#Being here get me in such a bad mood. Ive been stable for a while now but i feel it sinking. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kidfoundonstreets · 8 months

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okay uhm the scarf guy and the pigtsail guy from yttd . and charlotte and lime from wh. and uhhhhhhhhh anyone from cinderella game

head in hands HIAAIIEY HYEHEYEH HAII ROBIN <333!!! TAHNKYOU please know the opffer is pen for you anytime.. anywhere.. smooches your forehead okay so i like the pgistial and scarfie scarf guy because theyre so fcuked up ina ll of the ways. i like how they make me wanna throw up and shove my head inside a sewer while inhaling fanfiction of them like toxic gas. that aside the angst and to put it simply fucked up potential in their dynamic is what draws me to them, i enjoy how complex it could be - your abuser could love you but not in all the right ways, it could exist, shin and how they care about one another with the idealistic frankly obsessive posessive view midori has with him as well like the cut scene of him c rying over shin HELLOOO?? anyway theyre silly to me. guy who lives in your house is also your roomammte old friend bestie lover worst person you know etc jerk weird weird satrange weird. i could write a lot more if it was speciifc but im very bad with words sooaoaahahdhwh <3 oh and gore chalrtotoe and lime are also one of my fav dynamics yesss horrible yuri. chalrotte never wnating to give up on lime while lime has al;ready given up for any sort of proper undertsnaidng she craves bwteen them, heyre friends but one wants more while the other doesnt, it doesnt even have to eb romantic it just hurts because charlotte was all by herself or maybe just singled with the others apathy toward semotions so seeing lime full of emotion and passion and pain who could get chalrotte probably also ironically struck a chord in her - and shes always worried for her, like she might go too far, and when she does she just starts crying. thats the good shit. a hoepless ending a hopeless dynamic but they kiss sometimes in my brain to make it worse. perfect. that cinderlelal game ,, ,,,, !! oh god please dont stirke me here IM SO EMABRARSED i dont have any ships in that game so ill go on with that xoxoxoxoxooxox dorpelts one ive been playing ! i really like how with shiloh theres this fake "is this true is this not" with him, you never really know and thats what the fandom loves about him whcih i agree its an addicting type of thang, and even in the end its not completely clear. all we relaly get is that its sure at least that he does value jb at least a ltitle or see her as of value, as she does end up consistnetly vomplimented talked to and by his side through the end. he cant have a verison of hismelf that isnt manipulative, long gone, and you need to accept that. theyre awful divorce. i cant get enough of it. jbs overflowing confidence and shiloh right beside her like a dog with a knife, begging for any sort of scraps because hes a liar. a mnaipualtor. like jeoekr! or kokcichi . ezxcept hes actually good . can you imagine it. ironically hes probably the most untrustworthly one there becausre atleast the others say what theyre thinking. shiloh is a mixed bag and every word has at least a little bit of a truth and lie to it.

ut thats how they like eahcother and its fun interesting we arnet here for a long time we're here for a fun time for nate it givess a bit more of a genuine perspective, im not used to jb being comforitng or nice tbh lol. but its clear that they atleast fiteachother even if jb isnt the nicest one for him - i think shes the only one who can keep up with his intense moods and issues stacked on him and his rough exterior. hes honestly a pretty decent guy if you dont piss him off whcih is easy. closeness issues. commitment issues. nothing is ever stable issues. i get it bro. the thing with all of these dynamics in this game is that they do somehow in a hilariously awful way is complete eachother, i cant say if any of them will end well but its obvious that theres chemistry in all of their interactions and i love love love this game. anyway i also relaly liked how with nate you dont kiss him at all and instead get a hug at the ened, its nice compared to shiloh who just goes along with everything and how jb is pulled to his wants at times (while with shiloh shes the one ofc usually taking all of the lead while hes the jester) - i think it really digs in how much he trusts her to go that extreme and vomit-inducing lengths at the end because he wants their kiss to be perfect qnd it isnt perfect right now. but hes ready to keep going because of this stupid bitch (jb). and i find that super sweet

#long post

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outofcontexturi · 2 years

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aug 29th 2022

im currently on shrooms and im having a bit of a weird high. things feel heightened in a way but not in a way i particularly like it. its a weird high. i dont understand how my friends like this shit compared to edibles. i love the way edibles make me feel but these shrooms are fucking strong and they make me feel down or like stoic so im gonna stop taking them from now cause they dont serve any purpose for me anymore im afraid. i get nothing from them. im glad im documenting this so i have a record of this shit cause i feel like this will help me not go back to these ever cause i seem to always have a weird time with them. they used to make me feel good or at least ive had one good experience or maybe two but the rest of them have been weird. this is weirdly therapeutic in a way. just journalling my thoughts like this. not being afraid to say what im afraid of may be a power in and of itself in a weird way. my belly hurts. and my head hurts so im wondering if thats just a thing that happens whenver i take shrooms but whenever i take them eddys i feel GREAT. feel like i can take on the world. its not even like i feel lost or anything. i know im me and i know im destined for great things but this current feeling is bad. i wont say terrible cause its not but it is a bad feeling considering what it is. but maybe this is a psychedelic that is telling me that im just not ready for it yet. its not something you can take like an edible and think you’re gonna get the same results. it doesnt work like that. im on facetime with saffrah at the moment. its silent. i kinda like it like that. im sure she can hear me typing away but i really enjoy the sound and flow of my typing. saffrah just hung up on me. i dont know how i feel. for a moment i felt lonely and then i had the thought that i have to be brave and now im here. present with the world and my thoughts haha. bethlehem is messaging me. i feel like im in a stable mood somewhat. im not good, im not bad but kinda in a limbo and thats not where you wanna be on a shroom. i wanna feel the euphoria but you cant search for a feeling you just have to feel whatever is available and let it pass. the good thing about all of this is that it will pass. and im blessed. God blessed me. i can overcome anything if i have the courage to take a leap of faith. i think i hear myself or a varation of myself screaming in my head or at least crying or some sort. its weird but now im a bit emotional. im like an hour and a half into my shroom trip. its 23:34. 23:51 listening to kanye west’s 2007 performance and i just feel good. mum wants me to pray with her. i feel good. im in a good mood. typing is a good asmr sound that i like. stronger just came on by kanye and im in a better mood. i understand why they say just feel the feelings when youre on these drugs. i have a nice face.the shrooms are kinda working now. i feel good. i feel very good. my care for things is gone again. i feel like im in my optimal. touch the sky. im gonna pray with lauren and probably call saffrah back. im listening to all of the lights at the larry hoover concert. mike dean really did his fucking job with the synths!! do you hear those synths?!??! man thats godly! i feel good. my head hurts less but i feel something. i feel like the more expressive i am the more expressive people are around me haha how pretentious of me like bruh come on man. but then again. currently listening to lil wayne’s dedication series (dedication 4). cashed out. i have to say lil wayne is the greatest rapper alive. he has it all man. cadence. wordplay. versatility. storytelling ability. 1:11! just saw another angel number. 1:37am listening to 50 cent many men. idk why but im just feeling things and thats okay. just messaged Honey to ask if shes okay cause she said she disassociating for a while but im here for her. and i love her. so theres that. i think im gonna end this here for now and start a new thingy but i really like hearing my typing which is why im still typing like cmon man. i feel good . listening to lets get blown by snoop and im gonna sign off there. God bless. love uri xx 01:43am 30th aug 2022 tues

#journal

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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love me sober // javid

ive ALSO posted this one before but i just made a BUNCH of edits and changed the ending, so, here we go!!

Love Me Sober

some things for this fic: -Sad Jack -there’s a lot of feelings in this one -idk if there’s anything else. just Sad -but reconciliation at the end !

WARNINGS: alcohol abuse, arguments, cursing, descriptions of withdrawal symptoms. please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable!! take care of yourself!!

"Jack, tell me you aren't drinking again."

The shakiness. The mood swings. The incoordination. All of it is painfully obvious, and Jack knows it. He knows he's struggling. He knew he isn’t hiding it as well as he should have been, and now he's made David upset.

“Jackie, answer me.”

How pathetic is that? There he is, staring at his boyfriend, unable to even speak. David has probably known for a while. Right? No- if David had known, he would have left. He would have called Jack an idiot and cursed him out for ruining his life. Jack didn’t deserve anything else.

“Jack!”

David has always been so, so pretty. He has sharp features. An angular nose, one that Jack had drawn over and over, in addition to those gorgeous eyes. David’s eyes are so beautifully blue, and Jack had spent countless hours slumped over a sketchbook, trying to accurately portray that look of adoration that David always gives him.

That look was certainly not the look he was giving Jack now.

“Why- Why are you just staring at me? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his throat closing up. Not good enough.

“You- You’re sorry? God damn it, Jack, I-- You promised you were okay!” David is running his hands through his hair. He had gotten a haircut a few days ago, and Jack thinks it looks perfect. Not as long as before. David has started pushing it up so it isn’t in his face while he works. “I knew it was a bad idea for you to stop going to meetings, I knew--”

“The meetings didn’t fucking work!” Loud. Jack is being loud. He stands from his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “They didn’t fucking work, okay?! I went for /you/, David, and- and I hated it! I hated it but you always looked so fuckin’ proud when I came home and- and I-- Fuck! Fuck, Davey, I couldn’t do it anymore! Do you know how hard it is?! All'a those fuckin' people in there were fine and I was fuckin' shaking the entire time! I can't function, David!”

“That’s when you fucking talk to me, Jack! I could have helped! I /want/ to help you get better! I'm not trying to be your enemy here! I love you, you just... You need to be honest with me." David takes a step toward him, and Jack takes a step back. They do this dance until Jack feels the wall against his back, but David doesn’t dare move closer- he’s still positioned about three feet away to give Jack space.

Usually, Jack would be grateful for the space, for the opportunity to initiate the touch.

Now, though, all he wants is for David to hold him and tell him he’s alright, instead of looking at him with that desperate disappointment.

“How long, Jack? How long have you been drinking again?”

Jack can’t ignore the look on his face. “Two months.”

“Two mo-- Jesus, Jack, I knew something was going on, but I just thought--”

“Thought what? Huh?” Jack is defensive. Defensive is never good, but he feels anger coursing through his veins and there’s nothing else to say. “What, you- you thought I wasn’t fucked up anymore? You thought I was normal again?”

David takes in a deep breath. “You aren’t fucked up, you’re just struggling right now. Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“Then stop fuckin’ talkin’ to me like a child, Dave!” Jack shakes his head. “Please, just- just stop! I don’t need your fuckin’ help, because there’s nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Which is it, Jack?!” David raises his voice. He’s not screaming, but Jack has never heard him like this. “You say you’re fucked up, you say you can't function, and then you say nothing is wrong with you-- What am I supposed to do?! You say you’re sorry, but you don’t let me try to help you, and you say that the meetings weren’t helping but you don’t want to try something else, and- I just- I don’t know what to do here! I love you, Jack, and I want to help you, but you're so- you're contradicting yourself again! I need a straight answer, Jack. What are you doing right now?!"

A deep breath. Heart pounding in his ears. Shaking hands and tears clouding his vision. “I’m leaving.”

Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he can’t backtrack now.

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” Jack repeats, squaring his shoulders.

David stares at him with a critical gaze. He looks confused, then angry, then sad, then… numb, all within three seconds. Jack has never seen that expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Of course you are. That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it?” David laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. There are tears welling in his eyes and he looks so hurt and Jack knows he fucked up, but all he can do is nod.

“Just--” David cuts himself off by ripping his gaze away from Jack, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he clenches his fists next to his side. His face is red. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Just go, Jack, if you think- if you think that’s the best choice for you right now. I trust your judgement.”

Jack swallows. “Just for a few days.”

David nods. “For a few days. Sure.” He turns away, walking toward their bedroom.

They’ve been together for nearly two years. Lived together for six months. And Jack was fucking it up.

David stops just in front of their bedroom door, gripping the doorframe. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me until you’re sober." With that, David walks into the bedroom and slams the door behind him.

Jack stares at the door, takes in a deep breath, and exhales in a sob as he gathers his keys, phone, and wallet. He looks back at the door, whispering a broken, "I love you," before walking out to his car.

***

Two weeks.

It takes two weeks for Jack to work up the courage to go home.

He's been with his mother the entire time, who he knows has been sending David updates every few days. Medda had taken care of him. Helped him through the shakes and the urges, the mood swings and the violent anxiety attacks, and he still isn't out of the clear, but he feels calm for the first time in months. He feels stable, even if the stability will only last a few hours at the most.

And that's why he decides to go home, because the calm he feels has brought along the realization that he misses Davey. He misses his boyfriend, the love of his life. He misses him so, so much, and he... He wants to prove that he's better. That he will be better.

When Jack walks up the steps to their apartment, he feels as though he's going to lose his lunch. None of his shit is sitting on the curb, so at least he hasn't been kicked out or replaced, but that still doesn't do much to ease his anxiety. With a deep breath, Jack takes the plunge and knocks on the door, staring down at his shoes while he waits.

The door, surprisingly, opens almost immediately. "Wow, sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be here so fast," David says quickly, and Jack looks up, seeing David fumble with his wallet. "It was, uh, $19--" He cuts himself off as he finally notices Jack standing there, and his face falls. "...You... You're back..."

"And, unfortunately, I'm not the pizza guy," Jack whispers with a nervous grin, then takes a step back. "I-- I went to Mama's for a while. I ain't had nothin', you can- you can ask her, and I went to a meeting, and I-- I am so, so sorry, Davey, for everything, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I-- I want to get better, and I want us to get better, and I--"

"Jackie," David whispers, reaching out to take his hand. "Just... just come inside. It's okay, Jack. You're home now, and that's all that matters."

Jack squeezes David's hand, takes in a deep breath, and crosses the threshold. Instantly, he's pulled into a protective hug by David, and Jack can't help but relax into his hold. The first of his tears spill over as David kisses his forehead, and he's soon sobbing, apologizing, whispering against the fabric of David's hoodie. And David lets him get it all out. David allows him to get everything out of his system.

Because they both know that this, right here, is rock bottom. And they both know that the only way to go from here is up.

#idk how i feel about this one but i also like it so #yeah #javid #javey #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #newsies #newsies live #livesies #jac writes #jac txt.

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pretend-writer · 4 years

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Down Below (Chapter 67)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: mention of death, mention of violence, swearing

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

It was hard to believe in second chances after all I’ve done down at the bunker. Despite telling myself over the past few years that what I did was for Wonkru and to support Octavia, I knew in my heart that it was a shitty thing to do.

But here I stood next to Bellamy as we looked out the window of Eligius IV, staring at our possible new home that Monty researched for us all these years we were in cryo sleep.

‘Monty did all of this... for us...’ Bellamy mumbled to himself, looking at the new planet in awe. ‘This...’

‘This is amazing.’ The words slipped out of my mouth, enjoying the beautiful view we had from up this ship. Who would’ve known that Earth wasn’t the only livable place in the universe? By the way it seemed, the planet full of green life, it was habitable for humans. But we wouldn't know for sure until we get to the ground.

‘Yeah, I’m really excited actually. I don’t know a life outside this ship.’ Jordan grinned widely, ‘Also, it’s nice meeting you two finally. Monty and Harper talked a lot about you guys.’

It was crazy to think that Monty and Harper had a child, but it was more insane to think that they were both gone. Instead of going to cryo, they’ve decided to live the rest of their lives together.

