#also i have other things ive taken up on the spur of the moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libermachinae · 3 years

Text

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 12: Stumble and Lost His Grip

Also available on AO3! Summary: Knocking on the front door didn’t work, so time to try the back. Word Count: 3,437

---

Scorch might have been as pleasant as the rust ruined dregs at the bottom of an oil can, but damn if Spur wouldn’t mind feeling that arrogant crackle of a laugh at the other end of his spark. A few jabs about how he’d teamed up with Autobots just like Grrder always warned he would with too-easy remark about how he got distracted by a smooth tread. Anything but the emptiness of stasis lock chilling him from the inside out. Add in the fact that they were racing narrowly by a straight plummet to a grisly death and this could easily rank among the top five worst days of his life.

He clung tighter to Drift’s roof, optics offline. If this was the end, he didn’t want to see it coming.

“Watch it,” Drift warned. Spur ignored him.

He’d had an alt-mode once, so long ago it was hard to remember now. He and Scorch had worked in construction setting up new plumbing infrastructure and had hated it. Even though he couldn’t remember what form he’d taken to do the job, he could still smell the insides of those tunnels and feel that wet heat weighing down on him. When the representative for Triple M had shown up on site, it hadn’t mattered that the foreman dragged him off before he could introduce himself. Spur and Scorch had been among the handful to roll up to the ramshackle unformatting clinic.

He justified the decision with a simple fact: everyone did stupid slag when they were young. His dumb idea also meant they weren’t in Ultrix when the sinkhole opened under the Ioreian neighborhood, and that they were among the first to know when Triple M leadership decided the Decepticons had the right idea. Or at least were on a better track than the Senate. Spur hadn’t paid much attention to the politics, that was more Scorch’s thing. Spur was more interested in survival, a simple goal that had become more complex the moment Drift had realized he didn’t have any wings or wheels of his own. That was how he found himself now with his fingers tight around the edges of Drift’s roof, squished flat with the wind tearing at his back plating, wishing for the untold time that he was about to wake up in his closet-sized hab back on the lunar base.

“Acknowledged,” Drift said.

“What’s happening?” They hadn’t offered to patch Spur into their comm channel, and he hadn’t asked.

“Rodimus says we’ve got incoming.”

“Pitslag,” Spur muttered. He was so tired of getting shot at and beaten up and chased—

“Just keep your optics open.”

Which sounded like an awful idea, except Drift was very much in control of the momentum of Spur’s poorly armored body. He brought his optics online slowly, peering through a staticky haze, but nothing could disguise the depth of the canyon’s shadow, nor the sheer drop, which Drift’s tire edged along like a battlefield medic’s torch across a wound.

Against the ludicrously powerful engine underneath him, Spur failed to catch the moment the echoes started up from behind them, only realizing he was hearing something when Drift briefly slowed for a tight turn. The sounds overlapped, feeding into each other, but when he listened close he picked up a pattern: the ripple of a spring releasing, followed by the harsh thunk of a metal body hitting stone. He twisted, trying to catch a glimpse, but the darkness of the canyon hid its secrets well.

“On their way,” he said.

“I know.” Drift pulled a tight corner faster than he should have and started to tilt toward the edge; Spur felt his spark seize and threw his weight in the opposite direction.

“Gonna fraggin’ kill us!” he snarled.

“If not me, then it’ll be them. You want to choose which one?” Drift asked.

Another day, Spur might have considered the Decepticons. With the ground under his pedes and a blaster in his grip, he could handle himself. He might not have been able to fight so well, but he could make a stand, which was often all his superiors had asked of him. Something had happened to Scorch, though, and since Spur wasn’t about to reveal his biggest weakness to a bunch of pseudo-Autobots (even one had saved his life), he was stuck with them until he could find somewhere to slip away.

The first blaster bolt that pinged off the wall behind him had him wondering if there were any right choices in this mess.

“Slag!” Drift swore as the second shot clipped his side mirror. “They’re on us!”

Spur twisted again. He mistook them for Insecticons at first, with their twisted bodies and spring-loaded legs, but as one dug its thick claws into a wall with a heavy thunk, it revealed a small pilot crouched within.

Bang!

A pilot with a decent aim.

“Scrap, scrap!” he swore, his voice tilting up as he felt Drift slow further. “No, what are you doing? Speed up! They’re shooting at us!”

“Get off.” Drift didn’t wait and transformed as he pulled to a stop, dumping Spur onto the ground. Both took evasive actions as the plasma bolts rained down, Spur wedging himself behind a boulder while Drift took up the annoying hoppy thing he’d done to evade them back on Vitrious.

“Rodimus!” Drift barked. “I know, but we’re getting shot right now!”

Spur wanted to know why that was only an unimportant detail when he was the one pointing it out, but his attention was quickly grabbed by another sound pushing into their canyon, drowning out even the blasterfire: an interstellar speeder descending directly on top of their pursuers.

The Decepticons, startled by this new development, broke formation. One released his hold on the wall and dropped out of sight, apparently uninterested in dealing with Drift’s reinforcements. The others regrouped, one continuing his assault on Drift and Spur while the second twisted in his perch on the wall, apparently with the intention to latch onto the ship itself.

“Down!” Drift shouted.

Instead, the speeder tilter up and to the side, slamming into the assailant before he’d engaged his claws. He went tumbling end over end after his teammate, which would have felt more like a win if Spur wasn’t still ducking from blasterfire that rained shrapnel down on his helm.

“Will you do something?!” he demanded.

“I’m—trying!” Drift’s words were labored, popping between bursts of gunfire. Spur questioned, not for the first time, what he had done to earn luck so bad his captor was a swordsmech. “Rodimus, watch—”

Spur was still ducking, so he didn’t see exactly what happened, but there was a bang accompanied by the shriek of tearing metal. The engine swung closer before it dipped away again.

“No!”

And then the sounds of the battle fading, falling. Spur stayed frozen, hands clutching his helm, waiting for an explosion or another burst of gunfire that never came. After several minutes, he brought his optics online and peeked over his shoulder.

Gone. The lot of them all disappeared.

On legs that were still trembling from the force of the gunshots, Spur stood and stepped out from his cover. His tiptoed to the edge of the canyon but stopped before he was close enough to look down. He hadn’t heard a crash yet, which implied they were still falling; that was a long, long way down.

He hesitated, listened close. He took two steps back and turned aside, walking, at a much more reasonable pace, in the direction he’d already been headed. It was very quiet, down inside this lonely canyon on this almost empty hunk of rock. He tugged again on the thread tied to his spark, hoping that this would be the one that revealed he wasn’t alone anymore.

~*~

Drift had been accused in the past of not thinking before he leapt. It would have looked that way, had anyone been watching as he sailed through the air folded into the jet stream of the plummeting shuttle. The assumption overlooked the fact that he had considered all of this well in advance, and he had decided, regardless of their easily broken promises, he would do everything in his power to get his friends out unharmed.

Despite the damage, the shuttle’s engines were still functioning, and it was fighting to stay airborne, bucking against its unwanted passenger. Drift almost shot past but managed to grab a service handle, wincing as the shuttle’s violent movements wrenched his delicate repairs.

“Rodimus!” he shouted, not sure comms would cover up the roar of the air and the shuttle’s engines. “Calm down! I’m taking care of this!”

“Slag, Drift, hurry!”

Drift startled. He wasn’t used to hearing Rodimus like that. As if sensing his confusion, Ratchet chimed in.

“That thing’s nearly punctured through the shuttle’s inner walls,” he said. “Rodimus is scared the rider’s going to find his way inside.”

Which was, of course, the one thing they could not allow to happen and the entire reason Drift had told them not to come. It was only concern for Rodimus’ safety that got him to withhold his anger for later, focusing on what he could do instead of what he wished he’d done. The shuttle stopped its thrashing, which gave Drift an opportunity to pull himself against its side and start climbing the short ladder. He was almost to the top when he ducked, just avoiding a blaster shot between the optics.

“Frag off!” he yelled.

No response from the canyon crawler pilot. Drift didn’t understand why he hadn’t disengaged yet and wondered if it was a mechanical failure. The rigs weren’t designed to bore into spacecraft, and it was possible he had accidentally fused it to the shuttle.

“Rodimus, what’s he doing?” Drift asked.

“I don’t know; I can’t see! Half your cameras are busted!”

Drift switched to his other channel.

“Calm him down,” he demanded.

“I’m trying,” Ratchet said. “The kid’s stressed.”

Drift bristled.

“He’s not a kid,” he snapped, then cut the comm and launched himself over the shuttle.

The tick wasn’t expecting another attempt so soon or so suddenly. His shot landed somewhere behind Drift, the gun ripped from his hand before he’d finished releasing the trigger. He cowered within his metal exoskeleton, the entire contraption shivering as it tried to pry itself from the inner workings of the shuttle.

Drift didn’t stop to think about it. He wrapped his hands under the upper jaw of the crawler and wrenched it open, griding its fangs back through the punctures it had made. Freed of his captive, the small Decepticon immediately tried to reengage, snapping the crawler’s trap shut and almost crushing Drift’s fingers in the process. Drift tried to hold on, but in his effort to save his hand, he accidentally aimed the crawler’s spring legs at himself. They kicked into his abdomen, causing him to stumble and lose his grip entirely.

“No!”

The metal cage went flying, sucked into the air current before tumbling down into the abyss, Drift watching it go from his place atop the shuttle.

He hesitated a nanoklik. Then it was too late to do anything. Drift stared at the place the bot had vanished and turned on his comms, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Drift?” Rodimus said. “I kinda saw what happened. You alright?”

It was a long drop, and the shuttle wasn’t moving slowly. If the crawler came with an eject function, the bot might get lucky and land on something pliable, but more likely he was riding it all the way down. Drift tried to muster up an answer to Rodimus’ question, but nothing came to mind. The exhaustion that dogged his frame came back in full force, but that was so normal he doubted it was worth mentioning.

“Are you injured?” Rodimus pressed.

“No,” Drift said honestly. He sunk down, reattaching himself to the side of the speeder. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.” He had spent months practicing the most rigid self-control of his life, keeping slavers and imperialists and megalomaniacs alive long enough to deliver them to justice. He’d made every thrust with precision, every grapple a little less than his full strength, and now that it appeared his efforts were at an end, he felt nothing. He’d thought that his first kill—because it had always been inevitable that he would go back to his old ways eventually—would provoke guilt or grief. But he didn’t feel anything.

“You’re going to get Grit,” Rodimus said. “You’re protecting Vitrious.”

Allegedly. If he didn’t care about this, had he ever cared about Vitrious? Was all that scrap about slavers and the betrayal of the Cause just an excuse for him to indulge the anger he had kept hidden under a red badge?

“Why are you here, Rodimus?” he asked. “Forget Ratchet and the Enigma. Why did you agree to come?” He wasn’t sure that answer would matter any more than the rest, but he was tired of being in his own head. He needed something else.

“To bring you back to the Lost Light,” Rodimus said.

“But why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Rodimus.” If there was a growl in his voice, it was because he couldn’t be bothered to hold it back anymore.

“W—what do you want from me?” Rodimus asked. Despite the stress in his voice, the shuttle kept on a smooth course. “Do you want me to say that it’s for some selfish reason, that I was doing it for myself and my personal glory again? I’ve gotten a lot of practice with—I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“I want you to be honest with me,” Drift said. “If we’re going to risk our lives for each other, I need to know why.” Everything had a price. He’d learned that years ago, and that the only way to get anywhere in the world was to set your own as high as you could. This was probably the most he could ask of Rodimus, and he still didn’t know if it would be enough. And yet for a moment, it didn’t seem like Rodimus would be able to pay. The silence stretched out, waiting, until Drift very nearly told Rodimus to carry them back up to the ledge so he could drive himself the rest of the way.

