#but whatever she gave me at the hospital is nice so far for the nausea but they didn’t give me a script for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment.

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it.

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks.

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face.

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home.

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened.

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile.

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.”

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief.

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger.

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York.

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand.

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through.

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray.

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts.

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up.

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on.

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.”

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart.

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down.

Bekah took her silence as an answer.

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down.

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything.

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work.

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them.

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.”

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw.

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway.

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her.

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater.

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over.

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out.

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him.

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel.

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands.

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her.

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar.

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated.

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister.

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?”

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage.

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.”

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room.

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom.

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.”

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together.

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world.

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright.

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery.

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in.

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep.

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek.

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees.

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane.

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room.

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left.

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again.

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough.

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him.

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him.

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying.

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep.

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused.

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.”

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline.

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.”

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her.

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.”

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name.

“His name is Devin.”

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall.

“Send him up.”

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element.

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.”

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.”

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.”

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee.

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers.

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA.

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar.

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.”

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.”

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done.

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted.

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting.

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.”

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce.

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly.

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside.

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale.

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking.

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there.

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much.

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

#mixtape #SO SORRY #im prepared for the yelling again #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction

74 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

4: numb, for Kauri?

(going through some old prompts just... collecting cobwebs in my inbox)

CW: Drunk whumpee, trauma references, trauma memories, past abduction, past noncon, past abuse, very brief emeto reference, nausea reference, BRIEF pet whump reference, this is Kauri at his most fucked-up but it ends nicely I promise, content warning for some serious fucking yearning

The walk back in the dark is a little... wobblier than usual, but Kauri doesn’t care. He stepped off the bus and stumbled when his ankle turned as he hit the sidewalk, rolling forward and finding himself in a bush, a bit of landscaping carefully kept up by some guy who drives a truck around cleaning up the bus stops.

Kauri giggles, then pushes his hands over his mouth to quiet himself, fails, giggles some more. His hair gets caught in a little bit of branch and he winces as he yanks it free and loses a curl.

The bush gets to keep that one. Maybe the guy who trims the bushes will find it tomorrow and fall madly in love with him, like Cinderella’s glass slipper. Kauri starts laughing at the idea of the guy in his big neon orange-and-yellow reflective vest and his stupid button-up shirt with the city seal embroidered on it holding up a curl of black hair to this person or that, looking for its match.

“Hey, man,” A woman says, crouching in front of him. She’s older than he is, maybe by ten years, maybe less. Kauri can’t tell and she’s lit only by the harsh pale streetlight, adding definition to beginning wrinkles around her mouth. Or he’s making that up. Her face is kind of blurred anyway, spinning a little like everything else. She’s wearing hospital scrubs under a coat, her hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun at the nape of her neck. She reminds him of Nat’s neighbor lady, only a bunch younger. “You gonna make it home?”

Home. What the fuck is a home? Home is where they lock the doors, home is where you get the shit kicked out of you for trying to leave. Home is where he holds you down on the bed until you cry because it hurts, and it’s always going to hurt unless you want me, Kor-Bore, you know that-

Kauri’s giggles hiccup into something like a sob.

The bus is still idling along the curb next to the stop, and the bus driver knows Kauri - sees him two or three times a week in variations on drunk or high or scared or elated. She leans down and calls out, “You gonna be okay, Kauri?”

Maybe one day he won’t. Maybe one day someone will murder him in a dark alley instead of hooking up or shove him into the trunk of a car or-

into a white van with no windows and the needle’s in his skin and his sister is screaming and there’s a hand over his mouth wearing black leather gloves and a man smiles at him and there are other men and zipties on his wrists and they tell him sucks to be you, gorgeous, but you couldn’t hide a face like that and then his head drops as whatever they gave him hits and Liam’s head drops onto the plastic mat that lines the van’s floor, his eyes close, and he’s gone-

Kauri lays there staring up at the spinning stars with his had pounding at the memory, but not enough to make it stop. When he’s really drunk, sometimes he can roll with the pain, let it wash through him and change nothing, mean nothing, do nothing at all.

He feels the way the earth rotates around the sun, every motion of the giant planet but it’s not big - it’s tiny, really, the Earth and all its purple mountains majesty, and Kauri is tinier, and whatever life lives in his head, somewhere underneath the layers of pain and fear, never mattered at all.

“‘m fine,” He slurs, trying to focus on one single star. Just one.

Please, just one star.

“No, you’re not,” The woman says with a soft sigh. She glances back at the bus driver. “I’ll figure something out, Virginia,” She says, and waves one hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“G’night, Sadie,” The bus driver calls out over the low rumble of the big engines, then adds, “Get home safe, Kauri.”

Kauri closes his eyes. Why does everyone always want there to be a home?

“Where’m I taking you, then, Mr. Whiskey Breath?”

“T-Tequila,” Kauri corrects her, then gives a pale shadow of his effortless, airy smile. She takes him by the arm and pulls him to his feet and he overcorrects as he stumbles again, smacking into her side. She stays standing, if only just, and holds him more firmly. “’S... tequila. Good, good stuff, too, good...” His head drops against her shoulder, and he giggles again.

“Oh, honey,” She murmurs. They stand for a second while she thinks this through, and Kauri sees himself through her eyes - gorgeous and hammered, barely able to stand on his own, a piece of shit who can’t take care of himself or won’t or chooses not to, anyway.

He tries to feel something, like maybe shame, but nothing happens.

He’s too numb for that.

“D’you have a phone?” Sadie asks after a pause.

“Mmmmnyes,” Kauri responds, suddenly aware he hasn’t lifted his head off her shoulder yet. “I do have a phone. ‘s a very nice phone, too.”

“No doubt. Is there anyone we can call for you? I don’t-... I don’t think you’ll make it far on your own, um, Kauri? Did you say your name is Kauri?”

Kauri tilts his head back to look at her, and the world suddenly crashes hard to one side. His knees buckle and she quickly throws an arm around his waist to keep him up. He starts giggling again, shaking his head, mumbling what he hopes are apologies until he manages to locate his cell phone and pull it out of his back pocket. “M’name’s whatever you want it to be,” He says with his most charming, beautiful smile.

Sadie quirks an eyebrow as Kauri struggles to unlock his phone, then takes it once he manages, tapping over to his contacts list and scrolling. “Who do I call?” She asks, looking at the photos Kauri uses to identify everyone instead of names. “Who can I call to come get you?”

A wash of sadness so strong it feels like being hit by a wave made from bricks hits him and tears prick at his eyes, burning hot behind his eyelids. He feels a sudden wild urge to say Owen Grant, call Owen Grant, just take me back where I belong, this is too hard and I don’t want to do it anymore, being a person is just too hard but fights it off and instead, shaky and uncertain, he offers, “Th’ photo of th’ guy in th’ blue, blue shirt. That’s... thassss... Jake.”

“And he’ll come get you?” Sadie’s thumb hovers over the image, a picture Jake took of himself and sent to Kauri once, smiling over his iced coffee studying at school. “This guy will come get you, this Jake?”

Kauri whispers, “I hope so.”

Sadie looks at him, tilting her head. “Did you guys have a fight or something? Is that why you’re out here like blackout drunk?”

“No,” Kauri mumbles. “Fight... I fight with m’self.”

Sadie gives a soft sigh and a nod. “Well, I’ve been there done that. Okay.” She taps the photo of Jake, gives a low whistle and mumbles a soft damn, that guy’s hot, I see why you’re out here being schmoopy about him, and before Kauri can correct her that it doesn’t work that way, she’s got the phone up to her ear and Kauri can hear it softly ringing.

Jake must pick up because the ringing stops and Sadie says, “No, this isn’t-... I’m Sadie Williams, I’m on his phone. We’re at the bus stop on Penntuck Drive, do you know where-... oh, okay. Yeah, I live a couple blocks from here and this, uh, Kauri is way too drunk to go anywhere.”

“Am not,” Kauri protests, and his stomach suddenly flips and he swallows, eyes slightly widening. Oh no.

Sadie sighs and says wryly, “Trust me. Too drunk to get home on his own. Can you-... oh, okay. Cool. We’ll be here.” She hangs up the phone. “Okay, your buddy’s coming to get you. Let’s just sit on the bench in the bus stop, all right?”

Kauri nods, not trusting himself to speak, and lets Sadie maneuver him, fighting ripples of nausea that follow every movement, to sit down on the cold metal bench inside the shelter at the bus stop. As soon as she lets go, Kauri flops onto his side on the bench, letting the metal chill the sudden heat he feels, the sweat breaking out all over his body.

“There we go. Just stay here for a while.” Sadie pats him on the shoulder and he wishes she would pet his head, suddenly, tell him he’s a good boy, good pet, and he turns his face to the bench to hide the tears that finally escape and drip down to pool there. Sadie stands and leans against the side of the shelter, scrolling through her own phone. Kauri twists to look at her and, after his dazed vision stops spinning and settles enough to focus, he thinks... she’s tired.

She’s tired, because it’s two o’clock in the fucking morning, and she probably just got off of work and rode the bus home in her scrubs still under her coat, and watched a drunk boy fall laughing into a bush, and decided to stay with him and make sure he didn’t get found there in the morning by a cop or the bus driver who does the early morning shift, Andrew something, and...

“‘m okay,” Kauri says, and she doesn’t look up, but one eyebrow slowly quirks upward. “You could... go home. He’s comin’. I’m okay.”

“Oh, you are the exact opposite of that,” She says without looking at him. “Whatever’s got you fucking yourself up, I’m not gonna be the one who walks away from you. I’ve seen too many people like you wind up in the ER.”

Is it his imagination, or do her eyes briefly drop to the thick leather bracelet Kauri always wears around his left wrist to cover up his barcode?

“You don’t know me,” He protests.

“I know enough,” She says, flatly, and he stops trying to argue. He knows that voice - Nat uses that voice when she’s getting you to do things, a voice that brooks no appeal. Kauri calls it her mom-voice, even though she doesn’t have kids and never will. It makes him think of TV moms, and maybe of his own, who must have existed, and is maybe still missing her dead son, whoever the fuck he was.

Kauri winces at the headache that pings around his skull and curls up on the bench on his left side. There’s silence, for a while, and then the sound of a car engine coming closer, the bright flash of headlights against Kauri’s closed eyes.

Jake’s new beat-up four-door - well, new to him, but it’s a Subaru that has seen better decades, not just better days - pulls up alongside the curb, idling as he opens the door and unfolds himself. Sadie, Kauri sees from the bench, tenses slightly at the sight of him, and Kauri wonders if she’s got her phone ready to dial for help.

He wouldn’t blame her - if you don’t know Jake and just see all that height and muscle alone with you in the middle of the night, you could see the threat, in that. If you didn’t know that Jake’s the guy who beats up your attacker, not the attacker himself.

Jake seems well aware of her tension and puts up both hands. “I’m Jake. You’re Sadie? You called for Kauri?”

Some of Sadie’s tension dissipates. “That’s me. Mind if I get a little distance while you pick him up?”

“Yeah, no problem. Go ahead.” Jake waits for Sadie to step away, and Kauri watches her hand move to her purse. He never thinks about stuff like that - she probably has pepper spray or a gun in there, and here is Kauri blackout drunk half-passed out on a bus bench, here is Kauri who passes out on park benches and underneath that big black box that doesn’t do anything over by downtown, Kauri who sleeps in alleys and grassy lawns and anywhere he thinks he’ll get a couple hours, here and there.

She’s careful - and Kauri is lucky.

“So fuckin’ lucky,” Kauri mumbles, then coughs out a bitter laugh, and Jake sighs as he moves over to him, sliding big arms gently between Kauri’s body and the bench. The world spins again as Jake picks him up and Kauri’s arms go around his neck, suddenly terrified he’ll fall and not hit the ground but fall up, up and up and up, and end up somewhere high above the clouds.

“D-don’t, don’-... let me-”

“I got you, Kaur,” Jake says, and his voice is low and it rumbles against Kauri in his chest and he relaxes, a little, but his hands tighten behind Jake’s neck. “Thanks for waiting with him,” He says to Sadie, moving Kauri to the passenger side of the car and leaning over to help him slide him in. Kauri flops to one side, eyes sliding closed.

“No problem. I’m going to head home. Take care of him.”

Jake gives a huff of laughter as he closes the door for Kauri. “I always do,” Kauri hears him say, a little muffled. There’s a pause and then Jake sits back down in the driver’s seat, leaning across to buckle Kauri’s seat belt for him as he half-sits, half-lays limp against the seat.

“We’re going to get you home and you’re gonna drink some water,” Jake says firmly, slipping a hand behind Kauri’s head to help him reorient himself. Kauri shivers at the simple pleasure of the affectionate touch, eyes sliding closed, and turns his head, just barely pressing a kiss to Jake’s wrist.

Jake doesn’t pull away - Kauri will lose his balance if he does - but he goes still. “Hey. No, Kauri. The answer is still no.”

Kauri sniffs, nuzzles at his arm, and then pulls away, turning away from Jake to clumsily curl up against the car’s door, as far as he can get. “I know. But-... I just-...”

“I know. But we can’t, ever, not like this.”

Kauri tries to feel something other than the spin of the earth, his stomach flipping at the motion of the car as Jake slowly pulls his hand back and drives down the dark street, every house silent, everywhere around them still and quiet.

Jake’s speakers play music, softly, a man’s voice singing, well, let that lonely feeling wash away - maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay over the press of piano keys and hint of strings.

"What is this?” Kauri asks, tries to point, fails.

“Um, Chris’s shit,” Jake says, but he doesn’t change the song. “I drove him to get some hair dye today, he must have put his playlist on. Musical shit.”

And oh, someone will come running and I know they’ll take you home

“When can it?” Kauri asks, softly. “When can it happen?”

“What?”

“Us. When can us happen, Jake?”

Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you and when you're broken on the ground, you will be found

“I hate this song,” Kauri mutters.

Jake doesn’t look at him as he signals a turn - Kauri fights a laugh at the sight of Jake, totally and utterly alone on the road in the earliest hours of the morning, fucking putting on his turn signal a careful distance back from the intersection - and takes a right.

“Jake-... I want you,” Kauri says, the last vestiges of tequila pressing the words onto his tongue, rolling them off and out into the soft air between them. “When can I stop wanting and-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice goes softer, not harder. It’s not chiding him, it’s not angry, but laced with something very different.

He wants me, too, I know he does, I know it.

“Jake, I-”

“It can’t ever happen,” Jake says in that same soft voice, lost in something that some dim part of Kauri recognizes as an echo of his own feelings, “until it’s not like this.”

Jake reaches down to grab his phone, hits a button, and the song changes. Kauri fights back a laugh when he realizes it’s just a different song from the same fucking musical.

“Fucking Chris,” Kauri says, trapped between laughter and tears.

Jake’s hand moves to rest on the console between the seats, and after a second, Kauri’s hand remembers how to listen to his brain and he lays his cold, thin, long fingers over Jake’s larger, warmer ones.

Jake doesn’t pull away from him.

By the time they get back to Nat’s house, their fingers have wrapped around each other, and Kauri feels a little warmer than he felt before.

When you’re falling in a forest and there’s nobody around, all you want is for somebody to find you

“Next time, can it be your music playing?” Kauri asks, voice a little huskier and rougher than he means it to be. All the numbness that came with the drinking is gone, and Kauri hurts, inside himself, in a way he’s almost grateful for.

When you’re falling in a forest and when you hit the ground, all you need is for somebody to find you

“Uh, um, yeah,” Jake manages, and his voice is rough, too.

No one deserves to be forgotten, no one deserves to fade away

“I can get better, Jake,” Kauri says, voice low. “I can. But I’m never-... I’m never gonna be whoever was me before.”

No one deserves to disappear

“I know,” Jake says. “That isn’t who I care about, anyway, Kaur... I care about you.”

No one deserves to disappear

They sit in the driveway until the song ends. And through the next song, and the next. The streetlights shine down and the dark is otherwise total and the world slowly steadies in its constant spin around the sun. Kauri lets his head slowly lean back against the headrest.

“I’m-... so fucking lucky you found me,” Kauri whispers. Jake’s fingers twitch in his, and his eyes are locked on Nat’s front door, up on the porch.

“No,” Jake says, softly. “We’re-... I’m lucky you found us.”

Neither of them wants to be the first to let go of the other one’s hand.

---

@maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @raigash @cubeswhump

147 notes · View notes

dracosearlgreytea · 4 years

Text

indelicate marks (16)

indelicate marks: chapter sixteen - the admission

A/N: okay, i know it has been months, but i am back with another chapter! this fic has got a little attention over the weeks and honestly, all i can say is THANK YOU SO MUCH. i love to see people enjoying my work more than anything in the world, and bless you all and your patience for waiting for the next part. i am hoping to post a new chapter within the week! please feel free to drop by my inbox with any questions about the fic! i love you all very much - ivy <3

warnings: language, very mild descriptions of scars, nsfw implications, punching, a little spicy drama

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22 @bitch-im-a-fangirl @erinisbadger @strawberriesonsummer @accio-rogers @candune @contentobsessor @darinaioana @bbeauttyybbx @letssingintherain

indelicate marks index

And so the weeks began to slide by more easily. Ignoring the ominous words Draco had offered you that night was easier than trying to decipher them. That, you had more or less figured out in the first week of trying. In fact, ignoring most things that festered away and gave you that constant sick feeling was easier than having to acknowledge them at all. Not bringing them up to the boy you continued to meet more and more also appeared to be easier, and for a while, it stayed exactly that way. Until, that was, he went missing again. You'd agreed to meet at the classroom during your joint free period of the day. With Draco's 'task' growing only further demanding, nightly meetings were much more rare. Instead, you stole your moments with him throughout the day - although, you avoided broom cupboards. This time, his disappearance was much more concerning. Whilst doubt lingered from the last time Draco managed to vanish, you were quite sure that things between you were okay. You hadn't argued. You hadn't even pushed for more information on his involvement with the Deatheaters. By lunch, you knew something was wrong. Shaky, you sat at the end of the Slytherin table. It was summer, and the weather was nice, so most students had opted to go sit outside or take a trip to Hogsmeade, leaving the hall almost empty. What bothered you, however, was that Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's 'gang', were sitting unnaturally quiet a few benches away. Parkinson did look particularly disgruntled, hair a mess and skin a shade paler than usual. You waited for as long as you could stand it, hands twitching as you stared at your plate, food untouched. The thoughts inside your head were loud, and sickening. If something had happened to Draco - did someone find out about his mark? Did Lestrange find him in my thoughts back in Easter? Fuck, Draco, where are you - Parkinson stood, as did the rest of the Slytherin group. Without a second of reluctance, you shot out of your seat. Anxiety clawed at your throat, but you bit it back, calling her name before you could change your mind. "Parkinson!" She paused. Pansy didn't even glance at you the first time, and for a second you thought she was going to ignore you. But, then, she turned, eyes flashing with a concoction of hostility and surprise as they met you. "Uh - Y/L/N?" Her eyebrow arched, scanning you with her renowned glare. Self-conscious washed over you as she did so, but you kept your features steely. "Can I help you?" "I - yeah." You stumbled, inwardly cursing. The group that usually gravitated around her and Draco had paused, putting you on the receiving end of several dangerous stares. Pansy was silent, only watching you with her perpetual, irritated look. "Just wanted to know where Malfoy is - that's all." "Draco?" You noticed the way she froze for a second, before you registered his name on her lips. Quick, you nodded, glancing back at the group, who seemed to be inching back towards you. Heart rate frenzied, you eyed Pansy with what you could only label as a pleading expression. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What the hell do you want with Draco?" Oh, shit. "I gave him my Potions essay for him to copy off." You lied, hoping it came smoother than it sounded. Pansy's face stayed eerily set, almost reminiscent to the way Draco appeared most the time. "I need it back." Pansy was silent, again. "Pansy!" Blaise Zabini yelled from the doorway, shooting you a look as you stared at them. "Hurry up." Pansy didn't even acknowledge him, still scrutinising you. Then, she took a small, but intimidating step forward, setting you with a hard, guarded look. "You're a good liar." She muttered. "But you're behind on school gossip." You stayed silent. You didn't trust yourself not to have a complete breakdown there and then if you opened your mouth. Finally throwing a glance over her shoulder, she returned to look at you in a swift motion. "Potter cornered him in the bathrooms. He's in the hospital wing." No. Teeth grinding together, you stared at her, sharing a look between you. It was an odd feeling, hot, in your chest. The terror of not knowing exactly what had happened to Draco, the rage at Potter, and - and the unusual relief in the understanding of Pansy's eyes. Perhaps it was a skill she had, appearing like she knew everything, every little piece about you. Yet, the glint of recognition in her gaze told you otherwise. Before you could speak, she had turned and strode back towards her group, leaving you alone by the Slytherin table. It took you a second before the realisation of Draco's injury set in. Then, you were launching yourself down the corridors, straight to the hospital wing. "Miss Y/L/N?" Madame Pomfrey called as you rushed in, setting your rather terrified eyes on the professor. You knew her well, by now, after so many visits - you had no reason to shy from her temper. "Draco Malfoy." You said, without a second of hesitance. A bed at the far corner of the hospital wing was cornered off - whatever had happened in the bathrooms clearly wasn't a secret amongst students. How the hell did I miss this? "No visitors." She spoke with a firm tone, setting her eyes on you as you had to take in a breath. "You know I wouldn't come here for just anyone," You murmured, drained. The emotion, and worrying must have shown on your expression, resonating in the way her eyes softened in the slightest. "No visitors, Miss Y/L/N. I can't make exceptions." Stubborn as ever. "Then - I - is he okay?" "Yes." She sighed, lips dragging down in the slightest. "He'll live, dear. Now, please make yourself scarse, before Professor McGonagall thinks you're causing a scene." Madame Pomfrey began to gesture you back to the doorway you had sped through. Yet, before you could bite them back, a last, desperate attempt spilled from your mouth. "Can you at least let him know I tried?" Her lips etched further down in the tiniest. Your heart murmured in disappointment - but, as you were about to give in hope, she gave you a singular, firm nod. "Fine. Now, out of my hospital wing, girl." The tone of her voice was enough for you to know you had pushed her to her limit. "Thank you." Your reply came as a breath you weren't quite sure was at all audible, soon to make it back out of the hospital wing. Draco was at least getting tended to - and Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too stressed. All good signs that whatever had happened wasn't too drastic, at least. Still, that persistent nausea remained, stubborn. You were definitely not in the mood for a mind numbing lesson of a History of Magic, that was for certain. The Classroom it is. At least if Draco gets out of the hospital wing I'll know if he stopped by to see me. So lost in thought on the way to the classroom, you could have almost missed it. The three famous faces of Hogwarts, huddled together, but speeding towards what you assumed would be the Gryffindor common room. If you'd have been paying more attention, maybe you would have noticed Harry Potter's laboured, terrified breathing, and Hermione's furrowed brow. But they didn't need to have been wearing Gryffindor robes for you to see red. For once, you didn't feel your usual jittering anxiety. You didn't weigh up what your actions would mean, what your reputation would do. Your strides became quicker, poised. Fists curled up, you bared your teeth and let out a yell. "Potter!" He didn't even turn to look at you. No, it was his two bodyguards that spun. Expressions tired, they looked ready to face another barrage of questions from nosy students, only to drop. Hermione's eyes lit up with panic at the sight of you, most likely looking a little deranged. Her lips shifted to say something, but your thoughts were too loud. He hurt Draco. He hurt Draco, and now I'm going to hurt him. Harry turned to face you at the last minute. Bringing back your arm, you swung your fist directly into his face. "Don't you fucking dare touch him again!" Your voice didn't even feel like your own as you glared down at Harry. He stumbled back, Ron quick to his aid and preventing his fall. "Y/N-" "No, Harry Potter, you fucking listen to me." Hissing, you pushed Hermione away from you as she attempted to pull you back, despite Harry's lack of retaliation. "You stay away from me, and you stay away from Draco." Your eyes glinted, taking in every inch of shock across his face. "Or I will do a lot worse than give you a black eye." "Y/N, go." Hermione urged, gaze pressuring and a little dangerous. It was only then that you realised there were a lot more eyes on you than you once noticed. All around the corridor - students of every year, every house. Staring. Whispering. Jaw grinding together, you threw another glare at Harry for good measure. Then, you stepped back, getting away from the corridor before anything could escalate. For once, there were no scalding, angry tears to follow your mistake. There was no pounding heartbeat, or panicked breathing. For once, as you made your way to the classroom, there was only the sting of your knuckles. And, the odd satisfaction of knowing you'd at least done something for Draco. You'd stood up for him, like he'd stood up for you - and whilst, yes, there was also the concern of him being angry at you for doing so - you knew it was all you could try and do. If Draco was going to get himself killed, you'd be there to try and prevent it to any measures necessary. You'd been sat at the window ledge for hours when Draco finally made an appearance. Dusk was setting in, casting the room that warm orange you felt so comfortable within. The moment the door clicked unlocked, your heart jumped, and before you could rush to the door he was already pushing it open, eyes locking with yours instantly. Swallowing, a second of silence settled between you. There was a million words coming to mind, yet they vanished. All you could do was take in the note of his familiar grey-blue gaze. "Evening." Finally, he spoke, twitching a corner of his lip upward as he slipped into the room and locked the door behind him. That. That was all it took. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you complete and utter idiot-" You'd scrambled to your feet in a second, eyes darting all over his body as you marched towards him and pulled him into a less than gentle embrace. Draco let out a grunt, but then you pulled back again, setting a hand either side of his face. "What the fuck did you do? Merlin, are you alright? I've been fucking worried sick about you all day, I had to speak to Pansy bloody Parkinson just to find out where you are-" Draco's lips cut you off, his own hands coming to rest over yours. Your heart leapt as he did so, and despite his cool skin, you flushed warm. Every little bit of stress dissipated at the action, swiped away by his touch. Pulling back, he prized your hands off of him, although kept them tucked into his. His eyes glimmered with a certain tone of pride - one you hadn't seen him wear often in the last few months. "You gave Potter a black eye." Draco's face pulled into a grin as he spoke, as though he couldn't help himself. Chest fluttering, you realised - Draco was proud of you. "Well - yeah." You felt your own, faint smile play along your lips. "He put you in hospital, Draco. Fuck, are you alright?" Straight back to panicking, you searched him again, the sight of him standing so full in front of you almost thrilling after such a long day. "Can you stop fretting for one second?" He pressed. "No, I cannot! What happened?" Demanding, you set him with a firm look. "You gave Potter a black eye, that's what fucking happened!" Draco exclaimed, eyes alight and wide. "I'm aware. I did do it myself, you know." You sighed, finally accepting that you were not going to find anything out about Draco's injury anytime soon. "You're bloody brilliant." He murmured, kissing you again - this time, a lot more hastily, so much it took you by surprise. You allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, your own hands grasping at the back of his hair as his lips played atop of yours. Only, for them to travel across your jawline, breath hitching as they did so. "I wish I was there to have seen it." Draco whispered, voice dark, tempting. "Stop sexualising my violence." You muttered, evoking a chuckle from the back of his throat. The sound so close to your ear that it made you shiver, his fingers dug into your waist a little deeper. Still, you pushed the feeling away. "Draco, please tell me what happened." Finally, Draco faltered, an echo of a sigh escaping his lips as he shifted back to take you in. "I don't think you want to know." Heart stumbling, you swallowed, eyes dropping to where your hands splayed over his shoulders. "Trust me." Your eyes flickered back to his. Gradual hesitation was breaking through his previous, much more playful gaze. "I want to know." A silence settled between you. Endless amounts of tension managed to fill the small space between your features. It was the type of tension that already made your heart clench in your chest, the type that made you not want to breath. Draco's expression had fallen, a mixture of withdrawal and unexpected dread - one he would usually try so hard to cover. It was unnerving, seeing someone usually so hardened, so steely, dropping back into the terrified boy you only caught glimpses of before. And, eventually, he spoke. "He knows." Your breath caught in the back of your throat. "He saw - saw the mark, when I went to visit Myrtle. Shot some spell I've never heard at me." Draco, once avoiding your glossy eyes, finally met them again. "Nearly killed me." Merlin, his tone was something you'd never even attempted to imagine, coming from Draco. Both haunted, yet accepting, as though he was comfortable with his own fear - and it terrified you, deep into your core. In any other situation, you would have noticed your own terror. The idea of Draco dying, without you having even known - it was unthinkable. He was everything you had, everything you'd ever wanted or needed after a life spent within your own head. If he died - But you didn't. No. For once, it was only anger. Draco's expression was only a spark to a fire pit built many years ago. Built the day you stepped inside Hogwarts, brimming with hopes and dreams, only to be met with rejection. It took a moment for you to realise that Draco was still watching you, uncertain, brow furrowed in concern. For you. Not him, not the one who had almost died only a few hours ago. And so, you let out a careful breath, holding his face in your hands as though it was the most precious thing to exist. "I won't let that happen." You murmured, meeting his complex grey faze with a fierce one. Swallowing, Draco watched you a moment longer, as though trying to read the intensity of your words. "I know." His brow jolted in as he spoke, as though he were wounded to say it. There was an underlying tone to your admission, one you both appeared to ignore. But then, Draco pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, squeezing your waist tight in his grip. The movement brushed away the tension before you could even attempt to hold onto it. It left you feeling a little unhinged, blinking. "I'm alive, though." Draco reassured, catching your eye once again. "Madame Pomfrey fixed me up quite nicely." A soft chuckle left you as he spoke, breaking through the stiffness of your features. "Really?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Any battle scars?" His lips twitched, gaze warm. "You're just trying to get me undressed." Shaking his head, you laughed again, watching as Draco shifted away from you to tug his shirt upward. There was a slight stutter in your chest as he did so, a sudden childish nervousness at the exposure of skin. But, as your eyes swept across the healed, rugged lines across his chest, it faded. Leaving you instead, with both a tinge of worry - and, a slight desire. Draco, however, seemed to note your expression. He didn't allow his shirt to fall back down till your eyes met again, except this time, they were a little darkened. "Like what you see?" A smug smirk plastered his features, but you only rolled your eyes. "Cocky as always, Malfoy." You teased, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he pulled you in closer again. Pressing short kisses to your jaw, he earnt a sharp intake of breath from you. "I never denied that." The mood, somehow, managed to stay warm for the rest of the evening. Settled on the window sill, soaking in Draco's presence and rare good mood - your anxieties faded. His arms were so tight around you, soft lips finding your skin, over and over. It was as though you were dreaming. The anger, however - the anger never quite left. You weren't quite sure if you wanted it to, either.