They had their own family, finally had a life away from war and lived in peace. Now that I think about it, it sounded so beautiful. I knew that Monty and Harper were happy together, they deserved all of that and more.

‘Y/N, before I log off from my final video...’ Monty smiled through the camera, ‘I want to thank you for taking care of Jasper. I always wonder if I tried hard enough, he’d still be with us today. Because of everything you’ve done for him, I know that all that happened at the bunker wasn’t the real you, I truly believe that. Even though you did scare me.’

‘Throughout the times from when we landed on Earth to now, you’ve always done what’s best for everyone. That’s all that matters in the end. I hope that on this planet, we can all do better and look out for each other.’ Monty smiled one last time, ‘I believe in you guys. May we meet again.’

‘May we meet again.’ Bellamy and I whispered as Monty logged out of the video. The tears streamed down my face, not being able to process that Monty wasn't with us anymore.

He was the one that gave me hope; after dealing with Mount Weather, Monty was the one that made me realize that I had to push through to be an asset again. He pulled me out of a dark place that I never thought I'd ever leave. He even realize that Skafaiya had changed, that I was being better.

If it wasn't for him, reassuring that I can do better I would of never realized what I've become and all that bad that I've done. I should be thanking him for that, I wish I thanked him before we parted ways.

'Who else should I wake up?' Jordan asked sweetly. 'My dad programmed cryo to wake us up but not the others.'

My dad. Wow I could never get used to that, I thought to myself. I wish I was able to congratulate Monty and Harper, except it happened a hundred years ago.

'We can't wake everyone, it'll be chaotic. We can get the people who can go down and help us search around. Starting with Shaw, the pilot.' Bellamy nodded, he turned to me and flashed a smile.

I shrugged, not really in the mood to talk to him. After what Raven had told me about Bellamy and Echo, I didn't know if I was able to stand him. 'Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.'

'You okay, Reyes?' Bellamy reached for me to hold his hand, except I took a step back. He cocked his head, confused. Last time I saw him, we were in good terms and wanted to start over again. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' I avoided his eye contact as I left the room. Bellamy followed me into the cryo room, not saying a word as he tried to give me space.

I'd rather not wait and instead, tell him the whole truth about what I knew about The Ring. The problem was the fact that he was acting as if nothing happened, as if he didn't kiss another girl while he was in space. Bellamy made me feel bad about the bunker when the fact was that he was hiding things from his at-the-time girlfriend.

As I worked the cryo machine, I woke up the people we needed to venture down with on the new planet. Each person popped out of cryo, slowly waking up as if they were just taking a short nap.

'No, not her.' Bellamy rested his hand on mine, stopping me from pressing the button. 'We can't wake Octavia up.'

'Why not? Are you still scared of her?'

'If someone is already living on this planet, we don't want Blodreina fucking everything up.'

'Well, if someone is actually down there and if they happen to be savages, don't we need someone who can fight?' Murphy walked towards us, giving me a hug from the side. 'Just saying.'

Bellamy rolled his eyes, didn't know if it was from John being close to me or the fact that he was told what to do about his sister. 'I'm not taking that risk. I'm sure we will be fine ourselves.'

'Alright, you're the boss.' John dropped the conversation, quickly turning to me. 'Can I talk to you, Y/N?'

'Yeah, of course.' I nodded, smiling at him before he walked away.

In the corner of my eyes, I saw Bellamy staring at me. I could tell that he was confused, maybe a bit jealous too. With all that's happened, I didn't know whether to feel bad or let him be. Either way, I left the room.

Following Murphy out of the cryo room, he led me to the hallway. 'I missed you. Even though it feels like I just saw you 10 minutes ago.'

I giggled, feeling butterflies like I did when I kissed him before we headed to cryo sleep. 'To be fair, it's been over hundred years.'

'And yet, your shot wound hasn't healed.' John pointed at my leg, 'Saw you limping earlier.'

'Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm always fine.' I smiled. Wanting to get everything out the way, I decided to talk to him about the obvious topic we had to discuss. 'I haven't told Bellamy by the way.'

He nodded, 'I figured. It's okay, there's no need to rush it.'

'But I feel bad, I don't want it to be a secret or anything.'

'Don't feel bad because whatever we have, it's worth it. I don't mind the mystery either. Besides, sneaking around is kind of a turn on.'

This feeling I had for him felt so right, so nostalgic; felt way better than feeling pressured by Bellamy to be different and to feel bad about who I was. I didn't have to pretend with John, we knew each other majority of our lives and he understood what I've been through.

What I didn't understand was why all this time, Bellamy guilted me about the years I spent in the bunker when he had secrets he was keeping from me.

Jackson suddenly rushed towards me and Murphy, looking at me as if he was very stressed. 'Jackson, what's wrong?'

'We're prepping Kane for surgery. He's awake and somewhat stable for now but-' He paused, I could tell he was scared of my reaction.

'What?'

'Kane wants to see you.'

My heart dropped, not expecting to see Marcus at all. Last time I saw him, he was unconscious and when I spoke my final words to him back at Polis, I said some pretty mean stuff.

'Can I just see him after surgery?'

'Bellamy is preparing with Clarke to go check out the new planet and he told me you're going with. Also with Kane's condition, we're afraid he might not make it.'

'You should go see him, Y/N.' John tapped my arm, 'I can come with you if you'd like.'

Marcus' condition? How bad was his injuries? I knew that one of Abby's patients attacked him but I didn't know it was this critical. No matter how much pain he brought me after all the betrayals, I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.

'I'll be okay.' I faked a smile to John, but instantly he knew I was lying.

He didn't push it though, instead he nodded in return. 'Let me know if you need me.'

'Thank you, John.' I said before I followed Jackson into a room. Raven, Abby and Bellamy looked up as the door opened for Jackson and I.

'What is she doing here?' Abby growled, staring at me as if I came to kill Marcus myself. 'She's going to trigger him and make his condition worse than it already is.'

'Kane personally asked for her. I think he has a right to see her, Abby.' Jackson replied back, 'We should give them some privacy.'

Raven nodded, 'I agree. We'll be right outside if you need us Y/N.'

'Thanks.' Raven and Jackson left the room, Abby still glaring at me as she stood next to Kane laying on the bed.

'I'm not going anywhere Y/N. I don't trust you for-'

'It's okay Abby. Give us some space, I need to speak to her.' Marcus spoke up, putting his hand on hers. 'We will be fine.'

Abby huffed as she headed to the door. 'If anything happens to him, it's on you.'

Bellamy looked at me with sad eyes, I guess he understood my situation with me and Marcus after I told him before he got into the fighting pit; sorry flushed across his face.

He reached for my hand but I quickly swept it away, I didn't even mean to do it. 'I-I want to be alone with him if that's okay, Bellamy?'

'Ah. Sure.' Bellamy whispered, scratching his temple as he left the room.

I slowly walked over to Marcus' bed, holding my breath. I didn't know what to say or what to feel after everything that had happened.

'How are you?' He whispered, not being able to speak loudly. The patient had stabbed Marcus on his neck, causing him to lose a lot of blood.

'I should be the one asking you that.' The bloody bandage on his neck scared me a little, I've never seen him so helpless.

'Physically, I can tolerate this pain but emotionally I'm not okay.' Marcus' voice cracked, 'I'm sorry for what I did to you.'

'What are you sorry about exactly?' I didn't mean to sound petty, I genuinely needed to know if I was ready to forgive him. It hurt that someone I love so much turned his back on me, but it was hard to keep hating him also.

Marcus paused, carefully turning his head toward me. His eyes started to water and he lightly whimpered. 'About everything, monkey.'

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold my tears in. It made me feel sad for him, but for what? He betrayed me not once but twice; The first time in the bunker after he never believed that Abby blackmailed me and when he turned against Wonkru to work with Diyoza.

His betrayal made me angry but it made me even more upset at myself for still caring for him. Just like he told me at the fighting pit, I tried to stop him for a reason. And that reason was that no matter how much pain he put me through, I cared for him.

'You know, Octavia came to me and told me what happened when the Dark Year began. That Abby had told you to shoot those people. I didn't want to believe that someone I love did those things to you. I also couldn't believe what I saw when you shot and killed Wonkru.'

'But you chose her over me, even when I came up to you about Abby. All those years you took her side and left me in the dark, made it mine and Octavia's fault that the Dark Year happened.'

'I know... I know...' He breathed, 'I just didn't want to admit that Abby would do that. I saw what you did and I didn't wanted to believe that she was behind all of this.'

'So you were okay with blaming me and not her?'

'No, I wasn't. Not at all.' Marcus held his breath, gently wiping his tears that were streaming down his face. 'I was confused, I felt like everything was falling apart. I chose the easy way out, turned you into an enemy. I never even considered how you felt at all.'

It made me mad, knowing that he knew he was wrong for blaming everything on me. All I wanted was a hug, an "I love you" or just any support from him. 'You made my life a living hell.'

'I know Y/N, I know.' He reached for my hand, his hand shaking from weakness. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'

Leaning in closer to him, I felt his touch on my cheek. It's been a long time since I've been this close to Marcus. 'I was just a kid, I was scared what Abby was going to do to Octavia. She had a gun... and I knew her drug problems and I-'

'I'm sorry, Y/N.' Kane sobbed, caressing my cheek. 'I'm sorry.'

Gently and carefully, I wrapped my arms around Marcus. Making sure not to put my whole weight on him, I hugged him as I buried my face into his chest. Tears fell down my eyes, staining Marcus' shirt with tears which added to the blood stains from his injuries.

'I just wanted you to believe me, that's all I wanted.'

'I'm sorry.' Marcus repeated over and over again. 'I'm proud of you okay? For overcoming this without me, without Bellamy or your sister.'

'Octavia was with me. She helped me through everything.'

'Oh, baby.' He shook his head, holding me tightly as he can with all the strength he had left in him. 'Why did I do this to you again? I told myself after what happened at the Ark, I wouldn't ever do anything to lose you again... Why... why?'

Even though I hated that he took Abby's side, it must've been hard for him to see her in that way. I can never justify or maybe even forgive him when he turned his back on me but I can understand the confusion he must of had.

Everyone knows I was not innocent in this at all. Not at all, not even close.

'Thank you, for apologizing.' I mumbled into his chest, hugging him a little bit longer.

'No, thank you for even coming to talk to me.'

Taking a deep breath, I recollected all my thoughts. I tried to wipe my tears off of his shirt but it all sank in. 'Sorry your shirt is wet now.'

Marcus laughed lightly, shaking his head. 'Don't worry about it. I need a new one anyway.'

Placing my hand on his cheek, I wiped his tears. 'Don't leave me again.'

'I'll try not to.'

'No, promise me you won't. You can't leave me again. Not after all that's happened.'

He looked at me, smiled as he nodded. 'Okay. I promise Y/N.'

Nodding in return, I gave him a kiss on his forehead. 'For good luck.'

'Thank you, monkey.'

'May we meet again.'

Marcus smiled once again, 'I'll see you soon kiddo.'

#bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 series #down below series #bellamy blake series #raven reyes x sister!reader #the 100 fic #bellamy blake

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backandimbamon · 4 years

Text

part III

a/n: ive been sitting on this chapter for weeks. being a perfectionist...will do things to you. enjoy and please leave a reply!

Perhaps something happened on the other side between Damon and Bonnie.

Perhaps something happened between them that shattered the defenses, the bickering, the banter, the tension... maybe it was all too much to handle and one day they decided to resolve it in a new way that was less stressful and more natural.

What if they finally focused their vision on the situation and realized it was demented, downright unfair, to trap a handsome sex pot of a vampire and a stunning little witch with magically delicious blood together forever, the last two on earth, and swear them to a platonic relationship?

A kiss? Or sex? Caroline is full Sherlock Holmes, investigator style because there is no possible way that the dynamic between Bonnie and Damon remained the same after such a...dynamic...event occurred to both of them simultaneously. She has a hunch.

But a kiss? Sex? She knows she’s jumping the gun. As much as she can project, the denial between them both would prevent such forward actions. But-

It makes sense, she thinks, perfect sense. If they decided to break that forbidden rule, are they truly to blame? She’s sure she isn’t the only one who could physically see the sexual tension brewing between the vampire and the witch since their first formal introduction. Throughout the years, it’s only increased in intensity and anyone with decent deductive reasoning skills could predict that maybe, just maybe, there was a hiccup in those roles they played so dutifully. They “hated” each other. Sure.

Being the last two on a repeating day, desperation settling, solitude dancing, they’re under the radar... anything could happen. As if on queue, her mind begins to sift through the possibilities again. She always had a knack for probability.

A bite... now that is highly likely.

Caroline can imagine Bonnie being her normal selfless, sacrificial self, asking Damon if he’s okay- it seems like he’s tired or beat since he’s been slack on their banter, his comebacks lackluster and falling flat. He lies because lying is as effortless as breathing to Damon and he politely but solidly asks Bonnie not to worry about him, that he just misses home so his mood is sour.

He tries to maintain his normal devil-may-care, overly nonchalant, effortlessly sexy character with the huge ego but it’s not quite the same. He’s not as clever and though he’s close, he’s not close enough.

She observes this.

Bonnie picks at him, rapid question-asking all while being inquisitive and selfless and caring and healing, she tells him she knows him better than he knows himself. She says she can feel when he lies.

Damon probably experiences a foreign emotion at this point, wondering why his undead heart seems as though it’s hammering, beatboxing against his bones, threatening to reveal what he wants to hide so bad.

He’s hungry.

And he’s never felt a hunger quite like this. He’s emptied every single blood bag in the freezer, still there’s this nagging sensation that no matter how much blood he consumes, even if he decides to bathe in it, if it’s not what he really wants to devour, he will never be satisfied. It’s like eating fast food when craving gourmet, that craving never ceases, it’s just mitigated for a moment with a bottom-of-the-barrel substitute. The next time the hunger returns, it leaves its victim in gut-splitting agony so much so that it’s exhausting. The hunger is kicking his ass to force him to get what he’s denying himself. Damon is the victim. For once, he is the victim here.

Bonnie being intelligent and knowing Damon, she can guess what his struggles consist of. It takes her a week to consider it. He never says it explicitly, that he wants to bite her, but the shadow of veins under his eyes says enough. Damon Salvatore is a predator. It is unnatural for him not to hunt prey for an indefinite amount of time. She is all he has.

She thinks hard on this, questioning if her empathy has reached a new level of desperation. She asks herself what is her infatuation with being needed. She asks herself why she would rip herself apart to heal others. Why she feels this undying, naked, indelible need to do for others without doing for herself. She asks herself if the roles were reversed would Damon do the same?

For a week, she watches him get weaker with want, endures his shitty moods and back talk. Not once does he ask or even hint that he’s starving.

It makes Bonnie want to offer herself up on a platter even more, there’s something wrong with her.

So she does it, in the kitchen, cuts a sliver of red at the wrist “by accident” and Damon- he looks bad. He looks blue.

She turns to grab a napkin to dab at the blood but when she turns back around he’s gone. Upstairs, his door slams hard enough that she can hear the wood split.

“Damon!” She calls after him but he doesn’t reply and she doesn’t see him again until the next night because he refuses to step out of his room.

“Stop. We need to talk,” he’s fixing Italian trying to pretend like nothing ever happened twenty-six hours before; apron on, back turned, humming. He’s not okay.

“Then talk, Bon Bon.” he adds some herbs to the white wine sauce, grated cheese beside him, back still turned.

There’s something that’s frightening her about this and it could be herself. He hasn’t even asked yet she wants this for him so bad.

“Damon. I know you’re hungry.”

