#let's pretend hospital visiting hours aren't a thing

[beeehiives]

In The Wee Small Hours of the Morning

Vecna is defeated, time moves on, but Steve still can't sleep. Neither can Eddie.

A short story short: Eddie and Steve help each other get some rest.

Fic below, but also on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53420725

Transitioning back to real life post-Vecna happened much quicker than Steve was expecting. He had expected something else to go wrong, or at least to get caught up in the endless cogs of government bureaucracy as the folks at the lab tried to convince the entire town they’d experienced a run-of-the-mill earthquake.

It’s not as if it’s been a smooth transition, either. Max is still in physical therapy, working out how to walk again and being stubbornly stoic the entire time. The rest of the kids refuse to leave her side, bringing snacks and books and trying to recruit her to their nerdy dragons game.

Steve’s still healing, from the bat bites. He peeks at them sometimes, in between hospital visits. As far as post-Upside-Down injuries go, he’s had worse. His neck still hurts like a bitch, and the bruises still haven’t fully gone away. Every time he thinks about them, he gets cold shivers and has to close his eyes and breathe slowly for a few minutes. He feels weak.

Eddie’s even worse than he is, still asleep at the hospital a few doors down from Max’s room before she’d been released. Steve had taken him, carried him across the portal with steady, bloody hands. His torso had been torn to shreds, losing so much blood that Eddie had passed out cold.

Steve always figured he was good in a crisis. He knew how to get things done when they needed to be. It wasn’t until Eddie was lying in the hospital bed, unconscious but stable, that Steve allowed himself to worry.

Steve had stayed by his side for days, waiting for him to wake up. He read, paced around, and mostly made himself sick with anxiety. Wayne kept insisting that it was good he stay, that if Eddie were to wake up when Wayne was working, Eddie should have a familiar face to help him relax.

Steve felt like an imposter. He barely knew Eddie, really, having only known of each other in high school and having limited opportunities to talk when they were under attack by Vecna. Still — Steve felt a closeness to the boy lying on the hospital bed, long hair messy and tangled.

In the late night hours, when all the kids had gone home to sleep, Steve remained beside him. He tracked the movement of his chest, up and down, up and down. He worried that if he looked away, Eddie might stop breathing. He tore his eyes away from the shallow breaths and looked down at his hand.

Something rotten and forbidden hidden deep inside Steve called out for him to take Eddie’s hand. He wanted to hold him, feel his heartbeat through the vein on his wrist, become closer and closer to him. Eddie’s hand looked different without his rings on.

“Stevie,” Eddie’s voice would have startled Steve if he wasn’t too tired to even move. “What’re you doin’?”

Steve stared blankly. Eddie was awake, looking at him, soft features forming an expression of amused confusion. Steve opened his mouth to say something, before surging forward and hugging Eddie.

It was awkward, Steve leaning over the hospital bed and trying to avoid irritating any of Eddie’s wounds. Eddie let out a startled laugh and brought his arms up to hug Steve back. They stayed like this for longer than Steve thought he’d be capable of, before Eddie shifted and winced. Steve moved back immediately.

“Sorry.” Steve dropped his eyes back down to Eddie’s hand, suddenly bashful again. “I don’t know what I’m doing…here. Wayne’s working a shift and I figured…I don’t know. The kids are home sleeping, and you might want someone to—"

“I’m glad you’re here. Woulda sucked to be by myself,” Eddie starts, and a toothy grin makes its way to his face. “Especially after my heroic act.”

“Sure, man,” Steve huffed with laughter. He could feel the tension draining from his chest. Eddie’s awake. He’s alive. Steve’s hands start to shake. He sits back down beside the bed, trying to regulate his breathing.

“You scared the hell out of everyone,” Steve says quietly. “Dustin’s been here a bunch. All the kids have. They’ve been going back and forth between you and Max.”

“The kid’s alright?” Eddie asks, trying to sit up.

“Cut it out, you’ll tear something,” Steve says. “She’s healing. A lot of broken bones, but she’s in PT now and she’s as fierce as ever.” Eddie nods, satisfied. “I’m going to get a nurse to check you out.”

As Steve starts to stand up, Eddie stops him.

“Hey,” Eddie’s expression is hard to read. He’s looking at Steve’s neck, the bruising faint across his skin. “Thanks for bringing me back. And, uh, for staying.”

Steve nods. He goes to get a nurse, his task distracting him from wondering how Eddie knew it was Steve that had carried him home.

——

After that, time moves too quickly. Max seems to be doing better every day, and the kids spend the majority of their time filling Eddie’s hospital room with chatter and games (Steve still doesn’t quite get the rules of Dungeons & Warlocks). The Byers and Chief Hopper have temporarily moved in to Hopper’s old cabin, deciding to stay for a few weeks to let everything settle before they can get started on moving back to Hawkins.

Eddie, for his part, interacts with the kids in high spirits. He even teases Dustin, promising that “you can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m indestructible!”

Steve feels like he’s falling behind. When he goes home, it’s to an empty, dark house. His parents called to see if there had been damage to the house from the ‘earthquake,’ and after assuring them there wasn’t any, they’d hung up to continue their extended Europe vacation, far from the Indiana heat.

Steve barely sleeps, and when he does, the nail bat is underneath his bed. He’s prone to waking up in cold sweats, images of hellish dog beasts and flesh tearing and everyone he loves dying lingering in his mind. He tries to spend as much time as he can with Eddie, but gets ushered home by Wayne, who insists he should be trying to rest instead of spending all his time in the sterile hospital.

Sometimes, Wayne will be working, and Eddie will let him stay overnight with him at the hospital. They shoot the shit, playing card games and talking. Steve learns about Eddie’s world-star band, about how when they first started playing, Gareth would tease him for getting pre-show jitters. Eddie tells him about his parents, how he’s been staying at his uncle’s ever since they walked out of his life when he was a kid.

Steve listens, content to learn about Eddie and stare unabashedly at his animated expressions.

Steve is surprised when Eddie insists on knowing about Steve, too. He’s genuinely curious, asks way too many questions and listens intently. Steve feels nervous under his intense gaze, like he’ll slip up making eye contact and accidentally tell Eddie he thinks he’s beautiful.

When it gets late, and Eddie can’t keep his eyes open anymore, he asks Steve to stay. He won’t say why, but Steve wouldn’t say no either way.

Steve falls asleep in his chair next to Eddie’s hospital bed, head leaned onto the mattress, facing Eddie. It’s uncomfortable as hell for his neck when he wakes up, but he sleeps longer than he’s managed to sleep in a long time. It takes him a while to identify, but he realizes with a start one morning that he feels safe for the first time in too long.

Sometimes, when he’s right on the edge of sleep, in the quiet hospital room, Steve thinks he can feel Eddie’s fingers in his hair, brushing it behind his ear and off his brow.

——

When Eddie gets released from the hospital, Steve’s worried he’ll be done with him. Like, thanks for the company when I literally had nobody else to talk to, bye now!

Instead, Eddie insists on having Steve come over to the new place he and Wayne are set up. Since their old trailer was demolished (thanks, Vecna), the government set them up in a tiny two-bedroom on the edge of town that had been empty for decades, probably because it’s a couple busted pipes away from being condemned.

Eddie’s reputation was worse for wear, so he was instructed to stay inside until they were able to get everything sorted out.

Every time Steve worried about overstaying his welcome, Eddie fired back, arguing that he’d be getting “serious cabin fever” without company. The kids were back to school soon enough, deciding it was better off to finish out the school year than to have to redo the whole thing.

It was mostly just the two of them in the house, with Wayne back to work to afford groceries and keep up appearances. Steve found himself getting even closer to Eddie, his bright nature and infectious energy keeping him steady when the weight of what they’d been through threatened to overwhelm him.

One night in May, they’re lounging around the living room watching some awful late night soap opera and eating pizza when Steve perks his head up, remembering.

“How’d you know it was me who brought you back?” Steve looked over at Eddie, who shrugged. The moonlight glimmered through the window, catching Eddie’s face.

“I kept fading in and out. I think when you lifted me through the portal, it jostled me awake a little bit. I just remember feeling you carry me. And, when you almost dropped me when we landed back in the real world.” Eddie grinned, glancing teasingly at Steve, who rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t, though,” Steve smiled, taking a swig of his coke. “Carried you all the way out to the edge of the park, too. The ambulance couldn’t make it with the roads that jacked up. They almost wouldn’t come out.”

The feeling returns. Steve remembers how limp Eddie was in his arms, how frantic Dustin was, yelling at Steve to ask if he was still alive. Steve’s hands start to shake again, and he wants to reach out to touch Eddie and feel his heartbeat.

Eddie, ever so observant, leans forward and furrows his brow. “Dude, you okay?” Steve nods.

“I don’t like thinking about what happened. I can’t sleep because of it,” His own honestly startles him. Steve hasn’t told anyone about his issues sleeping. He crashes on the Munson family couch now and again when it’s too late to drive home, but he’s still never slept better than when he was right next to Eddie in the hospital room, messed up neck and all.

“Nightmares?” Eddie’s voice is soft, Steve almost can’t hear it over the dull chatter of the TV. Steve nods. “Same here. I keep seeing those things tearing into people. I don’t think I’ve slept through a full night yet, since—“ He cuts himself off.

“Since?” Steve asks. Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He nods his head, in a here goes nothing kind of way, before speaking.

“Since the hospital. It felt better—safer, when you were in the room. I don’t know. It’s not the same with other people. I’ve asked Wayne to stay with me until I fell asleep, but I keep waking up, same thing. With you—“ His voice wavers.

Steve fights to keep his expression neutral. He wants to reach out, comfort him, make him feel better. He elects to let Eddie finish. Eddie clears his throat. His voice is steadier.

“With you, it was like I was with someone who understood, who’d gone through the same shit. Like a trauma bonding kinda thing, I guess.”

Steve nods. “I felt the same.” Eddie seems to perk up at this. “Like, I could let myself relax because I was, uh. With you.” Steve feels a bit awkward now, that he’s said that last part. He half expects Eddie to laugh at him, or worse, be disgusted at his confession.

“Want to try it again?” Eddie’s voice is clearer, stronger now.

“Try what?”

“Sleeping. Together.” Eddie clarifies, before laughing at himself and shaking his head. “Like trying to rest. Only if you want to.”

Steve agrees faster than he can react. Thirty minutes later, they’re putting their plates in the sink and Steve’s awkwardly shuffling behind Eddie, who has to steady himself every now and then and walk a little slower than usual, thanks to the still-healing torso wounds.

