heart beating fast for hours. And let’s not talk about the nightmares”

“The helicopter?” Javi asks, his voice is thin almost a whisper remembering the extreme methods the police used when the hunt for Escobar was on its peak

“Yeah...and many others. I keep on seeing the two of us entering that house, but instead of finding Olivia crying, she’s dead, shot dead as her mum” Steve sniffs and coughs moving uncomfortably on his chair. “That’s when I looked for help”

Javier nods remembering so many nights where he thought his brain could kill him, reimaging that kid in the ally, rescuing Helena, all the things he saw when Los Pepes were unleashed. By your hand.

“We should call it a night, amigo”

“I see your Spanish has not improved. Just the two words you knew back in Colombia” Javi scoffs with a grin

“Cabrón”

“Yep, that’s the second one”

Isa

It’s been two days since he left and he hasn’t called. Isa tries to focus on everything she needs to do before Elvira starts the new school year. She has called Chucho every afternoon thinking that maybe he had some news, but nothing.

“Ese marido tuyo aguanto mientras Elvi era chiquita y ahora que pudo se largo” (Your husband stayed with you while Elvi was a baby and now that she’s grown, he has left you) her mother commented once she got the news that Javi was away and he hadn’t call in three days. News travel fast in a small town and she hears the comments about her, about Javi: he did it again, he left another woman and run away, he left her as he left Lorraine. Every day Isa had to struggle with her own thoughts and the constant reminder from her mother and the ladies in Laredo that something was wrong with Javier.

Her brain repeats the same litany:

He must be caught up in something

Maybe he’s somewhere where there’s not a good connection

Maybe he cannot call for security

Maybe he did run away

Maybe he’s in danger

She tries to stop her mind when it gets that fast spiraling down towards the darker scenarios she can imagine. On the third night after he left and hadn’t called she had a terrible nightmare and she had to keep her little night lamp on as she does every night he spends away and every day since then, the lamp is on while she rests, sleeping just for a few hours and then spending hours turning back and forth trying not to think about the worst possible things she can imagine. What would she do if he never comes back? What would she do if something bad happen to him? Even though they had made peace by making love in that old truck before parting she could not forget their arguments and the things left unsaid. He would never leave them like that, would he?

Isa tries to be calm, not to project her fears and worries onto her daughter but each day she’s challenged with the never ending things she has to do at home each day: laundry, cooking, cleaning, and every time she thinks she’s finished there’s something new that has come up. Elvira is stressed, as any kid her age, watching the summer slipping away with its long days of freedom on top of her dad being away. So she’s more agitated than usual, sassy and misbehaving just to get her mother’s attention.

The trip to the supermarket is a long chant of demands: I want Cereals, I want Ice cream. All Isa can hear is IwanIwantIwantIwant and the wheels of her shopping cart screeching on the ground. She thinks her wrist is about to snap open just trying to hold Elvira’s hand so she sticks to her side.

“It’s really crowded, cielo, stay with me” she sighs trying to be patient.

But the moment, Isa hesitates and looks down to read her shopping list, she’s out

“I’m gonna get my cereal”

“Elvi!”

Isabel gains a few complaints from some old lady that she almost railed over trying to run for her daughter.

“Oh, you want that one?”

“Yes, please. I can’t reach” Isa laughs softly watching her daughter acting polite and looking like an angel towards the stranger woman. The lady gives her the colorful box and Elvi jumps excitedly until she sees her mum at the end of the aisle.

“¿Qué te dije de que te separases de mi?” (What did I tell you about running away from me?” the little girl pouts and answers

“I thought you would say no if I ask for this”

“Ay, Elvi. I’m sorry if she bothered you” Isa smiles to the woman. She is on her 40s, Isa guesses, she has a beautiful elegant visage framed by a brown with blond highlights mane. She smiles widely with her scarlet lips: “No hay problema” (No problem) she answers in Spanish, her accent seems different to the Mexican-American accent Isa is used to listen to in this part of Texas.

“Gracias igualmente. Está obsesionada con esto que está lleno de azúcar” (Thank you anyway, she’s obsessed with this sugary thing” Isa ruffles her child’s hair

“La comprendo, mis hijos son igual” (I understand, my kids are the same)

“¿De dónde es? tiene un acento muy bonito” (Where are you from? you have a very beautiful accent) Isa asks, for a moment she thinks that she might be overstepping but the woman laughs softly patting Isa’s arm with her hand stylishly decorated in elegant gold and diamonds rings, her manicure is perfect.

“Colombia,pero ya llevo unos años acá en los Estados Unidos” (Colombia, but I’ve been here in the USA for a while now)

“¡Oh! me han dicho que es muy bonito” (I’ve been told it’s very beautiful) Elvi grabs her mum by the hem of her dress rushing her to finish the boring conversation, mainly because she wants to get back home and open the box of cereal “Bueno, un gusto” (Well, it’s been a pleasure) Isa waves

“¿Cómo se llama?” the woman asks when they’re leaving

“Isa, ¿y usted?” (Isa, and you?)

“Judy. Un placer” she grins

The TV has already passed to that late night teleshopping advertising stupid stuff with even more stupid people repeating again and again the same lame catchy phrases. But there’s silence at this hour, Elvi is sleeping soundly and now Isabel can rest on the sofa, eyes fixed on the stupid people on TV and her longing for Javier.