“Ding, ding. I’m making dinner right now, Bon.” His voice is rough like it’s warning her not to push this any further. The pots and pans clatter a little louder in his palms. Red tomatoes a stark contrast against the pale noodles.

“I cut myself on purpose last night.”

This grabs his attention. Swiftly, he drops everything, turns around and walks into Bonnie, forcing her to walk backwards until the cabinets halt her with a soft thud. His hands are at her shoulders with a dizzying shake as he says “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Damon Salvatore, always so invasive, too animated, with a face that’s intimidatingly perfect.

It’s unsettling and downright unfair for him to possess such appeal; even angry and a threat to her life span, any woman would want him. Hell, Any man would want him. She wishes she could steal whatever that quality is. She wants that for herself.

It’s almost comical that after all these years of his presence, he can still startle her with his beauty. With his mouth shut, he’s so unassuming and pretty. In all seriousness, he looks like an angel. The slanted smirk and jaded attitude is the only hint that maybe this book doesn’t match the cover.

He gives her another shake as if the answer will tumble out of her, it makes her think of the time they hated each other. Way back when.

But now, this is too close for comfort. His eyes are an angry blue and she’s swimming laps, her words get caught in her throat before she can reply.

Weakly she says, “Just stop fighting it, okay? I’ve made up my mind and I trust you.”

“You trust me? You trust me, Bon? I don’t even trust me! What’s the matter with you?”

Honesty is not suitable. She can’t say that it’s lips anywhere on her body that she needs even if it’s at her wrist. That her withdrawal has her fingers exhausted and her body aching because she needs some sort of physical connection outside of herself. Bonnie wants Damon to drink her like wine so she can remember what it feels like to be desired and she can see it, the desire she needs, veiled and trapped behind the denial she knows too well. She wants to open that door to see if he needs her just as bad as she thinks he does. She wants to set it on fire.

“Damon, please.”

When she tilts her head and locks her green eyes with his, he sees the deprivation. Like she’s starving too. Like it pains her to not have his teeth in her neck. The look on her face reveals everything she cannot say. Damon shudders.

He doesn’t mean to trail his nose up the slope of her neck but he does and his stomach growls so violently that he’s surprised he doesn’t shake. There’s a new scent in the air and it’s Bonnie’s arousal.

He clenches his jaw with a painful force, half expecting it to shatter.

The words are no louder than a whisper when she says, “I’m your friend. Let me do this for you.”

People who are actually friends seldom use the word “friend.” But Damon and Bonnie ware the word out trying to convince one another that it’s all they are, nothing more. They haven’t said the word more than they have in this hell because it’s a reminder when sanity starts to slip. It’s a reminder when they start to wonder what would happen if they weren’t just “friends.”

Best friends.

Bonnie makes it hard for him. She makes everything hard for him and this hell where she’s the only one to exist makes the things he could easily ignore blatantly obvious. The feminine curve of her breast, the spread of her hips, the lovely enigmatic green of her eyes, he’s always thinking of Bonnie. Even asleep, she haunts his dreams with golden brown skin and a crooked smile. The ghost of her fragrance creates a tornado around him in this tiny cramped space called hell, it’s comforting and devastating.

Everytime he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of the fact that everything he wants he takes. Even if he doesn’t want it, he takes it. But with Bonnie, it doesn’t quite work out that way. There’s rules with Bonnie. His charisma is useless to her because that’s his best friend. She’s immune to him and maybe he’s not okay with that.

Poor Damon, he could weep now because Bonnie was never supposed to be the one to snap first. He was supposed to be the unhinged vampire with bountiful problems, the rebel and she was supposed to be the very stable, very perfect witch but she’s breaking. He’s her lesser and she’s the one who’s breaking. This has to be a cruel dream where if he hits himself hard enough, he’ll wake up.

His fangs slip out by accident, they feel the presence of Bonnie’s blood just humming with delicacy and complexity under her skin. She’s waiting to be tasted, she takes her hand and guides his mouth to her neck so his tooth pricks her skin. A bead of red shoots up but his tongue is quick to swipe that first drop almost sampling to make sure Bonnie is serious. She says something under her breath but the bloodlust has the rest of his senses useless. He doesn’t hear her.

Damon gnashes his teeth into her delicate skin, his expertise never allowing one ribbon of blood to trail away because he laps it up so greedily, so manically that he almost chokes. It feels like heaven busted and started showering its essence into his open mouth. He can’t take the time to breath or else he’ll rob himself of perfection for a few seconds too long. The life surges back into his body.

A montage of honey, patchouli, iron, lilac, roses, metal, bergamot, smoke, magic, fire, fear all on his tastebuds at once. In the distance, desire begins to bloom.

Then there’s a click and he starts to feel it.

Bonnie’s arousal is creeping up on him slowly like a distant claw of nails down his spine, the ghost of a sopping mouth around the head of his cock. He emits a wet groan then takes another tactless slurp and can practically feel Bonnie’s walls gripping against his shaft- it frightens him how bad he wants it. It scares him how he can feel the phantom of her nipples through his apron and t-shirt. He’s sweating when his pants start to bunch at the center. She’s breathing erratically, wraps her legs around his waist so she feels that lovely poke between her legs and it terrifies him.

Never has he untangled the web of feelings he associated with the complicatedly simple Bonnie Shealia Bennett. However, that web has been slowly unraveling since their first day here. Those feelings he never was honest with himself to admit are dousing him right now, of his own volition. He’s frightened out of his mind with the realization that he’s always wanted to take his best friend, little Judgey, Bon Bon, Elena’s BFF, and sex her into a stupor until the only word in her vocabulary is his name.

Damon Salvatore wants to fuck Bonnie Bennett so deeply that they must excavate his dick from her slot to retrieve it.

Oh God.

He can see himself, inside of her, inside of his best friend as she begs him to go faster and harder but he won’t listen. He never listens and it’s driving her up the fucking wall as her pleas to let her cum all over him fumbles his rhythm. Damon has never been more afraid of himself. Damon has never been more oblivious of a desire that waited for a moment like this since their first encounter. He feels baited.

Fear of this discovery, this dormant longing, brings him back to earth and violently disconnects him from the bloodlust, he removes his fangs too quickly, his head spinning with filthy thoughts of his best friend. The moan that tumbles past his lips is dire, it rips through his throat and says she has to fuck him or he will simply die.

Somewhere an invisible candle burns in the air labeled “Bonnie’s Lust.” It’s so strong Damon can taste it.

They look at each other differently. They are strangers. She’s painted in red, his mouth is a mess, the erection in his pants is hard enough to unearth his grave and bury himself alive. He offers his bleeding wrist up to her and tries not to cum when her mouth latches on.

When she’s done, he decides he won’t distract himself with the gorgeous sight of a panting Bonnie, looking as if she’s been thoroughly fornicated with her eyes all glossy like that.

Damon is dizzy, tipsy from blood, pleasure and a bombardment of epiphanies.

He turns around too sharply on his heel and passes out, just like that. A lifeless heap of beauty on the kitchen floor.

Bonnie’s definitely scared of whatever took over them as she crouches next to him and fans his face. Her mind is still far from her after such a disastrous high. Her heartbeat sounds like the pounding of an incessant guest.

Knock, knock.

In that moment, Deja-vu gives her a kiss. Bonnie’s mind floats back to Elena’s lapis prom dress with the silver clasps in the back and how she always thought Damon was perfect for Elena like that tailored dress. The way it hugged her and snapped in place. The way it clicked.

Bonnie remembers trying that dress on first and falling in love. She loved that feeling, how it felt like it was made for her and only her but Elena insisted. Not even Caroline knew. She gave the dress up for her, anything for her best friend. It was just a pretentious mélange of fabric and thread. A lifeless heap of beauty on the fitting room floor.

When he awakens, they pretend as if nothing happened and Damon wonders if he dreamt that but the little wounds on her neck mock his question. Desire still sleeps between them, dependent on that next slip up to pounce. But it never gets the chance.

Damon relives that moment when he meets himself in the mirror and the hint of teeth marks is on his neck from Bonnie’s “tipsy” courage.

“Once bitten, twice shy,” he says to himself and ironically being a century-old vampire he never understood the saying. He lets the little phrase stagnate the air because he doesn’t want to concern himself with figuring out why Bonnie’s teeth marks aren’t disappearing with his rapid healing ability.

Anyways, it’s kind of cute.

He sends her a picture message with a text to follow:

Twice bitten, once dead.

#bamon #bamon fic #bamon fanfic #bamon fanfiction #damon salvatore #bonnie #damon #bonnie bennett #bonnie x damon #damon x bonnie #mine #bamily #bamon shippers club

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mollydollyjournals · 3 years

Text

I felt a lot more stable than usual yesterday for some reason. Maybe it was the fever. Today I feel horrible again. The past few hours I've been trying to fight a mood drop but it's here regardless. I don't really know what to do about it. I want to latch onto weight loss stuff but with my health and energy being so bad, my old scales not working and new ones not here yet, there's not much I can do. I want to go weigh myself then think about weight projections, and I could go work out. But standing up is enough to make me almost throw up or pass out, and my scales are just random number generators at this point.

I feel really sad. It's day 5 of no alcohol. Maybe I do still get bad withdrawal after all. Maybe it's just going to vary day to day. Maybe it's nothing to do with that. I want to go have some of the rum from downstairs. But it's difficult to measure - I don't have a proper shotglass and I don't know where my measuring spoons are. I can't afford to measure wrong. Part of me says I could just guess anyway, or underestimate. But idk.

I just don't want to feel so shit. It's simple. I feel shit and I don't want to. I'm annoyed at myself for binging yesterday. Ive had shitty food today due to not being able to make proper food. I haven't had salad in quite a while now. It feels like it anyway. I want to feel okay enough to do all that stuff.

I shouldn't drink if I'm ill either. Especially not if it's fucking covid. But withdrawal is a bitch and a half. And I really can't stand feeling like this. I just want to feel better.

But then part of me also says it's day 5, and I haven't done this long of absolutely zero alcohol since November. I was having a lot of the nonalc wine which still has a small amount, and the congeners and such. I haven't this time. But then also my alcohol free week in November ended with me drinking 2 bottles of wine and giving myself serious liver issues. As with food, small amounts here and there stop me from binging, so maybe it's better to do that.

But I'd like to be able to say I've gone a week. If I get through today, tomorrow and the day after, then even if I drink on Thursday I'll have done a full 7 days. But that feels like forever. Especially if I'm like this. I have no company again. Hb is doing whatever he does downstairs. We're both ill. Can't go anywhere for obvious reasons. I'm shit at messaging people.

My head is starting to hurt as I write. From any number of reasons. Idk. It's nearly 10pm. 4-5hrs until bed. I can probably survive that without drinking, just about. But the idea of having to get up and do it all over again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and indefinitely...just never getting a break. Then I feel like there's no point. At least I did manage the 4 day break that I wanted. Whatever I do now I have that. But idk. I feel very lost without my scales.

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gsophie43 · 3 years

Text

Game of Survival

Chapter 3

Jay awoke and shifted his head. He looked to the side to see Hailey and Will sitting next to him. Hailey was asleep but it seemed as though Will had been watching him sleep. A little creepy, but Jay couldn’t blame him.

“Hey.” He was surprised by the scratchiness of his voice.

“Hey.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past 12:30 in the morning.”

“Hmm.”

“Jay, I need to tell you something.”

“Did you get arrested? Who do I have to bribe?” Jay attempted to deflect Will’s serious tone. Will cracked a smile.

“No one. But, uh. Your neck.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re gonna have to do another reconstruction surgery. Finish repairing the muscles. The bullet did a lot of damage to your skin as well. You might need a skin graft. That may mean a third surgery. They may do it during the next one. It depends.”

“On what?”

“How long you’re under. If they have time. If your cbc comes back good from the transfusion. If it doesn’t then you risk bleeding out if you’re under too long. If they need things to heal up a little bit first.”

Jay shifted his jaw.

“So I won’t be able to go back to work for a while.” Jay observed.

“No.” Will sighed. “Not for a few months.”

“When are they planning on doing it?”

“It’s scheduled for the morning after tomorrow. Or tomorrow morning technically, I guess.” Jay sighed.

“Does Hailey know?”

“No. She doesn’t.”

“Can I tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need to shave before?” Will smiled.

“They will do that for you. But, I have certain contacts that made sure you were fully shaved last time instead of getting half a beard.” Will said mischievously.

“They would really only shave half of someone’s face?”

“If they didn’t need to shave the other side.”

“That’s just awful.” Jay laughed. Will smiled.

“Anything to make sure my brother remained a baby face.”

“Shut up.” Will smiled at his brother doped up on pain meds.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, we can both go to sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jay said, closing his eyes.

He woke up late in the morning. Hailey was whispering something, so he decided to be nosy, and keep his eyes closed and listen.

“I love you so much, you know that. I love your freckles. The way that they’re all different sizes. And I love your curly hair. It’s so thick and soft and beautiful. And I love your hazel eyes. I love that they’re multicolored, I love that they change colors. I love the scars. I know you hate them. They remind you of Afghanistan. And I know you think they’re ugly. I think they’re beautiful because they’re a part of you. And I don't know how to tell you all of this. And you almost died and I thought I missed my chance to to tell you how amazing you are. I wish I knew how to tell you that you’re everything to me when you’re not asleep-”

“Just like that.” Jay said softly, opening his eyes. Hailey was perched next to him, sitting on the bed. She gasped and a horrified look crossed her face.

“Hailey, you’re beautiful, strong, brave and so many other things but most of all you’re everything to me too.”

“You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at his neck, wrapped from his chin to his shoulder with gauze sticking up on one side. She felt as if the air was stolen from her lungs.

“How bad.” She squeaked out.

“Huh?”

“How bad did it hurt.” She said slowly reaching out and touching the surface of the bandages. Tears welled up quickly in her eyes and her vision started to blur. He could see the guilt in her eyes and it broke his heart.

“Hailey” he whispered, grabbing her hand. “I’m still here.” He said, putting her hand over his heart. “I’m gonna be okay.” She put her head down and nodded.

“I should have had your back.”

“You did. You were there and pressed on the wound. You made sure I didn’t bleed out. If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. You saved my life.”

“Hey,” he tried to soothe. “It’s gonna be okay.” Hailey wiped her tears and forced a smile.

“Yeah.” She pulled her hand away like it was burning. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you mean alot, so it sucked to watch you almost die.” Jay looked at her beautiful figure as they sat in silence. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Will says I’m gonna have another surgery tomorrow morning.” Jay broke the silence.

“What for?”

“To finish the reconstruction from the first surgery. He also said I might need a skin graft which could potentially be a third surgery if they can’t do it during the second surgery.”

“Huh.”

“I- uh- Can you tell the team? I don’t want to drag them all the way down here.”

“I’ll call Trudy and tell her.”

“And tell her what?” A female voice from the door startled them.

“Sarge!” Jay said as Hailey jumped up from her spot.

“I don’t know if you’ll like them, but I brought flowers because it's a custom practice in the United States when visiting someone in the hospital.”

“Thank you,Sarge. You can put them wherever.” He quickly realized how sore his neck was as he strained to turn his head and see her.

She pulled up a chair and sat next to Hailey.

“How are you feeling?” She asked sincerely.

“I’m sore all the time. Hurts really bad when the meds start to wear off.”

“From what I heard, you took a hell of a blast.” His eyes flickered over to Hailey before looking back at Trudy.