Steve borrows a pair of pajama pants and an old, worn band tee that Steve’s never heard of. Eddie chuckles when Steve returns after changing.

Eddie gently lowers himself back into bed, the whiny squeaks of the shitty old bed frame the only sound in the room. Steve’s never been in here before, and he looks around at the boxes of clothes, haphazardly taped up metal band posters, and Eddie’s acoustic guitar, which Hopper salvaged from his trailer after he woke up.

It’s endearing, seeing how resilient Eddie has been in the face of a total uproot of his life.

Steve turns off the light and moves to sit on the floor next to the bed. Eddie blinks at him.

“What’re you doing, dude?” Eddie grunts and sits up on his elbows. Steve tilts his head.

“I thought we were going to sleep.”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean—but—you don’t have to sleep down there.” Eddie pats the mattress next to him, moving the blankets back for Steve. The darkness of the room is comforting, hiding Steve’s face. He can still see the outline of Eddie’s wild hair, and his heart races.

“I don’t mean to intrude.” Steve whispers.

“You could never.”

Steve nods, moving to get into the right side of the bed next to Eddie. The mattress is just large enough for both of them, meaning that with Eddie having to sleep on his back to heal, Steve has to turn on his side in order to not bump shoulders. He turns facing away from Eddie.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, before Steve feels Eddie shift and bring his right arm up onto the pillow.

“I’m glad I got to know you,” Eddie whispers. In the silence of the night, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Steve is overwhelmed with emotion — with love. He feels heavy with it.

“I—“ Steve cuts himself off. He isn’t sure what he’ll say if he lets himself talk.

Eddie shifts around some more, gently tapping Steve’s back with his fingers. Steve trembles.

“Hey,” Eddie says. “You okay?” Steve turns around to face him. Eddie has shifted so he’s somewhat on his side facing Steve, a move which looks comfortable but he’s sure Eddie’s doctor would chastise him about.

Eddie scoots closer. He takes Steve’s trembling hands in his own.

“What’re you thinking about, Stevie?” Eddie whispers, his face inches away from Steve’s. He can smell Eddie’s shampoo, feel the warmth of his hands. Steve has never felt more safe, more secure.

“I’m falling for you.” Steve manages. He feels Eddie’s intake of air. Steve’s so tired he barely registers the potential consequences. Eddie could tell everybody, could make him leave, want him out of his life.

Instead, Eddie leans forward and kisses him. His hand comes up to brush against Steve’s jaw, and he moves forward to tangle their legs together. He has to stop when he winces in pain, readjusting his torso.

“Shit, sorry.” Steve croaks out. Eddie lets out a quiet, happy laugh.

“You really are?” Eddie asks. Steve nods. His hands aren’t shaking anymore.

“Is that…okay? I can leave if that makes you uncomfortable, I’d get it if you—“ Eddie kisses him again, and Steve can feel the smile on his lips.

“It’s the same for me, pretty boy,” Eddie says, voice soft. “I didn’t think you’d—I mean, I never thought you would too. C’mere.”

Eddie lifts his arm up to put under Steve, and Steve tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, breathing in slowly. He feels his mind start to relax. He puts his arm around Eddie, careful to mind his bandages.

Before he falls asleep, he can feel fingers soothing the tangles in his hair and a gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head.

He sleeps better than he has in years.

[leiawritesstories]

Rowaelin prompt: "Stop pretending you care"

*angst monster crashes in* BEEN A WHILE SINCE I VISITED

Word count: 1,275

CW: Miscarriage, grief

A/N: *hits "post," runs away*

Empty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who. The. Fuck. Did. He. Think. He. Was?! 

Rowan had left her. Left her. Strode out of her life, slamming her door behind him with a filthy curse on his lips and a bladed glare in his forest-colored eyes, masking the soul-deep chasm of pain that the fight tore open between them. 

She’d be fucking damned if she was the one to move towards him. 

No, the only thing she'd find if she reached out to him, if she tried to bridge the rift that had split them apart, was regret.

It had barely been three months since...since it happened. Since Aelin woke up from a nap feeling jolts of pain slice through her abdomen and was rushed to the emergency room. Three months since that tense, fear-choked afternoon and evening when Rowan held her hand the whole damn time they were in the ER, then held her close to his chest as her OB, tears in her eyes, delivered the news.

Three months since they'd lost their baby.

Aelin's OB could offer no explanation for the miscarriage. Both Aelin and the baby had been perfectly healthy, following all the instructions and recommendations to the letter, and nothing from any of her appointments had indicated that there might be any chance of complications to the pregnancy. Because she was into the second trimester, only seventeen weeks, she couldn't have pseudo-labor induced, but had to be rushed into emergency surgery to make sure she was safe and healthy.

No words, no sounds, no thing was enough to describe the ocean of grief in her eyes when she was wheeled out of the room she and Rowan had spend the last several hours in, when her fingers slipped from his as the doctors wheeled her away to surgery. Nothing could properly communicate the broken emptiness in her face, in his face, when she woke from the anesthesia with his hand linked with hers, alone and empty in a sterile hospital bed.

Aelin hadn't spoken for days after she came home except to cry into Rowan's shoulder, the salty heat of her tears soaking his skin. And when she broke her silence, her voice raspy from disuse and choked with grief, the first word out of her mouth was why?

"Why, Rowan? What did we do wrong? What did I do wrong?"

He hadn't been able to answer.

"It hurts," she croaked, gripping his shoulders. "It hurts, Ro."

"I know," he whispered, his own voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry, my love."

~

Too soon, Rowan had to return to work, and he left her alone in her house, murmuring his reluctance into her hair. He hated to leave her like this, he wanted to stay with her, but he couldn't blatantly refuse his boss's orders to come back. Couldn't use any more of his time off before said boss got angry.

To Aelin, a broken shell of herself, it all sounded like excuses.

"Tell your boss to fuck off," she'd said, her eyes pleading with him to stay. "Tell her you're sick, tell her you have to quarantine, anything. I can't, Ro." She gulped. "I can't do this alone."

"Fireheart," he breathed, cupping her face, "you aren't alone. You have me at the press of a button, and you have everyone else--your parents, Lys, Aedion, Elide, our friends. You aren't alone, my love."

"I don't want anyone else," she croaked. "Just you."

"I can't," he choked out around the lump in his throat. "I can't lose my job, no matter how much I want to tell work to fuck off."

Aelin pulled back, pain and anger narrowing her eyes. "Coward."

"Fireheart--"

"See you this evening." She shut the door in his face and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her middle, over the still-tender scar on her abdomen. And cried silent, heavy tears, a tidal wave of emotion breaking over her.

Midafternoon, she'd called Rowan, thanking all things holy when he picked up rather than letting her go to voicemail. "A--Aelin?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered. "I'm--I'm hurting, Ro. I don't know what to do with myself when it all hits me."

"Oh, Aelin," he sighed, his voice a caress through the phone. "I forgive you, my Fireheart." A beat. "I know you're hurting, and if I'm being fully honest, I...I don't know what to do either."

"Don't think there's any answer," she murmured. "I love you, buzzard."

"Love you, Fireheart."

~

Slowly, as the weeks passed, Aelin had started going out of the house again, started to see her friends and family, started to figure out going back to work. Nothing was normal. Not even close. But... but the searing pain of losing her baby was beginning to dull, the edge fading from blazing grief into a gentler kind of mourning. Her body was healing, as was her soul.

And yet...she didn't know if Rowan was.

He'd grown more distant after the loss, throwing himself into his work as if to stop himself from thinking of the miscarriage, and it seemed that every time she tried to reach out, he brushed her aside or never fully answered her gentle probing. She told herself it was just his method of coping, that he would approach her when he was ready.

But as the weeks passed and he pulled further away, her empathy curdled into anger.

Until one night, she couldn't stand it anymore.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demanded, storming into the living room and yanking the folder out of his hands.

"Baby--"

"Don't 'baby' me, Rowan Whitethorn." Her voice was steel, the cold edge hiding her tears.

His jaw locked. "Nothing's 'wrong' with me, Aelin. Why the fuck can't you see that?"

"And that's the problem!" she yelled. "Rowan, we lost our baby! What kind of heartless, soulless asshole just fucking forgets about it after he goes back to work?!"

"I'm not fucking heartless," he spat, pushing himself up to his full height. "You have your way of processing and I have mine. And gods, Aelin, stop using me as an excuse not to go to your therapist."

Her eyes flashed with sparks. "Don't you fucking dare, Whitethorn. You don't get to throw that bullshit at me."

"Not bullshit if it's true," he fired back. "Lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you're only leaning on me because you're too damn scared to go see Yrene."

"Fuck you," she spat, tears brimming up in her eyes.

His laugh was bitter. "Isn't that what got us into this argument in the first place? Too many lines crossed too soon?"

The crack of her hand across his cheek was deafening in the sudden silence.

They stared at each other, insults and emotions battling for dominance in each of their gazes. Until Aelin, her whole body tense with the effort of not crying, pointed towards the door.

"Get out." No more than a whisper, the two words malevolent nonetheless.

"Aelin--"

"Get. Out."

"Fine," he growled, collecting his work bag and striding across to the door. "Don't bother calling."

The door slammed shut.

And Aelin sank to her knees, a wild sob clawing out of her throat, her grief an uncontrollable storm.

Hours later, all her tears drained, she stood, wincing at the aches that came from spending too long crouched on the floor. She went to her bathroom, locked the door, braced her hands on the sink, stared into the smooth glass of the mirror. Stared into the broken, dull eyes that stared back.

