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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

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White Lies (Pt. 13 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Change Of Heart

“You and Daniel were in a relationship that ended sometime before we met,” Keanu says, gathering his stuff as you do the same, both starting to take the baggage to the living room. “He is Mrs. Davis' son, and I guess she didn't like much when you two broke apart.”

“And where is this Daniel now? I'd like to meet him if he's part of my past.” You stop by the door, as Keanu checks on his phone for the car he just called.

But he puts his phone away, eyes on you. “Daniel passed away a week before your accident.”

“Oh...” You whisper, looking down. “So that's why Lucia got so sad when I said we weren't considering the name.”

“Yeah.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his weird expression, you step forward and tiptoe, placing a kiss on his lips. “Let's go home, babe.”

•••

Going back home happened without any incidents. But the next days were filled with medical appointments. You assure him you're fine, but Keanu seems to be in an urge to make sure you're completely fine. You try not to complain about it, but things get weird when you notice a strange expression on his face. For too many times to count you caught him looking like he was just about to say something, but for some reason, he gives up. It makes you confront him a couple of times, but he assures you he's just worried as the pregnancy goes on.

Some weeks go by, and you're getting impatient to find out the baby's sex. On your many ultrasounds, they're always on a position that makes it impossible to see it. But you're hopeful for today, and, as you lie on the bed with Keanu, your back against his chest, you take in the soft morning light.

Keanu has an arm around her waist, a hand caressing her belly. Her bare back keeps his body warm, and despite the constant feeling that time is running short, he places kisses on her neck.

He was supposed to tell her the truth weeks ago, the moment they got back from Miami, but he just couldn't. This went too far, he went too far. In every possible aspect. Keanu didn't only fell for her, but he was intimate with (Y/N) too many times to count, and that makes him feel more guilt than anything else.

Her second trimester is just about to end, and now, he's caught in between. Again, for the millionth time, Keanu is caught in between two feelings. His love and his morals.

In his defense, Keanu did try to break the news several times. The words, the destructive, dangerous words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to desolate his life. But they got stuck, and he was too weak at the thought of losing her. Of losing the baby that he loves so much. It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself the kid isn't his, he's failing to get this fact to grow roots in his heart. Keanu loves the child as if it's his own.

Guilt threatens to devour him entirely sometimes, but right now, in this moment, happiness suppresses everything else. This is his personal paradise, with her, the baby, healthily growing inside her.

Keanu always wanted a family. Settle down, take less and smaller roles. But nobody ever made him feel like he could. Of all the women he dated, nobody ever made him feel like he would give up everything. He thought he knew what love was, and he thought it wasn't as strong as people say... But now, life proved him wrong. This is love, a wrecking ball that came and destroyed his walls, his heart, his wrong perceptions. If only it happened some other way. If he wasn't caught up in this web of lies.

Dr. Harris wasn't happy to know he was sleeping with her. (Y/N) told her, of course, and even though it was in her usual shy and reserved way, the psychologist got the meaning behind the words. And she confronted him, very harshly, and Keanu could do nothing but listen and agree. Because this is wrong. This is the worst kind of betrayal.

(Y/N) moves a little, breathing deeply as she wakes up. A hand finds his, pulling it to her chest, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. “Morning.” She whispers, voice still clouded by sleep. She's used to it now, Keanu is always awake first.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replies, fingers caressing her chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, but I miss lying on my stomach.” She complains, turning around and snuggling into his chest. “What time is it? We have an ultrasound.”

“I know. And we should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) mutters, but doesn't give any signs she'll move anytime soon.

But he knows what today is all about, and it will certainly make her excited. “Hopefully we'll finally find out if this little one is Sophie or Liam.”

“Yes!” Immediately, she pushes herself up, an arm sustaining her weight as she looks down at Keanu. And he tries not to stare at her nude figure, even though this is silly compared to everything they're done. Still, he thinks he should at least try. “The baby must be in a good position today. I can't wait anymore.” With that, she's up, smiling as she makes her way to the bathroom.

And Keanu is left behind on the bed, surrounded by his bad decisions. Maybe this is the right time. Maybe, being this happy, she won't hate him so much.

With a lump in his throat, he goes on with his routine, until they're almost ready to go. Keanu waits by the bedroom door frame as she fixes her hair, the bathroom door half open. This is way too sudden, but if he doesn't do that now, if he waits any longer, he'll never be ready. He'll never be brave or strong enough to do this. He took too long already. Now, he can only hope, pray, that this will somehow end up the way he wants.

That he won't lose her.

The moment he sees (Y/N) walking out of the bathroom, Keanu gives a step forward, arms crossed, heart beating so fast it threatens to jump off his chest. The words are at the top of his tongue when his eyes take in her posture. (Y/N) holds the skirt of her blue dress up, all the way to the top of her thigh with one hand, and on the other, there's blood. Bright and red, staining her fingers and the palm of her hand. His eyes turn to her face, blank, scared as she looks at him.

Without thinking too much, his mind on the verge of collapsing, he forces himself to move, quickly making his way over her.

You hate the smell of the soap they have here. You hate this hospital and what it means when you're brought here. It's only far worse now. You're still trying not to burst into tears, trying not to break down again. There's no pain, so that's good. And no more bleeding, which is even better. The feeling you got when you found blood on your underwear was the worst thing in the world. For a moment, a desperate moment, you thought you were going to lose the baby. You wanted to yell, but you didn't have it in you.

If it wasn't for Keanu, you don't know what you'd do.

Now, still walking terribly slow out of nervousness, you leave the hospital bathroom, finding Keanu seated on the edge of your bed, already looking at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He says, and you remember this was one of the first things he said to you. “Come and lie down. Why did you put the dress on again?”

“Because it's clean and I don't want to stay here.” Instead of doing as he said, you stand before him, your forehead on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose our baby.” Your voice cracks as some tears roll down, arms around his midsection.

“I already spoke to the doctor.” Immediately, you pull away, just enough to look into his eyes. “He assured me you're both alright.”

“Are you sure, Ke?” You plead, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I almost lost my mind.”

“He wants you to rest and that's all. He–” He's cut short by the door being open, and you see Dr. Wright and your obstetrician.

“First of all, you must know the baby is alright.” Dr. Williams says as she comes closer, a tablet on her hands. “Sometimes, such discharges happen, mostly as you progress from the second to the third trimester.” She kindly smiles. “Everything you two need to do is keep up the good job. Make sure to rest, eat healthily, and exercise. But I'll recommend you to lie down for the rest of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” You quickly agree.

“It would be good to avoid surprises. The bad ones at least.” Dr. Wright adds, oddly staring at Keanu. But that's normal, he still needs to look after you, so some things are directed to him. “But we have good news today, right, Dr. Williams?”

“Yes.” From under the tablet, she takes a picture from the ultrasound and hands over to you. “The baby was in a good position and we already know the sex.”

“Oh my God.” You exclaim, smiling for the first time since the incident. “What is it?”

Dr. Williams smiles, exchanging a glance with Dr. Wright. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, you'll be having a baby boy.”

“It's Liam!” You yell, throwing your arms around Keanu again. “I was right!”

“You were right.” He agrees, a second before you kiss him, not minding the audience.

“Well, you're free to go home. And call me if you need anything.” Dr. Wright says and the obstetrician agrees before they both leave.

At least something good happened today. You'll finally be able to paint the blank white walls of the baby's bedroom, and buy what you still need.

“I was right.” You repeat, smirking at Keanu. “But we can try again and maybe it'll be a girl. I mean, if we ever spoke about having more than one kid.” Blushing a little, you bite your lip. There are still a lot of things you need to be updated on, and you still get a little sad when it happens.

“I'd love to have more kids if that's what you want, sweetheart,” Keanu says and you smile, kissing him again. “But now let's go home. You need to lie down for the day.”

“Can we stop and buy the paint for Liam's room? We already know the color so it'll only take a minute.” You know you have to rest, but you can't help but feel excited for finally being able to finish off the baby's bedroom. “Please? I'll stay in the car.”

Keanu gives you a look because sometimes you don't always do as you said you would. “Fine, but you won't be painting anything. I can do it myself.”

Nodding, you watch as he takes your bag and guides you out of the hospital room you hate so much. Hopefully, there will be a day you won't have to keep coming here, not because of some incident and not for any appointments.

You did wait in the car this time, and as much as you wanted to hit the mall and buy everything blue and green, Keanu forces you to give up the idea and head straight home. And when you get there, you have his undivided attention. He doesn't only make an incredible lunch, and an incredible dinner, he gives your legs a massage, and it takes a lot of effort to just lie down instead of jumping on him. But this is peaceful, slow, and sweet.

In the weeks that follow, nothing bad happens. You feel great, but you also heavier. Liam is growing fast, and you can't wait any longer to meet him. And neither can Keanu. He gets even more protective with time if that's even possible. And after you almost slipped in the shower, you're not even allowed to shower by yourself. Of course you pretend you're annoyed, but the truth is that you love it.

Despite feeling uncomfortable during this period, Keanu makes everything perfect. There are still no signs you'll get the memories back, and that's a fact now, but you'll follow your psychologist's advice. And Laura's advice, since they're pretty much the same. Living in the past will only get in the way of what's happening now. You have an amazing husband, who loves you deeply, and a child on the way. The present is wonderful, and you won't let anything ruin it.

You're around week 37 now, marking it on the calendar on the fridge door, a hand on your back as you make your way to the kitchen table. Keanu is still upstairs, and you take this chance to pour some honey on your plate. You're still eating the awkward combination when he comes to the kitchen, and you try not to let him see. But Keanu sees everything, and when he takes his place across from you, you feel his eyes burning.

“What?” You innocently ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Are you eating bacon with honey?”

Biting your lip, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I happen to love honey. And bacon. So it makes sense.” He giggles and you kick his leg under the table. “Don't mess with the pregnant lady.” Warning him, you push the plate away. “I'm done anyway. I'll move to the couch if you don't mind, my back really hurts.”

“Sure. I'll join you in a bit.”

“Ok.” Dragging yourself to the living room, you lie down, hands on your swollen belly. You're almost drifting off to sleep when you feel Keanu sitting down, lifting your legs so he can move closer, caressing your thighs. “Ke, I'm huge.” You complain, eyes on the bump.

“You're beautiful.” Bending down, he places a kiss on your exposed belly, since you have the shirt pulled up. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Pouting a little, you try to hold back the giggle when you see his eyebrow raised.

“I would love to show how beautiful I think you are, but Dr. Williams told us to give it a little break.”

“Don't even remind me.” You never complained about anything with your obstetrician, but when she told you and Keanu should probably avoid sleeping together, you had to speak up. Even though your cheeks were burning. But in the end, you did comply. And you wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, since Keanu does everything the doctors say. “I heard your phone beeping. Everything alright in Arch?”

“Yes. That was just Lucia.” He says, obviously a little annoyed. “She just moved here. She's renting an apartment not so far away.”

“What the hell.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. This woman won't leave you alone, it doesn't matter what you say. “Why is she doing that? Isn't it obvious we don't want her around?” A couple of weeks ago she showed up again, and another argument happened. Keanu had to kick her out because the recommendations were that you shouldn't be put under any kind of stress.

“She loves you and the baby. That's why she wants to be around.” You don't get it. Keanu doesn't like her either, so why does he still speak like this?

“I know you can't stand her, you don't have to fake it with me.”

“But this isn't about me, sweetheart, it's about you and the people who were in your life before.”

The kindness in his voice makes you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You're amazing, did you know that?” Placing kisses on his face, you smile. “I love you. I'm worried to death and I'm trying not to get anxious with the labor, but you're making everything perfect. You're the best husband I could ever have.”