She took the laundry out of the dryer today. Mixed in all the clothes an old “University of Texas” t-shirt that Javi rarely wears around the house and that she has stolen as pajamas. Without even realizing it, she smelled the fabric only sensing the sweet scent of the softener she uses so she had rushed to the bathroom and sprinkled the t-shirt with Javi’s cologne. And now hugs herself silently praying that tonight will be the night he calls.

The TV volume is set to the minimum and when the strong ringing sound surrounds the house Isa thinks is coming from it until she realizes that is coming from the kitchen. She runs, stepping on Elvi’s toys and bumping her knee over the sofa. Limping she runs and picks up the phone

“Hello?” her voice is shaky

“Isa is me” Javi says on the other line

“Javi, thank God, where were you? You told me you will call when you’d arrive and it’s been three days and I...” she babbles

“I’m fine, I’m sorry...it’s been a little bit crazy” he sounds tired and he’s speaking softly as if he cannot raise his voice

“Are you okay? Are you in danger?” Isa sniffs, the tears rolling down and she leans on the cold tile wall of the kitchen

“No, it’s just we have to go to different places, meet a bunch of people. I didn’t have the time. I’m sorry Isa. Elvi’s sleeping I guess?”

“Yes, but she will be really happy to know that you called”

“I’ll try to call earlier tomorrow”

“Yes...please, she’s being a bit difficult lately”

“Why?” Isa can hear how the bed creaks on his end and his deep grunt

“I guess it’s the end of summer, you’re not here, my mum...”

He huffs

“Elvi told her we didn’t know where you where and you can imagine”

“She hates me even more”

“Don’t worry about her. Tell me about the job” Isa sits on the ground holding the phone on her shoulder

“Isa...I rather listen to you”

“I haven’t done much. Nothing interesting”

“It doesn’t matter” he answers

And thus she begins telling every tiny detail, Javi was silent on the other side and when she asks if he’s listening he just hums.

“Anyway...I guess that’s all. And I hope you’re not mad but your old university t-shirt has a new hole in it which somehow makes it even more comfortable”

“You’re wearing it now?”

“Yes...I miss you so it’s just like having your arms around me”

“I miss you too, Isa. I only have this old dude on the medallion and the picture I keep on my wallet to remind me of you...not that I need anything to remember you”

“That old dude...” she laughs “he’s a saint and I think he’s doing a good job for the moment”

“Really?” Isa smiles widely when she hears his deep chuckle on the other side

“You’ve said I miss you for the first time, I will say it’s even a miracle”

“What? I’ve told that plenty of times” he says a little bit offended “ but we’ve never been parted that much since we’re together”

“You don’t say you love me that much either...” Isa adds

“That’s not true” he says firmly

“Yes it is, I’m not mad, you express it in other ways. I’ve accepted that when I marry you”

“I’m sure I say it many times...”

“You can say it now...” she whispers

“I love you, Isa, and I miss you” he mutters

“See? Saint Jude is working its magic” Isa laughs. Her heart is full and she feels like an enormous weight has been lifted. He loves me, he’ll be back

“So I’m not a lost cause anymore?” Javi replies with an amused tone

“We’ll see when you get here”

“And you won’t say it back?”

“What?”

“That you love me and miss me”

“Ay, Javier” she sighs “I sleep every night waiting for you with the lights on, praying that you will get back to me soon, I sleep with your t-shirt and even if I don’t believe in it really, I keep praying and praying that you will be back to our bed, that I will turn and you’ll be there, so yeah, I miss you and I love you. Te amo”

“Yo también te amo”

“Good night, mi amor”

“Good night”

(taglist: @sara-alonso)

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #Narcos #Narcos fic #Javier Peña x ofc #Javier Pena #Javi Peña #Javi Pena #Javier Pena fanfic

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ncisjes · 4 years

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If I never get to tell you this sober, I’m in love with you

Inspired by MW’s drunk Twitter live today (but seriously someone should go check on that guy). Oh and @benditlikepress . You can blame her for this.

Ignore the time limits of voicemail. I am sure this exceeds it.

When her phone rings at 3:26am she automatically knows who it is. He doesn’t get drunk very often, but when he does he always calls to let her know he got home safe because he knows she will worry. If she doesn’t answer, he sends her a text to read once she’s awake.

She had an inkling this was going to happen when she left him at the bar a few hours ago. She could see it in the emerald of his eye, he needed to forget the past 48 hours. Not the good things necessarily, but the fact that their second home was nearly brought to the ground and that they had almost lost one of their own had them all more than a little shaken up.

When Abby had suggested they needed a drink to commemorate everyone making it out alive, Ziva was hesitant, but relented when Abby insisted. She could read in Tony’s eyes that Abby wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

One phone call from Gibbs and an unnumbered amount of tequila shots between the five of them later, Ziva was ready to call it a night. It had been a long 48 hours and the tequila was not helping her exhaustion. She had also learned from experience that Tony and Abby fed off each other’s energy to keep imbibing, and if you didn’t want a nasty hangover or to end up in someone else’s bed for the night (as Tony had ended up in hers many times during Gibbs’s Mexican sabbatical), it was best to turn in early.

They all groaned at her leaving, but she promised to make it up to them the next time they all went out for drinks. Once she had closed her tab and called for a taxi, she went outside to wait and collect her thoughts. The July heat was present more than ever, and it made the alcohol coursing through her veins feel even stronger. She didn’t expect Tony to run out after her.