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter fanfiction #indelicate marks series

84 notes · View notes

rookie-ramsey · 4 years

Text

Songbird, Chapter 9 (Ethan X MC)

Description: She thought the biggest obstacle of her life was surviving medical school. Life had a funny away of proving her wrong with a breast cancer diagnosis.

Preview: His dad reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.“I’m proud of you, Ethan. I never thought I’d see this day.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Ethan smiled softly, relaxing and letting out a deep breath. “And honestly, I never thought I’d see it, either. I never thought it was something I’d want, but things change. I know that now.”

Previous Chapter

The next day, Ethan took Olivia home. He had plenty of days saved that he could take off to stay with her.

As soon as they walked into his apartment, Olivia made a beeline for the couch. She flopped unceremoniously onto it and curled up under the plush Edenbrook blanket Bryce and Sienna had gifted her.

“You rest for now. I’ll wake you up for dinner later.”

“Okay.” Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around a pillow and dozed off in a matter of minutes.

Unwilling to be far from her just yet, Ethan sat at the other end of the couch and quietly busied himself with some patient files. Once the afternoon sunlight gave way to evening, he left the living room to start dinner.

Per her request, Ethan made Georgian stuffed chicken. By the time the oven buzzed to alert him that the chicken was done, Olivia was awake and shuffled sleepily into the kitchen.

“How do you feel?”

“Still tired. I feel like I could go into hibernation.” Olivia washed her hands and accepted the plate of chicken he handed her. She took a seat at the table and took a bite of chicken.

Ethan sat down as well. “You need all the rest you can get. Your body is still recovering from the infection.”

“I know. I just wish I didn’t feel like sleeping all the time. At least I have an appetite today.”

He nodded encouragingly. “That’s good. You haven’t had one in a few days.”

Olivia ate her dinner in slow, small bites to avoid unsettling her stomach. She ate half of it before she felt full and stopped. “I won’t risk it. I’d like to get through one night without violently puking.”

“Understandable.”

After dinner, Olivia felt more alert and wanted to rest on the couch again instead of going to bed just yet. She made herself comfortable next to Ethan as she clicked through Netflix to find something to watch.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

Ethan cupped her cheek in his hand and stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Do you remember that conversation we had several months ago? When we talked about our future.”

Olivia nodded curiously. “I remember.”

“You said you saw marriage in our future. Do you still see that?”

Her expression softened, her eyes giving way to longing and barely concealed pain. “I remember. I just hope that future is a reality for me one day.”

“Who says we need to put it off?”

At that, she arched a brow. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? An impulse marriage?”

“I’ve given this plenty of thought. And your impulsivity… well, it’s contagious.” Ethan couldn’t contain an amused smile. He reached into his pocket and revealed a ring box.

Olivia’s eyes widened. “You’re serious…”

“Aren’t I always?” Ethan opened the box to reveal the sparkling band. “You told me once that love doesn’t have to make sense. I understand that now. I know you’re going to live to see your future and I’d like to be a part of it, if that’s what you want. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes glistened with tears. Nodding shakily, she threw her arms around him and smiled. “Yes.”

Ethan pulled her close and kissed her head. He took her hand into his and gently slipped the ring on her finger. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I want to get married in the summer. I’ll be done with chemo then. Maybe by then I won’t look like a walking skeleton.”

“Don’t,” he chastised gently. “You would look beautiful regardless of when we held the wedding. But we can have the ceremony whenever you want. It’s up to you.”

“In the summer. I want the weather to be nice. And that gives me time to finish my treatments before we start planning.”

Ethan nodded and looped his arms around her. “I’ll be content with anything that you want.”

She grinned. “I feel so spoiled.”

“That’s my goal.” Ethan’s eyes softened. “Anything you want.”

“Whipped,” she teased.

“What can I say?” Ethan grinned and kissed her softly. “I enjoy spoiling you.”

Happier than she’d been in months, she leaned into his kiss. Then she held her hand out to admire the reflection of the light against its stones. “How long have you had the ring?”

“A while,” he admitted. “I had planned on an elaborate dinner proposal, but… some things don’t go as planned.”

“I like impulsive Ethan,” Olivia agreed. She leaned against his side and closed her eyes. “I’m ready to go back to sleep, but there’s one tiny problem.”

“What’s that?”

“The bed is all the way at the end of the hall, and I don’t feel like getting up.” She opened her eyes enough to give him an innocent pleading look.

“Sounds like a predicament. What am I supposed to do about that?” Ethan teased. He stood up and lifted her into his arms. With a smirk, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him as he carried her to their bedroom.

“See? I told you. Whipped.”

Her first two nights of leave were peaceful enough. She knew it would only last until her next chemo session, so she took advantage of it while she could by spending as much time as possible eating her favorite foods and staying out of bed.

Just as Olivia suspected, her next chemo session left her feeling miserable. Normally, the side effects didn’t hit her until a few hours later, but this time she felt ill barely an hour after they’d left her appointment.

Half-asleep, she blinked tiredly when she heard keys in the front door, followed by the door opening and closing. A minute later, Ethan joined her in the bedroom. “That was fast.”

Ethan shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave you alone longer than absolutely necessary.” He reached into the bags and set out the ginger ale and medication he had picked up.

Nauseous and uncomfortable, Olivia sat up and dispensed two of the tablets into her mouth, following it with a slow sip of ginger ale. Any medication she had tried barely made a dent in the nausea, but she figured some relief was better than none at all.

Sighing, she curled up further under the covers. A tremor went through her, making her wince. Ethan’s hand smoothed over her forehead, brushing away a strand of cold sweat.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

She shook her head. “Just keep me company. I don’t want to be nauseous and bored at the same time.”

“We can’t have that.” Ethan sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard. He opened his arms to her. Grateful, Olivia snuggled into his chest and sighed.

“Ethan, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to wait until summer. I want to get married sooner. I know everything is looking better for my illness, but… you know how unpredictable things can be. And I don’t want to risk not seeing that day happen.”

Ethan froze, his throat clenching a little. “You’re still worried that you won’t go into remission.”

She nodded slightly. “I know I’m supposed to focus on the positive test results, but all it takes is one setback to make things go south. I want to make sure our wedding day happens, if it’s okay with you for us to have it sooner.”

He rested his head against hers, kissing it softly. “I already told you that I’m happy with whatever you want. Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then we’ll start planning.”

XXXXXX

All of their friends were surprised when Olivia rescheduled their wedding, but they understood.

She didn’t think she would ever lose the fear that her cancer would kill her, so she wanted to take every opportunity possible while she could. If things worked the way they were supposed to, then she would recover and they would enjoy a long married life together.

Still, if there was even the slightest chance that waiting until summer would mean she would die before their wedding, she wouldn’t risk it.

A month after Ethan proposed to her in their living room, they held a small ceremony in the hospital’s chapel. They kept the guest list small and the ceremony simple.

Ethan felt his heart racing with an unusual nervousness as he waited. His dad reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m proud of you, Ethan. I never thought I’d see this day.”

The pianist started playing a soft melody. Inhaling sharply, Ethan moved into his position on the altar and watched as their small wedding party walked down the aisle, stopping when they reached the altar.

When the melody changed and Ethan saw Olivia at the end of the aisle, standing next to Naveen, his breath hitched in his throat. A soft smile pulled at his lips as the two made their way down the aisle.

Halfway down the aisle, Olivia faltered a little with dizziness. Ethan noticed and instinctively started to step off of the altar, but Naveen steadied her and they started walking again.

When they reached the altar, Ethan reached out and gently took Olivia’s hands into her own. She smiled, leaning slightly into him for support. Ethan gazed down at her, his eyes softer than she’d ever seen them.

Naveen took his place and gave them a warm smile before he spoke. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Ethan Ramsey and Olivia Winchester…”

Next chapter

Tag List, Part 1

@princess-geek / @buzz-bee-buzz / @lapisreviewsstuff / @polishchoicesfan / @msjpuddleduck / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @imescullen / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @openheart12 / @mvalentine / @choicesfanaf / @whatchique / @smilex1104 / @elephant9998 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @kaavyaethanramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers / @tefigranger / @laceandlula / @paisleylovergirl / @simsvetements / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @jlynn12273 / @sanchita012 / @forthebrokenheartedthings / @lilyvalentine / @parkerattano / @drramseysownsme / @misswhit12 / @drethanfreakingramsey / @juneiswriting / @macy-ray85 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk / @myusualnerdyself / @siaramsey / @takemyopenheart / @queencarb / @drakewalker04

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #tw: cancer #cancer tw

56 notes · View notes

fangirl-on-bitches · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet

Javier Peña x Female!Reader.

Word Count: 4k approximately.

Summary: You and Javier have a particular way of saying goodbye, so particular you get a surprise when you get back to the US.

Warning: a lot of cursing, a bit of pregnancy shenanigans, a lot of dialogue and a little messy plot and timelines lol.

A/N: Okay, listen before you continue. When I was younger I used to write, maybe not with the best grammar or the best plot, but sure as hell with a lot of creativity. Now I just can’t be that creative to write a complete fic or hc, so if you find this boring or a waste of time I’m really sorry. If you like this, I appreciate it as I really made an effort to finish it (a crapy ending anyways). I’ll be sincere, I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote it. I feel like the scenarios aren’t realistic to what could happen in real life (I feel like they are forced or way too dramatic) I really hope I don’t waste your time. (and yes, I chose the name in honor of Pedro’s role in triple frontier)

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

You were cursed. Definitely.

You were back in the states, had been for a few weeks, enjoying the warmest sun Miami had to offer along with Connie. You loved relaxing by a peaceful beach after years of chasing after Escobar with your life on the line every hour of every day.

That day you were really excited to wake up and meet Connie to go to the beach, it had been so long since you saw her and little Olivia. You felt at the same time a little uncomfortable with your body that day, bloated and kind of heavy, like there was extra gravity, but the excitement overwhelmed whatever other feeling you might be having.

The beach had some people because it was a nice day, so you lounged along Connie and baby Olivia, eating fried fish with chips as it was beach food. You were laughing at something Connie said about Steve, something about being a pain in the ass, which you agreed with. It was all fun and games until you felt horrible nausea and a pushing need to vomit. Connie, being observant noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” before you could answer you ran to the restaurant’s bathroom, puking whatever food you had that day. Connie came close behind you. She gave you a paper towel so you could wipe your mouth.

“Okay, I might be sick.” you admitted flushing the toilet.

Of course, your mood just plummeted to the ground when you were sitting in a private room in the hospital. Connie couldn’t check you, but she was looking for her friend on-call, meanwhile, you looked as baby Liv (as you called Olivia) slept peacefully by your side.

You didn’t like hospitals. They reminded you of your time in Colombia, and although you weren’t shot, your compañeros might have been shot multiple times. There had been too many close calls and so many lives lost, you just got the creeps whenever you heard a gurney moving.

Soon, Connie came back and carried Olivia outside, leaving you with her friend. She presented herself, and asked routine questions. How are you feeling? What happened? Does something hurt? Is your period late? Did you fall and hit your head? Do you have any diseases? Or do you take any medication?

“I do have nausea and I threw up after eating.” She nodded as she took your blood pressure. Then you started thinking. You were thinking really hard.

Your period was late, you didn’t remember how late, but it was late. Two months ago, Steve and you caught Escobar. Steve went straight back home and you had to stay, to finish completing paperwork. Then Javier was back in Colombia to follow the Cali Cartel, but you were assigned back to Miami and couldn’t stay.

To be fair, you were glad to be back home, but you really missed Javier. When shit went down with Los Pepes you were pissed off at Javier. You knew he usually overstepped the line to get intel, but this time he had stepped so far off the line, he wouldn’t be able to see the line.

The night before he left you decided you would drink your consciousness off because you hated to even think that Javier Peña was living in Colombia; after a glass of a really strong Rum and Cola you decided against it and knocked on Javier’s door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suggesting that he wasn’t up to listening to more of your nagging. Your head had a million thoughts racing, you wanted to tell him so many things varying from ‘you are an idiot’ to ‘why the fuck did you do this?’ but the only thing you articulate was something like ‘I don’t want you to go’

Javier’s face softened, although you cast down eyes couldn’t actually look at his face, he had stepped aside and invited you inside. “Do you want something to drink?” you shook your head, looking around the apartment. It was almost empty, but it has been pretty empty since the beginning. You sat on the floor, Javier following with a beer in his hand.

“Will you come back?” you asked him, but you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think so, it depends on the higher ups in the states” you nodded, looking at him. You were really going to miss him. “Look, it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore, when you guys catch Escobar-” you laughed humorlessly. How long would that be? Months, another year perhaps?

Both of you stayed in silence for a while. “I should go.” you told him, standing up, he stood up as well.

“You shouldn’t go.” He told you, squeezing your shoulder tenderly, a familiar touch. You looked at his sweet dark brown eyes, a silly small smile playing on the corners of your lips.

“What do you mean? You have a plane to catch tomorrow.” you remind him, wondering if he was drunk, he clearly wasn’t. His hand, which was still on your shoulder, moved to cup your face. For a second, you were lost and didn’t understand what was happening, until you looked at his eyes again and understood. You didn’t wait for him to lean down, you just wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

You would lie if you have never felt curious as to why every informant in Colombia gave Javier the intel he wanted. After that night you understood why. He was passionate, attentive and a really generous lover. You might have even believed him if he had blurted out an ‘I love you’.

The only reason why you let this happen was because Javier was supposed to stay in the US, officially he wasn’t your (or Steve’s) compañero anymore. And that was true, even when he came back.

“Okay, so your results are in. After you told me you’ve been missing your period for quite a while, I drew some blood to analyze it.”

“Yeah, it must be stress. You know, I worked in Colombia with Connie’s husband and moving back here plus all the work I have to do was really stressful. Also, I had a UTI back in Colombia, I wasn’t drinking enough water and I read that the strain might move my period a little.” you started rambling. For some reason, you felt jittery, almost anxious at the look on the Doctor’s face. She had a grin in her face, really big and excited.

“That may delay your period for two weeks, but it won't magically make it disappear, dear.” She read the results once more and nodded to herself. “As I suspected, you are pregnant.”

“W-w-what?” you mumbled. “But I didn’t pee on the stick.” clearly, your brain had short-circuited.

“I have some pregnancy tests if you wish to take them yourself, but the blood analysis is pretty accurate.” she offered with a nice smile. You nodded and took the box going to the bathroom, trying to focus on reading the instructions.

The stick said you were pregnant. And you knew exactly who was the father.

You sighed at the papers you were reading, the office already empty, way past dinner time. Since catching Escobar, hours were cut short, but to you they were really slow. Steve wasn’t there, he had left a few weeks ago, Javier obviously wasn’t there. It was just you, some files and occasionally some booze to help you relax before sleeping. Thankfully, you would be leaving shortly.

On your way back to the apartment complex you stopped by a grocery store. You needed ice cream, and lots of chocolate, and some chips. Probably some booze too. You had bought a flask of whisky that reminded you of Javier, although whisky might not be your first choice of booze.

That same flask almost fell to the ground when you saw goddam Javier Peña entering his apartment, a big suitcase by his side.

He also noticed you, the dark bags under your eyes and messy hair evidence of your hard work.

“Oh my god” you whispered, unbelieving. You walked and hugged him, relieved to see him again. “You are back?” you stupidly asked.

“Yeah, they want my intel and help to track down the Cali Cartel.” he answered.

“Well, that’s weird.”

“What?”

“My orders are to finish paperwork and return to Miami. They didn’t tell me to stay to help.”

“Well, it’s a different operation this time, more discreet.” he tried to hint you that it wasn’t just DEA business anymore, it was more a CIA kind of work. You invited him to your apartment, that had two boxes of things you were going to give to charity, you didn’t need all this stuff back home, you already had them.

He explained his situation while you shared the flask of whisky and bid good night like the old times, no kisses or sex, or nothing like that. Which was fine.

Everything was fine for the next few days. Javier even helped you pack your stuff and sort it out. The night before returning home he offered to go to the bar you always went to with Steve and him on Friday’s or Saturday’s (sometimes even a Monday)

Both of you drank like you always had, but instead of bidding goodnight and going to bed separately, you both had sex. Again. It was probably a coping mechanism, the way both of you said goodbye to each other. Such a complicated method.

So, so complex that now you were pregnant.

With a child.

Javier's child.

It had to be his, you only had sex with him within the last 3 months. Since Colombia you hadn’t have sex.

This was bad. It was complicated. You didn’t plan for a child; working at the DEA (chasing after Escobar) left you almost no time to think about dating, much more less building a fucking family.

Could you do this? Hell yeah, you are an awesome strong woman.

What you couldn’t do was tell Javier.

When you came out the private room, you were fidgeting with your hands, Connie came and took them. “I’m pregnant.” you blurted out. Connie looked at you shocked; then you noticed little baby Olivia wasn’t on her arms.

Steve, in all his blonde mustache glory stood with his daughter on his arms, looking as shocked as Connie. “What?” he asked.

“Who is the father?” Connie inquired.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Steve.

“I came to pick up my wife and daughter for dinner. Why don’t you come with us and tell us more about this?” You nodded out of inertia, but you looked at your hands while walking, Connie hooking her arm with one of yours.

As you sat on traffic, you tentatively touched your belly. It was... normal. No kicking, no large or really hard belly. It was like there was nothing there.

You would have declined dinner if you knew the questionnaire that would come from the Murphy’s. Well, questionnaire would be an exaggeration, but you didn’t really like the single question they were asking.

“Who’s the father?”

“I- I can’t tell you.”

“Why? We don’t know him?” you sighed and reassigned. You knew they would ask forever.

“Please, please, please you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody. Both of you.” you looked pointedly at Steve. He nodded but held your gaze, trying to figure out what you were really trying to say. A second later he muttered something.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

“What?” Connie asked but soon realized. “Oh, no way. Javier?”

“It’s Javier.” you confirm their suspicions.

“Are you certain?” Connie asked.

“Of course.” you paused and then added. “You can’t tell him Steve.”

“What? Why?” he sounded slightly offended.

“I should tell him first. He should hear it from me.”

“I can’t believe this. The minute I come back home you two just pound at each other.”

“It wasn’t like that, and technically you were still in Colombia the first time.”

“The first time?” he asked with a chuckle, he looked very happy.

“The second time I was the one leaving!” you paused, moving the food around your plate. “How the fuck am I going to tell him? I can’t just call him and be like, ‘hey I’m pregnant and you are the father. How’s the Cali stuff going?’. This kind of news aren’t told over a call.”

“But it’s different, it’s not a normal situation. Javier could be in Colombia for years.” Steve reminded you.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. He can’t come back until his work is done.” You rolled your eyes, there was no good alternative.

“So you plan to just hide this from him?” Connie asked, her look full of pity, if it was for you or Javier, you didn't know.

“Only until I know he’s coming back. I’ll check on him every once in a while. I’ll need you to call him too, Steve. I don’t want him to suspect me.” He sighed but nodded nonetheless. You sighed as well, a million thoughts racing through your head.

You called Javier that same week. Of course, it was unexpected for him but really welcome. Colombia was not rainbows and sunshine. “So how’s the Cartel treating you?”

“It’s a fucking nightmare, but hopefully it won’t take long. I can't talk too much over the phone about this, who knows who might be listening.” he sighed, sounding really

“Yeah, you are right.” for a minute, you thought about telling him. Then you decided. “Please take care and be careful.”

“Of course compañera.” he assured, you could practically hear the smirk in his lips. After ending the call, you pressed the heels of your palms in your eyes. How in the world were you going to tell him?

––––––

A month turned into two, and then five months flew by in the blink of an eye. Javier was not coming back for the time being and your belly was starting to pop. Your head was still working on how in the world were you going to tell Javier, which was the only problem you had right now. It wasn’t even a big problem, if Javier wanted an out of fatherhood he was free to go, but you had been so happy since day two (day one was a full shock) that you honestly didn’t care.

You were getting way too ahead of yourself. Maybe Javi wanted to be a father and he would be really happy with the little baby. But that wasn’t the Javier you knew, and that’s why you were so afraid to tell him.

Today looked like the best day to tell him. You were going to probably get to know if the little baby was a girl or a boy. You were waiting patiently for him to pick up the call in the hospital public phone. After a while, he picked up.

“Hello?” his voice sounded gruff and stressed.

“Hi, compañero. How are you?” you asked, a hand on your belly.

“As fine as I can be here,” he answered. “What did you want?” he asked abruptly, almost tired of talking to you. It stinged a little.

“I just called to check in…” you lied, maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell him after all.

“I’m going to be as clear as I can. Don’t call me, unless you are fucking dying.” you felt a piercing pain in your throat, a tight knot forming, making it really difficult to talk.

“Fine.” you hissed and hanged the phone, tears slipping down your cheeks. Fucking hormones. Fucking Javier.

Connie, who was waiting for you anxiously to come back, hugged you. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay.” you nodded and wiped your tears.

“I’m okay. I just need to focus on my baby and myself right now.” you told her and rubbed your belly.

“Of course honey.”

–––––––

It had been a really smooth and sweet pregnancy, you were really happy with your 5th month old baby boy Francisco. He was really sweet, but he had so, so much of his father, the resemblance was uncanny. Deep brown sweet eyes, and a mop of soft brown hair.

Javier had not called you since that horrible last call. You knew he called Steve every once in a while, but you asked Steve please not to tell you anything about him. Both Murphy’s just assumed you had told Javier about the pregnancy and that he had not taken it well.

This was a lie. Javier had no idea you were pregnant, much more less with his child. But he was still in Colombia, so unless you told him he would not hear it from anyone.

It hurted you deeply, not being able to tell your son who his father was. However, all around your house there were pictures of Steve, Javi and yourself from Colombia. Connie and Olivia were there too, even Carillo.

Anyways, the baby was too young to notice the absence of his father. Maybe by the time Francisco starts wondering about daddy, Javier would be around the USA to talk.

Your son cooed and asked to be held up, it was time for his nap. Just in time, you thought, Steve was coming over to pick him up as you were going to meet your best friend in an hour or so. Your baby boy soon fell asleep, you held him in against your chest, rocking him gently.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Steve, you are early. Fran just fell asleep.” you told Steve. But it wasn’t Steve. Javier fucking Peña stood in the door way, his eyes looking at your son. You frowned and tried to hide Francisco’s face sneakily from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, compañera.” he said, but his mind was not entirely focused on whatever he was saying. His mind was in the baby, and about how quickly you had moved on.

“Don’t compañera me.” you hissed, in a hushed tone, the baby in your arms sleeping soundly. “Come in.” you told him, as you turned around to leave your baby on his cradle.

Javier looked around, looking for any sign of the baby’s father. But he only found pictures of you, Steve, Connie, baby Olivia and other people he knew. Then he started thinking, what if the baby was his child?

No, that’s not possible.

“So?” you asked, really anxious. You had no idea he would be here. You were not prepared for this. But really, would you ever be prepared?

“I came to apologize.” Javier simply said, his hands on his hips.