“I thought about being a hero,” Rodimus said. His voice was quiet. “I had dreams about bringing you back to the Lost Light and telling you everyone had forgiven you and giving you everything you deserved afterward. I would give you your life back, with interest. Anything you wanted. But it wouldn’t be like that, and I knew it. So then, I was afraid.”

Afraid simply of disappointment, or something more specific? Drift didn’t have a chance to ask, because Rodimus barreled on.

“That’s why I didn’t come to get you sooner,” he said. “I was scared. Getting you back would mean facing up to all of my mistakes, when before you were always the one who let me feel like I was doing everything right. When Ratchet told me he was coming to find you, it made me realize that I needed to get over that. Much as I appreciate what you did for me before, I wanted you back more than the things you did for me.”

“I already told you I didn’t leave for you,” Drift said, because Rodimus sounded sincere, but it wouldn’t mean anything if he was still sequestered in the fantasies Drift had built around him.

“I know,” Rodimus said, “but I’m talking about all of it: the Lost Light, the speeches, just telling me that I was doing a good job. You did so much for me.”

“I didn’t,” Drift insisted. “It was—it wasn’t about you, Rodimus. It was about everyone else. They needed you to be someone and I did everything in my power to make sure you were that person. I…” Fear and shame and something like self-loathing curled inside Drift, but he shoved past them because fuck it. He couldn’t go back to the Lost Light under more false pretenses, and if that meant he couldn’t go back at all…

He already knew better than to rely on himself first.

“I needed you to be that person,” he said. “I did it for me.”

A longer silence descended over the comms. The canyon was narrowing around them; Rodimus would need to ascend soon.

“Ratchet’s right,” Rodimus finally said, apparently unaware that Drift hadn’t been privy to whatever conversation the two had just shared. “I don’t have any room to complain when I was doing pretty much the same thing. You were doing what you had to, right?”

“I’m not sure how you want me to answer that,” Drift said honestly.

“Right, never mind.” Rodimus still sounded nervous. “What I really want to say is that, um, I get it. I think. We all set off on this quest for our own reasons, and most of them don’t really align at all. And—Prowl aside—it’s because our goals were so different that we—us two, but I guess Ratchet also a little bit—that we ended up out here. If we want to find the Knights, or save Vitrious, or just watch out for each other, I think we could stand to be more honest with each other about why we’re doing those things.”

Rodimus sounded reasonably confident about that, but Drift wasn’t so sure. He had no way to know whether Rodimus could handle the version of him that was more honest. Rodimus cared about his crew; Drift had seen that and knew it to be true. But he also cared about himself, and his tendency toward inflating his own ego wasn’t something that would be fixed by promise alone.

“You could start by answering my question,” he said.

“Question?”

“Why you came out here.”

“Oh. I mean, I think it’s straightforward: it’s because I missed you.”

“You don’t really know me,” Drift warned. Rodimus had asked for honesty.

“I’ve learned a lot recently,” Rodimus said. “And I want to get to know you more. Even if it’s not what I was expecting, you’re still my friend and my crewmate. No matter what. You could tell me you step on organics for fun and you’d still have a place on my—on our ship.”

Drift pulled a face.

“Ew.”

“Yeah, bad joke, bad timing,” Rodimus agreed, so casual Drift knew it had to be an act. “But that’s the other thing: Ratchet’s going to be on my aft this time. He’s looking out for you, too, and he’s not going to let me make the same mistakes twice.”

Drift and Ratchet might have only come back on speaking terms in the last few years, but Drift had trusted Ratchet for just over five million. Maybe it tipped the scales unfairly in Rodimus’ favor, but when Drift imagined the scenario Rodimus was building, it sounded good. Good enough that it was risky to trust. Good enough that he might never stop watching out for signs of the end. But maybe, if they were working together, he could trust the three of them to try.

“Okay,” he decided. “I can try. That’s all I can promise, though. I’ve got all the same hangups you do in making a commitment. That’s going to mean a lot of different things, and some of them aren’t so easy to manage.” It was possible that just stepping back onto the Lost Light would cause him to try to fold back into the third in command role he’d built for himself, though he didn’t know for sure; it was rare for him to be able to return to a life he’d left behind.

“Have you met me? Or Ratchet?” Rodimus asked. “None of us are ‘easy to manage.’ Doesn’t mean we’re not worth the effort.”

“You’re starting to sound like him,” Ratchet cut in. “Drift, you staying back?”

“I’m fine, Ratchet,” Drift assured him. The shuttle had begun to rise, bringing them back up to the level they’d been on when the patrol found them. They were nearly within sensor range of the base. Soon enough, he’d be on his own again.

“Stay that way,” Ratchet warned. “Don’t need you getting wrapped up in this mess.”

In a way, he already was, Drift mused, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not yet. As the ship crested near a reasonably drivable cliff, he stood, preparing to dismount.

#maccadam #transformers #drift #ratchet #rodimus #dratchrod #my writing #longfic #fault lines under the living room #finallyyyyy

10 notes · View notes

ughgclden · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 900!! You deserve every single one and I'm so glad to have been mutuals with you through so much of it, you're one of my favourite people on here ❤❤

I know it's not part of the game but I kinda wanna share my favourite thing about you: I love how much time you have for your followers- the first time we talked I didn't know many people on here, and I'm pretty sure I messaged you asking what starsigns you thought all the dead poets were or something equally as random. And you went along with it. You put so much thought and effort into it and you were so nice and welcoming and every time you do one of these games the responses are so carefully planned and I just wanted to say I really love and appreciate that about you.

Anyway 😂, can I get a 🎞 for the grishaverse, wanna see who you think I'd be, and also a 🍨. Again congrats on the followers!!

thank u SO much bestie im- you're genuinely so so sweet and kind and??? how are you so great??? i can't get over how happy this has made me omg- you’re honestly the best and i’m so happy to call u a mutual/friend !!!

and of course you can omg, i'd b more than happy to do so bestie <33

if you were in the grishaverse..

okay, i definitely think you’d be a crow, first and foremost. you’d fit in perfectly - i think you’d contribute to some of kaz’s ideas (when he actually accepts help and additions) and work through some of the snags in plans he may come across. you're the only one he really listens to in these moments - except inej, at times. i can see you being all around good at defending yourself too! jesper probably taught you how to use a gun good enough, and with inej helping you, you’re also quite handy with a knife. on top of that, i think you'd also be good at finding quick getaways, and would have saved the crows more than once by finding them a quick out when something goes wrong. that's your speciality and the others are more than thankful for it.

jesper loves you. so so much. you're super close with each other. when you first turned up at the slat with a promise of being helpful, he'd taken you under his wing instantly, claiming himself as your new favourite person (whether or not he was right, you'd never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.) he'd be your way into the crows - he'd tell kaz he knew you could be useful and really help them out, and after much pestering and bothering, kaz begrudgingly agreed. he now thinks it's one of the best decisions he's made, but he's kaz, so you'll never know. wylan also loves you, but who's surprised. matthias thinks you’re one of the only competent ones, so you’re in his good books too.

it's no surprise that you catch nina's attention. she'd flirt with you almost instantly, at first not expecting anything to come of it - she's just having fun, you being incredibly pretty is just sort of a bonus. but one day she realises that maybe it isn't as casual as she'd once though and she's actually hopelessly in love with you. does this deter her? not at all. if anything, it spurs her on to flirt even harder with you. and when you reciprocate these feelings she asks you out instantly. power couple of the barrel yes yes <3 she’ll insist to kaz you stick together on missions, liking the sureness she has in being able to protect you if for some reason you can’t protect yourself. she’ll get kaz to steal you some nice jewellery when he can, insisting you deserve the best. all she asks for in return is a kiss.

as for what i love abt you/your blog,, i could say so so much, but i’ve resigned myself to three things

you’re just so so lovely. every time ive spoken to you you’ve been an actual angel, and you’re always so supportive and just so nice and easy to speak to - im still so thankful for your support/feedback on my fics and writing!!!

your posts!!! are so incredible!!! there’s always such thought put into things, like your incorrect quotes which fit so perfectly, and your blog is just prime content, you have always have amazing ideas

this is kind of linked to the last point, but i just adore your ideas. like the little thoughts and headcanons you have for certain characters/fandoms are SO perfect and make so much sense, and i love talking about them with you (im still thinking about that one wolfstar double date fic you told me about a few months ago, your mind works in beautiful ways)

again, thank you SO much for sending something in lovely!!! this was super fun to write,, and thank u for such nice words ily <33

#ughgclden's 900 follower celebration

4 notes · View notes

alexthepartyman · 4 years

Text

The Rescue of Jamie (a really weird drabble I wrote and read to my English class)

“I have the forty thousand, right here, in my fucking hand!” The woman screams, her green eyes lighting with fire as her voice echoes off the walls of the warehouse. “Now give me back my son.”

The men who had taken her boy didn’t know who he belonged to until she tracked them down and demanded he be returned, but they had to stick to their guns and deals, even if they had unknowingly kidnapped the sick toddler son of a murdered cop during a robbery gone wrong.

The ransom remained steady over five months, forty thousand would go a long way for the gang. It would also cause severe financial damage to the woman, as somebody had to pay for what they thought was child abuse, but in reality, was just Jamie’s nature.

The five-year-old boy was quiet, believed to be somewhat deaf as he didn’t acknowledge anyone or speak, but mischievous as any other boy his age, possibly more. He was small and frail as if a gentle drop could shatter him to pieces, though he often entertained himself by climbing and tearing things apart to put them back together. Of course, the group felt mad for making him so frail, but nobody could’ve seen that much blood spurting out of the boy after giving him an over-the-counter ibuprofen that they triple-checked for poisoning. The boy had certainly made up any, if not all, lost sleep in his life, as that was all he did unless he was using the bathroom or eating, due to the blood loss he had suffered.

Now, his mother stands downstairs, in the night of that abandoned Mulholland warehouse, with forty thousand dollars in her hand and a pistol hidden in the waistband of her wrinkled jeans.

“Alright, alright, you’re gonna get your kid back. Just give us the money, we’ll count it, and then we’ll bring him down to you.” A man tells the woman.

She nearly thrusts the money at him.

“Now you relax, gotta get this counte- EY-EY-EY!”

A pistol now sits in her hands, pointed at the bridge of his nose.

“No, it’s all there. All forty fucking THOUSAND OF MY LITTLE BOY’S LIFE!”

A moment of silence passes; she gasps for breath before ordering, “Now, you’re going to march your pretty little butt to wherever in this building you’ve put him, and you’re gonna bring Jamie back to me.”

“Stick to the deal, woman. I just told you, let me get it counted, don’t want to come up short here-”

BOOM!

He falls to the ground, holding his left bicep while groaning in pain.

“Get. Me. My. Son.” She says, stepping over him and pointing the gun in his face.

“ADELAIDE WOODS, FBI!” A crash follows the sound, police and federal agents swarm the warehouse, the black of the night being interrupted by flashing blue and red.

“Addy, drop the gun!” A woman with raven hair quickly approaches, pointing her gun at the woman with curly brown hair that frames her tear-streaked and stone face.

“I WANT MY SON!” She screams, turning around to face her new audience.

“Drop the gun, Adelaide. It’s over.” A man orders, pointing a pistol at the woman.

“No! Not until I get him back!” She yells.

“You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to shoot another cop, Addy.” The raven-haired woman says.

Meanwhile, upstairs, three men search upstairs for the missing boy.

“Where would a five-year-old hide?” The black man asks.

“Start looking in boxes. Jamie would hide somewhere cozy where he’d be protected from harm,” The youngest replies, with the oldest adding, “The boy’s sick; reported to be covered in blood and unable to respond. Be careful, he’s easily scared and stressed.”