“You sure you’re okay?” He questions, brushing her hair behind her ear as he had done in the elevator.

“Yes Tony, I am fine. Are you?”

The sparkle in his eye tells her that he has had far too many, but her cab arriving cut off his answer. He opens the door, holds out his hand to help her in, and sends her on her way.

Her hand doesn’t connect to the phone until the call has gone to voicemail; her brain still a bit foggy from the alcohol. She waits for the text notification she knows is coming. When the voicemail tone goes off it feels like a heart stopping drug. Pressing the phone to her ear she listens to his message.

“You told your father that I would never change, but here I am. Changing. I just wanted to say that if I never get to tell you this sober, I’m in love with you.”

Ziva pulls the phone away from her ear completely astounded at what he’s said. She hears him cough and is even more surprised that the message continued.

“What we shared in the elevator yesterday… it was…nice. I wanted to continue it. I wasn’t sure we’d ever get there again after Rivkin and Somalia. I told you then that I couldn’t live without you, but I wasn’t guessing. I had already lived without you and I didn’t want to anymore. I probably should have done this then. Things would be way different now. But you, Ziva David, you are… the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life. I always said there was no woman who could intimidate me, but then you walked into that bullpen, let your hair down, and slouched all provocatively and I, I was done for. You’re Stubborn. My god are you stubborn. You drive me crazy half the time, but you...You understand me. Which I don’t know how when I don’t understand myself most of the time. You challenge me. You make me want to be a better man. You’re my partner, in every sense of the word, and I just wanted to tell you before I lost my nerve.”

Tears flowing out of her eyes, she lets the phone drop to the mattress. Her head falls back against the pillows and she stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours, eventually letting her silent tears lull her to sleep.

*-*-*

In the morning she waits for him at her desk expectantly. When he arrives five minutes late as usual, he doesn’t stop to look at her before throwing his gear into his desk. It’s not until he’s sat down that he even notices her presence.

“Good Morning, Tony.”

“Morning, Ziva. Listen I’m sorry if I woke you last night. I saw this morning I called really late.”

She stares at him, judging what he remembers. When she doesn’t respond to his statement, he prompts her again.

“Did I wake you?”

“No Tony. You did not wake me.” Pushing papers around, she tries to conceal the hurt in her eyes at his lack of recollection. He notices something off about her, but pushes it to the back of his mind when Gibbs walks in with the look of suspicion in his eyes.

Ziva knows she can’t hold him accountable for what he said when he was clearly drunk out of his mind, but she has no idea how to act or feel with this new information. She buries it when Gibbs calls the team together to discuss his suspicions about Harper Dearing. The case keeps them busy and their minds on edge. There’s little downtime and Ziva knows it’s not the right time to bring it up. At the end of the day the mission comes first, and they have a terrorist to catch.

*-*-*

Staring into Tony’s eyes at the coffee cart, Ziva laughs at his jealousy when Jeremy from office operations passes by, looking her up and down. They’ve finally caught the real Harper Dearing, and all seems to be right again. Abby demands they all convene for drinks again, cashing in on Ziva’s promise to make it up to them for leaving early the last time. They all agree to meet up after work at their same old spot. Abby links arms with McGee and Palmer as they follow Gibbs and Ducky into the building. Falling into stride together, Ziva turns to Tony to ask the question that’s been weighing on her mind.

“So, what do you remember about that night?”

#TIVA #TIVA fanfiction #TIVA Fanfic #I was actually sober writing this #my second story this week that was not all ready a WIP and I feel my other ideas judging me

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punk-chicken-radio · 4 years

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outside.

i don’t know about all the rest of you, but @theoldsmelly and i are pretty tired of being inside more than we are used to. so much so that this playlist originally started as inside/outside, and we both picked all outside songs. that’s where our heads are at lol.

i am in a city that is pretty much on full lock down, and i am immuno- compromised just enough that i won’t take many chances beyond a walk around my deserted downtown neighborhood. and smelly....well he’s stuck at home unable to do his job that gets him outdoors a lot, plus all of his side trips to sell old underwear from 1917 where he sleeps in tents are cancelled.

needless to say, we are both in need of a vicarious trip outside, and i am guessing most of you are as well.

that’s so true. it’s honestly been refreshing to see that most people haven’t lost their sense of humor, that we can all bond over the trainwreck that is joe exotic, make jokes about coughing in public, and share some really dumb memes. i am kept completely amused by all the stuff smelly sends me that is of questionable taste. and i discovered all my friends know me better than i thought when they all sent me the same couple of robert smith/cure memes one day.

but don’t be mistaken. we are all still on high alert.

the last time i went out to the shops (feels like forever ago now) i had to tell more than one person they needed to back the fuck up away from me. some people gonna be dumb no matter what is going on, i guess. under normal circs i don’t want people invading my personal space, and right now i got a hair trigger about it.

all that aside, if you can get out safely, we certainly recommend taking the air in the outside world, maybe get a little exercise, and let the sun hit you directly in your big fat depressed face for a few minutes. it’ll do a body good.

i don’t know about y’all but i miss things like going to our fave mexican restaurant, walking down to the corner market, all pissed off because i always forget something on my shopping trip and have to make a second trip out, and walking into my corner bar knowing there’s a fine guinness pour awaiting me and a game of street fighter waiting on my pocket full of quarters.

if you aren’t able to take tommy’s advice, well....we got a bunch of songs you can listen to and close your eyes and think about life being normal again where you can go where you want. it’ll be normal again, smelly promised me. and his word is as good as gold.