“Took you a little long.” you said, rubbing your hands together. “If you apologized sooner I could have…”

“Could have what?” you exhaled and sighed, trying not to cry.

“You are not supposed to be here.” you whisper, your voice cracking softly as you sit on your sofa. Javier sat by your side and you felt the weight of your decisions constrict your chest, making it harder to breath.

You were a horrible, horrible person. How could you deny him knowing he was a father? That he had a child? It didn’t matter how angry you felt, or how much of an asshole he had been. The baby was made by both of you. He had the right to know.

“I’m sorry.” he was not sure why, but he really was sorry. You shook your head, and started to tell him that you were sorry, repeating like a prayer. “Hey, hey” he tried to calm you down, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “Breath, baby. Breath.” you complied, breathing deeply. After a minute of silence you took his rough big hand and held it, squeezing it slightly.

“Javier, I got news for you.” you started, and felt his hand tense. “The baby boy, Francisco, he’s your son, our son.” He looked at you, his eyes wide, looking like a deer in the headlights. “That time I called you, I was pregnant, and I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me after?”

“You told me not to call you unless I was fucking dying.” you exhaled and stood up. “Look you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to, I had Francisco because I wanted to, but I didn't expect anything from you.”

“Not getting involved? What are you talking about?” he asked offended.

“I’m sorry, and I mean no offense, but you don't strike as the kind of guy who would want a family, or children.”

“And what the fuck do you know?” he raised his voice a little, making you cringe a little.

“I’m sorry, and I can’t do anything to return back time.” you told him sincerely. A loud whine was heard from your room, where the crib was. You sighed and went to your room, to calm Francisco down. Unbeknownst to you, Javier followed you looking how you delicately held him and rocked him. The baby’s eyes were still closed, he was just a little disturbed.

You looked at the door frame, Javier stood there, looking at the child. You walked to him, your intentions clear. “Do you want to hold him?” you asked your voice soft and soothing. Javier gulped, feeling suddenly nervous, he didn’t know how to hold a baby, what if he dropped him? “Don’t worry, I’ll help.” you offered, a kind smile in your face.

Javier extended his arms and you walked closer, softly passing your son to Javier’s big arms. Francisco whined a little and Javier’s face cringed, making you smile. “Hold him against you,” you helped, gently pushing his arms, closer to his chest. Francisco was fast asleep again. Javier just looked at him, marveled. You guide him to the sofa, making him sit there with your son. “I’ll be right back.” you tell him, and at the panicked face he made, you had to quiet your laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

You called your best friend, telling her you wouldn’t be able to meet her. When you stepped back on the living room, someone knocked on the door, it must be Steve. You opened the door and gestured to him to be quiet, pointing at the couch, were Javi sat (finally) relaxed.

Steve did not enter the house as you promised to call later. You returned to the living room and sat beside them, contemplating how peaceful they looked. Javier had moved your son, laying him against his broad chest. You caressed the baby’s hair, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Want to stay for dinner?” you asked standing up. Javier nodded and then lay his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You smiled and entered your bedroom to change your clothes into something more comfortable.

You had nothing figured out, but you were happy knowing your son had a loving father to grow up with. You’ll figure your relationship out (if there was going to be one).

After some minutes, you heard some gurgles coming from the living room. Javi fell asleep, and Francisco was wide awake, looking at his father curiously, moving his little hands. You took the baby from him, kissing his chubby face. “Your daddy is sleeping, baby. C’mon, let’s give you some mashed banana.” you told him, caressing Javier’s hair back.

You spent some long 20 minutes feeding and nursing your baby boy while you also checked dinner. Javier, still fast asleep on the couch, woke up with a start, touching his chest, as if missing something. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, looking around.

“He’s here, Javier.” you told him from the kitchen, a silly smile on your face. Javier sat by the table, feeling self conscious at the baby’s gaze over him. His son’s arms moved up and down, talking unintelligible gibberish. “He likes you.” you commented, cleaning his chubby face. Javier held his hand out and Francisco took one of his fingers, squeezing with his baby strength. Javi’s heart skipped a beat.

Eating together was really weird, but at the same time it felt right. You noticed Javier’s tired face and wondered if he came straight from the airport. So you asked, sparking some conversation. You talked about what finally happened with the Cali Cartel.

“You got a place to stay?” you asked, but you knew the answer. “You can stay here if you want. Hotel’s are really expensive right now.”

“You sure?” you nodded. You forgot how well you clicked with Javier, it was a nice reminder.

He helped you with the dishes, and then went to shower, getting his suitcase for clean clothes. You prepared Francisco for bed, giving him his formula bottle after changing his diapers.

You saw Javier getting out of the bathroom, and thankfully had the decency to wear full pajamas, you would have fainted at the view of his bare chest.

“So, I’ll go to the couch, do you have a blanket?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I was going to tell you to sleep in the bed with me. We already shared a bed before, so I don’t see a problem. Plus, I could use the help if Francisco wakes up.” you commented with a cocky smirk. You usually wore just a t-shirt to bed, but today you had to use full pajamas, like Javi did.

“Okay.” Javier said, not really convinced. Francisco was asleep already, his father caressed his little hand with his finger. You were already under the covers, ready to hit the bed, Javier looked tired too.

He laid down, under the covers as well, looking at the ceiling. He moved looking at you, you were both face to face, generous space between both of you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, and took his hands on yours.

“Sleep Javi, you look tired.” you kissed the back of his hands and closed your eyes, sleep getting the best of you. Javi smiled, his face soft, getting a little closer, leaving his hand on yours, then he shut his eyes. He had never felt more at home.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

69 notes · View notes

courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972 @ultraluckycatnd @donteattheappleshook) and Art by @kmomof4

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2

Chapter 2 - House Evil Spirits to appease of,

Part of Emma was coming to terms with the new fact that she was pregnant, then just as rapidly she reverts back through the cycle of grief, sometimes not in order. The doctor had warned her this would happen when she announced that they would be keeping her for overnight observation as a safety precaution, dropping the news that her new pregnancy hormones would also make her feel even more upside down then she had ever imagined. It was one thing to be told, but feeling it was another thing entirely.

She had gone from laughing at the breakfast menu she was handed to crying over grilled cheese not being an option, to enraged at being brought bright blue jello with her 'breakfast sandwich' made of bologna and eggs. They could not have known the intense reaction the jiggling neon goo would have given her, her magic flaring and sputtering in turn as she launched it away from her. But then again, she doubted any of the staff had spent time in a No-Magic cell. Nausea bloomed as soon as rage subsided, the food on the plastic tray too similar to what had been served to her over those long years locked away.

Now irritation was playing through multiple emotions, a new nurse violently poking her with a needle, and running some sort of IV.

"You're giving me what -"

"A hormone treatment, and a magic suppressant."

"But I need my magic -"

"Would you prefer to shrivel up and die? You'll still have enough to do daily witch activities or whatever. This helps keep the extra at bay, and your baby healthy. It needs your magic."

"Oh. Great." She laughed, half crazed at the news and the nurse's treatment. "Just great."

"Mess with their kind, and well." She shrugged, eyeing Emma's body. "An Angel wouldn't do that to you. A Vampire couldn't, and the rest of 'em could, but you wouldn't have to suffer through all this nasty magic aftermath. You're just early enough for a termination though, thank Merlin."

"I didn't do this to myself on purpose . This was never supposed to happen, at least not like this…"

"Sure." The nurse rolled her eyes as she drew out the word, clearly being condescending. "It's never the Witch’s fault; I hear it every time I'm fixing them for blowing themselves in half for not reading a spell right. You play with dark magic, there's a cost."

Emma scowled, hot tears starting and streaming down her cheeks. Her anger and ferocity that was there just moments before had evaporated without warning into a deep resignation.

"Can my brother come to see me yet?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"After they question you, sure. He can come pick you up - You're done here." The nurse pulled off the empty bag from the IV stand, throwing it in the trash.

The doctor entered, waving a hello. Emma did not notice her, too busy staring at her bump. She joined the nurse as a machine beeped, helping to take out her IV and the pads on her belly. When that was done, Emma sat up, wobbling from her strange new center of gravity.

The doctor smiled at her kindly. "We'll have your test results in a few days to a week's time. You'll feel strange and sluggish the first few weeks as your body catches up to the rapid growth, your hormones, the magic, so on and so forth. From there, you may actually start to grow as normal until you'll need the next dose of suppression. We'll schedule that out for 4 months from now, checking in monthly, but if you grow suddenly, shrink suddenly, your extremities swell, or you begin to exhibit flu like symptoms, come in immediately. If anything seems off, just give us a call. We have a twenty-four seven nurse line should you have any other questions. Good luck!"

The doctor left without much more than a precursory glance back.

Snapping her gloves, the nurse glared over her glasses at Emma. "Leave when you are ready. We got you a different outfit; it's amongst your personals there."

The nurse left in a hurry, leaving Emma to dress herself in a large pair of green hospital scrubs, her new figure completely foreign as she rubbed her hands across the smooth skin. Her once flat stomach was distended, a slight curve that pushed out stretched skin. Her clothes in the plastic bag they had given her were dirty and looked damp. The clothing she was given would have been a small comfort if the stiff fabric didn't feel so much like her old prison uniform.

"Fuck," Emma choked out, gripping the chair for support. She felt dizzy, absolutely nauseated at the idea of a baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. Something in her felt warmth at the idea, a strange, creeping feeling of rightness mixed with calm. The rest of her wanted to claw at her skin, urging her to wake up from this horrible dream.

Every time she closed her eyes, she fervently wished this wrongness was a hallucination. But it wasn't; she was still swaying on her feet every time she opened her eyes again. This wasn't some sort of nightmare, there was a baby, some creature's inhuman child inside her. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Tears began to prick behind her eyes, her face heating as she sat down on the hospital bed with her head cradled in her hands.

( You can't cry over this. This happened because of your shady dealings.

You got a firstborn child alright. Yours. )

Swallowing hard, Emma tried to banish the thoughts bombarding her.

( A baby. A baby you can love and hold, who you will never abandon. Someone you can raise the way you weren't, a second chance. Put your armor back on - for you and your child. )

Emma bit her lip hard, swiping angrily at her tears. Bottling up the emotions, she took a breath, grabbed her purse, and walked down the hallway. To her great surprise, Elsa was waiting.

"Emma, oh my stars. This is - I have no words. I'm so sorry," Elsa whispered. Emma gave a half hearted shrug, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Yeah. Well. Can I go home yet? That's why you're here right?" Emma hated the anxious, pleading edge of her tone.

"No, not yet. You have to be interviewed by the inspector detective here and then you are free to go." Elsa approached and hugged Emma softly. "I got you a nice one though, he's one of my favorites. Jones. He's an Angel - literally and figuratively. He's saved me on so many cases, I can't help but sing his praise."

"Oh Elsa. Thank you." Emma hugged her friend tightly, both of them trembling. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Elsa scoffed. "I don't know what anyone would do. Joking aside, we are all going to be here for you, no matter what happens. It's not going to be like last time." Elsa pushed back a strand of Emma's hair, looking straight into her eyes. "You won't go through this alone. We're going to fight for you, and figure this out. Luckily, our major project is postponed anyway. Until they find the Demon Prince, the council is on a hiatus."

"I just want to go home. I don't know if I can handle everyone right now." Emma mumbled. "It's bad enough David probably knows, which means Snow and everyone else -"

"Please don't push us away, Emma. We know it's a lot, but going into the unknown like this," Elsa took one of Emma's hands, squeezing it lightly. "Having a family, having faith and love - it's the only way to get through."

"Miss Frost," a low voice called from a room nearby. Elsa led Emma to a small office, smiling at the large Angel who stood on one side of a desk. He returned her smile, until Emma met his eyes. His frown was slow, not suiting his features, even when his blue eyes sharply laser focused on Emma's rotund body. She could see his muscles tense, his golden tinged wings giving the smallest of flutters. "Miss Swan."

"I'll leave you both to it, then." Elsa smiled, inspector Jones weakly returning it as she closed the door to them.

Emma sat in the only chair on her side of the desk, landing with an audible noise in surprise. Her body was heavier now. Of course sitting felt wrong. Jones grunted before sitting in his chair, his presence formidable even with his wings unopened. He began jotting down notes, not looking up at her for a long, stretched pause of silence. Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, one foot bouncing on the floor.

"Stop that at once," Liam growled, his eyes narrowed.

Emma stopped, hissing out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I just -"

"How did this happen?" Liam interrupted, gesturing at her with clear disgust. "Dr. Mullins indicates it was against your will? You haven't been sexually active to induce conception? Explain."

"Well, I um -"

"And I must remind you Miss Swan," Liam grimaced, marking something on his paper. "Lying to me is a crime itself. Perjury."

"Yes, I uh - I know." Emma nodded with a gulp. She took a breath, centering herself, and began to tell him the entire story of what had taken place with Gothel. He listened in absolute silence, writing the entire time as his frown only deepened. When she had finished, he continued writing in the oppressive silence, until finally flicking his eyes up to glare at her again.

"Is that all, Miss Swan?"

"Yes, then I, um, got the cramps -"

"Spare me the sordid details of the consequences your illegal activity most likely caused," Liam drawled, sarcastically. He leveled his angry, burning gaze at her, and she felt like an animal being cornered by much larger prey. "Now, I have some questions for you. Answer to the best of your ability, but remember -"

"Do not lie, yeah I remember," Emma said softly.

"Who says you Witches can't be taught," Liam sneered, his voice mocking. Emma felt irritation bubble up in her gut, her surprise that Elsa liked this asshole rising. If he was a good inspector, Emma never wanted to meet a bad one. "Now. What exactly did this Gothel ask of you in exchange for her firstborn?"

"Youthful beauty and a long life, I think," Emma stated, thinking hard. "She wanted to be young forever. I told her that it wouldn't be instant or eternal, that she would have to wait. Now I know why it didn't bother her."

"Did she mention any other rituals, Miss Swan?" Liam asked.

"No, but she did say that she was in a time crunch." Emma shrugged slightly. "I don't know if that means anything."

Liam looked at her with more vehemence, still writing furiously. "Did you feel any effects at that time?"

"No, I was surprised I didn't with the amount of magic that detonated. I checked myself twice to make sure, once with a warding bind even." The strangeness of the situation and her clear confusion due to it made her voice sound foreign to Emma's own ears. Did he know how much she didn't want this? "Nothing. Then boom, today I - today this. She showed her true colors at the end, did an evil laugh and everything."

Liam hummed disapprovingly, looking over his notes. Flicking his eyes back to hers, he glared with contempt. "Let me make sure I have this all correct. So, you and this other Witch do a forbidden and illegal ritual -"

"I had no idea it was going to be this illegal, I swear!" Emma began to feel panic, her heart racing. "I thought I was helping -"

"Sure, sure, even though you already have a record -"

"That was - That was different, I was set up and I -"

"It seems like you are awfully good at being set up, Miss Swan. So what did you get out of this?" The inspector looked at her in disgust, folding his arms against his chest. "A Demon child to experiment on? Heightened powers?"

"No! No, I had no idea she would - I didn't know - I thought later on that she'd give me her unwanted child. I didn't want another kid to be unwanted. I didn't know the parentage - "

The inspector interrupted with a loud scoff, leaning forward and leering at her. "Likely bloody story."

"Detective Inspector Jones, I swear to you, I swear it - I had no idea what… I had no idea this would happen. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to get pregnant, I still don't know what to do."

"If it is a Demonic child, even only a half-breed, the best thing to do is give them up." Something painful twisted in her gut, a deep feeling of dread and wrongness.

"I can't, I want to think about it and wait to look at options -"

"You can . You should . It will get easier the longer you are separated from the leeching thing." Liam's sneer turned into a look of pure disgust. "Don't wait, and get it out of you before it completely ensnares you in its unholy thrall."

"It's a child, sir, and my choice. I'm not making any promises -"

"No Demon has ever been innocent, not even a baby. They are inherently selfish, cruel, and angry. Your mixed breed baby will be the same." Liam looked down at his feet, his fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice had lost the cruel edge, and Emma felt her superpower activate. He didn't believe what he was saying, and as she watched him, she noticed how tired he looked.

"Inspector, are... Are you alright?"

"Miss Swan," Liam chuckled darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing up to look at her. "If I was in your position, I would worry about myself, especially if jail time was on the table."

Emma felt as if he'd slapped her, air rushing from her lungs as her heart beat rapidly.

"Jail time?" She asked in disbelief, "What about Gothel? Why are you demonizing me -"

"That is government business, Miss Swan." Liam stood stiffly, rummaging in his pocket. He fished out a card, carefully sliding it on the table towards her. "If you remember anything, contact us. Otherwise, we will be in touch. I'll have the nurse give you the proper paperwork and instructional pamphlets."

He turned, pushed the curtain aside, and Emma heard a soft whoosh of air indicating his exit. Looking down at her body under the scrubs, she cursed Eloise with every fiber of her being.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The first few nights were a string of blurry, anger, and grief strewn rampages. Elsa has taken her home, Emma unwilling to let David even see her until she had some space to take care of herself. She had sent a text, and after a lot of back and forth arguing surrounding his lengthy replies, David had conceded.

(She just couldn't right now.

Not right now. Not yet.)

A Celestial, or something similar. Most likely Demon, he had said.

Gothel had not only gotten her pregnant, but with some Demon child that could be claimed by its monstrous father for who knew what awful reason. Emma shuddered at the thought, hands protectively resting on her small swell of stomach. Pulling them away as they trembled, she cursed her body and the invader that was making her feel so attached to it. Demons didn't exactly get along with any of the other demographics, but Witches and Demons had the most volatile relations amongst any of them. Her own child might grow to hate her, all because of how much Witches persecuted Demon kind.

She could still… No. She would not terminate the baby this far along. Every part of her vibrated with the wrongness of the very idea, sending her retching into the kitchen sink. She gripped both sides of the basin, crying hot, angry tears as she came to terms with the parasite - the baby, the small baby, the life - occupying her body. As much as she tried to hate it, the only hate she could muster fell on herself and Eloise.

Part of her felt crazed, crying in her bathtub, nauseated and afraid of every implication and outcome. Laying her head back on the tile, she wondered about what she was going to do. Rubbing her new bump slowly, Emma traced the curve. Sixteen months. A doubly long second trimester, and extended third, all while it changed with her body. Mixed children generally presented like their non-Demonic parent, and the pregnancy bond would be fierce regardless of species. Although it was doubtful at this point it was even in effect despite her behavior and thoughts, Emma smiled at the thought that she already felt attached to her baby. Her own family.

Her brother was going to go insane, and her sister-in-law… Snow was always supportive and full of a positive outlook. Emma had teased her that it was an Elf thing, but her pointed ears would twitch as she blushed, and she'd mumble something about her plants helping. Smoking her pungent blends of cannabis could make anyone positive, and Emma was suddenly envious.

Regina and the coven would be on the defensive, taking over everything in Emma's life without quarter. That would be another comfort, their careful planning and patience having gotten her this far through her difficult life.

In the end, the coven, Ruby, and Snow were over shortly after her emergency summons, flying through her doorway. Ruby was a Werewolf Emma had befriended through Snow. While Regina disliked her, Emma didn't think she was any different than most humans other than her keen sense of smell and bluntness. It was these traits that immediately made it clear what was wrong. It would seem not everyone in their circles knew yet. That would take a few more days.

“Emma,” Ruby whispered, horrified, her nose wrinkling as tears filled her eyes. “What did… Who did this to you?”

"They think it is a Demon, but it's almost definitely Celestial, or something with a dynamic gestational period due to magic." Just behind Ruby, the rest of the coven began appearing, all staring on her porch as Emma ushered them in. "Until I find out the father, I don't know, although most likely it's Demonic."

Regina's head snapped up. “A Demon? Emma, what do you mean dynamic -”

The women went quiet when Emma lifted her shirt to show them her bump, explaining everything.

Emma laid her head in Snow’s lap after, feeling numb. Snow stroked her hair gently, looking at the others. Their coven was small, mostly women, but David and two other men were honorary members by means of dating or marriage. Anna picked at her braid, eyes wide, while Belle's mouth was still open from her earlier gasp. Mulan, Regina, and Merida were all business.

“I'll hunt the Witch and her Demon pet down myself, and bring him back here. We can take turns peeling away his skin -”

“Mulan,” Merida hissed, her curls bouncing when she nodded her head at Emma, who's eyes were welling with tears once again.

“I thought… I thought I was doing something good ,” Emma burst into tears, sobbing into Snow, and Belle excused herself to fetch the whistling kettle from the stove. Pouring everyone tea, they tried to figure out what to do.

“Well, you certainly can't go hunting skips,” Regina scoffed. “And this house, I mean, I get that you fixed it up but it's a dump -”

“Oh! David would be happy to have you back on the farm with us!” Snow lit up, but the thought of being around their saccharine relationship and the smell of incense, patchouli, and skunky smelling herb had her running for the toilet. The others talked and sipped tea, planning out things as Emma curled up on her bath mat. Maybe it was better to terminate, if the leap in growth hadn't made it too late. Would it be better to give it up? Her mind filled with swirling ideas, and Emma let herself get lost in her sadness.

Ruby snuck in a moment later, sitting next to Emma quietly.

“So,” she whispered quietly, and Emma cracked open an eye to look at her friend's face.

“So,” Emma rasped back, her throat raw.

“Apparently, you're going to go live with Regina in the Guest ‘Wing’, yes, not room, ‘Wing’, and work at one of Belle’s bookstores. I tried to chime in with what your input might sound like. They looked at me as if I'd eaten Anna's familiar. Not like Elsa would let me snack on knock-off Rudolph anyway. Miss Ice Queen has her fancy new council to lord over, so who knows. We could have some reindeer snacks.”

Emma snorted, a smile breaking across her face.

“Look,” Ruby started, running a hand through her hair to push back her straight brunette style. ”I know how important it was for you to be independent, Emma. I know you really cared about Neal, too. I just… There's something… There's something really off with this situation, and it's not just my nose saying that you smell weird, like dark magic weird, or my gut saying a Witch that makes contracts with Demons for a baby, knocks you up, then just up and vanishes is bad news. I want you to be safe. I called Graham on your telephone, and there's an opening at his precinct I think you might like. It’s mostly paperwork -”

“Rubes!” Emma laughed despite herself. “That's awesome, thank you-”

“Just listen. I want to meet this… Demon. I still have this feeling like something is really off, and you're neck deep in danger. Besides, you know, the Demon part of the situation. Are you sure that you can't remember, er… Well. You know?”

“No, it was literally one minute I was fine, then the next the worst period cramps of my life while I inflated. I was sort of Instant Knocked Up, just add magic or whatever.” Emma rubbed her temples, and Ruby sighed.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Granny says that's most likely how I was conceived too.” Ruby flashed her a smile, and Emma laughed, hugging her friend tightly.

“I don't know what I would do without you, Rubes.”

“Look, I'm pretty sure Graham isn't into a menage et trois with a preggo, but I'll broach the subject.”

“You're ridiculous,” Emma laughed.

“You wouldn't have it any other way.”

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Months passed slowly as Emma waited for the other shoe to drop. Work at the station was easy, filing reports and making coffee not troublesome at all. Liam apparently worked somewhere in the massive complex, but Emma made no moves to seek him out or head to the detective offices.

Her house was almost completely redone and brand new; the floors, walls, ceilings, and everything in between redone with the utmost care.

("I refuse to let you live like this and represent our coven," Regina ran a finger along the mantelpiece, grimacing when it came up dirty. "Are you sure that you have to live here?"

"What Regina means," Elsa shot her a glare as Regina shrugged, rubbing her fingers together, "Is that any of us would love to have you. Don't feel obligated to stay -"

"But don't feel like you have to leave either. David and I would love to help you fix up the place, maybe have you make a few rooms?" Snow encouraged. David nodded, his arms crossed across his chest.

Elsa clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh yes, you could make an apothecary room like the one you talked about, and a potion brewing room, a nice place to grow plants, a library -"

"And we'd all pitch in, if you wanted to make a nursery?" Mary Margaret mumbled, almost shyly. "I wanted to throw a baby shower for you since we found out, but I didn't want to overwhelm you like I feel like I always do -"

"Too late," Emma gritted under her breath, her friends already planning the event for her.)

Emma actually had eased into the idea; at first it seemed absurd that they were planning for this when the whole situation was so strange. The father was still unaccounted for, even as the test results made it clear that the baby was of Demonic parentage. Sometimes Emma thought she could feel something, a little tug, the eerie feeling of being watched, or an emotion that wasn't hers flitting through her mind, but she dismissed them easily. More often, she was fascinated by the lack of information on the bond her and this child were supposed to have.

Pouring over books, it was as if someone had removed or rewritten any passages about Demonic parenting, specifically with a non Demon parent. She had found minor information on the bond in a few books. It was supposed to be fierce, the instinct making women hysterical and unreasonable. It only got more intense when the father was around, cases of actions deemed feral surrounding the mixed couples she had managed to find. All of them had ended in tragedy, and Emma eventually found herself unable to stomach reading about them.

Or anything really, food was enemy number one on baby's list, unless it was deep fried, covered in sugar, or drenched in sweetness. Without shame, Emma had managed to eat and keep down an entire jar of marmalade with crackers.

When Snow, Elsa, and Ruby's grandmother had brought up the food options they would make if Emma would let them throw her a shower, she had caved.

( "I will make you a bear claw cake, mini grilled cheese, and onion rings, amongst other things," Granny grinned. "And I will crochet you the most darling blanket for your little girl."

Emma tried not to drool, or give in. "That's nice, but I don't think I want that many people here, you know? That detective is watching my every move, I feel like a whale, I never know which food will agree with me -"

"And I will make sure I have a never-ending hot chocolate drip for you." Granny's eyes twinkled, full of mischief. "With toppings."

"Including cinnamon?" Emma asked, unable to disguise the longing in her voice. Granny nodded firmly. "How did you know? Wait - did you say a girl -"

"I just know," she shrugged. "Call it a wolf's intuition." )

It was supposed to be small, just a few people and family, but somehow it had turned into a full on social event. Emma was grateful that she had added a few rooms in the days before, the space sorely needed regardless of how drained she felt. Even still, she loved the house. It actually felt like hers, the exposed beams and vintage fixtures mixed with tapestries, framed art, and treasured photos. Her herbs dried above a large sink, food was spread along a long bar and buffet sideboard, and people milled around her living room that she had adjoined to two more exact copies through her doors.

No need to be original there.

( Her private door stayed tucked away in the upstairs hallway, and it was unable to be unlocked by anyone but her.

That was more important than a few extra rooms she could collapse after these people were gone. )

Emma was a good sport for the first couple of hours, playing games, being paraded around to people who apparently were important in the city, and sipping hot cocoa. Elsa, Regina, Mulan, and Snow were putting emphasis on her innocence, and although it was a spectacle, Emma hoped it would work.

Two very terrible things ruined her mood.