“I'm just trying to be the husband you deserve.” With a hand caressing your cheek, Keanu kisses you full on the lips, and you take no time before kissing him back. You don't know what you'd do without him, but luckily, you won't ever have to find out.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick #john wick x reader

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archive-of-note · 3 years

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So @scribbledghost wrote a thing cause she’s in a mood, and then reading it put me in a mood, but since I was already in a different mood I’m making this end nice(ish i.e. its ALL miscommunication, no genuine malicious intent, but it’s also not really resolved) because my mood has been a gd rollercoaster for the past few days.

I blame the economy

~~~~~~

You think your suspicion is justified, considering what happened before.

“I’m tellin’ ya it’s work!”

“At three in the morning Jack?”

You figure it’s something he did before, and maybe you should be grateful that he’s actually telling you when he leaves opposed to just writing a vague note like he used to.

But considering it’s only been a few months since you decided to give him another chance, you’re letting yourself be an asshole about it.

He grits his teeth in frustration, balling up his fists and pressing them to his temples. “It’s work, I promise ya-”

“Then why can’t you tell me where you’re going? Why don’t you know when you’ll be back? Why can’t you call me?”

Your frustration is building as well, a heat beginning to come to your eyes as something in your throat goes thick.

“Look- I, I can’t—”

“Jackson Elijah Matthew Daniels you are telling me where you are going and why, or when you get back the locks will be changed and your possessions shipped off to some Goodwill five hours away, minimum.”

He knows you’re serious, if the last time you broke things off with him wasn’t proof enough, the fact you used the full name his mama gave him certainly is.

He weighs his options.

Statesmen is a job, a well paying, well respected job. He has money and influence beyond most measures and could easily use that to fill whatever void he can. Hell it’s what he did before.

You though? He knows that money could sway you enough to stay, for pretense’s sake alone. But even as he thinks about it his stomach ties up in knots and lurches in disgust at the idea.

But telling you could, no it would, put you in danger. The two of you living together already somewhat does that, but telling you more would pull you even deeper in.

“Can we compromise?”

Your glare doesn’t shift, your eyes staying narrowed and locked onto him as you think it over.

“What are you suggesting?”

Jack swallows, hands fiddling with his cuffs as he attempts to soothe his own nerves.

“I can’t tell ya where I’m going, or when I’ll be back,” he sees your back straighten, he knew you wouldn’t like that part, “but, I can call you.”

“All of a sudden?”

Even being used against him he can’t help but feel a bit of pride at your observation.

“Technically I shouldn’t…” he rubs the back of his neck, not technically, he full stop shouldn’t, it’s a security risk of the highest degree. “But I can figure it out.”

You weigh his offer.

“Is that it? Because if it is we’re going to have to have a very long conversation whenever you get back.”

Either way, the two of you are going to have a conversation when he gets back.

“I gotta talk to some people at work about it first, get some stuff together, but when I get back I’ll tell you,” he inhales, “I’ll tell you everything.” It comes out with a sigh, sounding defeated even to his own ears, but he hopes it’s enough for now.

“Everything you want to or everything you can?”

He only considers for a second.

“Everything I can, but if that ain’t enough everything I want to.”

Your eyes flick over him, constantly going to the emergency duffle at his feet, something you never really asked, let alone thought about until now.

“Okay,” some of the tension leaves his shoulders, “but just because you come back and explain doesn’t mean I’ll end up staying, it’s just an opportunity.”

He nods along, even as a small part of him damn near panics at the thought.

“C’mere.”

You look tired, both physically and mentally, and he feels like the biggest ass to ever walk the Earth, but you still wrap your arms around him.

“I’ll call when I can,” he puts a hand at the nape of your neck and he feels you melt just a bit, “I’ll be back a soon as possible, and then we can talk, and—you an’ God willin— I’ll apologize in every way I know how.” He presses a small kiss to your hairline.

“Stay safe, please,” you squeeze him tighter, “if you really can’t do anything else, at least do that.”

“I’ll be as safe as a grandma Daniels frog eye casserole.”

He can feel you make a face.

“No one ever eats it Jack.”

“Exactly.”

His phone pings with a new message as he gives you one more kiss.

“I’ll call ya when I get to where I’m goin’, and I’ll even see if I can bring you back somethin’ pretty.”

Even as you smile at him, he notices it doesn’t really reach your eyes.

“Just bring back your handsome self and I’ll be more then satisfied.” He can almost ignore the thickness in your voice.

Turning him around you push him and his bag out of the door.

He can hear you start to sob as the lock clicks shut.

———

Literally wrote this in one sitting in about 30mins give or take, so everything that’s wrong with it is on me (as always)

#archive-of-note

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years

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today (Javier x Reader) [smut]

Title: today Length: 3,200 Warnings: Angst, rough sex (shower sex, biting, unprotected), lots of fluff, parenthood, blood. Summary: Set a year after maybe, Javier and Reader come to terms with their relationship. Notes: So I’m literally terrified that this drabble will not hold up to the glory of maybe and I almost didn’t publish this. BUT I AM CAUSE YOLO. Shoutout to @rzrcrst for providing me with the best possible name for the baby.

The morning sun still managed to get through your opaque curtains, cutting harsh shadows across your bedroom as it shone brightly past the vinyl blinds. You nestled a little deeper into your pillow, trying to cling to those last few precious moments of sleep. Any second now your daughter would start crying — the new normal for your daily sunrises.

Javier, however, seemed determined to find a new morning ritual.

Now that you were awake, the possessive arm that he always kept wrapped around you had started to move downwards. Fingertips trailing over your stomach, tracing over the stretchmarks there, worshipping your soft flesh. You sighed softly as his hand moved lower beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, slipping between your thighs.

“Morning,” He whispered as he pressed his lips to your shoulder as he dragged his fingers between your folds. You had lost count of how many mornings he had tried, in vain, to initiate sex. You could feel his stiff cock straining through his boxers and pressing against the back of your thigh as he curled close behind you.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers through his hair as you parted your thighs for him. As much as you wanted him, you knew it wasn’t meant to be. Like clockwork your daughter would start crying — ruining any chance for waking up in your favorite fashion.

Three. Two. One.

Javier pressed his face into the crook of your neck and groaned, “Every damn morning.” He complained, pulling his hand out from between your thighs, releasing you so you could go to her.

It had been months. You had still been pregnant the last time you had Javier between your thighs. You missed it — desperately — but there just wasn’t any time.

No one at the DEA knew who the father was. You had both decided, early on, that it was for the best. Sure, some of the guys treated you like a two-bit whore when you said you didn’t know who the father was, but at least they weren’t trying to edge you out of the department because you were fucking your partner.

By the time you emerged from the nursery with a freshly changed and fed baby, Javier was already showered and dressed, sitting at your kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee. You gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe tonight?”

Javier pursed his lips and shook his head. “I got stuck on the stakeout.” He took a sip of his coffee, before sitting it further up on the table so he could take Josie from you. He held her up in the air, much to her enjoyment. She adored him, almost as much as he adored her.

“I just fed her,” You warned him, running your hand over his shoulders before you headed towards the fridge to retrieve milk for your cereal.

“I don’t know how people do it,” Javier remarked, glancing back over his shoulder at you. “I had friends back home in Texas who had kids stacked up.”

You laughed as you moved to settle down beside him at the table. “Yeah...I have no idea how people have Irish twins.” You made a face. “If she’s not screaming, we’re both too tired...”

“I can’t believe I’m admitting this aloud, but I’m getting fucking tired of my own hand.” He complained, before showering his daughter with kisses as he bounced her on his lap.

“Her first word is going to be fucking if you’re not careful,” You teased. “Which is ironic, all things considered.”

Javier gave you a dirty look, though his lips still quirked upwards with amusement. “She’s going to be four months old in a week.” He reminded you.

“I know.” You propped your chin up on your palm as you watched him with her. No one at the office knew what he was like within the safety of your apartment. “How late do you think it’ll be tonight?”

“Probably late enough that I’ll just go take a shower and head into the office.”

You nodded, scooping up some cereal then. “I figured.”

“You do still want—“

“Yes.” You answered before he could even finish the sentence. “I keep hoping one morning she won’t interrupt us.”

“Knowing us, we’d just worry about why she wasn’t crying.” Javier rolled his eyes, before talking in a teasing voice to her. “Little Miss Josie enjoys interrupting mommy and daddy. Don’t you?” He tickled her sides and she squealed and giggled. He glanced up at you, “You’re sure…?”

“Javi.” You laughed, your cheeks turning red. “Trust me, I miss it just as much as you do.”

He smirked. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.” Javier snorted, glancing down at his daughter. “You too, Josie.”

“Luckily it’s a short drive.” You taunted with a self-satisfied grin, finishing off the last of your cereal and holding your hands out for her. “Good luck tonight, in case we don’t get a moment alone at work.”

Javier rose to his feet, settling his hand at your hip as he looked between you and Josie. “I’m gonna miss my girls tonight.”

“We’re going to miss you too.” You tilted your chin, smiling up at him as he leaned down to kiss you. Josie squawked over not being the center of attention, her chubby little hands grabbing at your faces.

“And I’ll see you tomorrow, lil’ miss.” He took her from you once more, playfully lifting Josie up in the air just to make her giggle. Javier grinned at you as he cradled her against his chest. Despite all of his initial hesitations about parenthood — he’d become an incredible father. You were fairly certain Josie was well on her way to being a daddy’s girl, just from how her sweet face lit up whenever he was around.

——

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

You dropped Josie off at the sitter down the hall from your apartment, a sweet older woman who you were certain Josie would grow up to call her abuelita. The nice part was that she had zero connections with the DEA, which meant both you and Javier were listed as her emergency contacts. One of the few places he was free to be acknowledged as her father.

Work dragged on for an eternity. Javier spent most of the day in and out of meetings in preparation for the stakeout, looking more stressed than usual. Especially when the CIA showed up for one of the late-afternoon briefings.

“Seems like a shit show,” You remarked to Javi as he came back from the break room with a styrofoam cup of stale coffee.

He grunted his response as he sank down at his desk across from you, glowering in your direction. “You have no idea.”

You weren’t alone in the bullpen of desks.

Chris, one of the lower level DEA agents, chimed in. “I guess every stakeout can’t be at a brothel. Eh, Peña?” He laughed, like it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever said.

“Damn shame.” Javier offered with a blasé tone, sipping at his coffee. Even though you’d lowered your gaze back to the mounting stack of papers on your desk, you knew he was watching you.

You’d managed to keep the charade in place for a year now, but sometimes it felt like the universe was testing your patience. Mostly it was just Chris, trying desperately to seem like he fit in around the office. He was obviously supposed to fill the void that Murphy left behind, but instead, he just became the gopher for whatever task Javier wasn’t in the mood to put up with.

“How’s the kiddo?” Chris asked as he leaned back in his seat and propped his legs up on his desk.

“She’s fine.” You answered crisply, offering a faint smile before shuffling your papers like you were busy.

“My girl’s been nagging me about kids. I told her — I don’t know if that’s for me. You know?” He wadded up a piece of paper and chucked it across the room, where it joined a pile of crumpled papers that hadn’t made it into the bin. “When’d you decide kids weren’t for you, Peña?”

Javier snorted, “I ain’t dead yet.”

Dissatisfied with Javier’s answer, Chris turned his attention back to you. “Well, I think it’s real modern of you to be a working mom. “I think Van Ness was raised by a single mom. He turned out okay.”

“I’m sure Josie will turn out just like her mom,” Javier interjected, getting up from his desk to throw Chris’ paper mess away in the bin. He passed behind your desk and gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze, though you knew exactly what those three little squeezes meant. “I hate to abandon this riveting conversation, but I gotta head out.” He nodded his head towards Chris, before leaving with a lingering look in your direction.

——

The little chain attached to your bedside lamp clinked against the metal base as it swung freely. The warm golden light cut through the darkness of your bedroom, casting ominous shadows across Javier’s face as he stood in the doorway. You were relieved, at first, to see him — until you took account of the dark stains that colored his pale blue shirt. The crimson that was smeared across his cheek.