love (i don’t like sharing) axiomatic and the old (you deserve mexican food) smelly

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Vicks VapoRub-Me (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 6.- Unwell

Title: Vicks VapoRub-Me Category: M/M Summary: Unfortunately, he has never eaten knives before, but he figures it would feel similar to this. Notes: Massive disclaimer, this is by far not my best work. I woke up one day feeling like absolute shit, so it felt appropriate that I portrayed exactly that, that’s why I decided to take on this prompt. Seriously felt like dying and couldn’t even function properly, so I kinda gave up on this; then Miss Corona decided to come visit and I didn’t really feel like writing a sickfic at the time. Anyways, it took me months to finish this simple one shot but here it is. I hope you enjoy! (because I still feel like dying). -Monkey Written: Feb 21st, 2020 - April 25th, 2020

Vicks VapoRub-Me

“I am so sorry, Pete,” he lets out before sniffing yet again. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t bad. I seriously feel like absolute shit.” He moves the phone away from his face as a sudden sneeze escapes him.

He catches the end of Pete’s sentence when he puts the device back to his ear. “…worry,” he assures. “I’ll let everybody know, and we’ll continue shooting on Monday, how does that sound? You just stay home and rest up, okay? Have you talked to Trixie?”

“Not since last night.”

“Okay, I’ll call her. Keep me posted. Hope you feel better.”

He pronounces some grunts of agreement before disconnecting the call.

He’d known something was wrong since the night before. He’d been out late, having ice cream with Amy. The air had been cold, but it felt good against his constantly overheated skin. They’d walked back to his apartment without rushing, enjoying the cool California weather.

As soon as his head hit the pillow later that night, he found himself regretting that little stroll. His nose was stuffy and he had trouble swallowing. He’d sent his complaints to Trixie through text messages, but had also stated how his body was always on his side and he hadn’t gotten a cold in ages. The itchiness in his throat had kept him awake, but Trixie, who wasn’t suffering the symptoms, had fallen asleep mid-conversation.

He grabs his phone, with the sole intention of letting Trixie know about the development of his state. The string of blue bubbles is overwhelming. A countdown of how many hours of sleep he would’ve gotten, if he fell asleep right then, had been sent every hour.

He closes the conversation and throws the phone on the empty space next to him.

Maybe if he showers, he will get to feel better. Cleanse his body of all toxins, or whatever. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Until he throws the covers away, that is. The temperature of the room is colder than he had expected, or maybe he’s running a fever, because the chilled air makes his skin tingle as soon as it touches it. With a deep sigh he turns around, grabs the covers and turns himself into a blanket burrito again. It’s time to take a nap, put his body into low power mode and let it fight whatever it is that’s making him sick.

He sleeps for an hour, or three, or six, he doesn’t know; but he’s suddenly awakened by the doorbell sounding incesibly.

“Jesus. Go away!” He screams into his pillow, sinking deeper into the mattress. The person doesn’t do as they are told, and the bell is heard again. “This better be a major fucking emergency.”

This time he doesn’t make the same mistake as before. He grabs the blanket at the top of the pile and wraps it around his shoulders. Still mumbling curse words is that he reaches the door. He opens it without asking who is on the other side, but is ready to give them a piece of his mind for waking him up. The concerned features disarm him on the spot.

“Oh, my God, Katya. Are you okay? You look horrible!”

“Well, good morning to you too, you fucking bitch,” he pretends to be offended as much as he can, but his body is still not responding properly.

Trixie makes his own way past Katya, carrying several plastic bags in each hand. “Good morning? Girl, it’s almost four in the afternoon. I’ve been calling and texting you. When the messages didn’t show delivered I got worried, then the calls were not connecting. I decided to come see you.”

Katya looks around, as if the device would magically appear somewhere around the living room. “I don’t know where my phone is. It’s probably dead somewhere.”

After dropping everything on the coffee table, Trixie walks back to Katya, who hasn’t moved from his spot next to the door. “I brought you some food. Pete told me you were not feeling well, but this seems, like, super serious.” He grabs Katya by the hands and basically drags him to sit on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, you-you…” A sneeze interrupts his speech. Trixie reaches inside a bag and takes out a box of tissues before a second sneeze escapes Katya. “Thank you. Now, look away, this is not going to be pretty.”

Trixie laughs but does nothing to divert his eyes as Katya blows his nose. He even offers his hand for Katya to place the used tissue. Katya simply makes a face of disgust and puts it on the table in front of them.

“So, is it like a cold,” Trixie inquires. “Or what is it that you are feeling?”

“You know, it’s so weird. Whenever I move, it feels as if part of my body moved and then it took a second for, like, my other half to catch up. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He doesn’t have to, before he even finishes his sentence, Trixie is already nodding. “Those body aches are signs of a fever. Hold on.” Once again, Trixie starts going through the bags in front of him. “I didn’t know what you had so I stopped by the pharmacy and bought a bunch of shit. I know the lady sold me a thermometer.”

“Is it rectal, mother?” Katya asks in a watered down version of Maureen’s voice.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie says between giggles, finally finding the thin tube. “Glad to know the cold hasn’t affected your sluttiness. Now open.”

Katya does as he’s told, parting his lips as Trixie puts the instrument under his tongue.