At some point, Elsa fell away from Emma's side, returning as cake was being cut. Her face was pinched, irritability written across it as she glared down at the slice she's given.

"You okay?" Emma whispered, and Elsa blinked, looking up in surprise.

"Oh, yeah. I just - I thought my date might show up, but he's working." Elsa gritted out the last word, anger seeping into it. "He's on this case, and it's important to him because it's family related, but I want him to understand that I have family too, and I could help if he just -" Throwing up her hands, Elsa groaned in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know anything about -"

"Emma," David pulled her up by her arm, looking around as if checking for something. "Kitchen. Now."

There's no time to protest, his grip strong and firm, dragging her into the kitchen.

"David, what the fu -"

"That detective was here, asking about you," Regina hissed, pointing out towards where guests milled. "We made sure he left, but he was asking questions."

"Questions?" Emma repeated, fear gripping her. Elsa walked in, listening to the conversation beside her.

"Like, if you had a history of criminality, if you knew and associated with undesirable magic users, if you knew who the father was or were protecting who did this to you," David said. The stillness around them seemed to tense just as they were.

"If he questions you, you make sure to tell him that you know nothing," Elsa whispered, trying to hold her hand. "Make sure you proclaim your innocence, and he'll believe you, he has to -"

"You think I haven't tried?" Emma ripped her hand away, looking at all of her friends with annoyance. "I agreed to this not knowing it was going to serve as some bullshit trial ball, where I'd be judged like this. I've searched everywhere for that woman, I have nothing to hide. She's disappeared, and not like a new identity in Guam disappeared, no. Like, off every plane of existence without a trace. It wouldn't matter if I did find her, because this is my kid. The bonds of the spell make her of my blood more and more every day. I can't just go back to the way things were - "

"What about the father?" Regina asked.

"I don't know. I know nothing about him or why he hasn't come. As far as I know, he might not. I don't know how he couldn't feel these binds. I know I feel something, but it could be because I'm practically mooing, I'm so huge, and I have these crazy urges. The hormones alone here are making me feel insane, even before you started in on me. Even before that asshole showed up because we have the entire damn city here!"

"I told you this was a bad idea, Regina," Snow mumbled. Regina glared in return.

"We - I just want you to know that no one will judge you for not wanting this, or for giving up the baby -" David said weakly.

"Shut up David," Emma growled out. Her hands rested against her stomach and she felt like she was going to fall over. "Right now, shut up and do not go down that road."

"Emma, it's making you feel attached," Regina said gently. "And if I'm agreeing with him, you know I - "

"I mean it, not another word. I'm keeping my baby, that's it. End all, be all. Say another word and I will curse your tomatoes," She pointed at David, then rounded on Regina. "And hex your wardrobe with bleach stains that don't come out. Try me."

"Fine!" Regina threw up her hands while David grunted.

The kitchen went silent, the tension palpable.

"We got you a really nice layette," Snow offered, trying to clear the awkwardness while smiling. "Come open gifts, and look at all this cuteness. "

Emma begrudgingly moved forward, her eyes widening at the mountain of gifts in front of her.

"Don't worry," Anna whispered as she pulled Emma down to sit. "I'm writing your thank you cards for you."

The crowd thinned after gifts, the night trickling on as the house emptied. If Emma had felt drained before, now she felt completely devoid of energy. The small crowd that's left hadn't bothered her, so when Snow and Regina asked her to do another walk about with them, it seemed safe enough.

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, his head nodding, laughing at something in his self absorbed sly little chuckle that makes her want to break his nose. She must have tensed because Snow was beside her and sucking in breath harshly through her teeth, the coven turning as if they could all feel the disturbance.

( Maybe they can, maybe the unbridled audacity of this man being here with another woman as he laughs with a martini glass in his hand is enough to share one collective experience of hatred. His eyes meet hers and he gives her a smirk that screams pity and humor at her expense as he lifts his glass toward her, mouthing congrats )

A figure cut in front of her, and her rage that feels like a sickening punch in the gut is coupled by this smack in the face - Neal's father grinned at her, his cane on the ground while both hands rest on its handle.

"My my my, Miss Swan," Gold smirked the same smirk that she wants to rip off his face. "When we heard, we were so surprised to not receive an invitation to this… quaint event of yours. Truly poor manners when our covens are no longer supposed to be at odds."

Regina and Elsa were there in front of her in a flash, Snow pulling her away, words being exchanged in hissed tones. Emma could barely hear over her heartbeat, over the sound of her stomach screaming at her to vomit.

"You can protect her all you want, but we know what she did. We know what it will be," Gold's voice slithered over her skin even in the bathroom. "You can't redeem her, and she will be the reason for all of your downfall. Enjoy your council while it lasts."

David shooed everyone out when Emma hastily retreated, the entirety of her patchwork family pushing inside to comfort her.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

After the disaster of her shower, Emma began to feel the strange feeling of being watched even more. It became especially noticeable at night when she rocked in the nursery, sorting out piles of gifts. It felt like a presence sat beside her or hovered over her shoulder, and it began to follow her into her dreams.

They didn’t last after she woke, glimpses of a mirror, of the sound of pounding, a muffled voice that she can't make out.

The tip of the weird iceberg happened when Emma had gotten out of the shower, the steam in the room rising to fog the mirror. Dressing in pj's and heading back in to blow dry her hair, she had been dancing along to some new pop song by the Wolves of London, when her eyes caught the words.

On the fog of the mirror, her name had appeared backwards, joined shortly by the word 'Help' in a curling script that she blinked at in confusion before they disappeared.

( A baby, a Witch, and a Ghost. Just what she needs in the never ending chaos that has become her life )

Luckily, the Coven can save her ass again.

Regina glared at Emma, her judging silence lay heavily over the room. She crossed her arms, eyebrows pinching into further scorn, before asking again.

"You want me to do what?"

"Look, I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but you can and I don't have the gift or a guide like you do -"

"That doesn't make it any easier!" Regina threw up her hands, then gestured to her pantsuit clad form. "It's my body, and my mother is just -"

"I am begging you, Reg. Begging. You." Emma moaned, irritated. "The father is a complete mystery, there's a ghost in my house that I think has to do with him, and I'm scared it could be someone like…" Trailing off, she chewed her lip.

Liam's increasing push for her to choose adoption had thrown her off her game these last few weeks, his phone calls almost non stop. In a way, he was right. She wasn't the only parent, and she certainly wasn't ready to be a mom. She was no one, absolutely nothing. It wasn't as if she could raise a baby.

(Even if she wanted to, and the idea of her baby, her family enveloped in the family she chose and created, it made her feel nothing but happiness)

Regina rolled her eyes with a huff. "Fine. Fine!" she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. "I do this for you, and you owe me. I expect you to be at my whim for this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And I'm not doing it for long." She shuddered. "Every time I check out and she checks in, I feel so just -" She shuddered again, making a gagging noise.

(Regina had done it before for David and her, to say goodbye to Ruth. It had hurt, hurt so badly, but not as much as Cora cutting the reunion short to tell her daughter to do more cardio.)

"I promise, we find his grandma or cousin or somebody, maybe whoever wrote that on my mirror, get the lead, and we're done." Emma nodded.

With another sigh, Regina laid her hands over the table, palms up, and Emma laid her own over them. A lavender spark shot from their joined hands to the air above them, Regina's head falling back while purple smoke began to pour around the table, permeating the air. Regina shook slightly, before violently snapping her head forward and blinking.

"Emma Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure of being ripped from my study?" A higher, nasal, woman's voice spoke out from Regina's mouth. "My daughter feels chubbier, and her skin is just -" Regina touched her face, making clucks with her tongue. "Oh, she is a mess! Did she break it off with that awful Warlock? Ugh, is she stress eating? I try not to pry, but I know she ate at least one slice of chocolate cake when she was out this last week -"

"Cora," Emma gritted out, closing her eyes in frustration. "Cora, Regina is fine. If she wants to discuss her love life with you, she'll call you up on the Ouija. I need your help to find someone, and I don't know the someone."

"Well, aren't you in a pickle."

"Please Cora, it's not just for me!"

"Oh, you're not interested in Regina are you? Because you are much too low a class for her breeding -"

"Oh Merlin, no, no!"

"What is it then?" Cora sighed in a bored drawl. "I've told you I can't find your family if they don't want anything to do with you, I -"

"No." Emma let her chest fall, speaking quietly. "No it's not that. I remember from last time and I have a family now." Emma took a deep breath, pushing back against the hurt in her chest. "I need to know… I need to know who the father is, and I'm having trouble. I need you to see if you can reach a relative, or friend, or someone who knows why his offspring is inside me, as well as what it is. I got a visit from a ghost, so here we are."

"Oooooh!" Cora squealed. "An enceinte pregnancy Miss Swan? An illegitimate baby? A haunting? How very risqué and daring on your salary!"

"Cora!"

"Fine, I'll check. I'll want the details of this though, so don't spare any of the juicy bits." Cora winked with Regina's face, before the woman's body went slack. After a minute, her head lifted back up, blinking slightly. "Well, Emma, what a doozy this is. This woman will not stop talking, and it's absolutely ridiculous how impossible she's being, even if she is ancient looking. Yes, I said ancient looking - well don't get mad at me, I tell it how it is - oh, I don't care who your son is, he can't be that grand if he's knocked up this wreck. Sorry Emma dear, I love you, but I mean," Cora shrugged, unabashedly.

"Cora, ask her what her name is!" Emma hissed.

"What's your name then? Oh, that's interesting. Not as good as Cora, or Regina -"

"Cora!"

"It's Milah. And she's not his mum, she's - oh he's an ex lover of yours? Juicy juicy! Sounds like Emma dear might be getting leftovers then? Oh don't be like that -"

"I need a name Cora, this is so -"

"I'm trying Emma dear, the woman won't shut up about her sweetheart. No - Really? The scandal, but - well that is so weird! Milah says that he's been hidden somewhere and no one is haunting you, but… Ugh! She's speaking so rapidly - yes, I get it, but if he wants the kid he would have come to get it, or - I am listening to you, you're not listening to me! A mirror? You should look at one, why do I have to tell her about a mirror? I mean Emma's at most average, and look at her figure now. A child will do that to you." Cora sighed, and Emma stiffened. Cora seemed to nod for a moment, before Regina's face soured further.

"Don't get smart with me, you may be an old soul but you died far younger than I did!" Cora growled, her eyes slitting at some unseen target. She turned with her head cocked, looking at Emma with pity. "I'm sorry Emma, sweet little duckling, but this woman is a nightmare. She keeps screaming at me about how this Killian fellow is the father, but it's impossible for her to see him for whatever reason. Something about a mirror? She's also absolutely ancient, I haven't seen clothing like that outside of - Pre-Babylon? Is that the robe designer or…? Don't look at me like that miss bed sheet toga, I - Emma, this woman, I swear! It's just incessant chattering, really - "

"His name is Killian? Cora, wait, don't you -"

"I understand that you were crazy in love with him, trust me, you seem crazy Milah dear. Yes, Killian is his name. A Demon of lust for vengeance. Wow, Emma, what a winner!" Cora snickered, and Emma resisted the urge to shriek. "Well, I don't care if the beast is misunderstood, he's a Demon. How touching, now please - oh come now, Gothel in the tower with the mirror? Red spire, Troll falls? What is this, Clue? Do I look like a detective?" Regina's eyes rolled, Emma desperately trying to remember the snippets that might make sense. Gothel, tower, mirror, red spire, troll falls. Killian.

Cora grew louder, her voice rising in pitch.

"Oh, how dare you! I'll have you know your cheap robes aren't exactly chic either; you need a wardrobe update, badly! You look like a ten cent frat party attendee!" Cora spat, and Regina's face pinched tight. "Excuse me? More important things, WELL , I never - Oh you rude little tart, I've had enough!"

"Please Cora, no, I -" Emma attempted, but Cora flipped Regina's hair back, sniffing with haughty indignation.

"It'll be alright Emma, duckling. It seems that your little orphan persona is perfect to parent this little babe! Shut up! No, I'm done with you, you crazy broad. Go back to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy some new linens!" Cora hissed, her mouth curled in an ugly snarl. "Anyways, Emma, just accept that you can't ruin a child to be like you if you're giving them a home, even if their father is some failed Demon. Or something inspirational, I don't know." She shrugged, Regina's shoulders going up in a blasé dismissal. Her eyes snapped to look behind Emma, her face contorted in rage.

"Cora. I am begging you - " Emma tried again, but Cora's focus was elsewhere, on someone unheard and unseen.

"Shut it, shut up thread count Cleopatra!" Turning back to Emma, she smiled serenely. "Tell Regina to summon me later, I need to know how she is. And tell her no more sweets, especially if she ever wants to be a wife. Ta!"

Regina fell forwards, her body shuddering as the lights flickered, purple smoke dissipating into the air. She moaned lowly, cracking her shoulders and neck as she rolled backwards.

"Dammit!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up and violently stalking to the fridge. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"Ugh, I can taste her perfume. Bring me a beer please," Regina groaned. Emma pulled a beer and a soda out of the fridge, giving the beer to Regina. "Emma, don't you ever say that I don't love you after that." Regina shuddered again, flicking her hand to open the beer and drinking down half of it in one go.

"I know you do. You just have… You're just abrasive with it. Like a big cat, or an alligator."

(Or a wood chipper wearing lipstick)

"Shut up, and tell me how it went. Was it worth it? Mother never is, but -"

"She, uh, well she got me some information to go on. So, that's something." Emma averted her gaze, licking her lips.

"She talked about my weight, didn't she," Regina sighed. When Emma said nothing Regina drank the rest of the beer and walked to the kitchen, depositing it in the trash. Pulling out a wine glass, she reached under her cabinet and produced a bottle of wine. Emma raised an eyebrow. "Don't even start on me."

"I wasn't going to," Emma whispered.

Laying her palms flat on the countertop and bowing her head, Regina looked up after a moment's pause.

"So, what now?" She asked.

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking hard. "I have his name, or at least I think I do. I think all that's left is to, well, summon him."

(Summon him, and say what? 'Hey, Mr. Demon, I'm having your kid and thought you might like to know', as if it would care, or want anything to do with her...)

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Not alone, surely -"

"No. I would ask Snow, David, and maybe Mulan and Belle. I know Belle would be delighted, and she has the spellbooks."

"That actually sounds like a relatively good plan." Regina nodded, then took a sip of her wine.

"Don't sound so shocked, Regina." Emma grumbled.

"Miss Swan," Regina smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "If you ever cease to stop shocking me with your antics, I'll assume I have gone to meet my mother and maker."

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 1st 2020 #cssns #CSSNS 2020 #captain swan au #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #cs ff au #CS FF #My writing #MTFB #1st

35 notes · View notes

sheewolf85 · 4 years

Text

Standing Up

Summary: If it had been anyone else that she was stepping all over, you would have said something. You’d been known to yell and even throw a punch once over someone pestering someone you loved, but you just couldn’t seem to get up enough courage or outrage or whatever else needed to stand up for your own wants and needs lest you come off as rude or hurt someone’s feelings.

Luckily for you, Edge had no such qualms.

Notes: Idk, guys, I guess I have a thing for writing about skelebois helping a reader with things I struggle with. Here’s another great example, one I’ve written about too many times probably, but I doubt this will be the last.

Sometimes I think my brain took a left turn at Albuquerque when I was a kid and took the lesson of “be polite” a tad too far.

Tags: Edge/Reader, female reader, established relationship, mild anxiety

Read on AO3

Or, read here!

The day started off as it usually did: half-asleep kisses followed by gloriously fresh coffee. Add in some fruity oatmeal with your sweetheart’s signature touch, and you had a verified Good Morning.

After the morning ritual of coffee and breakfast was complete, it was time to start the day. You had a few things on your list, one of which was assembling the porch swing you’d bought for the front yard. Your porch itself was a little too small, but the lawn was big enough and a few tall trees provided the perfect shady spot in the grass to lounge and swing while you enjoyed lazy afternoons with your bonefriend.

He hated it when you called him that, but honestly it was only more a reason to keep it up. You truly adored the way he’d roll his eye lights at you but that tiny smirk only people who knew Edge well could pick out told you that he enjoyed it on some level.

“Would you like help?” Edge asked as you prepared to head outside.

You tied your sneakers—you had learned a hard lesson about wearing sandals when working with screws and other hardware—and looked up at him.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You stood up and went to him, standing on your tip toes to ask for a kiss. He obliged. “I know you’ll know what I mean when I say there’s a certain satisfaction in putting something together by yourself.”

He nodded, hands on your hips to hold you steady since you were still on your toes.

“I do understand that. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with. In the meantime, I’ll be in my office grading papers.”

You pursed your lips in request of another kiss. He gave you a deep one, enough to get your body thinking about how talented he was with that tongue of his, and then pulled away.

“Love you,” you said, a touch breathless, and dropped back to your flat feet.

“I love you, too.”

You pulled away from him then before you could change your mind about getting this done. He gave you a swift pat on the ass before walking away, not a single inch of his stoic body or purposeful walk hinting at the sweet, sensual beast you knew hid within him. You were just fine with that.

With a secret smile on your face, you grabbed a hat to keep the sun out of your eyes and went out the front door. A few of your neighbors had congregated in the common area that was the cul-de-sac where you lived, and you waved and called a hello when they noticed you. A few called out their own greetings. They were nice enough people, accepting of the variety of people and monsters in their lives. There were a few that still didn’t understand the concept of a personal bubble, but that was an issue you’d had with many people in your life.

After greeting your neighbors, you got started on your project. There were a few boxes to unpack and instructions to read before you could actually start any assembly, so you began the task of figuring out just what you were working with. You had a few paper bowls set aside for the hardware you’d need to keep separated and handy.

You were only halfway through unpacking the first box when a voice calling out to you caught your attention. You looked over to see Carol coming up with a wave and a smile. You groaned internally but plastered a smile on your face because heaven forbid you come off as rude to anyone.

Just as you’d expected, she didn’t ask if you needed or wanted any help, she didn’t even so much as pretend to be interested in your opinion on the matter, she just launched into a story about her cousin’s latest camping trip as she opened another box. It wasn’t even the next box you would have opened. It made your gut churn and your eye twitch; she was messing with your method!

And yet, you didn’t have it in you to say anything. You hated that about yourself. Even knowing that your own happiness and comfort was important, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything that might upset someone else.

So instead of asking her to stop and leave you to it, you only nodded along with her story and watched with nausea as she systematically destroyed your carefully planned out project. You managed to ask her to please not dump all the different types of screws into the same bowl and to not start putting pieces together before you’d taken everything out of the boxes. She seemed amicable enough about your wishes. You had to wonder how she’d take it if you asked her to leave you alone. Would she still be okay with it, or would she insist she was only trying to help and take offense at not having her hospitality be accepted.

“Hello, Carol.”

Edge’s ice cold voice made the both of you freeze. You looked over at him, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest, his reading glasses held in one hand, and a look of pure murder in his eye lights. He knew how you felt about Carol. He knew that you’d wanted to do this by yourself.

She seemed to recover quickly enough, standing up with a bright smile. “Hey, Edge! How’re the kids?”

“My students are fine, as far as I’m aware. What are you doing?” He looked at you, and you could only breathe a sigh of relief. You doubted Carol would have noticed a thing, but you saw the pity he threw your way. He was adamant that he was going to teach you how to stand up for yourself, and while you were terrified of the idea, you were also a little bit hopeful that some of his confidence could rub off on you. Today was not that day, however, and he seemed to understand that.

If it had been anyone else that Carol was stepping all over, you would have said something. You’d been known to yell and even throw a punch once over someone pestering someone you loved, but you just couldn’t seem to get up enough courage or outrage or whatever else needed to stand up for your own wants and needs lest you come off as rude or hurt someone’s feelings.

Luckily for you, Edge had no such qualms.

“I’m helping,” she said brightly. “I always like to help out, you know that.”

Edge nodded gravely. “I do know that, but you know that when it comes to my significant other and myself, you are required to ask first. I told you as much the last time you attempted to touch my garden.”

You swallowed, peeking up at Carol. As you’d feared, she looked truly indignant. “You didn’t so much tell me as you demanded it. And why aren’t you out here helping then? It’s not like she can do this all by herself.”

You felt yourself puff up at that, but still whatever stupid blockage you had kept you silent.

“I’m not helping because she very much can do this by herself and she requested to do so.” He looked at you then. “Or have you changed your mind, love?”

You shook your head. “No, not really.” Your voice sounded too soft, too uncertain.

Carol sneered at you. This wasn’t the first time she had bullied her way into helping you with some chore or another, and also not the first time Edge had called her out on her assumption that everyone needed her help. She had apologized before, saying she just hated seeing anyone needing help and just standing there.

More like she couldn’t let an opportunity to gossip pass her by. She needed to have her nose in everyone’s business, and the kinds of gossip she shared the first day you met her was a warning not to talk about anything personal within earshot of her. If she blabbed the kinds of things she did about your neighbors, there was no doubt she’d turn around and blab your secrets to them.

You didn’t say anything, only looked around at the mess she’d created. It would take more time to get your process back in order than it would have been to just follow it in the first place. Ugh, you really disliked being who you were sometimes.

“And so you see, your help is not needed,” Edge said calmly enough. “I’m going to ask you nicely just once to leave. For your sake, I hope you don’t make me ask again.”

Carol rolled her eyes and huffed, but she did turn around and walk away, grumbling the whole way.

You sighed in relief and looked up when Edge crouched next to you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you all right, love?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, baby.”

He nodded and kissed you. “You’re welcome. Would you like to continue this by yourself,” he gestured with a nod of his head to the bits and pieces strewn around.

You quirked your mouth. “Actually, could you help me get stuff back in order?”

With a quick nod, he got to work. He knew your thought processes almost as well as you knew his, didn’t even have to ask how you wanted the pieces arranged to best maximize work flow. Once all your parts were in order once again, Edge gave you another kiss and left you alone to your process while he went to finish grading papers.

It took a few hours to get it all done, but in the end you had a beautiful swinging bench with a comfortable cushion. You stood back to admire your work, a strong sense of accomplishment settling nicely in your chest.

With a nod, you went to ask Edge to come inspect your work. You were pretty confident you’d done it all correctly considering it was a functional piece of outdoor furniture and not a mess of metal, but it never hurt to have a second set of critical eyes check it over.

And besides, it was the perfect excuse to get him to sit in it with you for a moment. Perhaps he’d wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you into his loving embrace. Maybe he’d even make some hot chocolate or tea that you two could enjoy as you watched the neighborhood kids play.

The possibilities were all there, and you were looking forward to seeing how the rest of your day played out with your sweetheart.

#my writing #underfell papyrus #reader

19 notes · View notes

yodawgiherd · 4 years

Text

Partial Guidance

Rating: M

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Eren meets up with Ymir and Krista to discuss things that are not supposed to be public. AKA Another dive into the past.

Enjoy!

There was something different about Mikasa today. Looking at her workout at the pole, doing all those humanly impossible moves that seemed so easy when she’s done them, Eren couldn’t crack it. And it pissed him off. He knew his fiancé well, very well in fact, inside and out. This little detail, whatever it was, was distracting him from the work he set out to do this evening, which was opening a Word document and typing down some basic info he could share with Ymir and Krista tomorrow. Finally, they dogged him enough that he caved in and agreed to have that humiliating ordeal of sharing those aspects of his past with those two. Recalling the memories did bring quite a handful of very pleasant ones, and Eren was stuck in a nice trip into the past until Mikasa came into the room and began working herself at the pole. Because that’s when he first noticed something is off about her and this whole cycle of trying to locate the source and failing to do it began. The back tattoo was a bit of novelty still, just a few weeks old, but that wasn’t it. Other than that, she did look her usual perfect self, twirling around the pole in a dance of muscle and strength. So what was bothering him? What was he missing?

Finishing her set, Mikasa jumped down, taking a few deep breaths to stabilize herself and immediately stretching after. At this point, it was a reflex, the years of Levi’s harsh training engraved into her mind. Noticing his stare, she arched an eyebrow in the universal gesture of What’s up.

“There’s something off about you.”, he accused her right away.

“Oh really?”, sweeping some of her sweat-soaked midnight hair from her face, Mikasa had a smug smile, “Can’t believe you noticed.”

It was that gesture that caught Eren’s attention. The flash of red amidst the raven strands that definitely wasn’t there when he woke up next to his fiancé this morning.

“You got a stripe in your hair.”

“That’s right. You like it?”, turning her head a bit to the left, Mikasa brought out the red for a better view, “Kiyomi asked me if I could get it for my next project.”

“Really? What is it?”

“A future-themed collection, cyberpunk or something like that. This thing is going to look so good at it.”

“Because in future people dye their hair?”

She shrugged.

“I guess. Wasn’t my idea, but I’m not against it. Honestly, I think that it looks badass. Plus I can use it to show my dedication to winning the Colosseum tournament in Vegas once that comes. You know, letting the dye in until I win or something like that. I’m sure Levi will help me come up with the exact wording.”

Right, that thing was still happening. Yet Eren could agree with her claim that the red stripe did look quite badass.

“But enough about my hair.”, Mikasa continued, coming closer to where Eren was sitting, eyeing the laptop in front of him, “What are you working on?”

“Just putting down some info for that tomorrow interview with the two horny lesbians.”

“I’ll assume you’re talking about Ymir and Krista right?”

A smirk spread on his lips.

“Who else?”

Mikasa’s eyes flew over the few lines Eren wrote down, quietly reading it for herself. Reaching certain parts, she smiled too with a soft fondness in her face.

“Ah, memories. We used to be awkward about everything.”, she said.

“Maybe it was better this way. Out public promiscuity has gotten us into this mess.”

“Eh, I don’t mind. As long as you are not too explicit about what we did…”

“No, don’t you worry about that.”, Eren was fine with sharing info and stories, but he had no intention of describing the sex itself. Ymir would probably be disappointed, but there was a limit of what he was willing to say to her. After tomorrow, they would still be stuck together at work, and he was quite sure that it would be rather awkward if everything went public. No, definitely not.

“I’ll just use a tasteful fade to black once we get down to business.”, he assured Mikasa, “No hardcore porn stories.”

“All good then.”

Eyeing Eren’s focused face as he re-read what he wrote, Mikasa had other plans for him than sitting and writing down lines for Ymir to laugh at. Those two could have him tomorrow, but tonight he was hers to enjoy. Mikasa’s body was pleasantly tired from the workout but not too exhausted, meaning that she still had some energy left for other…. activities.

“Babe, I need a shower.”, she drawled, getting Eren to look at her, “And I would appreciate company….”

The laptop was closed in about a second and the chair dragged over the surface when he bolted upright. Sweeping the giggling Mikasa up, Eren made his way towards the bathroom, intent on getting her even dirtier before helping her clean up. The work could wait.