“I guess. I don’t really remember. It’s kind of a blur.”

“Everyone’s worried about you. People keep coming up to my desk to ask how you’re doing.”

“What have you been telling them so far?”

“Well, you were in surgery, you were out of surgery. You were recovering and stable. Stuff like that.”

“Hmm. Well, uh, Hailey was gonna tell you that I have another surgery tomorrow morning. They gotta finish fixing everything. I was wondering if you could tell the team for me.”

“Definitely. I can do that.”

“Thankyou.”

“Alright then, let me head back to the district before it turns into a mad house.Do you guys need anything before I go?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“No, thanks.”

“Hang in there, Halstead.”

“See you, Sarge.”

The rest of the day was tense. Both Jay and Hailey were nervous about his upcoming surgery. Rojas stopped by for a visit, and Will came by in the late afternoon, forcing Hailey to go home and freshen up. She came back in the evening and spent the rest of the night with him. Jay didn’t sleep well that night. He was anxious and restless. Jay did finally manage to fall asleep and was woken up by Will.

“Hey buddy, we need to start getting you prepped.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past six.”

“Can you wake Hailey up?” Will did and Hailey quietly stroked his hair as they started setting a new IV up and getting his catheter in and transferring him to a stretcher.

“Hailey, I’m scared.” He admitted in a whisper once all the nurses had left.

“I know. You’re going to be okay. Will is gonna be with you the whole time.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I promise.”

She slowly bent down and their lips connected.

She pulled away slowly.

“Good thoughts only, Jay.” She whispered, her lips twitching up into a smirk. Sadly, she couldn’t comb her fingers through his hair because it was covered in a hairnet.

“Good thoughts only.” He echoed as their fingers intertwined.

“The team wanted me to have us call them before you went in.”

“The team?”

“Well, call Adam. Who would have the team there.”

“Oh. Ok.” Hailey pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” Adam answered.

“Hey, phone’s speaker. Jay’s here.”

“Guys, guys. It’s Jay.” The heard Adam say in the distance. There was some rustling before a chorus of greetings.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Kim asked.

“I’m feeling good. Just want to get it over with.”

“Not nervous though, right?” Kevin said.

“Nah, man. Never.” Jay joked back.

“Stay strong, Jay. We’re sorry we couldn’t be there but we wanted to make sure you knew we were all rooting for you.” Rojas said.

“Yeah man, you got this.” Adam said.

“Thankyou guys so much.”

“Hang in there Jay. We need you back here.” Hank’s gravelly voice said.

“Thank you.” They said their farewells and ended the call. Will made his way from the door to Jay’s bed.

“Aright, Hailey can’t walk with you the whole way but she can walk most of the way. I will be in the OR with you the whole time. Perks of being a doctor here. I will try to get Hailey as soon as the operation is over. There may be a chance that you will be sedated overnight to rest.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready brother?”

“Yeah.” The started the journey to the OR. They stopped at the double doors that only staff could go through and Hailey gently kissed his forehead.

“Good thoughts only.” She whispered.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“Tell me that after.” She gave his hand a long squeeze before nodding to Will.

From there he was quickly transported, sedated, and the operation started.

She went back to the waiting room. It was like déjà vu. She waited and waited. She let a few tears fall. She let herself be angry at the shooter. She let herself ride an emotional roller coaster. Finally she was just exhausted and fell asleep in the chair. She was gently awoken by Will.

“Hailey...Hailey?”

“Huh?”

“Surgery’s over.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. They have him in his room already. He did really good. His vitals stayed steady throughout. And they were able to complete the graft already. We’re gonna keep him sedated overnight so he can rest.”

“So no more surgeries?”

“No more surgeries.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, its really good. The only downside is that there will be a lot of scarring and rehabilitation will hell.”

“Wow, way to kill the mood.”

“Sorry. Uh, we have him on an NG tube to feed him tonight and tomorrow. His stomach will be sensitive from the anesthesia. I can take you to sit with him.”

“Thankyou.” He escorted Hailey back to the familiar room.

Her partner lay there once again. He was sleeping peacefully despite the bandages and the icepack. A small yellow tube coming out of his nose was taped to his cheek and tucked behind his ear. A mask rested over his nose and mouth. Hailey smiled.

“He looks so peaceful.”

“I don’t think he’s slept like this since.. well… since before he enlisted.”

“Yeah…”

They sat with Jay for a while, occasionally cracking jokes about Jay getting plastic surgery, before Will went out and got both of them some supper. After, the team visited when they were done with work. All night Hailey slept holding Jay’s hand. The morning was pretty dull. Jay was given meds, an NG feeding, and taken off the sedation. The mask was removed and replaced with a cannula. The team dropped by again, whispering and chatting while Jay slept. They missed it the first time Jay blinked his eyes open because he was asleep again in a matter of a handful of seconds. The second time was a little different, because Jay made a noise when he awoke. Adam nudged Hailey who was at Jay’s side as his eyes cracked open.

“Hey, big guy.”

“I love you.” Hailey froze, Jay probably didn’t realize that the rest of the team was there. But, then again, it wasn’t like the team didn’t already know they were dating and had been for a long time. Jay took a breath before talking again.

“You told me to tell you after the surgery.” Hailey smiled. Of course Jay would be the one to remember something like that.

“Awwwwww… how cute.” Adam teased.

“Jesus...” Jay whispered under his breath, realizing he had an audience and reddening with embarrassment.

“That might be one of the cutest things I’ve seen all year.” The team giggled.

“Shut up, Adam.” Jay and Hailey said in unison.

“Man, someone’s cranky.” Adam retorted. Jay rolled his eyes.

“Glad you’re awake, man.” Jay fist bumped Adam. Jay was met with a chorus of greetings. When asked how he was feeling he answered that his neck and his thighs were sore, to which Hailey had to explain that that was where they took the skin from to graft it in. Jay lasted for all of about thirty more seconds before falling back asleep. Will woke him up in the afternoon to pull his feeding tube. It was a terrible experience that made Jay tear up and sneeze and cough from the tickling sensation in his nose and the back of his nose. Jay rubbed his nose aggressively to try to get rid of the feeling. Jay fell back asleep shortly thereafter. He woke up and was covered in his favorite blanket. It was a fleece blanket Will had bought him once that was camo with the 75th Rangers insignia on it. It was soft and Jay had frequently used it. Someone had obviously picked it up from his apartment. Will, who was sitting next to him, smiled and held up a container of red jello and a spoon.

“Wanna try it?” Jay smiled. It reminded him of his mom. When he would get sick as a kid, his mom would cover him in his favorite blanket and give him jello. Granted, Jay mostly got stomach bugs as a kid so that would be one of the few things he could keep down.

“Yeah.” He said, gladly accepting it.

He quietly opened it and took a bite before looking at Will.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think Mom would say if she was here? About me getting shot, again? Do you think she’d be disappointed?”

“No, no. I think she’d be worried. But more than that, I think she would be proud. Not that you got hurt. But that you were pushing a civilian out of harm’s way when it happened. You were being selfless. I think she would tell you that it was a good call. But she would probably also tell you that she would want you to be more careful. Even though you couldn’t control it.”

“It’s hard going into the field sometimes. I know that it’s my duty as a cop to protect, but I worry. Because I don’t want to leave you here alone. I mean, I became a cop because I didn’t think it mattered if anything happened to me. Mom was gone, Dad had disappeared, you were in New York. But now I have you, and I have Hailey, and the team.” Jay set down his Jello container and finished his last bite.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I think I might be a little high.” Will laughed at him and Jay smiled.

“Oh brother. I love you so much.”

“Ditto.” Will rolled his eyes.

“Mom would say she loved you no matter what you did or what you were going through.”

“She loved us.”

“Yeah.” Will rubbed Jay’s leg.

“You wanna stay awake. We can turn on the news or something.”

“Oh that sounds good.”

They flipped through channels until Jay stopped Will.

“Go back.” Will did to see Deputy Superintendent Miller on a podium, holding a press conference.

“Turn it up.”

“During the shooting, however, the responding officer, Detective Jay Halstead, sustained a life threatening injury. The offender fired multiple rounds at Detective Halstead using a shot gun, one of which unfortunately hit Detective Halstead’s neck. He underwent life saving surgery and is now recovering from a second surgery. Detective Halstead acted humbly and heroically, trying to protect a civilian from danger, and the CPD commends his efforts.”

“That made it up the ranks quick” Jay commented.

“Yeah.”

“Can you put something else on?” Jay asked after a few seconds. “I don’t really feel like listening about my own near death experience.”

“Yeah.” Will put on some documentary before sitting back down. They didn’t speak to each other but enjoyed each other’s company. Hailey came with dinner for her and Will which they mercilessly teased Jay about. As the night fell, Will decided to go home that night, knowing Hailey would call him if anything happened. They talked until they both decided to settle down to sleep. As Hailey was about to doze off, Jay’s voice startled her awake.

“Hailey. Hailey?”

“I’m here, what do you need?” She said standing up.

“I don’t know how to ask this. But, I’m wide awake. And I thought maybe it was because I’m used to sleeping with you at home. I - I don’t know- I - can you lay with me. Please?” Jay held his breath waiting for the answer. Hailey carefully sat down on the edge of his bed.

“You just had surgery, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And if you do, I’ll tell you” Hailey gave him a look, knowing he probably wouldn’t.

“I promise.”

“Scoot over, then. My ass is not that tiny.” Jay smiled and complied.

She fit right next to him, her warmth was comforting as he put an arm around her. She avoided touching his neck and instead scooted down enough to put her head on his chest.

“Your sweatshirt smells good.” He whispered.

“Mmm… it smells like hospitals.”

“It smells like you. Perfect.”

“Oh shut up.” They both chuckled at his cheesiness.

“I had to try.” He said, pulling the blanket up.

“Nice blanket.” Hailey commented, noticed the logo.

“Yeah, Will got it for me years ago for Christmas or something.”

“This year I think I’ll get you bubble wrap for Christmas. And that way, you’ll have an extra layer of padding when you go out in the field.”

“Oh really? I can’t wait.” Hailey snickered and rolled her eyes.

“All I want for Christmas is for you to be safe.”

“That would be nice. Stop having to be in hospitals.”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“Uh-Afghanistan. I uh- injured my back- broke a few vertebrae. Spent five weeks in a hospital in Kandahar.”

“That’s where you were stationed?”

“No, I was actually stationed in the Korengal valley. But it was the closest hospital.”

Hailey set a hand on Jay’s chest.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but was that after the explosion?” Jay nodded silently.

“It was scary, and unfamiliar and everything just seemed so uncertain. I woke up and I couldn’t walk for close to six months.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, it was horrible. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. But it’s over now. It’s healed. I’m just grateful that I can walk.”

“The more I know about you, the more I realize that I have no clue who you really are.” Jay immediately caught on that she was quoting him.

“Good, my plan is working.” He quoted her without skipping a beat. He squeezed her closer.

“Goodnight, Hailey Ann ‘hopefully in the future Halstead’”

“Oh my gosh, goodnight, Jay ‘I love saying the cheesiest stuff to my girlfriend’ Halstead.”

#Jay Halstead fanfiction

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yadds · 4 years

Text

Tony Reappears - Pt 2

The follow-up to my previous post looking at what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending.

In which Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

This is now Part 2 of what is looking to be turning into a slow-burn starker, y’all. Just a heads up, it’s still Pepperony for now since it’s pretty much canon compliant through Endgame.

__________________________________________

Peter was at his side before he could blink, hands hovering, unsure, before cradling Tony’s face briefly, eyes darting across his features as he catalogued every detail. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-is it really you?”

Tony just nodded wearily, letting out a soft huff as Peter’s hands slid back through Tony’s hair, touching the gray at his temples reverently. Seriously, if he wasn’t already about to pass out he’d probably be reeling from the emotional whiplash of seeing Peter transform back into the gentle, wholesome boy he remembered.

When Peter seemed to be content to simply stare, followed by flitting, fleeting touches, Tony cleared his throat before croaking, “Hands?”

Peter’s brow scrunched in confusion before realization dawned, cheeks flushing. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh my gosh. Of course. Um, here, one second,” he muttered, fumbling with something on his web shooters before producing a vial of clear liquid that he poured carefully over the webbing on Tony’s hands.

“This is normally something I use in aerosol form from my web shooters, but it can make a mess and it makes everything ironically sticky, so I figure you might not appreciate a potential full-body spray. I’m still working out the kinks - It’s surprisingly rare that I ever need to prematurely dissolve my webbing,” Peter explained, voice high and quick like he was nervous.

“I seem to remember designing a solution for that specific problem - in fact, I think it was the first thing I did when I got back to my lab with remnants of your spider juice still stuck to my hands after our first meeting,” Tony said. Or at least he tried to, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It came out more like; “I...solution already...lab...spider juice,” with incoherent mumbling in between.

But Peter, bright, wonderful Peter, got the gist and grinned, small and guarded but genuine. “Yeah, of course you did Mr. Stark,” he assured as he pulled Tony’s hands away from the wall and set them gently on the floor next to him. “You thought of everything for my suits! But I’m always tinkering with the web fluid design so I’m also having to change the dissolving solution.”

How long has it been? Tony finally thought to wonder.

Peter sat back on his haunches, still staring wonderingly at Tony. Tony couldn’t blame him - if he had the energy, he’d probably be doing the same thing. He had invented time travel, primarily to bring back one Peter Parker, to remedy his worst failure. Of course, saving the rest of the world was motivation as well, but that was mostly an afterthought. And other than a quick, heartfelt hug on a battlefield at the end of the world, he never got the chance to acknowledge that he had actually succeeded.

But now that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, his pounding headache and burning throat were clamoring for attention again. Right. A glass of damn water, that’s how this started.

Tony’s head listed to the side, staring forlornly at the fridge. It was only about two feet away, but it might as well have been two thousand miles.

Peter followed his gaze and, noticing the shattered glass on the floor, quickly realized what Tony was wanting. “You want some water, Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded gratefully. When Peter returned a minute later, he tried to lift his hands to grab the cup, but couldn’t get them to do more than twitch. After hovering awkwardly for about thirty seconds, Peter hesitantly lifted the glass to Tony’s mouth, tilting it carefully so that the water trickled slowly past his lips.

When that first drop of cool, clean water touched his tongue, Tony’s breath hitched and his eyes stung, overwhelmed by the relief of it. But after only three swallows, he felt the liquid fall heavily into his completely empty stomach and he clamped his lips shut tight. Peter’s intent, watchful gaze and quick reflexes ensured that he noticed almost immediately and righted the glass, pulling it away. Now that Tony could feel the moisture on his face from the slight dribble that escaped his mouth, he realized how agonizingly dry his skin felt, stretched taut and paper thin. His heart was racing, chest heaving, the thirty seconds of interrupted breathing it took to have his precious drink apparently too much after everything else.

He glanced back up at Peter to see his face creased with concern, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He could definitely make out the ‘Are you okay?’ forming on Peter’s lips.

He tried to respond. To reassure him that he was fine, he just needed to rest, but spots were blooming behind his eyes, slowly taking up his field of vision as his heart rate continued to increase. Uh oh. He was pretty familiar with the way an overstressed heart felt and this was suspiciously similar. He felt Peter’s hands press firmly on his chest and saw his name frantically falling from his mouth before his eyes rolled back and everything faded away.