“According to this thing, we need to wait a minute and a half,” Trixie informs him as he puts the instructions aside. “Okay, now, hear me out.” He starts speaking more to himself, to fill the silence around them, as he takes his purchases out of the bags. “I went to the drug store to get you, like, cough drops or something for the flu, you know, just in case. When I was there I remembered what happened to my uncle Steve, you remember him, right?”

With the glass tube still in his mouth, Katya shakes his head.

“Yeah, you do. He went to rehab. I’ve talked about him several times. Anyways, when he came out of rehab he had this thing for, like, NyQuil and stuff. He couldn’t even see cough syrup ‘cause it was, I don’t know, triggering, I guess.”

Katya can’t help but smile. The way Trixie speaks with his hands, as much as he does with his mouth, will always be fascinating. He mumbles something unintelligible around the thermometer, then tries to muffle a laugh.

“Shut up! It’s not gonna work if you are talking!” Trixie warns, waving a finger in front of him. “As I was saying. I called Valentina. She’s always bragging about how Mexicans are the best at home remedies, and she gave me some useful tips. That’s why I brought you chicken broth, ‘cause apparently soup only works in movies. She told me to get a shit ton of Vicks VapoRub, and that you should put it on your chest and the sole of your feet. Now, she mentioned something about wrapping your feet with newspaper, but I guess a pair of socks…”

The rest of his rambling gets immediately lost to Katya’s ears. Maybe it’s the fever, or maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Katya has never felt more loved or taken care of in his life. His eyes water as they analyze the intensity with which Trixie is speaking. He is so worried. He’s dropped everything to be there for Katya; went out of his way to not only buy him drugs for his sickness, he took in consideration Katya’s sobriarity.

Almost without thinking about it, Katya leans forward and drops his head on Trixie’s shoulder. That’s enough to stop the rambling. Trixie’s hand goes up and caresses Katya’s unshaven cheek. The room is completely silent, their breathing synchronizes after a few seconds and soon that’s the only sound filling the air around them. It’s comfortable, it feels like home.

Suddenly, Katya doesn’t feel so sick anymore, his body doesn’t ache as much, his lungs are pulling oxygen in again.

“Let me take a look at that,” Trixie says quietly, not really wanting to interrupt the moment but needing to check the thermometer. He removes it from Katya’s mouth, and puts it up against the light, that’s when he realizes. “I don’t know how to read this thing! Don’t they sell like electronic ones? Shouldn’t this thing say something like: yes, you are hot, or no, you ain’t dying, bitch, you ain’t that special?”

Katya takes the thermometer in his hands, doing his best to breathe as he laughs and coughs at the same time. “It’s ninety… ninety-nine and a half, maybe? That’s not bad. Fever, I believe, starts at, like, a hundred. Anything higher than that is, like, really dying.”

He says it as a joke, as a way to light up the mood, but Trixie’s face turns somber. “Ninety-nine and a half is basically a hundred. So you do have a fever, don’t you dare die on me, you idiot.”

“I’m fine. I do feel like taking a shower, though. That can bring down my temperature, plus, I’ve been sweating a lot.”

Trixie nods his head. “Okay, you go do that, I will heat up the food. You think you can eat?”

Already standing up, Katya agrees. “Yeah. Warm soup would feel nice down my throat. I have never eaten knives before… unfortunately… but it feels like that’s the only thing I’ve been eating.”

“You know what else could feel nice down your throat?” Trixie tries to joke, but laughter makes it hard for him to even finish the sentence.

Katya stops cold on his tracks, turns around and points a finger at him. “Hey, if you are not planning on putting your huge ding-dong in my mouth, don’t you joke about that.”

Lifting his hands in surrender, Trixie walks away, occupying himself in the task of heating up the food for his sick friend.

The shower is quick, Katya doesn’t feel like standing under the spray of freezing water, or at least that’s how it feels against his hot skin. The drops leave a tingling feeling as they travel down his body, hopefully taking germs and viruses away with it. When he enters his bedroom, it feels as if his heart has dropped to his feet as well. The lights are off, all but the lamp on the bedside table. Trixie walks in with a tray in hand. There’s a bowl that probably has the broth in it, a glass filled with juice, another one with water, and some containers that surely hold medicine in them to make him feel better.

“Get in the bed,” Trixie commands, pushing his chin towards the unmade covers.

Katya doesn’t even question it, he unties the wet towel and throws it on a chair. The sheets feel cool as he places them around his lower half. Just when he’s feeling himself relax, he’s startled by Trixie’s hand on his chest.

“Don’t you ever touch me,” Katya says more out of reflex, doing absolutely nothing to remove Trixie’s fingers from his skin.

With a small eye roll, Trixie continues on his task. “Shut up, you big baby. I need to put this VapoRub on your chest to, I don’t know, open up your lungs or something like that.”

That’s when he sees it. Trixie sees the corners of Katya’s mouth slowly curling into a smile he knows very well. It is a very telling smile. Katya knows his thoughts are not socially accepted, yet he will proudly express them. As soon as the blindingly white teeth are in full display, Trixie lets out a sigh as he dramatically drops his shoulders.

“What-what now?”

With lifted eyebrows, Katya uses his eyes to make Trixie look down, towards his bottom half. The sheets are slightly lifted and Katya laughs as soon as the ‘oh, wow’ is pronounced, indicating Trixie understands what’s going on.

“Bitch, I’m literally putting medicine on your chest. This can’t possibly be turning you on.”