The dreaded evening was here. Raising his hand to knock, Eren almost dropped it back down before he recalled all the important looks Ymir threw him at the hospital, saying multiple times that they are expecting him. There was no way to back out now. Bating his breath, Eren gathered his courage and knocked.

The door flew open almost immediately.

“Eren! You’re here! Come in, come in…”, Ymir ushered him inside, closing the door behind Eren with a click of finality. This was happening.

“Have a seat, uuuuh… somewhere.”

Okay, first observation. Ymir and Krista’s flat was small. Not tiny, but smaller than Eren expected. Second, it was a mess. Not very surprising for Ymir, but Krista living like this while her job was literally to organize and hand out files was a shocker. A small one, but it was there.

“So good to see you!”, Krista chirped from her seat, bundled up in a sweater that was several sizes too large and hideous.

Oh right, that was the Christmas gift he gave Ymir, Eren recalled. Apparently, she found a use for it instead of dunking it in a dumpster as he half expected. Good for her. Gently relocating some magazines, Eren freed up enough space to sit while Ymir wormed her way next to Krista.

“Now Eren, we don’t want to rush you…”, Krista began, but Ymir cut her off almost immediately.

“But you have to start like right now! C’mon!”

While the blonde was frowning at her tall girlfriend, Eren ran his hands through his hair, exhaling. There was no point in stalling anymore, Ymir had a point.

“It’s all right, I can go. So, what do you want to hear?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”, Krista suggested, “Tell us how you two even got into it.”

“And don’t leave anything out.”, Ymir chimed in, earning a punch to the shoulder from her girlfriend.

One of many to come. With a nod, Eren brought back the earliest memories and began.

“Well, it all started about three years back…”

This was a great drinking evening. Eren was buzzed slightly, resting on the couch with Mikasa’s body on top of his, one arm around her waist with his thumb stroking over her hipbone. Her own arms were also encircling him, a gesture she often did. Some could describe Mikasa’s behavior as clingy, but Eren did not mind. With all that happened in her life, with how damaged she was as a child it was understandable that she held on to the few people she called friends with all her might.

The movie was pretty fun too, although it was only beginning. Eren picked it, an action-packed film with known star actors titled Mr. and Mrs. Smith. So far the action has been rather scarce, but it was picking up at a steady pace. Right now, Mrs. Smith was doing her thing, reaching her target and….

Tying him up?

“I don’t understand.”, Eren murmured, watching the actress swat the target’s back with a riding crop, “If he is a crime boss or something, why would he let a random woman tie him up?”

“Her cover is a professional dominatrix, dummy”, Mikasa replied from his chest, “And he’s obviously into it. Don’t kinkshame.”

“I’m not! But he’s stupid, this is not going to end well for him.”

Just at that moment, the target’s neck was snapped, and his body flopped down on the ground, giving Eren a victorious smile.

“See? Told you.”

Mikasa was weirdly silent after that, chewing the words and maybe battling slight nausea caused by the alcohol in her system. She was never much of a drinker. Deciding to give her time on whatever she was chewing, Eren pressed a kiss to the top of her head and hugged her a bit closer.

“Babe?”, she began carefully, apparently testing the waters for something bigger, “Do you really find it that weird?”

“What do you mean?”

“The things that happened in that movie. The tying up and stuff.”

“I mean, I’m not stupid, I know that some people are into it, I just…”,

I’ve never tried it before was his original end of the sentence but Eren stopped himself before those words even left his mouth. He never tried It before, but was that a reason to condemn a thing? With Mikasa, it was worth it to be open-minded. Their discovering of each other’s bodies and sex as a whole was enough of a reason to give anything a try, as long as it was with her. She made everything amazing. Why not be a bit more open-minded?

“I’m not weirded out.”, he said, “I’m just inexperienced I guess. Do you find it dumb?”

“Nonono, come here.”, loping a hand around his neck, Mikasa pulled him closer, “I-I don’t think it’s that stupid.”

Despite being forced to inhale the alcohol fumes from her breath, Eren did not really mind. He was buzzed himself, so letting himself be dragged, he stared into her flushed face.

“Whatyamean?”, he cobbled together.

“Don’t say this to anyone, but I did something like that myself.”

Even completely drunk, that still caught Eren’s attention.

“You mean you had someone tie you up?”

“Naaah, not that. But I used... I used to… hurt myself a bit.”

“Wait what?”

“High school was wiiiiiiiiiiild.”, Mikasa’s voice de-evolved into a giggle and she nuzzled Eren’s face, grinning like a maniac.

But despite her easy-going attitude and delivery of said information, the fact that she hurt herself did set off alarms in Eren’s head. He had to make that known.

“Why would you like hurt yourself man, that ain’t cool.”

Nailed it.

“T’was a long time ago and everything sucked, and I was depressed as shit. I didn’t do anything serious though.”

“What did you do then?”

“Burned myself a bit, but it did not make me feel better so I stopped. I also tried slapping myself a bit, but that made me feel funny inside.”

“Like turned on?”

Her eyes flickered down and up, unsure where to look. Despite being drunk, it was awkward to talk about this.

“Maybe, I didn’t rightly know. After those stupid experiments, Sasha came into my life and helped me pull myself up. I also started going harder at myself at the gym so I had no energy to fool around with a lighter.”

“I’m glad that nothing serious happened then.”, pulling up, Eren pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Do you want to talk about it more? I’m here if you need it.”

Mikasa thought about it for a second but then shook her head.

“Nah. Happened a long time ago and I know that it was stupid. Just crazy teen experiments, we all did those.”

“Oh? What else crazy did you do?”

She tapped her smirk with a single black fingernail.

“Let’s see… I did black magic, broke a guy’s hand for touching me… oh, and these.”, turning her head, Mikasa let the light shine on her ear piercings, “It hurt like a bitch when I had them done cause my ears are super sensitive but hey. Worth it.”

She even thought about having her tongue pierced at one point, but never gathered the courage to do it. Maybe one day.

“But anyway, she went on, “would you be willing to.. I dunno… give it a try?”

“Have you burn me?”

She giggled and shook her head.

“No, not that. Not yet.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait a second…”

But Mikasa didn’t allow him to finish.

“I was thinking about the tying up stuff, try some bonding.”

“I think it’s called bondage.”, Eren chimed in.

“Whatever.”, she waved that note aside, “So, you want to give it a shot?”

And when Eren thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any reason why not. After all, Angelina was super hot in that movie, and even imagining Mikasa in that latex outfit gave him an almost immediate swelling between the legs.

“All right, let’s do it.”

Her response was a smile. Small, yet somewhat dangerous.

“Let’s.”

“That was the first time we talked about this at all, that’s how it came up.”, Eren said, finished with his opening speech.

“A movie huh?”, Krista noted, “That’s about as good of a start as any. How did you continue?”

“After some time and a lot of talk, we decided to just kick it and go for it one evening. We bought normal rope in a store, came home, and…”

Went wild.

“So, how do we do this.”, Mikasa asked, sitting on the bed next to him.

Looking down at the rope in his hands, Eren shrugged.

“I haven’t got the slightest clue.”

Buying it was easy, every store had ropes and Eren was sure to pick the softest he could find. Handcuffs would probably be easier but neither of them was in this enough to buy a pair. This was water-testing, neither Eren nor Mikasa was fully sold on the idea. Sure, it sounded good in theory, but practice was another thing altogether.

“I guess one of us has to get tied up, and the other does the tying?”, Eren continued, “At least that’s what they did in those videos.”

While in their research it was usually the girl who got tied up, just thinking about it made Mikasa nervous. She did not like giving up control over her body to anyone. And while Eren had breached several of things she’s never done before, for example having sex with a guy, this was a step Mikasa wasn’t sure she would be okay to take. Her body was her weapon, a sword and shield against the cruel outside world, and having it tied to the bed and helpless did not sound like fun at all. To prevent that from happening, she reached down and took the rope into her own hands.

“I’ll tie you up, okay?”

A bit of relief entered Eren’s features. He really was clueless.

“Okay, I’m fine with that.”

“Good,”, nodding towards the bed, Mikasa issued her first order, “Lie down.”

“You know, where is the girl I used to date?”, Eren asked, “The one whose ears went red when she said I love you out loud.”

“That one? She’s dead. I killed her and buried the body.”, Mikasa said without missing a beat, “Now be a good boy and lie down.”

When Eren obeyed, she made him raise his arms and tied them to the frame with quick and effective movements. That done, she sat back on her heels, watching her prey with new interest.

“How does it feel?”, she wanted to know.

“Weird.”, tugging at the bindings, Eren grimaced.

Mikasa tied him up tightly, there was no way he was wiggling out of it unless she let him.

“Weird but not bad.”, he looked back at her, “What now?”

“Now? Well, now….”, moving down, gracefully and slowly like a predator descending on its helpful prey, Mikasa’s face was right in front of his, filling Eren’s whole field of view, “Now I will play with you.”

The kiss was unexpected and lighting fast, he had no chance to react in time. Another complication arose then. Tied up like this, Eren was completely at her mercy, he couldn’t do anything to control the kiss, couldn’t even run his hands through her hair or down her back, couldn’t push down at her waist to have her mold into his body. This was Mikasa’s show now, and she found herself liking it. Reaching down, she cupped the growing erection in Eren’s pants, grinning into his face after.

“Someone’s a little excited.”

“What do you expect? Kissing you is a fucking drug, Miki.”

“Well, you aren’t getting another dose unless you ask nicely. So?”, she pulled back a bit more, “I’m waiting…”

Eren swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You want me to beg you to kiss me?”

“That’s correct.”

“Uh, fine…”, he took a deep breath, “Please, can you kiss me?”

“Hmmm…. No.”

“What? But…”

She shushed him with a finger.

“You aren’t desperate enough.”, the hand at his crotch pushed down, making Eren hiss, “Yet.”

Moving between his legs, Mikasa took her time with undressing him, slowly pulling clothing away until Eren’s lower half was naked, his obvious excitement out for anyone to see. Tied to the bed with his dick out was a new experience, and it made him blush slightly. Not so much Mikasa, who found the dominatrix role just endearing. Having all of her boyfriend to play with, that was something she enjoyed, and with his hands tied to the bed, he was completely in her control. And Mikasa Ackerman did like having control. Curling her fingers around his length, she gave him a testing pump, loving how red-faced Eren became. This was some good shit.

“But don’t worry,”, a smile, lighting up her beautiful face, “I’ll make you desperate.”

When he stopped, Ymir cried out as if in pain.

“Oh come on, you can’t stop now! You were just getting to the juicy bits!”

“He’s not going to describe his sex life in detail to us.”, Krista growled at her girlfriend, “This is fine.”

“This is not fine!”, Ymir argued, “I wanted…”

Another punch to the shoulder shut her up. How many was it at this point? Honestly speaking, Eren lost count.

“Please, Eren, continue.”, Krista said, eyeing Ymir, “I’ll be sure to keep Ymir in line.”

Allowing himself a satisfied smirk at Ymir’s disappointed face, Eren leaned back in the chair and went on.

“Things were great for a time. We didn’t do these kinky stuff too often, but from time to time things did get heated and it usually ended up with me being tied and Mikasa on top. And it was amazing, of course it was, but her unwillingness to ever switch things up started to gnaw at me. Slowly, gradually I found myself questioning if she would ever trust me enough to switch. And then, one special evening, I got my answer…”

The ring burning a hole into Eren’s pocket, a silent reminder of what he set out to do tonight. It also reminded him of Armin’s words, of the many ways his friend called this plan stupid and out of touch. But Eren was determined, and as usual, when he set his mind on something he did it, no holds barred. So far, everything was peachy, Mikasa didn’t suspect a thing. They grabbed food, saw a movie, everything was fine, and to top it off Mikasa almost attacked him as soon as they were home, tearing away Eren’s jacket with clear intent. Armin’s word danced in his head, how many times his friend told him that this idea was stupid, but that little bug in the back of his mind would not stop biting. He just had to know if Mikasa would trust him enough. He just had to.

Tearing away from her delicious lips, Eren took a deep breath.

“You want to have some fun?”

She was confused for a second, but then it clicked and there was a smile. A sexy one at that.

“Sure, just let me grab the ropes and…”

“Wait.”, catching her hand, Eren pulled her towards himself, confusion returning to her eyes.

And then he asked.

“Would be it okay if I took the lead tonight?”

And the gears began to turn. Her eyes turned from sultry to unsure, her mouth dropped open and closed before settling on biting her bottom lip. There was some fear in her posture now, worry, the classic reactions of her body when anyone threatened the ultimate control she always had over the situation. But this time, Eren didn’t comfort her. This time he waited because no matter how you look at it, Mikasa was an adult and she could make her own decisions. He couldn’t doubt that he was nervous himself though, would she be into this? And most importantly, would she trust him enough?

Just as the silence dragged on too long, just as Eren was about to tell her to forget about it, that it does not matter, Mikasa nodded. A quick sharp movement of her head, leaving nothing in question.

“Ok. Let’s do this.”

It felt like a dream. Grabbing his hand, Mikasa led him to the bedroom, quickly stripping from her clothes. Eren just stared, half not believing what was happening. But then, she turned towards him, fully nude, and raised an eyebrow.

“Where do you want me?”

“Uhmm…”

“You are the top now Eren, so tell me. Where do you want me?”, she repeated.

There was no need to push her boundaries. For now, the most basic things would be enough. Nodding towards the bed, they climbed into it and on Eren’s request, Mikasa presented him her wrists. Meeting her eyes again and getting another affirmative nod, Eren retrieved the rope and coiled it around her hands, firmly enough that she wouldn’t wiggle out of it. After that, he directed her to lie down and stretched over her body, tying the end of the rope to the headboard. There, now she was suspended in the most basic way, the classic thing that most couples start on.

Eren still couldn’t believe it. He had Mikasa Ackerman, The Mikasa Ackerman, naked on the bed with her hands tied to the frame. He personally had coiled the rope around the wrists of the incredible athlete, bound that cool and distant goth girl, had her at his mercy. If she weren’t watching him with her half-lidded eyes, he would slap himself to wake up from this fever dream. But if the nervousness and the silk touch of her skin he felt beneath his hands was of any indication, this was real life.

“Are you just going to stare?”, Mikasa’s controlled voice tore Eren out of his trance, “Or are you going to do something?”

“A-And what should I do? I mean…”, running his hands through his hair, Eren let out a frustrated noise, “What do you want me to do? To you. What do you want me to do to you?”

“Eren, the top is supposed to be in control of the situation, that’s our burden.”

To be quite honest, he never thought about that. Sure, there were a few moments when he let his mind wander, but now that it was seriously happening Eren had problems coming up with any sexy activities.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?”, he asked for like the hundredth time, still a bit concerned about Mikasa being comfortable tied up. She never, never ever, gave control over her body to anyone. Ever. This was the first time and he wanted to make sure that she doesn’t feel pressured into this.

“Babe, I told you, I’m fine.”, as her hands were tied, Mikasa used her foot instead to soothingly rub it over his thigh, “I want this.”

But seeing that Eren was still uncertain, she offered him some guidance. She was the more experienced domme out of the two.

“Why don’t you just remember what I do to you when I tie you up and do the same things to me. Maybe give it a little personal twist?”

“Erm, there’s this thing you do quite often, but…”, Eren’s eyes flickered down between her legs, “I’m not sure if I can suck your dick.”

Mikasa masked her giggle with a shake of her head.

“You’re such a dork.”

The laughter gave him a little break, a second to truly absorb what was happening right now. Mikasa allowed him to do this to her, she wanted Eren to tie her up, she put herself in his hands. And while it may seem insignificant from the outside, he knew that it was nothing but. With the tragic loss of her parents as a child and subsequently being raised by a brother for who showing affection was about as hard as reaching the top shelves, Mikasa built up a cold wall of ice around her body and emotions, not willing to lower it for anyone. Life kept punching her in the face and she stopped believing that the hand could caress too. Mikasa found her ways to cope in her training, had her very, very tight circle of friends, but all of that meant nothing when compared to Eren. Their relationship was new and unexpected, it woke up parts of her she long thought dead, and this was the culmination of their long intimate road of trust. Mikasa trusted Eren like no one else and giving up control for him was a huge step, a massive step even. She did this for him and herself both and Eren would be damned if he let her down now, when she was most vulnerable. Exposed, not only in flesh but in soul too, all of Mikasa Ackerman was right now laying in front of him, stretched over the bed in firm, enticing curves.

“You’re mine.”

Eren didn’t know where those words came from, but the second they left his mouth he knew what to do. He had to make this night unforgettable. Slowly, he slid his hands over her thighs, coming to rest on her waist.

“Mine.”, he repeated, leaning closer to follow the same path with his mouth.

“Mine,”, he said as he kissed her bellybutton, stomach, and those mouth-watering abs.

“Mine.”, as he ran his lips over her small perky breasts, teasing her nipples until they were fully erect for him.

“Mine.”, he whispered into her ear, biting the goth’s pierced sensitive flesh.

She moaned out loud at that, her body needily arching into his. Moving to her lips, Eren claimed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, dominant and in charge, finally fully embracing his role. Mikasa wanted this so much, she would be the last one to deny him. Submissively opening her mouth for him, she groaned into the kiss when Eren’s fingers skirted that area between her legs, positively wet from him leisurely claiming of her whole body. She was feeling good about this, very good even, much better than she expected. There was a small part of her that expected herself to scream the safeword as soon as Eren put the rope around her wrists, but that need wasn’t there. She just trusted him, there was no way he would hurt her. To her own surprise, Mikasa trusted him so much that there was another taste she would like to acquire.

“E-Eren?”, she whispered when his lips left hers in favor of kissing her neck.

He immediately pulled back, most likely expecting her to ask him to release her. Yet he was completely wrong.

“I want you to blindfold me.”, Mikasa requested, all polite despite the situation, “Please.”

“Are you sure?”, he asked, slowly, making sure that she understands.

She did. Every word.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Following her wish, Eren fished out the silky strip of cloth from their nightstand, holding it in his hands.

“Do you remember the safeword?”

She nodded.

“Scarf.”

“Very good.”

Gently, he wrapped the blindfold around her head, robbing Mikasa of her vision. After making sure that it sits both correctly and comfortably, she nodded at him.

“Let’s continue.”

Oh, but such a mouth had nothing to do on a submissive. Moving back to her ears, Eren replied in a husky whisper.

“I believe that sentence is missing something.”

Eren could see Mikasa’s throat move as she swallowed.

“C-Can we please continue, sir?”

“Good girl.”

Ka-chow, tasteful fade into black. Mikasa would be proud. On the other hand, Ymir looked like she was about to bite off Eren’s head. And the story wasn’t done yet. Speeding up the memory in his head, Eren skipped all those juicy parts as Ymir called them, resuming the scene once things have relatively calmed down.

It happened. Mikasa trusted him with this, trusted him enough to give control over her body to him, if only for a time. It broke that last insecurity he held inside, silenced that stupid voice that gnawed in the back of his head and made him sure of what he was about to do next.

Armin was right about the timing being completely stupid though. Eren and Mikasa were tangled on the bed, the scent of sex and sweat hanging in the air, just resting before they hit the shower. Arm around her body, he listened to her breathing, silently arguing with himself if he should do this. Mikasa deserved better. She deserved flowers, a surprise music band, dinner with all her friends and family invited for this. She deserved the greatest event in human history, yet instead, he was about to drop it on her out of nowhere, here in their bed. Mikasa was half asleep on him, eyes closed, the red marks on her body reminder of what happened just moments ago. Rope marks on her wrists, bite marks on her neck and shoulders, imprinted fingertips on her hips where Eren held her.

It was a gut feeling. It was a shot in the dark. It was unprecedented and untested. It was an action that Armin, the smartest guy he knew, called stupid and impulsive. But as stated before, Eren felt good about this.

“Babe? You know I love you right?”

Mikasa hummed in acknowledgment, which was good enough in this situation. Understandably, she was quite tired. Taking a deep breath, Eren took the dive.

“So I was wondering…. Would you marry me?”

#eremika #snk #aot #fanfic #:) <3

26 notes · View notes

alexguerinss · 4 years

Text

in your eyes

chapter 2/2 (ao3 link) (chapter 1)

When Owen saw Judd’s name come across his phone, he went on high alert. He knew TK had left early for the fire station for his shift, but Judd rarely called him out of the blue like this. He slid his phone open and put the phone to his ear before speaking.

“Judd?” He heard someone let out a breath on the other side of the line and he tensed with worry.

“Owen,” Judd’s voice came through the phone and he sounded out of breath, “It’s TK.”

“Tell me my son is okay Judd,” Owen asked, grabbing the last of his things before leaving the house and going towards his car.

“He took pills Cap,” he replied, watching as Michelle continually gave the younger man oxygen. “I don’t know where he got them from. He took them in the locker room after I walked out. We’re in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Michelle got him back, but he’s not out of the woods yet.”

Judd looked at TK and felt a fire in his chest. Why did this kid have to warm his way into his heart? TK was cocky and bullheaded, but he also wore his heart on his sleeve and seeing him struggle with his addiction was painful for the entire house.

“Judd, are you there?” Owen’s voice came from his cell and he was immediately taken out of his thoughts and back to his conversation.

“Sorry, yeah I’m still here. We are almost at the hospital. I’ll meet you in the waiting area,” he replied, looking between Michelle and TK, “He’s gonna be okay Cap.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before he spoke again.

“He has to be.”

One Month Later

“So TK,” Dr. Anne Wells started the discussion, looking at her patient. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” the young firefighter responded, looking anywhere but at the psychiatrist. She took notice that he was holding a pillow to his chest, as if he needed protection and she sighed.

“You’ve been doing so much better since your first day here,” she reminded him, taking his mind back to when his dad and Judd helped him settle in at the inpatient center. He knew he needed to get better. His suicide attempt was a wake up call.

He wanted to go back to his dad. The firehouse. He wanted to feel the adrenaline of running into a building to save someone, but just the thought of that made him feel like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He was brought back to the first day he came here, feeling like he was going to fall apart and never get better.

“Just breathe, TK. You’re going to get the help you need to kick this addiction in the ass and then you’ll be back with me,” his father said, pulling him into his arms. TK gripped his dad, not wanting to let go. His dad had always protected him. From when he almost broke his arm after falling out of a tree when he was 5 and catching him, from when his mother didn’t accept him and his father accepted him with open arms, and from when he first got addicted to drugs and his dad got him the help he needed before suggesting he apply at the fire academy after he got himself better. And now, when old wounds were opened from his mom’s texts and he thought his only option was out, his dad was there.

But he also now had a whole team behind him.

“You’ll be back with us kid,” Judd had stated gruffly, before pulling TK into his arms.

“Are we hugging right now?”

“You tell anyone…”

“Who can I tell?” TK reminded him, gesturing to his new home for the next 3 months.

“You get the help you need okay? I need your annoying ass back at the firehouse,” Judd’s words may have been humorous, but his tone was full of brotherly concern.

TK could only nod at both of them, before watching as they both left his room.

He could do this.

“TK?” A female voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked to see Dr. Wells staring at him with concern.

“Sorry, you just reminded me of why I wanted to get better,” he let himself smile, before looking back at her to finish their session.

Four Months Later

After three months of inpatient treatment and a month of outpatient treatment, TK was back at the firehouse.

On light duty of course.

Months ago, he would have been annoyed at the limited work he would be doing, but now he was just grateful he was here. Alive.

His father had informed him shortly after he was in treatment that he contacted his mother. After one heated conversation with the woman, Owen informed him that his mother would never speak to either of them again. He had bought TK a new phone as well, one that his mother wouldn’t be able to find the number of. Whatever his dad said to his mom, he was grateful. She was in the past. She couldn’t hurt him.

He had his dad, he had his firehouse and he had Carlos.

Or at least, he hoped so.

Carlos had visited him once in the treatment center, just to see how he was doing with his own eyes. He told TK that he didn’t want to be one of the reasons he didn’t get better. He didn’t want to hold him back.

“I just wanted to feel something.”

The words echoed back at him from his memory, explaining to Carlos how he took to fighting in a bar so he could feel pain. Back then, it was a relief to feel the punches come at him.

Now, he didn’t want to even step foot inside another bar. Carlos told him that he didn't want TK to just use sex as another outlet for the pain he was feeling. He wouldn't deter TK from getting better, no matter how he was feeling about the younger man.

He had texted Carlos when he came in for his shift and was waiting for his response, impatiently of course. Judd chuckled at him when he noticed he looked at his phone a dozen times in a span of 10 minutes.

“TK, maybe he has work,” he suggested lightly, smirking as TK glared at him and sighed.

He got up from his chair and went to his dad’s office, searching for the gum he knew his dad always hid in his top drawer before pulling out a small bottle with pills in it instead.

His hands shook as he took in the pill bottle. He wasn’t even tempted to take the pills at this point. He just wanted to know why his dad had them in the first place. Suddenly he heard footsteps come closer to the office, but he was frozen in place.

“Hey, TK there you -” Owen stopped greeting his son, as he saw the picture before him.

His son with his pill bottle.

Before Owen could fear the worst, TK looked at him with tears in his eyes, “Why do you have these pills dad?”

The room was quiet and it was like all the air got sucked out of it as father and son stared at each other.

“They’re for my nausea,” he started to explain. His son just looked at him in confusion.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” His tone worried as he dropped the bottle on his desk and walked towards the older man.

“It’s for the nausea I get after chemo.”

TK looked stricken, his eyes going wide. “Wait, what? You have cancer?”

“It’s lung cancer, TK. It’s in the early stages. They caught it early.”

TK could only scoff, “It’s cancer dad.”

“I know,” Owen could only respond, staring at his son.

“You must think I’m so weak,” TK whispered, looking down at the floor. The pattern on the floor would be a nice distraction right now from this news.

“No. You are not weak Tyler Kennedy. You are one of the strongest people I know,” he stated firmly, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I didn’t tell you because I was the weak one. I’m your dad. I’m supposed to always be there for you. I didn’t want to see the grief in your eyes the day I would finally get the courage to tell you.”

TK wiped at his eyes, before letting out a breath, “Dad, you’re still my hero,” he let himself smile before continuing, “You’re going to kick the crap out of this cancer, especially from now on because I’ve got your back.”

“I’ve got your back Dad,” he repeated, before wrapping his arms around the older man.

“Thanks son,” Owen responded, letting himself for once be comforted by TK.

As they broke out of the hug, Owen looked at his son and smirked.

“So, I heard your waiting to hear back from Carlos.”

TK looked affronted at the statement, before glaring at his dad.

“Michelle may have told me that he gets off this afternoon,” Owen stated, smiling as his son perked up at the fact, before frowning.

“Wait, why would she tell you that?” He questioned, before Owen let out a chuckle.

“She was going to meet him for lunch after his shift ended, but she wouldn’t mind if you took her place instead. I’m sure Carlos wouldn’t mind either.”