Grief had emptied her completely, left nothing but a shell behind.

~~~

TAGS:

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@story-scribbler

@nicolivesinbooks

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

[nsk96]

Personal rant:

I know I've been doing quite a bit of these rants often, but I can't keep a physical diary and doing these rants here will allow me to easily send these to my future therapist (about that, my mom doesn't want me seeing one until I get a job, as if they will have access to my personal medical records just like that. Even if they manage to access them, all they are gonna see is how effed up my dad and mom are...maybe that's why she doesn't want me to see one. She was opposed to the idea since the first time I brought it up. She agreed to let me see one a few months ago but I didn't get a chance to arrange an appointment because of my hospital IPPE rotation. Now she is opposed to it again and I have to wonder why I have to keep explaining to her how it's not going to affect my future jobs)

Anyways, back to the actual rant. Every time I decide to stay home to study on the weekend, I regret it. I focus so much better at the school library in the study rooms. The problem is that the school is at least 30 minutes away, which means with a good amount of traffic, it can take me 40 minutes or even nearly an hour to get there. But honestly, I feel like it's worth it. My mom keeps trying to convince me to stay home, saying that the drive is a waste of time. If I can't focus at home, aren't I wasting even more time then?

Today, my dad is pretending to be pissed and that my mom has to buy a new toaster oven because ours has become a fire hazard after using it for about 5 years (maybe more I don't recall when we bought it). Anyways, he's always blaming her for spending too much money. My mom often says, "I have to buy stuff for the house" which translates to "food, snacks, juice/water, paper plates (because my dad complains about having to do dishes even though it's the only household chore he's responsible for), napkins, toilet paper, paper towel, cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, etc." Literally things we need. This is what happens when one person in the marriage is responsible for all of the grocery shopping for 30+ years. The other person in the marriage forgets how expensive it is to live and only sees what's coming in. They don't see how much things actually cost.

Either that, or he's just using this as a thing to complain to his family about to turn them against my mom, like he always does. It is very apparent that he talks shit about her to them, because my aunt (his sister) when she came to visit had to audacity to tell my mom that she should be doing everything in the house because she was the one who wanted this house. My mom corrected her and said, "I wanted to move into a retirement home." My aunt was shocked and said, "then who wanted this house?" My mom gestured at my dad and said, "him."

Because he's pissed off today, he's slamming doors as he goes in and out of the house. He's turning on the water really hard while he washes his turkey-frying pot, and he's clanking dishes. He's definitely doing all this on purpose, he knows I'm trying to study and that I need quite to do so. How I know he's doing this on purpose? I've seen him do these things much quieter when I wasn't studying.

Just about 30 minutes ago, I put a couple of Jamaican chicken patties to bake, one for him and one for me. I got mine when it was done and told him the second one was for him. He ignored me (he was less than 3 feet away. There's no way he didn't hear me). I repeated myself and even said, "Did you hear me?". He ignored me again. He does this to my mom all the time. I scoffed and said as a joke, "I guess it's mine now." I still left it in there because I know he'll complain or talk shit to his family or our neighbor, Otto (and I know he talks shit to him because Otto had the audacity the other day to tell me "help your dad" and said "don't tell [my mom] that I said that, she might make me do the dishes".

Realistically, I shouldn't be eating both if I intend on keep up my weight loss progress anyways. I don't know if he will eat it, because he likes to put on these tantrums so he can get away with watching tv all day or literally doing nothing all day. But I do know, that once I leave it out there with him, I won't be able to eat it later without running the risk of getting horribly sick from it (because you know what he likes to do to our food). Just watch, later he will be like, "I don't feel like eating it. You can have it." It's happened many times before.

Honestly, I'm tired. I can't study, I'm nearly failing my classes because of it. He's still out there making noise on purpose. I hate this shit. I want to move out but now I know I don't have my mom's support and she expressed that she doesn't want me to move out. And now she's holding on even tighter. The other day after my health fair I wanted to stay at school to study but my mom begged me that morning to come home after the health fair all because she "dreamt that trouble was coming". Turns out the trouble was actually at the health fair, and I missed out on time to study because once again, I can't focus at home. I'm pretty sure now, that I have ADHD and being home makes things worse. It's been like this my whole life and I feel like it's gotten worse as I get older. I'm tired

Update: My mom came home after spending hours outside trying to find a toaster oven. They didn't have any suitable ones at our usual store so she went to another store. By suitable, I mean they were either too small or too big, or the type that overheats on the outside making it a potential fire hazard. She settled on one that is both a toaster oven and air fryer that costed a little over $100. My dad now wants to be upset that she spent that much on a toaster oven. I asked, "then why didn't you go with her?" His response "it doesn't matter what I say, she won't listen to me." Maybe if you spoke to her like she is a human being, she would listen to you. Maybe if you didn't ignore her all the time or talk down to her with disrespect, maybe she'd value your opinion. He's now looking online for a toaster oven and going, "look this one is just $88." Dude! Why didn't you look this shit up before she left? You knew since last night, approximately 17 hours ago that we needed a new toaster oven. But no, you want to b*tch about the purchase to make her feel like shit while you get to enjoy using the product right? Because you can't give her credit for anything...like usual. This is what happens when she lets you take credit for things she does just to boost you up in front of other people. Now you weaponize everything against her and use it as fuel to turn your family against her, our neighbors against her, and your coworkers against her (you don't want to know how he talks to her in front of his coworkers).

[tasmpeter]

instead of writing my 40000 WIP, i have now decided to hyper fixate on a story i don’t even know i’ll publish. here’s a summary of what i’m writing. let me know what you all think about it!!!

warnings: mentions of murder, divorce, obsession, crippling mental illnesses, mentions of past drug usage, mentions of mental hospitals, mentions of domestic violence. (i think that’s everything lol)

It has been fourteen months since you and Adrian Chase divorced. The divorce was sudden, and left both parties an emotional wreck. You were not a mentally stable girl. Everyone in town knows this. From your mental breakdown in the Albertsons to the multiple rehab visits, you were know as the towns crazy girl. No one knew exactly what was wrong with you, everyone had their own diagnosis — schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, psychosis. Whatever it was, Adrian Chase was the only one who could see you for what you truly were in his own, not mentally stable, way. You were perfect together. You cared and loved each other regardless of your own mental states. So maybe the divorce should have been seen from a mile away. No one knows exactly what caused the divorce, but it was filed fourteen hours after a domestic disturbance call was reported at your apartment. So, now, fourteen months later, and you are in the worst mental state of your life. You loved your husband, you really did, but sometimes he was so idiotic and could never fully see you. After the messy breakup, in which you stabbed Adrian with a steak knife in the arm, you weren't speaking to each other. Months with no contact, you begin craving Adrian Chase again. So, you do the only thing that can get Adrian's attention. You kill for him. You leave bodies in alleyways of his potential victims and always leaves a card — signed, your dearly beloved. Adrian refuses to give you the time of day, because why? He found himself a brand new girlfriend. Someone he works with, on Task Force X, and someone who won't stab him with a steak knife because he forgot to grab her meds from the pharmacy. So, he ignores your desperate cries for attention and pretends like these murders aren't happening. Obviously, the answer is clear. Your next plan? Kill his new girlfriend.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 16 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.8 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.

<- Previous part (15)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Birth

Dr. Williams and two other nurses are the only ones here besides Keanu. You've been in agonizing pain for over an hour now, but it's finally time.

“You're completely dilated now.” Dr. Williams says from her place in between your legs. “You just have to push, alright? Can you do it?”

“No.” You cry, many tears staining your cheeks, hair attached to your face because of the sweat. The pain is too great, and you're conflicted by Keanu's presence. And you just can't. “I can't. I want a cesarian.” Pleading, you rest your back against the bed, hands covering your face.

“We can't perform a cesarian now.” Dr. Williams says. “(Y/N), you're ready. Your baby is coming and I get it that you're scared, but you're almost there. Just push.”

“I can't. I can't.” Voicing breaking, you feel as the sobs shake your body.

“(Y/N).” Keanu's voice reaches you, ripping through the chaos. Your eyes find him, standing away. But soon enough he comes closer, taking your hand. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.”

Nodding, you close your eyes tight and push, biting back a groan as it feels like all strength is leaving your body. You can't faint now... You have no idea what would happen if you pass out.

“Good, (Y/N). Again.” Dr. Williams says, and so you do it.

“I can't.” Shoulders shaking, you squeeze Keanu's hand.

“I can see the head. A big push and it's over, (Y/N), c'mon.”

“One more,” Keanu repeats, moving to seat on the bed next to you. Nothing else matters now, and everything that happened is forgotten. You need him, so you just move, the best you can, your back against his chest as his free hand comes to grab your thigh, keeping your legs spread. “One more push and you'll meet Liam, sweetheart, you can do it.”

His voice brings you a new strength, and you turn your face to look at him, a hand finding its way to his face, pulling him closer so you can kiss him. Then, with your eyes still closed, you hold on to his biceps and push, with whatever strength still left inside you. You're almost giving up when a cry fills the hospital room, the pain surrenders, and Dr. Williams stands up straight, holding a tiny little human in her arms.

“Here he is.” She says, smiling. “I'll clean him up and I'll hand him over to you, alright?”

Still catching your breath, you nod, lying back down, colliding on Keanu's chest. The doctors do their stuff as you try to calm down after all this effort. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you never thought it would be this hard. “I can leave if you want.” He says, letting go of your thigh. There will be a bruise there, but you don't mind.

“No.” You're quick to answer, voice a little harsh. Part of you doesn't want to need him, to love him this much, but you do. The heart wants what it wants. It loves who it loves. “Stay to meet the baby.”

“Alright.”

It takes a few minutes until Dr. Williams brings Liam to you. He's wrapped around a pale blue blanket since Keanu remembered to bring your bag when he went to pick you up at the hotel. And he's absolutely beautiful, so light you barely feel him in your arms.

“Hi, baby.” You whisper, barely hearing your own voice. Slowly, you touch his forehead with your fingers, softly, as if he's made of glass. You can't control the tears rolling down, but they're from joy this time. You can't believe you're finally seeing him, face to face, after carrying him inside you for so long. He moves his mouth a little, and slowly, he opens his eyes, curiously looking around before blinking a few times. “It's mommy, little one. And...” The words get caught in your throat, your heart sinking a little. “...And daddy...” You push out because Dr. Williams said babies can recognize the parents' voice from the moment they're born, and the father's voice belongs to Keanu, and you know how much it hurts to miss this man, you don't want Liam to feel the same pain. Turning your head to look at Keanu, you're surprised to find teary eyes focused on the baby. “D-do you want to talk to him?”