When he awoke, he blinked blearily, eyes sluggishly tracking around the room he was in. Off-puttingly white, machines beeping quietly in the background, and people in scrubs off to the side. A hospital. Which was probably apt, considering he felt like he’d been starved to death only to be thrown in front of a train and lit on fire. He also took note of the comfortable mattress and tastefully low lighting. So he was probably in one of his own facilities.

“Mr. Stark! You’re awake!” Tony startled at the exclamation to his right, not aware that anyone was there. He turned his head to see Peter, the wizard standing aloofly behind him.

“What happened?” Tony asked scratchily, hand coming up to rub absently at his throat. Peter leapt to his side to bring a cup of water with a straw to him, only letting him take a few sips this time before pulling it away. Tony gave him a quick smile in thanks.

“Well I was hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Strange said dryly.

“I meant my health at the moment, which I thought you might have a better idea of than I since you’re actually a doctor, as you’re so fond of reminding me,” Tony responded, finding the remote and levering his bed up to sit up slightly, feeling much more human than the last time he’d been awake.

Strange stared at him impassively for a long moment before replying. “Of course. Well your vitals are stable now. Your main ailments are malnutrition and dehydration extreme enough to bring you to the brink of organ failure, which has been aided by the IV fluids and nutrients you’ve been receiving for the three days you’ve been unconscious. You’ll be on a strict diet for a while before you’re ready to eat normally.”

“Spectacular,” Tony sniped. At least he’d regained enough energy to maintain his flippant attitude. Priorities. “Don’t worry Doc, I know the drill. Been there, done that. Would have gotten the t-shirt, but they were fresh out. You know the saying. Whatever. Point is, that’s a pretty standard medical issue. A little above your pay grade these days isn’t it?”

“I was simply answering your question, Stark. That’s not why I’m here.”

When silence followed that statement, Tony gestured in his direction. “Do you need an engraved invitation to finish that thought? A drumroll? Some dramatic mood lighting?”

The smothered laugh from Peter’s direction was a pleasant counterpoint to the irritated pursing of lips from Dr. Strange.

“I would have thought it would be pretty clear. You reappeared unexpectedly after being dead for 3 years. I’m here to figure out what’s going on and make sure you haven’t completely torn a hole in the fabric of the universe, as I’m sure you would at the first possible opportunity.”

“And to make sure you’re really okay, you know, mind, body, soul and all that,” Peter chimed in.

“Yes. You do appear to actually be alive, by the way, considering near organ failure affected you as it would anyone else. Further tests will need to be done to determine if everything else is ‘normal’,” Strange explained.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed with a dismissive nod. He was choosing to work very hard at not thinking about the fact that he’d pulled some kind of resurrection act. He didn’t know how he was back, if he was still himself, how long he would be here or anything. And he was choosing to live in blissful ignorance at this point. That was a problem for future Tony. If there would be one. Who knows? He could disappear tomorrow.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Strange pushed.

Tony glared at him. “Whoops, you caught me, Merlin. I’m purposely keeping a whole host of information all to myself so that I can remain under constant surveillance and suspicion. Because that’s how I get my jollies. No. I remember dying - which, not super fun, let me tell you - then nothing, until I suddenly showed up here. Or there. Am I still at the Compound? Where am I?”

“Yeah, you’re at the Avengers medbay on the Compound campus,” Peter answered helpfully.

“Well there you go. Consider me interrogated,” Tony intoned.

Strange was opening his mouth, probably to continue his inane, insulting questioning, but Tony cut him off as he saw the door to his room open. “Pepper, Honey, light of my life!” he called, holding his arms out in her direction.

Pepper stopped right inside the doorway, hand falling heavily on the wall beside her as she stared at Tony with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears, chin quivering. “Tony,” she whispered.

“The one and only. Come on Doll, don’t leave me hanging here,” he joked, hoping the desperation that was creeping into his chest wasn’t apparent in his voice.

Pepper finally moved, stumbling to a stop at Tony’s bedside and collapsing to the side of the bed to gather him in her arms. Tony let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Yes. This is what he’d needed, her warmth seeping into his skin like a toasty towel fresh out of the dryer.

After a moment, he looked around and frowned. “Where’s the munchkin?”

Pepper pulled back, looking uncomfortable but not averting her gaze. “Tony. We don’t know yet what’s going on - are you really back? For how long? Are you completely stable? It didn’t seem right to bring Morgan into this until we knew for sure.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he murmured, heart seizing in his chest again. It all made sense and objectively, he agreed. She was still so young - to involve her now when he could possibly be gone in another five minutes would just be devastating.

But subjectively, it was fucking ripping him to shreds. His daughter, his baby girl. Even if he was only here for five seconds, he’d want to spend them holding her tight. But that was selfish. She’d probably moved on by now, made some kind of peace with his death. He didn’t want to ruin her world all over again. And what if he wasn’t safe? What if he suddenly went berserk? What if he was some radioactive mutant or some crazy shit like that? No, this was the right decision. Didn’t mean it wasn’t low key killing him all over again though.

Suddenly he was a lot more motivated to face everything and get it all figured out. Guess he’d have to actually cooperate with fucking Dumbledore. Wonderful.

__________________________________________

Part 3 - Tony comes back with more than he bargained for

#starker #eventually #slow burn #tony comes back #endgame fix it #tony stark x peter parker #tonyxpeter #ironspider #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #tony stark #peter parker #pepper potts #peter takes care of tony #tony is a good dad #starker fic #my au: Tony Reappears

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kaylathekittykat225 · 5 years

Text

Replacement // Roy Harper X Reader

Warning/s: none, I think?

Word Count: 3,247

Another Saturday, another update. This time, another one from my archives, Roy Harper! I don’t know what I will do when I run out of things I can easily post. But that is a problem for later me that I can deal with. Am still in a fluffy mood, because I am currently sick, and I when I am sick, I get clingy and want someone to hug and to hug me and yeah. All I got right now is my blanket, so we will just have to deal.

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

"How am I supposed to face him? I've been living his life for eight years now. What if he tries to kill me?" Roy let his mouth run, asking rhetorical question after question while you drove him to the hospital.

"What if Ollie wants him back? What if he wants to go back to Ollie? What if Ollie makes me-"

"Roy," you gently laid your hand on his leg, capturing his attention and his focus went to you. "Why are you so nervous about this? You've spent the last five years trying to find him and now you sound like you're about to meet the president." Your eyes flickered over to him, making sure to pay most of your attention to the road ahead of you.

He sighed and slouched down into his seat, "I just don't know what he'll think of me." His words lost in the wind blowing through the rolled down window, the hospital coming into view.

"If he's even half the Roy he was, in sure he'll get over it." You smiled over at him as you pulled into a parking space, hoping to yourself that this will all work out fine.

The two of you walked into the entrance of the hospital and saw an anxious and pacing Ollie waiting for the two of you. He spotted you two as you entered and briskly made his way over to you. "Roy, Y/N, thank goodness you're here."

"Hey dad." You smiled up at him, pulling him into what felt like a much-needed hug. "It's good to see you."

"I am too, Y/N I just wish it was under different circumstances. Mom says hi." You sighed, happy to smell his cologne again, not having seen him since New Year's.

"Tell her I say hi back." You pulled away from the hug, your dad turning to say hello to Roy. "Is he awake?" You pursed your lips, watching both your father and Roy shuffle from side to side.

"Yeah, he's this way." You two followed your dad down the corridor, Roy's hands were tightly holding onto one another before you slipped your hand between them, taking his clammy hand into yours.

"It's gonna be fine, babe," you whispered quietly before entering the room you assumed to be Roy Harper's...the other one.

Ollie opened the door for the two of you and you all walked into the room. The view out the window gave a perfect overlook of Star City, a view you've seen your entire life, from looking out your bedroom window to running across the roof tops of the City's skyscrapers.

In the middle of the white hospital room, pulled against one of the stable walls was a bed and the millions of cords leading to a heart monitor, IV lines and a lot more, hooking up to a lot of beeping.

And laying on that bed was none other than an exact copy of the nervous man beside you.

Only he was younger.

And his arm was also missing.

"I told you I'm-Ollie?" His blue eyes widened to the size of saucers, but they weren't the eyes you knew.

They were different than what they use to look like. Colder, more shut off, scared.

"Hey Roy, how are you feeling?" Your father asked as he took one of the seats near the bed.

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that," he grumbled to himself, his thumb twiddling with the air, possibly dancing with an imaginary partner, his eyes darted around the room and never looking directly at his former mentor.

You swallowed the heavy feeling in your throats and turned to look at Roy, your Roy, the one you'd fallen in love with when he tripped over a statue of your grandmother when he tried to ask you out in a date. His eyes were alive and warm, and staring directly at the icy blue ones of the original Roy.

Oi all these Roys are giving you a headache.

Squeezing his hand gently, his attention was drawn to you, returning the pressure into your hand. "Now or never," he mouthed to you before he stepped out from behind your father, just enough to keep you hidden still behind his built figure.

"Oh, you're...you're the one who got me back didn't you?" He avoided the word rescue, still the same Roy you knew, never wanting to admit needing help, his eyes also avoiding his doppelgänger standing in front of him. "Th-thanks I guess."

You sighed from behind your dad's back, much louder than you intended, bringing Roy's eyes to look in your direction, "What, is there another one of me to show me?" Oliver's body shifted in front of you so he can look down at you, looking for an answer from you.

You nodded your head and stepped out from behind his back, keeping Roy's hand in your own, you sucked your lip in between your teeth as you slowly looked up to see the other Roy staring at you in shock. "Y-Y/N?"

"Hey, Roy." You smiled sadly at him. His eyes absorbed as much of you as he can, running them up and down your body, stopping when he saw you and his clone were clasping hands. He scoffs and turns away, trying to cross his arms for only to be reminded that it was gone.

"Great, so while I was on ice, you found another Roy Harper, the sidekicks formed their own team, aliens invaded the earth, and Ollie grew that dopey goatee?" You bit back a giggle, instead coming out as a snigger when you looked over to see your father's reaction.

But hearing the word sidekick plucked an old string for both you and Roy, your Roy. "We try not to call ourselves sidekicks." You shifted your weight around, feeling out of place while your father argued for the dignity of his goatee.

Grabbing for a familiar looking folder, you pulled up the medical charts to see what the doctors thought of the returned super. You flipped through the pages, easily able to understand everything from your years of practice of being on the medical team in Mount Justice and understood that he really was on ice. He hadn't aged a day since you last saw him, but he legally should be twenty-three by now, everything about him was the same as Roy, how could they be different, they were exact clones.

"And what happened to my arm?! And now my clone goes and steals Y/N?!" Your breath got caught in your throat, honestly you felt so guilty about this whole situation. Setting the folder back on the table, you turned back to three men, all three were on you, almost expecting you to take over the situation.

"Roy..." You took a seat in the very uncomfortable chair next to your used to be best friend, his eyes staring into your own, waiting for an answer. "I guess it's time," You wrung your hands together, your breath shaking as you thought how to best explain to him what happened.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

The two of you puzzle pieced everything together, you told him what he missed while he filed in what he last remembered. It broke your heart to see him look so heartbroken to hear eight years had passed since he went missing.

He listened as everyone told their part of the story, your dad explaining how hard he worked, Roy telling him how he was grown and had no clue that he was a clone, while you watched him intently, being the brunt of the bad news.

"So, you're saying...that you took my place, you've been living my life for eight years." Roy stared bitterly at the other one, who sheepishly looked down at his shoes.

"Hey," You weaved your fingers between his, the contact sending a shiver down his spine as he looked between your face and his hand. "Roy worked tirelessly to find you, for the past five years he has been looking for you nonstop. To the point it almost drove him crazy." You muttered, looking at him briefly before looking back at the younger Roy.

"Huh," Little Roy nodded and turned to look at your dad. "but not you, you gave up on me."

"Roy," You hissed at him, tightening your grip on his hand, except the wrong Roy went to answer.

Your Roy stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder, looking down at his clone. "Look, I don't want to be the cause of anymore arguments, I understand if neither of you really want to lay eyes on me again."

You were about to turn back around when the little Roy beat you to the chase, "I don't know, but from what I see, the clone didn't do anything wrong. He didn't ask to be created, plus, he found me, so I can't blame him." Thinking the four of you had finally come to a happy understanding, you loosened your grip on his hand from death grip to comforting presence.

"But I can blame you!"

"Roy!" You pulled him back from attacking your dad even if he couldn't do much to him. "Dad, Roy, leave!"

"Y/N, if that really-"

You stared back a the two of them with a glare that bested Batman's, "Out." The two grown men left, their heads low as they were kicked out by a twenty-two-year old girl. Groaning, you let your body fall onto the chair behind you, your weight pushing the piece of crappy furniture backwards some inches. "They can be so infuriating."

Looking back up at Little Roy, his new and unsaid nickname sticking with him now, you had hoped he would just talk to you, after all, you two were childhood friends. "Why are you here?" His voice was hushed, and his body shrunk as his mind churned and thought of the information he was just presented.

"Because I wanted to make sure that you three didn't kill each other," You chuckled, hoping to grab some sort of reaction from him, nada. "I wanted to see you, Roy. Is that too hard to believe that someone cares about you?" For the first time since you arrived, a smile graced his lips, his eyes showed how grateful he was towards you.

"You've changed," Roy couldn't help that his eyes took in your appearance, you were the same as he left years ago, but you looked older, your eyes looked like there was more wisdom behind them. But something caught his eye as you went to cross your arms.

"So, have you, Roy." You could feel his eyes just looking at you, all of you, and his eyes were curious, so many questions behind them. "Ask away my friend." You chuckled as he blushed at you finding him out.

"You can still read me like an open book I see." You nodded, waiting for him to go on. "How did you...what was it like with me gone?"

Biting your lip, you had to think before answering this one. "Honestly Roy, it was like you never left, yes you were missing, but Roy, the other Roy that is, was just like you. We never had a reason to suspect he wasn't you until we found the file on him being a project of Cadmus."

The ginger nodded his head, he was expecting that answer, but it still hurt to hear it. "I see the ring. You don't have to hide it you know." Now it was your turn to blush, it was only a matter of time before he saw the gold band on your left ring finger. "I had been dreaming of doing that since the day I met you."

You smiled at the memory, spinning the ring around as you leaned forward, twiddling with it while you thought back to the simpler times. "You mean when you insulted my mom or when I fell into my birthday cake."

"How about when you gave me a bloody nose." The two of you were happily laughing about the time your parents thought it was a great idea to invite Roy to your birthday party, that day didn't end well, but it did lead to the two of you being fast friends. "It's still crooked from that, I don't think I could ever forgive you."

"Well obviously you did I mean you mar-" You cut yourself short, forgetting for that second that this wasn't your Roy you were talking to, but the other one. The one your Roy is based off.

"I was going to ask you to go out with me as soon as I got back from that mission, that's why those goons got the jump on me, I was smiling like an idiot just at the thought of asking you and I was distracted. I had it all planned out, I was gonna swoop in and when you got home from school-"

"You were going to give me a teddy bear with a box of chocolates and be all romantic and ask me out." Finishing the story, you grinned at that memory as well. "He did that you know. At least, he tried. He ended up trip over my nana's bust, successfully breaking it."

Looking up at Roy, he was staring down at the stump where his arm used to be, a frown on his face and his eyes sad and slowly getting glossy. "So, he really was me. An exact duplicate."

You leaned forward and gently ran your fingers over his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb, "No, you two are very different people, he may have acted like you Roy, but no one can be you Roy Harper. You are the most talented, amazing kid I have ever know, pretty damn hot too." His face got warm under your touch, his eyes finally looking up to meet yours again, the glass getting thicker.