With that, Owen walked away to the locker room whistling.

“Wait, dad...where was she meeting him?” He asked, but his father was already too far away and he grumbled to himself.

“Guess I’ll just have to ask Michelle. This won’t be embarrassing or anything,” he mumbled.

“TK?” Carlos asked, surprised to see the younger man and not Michelle at their usual lunch table near the food trucks.

“Hi,” the young firefighter replied, standing up. Before he could react, Carlos grabbed him into a bone crushing hug.

“How are you? Are you okay?” The taller man asked him, before they pulled out of the hug.

“I’m better,” a small smile spread across his face as Carlos could only stare at him awe.

From how he was months ago to now, Carlos definitely saw a change in TK. There was a certain glow about him. He seemed happier and he was grateful that TK got the help he needed.

Before he could say a word, the firefighter looked up at him.

“So how about that date?”

“You sure?” He asked, biting his lip wanting to make sure that TK himself was ready.

“Yes, I’m sure” TK grinned, “you’re buying.”

#tarlos #911 lone star #my fic

52 notes · View notes

alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 5 years

Text

Be Still

A/N: Happy almost grey’s day! i’m a slut for hurt/comfort so here’s some amelia-centric amelink & amelia & meredith hurt/comfort! this is a little Wild bc a week ago I hadn’t even seen 15b lmao but i think this relationship is so good for her, and i’m really excited to explore a bit more about her past bc while private practice showed a lot of her background, grey’s not so much!

I’m thinking about writing a few more scenes (namely some therapy & an ultrasound scene) so lmk if you want some more amelink hurt/comfort!

EDIT: I changed the title bc I’m a LOSER and I’ve been listening to the Killers a lot.

***

“If you ever feel you can't take it anymore Don't break character, you've got a lot of heart Is this real or just a dream? Rise up like the sun, labour till the work is done”

-The Killers

***

Link leaned in to kiss her as she swung away. So he thought this was a sexy kind of stop on the landing of the stairs and not an I'm-about-to-flip-your-life-upside-down kind of stop on the landing of the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk somewhere more private?”

"Bad private?"

"Pregnant, actually."

Link just stared back at her.

"So… can we go somewhere and talk?"

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” They started up the stairs when Link’s pager started beeping. “Shit. I’m being paged.”

Amelia couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. She knew this conversation needed to happen, but it was all beginning to feel a little too real. “That’s fine. We can talk later. Text me when you’re free.”

“Okay.” His gaze lingered on her a little bit too long. “We’ll talk later.”

They parted and Amelia tried not to think about anything that had just happened - talking to Carina, taking a pregnancy test, the interaction with Link. She drove back to Meredith’s house in a daze. This was not how she expected this day to go. She pushed all of the thoughts away because she felt like if she let them take hold, they would kill her. But she felt them creeping in anyways. By the time she reached the house, her eyes were red and puffy and her heart was racing.

Meredith saw her as soon as she opened the door. “Amelia? Are you okay?” Shit.

She tried to tell Mer that she was fine, but all that came were more tears. She ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She crawled onto her knees and sat with her back against the bathroom counter. She dug her fingers into the bathmat, as if that could hold her to the present, but it was no use. She could feel herself slipping. She was nothing more than fear and the memories suffocating her. There was knocking at the door, and Meredith asking what was wrong, but she was too far away.

Suddenly, Meredith was on her knees beside her, with Amelia’s hands in hers.

“Amelia? You’re having a panic attack. Everything’s okay. Come on, stay with me. Stay here. Amelia, you’re okay. I know you’re scared, but I promise whatever’s happening, everything is going to be fine.” Slowly, she started returning to reality. She didn’t know when she’d started hyperventilating. Everything began to slow down and her sense of imminent doom vanished, but reality crashed back into her. She withdrew from Meredith and turned away, breaking into ugly sobs. Meredith pulled her back into her arms and held her as she cried. Once her crying had subsided, Meredith finally spoke. “I’m going to go make you some tea, okay? You can come down when you’re ready.”

Once Meredith was gone, Amelia wasn’t sure how much time she sat there, trying to pull herself together. Finally, she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. She splashed some water on her face and tried to tidy her hair, but she still felt like a disaster. She took a deep breath and tried to hold herself together long enough to make it down to the kitchen.

Meredith was sitting at the island reading a magazine. Amelia silently sat down at the table. Meredith brought over the teapot and a couple of mugs and went to the closet and grabbed a blanket, offering it to Amelia. She pulled it over shoulders and tightly around her torso, trying to take comfort in the slight release from the pressure of it around her back as Meredith poured her a cup of tea.

Amelia slid her finger across the warm ceramic. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Not just for the tea, for-”

“I know.”

She took a small sip of her drink, but she still felt a little sick to her stomach. She hadn’t gotten morning sickness at all during her first pregnancy, so she was pretty sure her stomach was churning more from her anxiety levels than hormone levels. “Sorry, I know the last thing you want to do when you get back from community service is take care of more trash.”

“Amelia…”

“It was just a joke. Not a funny one, I guess.” She bit her lip. “I’m pregnant.”

Meredith’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?” Amelia nodded, not making eye contact. “Do you know how far along you are?”

She fiddled with the fray of the blanket, trying to distract herself just enough to maintain composure. “Ten weeks, I think. God, I completely skipped my period and I didn’t even realize. Then I went to Carina to talk about kinky stuff and she was all like ‘I noticed that you’re pregnant’ and I was like,” Amelia looked at Meredith miming wide-eyed shock. She retreated back into herself. “I don’t understand how this even happened.”

Meredith sighed. “Sometimes things just happen. Do you… Do you know what you want to do?”

Another wave of nausea arose in her throat. “I’ve been asking myself that for the past seven years,” she said quietly.

“Listen,” Meredith told her, “I don’t know what that means, but whatever you want to do, I’m here. And Link’s a great guy, I’m sure he’ll support whatever you decide. You’re not alone.”

Amelia’s lip quivered and another flood of tears started running down her cheeks.

“Is there something else going on that I don’t know about?” She nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Amelia was still for a moment. “Can I show you?” she asked softly. She was so emotionally exhausted. She nearly felt empty, and she knew what happened when she reached her emotional limits. And she knew she was going to need to have a similar conversation with Link later that night.

“Of course.”

Amelia led Meredith up to her room and instructed her to have a seat on the edge of the bed. She knelt down to her second from the bottom drawer and reached into the very back. She pulled out a wooden box, about the size of a breadbox. She sat down next to Meredith and carefully opened it, offering it to her. Inside, there was a small urn, a clear plastic bag containing a birth and death certificate, a small hospital blanket, and a tiny baby hat.

Meredith pulled out the certificates first. “Amelia…” she whispered.

“I never told Derek.”

“Who else knows?”

“Well, all of my friends from LA, obviously. Owen. Alex. You.”

“Alex?”

She shrugged. “He was just in the right place to cry to, I guess.”

Meredith gave her half of a smile. “Well, now I know why you never answered the phone when we were trying to reach you and your family about Derek after the plane crash.”

“Ha, yeah. I actually tried to call him a few days after… I think I just regretted not telling him and him not being there with me. He didn’t answer, obviously. I finally confronted Addie about it, and she just… she had this look on her face. She knew about the plane crash, but she didn’t want to tell me because she thought it would be too much. So, yeah. Guess that was a pretty shitty week for everyone.” She started to laugh, and Meredith joined her. She tried to stop herself, unsuccessfully. “Why are we laughing?”

“You’re the one who started it!”

“I think I ran out of tears!” The laughing subsided, and she plopped backwards onto the bed. A few moments later, she heard the box snap shut, and Meredith joined her.

“You know, this does explain a few things.”

Amelia turned to her. “Like what?”

“Well, you kind of spun out a little. After the pregnancy scare with Owen.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t just a little.”

“I was trying to be nice.” She paused. “Have you seen a therapist?” Amelia scoffed. “I’m serious. If you’re going to do this, or even if you’re not, you’re going to need someone to talk to who can actually help, not just laugh with you about shared traumas.”

Amelia exhaled. “I know.”

“That was easier than I thought.”

“Listen, I have plenty of self-awareness. That doesn’t mean I do anything about.”

Meredith sat up. “I’m making you an appointment. Send me your schedule.” Amelia groaned. “It’s really not that bad. And you get to talk as much as you want for an hour and no one can call you annoying for it.”

“Fine.”

“Listen, Amelia.” She paused. “I just want you to know… This could be a good thing, if you wanted it to be. I know it’s scary, and it’s not going to be easy, but I meant it. You’re not alone in this. You have people to support you. And you can’t let your past stop you from going after what you want. If this is what you want.” She stood up and started for the door, but stopped and turned. “And for the record, I think you are a great mother.”

***

Meet me at 8?

Sure.

Her heart-to-heart with Meredith was helpful, but she really needed to get out of that house for a couple of hours. Not that this conversation was much of an escape. She really had no idea what to expect. She texted him her location and waited. He seemed like he liked kids. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants his own, though. And he didn’t even know her history. All of the shit she’d done.

"Hey."

She snapped back to the present. "Hey."

Link sat down next to her. “So…”

“So,” she breathed. “This is basically, like, the exact opposite of taking things slow, but… I-” she took a steadying breath. “I want to do this with you. If you want to.”

He took her hand. “I want to. I want to do this with you, too.” She could tell there was a lot more he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure where their boundaries were anymore. “I- I really like you. I like talking with you, and laughing with you, and just being around you. But I also know what it’s like to have parents who hate each other. I mean, a part of it was definitely the stress of me being sick, but their problems started before that. I knew that they never would have stayed together for as long if it hadn’t been for me. I would never want that for my child. So maybe we could just keep doing what we were doing? And we can try to figure out if we work, you know, together? Or if we should just, like, co-parent?”

Amelia smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

“On that note, I think we’ve reached the point in our relationship when I can invite you to sleep over at my place tonight?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Have we?”

“Just one night.”

“I have to be back here early tomorrow.”

“So we’ll have dinner and go to bed. Isn’t that what sleepovers are for?” he teased.

She elbowed him playfully and tried somewhat unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. “Fine. Just one night.”

He grinned. She liked making him grin. “Meet you at my place?”

“Sounds good.” She always kept a couple of changes of clothes and some toiletries in her car because she never knew when a 12 hour shift would become a 24 hour shift. They stood to start towards their cars, but something stopped her. “Wait!”

He turned towards her. “What?”

“There’s one more thing I need to tell you.” He stared at her expectantly as she took a deep breath. “Listen, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. There’s a lot of shit that I’ve done and seen and been through that I-” She shrugged. “I just don’t really talk about. I mean, you got some of it from my sisters, but that’s just teenage Amelia. Adult Amelia… well, let’s just say teenage me has got nothing on the train wreck that is adult me.” She paused, trying to find the right words, attempting to navigate which details she wanted to share.

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I do. I want to. When I was living in LA, I relapsed. Not too long after I got out of rehab, I realized that I was pregnant.” Her voice was shaky, and she crossed her arms tightly across her torso to try to steady herself. “He had anencephaly. It’s a type of neural tube defect. He lived for about 43 minutes.” There were tears in her eyes. Fuck these damn hormones. “So, yeah. I mean, there’s like, statistically a slightly higher chance that this kid will have a neural tube defect, and if nothing else, I’m just going to be even more of a mess than usual, which shouldn’t even be possible. So you basically chose the worst possible person to accidentally have a kid with, but I guess it’s a little late for that now.”

He gently pulled her arms from across her chest and held her hands in his. “Amelia, there’s no one in the world I’d rather accidentally have a kid with. I think you’re probably the bravest, most badass person I’ve ever met. And you care about things - about people - with your whole heart. I know that that’s gotten you hurt in the past and it’s gotten you into messy relationships, but, I mean, I don’t know how many other people - former addict or not - that would meet a homeless teenage drug addict and their instinct would be to take them in. What I’m trying to say is there’s always going to be risk. But some things just have to be worth the risk, right?” She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I’m in this with you, no matter what.”

She blinked away her tears and withdrew from his arms.

“So… meet you at the apartment?”

She nodded.

***

A half an hour later, she was standing in Link’s closet-sized bathroom. He’d started cooking dinner, and she ducked out to change into something more comfortable. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she could see it: her boobs were definitely a bit bigger and her bra didn’t fit quite right anymore, although she was surprised that it was something that Carina noticed. Unless Carina liked to notice her chest.

She rubbed her hand over her bare tummy. It terrified her, thinking about the tiny little fetus inside of her. But her life was a lot different now than in her last pregnancy. She was sober. She was healthy. So was her partner. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize it: a healthy pregnancy, a healthy baby. The idea was way too far away from her for her to cling to it, but it seemed noticeably closer than it had been that morning in Carina’s office.

After eating and cleaning up, Amelia all but collapsed into Link’s bed. There’d been some kissing and flirting in the kitchen, but she didn’t have the energy for anything more. Neither of them did. It had been a long day. But lying there, under the covers in her boyfriend’s arms, she started to believe that maybe what Link had said to her weeks ago could be true: that maybe the worst had already happened for her, and that this could her good apple to balance out the rest.

#amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelink #Meredith Grey #grey's anatomy #ga #grey's anatomy spoilers #hurt/comfort

59 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 5 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 25)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24,

Part 26: here

“Welcome to MacDonalds Sir. Can I take your order?”

The van stops at a drive through, halfway to the hospital and his Uncle. Doom hangs over Arthur like a dense grey fog. A clock slowly counting down.

“Hey. You want anything?” The demon asks, nonchalantly rifling around in the glovebox for spare change.

Arthur’s never swum in the ocean, but he’s watched enough media to estimate and guess that this is what drowning feels like. Memories crash over him, pulling him about in waves. It’s had to keep a grip on what is current and what is past. It’s hitting him all at once. Images of Lewis falling are now mixing in with frames on Darrel’s motionless body left out in the middle of nowhere, carelessly kicked to the side of a narrow dirt road. Alone. Just like Lewis. Left behind to rot. Who knows if anyone would find him. Did Darrel have a family? Arthur can’t remember. What he does know is that it’s all his fault…and he can’t stop. Arthur needs help. He desperately needs help, but there’s no one. The only people who care are miles away and completely ignorant.

‘Why?’

The question is out before he gets the chance to clarify, his thoughts not coherent enough to manage a full sentence. There must be a reason. A point to everything. Because, if there isn’t, then there is no way that Arthur can convince this creature to stop. To leave his Uncle alone.

“Cause we’re hungry. Duh. Try not to ask dumb questions.” Arthur is dismissed, the demon turning back to order. So far, it has been quiet, exuding a calm satisfaction which is only marginally better than manic joy, ignoring Arthur’s thrashing with practised ease. This is the first time Arthur’s had the presence of mind to communicate since leaving Darrel.

At the order collection window, as the serving-girl hands over a brown and red paper bag, she points to her cheek, commenting, “Um. Sir. You have a little dirt on your face. Just there.”

“Do I?” The demon laughs good-naturedly, adjusting the rear-view mirror to reveal their reflection. Arthur looks out, unable to help himself, meeting his own gaze. Bright green eyes stare right at him. The pleasant smile shifts to become mocking. The ‘dirt’ referred to is the small flecks of Darrel’s blood, which have dried a dark brown.

“I do indeed. How embarrassing,” It chuckles, taking the bag, “Thank you for pointing that out.”

The girl smiles back, “Hey no problem. Have a good afternoon sir.”

If only she would lean further out and see the prominent blood splatter across Arthur’s front. She doesn’t. He watches powerlessly, feeling his body wave a goodbye.

“Have to say. I love these new food options. You humans have certainly been busy this last century.”

Now. This is Arthur's opportunity to talk. He needs to use it and convince this creature to stop. It probably won’t work, if anything it’ll make everything worse, but he must try.

‘Why,’ Arthur asks a second time, pulling his focus forward.

“Why what,” The demon is deliberately obtuse, taking a bite with its free hand, steering back onto the highway with the other. Arthur would be grimacing at the taste. The last thing he wants to do is to eat greasy food. Luckily, nausea is primary a physical phenomenon, so his need to throw up is entirely associative.

‘Why are you doing this. What’s the point?’ How does he get it to stop?

The demon chews and slurps down a soda methodically like it is buying time to consider a response. More likely, it knows how anxious waiting makes Arthur.

“Because it’s fun. You know...Spread a little pain and misery. Cause trouble. Mess with the cosmic balance. You do know what fun is right?"

‘I can be plenty miserable without Uncle Lance dying.’ Arthur jumps on the connection despite how tenuous it is, ‘You’ve seen my memories! I can make anything good depressing if I want to.’

“Ha. Yeah. You do know how to screw yourself over. But, regrettably, I never leave a host alive. Personal policy. Less hassle down the line and all.”

‘He’ll be no hassle.’ Arthur lies blatantly because there was no way Lance wouldn’t try to hunt them down if given a chance, ‘Nope. No hassle at all. No one would care if I vanished right now. Especially not Lance.’

“I’m in your head, I can see you lying,” An eye roll, followed by unpleasant chuckling, “Besides, nothing beats the rush of cutting one of your pathetic lives short. All that potential. Poof. Gone.” The discordant sensation of happiness is back again, and Arthur quickly withdraws, mentally flinching away, doing his best to distance himself.

‘Someone will stop you.’

“Who will? The dog? It’s miles away. Won’t be here till tomorrow and by then we’ll be done and dusted. I was thinking of going after Lewis’s family next. Sneak on in, in the dead of night, get em all in their sleep…”

Any further attempts at reasoning fall on deft ears. Begging is just as ineffective. All it does is inflate the awful feeling of calm satisfaction. Apprehensively, Arthur watches the demon wipe the blood off their shared face, energy well and truly spent. A grin is flashed towards the rear-view mirror which has yet to be re-adjusted. Not like this thing cares about road safety. It makes Arthur want to laugh hysterically. But he can’t. He can’t do anything.

Half an hour later, after getting waylaid by some traffic, they’re back at the hospital. All up, it’s hardly been two hours since their departure. They even park in the same spot.

Before heading inside, the demon pulls on one of Arthur’s old work shirts, which he keeps in the van for spur of the moment mechanical work. It’s got a few oil stains down the side and hasn’t seen a good wash in a while, but is inconspicuous when compared to coffee and blood splatters. Now, apart from the eyes, there is no other noticeable difference between the two of them. Nothing that screams ‘I’m a demon on a murder spree, please stop me.’ The sickly green skin Arthur had noted in his memories has faded to a natural colour.

St Peter’s Emergency Ward is as cold and sterile as he remembers. The smell of disinfectant and the return to chilled air-conditioning are equally unwelcome. Nurses, doctors and members of the public mill around, murmuring and talking in low tones. ‘Someone notice! Please,’ Arthur thinks desperately while the demon obtains directions from the reception desk. Despite Arthur’s less than clean appearance no one spares a second glance. Everyone is too busy, caught up in their work and lives, to notice his one falling apart.

An older, matronly woman, sporting a messy bun and tired eyes, ends up leading Arthur to his Uncle’s recovery room. It’s not too far from the main entrance and is, to his dismay, empty of other patents. Space, meant for a second bed, is vacant.

Arthur, the demon- he’s having trouble separating the two -both watch the nurse check his Uncle’s IV, lowering the dosage of whatever is going into Lance’s arm. Probably a mix of pain medication and anti-inflammatories going off Arthur’s previous experience. Curiosity and interest flash between their shared mind. It is taking notes, intently watching the nurse work. Please. Turn around. Turn around and notice what a creepy monster he’s being.

When she does turn, Arthur has already stepped away, acting to part of the worried relative.

“Is he okay. Everything’s okay, right?”

“Your Uncle is recovering as per normal. He’s on a low dose of Dilaudid, to reduce pain and swelling. It’ll make him drowsy when he regains consciousness so don’t be alarmed if he has trouble forming sentences,”

“He’ll regain consciousness? That’s good. When will that happen?” Its barely contained eagerness makes Arthur want to cry in dismay.

“Another hour or two,” The woman gives him a perplexed sideward glance. If she does notice anything strange, it isn’t mentioned. “I’ll have a doctor come by and give you a proper run down and better details shortly.”

“Good. Good. That’s very good. Thank you for letting me know,”

A nod. A kind expression. She moves to away, passing by, leaving Arthur alone. She leaves the demon alone with his Uncle unconscious, helpless in the bed. Eagerly, the demon piolets his body forward, scanning the empty room, eyes landing briefly on the solitary clock decorating the otherwise sparse walls. 4: 59. Tick. Tick. Tick. An audible reminder that Arthur is running out of time. A hand reaches into his pocket to fiddle with Arthur’s keys and the small knife attached. Both are crusted with dry blood which crumbles when touched. They clink together threateningly.

‘What do I have to do to get you to stop. You have to want something. Anything.’

“Sure, I do. It’s just nothing you can give .” Nonchalantly, it approaches the bed, finally acknowledging Arthur's presence.

‘Don’t demons collect souls?’ He asks with increasing desperation. Can he give this thing his soul? Was that something he could do?

“Some. I don’t. I think you’ll find that ‘demon’ is a very broad term, covering a wide range of individuals. Besides, your soul is super screwy. Whatever’s shoved it back in here has bound it in tight, so I’d probably have to rip it up to get it free, rendering the activity pointless. So, no deal…But thanks for the offer. I’m flattered.”

‘Please. Stop. I’ll do anything!’

Does he really have nothing? No way to save his Uncle. The only member of his whole freakin family who gave a damn and he can’t even save him. Useless. Why does he fail in all the ways that matter most?

“Oh, don’t mope. Just think, once we finish up here, you’ll never have to worry about failing anybody ever again. No lying. No stress. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

It doesn’t sound nice. It’s the opposite of nice!

The demon drags over the one visitor's chair, which squeaks along the lino flooring, slumping down to stare at his uncle, waiting. It fingers the IV tubing, tracing the piping up to the control dial and back again. Deliberately, it pinches the thin tube shut, attention jumping back to Lance, scanning for any changes.

Waiting.

The waiting is terrible. Especially, when Arthur can feel its attention, partially giddy, laser-focused onto his Uncle. Arthur’s never seen the man look so pale or sickly. Apart from the odd work-related accident, which is impossible to avoid even with strict safety standards, his Uncle has always been healthy. Even the rare times he has seen the man sick it was still ‘no big deal,’ ‘just a scratch,’ or ‘the bodies way of forcing me ta rest.’ While Arthur flip-flopped from one emotional extreme to the next, his Uncle had been a steady, seemingly indestructible, pillar of support. Arthur had never said thank you for any of that. Worse, he’d repaid all that kindness with lies and evasion. Lance should have never taken him in. He had been more trouble than it was worth in his original timeline and he’s definitely not worth it now.

“Hey. HEY!” The demon grows tired of the waiting and gives his Uncle a light slap on the cheek with its free hand, “Wake up.”

“Arthur?” The word is half muttered, barely audible. Lance is phasing into consciousness slowly.

‘Just say asleep. Stay asleep a little longer. Someone has to come in and stop him. Please.’

“In a manner of speaking. Yeah. I’m Arthur.”

That gets his Uncle’s attention. Lance violently twitches, forcing an eye open. It locks onto him, hazy but critical. Despite being in obvious pain a hand flashes out, snapping onto to Arthur’s wrist, pulling the hand away from his face. The grip is firm abet weaker than Arthur’s expecting.

“Whoa, you might want to take it easily Uncle Lance. Wouldn’t want to pull any stitches. You were stabbed five times you know.”

“You,” His Uncle growls hatefully, eyes narrowing, “Get out of Arthur ya fuckin, slimy piece of shit, bastard.”

“That’s some strong language. And in front of your nephew. He’s watching you know,”

A loose flick and the demon frees its wrist, efficiently shoving his Uncle back down when he attempts to lunge outwards. The hash action causes Lance to grunt in obvious pain. A move towards the emergency call remote has the demon snatching it up and placing it on the small table just out of reach, tutting in disappointment.

“I’ll get ya. Mark my words…You’ll regret this,” His Uncle spits, his attempts at sitting foiled. His face is pure revulsion and fury. That determination and fire is something Arthur’s never seen directed his way before. It’s all in vain. Nothing matters. Not anymore.

A teasing, “How? You can’t even move. Soon you’ll never move again.” The demon releases its hold on the IV and turns the control dial up to its max setting. Dismayed, Arthur watches the drug take quick effect, rapidly dulling his Uncle’s movements. Eventually, Lance just lies still and glares, even while his eyes are dropping shut.

“Don’t worry about your nephew. He’ll be safe with me. Since you care so much and all.” The glare faulters much to the demon’s renewed glee. The predatory buzz is back, coiled alongside a sensation of anticipation and pleasure.

“Arthur.” His Uncle’s voice loses its heat, softening. He’s struggling to stay conscience, drowsy, eyes shutting.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Stop. Please. PLEASE.’

A knife is produced after a small struggle. The hinge, which usually allowed it to flip cleanly open, is stiff, jammed with blood. The key ring makes a clinking sound, hitting the side of the metal bed frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes through the room in time with the ticking clock.

“Now. How do we go about this in a way that won’t immediately alert the plebs?”

‘NONONONO!’

“Kindy slow bleed? Good choice.”

“Nighty night,” It stands upright. The chair squeaks. Blankets and paper thin robe are pulled aside in an energetic flourish, revealing the assortment of bandages covering his Uncle’s chest and side. A second is spent in meticulous calculation. The knife is carefully positioned and thrust in. The demon waits for a beat before pushing forward against any resistance, twisting, then drawing out. Cold satisfaction. His Uncle’s fingers catch on Arthur’s retreating arm. This time, there is no strength behind the grasp, and it’s easily shrugged off.

“Not….You…r… Fa..ul…t...” The words are mumbled and slurred, swallowed up by the silent room. The clock on the wall ticks.

“Eh. Suppose we’ll look a bit suspicious if we stick around.”

The blanket is tossed back into place, covering the reopened wound. They turn, strolling towards the door, practically skipping back down to the reception. Arthur can feel himself splitting, joy mixing in with panic and grief.

Just like his life, he’s falling to pieces.

NOTE: re-writes, re-writes for days. But finally got a version I’m mostly happy with. I’m hoping to have the next section out within a shorter time frame so people aren't stuck on the cliff hanger but no promises.

Part 26: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur kingsmen #lance kingsmen #the demon?#character death #dark #angst #coarse language #graphic descriptions of violence #emotional disorientation #shit has well and truly hit the fan

65 notes · View notes

jenniez-tv · 5 years

Text

HIPEC surgery (warning - photos of my abdomen after surgery will be shown)

The night before surgery I was on clear liquids only.. that was hard when all my family members kept talking about food and dessert.. the stomach growl was real. Haha. I spent the night playing mahjong with my family up until I had to pack and get ready to leave the house. An all nighter. Weeee. I really didn’t care to sleep since I don’t usually sleep til the morning anyways and I would be sleeping a lot in the hospital so it was whatever.