He nods, glancing at you. He does love this child, that's not up to discussion. “Hi there, little one.” He starts, voice a little clouded. “It's so good to finally meet you.” Liam seems to find you with his eyes, and they move from Keanu and back at you.

“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Reeves.” Dr. Williams says, and the way she addresses you makes you move uncomfortably. “I must take the baby now. Run a few exams to be sure he's one hundred percent fine. Then we'll bring him back so you can feed him”

“Alright...” You don't want to let him go yet, but you knew about these exams. “Keanu, can you... Just keep an eye on him?” You ask in a low voice before Dr. Williams comes to take Liam from your arms.

“Sure.” Keanu slowly gets up, and you feel a little abandoned. But you shouldn't. You shouldn't have him this close, and you definitely shouldn't have kissed him.

But you can't take those things back. And you're not sure if you would if there was a chance.

You spend two days in the hospital, with Dr. Williams teaching you everything you'll need to know. But you've been taking classes, and reading many things about how to take care of your baby, so you think you can do it. Well, at least the theory. Laura comes to visit, and so does Lucia. Keanu doesn't leave except to shower and have dinner. Other than that, he's always around.

But the day comes when you can leave, so you bathe, dress up and wait for the nurse to bring Liam. You were trying not to think too much about it, but eventually, you have to. As you thank and watch the nurse leaving, you see as Keanu comes in, always a little embarrassed, avoiding your stare, head low. You haven't spoken much. Actually, you haven't said anything to him since the birth. You did thought he'd leave after that, but surprisingly, he stayed.

Holding Liam on one arm, very, very carefully, you try to pick up your bag. “Let me.” Keanu quickly says, making you stop your motion, eyes following him around as he takes the bag himself. “I can drive you wherever you'll be staying.” The words come out heavy as if they're piercing through his throat. “Or a cab, if–”

“No.” Cutting him short, you shake your head. There isn't anywhere else. The hotel is out of question, as is Lucia. And you don't want to crowd Laura's apartment with a loud, crying baby. And the house is ready to receive Liam, so, for now, there's no other place. “For Liam's sake, I believe it would be better if we stayed at your place. If that's not a problem for you, of course.” It takes a lot of effort not to call his place ‘home’. Because that's what that place is.

“Of course not.” He seems perplexed, furrowing his eyebrows a little before gesturing at the door. “Let's go.”

“Let's go.” You mutter, setting in motion.

• • •

Liam proved that knowing the theory doesn't mean you'll nail the real thing. At first, you find it strange that he sleeps too much, even though you read that newborn babies sleep for like seventeen hours a day, only to wake up when they're hungry. And that happens every two to three hours, which means you barely have any sleep. But you're completely focused on him, jumping to your feet whenever you hear that low-pitched cry.

You also start with the postpartum exercises, which was already planned, with a personal trainer that comes three times a week, so your body will go back to normal. You dropped many pounds very quickly. These things aren't that important, not now at least, that everything got real and you're still trying to deal with the web of lies you were caught into, but the routine gives you something else to think about.

The diet is carefully followed too, but that's all Keanu. You don't really see him, since you confined yourself to the guest room, where Liam is also sleeping in his crib, but the meals are always ready. He doesn't even give you the chance to cook something. When you go downstairs to eat, there's something ready for you.

The first month goes by slowly, and you're starting to get the hang of things. Since Liam spends most of the day in the bedroom with you, you asked Keanu to take him for his daily morning walks around the neighborhood. You agree with Laura, you can't and won't pull Liam away from him.

Sometime around Liam's second month, you're checking your face in the mirror. You look terribly tired, and you feel even worse. But the exhaustion is worth it, and you get a reminder every time you see or hear Liam. Taking a step back, you take a look at your body. You did recover from the baby weight pretty quickly since sometimes you have nothing to do but to keep repeating the exercises. You barely remember how you looked before.

Despite being a little early, you decide to call it a night, curling up in bed. You did miss sleeping on your stomach, but you spent so much time sleeping on your side that you just feel a lot more comfortable like this. You're having some kind of dream, about a peaceful beach when you're awakened by a gentle shake on your shoulder. Breathing deeply, you slowly float back into consciousness, raising your head and finding Keanu seated on the bed with a teary Liam on his arms.

“What happened?” You ask, already pushing yourself into a sitting position.

“Liam was crying. You didn't hear it so I came and changed him. But I think he's hungry.” Keanu says in a low voice, and you take Liam from his arms.

“I'm sorry he woke you up. I... I'm just tired.” You're surprised you fell in such a deep sleep you didn't hear Liam. “Thanks, though.” Sliding the strap from your tank top down your shoulder, you open the bra, freeing your breast which is easily found by Liam. It takes a while until you get reminded of Keanu's presence, your senses overcome by the need to feed your baby. So you give him a look, and you find his eyes locked on his hands cupped together on his lap.

“You don't have to thank me. I'm here if you need me.”

“Why did you do this, Keanu?” You didn't want to talk about it, but there's a freaking elephant in the room and you can't take it anymore. And you need to hear it from him because you're not sure where you're going from now. You're living one day after the other, but still, you feel lost. Clueless. “Why did you lie to me like that?”

“They told me you could lose the baby.” He begins, sad eyes finding yours. “Depending on how you'd take the news about the memory loss, Daniel's death, and the pregnancy. Dr. Wright said you were too hurt already, and your body wouldn't be able to deal with the stress.”

“Then it wasn't your idea.”

Silently, he shakes his head no. “I knew it wasn't fair to you. You needed Daniel, not me, a complete stranger, but if anything happened to you or the baby because I didn't agree with that crazy idea I'd never forgive myself.”

You're about to say something when Liam makes a little noise, and you look down at him. “Slowly, baby, slowly.” You whisper, caressing his cheek before speaking to Keanu again. “Why did you... Why did you...”

“Because I was in love with you by then.” He answers, knowing exactly what you're talking about. “I didn't want to. I mean, I did, I just... I knew I should have stopped, but I couldn't. I loved you so much. I love you so much and I–”

“I felt so violated. I thought I was making love with my husband, not with a stranger.” The words are harsh, but they're true. And the truth must be spoken.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N). And I completely understand if you hate me.”

“I hate that I love you.” Muttering, you focus on the baby in your arms because you can't bring yourself to stare at Keanu anymore. “But I do. And it sucks because I feel that everything you told me was a lie. The first ‘I love you’ certainly was.”

He takes a deep breath, and you feel his eyes burning on you. “The first was, but all the other times...” Keanu moves closer, and you raise your eyes to meet his. “I love you. And I hate myself for everything I did, but I did it for you. And for Liam. I was terrified that you'd leave after knowing the truth, that you'd never want to look at me again but I rather have you hating me than seeing you or the baby in danger.”

“Ke, I...” You don't know what to say, and you curse yourself for calling him that.

“The only thing I need to know, if you have any affection for me, even if it's as small as a speck of dust... Please... Is there any chance we could... Somehow make this–”

“I don't know.” Cutting him off, you feel a tear rolling down, so you look away. The hurt in his voice breaks your heart, and you want to hug him, kiss him. “I don't know. I-I'm here, and I don't know what to do next... I have feelings for you but I'm still heartbroken. I don't know when I'll be able to... Look at you as I did before. You're not my husband, and I'm not Mrs. Reeves.”

“And Liam is not my son, I know that.” With a heavy sigh, he gets up, making his way to the door.

But you won't let him go, not until he hears it. Not until he hears the truth. Now, more than ever, the truth is a sacred thing, and you will speak it, it doesn't matter how you feel about it. The truth is above that. “You may not be his biological father, but I'll let you be his father.” You raise your voice just a little for him to stop, but not enough to bother Liam. “He grew up inside me listening to your voice, feeling your presence, if that's even possible, and influenced by all the love I have for you. And I won't take that away from Liam, I know he loves you.” It's pretty clear that the baby knows Keanu. He feels good when held by him, and when for some reason the morning walks can't happen, Liam cries his heart out, only to be put to rest if Keanu takes a fake walk with him through the house. “If you love him... It doesn't matter what will be of us, I want you to be around Liam.”

His eyes are intense, full of sadness, confusion, and things you can't understand. “I do. I love this baby and I love you.”

“Then will you let us stay? Until... I don't know. Until somehow we figure this out. Because even if I move out, I won't be far.” You're trying not to cry, at least not in front of him. You don't know what will happen next, or when, but you're happy to know you'll be here today, and tomorrow, and the day after. Then... You'll see.

“(Y/N), you can stay here for as long as you want. This is... Your house too, even though you don't feel like it anymore.”

Nodding, you look down at Liam again, who already stopped sucking and has fallen asleep again. “He's out.”

“Do you want me to put him back in his crib?” He reluctantly offers. Keanu is back at the very beginning of this. Distant, trying not to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Yes, please.” Slowly, you pull him off your breast, quickly covering yourself before giving him to Keanu. You watch as the mountain of a man delicately puts Liam down, fixing the blankets around him before walking away.

“Good night, beautiful.” He says, immediately stopping by the door and looking at you. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you–”

“Good night, Ke.” You mutter, turning on your side and closing your eyes shut again.

×

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

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Two: “Lucky for me, your kind of heaven’s been to hell & back”

Summary: You still hate Bucky. But you need him to keep you from going to jail... So, what’s the harm in inviting him over to dinner?

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Angst?? (i think). Probably typos( which will be fixed). Implied violence. 

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

--

Part one [In case you missed it]

----

It's Saturday.

Your day off. Well, what used to be your day off until it was turned into a family therapy session.

Well... Not an actual therapy session. It is literally just dinner with your family, including your sister's husband - a man you refuse to identify as your brother in law for reasons that will end in you being called the j-word. The husband, because he's the only son-in-law your parents have, has been dubbed the "referee" of the Saturday Sessions.

Each session, since you've been discharged, has made committing murder seem more and more appealing.

So appealing, that you're standing in front of your neighbour's door with a basket of muffins and a please-keep-me-from-committing-felonies smile.

Bucky, because he just spent the afternoon searching for a new bar, is standing on the other side of the door. Both confused and frightened to see you at his door voluntarily.

"Is there a bomb in that basket?" He asks, eyes roaming over you suspiciously. "Believe me, it's not gonna work."

You blink at him, then at the basket. Then back at him. "Why would I put a bomb in a muffin basket and then hold it?"

He raises a sceptical eyebrow at you.

You huff. "Fine, they're poisoned. I accidentally added laxatives while making them-"

"Accidentally?"

"Yes, accidentally-" you glare at him. "-they're not for you. They're from us."

He blinks at you, confused. You haven't spoken to him, actually spoken to him, for a few months. You avoid him like he has a disease and when your paths do cross, you just glare at him like he threw your cat into on coming traffic.