The three men holster their guns, knowing that the little boy would be terrified to see a gun pointed at him, and armed with a flashlight, they start ripping open boxes.

“Try moving to a corner. Jamie might feel safer there.” The youngest states.

“So that box there, in the corner there?” The black man replies.

“Yeah, I feel that’s exactly where he’d be. Come on.” The oldest man ventures over to a back corner of the room, the other two moving scattered boxes out of the man’s walkway.

He reaches for the tipped over box on the ground and puts it right side up.

“Hey, little guy. You must be Jamie.” He speaks with a softer tone, looking into the cardboard box. A tiny, sickly boy lies in the box, curled up into a little ball, his green eyes more vacant than an abandoned hotel.

“I’m David. You’re okay, you’re safe now.” He says.

Jamie blinks slowly, his eyes lazily drifting about. Dried, crusted blood covers a lot of his face and most of his body and clothes, and his thumbs lay loosely in his mouth.

“I NEED A MEDIC!!” The black man bellows, agitating the boy further.

“Sssh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get you help.” David says, reaching in and picking up the toddler, who was too sick, stressed, and tired to properly fight, though whimpering and trying to wriggle free of his newfound captivity. The man adjusts the boy to a better position, scooting him up to better hold him close so he would be warm.

“We got him, Hotch, but he’s not doing great,” the black man speaks into his microphone.

“I’m getting him out of here, he needs medical now,” David says, heading for the stairs to lead him to the paramedics.

“Hotch, Rossi’s bringing Jamie to medical.” The black man says into his microphone.

David carefully climbs down the stairs and darts across the warehouse floor, with the boy in his arms, arriving at the exit in little time.

The tear-stricken mother jumps to her feet and runs at them from a police car, a blonde woman following behind her.

“JAMIE! JAMIE!” Addy bellows, forcefully pulling her son into her arms. “Oh, Jamie. Jamie, what have they done to you?” The woman sobs, holding onto the boy for dear life. She seems unaware of the boy’s screaming and squirming, dying to escape her grip.

“Adelaide-Addy. Addy, let him go.” The black man approaches calmly, slowly reaching out towards the boy.

“He’s not your boy!” She screams, sobbing uncontrollably into the boy’s curly hair. Blood spurts from both nostrils of his little nose, gushing at a rapid rate. “It’s Mommy, don’t you remember?” She sobs, guiding his chin to her face. As soon as she touches him, he cries out and whips his head away, spurring a coughing fit as he cries and screams.

“Addy, he’s too stressed and sick. He needs help.” The black man calmly says, reaching again.

“HE’S NOT YOUR SON!” She screams back at him, falling into a sitting position.

The boy is soon covered with his own blood and vomit, his skin turning blue as his green eyes flutter shut.

“Addy, you have to let him go. He needs help, look. He can’t breathe.” The blonde woman says, her blue eyes boring into a maternal green.

“Come here, Jamie, it’s okay.” The black man says, quickly pulling him out of her arms and handing him to David before turning to fight off Addy, who had leapt to attack him.

David runs the boy to an awaiting ambulance, paramedics quickly placing him on the sideways on the gurney and strapping an oxygen mask to his face before strapping him down and plugging his nose, forcing him to breathe through his mouth.

The white lights of the ambulance are a near match to the little boy’s skin; they load him up, David climbing in and being handed the boy’s stained shirt. The paramedics work quickly, poking IVs into the unconscious child and hooking him up to machines that add to the chaos of the back of the vehicle. Sirens ring out, machines beep, a man pumps medications with funny names into Jamie. The ride seems to take forever, until the boy is wheeled into the hospital, spots of white and purple amongst the red, where they had inserted needles and where he had bruised.

David pulls out his cell phone and dials a familiar number as he finds a seat in the waiting room, holding the bloodied shirt to his chest. He knows he can only hope the doctors can save the little boy’s life, only the Lord could let this boy take another step on this Earth.

#Criminal Minds #david rossi

3 notes · View notes

purplellamanator · 4 years

Note

Please do anything for 6, 22 or 49. 😁

Yay!! Thanks for sending me a request! Its been to long since Ive wrote anything. 😭 Since this is from you, I'm assuming you wanted ShinRan ;) Sorry if there is any mistakes, I did this before I had to go to work. Also, sorry this took me forever 🤦‍♀️The ask box is still open for this so if anybody wants to send a request from that drabble post, feel free to send me one :D

06. I want to let someone who keeps asking me out down easy, so I blurt that I'm in a relationship and things sort of got out of hand

oOo

He had to admit- he was disappointed. When the rumors started circlating around.

Mouri Ran had a boyfriend.

The news had taken over their school by storm. After all, even though she herself didn't realize it, she was the talk of many high school boys' conversations. Namely, Hondou Eisuke's conversations.

It was no secret that the high schooler was infatuated with Ran. It was almost embarassing how obvious the former made his feelings and intentions known. And every single time, Shinichi had to wonder and glare at why Ran just wouldn't tell him no. To tell him to back off. It was obvious to him and everybody else around that she wasn't interested. And it was also obvious to him and everybody else that if she didn't just admit that, Hondou Eisuke would forever pine over her.

She was too nice. Unlike the company that she kept, she was too concious of other people's feelings. Numerous times he had overheard Suzuki scold her friend for not being honest and upfront.

"Tell him their's somebody else," Suzuki rolled her eyes as she was turned in her chair and facing Ran.

Ran bit her lip as she looked at her hands in her lap. "But that would be lying," she said meekly.

"Doesn't have to be if you'd just confess," Sonoko retorted easily.

All at once, Ran's face erupted crimson and Shinichi felt his ear perk up at the turn their conversation took. He wasn't big on girls gossiping. It usually gave him a headache considering it usually was from his fangirls but . . . confessing? Ran wanted to confess to someone?

"S-Sonoko!" the girl with the steaming red face sputtered. When her eyes began darting around the room as if to make sure no one heard, he quickly diverted his gaze to the book in his hand.

"Oh please," Sonoko huffed. "You're acting as if you would be turned down. That nerd trips over himself from you just looking at him." Her response then spurred on an argument that would clearly give him a headache if he tried to decipher it. Already, he was stuck on the one relevation.

Ran wanted to confess to someone?

Unconicously, his heartbeat steadily increased as did his curiosity.

Ran wanted to confess to someone and according to Suzuki, the feeling was mutual.

Shinichi was let down. He was admittedly, disappointed. Shinichi had wanted to confess to her but after realizing how many Red Days had passed them by, it hardened the point that the two had only ever really had one interaction where they hadn't been forced to speak to each other. Besides the occasional group project, Ran and him hadn't had a real conversation since he headbutted that bully for crumpling her nametag in cherry blossom class.

When they were four.

It was quite sad honestly when it had been love at first sight for him and it clearly hadn't been for her. In fact, he had always thought Ran hated him since in the midst of that first meeting he had also called her a crybaby.

Smooth, he thought broodingly at the reminder.

"Sonoko," Ran chastised softly. "Someone might hear you. . ."

"Good," the Suzuki heiress snorted. "Hopefully Eisuke-kun and-"

With a small scream, the other girl jumped up from her chair and slammed both hands over her friend's mouth, smothering whatever it was she had been about to say. All the comotion had the room silencing and a few other students turned to face the pair. Noticing all the attention she had attracted, her face went an even more vibrant shade and she slammed back into her chair, eyes zeroed in on the wood of her desk and not daring to look anywhere else.

Sonoko had smirked at first at the embarrassment she caused her friend but once everybody moved on and was no longer looking at them questioningly, she sighed. "Look- all I'm saying is that it's time to be honest. And sometimes that means having to hurt someone." Her voice was significantly more gentle than her earlier teases. "But the longer you wait, the harder he'll take it when you finally do confess to the one you want."

That being said, the teacher chose that moment to enter the room and address the students. As he continued to watch Ran, he took notice of how she was still staring hard at her desk and also of the small frown that was tilting her lips slightly down.

Suddenly her gaze moved to his and too caught off guard at the fact he'd just gotten caught, all he did was stare back with wide eyes. She looked slightly surprised that he was already looking at her and though her cheeks slowly began to darken again, she didn't look away.

oOo

And thus the news spread like wildfire. It was all anyone was really talking about. Even students from other grades who likely didn't even really know her were talking about it.

Shinichi didn't care about any of that. All he could think or wonder about was when in the time span of 24 hours had Ran got a boyfriend? Did she really already confess in such a small amount of time just from being hounded by Suzuki. He couldn't believe it but it had to be true especially after he saw how Hondou looked that day.

He looked . . . distraut- disappointed. Much how Shinichi was feeling but luckily he was much better at hiding his emotions.

Any hope that he had of being the one Ran wanted to confess to was squashed. He felt stupid for even considering it. Sure he had a fan club. He probably got more chocolates on Valentine's than any other student in their school. But he never got a single one from her. Ever.

Then as time passed and a week went by, slowly things began to calm down and everybody moved on. That is. . . until a new craze took over the school.

Who was Ran's boyfriend?

Shinichi would admit, he was curious as to who it was as well. He had probably been the first to notice that no one had actually seen her with said 'boyfriend'. Cause he had been bursting at the seams to figure out just who the hell had her blushing so madly when talking with Suzuki the other day.

It had been a week since she apparently began dating someone yet no one had seen or even heard the name of who this mystery guy was. She still walked around school with the same group of girls. She arrived and left school with the same people and at the same times.

In fact, the only thing that changed was . . . Hondou bothering her . . . But suddenly that even stopped. It seemed his curiosity had yet to ebb and he outright heard the high schooler question who this mystery bachelor was.

It had sent Ran into a blushing and stuttering panic until Sonoko stepped in and voiced what was the truth.

It wasn't his buisiness. It wasn't anybody's buisiness. No matter how much Shinichi felt like he deserved to know, Suzuki's snappy retort made him realize that it wasn't his buisiness either.

Not until. . .

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Shinichi's eyes bulged practically out of his head as his face erupted red and he thought he might combust. When Ran asked to speak with him after school, this wasn't what he had been expecting.

Taking notice of his gaping mouth and the fact that she just shocked him into a frozen statue, Ran's already scorching face went brighter.

"I- I thought you were already dating somebody," Shinichi found the breath to say and practically had to force the words out.

Now a new emotion seemed to take over the high school girl and it made him frown.

It was shame.

Slowly, she began to shake her head without meeting his gaze anymore. If anything it was staring blankly at his chest that was just at her eye level. "I . . . actually don't have a boyfriend. . . “ she trailed off slowly and he could see how embarrassed and ashamed she was by the confession.

And that's when it all clicked for him. Why no one had seen or even knew the name of this supposed boyfriend. Why Ran looked so upset and just humiiated anytime someone questioned her about it.

"Your talk with Suzuki," he said slowly but with revelation but all it did was make Ran look even more mortified.

"You were listening!?” Her voice raised in horror and probably at the reminder of everything they had said and admitted in that conversation.

Thinking it best not to lie, Shinichi simply nodded his head.

All of a sudden she looked like she wanted to cry. “How much did you hear!?" she asked in a panic.

Maybe it wasn't the best thing to think about all that he had heard in that particular conversation. Granted they had been talking in a public setting but it was rude how much he went out of his way just to hear them. But it also reminded him of things that he didn't much like thinking about.

With a small scowl and a half-lidded glare, he shoved his hands firmly in the pockets of his school uniform pants. "Enough to wonder why you're not asking the boy you actually like to be your fake boyfriend," he grumbled while looking away to glare at anything he could lay his eyes on. He just didn't want to look at her because he knew what his words would mean. They were so obvious. They were laced with jealously and just so much bitterness that he knew it wouldn't be a secret anymore.

He liked Mouri Ran. And he didn't want to see that rejection he had felt when he first realized Ran didn't like him. It just hurt. He didn't want to be her fake anything. And it was so insulting that she'd even think to-

"I am."