"So why did you marry him?"

"Roy," you sighed and looked back at the door where you're sure your dad and other Roy were listening intently. "I can't ever say if it would have been you and I if this all never happened. That's in the what if universe, but I do know, that I love my Roy, he may have started out like you, but he is a different person. You will be nothing like him when you are twenty-three. You two may look the same, but I promise you, that there is only one of you, Roy."

Roy slowly nodded his head, leaning into your touch while your hand still rested on his cheek, letting a few salty tears run down his face before he takes a deep breath and wipes his damp cheeks dry. "I think I better let you get some rest." You whispered quietly as you stood up to let him have his own time, knowing that was a big part of his processing things.

"Wait," Roy grabbed hold of your hand, stopping you from getting to far. He noted the tips of his fingers were rubbing the smooth gold wedding band, but he ignored that, knowing this was stupid he asked anyway. "Before you go, Y/N, can I...can I...I wanted to..." He was at a loss for words. The woman he had always loved was married to another, to himself.

"What is it Roy?" You sat back down, not letting go of his hand, letting him have your full attention.

He gulped, finally having the courage. "Canikissyou?" His words came out a gargled mess, his mouth deciding to break, and his face went red hot, almost as red as his hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Working on calming him down, you ran your free hand through his hair, know at least your Roy became like a purring kitten when your fingers met his hair.

Roy slowed down his breathing and tried one more time to ask, "Can I...kiss you?" He kept his eyes glued to his lap, examining the wrappings on his opposite arm, his fingers still interlaced with yours.

There was an awkward silence in the air between the two of you, he waited for you to storm out and never look at him again, but he still felt your hand holding onto his.

"Well how am I supposed to give you a kiss when you won't even look at me." His eyes slowly looked up to yours, a smile on your face as you moved to sit next to him on the bed.

He leaned in a little closer to you and you leaned in towards him where the two of you met in the middle. You pressed a quick and chaste kiss to his lips, your experience in this field evident as he was totally shocked about what just happened.

"That's right, I was your first kiss." You chuckled at his bright red cheeks, pressed another kiss to his cheek this time, chuckling at the young blushing fifteen-year-old. "If it makes you feel any better, you were mine too." You stood up as you gave his hand a final squeeze before letting it go, walking out the door.

Before you reached the door, you looked back at the ginger and smiled at him, and he smiled back. "If you need anything, I write my number down for you to use if you need to talk about anything thing. It's on your charts if you ever want it."

"Thank you, Y/N." He smiled at you again, his cheeks still dusted pink as you left the room.

Outside you met your dad and your Roy waiting for you, "You guys should probably go easy on him if you want him to get accumulated to everything." Ollie nodded his head and turned back to a waiting doctor.

Roy gently pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head and smothering you in his chest. "He asked me to kiss him." You whispered into his chest, your own actions shocking you as soon as you realized what you just did. Feeling his grip around you tighten, you knew he heard you. "And I did."

You could hear the deep sigh, the breath tickling the top of your head. "I'm not angry, but, why?"

"He's just like you when you came back." You looked up at your husband's face, studying it and seeing how much eight years has done to him, it was shocking to see especially with the younger him being on the other side of a wall. "Lost, confused. I just wanted to give him some comfort."

Roy hummed to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he slowly let you out of his bear hug. "Let's go home," he said as you linked pinkie fingers together, him gently pulling you down the hallway.

"Home sounds good." You thought of Roy, both of them, they were the same person, but two completely different people. "Roy?"

"Yeah?" He looked back at you, happily surprised when you met him with a small peck. "Hmm, nice little surprise."

"I love you, Roy Harper." You smiled up at him, something in you happily told you that this was him.

Yes, that young fifteen-year-old pulled out of time was Roy Harper, there's no denying it.

But the man in front of you, your ginger, arrow shooting husband, he was just as much Roy Harper. But he was different.

That's because he was your Roy Harper.

#roy harper #roy #roy harper x reader #roy harper imagine #roy imagine #roy x reader #roy harper one shot #roy harper oneshot #red arrow #red arrow x reader #red arrow imagine #red arrow one shot #red arrow oneshot #yg #yg x reader #yg imagine #young justice x reader #young justice imagine #young justice

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luckyfirerabbit · 4 years

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Jaune Doe: pt 7

(short and sweet, it’s how it came out)

It's been hills and valleys for him the last couple weeks. The nightmares come and go in waves, a few nights on, then off, then on again for a few more. His appetite is inconsistent but he doesn't appear to have an issue with it, though the staff is worried about his weight. But, on the positive side, they've got him off the IV completely and are managing his pain rather well with Ibuprofen. He's up and walking as expected. His concussion is healing as it should as well, but his memory is still spotty at best. Aside from his sleep disturbances his mood is stable, even pleasant, and he's able to tolerate what few visitors he receives with little issue.

Today, however, Jaune is noticeably concerned, lounging in his bed and staring at the ceiling with a sever knit to his brow. His transfer date is coming up and he doesn't know what to do. Pyrrha said she would figure it out, or at least help him do it, but she hasn't brought him anything yet, not even the copy of his file that she promised.

What's going to happen to him? Will they just toss him out? No, no...would they really?

"Knock, knock,"

Jaune blinks out of his troubled haze, reflexively smiling. "Hey, Pyrrha, I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah? Good things I hope." Oh my gods, why did I say that? She's starting to second guess herself already.

"You could say that." he lilts his head, noncommittal. "Everything okay? What's in the bag?"

"Well," she knows he's referring to the duffel bag she has in one hand. She approaches the bed and sets it down near the foot of it, asking for permission to sit on the edge before continuing. "I actually wanted to talk to you about your transfer."

"Oh, good. What did you find out?"

"I've got all the information on the hospital campuses available for you right here." she props her briefcase on her lap and opens it, passing him a folder that he had expected to be much thicker. "Most of them are nearby, and a few of them have single occupancy units so you could have some privacy if you wanted."

"That's great, thank you." he takes the papers, seemingly genuinely relieved. "And what about the copy of my file?"

"That's here too." she's still sifting through everything she keeps in the case, producing another pale colored file.

He shows his gratitude through a short lived but heartfelt smile, though the expression kinks with curiosity. "And the bag?"

Pyrrha snaps her case closed and takes a sharp, stabilizing breath at the same time. "I...bought you some clothes. I had to guess your size for the most part, but...yeah. There's some hard-soled slippers in there that should fit you, too, at least until you can tell me your shoe size."

"Pyrrha," he's stunned, "y-you didn't have to do that."

"I know, I wanted to." she can't look at him, focusing on her hands and the way her fingers drum at the edges of her briefcase. "I also wanted to ask you something."

"Besides my shoe size?" the little chuckle at the end sounds nervous.

"Yes," she laughs in turn. "I was wondering...I applied to be your sponsor. If you want...you can come and stay with me."

His brow creases, a mixture of concern and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. His hands fumble with the papers he's holding, eventually settling to let them sit atop his thighs when he draws his legs up. "I...you didn't...why would you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," his hand reaches back and cups his neck, rubbing out the anxiety he feels mounting in his chest. He lifts his eyes and meets her gaze briefly. "It's...shit," he pushes his hand through his hair, fingernails in his scalp and catching on a cut he forgot about. "I don't know how to say it without sounding like an asshole."

"Then just say it, it's okay." she assures him.

"What's your angle?" he blurts out, feeling the shame of the hidden accusation immediately.

Part of her thinks she gets it, it's the same part that pushes down the little hurt brought on by his suspicion. After everything he's been through -just the stuff she knows about- how was he supposed to trust her like that? It's a wonder he has any trust for her at all.

Eventually Pyrrha just smiles and waits until he looks at her again. "Like I said before, I just want to help."

He still holds a certain uneasy wariness in his face. "And if I say no?"

"Then that's your choice." she nods once. "I'd hope you'd accept the clothes, though, considering you don't really have anything," she laughs, an attempt to break the tension that she's certain fails, "but you're welcome to say no. I'll still be your advocate, I'll still work on your case and make sure you're taken care of. Nothing changes."

Jaune hears sirens in his head, warnings, some vicious and desperate thing screaming for him to retreat. It's a trap is all he can think, in spite of everything he's seen -he knows- to the contrary.

For a moment the two just look at each other, and Pyrrha eventually takes that as a sign. She eases to her feet, her brief case tucked under her arm.

"Take some time to think it over, and just let me know when you've made a decision, okay? Until then, if you need me, just have someone page me."

He nods. "...Thanks." he offers timidly.

"Of course."

---

Every so often Pyrrha will skip her evening trip to the gym in favor of dinner out with her coworkers, which usually consists of Blake or Billy or Sahv, or some combination of the three. Tonight it's Blake and Yang joining her at Magic Wok. The three of them manage to get a booth tucked away in a relatively quiet corner, the perfect spot to sit and talk without disturbing or being disturbed by others.

"Am I an asshole?"

Blake coughs as her food goes down the wrong pipe, causing Yang to reach across to pat her lover on the back as she gapes at Pyrrha from across the table.

"What on earth makes you say that?" Blake sputters once she's able.

Pyrrha shifts in her seat, uncomfortable under their joint scrutiny. "I mean...maybe asshole isn't the right word,"

"Damn straight it isn't." Yang insists. "That's the last word I'd ever use in regards to you." she looks to Blake. "You okay now, baby?"

"I'm fine." one last cough. "But seriously, why would you think that?"

"Well, like we talked about, I told Jaune I was willing to sponsor him." she prods the tangle of noodles on her plate with her chopsticks. "And...just like you said he might, he got defensive and kind of...shut down."

"So why would you think you're an asshole?"

"Because," Pyrrha slouches, putting her hands in her lap as if she can hide her discomfort. "I just...I hate when I upset people. Especially when I just want to do the right thing."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't take it personally, because you're doing that anyway -that's right, I've got your number, superhero," Blake's felid ears match the asymmetry of her eyebrows, "but I don't believe he got defensive simply because it's you. It's because things are changing for him again, what little stability he has is about to shift and he doesn't know what to do, if there's anything he can do. And that's probably coming from a long time of having no control over his own fate or well being. Then, of course, there's the more than likely possibility of general trust issues."

Yang takes a long draw from the straw in her drink, her brow furrowing as she swallows. "He's probably convinced this is just some elaborate scam, and the minute he agrees to go home with you, all hell's going to break loose."

And part of Pyrrha knows there's not much she can do to change that for him. Jaune would have to discover for himself if she was trustworthy, if what she was offering him was real or some cruel joke at his expense. She shudders at the idea of just how bad he might think things could be, a man who -while drugged out of his mind and mad with pain- still had the wherewithal to be terrified and fight back against those that were trying to save his life.

"If what he went through was anything like," Yang continues, pausing to put a crispy rangoon in her mouth and tuck it in her cheek. She'll gesture with her hand, knowing they both know what she means. "Gods only know the kind of head games he's had to navigate until now. But I agree with Blake, I don't think it's because of you."

"I know, I agree with you too, just,"

"Just you're a micro-manager and this is something you can't change." Blake explains knowingly. "But you've got a good enough head on your shoulders to let it run it's course."

"I certainly hope so." Pyrrha sips her drink. "And I don't want to influence his decision so I'm keeping our visits to a need-only basis."

One golden brow rises. "Want me to influence him for you?"

"Yang," Blake warns gently, half-heartedly.

"No, I'm serious. Listen," Yang shoves down another rangoon and swallows, leaning towards Pyrrha on one elbow. "He doesn't understand the kind of person you are, he probably thinks you're like some fucking unicorn -all mythological and sparkly and too good to be true. Let me talk to him, I mean, you've been meaning for me to anyway, right?"

"True." Blake nods.

"But he should make this choice on his own." Pyrrha reaffirms. "He deserves that."

"He also deserves the best chance at recovery and getting his life back together." Yang counters.

"Also true." Blake chimes, seeming more focused on her food than the conversation.

"And I think you can give him that chance, Pyrrha. Hell," she laughs, easing away, back into her own space in the booth. "If it weren't for you, I might not have met Blake, so you basically saved my life."

Pyrrha blushes and tries to hide her face, failing miserably. "I just got you the referral."

"Semantics." Yang waves her hand in dismissal. "So let me go to bat for you, just this once, and I promise I won't use my impeccable charm for evil ever again."

Blake laughs, almost choking on her food again. Once she's able to she quickly swallows.

"Come on; I kind of feel like you owe me after not letting me curb-stomp your ex."

"Yang," Pyrrha exhales hard, appalled more so at herself for the effort it takes not to laugh than at Yang for the comment. "He wasn't that bad,"

"Bullshit." Yang points a finger at her, sharp, decisive.

Blake clears her throat, takes a quick drink. "Being in denial doesn't change the truth of the matter, Pyrrha, it would be better if you just accept it."

"I've gotten better at it." she admits meekly. "Just...I don't think anyone deserves to be curb-stomped. Believe it or not, I'm not a huge fan of violence."

"Well I am," Yang's finger has changed to her thumb and points back at her, "and as far as I'm concerned, a man who hits his wife deserves a helluva lot worse."

Pyrrha sighs and smiles. "And while I appreciate how fiercely protective you both are of me, it isn't necessary."

"You heard her, down girl." Blake nudges Yang with an elbow.

Yang tucks close to Blake, diving face first into the crook of her neck. "Woof,"

"Oh my god," Pyrrha groans, "check please,"

#Jaune Doe #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #bumbleby #blake x yang #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 5 years

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answers (16)

Anonymous said: A lot of these secrets are really serious and sad so heres a lighter one: me and my sister are knitting christmas socks for the whole family as a surprise. Ive never knit a pattern before but im really good!!

Amazing!!

Anonymous said: idk if your still doing this but my secret is I fear im a terrible person who only acts nice to rick people into liking her and ik that actually does make me an okay but i still feel im doing it for the wrong reasons and someones going to get too close and find out the truth and hate me

That’s very self aware of you, I think-- probably too self aware. You’re absolutely right to say it’s the trying that matters, but I’m not gonna blame you for worrying about it. I have similar concerns about myself sometimes. I’m aware that for me personally they’re partially justified. Some of my kindness is self motivated.

I think though (and it seems like you already know this) it’s the effect of the kindness that matters. Maybe it’s better for me if I have “pure” intentions, but if I don’t, I should still do the kind things anyway, right? Because at the end there’s still going to be good. And there’s nothing bad about actively trying to be good, which is all we’re doing.

Anonymous said: my secret is that ive been chasing after a dream my whole life but im not sure ill ever achieve it. times running out and i dont know what to do if i cant. i feel like my whole life has been put on standby and i dont know the way out. i know ill be okay in the end but i dont know what the end will be and that scares me.

Shit that’s relatable. You really will be okay, but it’s terrifying in the meantime, isn’t it? To have those turning points bearing down on you?

Things will happen. You can’t stop that. Time is gonna continue, but you’ll still be there at the end. Your head’s already in the right place.

Anonymous said: My secret is that I really, really like one of my friends, but he has a girlfriend and slept with one of my best friends when they were both super drunk. I want the feelings to stop and go back to being just friends, because I honestly think I don't have a chance, but there is a small part of me that doesn't want to let go. I don't know what to do.