My aunt, mom, and I leave to go to the hospital around 4am (super early). We arrive, I’m sent to preop to get ready and I am super nervous.. I realized I forgot to take my anti anxiety Med before leaving the house.. UGH. I ask the nurse if she can ask the doc to give me one while I’m waiting and she said the Anesthesologist can give me something when they are ready to wheel me to the OR. Like wtf? How is that helpful? Why would I need anxiety meds right before I go to sleep for the freaking surgery?!? I need it for the 2hrs of waiting!!! She didn’t even bother to ask! Ughhhh.. like why? She is supposed to be an advocate for me.. Was not happy with her.. then she told me to relax.. HAHA. Glad I won’t see her again. Rude.

Me waiting at preop

Anywho.. next thing I know I’m awake in PACU. I’m groggy and in pain.. and of course felt myself up all over my abdomen to make sure I didn’t get a ileostomy bag. Thank god I did not! I did have a jp drain though. The Dr said he removed the organs he planned on-the uterus, ovaries, omentum, gallbladder along with 3 small things he found in my abdomen. I have no idea where and how big they were. They don’t think they are tumors but the pathology results have not come back yet.. feels like forever waiting for results.. either way, im glad it was found and removed. (Update- the results came back benign! Negative for cancer!)

I’m moved to the ICU and get hooked up to so much equipment. I stayed in the ICU for 2.5days. I had 2 iv’s, an arterial line, Foley catheter, NG tube, JP drain and a wound vac. My throat hurt so damn bad.. every time I swallowed it hurt.. that NG tube fked up my throat. I was also a not allowed eat or drink anything for 2 days until they took it out. I could not wait! Post op day 1 was a killer for me. Just trying to sit up made me cry. They wanted me to walk down the hall while pushing the wheelchair. I literally looked like a old person who has the hump back and couldnt stand straight while walking. The poor nurses were pretty much holding my weight lol. Even helping me scoot up on the bed hurt. My family said my entire body and face was super swollen . I just pictured the scene in Willy wonka and the chocolate factory where that girl turned into a huge blueberry. 🤭 I think the most annoying part of ICU was when they kept giving me blood pressure medication and IV fluids to increase my blood pressure. I normally have low BP like 80-90/50-60 told everyone. Apparently the Med surg unit (Unit I would be at until I get discharged) doesn’t like BP’S under 90. I mean seriously, I can’t be the only one with normal low BP’s.. With all the fluids during and after surgery.. I was 15lbs heavier. Ahh! I know it’s all water weight but damn that’s a lot of water weight. They also gave me potassium and it was so uncomfortable on my veins. Anyone can tell you it hurts..even when it’s diluted. It fked up my veins where on The last night in the ICU I had to get one of my IV’s replaced because anything that went through it (even saline) hurt . It was hurting even if nothing was running.

Anyways, I get cleared and transfer up to the medsurg unit. I was actually feeling pretty good considering just having surgery. I get my NG tube removed and am allowed teeny bits of water/ice. FINALLY. My throat can now get better! By the time I transferred I was making laps around the unit. I also get my wound vac removed. It was so painful because I developed a lot of blisters on the edges of the tape from the wound vac. It looked pretty gross. (Picture below). When they removed it, all the blisters broke and they even rubbed over it pulling the skin off. Then, one of my ivs stopped working so it had to be taken out. Luckily this unit only requires one IV not two like the ICU so I didn’t need it replaced.

Picture of the blisters

Picture of my incision with the wound vac and the jp drain.

Picture of my incision and blisters after wound vac removed

The next morning is where everything went downhill. I got super nauseous and eventually threw up 900cc of bile. My temp was around 101 degrees, and eventually got up to 103. I also had other signs/symptoms that showed that I got septic to something. I had to be transferred back to the ICU. Because they were not 100% sure where the infection came from (they had 2 guesses) I got 2 antibiotics that would treat both areas. My white blood cell count also dropped dramatically to 0.98 and my anc 0.74. This means that I was very susceptible to getting more infections. People had to wear a mask when they come to my room and I had to wear one when I left the room. The good news is my fever went away pretty quickly and I started feeling better. My wbc kept going up and down... I’m hoping it keeps trending up because I cannot leave the hospital until my wbc goes up and becomes stable. EEP.

While I was back in the ICU I had to get a second iv placed.. so now I have had 4 iv’s so far not including the arterial line). I’m connected to all the machines again and it takes forever for me to get to the bathroom since they have to disconnect all the monitors and attach it to a portable one so they made me use a bedside commode instead. Bedside commode?!?! The thought is just gross. I’m peeing and pooping in a room with just a curtain blocking the view. What if someone walked in to talk to me in the middle of my session? It was so nerve wrecking. I’ve cleaned up patients bedside commodes before and it’s fine but now can say that I really understand why patients apologized all the time.

After another 2 days in the icu and being septic.. And another iv needing to be replaced bc it infiltrated.. (apparently my veins are mad weak from all the meds and chemo) (now iv #5) I am finally better to go back to the Med surg unit. I’m transferred back and it feels so nice to use abnormal bathroom again. I’m still only allowed clear fluid and honestly.. even that was hard to do. I had to drink a minimum of 800cc a day and it was a struggle. So many days of not eating and drinking screwed me up. Plus I kept having this underlying nausea that just wouldn’t go away. It turned out I had a small ileus as well- A complication that can happen from abdominal surgery.

Everyday I got blood drawn twice a day.. and lovenox which is a blood thinner to prevent blood clots. Prior to lovenox, they were giving me heparin (which is 3 times a day..). My body was full of bruises all over.

Picture of some of the bruises on my arms. I had a bunch on my thighs too..

Anywho, I’m finally allowed to eat.. and man that was more of a struggle than drinking.. I would take one or two bites and be done.. it didn’t help that the hospital food was completely disgusting.. even simple foods you think they can’t mess up on.. was just gross. I was asked by family what I felt like eating so they can bring it.. but honestly I had no appetite at all. Completely different from when I was on steroids and eating nonstop.. lol. But I tried.. hard.. to eat and drink enough. They wanted to start me on tpn which is the total nutrition through a central line.. and I was not about to have it. I gave a hard hell no.

I could barely sleep.. it just felt like my stomach was being pulled or stretched apart when I moved.. was woken up non stop for meds/ vitals.. when I was able to doze off.. my days pretty much consisted of eating, taking a couple laps around the unit, napping, and repeat. I was still getting some iv fluids to help keep me hydrated.. and of course.. another iv infiltrates.. and another iv had to get started... I had a total of 6iv’s and an arterial line.. it was utterly ridiculous.. I had no more places for ivs! And I freaking hate ivs and getting poked.. but that’s all I got during this stay.. so many I lost count.. sigh..

On and off during my stay but especially the last couple of days, I had severe lower right abdomenal pain that was sharp and jabby. I prevented me from moving at all.. it was downright horrible and worse than my incision.. no one knew what it was from but I guessed maybe the drain that was inside.. I got a ct scan done and it didn’t show anything there but the drain so I got it removed.. the pain immediately disappeared!! It was such a relief!! No pain meds helped at all.. not even the slightest.. so having that relief felt so good. The drain coming out though.. felt like so much pressure and it felt like the spot that hurt was getting pulled on. I swear that drain was stuck there or something.. it was a good amount in my stomach.. I didn’t realize how much of the drain just sat in there.. kinda gross. And yes, I watched the whole thing... hahah.

Another complication I have is that my left upper thigh is numb.. and has been numb.. it never got and still hasn’t gotten any better.. I thought it was the duramorph I got during surgery but after a week it seemed unlikely.. the dr says that it’s most likely because the retractor they used to hold my abdomen opened was pressed on my thigh nerve since I’m smaller than the average patient and dmged it from it being compressed for 8hrs.. he says it will take weeks to months for my leg to return to normal.. hopefully.. but that there is a chance it won’t.. god I hope it comes back. It feels so weird and annoying to have the top of my thigh permanently numb ...

Finally my wbc is stable and continuing to trend upward (although still low) and I’m allowed to go home.. I could not wait to see my babies (my dogs), my family, and just sleep in my own bed!!

Sorry, I know this post was all over the place... i wrote parts of it at different times.. which is why some seems present and some past tense.. and I’m honestly not in the mood to go and fix it all. I will post again how my recovery is going at home soon.

Thank you all for your love and support. ❤️

7 notes · View notes

jamesbvck · 6 years

Text

change your mind | two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU, High School!Bucky) Summary: Senior Year: the last year to be a somebody or a nobody. A chance to fall in love, ace that final exam and make memories. After a terrible first impression, Bucky makes it his mission to fix the mistake he made with the new girl. Will they get their chance? Warnings: swearing, brief mention of drugs, implied sex (mentioned), ghosts? A/N: Thank you for all the nice comments on the first chapter!! Just an FYI these chapters go by months so they are longer! Feedback is encouraged! :D

CYM MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Happy Hogan’s Diner looked like it was taken out of a 50s movie. It was retro with a jukebox in the corner playing tunes, chairs and booths were clothed in faux red leather and the floor was checkered. It had been a long time hang out spot for the group, you had learned. A place to get away for awhile and forget about school stress. You accompanied them more often than not. Saturday nights seemed to be the prime night. Someone was always inviting you to join along, usually it was Peggy or Steve but Sam and Clint were always enthusiastic when you joined.

You helped Sam push two long tables together and you opted to sit beside him. It was the first Saturday in October and rain poured outside. So what was better than burgers and milkshakes to cheer everyone up? Peggy, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky sat on the opposite side with Clint plopping down next to you. You couldn’t believe after a few weeks you had friends, genuine people that wanted to hang out with you. Truthfully if it wasn’t for Peggy you weren’t sure where’d you be. Probably sitting in your room doing homework and watching an old movie.

“What milkshake should I get?” You asked Sam, leaning over to look at his menu.

“Oreo, definitely Oreo,” he replied. “Or Peanut Butter.”

You hummed. There were a variety of options but Oreo did sound the most appealing. The table shared three large fries and onion rings, everyone getting their own burger. You hated to admit it but Bucky was right; the burgers were the best. You couldn’t tell him that though, he’d probably gloat and say ‘I told you so’ and would never let it go.

To your surprise he was quiet tonight. Normally at the lunch table him and Sam were the loudest ones. You snuck a peek at him. He was relaxed, arm over the back of Natasha’s chair. Some people greeted the table to chat about the football season and praise the boys for their work towards another trophy. Bucky remained cool, almost too cool for your liking. As if he knew he was la crème de la crème. After that first home game, Bucky had made you a ‘special promise’: Next touchdown will be for you, doll.

If you had rolled your eyes any harder they would have fallen out of your head.

You breathed in, glancing around at the neon signs. You tried not to eavesdrop but you were dying to know what Steve was whispering to Peggy. She was giggling and beaming. Natasha looked naeustiated and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Sam stretched out, smoothly resting his arm along the back of your chair. You tipped your head.

“Can I help you with something?”

Sam was cheeky. “Long limbs.”

“Right.”

He chuckled, turning to look at you. “How was your first month of school? I kinda wish we had a class together. Maybe next semester.”

Sam was genuine, you had learned that rather quickly. When he asked how are you, he meant it. He wanted to hear stories about your four other schools and how it worked out. Turns out Sam moved to Valhalla when he was ten and one of his best friends, Riley, was attending Ria High. He said he had a hard time entering high school without Riley but it seemed to turn out pretty alright in the end.

“I survived, so I guess it was fine,” you shrugged. “Can’t complain too much.”

“Exactly. You met me, so there is no complaining allowed.”

You liked Sam. Sam was good people, especially when he could get you to laugh.

“Just wait until she actually knows you, then she’ll complain nonstop,” Bucky pushed back his chair causing it to scrape the floor.

“You just hate the fact that I am likable and the cutest one of the group, man.”

Bucky flipped Sam off, getting up with Clint. The two exited through the side door. You watched them through the window standing under the awning to shield themselves from the rain. Bucky placed a cigarette between his lips, chatting with the few others out there. Clint mimicked his actions but you highly doubted it was nicotine due to his constant bloodshot eyes.

“Do you smoke?” You asked Sam. You had never seen him smoke, but there were such things as occasional smokers.

He shook his head, “Not my thing. Just whiskey and beer for me. Guess everyone has their bad habits and that’s theirs.”

You agreed, sipping on your milkshake. Your eyes found their way back to the window. Using the toe of his combat boot, Bucky squished the end of the cigarette and yanked open the door. Him and Clint returned to the table just as the food arrived. Clint’s new stronger smell was lingering to his jacket. He leaned over and grabbed a fist full of fries. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Clint could eat anything in sight.

The conversation flowed easily. Sam stole a few sips of your milkshakes when he thought you weren’t looking, although you scolded him after. A fellow student approached, Connie Anderson. You had seen her around school and sometimes you heard the boys speak of her. Connie was beautiful with soft brown hair and big brown eyes, her nose was turned up and cheeks rosy. She floated gracefully to the end of the table saying a brief hello to the group before her attention was solely on Bucky.

He was reclined, head leaned back to look up at her. Connie’s hand glided around the leather of his letterman sleeve and stopped at his hand, lifting it up to lace their fingers. You were puzzled. Were Bucky and Connie a thing? You hadn’t recalled but when did you really pay a lot of attention to Bucky? His hand rested on her hip, finger locking around the belt loop to tug her closer. She effortlessly obliged, going as far to use his lap as a seat.

You forced yourself to drag your gaze away. Staring for too long would be creepy and you weren’t in the mood for some snippy comment from Bucky. You felt a little awkward, shifting in your chair. There was an unfamiliar pang in the pit of your stomach that made you slightly unsettled. Nausea? Maybe. You scooted back, getting up and rounding the table. You caught Bucky’s head snap to watch you walk to the bathroom. Peggy was hot on your trail.

“What’s wrong?” Peggy caught the swinging door before it closed.

“Nothing, Peg,” you replied. “Just, you know, trying to go to the bathroom…”

Peggy blinked, almost unsure. “Right. Sorry. You got up quick from the table and I was on high alert.”

“Peggy,” you pushed out a laugh. “Go back. Steve will get worried about you.”

She had no counter remark. Peggy’s cheeks flushed, ducking her head before scurrying out of the bathroom. Your own smile faded as the door closed, breathing in deeply. The pang was subsiding. You rested against the subway tiled wall and mindlessly scrolled through your phone until an appropriate amount of time passed. Whatever that feeling was, it didn’t make you feel the greatest.

A few booths became occupied as you wandered back to the table. Bucky and Connie were gone from their spots. You eased back down to sit beside Sam, eyes lingering on the empty chair that was once Bucky’s. Everyone seemed to be finished with their meal having pulled out some cash.

“I didn’t get a bill.” Your brows furrowed looking at the others with their own checks.

“You sure?” Sam lifted up some napkins and looked around to make sure he hadn’t grabbed yours.

“I think Bucky paid for you. Saw him go up to the register and pay.” Peggy said.

“Why the hell would he do that?”

“Hey, don’t question it. You just got free food!” Clint patted your arm with a goofy smile.

No one seemed to have anything else to say, shrugging it off and getting up from their seats. It didn’t sit right with you. What was Bucky playing at? You didn’t need your meal paid for when you were capable of doing it yourself. You huffed quietly, following the others. The rain let up to a mist, pavement slick and street lights glowing orange. You got into Peggy’s car, closing the door and sighing. Peggy and Steve lingered in front of the doors, Steve talking and rubbing the back of his next. Peggy had her hands behind her back, nervously twiddling with her fingers.

Ridiculous, you thought. They were both absolutely ridiculous.

Peggy climbed into the chair a few moments later, starting the engine and smoothing down her hair. You were silent but gave her a knowing grin to which she laughed and reversed out of the spot.

“Is Bucky dating Connie?”

Peggy glanced over at a red light. “I won’t call it dating. Everyone knows Connie has had a crush on Bucky since the tenth grade but it’s not… well…”

You could piece the rest together. Bucky didn’t feel the same except for when it was convenient and he was down for a fuck. You weren’t sure why it surprised you. If anything it validated his lack of morale. Then again, it wasn’t of your concern as long as it was consensual. You continued to look out the window as Peggy drove back to your neighbourhood. She parked in her driveway and you jogged across the street, waving goodnight.

Evenings were quiet while your mother worked at the hospital on rotating shifts. You locked the door and left the porch light on for her, going upstairs. You settled into bed, taking the book assigned to you from your English Lit teacher to read. Your eyes scanned the words but your mind found itself drifting elsewhere.

Bucky failed to show up to first period on Monday. The desk beside you was vacant, no trace of him to be found. It was the first day it was quiet. He wasn’t there to poke at you with his pen or whisper something unimportant during Pierce’s long winded lecture. Too quiet, you thought. A strange new quiet that somehow made you feel uncomfortable. You actually wrote thorough notes, taking the time to highlight and underline emphasized words. You did, however, wonder what Bucky would say about Pierce’s continuously receding hairline.

“He’s going to turn into Skeletor.”

Your eyes rolled over to look at Bucky. He appeared quite content with his cartoon reference. He had his pen between his teeth, slouched posture with his left arm dangling off the desk.

“Does that make you He-Man?” You whispered back.

Bucky removed the pen, quite surprised you had humoured him in replying. He had a dumb grin on his face and immediately you regretted speaking.

“Only if you’re Teela.”

You scoffed, “Fat chance.”

The bell rang and tore you from you short memory. You packed up and headed to the second floor where you were greeted with Steve’s absent desk, too. You frowned, now today really was going to drag.

It came to your attention at lunch that when the boys had an away game that they got the day “off” due to travel. The bus didn’t leave until the afternoon but sometimes they’d have full morning practices. Or, as Natasha imputed, most of them would just fuck off and sleep like Clint until it was time to go. From your spot at the lunch table outside you could see the student parking lot. Bucky’s Jeep was in its usual spot so he had to be around, maybe in the weight room with Steve, you thought. The bus would be rolling out soon. The table was mute with Peggy doing homework and Natasha on her phone. You missed the chatter.

Even at dinner with your mother you were quiet. Your fork mulled over the green beans, elbow propped on the table with your palm pressed to your cheek. There were no new things to tell her about and overall you felt slightly gloomy. Perhaps it was the changing weather, that always seemed to affect people's mood. Scientific fact. Tomorrow would be better.

You couldn’t decipher if it was a hickey or a bruise from a football collision on Bucky’s collarbone. The collar of his black crew neck shirt was slightly stretched out and dipping downward to reveal the purple-ish blemish. It wasn’t massive, but it was noticeable. Besides, it wasn’t like you were going to ask him what happened, you cared a miniscule amount and if it was from Connie’s mouth then, well… She was certainly marking her territory. There was that foreign pang again.

Bucky shifted, noticing your not so secretive examination and adjusted his shirt. Your cheeks burned and you mentally scolded yourself for letting him catch your longing stare. Surprisingly he didn’t say a word, nothing snarky or witty to get you to groan. Instead he packed up as the bell sounded, shoving his books into his backpack. You scooped up your belongings and took long strides to the door, making a B-line back to your locker. In three quick twists your lock was open and you breathed out, replacing your history textbook to the top shelf. You couldn’t even recall what the last twenty minutes of class was about. Hopefully nothing dire.

You exchanged your green notebook for your red English one and grabbed the novel from your bag.

“I know you.”

You turned seeing Tony Stark casually leaning against the lockers. His arms were folded with a smirk on his lips, appraising your face.

“Correction: I think I know you.” Tony amended. “Jog my memory for me?”

You half laughed, a brow risen. “We sort of met. I’m friends with Peggy and Nat. Just moved here a month ago. Honorary new girl status. Sorry I crashed your party.”

“I wished I would have invited you myself,” he said. “Would have personally given you a grand tour of Casa Stark. There’s always next time.”

You grew intrigued. Tony must have had the resident party house. “Oh? When’s next time?”

“What’s next time?”

Bucky’s voice came from behind and you tensed for a moment. Tony looked past you, eye narrowed and crossed arms tightened. You could already feel hostility between the two.

“Run along, Barnes. Don’t you have footballs to catch?”

Bucky snorted, glancing down at you. “Is he bothering you?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Tony was already snapping back. “That’s rich coming from the dick who dumped his beer on her to get her into bed. Can’t expect that to work on every girl with a pretty face, Barnes.”

Your eyes darted between the two men, appalled with the accusations. Tony did know you.Your mind buzzed, slamming your locker door closed. You wanted nowhere near this conversation and your next class was going to start in two minutes.

“Hey—“ Bucky jogged around to your front, halting your brisk pace. “He’s lying. You know it was an accident, I apologized. Still trying to.”

“Bucky. Just leave me alone. I don’t care.” You cut around him. He continued to follow.

“Stark’s an ass, he’ll say anything to better himself and get a girl under him. I don’t do that shit. You don’t know him.”

“Then what is it that you’re doing? Interrupting a conversation I’m having? Stalking me down the hallway? I don’t need you to be looking out for me, I don’t need you monitoring who I talk to and I don’t need you to buy my meal. I’m a big girl. I can handle shit, too. You don’t know me.”

Bucky’s mouth formed a firm line. He shut up, but you knew he had something else to say. He opened his notebook and retrieved some loose papers and handed them to you. “I guess I don’t know that these are your study notes that you rewrite every other day. The pink highlighter means exam worthy and yellow is quick notes.You dropped them when you bolted out of class. I was coming to give them to you. Sorry for trying to be a decent guy.”

You looked at the papers in your face, grabbing them from his fingers. They were crinkled now but he was right; you’d just rewrite them another day. Bucky pivoted when the bell rang again, marching down the hallway and disappearing into the cluster of students. You sighed and folded the papers, tucking them into your notebook and heading for the stairs. Another pang bounced in your stomach, but this time you knew it was guilt.

Lunch. You dreaded the thought.

You had leftovers from the night before: pasta salad and some banana bread. You plopped yourself on the end of the two picnic tables beside Clint. Bucky sat at the far end of the other side; shoulders tight and head resting against his hand and occupied his other hand with his phone. Clint didn’t sit long, getting up for his lunch break smoke. Bucky declined but handed Clint his black lighter, threatening him if he didn’t get it back he’d kick his ass.

“You okay, Buck?” You heard Steve ask.

“Tired.” He mumbled.

You sighed, setting your fork down and closed your eyes. You did feel the need to apologize. Peggy sat across with her tray of cafeteria food, friendly smile. “Rough morning? Pierce draining your soul?”

“Something like that.”

Peggy placed her brownie in between the two of you and divided it in half with her plastic knife to share. You gave a small smile, breaking off a piece and popped the chocolatey treat into your mouth.

“Bucky! I need ten dollars.”

Bucky’s head rose from his phone as you glanced over seeing a younger girl walk up to his side of the picnic table. She wore ripped jeans and a slouchy sweater and her wavy brunette hair was brushing her shoulders.

“What happen to the twenty dad gave you yesterday?”

The girl shrugged, folding her arms. “Come on. I’ll pay you back.”

Siblings.

You had heard Bucky did have siblings, three actually. He was the oldest, only boy and the rest were girls. You watched their encounter, surveying their body language to one another. Bucky was annoyed as his little sister was nagging him for money.

“Steve, tell Bucky I’ll pay him back.” She pouted.

Steve chuckled. “I can’t help ya there, Becca.”

Becca sighed, looking back at her brother who still wasn’t budging to get his wallet.

“She’s his little sister, right?” You whispered to Peggy.

She nodded. “Becca’s a sophomore. Her and Sam’s sister Sarah are really good friends. And you know Peter Parker, the photographer for yearbook? He has the biggest crush on Becca. It’s adorable.”

You smiled. Peter was a sweet kid. You had chatted a few times but it was nothing serious. He always had a camera in his hand and a smile on his face.

Becca sat down on the bench, huffing. Natasha had an amused smirk as she munched on a small bag of plain chips. “How do you deal with him? He can’t even give his own little sister ten dollars!” Becca was dramatic with big hand gestures and exasperation.

Peggy laughed softly as Nat spoke. “We tend to ignore him more often than not.”

Bucky grumbled, throwing a balled up napkin at her from across the way. Becca shook her head, glancing over at you with newfound curiosity. “Hey, you’re the new girl right? Bucky talks about you. He is, right, you are pretty. Usually he dates girls that--”

Becca was yanked away by the older Barnes, ten dollars slapped into her hand. She had a satisfied grin plastered on her face. Pure triumph. Bucky scolded her silently, telling her to get lost.

“Goodbye friends.” She waved, successfully skipping off back to her little group of friends.

You sat in confusion. You weren’t sure why you were surprised Bucky talked about you. Everyone was bound to talk about the new girl in school to their families. Besides football and classes, you were probably the most interesting topic. Bucky appeared frustrated. His fingers dragged through his hair as he shoved his tray aside and got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Sam spoke but Bucky took off down the path to the east wing of the building.

“Bad News Barnes going to take his emotions out against punching bag?” Clint took Bucky’s seat. “Becca get under his skin that bad today?”

“He’s fine.” Steve got up, though. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Guess Barnes isn’t getting his lighter back.” Clint quipped.

You watched Steve head down the same path, slipping into the school before the doors closed. You turned back to your barely touched food. Hunger didn’t exist right now. You felt bad for snapping at him and now his little sister dampened his mood more.

“I’ll see you in yearbook.” You murmured to Peggy and excused yourself from the table. Peggy frowned but let you go.

The rest of the day was slow, dragging on for what seemed like a century. Yearbook felt the same but at least it distracted you enough from feeling terrible. The halloween fair was quickly approaching and planning was underway for the event. It sounded exciting. The fair was set up in one of the farm fields of a booster parent. There was going to be a corn maze, hayride, haunted house with games and fun. Apparently it was always so extravagant. Yearbook didn’t have to run it but there was going to be a page dedicated to it through Peter’s photography skills.

Peggy offered you a drive home but you politely declined, opting to walk to clear your mind. Truthfully you were moseying around until football practice was over. You could see the team heading back into the locker room so you had time to sit around and think of something to say to Bucky. You hovered by the side door, gripping the straps of your backpack. Sam and Steve emerged, walking towards the gate to venture home. Clint trailed behind. Bucky was one of the last ones to exit, slow pace as he scrolled through his phone and headed towards the student parking lot. You breathed in and forced your feet to move.

“Hey,” you called. Bucky glanced up from his phone, arching a brow. You approached him and his car. “I um, I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

“Today,” you replied. “I was kind of a bitch this morning so I wanted to apologize for that.”

Bucky shrugged. He was somber and cool. “Don’t worry about it.”

You nodded. At least your apology was out there whether he cared or not for it. Your hands slipped into the back pockets of your jeans. Silence fell over the two of you for several moments accompanied with awkward half stares and shifting.

“I gotta get home for dinner,” you mumbled. “See you in class.”

You turned on your heel, wishing you could simply teleport home from this encounter.