Her voice sounded so tiny and meek but it resounded loudly in his chest. Suddenly he could hear the loud pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears as he had no choice but to snap his gaze back to hers.

He felt winded.

He felt like the world was spinning.

He felt. . . confused.

"W-What?" he said so eloquently.

"I- I meant to say something sooner. Before those rumors started spreading," she said with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. "But one day Eisuke-kun just ambushed me and I just-!" With a noise of frustration she covered her face before running the hand through her long brown hair successfully making it tangled. Sighing, she shook her head again. "I know it was wrong to do- to lie to him like that but Sonoko got that idea in my head and I just blurted it out!"

After her confession, it was dead silent between the two. He couldn't help but stare at her as if she'd grown two heads. And she seemed content to let him just comprehend all of what she just said. That or she was simply feeling too humiliated to say anything more.

And then finally. . . .

"You were going to confess to me?"

His words startled her and obviously caught her off guard. It had her blinking, surprised by what he just said. Was that all he had heard?

Probably.

"You mean . . you're not upset I lied . . . ?"

Upset?! He had never had such a hard time reading a person before. He'd like to think he was good at it, being the amazing detective that he was. But no one had ever confused him or been more difficult to understand than Ran. And he knew that was likely because he couldn't ever think straight when she was involved.

Ignoring her ridiculous question all together, he got a small smirk on his face and a new idea.

“So then, is this you asking me to be your fake or real boyfriend?”

#dcmk #fanfic #fanfiction #ran mouri #shinichi kudo #dcmk fanfic #ask #drabble #prompt ask #@icedcoffeeanyone

62 notes · View notes

cassianus · 4 years

Text

OF SOME OF HIS PENITENTS, WHO LED HOLY LIVES.

Philip drew into this work many of the principal men of the court, whose virtues were the subject of admiration. Among those was Giovanni Battista Salviati, brother of Cardinal Antonio Maria Salviati, a person of great distinction, as well from the nobility of his own family, as from his near relationship to Catherine of Medici, Queen of France; but much more to be esteemed for the goodness of his life, and the edifying examples of humility which he gave. He was assiduous in prayer, and in works of mercy, and in the continual practice of meditation, in which the Saint exercised him daily, he was constant in attending the hospitals, where he performed every sort of office for the sick, however vile and degrading. One day he went to the hospital della Consolazione, and found there a sick man who had formerly been his servant. He desired, according to his custom, to make his bed for him, and asked him to get up that he might be able to do so; the sick man asked him, why? “Why!” replied Giovanni Battista, “because I wish to make your bed for you.” The servant knew nothing of his master’s change of life, and thinking he was making game of him, said, “O Signor Giovanni Battista, this is not a time to make game of poor servants; I pray you let me alone.” Giovanni Battista answered, “I say I wish anyhow to make your bed, and what I am doing is in earnest, and not a mockery.” The servant, however, persisted in thinking that he was being made game of; and partly also moved by the respect he felt for his old master, obstinately refused to let him make his bed. The contest between them lasted for a long time, but at length the charity and humility of the master got the better of the pertinacious obstinacy of the servant.

This gentleman came at last to such a degree of mortification that, whereas before he dressed very showily, and was attended by a great number of servants, he would not, after he had become acquainted with the Saint, and had some experience of a spiritual life, dress even becomingly, or have any servants to follow him. But Philip bade him, out of proper respect, dress as his equals did, and be attended as man of his rank usually were. God rewarded these and his other virtues in the peace and happiness of his death; for when he had with exceeding devotion received the last Sacraments, and it was told him that the hour of his passage was come, he was all cheerfulness, and lifting up his hands to heaven, he sang out, “Laetatus sum in his, quae dicta sunt mihi, in domum Domini ibimus,” and shortly after breathed his last in Philip’s arms.

The Saint had a long while before drawn Giovanni Battista’s wife, Porzia de’ Massimi, to a spiritual life, and assisted her to advance far on the road to perfection; and it was with her assistance that he at last made the conquest of her husband. After his death she entered the monastery of Santa Lucia at Florence, that she might be the better able to servo God; but finding the air unhealthy, she returned to Rome, and shut herself up in the monastery of S. Catherine of Siena, near Monte Magnanapoli, where she died holily, according to the tenour of the life she had lived.

Together with Giovanni Battista Salviati was Francesco Maria Tarugi, of Montepulciano, a relation of popes Julius III. and Marcellus II., a man of lively genius, and in high favour with great people because of his engaging manners, which made him pass for one of the first among the courtiers. He went one day to S. Girolamo della Carità to confess, on the occasion of a jubilee published by Paul IV. When he had finished his confession, Philip took him into his room, and talked with him upon various topics. After this he made him make an hour of prayer with him, during which Tarugi, although he had never practised mental prayer before, felt such spiritual sweetness, that the hour passed away without his knowing how, so excessive was the interior delight which he experienced. This caused him to return there again; and as he often saw the Saint raised three or four feet from the ground at prayer, he formed a great opinion of him, and was inflamed with a great desire to change his life. There were, however, some impediments at the time, which seemed to make it necessary for him to defer his conversion, and he made a minute statement of them to Philip. The Saint answered, “Do not doubt; the hindrances will cease before a month is over;” and so it proved. Tarugi, therefore, returned to him afterwards, and made a general confession, during which Philip discovered to him his sins and secret thoughts. On this account he conceived such an affection for the Saint, that he cared no longer for the court or the world, and gave himself up so completely into Philip’s hands, and with such ready obedience, that the Saint did what he pleased with him, and afterwards made great use of him in winning souls.

So great was the fervour of Tarugi, that he soon had more need of the bit than of the spur. He had such resignation to the will of God, that for the fifty years or more that he survived, he never, in good or evil, lost that interior peace which he acquired in the beginning of his conversion. This he himself declared. He was most obedient to the Saint in all things, and such was the respect he had for him, and the opinion which he had conceived of his sanctity, that after he was made cardinal, he boasted of having been Philip’s novice for fifty years, implying that from his twenty-ninth year, when he gave himself into the Saint’s hands, till the end of his life (for he reached the age of eighty three), he had no other conceit of himself than that he was Philip’s novice. He had an eminent gift of prayer and of tears; and his success as a preacher was such, that he was the admiration of the most eloquent men of his day; so that Baronius in his Annals calls him dux verbi. Clement VIII. made him bishop of Avignon, and afterwards cardinal of the holy church. In his extreme old age he begged of the fathers to let him return to die in the congregation; and a few mouths afterwards he surrendered his holy soul to God in the year 1608, aged eighty-three years and eight months, and was buried in our church of Santa Maria, in Vallicella.

Costanzo Tassono was another of the Saint’s first spiritual children. He was nephew of Pietro Bertani, Cardinal di Fano, and Majordomo of Cardinal Santa Flora. he was so given up to the court, that it seemed quite impossible for him to break away from its allurements and pursuits. Nevertheless, he applied himself to works of piety; and there was no exercise, however vile or difficult, in which he did not willingly engage. He confessed and communicated several times in the week, and often daily. He went continually to the hospitals to serve the sick, and went through every kind of mortification which the holy father put upon him. In obedience to Philip he was ordained priest, and said mass every morning, he was so completely detached from the good things and honours of the world, that he refused a rich benefice which was offered him. He was in the end, for his piety, taken into the service of S. Charles at Milan; and there he persevered in his holy life until the end. He died at Rome, his death having been foreseen by the Saint.

One of the oldest of the Saint’s children, and one of those most in his confidence, was Giovanni Battista Modio, of Santa Severina in Calabria. He was the author of some annotations on the poems of the B. Jacopone, and an Italian treatise on the waters of the Tiber. On one occasion, when he was suffering dreadfully from the stone without any prospect of relief, and every one considered him in the last extremity, Philip went to visit him according to his custom; and after having exhorted him to bear his cross manfully for the love of Christ, he went out of the house and retired into a neighbouring church to pray for him, which he did with most earnest vehemence. At the first tear which Philip shed, in the very selfsame moment, Mochio began to pass the stone, and in a short time recovered entirely; and attributing his recovery to the Saint’s intercession, he gave himself completely into his hands. He was a very tender-hearted man, and singularly compassionate to the poor. He had also considerable talent in preaching, so that, although he was a layman, Philip made him relate the lives of the Saints in the oratory, which he did to the great delight and profit of the hearers. After his death Philip appointed Antonio Fucci of Città di Castello to succeed him in this office of relating the lives of the Saints. He also was a very learned man, and what is of more importance, advanced in the spiritual life, and one of those who wished to accompany the Saint to the Indies to shied his blood for the holy faith, as we shall see afterwards.

Merzio Altieri, a Roman noble, was also another of his spiritual children. Under the discipline of the Saint he arrived at such perfection and taste of the Divine grandeurs, that, like another Moses, his spirit so abounded within him that he could not talk of God. He had such piety towards the poor, that he hesitated not to strip himself in order to clothe others, and gave in alms even the counterpane of his bed, expecting from the Lord the promised reward.

To these may be added Matteo Stendardi, nephew of Paul IV., Benardino Valle da Come, maestro di casa to Cardinal Montepulciano, Fulvio Amodei, Giacomo Marmita, of whom we shall speak afterwards, Giovanni Antonio of Santa Severina, and Ludovico Parisi, who served the Saint out of devotion for more than thirty years; and others of the principal families of Italy, who were all his penitents, and so many mirrors of perfection in the court of Rome.

Besides these he had others of a lower condition, who were also men of most saintly lives. Among them was Stefano, a shoemaker of Rimini, who had been a soldier for a long time, and was full of enmities, and altogether given up to the things of this world. Stefano came to Rome, and by some good inspiration went one day to St. Girolamo to hear the sermons and familiar discourses. Through reverence and respect for others he placed himself upon the back seats; but Philip, without ever having seen or known him before, went to him and drew him to the front seats. When the prayer was finished, he showed him great affection, and so captivated him by his manner, that from that day Stefano went continually to the sermons, and began to frequent the Sacraments. By this means he was delivered from his inveterate habits of sin and passion, and became a man of wonderful virtues. He was so given to works of charity, that although he was very poor, he took nothing from his weekly earnings but what was absolutely necessary, and gave the rest away for the love of God. His thoughts ran constantly on death, and he prepared himself for it daily, as if he were actually to die that day; but for all that he was never seen out of spirits or downcast, but always gay and cheerful. He was remarkable also for his obedience, and for his assiduity in prayer, in which he was greatly favoured by God, and was seen one day in the church of the Santissima Trinità di Ponte Sisto, suddenly surrounded by a resplendent light. Stefano lived in these exercises twenty-three years, living in a small house by himself. His friends told him that he would be dying suddenly without any one to assist him; but he answered that for that he put his confidence in the blessed Madonna, and was quite sure that she would not abandon him: and so it proved, for being assailed one night all on a sudden by his mortal sickness, he went out of his house and called his neighbours, who went for the parish priest, and then returned to help him into bed, where he received the last Sacraments, and gave up his soul to God.

Francesco Maria, commonly called Il Ferrarese, was another of Philip’s spiritual children. He was a man of the greatest simplicity, and of such goodness and purity of life, that he sometimes heard the angels singing, and was physically sensible of the noisome odour of sin. He had also a most eminent gift of tears, and when he communicated, which was ordinarily every day, or heard any one speak of the things of God, and particularly of Paradise, he wept immoderately. He was so enamoured of suffering, that being one day in excessive agony from the stone, he prayed God to send him a still heavier infirmity; and no sooner had he said this than he immediately recovered. He had a burning zeal for the salvation of others; and seeing a Jew one day, he was smitten with such compassion for his soul, that he prayed every day for him for three years continuously, beseeching the Divine Majesty to give him the grace of conversion. His prayers were not in vain, for being one morning at S. Peter’s, he saw most unexpectedly that very Jew go to receive holy baptism, and his heart so melted within him at the sight, that he immediately began to shed most abundant floods of tears.