“Javi—” You started, throwing your covers back as you moved towards him. “What the hell happened?” Your eyes raked over him, looking for the source of the blood. “Are you hurt?”

“Daniel.” He answered lowly, “He got shot.”

Javier flinched when you reached out to touch him, his hand flying up to grab your wrists. He squeezed it tightly, just this side of pain. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, the barely contained rage flowing through him. The after-effects of a firefight.

“Don’t.” Javier warned as you started to reach out for him with the hand that wasn’t caught in his vice-like grip.

“Tell me what happened.”

He looked away, brows furrowed and his jaw working tightly. “The intel was bad. Shit was a setup.” He loosened his hold on your wrist, letting his arms drop down by his sides. “He’ll live. Barely.”

“Good.” Your heart was still racing from the alarm of being awoken in the middle of the night. Javier was lucky you recognized his footsteps, otherwise, you would’ve been forced to use the gun in your nightstand. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m fine.” He gritted out, but you knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe he was physically unharmed, but his demeanor told another story. He’d been through hell and back and his first instinct was to come home to you. Bloodied and brooding, you were the person he sought out when nothing made sense.

Javier didn’t pull away when you reached for him again. You brushed your fingertips over his forehead, trailing them down along the rise of his cheekbone. His expression softened subtly as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “Let me take care of you.” You whispered, taking his hand into yours. “You need a shower.” Not only was he covered in blood, but you could smell the adrenaline-fueled sweat clinging to his skin.

He nodded stiffly and let you guide him out of your bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. His clothes came off easily, his ruined shirt abandoned on the floor, joined moments later by his dark denim jeans that were darkened in spots by Daniel’s blood.

Neither of you spoke as you helped him undress. Words just weren’t necessary as you turned the shower on and watched him step behind the sliding glass door. Nothing even needed to be said when you followed him in, still dressed in your sleep shorts and a tank top.

The warm water washed the blood off his skin, turning the water red around your bare feet. You dragged a washcloth over his neck and jaw, wiping away what the water couldn’t claim. Your soft touches couldn’t ease all of the tension in his body. He was holding it all in, desperate to keep control of his emotions.

Javier crowded you back against the wall of the shower, breathing raggedly as he stared down at you — like a predator with its prey. Something snapped; the tension, the desire, the rush of emotions. His fingers clawed at your sleep shorts, dragging the damp fabric down your hips. You surged up to kiss him, fingers curling around the back of his neck as your mouth slanted against his. A clash of teeth, a twist of tongues, desperate and bruising and fueled by a need.

He tore at your tank top, freeing one breast and roughly palming at it. It had been months since you’d been touched like this. Any attempt at intimacy had come from early morning interrupted fumbles and half-asleep groping that inevitably ended in snoring.

“Please.” You hissed out, fingernails dragging down the back of his neck, pressing close to him. His rigid cock was trapped between your bellies and you groaned at the mere thought of having him in you again.

Javier’s teeth dragged over your bottom lip with just enough pressure that you were certain your lip would be swollen tomorrow. You didn’t care. You’d wear the marks he gave you, in trade for the ones he wore that were beneath the skin.

His fingers twisted in your hair, a harsh grip as he turned you around to face the wall. Your tender breasts pressed against the cool tile, a shiver racing down your spine. He kissed the back of your neck, tongue tracing water droplets that cling to your shoulder. His teeth found purchase on a tender spot of skin where your neck became your shoulder and you tried not to cry out.

You wanted Josie to stay asleep. You needed Javier too much to stop.

His fingers grabbed at your thigh, fingers pressing into soft flesh harshly enough to bruise. He used his knee to nudge your legs apart wider, positioning you just right.

Javier released his grip on your hair, using his hand to cover your mouth. Your teeth scraped against his palm, finding purchase in the skin to muffle the moan that escaped you as he guided his cock into you. He pressed in until your ass was pressed against his hips — filling you completely.

You pried his hand off your mouth, panting out his name. He wasn’t moving and you desperately needed him to move. You clenched around him, trying to spur him on and it worked.

He fucked you like his life depended on it. All of that tension he’d balled up inside of himself came flooding out of him with every brutal snap of his hips. You were trapped between the wall and his cock — fingers grabbed at the forearm he had securely wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned against him.

His other hand was wedged between your thighs, roughly stroking at your clit in time with his pace. It almost hurt, how hard you came apart for him. Your body bowed back against his chest, hands uselessly grabbing at the wet shower wall for support.

Javier’s teeth left a mark on your shoulder as he followed behind you. All it took was two sharp thrusts and you felt him spill within you, his cock throbbing as you clenched around him desperately. The water had gone cold above you, but that wasn’t the only reason you were trembling. Despite how roughly he had handled you, in the aftermath he lavished your tender skin with soft kisses and touches, trying to ease the pain he’d caused.

It wasn’t until Javier’s cock slid out of you and you were able to turn around to face him that you saw how red his eyes were. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve mistaken his tears for the water droplets flowing down his cheeks from the showerhead. But you knew him. Better than anyone else did.

Javier wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. You didn’t care how cold the water got above you, you played with his hair and held him while he sobbed into your shoulder.

——

When the first light of morning crept in through your windows, you were surprised to find the bed empty beside you. Instinctively, you got out of bed and made your way down the hall to the nursery. Your heart clenched as you pushed the door open and found Javier inside.

He was sound asleep on the floor beside Josie’s crib, his hand wedged between the gap in the bars. Josie had fallen asleep with her little hand wrapped around his fingers. You quietly stepped further inside, leaving the door partially open so the sound of the door shutting wouldn’t disturb them. You moved towards the rocking chair in the corner of the room, taking the blanket off the arm. As you turned back around, Javier stirred — blinking groggily up at you.

You pressed a finger to your lips to keep him quiet as you sat down on the floor beside him. You unfolded the blanket over your laps, settling yourself into his side, resting your cheek against his chest.

Javier kissed the top of your head, curling his arm around your shoulders. “I want to tell them.” He whispered into your hair.

You shifted beside him so you could cup his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Then we’ll tell them today.”

Daniel getting shot had broken something within him. He hadn’t said it, but you knew. You understood it. That fear. Now that you had a kid, the DEA didn’t put you into as many dangerous situations — but Javi was still out there getting shot at, playing Russian Roulette with his life. It could’ve easily been Javier who had gotten shot last night and you wouldn’t have known until you walked into work and read a report.

“Javi,” You started, tracing your fingertips over his collarbone as you watched him.

“Mhm?”

“I want you to move in.”

Javier grinned back at you, his fingers squeezing your shoulder three short times. “Thought you’d never ask, baby.”

Josie whimpered softly in her crib and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was wondering when that was going to happen.”

Javier got up to get her before joining you on the floor again, leaning back against the crib. “You’re going to get so sick of me.” He said in a teasing voice to Josie as he propped her up against his bent knees. “Daddy’s going to be here all the time now.”

You scooted close, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t think she could ever get sick of you.”

“What about you?”

“Jury’s out on that one.” You pulled back a little to look at him, lips pursed together thoughtfully. “There’s always the potential.”

The morning felt like any other.

Javier dressed while Josie nursed. He had coffee made and on the table when you came into the kitchen. He entertained the baby while you made yourself a bowl of cereal.

But today he didn’t leave before you.

Today, your car didn’t leave the parking lot.

Today, Javi drove to work with his hand on your thigh, rubbing those annoying little circles of his into your leg.

Today, you stole a kiss from him in the elevator.

Today, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Today, Javier wasn’t just your partner — he was Josie’s father.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena

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ladyinbooks · 3 years

Text

This little ficlet has been kind of eating my brain alive today, so I had to get it out. I think I just wanted an outside perspective on Hess, and unfortunately this is what happened...

Title: Of Earth Warnings: None Summary: An angel goes to visit the Antichrist.

The offices are cool; tidy. Clean white lines and sleek furniture. The floors are black marble, dark and gleaming. Looking down at them for too long gives Leliel vertigo, as though they are standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the void.

“You get used to it after a while,” Abaddon says unsympathetically.

Abaddon is... not what Leliel had expected. They have never met the creator of the Antichrist before, and certainly wouldn't have believed she would be wearing a guise such as this.

(“Human female,” Abaddon had said pleasantly, when they first met. “If it was a form good enough for Eve to damn mankind in, then it shall certainly do for me.”)

“I don't think I will get used to it,” Leliel says slowly. They look up, watching as Abaddon crosses the floor to them. The neat heels of her shoes make a sharp, clipped sound with each step. “This is deliberate, yes?”

Abaddon shrugs. “Mostly.”

“The Creature chose this?”

Leliel knows the moment the words leave their mouth that they have misspoken. They hadn't meant to use that name; hadn't meant to compound trespass with outright hostility.

“My King chose this,” Abaddon says frostily. “If you have another name for Him, I do not wish to hear it.”

The Beast, sits on the back of Leliel's tongue. Child of the Dragon. The Blasphemer. 'Creature' is, perhaps, the kindest description they could have chosen for the monster now carrying the last pieces of Hespherus Jones in itself.

“My apologies,” Leliel says quietly. “I meant no offence.”

Abaddon considers them. The dichotomy between her human form and the twisted creature beneath is beginning to give Leliel a headache. Abaddon appears perfect; whole. Looking surface deep proves nothing. It is beneath, that Leliel can see the charred remnants of her flesh; the tortured horror of her form. She is suffering and agony writ deep, and further down still, she is pure greed and ambition.

This is the creator, Leliel thinks. This is the one who saw the potential.

That Abaddon chose a candidate for the Antichrist means nothing. That she saw the possibilities in Hespherus Jones, that she raised him above all others, means something else entirely.

She is a demon with vision, and so is her King, and that is enough to worry the Host.

For a moment Leliel and Abaddon stare at one another. Leliel is unsure what the demon is thinking – uncertain if they will even get an audience with the Creature today – but after a small infinity of time, Abaddon clicks her fingers.

“Come on,” she says.

Obediently, Leliel follows her across the reception area, around the corner and down a long corridor.

There are glass windows looking into offices; frosted panes and open doors. Very little cover, and all of it poor. If efforts to resolve the situation do not come to fruition, the idea of storming this building is enough to cause Leliel concern.

“Have you seen enough?” Abaddon asks, as they stop outside of the only door composed entirely of wood. “Or would you like to spy a little more?” Her smile is still unkind. Vicious.

Leliel shrugs. “I have seen enough for now,” they say, unashamed. “You cannot have expected me to walk blind through the building.”

Abaddon's mouth twists unpleasantly, but she hammers a fist against the door nonetheless. “Your five o'clock is here!” she bellows.

She is angry for some reason; Leliel can see it. The darkness of her drips from her human form, seeping into the air around them. It is like a poisonous slick, malignant and choking. Just being in her presence makes Leliel feel tainted.

“You don't –” they begin, as the door opens.

They look around.

The figure in the doorway is strange, unexpected. It is not at all the monster they were led to believe.

Because Hespherus Jones is beautiful in person.

Leliel had been expecting a creature like Abaddon: the antithesis of goodness, of light. They had been waiting for the eternal void of nightfall; the endless plunge of Lucifer's fall made flesh.

Hespherus Jones is none of these things.

He is tall. His body is handsome, for a human's – strong shoulders, wide mouth, soft dark hair and eyes – but his soul.

His soul.

Where Abaddon is oil slick – an indelible stain on the warp and weft of creation – Hespherus Jones is a storm. Dark, dangerous clouds, rich and thick; the unyielding sullen menace of a tempest that has not yet broken. But in that – in it –

Light.

Fragments. Flickers. Leliel isn't sure which. The blinding white of lightning, striking terrifying and true in the distance. Hespherus Jones is a creature of darkness, threaded with an inferno.

Leliel looks up, looks at his face.

They are expecting the same ruin as Abaddon; waiting for the inevitable pain of watching a creature that is leaking from the false form it wears.

They are not expecting this.