It's been a few days since the coffee machine incident. He has a brand new one - better than the last one - sitting on his kitchen counter, waiting for him to develop the courage to give it to you. It should be easy. He has mastered the art of making amends.

But... He can't, for some reason, bring it to you.

"Wait-" he frowns, your words finally registering in his head, "-did you just say from us?"

You set the basket down. "So, remember when you broke my one shot at happiness?"

"Oh god." He forgot how dramatic you are, as well.

"Yeah, you can fix that little error by being a doll and-" you pause, then frown, struggling to find the right words.

"Muffin poisoned your tongue?"

"I'm trying to ask you to be my plus one for tonight's dinner-" you grit your teeth, your blood beginning to boil. "-at my parents house."

You didn't look him in the eye when you said that. And by the sounds of it, he doubts this is something he should be going to. Or something you should be going to. Not if it brings out this side of you.

"Who are the muffins for?"

They were for your sister. You broke her nose last week, which was never your intention, and the guilt has been eating you up alive since. The punch was meant for her asshole husband.

"You coming or not?"

"Let me grab a wine and the keys."

"We have muffins. No need to waste your good wine on mediocre tastes."

"I'm bringing the wine."

"If you make us stop to pick out flowers, I will watch porn with the volume on full blast every night for a week."

"Why are you always so violent?"

--

"So, how bad is it?" Bucky asks.

You've been in the car for a half an hour, because you chose the busiest route and the most congested during rush hour, and that's the first thing either of you have uttered since you politely dragged him out of his apartment.

You shrug. "Three roads lead to this one, so we'll be here another half hour."

"I mean the situation-" he drums his fingers against the wheel. "-you literally chose to be in a car with me, for the longest time possible. Either you want to get there late or you don't want to get there at all."

"Maybe I just like spending time with you."

Bucky scoffs, but doesn't question you further.

The car is silent, aside from the traffic outside, and you could almost relax. For just a moment, you could close your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else.

But you can't. Because you're not. You're on your way to a dinner that shouldn't be happening and is only happening because you're part of your neighbour's redemption list.

Because he just had to have a conscious.

"I punched my sister last week," you mumble.

Bucky wants to laugh. He wants to laugh so badly. He has met your sister, a handful of times - at the hospital, outside your room and outside your apartment door.

Every time she'd come over, she would knock hard enough to make him think she's part of SWAT team. And each time, he would could hear you scramble to switch off all devices that could alert her of your presence inside.

One time, you'd both arrived a few minutes after each other. His door was closer and already open, so you shoved your grocery in his hand and dived into his apartment to hide from your sister. He had to pretend he hasn't seen you since you left for work , and that the packet of sanitary pads that fell out were for his girlfriend.

He didn't have one.

He wants to laugh, because he doesn't like her at all. But he doesn't, because she's your sister. "What did she do?"

"She married an asshole-" you scoff. "-and decided to get in the way and I tried to punch said asshole."

At this, he grins. "And you need me there because?"

"I need you to keep me from trying to kill him," you begrudgingly admit. "I'm too high maintenance for prison."

"How bad is this guy that you need me to help you not kill him?"

"Bad enough that I'm gonna need you to park a few blocks away from the house," you turn to look at him, his confused eyes meeting yours for a quick second. "I told them we're taking the bus."

"Wow."

"Which means we only get to spend less than two hours there, if you drive a little slow-" you pause when he drives passed a McDonald's. "-hey, can we stop and get milkshake?"

He deadpans. "We have dinner plans with your parents."

"I get that you and them might have gotten along since you decided to be a hero," you glare at him. "But they're not as cool as the hospital visits made them seem."

Your parents have invited him over to dinner a handful of times, and each time he had to decline. You and him weren't on the best of terms, and he didn't want to make things worse by showing up for dinner without your knowledge.

He knows, first hand, that a few interactions aren't enough to give the full depth of a person. But he saw how devastated they were, how heartbroken they were, at the sight of tubes and needles sticking out of you.

He doesn't believe, he can't believe, for a second that they're as bad as you say they are.

But he won't argue with you. Not about this. "We'll get milkshake after."

"Hey, remember that coffee machine you br-"

"Oh, fuck you!"

***

You're not a fan of wine. At least, not the wine Bucky brought to the dinner.

An hour into the dinner and you've already had enough glasses to have Bucky worried. The wine is halfway to empty by the time dessert rolls in, and when your sister's husband clears his throat, you abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

The second hour into the dinner is where things got interested. Interesting enough for Bucky to take the bottle from you before you could throw it at someone's head. Mainly because he wanted to throw it at someone's head. Your sister's husband's head to be specific.

Just as your mother gets up to start making tea for the muffins you brought, Bucky is the first on his feet and the first to use the 'we have to get going before we miss the bus' excuse.

You grin at him, vision slightly hazy from the wine you drank on an empty stomach.

"Mhmm," you hum as you cling into him to get to your feet, "the bus. We gotta- the bus. Bah-yeee."

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," he promises to your parents and they believe him.

Hell, you believe him. If there's one thing you can trust your neighbour to do, it's to save your life. But not your coffee machine.

He guides back to the car, which is parked exactly where you told him to, and he's never been happier to have listened to you. You sing all the way back, some ridiculous song about when you're fat and old, and you're the most content he's ever seen you.

Drunk off wine, eyes glassy and smile wide, as you try to mimic his steps. You sigh when you get into your seat, even though you fight him on opening your own door, and fumble lazily with your seat belt until he helps you clip it in.

Your struggle to find a comfortable position, but forget all about that when he parks the car outside your favourite coffee shop. You're out before he can even unclip his seatbelt and you're inside before he makes it to the door.

"Hi," you whisper-yell as you lean against the counter. "Pssst. Hi. Hello."

The barista blinks at you. Bucky cuts in before he can get a word out. "We'll take coffee. Filter. And anything that's bread-"

"-don't listen to him, he breaks hearts for a living. Sometimes he rips them out." I jab your pointer finger against the countertop. "I will take the strongest coffee you've got. I'm in the mood for bad decisions and-"

"We'll be at the booth, in the back." Bucky gently pries you from the counter. "One coffee and two bottles of water-"

You try to smack his hands away. "Why must you be so- Barnes, I swear to god, I will take your parking space."

He shoves you into the booth, then takes a seat opposite you. You attempt to make a break for the counter, but the glare he fixes you with is enough to keep you in your place.

It should scare you. The look he gives you. You know what he is capable of, without mad scientists to control him, you know the damage he's done. It takes a special kind of strength to face people like the flag smashers, and a special kind of crazy to go after them.

Bucky is both. And yet, his glare doesn't scare you. So much so, that you return it.

"I hate your brother-in-law-"

"Sister's husband," you cut in to correct him. "I refuse to recognise him as my anything."

He nods. "Right. So, let me get this straight-"

Bucky pauses as the barista sets down the coffee, the water, two croissants, some breadsticks and a garlic roll. When he's satisfied that there's nothing else, he leaves you alone with Bucky and the breads.

"You got work tomorrow-" he puts sugar into your coffee and stirs, before handing it to you. "-so you're gonna need to eat as much, so that it absorbs all that wine."

You glare at him but still do as he says. He's right and you'd rather sulk than admit it.

"So," he clears his throat to get your attention. "Your sister is an asshole, that married an asshole. And your parents are enablers of all that bullshit?"

You nod, practically shoving the garlic bread into your mouth. You didn't touch the food your mother cooked and, other than that milkshake Bucky bought you, you haven't had anything to eat all day.

"Instead of just sending you to therapy-" he scrunches his face in disgust at the thought. "-I can't fucking believe I'm advocating for that, but instead of paying for therapy. They do that? Host a dinner, sit a circle and kumbaya the problems away?"

Taking a sip from your coffee, you continue to nod. "Is it helping?"

He frowns, meeting your eyes. "What?"

"The mandated sessions-"you swallow. "-I heard you and Wings talking about it."

Thin walls. Shared balconies. Despite not being in each other's life, both of you know more than enough because of your apartments.

Your balcony and his are separated by a small barrier, but you can still hear his conversations - and visa versa- if you leave your glass door open enough when he's out there.

The wall that separates your apartment is thin enough for him to pick up on your habits. You don't think you're a creature of habit, but he would disagree.

He can tell, just from your foot steps, what you're going to watch or do in the living room. From the little sounds you make, he can tell which series you're binge watching for the umpteenth time and which one is on just for background noise.

If you weren't a creature of habit, he wouldn't have found you in time. You wouldn't be sitting in front of him, asking about his wellbeing, instead of dealing with yours.

"Wings is Captain now," he corrects, and you accept the deflection.

You would never overstep, or push. Not with him. Never with him.

"If Captain, why Wings?"

Narrowing his eyes, he pushes the bread sticks closer to you. "Fine, Captain Wings."

Again, you obey the silent instruction.

"Where were we-"

"We were plotting an asshole's abduction," you tell him, "and then dropping him off at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. If that's not available, then maybe near Dyer Island."

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why would we drop your sister’s husband on an Island?”

"It's a place, with a shitload of great white sharks."

"And you know this because?"

"I like to always be prepared."

"For what?" His brows furrow. "Do you just know random places to dump people that–"

You cut in. "–will lead to an inevitable death by natural causes? Yes."

He stares at you. Actually stares. Openly, at you. He can't remember the last time he did that, looked at you, for no other reason than to just look.

You didn't always hate him. When he first moved into your apartment building, and the landlord introduced you too, you were indifferent. He didn't think you knew who he was, most people don't at first glance, so he was relieved. Indifference was definitely better than everything else.

That was until you walked passed him and Sam in the lobby of the building, a week after he moved in.

"Sarge–" you nodded at him, as you checked your mail. Then nodded at Sam as you made your way out of the building. "–Wings."

You knew, you always knew who he was, and just didn't care. That was refreshing, to say the least.

The hate only came that night, or the following morning, he wasn't sure. All Bucky knows is, he meddled, and now you hate him for it. For saving you.

He's tried to talk to you about it. Countless of times, he's tried, and each time you hate him a little bit more. Or so it seems.

He wants to talk about it now. It's obvious in the way he's looking at you, like he can't believe you're here, in front of him. You can't either, but you won't ever admit that to him.

Hell would sooner freeze over before you actually admitted that maybe, just maybe, he should have meddled sooner.

You won't. So, instead, you put down the bread stick and sit back. "I know a really cool coffee place... If you still need a new place to hang."

It's an olive branch. You don't ever say what you really mean, he knows that, and he smiles at that little fact. That he knows that, he knows you.

"Is the barista as dramatic as I hear?"

"Only to strangers that break down her doors," you shrug. "Oh, and guys who break her coffee machine–"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

You grin. Because you're just as petty as he is.

---

Tags: @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ , @arctic-duchess​

