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ddixons-angel · 4 years

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Fated: Season 4

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: New chapter is here~ Yay~~ Let’s just jump straight into it ^^ Let me know your thoughts on this one~!

Chapter 8

Gloria was sound asleep in her cell, her back to Daryl as she lay on her side, her front side facing the wall on the inner side of the bed. His arm was draped around her waist, spooning her close to him as he slept peacefully by her side. Their slumber was suddenly interrupted by distant screaming and gunshots firing within the prison. Daryl jolts up at the sound, startling Gloria awake at the sudden movement. She rubs her eyes of sleep with the back of her hand then looks to Daryl as he gets up from the bed.

“Get to the infirmary.” Daryl orders her as he picks up his crossbow and bolts out of the cell.

Gloria complies with his words, throwing on her army green jacket and equipping herself with her belt of daggers, she rushes to the infirmary. Seeing that a woman and her daughter are already there waiting for her in tears, Gloria ushers them into the infirmary, sitting them down and checking on them. They had minor scrapes and cuts on their arms and legs but nothing life threatening.

“What happened?” Gloria asks once she’s done patching up the two.

“Walkers...” the woman chokes out.

Her answer earns a baffled look from Gloria. How could walkers get into the prison? They’d cleared out the prison and blocked off any possible entrances, there was no way walkers could break into the walls, at least not without anyone knowing. After making sure the two are fine, she sends them off to the main area to find Rick, telling them that he’ll know what to do. A few more people come to the infirmary, Gloria recognizes them all as residents of Cell Block D. Now knowing that there was somehow a walker attack, she checks them all for bites. Fortunately, she only finds minor injuries, some worse than others but not a single bite. Gloria tells them the same thing she had told the woman with her daughter, to find Rick in the main area. Moments later, Hershel and Caleb meet Gloria at the infirmary.

“Hey, I heard there was a walker attack in Cell Block D.” Gloria states, concern evident in her voice, Hershel and Caleb both nod at her, “how’d they even get in?”

“That’s the thing, they didn’t.” Hershel starts, “one of the kids, Patrick, he died overnight because of a cold and turned.”

Gloria feels the blood drain from her face, “P-Patrick...? I saw him yesterday... he barely had a cold, how could he-”

“This is something that progressed extremely fast, it’s not your fault.” Caleb jumps in before Gloria could finish speaking, “none of us would have been able to see the signs.”

“I just told him to rest and drink lots of water and to see one of us in the morning if he doesn’t feel better...” Gloria slums down in the chair, looking down.

“We would have told him the same thing, Gloria.” Hershel tells her in attempts to comfort her.

Caleb nods, “we wouldn’t have seen his symptoms and think of them as deadly.”

Gloria sighs, her eyes welling up with tears, “I should have just given him antibiotics, then none of this would have happened, he might not have died...”

“Judging by how frail he was and with his immune system, antibiotics might not have done anything for him.” Hershel reminds her.

Accepting that there was nothing that she could have done, she nods and looks up at Hershel and Caleb, “so, what’s Rick’s plan?”

“How are we doing with antibiotics?” Hershel asks, gesturing to the bins, “if anyone else is infected with the cold or whatever it is, we need to be prepared.”

“The last time I checked, we were running low.” Gloria says as she gets up to check the bins where they kept the medicine, then sighs, “we don’t even have enough for even one person if they end up sick.”

Hershel purses his lips in deep thought, “we’re going to hold a council meeting tomorrow. For now, anyone who was in Cell Block D will be going to Cell Block A to be quarantined just in case.”

Gloria frowns at the mention of Cell Block A, “that’s death row...”

Hershel chuckles softly at her, “that’s the same tone Glenn used when Carol mentioned it earlier.”

“Are you sure you two aren’t twins?” Caleb jokes, grinning at her.

Gloria rolls her eyes playfully at him. The two other doctors take their leave as Gloria starts to tidy up the infirmary. As she’s putting back bins in their proper spots, Maggie appears at the door carrying Michonne with Carl beside them. Gloria looks at them and frowns.

“Are you guys okay?” she asks.

“Michonne hurt her ankle.” Maggie tells her as she lets the other woman sit on the patient bed.

“I’m fine.” Michonne grumbles but lets Gloria take a look at her ankle anyway.

She kneels in front of her, gently and carefully moving her ankle to examine how bad the damage is. Gloria takes notice every time Michonne tries not to let show that it hurts. Maggie had left the infirmary, telling the others that she needed to help Glenn and the others with the fence that was caving in from walkers.

“How bad is it?” Carl asks, standing beside Michonne.

“It’s sprained, not too badly though, but you should keep off it for now.” Gloria says, getting up to go to one of the shelves, “I’ll put a compression wrap on it to help it feel better”

Michonne nods as Gloria fishes out a package of compression bandage and goes back over to her. She kneels down again and starts to treat her ankle.

“Just like how you had to keep off your ankle for a month back at the farm?” Carl teases Gloria.

Gloria scoffs, “yes, exactly like that.”

“What happened?” Michonne tilts her head, slightly amused.

“I fell down a hill and sprained my ankle real bad. Daryl found me and took me back to Hershel’s farm.” Gloria squints at Carl, “and that’s where I found out that you got shot.”

Michonne gawks at Carl, “you never told me that.”

“Of course he didn’t, he only tells stories about when he looks cool.” Gloria teases back, earning a giggle from Carl.

“That’s not true! I told Michonne about when you took out that herd in the cabin even though you were really hurt because of Nina.” Carl retorts.

Gloria smirks at that, “thanks for spreading the word about me being a badass.”

Carl rolls his eyes and Michonne laughs, “I was sure Daryl would have killed her for that.”

“I thought so too, but thank God Rick was fast enough to hold both him and Glenn back.” Gloria says, then looks up at Michonne, “did you see her out there, by the way?”

Michonne sighs and shakes her head, “no, I didn’t see anyone out there, no Nina, no Governor, just walkers and trees.”

---

That night, Gloria was in her and Daryl’s cell sitting on the bed thinking about everything that happened that day and her mind drifted to her conversation with Michonne and Carl in the infirmary. She had taken off her jacket and was wearing a black tank top, her arms fully revealed to anyone who walked into the cell. Gloria hadn’t really thought about the incident, she just pushed it to the back of her mind since it was over and done with. Her hands wandered to the deep scars on her arms from when Nina had cut her to draw blood as a distraction for the walkers. They were the reason she never left her cell without a jacket or wearing a long sleeved shirt anymore, she needed something to cover up her scars. There wasn’t much she could do about the scar on her chest that always poked through the neck of her shirt, but she hated her scars on her arms. They gave her an insecurity she never felt before, and she wasn’t sure if she hated the feeling of being insecure more or her scars.

Daryl walks into the cell and sits beside her on the bed before letting himself fall back. Gloria glances over at him and smiles softly, subconsciously covering her arms with the blanket.

“Tired?” she asks.

“Exhausted.” he grumbles, his eyes closed, “Rick had to kill the pigs... needed to distract the walkers from breakin’ down the fence.”

Gloria sighs, “poor Carl... he was getting attached to them.”

There’s a silence between them as Daryl takes a long pause, “someone killed Karen and David.”

“W-what?” Gloria stares at him in shock, she knew that David and Karen had caught whatever influenza that killed Patrick and had them in another cell block away from the others, but she never thought anyone would ever think to kill them.

“Tyreese went to give Karen flowers but saw a trail of their blood... then found their bodies burnt to a crisp.” Daryl sighs.

Gloria didn’t know what to say, she could never imagine how Tyreese would be feeling. She wraps the blanket tighter around her arms, as if that would make everything better. Daryl opens his eyes as he notices her silence. He looks at her and sees her all wrapped up in the blanket. He lets out a breath, he never brought it up to her but he noticed how she became very insecure about her arms after her incident with Nina. He hated it. Daryl always saw her as beautiful, flawless, perfect. Even with her scars now, she was still perfect to him, but now those damn scars would prevent her from seeing it herself and that angered him.

Daryl sits up on the bed and moves closer to Gloria, tugging the blanket off her shoulders and wrapping his arm around her lower back, he plants a lingering kiss on the tip of the scar on her upper arm. Gloria looks at him and a small shy smile tugs at her lips. She reaches over to hold his hand that’s resting in his lap. Daryl moves up and kisses her shoulder then leans in, gently kissing her lips.

“Ya okay?” Daryl whispers on her lips.

Gloria nods, caressing his face with her other hand, “yeah, you should rest, you had a long day and there’s a council meeting early tomorrow morning.”

Daryl sighs at her reminder and nods. He shifts to lie down on the bed, pulling Gloria into his arms, causing her to giggle slightly as he holds her close, snuggling her as he drifts off to sleep.

---

Next Chapter

Now I know this is a super short chapter and not much happens, but it does get more intense at the start of the next chapter which will be up on Monday!!! Please let me know your thoughts on it and what you think will happen, I’m very curious to see where you think I’ll take it haha

I don’t like that I’m posting this part during these trying times though, it feels too relatable that it’s scary... BUT we will get through everything together! Stay safe and healthy everyone!!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

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ghostmartyr · 4 years

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how a life can move from the darkness [8/?]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

“Deep water first.”

Armin was comparing his map with the one on the directory, frowning studiously at their options. “You don’t think we should save that for last?” he asked. “We always spend the most time there.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to go to the Forgotten Marvels of the Deep screening,” Eren said, searching out the times for all of the film events on his map. “They have those every hour, you’re not going to miss it.”

“But we know how much time that will take,” Armin said.

“So it can go anywhere,” Eren said. “You’re always saying how we could use a break from walking. If we go first thing, that’s out.”

“That’s what I say to remind you two to eat something,” Armin said, talking too fast for Eren to point out that Armin was even worse than him and Mikasa about skipping meals. “Lunch is a break. Film features aren’t, and they put all of the other exhibits into context.”

Eren gestured at Armin’s entire everything. “We already have you for that. And the earlier we go see it, the longer you’ll have to brood about them getting the CGI for the megalodon wrong.”

Armin, with the infinite faith that had never once gone his way when they marched into the aquarium, renewed membership cards at the ready, said, “Maybe they’ll get it right this time.”

They never got it right. Eren didn’t know what elusive magic Armin was waiting for from the special effects wing of the world, but no matter how many movies with megalodons they saw, something had always gone wrong with the design. Eren was on Armin’s side for seeing some quality sharks, but he was always so disappointed. No one in the world saw things like Armin did. That should have meant nothing but good things for him, but instead it was a domino city of letdowns designed for Armin’s indomitable heart getting stripped bare.

Hanging back behind them, where the stakes of where to go first could be played off, Mikasa offered her opinion. “I would like to see the penguins.”

Eren and Armin looked down as one to check times.

“Do we want to be there for feeding?” Armin asked. “We should get there early if we do.”

“We should do early anyway. We don’t have to stay for the feeding, but they’ll be more active when they’re waiting for food, and there will be less of a crowd before it starts,” Eren said.

“It’s all the way on the other side of the building, and the feeding’s in forty minutes. We should move now.”

“Done.”

Armin nodded and folded up his map, then jolted forward a little before starting the familiar speed walk down the steps and into the aquarium parts of the aquarium. He turned around guiltily at Mikasa, and that sparked a jolt of Eren’s when he realized that Historia was standing even further back, and she wasn’t used to drawing battle plans up.

“How about you, Historia?” Eren asked before Armin’s guilty face got any worse. “Is there anything you want to see?”

Historia shook her head, drawing one more frowning face her way. Mikasa had decided to replace her cat as Historia’s buffer. Eren would have felt weird about both of them feeling like Historia needed a buffer, but this trip hadn’t been planned, and he didn’t think Historia was used to having friends. Ones who did stuff like finding tanks outside their apartment to stare at.

Eren hadn’t been ready for the excursion either, but Armin’s address was where his new membership card still went, and they always went the weekend those showed up. He was used to it.

He had missed it.

Each second no one was talking or moving had more weight and awkwardness than he’d ever thought could happen around Mikasa and Armin, but they all knew what it was, and he wasn’t allowed to yell at anyone over it anymore. They could let it bite into them and smile through the pain as long as they were all doing something together.

They were a better fix for the heartache than the pills had ever managed. Being with them again made Eren feel like a person.

Remembering to pull in the other person who needed that feeling because she refused to include herself made him feel like a slipshod, incomplete person. They’d almost been late because she hadn’t interpreted Eren telling her the aquarium trip plans as him inviting her along. She’d stared at him so long when he told her she was coming that he’d worried that something new had gone wrong.

“You get a vote,” Eren told her. She hadn’t opened her map yet. “We could check out stuff for Benjamin’s tank. Most of the eels are in the smaller areas, so they aren’t as crowded.”

Historia glanced at Mikasa. “Penguins sound fine.”

Eren looked at Armin, who was looking at Mikasa, who was looking at Historia.

Armin cautiously opened his mouth. “…Historia?” he asked, a tone of dawning horror in his voice. “Have you… have you never been to an aquarium before?”

Historia shrugged, a little helplessly, with the start of a defiant scowl growing. “I’ve seen fish before. We went to the store twice to find Benjamin.”

Armin’s horror rose to high noon and stayed there, staring at her in shock.

No friends, rightfully dead father, and a sister who treated her like the glue was still wet on all her broken pieces. No aquarium trips. That made sense.

The wrongness of it was still profound, and Eren didn’t have the words to fix it because the only ones his head was interested in coming up with said too much about how much several people before Historia should have taken a shot at killing her father.

Armin was on that same level, only with less active bloodlust. He looked like he’d just been told their library was closing. Eren turned to Mikasa. She had her overprotective concerned face on, but her eyes snapped to Eren quickly, a plan written in them.

“Otters,” she said.

“Otters,” Eren agreed firmly.

Armin caught on, and with revived vigor, he and Eren each took up one of Historia’s arms, melting her expression of flushed defiance into alarm, while Mikasa stepped behind her and took the place of pushing her forward and keeping her stumbling feet from tripping down the stairs.

“You’ll like it,” Eren said.

“And then we’ll go look at tankmates for Benjamin,” Armin confirmed.

“Or the penguins,” Mikasa said quietly.

“We could do all of that first,” Historia said, being tugged along, her hand crumpling her unopened map. “Or the movie Armin wants to see?”

“No,” they all said together.

----

Eren’s mom didn’t take things for granted. She never had, and losing most of her world had only brought that closer to her heart.

Her son being willing to spend time with her when it wasn’t a special occasion was a door she’d wanted open for months, and Eren had had a promise to come over at least once a month, with at least one of his friends or his brother, exhorted out of him before she let him take his spackle home.

“Or maybe your brother,” had been said with the sort of casual deliberation Frieda had used when she talked about a pet for the apartment.

Leaving Eren upside down on the back of the couch, staring mindlessly at his phone with his hair dangling to the floor.

hi zeke

good morning

we don’t have a tv but armin said

there’s a movie out at

good afternoon

my mom wants you over for dinner

The cursor on the last one blinked more than he could make himself. It was all bad. The only reason he wasn’t smashing the delete key on the last one was because Zeke’s complicated minefield relationship with his parents meant studiously and politely flipping off all of their dad’s awkward suggestions that he come over, and very politely accepting his mom’s invitations. He’d even bring flowers.

Historia’s bedroom door swung open, and she finally emerged from her room for the day, wearing one of the otter shirts Mikasa and Armin had encouraged her to get. The short-sleeved one. She stopped in the hallway when she saw Eren, thumb still hovering over her own phone.

“I’m texting Zeke,” Eren said.

Historia nodded slowly, and continued her walk to the kitchen. “Does that help?” she asked, reaching into a cupboard for a glass.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eren spun the phone up into the air a bit, catching it before it could hit the floor. He tossed it again, moodily, when one of the random memories of Zeke doing the same thing with a baseball every time he took a step near one started to play in his head.

“What do you text Frieda?”

Prolonged silence followed the question. Eren pulled himself away from his phone’s cursor to watch his roommate’s back. He lifted his head up so that his hair wasn’t touching the floor.

“…You text her, right?”

“I respond when she asks how I am,” Historia said.

Eren removed himself from the couch with a clumsy flip that Mikasa’s cousin would have found horrifying. “You don’t message your sister?” Eren asked. Barely, barely remembering that Frieda and Historia were too complicated to make the point that if Historia had no problem getting into drawn out fights on Twitter with strangers, she should have some words for her sister.

Historia shrugged. The baby otter hiding under the seaweed that draped over her shoulder didn’t offer any deeper hints about her mood.

“She’d be happy to hear from you,” Eren said, because it was true. Besides Frieda being that sort of person, he kept seeing it in Armin and Mikasa, and the screaming guilt was learning to shut up and let that feel good. “You wouldn’t have to come up with anything fancy. Talking about the weather would work. Or Benjamin. Or school.”

Historia didn’t quite turn around, but he could see more of her head than her hair when she spoke. “Why can’t you send Zeke something like that?”

“It’s not the same.” It was nowhere close to the same. Frieda was hot chocolate and comfort. Zeke was. Zeke. He’d never been anything different. Eren had just taken forever to work out how much that annoyed him. “Our relationship’s not… like normal siblings,” he said.

Historia pulled her glass out of the stream of water the fridge had been dutifully filling it with, and fixed Eren with a look. “My sister comes into my room at night and watches me sleep to make sure I’m still breathing.”

Eren’s phone and its blinking cursor shrunk a few sizes. “You know about that?”

Historia put her glass down on the counter. “Yes.”

Frieda would love that. Eren wasn’t sure when he’d switched sides on the habit, but it got him a hot drink and a listening ear in the middle of the night, and Historia refusing to participate instead of not knowing she could sounded too familiar. “If you texted her more often, she’d probably back off on that. Or if you talked to her at all,” he added.

Historia, devoid of amusement, looked over the otter on her shoulder at him. “Have you told your brother you want him to pay attention to you?”

Eren’s jaw set. He put his phone on the counter, where Historia could clearly see the screen. He erased all of the last attempt, and for a paralyzing instant couldn’t come up with anything to fill up the space with—before he remembered that quality wasn’t the point, and he could recite the alphabet and it would still put a win in his column. His fingers marched across the keyboard.

hi. how are you?

He hit the send button.

Pride and success flourished for about as long as it took to have the notification text go from ‘sending’ to ‘delivered.’

Then the knot in his chest that belonged to Zeke—more noticeable than ever with all the untying he’d gotten done on the others—throbbed, and his phone went from only a few sizes too small to microscopic with one little shift of the screen.

‘Read.’

A trio of dots followed, and the jolt of adrenaline they caused felt like every doorbell the nights Eren was waiting for Zeke to come over for babysitting.

Are you feeling all right, Eren?

The adrenaline didn’t evaporate.

The excitement that had tried to rush past a decade of poor communication didn’t last an extra heartbeat.

Eren didn’t have the income to throw his phone into the garbage disposal. Acknowledging that and tightening his fingers until they went white was growth. Not needing to buy more spackle, or putty knives, was a good thing, and his progress should be a delight to anyone who knew how hard he’d worked for it.

To quote Petra.

He wondered if there was any school of thought where wrapping his hands around Zeke’s throat counted as progress, but that went into violence and other problems too fast to imagine properly, so he was left with Zeke.

“He thinks there’s something wrong with me,” he informed Historia.

Historia finished pouring her lemonade. “Is there?”

“No!” he snapped.

Her head swerved in his direction, eyebrows lifted in surprise. It took him a second. A full second, enough for her look to turn uncertain, for what he’d said to process as language instead of righteous indignation. Something that hadn’t belonged to him in over a year.

He used to burn through it at so fast Mikasa and Armin almost couldn’t keep up. Fights and protests and causes and that one idiotic proposal about cutting the library’s funding. People were being stupid, and he wasn’t going to sit around like everyone else and let them be stupid.

Until the only sort of good thing he could do for himself was walk into a gym and take a chair, where all the unclean hate boiled and festered and didn’t help anyone.

Zeke was being stupid.

Historia put her phone down next to his, swiping away from the open Twitter tab with an unfinished tweet in process. Her texting app opened, with only one other name besides Eren listed under the contacts. With deliberate precision, she typed out a new message.

Hi Frieda. Would you like to come over for dinner?

She sent it. After making sure Eren read it.

When she pulled away from the counter, the hand that took her phone moved like it was anchored to the marble. The screen flicked back to Twitter, and her thumb grazed the case. “Some people…” she said. “They don’t know how to be a family.”

It sounded like an apology, but Eren couldn’t guess for what. It also sounded like something his mom had said. About his dad. When Eren asked why his brother was living with their grandparents and not them.

Eren looked back at his phone, with Zeke’s text. His stupid brother with his stupid hands-off love that felt like he’d picked it up from a manners book, because why would giving someone a reason to keep trying ever be something that cropped up naturally? “I don’t think Zeke wants one.”

Seconds of quiet passed.

Historia, with thought and care ponderous as a boulder, said, “He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would bother talking to someone he didn’t want.”

Eren wanted to argue with that, because he wanted to argue against everything that said maybe someone a little less like Eren could make sense out of his brother being the exact same person he’d been since the day Eren was born. He wanted to argue, period, because Zeke was Zeke and Eren…

Eren might have been Eren.

And before he’d needed his brother, and Zeke was just some cool adult to break rules with, the thickest knot that tied them together was knowing that Zeke took his calls every single time he made one. Even when he only took their dad’s once a year. When Eren’s mom asked him to.

Zeke loved his little brother as well as he could. The way he thought he was supposed to.

Eren huffed and went over to say hi to Benjamin. Leaving Historia some time to finish yelling at Ymir before her sister, who knew how to love people, showed up and reminded them that they weren’t any good at it, either.

----

He had the wrong wallet.

That was already bad. Not terrible bad, but Ymir had been the one to point it out.

Walking into the rock climbing gym, unannounced, with Reiner and her usual self, she’d taken one look at Eren getting ready for work and said, “I thought I got ripped off when mine started sprouting holes like that. Guess that brand just sucks as a rule.”

Eren’s wallet didn’t have holes. Historia’s did. He had no idea why, and talking money with Historia always ended so badly that he wasn’t interested in asking. Her wallet also had more cash in it than Eren had ever seen in one place. What an Armin from years ago would have called drug money with a laugh, and something the Eren of the moment wanted to hurl out of his hands as fast as possible.

Working with Reiner and Ymir was an unexpected hitch in his day, but Reiner had immediately gone over to the free climbing wall with a bounce in his step. The worst they could get falling from that was a bruise or two, so Eren could stall by one of the other walls with his phone.

grabbed your wallet by mistake you want to come by and nab it?

Historia was between classes, so her reply came fast.

Yes, thank you. Should I pick yours up?

yeah that would help

They didn’t have any real routine to their middays, but Historia had dropped by to share lunch a few times, so Eren was spared sending off the address. His eyes wandered over to the only customers they had so far. Reiner was trying to figure out how to climb the underside of the wall. Ymir was crawling it like a spider, way too capably to be new to it.

Eren typed out another thread.

Reiner’s here with your friend

She is not my friend

He put his phone away and went over to help Reiner. There weren’t any tennis balls in the building, but they’d all be better off if he could get Historia her wallet without her coming into contact with Ymir. From what he could tell, weeks of Twitter arguments, which Reiner insisted were the best thing he’d ever seen, hadn’t burned off their edge. Smiling Ymir or not, they probably didn’t need a real introduction.