“I’m not like that. What Tony said. I promise.” Bucky stated. “I guess you don’t gotta believe me but…”

You stopped and looked at your shoes. Admittedly, you weren’t too sure what to believe. Both Tony and Bucky had thrown each other under the bus to make themselves look better. You twisted back to look at Bucky. He had his keys in his hand, eyes darted away as if he was nervous and wanted to jump into his car and speed away.

“Okay.” You nodded to him. It was acknowledgment.

His blue eyes shyly found their way to you, nodding too. “Okay.” He echoed.

Another set of stares, this time less awkward and more acceptance. Bucky unlocked his car and climbed into the front seat. You quickly turned and went on your own way.

At least the dust had settled for today.

A clump of sweaters lay on the floor beside your closet as you searched for the warmest one. A brisk wind was sweeping through Valhalla and you knew that being outside all night was going to get to your bones. You tugged a burgundy woolly sweater off its hanger, pulling it over your head and looking at yourself in the floor length mirror. This would do, you thought. It accompanied your black jeans nicely and you were going to chuck on a coat over top. You grabbed your Adidas and tied them to your feet just as a horn beeped outside.

“Mom! I’m going!” You called, jogging down the stairs. Your mother emerged from the cinnamon scent-filled kitchen with a wide grin and treats in her hand.

“One for you and Peggy.” She said, handing you some cinnamon rolls. “I’ll leave some here for you, and the rest I’m going to bring for the girls at work later.”

You smiled, shrugging on your coat and took the autumnal treat. “Thanks, mom. Have a good night at work.”

She opened the door for you, waving to Peggy who happily waved in return. You slid into the passenger's seat, handing Peggy the roll.

“You mother is a baking genius.” Peggy gushed, taking a bite before driving off.

You laughed and clicked your seatbelt. “No Nat?”

“She’s with Clint and Steve. They’re going to meet us there.”

You munched and looked out the window. The sun was low in the sky; orange and red swirls that matched the changing tree leaves. Peggy took backroads to the country side of the town and there were a line of cars parked on the road leading up to the farm for the Halloween Fair. Peggy pulled into a dirt lot, parking the car. You got out with her, tightening your coat around yourself as the breeze swirled around you.

There was a two dollar donation fee at the front gate and once paid, you got a Casper stamp on your hand and a sticker. It was a little silly but you liked the sticker. You trailed behind Peggy taking in the extravagant decorations. You felt like you were in a Halloweentown movie with the orange and black scheme going as far as the eye could see. There were light up pumpkins, scarecrows, and people dressed up as monsters. Hay was stacked like mountains and there were small food stands scattered around. Bobbing for apples, face painting, s’mores pit. It was truly incredible.

“Pegs!”

Peggy gripped onto your arm and hauled you towards Steve and the others. Clint already had caramel corn in his hand, munching away contently.

“Couldn’t wait?” You laughed, stealing a few pieces.

“No way, this shit is good.” Clint grinned.

“The stragglers have arrived.” Nat popped her gum with her arms folded over her chest. You followed her eyeline to Bucky and Sam. In tow was Becca and Sarah, splitting off to go find their own friends.

Bucky had on a dark grey hoodie under his lettermans jacket. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans, feet cladded in his well worn boots. He stood next to Steve, taking one hand and combed through his hair with his fingers. The wind was bound to be his nemesis for his too good perfect hair. It was annoying that he looked like a male model for a autumn line preppy campaign.

“Ready for some thrills?” Sam swung his arm over your shoulders.

You winced. “Might have forgotten to mention I’m not so good with pop outs.”

Sam gave a toothy grin. “You’re in luck, sugar. You’ve got me to protect you from any harm that comes your way.”

“A true hero.” You laughed, patting Sam’s chest.

You caught the tail end of Bucky turning away and rolling his eyes. Your teeth bit down on your tongue, starting to walk when Sam did. His arm never let up not that you really mind. Sam’s body shielded you from the cold and he was a warm person.

Peggy and Steve lead the pack. You watched as their arms bumped and hands brushed. Peggy pulled him over to one of the vendors that had apple cider and he paid for the both of them. The forever ongoing chronicles of two lovebirds too shy to make a move. It was sweet, something you thought of every so often. The thought of being longed after and those fuzzy feelings. The last crush you truly had was a few years ago back in Illinois. Freshman year, really nothing special but he was cute. You got a kiss out of it right before leaving for Indiana.

Twisting in Sam’s hold, you peered behind you. Natasha and Bucky were lagging behind in a discussion. All you could make out was Nat calling him stupid and Bucky shrugged her off, head shaking and hands deep into his jacket pockets. Something about him read agitated. Your brows furrowed but you turned forward with the gigantic barn coming into view.

The old red barn had been transformed into a haunted house. Already your skin was crawling, stomach in knots. Thankfully there was a line to wait in and gain some form of confidence. You reminded yourself that there were people under masks and everything was fake. Yet… you still had the heebie-jeebies.

“They can’t touch you, ya know. If they do, sock ‘em in the jaw.” Clint nudged. You gave him a small smile and nodded.

The line proceeded to move, small groups entering in at a time. Your plan was to stick to being in the middle that way you had people around you. Luckily you did have Sam to protect you, like he said, and upon entering you tightly looped your arm through his going into complete darkness.

Lights flickered with menacing music and shrieking audio hitting your eardrums. Your eyes darted from each side of the small pathway; a masked monster popping out at your left and a Jason Voorhees swinging from the right. Your heart raced at the frights, death grip on Sam’s arm. He, too, was jumpy. Peggy screeched with Steve holding her close and from behind Clint swore loudly.

This was a poorly thought out decision. Your own damn decision.

Your eyes squeezed shut then reopened them as you passed an open casket with a mangled body. The group turned around a corner, coming to a sudden halt. You walked into the back of Steve and searched around the pitch black room for something but nothing came into vision. Within a quick second, strobes of light were flashing illuminating the room. An inhumane voice cackled and goosebumps shot up your spine. You leaped back as ghouls and the undead popped out. You covered yours eyes for a moment, whipping around and grabbed the air to find Sam again. A demon emerged from the darkness, stunning you backwards and a scream jumped out of your throat.

A hand gripped your arm. You latched onto the familiar leather sleeve and held on for dear life. It felt like your heart was going to explode in your chest. Your head was dizzy with gorge and horror.

“You’re okay.”

Your eyes slowly opened at the voice in your ear. It wasn’t Sam, nor Clint. It was Bucky. In that moment you didn’t care who it was you just wanted to get your ass out of the damn stupid barn. You moved when Bucky did as he found an exit. You cut between some black curtains and squeezed out through a half open door to the outside. Letting go, you stumbled before sitting down on a hay stack; head in hands and feet digging into the dirt.

“Are they going to be mad at me?”

“Why the fuck would they be mad at you?” Bucky sat down beside you. “You didn’t have to go in.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “Thought I was brave enough. Stupid really, to be scared of people dressed up.”

Bucky shrugged. “Fear of the unknown.”

You lifted your head and breathed out a sigh. You could hear screams and laughter. At least it was entertaining some people. You, on the other hand, were glad to be outside.

“Come on,” Bucky stood. “I think I saw mini donuts and hot chocolate.”

You looked up at him, brows furrowed but you rose to your feet. There was no way you could pass up mini donuts.

Cinnamon and powdered sugar donuts filled the white paper bags. You nibbled on one as Bucky got two hot chocolates and carried them over to the small round wooden table you sat at. He took the seat across and placed the paper cups on the table. Mini marshmallows floated in the steamy drink. You sipped as he dug his hand into the bag.

“When we were seven, Steve and I watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre and I had nightmares for three months. Slept with my light on, too.”

You half smiled, “That’s awful.”

“Yeah. It was the edited version too because it was on TV so most of the gory shit was cut but still. Freaked me out.” Bucky laughed at him, taking another donut. “So I don’t really care for haunted house stuff either.”

“Then why did you go in?”

His shoulders shrugged. “Changed my mind.” “What made you change your mind?” “You went in and I thought I was brave enough.” He echoed your words.

You stared at him for a few moments, although Bucky’s blue eyes danced around to everything but you. There was that shy appearance again that you had only seen once before.

“What the hell is this?!”

Clint’s voice boomed causing your heads to snap. The others wandered over each with their own amused expressions. Clint stood in front of the table, arms securely folded over his chest; impatient and foot tapping.

“Uhh,” Bucky blinked. “We’re sitting…?”

“You guys got mini donuts without me? Me! Barnes, you know I love mini donuts and you went ahead and replaced me?” Clint was melodramatic, arms beginning to wave around frantically.

You couldn’t contain your laughter as it was far too entertaining.

“Barton, relax.” Bucky shook his head. “They’re just donuts, you can go get some more.”

“Just donuts? Nat, you hear this guy?” Clint turned to Natasha, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb back at Bucky. “He said they’re just donuts. Un-fucking-believable.”

“Tragic, really.” Natasha drawled.

You reached forward, grasping Clint’s arm to turn him back. “Clint, how high are you?” You asked, offering him the paper bag.

“Not enough,” he beamed and gladly took the bag, shoving a powdered donut into his mouth. “At least someone has manners around here.” He muffled.

“Hey uh, Peggy and I are going to go to the corn maze.” Steve had a nervous quiver in his tone, pointing towards the corn maze sign. No one really said anything, simple nods as they ventured away.

“Five bucks says Cap makes his move.” Sam bet when they were out of earshot.

“Five bucks says he pussy’s out like he always does.” Nat countered.

Sam turned to look at her, “You challenging me, Romanoff?”

“What’s there to challenge when I’m already right?”

You smile to yourself, holding onto your hot chocolate that was now more lukewarm. The marshmallows had melted and it tasted more like water chocolate. Still, it was decent. You glanced over at the corn maze as Steve and Peggy disappeared inside. You hoped for the best but Steve (nor Peggy) seemed to have the best track record in trying. Looking back, Bucky had finished his drink and got up to throw away the garbage.

Natasha’s confidence prevailed and sneakily Sam slipped her a five dollar bill. She pocketed it with a wick smirk, patting his shoulder.

“You couldn’t have asked her out?” Sam hissed to Steve from behind you.

“Were you betting on me again?” Steve whispered back.

“Yeah, remind me to never do that again.”

The walk back to the parking lot seemed farther than when you originally arrived. You had lapped the fair a few times and perhaps you should have worn better shoes. Your nose was cold and you shoulders hurt from bracing yourself from the wind. Despite the haunted house, it had turned out to be a relatively fun evening. Bucky’s arm brushed against yours when he caught up to you.

“Think you’ll have nightmares tonight?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I’ll sleep with the light on.” You said.

He smiled at you, “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Bucky! Unlock the car, it’s freezing!” Becca yelled from the trunk of her brother’s car. She had her arms wrapped around herself and Sarah Wilson dancing around to keep warm. “Hi new girl!”

You waved, half smiling. Bucky dug out his keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors. The girls sighed in relief and climbed into the car. “She’s knows your name. Becca’s just annoying.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “Guess I’ll see you Monday.”

“8:30, bright and early.” Bucky quipped.

You spun away, catching yourself softly laughing as you made your way to Peggy’s car. She was already in the front see ready to go. She had a mischievous look on her face, gripping the wheel as you settled in.

“You and Bucky seemed rather buddy-buddy tonight.” Peggy commented.

“Can’t be rude when someone buys me donuts.” Your tone was dulled, downplaying it a little. Yeah, you and Bucky were on the same page tonight and truthfully it was nice to simply be and talk. Maybe you were turning a new leaf about the guy.

Peggy hummed, not convinced but didn’t press. She started the car and drove home. It was mainly quiet. You were lost in replaying the evening and Peggy had her own distractions.

“I think I love him.” Peggy’s voice was just above a whisper, nearly hard to hear over the radio. “Steve, I mean.”

Your head rest back against the seat. “He loves you too.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

permanent bucky list: **IF YOU HAVE CHANGED YOUR URL PLEASE LET ME KNOW. @buckychrist @bvcks @lila-bard @stanclub @stardustparker @buckybarnesppreciationsociety @sweetwaterprincess @demongirl0913 @queenlydias @dontpanc @ohkingsteve @kingsebstan @cauraphernelia @yourwonderbelle @beauty-who-doesnt-need-a-beast @bleedlikerubies @fallenaristocat @bubblybuckybarnes @solarbarnes @my-world97 @mystic-scripture @ragnarokbarnes @kali-rambles @pao-prazz @thorins-queen-of-erebor @eventyyr @abbadontherisingqueen @lovinglokiforever @justasimpleassbitch @red-wallflowers @brooklynightsky @hellaqueerangelofthelord @yknott81 @rvmanova @blame-the-russo-bros@buckybarneshairpullingkink @laurfangirl424

CYM *tags open*: @villainsaremorerelatable @akamaiden @sofreakinmanyfandoms @smolbeanthings @noshitstark @memory-of-a-goldfish @lizfawn @moonstruckhargrove @pizzabarnes@moonbeambucky @csigeoblue @marco-hvittyvik @sgtbookybarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #fic: change your mind #chelsfam #sierrasfam #userten

144 notes · View notes

our-smooty · 5 years

Text

Take Me to Church Chapter 23: Forward

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

The First Session - Stuart

“And what are your goals for therapy?”

So far, this session with his new therapist was going well. It wasn’t much different from sessions he’d had in the past, she’d asked him for some information, he’d told her about his past, and now they were talking about goals. Only 2D hadn’t really thought about why he was going to therapy, aside from encouraging Murdoc to go.

“I uh, I don’t really know,” he admitted, biting a nail. “ I was mostly jus’ comin’ because Murdoc said he would.”

She added a note to her file. “OK. Well, is there anything you’d like to work on?”

Stu thought for a little while, before remembering the incident in the kitchen. “I get scared, sometimes. About Murdoc, but also other things.”

“Hmm, I understand. You feel that in certain situations, you’re more afraid than you should be?”

“Y-yeah! Even when I know I’m safe I jus’...” he trailed off with a shrug. Since the time in the kitchen, he’d been noticing other little reactions that didn’t always make sense. One time Murdoc laughed loudly at something on the TV, and he immediately tensed up, afraid. Another time, Russel had dropped a cup and the smashing glass nearly frightened Stu to tears.

“Alright, is there anything else?” 2D thought back again, but couldn’t really put his finger on a specific thing.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t think of anything.”

She made a few more notes, then closed her book, smiling. “Well, that sounds like a good place to start then!” They talked for a few more minutes about things before time was up. 2D left feeling relatively relaxed and a little bit hopeful.

It wasn’t a very long drive home, and within an hour he was stepping through the front door of Wobble Street. He was greeted by Katsu, who wound his way between his legs, purring loudly.

“‘Ello little buddy,” he cooed, leaning down to scritch behind the cat’s ears. When he straightened up again he saw Murdoc at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall. “Hello to you too, Muds.”

“Hey there, Bluebird,” the bassist drawled. He was wearing trackies and a tight-fitting t-shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep. The corner of his lip twitched like he was suppressing a smile. 2D didn’t bother hiding his, beaming at the other as he walked forward to wrap his arms around him.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” the singer teased, letting one of his hand's fiddle with the ends of Murdoc’s hair. The bassist did smile at that, craning his head up to mouth at Stu’s neck and jaw.

“Very happy,” he growled before beginning to suck a hickey into the taller’s neck. 2D gasped, then groaned as Murdoc worked, giving himself over completely to the older’s whims.

“M-Murdoc!” Now the bassist had a hand at the front of Stu’s pants, kneading at the burgeoning hardness there. 2D really, really hoped Russel wasn’t home.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” 2D nodded fervently, letting Murdoc turn and pull him up the stairs. He felt a little bit like a teenager again, silly and randy without a care. It was nice, to let loose like that sometimes.

Murdoc’s room was closest. The door was only just closing behind them as Murdoc sank to his knees, expertly unbuttoning Stu’s jeans and nuzzling against his crotch.

“S-shit Muds! G-gimmie a warning next t-time!” he squeaked. Murdoc chuckled lowly, moving to mouth at the singer’s cock through his briefs. 2D made eye contact with him and moaned.

“Woke up and you weren’t here,” Murdoc murmured, working Stu’s jeans and pants down and over his feet. “Wanted to feel you so bad, I couldn’t help myself.”

The singer hissed as Murdoc took him into his mouth, devilish tongue squirming around the tip. To anchor himself he threaded his fingers through Murdoc’s dark hair, knowing the bassist wouldn’t mind. As expected, the slight tugging made Murdoc whine, his eyes slipping shut in bliss.

Between the hot suction and the lewd noises Murdoc was making, 2D was a groaning, shaking mess in no time. He started thrusting his hips a little, and to his delight Murdoc immediately gave up control, letting the singer set the pace.

“So good--oh God M-Mudoc You're making me cu--!” White-hot pleasure burst from his core, forcing a shout from his lips. Murdoc took it all with a moan, the vibrations making everyone so much sweeter. By the time he stopped shaking and had the brainpower to look down, Murdoc was gasping through his own orgasm, hand in his pants and face pressed into Stu’s thigh.

“Holy hell,” he laughed, running his hands through Murdoc’s hair fondly. The bassist echoed the laugh with his own, slightly out of breath but no less pleased. They rested there against the door for a while as they both caught their breath, the space between them warm and close.

The Second Session - Stuart

He was late for his second session. The night before he’d been having trouble sleeping, so he’d taken some of his sleeping pills and then slept through the alarm and Murdoc’s inquiries. Then he’d been groggy and disoriented through the whole morning, not to mention his head had been hurting more than usual. Since he’d run out of headache pills earlier in the week, and finally realized how much of a dependence he had on them, he’d been trying to take less but it was so hard.

By the time he got into the therapist’s office, he was 15 minutes late and nearly in tears from the stress. He walked in and immediately sat down with his knees drawn up and fingers tapping away on his knees. She didn’t seem surprised by his state and waited for him to say something.

“So I--” he started, before stopping again to think. What was he going to say? “I-I don’t--”

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked. When he nodded she got up and went to the water cooler, handing him a paper cup filled with cool water. He drank, letting the chilly liquid calm him down. When he was done his breathing was more regular, and his shakes had stopped.

“Thanks,” he said, crushing the cup in his hands. “It’s been a rough mornin’.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Well,” he began ripping the paper cup into little bits, “I couldn’t sleep las’ night so I took some pills, and then I slep’ through my alarm. And my head was killin’ me, but I don’t wanna take my headache pills because I know I’ve been takin’ too many.” It all came out in a rush, like each word crawling over the next.

“You haven’t been taking your migraine medication at all?”

“Not really, unless it got so bad I couldn’t do nothing,” he answered, shrugging. Her eyebrows pinched together in concern. He’d had two headaches this week that had been so bad he couldn’t get up or move, and only then did he let Murdoc or Russel feed him his medication.

“Stuart, it’s dangerous to quite any medication so suddenly, especially if you’ve become addicted.” He looked down at his shoes, still shredding the cup.

“I-I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,” he admitted quietly. Each time he’d gone without his pills he’d been knocked on his arse by chills, nausea, and pain until Murdoc or Russel stepped in. “I didn’t notice I-I was takin’ so many.”

“It would be much safer to taper down to an appropriate dose,” she suggested. He knew that too, but...

“I dunno if I can do that myself… and I don’t really wanna give all my pills to Muds.” The memory of Murdoc’s most recent overdose was still too fresh.

“What about Russel? I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.”

“I don’t really wanna bug him though..” he trailed off. 2D knew that if he asked Russel wouldn’t mind, but he was still worried about annoying him. Russel had so much going on with his own life, was it really fair to ask him to help even more?

“Why don’t you ask him, and then if he says no we’ll figure out what to do from there?” He nodded in hesitant agreement, mostly because he didn't see any other way. “How was your week, otherwise?”

2D thought back. “Alrigh’ I guess. We visited Noodle again, though Murdoc stayed home. He, uh, he seemed pretty worked up after his first visit here but he was mostly alrigh’.”

“That’s good to hear. How is Noodle doing, and how are you doing since she’s been in the hospital?”

They talked a little back and forth, Stu sharing a couple of things, his therapist making suggestions here or there for ways he could do things differently. They talked a lot about Murdoc, and how their relationship was going. When the session came to an end he was feeling pretty relaxed, if not a little worn out from his headache, and he was glad when she finally closed her notebook and walked him out.

“Stu I’d like you to try keeping a journal. You can write whatever you like in it, but I think it may be helpful for you to be able to look back on your feelings from time to time.” He shrugged and agreed. He already had a music journal, maybe he could just use that.

Outside he sat on the curb and pulled out his phone. Since he hadn’t been feeling so good Murdoc had offered to drive him, which was a miracle in itself. The bassist had been on his best behaviour, following the speed-signs and stopping at every stop sign. For Murdoc it was nearly an unheard of amount of courtesy, and 2D made a mental note to thanks him. Then he made a physical note in his phone, knowing that if left to its own devices his brain would almost certainly throw out that bit of information.

He sent a quick text to the bassist to let him know he was done, then lit a fag. A slightly more intense twinge behind his eyes made him wince. He didn’t want to have to ask Russel to manage his medication on top of everything the drummer was already doing. Russ had enough on his plate with Noodle and Murdoc to worry about without Stu adding himself to the pile.

But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking too many pills when the pain got bad. And from there it was a slippery slope to taking them when it was a little bad, then to taking them when he was feelin’ upset. He knew that if left to himself he’d go right back to popping his medication at any chance he got. So he’d have to ask the drummer for help.

Murdoc pulled up to the front of the building and honked the horn twice, jolting Stu out of his thoughts and making his head throb. He’d been to caught up in thought to notice the little headache he’d had was turning into a much larger problem. Crushing his smoke under his shoe, he ambled around to the passenger side, getting in. Murdoc shot him a questioning look at the way he curled forward in his seat.

“You ok there Stu?” he asked, keeping the car in park. 2D shook his head no and blindly reached to the dashboard, searching for the pills he knew Murdoc kept there. The bassist caught on quickly, finding the bottle and tossing a few into his hand and holding it out. The feeling of pills sliding down his throat dry was a familiar one.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, curling forward even more. The headache he’d had in the office was slowly turning into another migraine. It would take a while for the pills to kick in, and those weren’t going to address his nausea. The pills he usually took for that were back at home, but the idea of the car moving was enough to set his stomach rolling.

“Is it a bad one?” Stu grunted a yes. It was too bright out, and he pressed his palms into his eyes until all the light was blocked out. After a few seconds, he felt the car shut off, and heard Murdoc unlock his seat belt, followed by the feeling of cold hands against his scalp. It felt so good.

“Here, take my jacket and put it over your head,” Murdoc said, handing the leather over. “At least until those pills kick in." It wasn’t completely dark under the coat, but it was better than nothing. Murdoc kept his hands stroking through 2D’s hair and gently massaging the tight muscles in his neck. The jacket smelled like Murdoc, and Stu tried to focus on that as he let the pills dow their job.

Within an hour the medication kicked in and 2D felt safe buckling himself in for the ride home. Murdoc gave him a gentle half-smile and made sure to take the least bumpy paths. Stu watched the world outside his window go by in a medicated haze, feeling like he hadn’t really made any progress. Maybe after he asked Russel for help he’d feel better? It was worth a try.

The Third Session - Stuart

“You’ve mentioned Plastic Beach a few times since we first met. Could you tell me a little more about it?” Fuck. She knew, she had to. He’d tried to be sneaky about avoiding the topic, mentioning it here and there in passing, but she’d still picked up on his reluctance.

“I-I don’t know what you want me t’say,” he answered, looking away. He’d never been very good at lying. He already felt the word vomit creeping up his throat. “I-it was pretty b-bad, but i-it’s over. I’m o-over it.”

“What made it so bad?” his therapist asked, making a few notes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He really didn’t want to talk about Plastic beach now; he wasn’t ready. He hadn’t prepared, he--

“M-Murdoc,” he stuttered out without meaning to. But once he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “H-he was h-horrible t’me, the w-whole time. H-he hurt me. A lot.”

Stu was breathing heavy now, the familiar prick of tears stinging his eyes. “A-and I know he w-wasn’t right then. H-he was sick. B-but…”

She was watching him now, he knew. It was pretty obvious she had some idea of how bad Plastic Beach had been, either from Murdoc or through the internet. “But I--I still t-think about it. I-I have dreams.”

“Does Murdoc still hurt you now?” she asked, voice a tiny bit harder than normal. He could see the relief on her face when he answered.

“N-no. He hasn’t since we came back, except for in one of our videos. B-but that was fake…” the hit with the shoe had still hurt a little, though not as much as it could have for sure.

“Have you talked to Murdoc about it?”

2D didn’t want to answer, because he knew that she’d tell him he should talk about it. Everyone was always pushing him to talk about it, to get over it, but he wasn’t ready--

“It’s OK, if you aren’t ready to yet,” she said instead. He snapped his head up to look at her and only then noticed he was crying.

“I-I,” Stu croaked. His throat wasn’t working, he wanted to talk about it so bad but he couldn’t yet. “It s-still hurts. I can’t y-yet.”

She nodded and handed him a box of tissues. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, Stuart. You’re the one who sets the limits.” It felt good to be told he didn’t have to be ok, that he didn’t have to be open and willing to talk about what were frankly the worst months of his life. “You are an adult, and if you trust Murdoc now to not do what he did then, that’s your choice.”

“T-thanks.” He blew his nose and sniffed a little, smiling just a bit. “I know I-I need to talk about it eventually, b-but… Not now.”

“Do you have anything else you want to talk about today?”

Later that night, long after he’d gotten home and crawled into his bed, Murdoc tiptoed through his door. Normally they spent most of the day together, but after the session he’d had, well he needed some time alone. It honestly surprised him that the bassist hadn’t come in before, knowing how Murdoc didn’t always respect personal space very well.

“You awake, D?” the bassist whispered into the dark space. 2D thought about not answering and continuing to wallow.

“...Yeah.”

He could hear Murdoc’s quiet breathing and the sound of bare feet against carpet. “Can I come in?”

The promise of warmth and comfort was enough to draw him out of the covers. “..Yeah.”

Murdoc closed the door and slid under the covers, right behind Stu. How could that warmth be both everything he needed and everything he didn’t want at the same time?

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

If Murdoc was surprised by his refusal, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gently slid an arm around the singer’s waist and pulled him close. “OK, Bluebird. OK. Why don’t I tell you what Russel and I got up to today instead?”

“OK,” Stu sighed, happy to listen to the other prattle on about whatever if it meant they could stay the way they were. He felt comfortable, and secure, and maybe a little bit hopeful. But he was also kind of sad, and a little bit angry. Maybe that was part of it, part of getting better.

#takemetochurchfic #2doc #murdoc niccals #Stuart Pot #tw suicide #tw violence #tw car accident #tw DRUGS AND ALCOHOL #tw hospital

9 notes · View notes