[knockknockchicagopd]

A SERIE WITH HANK VOIGHT. CHAPTER I.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.5k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Grabbing your backpack once you have kept all you need before going to work, you go downstairs following the smell of freshly made coffee. People in the hospital aren't wrong, it's like a drug. You have never been a big fan of coffee till you started to work in the Chicago Med. Since then, you always have a cup in your hands. Checking the hour in your phone, you calculate how many minutes are left for your shift to start. This morning you have woken an hour earlier than normally and seems like you have the house for your own, after Charlotte and Elizabeth have already left for their Firehouse.

Placing your stuff close to the door, you lead your barefoot to the kitchen to have a cup and pour some black hot coffee in it. Sitting over the counter, you spend your time checking some emails from Doctor Manning, your sponsor at Emergencies; test results, consultations and information about your practices in your free time. She is helping you more than anyone in your life with your career, keeping your head focused and your ideas firm.

The doorbell rings, making you raise both eyes from the screen. You're not expecting any visit and the postman came a while ago, and for an instant you're tempted to not open the door and continue with your coffee in silence, but your curiosity ends up winning. Leaving the mug over the counter, you attend to the call. But what you find pushes you into a surprised shock. Hank Voight.

The last time you saw him was the morning before to be arrested. The long hours locked in an interview room, being interrogated about his plans and his shenanigans, come to your head in a sight. The police ‘kindly invited’ you to the District to talk about him. They offered you a deal in exchange for information about him. But you rejected it. Not because you were in love with him, but because you didn't know much more than them and, even so, you're not a whistle-blower. He helped you when everybody turned their backs on you, after being falsely accused of stealing meds from your ambulance, when you worked as a paramedic. You didn't owe him any kind of favor, he didn't ask you to hide his shit. You did it because you want.

But you haven't known anything from him during the last year, more than a couple talks you have had with Erin. He rejected all your visits in jail, never responded to your calls or your letters. Nothing. And now, he is in front of you. Serious grimace as always, looking rested, wearing that dark blue plaid shirt he was wearing on your first date. You remember to tell him how much you liked that shirt, how good he looked with it on. Traveling down your eyes, the badge on his belt next to the buckle earns all your attention. And you can't feel more confused.

Hank Voight being a cop? Again? How is it possible? Who took him out of jail? You knew that his sentence was from six to eight years. It's been just a month and he's walking free again. The pressure inside your chest, racing up your heart, prevents you from breathing with normalcy. Licking your bottom lip, you try to say something but nothing comes from your mouth.

“May I come in?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him enough space to walk inside before closing the door again, behind your back. You want to punch him, shoot him, stab him (...), but you also want to hug him and kiss him, and know how he has been. When you knew he was being sent to Stateville, you thought you would never see him again. It doesn't matter who he was, what he did and who he helped to, he was a cop. And cops don't survive in jail.

“I heard you jumped from the ambulance to the Chicago Med”.

Hank is taking a look at your living room with curiosity, keeping his hands inside the pocket of his black jeans, turning around to rest his waist against the back of one of the sofas there. Raising an eyebrow you can't believe he has heard things about you and that he still cares. You nod in silence as crossing your arms over your chest with your lips pressed.

“I feel proud of you”. He utters then, shrugging briefly. “I always knew you'd be a good doctor. Is in your veins”.

“What are you doing here, Hank?” Putting away the quackery by waving a hand close to your chest, you can't help but tilt your head with confusion.

“I've missed you”.

As soon as he pronounces these words, a bitter and sarcastic laugh from you fills up the place. Shaking your head and rubbing the bridge of your nose, you can't believe this incompressible situation you are in. He stands up with the clear intention of coming closer, he stops dead when you raise both hands between the two of you while taking a step back.

“One year, Hank. One damn year waiting for… anything from you. A call, a text, a letter… Anything!”

“Erin was in contact with you”.

“Should I be… thankful?”

“I didn't want you to get implied”.

“Bullshit. I was since I decided to be by your side. The cops didn't handcuff me because I was working in the fifty-one and Boden knows my family, and knows me since I'm a kid”.

“Yeah, Erin told me 'bout that”. He pulls his gaze away for a moment, rubbing his right cheek. “You covered my back”.

“And you kicked my ass”.

“I wanted to protect you”

“You didn't! You pushed me away! You abandoned me!”

Hiding your face into your hands, you can't help but feel impotence being aware that you still love him after all. You really thought that he cared about you, that all the promises he made once would become real. But then, he suddenly cut any contact with you, for the exception of Erin. Raising your reddened eyes, you watch him grabbing a cardboard fold from under his jacket, to offer it to you.

“I didn't. I put you under protection. That was part of my deal with the State Attorney. Three cops have been following you all day since I walked into Stateville”.

Stupefy and looking at him with parted lips, feeling your lungs out of air for a second, you hold the fold to open it. Pictures, monthly reports, a copy of your tests for the EMT (...).

“Listen now, I was trying to survive. I was trying to have a plan before talking with you, but it took me more than I thought it could. I blinked and I was out of jail again. I'm leading the Intelligence Unit in the twenty-one now, and you're the first person I've seen besides my unit”. Carefully, Hank takes a step closer to you, slowly, hoping you don't take another back. “You've been the reason why I've been fighting all this time and I ain't pretending to come and change your life for a sudden. Only, to make sure you're good”.

“I wasn't. And I'm not”.

Slamming the fold against his chest, you try to walk away from him, but he stops you. He has that look in his eyes that tells you he's not going to leave you again. As his fingers get closed around your forearm, you try to contain the tears. His hand caresses your skin so softly that gives you chills, bristling it, till lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart jumps, just like it did the first time he held your hand that cold night of October two years ago, after insisting on driving you home.

“I've to come back to the Unit”. Hank whispers bending his head towards yours. “I can pick you up tonight. Have dinner. Talk. I will answer any question you have, I promise”.

He lands his other hand on the back of your neck, pressing his rough lips on your forehead, feeling his thumb stroking the back of your hand so tenderly that the only thing you want is to run away with him far from Chicago, far from Illinois and, why not? Far from the United States.

“One thing I want to make very clear, sweetheart. I never stopped loving you... Tell me you know it”.

“I do”. You sniff nodding, not being capable of looking up at him.

“If you don't want to see me again, but you need my help one day, don't hesitate”.

As soon as Hank abandons your house, your heart collapses, breaking into a bittersweet crying not knowing what to do. Not knowing to whom you can talk about it. Not knowing how to confront the mix of feelings and sensations dancing inside your chest, barely breathing as the whinings become louder. Holding the fold closer to your torso, you drag your feet over the parquet back to the kitchen trying to find a solution to all this mess.

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

You Aren't Fragile

Prompt: After a mission gone wrong y/n is determined to get back into fighting shape, even better than they were before. Bucky notices, and is there when she inevitably wears herself out.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, injury to reader, swearing

Word count: 2K

PART 2 IS UP

Running through the forest, a car, a burst of light and I was on the ground. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t think. All I could feel was the blood pooling out of my side. As my vision began to clear, I looked up at the trees, the clouds, snow just beginning to fall gently landed on my face.

“I am going to die”

As my vision began to get hazy again, I could feel someone lifting me from the base of my back, forcing me to sit up slightly. My vision focused and landed on a set of perfect blue eyes. Bucky Barnes. My best friend. My partner in crime. And my long time crush. It was silly, to have a crush with my best friend, so cliché, but as his eyes met mine, a wave of comfort washed over me, I wasn’t alone. He was here with me. I was ok. And then the world went dark.

I shot upwards in bed, causing a pain to temporarily rip up my side, before taking account of my surroundings. I was in my bed back at the compound. I looked over at the clock on my nightstand, which read 3:24 AM. I sighed, rolling out of bed and changing into some sweats and a tank top, wincing as my arm raised, causing the wound on my side to flare up.

It had been a month since the explosion. It had left an almost foot long scar running from the middle of my ribs to just above my hip. Bucky had carried me back to the quin-jet, and with the help of Natalie and Steve, were able to stabilize me until I got to a hospital. I was in a coma for three days, and hospitalized for another four, before being ordered to bed rest for at least four weeks. During my time in the hospital, the team visited me as often as they could, but Bucky never left my side, bringing me books, and even reading a few to me when I got too tired. They were all so supportive, but a feeling kept eating away at my brain.

I had failed.

I didn’t have magic powers or a super serum to thank for my skills or to keep me safe. I had trained since I was a child, forced to become a lethal fighting machine, which was a great help to the Avengers, and I was happy to be a part of the team. But I was constantly questioning myself. Was I good enough to be here? Was I strong enough? The explosion only furthered my anxiety, and I knew I had to become better.

I made my way to the gym and made my way to a punching bag. I had gotten a bit out of shape in the month and a half on bed rest, but I was ready to get back on the saddle. I needed to be better.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax my muscles, focusing on the bag in front of me. I jabbed with my right arm, and felt pain shoot from my knuckles down to my injured side. I paused, trying to breath through the pain, before striking again with my left hand finding a very similar pain flow down my body. This continued for a few minutes, me punching and trying to move through the pain, pretending like the pain wasn’t there, all the while chanting in my head 'you've been through worse, you’ve been through worse’. That was until I got carried away, whipping my right leg to strike the bag, and as my shin made contact, the pain in my side radiated throughout my entire body, causing me to collapse with a shocked gasp.

I collapsed onto my hands and knees, my left hand gripping my right side, and tears flowing out of my eyes at the sheer amount of pain. I was only down for a few seconds before I heard footsteps rushing towards me, followed by a hand resting on my back.

“Y/n what happened are you doing”? It was Bucky. Of course it was. The man who always found me at my weakest.

“Go away”! I yelled, shoving him away which only resulted in more pain, resulting in me falling into the same position as before, both arms wrapped around my torso. 

“Please” I sobbed, not nearly as loud as before “Please just leave me alone” For a moment the room was silent, the only sound being me trying to suppress my crying. Then, I felt that same reassuring hand, lifting me to my feet.

“You know I can’t just leave you here doll” Bucky said softly, like he was talking to a wounded animal. He gently helped me to my feet, before I lashed out once again.

“I can do it myself” I said, pushing him away, only to almost fall again, but Bucky was there to catch me, lifting me off my feet and carrying me back to my room. This time I didn’t fight it.