Another time Francesco Maria Tarugi found him weeping bitterly, and being very importunate with him to tell him the cause, the good man (although an entirely uneducated person) answered, that he was thinking of those words which Christ said to his disciples, When you have done all these things, say, we are unprofitable servants; “for,” said he, “if the apostles, after having done so many miracles and converted the world, were for all that to say, We are unprofitable servants, what am I to say, who have done nothing? it is for this cause I weep, nor can I contain my tears.” Another time the same Tarugi found him in prayer, standing, and every now and then he drew back a little, making gestures of surprise. This having lasted some time, Tarugi asked him why he did so: he answered, “I am considering the greatness of God, and the more I consider it, the more it seems to grow before me, and its very immensity forces me to step backward, even corporally.”

Philip had also for his penitent another servant of God, named Tommaso Siciliano, whom he led to such a height of perfection, that he considered it an immense privilege to become some day sweeper of S. Peter’s. This post he obtained according to his desire, and continued to sweep the church for many years with the greatest diligence and delight. Indeed he never left it except when he went to the holy father to confession. At night he slept in his clothes, on the predella of one of the Seven Altars. The devil, always the enemy of humility and perseverance could not endure to see him continuing this exercise with so much sweetness, and endeavoured one night to terrify him from his undertaking. While Tommaso was asleep the malignant spirit made such a disturbance, that the good man, when he roused himself, thought by the noise that all the benches in the church were being thrown up into the air, and were falling down on the floor broken in pieces. Jumping up, he ran to the lamp and lit a candle, but he found all the benches quiet in their places. He then searched the church diligently, thinking there might be a robber lurking in it; and in his search he saw the demon behind one of the columns, in the form of an Ethiopian; upon which he went boldly up to him, and lifted up his hand to give him a blow, upon which the enemy disappeared; and the intrepid Tommaso went back to his place as if nothing had happened, and fell quietly asleep.

Another of Philip’s penitents was Fra. Ludovico, of Spoleto; not that he was really a friar, but was so called because he wore the habit of S. Francis. This servant of God was most poor in earthly goods, but richly endowed with every virtue, and of a life most singularly pure; in consequence of which the Saint set him to take charge of the girls of Santa Caterina de’ Funari, and, knowing his goodness, would never let him abandon that employment, although he wished it. Pietro Molinaro was also one of Philip’s most intimate friends, a man who, through the abundance of his tears, had lost his sight, though God restored it to him again by miracle. There were very many others of different trades and professions, who lived under the care and discipline of Philip, and died in the odour of sanctity; but for brevity’s sake we must omit particular mention of them, except as our narrative may from time to time lead us to touch upon them.

4 notes · View notes

summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

Pathways, a series of drabbles

Title: Family, Part 3

Word Count: 1264

Characters: Poe, Evelyn (OC), Kes, BB-8

Pairings: Poe/Evelyn, Kes/Shara (mentioned)

A/N: This turned into something a little more angsty than I originally had intended. Contains slight spoilers for TROS.

AO3

It was unusually breezy for a summer day on Yavin IV. The weather was making it difficult for Kes to finished up chores around the ranch on his own and some time mid-afternoon, he’d decided to set out and find where Poe had run off too. While Kes was trying to give Poe space, since well, his son had not come home to work, but rather to recoup a bit from the final battle of the war, plus rebuilding a galaxy, he realized he wasn’t going to get all this work done on his own with the winds picking up.

Kes headed towards the garage, where he knew Poe would have disappeared too for the day. Tinkering around working on Shara’s A-wing had always been something that calmed and relaxed his son. He was surprised when he found the garage empty, with the exception of his son’s droid, BB-8.

BB-8 beeped a welcome to Kes as he happily rolled around, making repairs to Poe’s orange X-wing. Kes’ furrowed his brow. “Where did Poe run off too?” he asked the astromech, who informed him that Poe had gone back to the house with Evelyn about an hour ago.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to the droid as he headed off in the direction that BB-8 sent him. Figures, Poe would make it difficult to find him when I need him to do some heavy lifting around here. Kes also wasn’t surprised when he found his son sitting on the porch swing, it rocking in the breeze. He was, however, surprised to find that Poe and Evelyn were both sound asleep.

Kes supposed that they had yet to get a decent night’s sleep since the war’s end four months ago.

Evelyn was curled up against Poe’s side, her head resting against his chest; one of his son’s arms was lazily wrapped around her, the other softly laid across her abdomen, his hand stretched out over the ever growing swell in her stomach.

“Can you believe it Shara?” Kes murmured, smiling softly, “Our son, going to be a papa himself.” His smile grew when the wind rustled the bushes around the Damerons’ ranch, as if Shara herself was answering him. He sighed, and turned to go, deciding to leave Poe and Evelyn to their nap...

“Papa?” Poe sleepily called out to him. Kes turned back towards the porch to see his son’s eyes half-open, looking at him with some concern. “Is everything alright?”

Kes smiled, watching as Poe subconsciously rubbed Evelyn’s stomach. He could see the big grin on his son’s face when he told him the news, the happiness in his eyes... it made it difficult for Kes to be angry that his son had married the girl without even telling him. “Everything is fine,” he said, reassuring Poe. His son was safe, Evelyn was safe and his unborn grandchild was safe. His family was safe.

Poe sat up, gently placing a kiss on his wife’s forehead. He slowly got off the porch swing, making sure that Evelyn was comfortable before stretching himself. “Are you done work for the day?”

His father shook his head. “Too windy to finish up; feels like storms are probably going to move in later, so it’s best I get out of the orchards. Help me make dinner? I want to talk to you.”

“Am I in trouble?” Poe asked, deep brown eyes worried.

“No,” Kes said with a chuckle.

“Are you still mad that I didn’t tell you that Evelyn and I got married? Because, Papa, it was such a spur of the moment thing...”

“Poe, shut up for a second. I’m not angry that you got married, hell if anyone knows about marriage during war, it’s me. I just want to talk... it’s been so long... and who knows how long you’ll be home before the Republic whisks you away again, General.”

Quietly, Poe followed his father into the house. The younger man had taken a lot of comfort seeing his childhood home, untouched, the way he remembered it, after the Battle of Exegol. He was still recovering from all the loss; Leia, Snap... Finn spoke about feeling Rey die... no one had told him yet what that was all about. In fact, whatever happened down in the citadel was not a topic one breached with Evelyn, Kaleb, and Rey. "I'm not due back for another three weeks. Seems like everyone thinks I need some time to recover."

Kes washed his hands, drying them on his pants when he couldn't find a towel. "Time to recover, time to spend with your wife. Don't take anything for granted, Poe. Enjoy these little moments because before you know it, your child is grown up and charging recklessly into danger."

Poe sighed, heavily. "You always said I had too much of Mama in me. I wish... I wish she was here now," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. "She... she would have been so excited about the baby."

"You probably don't remember this, but your mother and Sela were planning your wedding to Evelyn when you were seven," Kes said with a fond chuckle.

"Seriously?" Poe quipped, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Oh yeah. I caught them several times, sitting out on the porch, talking about the type of dress Evie would wear... if you'd get married here on Yavin or go for a bigger celebration in the capital. I think it helped your mother to talk about your future once she got sick..."

"I'm sure her future for me didn't include fighting a war. Neither of them probably pictured that my wedding would happen on a military base in the middle of another galactic war or that it would nearly end tragically."

Kes reached out then and pulled his son into his arms. He cupped the back of Poe's head; Kes could only imagine what his son had been feeling before help arrived. "It didn't though and now you have the opportunity to raise your son or daughter in a free galaxy."

Poe sighed against his father's shoulder. It was going to take a lot of hard work to keep the galaxy free, to not repeat the mistakes that were made after the fall of the Empire. When Evelyn had told him she was pregnant, he'd vowed then and there that he was going to do whatever it took so his child wouldn't have to fight. He didn't want his child to be haunted at night by the horrors of war, the loss of close friends...

Evelyn's excited voice caused father and son to move away from each other. She was standing in the living room, her hands holding onto her belly. "The baby is kicking!" she exclaimed, reaching for Poe's hand. She placed it on her stomach just as the baby moved once again. "See! Isn't it amazing!"

"Yes," Poe whispered, his face lighting up in a big grin. He pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, the baby still moving underneath his hand. "It is amazing."

"I didn't think it would make me so happy to feel it," she said, tears in her eyes, "but it has."

"Me too," he confessed, wiping the happy tears from her cheeks before gathering her into his arms. "Me too."

Kes watched them with so much love in his heart; this is what he'd wanted for Poe when he'd fought in the war. It took them longer to achieve it, and it was the children of the rebels that had done so, but now... his family could live in peace.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #evelyn skywalker (oc)#kes dameron #kes dameron x shara bey #poe x oc #pathways #tros spoilers

5 notes · View notes

scripturient-manipulator · 4 years

Note

Oo i have 2 questions (idk if this is anamous I hope it is 😬) So 1 what made you want to become a therapist because I think I might want to be one, what is it like? 2. Mental health question! I think I might have schizophrennia (weird I know lol) ive looked really deep into it and this was made very educatedly lmao. Im still a minor though and and mental health services where i am suck and 2 no one takes me seriously as a minor (which is silly) do you have any advice on what to do?

It wasn’t anonymous, so I adjusted things until it was! Don’t worry, I didn’t look at your username so now I don’t know who sent this either :)

1. I adore learning about mental illness. My own surfaced before I really knew what mental illness was and learning about it just spurred me on. The brain is so weird, it can do so much stuff, it’s ingenious in how it tries to protect itself and deal with the trauma it’s been given.

Being a therapist is tons of fun! It genuinely is, I adore my clients and being able to be that person who helps them when sometimes they’ve never had someone who didn’t take advantage of them, or who actually believed them about an awful thing(s). I like being that person. So many people just need to be heard, to be given hope or to be shown that someone has hope for them. I like being able to delve into the most horrible, shameful moments and fears of someone’s life, the habits they can barely bring themselves to admit to me and be that person who says “that’s okay. I still like you. You’re going to be alright because together we’re gonna make sure you are.”. It can be tough though. Therapists have to take care of themselves, especially if they have clients who have been through trauma. And there are things you’ll hear that you can’t tell anyone about despite it being utterly horrific and you can’t believe it’s neither ethical or legal for you to speak of?? That’s the hardest part for me. But that’s where having coworkers helps, or being able to talk to someone else who works with your client. You learn some truly incredible ways that people have protected themselves, when a good time to challenge someone is and when it’s absolutely not. The first time someone cried in a session with me I got scared because my technique worked “too well” despite the rush of being able to reach them. You get to know people deeper than sometimes anyone else in their life does, but that also means that you carry secrets to your grave sometimes. You have to know how to turn your professional brain off and look after yourself, and you’ll learn that in your Masters program. And there’s so many ways to help people, I’m actually working on a new way myself using tabletop games like D&D! It’s an incredible job, it truly, truly is.

2. As for your possible schizophrenia, you are a minor. It’s very rare for a minor to be diagnosed with schizophrenia simply because there’s so much other stuff your symptoms could be, and it doesn’t usually occur before your mid-20s. It absolutely can, but it’s less likely; it’s called early-onset schizophrenia for teenagers for a reason, because it’s earlier than usual. Or, you could be in my boat where you have the symptoms like schizophrenia but not enough/at the intensity/at the duration to be diagnosed with it! That’s a fun one.