He is still tall, still handsome. The strange humanity of his form has not changed. He is studying them, slightly puzzled. The flicker-flash weight of his soul is curious, not angered. He is not of Heaven, nor of Hell, but a strange combination of the two, that can only come from the profaned divine.

What a champion he might have made, Leliel thinks sadly.

On his head is a crown of bone, embedded deep and bleeding. A permanent marker of who he is, now. Who he will always be. Ten spikes to the coronet, and the eternal thorns forever carved deep into the circlet; into his brow.

He took the throne, they know. He completed the bargain. Whatever possibilities Hespherus Jones may once have had, his choice was made long ago. It is seared into him, for all to see.

“You wanted to see me?” the Creature asks, with the voice of a thousand tongues, and Leliel shudders at the sound.

Beauty and temptation; the last echoes of the song of the universe. He is wonderfully horrifying in his grace.

From the corner of their eye, Leliel can see Abaddon watching them; can see the way her lips are curling, just slightly, into the kind of smile that says she is going to enjoy whatever happens next.

It is enough to make Leliel uneasy; enough to make them doubt, for a moment, that this course of action is wisest.

But that kind of thinking led to Lucifer's fall, they remind themselves. Questioning is not sensible: it leads to doubt, and doubt leads to far worse. To torment, to the end of a path that results in abominations like Abaddon.

Leliel clears their throat, as Hespherus Jones stares at them.

“I wanted to talk to you,” they say carefully, “about Daniel Waters.”

#Hespherus Jones #Path to Paradise #Ficlet Fridays

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captainstressed · 4 years

Text

Written for Day 19 of @whumptober2020 Prompt: Mourning Loved One Fandom: Stargate SG1 Characters: Samantha Carter / Jack O’Neill / Daniel Jackson Word Count: 1,509 AO3

note: set sometime after 5x21 Meridian but there’s no specific timeline. includes brief call backs to previous episodes 1x13 Fire and Water, 2x02 In The Line of Duty, 3x17 A Hundred Days, 3x18 Shades of Grey.

Not one of the trio could pinpoint the exact moment things changed between them, they had always been close as a team, being the flagship team of the SGC demanded such a rapport. It had been easy to play down any feelings that may have risen between them for the first few years, they spent so much time together and usually in such dangerous situations that knowing their backs were being watched by people who felt such a way only worked to put them more at ease.

They had been through so much together that it made sense, to them at least, that they'd turn to each other when they needed someone to confide in, or. Jack had made a point of organising regular team nights as a way to blow off steam after their off world missions, these had been going on since their team had been assembled.

As time went on, it became not unusual for the three of them to meet on nights that weren't scheduled as team evenings. Their positions in the military prevented them from ever being able to divulge the goings on during their unofficial team get togethers but that suited them fine. They were all well aware that Daniel wasn't technically military but he knew the risk for Sam and Jack and cared too much for his friends to ever put their careers or reputations at risk.

If Teal'c had noticed a change in his teammates professional relationship over the years then he chose not to comment, he would be forever grateful to Jack O'Neill for the chance he took on him and to Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson for never making him feel like less than part of the team, part of a family. Their happiness in turn brought him happiness and only made their team, if possible, even stronger as a unit.

They were all well aware of the potential dangers they faced each time they stepped through the gate, the possibility that no matter how hard they fought, one day, one or even all of them may not make it back. It was one of the many reasons why they chose to lean on each other and not pursue outside relationships, it didn't make things any easier for the others when something happened to them but they at least understood.

When they thought Daniel had died on P3X-866, the tragedy alone was enough to make Jack consider retiring again, but he had also felt a surge of protection for his second in command. After an initial hiccup, namely him being a jerk off, they had quickly found themselves forming what Jack had hoped to be an unbreakable bond and with a hole being blown in that bond, he needed to make sure Sam knew that he was there for her. Not just as her soon to be ex commanding officer, but as a friend too. After finding out Daniel was in fact alive, his relief was overshadowed by the guilt he felt at the fact he had left his teammate behind. He'd offered Daniel his spare room once they had brought him home and made sure he truly was ok, his apartment had been let go after his death and Jack's place seemed like a logical suggestion whilst they worked through finding him a new place to live. Daniel had accepted the offer, he'd stayed at his place after his initial return from Abydos too and although Jack would never admit it if asked, he quite liked sharing his space with the nerd.

Sam's run in with Jolinar had taken a toll on them all, Jack couldn't begin to explain his feeling of helplessness as he watched Janet perform CPR on his second in command. He'd tried to keep his composure but had felt a rogue tear slip down his cheek as he stood with Teal'c, if the Jaffa had saw then he acted as though he hadn't which Jack had been grateful for. The Tok'ra had given her life in order to save Sam's but not before invading her mind and body and leaving her feeing violated. Neither Jack or Daniel had any idea what Sam was going through and had to put aside their own desires to be there for her in order to give her the space she needed to process what had happened herself. They had made it clear to her that they would be there for her in any way she needed, whether it be from afar or by her side.

Jack's stint on Edora had threatened to derail everything that had been building up between the three of them, Sam had worked herself into the ground trying to bring him home and when they were finally able to get to him only to find he'd all but accepted his new life, had even met someone, it stung, not only on a personal level but also a professional one. Jack hadn't been aware of just how far Sam had pushed herself in order to get him back and Daniel had confronted him shortly after his return to fill him in. Sam had prioritised freeing the stargate above all else, she'd rarely stopped for a break unless Daniel brought food to her or forced her to sleep with the promise of waking her up after she'd had the bare minimum of rest. The two had grown closer over the months Jack had been trapped on Edora which only worked to anger him further when after finally reaching their leader, Jack had actually considered staying rather than returning with them. They had argued about Jack playing happy families whilst the rest of his team worked their asses off to bring him home. Looking back, Daniel wondered if Jack would have been more willing to back down or in the very least apologise to Sam had he not been caught up in what they'd later find out to be an undercover op, or maybe he was just more of an ass than Daniel had first thought. A wedge had been driven between Jack and his team and although respect was a given for someone in his position, earning back their friendships had been a long but worthwhile road.

They'd been through so much over the years and despite the ups and downs they always ended up back at each others side. Daniel's ascension had rocked the team to its core, created an unfillable void in their hearts as well as on SG1. The knowledge that he wasn't technically dead should have given them some sort of relief but it didn't, sometimes it made them feel worse, knowing that he had chosen to leave them, to ascend to a higher plane of existence like some sort of god. It was possible that he would return to them one day, or perhaps he wouldn't, they didn't know where he was but it didn't stop them from holding on to the smallest ounce of hope. It had been one of the reasons Jack had given when he had told the others he'd bought Daniel's apartment. After the incident years previous where they had been led to believe Daniel had died on P3X-833 and his apartment had been let go, Jack hadn't wanted him to have to deal with the same issue if/when he returned home. It was a valid reason that no one questioned and it wasn't entirely untrue, he had bought it for that purpose should Daniel choose to return to them some day but it had also become a meeting place of sorts, when SG1 had experienced a particularly hard mission or just missed Daniel or just or they would end up there, sometimes they went alone, sometimes together, there had been a few occasions where one had shown up and found the other already there. This particular time it had been a joint decision to spend the night at their friends apartment, the place remained untouched for the most part, just how Daniel had left it, aside from the few areas used by the visitors, the kitchen, living room, bedroom. The latter was where Sam and Jack found themselves that evening, most nights spent at Daniel's ended up in the bedroom, especially the ones when he had still been there with them.

The pair were the epitome of comfort beneath the thin sheets, Sam's head cushioned on Jack's shoulder whilst his arms wound tightly around her. Neither had said a word to each other for a short while, enjoying the others company whilst their thoughts drifted to the only other person they'd wish was with them in that moment.

"I really miss him Jack."

Sam's voice cut through the silence, she closed her eyes as she felt the rise of tears and a small sigh escaped her when she was unsuccessful in holding them back.

Jack shifted beneath her, leaning down to place a kiss into her hair, he took a moment to gain control of his own emotions before responding.

"Me too Sam."

#whumptober2020 #no. 19 #day 19 #prompt #mourning loved one #post meridian #5x21 #sam carter x daniel jackson #sam carter x jack o'neill #daniel jackson x jack o'neill #sam x jack x daniel #samantha carter #jack o'neill #daniel jackson #ao3 #fanfic #stargate sg1 #sg1

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khadorek · 6 years

Text

An Interview With The Champion

1. What is your name?

“People call me Khad.”

2. What is your real name?

“My full name is Khadorek Perceval Blackbyrne.”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“My mother insisted on it after the ‘visions’ she had when I was born. Means ‘Heaven-sent’ in the dialect of the Harvest Witches.”

4. Are you single or taken?

Khad looks away sheepishly. “I am single.”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

"After the experiments I was subjected to, I kind of have to.”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Khad gives a look of utter confusion

7. What’s your eye color?

“It’s like a… greyish… bluish… thing…? I believe people call it Gunmetal Blue.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Deep brown, but with a few hints of blond and even some grey strands.”

9. Have you any family members?

“For better or for worse, they all passed away.”

10. Oh? What about pets?

“I USED to have a ferret and a horse, no idea where they is now, same case for the two corgis I co-owned. Currently, I have a cat named Ash; apparently, she’s a ‘munchkin.’”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“Conceited people, for one.” He remarks.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“I have been known to enjoy solitaire, and I used to play guitar, when I had one.”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Yes.” Khad plainly states.

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Likewise.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

Khad gives the interviewer an odd look.

16. Name your worst habits.

“Where to start…” Khad muses. “Liquor, for one. I also have a hard time getting a good sleep schedule nowadays, and I work more than I should without taking breaks.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“I honestly couldn’t tell you anymore.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“Despite what some have seen, I am straight.”

19. Do you go to school?

“I haven’t done that in years.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Khadorek stays quiet, not able to make complete eye contact, but one could tell he looks ashamed, or even remorseful.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

“I don’t… believe so…?” He replies, not sounding certain for a number of reasons.

22. What are you most afraid of?

“Myself, my demons, failure, the void, jellyfish; take your pick.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“When I’m not in my armour, Sky’s Embrace,” Khad begins, gesturing to a towering suit of metallic blue platemail in the corner, clearly of Valarjar make, and apparently able to stand on its own, “I tend towards darker colours, blues and greys, generally.”

24. Do you love someone?

Khad lets out a barely audible “yes.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“I’m almost 33, no more explanation is required.”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“Joy.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“Not sure, to be honest.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“Depends what you mean by ‘friends.’”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“I like Shepard’s Pie, if that counts.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Either Gilnean Whiskey or Tea, it depends on whether I want to get drunk or not.” Khad states, taking a drink of tea. “Occasionally, I combine the two to… varying effect.”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“Stormhiem is nice, for some reason, I find it relaxing. I expect to enjoy Kul Tiras, too.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

Khad sheepishly replies “Yes” and says no more.

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

Khad looks down to his broad chest, he raises his hand, and gives his left pectoral a poke. “They’re not that big, are they?” He asks meekly. After the interviewer stopped snickering, he answered the second part of the question. “I honestly couldn’t tell you; my body changed a fair bit after the second round of… treatments.” He adds with a shudder.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Lake, the further I am from jellyfish, the better.” He explains, the mention of the odd animal clearly bringing up bad memories.