He sat me down on my bed and I dangled my legs over the side, allowing Bucky to sit next to me after he turned on the lamp next to my bed. We sat there for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a few seconds. I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and stop existing. But no matter how much I looked at the floor, Bucky continued to look at me.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, doll” He asked suddenly. I caught me off guard, and I didn’t respond right away, so he continued. “You were in a coma not even two months ago. You’ve been on bed rest since last week. You’re not even supposed to lift heavy objects why do you think you can do this”?

“I need to do it,” I said quietly, but this wasn’t a good enough answer.

“You don’t need to do anything, you need time to heal, you’re broken and-” I didn’t let him finish

“I’m not broken!” I screamed standing but Bucky stayed still, afraid that any movement from him would make my reaction worse. “I am not some fragile piece of glass. I was raised to be a killing machine! I’ve killed people Bucky! I’m trying so hard to get my life back, to do better, to help people but I am constantly reminded that I am weak! I don't have super strength, I don't have super healing, I’m just a nobody, and I need to prove that I’m worthy to be on this team!” 

The room was silent after that, Bucky looking at me with an expression that I could only describe as sadness. He slowly stood, walking over to where I stood across from him, gently bringing a hand up to wipe away tears that I hadn’t realized had fallen, before gently cupping my face.

“You aren’t a fragile piece of glass, and you aren't some nobody, not to the team. Not to me” He said, and that was all it took for me to break down completely. I rested my head on his chest, and sobbed, I let out every anxiety, and fear and pain I had been holding onto for all this time, and he just held me until all that was left was me.

“Why are you taking care of me”? I asked finally, being able to catch my breath and wipe my tears away. “I know we are partners and everything, but you came every day while I was in the hospital. You didn’t have to do that”

“Y/n. On that day, when the explosion happened, I saw you get hit, and the whole time I was running to you, I was pleading, praying, begging any otherworldly force just please, don’t let her be dead. But then I got to you, and you were just so still” I could hear Bucky holding back tears. “I couldn’t stand the thought of having to live in this world without you”

It was now Bucky's turn to look at the floor. “When you were in your coma, I never left. I slept in a chair right by your side, I read to you every day. Told you all the things I wish I had told you while you were awake… Please y/n, I need you to be ok” He finished, finally looking back into my eyes, waiting for a reaction.

“What did you say?” I asked after a moment, causing him to look confused. “What did you say that you wish you could have told me while I was awake”?

Bucky let out a breath, moving his hands to gently rest on either side of my face. “I told you how on the first day you walked into the compound, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. How when you made fun of Steve's’ whole  language bit, I knew that I had fallen for you. I told you that I wish I had made you laugh more while you were still awake, because it's my favorite sound and the thought of never hearing your voice again broke my heart. I told you that in the last three years in working together, I have fallen so, terrifyingly in love with you, and that I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t wake up” There was a beat of silence, tears now starting to form in both of our eyes at his confession “You’re not fragile y/n, you're the strongest, most determined, funniest, kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I need you to take care of yourself, because I don’t know what I’ll do if you get hurt like that again”

I slowly moved my hands up to meet his face, in the same manner his hands were on mine, before finally connecting my lips to his. He seemed to see it coming, because he took no time to respond. It was passionate, but not in a way that is lustful and rushed, but in a way where I was finally able to see him for the first time. It was slow, and kind, and it felt like I had finally come home.

He was the first to pull away, looking into my eyes and smiling, before reconnecting, this time with even more passion than before, moving his hands to my back pressing me closer to him, swiping his tongue along my bottom lip which I gladly accepted. We went like this for a while, before he pulled again once again when he felt my hands move from his face to his chest.

“Sorry, did I do something wrong”? I asked, panicked that I was moving too fast, which caused him to laugh, placing his hands on top of mine.

“No you’re not doing anything wrong, there's nothing I want more than to take this further, I’ve waited literal years to take this further, but you are still hurt, and I don’t want you bleeding all over the place when we get to there” He said, causing heat to rise to my cheeks, but also to cause a laugh to erupt from my chest.

“You do have a point” I laughed, leaning into him again, this time in a hug, allowing the feeling of comfort to come over me.

“I promise as soon as you’re better I’ll help you train and let you beat me up as much as you want until you feel confident, and let me show you how much I’ve been wanting to do this, But for now do you think you can stick to your bed rest? Just for a while longer?” He asked, pulling away to look into my eyes.

“I mean, I’ve waited this long to jump your bones, I guess a few more weeks won't hurt” I stated, causing him to chuckle “But I still want you to come read to me and stuff”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way”

______________________________________________________________

Hope you guys liked it! LMK if you think this should have a part two, or if you have any other feedback. Love you all!

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Ghosts from the rain forest

Summary: A simple rescue mission will bring him back to a place full of nightmares, and maybe this time he could find redemption. Situated in 1975, 2 years after the events of Skull Island.

James Conrad x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, wounds, mentions of war, cursing, implied smut, angst.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 2: Hilmi

Even when you were more than happy in the jungle in the middle of nowhere, and not having to deal with people, you couldn't deny that Bandar Seri Begawan was in fact a beautiful place, and the market of Tamu Kianggeh was always nice to walk through.

You have chose to take one more day in the city before your medicine shipment arrived tonight, and see the city some more, you even had chosen to dress up different and use one of the many dresses you bought but never use, it was nice to play the tourist for a change, even when the last time you were there you end up picking up a fight with some vendors and being stubborn enough that they end up humorously calling you Himli, that means peaceful or polite.

That's when you saw him, trying to buy some fruit from one of those sketchy vendors you have a love/hate relationship with, he was to put it on one word stunning, his dark blonde hair, perfect baby blue eyes, or maybe was the shirt he was wearing that make them bright that much, and the afternoon shadow over a perfectly sharp jawline. American maybe, after they left the country alone three years ago they have been popping up everywhere as tourists.

"That's a lot of money for a simple piece of fruit" He said to the vendor in a perfect British accent.

"Liying to tourists again Zikri?" You said in an authoritarian voice approaching them "You really are a menace"

"Ah Himli" He said part annoyed part happy to see you. "One can no longer make a decent way of living because you have to come and criticize me"

"Ten ringgits for a mango is decent?" The man said and you loved Zikri's shocked face.

"There there Prince Charming" You said winking at him "I'll buy your mangoes, just stay away from this man" you gave Zikri the 20 rn, and give the two pieces of fruit to the stranger. "Consider it a welcome to the island gift."

"Thank you, Himli was it?" He smiled at you with what of course was a perfect smile and you forgot to tell him your actual name "James Conrad" He offered you his hand.

"I prefer prince charming" You smiled back at him and shake the hand he offered you. "Aren't you a little far from your island?"

"A little, not as much as you, are you american?"

"From birth maybe, but haven't been there in ages, is way better here" You said honestly. "First time?"

"I have been before, actually, but it was not that great then, although 'm quite enjoying my visit so far this time" he gave you a look that you haven't recieved in a long time, a more than welcome look by the way.

"Do you want a beer?" You said to him and point to a near bar that you like, it was 5:00 pm and you have time until 10:00 at least, to pick up the cargo, "Do British play darts?"

"I'm better at pool, but sure let's go" he said and you walked him to the bar.

A couple of beers later and a lot of bad jokes next to the pool table and you were already cursing yourself because you have to go back to the middle of nowhere the next morning, and he was going to stay there with al his beautiful self alone.

A couple minutes later he was teaching you how to play, and the electricity that run through your back when he hold you in his arms was enough to make you lost touch with reality. By the time your mind tried to wake you up, you were already kissing against his hotel door, and by that time there was not much else to do, apart from opening the door and let your burning clothes fall to the ground and follow the pure instinct that was driving you.

"James we are ready" a young man voice said from the other side of the door hours later and make you wake up from the sheets you were covered with.

"Thanks Slivko, I'll be out in a minute" James said and make a shh sing to you with his long perfect finger.

"What time is it?" You said quietly, smiling at him and the sweet puppy eyes he have trying to make you stay in bed.

"Hey Reg, what time is it?" He asked the boy on the other side.

"Almost nine man, we are waiting, I'll be at the lobby."

"Fuck" you said standing up and quickly taking up your clothes "I'm so sorry, but I have to leave, this was... amazing. Thank you"

"You have nothing to thank for, if anything you have become my single happiest memory from this place" He said with dark shadow crossing his eyes and you were dying to ask what he mean but your seller was a dick and you had to flee.

"If you are still here tomorrow I promise you I'll give you a couple more happy memories" you kissed him one more time and walked out of his window, thankfully his room was on the ground.

You ran as fast as you could to put on work clothes, something your seller would respect and not that ridiculous dress. Noah was neither a good nor a bad man, he only followed an strictly business ethic, and for a man who robbed big hospitals to sell medicine and vaccines in the black market he was quite picky about punctuality and respecting previous arrangements, maybe it was just a British thing, you would have to ask James later. You smiled thinking on how well that have gone down, it have been quite some time since you feel like a normal woman, able to have a little romantic afternoon with a handsome man, he was definitely a nice change from the mercenaries you usually hang around.

This was definitely not what you have planned out of your life, you could still remember the you from ten year ago, that who believed she was helping shape the world into a better place by making cultivation practices more efficient, it was a dumb dream now, with all the devastation humanity had caused, especially with all the damage your government had created by using their precious Orange Agent, that's what have finally driven you apart from the big man, the idea that some day one of your creations could end up killing and damaging innocent people. You have seen personally the mutations and illness those substances could produce, and how men only following orders caused that damage without any remorse, that kind of men you truly hate, if there was anything that you couldn't tolerate in this world was soldiers, all of them pretending to be heroes when they were only glorified murderers...

You shake those thoughts out of your head and took the money for Noah in a bag, and walked into the night to the peers. Like always you wanted to be there before he and his man arrived.

"Always a pleasure making business with you Y/N" Noah said counting out the money "And as always my boys are ready to help you carry this precious cargo to its destination" He always made those fake ceremonious remarks that you didn't like. The boys as he called them were already packing the medicine into your truck and would scort you back to Borneo the next morning.

"You are a life saver" you smiled at him as fake as he did.

"Boss we found a rat" one of his man said suddenly appearing from behind one of the many containers that were at the peers, he was using a large gun to push a young looking man towards you, with his hands behind his head.

"What? Who is this little shit?" Noah said suddenly losing his charm "Y/N what are you playing here?" He took you rather harsh from the wrist and start shaking you.