----

Reiner wasn’t bad for someone who’d never gone climbing before. He stretched for handholds instead of taking the ones nearby and wasn’t built for it yet, breathed too hard, paid too much attention to how fast Ymir was making her way up next to him—but it wasn’t like riding a bike. Eren didn’t think he’d have to throw himself against the ropes to keep him from crashing.

He wondered if it would be the sort of thing Reiner would have any interest in keeping up after the coupons wore out. Mikasa liked climbing. They could make a day of it or something. Show Reiner he had friends.

Ymir swung over to Reiner’s side of the wall and flicked him on the ear. Eren’s grip on the safety lines turned glacial when Reiner let go to bat back at her.

But he was smiling under the red face and sweat. They’d all figured out how to do that again somewhere, and Eren went back to holding the lines like he got paid to do it.

Until Thomas hailed him from the cashier’s desk, and a pocket of leather tapped his shoulder.

“Here,” Historia said, tone and eyes carefully directed away from Eren’s customers.

Eren fished her wallet out of his pocket and swapped it for his, with its zero holes and coupons stuffed in next to enough bills for lunch and nothing else. “Thanks,” he said. He held back on asking if she wanted to stick around and share lunch. “Sorry.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Historia said mechanically.

She didn’t walk away. She wasn’t making eye contact with him, either. Her gaze was set somewhere between where Ymir and Reiner were climbing and Eren’s head.

Eren hadn’t thought much about it, because thinking about Ymir and Historia’s Twitter war wasn’t good for much outside of amusing Armin to get through an awkward texting pause.

“…Do you want to say hi?”

Historia’s hackles rose the way Rivaille’s did when Eren tried to pet him, and she finally broke her staring contest with the orange handhold to scowl darkly at him. The hand that had taken her wallet balled into a fist small enough to probably rip another hole in it.

“We’re having lunch together if you want to—”

“Hey Eren!” Ymir shouted down, freezing Historia’s expression to nothingness. “I thought it was only in your job description to pick up chicks if they were falling from—”

She stopped talking, which sounded like a dream come true, except it came with Ymir’s rope spinning taut and Eren’s heart seizing as suddenly in his chest as her whiplash brake in the air. She was so still that the first panicked emotion to make its way into thought was that he’d killed her just like the bus and the blood and she wasn’t someone he wanted gone just quieter.

But those eyes were too alive with something for him to worry about that instead of gearing up to scream the speech he knew by rote, from a hundred different teenagers not listening when he said to be careful with the equipment, directly into Ymir’s thick skull. Knowing that speech was why Hannes let him keep his job, and every syllable of it thundered in his electrified blood.

Reiner beat him to words. “Ymir,” he asked, dangling in a way that said it didn’t matter he didn’t know what he was doing yet, he would jump into thin air if it would help, “you okay?”

And maybe that wasn’t a bad question.

She wasn’t going for the handholds, putting all the work on Eren. If she cared at all about Reiner’s mounting concern, none of it or anything else showed. She looked shell-shocked.

Eren put the speech on hold. “I’m getting you down,” he said bluntly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Whatever was going on, past experience with not breaking her neck kept her from actively hampering her descent, even if Eren was mad enough that he wouldn’t have minded an extra excuse to read her the riot act.

Historia didn’t help, standing stock-still next to him instead of thinking to move out of the landing area. Eren moved around her instead, pulse at a high that didn’t promise anything good. By the time Ymir’s feet hit the mat, he could feel his fingers itching to let go of the ropes and find a bottle.

His clenched jaw kept it all back, and he unhooked her in stressed silence, ordering Reiner to stay put with his glare. Even though he’d probably be helping him down the wall the second he was done with Ymir.

Ymir didn’t need ordering. She stayed next to the wall, quiet enough to ping Eren’s first-aid lessons instead of his temper. He breathed in. Out. Didn’t murder her like

He took another breath and a step forward, raising up a hand in front of her face. “Follow my finger,” he instructed, peering into her eyes and hoping the ghosts in her expression weren’t anything dangerous.

Ymir batted his hand away. Her hand was shaking. Eren’s temper dropped another notch. “Ymir…”

“Krista,” she whispered.

She wasn’t looking at nothing, Eren realized.

Because she was looking at Historia, who had turned into a sculpture of ice.

Reiner spasmed up on his perch, and Eren abruptly decided that whatever was going on, it was time for everyone to be on the ground. Descent went much simpler with someone who was bothering to be present for it, even if Reiner had the same shaken look on his face that had drained all the blood out of Eren’s.

The childish whining in his head wanted to cry. They couldn’t all just be normal together. Something had to go sideways and broken and fuck him he needed another tennis ball in his face, but he didn’t have one so he was just going to have to grow the fuck up and handle the broken pieces with some fucking gloves for once.

Ymir was odd and quiet, and her hands were trembling like Eren’s used to.

Historia didn’t look like a person.

Eren could guess how out of his depth he was, but he couldn’t see it hitting anywhere close. He stepped over to his friend and clapped her on the shoulder, trying not to turn into Frieda when that didn’t spark anything. He stuck to what he did have a dim comprehension of. “Historia?” he prompted. “You have a class to get to, don’t you?”

Nothing. Not even a damn flicker. Whatever was left in there was locked on Ymir.

Who—Eren did a double take.

That… was different, and his depth and comfort zone went somewhere else to leave him with nothing but pure confusion.

Those were tears in Ymir’s eyes. Actual, human tears.

And Historia moved.

“No,” she said, the one word so raw and crackled it didn’t sound like a language. A spark came back to her, and Eren’s hand fell off or her shoulder ripped away, leaving him to rejoin Reiner on the sidelines as the lopsided, unsure mass of puzzle pieces started snapping together.

“No,” she said, approaching Ymir on wobbly legs. Shine and fire broke the ice, even if they both looked three days into withdrawal. “You…” she breathed in like it was strangling her, and maybe Eren was caught up in the same haze they both were, because her exhale sounded something like laugher.

Historia, bright with tears, the shortest person Eren knew, looked down at Ymir.

“You don’t get to be the one crying!” she shouted.

Her fingers were digging new holes in her wallet, and Ymir was the first one to break the stunned staring, to look at the shredded collection of money and leather.

Crying.

Silently, to go with Historia’s repressed sobs. The tears were unrelenting and steady, winding down Ymir’s cheeks like a river that had been just waiting for spring.

“Historia,” she said, tender and so, so lost.

Click went the puzzle. The fiancée.

Historia had called her that, the very first time she brought her up. The only time she brought her up at all until she read the book that confessed all of the ways they’d missed each other. Padded out with how it was probably a joke, and never something real that broke her heart.

Eren didn’t think anyone could say someone’s name like that and call it a joke.

Or hear their name said like that and think it was anything other than what it was.

Historia’s whole expression collapsed, emotion spilling out faster than the tears. Her mouth wordlessly traced Ymir’s name, and her hands dropped the wallet to hold her head as she stared down at the girl she’d somehow undersold her love for, complete ruin and hope coalescing into the only words she appeared able to come up with before her legs tripped her down.

“You unromantic jackass,” Historia murmured, burying herself in Ymir.

Eren could have counted the seconds it took for Ymir to trust that she was allowed, that ruining absolutely everything and salting the ground didn’t mean what she thought it did when someone was willing to grab you and welcome you back to your home. He saw the second the connection sparked in her head, and her broken heart was punched through with a sewing needle.

Ymir crumbled, a hiccupping sob finally leaving her as she hid it all away in Historia’s hair.

----

I haven’t said it recently so I thought I would […] I love you thanks for taking me back

Eren??? Are you okay?

We were always going to.

----

They didn’t have lunch together.

Not the way any of them had planned.

They were seated at a table for four at the deli near Eren’s work, two of the chairs empty while Eren and Reiner’s life focus became not running off to eavesdrop on whatever outpour of emotion Ymir and Historia needed to have. If their food tasted like anything, Eren was missing it.

Historia had held back Mikasa to let him talk to Armin alone. She’d helped Armin let him talk to Mikasa alone. He owed her.

“Krista, huh?”

Eren jolted back to his spot at the table. “Huh?”

Across from him, Reiner didn’t look any more together. But he’d finished his sandwich, so maybe holding on to the edge of the table with a grip meant for tearing things in half wasn’t the warning sign Eren wanted to call it.

“Krista,” Reiner said again. “Ymir’s girl. That—that was what Ymir called her.”

All Eren knew about that was a vague memory of Historia telling him the girl from juvie had never known her real name. He swished his water around in his cup.

“I guess… I guess Kr—Historia told you all about what happened,” Reiner said.

Eren tried. Since it was Reiner. “Not really. We talked about…” Things he felt weird about repeating, because now that the girlfriend was Ymir, and Ymir took one look at her and started crying, he was less sure about how much he wanted to punch her. He was more sure that Historia would be mostly okay throwing a tennis ball at her.

“We talked about how much it hurt when she wasn’t there anymore,” Eren settled on.

“Right,” Reiner said.

His knuckles were pure white around the table. Eren took an experimental bite of his sandwich, staring out the window and quashing the urge to go out and find his friend and his sometimes other friend to make sure nothing else broke. He hadn’t been able to help when he was standing right next to them. His contributions weren’t anything good.

His contributions were things like wondering if his roommate would ever come home again. He was a child, and channeling that into more unwanted worrying was all he had for the day.

“It was my fault,” Reiner blurted.

Eren pulled himself back again. “What was?”

Reiner’s look was straight out of rehab. His hands dug through his hair for a moment instead of the table, too short to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers completely. Eren straightened in his chair. Reiner took that as a sign to try to smile, which worked badly.

“I overdosed,” he said. “A lot.”

“I know,” Eren said.

“Right.” His fingers started tapping on the table. “But one of them—Ymir was going to be out any day. We knew that. Or—I guess Bertolt knew, I didn’t know much of anything by then, but…” Reiner clenched his eyes shut. “I overdosed, and Bertolt called her, and then she… she was there.”

Eren tried another bite of his sandwich and had to stop himself from spitting it out. He could picture it, and the unsaid half about the person Ymir had left behind, who hadn’t been in such immediate danger but never stopped needing her. He knew that story. He’d lived some of it, and now that the girlfriend had a face it was too easy to remember that Ymir was the idiot who left and Historia was the idiot who still wanted her.

Only this time the idiot who left had a good reason.

He wanted to call Armin and apologize again, not just texting because his fingers worked when his voice wouldn’t. He wanted to call Mikasa and remember that she’d survived him and they had Zeke’s damn baseball practice together.

He didn’t know how to call Zeke, but someone had, after the accident, and after Eren being stupid. And Zeke had shown up. No questions asked. He’d dropped everything, because Eren needed his brother, so his brother had shown up. Because that was something he knew how to do, even if conversations and feelings weren’t.

Ymir was so bad at knowing what to do with feelings she wrote an entire book about failing to share them and then got defensive when the person she had them for complained.

Eren wanted to check in on them. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do to help, but it felt like someone should be around to keep them from ending up in a place where Ymir went with releasing another book for her and Historia to fight over as a conversation starter. Counting on Historia to be that someone when she hadn’t been able to let go of Ymir when Eren was getting her harness off felt like a gamble.

He didn’t think either of them would like that argument. Their first act as a couple would be to find a ball pit to dump him in.

“It’s my fault,” Reiner said again. “If Kr—if Historia got hurt. I—Ymir has trouble being upfront about some things, but she wouldn’t have left it that way for anything else. She’s a good person, and Krista—she’s crazy about her. Still. She won’t hurt her.”

Eren stopped swishing his drink, and stared as much threat into Reiner’s eyes as he could without actually thinking about what hurting another person like that looked like.

“She’d better not,” he said.

----

We love you too. […] We can say it more often. If you want.

[next]

#drug au #fic #mine #long post

8 notes · View notes

thecandywrites · 4 years

Text

Of Heaven and Fire Part 4

SO. I would officially like to apologize for this part because ANGST because I am a big meanie. But I SWEAR, it’s gonna be ok...eventually. This is gonna have a happy ending, I promise, but the plot- much like a strong wave of the sea, took out my knees and ankles and sent me into a faceplant. And like in Liar Liar when Jim Carey is in the bathroom beating himself up. And is going OW OW OW. That was me, writing this. and that’s probably going to be you reading this. Oh also you know that vine of a guy scaring this boy who looks like he’s like- 9 and he screams like a little girl and then stares death at the person who scared him? just remember that scream for halfway through this chapter. That was my inspiration.

In case you missed it- Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3

Tagging @probablyclever @funmadnessandbadassvikings and @imherefortheforthefanart Enjoy.

You changed your outfit and folded the blanket up and returned it to Brock’s room but he was gone. You knocked on Cugas’ door but he wasn’t there and when you peeked onto the deck, only the night crew were there finishing up their shift as the sun rose over the horizon.

“Wow, you’re an early riser miss.” Cygla, the night captain, noted as he saw you peek your head up.

“I am.” You smiled as you came up on deck, your moura cloak turning into a fur coat to keep out the chill in the air as you looked up and noticed the clouds.

“Oh no,” you groaned in realization as you recognized the cloud formation and even now you coud see certain beings gearing up for something big.

“Aye, there be a storm brewin’.” He agreed.

“Yeah, a storm.” You huffed a laugh as you just shook your head.

“Do you know where the captain is?” You asked him.

“Probably having breakfast.” He mused.

You nodded and walked down below deck and walked to the galley where the chef was making both breakfast for the day crew and dinner for the night crew.

“Goodmorning Miss Yana,” the cook Ms. Avag, Cygla’s wife greeted you cheerfully.

“Good morning, have you seen the captain?” You asked.

“Not yet, ya hungry? I got honey cakes today.” She noted as she gestured to a stack of pancakes sweetened with honey.

“Yeah, I’ll take one,” you nodded before she got a bowl and put one in there with an extra drizzle of honey and a piece of fried steak with some scrambled eggs before she sent you on your way as you carefully walked through the ship- looking for either Cugas or Brock as the day crew were still sleeping as you searched but didn’t see anyone before you felt a pull on your waist and looked down to see the belt pulling you towards the stairs again and decided to follow where it led you.

You found yourself at the stairs to the bottom of the ship where a huge tank of water sat where they would keep the fish once they caught them as Brock was explaining last night’s events to Cugas who was laughing hysterically as Brock was just a flustered mess.

“You’re not helping!” Brock complained as Cugas wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up straight from being bent over.

“The woman of your dreams healed you and then slept with you half naked, you’re the only straight man on the planet who would think that’s a problem.” Cugas chuckled as he held his gut.

“She still hates me though and she’s getting suspicious and I...I don’t know what to do.” Brock complained.

“Well I mean you took a step in the right direction, you made her a space of her own and took off that barbaric chain, which frankly, I’m still appalled you kept it on her even when she showed you her true self.” Cugas pointed out.

“I know, I know, I didn’t...I just didn’t realize it or think about it until I saw it.” Brock groaned.

“Then why the fuck is the shackle still on her?!” Cugas demanded.

“Because she’ll fly away, I can’t lose her yet.” Brock defended as Cugas groaned in aggravation.

“Brock, she’s already gone. Her body is here, but her soul and spirit stayed on that mountain. She has rage like a wildfire simmering just underneath her sweet exterior and the only way she’s going to calm that and the only way she’s going to really be here- is if she’s free to choose to be so. There isn’t a room or even a palace big enough that you could build for her that she won’t feel like it’s a cage and she will fight you until she draws her last breath. The fact that we’re sailing to the black waters just so she can try to talk to some water dragons- which is still all kinds of stupid dangerous which she’s putting her life in the line for- just to be free- no one should have to do that. Now that we know what we’re dealing with now we go about fishing so that we won’t ice the boats anymore. In my book- just her figuring that out would be enough to earn her freedom. This is just ridiculous, call this off, free her.” Cugas insisted.

“No,” Brock argued.

“And it’s your stubbornness that will lose her for good. It’s a matter of time before her brethren come for her. And when they do, they’ll ask for more than any or all of us are willing to pay and when she leaves, none of us will see her or her kind again. And what would it solve?” Cugas asked.

“That’s not your problem to fix.” Brock growled.

“Yeah it will be because when her brethren come for her- it’s your head they’ll ask for and who would you rather lead the clan? Me or your brother Acosh? Who’s still only 11?” Cugas asked.

“It’s not going to come to that.” Brock insisted.

“Wanna bet?” Cugas asked just as someone came up behind you and scared the shit out of you, making you scream and jump up and cling to the ceiling just as Brock and Cugas came running up the stairs to see you laughing as you still clung to the ceiling, your wings sprouted from your back, covering your body as your hands and feet became clawed to hang onto the rafters as the poor crewman was knocked a good 20 feet away by your protruding wings as you crawled on the ceiling towards him, asking him if he was ok as he was laughing himself.

“Are you ok?” You asked him.

“Yeah, I’m ok, lessoned learned, never sneak up on a moura.” He chuckled as he found his feet as Brock and Cugas got up the stairs and stared at him before they looked up and saw you clinging to the ceiling with your wings out.

“What happened?” Cugas asked.

“I was looking for you and just as I found you- he startled me and it must have triggered my angel reflex.” You answered as you tried to get down but it was like you were glued to the ceiling and once you let go, you stayed up there.

“Well, fuck.” You chuckled as you tried to push off the ceiling to the floor but it was like you were a balloon filled with helium and you bobbed right back up.

“OK so talk to me- explain what’s going on so we can figure out how to help.” Cugas invited as you tried to figure out how to get down.

“My angel reflex kicked in, heavenly moura have an ability to turn off gravity’s hold on them and become lighter than the surface air, that’s why they can walk on the clouds like you would walk on the grass. Only heavenly moura are in this reflex all the time and why and how they can stay in the heavens and fly so effortlessly. And up until now, it was believed that mountain moura lost this reflex because we’re half breeds not full bloods. But the problem is- I’ve never experienced this reflex before so I don’t know how to turn it off.” You explained as you struggled against the ceiling like your body was trying to pull through the wood itself and it was incredibly exhausting fighting against it before you had to stop struggling and rest for a bit because the longer you were in this reflex, the stronger the pull became.

“By the way captain, a storm is brewing out of nowhere.” The crewman informed Cugas.

“It’s not out of nowhere.” You argued. “It’s a heavenly moura holiday, last night was the beginning of the fourth lunar month, that means every heavenly moura will be coming for the celebration and how they celebrate is they like to fly in a cyclone, problem is- with billions of heavenly moura, flying in a big circle causes hurricanes for those on the surface. If we had left a couple of weeks ago, we’d be back home by now and be out of danger.” You insisted with a look to Brock.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Brock demanded.

“Because I forgot all about it until I saw it this morning when I was looking for you on the top deck, the hurricanes get downgraded to storms by the time they reach the mountains and the mountain mouras need the rain.” You explained as you felt yourself grow hot with anger as your body started to glow before you heard a singe as you looked and noticed your form singed the wood before you tried to roll over and at least get on your hands and knees so you could crawl on the ceiling as your wings seemed to want to be glued to the ceiling and rafters around you.

“Fuck these wings are heavy.” You cursed as you struggled to move just a couple of feet before you just collapsed and your face was smooshed against the ceiling, even your hair was splayed out around you like you were laying on the floor.

“Oof,” you exclaimed as you just laid there. So much for saving some reserves.

“We’ll deal with it when it comes, right now, we need to focus on getting you off the ceiling.” Cugas insisted to keep Brock from arguing further before you got an idea.

“Brock- get the chain.” You told him.

“Why?” Brock asked.

“Just get it, I have an idea.” You urged him before Cugas pushed him towards the stairs.

“Well go! Do you have to be told twice?” Cugas urged him before he barked orders at the crewman to get him a ladder and once he got the ladder, he told the crewman to tell the first mate his orders while he dealt with this.

“Ok, so what’s your idea?” Cugas asked as he stood on top of the ladder and got as close as he could get, so that he could reach you and he tried going down the ladder but the force pulling you to the cieling was stronger than his own weight and strength and he didn’t want to hurt your delicate wrists or hands.

“Well I was going to wait until we got to the black waters to reveal this but if it will get me off the ceiling now, it’s what I’ll do, so, my dad, he’s not entirely human, his mother, my other grandmother- is a siren. I’ve only changed into a siren form once when I was little but if it’ll reset my body by changing form, it’ll turn this off.” You explained as you managed to roll over again, your wings spreading out over the ceiling as you just laid there and waited for Brock to return.

“So what’s the chain gonna do?” Cugas asked.

“Luckily the cuff is now my belt, attach the chain, use to pull me down and drag me to the tank for the fish, pull me down enough that you can put a net over me and then, tie an anchor to me or some kind of heavy weight and basically- drown me, my body should change before I die.” You explained.

“No, absolutely not.” Cugas immediately shook his head no. “There has to be another way.” He insisted.

“Look, with my other abilities I have a measure of control over them, but this- I don’t. I didn’t even know I had this. It’s the only thing I can think of.” You explained as he sat on top of the ladder as he waited for Brock to get back.

“Thank you by the way.” You said softly after a moment.��

“For what?” Cugas asked.

“For fighting for me. I got to hear a little bit of your conversation with Brock, thank you for trying to get him to free me.” You thanked him.

“You’re welcome, seeing you chained is...well it’s just plain wrong. And every time I look at that thing I get sick and panicky, like it’s on me too.” Cugas explained with a hateful look at the silver belt as you grinned knowingly. All mouras hated enslavement with a passion and were incredibly empathetic. You mused his moura genes were incredibly strong, why else would he love the freedom of the open ocean?

“By the way do you even know what it is?” You asked curiously before Cugas huffed and breathed in and before he could speak Brock came down the stairs with the chain in hand.

“Oh good, we got a ladder.” Brock noted in relief before he started to climb it before he reattached the chain, standing on the ladder to do so.

“Are you going to ask her what her idea is?” Cugas prodded.

“She’s a moura, mouras are very intelligent, I’m sure it’s a good one.” Brock answered as your heart melted- just a tiny bit before Cugas barked a scornful laugh.

“Ha! No, Yana, tell Brock your plan, Brock- for the love of all that holy- actually listen to it.” Cugas implored.

“So what’s your idea?” Brock asked.

“Ok, so, my dad isn’t entirely human, his mom is a siren, so if you can drag me to the holding tank for the fish and manage to pull me into the water by attaching this chain to something really heavy, I should change and it should turn this angel reflex off.” You explained.

“That’s an awesome idea, why do you hate it?” Brock asked Cugas who just gave you a meaningful look.

“How many years has it been since you changed into a siren form?” Cugas asked you.

“Oh only a few,” You answered dissmissively before you bit your lips anxiously as you wouldn’t look either of them in the eye.

“How many years exactly?” Cugas pressed.

“Eleven.” You answered a little sheepishly.

“So you were seven.” Cugas pointed out.

“And a half.” You argued.

“What were the circumstances of your changing?” Cugas pressed.

“Well, uh, we were swimming in the lake.” You answered vaguely.

“Really? You touch water and magically you turn into a siren?” Cugas questioned. “Well... not exactly.” You answered. “Look, we’re wasting time, just drag me to the tank and I’ll change it’s as simple as that.” You insisted.

“No, no it’s not, tell Brock exactly what he has to do to get you to change because I sure as hell ain’t doing it.” Cugas insisted.

“What do I have to do?” Brock asked.