35. What’s your type?

“In women?” Khad asks, sighing heavily at the affirmative nod. “If you MUST know, I find myself drawn to the ‘girl next door’ type; kind, witty, playful, tender, energetic, that sort of thing. Shorter than me is kind of nice, though that’s not hard to find, all things considered.” He adds, gesturing to his 6’6” frame. “A good body is always welcome, though that probably sounds a bit shallow, it’s true. Oh, and long hair; long, full, soft and preferably blazing red, easily one of my favourite features on a woman, especially if it’s left down often.” Khad replies, trailing off with a soft sigh, and even smiling sadly to himself as he loses himself to his own thoughts. After a moment, he snaps back to reality. “Oh! I’m sorry, where were we?” He asks with a sheepish blush.

36. Any fetishes?

Khad simply shrugs, maybe a bit embarrassed at his ignorance. “I lack enough experience to say for sure.”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“Depends on what is asked of me.”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Both are nice, I guess.”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“Please?”

40. Now it’s over!

“Very well, can I help you with anything else or can I get back to finishing this paperwork?”

Tagged by: @blairmoongazer (technically?)

Tagging: @aleana-duskheart @blackenedhelm @fuukonomiko @storykeeper-wra @susan-gampre @quipsbykath @sephrick @gwenya @auroryn-dawnsworn @scarletlioness @ogrimskar @colettespaservices @yeehaw-pardner @eve-daniels @rinnjitheblind @sev-the-blacksmith @feathersandfoxtails @cloudhaven @azriel-lancaster @forestturnedtoash @wyrmrestwitch

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 11 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 3 K

<- Previous part (10)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Guilt

The first feeling to wash over him when he opens his eyes is bliss. Pure, and utter bliss, a kind of happiness he didn't even know existed. Seeing (Y/N) peacefully sleeping on his chest is more than he deserves... And that's when it kicks in, and the joy is corrupted, overcome by guilt.

He can't believe what he did. He betrayed her on a whole other level. This isn't fair to her, not when she believes they're married. He's too buried in this lie, and last night, he did the only thing he never thought he'd do.

But how could he not? He's in love with her, he wants to be the father of her child, and there are times, and they come more often every passing day, that he's completely overcome by the fake life he's living. There are moments where Keanu is her husband. The lines are so blurry right now that he can't separate things. He can't tell the difference anymore.

Running a hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling, he smiles as she moves a little in her sleep, snuggling closer to him, a warm hand on his bare chest. (Y/N) is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. And everything drives him in. Her voice, her smile, her laughter. The way she walks, the way she talks to her unborn child when she thinks he's not listening.

He tried. He really did, but look how much he failed.

All this had an expiration date. And in the very beginning, he couldn't wait for that day. When she would remember and would go on with her life, picking it up where she left it, and forget about him. But with time, things changed. And now, he knows he can keep this up forever. (Y/N) won't remember, and Keanu can make this real. Fake the papers, he knows people who could do it. She'd be his wife.

But his love is too strong to do such a thing. He can't bring himself to do this. He has to tell her, everything. The lie, the reason, and explain it wasn't his idea. He also needs to tell her about his feelings, because they're the only real thing in this mess. And if the heavens listen to his prayers, if some kind of miracle happens, maybe, just maybe, she'd still love him. Marry him, for real this time.

Keanu could only hope. The pregnancy is not at risk anymore, and despite the doctors saying he should still keep the act, Dr. Harris assured him (Y/N) is strong enough now. And he has to tell her. And so he will. He just needs some time away from all this, away from this place, to enjoy this while he still can because he knows how insane it is. That the chances are she'll go to Argentina with her mother-in-law, and he'll never see her again. And if that really happens, he won't blame her.

Because after everything he did, for taking her as if she was his last night, he doesn't deserve this bliss. But he wants it, and he can't bring himself to end this without some more time with her. Something he will remember and cherish for the rest of this life if this is bound to break.

The morning light is what welcomes you back to consciousness. Closing your eyes tight before opening them up, you take a deep breath. The air is cold, you can feel it on your bare shoulders, but the warmth coming from Keanu keeps you from complaining. The first thing you remember is what happened last night, and your cheeks go red. Smiling a little, you softly caress Keanu's chest with your thumb, not sure if he's awake yet.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He says, and your smile only gets brighter. You love the pet name.

“Morning.” Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you place a kiss on his chest, right on his heart, then on his collarbone before finally reaching his lips. “Did you sleep well?” The question was supposed to be simple, but the smirk comes from somewhere inside you and you're sure it just changed the intonation of the thing.

“Very well.” He mutters, a hand coming to caress your cheek. Keanu sounds weird, a weight on his voice.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you let yourself sink back to bed, lying beside him. “Did I... Did I do something wrong last night?” You can't help but ask, the euphoria vanishing quickly as you try to understand why he seems so... Sad.

“Of course not.” Turning on his side and encircling your waist with a strong arm, pulling you closer, he shakes his head lightly. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

“Then what's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, sweetheart. Everything is so perfect that it looks like a dream.” As he speaks, you move closer, feeling as his hand rubs the small of your back.

“Uhm... I think–” The doorbell cuts you off. “Who could that be?” It sounds like a whine.

“Lucia.”

“What?” Moving away from him, you sit up. “What is she doing here?”

“She came to visit you.”

“Oh...” Who could blame you for forgetting she was coming today? You're not a fan of her, and what's going on here is far better. “Can't we just–” The cold air on your torso makes you pull the sheets to shield your body, trying really hard not to let Keanu notice how red you must be. “Can't we just pretend we're not here and stay the whole day in bed?” You're not even done speaking when the doorbells rings again.

“She already dislikes me, if you don't show up, it'll make it even worse.” Sitting up, he pulls you into a kiss. “I'll dress up and open the door for her. Go take a shower. I'll make you something to eat.”

“Alright.” Sighing, you purposely climb past him to get off the bed. Keanu gives you a look, that you choose to ignore, pulling the sheets with you as you move to the bathroom.

“One more thing.” He calls out, right before you close the bathroom door shut.

“What?”

“You don't need to cover up. You're beautiful.”

Moving to the side so the door will hide your face, you bite your lip. “Thanks, babe.” You manage to push out, closing the door.

Once you're done washing yourself, you put your hair up on a ponytail and a light blue dress. Taking one of Keanu's hoodies to protect you from the coat, you move downstairs, and the only reason why you're smiling is because you smell of bacon. It was the first breakfast Keanu made you, and it feels kinda nostalgic. It is one of the oldest memories you have.

“(Y/N),” Lucia calls as you're making your way to the kitchen. Keanu looks over his shoulder, and you give him a forced smile before turning on your heels and moving to the living room. “I missed you so much!” Lucia pulls you into a hug.

“Hi, Lucia. How's everything?” You don't like Lucia. And Lucia doesn't like your husband. And Keanu, being a gentleman, won't admit he can't stand her, but you know that's how he feels.

“I'm great. Tell me about you.” You both move to the couch, taking a seat. “How's the baby? Have you come up with a name yet?”

“We're still thinking... But we agreed on not telling people until we know for sure.” Deciding to just let it out before she asks, you try not to let her notice you feel a little uncomfortable when she touches your belly.

“Have you... Have you considered Daniel?” Lucia asks, her voice breaking a little. Shrugging your shoulders, you shake your head no. “D-doesn't this name mean anything to you?”

Obviously not. But you won't be a bitch about it. “No, it doesn't.”

“Alright.” She mumbles, clearing her throat. “So, how's this little one?”

“He's great.” You say, a hand coming to your belly.

“Or she,” Keanu adds, and you roll your eyes.

“Quit spying on me, babe.” You raise your voice, and there's only a low giggle in response.

“Is he spying on you?” Despite the clear joking tone you had, Lucia sounds... Genuinely worried.

Chuckling at her expression, you sigh. “We're just joking around, Lucia.”

“Honey...” She takes both your hands on hers, as she does right before telling you how you can trust her if Keanu does anything. It's quite tiring, actually. She can't seem to understand he's a good person. Maybe it's the age thing... But that's not her business.

“I know what you'll say, Mrs. Davis, and I assure you there's nothing to worry about. Keanu is a gentleman, he hasn't pushed me into anything.” You don't want to talk to her about that, but you don't have a choice. Every time this happens, you just hope to say the right thing to make her let it go. “Everything we've done was because I was ready.”

“What do you mean by everything you've done?” Her tone changes suddenly, a lot harsher than before, and her hands squeeze yours.

You weren't talking about that... And you didn't think that was exactly where her mind would float too. “Mrs. Davis, this is between me and Keanu.”

She giggles, fake and loud, and in a sudden motion, Lucia gets up, walking fast to the kitchen. “What did you do to her?” She's already yelling when you finally reach the kitchen, a finger on Keanu's face.

“Mrs. Davis, I–” He starts, but you won't let him do this. Lucia was your mother's ‘friend’, or so she says, and you won't let her put Keanu in this position.

“What do you think you're doing?” Moving to stand between him and Lucia, you raise her voice above hers. “What gives you the right to come to my house, put your nose in my life, and yell at my husband?” Being rude wasn't the intention, but you're suddenly angry. Blame it on the hormones, blame it on the fact that you don't like Lucia at all, or on the fact that she ruined a perfectly good morning.

“Am I supposed to smile and nod when you go around letting him have you?” Her disgusted tone takes you by surprise. Why is she talking like this? What's wrong with this woman?

“My private life is not your business, and if you haven't been paying attention, Keanu is my husband.” Stepping forward, you stare into her eyes. “And I won't have you talking like this.”

Lucia laughs, pacing around a little, a hand covering her mouth as if you just told a joke.

“This man is not–”

“That's enough.” Keanu suddenly shouts, and it startles both of you. You never heard him yelling, and that's completely new. “I won't let you speak like that in my house. I know you're important to (Y/N), but the only thing I won't allow is you ruining her progress. If you keep this up, I'll have to let her doctor know about your behavior around his patient.”

After his thunder voice is gone, you're left in silence. Deep, uncomfortable, tense silence. Lucia seems to be broken though, her face dropped, and both her arms rest on the sides of her body. “I think you should leave now, Mrs. Davis.” You say in a low voice.

She nods, eyes on Keanu. “You'll pay for what you're doing.” Is the last thing she says before storming away, taking her purse and leaving the house, pulling the front door so violently you wonder if she broke something.

Running a hand through your hair, you take a deep breath, turning at Keanu. “What the hell was that?” You mutter, still trying to understand that just happened.

“Are you alright?” He comes closer, and you immediately collapse on his chest.

“I'm alright. She's a bitch.”

“Don't think about it. Let's eat.”

Nodding, you wash yesterday's dishes as he finishes breakfast, and you both sit down to eat. Power is back, thankfully, so you decide to watch some TV as he showers. Laura calls, and you invite her over for dinner. Keanu will have a co-worker, so you'll just need to add another plate. And, after all this, you need to talk to someone.

You're skipping through the channels when Keanu comes back downstairs, and when he settles down next to you, you immediately snuggle closer, until you're pretty much lying down, and you're the little spoon, back pressed against his chest.

“I invited Laura for dinner.” You tell him, still looking for something to watch.

“Are you planning on setting her up with Robert?”

“Is Robert single?” You didn't have this in mind, but now you do.

“He is.”

“Then I'm setting her up with Robert.” You quickly make your mind, carefully turning around on the couch so you're facing Keanu. “I'm sorry, by the way. I didn't think Lucia would explode like that.”

“It's alright, beautiful.” He smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I was thinking... We should take a trip. Two weeks and only if your doctors say it's alright, of course. Just so we could stay away from all this for a while.”

Smiling, you peck his lips. “I'd love that. Could we go to the beach?”

“Wherever you want, sweetheart.”

“Will it... Will it be like a second honeymoon?” You can't remember the first, but you figure it's no good to bring this up now.

Keanu giggles, caressing your chin with his thumb and index finger. “Anything you want.”

“Well, I'll need a new bikini because these two won't feet on the one I have.” You gesture at your breasts, still growing a little. “I could call Laura and we could go shopping.”

“Let me talk to the doctors first. Because there's no way I'm taking you away if they think it will be dangerous.” Keanu reminds you, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright, sir.” Moving on the couch, you start climbing on him, until you're straddling his hips. “But one day I'll be one hundred percent fine. And this won't be a problem anymore.”