I don’t think it’s silly that you think you might have it, at my job right now I actually work with lots of people who have schizophrenia! It’s something that other mental illnesses get confused with, it can be the label slapped on someone who doesn’t have schizophrenia, it might be schizoaffective, schizotypal, or one of the subsets that didn’t make it into the DSM-V. It’s a very complicated diagnosis, and it’s also a very weighty one; to diagnose someone with schizophrenia impacts their life in a lot of ways from how jobs look at you to what housing will take you to college acceptances, how DSS looks at you if you come to them, how the court system treats you if you get tangled up in that- my guess is that one of the things holding your professionals back is the fear of putting something so heavy on someone so young because that shit sticks with you, trust me. Plus you need a medicine regime to handle schizophrenia fully and that’s a lot of drugs to put into an adult, much less a teenager so that’s likely a fear of theirs too.

I feel you on bad mental health resources though and not being taken seriously, that was the story of my life when I first got into therapy (who doesn’t send someone to the hospital after an aborted suicide attempt??). So write down all the reasons you think you have schizophrenia, and if you take reasons from anywhere, write down what research you did and where you found it. Does your family have a history of psychotic disorders? If they do, absolutely put that down as well. Presenting it in a composed method like that should at least get the conversation started in a serious way. Should you need to put in that much effort for a professional to listen to your concerns? No, if I was your counselor we’d be delving into possibilities as soon as you brought up that you were worried. But since it’s the situation you’re in, that’s what we have to play with.

Message me again if you need to! I’ll absolutely talk more about being a therapist and being mentally ill at the same time and I’d love to hear if you’re able to get someone to listen to you :)

#Anonymous

1 note · View note

selfship-uncharted · 5 years

Photo

The Fugitive part IV - Just for a moment

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI -

part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X - part XI - part XII - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: Thank you so much again for your support and feedback! I hope you will enjoy this chapter too! A/N2: English is not my first language. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader Warnings: a little of violence, come on, it’s the wild west Words: 2,143 Tags: @asiramhera , @missdictatorme, @zoilalove213

"I wonder, what are you writing every night in that notebook of yours?" "None of yar business, kid" "I noticed you sketch a lot." You continue ignoring his rudeness. "I would love to see them." He didn't answer. "I actually sketch a lot too. When I was back home, of course. It helped me to get away from my father." "Ya could use it to get away from yar husband. And now shut up." He added with a lack of sensitivity. You shut up, not because he ordered you but because he made you remember your fate when you will get home. "Do... Do you mind if I walk?" You asked him troubled. You didn't wait for his answer that you jumped down from the horse, although it was still walking. You fell on your hands but you didn't care. Actually now, you didn't care about anything. You were near Saint-Denis, you knew that maybe tomorrow you would be there, at your father's house with that fiancé of yours. And who knows how long before you married him. A shiver ran down your spine just thinking of the wedding night. That greasy man naked over you, touching you with those big dirty hands, kissing you with that disgusting mouth... And to say he would be your first man makes you sick. You held yourself strongly trying to erase those pictures of you and him. "Hey, what's the matter?" Arthur asked worriedly. "Could you for once call me by my name? It's always 'hey' 'you' 'kid' 'girl', I have a name you know?" You protested frustrated. Arthur was taken aback. It was the first time you talk to him like that. "Did I say anything wrong... hum... Y/N?" He paused before saying your name like it was difficult for him to say it or something. No, it wasn't him that bothered you or maybe yes, since he was the one to take you back. It was all, how helpless you were in front of your future, being unable to change it. "I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't mean to offend you..." He tried to apologize, he made the horse go slowly by your side. "Come on, get on the horse, ki... Y/N." "It's not you, ok?" You turned at him dismissing him. "I- I just need to think..." Arthur stopped the horse giving you some distance, but he followed you close with his hand near the lasso in case he needed it. "Did ya end thinkin'?" Asked you Arthur after a while of walking behind you. "We should continue our way, or we will never reach Saint-Denis." "As a matter of fact the only one of the two of us who wants to go to Saint-Denis it's you." You stated. "So, if you want to continue your journey alone you are welcome." "Ha, ha, very funny." He answered with an attempt of being sarcastic. "Now, mount." He spurred the horse to make it walk in front of you and stopped there looking you fiercely. "Did you heard that?" You asked him stopping suddenly. Arthur shook his head but kept staring at you with suspicion. "I heard someone... Calling for help." You added. In the distance someone was yelling from pain, you followed the voice into the forest. While you ran into the forest you heard two shots that startled you. "Y/N, wait!" Arthur shouted concerned about the gunfire. Arthur followed you with the horse until you found a man with his leg trapped in a steel-jaw holding a gun. "Oh, thank goodness you are here! The wolves came from nowhere and I got trapped while escaping from them!" Said the man when he saw you. "Please, help me?" You got close to him and look at his wound, it was bad, really bad. "Step aside, kid." Ordered you, Arthur. "I mean- Y/N..." Added clearing his throat. You chuckled. "You know, it's not like you have to overuse my name now." He looked at you confused. "I'm going to fetch the horse." You announced him. "Just take care of his leg." Arthur looked at the hunter while he took the steel-jaw. "Women..." He sighed opening the trap. When he did the hunter cried in pain but also of relief. He was grateful to be released. You were trying to get the hunter's horse but every time you went near it stepped away. "Seriously, will you stay still, please??" You begged the animal. A shadow moved on your right while you were concentrated with the horse. "Y/N!" Shouted Arthur warning you but it was too late you didn't have time to react a wolf appeared from nowhere jumped at you making you fall on the ground. You tried to get it out of you but it was too strong. You felt the breath of the animal on your face. You fought him as you could. Trying to protect your face and neck with your arms. You screamed of pain when you felt its claws piercing your skin. Arthur drew his gun and shot killing it, making it fell dead on you. Other wolves appeared attacking Arthur and the hunter but Arthur shot at them fast enough before it could happen anything. You removed that dead weight of you covered in a mixture of its blood and yours. "Ya alright?" Asked you Arthur concerned checking your face. "Yes... I think..." You were trembling, that sudden attack frightened you, those animals were ferocious, you never saw one that close. "Shit..." You looked at your right arm full of blood, your hand was trembling being unable to realize how bad you were injured. "Did it bite you?" Asked Arthur worried taking your arm examining the wound. "I don't know..." your voice trembled. Arthur whistled to his horse to make it come, he took the canteen from it and poured the water on your arm cleaning the wound to see how bad it was. You closed your eyes in pain feeling the stinging. "It ain't no good, kid. You might need some stitches." He took his scarf from his neck and bandaged your arm. "I'll take you to a doctor." You nodded with a worried look. "You will survive." Arthur calmed you. He helped you to get on your feet and carried you on his horse. "Wait, here." He ordered. Arthur went to look for the hunter's horse. He slowly got near the horse shushing him, saying nice words to him until he gained its trust to take the reins. Arthur went near the hunter and helped him to get on his horse. "Is it bad?" he asked concerned about your injury. "I dunno know..." answered Arthur. "I'll take her to a doctor to check it on." "I'm so sorry, it was all my fault." he apologized. "It's okay man." Arthur patted the hunter horse. "Anyway, thank you so much for saving me. I hope it won't be nothing." The hunter turned to look at you and raise your hand to say goodbye. You smiled at him and nodded. The hunter spurred his horse and went away. Arthur came back to you, you were holding your arm in pain a cold sweat running down your forehead. "Ya good?" He asked you sitting behind you. "It hurts a little..." you whispered. "And it keeps bleeding..." The scarf that Arthur used it was soaked red from your blood. Arthur spurred his horse and went to look for the nearest town. On the way you were tilting side to side being unable to stand for yourself, your wound kept bleeding and you started to feel dizzy. "Hey! Stay with me, kid!" Arthur shook your shoulder to wake you up. "It's all right, we are nearly there..." Afraid that you might fall from the horse he brought you to him to lean on his chest and secure you with circling his arm on your waist. "It's okay..." you weakly whispered. "it's nothing..." "That's right, Y/N. Talk to me." he insisted. "Ya always 've many things to say, tell me about all of them, don't fall asleep." "I don't want to talk now... I'm sleepy... in any way... you don't even care...." "No, don't, don't fall asleep! Y/N!" You slowly opened your eyes not being able to recognize the wooden ceiling over you. You gradually sat down on a bed you weren't familiar at all. When you moved, your arm ached. It was properly bandaged this time and no trace of blood but your hand was numb when you close it the wound ached. The sleeve from your shirt was completely ripped, you guessed it was made to heal your wound easily. But where were you? The strong snore made you turned your face and see Arthur sitting on a chair beside your bed sleeping deeply with his hat covering his face. The door opened and an old man entered the room, he looked surprised o see you. "So, you are awake." He said. "I'm Dr. Thomas Dawson." You timidly nodded to him presenting yourself. He took a stool and sat in front of you. "Let me take a look on your wound." You gave him your arm and he removed the bandage revealing three scratches with stitches in your arm. The view shocked you. "It looks okay." said the doctor. "In a week you will be able to remove the stitches. I will give you an ointment to avoid having any scar. It would be a pity in a young lady those horrible scars." You bent your head being called a lady troubled you. You turned to Arthur who was still sleeping. "He has spent the night looking for you." Explained de doctor. "He was quite worried. The poor fellow. He brings you here in his arms, you were unconscious, you lost a lot of blood. Thankfully the wound wasn't infected." He got up. "You better take a rest too." And left you the both of you alone in the room. Arthur was still sleeping deeply if it was true he spent the night looking for you he might be exhausted, so you let him sleep a little more. Your eyes roamed to him to his bag where his notebook slightly stuck out from the bag. Very tempting. You could just take a look or two, if he didn't know it he wouldn't care. Not making any sound you got near him ready to grab it, but Arthur started moving waking up so you sat down on your bed pretending nothing happened. He lifted his hat from his eyes and stretched his muscles. He scrubbed his eyes and then looked at you. "Ya awake?" he asked. "How ya doin'?" "I'm fine," you answered gulping. Arthur looked at your arm, you showed it to him. "I know a fella who got ones too," he said referring to your scratches. "But it was in his face, made him uglier." He smirked. He rested in silence for a second but not having any reaction from you he got up. "Was that a joke?" you tilt your head to look at him with a naughty smile. Arthur didn't answer, he put his hat corretly aparently embarrased and dismissing you he added: "Let's go find you a shirt and let's go from this town." Once you get your new shirt you went to the stables where Arthur was waiting for you to continue your journey. Arthur motioned you to get on the horse. "Arthur..." you started. He looked at you not really interested. "Hum... thank you." you let out. Now he looked at your curious. "I... the doctor said you took care of me all night." "It ain't nothing, ki... Y/N." he said looking at his horse holding its saddle, somehow he looked embarrassed. You took his hand from the saddle to make him look at you. "I really mean it." you insisted. "Also, I... I didn't want to yell at you the other day... it wasn't fair. I was angry but it wasn't your fault." Arthur stared at you and bring the hand you were holding to your cheek. "It's okay, girl." He appeased you. "Your hands are rough." you smiled. "Sorry." He apologized but he doesn't sound like he really meant it. "Yar skin is too delicate." You chuckled. "I actually like them." You smiled at him. "Ya'r weird, girl." He complained "Maybe..." You come close to him and rested your head on his chest. "What ya doin'?" Arthur asked even more confused. "Just... For a moment... Please..." You begged him closing your eyes. Arthur sighed, somehow he felt you were not okay, that you were worried. He guessed it was because he was bringing you back home and you didn't want. But he couldn't do anything about it, it was his job to take you back, nothing more. He couldn’t get involved with you in any way.

#RDR2 #Arthur Morgan x Reader #Arthur Morgan x OC #Arthur Morgan #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Claire Russell #art post #The Fugitive #I was going to post it tomorrow but I wanted to do it today so here you have!