“You have to tie me to something heavy and basically...try to drown me.” You finally confessed as Brock’s eyes got wide before he looked at Cugas who was giving him the most emphatic shake of his head ‘no’ and a dangerous look. “Uh, so tell me exactly what happened that you turned when you were seven and a half.” Brock insisted before he sat on the other step.

“Ok so- funny story- my siblings and myself were swimming in the lake and I got too deep and I wasn’t that good of a swimmer and everyone else was distracted and I started to drown but before I died, I changed and suddenly I was able to breathe water and I had a tail and everything and I scared the literal shit out of my big brother when I swam up to him and grabbed his leg, I had never heard a boy scream like he did.” You answered with a fond smile at the memory. Indeed your big brother had screamed in an octave you thought he had grown out of.

“That’s not a funny story, you almost could have died!” Cugas chastized you.

“How did they get you to change back?” Brock asked curiously.

“My dad had to come and he walked me through it, I basically had to drown in the air as he held me and coaxed me through it.” You answered.

“Have you been to the lake since?” Cugas asked.

“Not really no.” You answered.

“Can you even swim?” Cugas asked.

“Well, um…” You stuttered as Cugas dragged his hands down his face and took a calming breath as he clenched and then unclenched his own hands before focusing back on Brock.

“You hear that? You have to drown her to get her to change, are you gonna drown her or are you going to listen to sense and take off that damn shackle and just let her fly free for the god’s sake and when she figures out how she can turn it off, she figures it out. Period, we still have time, we can sail back to the harbor, we’ll make it before this hurricane hits.” Cugas insisted.

“Not necessarily-” you argued as Cugas looked at you like you grew five heads.

“If the fleet stays in the eye, it’ll be ok, the eye shouldn’t move too much.” You assured them.

“Brock please, it’ll work, we’re so close.” You pleaded and Cugas was about to pull his hair out.

“Ok,” Brock agreed before he grabbed the chain and tried to pull you off the ceiling with his body weight but it was like he weighed a fifth of his real weight and was nearly to the floor by the time you budged from the ceiling as Cugas growled in frustration.

“Both of you have lost your goddamn minds!” He complained as he got a board and shimmied it behind your back.

“You’ll break her spine pulling on her like that.” Cugas groused before Brock stopped and wrapped his hands in his shirt and wrapped the chain around his wrapped hands so it wouldn’t cut his hands up as Cugas climbed back up to the ceiling and put a rope behind the board and tied a net around you and the board so you wouldn’t slip away and pulled too, together both of them managed to pull you off the ceiling.

“How in the world did you manage to get on your hands and knees with a pull like this?” Cugas asked as he and Brock worked together to pull you down and towards the stairs before the first mate Karsu came down and saw what was going on.

“What the hell?” Karsu asked.

“Help us drag her to the pool.” Cugas ordered and the three of them managed to get you down the stairs but the lower they went, the stronger it got.

“It’s like the pull’s getting stronger.” Cugas noted before Karsu called for help as the night crew that were going to bed came and dragged you over the pool as more ropes were pulled over you as the whole night crew managed to pull you until you were above the water.

“Are you absolutely sure you can do this?” Cugas questioned.

“As sure as I’ll ever be,” you answered as you looked around.

“I need that ballast.” You nodded before Cugas’ men got it.

“Now drop it in. Who’s a good diver?” You asked before everyone looked at Cugas.

“He’s the best.” Karsu answered.

“Oh no, this is as much as I’m gonna help, I’m not going to have a hand in actually drowning you.” Cugas insisted before the men paused and looked at each other before Brock just jumped in and grabbed the ropes and chain and swam with all his might before he tied it around the ballast before he had to swim back up to the surface before he ran out of breath, leaving you only a foot under the surface.

“You fucking piece of shit! I can’t believe you did that!” Cugas yelled at Brock as he punched Brock in the face. “She’s supposed to be the love of your life and you’re killing her! You don’t fucking deserve her!” Cugas spat before he grabbed a knife off of one of his men and dived in, cutting all the ropes just as your wings started to flail in the water, the water itself starting to boil and steam from your wings touching the water as Brock dove back in to stop him as you screamed your last breath, the sound making everyone cover their ears as their eyes had to close because the light emanating from you was too bright to look at before the light faded and Brock and Cugas both looked to see you start to float down, unconscious before your body landed gently onto the bottom of the hold and Cugas, in a fit of rage- stabbed Brock before he dove down to you and held you, tried shaking you and blew his last breath back into you but it was no use- you were gone, he was about to jump to the surface before Brock’s blood wafted in front of your face and your eyes snapped open as you breathed in Brock’s blood causing Cugas to try to swim away before he watched your wings pull into yourself and your body transform into the prettiest mermaid he had ever seen, your eyes now pitch black before you smiled, way too many teeth lining your jaw as you did so before you kissed Cugas sweetly as now it was his turn to freeze at the display of affection.

“Thank you so much for trying to help.” You thanked him, your voice having an ethereal quality to it as your whole body then lit up with bioluminescence, lighting up the hold beautifully as you gestured for him to go up to the surface.

“You stabbed me!” Brock yelled at Cugas as Cugas finally made it up to the surface.

“Yeah but your blood got her to change.” Cugas smiled as he treaded water and watched as you untied the chain from the ballast before you picked it up and swam it to the edge and chucked it out of the hold.

“Holy shit, even as a siren she’s strong.” Cugas smiled as he just watched as you swam over to Brock who was hanging onto the side as you tried to gently coax him from the side.

“Come on, time to heal you again.” You giggled as Brock just stared at you again as you held his hand.

“It worked!” You smiled, your smile literally from ear to ear as Brock just stared in horrified awe at the three rows of very sharp teeth greeted him before you went to his side that was still bleeding before you gently coaxed his hand away from the wound before you took a deep breath and pulled more magic from your core and blew it into his wound as a bioluminescent gel that stuck to the wound as Cugas swam over to Brock and helped him stay afloat because Brock wasn’t the best swimmer himself.

“How do you keep getting so lucky?” Cugas teased him.

“You fucking stabbed me!” Brock accused.

“Because you drowned her.” Cugas answered defensively.

“Yeah but it worked, her idea worked.” Brock argued.

“I still think we could have done it another way.” Cugas argued as he watched as you coiled yourself around Brock before you pressed your hand over the wound and just hugged Brock, the marks on your body starting to pulse as you did so.

“What does it feel like?” Cugas asked curiously.

“Like she’s put ice into it.” Brock answered with a wince as he watched, noticing you were swimming up so he didn’t have to as Cugas had a hold of him and you were managing to keep both of them up.

“It’s hypnotizing isn’t it.” Cugas whispered in awe.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.” Brock whispered back before he noticed his own tattoos start to glow and pulse too.

“Woah,” Cugas breathed before he let go and got a little bit of space before he dove down to get a better look.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice muffled by the water before you just shook your head and blew a big breath at his head before his head was encased in a huge bubble.

“Oh this is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me.” Cugas giggled with glee as he was able to stay under water and breathe from the bubble as you giggled.

“It’s an undiran, for someone who wants to breathe underwater but doesn’t want to change to a merperson, siren or otherwise.” You smiled.

“So why are his tattoos glowing?” He asked as you had to think of a half truth to tell him since this wouldn’t let you lie completely.

“Orcs have magic too, I’m calling to it to help heal him, you stabbed his liver, it’s taking quite a bit to heal him, I’m having his own being do half the work.” You explained.

“Oh, awesome.” Cugas nodded in understanding.

“You stabbed my liver?!” Brock asked as he glared at Cugas.

“You drowned her!” Cugas argued back before you uncoiled yourself from Brock to reach out and grab Cugas.

“It’s ok, it worked, that’s what matters. Please give the orders to stay in the eye of the oncoming storm, I can feel the currents down here, tell them to find the circle current, it’ll keep you around the black waters and in the eye of the storm.” You gently urged him. “Please.” You added.

“I can’t say no to you.” Cugas complained.

“Thank you Cugas.” You thanked him sweetly before he came back up to the surface, his undiran popping once it touched the surface as he gave more orders and left you and Brock in the hold as his men left and gave you some privacy.

“You’ll be ok.” You reassured Brock as you coiled around him again, your tail underneath to gently swim to keep his head above water so he didn’t have to tread water himself as you sat in companionable silence again for a moment.

“Yana,” Brock suddenly murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before.

“Hmm?” You asked, craning your head up from where it had been resting on his chest.

“Please don’t ever ask me to do anything like that again.” Brock requested as his arms seemed to gravitate around you as one seemed to find the back of your hand, his fingers threading into your hair.

“Afraid that Cugas will succeed in killing you next time?” You tried to tease but the look on his face told you that this wasn’t a matter light enough to joke about.

“That was really hard for me to do and I took a big leap of faith that you knew yourself better than any of us do. I can’t…” His bottom lip quivered for a moment as his eyes got glassy as emotion choked out his voice.

“That was really dangerous and we almost lost you. Kids can be physically resilient but mentally fragile and as we age that reverses. I know you’re strong and powerful and you have abilities I can only dream of. But everyone has their limits and this was beyond mine. I knew it was a mistake before I even did it and I don’t blame Cugas for reacting the way he did and frankly if I had lost you, I never would have forgiven myself and no one else would have either. Please, don’t ask me to do anything like that again.” Brock pleaded and you were moved by his words.

“Ok.” You agreed as you nodded in understanding before he just hugged you and held you while you healed him and this suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world and just as you finished you felt something hit the bottom of the ship as you heard the whole crew start to scream and panic before the tank doors at the bottom of the ship were pried open and you quickly got Brock on top of you as you quickly swam him to the side against the suction of the water pulling you down before a big hand reached inside and grabbed you.

“Brock!” You called before you were pulled out of the hold and the doors were shut behind you before you dragged to the dark, dark depths.

#Orc #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #female reader male monster #well technically female monster and male monster #but still #fun times #exophilia #exo #orc romance #orc love story #reader insert #Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Part 4 #Moura

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writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

Text

King and Queen

Summary: Jungkook becomes very needy before he goes on tour and becomes even more desperate when he gets back (Part 1 of a 2 Shot)

Jungkook x Reader

Words:1988

Warnings:Smut, Sub/Jungkook, Dom Reader, Light bondage, Ice Play, Thigh Riding.

Happy Reading :)

//Charlie Puth – Attention// you groggily rolled over and reached blindly in the darkness towards the way too bright light of your phone.

“This better be important Kook, its 2am” frustration seeping through your drowsiness causing your brows to furrow.

“Please come over” the bright wide-eyed voice asked politely. Sighing to yourself before continuing with your response

“I saw you like 4 hours ago, and you have to be up at 6am to catch your flight; don’t you think you need to rest?” knowing full well he’d take this rhetorically.

“No, please, I need you more… my queen” He whined. Like a switch, all tiredness dissipated and a half smirk diffused across your face. He knew exactly what he was doing calling you that and you knew exactly what he wanted.

“Aww my little bunny, always so needy for me before he goes on tour” you teased fake pity in your voice. You flicked your lamp on and shuffled yourself out of bed and scanned the dimmed room for your grey skinny fit joggers. You fished a white tank top out your draw and pulled it over your ivory floral lace balconette bra.

“I’ll have to help myself soon” He toyed, your eyes widened in awe of his bravery.

“You dare!” you warned “You won’t be allowed to be inside me until long after your back” Your tone sending all the warning he would need.

“Don’t be long” the phone beeped and he was gone, you pictured the smug look adorning his face right now. Cheeky shit!

As you clicked the key as soundlessly as you could you wandered if he’d behaved. There was always a slight hope that he wouldn’t. Last time he misbehaved you got to chastise him; you refused to let him touch you and make you cum. You enjoyed rubbing salt into that wound by making him watch while you came by your own doing. It drove him crazy and he certainly learnt his lesson. You gingerly made your way to his room, the lighting from outside showered just enough light, casted just enough shadows to navigate yourself successfully. A slither of white light peeked from under his door, inhaling the essence of your role before stepping inside.

“Such a good prince” impressed, he was on his knees dead in front of you in nothing but black boxers. He was knelt back resting on his calves, legs slightly parted and palms upright on his thighs. His eye were weighed down with obedience, dark hair trickling onto his face.

“What is it you wanted so badly to get me up for?” you spoke, hands on your hips, still in front of him.

“I want to hear you cry you out my name while I fucked you once more before I go away” His voice was so sickly sweet and innocent despite the filth that rolled out of his lips. The apricot colour skin taught against his muscular build, every bit of definition a treat to the eyes.

“I suppose I can’t deny you that” agreeing for him as well, It was going to be a long month. You knelt in front of him tipped his chin up per-missing him to look at you. His eye were craters of dark brown sugar starting to caramelize with unresolved need.

“There will still be consequences for waking me up, you know I hate that. Understand?”

“Yes M’aam” so obedient with his response.

“Good, now get up and kiss me”

You both bounced up, he launched at you his lips hit yours with unrestrained urgency knocking you back into the door. His weight pressed to your chest battling with your quickening chest undulations. It accelerated even further when his hands clamped onto your hips securing you in place.

“I think you can feel too much” you moaned in between breaths. “Stop and go back to waiting like a good bunny”

Jungkook stole one last lingering kiss desperately, a slight pout on his lips. You used to punish that behaviour but you grew to find it to be too unbearably cute and sexy when he sulked.

You went to a chest of draws at the back of his expansive wardrobe and took to the bottom draw and removed the satin blindfold and restraints. He’s lucky he’s going on tour and his skin needs to be flawless otherwise you’d be bringing out much more. He’d be restrained with rope until he was raw; he’d be left marked, bruised and flogged. Upon returning he’d not moved an inch.

“Always such a well behaved boy” kneeling behind him lightly blossoming kisses across his back, he inhaled each time your lips skimmed his skin. He always smelt like fresh soap, your hand trickled up the back of his neck snacking through his silky dark hair. He groaned when you yanked his head back

“On the bed” you whispered straight into his ear, which prickled at the sound of your command.

As soon as he’d laid down you climbed and straddled his waist, you stripped your shirt and bra off letting your breasts sit perkily.

“So beautiful my queen” he eyed your flesh with a cocktail of love and hunger. His fingertips traced your stomach

“Aah” you warned, his hands raised apologetically. The notion did not reach his eyes. You returned a mischievous smile as you secured his hands and hooked them over a notch in the middle of the headboard. You purposely ground your hips into his still clothed crotch steeling a moan he attempted to cover up with a hiss from his lips. Absorbing the groans with your lips as you kissed him with fierce passion, biting his lower lip. You felt him grow hard beneath you

“Is that nice my prince?”

“Mmm” he tried to mimic your hip movements but you centred your weight and stopped him.

“Too impatient Kookie” you removed one of his senses firmly tightening the blindfold behind his head. Seeing Jungkook’s breathe hitch sent a tingle to your core, your arousal transferring to your joggers and your clit beginning to ache. You sat back, pressure on his erection and stilled

“I think I may need one more thing”

You left the bed and chucked on your shirt and ventured to the kitchen. He hated being left restrained, especially in the dorm for fear of getting caught. You took your time returning the devilish smile never wavering. On finally returning you shed all your clothing and clinked a glass delicately on the bedside table. Gasping as you straddled his thigh pressing your wetness onto him, a pursed moan also escaped Jungkook.

“See what you do to me bunny, how wet I get for you” you were selfish and started grinding yourself planting your hands either side of his head, arching your back making sure your mouth spilling moans was close to his ear.

“Aaah, Miss you feel so good, don’t stop” he pleaded

“Do you want me to cum bunny?”

“Please my queen, I want to feel your body shake on me” you stopped with no words

“Fuck!” he exclaimed in surprise, you felt his muscles hold their breath beneath you as he adjusted to the freezing block of ice draw a picture across the outline of his pectoral muscles. When the ice cube had been diminished to a small pebble you put it in your mouth. Your mouth cold and wet enclosing them around his lengthening nipple. Where the water had trickled down his skin it had left a field of goose bumps. The way his body reacted to your torment filled you with such drive you had to restrain the urge to fuck him until his tears were streaming down his face.

“Please touch me my queen” he fidgeted under you furthering his desperation. Granting his request you relieved him of his boxers

“Is this what you want my Kookie?” you breathed teasing your fingertips down his shaft.

“Yes Miss” his head rolled back into the sheets drunk with anticipation. He angled his hips to try and put more of himself in your hand. You hand struck his face, his high pitched whine had your pelvic muscles clenching around noting.

“I need to ride you first” you stopped all contact with his cock.

You resumed rocking your hips steadily over his thigh again. Jungkook couldn’t stop the frustration seeping onto his face in beautiful creases. Beginning to feel that slow ascent in your stomach muscles.

“How bad do you want to feel me Kookie?” you panted.

“So bad, please let me be inside you, I want to fill you up and feel you tense around me” he begged saturated with desperation. You could easily just cum sometimes from the way he whined and begged for you

“I’m going to ride your cock until I cum all over it but you my prince are not to cum!” you strengthened the end of your words conveying your seriousness.

“Oh fuck, I love it when you ride me” he grunted as you sunk down onto him followed by a low guttural growl. You began lifting and lowering yourself onto him balancing your hands on his v-lines.

“How do I feel baby?” You fished.

“Incredible, I get so lost in you” he was panting his words. Arching your back, flinging you head back, one hand rapidly circling your clit. Your legs jerked tighter around his waist as you cried out through your release. Your walls pulsing sweet bliss with passing second.

“Agh, princess feels…so...good” he stuttered. You struck him firmly across the face with the palm of your hand, he exhaled a pained cry; his dick twitched in contradiction.

“Sorry...my queen” he corrected.

Drowning in the aftershocks you leaned forward and untied his which dropped thankfully to the bed, you also gave him back his sight. Slipping the blindfold of his moist forehead, strands of hair clinging to his face mercifully.

“There you go my king” as soon as you gave up this code word signalling equality he pushed himself up and had you in his lap still inside you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“What are you going to do with you free reign baby?” you were still breathless, heart rampaging in your chest. Sloppy kisses showering you before he breathed in your ear

“I’m going to fuck you hard, you’ll be crying out my name” your body shuddered at the thought. Within seconds you was on your back legs wrapped tightly around him, his cock teasing, lined up to your entrance. You winced as his teeth bit hard on your neck, your nails leaving half-moon crescents littered on his side. He sucked ferociously and slammed into you; you almost screamed with some of the lingering sensitivity.

“Shit Jungkook” you cried. His pace unrelenting, crashing into your g-spot each time.

“You gotta be louder than that Y/N” he managed through his own guttural grunts. Somehow his thrusts grew harder and faster, his hot breath rolling down your neck where his head nestled.

“Jungkook… I” your orgasm smashed into you out of nowhere light a freight train, your scream higher almost in shock. His hips staggered and jerked as the pressure of your walls clenching around him sent him exasperatedly exhaling as he came and joined you in riding out your orgasm.

He peeled off you and slumped back beside you both panting, both lost in the afterglow.

“Hey you two kids had better be finished. We’re all trying to sleep here!” Jin hammered on the door sounding more amused than annoyed. You giggled and buried your head amongst the sheet like a shy school girl.

Jungkook rescued you with a delicate kiss on the forehead.

“I love you baby, I’m going to miss you so much” His bunny smile comatosing you in sweetness where you lay.

“I love you too Kook, you’re always so good for me and I’ll see you at the wrap party when you get back”

#bts smut #bts #sub-bts-network #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btssmutclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #sub jungkook

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prettymuchdeadalready · 4 years

Text

100 Important Character Questions

Here’s looking at you kid, @wexarethewalkingxdead !! XD They’ll be below the cut due to length. {{ I despise ‘read mores’ except that it’s so fucking long! XD }}

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

taken from beth kinderman and nikki walker’s the 100 most important things to know about your character. a good list to help develop a character’s background, personality, and general aspects.

PART 1: THE BASICS

· What is your full name? :: Bobby Autumn Monroe

· Where and when were you born? :: Atlanta, Georgia at Grace Memorial at 4am on a Sunday.

· Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) :: Maryann JoMarie Monroe (nee Tippins) and Franklin Roosevelt Monroe ;; mama was a stay at home mother who became an addict to opiates and papa was a worker at the mill in Powder Springs, which was a HUGE (in his mind because he always resented it) drive from where they lived on the outskirts of Atlanta in a little cabin home one a sparce patch of land just outside a trailer park beside the woods. Mama was a strong woman who grew weak after nears of being beaten and bloodied by her drunk mean husband; having 3 kids kept her strong to a degree, however, for as long as she could be, trying to keep his attention on her and away from her kids. When she died (Bobby who was the eldest of them by 15 minutes) that all changed; Michael trying to draw the majority of the brutality because he was the boy and his father always was trying to beat on the girls when given little to no reason at all, even.

· Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? :: Michael Henry Monroe and Katherine Emberlynn Monroe, in chronological order of birth after Bobby. Michael is an EMT on staff with New York Presbyterian Hospital, which is also Columbia University’s training hospital. Katherine is an aspiring actress in the LA area of California.

· Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. :: Bobby has never left Georgia. The only time she does is when the group moves on after season 4. She doesn’t know why she’s never left before, not even to visit her siblings that left her behind, but she always feels like, as the big sister, it’s her job to maintain a home for them to come back to, should they ever need it.

· What is your occupation? :: Bobby is an ER nurse with Grace Fulton Memorial Hospital and regularly assists with trauma cases.

· Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. :: Height is 5’4. (Smol but mighty!) Weight fluctuates from 115 to 120 pounds depending on the time of year and stressors in her life; okay, maybe 124, but not an ounce more! She swears. Bobby is Caucasian American. Hair is an auburn brunet. Eyes are chocolate brown; when she is angry they appear almost amber in tone, and when sexually aroused they usually darken to an almost black. Her fashion sense is usually tomboy, wearing jeans and tee shirts; sometimes a little sporty with tight running pants, spandex or loose shorts, and tank tops. Bobby only has one tattoo that transcends any and all verses she might have: a black rose with three drips of blood on the petals, one at the end nearly ready to drop off, at the small of her back which reminds her of the fragility of life and death and the ever presence of the latter, the pain and struggle symbolized by the blood droplets on the petals. She has a long scar that runs the length of the space between where the band on her bra would rest down to her love handle, on the edge where her side meets her back – given to her by an abusive ex that was just like her father when drunk, only worse because he was legitimately a highly functioning and violently brutal psychopath and burn marks on her upper back/right shoulder blade and left outer thigh from where her father and her ex had their fun using her as an ashtray.

· To which social class do you belong? :: Middle class. Working class.

· Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? :: Maryanne had carpal tunnel and severe arthritis in her left arm from it being broken a couple times by her lovely husband. After her mother died Bobby was cooking dinner one night and her father, who had been drinking all evening from end of work until right that moment, picked up his hammer and hit Bobby in the upper left arm twice, hard. She had to wear a cast for two months (part of that time an extension after being thrown against the wall another separate night that shattered the first incarnation of the cast) to heal the broken bone. Thus, sometimes when its too cold she has bouts where her left arm is weak, not able to carry heavy things, and there was minimal nerve damage in the hand as a result which means she can’t always feel too hot, or too cold. This does not impair her job as she isn’t responsible for surgery where the steadiest of hands are needed; thankfully Bobby’s aid in the field is at most a needle and thread for mending/stitches, of which she can do with her dominant hand.