“No, no, no,” Katya quickly corrects him. “Getting a boner is not an equivalent of getting turned on. It’s just a physical reaction to human touch.”

Trixie sits on the edge of the bed, ignoring the response of Katya’s body, and carries on with the task. “When were you last touched by a human?” He asks with a twist of his lips, trying to make it sound sarcastic, and expecting Katya to bring up a weird story of how he was last touched by a demon or something of the short.

None of that happens.

Katya looks away, almost ashamed. Almost. Shame is not part of his vocabulary. Yet, there is no other word that could describe the somber air taking over his features. There is a sigh before he looks back at Trixie. Something immediately changes. His eyes are a shade darker than usual, they look straight into Trixie’s soul, and he can’t take it. He has to look down, to the container of medicine still in his hands.

“Hey,” Katya speaks, softly, almost in a whisper. Trixie nods, acknowledging he’s heard him, but still not able to look up. “Thank you,” Katya finishes. The tone of his voice is deep, laced with something that Trixie doesn’t dare to figure out.

He shrugs a shoulder. “No problem,” Trixie assures Katya, toying with the blue jar. He doesn’t elaborate, he wants to make the weird cloud above them go away. He presses two fingers into the scented gel before running it against Katya’s skin.

Trixie tries to concentrate on applying the medicine into Katya’s chest evenly. His hand travels from one pec to the other slowly. His fingers make sure to lightly touch one of the bugs, permanently drawn on Katya’s shoulder, before making his way to the one. He does his best to ignore the deep stare of his friend burning the top of his head, he doesn’t pay attention to the uneven raising and falling of the chest he’s touching. He really wants to, he is really trying. It’s useless.

Soon, he finds himself licking his lips, he feels the throbbing in his pants, he loses control of his hand. Without even thinking about it, he takes more medication but his fingers land on Katya’s stomach this time. His fingertips trace the toned abs, his nails scratching slightly. He goes lower and lower until his hand disappears inside the covers.

It burns. It really burns. When the ointment reaches the delicate skin, Katya closes his eyes. He wants to open them, he wants to see Trixie’s hand going up and down on him. He wants to have a good look at Trixie’s face as he pumps him; but he’s too weak. His mind is fogged with fever and lust. He is struggling to pull air in when his lungs are still not fully working. All he knows is that Trixie’s soft touch is taking care of the throbbing of his lower half, just as he has been taking care of his sickness for the last hour or so.

He has to do something, as a thank you. He blindly pats down the mattress, finds Trixie’s legs, and the bulge between them right after. Slowly, he opens his eyes, just to find Trixie’s stare.

“Brian,” Trixie whispers, no other word is pronounced but all motion stops. “I’m sorry,” he says, releasing him with a heavy exhale. “I shouldn’t have done that. You are sick, you are not feeling well.”

“So what?” Katya sounds almost angry. “It’s not like we are kissing. Surely a cold is not dick-to-hand contagious.”

Trixie stands up, maybe some physical distance could work in their favor. “That’s not what I meant, bitch. I just… I don’t know. It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Katya sits up, making sure the covers don’t fall and add awkwardness by revealing his erection. “Hey, listen. Nobody is taking advantage of anybody. If anything, I’m taking advantage of your good heart to fuck you. You have been such an amazing friend and, honestly, the only way I know how to communicate is sexually. I kinda sensed this was where things were going. I’m sorry. I know you have made it perfectly clear, right from the start, that it couldn’t happen. I need to respect that.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Trixie taps his foot softly against the floor. “What if…” he trails off, his eyes avoiding Katya again. “What if I want something to happen?”

“You do?” Katya doesn’t do anything to hide the excitement in his voice.

Trixie nods. “I do. But not like this, though.”

“Oh, no! God! Not like this,” Katya agrees.

A small smile creeps into Trixie’s lips, before he goes around the bed and climbs next to Katya. “Why don’t we wait until you feel better and revisit the subject?”

Katya lays back down and faces him with a giant grin on his face. “I feel better already.”

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #canon compliant #smut #sick fic #of lovers #dendenmonmon #submission

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el-gilliath · 5 years

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It’s All in a Hat

Otherwise known as Five times Michael told people off when they touched his hat and one time he didn’t Also known as the fic I wrote @christchex to show her my undying love and gratitude for being who she is.

And also completely written because of this post by @monluna-dreamer

Small note of warning for Wyatt Long being a class a racist douchebag

1. Michael’s hat is a no go zone. Everyone knows this, and everyone respects it, because if they so much as lay a finger on the black cowboy hat Michael will either a) tear you a new one or b) outright punch you.

Liz Ortecho, however, has been gone from Roswell for ten years, and as she wasn’t there when Michael got the hat, she doesn’t know just how attached he is to it. Which is why she casually picks it up one night they’re in the Pony and starts to look at it, turning it in her hands to look at the seams and inside, frankly curious about the hat that spends so much time on Michael’s head.

“Where did Mikey get this hat?” She looks up, looking for someone to answer her but instead freezes at the way they’re all looking at her in shock. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because, Ortecho,” Michael says behind her. He does not sound pleased. “There’s three rules about the hat.”

“Oh?”

“One, don’t ever touch the hat.” He plucks it out of her fingers and places it on his head. “Two, don’t make any kind of remarks about the hat. And three, don’t ask about the hat.”

Her eyes follow him as he turns around and walks out of the Pony. From the look on Isobel and Maria’s faces this behavior when it comes to the hat isn’t new, though Max looks like he’s slightly annoyed. Probably because Michael just left when they were there to discuss important things.