47 notes · View notes

eeveevie · 5 years

Note

Cullen/inquisitor marriage proposal

from this list

I’ve written a few different proposals for these two, so I tried something a little different here. The letter referenced here by Eirlys is this.

Cullen x Aurelie Trevelyan

792 words (under a cut) | Ao3

Lady InquisitorHerald of AndrasteAurelie Rutherford? Dearest Sister;

I suppose it is arelief to not have to carry around those numerous titles anymore. Word of theExalted Council reached the Free Marches long before your letter did. I have toadmit, I was fearful of your survival until I saw your signature with my owneyes. Considering the last letter I had received from you was about your marriage,you can understand the whirlwind of emotions I was going through. I may haveset a few barrels of hay on fire.

I am glad you aresafe.

I am also still indisbelief that you are a married woman. I’m sure Cullen has already shared theletter I sent him containing my congratulations and support. I understand thatit was an impromptu decision while in Orlais, but I am hoping that you’dconsider throwing a larger party. Not that I need an excuse to come see you,but considering I missed out on meeting all of your fabulous companions whilstthe Inquisition was active, I’d love a chance to see you surrounded by so manythat love you.

Consider this meinviting myself to whatever you decide to do.

Love, Eirlys

Aurelie smiled as she read over the letter again, thankfulher sister’s words had reached her. It had been addressed to Skyhold, but mostof the Inquisition had moved on over the last few months. It must have beenforwarded by whoever was watching over Leliana’s—Divine Victoria’s—ravens, ensuring that any correspondence was sentto the scattered former members. For Aurelie and Cullen, they were still inSouth Reach, visiting with his family who had taken them in with open arms. Miahad been adamant that they could stay as long as they needed, until the twocould find their own place to call home.

Her sister’s words resonated with her. She too, couldn’tbelieve that she and Cullen were married.It really was a spur of the moment thing, Cullen proposing in the middle of theWinter Palace. Aurelie really wouldn’t have had it any other way—a privateceremony that they would treasure forever. That being said, the events atHalamshiral tainted the happy memory.

As if on cue, her left arm radiated with pain, causing herto flex an invisible muscle. Aurelie glanced down to where her hand—the anchor—usedto be. She could still feel it, and yet, notfeel it at the same time. Dorian had explained it to her as a phantom pain that could linger for yearsto come. Unsettling, but a price she was willing to pay for her survival. Shewas alive, and content.

She shifted her attention to where Cullen was standing infront of Mia’s home, tossing a stick away from him so that their mabari, Scout,could fetch it. This is what her life would be like now, and she was gratefulfor it. As much as she missed the thrill of adventure, she would give up herdaggers forever if it meant living a quiet life with her husband until the end of their lives.

“Cullen,” she called out as she thought about the letteragain. Eirlys was right—they hadmissed out on an extravagant party to celebrate their union. Maybe it wasn’ttoo late. Then they could have theirquiet little life in a Ferelden cottage. She was already grinning just thinkingabout it.

“I know that look,” Cullen responded as he approached. Scouttrotted after him, stick in mouth. “What are you thinking about?”

Aurelie tilted her head up to look at his face from hersitting position. “Will you marry me?”

“What?” he responded, clearly surprised by her question. Heraised an eyebrow. “Aurelie, we already…”

“I know,” she laughed at his confusion. She reached out withher right hand to grab his left, her thumb brushing over the silver band he woresignifying just that. “I was thinking we could do it again.”

Cullen titled his head. “I’m afraid I’m not following yourtrain of thought here, dear.”

Aurelie softly chuckled, shaking her head in her own disbelief.She knew it sounded strange. “Let’s have a second wedding. With all our familyand friends.”

“Somewhere we both like?” Cullen asked, his lips twitchingup into a smile. Not a real answer, but Aurelie’s heart fluttered in excitement.She nodded.

“No stuffy Orlesians,” she agreed. “I can wear a dress thatwasn’t borrowed last minute.”

“That sounds…” Cullen let out a breathy laugh. “That soundswonderful.”

Aurelie was beaming, but still glanced up at himexpectantly. “You haven’t answered me, Cullen,” she reminded him. “Will youmarry me? Again?”

He didn’t hesitate, squeezing her hand tightly in his own. “Yes.”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #aurelie trevelyan #otp: holy hand grenade #a crab writes #fanfic #prompt response #saltypersonbasketballspy

13 notes · View notes

selfignitingimagines · 6 years

Text

Derek- I’m Right Here

Request- Can you write an imagine with Derek Hale? Reader is dating with him for a long time and she starts to notice that a stranger man is following her everywhere. That man seems very scary and he even tries to catch her, so she doesn't want to go anywhere alone. But reader hasn't told Derek about that man, so one night Derek texts her to meet him in the woods. That man follows her again and even tries to hurt or rape her, but Derek saves her at time. I know it's a mess, but I hope you'll understand!

A/N- I’m three days away from my last day of EMT class, I passed my final, and I realized I need to do more things for myself. I’m trying to get back into writing, so if you guys are here to read, I’m here to give you some stories. Hope you like it!

“Y/n, two at fifty-four!”

Your brow furrowed as you whisked past the dark-haired hostess at the front of the restaurant. You paused in the breezeway and adjusted your grip on the tray you were carrying. “That’s not even in my section.”

“Trina went out to smoke,” she whispered, leaning across her stand. “She said if the managers asked to say she was in the bathroom, and to not seat her until-”

You sighed. “Reese, she’s not supposed to be doing that. I know you’re new, but you can’t let the other servers walk all over you like that, okay?”

Reese frowned, and looked down at her sandaled feet. “I’m sorry. I kind of have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Look,” you told her. “I’ll take it for now, but as soon as I give sixty-two their drinks I’m telling her to get her ass inside and stop making your job any harder than it has to be. God knows this fucking place makes it hard enough.”

You muttered that last part under your breath, but she smiled as she heard it. You winked at her and headed over to your table, placing down the cokes you had been carrying before pulling out your pad. “Have you guys decided yet?”

You smiled as the couple you were serving told you their order, and glanced out over the railing of the outside seating area. Water from the marina splashed gently up against the deck, and the sun shone brightly down on you and the customers. Perhaps the only glamorous thing about your job, the view that accompanied the restaurant was an excellent distraction from the stress that came with it. It also helped to keep your mind off of how much you missed your boyfriend.

While you were at work half an hour from Beacon Hills, Derek was even farther from home, helping an old friend named Argent defeat whatever supernatural creature was plaguing the Bay Area. It was only six months ago that you had learned all the scary stories you heard growing up were true. Your town was more than just a little bizarre, and the moment you figured that out was the moment that almost ended your life.

You had just started working at the restaurant, and when you when to pick up a tray from the kitchen, one of the cooks happened to drop a searing hot pan of oil nearby. Your arm had been splashed, and while the burn hadn’t been that serious, it was enough for the manager to send you to the hospital.

“Can’t have you suing us later,” he had grumbled, rushing you out the front doors.

You had ended up stuck behind a curtain at Beacon Memorial, waiting in a bed you didn’t need for an hour, when suddenly a man with glowing white eyes burst through the room. He was making strange, animal-like noises and you noticed that he had a mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth.

The hospital must have been slow that day, because after several other patients had been checked out, you were the only one left in the room with the strange creature. That was until Derek Hale burst in, tackling him to the ground and fighting him off.

If anyone asked him about it, Derek would always say that it was you who had saved him. You didn’t really remember it that way, but you did admit that the way you slammed a metal IV pole over the thing’s head was pretty badass. Derek had simply been tossed onto the ground for a few seconds, but you had taken the chance to help him out, and that bravery was what spurred him to ask you out after.

Once you had gotten over your shock, it was no surprise that you said yes. He had basically stopped you from being eaten by a supernatural creature.

You missed him now, and hoped he was being safe fighting monsters. Meanwhile, the most dangerous thing you had to worry about was your bitter manager Stuart. The man was in his late twenties and already balding, and nothing seemed to be good enough for him. He was picky and rude, but you’d take him over a wendigo any day.

“Y/n!” He called as you headed into the kitchen to place your table’s order. “Phone call for you in the office.”

Your heart leap with hope. “Who is it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Who do you think? Make it quick, and tell that goddamn boyfriend of yours to stop bothering you at work. I don’t pay you to take phone calls all day.”

You gritted your teeth and forced a smile. “Sure, Stuart.”

You turned your back on him and headed into the office, picking up the phone and taking it off of hold. “Derek?”

“Hey.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “How’s work going?”

“Not too bad,” you told him, thinking. “Could be a lot worse. How’s the hunting?”

“I’d call it a success. I made it out with most of my body intact last night.”

You swallowed. “Are you okay?”

He laughed softly. “Yes, Y/n. I’m all healed by now.”

“You should still be careful,” you complained. “Derek, I need you home in one piece.”

“I will be. I promise I’ll grow back any limbs I lose.”

You sighed. “That’s not funny. I wish you were coming back sooner.”

“I’ll be home before you know it, baby.”

“I know. Look, I have to get back soon, but be careful, okay?”

“Of course. I don’t have you here to save me this time.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “That’s not how it happened. I have to get back, okay?”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too. You promise you’ll be careful?”

“I swear. Have a good shift, babe.”

“Thanks,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You hung up the phone and headed back out to the front of the restaurant, but before you could walk through the doors, Reese came through them.

“Hey, sorry. I got a phone call. Two at fifty-four, right?”

She shook her head. “Trina came back after one of the busboys said something to Stuart, but someone is sitting in your section.”

“Wait I thought Zach was next in the rotation,” you told her. “Did they just sit down?”

“Sort of. I told him Zach would be his server, but he wouldn’t really listen. He just kept asking for you, so I sat put him in your section. Should I not have done that?”

Reese frowned as she watched your entire body go stiff. “What does he look like?”

“Uh, he’s got dark hair and stubble. He looks like he’s in his thirties. Oh, and he has these really blue eyes. They’re kinda pretty, actually. Did I do something wrong?”

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “No. But this guy, if it’s the one I’m thinking of, he always comes in and asks for me. And everytime, he just tries to get really personal and asks me all these weird questions. Sometimes I don’t even know how he knows things about me. Stuart never listens to me because he’s never tried to touch me, but he’s creepy.”

Reese blinked, suddenly looking worried. “Should I tell someone?”

“There’s no use. Last time he complained to Stuart when JD tried to take the table for me.”

“Are you sure?” You sighed. “Yeah. Just seat Zach next okay?”

She bit her lip and nodded. You shot her a weak smile and headed outside. As soon as you pushed the door open, the customer turned his head and smiled at you from across the deck, as if he somehow knew you were coming despite his back being to the restaurant.

Your short heels clicked softly against the wooden floor, but you walked as slow as possible to his table. It was him, the man that came in about every two weeks just to be waited on by you.

He was tall, with light brown hair and icy blue eyes that always seemed to stare right through you. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, and he never came with anyone else.

He first showed up about four months ago, and in the beginning he was harmless. He made a few comments about your appearance, but it was never anything crude, and you had had customers say much worse to you. His questions weren’t anything too bad at first, but they quickly became way too personal for your liking, and it began to make you uncomfortable.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” you asked weakly.

He tilted his head. “No smile for me today?”

“It’s been a long day,” you lied.

“Missing the boyfriend?” he inquired.

You froze in shock. You had never told him anything about Derek, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by your discomfort. He actually let out a soft laugh.

“Your new hostess said you were taking a phone call. I just assumed it would be someone special. After all, if it were me, I’d want to keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t want anyone else whisking you away.”

His blue eyes were bright and sharp, suggesting something you had no desire to understand. “If I’m remembering correctly, we had a conversation about me not wanting to share my personal life.”

The man held up his hands and smiled gracefully. “Right. I apologize. I was only making an observation. I’ll take a coffee, please.”

“I’ll be right back with that.”