· Are you right- or left-handed? :: Right handed.

· What does your voice sound like? :: Natalie Portman.

· What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? :: Y’all. Jesus Harold Christ on crooked crutches. Jiminy Christmas. Calm down there Satan.

· What do you have in your pockets? :: A pocket knife with combination of other fold out tools. Mini canister of mace. Car and house keys in some verses. Apocalypse verses she sometimes carries car keys.

· Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? :: Bobby doesn’t consider anything she does as strange or annoying but just ask one of the people she considers family and he would say she talks too damn much. At least the other man in her life appreciates that she knows how to turn out the lights…

PART 2: GROWING UP

· How would you describe your childhood in general? :: Stressful. Her days were constantly spent fearing what would happen when daddy got home, what mood would he be in, what would he do, would he just hurt mama or would he come after her and her siblings too…? Bobby grew up worrying about things no child should ever have to worry about or fear.

· What is your earliest memory? :: Bobby doesn’t know for sure if this is a memory or some part of her subconscious trying to bring her peace, but in the quiet moments when she closes her eyes she can hear her mother’s voice softly singing to her as she’s being held, cradled in safe arms with worn delicate hands gently rubbing her back. “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her…? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and…who will be her lover? All your life you’ve never seen a woman…taken by the wind…”

· How much schooling have you had? :: Bobby went through two years of high school before she was forced to drop out to care for her other siblings and make sure they got the best lives possible. It wasn’t perfect anyway, but she tried. She went back and got her GED when she turned 21. Immediately upon her father dying ( when she turned 19 ) she began putting some money away toward furthering her own education, enrolling in community college once her GED came through. She got a bachelor’s degree in science and biology, and earned certification and licensure as an EMT and trauma nurse.

· Did you enjoy school? :: Bobby loved school. It was the only thing she could do outside the house that was usually constant and unbreakable, a schedule that the state decided for children and one her father couldn’t stop. This was she could be free of the worries and fears that usually plagued her days and simultaneously learn things about the world at large, all around her and beyond. It was refreshing and awe inspiring.

· Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? :: Anything she didn’t learn from her mother and her father ( positive or not ) she learned from school and the teachers and children in that environment.

· While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. :: The only role model Bobby had growing up was her mother, Maryanne. Mama taught her the strength and the tenacity she needed to make it in the world, both in her father’s house, and later.

· While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? :: Bobby and her mother started as adult to child relationship and then at the end when her mother was dying Bobby became an almost equal to her mother, taking care of her and herself and the siblings she had. Likewise, with her siblings, it was mostly a jovial peer to peer relationship ( and what sibling relationship was complete without the occasional fight and attempted murder ), which eventually merged into a motherly feeling over them, protective of them when their mother passed. Her relationship with her father was always strained, always wary and tumultuous and it only worsened when Maryanne died. He became more possessive of the kids and Bobby feared being raped or sexually abused by him after a time ( she looked more like her mother than Kath did ) as he would get drunk and beat her, yelling things like ‘how dare you leave me’ and ‘I’ll show you something to cry about you weak whore.’ That relationship was strained and haunted until the day he died.

· As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? :: She wanted to be an astronaut or a pirate. Anything that could take her far far away from where she was and keep her safe, eventually far enough to make her happy in life.

· As a child, what were your favorite activities? :: Anything Bobby could do outside the house. She spent AGES outside in the woods, roaming with nowhere in her mind to go in particular; she could sit on a stump deep in the sea of green and just space out, let her mind wander for hours. She would try to fish. She made friends with small woodland creatures like something out of a Disney film. She sometimes sat alone out there all night, looking up into the moon under a blanket of stars and a bed made of fallen leaves and long grass.

· As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? :: As a child, Bobby was pretty devoid of personality; at least when she was at home. At home and when she was alone she was quiet, too quiet. A mousy brown haired brown eyed little girl with nothing to say and who would lay low on purpose, anything not to catch her father’s attention. Outside of the house she often put on a brave face, smiling and laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. Sometimes she could even forget that she was a victim of domestic violence and forget her usual invisible act, coming out of herself and being herself, talkative ( almost too much talking for some ) and bright. Her light shines bright from within her and her strength and perseverance really show in her eyes.

· As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? :: Bobby was not a popular kid at school. She often sat alone or with her siblings. Even the losers didn’t want to sit with them because everyone knew what the Monroe home life was like and who their father was, what he did to them and their mother. No one would claim them as friends, at least not outwardly or in public.

· When and with whom was your first kiss? :: Daniel Dunn was her first kiss in most all her verses. He was a messed up kid, a psychopath that was highly functioning and much too sadistic, even as far as most psychopaths are concerned. He used her and abused her for most of her young adult years, as her father had her mother. ( What was it they said about emulating what you saw as a child and being doomed to repeat it…? ) In one of her verses she has known Daryl Dixon all of her life and he is her first kiss…her first everything.

· Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? :: Same as the question above to be honest. Most of her verses features Daniel Dunn in that role, as fucked up and cruel as that is, and in the one it’s Daryl Dixon.

· If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. :: Bobby was definitely informed by her childhood and her mother’s and father’s relationship as far as what kind of person she wanted to become. She would consciously always pick a path that led her to be her mother, kind and sweet and a pure heart with passion despite being regularly beaten down and broken by outside influences because of her goodness. She was also inspired to become a trauma nurse thanks to all the times she had to help fix up her mom, her siblings and herself over the years, some of the things she’d come into schooling being self-taught after a bad couple of nights.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

· What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? :: The night Dan almost killed her and she survived, barely, to be present and the star witness at the trial that would send him to prison for at least 20 years for attempted premeditated murder. And every so many years when probation is brought before the review board, release for good behavior, she makes sure she’s available to speak. She even takes the day off work to make sure she can go down and make herself and her story with him heard.

· Who has had the most influence on you? :: Mama.

· What do you consider your greatest achievement? :: Bouncing back from being a high school dropout ( even though her reasoning was perfectly acceptable and understandable ), getting her GED and her degrees. Putting herself first. Finally.

· What is your greatest regret? :: Bobby blames herself for her mother’s death. Obviously her mother became addicted to opioids and died of an aortic rupture, which were things no little girl could have realistically been able to help or prevent. Nonetheless she thinks, and has believed all her life that maybe she wasn’t strong enough to help her mother through the worst of their lives, to survive past it and watch her babies grow up and succeed in the way their mama had always wanted and hoped.

· What is the most evil thing you have ever done? :: Bobby pulled the wings off a fly once. Another time she pulled the back legs off of a grasshopper. It was, in her mind ( at least as a pretense ) all for science, but some psychologists and therapists might think otherwise.

· Do you have a criminal record of any kind? :: Bobby has gotten arrested a couple times, all for misdemeanor things like stealing a candy bar from a convenience store and for indecent exposure in her small town when she was caught with her pants down around the bend, side of the road, peeing in the brush while drunk.

· When was the time you were the most frightened? :: Bobby was frightened to the same extent twice in her life. The first when her mother was being beaten for the last time ( which was also the night she died ) and when Bobby herself was being beaten and broken and nearly killed by Dan.

· What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? :: When she was 15 ( which is not a legal age of consent and no, I do not condone anything happening to minors, this is just FICTION ) she was being diddled by Dan in the back seat of his car ( he was older than she was by 2 years as well ) when she opened her eyes to find the window down and a couple of Dan’s older friends jerking themselves off to what Dan was doing to her, turning her on and playing with her. She immediately wanted to stop and thankfully there were other people walking by when she started screaming or she most likely would have been forced to continue against her will. It was both embarrassing for her and equally as dangerous and twisted a situation.

· If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? :: Bobby often wishes she was older and stronger than she was when her mother died. She wants to be able to go back and take her siblings out of that environment altogether. She wants to have been able to maybe even save her mother.

· What is your best memory? :: The ones alone in the woods. Anything where the woodlands creatures accepted her as a part of their world, knowing inherently she wouldn’t hurt them.

· What is your worst memory? :: The way her mother died, in her arms, at home. There were no police and no ambulance until it was too late to save her, much too late.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

· Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? :: Optimistic.

· What is your greatest fear? :: Being powerless and out of control of her own life.

· What are your religious views? :: She’s spiritual but does not ascribe to any one particular religious sect or view. She tends to take a little of this and a little of that from various religions, whatever she feels she can identify with in the moment and incorporate into her lifestyle.

· What are your political views? :: Progressive Liberal Independent.

· What are your views on sex? :: The more the better. Well, provided it’s the right person and it’s consensual. Also, sometimes a little kinky if she trusts the person she’s with implicitly.

· Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? :: In any verses where the apocalypse doesn’t exist ( or not yet ) she could only kill if it was someone threatening her life or the lives of her family/spouse/kids. In the apocalypse, she begins just as they all did, saying they would never kill the living, then only if she had to, and progressing until doing it regularly because she had to and there were rarely other options. Not to say there are moments when she should kill and doesn’t, for one reason or another, but she makes sure to weigh the call. Taking a life, being a healer as she is and continues to be, isn’t an easy call to make.

· In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? :: To abuse physically, emotionally, mentally, and/or sexually a child. To Bobby that is the most reprehensible crime.

· Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? :: Yes.

· What do you believe makes a successful life? :: The impact one has on the world around them, whoever or whatever they touch/influence. What a person leaves behind, their legacy.

· How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? :: Bobby is pretty honest about her feelings now, almost to a detriment. She’s brutally honest about thoughts and feelings and has been pretty intense in all aspects of her life since her father died and set her free from the binds of her past.

· Do you have any biases or prejudices? :: Bobby has biases against rapists and child molesters, child abusers and domestic violence offenders. Really, she feels as though anyone who breaks the law for more than stealing some food ( if a person is desperate to eat or feed their family ) they should do the time applicable to the crime.

· Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? :: Bobby doesn’t like to lie. She won’t do it. If asked to lie she will retreat from the conflict altogether, saying nothing to either party. If asked for the truth, therefore, she would have to tell the truth. Her replies at being asked to lie always include some formulation of ‘if you want to propagate lies and slander then do it in your name.’ Her refusal stems from years of her mother and her family lying to the authorities, to medical professionals, to the world about what they went through at her father’s hands. ( Whether they knew or not otherwise wasn’t the point. )

· Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? :: Family and friends that have become family. Her spouse, her partner, the person she’s chosen to spend the rest of her life with. Her children, adopted or natural, blood or not.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

· In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? :: Bobby is always guided by the other person. She will usually begin friendly and polite, if a bit wary and gruff depending on the circumstances. It always depends on the first impression and expression of the other person how she reacts and treats them from there, forward. Sometimes a rude or dislike situation can be changed over time if both parties work toward making it positive or a catalyst turns the dynamic around. Likewise, if someone starts off friendly with her it can turn to dislike and even hatred if given the right cataclysm. She read this quote once that she lives by : ‘if you feel it necessary to judge me by my past, don’t be surprised when I put you in it.’ Most often, however, if a person is able to get past all the walls she’s built over time against being hurt viscerally by someone intimately, they’re in her heart and they’re usually there for good.

· Who is the most important person in your life, and why? :: It depends on the verse. Sometimes all she has left are her brother and sister. Other verses are dependent on her family/attachments/spouses/significant others. Rick, Shane, Daryl, Charley, etc. Family is important to Bobby, especially at the end of the world. Her children are first and foremost the most important people in her life in the verses in which she has them.

· Who is the person you respect the most, and why? :: Carol. No matter what verse is concerned, this holds true. She sees a lot of her mother in Carol. A lot of the same strengths and hopes and dreams that have been tramped down by a man with a heavy hand and an awfully small constitution. Of all the people Bobby has the pleasure to meet in all her travels and all her realities, Carol is the one person she loves and supports and looks up to the most.

· Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. :: Bobby has very few friends in the real world. As stated before she was never a popular kid growing up and only got any recognition for her beauty by boys or girls with one thing on the mind. The only people she considers as true friends she made after the world as she knew it already ended. Carol. Daryl. Rick. Shane. Maggie. Glenn. Enid. King Ezekiel. Jerry. Jesus. Aaron. Etc. The only exception to this is the verse where she’s known Daryl all her life; in that case she’s always had him. He is her best friend. And her cat, Patches, a gray and white tabby cat with darker gray almost black ears, definitely constitutes as a best friend.

· Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. :: Daryl – nickname Tracker; annoyed and frustrated with how much she talks but loves her for it anyway and finds it kind of endearing despite himself; afraid of intimacy in the same way that she is and was and what makes them a good fit is their willingness now to grow together solely with one another; can’t live with her and can’t live without her; hillbilly grump with the most honest, pure, innocent heart of anyone she knows. Shane – nickname Deputy; knows who the real boss of the house is; is probably afraid of Bobby…maybe…like a lot; strong willed, passionate, and has an easy anger reflex; they fight a lot about the silliest things but it always come back to love; the thing he probably loves the most about her is that she knows how to turn the damn lights off. Rick – no nickname as yet; he really stepped into the leader role over the time they’ve known each other; Bobby never expected to follow him as closely as she does now; they don’t always agree but they rarely actually fight; he’s the epitome of calm and problem solving in dire situations; he’d walk through Hell and all its fire for her and his kids and probably everyone else he cares for and that’s the one thing she loves the most above all else about him. Mac – nickname Cupcake; strictly a fanfiction/headcanon ship at this point; used to ship this pairing exclusively with macxtheanimal way back when; a meth head, rapist, murderer, criminal, muscle and enforcer for his father’s crystal meth operation; he’s a villain that makes no apologies for his actions but she can see the broken little boy in him, abandoned by his mother so long ago to his father’s lifestyle; kept her hostage as a sex slave for a long time until they had an intimate exchange one night and she whispered to him that she just wanted to be free to make the choice; he let her go, saying she was free and he knew she’d always leave because they all did if given a chance; she stayed. {{ All are subject to change based on verse or partner writing this with us. Mostly these listings as spouses or SO’s are exclusive right now to wexarethewalkingxdead and macxtheanimal. }}

· Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. :: She’s only been in love a couple times in her life. ( Verse dependent. ) It almost always ends in pain and suffering for her, be it physically or emotionally, but there are a few over the verses/years that she’s found true happiness with.

· What do you look for in a potential lover? :: Connection. Chemistry. Sexy/pretty eyes. Rough pads of their hands and they have to be steady and firm. Stable.

· How close are you to your family? :: Bobby and her siblings are VERY close, even though they don’t live in the same place anymore. Sometimes herself and her sister Kath haven’t always been as close as they should have been. Those moments are almost always based on imagined slights of some kind because Bobby is and always has been an outspoken person; she never sugar coats things that should be communicated. It follows in the same vein as her always being truthful. Hence, sometimes hurt feelings. Bobby and the people she’s come to think of as family are likewise, VERY close with these same issues of hurt feelings now and again, resulting mostly in a short time of silence or avoidance between the parties.

· Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? :: This is dependent on her verses. In some she does make a family with someone special. In others she hasn’t, whether because she hasn’t found that someone yet or because she’s afraid of finding a man like her father and subjecting herself to the same life her mother lived prior to her death – not to mention subjecting any children they might have to that lifestyle.

· Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? :: Bobby would turn to her siblings first, provided it was something they could solve realistically. If they aren’t available or they can’t fix it because they live out of state, etc, the next stop would be her chosen family, friends she’s made along the way that would go the extra mile for her, and she for them.

· Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? :: Very few people and they have to prove themselves to her with their deeds, not just words and promises coming off lips and tongues that have lied so many times they probably don’t even know they’re doing it anymore.

· If you died or went missing, who would miss you? :: Her family ( her brother and sister ) have been living in different states from her for quite a few years now but that doesn’t mean they’ve become distant. They would definitely miss her. Also any of the family she’s made in the apocalypse. Obviously this is verse dependent.

· Who is the person you despise the most, and why? :: Actually, I think Bobby despises her mother the most of anyone she’s ever known in her life. It’s a very complicated relationship. Bobby still loves her mother; while she was alive she was the only kindness Bobby and her siblings knew. She was strong and endured a lot but that same strength could also be considered weakness. Why couldn’t she have left their father? Why couldn’t she have taken them away and made a go of it on their own? Maybe she’d be alive today. Maybe a lot of things. So Bobby is constantly fighting with love and hate for the woman that bore her.

· Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? :: Bobby has a good sense for whatever a situation calls for, usually. In most circumstances she will listen and hear someone out before saying her piece. But she is southern and strong willed, a stiff backbone, and sometimes the outrage comes dripping off her teeth like venom before she can stave them off. In moments when she can’t be smart and hold her tongue, and even when she does, Bobby is a woman who is definitely not afraid of conflict if she feels the situation calls for it.

· Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? :: Bobby is strong enough to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. It certainly depends on what the situation is, but in the case of her primary verse – in the Walker apocalypse – she doesn’t hold back. As a healer, a nurse, she will absolutely take on a leadership role if one is needed. If another leader is present, and she respects that person, they will only gain support from her; likewise, if they do not have her respect, all they will get it push-back until they either utilize her and her ideas to their potential or she potentially replaces them as the leader. She’s very strong but she is versatile. She knows when to step back and let things shake loose.

· Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? :: Bobby has always been a little bit of a loner. She’d personable but she also likes her alone time. As previously discussed, there wasn’t a lot of silent time in her home and she much rather would have been somewhere alone with her thoughts instead of lined up ready to catch a beating. Large crowds do tend to make her a little anxious. She’d much rather only deal with a few people at a time.

· Do you care what others think of you? :: Bobby does care what other people thing of her, to an extent. She doesn’t dwell on it, however, and if there are ever opinions that are misconstrued or wrong she will make sure not to ever think on those things again. The only thing that usually can get to Bobby is when people she loves and is devoted to make comments to her that can be considered derogatory or hurtful, judging.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

· What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? :: Hiking and taking walks in the lush green forests. Photography. Reading. Her grandma taught her mother how to sew and thus, taught Bobby enough to get by; those nursing lessons on stitching wounds up didn’t hurt either.

· What is your most treasured possession? :: Patches. He is a grey and white tabby cat with dubious bloodline origin with black ears. She’s had him with her for a long time and she’d walk through fire for him if she had to.

· What is your favorite color? :: Blue.

· What is your favorite food? :: Seafood boil.

· What, if anything, do you like to read? :: Bobby is an always will be a fan of anything she can get her hands on. She does go through moods, however, devoted to certain genres over the others. Predominantly she reads works of fiction about murder and crime, who done its and thrillers. Horror novels are a must as well. A favorite series of hers is the By The Numbers novels about Stephanie Plum and her life fumble bumbling through the Bounty Hunter business by Janet Evanovich. Romance novels, unless well written with a predominant plot encompassing one of the aforementioned genres, can go suck lemons!

· What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? :: Bobby is mostly a music person. Movies are fine and television can captivate her attention if its done well but there’s nothing better than putting in a CD, or plugging her headphones into her phone’s jack and playing some tunes on the digital frequency. It sets the mood, no matter what that mood is, 100% of the time.

· Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? :: Bobby used to smoke. It was something to do with her hands and a nervous tick that she adopted mostly in crowded groups of people to help calm her nerves in those situations. Social smoking. Whether or not she still does it verse dependent. Bobby also drinks alcoholic beverages but within reason and rarely ever to excess.

· How do you spend a typical Saturday night? :: In the apocalypse there is a lot to do, all of the time. There’s never a dull moment. Saturdays are usually reserved for whatever needs doing that wasn’t done the day before, as well as making time for family and friends trying to reclaim what was stolen from them by the world as it exists now. In the other verses where the world is normal, Saturdays are usually reserved for family time, the park, the zoo, barbecues with family and friends, etc. On the rare occasion work comes calling – she is an emergency room nurse – she will sometimes go in. And sometimes not.

· What makes you laugh? :: Stupid jokes, dad jokes, horrible puns. Her husband. Her kids. New airings and reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos.

· What, if anything, shocks or offends you? :: Racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, slurs and swear words used in conjunction with said slurs and behavior, etc. Anything that could be considered along the same vein by small minded people who are afraid of anything they don’t know and haven’t bothered to become educated about/in.

· What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? :: Insomnia does sometimes strike. It happens in those moments when something exceptionally traumatic happens at work or there happens to be a scare with her husband, kids, or siblings/family, those moments when she’s in the dark of the night, sometimes alone, with her own thoughts and fears. Sometimes there is no amusing herself. Sometimes she has to talk herself down off a very high ledge. Sometimes she has to wake up her significant other ( if present ) just to know they’re there, they’re alive. Sometimes the heartbeat and the steady breathing isn’t enough.

· How do you deal with stress? :: Bobby reads. She keeps her hands busy cooking, cleaning, and caring for her family. Killing Walkers in the apocalypse, keeping a tight perimeter. Yoga and pilates in the verses where the world hasn’t changed.

· Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? :: Bobby is usually a very plan oriented person. She’s learned over the years that the only way to be is concerned, vigilant, if a bit controlling. That isn’t to say that she’s a control freak, but she does have strong opinions and will be heard on them. She wishes she was more spontaneous and sometimes makes attempts to purposely exit her comfort zone in certain situations she deems it appropriate, such as her sex life, dates, etc.

· What are your pet peeves? :: People who can’t follow directions or laws of an ordered society. People who lie or steal unless circumstances are such that would overwrite the negative or somehow make an allowance for it. People who judge others or presume to tell other people their business when they don’t even have their lives together.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

· Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? :: Regardless of what her work schedule works like ( days or evenings ) Bobby gets up around 5 a.m. daily. She makes coffee through the slits of her eyelids. She then returns to the bathroom where she showers and brushes her teeth. By that time she usually is ready to start breakfast for herself and whoever else is present. Morning shifts she works until 3 p.m. She will usually run any errands she has to do at that time before coming home and making dinner. Night shifts she works until 11 p.m. doing the errands and prepping dinner before leaving for the night for her shift. If her routine happens to be interrupted or subverted in any way, she usually gets a little perturbed, might make a dramatic comment about everything being a mess, and carrying on with things as best as she can.

· What is your greatest strength as a person? :: Her heart and her generosity. It helped her overcome a lot of odds that were stacked against her from the beginning.

· What is your greatest weakness? :: Her heart. Sometimes she’s loyal to a fault even though the people she let inside of it use her and abuse her. Also her stubborn as a mule attitude and her stiff backbone. When she’s made up her mind there’s very precious little that can change it.

· If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? :: How her past shaped her to be numb and emotionless in certain situations that require feeling. She doesn’t always respond in the right ways to tragedy or loss. Sometimes not responding at all. It’s a more calloused wounded part of herself she wished she didn’t have.

· Are you generally introverted or extroverted? :: Generally extroverted but in small doses. Large gatherings or venues kept to a minimum.

· Are you generally organized or messy? :: Organized.

· Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. :: Good – 1) Problem solving, 2) Nursing/healing, 3) Being a wife and mother. Bad – 1) Spontaneity, 2) Letting go, 3) Cleaning vomit.

· Do you like yourself? :: Yes. For the most part.

· What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) :: It’s a choice you make. When things get difficult, what kind of person would you want to be? If a child cries in the dark, scared, alone; would you help them? Or would you turn away? Tell yourself it’s not your concern. If a mother and father are fighting for their child’s life as the child is being physically removed from their arms, wounded, killed before them. Would you intervene if you could? Or turn your back? Would you do everything you could because you have the ability, because you have the choice or do you do nothing, make the choice not to, and perhaps blood be on your hands…? It’s a choice she makes every day to do better, to be someone she could be proud of, that her family would remember and be proud of long after she was gone. Her sacrifice, if needed, would not be in vane.