“He’s not kidding, Liz. Don’t ever mess with the hat.”

She looks at Max. “Why, though?”

“We don’t know,” Isobel replies. “He never told us where it came from. Just that it’s sacred.”

Her voice turns nasal when she says the word sacred. Liz frowns at that but doesn’t say anything. Maria just looks pensive. Like she has an idea but doesn’t want to share for her own peace of mind. Liz is curious, maybe one day she’ll get the story. Until then; point taken.

2. Kyle Valenti likes to use the same excuse, he hasn’t been in Roswell for ten years so he doesn’t know things. Never mind that his mother is the sheriff and keeps him apprised on all things Roswellian, no matter if he wants to or not, he will still live by the “I didn’t know” if he can. Luckily for him he’s charming enough that it usually works when he does do something wrong.

Of course there’s people that don’t buy it. Arturo is one, Alex the second, and Rosa the third. Isobel will give him the benefit of the doubt if in a good mood, Liz is to kind not to believe him, Maria just shakes her head and Max just frankly doesn’t care.

Then there’s Michael Guerin, who sees through all kinds of bullshit Kyle talks about, so much so that Kyle has started to test the limits of what he can get away with. He’s tried it with cars, he’s tried it with alcohol, he tried it with the Evans siblings(which did not go well) and he’s tried it with the Airstream. The number is currently 0-1 in Guerin’s favor, but he still tries. He likes the challenge.

He decides to try it with the hat, because he’s had a few beers to many, sitting at the junkyard with Alex, Guerin is being a broody shit, and he’s bored without any alien shenanigans to deal with. Which is something he never thought he would think.

“Hey, Guerin, what’s actually up with the hat?”

“None of your beeswax, Valenti,” is the reply he gets. Rude.

“No, tell me, what’s up with it?” He asks as he reaches out a hand towards the hat on Michael’s head. He doesn’t expect the mighty punch he receives to the shoulder. “Ow! What the fuck, Guerin?”

“Kyle.” The disapproval in Alex’s voice is enough to let him know how much of a brat he’s being.

“Sorry, Guerin.”

“Whatever, Valenti.” He knows Guerin isn’t done being pissed off, but he still hands him a beer so he guesses he’s sort of forgiven. For now.

He realizes he’s wrong when he gets up to pee about 15 minutes later and he falls over because his shoelaces are tied together, to Guerin’s roaring laugh and Alex’s coughing that means he’s trying to hide a laugh. Stupid telekinesis.

3. Wyatt Long is a douchebag, it’s known, it’s heard, it’s just a fact of life. He’s a white privilege, New Mexico 1st born son of the worst caliber, who spews racism like it’s fact, slurs like they have meaning, offence like it’s the law, be it against latinx, black or native people. He doesn’t care who he hurts, who he offends, who hates him.

What he does care about is who he hates, and Michael Guerin is on the near top of that list, just underneath Max Evans.

Stupid fucking Michael Guerin, who runs around like he owns Roswell in that stupid, fucking black cowboy hot.

Only good, proud, ranger sons like Wyatt should be allowed to wear hats like that. That Michael Guerin, whore and drunk that he is, runs around in one is a disgrace.

One night in the Pony, Wyatt decides to do something about that after a bourbon of eight. Guerin is sitting at the bar as usual, flirting with the DeLuca chick. She’s hot as fuck, but a bartender is beneath his standards. Even if he would like to fuck her to check if she’s up to par.

“Hold up guys, I’mma get Guerin’s hat,” he tells his group of friends, grinning as they holler and yell after him as he walks up to the bar. He might be a little unsteady, but who the fuck cares.

“What do you want, Long?”

“Well I could always do with a night in your bed, gorgeous,” he replies, giving DeLuca his most winning smile. The look of disgust on her face just fuels the rage, as does the snort Guerin lets out. “What, you think you’re so much better than me, Guerin? At least I have a house, not a tin can.”

“That the best you can do, Long? Cause that’s just sad, I happen to like my tin can, and guess what, so does Maria.”

Wyatt completely misses DeLuca’s hissed out “Guerin!” Or Guerin cringing at the tone in her voice. All he can hear is the angry rush of blood in his ears.

“The fuck do you have this hat for anyway, Guerin? You ain’t no fucking ranger and you don’t fucking deserve to wear it.” He picks up the black hat and crunches his fingers around the top of it.

He doesn’t realize he’s been punched until he’s already falling backwards with a hell of a pain in his nose, his head this close to smacking into the ground as he lands, hard. He can already feel the blood starting to gush from the broken nose.

“You wanna talk smack about where I live, go right on ahead. But don’t you ever fucking touch the hat, or question why I wear it, Long.”

He’s too busy trying not to cry from the pain to notice as Michael steps over him, hat on his head, and leaves into the night.

4. Maria DeLuca is not a woman who doesn’t know herself. She has far to much of a psychic ability for that, has had far to many struggles in her life for that and has sacrificed too many things for that. She knows who she is inside and out, she knows what she’s worth and she knows that she deserves. She doesn’t have to fool herself into anything. Even if she did, her ability wouldn’t let her for long. Most times it’s a gift, sometimes it’s a curse.

“You’re never gonna let me touch it, are you?”

She knows it’s the wrong question when Michael leers, drunkenly, at her. “Gorgeous, you can touch it any time you want.”