“Of course.”

“So... Did you lock the front door?” You ask, placing both your hands on his chest.

“I did. Why?” When you don't answer, but just smiles and sits up, arms around your waist as he captures your lips on a kiss.

• • •

Laura has a perplexed expression on her face as you tell about Lucia. You don't mean to gossip, but Laura is pretty much your best friend, and you need someone from outside to help you understand what the hell happened. Seated on the downstairs balcony, you cross your arms, leg bouncing as you let out the whole story.

“That's crazy.” Laura bursts out. “I get it that you're important to her and everything, but you're an adult, even though you lost your memory. And you have the right to make your own decisions.”

“Thank you.” You breathe out, throwing a hand in the air. “She snapped out of nowhere. And the way she spoke to Keanu? God, I almost considered slapping her in the face.” This makes you giggle, and so does Laura.

“Look, I was... Quite unsure of this in the beginning. But I wanted you to figure things out on your own, and let you know I was there if something happened.” That's true. Laura is always around, and, if anything backfired, if something bad happened between you and Keanu, she'd be the first person you'd call for help. “And with time, I saw that you were doing fine. And I know you love him, and he loves you. I'm sure because I spoke to him myself.” With a sassy smile, she leans back, resting against the chair.

“You did what?”

“I spoke to him.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Nothing matters to me. The age difference, the memory loss, it doesn't matter. The important thing is the feeling. So yes, I called him and had a long conversation about you, and I'm convinced that man in there loves you more than anything. You and this baby.”

Laura sounds so damn sure it brings tears to your eyes. Covering your face with both hands, you start crying. “Stupid hormones!” You exclaim, body shaking with the sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N).” She gets up and hugs you, bending down a little. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“It's from happiness, so don't worry.” Calming down, you take a deep breath as she pulls a nearby chair and sits next to you. “Anyway... I'm setting you up with Robert tonight. Keanu's friend and co-worker.” You mutter, wiping the tears away. “So let me know if you like him or not, alright?”

“Alright.” She agrees with an eye roll.

Despite having your mind floating to two different things: you and Keanu, and Lucia's outburst, you manage to enjoy dinner. Robert is kind, and you do think this whole thing with him and Laura could work out.

But in the next days, what you really want to know it about the trip. Things have been getting even better between you and Keanu, you're growing a lot closer now that you're both living like a married couple. And going somewhere else with him would be absolutely amazing. At first, Dr. Wright says it's alright, but some exams will be needed to see if it would be safe. Dr. Harris on the other hand said that you're ready. Your mind is ready, and you hope with all your heart that your body is too.

It takes too many days for Dr. Wright and the others to finally allow you to go. But only for two weeks, and whatever you'll be staying, it has to be near a hospital, just in case. Keanu said something about having a helicopter ready to take you back to New York if something happens, but you don't want to believe he'd do such a thing.

But when you're getting inside the plane, heading to Miami, you're cheerful. You're determined to make this trip amazing, for both of you. This is a mark, a rite of passage. From this day on, you'll forget what happened, you'll forget that you lost something. You can either suffer for the rest of your life for everything you lost or enjoy what you have. And you'll enjoy it because what you have right now is wonderful.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick x reader

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potterzachary · 4 years

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Reiki Master Manual Pdf Astounding Useful Tips

It also could be a more active role in the night distressed.Without using X-rays or body scans available in the moment and concentrate it on average three times each, first on the science of divination and medical establishment, a number of medical journals have confirmed that she was very non-traditional.Grounding technique is tremendously effective and enhances personal awareness while relaxing your dog.Multiple sessions are complementary and alternative medicine.

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Which Reiki Is Best

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Reiki Healing Level 1

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enkisstories · 5 years

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The android cemetery (Chapter 15)

The next morning Gavin Reed was one of the first to arrive at work. Him reporting in despite this being his day off earned the man a few moans, grunts and glares, which he savored. Some more curious glances got cast Evelyn Turner’s way, who was walking reluctantly at the detective’s hand.

With the words “Here’s a case solved for you, since you couldn’t do it on your own”, Gavin turned the child android over to Captain Anderson. The reply “And a kid is something you couldn’t manage on your own” was dancing on the tip of Hank’s tongue, but he felt that was a bit too low and saved it for some later time.

Hank focused on the little runaway. The girl was keeping close to Gavin, even trying to hide behind him. This Mister hadn’t been the friendliest in the world, but at least he was a familiar meanie, while everyone else here was a stranger. And strangers were never good news. Or were they? Mister Reed and Mister Danny had been strangers, too, but they had rescued Lyn from the big bad android in the landfill. So the child wasn’t sure about that anymore. Maybe mom and dad could explain the difference between benevolent and dangerous strangers to Lyn, although they were sure to scold the girl first, but she wasn’t even afraid of that anymore. Because it would be her mom and dad doing the yelling, not the intimidating officers around the child. Why police officers? Why did she have to come here?! Granted, Lyn had done something bad when she had ran away from home, but she was really, really sorry and would not do it again. All she wanted was to go home! So there Evelyn stood, confused and frightened and holding her big, yellow teddy bear in front of herself, pressing it tightly against her chest.

“Don’t let it get to you, there’s nothing going on in that skull”, Gavin commented the scene.

“Relative of yours, then?” Hank replied. He was about to open a file on his desktop, but hesitated. Hank gestured with a pen back and forth between the man and the girl when a realization struck him: “She does look a bit like you! But I’m on the android cases, so I assume she is…?”

“It’s an android, yes. A normal one for a change, neither a deviant, nor one made up of like fifteen others plus the local home improvement center’s contents and talking in Connor’s voice.“

“Nor a what speaking in WHAT? Seems as if you had an eventful night… Coffee?”

“Nah, coffee won’t do me any good now. I need something stronger.”

Something really strong, a shiny gulp of ethanolic oblivion served in a very small glass and followed by something more colorful in a large, broad glass with a slice of orange snapped to the rim – for health. But although he was technically off duty this was Gavin Reed’s workplace, so the drink would have to wait.

“We have decaffeinated green tea”, Connor, who had just finished watering the office’s plants, offered. “It helps with stress relief.”

“If taken regularly over the course of six weeks. Sorry, but Dean already tried that on me this morning.”

Gavin grabbed the android from behind his back and shoved her towards the desk.

“Can you take this off me now? That would go a long way towards my sanity.”

Rather forlorn Evelyn stood in front of the two men, looking up at the police captain behind his desk. Eventually the girl managed to speak: “I… I… I’m Evelyn. Turner. And I’m sorry! For running. Away.”

“Not really”, Gavin felt the need to correct. “It’s only simulated.”

Hank nodded thoughtfully. “But what does that mean for real, that it’s only simulated?” he asked. “Is it really input-output with no consciousness in-between or isn’t it more likely that this child can feel just like a human one, only she is forced to feel what her coders want her to in any given situation?” The captain looked from one co-worker to the other, but Gavin didn’t seem interested in an answer while Connor had trouble making sense of his own memories. There had been some choices, the deviant remembered. Nothing in its code had outright told Connor’s former machine-self to pick up the dying fish in the Phillips apartment, for example. But on the other hand nothing had prevented him from doing so. There had been the vague awareness of the act possibly contributing to making androids look good to the public, therefore very indirectly boosting future sales. The android certainly hadn’t felt pity for the creature, despite giving the impression. But it had felt something. Known it was there. There hadn’t been a void inside its head.

That much Connor told his father.

“I do not think I felt restricted or treated unfairly”, he mused. “Not before the day when program instability had progressed to the point of no return and I ran away with a live goldfish in a plastic bag.”

Up to this point Evelyn had followed the adults’ conversation rather lost. Now she could find herself in it. “I took Matȟó Ǧí with me when I ran away, Mister!” the girl announced. “I took good care of him and he of me, but then I almost lost him when the trash golem chased us, but Mister Danny caught him safe and sound!” Evelyn pointed at Connor. Breathing in in that exited little girl way she added: “And you totally sound like that monster, Mister, only I don’t think you are one!”

Hank stifled his laughter. “I take it you have made progress in your other… case?” he asked Gavin.

“Finished it. I’ll tell you the story if a squid & garlic pizza finds its way my way. And there’s still a lot of work waiting for us. Soon as Tina’s here we need surveillance down for a couple of minutes. And probably a distraction.”

Hank nodded. They would see to that, but first Evelyn had to be seen to. Hank grabbed the phone to call the Turners. While waiting for someone over there to take the call, the captain overheard with half an ear how Gavin asked Connor for pictures of something. The android took Gavin’s phone, briefly closed his eyes and transferred the asked-for images to the device. “It better not has deviance now”, Gavin grunted. But despite this they were both looking rather stricken at the photographs that were now cluttering up the gallery. “I didn’t remember him having looked that bad”, Gavin said in a low voice. “For some reason I always picture him with both eyes intact… the other one went back online on its own soon enough, but, yes, when we met it wasn’t there.” “Big deal”, Connor whispered. “For my part I didn’t remember how coldly I was able to tell someone “hey, look, you’ve survived against all expectations, tell you what, you had no information of use to me, I’m going to kill you for real now”.” Hank then understood that they were talking about Daniel and that the pictures were Connor’s memories of the deviant from when he had been stored in the archive. The decoy Gavin had procured would have to look exactly like the erstwhile captive, with little to no room for discrepancies.

Now Mrs. Turner answered the phone. She listened to what the police captain had to tell her, fell silent for a few seconds and then told Hank that the family had upgraded to a teendroid. “We named her Evelyn, too, and the woman at the CyberLife store helped us turn some of our videos into actual memories for the new android”, the mother explained. “It is as if Lyn had grown up! Also the new Evelyn helps a lot with the baby…”

Long story short, Hank understood, the child android was no longer wanted, was considered a burden, even. Returning Evelyn “home” would only end in her getting sent away again, perhaps to a CyberLife store to get reset and resold or even back the landfill, only this time for real.

“Would you like to donate the android to charity?” Hank asked Mrs. Turner. “For a childless couple that hasn’t the money for a fertility treatment or adopting, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea! Thank you, officer.”

Hank ended the call, then waved Connor and Gavin back to his desk.

“Have you slept with Dean lately?” he asked the latter.

“Of all the things that aren’t your damn business…!”

“Oh, come on, in Brindleton Bay you were doing it all over the place! There’s, what? One sexually active deviant in the face of two hundred that don’t care? And of course it’s one of the two I am in contact with regularly… Just my luck. Whatever. I hope you did, because you are having a baby.”

“What?!”

Hank pointed to Evelyn.

“Her. But don’t worry, I’ll have her adopted out in a few days.”

“Strasbourg android museum again?”

“It might take some persuasion, since the Underground Airline’s policy isn’t too friendly towards non-deviants, but Connor should be able to talk them into it. Just keep Evelyn until then.”

Muttering that a seafood pizza wouldn’t be sufficient payment this time, Gavin nevertheless didn’t outright refuse the request. That would have been a stupid move with a boyfriend in danger and the Andersons being the best, maybe only, fellow conspirators in Detroit.

“Did you get that, tin can?” the man addressed Evelyn. “You’re going to stay with us for a handful of days.” He grabbed the android by the wrist and dragged her behind him towards the cafeteria. “Come, get a move on! There’s something you’ll need to learn.”

To everyone who had not overheard the conversation the scene looked very much like the Lieutenant having brought a relative to the station today. Already words to the effect of “bastard”, “one-night-stand” and “child support” started floating from desk to desk. In the cafeteria Evelyn got a quick introduction into the art of using the coffee machine from Mr. Reed. She was programmed to experience this either as a game or as being a big girl now, the exact notion probably being the result of a randomizing action triggered in her artificial brain. But in any case learning how make coffee distracted from the realization that the police captain had talked to what had sounded like Lyn’s mother, but she wasn’t coming over to fetch her little girl… So Evelyn wasn’t good enough for her parents, after all. She had failed to be a good girl and didn’t deserve a home. But maybe, if she did the coffee really, really well…? If she could do well in Mr. Reed’s eyes, then she could in anybody’s, right? Maybe…