· What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? :: Leave the world a little better than she found it.

· Where do you see yourself in 5 years? :: She can’t say. She hopes to be alive and well, actually living a life and happy within its confines. But she knows that may never come. Not even tomorrow is guaranteed…

· If you could choose, how would you want to die? :: Old and grey in her sleep. In the apocalypse, if she could choose and she was bitten/injured beyond the ability to be healed, she would want to shoot herself in the head before changing. She wouldn’t want to leave it for any of her loved ones to do; she doesn’t want that burden to be on their soul.

· If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. :: 1) Write little notes or letters to those she loved who would miss her and feel her loss the most. 2) Love on and spend a lot of time with the children, 3) Clean, load, cock and ready her gun and wait.

· What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? :: Her kindness. How many people she helped. How far out of her way she sometimes went to make that happen.

· What three words best describe your personality? :: Brave, Generous, and Loyal

· What three words would others probably use to describe you? :: Bold, Daring, and Realistic

· If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) :: Bobby. You are without a doubt the biggest pain in my ass, second only to Shane and Daryl. You are the most generous, kind, loyal person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You’re also one of the most stubborn. A word of advice might be you think too much. You plan and you organize and you get shit done. I get it. But sometimes, you’re a little too extra. Learn what it’s like to be a girl. Let your hair down more. Unscrew the dick sometimes. It’s fun being a girl. And I know that you know that but you’re too afraid to lose control because you think if you do you’ll lose everything good you ever had. And I know it’s because you don’t think you deserve all the good you have received over the years. You’re beauty. You’re grace. You’re the kind of person I wish I could be sometimes; but you need to be a little less afraid of what you could lose and more willing to risk it all. A man in my life asked me once if a moment of happiness was worth a lifetime of anything else. And the answer is yes.

#ic #about Bobby #• you got some beach ball sized lady nuts on you • { bobby monroe }#character development

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haledamage · 4 years

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OC Interview: Liv Ramsey

a slightly more different interview with Liv XD @captainofthefallen open tagged and I didn’t need any much encouragement, so here you go. Gonna put most of it under a cut because it got really long.

I want to do this with Kira, too, but I couldn’t decide which romance route, and since some of the answers would obviously be different depending, I decided not to. (if someone wants to reply to this and tell me which Bravo Boy you want to see Kira awkwardly pretend she isn’t attracted to, I’ll do this for her as well :))

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same I was gonna say I’m not tagging anyone, but I’m gonna actually tag @queen-scribbles for one of her Wayhaven Detectives because I love them :3

1. What is your name?

“Raphael.” She grins playfully, as sharp and bright as a blade. She’s fidgeting restlessly with what looks to be a 9mm bullet. You’re unsure if it’s meant to be a threat or if she just needs something to do with her hands. “Okay, not really. I’m Liv. Olivia Ramsey. Charmed, I’m sure.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“I don’t know for a fact that I am named that. It’s just what they called me, and I decided to keep it.” She slips the bullet into some hidden pocket in the simple, well-tailored black suit she’s wearing and leans back, picking absently at her chipped blood-red nail polish. “As for Raphael, that’s my rank. Like a callsign, you could say. Or a nickname. I’ve got pretty attached to it in the last month or so.”

3. Are you single or taken?

She scowls. “I never liked to phrase it that way. ‘Taken,’ like I’ve been kidnapped or somethin’.” She pauses, studying your face like she’s trying to figure out how much to tell you. “But I assume you’re askin’ if I’m in a relationship, and I guess I am. Sorta. I’m pretty sure.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “I am in love with a man who is also in love with me and that I sometimes share a bed with. That I share a lot of things with. He’s also technically my boss, and if anyone knew about it, they’d try to use me to get to him. I’d be tortured and killed and that’s if I’m lucky. So it’s, y’know, a bit complicated.”

She leans forward in her chair suddenly, all the kindness draining from her face. “This stays between us, right, sweetheart? I’m not gonna let you put Gabriel in any danger over this.” She sits back and just like that her smile is back. “And before you ask, no. I haven’t seen his face. Everyone always asks me that. It’s not safe yet. No tellin’ who else might be watching.” Her smile softens into something fond, almost sweet. “I can wait. He’s worth it.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“I’m a good sweet-talker. Good at gettin’ people to tell me things or makin’ ‘em listen. I prefer to do it with a smile, but,” she pauses, a shadow of something very dangerous in her pale eyes, “well, sometimes people are stubborn. I got other ways to make ‘em talk, too.”

“Besides that, I move fast, I can be real quiet when I need to… or real loud, if that’s what’s called for instead. Pretty good at patching up wounds. Less good at causing them, but hey, no one’s perfect.” She shrugs one shoulder.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

She laughs, loud and joyful and maybe a little unhinged. “Oh, I fuckin’ wish. You know what’d I’d do if I had super powers and shit?” Her laughter quiets, but she keeps chuckling. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Blue. Not much to say about it, really. Lotsa people have blue eyes.”

7. How about your hair color?

She tugs on a strand of her long hair, currently falling loosely around her shoulders and down her back. “It’s red, right now. I change it sometimes, when the mood strikes, but I like red. I think only Mouse and Gabriel know my natural hair color, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” She taps her index finger on her thigh, thinking. "Maybe Michael knows. I dunno how much Gabriel tells him. I don't think he'd really care about somethin’ like that. Bigger fish to fry and all."

8. Have any family members?

“I mean, I’ve got the Archangels. Beyond them, no. Don’t need anyone else.”

9. Oh? How about pets?

She brightens suddenly. “I have a kitten! Her name’s Ruby. Here, I think I have a picture.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through it for a moment before holding it out to you. On the screen is a picture of a kitten, about three or four months old, with fluffy gray fur and curious blue eyes. It seems to be laying on what looks like a black hockey mask. “Raquel’s probably still a little pissed at me for keeping her, but… well, it did kinda save her life.”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

“I don’t like being shot at,” she says dryly, then she smirks. “I don’t like when people threaten my friends. If I had a dime for every time someone threatened to hurt Mouse in order to get me to talk, I could retire somewhere tropical.” She laughs to herself, one quick, amused ‘ha!’. “I’d like to see them try. He may be little, and quiet, but I don’t recommend underestimating him. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“I’m an artist. You’ve probably seen some of my work, if you’ve ever been to Manhattan. A couple of them were even done legally.” Her smile is warm, and there’s still laughter in her eyes. “I’m a painter. I mean, when I have time. I got lots of sketchbooks I fill up when I don’t have the time to put things on canvas or concrete. I’m also a pretty good chess player.” Her smile turns a little wicked. “Ask Rook how good I am at it. I wonder if he’s still sore about losin’ to me. I don’t think Bishop’s ever gonna let him live it down.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs. “I have hurt people in any way you can imagine and several ways you probably can’t. I don’t like to do it… well, just between you and me, sometimes I do like it.” She straightens the light blue tie she wears. “But either way, it’s part of the job. And I'm very good at my job.”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Oh yeah. Plenty of them.” She shrugs, like she’s not bothered at all by it, but she won’t quite meet your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, they were bad people. Probably. Most of them were, at least.” She smiles warmly at you, the tension in her expression gone like it was never there. “Don’t worry, we don’t kill innocents or civilians. Even nosy ones.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I dunno. Probably like a coyote or somethin’. One of those animals that can survive in almost any environment. The ones that stubbornly refuse to die.”

15. Name your worst habits?

“I run off at the mouth, especially if I’m scared or hurt or nervous. Not, like--” she pauses, as if looking for the right words “I don’t give away information or anything like that. I’m not a snitch. I just… I’m a bit of a smartass, and a bit of a flirt, and in situations where I should probably not be talking, I’m doin’ one of those instead. Michael says it’ll get me killed one day. Sometimes he says he’ll be the one to do it.” She grins. “He doesn’t mean it. He adores me. Don’t let him tell you different.”

She slouches back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “Besides that, I can’t sit still worth shit and I always forget to do the dishes. Also, don’t hand me any important paperwork because I will draw on it.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Nope. Never really had anyone to look up to. Well, maybe…” she pauses, her eyes distant. “Maybe Kaidan. Never had anyone take a chance on me before he did. He’s the reason I’m here now. The reason I’m an Archangel. He’s kinda my… mentor, in a way.” She smiles to herself. “Him and Gabriel. But I can’t exactly say I look up to Gabriel, y’know? That gets into weird territories, when you consider my relationship with him.”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Are those my only choices? ‘Cause those are not the only sexual orientations out there, sweetheart. I’m pansexual.” She spreads her arms out in an inviting way. “I’m an equal opportunity gal.”

18. Did you attend school?

“Sure. New York public schools. I even graduated. For Mouse, more than for myself. If I dropped out, he woulda done so too, and I didn’t want to drag him down with me.” She looks down, sadness in her eyes for a moment. “Guess I did anyway. Some best friend I turned out to be.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I don’t really care one way or the other about marriage, but if I ever have kids they’ll be adopted. I wanna give some kid the kind of home, the kind of family, that I never got to have. Unconditional and all that shit.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“Obviously.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically, then laughs. “Nah. If people know who I am, I’m not doin’ my job right, and if people are out there bein’ fans of the Archangels, then it’s Michael and Gabriel they’re swooning over, not Raphael.”

21. What are you most afraid of?

Her face goes abruptly blank and cold. “Being abandoned. Being alone. I’ve been there before… before Mouse, before the Archangels. I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city to the ground if that’s what it takes to keep them safe. I’m not ever going back to that. Not ever.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“Usually?” She looks down at herself. “Oh, you’re askin’ about the suit! It’s standard Archangel uniform. Black suit, blue tie, mask.” She pulls a hockey mask out of the inside pocket of her suit jacket. It’s black and has what appears to be a cascade of red roses down the right side of it. “You like it? I designed it myself.”

She puts the mask back away. “When I’m not working, I like layers. Tank tops and flannel shirts and leather jackets. Skinny jeans or leggings or skirts and tights. Dresses short enough to stop traffic. Red and pink and yellow and black. A bit of Archangel blue sometimes, too, these days.” She tugs on her light blue tie again. “Rook told me I looked like a ‘punk rock supermodel’ once. Nicest thing he’s ever said to me.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Gabriel bakes the best fuckin’ cookies you will ever eat. There is a small chance I fell for those cookies before I fell for him.”

24. Am I annoying you?

She waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. I’ll take any excuse to talk about myself.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

She smiles that knife-sharp grin again and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “So when do I get to ask you questions, sweetheart? I’ll make it worth your time.”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

She tilts her head to one side thoughtfully. “Y’know, I have no fuckin’ idea. I live in a pretty swanky apartment right now, but I don’t own it. I have a decent amount of money squirreled away, but most of it’s stolen. All of the above, I guess. I’m a homeless kid who lives in the penthouse suite.”

27. How many friends do you have?

She stops to think for a second. “Fourteen.” She looks surprised and clearly is counting them again in her head. “Wow. Fourteen. Huh. You know, two months ago the answer to that question was ‘one.’ Even if we’re just talking close friends, the answer’s still eight. I’m not… I got no idea what to say to that.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“I prefer cake, but I don’t mind pie either. Just don’t ask me to bake one. And if I do, I don’t recommend you eat it.”

29. Favorite drink?

“Tea with milk and sugar. Pretty sure it’s Mouse’s fault. That’s how it works, right? Blame your tea-drinking habits on your British friends.” She laughs lightly. “I’ve got too many fuckin’ British friends.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“I like Father Murdock’s. I like the juxtaposition of it all. Church upstairs, black market downstairs. Nuns carrying AKs. It’s just ridiculous enough that it almost doesn’t seem real.” She sighs and her smile slips a little. “Favorite place used to be the Mill, but I guess we can’t go back there now. Gotta find a new base of operations.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“Why, you hopin' you got a shot?” She looks you over slowly, a playful smirk spreading across her face. “I mean, you've already asked me if I was 'taken'. Since I am, it obviously means I'm interested in someone. Or are you asking if I'm interested in someone else?”

She stops to really think about it. “These days, I'm surrounded by a lot of gorgeous, interesting people. People that, in a different situation, I’d probably be real interested in. But if Gabriel's in the room, the rest of the world may as well not exist. He’s magnetic. It doesn’t make sense for a man to be so goddamn attractive when the only part of him not covered is his eyes and even that’s only sometimes, but I know I’m not the only one drawn to him. I’m just the lucky one.” She chuckles, and that fond smile is back, the same one she wore last time she spoke about Gabriel. “I always thought that 'I only have eyes for you' thing was a bit sappy, but damn if it isn't true.”

32. That was a stupid question…

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” She waves it off like she’s already forgotten about it, then smirks at you again. “If you’re actually interested, though, I got a few friends I could introduce you to. We can talk about it later.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Ugh. I hate swimming. I’m not really a, uh, outdoorsy type.” She taps a fingernail against her bottom lip, thinking. “I guess a lake, if I had to choose. Less sharks and shit.”

34. What’s your type?

“You sure are askin’ a lot of questions about my love life, sweetheart. I guess it’s lucky for you that you caught me at a time I actually have one.” She chuckles and sits back in her chair, staring at the ceiling while she thinks.

She’s quiet for a long moment, then leans forward suddenly, her pale blue eyes intense. “You know what’s the most attractive thing a person can have, regardless of gender? Competence. There is nothing sexier than someone who knows their shit and does it well. That confidence someone has when they’re really good at something and they know it.”

She sits back again, some of that intensity draining away. “I’ve never had anything specific physically that draws my attention. Lucky for Gabriel, I guess, since I was already long in love with him before I really saw any of him. He’s got real good shoulders, though, y’know? Broad. Strong. Stubborn.” She laughs at the last one.

35. Any fetishes?

“Dunno. Most of my sexual experience has been pretty vanilla so far. Might be fun to find out.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“No thanks. I did enough sleepin’ outside when I was homeless for a few months. No way in hell I'm sleeping outside on purpose. I’d prefer a roof over my head, if it’s all the same to you.”

She waits for you to ask another question, but when you don’t she just nods. “All right, good talk. This was fun.” She stands from her chair and straightens out her suit, then offers you a hand to shake. Her handshake is strong and confident, her skin warm. “You need to find me again, go see Father Murdock. Tell Greg you’re lookin’ for Raphael. He knows how to get in touch.” She walks away, steps fast and purposeful and almost silent, and you follow her outside.

She pulls a black ski mask out of her pocket and puts it on, covering her face except for her eyes and mouth and tucking her hair underneath it, then pulls that hockey mask out again and puts it on over it. She takes out a pair of black leather gloves and pulls them on too. When she looks back at you, there’s no sign of the woman underneath except for the pale blue eyes; if you hadn’t just been talking with her, you’re not sure you’d even know she was a woman, the suit and masks erasing any signs of personality or identity.

She waves jovially. “If I were you, I’d find someplace to lay low for a little while,” she says, and even her voice is different: colder, harder, her slight New York accent gone like it had never been there. “It’s not safe around here at this time of day. All kinds of dangerous people around.”

As if on cue, a black SUV pulls up nearby. The passenger-side front window rolls down and the back door opens. Inside, there are four other people wearing the same black suit and blue tie, their faces all covered by hockey masks. There seems to be no theme or color scheme among the masks. You wonder if any of them are the Gabriel that she spoke so highly of.

“Heya, boss,” a friendly, Welsh-accented voice calls from the front passenger seat. “You get what ya needed?”

Liv doesn’t reply, instead just pulling herself smoothly into the open seat in the back next to one very large man in body armor with a shotgun in his lap and one very small man with an open laptop in his. They both nod at her as she sits down, and she puts a friendly hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. He must be Mouse, you assume.

The driver calls out to you, and he also has a Welsh accent. “Might be best to forget you ever saw us.”

“And ya best hope you never see us again,” says the front passenger. Her accent and cadence of speaking are so similar to the driver’s you’re pretty sure they’re related.

Liv nods to you once more, then closes her door. You see the large man hand her what you’re pretty sure is some type of submachine gun. The driver gives you a jaunty salute and then they drive away.

You stare into the space where the SUV had been for a long moment. You should probably ask your boss for a raise; there’s no way you’re getting paid enough to interview Archangels.

#olivia ramsey #I ended up with a little bit of a fic at the end just because I like the idea of this being a Real Interview #with one of the most dangerous people in a vigilante crime syndicate #where you just casually ask her about her relationship with the Archangel's second in command #who may ACTUALLY be the most dangerous person in the city if not the country and maybe even surrounding countries #like the 3rd street saints in SRTT level of PR #(none of the people in the car were Gabriel btw in case anyone's curious)#(it's Mouse Kaz Anna and Charlie because that's Liv's crew)#also everyone should go play breach: the archangel job so I have people to talk about it with

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

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5 headcanons for: scully sold her apartment after mulder’s “death.” when he wakes up in the hospital.......... she’s moved into his place.

1. It doesn't make any sense to keep it, she tells herself at first. He's not coming back. And she has an apartment, an apartment that is bigger, and she's already picked out the baby's room, and there is no reason to move, there is no reason to move, he's not coming back…

She falls into the habit of sleeping at his apartment, tangled up in his sheets and blankets, one hand curled over her growing belly. She tells herself every morning that she's going to start packing it up, going to call the Gunmen to ask them to help with the heavy lifting. And every day, she doesn't do it. She goes into work every day and drives back to Alexandria every day at five. Drives home, she starts saying out of habit.

The thing is that she should have horrible memories of Mulder's apartment. Nearly having her heart pulled out on his hardwood floor, identifying Mulder's false body, holding Skinner at gunpoint. Memories of him, being with him, kissing him, loving him, losing him. None of his shirts smell like him anymore. But there are so many good memories, too. Curled up in his bed like this, she can almost pretend that he is here with her. She remembers the way he kissed her right before he left for Oregon, his hands on her hips, their noses smushed together. She can't leave. She doesn't know how to leave.

When she calls the Gunmen, it's to help her move out of her apartment.

2. Scully takes Mulder home from the hospital. She takes him home, to his apartment. He's still surprised she didn't sell it. Three months that she kept a dead man's apartment; he almost can't believe it.

When she opens the door, his surprise increases. The apartment looks lived-in, like it's been cleaned. There's laundry folded on the coffee table, there's shopping bags from Babies-R-Us, there's a box of decaf coffee on the counter. A stack of Scully's books on the desk, with What To Expect When You're Expecting. An X-File beside it. “Something looks different,” he says in a trembling voice.

Scully exits his bedroom from where she was depositing his bag. “It's clean,” she says in a bone-dry voice, like she's trying to make him laugh.

He does chuckle, nervously. “Ah, that's it,” he mutters, sweat on the back of his neck. He cranes his neck to look at his fish tank. “Missing a molly,” he remarks.

“Yeah,” Scully says softly. “She wasn't as lucky as you.”

The reminder is harsh, a lump rising in his throat. Her voice is so vulnerable. He's silent. He sits on the edge of the desk gingerly.

“Mulder…” Scully says in a soft, vulnerable voice. “I don't know if you'll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction… and then searching for you and finding you dead.” Mulder nods, gingerly, his throat thick with nervousness. “And now to have you back, and…”

He feels the need to lighten the tension. “Well, you act like you're surprised,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I prayed a lot,” Scully says in a choked voice, like she's going to cry. “And my prayers have been answered.”

He gulps. He's looking at her belly, thinking of how much she wanted this, to be a parent. How much they both wanted this, at one time. “In more ways than one,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” Scully murmurs.

He feels like he can barely talk. He takes a few nervous swallows. “I'm happy for you,” he says. “I think I know… how much this means to you.”

He's not looking at her, but he can read her silence: he's hurt her. “Mulder…” she says in a trembly voice.

“I'm sorry,” he says with disgust. He hates himself, but he doesn't know what to do. “I just... I have no idea where I fit in… right now. I just, uh... I'm having a little trouble… processing… everything.”

He still can't look at her. He's looking out the window. She sounds like she's going to cry. She says, “That's… that's certainly understandable. Y-You've been through a lot, and I don't want to… pressure you, or put expectations on you. I just… I just want to know that you're okay, Mulder.”

“And I'm not sure that I am,” he snaps, too harshly. His chest is too tight, he can't breathe. His nose is stinging like he's going to cry, too.

He still can't see her, but he can hear her. She's sniffling. When she speaks again, he can tell she is crying. “If you need time, Mulder…” she says shakily, “I want to give it to you. Whatever you need.”

He takes a few unsteady breaths, wiping a tear away. “How long is it since you've been home, Scully?” he asks softly.

It's not because he wants her to leave. It's not that at all. It's just that he doesn't know how to deal with this. It's just that he can't breathe. And she shouldn't have to deal with this, not after everything. She should go home and rest.

She doesn't say anything at first, and he starts to worry. He thumbs a tear out of his eyes and turns towards her, to see the look of astonishment on her face. He is instantly sorry. “Scully…” he starts.

“Maybe you should lie down, Mulder,” she whispers, in the smallest voice. “Get some rest.”

“What about you?” he says immediately. He's thinking of the baby, the circles under her eyes, all those nights at the hospital with him. “You need rest, too.”

“I'm fine, Mulder,” she says firmly, and it shouldn't hurt that much, but it does. He nods. He goes into the bedroom alone. When he closes the door, she is still standing in the living room, forlorn, her face streaked with tears.

3. He doesn't notice it until he wakes up: the sheets smell like her. She's been sleeping here, he realizes. She's been bringing her things here, and he immediately feels guilty for kicking her out.

But she hasn't left. She's parked herself on his couch, and she doesn't seem ready to leave. She smiles at him when he exits his bedroom, and the warmth in it is not deserved. He feels a rush of shame at that warmth. He sits beside her on the couch—not as close as he might have before, but he sits beside her. And she doesn't leave. Even throughout everything that happens over the next few days—with Doggett and Kersh and Absalom and the census bureau, every hurtful thing that he says—she still doesn't leave. She sleeps stubbornly on his couch until he tells her to take the bed, and she casts him an almost nervous look when he doesn't go into the bedroom with her. He sprawls out on the sofa, trying to figure out what the hell has happened.

(When he wakes up, out of a panicked dream, flashing back to the ship, sweaty and trembling, she is there. She sits beside him on the couch, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words. He sits up in a jerky motion, suddenly clinging to her in a desperate sort of way, burying his face in her neck. She clings to him with a similar desperation, her nails digging into his back, rocking him back and forth. The baby kicks between them, and he chokes out a sob against her collarbone. She holds him on the couch until he stands and they stumble into the bedroom together. She's still there.)

She stays, even after he and Doggett (this new fucking partner of hers) almost get themselves killed. She's quiet and angry on the way home, her jaw set, her eyes wet. He expects her to leave, go home and get some space, but she doesn't. She lets them in with her key, the one with the M taped to it, and then she drops her keys on the counter and walks silently to the bedroom. The door shuts hard behind her.

4. Mulder doesn't know what to do after that. He could try apologizing, but his throat is thick, the words won't come up. He wants to curl up in a ball on the couch, but he doesn't want to be alone. He wants to go into his room and wrap himself around her, but he doubts she wants to talk to him. He paces the halls a little aimlessly, poking around.