“Your hat, Guerin.”

She watches him quickly pick up the hat from the bar, putting it into his lap instead of anywhere near she can reach from behind the bar. It’s all the answer she needs, isn’t it.

“Maria-“

“Don’t.” She smiles at him, a small smile she knows is full of sadness. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Michael answers. His eyes, though drunk, mirrors her sadness. It makes her feel a tiny bit better because she knows they both do want this to work, in their own way.

“Yes, it is. You can’t help how you feel.” The words Liz told her echoes in her head. She knows Michael likes her, truly likes her, but she can never compete with Alex. And while she knows Alex is fine with Michael and her, she doesn’t know how fine she is by always coming in second place. Even if Michael chose her out in the world, she’s very rarely first in his head. “Did he give you the hat?”

Michael just looks at her. She won’t be getting a reply any time soon. For some reason, she’s okay with that. Maybe because she knows it would hurt more if he did.

“If there’s any woman in the world I would let touch the hat, it would be you.”

She surprises herself by laughing. For Michael Guerin that’s the perfect endearment and she adores him for it. Especially since she feels how much he means it.

“I need some time.”

Michael nods, unsurprised but still saddened by it. “Text me, yeah?”

Maria nods in reply, maintaining a smile on her face as Michael, and the iconic hat, leaves her bar. It’s only when the door closes behind him that she lets herself feel the sadness of what could have been.

5. Arturo Ortecho is used to tourists. It’s the one big thing you have to deal with owning a diner in New Mexico, but as they are his biggest revenue stream, he doesn’t mind them. In fact he welcomes them gladly, with his alien themed menus, alien themed outfits and antennas. He loves their ooo’s and their aaa’s, he loves giving them genuine mexican cuisine that they all seem to enjoy, he loves his old jukebox with silly old songs that adults fawn over and children thinks are stupid. He loves it all.

The only thing he might have a slight issue with is when they come in and don’t respect other people’s property. He’s far to used to people trying to destroy the diner after… But he doesn’t negotiate when it comes to leaving his other customers things alone.

“You should leave that hat alone before the owner sees you,” Arturo says with a look at the three teens who are now frozen by Michael’s hat, one of their hands reaching out towards it. “He doesn’t take kindly to it being touched, a true cowboy never does. The hat is what makes the man, you would do well to remember that.”

The kids look from the hat to him, to the antenna on his head (which is fair), before they nod respectfully, leaving it alone and walking back to their seats. Funny, it’s been a while since anyone nodded respectfully to him. Especially kids.

“Thanks, Mr. Ortecho.”

“Bah.” He turns towards Michael, who’s coming out of the kitchen wiping his hands. “You fix my fridge?”

“Needs a new part, but I got one at the junkyard so I’ll be back later.”

“Good. Take some meatloaf with you when you go, you’re too skinny.”

He doesn’t need to see Michael to know he’s smiling as he picks up the meatloaf, and the hat, on his way out the door. He’s a good boy, that one.

+1 “Has anyone besides you ever worn or even touched the hat, Michael?” Isobel asks, one night as the entire group sit in her living room, bottles of tequila and bourbon cluttered on her living room table. They’ve been celebrating life, just because they can, just because everyone is alive and just because they want to.

“Why is everyone so damn curious about the damn hat? It’s just a black cowboy hat.”

Maria snorts. “That’s a damn lie and you know if. You start fights over that hat. You punched Wyatt Long so hard he broke his nose over the hat.”

Michael sighs, and looks down on the floor. “Long deserved it.”

“Long deserves a lot of things. But he’s not the first you’ve punched over it,” Max interjects, giving Michael a look when he looks up from the floor.

“Come on Mikey, just tell us,” Liz says, pouting as Michael’s gaze swings over to her. His eyes does the round after that, from Isobel, Kyle, Rosa, Maria, Jenna, Max and finally landing on Alex. Alex doesn’t do anything but smile encouragingly. Because Alex Manes, last son of Jesse Manes, current Captain of the United States Air Force, resident of Jimmy Valenti’s cabin in Roswell, New Mexico, is the only one, besides Michael, who knows the origin story of Michael’s hat. No one has ever asked him if he knows and he would never tell anyone.

“Oh my god, Alex knows?” Isobel asks, shock and delight on her face. They all look curious now, even Maria, who’s been the biggest advocate of them figuring out their shit since her and Michael broke up.

Michael smiles, and gives Alex a small nod. Guess he is telling someone after all. “Of course I know. I bought him the hat.”

There’s silence for a second, before questions hurtle at them from everyone in the room. How and why and when but Alex and Michael doesn’t answer any of them, they just look at each other and smile, remembering a dusty, hot weekend in Kansas when Alex was on leave. A weekend without cares, without fear and without worry, where Alex found the perfect black cowboy hat while out buying sustenance, and brought it back to their motel room. A weekend that like all others ended on a sad note, but was perfect the way it was.

“Does he let you wear it?”

Both Alex and Michael look at Jenna, before they turn back to one another. A second later the black cowboy hat floats from the hallway and lands on Alex’s head. It’s still a bit big on him, but it still makes him smile.

“Yeah, I do.”

They only have eyes for each other, as the room explodes in a symphony of joyous noise.

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin #the hat #malex fic #liz ortecho #kyle valenti #maria deluca #arturo ortecho #alex manes #mentions miluca #christi is a gift and as such she deserves gift #i hope you like it

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