Well that’s a bitch of a situation, isn’t it? Romantic feelings aren’t really my area, but I understand holding on to things you consciously want to let go. Emotions always feel like part of me, you know? I don’t want to tear them away. Sometimes it’s better to do it, though. I don’t know from a few sentences if that’s the case here, but I hope you find the way that’s the best for you

Anonymous said: My secret is I used to be suicidal, in my pre/early teens. I had realised I was lesbian in a small, largely Catholic town and hated myself for it. I was awful at social situations and couldn’t make friends. I hated myself for having baby fat because I danced part time. Then as I got older I slowly got more confident until one day a friend died I realised that holy shit I used to be suicidal and I could have killed myself. I’m terrified that I might get like that again and actually do it

Honestly, and I know this is gonna sound cliche, but I’m always in awe of folks like you. I don’t handle my own mental health issues super well most of the time, and to hear about someone growing? Changing? Getting better? Amazing

Anonymous said: If you're still taking these... my secret is that I don't want to give birth to children ever, and would consider adopting instead (when I'm older), but if I were to voice that to any family member or even an acquitance, they would shun me for it and make sure they try to talk me out of it. I really hate how conservative people put so many expectations on my shoulders

Heyyyyyy same. I’m not planning on birthing any kids, but my parents have come down pretty heavily on the single-women-should-not-adopt-children thing, which is.... bullshit. I’m gonna adopt some kids one day, whether they like it or not.

You know your own mind and your own plans. Other people don’t have to be happy about them, even (maybe especially) family members.

Anonymous said: My secret is that I’m a bad friend. I don’t make time for the few friends I have and spend most my time working or being in my room. They deserve better than me.

I don’t think you’re a bad friend. Not being around isn’t bad-friend behavior. You’re not hurting anyone. You’re not doing anything wrong. And I certainly don’t think that it justifies the idea that they should leave you. Relationships are always kinda a difficult balancing act, but you don’t have to be perfect at balancing it, you know?

Anonymous said: My secret is that I'm extremely self-sufficient, I've always had to be. But because there's no one else taking care of me it's so hard to invest my time in others because I'll neglect my own mental state. It make sit hard to develop stable relationships. Every once in a while I re-realize that I'm no one's priority so I have to be my own. And it just sucks.

Shit anon that’s really really rough. It makes me sad with you. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, because I don’t know, do I? But I hope you are.

Anonymous said: My secret is I imagine myself as OCs I create for certain fandoms like Young Justice or Castlevania, and I spend all my time daydreaming of how I would act in episodes and how I would interact with the characters. I think it’s because I’m not satisfied with my life, and I’m also afraid that this makes me either weird or crazy.

Oh biggest mood

I do that too. I’m not in a position to say whether that’s a good or bad thing, but I like to think it just makes us creative. For me, it eventually found an outlet in writing, and that’s been a big source of joy in my life. I had some unpleasant experiences sharing that stuff with people in the past, but for me? I don’t worry about it anymore. I know a lot of people that do similar stuff.

Write some fanfiction, maybe :) You might be real good at it

Anonymous said: My secret is I’m secretly attracted to people who are better than me at stuff

That’s not really my area, but seems to me that’s a pretty good thing to be attracted to. One of the sweetest things I hear around school is people talking about how their partners are going to be such good lawyers. It’s cute.

Anonymous said: My secret is that my anxiety is crushing me. I don't want to feel this way anymore.

Oh, anon. I just.... feel you. I’ve been really struggling lately with the idea that other people move through life without that handicap, and it amazes and angers me. Why don’t I get that? Why am I like this? It isn’t fair.

And it isn’t. It just isn’t. You didn’t ask to death match your brain every second of the day. You’re not any worse than everyone else, so why do you have to suffer? I don’t know. I really don’t.

The only happy thing I can say to you is people do heal. It’s bullshit that it takes so much time and effort, but it is possible. I’m better off now than I was five years ago, even if it did take five years and a whole lot of therapy, medication, and energy. You shouldn’t have to fight like this, but you can, and you can win.

Anonymous said: My secret is Im so bitter most of the time that I cant be happy for others. Me and my best friend are both singers but I can never be happy for her when she gets compliments or any success bc im jealous and im scared I'll never learn to be selfless and happy for other people

You’re only human. You have human emotions. You have every right to feel them. The only thing that matters is your choices, because that’s the only thing you can control.

I’m so sorry you’re scared. That’s another emotion you have every right to feel

Anonymous said: My secret is that sometimes I hated myself for not express what I felt because I thought they'll hate me or make distance of me but I'm learning to express my feelings to others and try to be more confidence :) I hope you'll be brave too and do whatever you want to do 💜

I wanna be anon when I grow up

Anonymous said: My secret is that my hands hurt all the time but in different ways, and I’m scared to get help because I’m scared they’ll tell me I’m making it up or being dramatic.

Man do I hate the shit people put you through to get medical help. Everybody’s entitled to ask, aren’t they? So why are we all making that difficult? Why are we making people feel bad about their own pain?

I understand your fear, but I hope you start asking questions anyway. Other people’s opinions about it aren’t your fault

Anonymous said: My secret is that my dermatillomania has gotten way worse since I got to college, so I’m having to wear headscarves again to keep myself from picking my scalp. I smuggled my scarf collection out of my room without telling my parents.

I’m sorry, anon. That’s difficult. That sucks. That’s bullshit.

Anonymous said: my secret is that when one of my family members says something homophobic I'll laugh and agree because I'm afraid that they'll disown me if there's any shred of proof that I'm LGBT and it makes me feel like such filth

That’s not your fault. It’s theirs for making you feel unsafe, because your safety really should be your first priority! That’s okay! You’re not being a bad person by doing it. You’re just protecting someone. You’re allowed to make that someone you

#some pretty heavy subjects here so #suicide #suicidal thoughts #anxiety #depression #mental illness #homophobia #if there's anything else let me know #asks #secrets

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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Fic: A Terrible Idea [14/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This is secretly a fake dating AU.

Segment summary: Historia digs the hole a little deeper.

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII

Finding more excuses after several weeks of pulling every one she could out of a hat wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Lunch, sure, and several days in the usual prep table had been gracefully overtaken by Ymir and people Ymir put up with. Pieck and Porco thought hanging out with Historia was a spectator sport, and Connie and Sasha had invited themselves when they saw an opening, because that’s what they did.

Reiner bench pressing both of them wasn’t the mood-setter Ymir was looking for, but time together was time together, and they shared zero classes. Lunch and after school. Such were the options, and neither worked great for talking about feelings. Ymir didn’t even want to talk about feelings.

“Yet somehow, you keep finding a way,” Pieck had said in the wake of one of Ymir’s light jogging sessions.

“More like you and Pock keep bringing it up,” was Ymir’s retort.

What she really needed was some time alone with Historia that didn’t leave them both putting up with crap and people they weren’t in the mood for.

“That’s called a date,” Porco had said, head slumped in his pillow while he stopped bothering with keeping his eyes open. Staying up past curfew was a trick his body had somehow never learned. In the bed on the other side of the room, slightly more awake, Marcel had supplied the similarly helpful comment of, “You two text every night. You can’t talk to her then?”

The people in her life failed at being remotely helpful with this, and she hoped they realized that. She’d told Pieck as much. Pieck, being Pieck, hadn’t cared.

“If you want to kiss her again, your mouth is the one that needs to put in the work.” She’d smiled, batting her eyes passively. “I hear you had some trouble with that the first time. Think of this as a much needed learning experience.”

Ymir’s friends were horrible people with not an ounce of compassion attributed to their combined presence.

The fucking problem, which none of them seemed to get, was that being around Historia made her happy. She liked watching her play games on her phone and teasing her about her jackass parents. She liked having someone around who listened to her bitch about her day. She liked how Historia told her she was being a dick while she squeezed her hand.

She liked the stupid, everyday being together enough that she wasn’t actually thinking about kissing her every second of the day, and bringing that up would grind it to a halt, and the only grinding she wanted to do was with Historia.

But with feelings now.

She’d been pretty upfront about the parts that didn’t take feelings. The new addition was different, and.

Just and.

Completing that thought was probably the first step to convincing Historia that making out needed to enter their socializing mix. With Ymir being such a catch, it would probably be the only step, but it was a step that kept not fucking happening for reasons of who the fuck knows.

A lifetime of watching other people screw up their feelings and laughing about it said that Ymir was probably the fuck who knew.

So she took up walking Historia to her car after cheerleading practice and thought about completely fucking over the warm glow that had decided it lived in her chest by talking about wanting the warm glow to be a real, tangible thing with labels and anniversaries.

Historia was fine with Ymir hitting her up for sex and breaking into lockers. Ymir asking her to spend the rest of her life with her was something else, also moving pathetically fast and probably creepy. Too bad that was the only way she could think of saying it, so sad, maybe they’d conveniently trip into each other in a secluded space and Historia would temporarily gain five inches of height so they could just accidentally make out and never talk about it.

Late Friday afternoon, as they walked to the hellspot of asphalt that contained Historia’s driver, that still hadn’t happened. Ymir was shocked. Truly. Shocked.

Sweeping one of the borrowed school towels through her sweat-tousled hair, Ymir struck up some conversation that kept her from thinking about the way Historia looked at her when she did that. “So why the cheerleading?”

“PE credit?”

Another thing Ymir liked about Historia. It was really easy to figure out where to dig.

“Nice try, but you like PE.”

Historia was trying not to smile. She had to try now. “How would you know? My PE years weren’t at this school.”

“Sure, and the fact that you sulk hard enough to bring down thunderclouds whenever your coach cuts practice short doesn’t say anything at all about what you like to do with your body,” Ymir said. “You never complain about the crap choreography because you get to do flips. You’ve got jock written all over your prep face.”

Historia’s shoulder dug into Ymir’s side. “The choreography isn’t that bad.”

“If you cared at all you wouldn’t be able to say that.” Ymir casually dropped her arm down and around Historia. A quick sight check confirmed she was okay with it. As did the small arm snaking across her back. “So,” Ymir continued, stars and lightning and all things frightening lighting up her world, “why did the girl with no cheer pick leading that charge?”

Historia took an exaggeratingly long time feeding her Tamagotchi as the parking lot crept closer.

“Don’t tell me it was the cute girls in skirts.”

“Jealous?” Historia drawled.

“Please,” Ymir said. “They’ve got nothing on me.”

Historia bit her lip and gave the parts of Ymir’s body she wasn’t glued to a thriceover. Ymir’s knees, a little worn out from running, weakened, and Historia’s arm around her waist turned into a weirdly stable anchor.

“If you don’t give me an answer now I’ll just bug you all night,” Ymir said. Nary a choked word in hearing.

Reaching the loading zone section of the sidewalk, Historia stopped. Racing to join Ralph or Sannes and leave Ymir behind was real low on the priority list. “Frieda,” she said.

“Your sis—?”

“Historia!”

Ymir still, despite Hannah’s token efforts, got the track team all over her ass about joining up. She had amazing legs, and everyone wanted them. She was also just plain faster than everyone on the team. Pieck had a passive aggressive stopwatch reading to prove it.

Historia was frozen stiffer than a popsicle. In a fraction of time unobservable by humans later, she had vanished from Ymir’s side and left several Olympic records in smithereens.

“Frieda!”

All that was visible of her was a tiny blonde cannonball plunging into a human who would have been dubbed stunning in any other company.

Plus that smile.

Holy shit that smile.

Ymir almost forgot to miss holding her when Historia was smiling like that. She was hugging the tall young lady (Ymir had never actually met anyone before who fit the term, but Frieda was a lady) with a strength usually reserved for repressed homicidal urges, and she was smiling. Really smiling. With light and sunshine spilling out of her face like the radiance of the universe was trapped up inside her.

The sister was hugging her back maybe half as tightly, but no less happily, because there was no way to be in the presence of that smile, to cause that smile, without some of it rubbing off.

“There you are! How was practice?”

Ymir didn’t think Historia had ever cared less about cheerleading in her life.

“It… it was good! What—when did you get here?”

Frieda stroked several stray hairs back behind Historia’s ear, looking down at her like they were sharing a secret. “Just now,” she said. “What do you think, a good surprise?”

“Yes! I—yes, Frieda, it’s…” Historia had the same level of words to put to the situation that Ymir did. She went with hugging her sister some more instead. Still with the smiling.

Ymir stood in the background like a forgotten stagehand and couldn’t even mind.

Only she was a little less than wholly forgotten, it turned out. Frieda’s sugary sweet teddy bear affection sharpened over Historia’s head. They had the same eyes, but this pair hadn’t had weeks of being won over with charm and good looks.

Ymir had a very dark hunch, and very little evidence against it.

“Who’s this?” Frieda asked lightly.

It was a heavy compliment, Ymir knew, that Historia instantly broke her hug enough to look back at Ymir. She didn’t lose the smile when she did. If anything it brightened. Ymir didn’t think she felt her heart anymore. Mush didn’t have nerve endings.

“This,” Historia said, with all the significance she’d skipped for the last family meet and greet, “is Ymir.”

“Oh,” Frieda said benignly. “The same Ymir you brought to Dad’s party?”

Historia’s smile evaporated.

Ymir’s hunch started to feel a little more like fact.

She had only met Historia’s parents once. If a second time came up, she didn’t see it ending without a murder, and the only thing sparing Frieda at the moment was the streak of overprotectiveness lacing the hammer of judgment she was throwing Ymir’s way.

“That’s me,” Ymir said. There were worse introductions. Better, too, but she was guessing Mama and Papa Reiss had already screwed her on that front.

Frieda smiled congenially at her. You know, like how mother bears bared their teeth before they disemboweled whatever previously living thing was unfortunate enough to step near their cub. “You must be good friends,” she said.

It was bait on a devilish hook, and Ymir wasn’t going to be able to help the swallow.

Historia beat her to it.

It could have happened in slow motion. In a movie reenactment, it would have, and missed out on the stumbling garble that came from Historia saying the words faster than she had time to think about them.

Before Ymir could even think about tactics, in a second of combusting defiance, what tripped out of Historia’s mouth in front of her shiny, sparkly paragon of a sister who would accept nothing less was, “Ymir’s my girlfriend.”

…

So, the obvious: No, she was not.

The other obvious, stashed between Frieda’s good-natured, lying, happy exclamation of surprise and Historia’s rapidly paling face:

Holy fuck that so needed to change.

#yumikuri #yumihisu #shingeki no fanfic #fic #mine

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interste-ll-ar · 6 years

Text

Boys of Summer Chapter 1

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak expects that summer camp will be a fun, educational experience. He does not expect to meet the best friends he’s ever had, and to get in trouble while doing it.

In which Richie is a prankster, and Eddie somehow ends up joining him.

Words: 1884

Pairing: Reddie, minor/background Stenbrough, minor/background Benverly

A/N: hi guys this is chapter one of my camp fic!! i know its a bit slow, but I promise it will get better!!! im really excited about this one ive had this idea in my head for a long time so I hope you like it!!

part 2

Eddie Kaspbrak had only known the town of Derry, Maine his entire life. He’d never been more than an hour away from home, and only then it was because his mom had insisted that his usual doctor was wrong, so she’d taken him to see another one (and another, and another).

So it was a wonder he’d managed to convince her to let him go to sleep away camp for an entire summer.

From the beginning of July to the middle of August, Eddie was going to stay at Nashoba North, two hours away from Derry—and his mother. He couldn’t have been more excited if he tried.

The entire two hour car ride over, his mother lectured him: about safety, about the dangers of the woods, about making sure he wore sunscreen and took his inhaler with him everywhere and had his watch set so he could take his meds. She asked him no less than 6 times if he was sure he wanted to do this, if he wanted her to turn back now.

“Mom,” he said, “I want this. I want to do this. I don’t want to turn back.”