He keeps finding Scully's stuff. That tea she likes in the cabinet, her books on the shelf next to his, her supplies in the desk. Boxes in the hallway, boxes of her clothes and her knickknacks… He finds his spare room, the one off the bathroom he uses as storage, with all of the boxes stacked in one corner. A crib halfway set up, a few strokes of different paint colors on the wall. Testing out colors. This was going to be the baby's room. The baby.

Mulder's breath falters, just a bit, and then he's turning around, he's nearly running down the hall. He raps his fist briefly against the door before pushing it open. Scully is sitting up in bed, blankets wrapped around her, eyes rimmed red. “Mulder…” she starts.

“Scully, are you living here?” he says softly.

5. Her face shifts a little, crumples. “I… I didn't know what to do,” she whispers, balling the comforter in her fists. Her hand is to her belly. “I… I missed you so much, Mulder…”

He collapses on the edge of the bed, he reaches for her hands, takes them and kisses the back of them, her palms, her fingers. She takes a shaky breath, quivering in place. “Scully,” he mumbles against her wrists, and his eyes are filling. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't know how to,” she chokes out. “I felt so… foolish, taking over your apartment like that… imposing on your space…”

He's crying. He's crying, too, and he kisses her hands again before scooting up on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. “You're not imposing,” he says into her hair. “You're never imposing. Ever.”

She sniffles wetly. She reaches for one of his hands and pulls it to her belly. “I wanted our baby to know his father,” she says. “I wanted him to know you.”

He draws back in astonishment, staring at her, at his palm pressed to her stomach. He can feel the baby moving under his hand. She's looking at him with wet, nervous eyes. “I-it's mine?” he stammers. She nods. “I'm a father?” he whispers.

“Yes,” Scully chokes out, and her head drops to his chest. “You're a father. We're parents, Mulder.”

He tugs her closer, wrapping his arms tight around her, palming the back of her head. She sniffles against his shirt, tugging hard at the hem. “I'm sorry,” he gasps against her hair. “I'm so sorry, I… I had no idea.”

“I'm sorry I stole your apartment,” she mumbles, and he laughs, kisses the corner of her mouth gently. “I missed you,” she says, turning her head to catch his mouth.

“I missed you,” he says fiercely, because he did. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, bumps his forehead against hers. “Please don't leave,” he whispers. “I want you to stay. I've always wanted you to stay.”

#xf fanfic #i wrote this

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

Numb (Part 9)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 10- END

Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst ma dudes

Warnings: swearing I think, mentions of blood

Word count: 2679

Bucky was furious, his steps heavy and determined as he made his way towards Katrina’s room. The metal palm rammed against the wooden panel making a frantic looking Romanian appear in his field of vision. “What the fuck is this?” he threw the keycard in her face. Kat’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s on land. She had completely forgotten about that little thing, and now the mistake had come back to bite her in the ass. “I asked you a question!” Bucky barked. “Ca-can we please talk inside?” she was visibly trembling and the super soldier, for the first time ever in his life felt what seemed like glee, to see somebody being so terrified of him. “I don’t wanna wake Dom up. Please?” she furrowed her eyebrows in pleading. “Should’ve thought that before staling.” Bucky didn’t move an inch. “I didn’t steal anything!” “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like to call it borrowing without asking the person’s permission?” “Bucky,” Katrina tried to reach out for him and he immediately recoiled. “I haven’t stolen anything, I wouldn’t dare. Not after everything you’ve helped me with. No matter what you feel for me and I for you.” He couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth. “You know,” he chuckled, “I never thought I’d say this, but the God of Lies is more truthful and trustworthy than you. So you listen here,” he got very close in Katrina’s face. If it had been Y/N in his proximity like that, Bucky’s mind would be overrun by the thought of kissing her and making the woman breathless, but the only thing he wanted to do to Katrina at this point, was make her cower in fear. “I know you were in Y/N’s hospital room that night after the mission. I know you were there for a good while. I know you talked to her. Don’t know what about, but the fact that you had to do it like that- by sneaking around, by stealing Sam’s card, and not asking anybody to let you in themselves” there was a flash of surprise in her eyes and Bucky instantly knew that she had done it. No verbal confirmation needed. “It all makes me think what you had to say to her wasn’t that pleasant. And with what you revealed to me tonight I have a pretty good grasp of what your little speech was about.” Bucky got even closer, his giant frame making Kat look small and fragile.

“I’m going to make myself clear- I will never love you like I love Y/N. She is it for me. She’s my everything. My Sun, my Stars, my life. My reason to live and keep going forward. You’re here as a guest at this point. I don’t want anything to do with you and if that means severing ties with Dominic, I am willing to make that sacrifice. I have already asked Tony and his lawyers to get the divorce papers ready and you will sign them. But most importantly, you won’t talk to Y/N, you won’t look at her, you won’t even breathe in her direction. If I see even a stray hair on that head of yours, if there is anything that makes me think you mean harm to her- I have no problem letting the Soldier,” he emphasised the word, “come out and play. You’re living in a house full of Gods, people with superpowers, assassins and geniuses. So trust me, you won’t win.” Bucky didn’t wait for Katrina to answer and turned around to walk away before words that shocked him to the core escaped her mouth. “I won’t sign them.” “What?” white-hot rage coursed through his veins. “The divorce papers,” she had crossed her arms over her chest and stood there with determination in her blue eyes. “You can’t make me. I told you- I fight for what I love. And in this case, I have a feeling I already have won. Don’t think I can’t play dirty or cheat.” Katrina slammed the door leaving Bucky stunned in the middle of the hallway.

It was like the first time when Y/N had told him she didn't love the man. Only now it was a hundred times worse. Because they had gotten somewhere, Wanda’s spell had been broken because of what she felt for him, what he’d meant to her. Hell, the woman almost gave her life up, to save Bucky. She had. The Avenger's whole body shuddered at the memory of her non-beating heart and still body. Her non-rising chest and glazed over eyes as they had stared into the ceiling of the jet. She was sitting on the far end of the couch, eyes trained on the movie playing on the giant screen. Natasha, Sam, Steve and Pietro sat in-between them. Y/N’s eyes never left the movements of the characters but his own never left her face. He wanted to touch her so desperately, craved her skin against his, to fully press his lips to hers. God! They’d almost kissed, and Bucky could do nothing but throw his head back in frustration. “Это все ты виноват,” Natasha murmured so lowly not even Sam heard it. But the soldier definitely did. “Ты думаешь я не знаю?” came his reply as he once again looked over at the woman he loved. Yet to her he didn’t exist. Not anymore.

A month passed and Bucky barely spoke to Katrina, all his attention going to Y/N trying to talk to her, to get her to look at him. Every night he pleaded with her behind the woman’s closed doors. In the mornings he always made her coffee and breakfast, but she didn’t even turn in his direction as he bid her ‘good morning’, a hopeful glance shining in his eyes, only to be dimmed out by Y/N passing him by. The woman didn’t even bother to leave the room when he was there. She just simply ignored him. Whenever he tried to start up a conversation or join in on one, to her, he was an empty space. Bucky yawned and stretched his hands above his head, pulling the taut muscles and releasing the tension that had made itself present during the night. His nightmares were back, making him wake up drenched in cold sweat, clutching the sheets and his breathing completely ragged. “…added, we can maybe improve the flow of power.” Bucky heard murmurs coming from the kitchen. As he rounded the corner his eyes befell on Y/N’s back as she was hunched over what looked like blueprints, Tony sitting opposite of the girl as Steve stood by the coffeemaker, three mugs laid out. “Morning, Buck,” the blond greeted his best friend. Bucky noticed how rigid Y/N’s body went, but she didn’t pay him any attention. “Coffee?” Steve added, a weary glance thrown in the direction of the other two Avengers. “Yes, please,” he mumbled moving to the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs. He had also noticed Katrina sitting on the couch, a book in her hands, as she enjoyed her morning cup of tea. He wanted to shove the brunette out of a window because of the audacity she’d exhibited. Tony glared at Bucky and he could feel the billionaire’s hateful stare. He’d gotten the papers, the ex-assassin had signed them in an instant, almost ripping them out of his hands, but Katrina was still adamant about not. The only other way to sever the marriage was through court, but given the circumstances that was out of the question. “So you ready?” Tony asked, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts. “As I’ll ever be,” Y/N replied hopping off the bench. “Ready?” Bucky quietly asked, confusion written all over his features. “Ready for what? Please don’t tell me you’re going on a mission. You can’t.” Y/N didn’t even dignify him with a look as she took her coffee cup from Steve’s side and went out of the room. Tony rolled up the papers and tucked them underneath his armpit. “Listen, Frozone. What Y/N does is none of your concern. All you have to worry about is that gremlin signing those damned papers. Fury just sent notice that they’re moving in on the group, so by the end of the day, those guys should be taken down. Take care of that,” he pointed at the sitting woman, “and then you can talk to Y/N. If she will want you back, of course. But given how much grief you’ve put her through I wouldn’t hold my breath on it.” Tony moved away pushing past both super soldiers before turning and walking backwards. “Or better yet- do hold it. See how long it takes for you to pass out.” “Steve,” Bucky whipped his head ignoring the inventor's jab, “she can’t do that. She’s not ready. I- I can’t go through something l-“ “Relax, they’re just going down to the gym. They’ve been working on a project of some sorts, especially since Wanda’s little event a week ago.” Bucky nodded recalling that during a mission the witch had been incapacitated and unable to fight, her powers useless and her body not strong enough to go full on in hand-to-hand combat when everybody else had guns, grenade launchers and tanks. “So how are they gonna help?” Steve shrugged. “Beats me. That’s why everybody else who is left in the tower and not on duty, are gonna go and check it out,” he handed Bucky a mug of steaming black coffee and turned to go. “See you in the gym?” “Yeah,” he nodded. But when he took the first sip of the bitter drink it didn’t calm him down. Instead, his guts turned and an unsettling feeling overtook his body. The same kind when Y/N had almost died in that base. And Bucky didn’t like it one bit.

In an hours time Wanda, Loki, Natasha, Bucky, Steve, Tony, Y/N and Bruce were down in the sparring centre, even Katrina was there as Dominic had wanted to see how the superheroes train. She had sauntered in after everybody else had already warmed up. Bucky’s eyes never left her because ‘Miss Cleo’ had practically started screaming and ripping his insides apart. He looked away and to his left, seeing Y/N clasp bracelets around her wrists and Tony pressed something on them. Her body jerked for a second but then returned to being normal. Bucky’s worry instantly grew as she stepped inside what looked like a dark room, with one wall made completely out of glass. It hadn’t been there earlier and he immediately realised that it was the little project Tony and she had been working on. “What is that?” he cautiously stepped up to the genius as he punched in a bunch of orders and codes on a little pad beside the door. “Y/N’s idea on how to improve training and skills of those with powers like her, Wanda. Even Thor and Loki. See those little gadgets?” he pointed at the bracelets. “They cancel out her powers, so she can’t rely on them, allowing her to work on her combat skills.” Bucky immediately thought back to the cell he’d found in the HYDRA base, so he understood why Y/N had wanted this. To never feel so desperate and afraid like she had in there. “And who is she going to fight against? I don’t see Nat ins-,” but as if on cue robots filtered in the little space. “Against somebody who can use electricity to their advantage while she can't,” he pulled a little mic closer to his mouth. “You ready Y/N?” Bucky saw her nod and immediately the androids went to attack. The super soldier was biting his nails so hard he was afraid there’d be nothing left. Y/N’s kicks and punches were swift, but any time one of the things got an upper hand he just wanted everything to stop. After ten minutes of vigorous fighting, there was only one of them left. Y/N jumped on its back and punched her fist right through its neck, wires and metal scraps in between her clasped fingers as it fell to the floor dead. She herself laid down, breathing heavy and deep. The woman’s fists went into the air as a celebratory salute. But then one of the robots came back to life, its eyes glowing a deep maroon. Y/N’s Y/E/C orbs widened and she jumped up, barely avoiding two metal spikes that left deep gages in the ground. “Tony! Get me out!” Y/N shouted from the other side of the glass door. The robot came charging at her and slammed her down, knocking the wind out of her lungs, but not before lodging a spear that had protruded from its arm into her bicep. She screamed in pain as the Avenger tried to free herself from its grasp, but the power-muting bracelets were making everything a thousand times more difficult. From somewhere to her left she saw a figure pounding against the thick bulletproof wall. Silvery shimmers encompassed it at one point but nothing happened. The malfunctioning robot slammed another spear, this time through her other arm while the metal knees dug into her things. Slowly painfully two sharp tubes embedded themselves into her skin, blood pooling on the ground. Now she was completely pinned underneath it and there was no escape. If she could tap into her magic, if she could feel the electricity only just a bit, maybe Y/N could disable it, but alas it had been her idea to have Stark create the bracelets. “What if there comes a time I don’t have my powers?” the girl had reasoned. “I need to know how to defend myself.” They had worked on the project night and day until they perfected every bit. And Y/N had insisted on fighting opponents that were powered by electricity or could use it to their advantage. She had wanted to train her body not to rely on such a thing, even if it was in the near proximity. But now, as her vision started to fade and blur from the blood loss and pain, in retrospect, that probably hadn't been the best idea. Right as another spear was about to be pushed straight through her heart, the wall shattered and glass rained down upon her. Another scream of utter pain was pulled out of her as Tony blasted the robot away and with it, yanked out the metal that had gone through her limbs. It wouldn’t have been that bad, she could deal with the pain, but from her left leg, a spray of blood covered the wall. She knew that it meant an artery was cut. “Shit! No, Y/N,” Tony was already pulling off his shirt and tying it around her wounded leg, well, the one that threatened to make her bleed out. “FRIDAY get the Cradle ready.” Her vision was already hazy and she could barely feel the touch as someone’s strong arms lifted her up from the ground and rushed her away. They were running, that much Y/N could tell. And they were talking, but the words coming from the person’s mouth were muted, like listening to a conversation from underwater. Her eyes scanned the ceiling when that same silver gleam caught her eyes. Looking over to her left she saw that this person had a metal arm. Bucky, her mind seemed to whisper. Dull Y/E/C eyes looked up to find his blue. They were already staring back, complete panic and fear written all across his features. “You’ll be fine,” his lips seemed to move, “don’t worry. I won’t let you die.” But Y/N didn’t care. Her body didn’t hurt, nor did her heart. She forgot all about Katrina and the boy, her mind wiped all evidence of heartbreak and a future she knew she couldn’t have with him. “I love you,” Y/N whispered out, a bloody palm resting atop his heart. “I love you Bucky.” And it was the last thing she said before letting the darkness drag her under.

Это все ты виноват- It’s all your fault

Ты думаешь я не знаю?- You think I don’t know that?

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @ronnierockin @werecookielove @vannavinci @pandawolfunicorn @angelwingsbringmusic @murydedeus03 @lost-and-wandering-alone @bookwarm85 @itsholland-tomholland @thatcluelessone @salty-buchanan @disneychic8 @uwu-sebastianstan @deputyduckbutt @lusite14 @klmpun @severuined @lovely-geek @andrialynnsantana @vodkasindream @fadingculturemuffin @lynnskata @killjoynotes @vogueworthy-barnes @honeymufins @damnbuvky @the-marvelous-mcu @mystic-aly @starkxpotts @all-fandomthings @upremeoverlordletters @silent-world-of-a-deaf-boi @mrscevans @shliic @starks-girl @daysiminsideout @mrsalh32611 @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @bluebell725 @susmita121 @jamesbuckybananabarnes @mcu-potter-pirate @xxchloegrayxx @teapartydreams @balanced-ram @catthefearless @tokoyamisstuff @alphadareme @minniesugakookie @dustycelt @nephalem67 @sophiatomlinson23 @hellboundblogger @the-witch-of-plum-hollow @culinarycrystals @taylorsbread @slender--spirit @imagine-this-motherfucker @1v-kayla @winters-beauty @capandbuck @chingaderastillidie @csigeoblue @lordemjay @akacalciumhood @foureyedsiopao @savemesteeb @waves-and-sunflowers @alitav99 @phoenix-whiskey-tears @yayaobrien75 @imnotcoolmasterrr @anxietyrosee @yafriendlyfangirl @dean-the-trickster @aleeece17 @mummy-woves-you @bartonsbowandarrow @mdgrdians @rosecoloureddudez @just-an-explorer-2018 @irondadandspidersoncute @jay14616 @thea-marvel @dream45sworld @taylorcat2121 @honeystrawberrys @jentismyname @fridaroland @marsbars101 @nomadicpixel @taosalvation @soniaxmsi @buckysplumpie @bilesxbilinskixlahey @steadypiepsychicflower @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @anxietynt @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r

A/N: we’re one chapter away from the end of the series!!!! There will be an epilogue, so technically two chapters, but still :D

I took a day off, cause I feel like I’ve been writing non-stop for two weeks and I needed a break. But don’t worry, so many one-shots are on their way. Also, I will be finishing At Arm’s Lenght (finally)!

P.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, please drop a message :)

P.S.S. tell me what you think! Any final theories?

P.S.S.S. please, don’t repost without credit :)

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uniquecreations · 6 years

Text

“Workplace Lover” Pt. 1

I was working for this inventory company for a few months when I was promoted to inventory manager. I was assigned to certain stores and pretty much had my team together when they decided to hire a bunch of people. The downside to having new people on my team was the pace slowed down due to me training them. No matter in what company you may work for when you get promoted there are going to be haters and people just downright salty because they didn’t get the position. Either way, I was happy but my love life sucked monkey balls, I couldn’t find a man to save my life. I take part to blame in that because of the insecurities that I dealt with at the time.

I got up for work this particular morning feeling awful, I went out the night before, got in at around 2:30 am and had to get up at 6 am for work. (Wasn’t one of my best choices.) When I made it to the pick-up spot my team was looking defeated as well, so I knew this was going to be a long day. I went and got all the equipment together and loaded it into one of the vans to leave. The new people showed up shortly afterward and we were ready to hit the road. I had this one friend Ron (straight guy) that I always shot the shit with every day. He would always seem to make the day easy for me by doing stupid shit that just hyped up all of us.

We made to the job site and began working, I had about 5 out of the 8 new people that no matter what I did, they just couldn’t seem to catch on to add and subtract. In the ones that I was going to definitely keep, there was this one guy named Alton, he was brown skin, had dreads, a deep voice, and a gorgeous smile. He was the most impressive, not just because he was sexy but because he actually took direction well. Once I showed him what to do, it was only a few times he came to me for something after that.

On our lunch break, I was eating at a nearby food joint with my homie Ron when Alton and a few other people walked in. I was so engulfed in Alton’s looks and the way he walked that I was totally ignoring Ron.

“Nigga, did you hear me?” He said throwing a fry at me.

“No, my bad what did you say?” I said embarrassed.

“I said that since we off tomorrow we should go to the Daquiri Café and get fucked up.”

“I don’t know about that, I had enough to drink last night to last me the rest of the year.” I said laughing.

“Punk ass, come on man join ya boy and live a little.” He said pleading, and after a lil back and forth I finally agreed. He was right tho, he would ask me to go out with him and his girl all the time, but I always found an excuse not to go.

“Aye, can I join yall?” Alton said approaching us with his food on his tray.

“Sure,” I said looking at the food on his tray. “You sure you can eat all that before it’s time to go back?”

“Probably but if I can’t then I will just pack this shit up and take it home.” He said after sitting down, we all shared a laugh together and spent the rest of our break getting to know our new team member.

We finally got thru the day, to say I was beyond tired was an understatement. I already sent a van full of people home and the only people left was the audit team. We made sure all the counts were accounted for as well as correct any mistakes that were made. This process could take anywhere from 30 mins to 4 hours depending on the corrections that needed to be made. Ron and Alton stayed back to help with this process and that made it easier for me because they kept me laughing.

“So, Alton since you apart of our team now, and since we all have the same schedule…... I was thinking that you should join Jaye and me at the Daquiri Café tonight for some drinks and bitches.” Ron said.

“I don’t know about the bitches’ part because as you and I both know yo girl will kick both of us in the dick if she finds out.” I said laughing.

“I’m game, I wasn’t doing shit tonight anyway.” Alton said. I wasn’t too sure about this because even though Ron knew I was gay, I didn’t like to hang around new people who didn’t know about my lifestyle. That could turn out really bad or just make it awkward while working.

“Cool, they have two we can choose from but since Jaye is technically our boss I vote he choose which one we go to,” Ron said smirking.

“I can’t fucking stand you and I’m not your boss, I’m only your supervisor while we work in the stores, I can’t fire or hire nobody just write you up and make a recommendation for your termination that��s it.” I said laughing.

“Stop lying nigga, I looked at your computer earlier and I saw that you got rid of some of the people that came today.”

“Shut up, that’s private information and while in training and since I’m still the lead trainer I do get to say who stays and who goes but I had to get rid of them because they just…… I don’t know maybe someone else can help them, but I can’t anymore.”

“So, was I on that list of people? I mean just keep it real.” Alton said with a nervous look on his face and I smirked.

“No, you weren’t if that was the case you wouldn’t be here right now…… enough of all this bullshit talk I need yall to go look for these sections that haven’t come in yet.” I said hanging them the list of things I needed to be checked.

After making it home I was beyond tired, all I wanted to do was lay down in my bed and sleep until the following week. That was short lived because just when the sleep was getting good my phone started ringing. I grabbed it to see it was my boos calling.

“Hey, I need some information about the people you switched and the ones you wanna keep.” She said after I picked up the phone.

“The ones I wanna keep had absolutely no problem catching on to the work but the other five were just horrible at taking direction. I didn’t suggest that they should be fired I just wanted them to go to Bobbi or Angie team because they work in smaller stores and they can focus more on them than I could.”

“Ok, we can do that but just for future references…... don’t involve me in your crap, you have every right to assign whomever you want to any team if you feel like they would be an asset to that team. Oh, and you did an amazing job today, I got nothing but good reports from the district manager.”

“Tell me something new but I will talk to you later I have some things to take care of.”

“Ok see you on Monday.” She said hanging up the phone. I looked at the time and realized that it was almost time to go meet up with Ron and Alton down the street at the Daquiri Café. I went took a shower and pulled out some clothes, no sooner than I got dressed Ron called my phone.

“Damn can I put some draws on before you get to rushing me out the house?” I said laughing.

“Nigga you should have been had yo shit on……. I’m outside so bring yo ass and open the door.” He said hanging up, I threw on some socks and went to open the door before I had to kick his ass. “You never on time for nothing nigga, you were late for work this morning, and now you just now getting dressed.”

“If you going to be bitching all night then you can beat ya feet motherfucker.” I said walking back to my room, while walking I got hit in the back with a pillow off the couch. “You better stop before I whoop yo ass and put my shit back in the right spot too.”

I walked into my room tempted to just say fuck it and call it a night, but I made a promise and I was going to keep it. I walked out the room to find that this nigga took all my pillows off my couch and tossed them on the floor. This nigga always doing stupid shit when he come over here, like the last time he came over here he put dish soap in my fish tank which killed all my damn fish. He did buy me some more but it’s stupid shit like that that works my nerves with him. I didn’t say nothing to him, I just walked into the kitchen and filled up a pot with hot water and walked back into the living room.

“Yo you better not throw that shit on me.” He said holding up one of the pillows.