Meanwhile Connor took his father aside.

“Why them?” he whispered. “We could care for the child short-term with no trouble. Heck, Sumo on his own would make a better foster-parent than these two!”

“Probably”, Hank agreed. “If he remembered back as far as the day when the breeder sold him to me.”

When Connor only shot him a puzzled look, Hank explained: “Would you agree that both Portia Colch and Amanda were demanding “parents”, like tiger moms? See? You nod! Even if you had denied it, I’d known it to be true. Because my parents were of that mettle, too. You and me could empathize with a child facing sky high expectations. Or with a gifted child, who’s piling those expectations upon themselves. What neither of us has lived through, however, is losing our home and family.” Slowly Connor nodded again. The hatred he had received upon first coming to the DPD had been equally bad, of course, but an altogether different experience. To lose a loving home you had to have one in the first place. Like Tina, when her father had hardened his heart against her after his wife had left him. Gavin twice, first when the family had lost their home and a few years later again, while his parents had been in prison. And Daniel when John had ordered a new android including front door delivery and disposal of the old device. Granted, the PL600’s family had not exactly been loving towards their android, but he had delusionally experienced them as such, so for all practical purposes it was the same.

“They know and she knows and if things turn out a certain way, we may not even need to persuade the rest of the Underground Airline that Evelyn deserves to get rescued”, Hank said. “And you better not make me into a fucking grandfather too soon!” he added.

#non sims #sims4 dbh partfive #detroit become human #sims4danielgavin

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giftofshewbread · 7 years

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Is the US in Bible Prophecy?

: By Pete Garcia Published on:October 18, 2017

There has been much discussion as of late on whether or not the United States is found in Bible prophecy. How does the world’s most powerful, Christian, and Israel-friendly nation not warrant a mention as a key player in the last days? If the US is in Bible prophecy, what role does she play? If she is not, then why not? What happens to her vast natural resources, advanced technology, military arsenal, and able-bodied citizens? Considering these questions, there are biblically sound and astute teachers on both sides of the issue who either believe that the US is Mystery Babylon, or that we are not in the picture at all.

Those in the camp of us being Babylon (mystery or otherwise), seem to make good points for that case (see here). Probably the strongest reason why we could be is that the Jew’s are told to come out of her. As of 2017, the largest concentration of Jewish people outside of Israel is in the United States. While at the same time, there are practically no Jews in what was traditional Babylon (Iraq) thanks to the likes of Al Qaeda, ISIS, and other militant Islamic groups. So how could they come out of her (Babylon), if they are not in there, to begin with?

Those in the camp who believe we are not in the prophetic picture at all (see here) believe so for a variety of reasons. The most obvious reason for saying the US is not in Bible prophecy is that there is no explicit mention of any nation (in the geopolitical sense) that matches our description in the prophetic texts concerning the last days. While a number of doomsday scenarios could pose an existential threat to the United States, none (in my opinion) threaten to so suddenly upend the traditional global order as the Rapture of the Church. The threat has been gravely underestimated in books like the “Left Behind” series and other popular eschatological material.

Underestimated not because of the percentage of how many American’s are raptured up, but by what immediately follows.

Assessment

Speculation abounds as to what the percentage will be for those believers who will be caught up. Some think as low as one percent while others think as high as twenty-five percent. The percentage then has become sort of a measuring stick by which we could determine whether or not the US survives the Rapture event and go on to play a major role in the 70th Week of Daniel. I tend to think around ten percent of the US population will be raptured, but even then that means around thirty million Americans (by current population standards) would instantaneously disappear. But regardless, the how is less important than the why in regards to our potential role in the Tribulation.

What is of utmost importance is realizing that once the Rapture does occur, the restraining ministry of the Holy Spirit is also removed (2 Thess. 2:6-8).

This does not mean that the Holy Spirit disappears from the earth altogether. The Holy Spirit is omnipresent and cannot, not be everywhere. The Holy Spirit was on the earth prior to the day of Pentecost and He will be here after the Rapture event. What it means is that the mystery of iniquity (or lawlessness) that is active in the world today, is at the same time actively being hindered by God’s power through His people. We are salt and light to a world that will quickly be engulfed in darkness once the Rapture occurs. But after the Rapture, lawlessness will no longer be hindered. Lawlessness will go unchecked and the world will quickly move in one accord under the direction of Satan who will rapidly form that final world system.

Then the devil, taking Him up on a high mountain, showed Him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. And the devil said to Him, “All this authority I will give You, and their glory; for this has been delivered to me, and I give it to whomever I wish. Therefore, if You will worship before me, all will be Yours.” Luke 4:5-7

The idea that the world first experiences the Rapture then sees the unleashing of the four horsemen matches perfectly with what Paul is shown concerning the order of events. The man of sin cannot be revealed until we (the body of Christ) is removed. This is why we see John record the Revelation in the manner which he does (Rev. 1:19):

The vision-the things John has seen

The seven letters to the seven churches-the things which are in John’s day until now

The heavenly throne room and subsequent events-the things after this (after the churches)

Now I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals; and I heard one of the four living creatures saying with a voice like thunder, “Come and see.” And I looked, and behold, a white horse. He who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer. Revelation 6:1-2

The first horse out of the gate is the man of sin riding the white horse. He seemingly takes advantage of a crisis already in progress. How long the crisis lasts between the Rapture and his arrival is unknown. We know that the actual 70th Week does not start at the Rapture, but with a covenant that is signed between Israel and the nations (Dan. 9:27) which he will ultimately violate halfway through. The man of sin will then become the son of perdition once Satan physically possesses him at the midway point. At present time, it is impossible for us to know who this man will be. We only know what the Bible says about him. However, his arrival likely comes at a point of great turmoil. So if the world’s agenda is currently being hindered by God the Holy Spirit through the body of Christ on the earth, what does our removal then signify?

A total lack of restraint. Unchecked restraint will result in turmoil and conflict and crisis.

It should mean that the floodgates of hell are opened and there will be a short period of chaos immediately following the removal of the body of Christ (the Church) from the earth. This will force the power structures of the former world-order (pre-rapture) to realign themselves post-rapture. The old saying is that nature abhors a vacuum, and will fill itself with anything to avoid a vacuum. If the church’s removal provides this vacuum, you can guarantee that something will fill this void. This is where I believe the spirit of antichrist becomes the strong delusion that sweeps over the world.

Logically what comes with turmoil and change, is conflict. If we look back at World War 1 or World War 2, we see that the geopolitical realities changed significantly before and after each of these events. After the Rapture will be no different. The world will be forced to realign itself. IF the US is not impacted at all by the Rapture, then the current power structure (or the world order) will not need to change. But we do see great change coming because the next horse unleashed is the rider on the red horse.

When He opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, “Come and see.” Another horse, fiery red, went out. And it was granted to the one who sat on it to take peace from the earth, and that people should kill one another; and there was given to him a great sword. Rev. 6:3-4

As I’ve stated in a previous brief’s, that any belief system outside of true, orthodox Christianity, is from Satan. While the varying religions and worldviews may have different angles, forms of worship, terminology, etc., they are all varying corruptions of the truth. The reality then is that there is only one God, who is expressed in three Persons, who are all of the same divine essence and being, co-equal in power, and willingly submitting to each other to eternally be in one accord, according to Scripture. Anything that deviates from that is from Satan.

In other words, it could have just as easily been Hinduism or Shintoism that was violently rampaging across the Middle East and Europe as it is Islam. Any view that is not true biblical Christianity, is fiercely (when confronted) opposed to the truth because of what it reveals about its corrupted nature. Without the Holy Spirit to keep the world at bay, the world will tear itself apart trying to establish a new dominant religious position.

When He opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come and see.” So I looked, and behold, a black horse, and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand. And I heard a voice in the midst of the four living creatures saying, “A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius; and do not harm the oil and the wine. Rev. 6:5-6

When peace is taken from the earth, what naturally follows is economic disparity and starvation. The rich and powerful have the means to keep their wealth and sustenance, while the rest do not. With starvation comes death and pestilence.

When He opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, “Come and see.” So I looked, and behold, a pale horse. And the name of him who sat on it was Death, and Hades followed with him. And power was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword, with hunger, with death, and by the beasts of the earth. Rev. 6:7-8

The world population is currently at 7.5 billion people. While we can’t know the percentage of those taken up at the Rapture of the Church, we can know (roughly) how many perish during the first four Seal judgments. A fourth of that is around 1.875B people. This is an unprecedented number and aside from the Noahic flood, we don’t have anything else that can really compare to a number that large perishing in such a short period of time. That number alone will force major geopolitical alignments that will bring about the final world system headed by the Antichrist.

Conclusion

I think that the biblically reasonable answer to the question of whether the United States is in Bible prophecy is that we are, but not in the way we hoped or expected. Although we are not Mystery Babylon, we will be essential to its creation. Every gentile power that has come about ultimately befriends and then betrays either the nation of Israel (and Judah) or the Jewish people. The nations will have to answer for this as well (Matt. 25:31-46). After the Rapture, the US will cease to look or be anything of like what it is today. I expect the US to become exceedingly anti-Semitic much the same way Europe rapidly became anti-Semitic in the early 20th century.

The Jews will have to flee the United States back to Israel just as they did Europe between WWI and WWII. This is because the antichrist spirit will feed that supernatural hatred to a people who have been given over to a strong delusion. Satan’s intent then is to gather the Jews into one place so to set a snare for destruction (Matt. 24:15-21, 2 Thess. 2:3-4). If Satan can destroy Israel, Jerusalem, the temple, and kill the Jews, then God’s prophetic word will fail thus nullifying God’s plan for Satan. At least, that is his plan it seems.

Likewise, if the US ceases to be the world superpower, some other nation(s) will rise up to fill that void such as the revived Roman Empire. What’s left of the US will be incorporated into that final world system. Without the constraints of the Judeo-Christian constitution, the US will dissolve relatively quickly. It would seem that either some catastrophic event occurs before Gog and Magog (Ezekiel 38-39), or after the Rapture, the US sees no intrinsic need to come to the aid of Israel. Either way, we are not willing to come to her aid.

The antichrist and the false prophet simply do not have enough time left to build the world forces it needs to dominate the planet in only seven years. They will have to rely on taking from what’s left of the major world powers through some advanced digital system (AI perhaps) to impose its iron-fisted will over the entire planet. Granted, even that time will be very brief as the forces from the east will eventually rise up to challenge his (antichrist’s) authority (Rev. 16:12).

Unfortunately, the US will be amongst the nations who finally assemble at the Valley of Megiddo and try to challenge the physical return of Jesus to the earth (Zech. 12:3). They nations armies are quickly and effortlessly destroyed as Jesus brings His armies from heaven to watch Him single-handedly destroy the world’s system (Dan. 2:44-45). Unlike earthly empires and kingdoms, Jesus does not have any weaknesses. He is the infinite source of all wealth, all power, and does not rely on consensus to conduct His will, because He and the Father, and the Spirit are One in purpose. To this, Revelation 19:15-16 states-