"I haven't see him in my life" You said honestly, trying to make sense out of that bizarre situation. "You are hurting me Noah what the hell?"

"Well then he is just some nasty nobody, kill him" He said to his man, still not letting you go, and you were about to scream him to stop when an angry voice talked from the shadows behind you.

"I wouldn't to that if I were you, we have you surrounded so let the boy and Dr. Y/L/N go" you turned around in shock immediately when you recognize his voice.

"Captain Conrad?" Noah's voice sounded terrified and he let you go immediately and signaled his man to release the boy and then he turned at you total panic "You bring bloody SAS on me Y/N?"

"What? Of course not, wait what do you mean SAS?" You said looking confused at both men, James had come closer to help the young guy.

"Y/N? I thought your name was Hilmi" Now it was Conrad's turn to look confused.

"Would someone explain what the fuck is happening here?" The guy, Slivko was it? Said as confused as you.

"I don't bloody know, but I know this, I'm leaving, boys let the nice Dr. take care of her medicine alone." The five men with the cargo let the boxes on the ground and start walking towards their own vehicle "Please don't call me again" He said looking at you one last time. "Captain" he made one solemn bow to James and almost run out of there.

"What? No, Noah please wait!" But he was already away. "What the fuck is going on?" You turned angry to face Conrad "Did you have any idea of what you just did? And how in hell you knew I would be here? Captain" you said putting a lot of hate in the last word.

"Beg your pardon? How was I supposed to know that you were buying drugs from a bloody mercenary?!" Why the fuck was he angry? He was not going to stay waiting for medicine for a month "And by the way Doctor" Oh very mature Conrad "I thought your name was Hilmi"

"Oh excuse me, your majesty for not going around giving my profession and full name everywhere I go" Then the realization hit you like a lightning "How did you know I was here? You work for that annoying man from DC right?" Oh you were absolutely furious now. "I don't go peacefully when Mr Houston snap his fingers and he send a militar party to get me back, is that it? What if I said no? Are you going to put a gun on my head and force me to walk??"

"I work with Brooks Houston that's true" He started making his voice soft trying to de escalate the situation making you more mad. "But I believe we can found a way you can come back with us"

"Well is settle then" you said sweetening your voice too. "Reg was it?" You said at the boy that still looked pretty confused "Lift with your knees son, some of those boxes are heavy" you pay him on the back and then look back at Conrad "Tell the rest of your men if they are actually surrounding us that we leave at 5" He was about to say something but you were not going to allow it "If I have to come back to America at least I'm going to finish my work first, one month tops, is all I'm saying" He nodded angrily and made sing in the air with his hand and suddenly another 4 men appear and started loading the truck.

You walk away from them back to your hotel furious about the situation, of course he was not really interested in you, he was being paid to lure you back home, how could you be so stupid? You got in the shower and turned on the hot water so you could wash away his touch from your skin, this whole day was a mistake, one you would never make again.

[lantilay-blog]

Title:Is it over yet?

(*Warning*dealing with drugs and mental health)

Look I didn’t want to be here, I don’t wanna wind up on the news. “Caucasion boy found half dead on an alleyway.”I swear if you're reading this and your thinking about it, I swear dude I will beat your ass myself. Be an idiot and die or don’t be an idiot like yours truly, and go to school gosh darnit

Being someone like me sucks, and why would you want to be me?

My name is Dravite Russo and I live in Memphis Tennessee (TE) Probably on the ranking for most dangerous cities. The part of Memphis I live in, Beale street isn’t particularly the worst of the entire city but you know...I moved here a couple years ago when I was about 9-years old and I left a lot of family and friends behind that I cared for deeply. I knew I couldn't be sad about leaving some and forgetting some so... I had to change my attitude quickly and forget about it like it was nothing.

New town means new school! I went to Peabody Elementary School and the first week of school was actually pretty laid back. Teachers acted chill too and it meant a non-stressful year for me. I was a top A student and people at my old school wouldn't talk to me because of it. They thought I was too smart for them, basically snobby I guess.Your probably thinking I was lonely, but actually no. I was so occupied with school and the work that comes with it, that I almosted didn't have time for mutual talking or hanging and even taking a minute out my day to breathe. Feelings and expression and even talking to classmates didn't happen.

I was basically a walking school and ate all the teachers. Looking back now I think I wanted to know everything in order to be enough, but see the problem is that nobody knows everything. What was even the point? There’s a lot of parents who see that their child got an 80 and still aren't happy. My parents never missed a chance to say “good job” or even rewarding me with something. Apparently it wasn't enough, I guess I don't want attention, I just wanted to get the work done and graded and move to the next one.

I couldn’t even tell you what made me so insecure about how people viewed me. It's really confusing because I didn't care what people said or how they looked me up and down in the hallways. Future me sees a big insecure kid wanting attention and recognition but also not wanting it at all.Or to even cause the slightest bit of trouble. I felt like a nobody without my knowledge and school in general.

When I went home I’d study till I passed out and for homework I knew the answers were right but I made sure I looked it up in textbooks and looked it up online just in case. Then I’d do an additional practice and then get on with my night at this point… I could have been a prodigy but the sound of skipping grades to be put in higher classes just because I was smart wasn't really gonna work out for me.

I wanted to be able to work hard for those grades and also feel like I did work my ass off. Even if I understood something I wanted to understand it more and more.

When middle school came along, everything changed. I started staying up later because I had a lot more homework and tests to study for. I started to even join some after school activities like newspaper and yearbook club. I started worrying about my grades even though they were good, I still felt nervous somehow. I was starting to get overwhelmed, or impatient that my grades haven’t been updated.

I was in my 8th grade year and still haven't made a single friend. Getting up each day felt worse than the next and not getting enough sleep was because of it. I almost felt like I was falling behind even though my grades again were good. I really felt forced to be productive even though I was the main source causing me to and feel.

I've started to feel stressed and very scared for the future. I kept thinking what would have been the point if none of my time and effort got me a good job or got me in a good college first of all. I thought I wasn't even gonna be good enough after all this. I might have just been in the 8th grade but time was already moving without me so I had to catch up. I’m already lost and pretending not to be.

Then comes highschool. Highschool is… a very interesting place, for many and just overall something. Highschool is one of the most important times for you. It's time to really pay attention and actually do your homework and study till you pass out once again. It might not be college but it's almost like a preparation for you to get ready.

High School was really hard for me believe it or not. Your over productive kid that never chills out says

“ he has a hard time.’’ I know how it sounds but hear me out please…

August 7th 2015, 4 years ago, I was a 16 year old junior going to Central High school. I was in my AP Physics C class and I’m called down to the office. When I get down to the office, one of the principles directs me towards the back to her room. She told me to sit down and before she speaks, she takes a deep breath and w hen she closed her mouth to finish and opens it again to say “I’m sorry,” I think I zoned out for a minute and almost vomit.

I remember not being able to speak, but all I heard her say was, “dead, family.” mom, sister and my dad, had been in a car accident and ended up dying in the hospital nearby. I never thought this… or something like this would happen to me. I remember thinking I worked so hard just to be disappointed. I was thinking now there gonna send me to an orphanage and forget this ever happened.

One of the teachers had to take me to see seem them. I appreciate the one teacher, Misses. Roxxnne for taking time out of her job to take me to see my family. She was actually one of those teachers that didn't treat you just like a student. When we got to the hospital I remember feeling some anxiety and having to force myself through the slide doors. They told us which room each of them were in and we visited them one by one.

Each bruise, cut and wound was hard to look at. Maybe it would of been a lot different if they were actually alive but there not. There... dead and didn't take me with them or why couldn't it just be me with my selfish longing for attention. I tried to hold myself together for Misses.Roxann but once I seen my little sister I just broke down. I never felt this hurt, betrayed, and lost before, makes me wonder how am I supposed to even feel sometimes...Now that I have no family I’m an orphan now. Will wait for years just to be disappointed again. I don’t want a new family, I want my family. I've already seen reality and I know I won't ever get them back and surely if I want a new family it won't be anytime soon.

Nobodys gonna even want a 16 year old. They'll want the younger kids. They have more years with the younger ones so it makes sense. Where Would I go anyway. .It’s not like I can go anywhere so I guess home sweet home...

Let me reintroduce myself. I’m Dravite Russo, I’m 20 years old and have a drug addiction.

Later in school when my addiction started I never paid attention, “class what does not paying attention result to” failing your tests or just in generel not having a fucking clue what’s happening! Come on it’s not that difficult, it especially shouldn't be difficult when teachers offered candy for whoever had that right answer…

I ended up dropping out my junior year when this all happened. I didn't have a lot of family around where I lived so I was forced to live at a good for nothing orphanage. A lot of people think that will have a better life there, but you don’t. You either got a chance to miss your family or missing the fact you never had one. when we do find the one it's certainly not going to be any time soon, like I said.

Throughout highschool and growing up and going through it and all that shit you know. I was really lost and felt lonely and when I found drugs… It really did change my life in a negative and positive way, believe it or not

LDS, Lysergic acid dieth ...something like that but for short acid. What it effects are thoughts, feelings and awareness of surroundings. You hear and see crap that’s not there apparently. See having a high person such as myself try and explain what they're high on isn’t the wisest choice. I mean I know what I’m taking but also don’t really care.

You're probably wondering why I didn't want to wound up on the news dead... Earlier today I decided to walk to the gas station near my aparment and before going I took 4 sheets of LSD. If you want to get to the gas station there's an alley you walk through or drive through. I was about to be right by the store and I immediately fall to the ground. Tears and the acid coming out of my mouth and nose, coughing and choking on my own doing. I couldnt breath, my heart was jumping out of my chest. I really thought I was gonna freaking die and I wasn't damn near ready to die yet.

I’m in the hospital now and a couple of investigators and police people dudes informed me that I won't be charged but will have to go to rehab obviously… When I got to my room I really pondered for a moment about everything. I didn't wanna come out of rehab and do the same shit again so i'll make it my goal. I have to pledge to become free of drugs. To be free from toxic things.

Police report: 8/10/19, Caucasion boy was investigated and was found addicted to LDS and was found in an alleyway found half dead. He was later sent to a hospital and treated and was free from any charges. He was sent to rehab after a week from being in the hospital.8/16/19, 0800 (8:00 am) Dravite Russo was found dead faced down in his bathtub and was assumed to have taken sleeping pills on the side of the tub and a few on the floor. He was prosomed to die at 0300 (3:00 am) hours. in the morning.

Please give me some opinions and critical comments I’d really appreciate it!