“You got 30 seconds to fix my couch you jackass.” I said still holding the pot, he quickly put all the pillows back on my couch and I started laughing.

“You never play fair tho Jaye, why would you wanna throw hot ass water on me before we go out that shit foul man.” He said laughing.

“Because you always doing stupid shit, that’s why I’ma stop you from coming over here.” I said walking to the door.

“Whatever let’s go that nigga probably already waiting on us.”

“Ok but you driving because I’m still tired.”

We made our way to the Daquiri Café in no time at all because as I said earlier it was literally down the street from my house. When we walked in I spotted Alton sitting at the bar, I thought he was sexy earlier but now that I see him in regular clothes…… this nigga is drop dead gorgeous. I had no idea how I was going to get thru this evening without staring at him the whole night. We walked up to the bar where he was sitting and sat down, Alton turned his head and looked in our direction.

“About time yall showed up, I thought yall flaked out on me.” He said laughing.

“No, but there is something you should know about our boss here……. His ass always late to everything. I got over to his house and his ass wasn’t even dressed yet.” Ron said laughing.

“Well unlike you two bastards I had more work to do when I got home and plus I was still tired from last night. Yall lucky I’m even here right now.” I said flagging down the bartender. We all placed our order and sat there just talking like we had been friends for ever.

“So how long you been doing Inventory?” Alton asked me.

“For about a year now, it wasn’t my first choice but when I was offered the job, they gave me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.” I said sipping from my cup. “Overall, it’s been good, but I don’t think I wanna make a career out of it like Doris and Linda, but it pays the bills and leave me with extra in my pocket.”

“Cool, this is new to me I’m used to working fast food or doing lil odd jobs from temp services.”

“You have great work ethics, unlike some people I know.” I said looking at Ron.

“Aye fuck you nigga I’m the best person you have on your team so miss me with the bullshit or I’ma have to beat yo ass.”

“The only thing you can beat is yo meat nigga, don’t start your bullshit.” I said and we all bust out laughing.

“How long yall been cool? It seems like yall brothers or something.” Alton asked and the way he said ‘something’ didn’t sit right with me but I wasn’t going to think on it too much.

“Before my promotion we worked a few jobs together, he has been a thorn in my side ever since.”

“Yea right nigga, but Jaye is a down right cool as dude, he will do whatever he can to help anyone just as long as they trying to do shit for themselves.”

“That’s what’s up, but let’s go get a game of pool in and get this shit crunk.”

We played pool, got some food, had more drinks than I wanted to have, and had a damn good time just shooting the shit. The night was going good until Ron got a call from his girl and what ever they talked about had him in a sour mood for a bit.

“What’s going on Ron?” I asked him.

“She pissed off at me because in her words she never gets to see me until I’m horny or whenever I make time but that’s a lie because I was with her before I came to get you and she knew that we were hanging tonight.”

“Ok well let’s cut this night short and you go fix things with your girl because I don’t have time for her kicking both our ass.”

“Man fuck that, she will be just fine, I’m not about to keep catering to her bullshit every time she gets in one her moods.” He said ordering another round of drinks.

“You not gone learn until that girl murder yo ass but its your shot.” I said picking up my pool cue.

The night went on and we cut the drinks off because Alton looked drunk as hell and Ron was getting there. I had an extra room at my house, but I wasn’t to sure about letting either one of them sleep over. Ron wasn’t going to stay any way if push came to shove, he was going to call his girl to come get him and I take his car home, but Alton I knew nothing about so that was a definite no on his part.

“If this bitch sends me one more text, I’ma go over there and throw her phone in the middle of the street.” Ron said showing me all the text messages between him and her. I scrolled up reading the messages, but I went to far up and saw some pictures they sent each other. Let’s just say I see why she so paranoid because Ron had some serious meat down there.

“Umm…... just drop me off at the house and you go be with your girl bruh.” I said reluctantly giving him his phone back.

“I’m not ready to go and if you don’t wanna leave right now I can bring you home and let this nigga go get his shit together.” Alton said catching me off guard.

“Jaye don’t like people knowing where he stays so we can just do this some other time.” Ron said drinking the last of his drink.

“Nah it’s cool bruh, you go take care of that and call me later.” I said dapping him up.

Ron left us at the Café while he went to go make sure his girl was good, no matter what I did I couldn’t shake the image of his dick out my head. It was the prettiest dick I had seen in a very long time, I know I shouldn’t have kept thinking about it, but I couldn’t help it.

“You ready to go.” Alton said bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Umm yea…... but can you drive because I don’t wanna spend the rest of my night laid up in a hospital room.” I said laughing.

“Yea I got you, I aint that messed up.” He said laughing.

We left out and made it to my house in one piece, I thought about it and there was no way I was going to let this dude drive home drunk. I told him that he could crash on the couch and leave in the morning when he woke up. I went into my room to get him an extra cover and some shorts to sleep in, when I went back into the living room this nigga had kicked off his shoes and was laying on the couch watching tv.

“I got you a cover and some shorts to sleep in, there is food and drinks in the fridge as well, just don’t touch my cokes.” I said placing the stuff on the couch.

“Or you can go get comfortable as well and pour us some more drinks, I know you got liquor in here.” He said smirking, against my better judgement I went and threw on some night clothes and walked back into the living room. He had changed into the shorts I gave him, but he didn’t have a shirt on, his body was on point and I was stuck in one spot staring at him. “What you looking at nigga?” he said laughing, I hung my down in embarrassment and walked into the kitchen. I poured us some drinks and walked in the living room.

“Umm you need a shirt to put on?” I asked after handing him his drink.

“Nah, I don’t like sleeping in shirts I feel like I’m being suffocated.” He said laughing.

We started drinking and watching tv for a while, I looked at the time and it was now 3 in the morning. I stood up and staggered a lil bit from the drinks I consumed. I shook off the feelings, looked at his body one last time and started to walk to my room before he stopped me.

“If you wanna look you don’t have sneak just look.” He said smiling. I was taken back by his comment, it caught me off guard to the point where I ran right into the wall.

“You aint all that nigga but goodnight I’m going to bed.”

“I guess weakling.” He said laughing.

“Unlike you, I didn’t get much rest last night or when I got off so excuse me if I’m tired, now go to bed before I punch you in the face.” I said laughing.

“Don’t get fucked up, but I hear ya take yo tired ass to bed.” I didn’t bother saying nothing back I just went to my room and laid across my bed.

The thoughts of Ron’s dick flashed back to my mind as well as the comment that Alton made. Maybe I was drunk and overthinking things, but it sounded like he was flirting with me. the more I thought about it the more I had to find out what he meant by that comment. I got up and walked back into the living room where he was still finishing off the last of his drink.

“What did you mean by the comment you made a few minutes ago?” I asked him standing in the door way.

“Man, what yo drunk ass talking about?” He said laughing.

“About me staring at your body.”

“Oh, I meant that I noticed you staring at me a few times but when you saw me you tried to act like you wasn’t, so I said that if you wanted to look at me then just do it.” He said still laughing.

“Whatever, I look at what I want and who I want so what’s it to you?”

“It’s nothing to me, but I thought you was going to bed?”

“I am why you wanna join me?” I said and almost slapped the hell out myself for saying that shit.

“You probably would like that wouldn’t you?” He said laughing.

“Whatever, goodnight Alton.” I said walking back to my room.

I turned on my tv and laid under the covers, I couldn’t believe that I actually said that stupid shit to this dude. He didn’t go off on me but still I never said nothing like that to a straight guy before so that alone made me feel dumb as hell. I closed my eyes and began to fall asleep, a few seconds afterwards I heard my door open. When I opened my eyes, Alton was walking towards me, he didn’t say anything, he just walked to my bed and climbed in. before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he pressed his lips to mine and all rationality went out the window. Was this really happening? What am I thinking right now? How would this affect us at work? All these things went thru my mind, but my body had another mind of it’s on.

#bxb #lgbt #unique creations #workplace lover #part 1 #short story #gay #nonfiction

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lokisgame · 6 years

Text

The Heavens Come Down To You

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

The phone rang when he came to the office. Skinner's secretary calling him upstairs. His uncooperative boss was the last person he wanted to talk to. Coming to work felt like a chore for weeks now. The cases didn't hold the same interest, the office felt dark and empty despite the golden autumn outside. Everything in there reminded him of her, a mug, navy blue sweater kept for days the basement got cold and damp, glasses in the drawer. Gold cross hidden under his shirt, a talisman he kept against darkness, failed him miserably. Mulder plays dumb when Skinner asks about the incident in the hospital parking garage, and that is just too much for his boss. "What happened to you Mulder" he asked, disappointment that shouldn't be there slipped through the cracks. "You wanna know what?" he got up and banged the ashtray on his boss's desk, crushed cigarette bud still smoking "him, Cancer man, he's responsible what happened to Scully, tell me how to find him" Dark thoughts flooded Mulder's mind since he woke up. She's gone for good, she didn't come, bright light took her and he blew it again, he'll never be able to bring her back, he never even stood a chance, and that last realization angered him most "I don't care, you can have it all, the X-files, my badge, just tell me" "And then what?" Skinner sat down, resigned, glasses sliding over the blotter "he sleeps with the fishes? We're not the mafia Agent Mulder, we work for the Department Of Justice" "That's what I want" his cold resolve sounded more dangerous than any threat. Mulder was a great threat, mostly to himself, especially in this frame of mind and without Scully to watch his back. "Sit down" he ordered, not unkindly and Mulder followed, vengeance tasted best served cold anyway, he thought. The older man looked tired, although it was not even 10am. The buzzing phone was left ignored. "Scully was a fine officer" Skinner said quietly "more than that, I liked her. But she knew the rules of the game and accepted them, if you weren't ready for what might happen, maybe you shouldn't have stepped up on the field" Skinner was right, he should have stayed away when they split them up. He should have never let her draw him back into her life. There was no way to make it right or bring back what was lost. Everything he ever touched, died. "What if I knew the risk, but never told her" "Then you're as responsible for what happened to her as the Cancer man" Skinner replied and the words crushed the last ounce of hope Mulder had. He went back to the office and typed in his letter of resignation, leaving it printed out on the desk, all it needed was his signature.

Lunch hour found him at the hospital, looking into Scully's room through the glass. Melissa by her side, book in hand, reading out loud. The monitors never changed, but something made her turn around. Mulder nodded a greeting but stayed outside, no longer sure where his place was anymore. She closed the book and came out to meet him. "Why aren't you coming in?" "I wanted to give you a minute" he leaned against the doorframe, not looking at the figure on the bed, calm, frozen and beautiful, like a fairy tale princess. He couldn't bare to see her, the guilt dragging him under. Melissa watched him and felt the change, his aura darkened. He cared for Dana, deeply, and she knew her sister enough to know, she wouldn't let her friend hang himself with guilt, real or imagined. "Have lunch with me" she suggested, hand under his elbow, steering him gently to follow "I'm famished"

She bought a sandwich in the hospital cafeteria, he ordered coffee but didn't touch it, only kept playing with a packet of sugar that came with it. Turning it between his fingers, letting the contents trickle from one side to the other, like sand through a hourglass. He wasn't the same man she saw just a day earlier. His determination was gone, but it wasn't acceptance that replaced it, and it worried her more than she'd ever admit, given they were practically strangers. The light of hope was fading in him. He turned the packet upside down, again. "You know, Fox" she faked the slip and it made him look up "sorry, Mulder" The smile she hoped for, didn't come, he was miles away, hiding behind a brick wall. "You know, you can look for whoever did this to her for years, and still be as far from the truth as the rest of us" the sugar hourglass turned, his eyes stayed down "whoever did this to her, has an equal horror coming to them" She tried to bring him some solace, but his face fell even farther. "Including myself?" he asked, but before she could understand some woman was asking for change for the vending machine. He got up, found a pack of Morley's the woman didn't want and rushed away, as if spooked by something.

"What is it?" Mulder asked, suspicious of the envelope he just got handed. "Your plane ticket" Mr. X stood in the shadow of the column, a different blind spot in the hospital parking garage. "But we barely know each other" there was no humor in the words, how could he trust a man who just admitted to be using him for months. "Tonight, around 8:17pm, two men will come to your apartment, searching for some files, convinced the place to be vacant" "And?" "I'm offering you something I never had" "Meaning" "A chance for revenge" the man took a step back, deeper into the shadows "after tonight I won't be able to contact you for some time" "Why are you helping me?" Mulder asked, but he was gone. Just another answer, he never got.

It was a dangerous gift. Mulder received such gifts before. Usually they turned out to be nice things, mostly to hang himself with. Fake intel, false leads, bogus cases designed to keep him away from the real deal. He sat on the couch, doors locked, lights turned off, gun in hand. There was a good chance the men who were supposed to come, knew he'd be waiting. It was possible that the outcome would be decided by the one who was quicker to draw, point and shoot, and whatever happened he was going to take that shot. For Scully, for Samantha, for all the people he lost. Lights from passing cars traveled the ceiling from time to time. Clock on the wall seemed to be frozen in time, it's arms glued in place. The tank glowed, bubbles breaking on the surface hummed like...

Rain kept thrumming against the roof of his motel room. These places were always drafty, making the flame flicker, casting strange shadows between flashes of lightning. A generator must have died somewhere in the area. He heard a knock and went to the door, realizing when and where he was. "Hi" he said, feeling the relief wash over him. She was shaking, the purple bathrobe did nothing to protect her from the cold. "I want you to look at something" she declared, fear overpowering any shame she might feel. He let her in and closed the door, candle in his hand making her shadow dance over the walls. She was untying the robe and his heart started pounding, the image burned in his memory so deep that it was embarrassing, eidetic memory or not. Slender shoulders, small waist, white sensible underwear. The first time he saw her, confused as he was, he saw a woman, skin and curves, still his partner, but forever a beautiful woman. This time, he saw her, nothing more, the one person he trusted with his life, the one person he had to bring back. She glanced over her shoulder, weight shifted, and he remembered his part. Taking a deep breath, he knelt down to examine the marks on her lower back and noticed his own shaking hands, the flickering light. He didn't dare to touch her this time, if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop. "What are they?" she was starting to panic, reliving every second of the memory as it was happening. To her time was still a universal invariant, she'd never believe him, if he told her that this moment was already their past "Mulder?" "Moquito bites" hearing his own name on her lips again made him smile. "Are you sure?" he got up, before he did something rash. "Yeah, I've got eaten up a lot myself out there" and there she was, soft weight rocking him back so that he had to brace himself, inside and out. Her arms around him holding tight, shuffled all his pieces back into place like a deck of cards. He held on, squeezing his eyes shut, she was warm, strong and alive, she smelled like Scully, and she felt like Scully, and he never wanted to let go or wake up. A lightning flashed, her face stayed buried in his t-shirt, him gently rubbing her back. Seconds ticked by, dream time making them stretch, was it him or her this time, tampering with their universe. "You okay?" he said softly, feeling her shift, relax into his embrace instead of pulling back. She pressed her cheek to his chest, exhaled, and he drew her a bit closer, a bit more like a long lost friend. "I..." she hesitated, voice sounding distant made his breath catch. It was her, she was here, listening. He leaned down to whisper in her ear when a thunder crashed closer than ever...

Someone was pounding at the door, yanking him from the dream, the feeling of Scully's arms fading rapidly. The gun in his hand suddenly felt very appropriate. "Mulder?" a woman's voice called, and somehow he doubted, that Melissa was here to search his apartment. It was tempting to ignore her and protect his cover, but the longer she stood there, the more she put herself in danger. A cold thought shot a shiver down his spine, that something might have happened. He opened the door and looked past her down the hall, empty for now. "Sorry I came by, but you weren't answering your phone" she started to apologize but he quickly dragged her inside closing the door behind them "Why is it so dark in here" "Because the lights aren't on" he deadpanned, holding back anger, she was reckless to come here, and he couldn't bare having any more blood on his hands. "Okay" she looked at him as if she saw an exceptionally annoying teenager "I just came from the hospital, dr. Daly says she's weakening" the weight of her words sinking in as she relayed them, still the truth couldn't make it past her throat "it could be anytime, so I figured you'd want to come and see her" To say goodbye, he wanted to finish for her. "I can't" I'm not saying goodbye, she's not going anywhere. "Well I think that you would" she insisted and Mulder screwed his eyes shut, blocking out her and her new-age make peace with death crap. "I can't, not right now" she was just here, he felt her, he could still bring her back. But Melissa was angry with him now, unaware that Scully was reaching out. "Listen. I don’t have to be psychic to see that you’re in a very dark place... much darker than where my sister is" the calm facade dropped, she was going full throttle "Why don’t you just drop your cynicism and your paranoia and your defeat. Why is it so much easier for you to run away than just expressing to her how you feel? I expect more from you. Dana expects more" She unlatched the door and pushed past him, anger rolling of her in waves he could almost feel crashing against him "Even if it doesn’t bring her back, at least she’ll know. And so will you" She slammed the door and he leaned against it, hiding his face in cold and shaking hands. He came home determined to get even, ready to bring down the men who hurt her. But he knew it would never even the scales, no life taken would make her come back or take the pain away. The watch on his wrist ticking loudly in the silence that fell over him. The silence that would reign forever, if he did nothing. Seconds shoveled from someday through now to way back when. All the things lost, questions never asked. The greatest mystery was life itself.

She was still asleep, alone in her room, the slowly beeping monitor watching over her, chanting still, here, still, here... He took the chair by her side, slipped his fingers into her palm and held on for both of them. Could he do it like this? Would she come if he'd go looking for her? Was there really no more time? The beeping monitor had no answers, just went on with his mantra, still, here, still, here... "I feel, Scully that you believe..." he spoke softly, feeling each word, willing them through from the bottom of his heart, voice catching as he fought the fear in their path "you’re not ready to go. And you’ve always had the strength of your beliefs." The cross around his neck was her strength, and he willed that strength into her as well, blindly making up spells as he went along "I don’t know if my being here... will help bring you back. But I’m here" The monitor kept its' hypnotizing rhythm, still, here, still, here...

The rain soaked through his jeans and jacket, graveyard scent giving the dream a morbid twist. "What is going on here?" she protested, two open graves yawning in the distance. "I think I know who did it" he felt the cold but also the feeling of the two of them, finally on the same page, the night they connected "I think I know who killed Karen Swenson" "Who? The detective?" he remembered the look on her face, when she filled in the gaps in his theory with science, the night she saved him from his own madness. "The detective's son" he risked, waiting for her to call him crazy, to do that crazy thing she does. She never gave up without a fight, not on that first case, never in her life. "The boy in the hospital, the vegetable?!" "Peggy O'Dell was bound to a wheelchair but she ran in front of that truck" maybe she woke up in a strange place, alone in the dark "Look, I'm not making this up, it all fits the profile of alien abduction" "This fits a profile?" The rational mind was her wall, lifting her up and giving her clear view of the world, as much as giving her someplace to hide. He climbed that wall to bring her back. "Yes. Peggy O'Dell was killed at around nine-o-clock, that's right around the time we lost nine minutes on the highway" when I thought I lost you "I think that something happened in that nine minutes, I think that time, as we know it, stopped. And something took control over it." She did that, she called him here, to a place where everything started. He saw her smile and believed, believed with all his heart, that it wasn't to tell him goodbye. "You think I'm crazy" she ducked her head, hiding her smile, but he could feel her thinking. The cold turned their breaths into puffs of mist in the moonlight. "Peggy O'Dell's watch stopped a couple of minutes after nine" her voice became distant, thoughtful, reciting his old words back to him "kids come to the forest, because the forest summons them, and the marks are from some kind of test that's being done on them" Gaze fixed on the grass beneath their feet, she began to shiver and Mulder took the three steps that separated them. Shrugging out of his jacket, draped it over her head. "I'm sorry" he said, willing the dream cold away "I left my umbrella at the office" Puff of air marked her laughter as she closed the gap and although he could barely hear her over the rain, he was sure this wasn't the young girl he just met, not anymore. She looked up and the months they shared were written in her eyes. "We'll make it work somehow" she replied and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down. Mulder freed one arm, crushing her to his chest, laughing and whispering time and time again. "Scully"

Something plopped on his head, making him wake with a start, gentle wight slipping down his neck when he looked up. She was looking straight at him, eyes slowly blinking away sleep, fingers searching. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing them against warm, dry skin, making her smile, a bit with her lips, but mostly with eyes. "Hi" she breathed, and he knew, even though no sound came out. "Welcome back" he whispered and she brushed away the tears that rolled from his eyes.

A lifetime later they sat on opposite sides of a hospital bed, listening to the steady rhythm of yet another heart rate monitor. The mother they shared, still, here, still, here... "Back in the day..." Scully hesitated, still not entirely comfortable with embracing the fantastic as a possibility "did we ever come across the ability to just... wish someone back to life?" "I invented it.” Mulder replied “When you were in the hospital, like this." He no longer feared being called crazy, he loved her skepticism as much as she loved his crazy. "You're a dark wizard, Mulder." She smiled, the love they shared pulling them through dark times. Together, as always.

#the heavens come down to you #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #pilot #one breath

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shania-twain · 6 years

Photo

He was eleven years old when his father gave him the book.

It was a small black book and, he noticed with an eye roll, had the words “I need space” on it. He loved space and found the stars and moon fascinating.

“I noticed you writing the other day,” his father told him.

He actually liked to draw more but sometimes when he felt the need, he would write words until he fell asleep at night. Sometimes he would write when he couldn’t express his own emotions. “A trait you share with your mother,” his dad would say.

He never started writing his thoughts down until that night. The night when his house was invaded. Before that, it had just been drawings of things he dreamed about. Monsters, the planets, aliens, a really cool telescope he saw in some advertisement on the kitchen table.

July 17th, 2012 As mom buckled me in the car, my eyes burned. Not only because of the smoke but they burned with tears I wouldn’t let fall. I wanted to ask why this was happening, why we were leaving everything we knew. But I knew my parents wouldn’t answer my questions, so I kept quiet and tried not to cry. It would just worry them more.

Dad started driving and when we heard a loud crash and crackling, mom looked at me and said: “don’t look back.”

I did. I couldn’t see the house anymore because of how fast dad was driving and how dark it was but I could see the big tree that was rooted outside in our backyard burning. Mom had warned me after I turned ten. She mentioned their jobs at the FBI and how danger sometimes seemed to follow them. I knew there was more to it but neither mom or dad would tell me more.

He cried out when he saw the treehouse he and his father had built together on fire, his favorite telescope his mom had gotten him for his birthday in there too. Now it was gone.

His parents were quiet in the front seat and he could hear his mom whispering something to him but didn’t bother to look up. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

After a while of driving in silence his father finally spoke. “Anybody need to go to the bathroom?”

His mom didn’t say anything and neither did he. His dad waited a beat and said: “last pee stop in 5...4….3…..”

When neither of them said nothing again, he sighed and looked at his son’s still form in the mirror. “I’m sorry about your telescope, buddy. I’m sorry this is happening.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice muffled from leaning into his arms.

“Mulder,” his mother said, looking behind her son, eyes wide. “They’re following us.”

He looked behind him and saw two small dots, indicating headlights following them.

I don’t know who it was or why they were following us, he wrote later that night, but I can’t imagine my mom and dad ever making any enemies.