“I just want you to be sure, Eddie Bear. I can’t be there to take care of you. Maybe I should stick around in case you change your mind.”

“No, mom, I’m not going to change my mind. Don’t embarrass me in front of the whole camp by staying later than all the other parents.”

He was in a bad mood by the time they reached the campground, but as soon as he stepped out of the car to see the hustle and bustle of other campers arriving and counselors leading them to their cabins, his mood soared. Looking at the excited faces around him, he wondered who among them would end up being close friends. Briefly, he wondered if any of them were his bunk mate.

A counselor walked up to his mom and asked her for his name so she could sign him in. She told them he would be in cabin 7 with seven other boys his age and two counselors who would lead his group in their daily activities.

The counselor helped him grab his trunk and his bags and led the two of them to his cabin.

“You’ll be on this bunk,” she said, setting his stuff on the lower bed of a bunk in the middle of the room. He looked around the cabin with curiosity. It was much smaller than he’d imagined, and about as run down as he’d thought.

The bunks ran parallel to the walls, pressed up as close as possible to give them some walking room in the middle. The counselors had single beds at the end of each row of bunks so there was one in charge of either side in case things got too rowdy. Neither counselor was currently present; Eddie assumed they were off attending to their beginning-of-camp duties.

There was only one other boy present in his cabin so far. He had been quiet, unpacking his bed things in a fairly tedious manner. The boy’s father (Eddie presumed) was sternly debriefing him about what he was supposed to do: “Don’t forget to call once a week, Bill, I know where the phone is on the campgrounds and I know you have access to it whenever you want, so you have no reason not to check in with us. You should also write George a few letters because it would make him happy. Make sure you wash behind your ears in the shower.”

The boy—Bill, Eddie guessed—listened and nodded along to his father’s rambling, murmuring responses too quiet to be heard every once in a while. Eddie wondered if this boy was always this quiet.

At his own bunk, his mother fussed over every single aspect of the cabin and his arrangements. “Oh, Eddie Bear, look at the state of this place. There’s a spiderweb in the corner over there. The floors are so dirty I can’t even tell what color the wood used to be. You are never to be barefoot in this place, you hear me? Not to mention the shower house—ugh, I haven’t even been in there yet, I can’t imagine how many bacteria are on that floor—“

“Ma, you aren’t going to go into the shower house. They’re divided by gender. You can’t go into the boys shower house.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m sure no ones in there showering now, it’s the beginning of camp.”

“Mom. No,” Eddie pleaded, “Don’t do that, please. I’ll wear my shower shoes, I promise.”

“Okay, fine.” She put her hands up in defeat. “If you promise to wear your shower shoes. And use a new towel every time you shower. Make sure you wash your towels every time they do laundry. Did we write your name on your towels?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Mrs. Kaspbrak continued to fuss over his belongings, making sure to wrap a mattress bag around his thin bed and tucking his sheets in extra tight. As she busied herself with her tasks, he sorted through his fanny pack to make sure he had everything he’d need for the day. Inhaler, check. Daily pills container, check. Band-aids, check.

He was searching around for his antibiotic cream when the door opened again, and in walked a boy his age with light, curly hair. Despite the fact that it was the first day of camp, he wasn’t smiling. He was followed by who Eddie could only assume was his father, a man who kept his hand firmly planted on the boy’s shoulder. He led him to the same bunk that Bill and his father were standing at and the boys did an elaborate handshake before hugging. Their fathers shook hands.

Eddie’s heart dropped. It figured that all the boys here would know each other already. They’d probably been going to camp together for years. He had a sudden intense feeling that he would make no new friends this summer, that everyone would see the neat freak hypochondriac and decide to stay far away. In his head, he saw a dozen faceless boys having fun at the lake while he sat on the beach and watched. He imagined everyone sitting at lunch sharing jokes and laughing together as he sat on his own to the side.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like going to summer camp changed who he was as a person. He was still just the same panicky, annoying—

“Is this your f-first year here?”

Eddie spun around when he heard the voice behind him. Bill and his friend had snuck up on him while he was deep in his reverie. “Yeah, it is.”

“I’m B-B-Bill, and this is Stan. We’ve been coming here f-for years. What’s your name?”

“I’m Eddie.” He stuck his hand out to shake, and Bill and Stan looked at each other before each shaking his hand in turn.

“We’d be happy to show you around, if you’d like,” Stan said cheerily, and Eddie nodded quickly.

Suddenly, the screen door to their cabin was once more thrown open, and a whirlwind of a boy made his way into the cabin.

Eddie could immediately tell something was very different about this boy. He had dark curly hair and thick glasses, and he held his head down as he walked—stormed, really—into the cabin. The counselor led him over to his bunk—

—which happened to be right above Eddie’s.

He tried very hard to pretend he wasn’t just staring at his new bunk mate, sitting down as he and his parents made their way over to him.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” Eddie said, holding his hand out to his bunkmate, “I’m your bunkmate.” The boy looked at him for a moment, eyes large and dark behind his glasses, then turned back to the bunk, climbing the ladder with his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Richard, this nice young man is talking to you,” the woman standing next to their beds said, “be polite. Say hello.”

“Hello,” the boy—Richard, apparently—spat back, not looking up from where he dug through his bag. He produced a single pillow without a case on it and threw it down on his bed, quickly followed by a single off-white sheet. His mother sighed and shook her head, but seemingly didn’t want to push the issue further.

After Richard climbed down from his bunk, his parents shared a look before speaking. “We’ll see you at the end of the summer. And,” His father sighed, “please, please, try not to get in trouble this time.” With that, they walked out the door without so much as a backwards glance at their son.

Next to him, Sonya clucked her tongue and shook her head. Eddie knew how much she despised any parents she perceived to not care as much as she did about their children. “It’s a shame. I tell you, Eddie, some people just don’t care enough.” She lowered her voice before adding, “I would stay away from that boy if I were you. He doesn’t seem stable. It’s the bad parenting. And that pillow probably has diseases in it.”

A shiver ran down his back, and he nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap. His mother wrapped her arms protectively around him, and he tried very hard not to feel like she was sucking the life out of him in the process.

His mom stayed with him, practically glued to his side, until the opening bonfire that evening. As Eddie predicted, she was the last parent remaining, even though he’d asked her not to do that. He sat beside Bill and Stan on their cabin’s log in front of the fire. He noticed that his bunkmate was at the end of the row, almost isolated from the others. He had his head in his hand the whole ceremony, and he didn’t participate at all.

Eddie knew his mom was overbearing, and he knew she was often wrong, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right about one thing: he should stay away from Richard.

Following the bonfire, he went over to his mom to say goodbye. The sun was already beginning to set, and she had long outstayed her welcome.

“You’ll call me everyday, right?” she begged, holding his chin in her hand, “And you’ll write to me once a week?”

“I’ll try,” he managed to get out, face squished in her hand. She gathered him to her, holding him tightly. He hugged her back fiercely. As much as she bugged him and nagged and fussed over him, he would miss her. It would be the longest he’d ever gone without seeing her, and he knew it was taxing her even more than she let on.

“Be good,” she murmured as she pulled back, cupping his cheek and moving away. As he watched her retreating figure fade into the growing darkness, he felt an enormous feeling he’d never felt before; it was heavy and light at the same time, his stomach dragging downwards as his heart soared.

He’d miss her.

But god, if he wasn’t ready to have the best summer of his life.

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie fic rec #it #it 2017 #it movie 2017 #summer camp au #reddie summer camp au #boys of summer

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certifiedskywalker · 6 years

Text

Retirement - Cassian Andor

Anonymous said:

Either Cassian or Poe x reader ( or maybe both if you have the time idk I don't want to pressure you) with an age gap? and like their really hesitant to start anything because of it but they like each other so much? Thank you, I love this blog so much!

AN: For the sake of keeping proper, the age gap would be like eight years. This also takes place after Scarif and cassian is horribly out of character. sorry

The idea of resting and retirement had never entered Cassian’s mind. The thought alone made him feel old, but when he meets you, he feels young again.

Love was not something Cassian Andor often thought about. It was far down on his list of concerns, the Rebellion being at the top. He was often too busy to even think about romance, let alone gamble entering a relationship. Completing missions and destroying the Empire were in his greatest affections; he had no room for anything or anyone else.

That all changed after Scarif. Cassian soon had too much time to think about how the Rebellion had taken over his entire life. He was bedridden the in medbay, yelling at doctors and nurses whenever they tried to help him. He didn’t want their help. He wanted his droid counterpart, he wanted to know if Bodhi and Jyn made it out alive. What became of Baze and Chirrut. No one told him anything. The last nurse he asked said she couldn’t tell him, she was told not to. Cassian, had he not been plugged to machines, would’ve attacked in anger. That nurse left his charge after the incident, but his main doctor remained.

“You’ll be under the care of a new nurse,” Doctor Balif said, trying to met Cassian’s eye. The captain had his head turned against the pillow, his gaze on the door. He wanted to leave. “She is young, Andor, take it easy on her. The more care you allow her to give the quicker you’ll be up and moving again.”

At that, Cassian locked eyes with Doctor Balif; his brown eyes cold and hard.

“Are they alive?” He asked, his voice hoarse with disuse. He rarely spoke unless he was yelling at medical droids and nurses.

“Captain, your allies conditions are to be kept quiet. Even you can not know. The Empire has-”

“The Empire has been weakened, by my allies.” Cassian interrupted, his anger very apparent in his tone. “I don’t need a new nurse, I need to find them and go now.”

“Captain Andor, you’ve done enough for the Rebellion,” Doctor Balif shouted, his voice rising. “Now is the time to consider your life outside, after the Rebellion. Like you have said, the Empire is weakened and it won’t last much longer. What will you do after it is gone? What about retirement?” The doctor’s questions struck a cord in Cassian, as he was stunned silent. Balif let out a sigh and rubbed his tired looking face.

“You’ve been at this for too long, Cassian,” Balif said quietly, “it is just something to consider. You deserve rest, I tell you that as your friend, not your doctor.” With that, Doctor Balif left Cassian’s room. The war-hardened man felt his heart ache.

Balif was right, but retirement made him feel...old. Cassian had lost track of how many years he had spent with the Rebellion, fighting for it without mercy. It felt that, finally, Cassian Andor had, had enough of the killing. While he waited to meet his new nurse, he fell asleep; getting the rest he wholeheartedly deserved.

“Captain Andor?” Cassian’s eyes opened slightly at the soft voice. It almost reminded him of Jyn’s, but when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t his ally. The new nurse. “Sorry to wake you. Doctor Balif told me that I have to switch out your IV. It will only take a moment.”

“Al-alright,” Cassian said groggily, “you’re the new nurse?” As he sat up in his bed, you had walked over to grab the new bag of fluid. He couldn’t help but notice how young she looked with her soft features and soft smile. She was definitely younger than himself.

“I am,” she said with a smile. It was a bright, sweet smile; one that Cassian wished he had the pleasure of seeing before being sentenced to the medbay. She quickly exchanged the fluid, Cassian’s eyes never leaving her focused expression.

“What is your name?” He asked quietly. Her eyes moved up, her gaze locking with his own. For a moment, Cassian felt that his breath was caught in his throat. Her doe eyes were a pleasant contrast from the brutality he had known.

“Y/N,” she said softly, another soft smile on her pink lips. Cassian nodded, looking away, almost bashfully, from her gaze. “I-I hope you’ll find my care adequate,” she said awkwardly, bringing a gruff chuckle out of Cassian.

“You’ve heard about my past nurses haven’t you?” He looked up at Y/N, a slightly embarrassed smile on his thin lips.

“I have,” she said, “I was warned about. But you don’t seem like the cranky old man they described.” She shot him a playful smile and Cassian felt almost laughed again.

“I don’t know about that,” Cassian said, feeling his age. Y/N smiled and walked back over to his bedside. “Retirement is a choice I could make for myself now. Doesn’t that make me old?” Y/N smiled and shook her head, her hair shimmering with the movement.

“It just means you are worthy of rest and, from what I’ve heard, are you definitely worthy. And brave.” Cassian smiled, a true smile, as the words left her mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain Andor,” she said as she turned to leave his room.

“Y/N,” Cassian said, bringing her attention back to him for a moment, “you can call me Cassian.” She smiled a toothy grin and nodded as she went through the door. Cassian leaned back on his bed, feeling a little anger in his heart release into nothingness.

A few weeks passed and Cassian found himself with a growing affection for Y/N. She was young and didn’t treat him as the other nurses had. She treated him like a human being, not simply just a patient. Flirts were thrown about meaninglessly between the two, until it wasn’t meaningless.

A tension, romantic in nature, started to form between them. Cassian felt it just as much as Y/N did. The girl tried her best to remain professional, but the way he would look at her would send shivers through her. Flirting turned into deep conversations, that would sometimes last late into the night. Doctor Balif would check in, noting his change in overall mood.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, Y/N, but keep it up. Cassian will be out of here soon if his vitals remain this stable.” Y/N nodded, smiling softly. “He also seems to hold you in a high regard,” he pointed out, making the girl blush.

As the days went on, Cassian’s feelings only grew; but their age gap became more apparent as well. He would tell Y/N war stories that she had learned about in school a few years ago. Cassian grew hesitant to tell her of his feelings. The eight years between them and the fear in his chest started to take it’s toll. Until one night, where Cassian asks about his friend again.

“They always claimed they couldn’t tell me if they were alive,” Cassian said sadly. “I haven’t heard from them since.”

“Cassian,” Y/n said, placing her hand on his. He looked up and met her eyes, seeing a seriousness in them that wasn’t characteristically Y/N. “They’re alive.”

Cassian felt tears well up in his eyes, his hand moving to grasp Y/N’s. He brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against the skin on top of her slender hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “but won’t you get in-” Y/N shook her head, silencing him.

“I am suppose to help my patients, even if that means withholding information from them. But you, Cassian, are more than my patient. I,” she paused, “I care for you.”

Cassian swallowed hard, “Y/N, I do to, but it’s not…I’m here for Force knows how much longer and you’re young.”

“Your vitals are more stable,” she said softly, “your stay in the medbay won’t be forever. And the age…” she trailed off. “You have been fighting for a long time, Cassian,” she said after a moment of thought, “you don’t have to fight this.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said softly, holding her gaze, “I’m done fighting.”

“I hope you don’t mind the retirement celebration,” Doctor Balif said as he led Cassian down the hall. He was finally free from the medbay, open to go and do whatever he pleased. Balif guided him into a room where, much to Cassian’s surprise, was full of people.

Jyn, Bodhi, and the rest of the Rogue One crew were there; looking about as worse for wear as he did. So was Y/N. The young nurse rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Hello mi amor,” Cassian said into her hair. When Y/N pulled back, Cassian leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. Baze let out a happy shout and Jyn smiled at her friend. Y/N pulled back and pecked his cheek.

“C’mon, your friends have missed you,” she grabbed his hand and led Cassian over to his crew. Bodhi gave him a small hug, as did Baze and Jyn. Chirrut gave him a nod.

“You’ve freed yourself from your prison, Captain. I commend you.” Cassian nodded at the blind man, looking over at Y/N. She was smiling, laughing at something Baze had done to make Bodhi blush. Jyn Erso even dared to smile too. Maybe retirement wouldn’t be too bad after all.

#Cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #rogue one imagine #rogue one imagines #cassian andor imagines #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #jyn erso #bodhi rook #the rebellion #baze mlabus #chirrut imwe

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