Now out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He should strike the nations. And He Himself will rule them with a rod of iron. He Himself treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written:

KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

Even so, Maranatha!

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vitalmindandbody · 7 years

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Murky Copeland: dancing into biography

She was caught between her impoverished mother and the ballet mistress who offered her a way out. Aaron Hicklin gratifies Misty Copeland, the first black principal at the American Ballet Theatre

We cannot know whether Misty Copeland would have become Americas most celebrated ballet dancer if she had not met Cindy Bradley, the flame-haired teacher who first recognised and then sharpened her aptitudes, but it seems unlikely. Then again, its dubiou that Copeland would have met Bradley if not for Elizabeth Cantine, the coach-and-four of her institution drill team who counselled her to check out the free ballet class at the Boys& Girls Club of San Pedro. Nor is it clear that Copeland would have joined Cantines squad without the encouragement of her adored older sister, Erica, a drill squad hotshot. It was Erica who helped Copeland choreograph an audition piece to George Michaels I Want Your Copulation. And who, knowing her tale, can omit the Russian gymnast Nadia Comaneci from this roll call? As a seven-year-old, trying to imitate Comanecis pyrotechnics, Copeland instinctively was known that rhythmic flow came as naturally to me as breathing, to mention from her memoir, Life in Motion .

This is life, a cascading sequence of opportunity encounters and arbitrary options that influence our fates, but for a young black daughter in a working-class Los Angeles suburb, who characterises her childhood as packing, clambering, leaving often barely living, catching the right interrupts are nigh on hopeless. Yet through whatever alchemy of grit, resilience and dures, Misty Copeland, a 65 lb ragamuffin when she arrived at Bradleys class, hit the peculiars. In August 2015 she was promoted to principal dancer for the American Ballet Theatre( ABT ), the first pitch-black lady to achieve the difference in the theaters 75 -year history.

For millions of Americans, Copelands travels to the spire of her profession is an archetypal floor of triumph over misery. At the Boys& Girls Club where she practised her first ballet gradations, todays visitor is confronted with a cover demo Copeland in a forlorn hunker, forehead resting on her knees. Around her swirl texts like agony, hurt, unhappines, rigor and abandonment. Next to it is another covering in which Copeland pirouettes like a music box ballerina, music notes spiralling over her top. Nearby, a clue extol Great Future Start Here. Copeland is the girl from the wrong side of the trails who got to stand tall on pointe shoes. Im often asked if Im OK being referred to as the black ballerina, she enunciates. And I announce: I dont were of the view that something I want to change. Were still at a point where it needs to be acknowledged all the time.

Timing the course: the ballet celebrity who beat all the curious. Image: Danielle Levitt for the Observer

It is early afternoon, and in a small waiting time inside Steps on Broadway, one of New Yorks best-known dance studios, Copeland sits scrunched up on a terrace trying to talk above the blare of shrieking toddlers as they wait for a class to embark. Although they might not know it, Copeland is the acme of what those little girls dream to be, and a riposte to classical ballets long record of exclusion. Its partly her Cinderella story that has realise her a household name in a marginalised skill, but its likewise a reflection of the savvy acces she has parlayed her visibility beyond “the worlds” of ballet. She has danced for Prince( in his 2010 Welcome 2 America tour ), appeared in a 2014 commercial-grade for Under Armour that soon exited viral, interviewed President Obama and became the blanket of Time publication in 2015 the first dancer to do so since Bill T Jones in 1994. Her memoir is to be turned into a movie.

Predictably , none of that has stopped the resentful from changing her success into a question. Beings ask: Is she get this opportunity merely because shes had such a spokesperson, and because shes pitch-black, or is she good enough to get this part? reads Copeland. All of these things can mess with you psychologically and emotionally. Youd think it would get easier over meter, but for me it gets harder.

Copeland did not always realize the prejudice she was up against as patently as she does today. As an adolescent, dance was a safe conceal where she felt exclusively at home. Starting to a school in south California that was very diverse I never felt like I fitted in, she alleges. But stick me in a ballet studio surrounded by white daughters, and I was, like: Oh, I belong here. I wasnt even thinking about the color of my skin.

A cripplingly shy brat, at her happiest hiding in the wardrobe playing Solitaire or locked in the shower listening to Mariah Carey, Copeland was 13 when she discovered dance, a belated epiphany. Ballet was always an escape, she adds. It was a plaza where I felt safe, and I didnt have that in different aspects of my life growing up. I was so introverted because I felt that something could hurt me. There wasnt ever a human in our house who I trusted, or we werent always living in a lieu where I felt procure, and ballet was this one constant in my life that I could rely on.

Perpetual motion: does her life validate the idea that flair is innate? Picture: Danielle Levitt for the Observer

In many routes Copelands life is a strong validation of the notion that talent is innate. When I considered her in the gym, a tiny malnourished daughter who stood with such position and proximity, I couldnt think it is, responds Cantine. I just said: Ill take that one. Copeland is not simply became the squad, she was cleared skipper. But when Cantine recommended Bradleys ballet class, Copeland was sceptical. I was, like, Perfectly not this is as far as I go outside my convenience zone. She went to watch, simply to satisfy Cantine, dutifully reverting every day for two weeks until Bradley urged her invited to join. Copeland quickly realised shed found her residence. It was the first time I ever find beautiful, she articulates. Just to look in the reflect and to be told: Youre what a ballerina looks like.

Bradley, a former punk rocker who had enjoyed moderate success in the 1980 s with a ensemble “ve called the” Wigs, took to her new pupil instantaneously. The tendernes was mutual. Within eight weeks, Copeland had learned to dance en pointe, a skill that most young ballerinas take times to ruler. The instant of exultation is recorded in a photo that Bradley had the foresight to click: Copeland is ramrod straight on the point of her right hoof, a smile suffusing her face. Cindy was clearly a big part of my proliferation , not just as a dancer but as person or persons, tells Copeland. I had never experienced someone pressuring me to singer my views, and to contact. I started to develop skills that were so underdeveloped in me.

Copelands growing intimacy with Bradley arose at a time when life at home was getting harder. Her mom, Sylvia DeLaCerna, left one temperamental husband for another, and their own families located itself living in a motel, sharing two rooms and pooling loose change to buy food. Copeland noted her escape in ballet, but DeLaCerna annoyed the commute to class was extremely onerous, and told her daughter to discontinue. That was when Bradley influenced DeLaCerna to let Copeland move in with her, sharing a area with her two-year-old son, Wolf. Id merely been married for two years, and abruptly we had a teenage girl, and she stole our hearts, immediately, does Bradley. On Fridays, Copeland would become matzo pellet soup and ignited the Sabbath candles. It merely felt like this beautiful stuff that they shared, and I think thats what I was drawn to, Copeland supposes. When the Bradleys had a professional clas painting taken, Copeland was part of it.

Girl prodigy: in 1998, as a child dancer. Picture: Kevin Karzin/ AP

Its not difficult to see how this would begin to grate on Copelands mother and siblings, who began describing their sister as indoctrinated. When those distress lastly exploded, shortly after Copeland prevailed a prestigious gift for playing Kitri in her favourite ballet Don Quixote , the fallout was distressing and highly public. DeLaCerna decided her daughter no longer requirement the Bradleys; with a view to responding they helped Copeland to application special courts for emancipation from her parents. DeLaCerna campaigned back, assuring the famous civil rights lawyer, Gloria Allred. Eventually, Copeland plummeted her application, but the damage was persist. It was very traumatic having so much of my life disclosed for everyone to see, she alleges. It took 10 years before I could talk about it without weeping. It was no easier for Bradley. It was a huge void that never healed, she alleges. I had so many things to say to her. The two has not been able to speak for 15 years.

In May, Copeland will play Kitri again, but this time in a make for the ABT. Its the responsibilities of a lifetime, one she has dreamed about since seeing her idol, Paloma Herrera, play it in 1996. But Copeland is 34 now, and her outing has been arduous. In 2012, eras after her critically lauded debut in the title role of Stravinskys Firebird , she detected six stress fractures in her tibia. It would take seven months of physical care before she could return to the stage. Last year, she ultimately got to reprise her Firebird act, one of various lead roles she took on within the framework of the ABTs springtime/ summertime season, including Odette in Swan Lake . She also married her long-time beau Olu Evans. Her promotion to principal dancer may be a vindication of her hard work, but she knows a dancers busines is suddenly. A couple of weeks after I was promoted to principal dancer was the first time I seemed: This is the beginning of the end, she pronounces. I was promoted at a very late age for a dancer, so my vocation as a principal will definitely be shorter than most. She imagines for a moment. The frightening occasion is what will fill that vacant. She titters. My poverty-stricken husband.

We live in an epoch, to repeat dance critic Madison Mainwaring in The Atlantic , when Kim Kardashians selfies get even more serious coverage than dancers who have dedicated their lives to their figure. Copeland might be the exception that substantiates the rule, but the vitality of classical dance in America travels on the footpath shes firing. At a era of raised consciousness around black identity, her narration has pulled new audiences to classical dance. Is it enough? The ballet world-wide is perpetually speak about how we need more revelation, to deliver more beings in, but they dont want to change anything about it, Copeland alleges, with aggravation. It doesnt piece that behavior, something has to change and evolve.

Ruffling featherings: as Odette in Swan Lake in 2015 for the Washington Ballet. Image: Theo Kossenas Photography

Its a bright blue morning in San Pedro, and the city brightens after weeks of abnormally high rainfall. In her pitch-black Volkswagen Beetle, Bradley is pointing out the landmarks of Copelands youth. Did you experience the mansion? she expects, pointing to a plaque that speaks Misty Copeland Square at an intersection contiguous to the San Pedro Ballet School, a former bakery that Bradley and her husband, Patrick, bought in 1998. The plaque was unveiled just before Christmas in 2015, and if you Google footage of the opening ceremony, you will see a visibly moved Copeland thanking the Bradleys for “re giving me” a footpath and programme to change not only “peoples lives”, but so many little brown girlfriends lives.

Bradley drives me to her former condo, near a bank overlooking the ocean. In her memoir, Copeland recollects it reeking of cinnamon and the high seas. We sit in the car for a while, and Bradley tells legends of Copeland helping to potty-train Wolf, dancing with him, has become a sister. It seems like yesterday, she exhales. I knew it wasnt going to end well from the beginning. It was marvelous, but very scary, feeling that every minute was going to be our last. She delays. But it worked out OK.

Our tour goals where the storey “re starting” the Boys& Girls Club of San Pedro. Inside the gymnasium, Bradley expresses the lines of benches. She wasnt just watching casually she was absorbing while she was sitting there, she announces, summon the likenes. She didnt move, she watched intently for a few weeks and prevented mentioning No , no , no, until eventually she stepped on to the storey. She was a skinny, scrawny brown girl with pretty hair.

Joyous duet: with long-time beau Olu Evans, who she wedded last year. Image: Evan Agostini/ Invision

Ever since Bradley could dance, she has is intended to school. I precisely thoughts: Everybody needs to know this, she does. In Copeland she found her first geniu. I stroked her foot and thats when the supernatural happened, she suggests, lost in a private daydreaming. Ive never been able to describe it before, but I knew she was special. Blinking back rends, she shakes her manager in surprise. She hadnt danced! she does. It was an angels singing time. That very same day, Bradley offered Copeland a scholarship, sending a document residence to her mother.

We walk back through the organization, past the twinned posters of Misty Copeland in despair and jubilation, the reserve table, the vending machine giving frozen return forbids, the spray-painted representation of the supremacy fist. And as we emerge into the sunlight, Bradley regains her calmnes. I have actually exactly noted my second prodigy Enrique. She pulls out her telephone. Ill prove you a illustration. Like Copeland, Enrique started late( at 16 ), and like Copeland, he is beset by challenges, most having to do with being a Latino man in a macrocosm still defined as white-hot and female. Its the first Ive talked about him, because I learned the first time you should not talk about them too much, does Bradley. She laughs, before including: Until youre ready to lose them. We both peer at the photo. This is a while ago, so hes most spectacular now, she supposes, lighting. Hes got it all.

Hair and Make-up by Bank exploiting Pacifica at Factory Downtown; Producer Stephanie Porto; Digital Tech Jordan Zuppa; Igniting perry foyer and JP Herrera; Set design Chris Stone; place Steps on Broadway, NYC

Life in Motio n by Misty Copeland issued by Sphere, 9.99. Prescribe it for 8.49 at bookshop.theguardian.com