His dad sighed, “hold on.” And pressed harder on the gas. Mulder took a sharp right turn onto a dirt road and Scully and their son both swayed harshly to the left.

The boy watched as the lights faded away, breathing a sigh of relief he hadn’t even known he was holding in.

His dad started driving a regular speed again, as if it were completely normal that they had to outrun bad guys. Were they bad guys? Were they the FBI? Why were we driving away? Why did they burn our house down, all of our things? I wish I had time to grab my telescope. He was still in his pajamas. He had happened to be drawing another picture in his book when his dad ran upstairs to tell him they had to get out and now.

He thought about his bed, how comforting it was and how he no longer had it. He thought about his room, and the blue walls and constellations painted there. He thought about his bookshelf and all his favorite mystery novels and books about space and science. He thought about his dad’s beloved fish tank, he thought about his mom’s office where he’d sometimes sit with her as she worked at her desk, and they’d go back and forth on the periodic table of elements, which he had been trying to memorize not because of school but because he wanted to. He thought about how he took his home, his comfort, for granted and finally allowed himself to cry. What was going to happen now?

He never realized he was making noise, he tried crying quietly into the crook of his elbow but he guessed he was being pretty loud because he felt a gentle hand on his leg, his mom’s quiet voice, “William?”

When he looked up at her he could see that her eyes were red, as if she had been crying too but he saw no sign of tears. All he had to say was: “mom…” and she was moving. She unbuckled quickly and set her arm on the drivers headrest, boosting herself over the middle console and settling into the seat next to him. She swiftly enveloped him in her arms and he cried again at the feeling of her lips in his hair. She began to sway back and forth with him, murmuring apologies as he held on just as tight.

When he finally began to fall asleep, Scully looked up into the rear view mirror over her son’s head and into her husband’s eyes. Mulder knew she was trying to keep herself from crying out at the pain this was causing their son but she wouldn’t. Their son was also that stubborn but he was still only a kid. Mulder’s heart ached to stop the car and hug them both tightly and promise them everything would be ok, but he kept driving.

They eventually stopped at a motel and it was almost three in the morning. Mulder looked in the back to see the two most important people in his life asleep. William had slumped over against his mother and Scully’s arm was wrapped around his small shoulders. They looked troubled in their sleep, Scully’s eyebrows furrowed as she kept a protective arm around their son. He hated to wake them and remind them of this nightmare.

“Scully,” he hissed and she woke, her arm that was around her son was numb and she stretched it upward.

“We’re here,” he just said and got out of the car to go and check them in. Scully looked out the window and flinched at the crick in her neck. She watched William sleep while waiting for her husband. Her heart ached in her chest at how confused and lost he must feel. She couldn’t explain it to him, he was too young. But then again, he was definitely too young to be suddenly on the run with his parents.

Mulder returned, quickly opening the back door and extracting their son from his sleeping position. She followed, brushing the hair out of William’s face as he continued to sleep against his father’s shoulder.

William didn’t wake until he felt his mother pulling off his shoes and whispering to his dad.

“Mulder, you can’t sleep on the floor, you’ve been driving for hours.”

“I’ve never made you sleep on the floor and I’m not about to now.”

William could almost hear his mother’s eye roll at his dad’s stubbornness.

“Mom?” he made his presence known and they both looked over from the end of the bed at him.

“Go back to sleep, kid, we’re safe now,” his dad said.

“Where are we? Who were those people that made us leave our house? Are we in trouble?”

His parents said nothing and he expected as much. They were so secretive, it drove him crazy.

His mom sat next to him in the bed and placed her hand on his head, smoothing his hair. “We’ll talk about that in the morning, honey. Just get some sleep for now, ok?”

He was still so tired. But the bed was so uncomfortable and his mind raced with so many questions he’ll probably never get the answers to. He missed his bed.

“Will you both lay with me?”

Mulder was going to say there wasn’t any room on the bed for all three of them but when his wife caught his eye, he didn’t. Just nodded and watched as Scully wordlessly lay next to their son, snuggling close to him which he would normally turn away at that sort of affection but he was scared and wanted his parents. Mulder pursed his lips at the sliver of space left on the bed, shrugged to himself and figured he could probably fit if he laid one leg off the bed. He’s slept in worse positions. His nose almost touched the back of William’s head and he hoped his breathing didn’t bother him, but he already seemed to be back asleep. Mulder finally felt himself giving in to his exhaustion when he felt Scully’s hand reach out across their son for his, holding it tightly, as if to keep him from rolling off the bed and to seek reassurance that they really would be alright. He squeezed her hand and fell asleep.

October 9, 2012 It has been almost 3 months since we left home. We’re still hopping from place to place, never staying anywhere longer than a week. At first, mom and dad tried to make it seem like an adventure but after about a month, it got tiring. I can tell they miss home too. I still don’t know anything about who we’re running from or why. I’m getting tired of them brushing me off or changing the subject every time I ask. Is this what the rest of our lives is supposed to be? When does it end? I have theories on why we’re running. Theory 1: we’re wanted by the FBI in a surprising twist after my parents retired and left their department. Why? Maybe they stole government property? Or pissed the wrong person off? Theory 2: someone from a previous case wants them dead and will stop at nothing to do so. Seems unlikely since dad always would joke that they never really closed a case but ya never know. Theory 3: me. Someone is after me. This one makes the least sense, considering I’ve never really done anything to piss anyone off. Or at least I don’t think I have. Not made them mad enough to want to kill me. Us? My head hurts. I’m going to go to bed soon but first I think I’m going to try and get some answers.

William shoved the sheets off his legs, closed his book and sat up straight, settling his bare feet on the carpeted motel floor and stared at the bathroom door as he waited for his mom to come out.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, drying her freshly showered hair with a towel as much as she could, she shot him a smile. “Your dad not back yet?”

“No,” he answered timidly, afraid she would get mad if he started this conversation.

“It makes me nervous when he takes so long,” his mom worried as she sat down on the next bed over, crossing her legs as she continued to towel dry her hair. “And I’m hungry.”

“Is it me?” he blurted.

His mom stopped, hands frozen in place in her wet hair. “What?”

“Are we running...because of me?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, climbing over to his bed and sitting next to him.

“It’s complicated, bud.” She said and he took that as a yes. “I’m not even sure of the why’s myself.”

“But who is it that’s after me? And why? I’m just...ordinary.”

At this, his mom smiled, her dimples peeking out and she pinched his cheek playfully. “You’re anything but ordinary.”

William rolled his eyes but smiled, the same dimples in his cheeks. He had heard the story of his mom’s “miracle pregnancy” many times.

Aliens. Supernatural. Powers. Government. Colonization. She told me everything. Or at least, enough. Maybe too much. My mind feels like it’s going to explode. Her words were so stoic, almost cold. I feel like it’s the same voice she uses when she talks to patients or other doctors. Cold hard facts voice. It actually is a comfort to me when I hear it since it is the voice I am used to when I fall off my bike or I break my ankle playing baseball. But it scared me tonight. Not her voice, just the words and their meaning. What is to become of us? Dad’s back from getting pizza and I’m full but now my stomach is all bundled up with nerves and I feel sick. I better go to sleep. Mom’s looking at me with concern. She never told dad what she told me while he was gone but somehow I feel like he already knows that I know. He has the same look of concern. Sometimes my parents could talk with just a look and it annoys me a lot. It feels like I’m outside of their secret bubble when I feel like I should be in it, with them. Maybe it was just something they had since they’ve been partners at their old job.

William paused to think about what to write next when the book was taken out of his hands and he protested with a tired: “hey!”

“You’re falling asleep,” his dad said and William’s eyes blinked slowly.

Later that night, William tossed and turned in the uncomfortable motel bed and once again longed for his own. Maybe next week I’ll have a better one, he thought. His eyes fluttered open when he heard talking.

He was facing his parent’s bed, but it was empty. He found them sitting by the motel window, heads close together, sitting at a small round table.

His mom plucked at her sleeve, watching her fingers instead of looking at him. “Sometimes I wish we had given him up.”

What? William screamed in his head.

“What?” his dad echoed his thoughts.

“I wouldn’t trade our time with him for anything in the world,” his mom was quick to say. “But...Mulder, this is crazy. This isn’t a life. It’s not the life I wanted for him.”

His dad reached out to still her hand. She looked at him then. “I never wanted this for you either.”

Scully took her hand out of his and leaned over to place it on Mulder’s cheek. “I know,” she whispered. “And I feel we’re both safest with you here.”

His parents were silent then but in the moonlight through the blinds behind them, William could see his dad’s lips still moving. They were still talking, just quieter now.

“...some things I didn’t say,” his mom was saying. Their voices were so quiet, William strained to hear.

“We’re lucky he can still sleep, Scully. The boy is probably freaking the hell out,” his dad said.

“I had to tell him, he was so confused and what are we supposed to do, pretend forever?” Scully shot back, “we need a plan.”

“There’s so many different people, Scully,” his dad whispered, “so many motives.”

“So what, we just run around and wait for -”

“I never said that,” Mulder interrupted.

Wait for what? William thought in his mind.

His parents both looked over at him. William hadn’t noticed he had said that last thought out loud.

Scully looked over at Mulder and he looked back. They were sharing a secret again. Only this time, by the look on their faces, William would rather not know.

December 21, 2012 It’s freezing here. We’re in a bigger city this time. More cars, more tall buildings. I guess it’s harder to find people here. Most places we’ve been to are in the country, with gas stations and convenience stores miles and miles apart. I like the city, but right now it’s too cold and it’s too loud. You would think with all the snow that people would be unable to leave and go to work it would be quieter but it wasn’t. We’ve actually been here longer than two weeks. Mom adores the city life. Dad is ok with it, happy if mom’s happy. Not to say that any of us are happy, but..we’re alive. They haven’t told me much more about who is after us and why and I haven’t asked. My need to know has gone and now I just kind of go with it. I’m hopeful we won’t be doing this for much longer but then I’m also afraid we’ll be doing this for years and years. I actually would rather be in school. Mom’s been teaching me a lot of stuff, science and math stuff, and we both enjoy it and dad has been teaching me english and psychology. It’s a quiet day in our apartment. We all have fake names, which is pretty cool. We had some fun in the beginning making up dumb names for motels we stayed at but this one dad said we were probably going to use a while. A while could mean up to three weeks or maybe even two months. We’ll see how it goes.

William looked up from his book in his corner at the sound of the door being opened. It was his mom, her red hair in her face from the wind and she swiped at it with her gloved hand.

“Hey, beauty,” his dad called from the small kitchen where he was attempting to make them lunch.

His mom scoffed at the term as she still struggled with her long hair in her face and two large grocery bags in her arms. William quickly got up to grab one and she smiled in thanks, dropping the other on the counter in the kitchen.

“Got the stuff for your salad?” Mulder asked, stirring what looked like soup in a pot on the stove.

“Yes and you two are going to eat some with me tonight,” she said.

William and Mulder groaned in unison at the thought of eating anything green.

Scully clucked her tongue. “Boys.”

“Ok, I’ll have a little,” his father grumbled at her look and William rolled his eyes when his mom smiled and stood on her toes to kiss him.

“Thank you. Will, a little bit of it won’t kill you,” she turned to the tiny living room, “I’m going to finish reading my book.”

Later that night, when all the lights were out and the apartment was quiet but the city was not, William leaned against the wall next to the window where he could use the lights from outside to write in his notebook.

Today was good. For once, things almost seemed normal. Almost like we were home. All we do is run and run and run and run. Sometimes I think about the night when my mom said she wished she gave me up. I know she didn’t really wish that and I know that she was just worried and doesn’t want to live this way either. They’re just trying to protect me and I’m thankful for it. It wouldn’t feel right if I were with other people. I’d have a room and a bed to sleep in, sure, but they still provide that for me every night, even if it’s not the same. They’re trying.

“Will?” His mom’s whisper startled him and he shut his book, about to stand up.

“Don’t get up,” she said and he sat back down, “I was just checking on you.”

William nodded and looked out the window. It was finally quiet on their street which meant it was probably almost morning.

“You ok?” his mom asked. He nodded again, still looking out the window.

He heard her move and felt her sit next to him on the floor. When he looked over at her, her blue eyes were watery.

“What’s wrong?” his voice was a whisper too. He never saw his mom cry. It made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“Nothing,” she said. She stared at his face and it almost made him uncomfortable; it was like she was studying him. She placed her hand on his boney shoulder and pulled him into her arms. He let her and said nothing. He felt comforted at the feel of her warm breathing on the side of his head as she held him close.

Her quiet voice was right in his ear. “What’s the most important thing to remember?”

“Um, always say please and thank you?” he guessed.

Her laugh was soft and he loved to hear it. It was rare. “No.” She stroked his hair.

“Say excuse me if you fart?” he guessed, again trying to make her laugh.

She did. “No,” she said, hand brushing his forehead, “the most important thing to remember is that I love you. We love you.”

William settled more comfortably in his mother’s embrace, even though he was getting too big to do so. “I love you too.”

All of a sudden his dad was there and his face was panicked. William and Scully both knew what that face meant. Mulder leaned down, before rushing to pack, to press a kiss to Scully’s forehead, then to his son’s.

The last thing he thought as his mom whispered at him move was: “at least we’re together.”

And we run.

#this is......a fic #believe it or not i actually have a part 3 halfway done im rolling my eyes @ myself THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT #dana scully #fox mulder #william scully #still no idea how 2 tag him my boy #txf #the x files #the x-files #txfpf #pf:txf

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

Note

5 headcanon AU, if you feel so inclined. Mulder takes the deal with Cancer Man to save Scully during Redux.

1. He takes the deal. He signs his life away for her, telling himself it’s worth it, telling himself he can poison them from the inside out, that he can finally find out what they did to his sister.

He goes to see her one more time, where she’s sleeping in her hospital bed. He breaks down at her bedside, sobbing so loud he’s shocked he doesn’t wake her, but he’s glad she stays asleep. He doesn’t think he could do this if he talked to her again.

He swallows back his tears, stands over her bed and kisses her forehead softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, knowing she’d hate him if she knew what he was doing. “I’m so sorry.”

And then he leaves, a shadow figure against the wall of her dark hospital room.

2. Scully cries when she gets the news: she is not dying anymore. She is going to live. She cries with her mother clutching her hands and sobbing right along with her. She hugs her brother, her mother, wipes her eyes on the corner of her blanket. And then she says, “I need to call Mulder. I need to tell him.”

Bill gives her his cell phone and she dials Mulder’s number almost without thinking. She’s so eager to tell him, to hear his voice, that every ring seems like a prolonging. She’s nearly holding her breath. But Mulder doesn’t answer.

She tries again and again throughout the day, throughout the cycle of doctors and tests and overjoyed visitors. No answer. For a few hours, she’s so terrified he’s been arrested she can hardly breathe, and when Skinner comes to visit, she growls, “Where is he?” with animosity so fierce she nearly comes out of her hospital bed to get to him. (She’s still not sure she can trust Skinner.) But Skinner has no idea, either. He seems as concerned as she does. And that’s when Scully really starts to worry.

She keeps trying his cell phone long after everyone else has left. She’s exhausted, but all she can do is curl up in her horrible hospital bed and dial his number again and again. She shuts her eyes in defeat when it goes to voicemail.

3. She starts looking as soon as she gets home. Not a second later. She has to sneak around her mother—which is absolutely ridiculous, she is a grown women, but her mother is stiflingly protective—but she does it anyway. She calls the Gunmen, who argue with her and tell her she should rest, and reassure her that they are looking for him. (They sent her several huge bouquets of flowers in the hospital.) She ignores them, drives right over to their apartment and demands to know what they’ve found.

The answer seems to be nothing. His apartment is still a crime scene. They have no idea where he was staying. They can’t trace his movements on that day. They’re monitoring police reports for any signs of him and coming up with nothing. Scully tries his mother, tries every associate she can think of, tries to find a way to get in touch with that contact of his. No luck. She’s frustrated, worried, and she wants to see him so badly.

She’s firmly believed that Mulder had been abducted or something or the sort that day. She refuses to consider the possibility that he’s dead, and she knows he wouldn’t have left her on purpose. Or at least she thinks she knows. But one night, after a failed meeting with Mulder’s contact, she finds herself being dragged into an alley, an annoying familiar face in front of hers. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Scully,” Krycek hisses, letting her of her as soon as she sees his face.

Scully takes a swing without thinking, hitting him straight in the nose. He flinches hard, but makes no move to strike back. “Fuck you,” she hisses. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

He laughs, smug enough that Scully wants to sock him again. “I haven’t done a damn thing, Scully. He did it himself. He doesn’t want you looking for him.”

She freezes, suddenly cold. “What the hell are you talking about,” she says softly.

Krycek shrugs. “Your partner went over to the dark side,” he says dryly, and Scully’s breath falters. “He made a deal with the smoker to save your life.”

She gasps a little for air in astonishment, stumbling back from him. Her knuckles sting. “He didn’t,” she says dumbly.

He nods, almost bluntly. “I’m just surprised he didn’t tell you,” he says, turning and walking away.

Scully’s shoulder hits the wall too hard. She rubs at her bruised knuckles with a dumbfounded sort of horror, breathing too hard. She knew he wouldn’t leave her. She never really thought he’d leave her.

4. It makes more sense as she walks back to her car, her hands cold. Mulder has always been stupidly self-sacrificing. He faked his death to try and find her cure. He wouldn’t let her take the fall for the dead man in his apartment, looked down at her with the softest fucking eyes and said that he wouldn’t do that because he couldn’t live with it.

(So how, she wants to know, could he live with this? Leaving her like this? Joining the people who took his sister when they could’ve been lying? She’s almost sure that it was the chip that cured her, so what good would joining them do? How could he do this to her?)

She’s furious, that first night. Angry, raving, ferociously sad. She swears she’s done. She’s going to quit the X-Files, transfer to Quantico, and never think about him again. She drinks half a bottle of wine and passes out on her couch, cold and shivering. When she wakes up, she has a tremendous headache, and she’s mostly just sad. She buries her face in a throw pillow and shuts her eyes.

She doesn’t stop looking for him. She doesn’t think she could stop looking for him, and anyhow, he’s never stopped looking for her. When she tells the Gunmen, a look of dismay passes over their faces briefly before Frohike says grimly, “I’m not surprised.” You should’ve seen him when you were on the hospital, he says. He was so worried, he would’ve done anything. Scully swallows and nods, pretends she doesn’t want to cry.

They begin monitoring records for signs of Mulder’s popular alliases. It’s slow going, of course, but Scully helps as much as she can. Drives straight to their apartment after work and crowds on a laptop between Langly and Frohike to search for her best friend. She can’t decide if she’s furious or worried. She isn’t sure. All she knows is that she has to find him. She has to see him, even if it’s the last time.

It’s been months. Months. She’s newly back at work off medical leave, and it’s strange, so strange to be there without Mulder. There’s a partnership seminar that she misses because she has no partner. Skinner starts to talk of assigning her a new partner. She staunchly refuses. She knows she might never work with Mulder again, but she doesn’t want another partner. She has a partner. She takes a few cases to keep up appearances, but her mind keeps returning to the case that takes precedence over all. She gets distracted, lost in her thoughts, constantly looking to her side only to find nothing there.

It’s when she’s on a case, in Connecticut, when she gets the call. It’s Frohike, his voice some strange combination of excited and concerned. “We found him. Scully, we found him. He’s renting an apartment in Boston. It’s an old alias, but it’s him. We’re almost positive.”

It’s all she needs. She gets the address and thanks them three times before hanging up. She doesn’t stop to think about whether or not it’s a good idea. She doesn’t care. She drives straight to Boston without hesitation. She wants only what she has wanted ever since she found out she was in remission: to see Mulder.

5. Scully finds his apartment and breaks in. She learned to pick locks in high school, some absent habit of Missy’s they learned on a boring snow day. She still has the key to his old apartment on her key ring, despite the fact that she hasn’t been using it. She holds it curled in the palm of her hand when she gets into the apartment, clutching the key hard as she stands against the counter. The toothy part cuts into her palm. This apartment is shittier than the one in Alexandria, much shittier. No leather couch, no fish tank. She stares at the tiled floor in the dim kitchen.

She only looks up when she hears the sound of the door opening, the key in the lock. His head is turned away from her, towards the door, but it’s him. It’s him. A lump rises in her throat. She can’t decide if she wants to punch him or kiss him. “Mulder,” she says softly.

But not so softly that he can’t hear. He turns towards her, a look of shock on his face, and that’s when she sees it. The split lip, the black eye. She gasps. “Scully?” he says, confused. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He laughs astonishedly, nervously.

She doesn’t move. She’s clutching his key too hard and just staring. “What happened to you,” she whispers, and she’s startled to find that she’s on the verge of tears.

He blinks. He shrugs, sheepishly. “Moral disagreement. Collateral damage. Whatever you wanna call it.”

She takes a shaky breath, another. She is moving towards him before she knows it, crashing into him and clinging hard. “You ass,” she hisses into his chest, her fingers digging into his jacket. “I was so scared. I was so worried, Mulder. I thought they’d taken you.”

He holds her tentatively, like she’s going to pull away: one hand on her back, one hand tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I-I thought I was helping you.” He’s rocking her back and forth, rocking her back and forth. “I didn’t wanna lose you,” he whispers.

“So you left me,” she says, her voice rough and accusatory. But she doesn’t let go of him. She thought he was dead.

“I didn’t want to.” He kisses her temple. “I didn’t want to. I missed you so much.”

“I thought you were dead,” she murmurs, hugging him hard. “I looked for you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He strokes her hair, cupping the back of her head. “You shouldn’t be here,” he chides in a soft voice. “I think they’re watching me.”

She draws back to look at his face, touching the spot below his swelled eye with the pads of her fingers. “What did they do to you?” she whispers.

He winces as she touches the bruise, yanking back. “I told you. Moral disagreement.”

“Jesus Christ.” She kisses his cheek on an impulse, her eyes wide and wet. “You’ve got to get out of here, Mulder,” she whispers, gathering his hands in hers.

He shakes his head. His eyes are dark, haunted. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” An angry pit is forming in her stomach, hard and painful. She wants to kill whoever did this to him, put a gun right between the smoker’s eyes.

“No, I can’t.” He swallows, covers her hand with his. “Scully, the things I’ve seen… what I know now… they’d kill me before they’d let me leave.”

“Oh, Mulder.” She strokes his knuckles with one thumb. “How many times have they threatened something like that? They won’t go through with it.”

“This time is different,” he whispers. “This time, they have nothing to lose. They’ll kill me… and then there’s nothing stopping them from getting to you.” He blinks slowly, thumbing her hair behind her ear. His eyes are as wet as hers. “I can’t lose you, Scully,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me,” she says, almost sternly. “You saved me. I’m still here because of you.”

He shakes his head. “You should go,” he says, but his voice breaks. Shows his bluff.

She shakes her head right back. “You saved me,” she says. “Now it’s my turn, Mulder.”

He shakes his head again, but it’s weaker this time. He shuts his eyes.

She palms the side of his face, careful to avoid the bruises. She says, as strict as she has ever sounded, “I’m not leaving you here.”

#i dont love this but it was kind of fun #i feel like i channeled the fountain for the entirety of this i could've written so much more #(my original idea was to have mulder reappear with the cure for emily)#(but i figured scully would find him before that)#xf fanfic #i wrote this

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