“She’s new, isn’t she?”

You gritted your teeth and turned back to him. “Our hostess? Yes.”

“Most of your coworkers seem to be...reluctant to seat me with you. But not her.”

“Most of them prefer to be sat in order.”

“But I prefer you.”

You fought off an uncomfortable shiver. “Yes. I’ve noticed. I should go get your coffee.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Look at me, keeping you from working. I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll be staying for awhile anyway.”

He picked up his menu and began to flip through, but as you turned away, he called out to you. “And Y/n?”

“Yes?”

He didn’t look up from the menu, but there was a small smirk on his face. “I think that’s my new favorite dress on you. It fits your body incredibly well.”

You ignored him and started to walk away, but his fingers suddenly snatched your wrist. You let out a small gasp, visibly shaken. You tried to yank your arm away, but his grip never faltered, and he just smiled politely up at you. “Sorry. I think I’m ready to order now.”

“O-okay.” You hated the way your voice faltered, and you bit the inside of your cheek as he dropped your wrist. You suddenly wished Derek had called later. He would have been the perfect excuse to get away from this guy.

While he didn’t know about it, such perfect timing might have spurred you to finally tell him. You had held off since the man first started worrying you, always convincing yourself that he had never done anything too unsettling or inappropriate. Your own manager didn’t take you seriously, always telling you that he was probably just a lonely man who found you attractive.

“That’s not fucking normal, man,” your coworker JD had commented to him one day. “The dude’s stalking her or something.”

“JD, do you want to keep your fucking job or not?” Stuart had asked. “The only reason we’re still in business is because of guys like him who keep coming in, and my expert managing skills. If he wants Y/n as his server, that’s who he’s getting.”

That was as much of a response as you were ever going to get from Stuart, so you had stopped complaining to him a long time ago. You knew Derek would never have the same response, but you were still skeptical. You weren’t even sure he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could be there while you were working.

That was a big reason why you had never told him. You didn’t feel like he could intervene, and you would figured it would only make him worry more than anything else.

Dealing with creeps was practically in the job description of being a waitress, and you just kept telling yourself that you had to deal with them until something better came along.

As you headed back into the restaurant, you couldn’t help but wish that something would hurry up. The day dragged on, and even after the man left, you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling he had left you with. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could take much more of it, and you thought about it the entire drive home.

When you finally rode the elevator up to Derek’s loft, all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep the day off. You were beginning to feel a sense of relief, but as soon as you pulled open the door, you felt your stomach drop.

The upstairs light from the kitchen was shining down the steps, but the problem with that was that you hadn’t left anything on when you left that morning. Derek was still in San Francisco, so you knew it wasn’t him. The only other person with a key was Scott McCall, Derek’s protege and one of his only friends. Although you always told him he didn’t have to, he normally called and asked, and you had a feeling it wasn’t him.

You opened your mouth to call out, but then thought better of it. The man from the restaurant was still on your mind, and while you knew it wasn’t logical that he followed you home and somehow got into the loft, you couldn’t help but worry.

Nervously, you took a step forward, conscious of every small sound you made. Even your breath sounded loud. As you crept closer, you attempted to peer up the steps, looking for any shadows or movement as your heart slammed against your ribcage.

Was it possible that you had forgotten to turn off that light? Maybe you had, and the man from today was just freaking you out. But if it was something worse, you thought, was someone waiting up there for you? What would you find if you walked up those steps? You were just beginning to wonder when a pair of arms wound around you from behind.

“Boo,” a voice whispered, but it was drowned out by your shriek. You fought against the arms, desperate to shove them off. To your surprise they dropped instantly. You stumbled forward and whirled around, at the same time Derek reached for you again. “Woah, Y/n, it’s me!”

You froze, breathing heavily as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, and leaned forward to bury your head in his shoulder. “Y/n? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered shakily. “You just scared me. I thought you were still in San Francisco.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he explained, his voice apologetic. “Guess I’m not very good at it.”

“No,” you breathed. “No, it was sweet that you wanted to. I just...I wasn’t expecting it.”

You reached up and ran your hands through your hair, shooting him a small smile. He was back, and everything was okay, and there was nothing for you to worry about. Not even the man from earlier.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m glad you’re back.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

“And you’re all in one piece too.”

“I told you I would be.” He kissed your forehead. “God, I missed you. Do you wanna come shower with me?”

You smiled. “Is that a serious question?”

He chuckled softly, and wound his arms around your waist. He yanked you close, and swept you up in one effortless move. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he pressed his lips to yours again, and you felt a wave of joy wash over you. He carried you up the steps and into the bathroom, and everything that had happened that day was completely and utterly forgotten. For now, it was just you and Derek, and nothing else mattered.

“See you tomorrow, Y/n!’

“Bye Reese,” you called, as you dumped your apron in a bin at the back of the kitchen. You waved goodbye to her, and weaved around cooks and other servers carrying precariously balanced trays of food.

The hostess smiled at you as she finished writing all the reservations for the night on the kitchen board, and you grinned back. Although you weren’t just happy to be getting off early. Derek had planned a romantic night for you two a couple days after he got back, and you had found someone to cover the last half of your shift that day.

You headed out into the parking lot, smiling as you went walked to your car, keys in hand. Tonight was going to be amazing, just you and Derek, and after the few stressful weeks you had had, that was what you needed.

Your job seemed to be incredibly mixed when it came to the experience. Some of your best and worst moments had been spent at the restaurant, but even when work made you want to pull your hair out, coming home to Derek was enough to help you decompress.

His last text was running through your head as you headed to your car, making your smile even brighter. Meet me in the preserve at 8.

You could practically feel the stress melting off your shoulders, but maybe you were a little too distracted, because you nearly collided with a figure coming out from behind a blue SUV. A gasp flew past your lips as two firm hands caught you by the shoulders, and your stomach dropped violently as you looked up.

“Y/n.”

The color drained from your face as the man from the other week grabbed you. Words seemed to escape you as you thought of some response, anything to get him to stop touching you, but your mind was blank.

His expression was neutral, but his icy blue eyes were sharp and suspicious. “Are you leaving?”

Finally, you managed to brush away his arms, but you still couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I came in to see you,” he continued. “I thought you always worked a double on Sundays.”

You fought to keep a choking sound from leaving your throat. How did he know your schedule?

“I-I’m just going to my car,” you managed to get out.

“I can walk you,” he offered, although the way he said it didn’t seem like he intended to give you much of a choice.

“No,” you said firmly, regaining some composure. “I’m fine. If you go inside, I’ll be in there in a second.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “I hope you’re not trying to trick me. That wouldn’t be very nice, considering I do come here for you, and I always tip you well.”

You felt the urge to wretch at how slimy his words were. As if you owed him anything just for that. “I’ll be back.”

He eyed you carefully, but finally relented. “I’ll see you inside then.”

You gave him a shaky nod, and continued to walk to your car, even though you were aching to burst into a run. Once you got to it, you calmly opened the door, locked the doors. Then you peeled out of there.

As you exited the parking lot, you dared to look back in your rearview mirror, and when you did, you could see the guy standing in the parking lot, staring at your taillights.

Your heart was racing, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Everything would be fine and once you saw Derek, you would tell him everything.

There had been no one in that parking lot, and while the sun was still up, he could have done anything to you. You doubt you could have overpowered him, let alone outrun him. For a middle-aged man, he seemed to be incredibly fit.

You turned on the stereo as you drove, cranking the station to the most calming thing you could find. As talk radio droned on and the miles to Beacon Hills Preserve lessened, the tightness in your chest began to ease. You began to think how good it would feel to be in Derek’s arms, and to finally be honest about what was freaking you out so much.

Your tires crunched on the gravel of the parking lot as you pulled in, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted Derek’s Toyota. You parked next to him and hopped out, switching out your flats for comfortable hiking boots. You shrugged on your jacket, then headed toward the path leading to Lookout Point.

Derek had taken you here about three times, and you always stopped there when you went for hikes in the preserve. You knew right where he’d be, and you couldn’t wait to make it there.

You pulled your flashlight out of your pocket, ready to head out, but a flash of light from behind you caused you to pause. Once you glanced over your shoulder, you saw a sickeningly familiar dark SUV, shining its headlights directly toward you.

However unlikely it was that the man from the restaurant had followed you there, your stomach lurched in response. You heard the door open, but you didn’t stick around to see if you were right.

Your boots slammed on the gravel path as you ran, and soon the rocks under your feet gave way to dirt. Heavy breaths flew out of you as your flashlight bounced along the trees in front of you, and you quickly glanced over your shoulder.

It didn’t look like anyone was following you, and you couldn’t really hear footfalls, but you doubted you could hear much of anything over the sound of your own heart slamming against your ribs.

You shined the flashlight back up ahead, praying you were getting closer to the preserve, just as you heard a branch snap behind you. Panicked, you looked behind, searching for a threat, but there was nothing.

When you turned back though, you slammed right into a warm body, and just like before, hands came up to grip your shoulders.

You screamed and struggled, but the hands were strong, impossibly so.

The light from your flashlight cast an eerie glow on your attacker’s face, and much to your dismay, you had been right. The man was right there, staring down at you, and smiling politely.

“You lied to me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you could feel terrified tears pooling in your eyes.

“All I wanted was to see you, Y/n.”

Your trembling fingers were still gripping the flashlight, and it was only then that you realized you still had some fight left. This man had not only made you uncomfortable for months, but now he was terrorizing you. No matter how much you wished Derek was there to save you, it was time to be your own hero for once.

“I just don’t understand,” the man continued. “I just wanted to show you what you could-”

Without waiting for him to finish, you slammed the metal flashlight down on his head. He faltered, causing him to release you for a second, and you took off down the trail.

Once his fingers snagged in the back of your jacket, you knew your victory was short-lived. You screamed again as he dragged you to the ground, scrambling for any hold as you were pulled farther and farther from your dropped flashlight.

You kicked out when he pulled you back, and your boot connected with his jaw. A low growl came from his throat, and you glanced back in terror. His eyes were suddenly glowing a bright blue, causing panic to grip you even tighter. He was a werewolf just like Derek.

“Stop fighting me,” he snarled in your ear, gripping your hair and yanking your head back. He growled low in your ear and clapped his hand over your mouth when you screamed once more.

A whimper slipped from your lips as you felt sharp claws digging into your cheek. “Shhhh.”

He whispered in your ear, causing you to let out a disgusted shiver. You squirmed in his arms. “Derek made a good choice. Beautiful and a fighter. He seems to have a type.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register, but once they did, you froze. He chuckled low in your ear at your reaction. “I bet he didn’t tell you anything about me. He probably thought he was doing what was best for you. His mistake.”

You were shaking with fear, but confusion had still wormed its way into your head. He knew Derek?

Another growl ripped through the night air, and you only shook harder. Then suddenly, the man’s arms were ripped off of you, leaving you with only the stinging scratches from his claws. You fell forward, palms hitting the forest floor.

You darted forward, yanking your flashlight from the dirt and shining it toward the snarling figures rolling around on the ground.

“Derek,” you whispered.

He was on top of the man, pinning him down after a short struggle. “Peter!”

His voice was low and dark, and he looked like he was actually going to kill him. The look on his face was murderous. There was something in his eyes that you had never seen before, not even that night in the hospital when he saved you from the wendigo.

“She had no idea,” The man-Peter-spat. “She had no idea you had any family.”

Family?

“How did you get out of Eichen House?” Derek snarled. “How?’

“It was too easy!” Peter cried. “And when I did, I found out that you were living happily ever after, playing house with Scott and your lovely little girlfriend.”

“I’m going to rip your throat out.”

“You already did,” Peter said with a bloody grin. “Didn’t seem to stick.”

With a low growl, Derek slammed his fist into Peter’s jaw, over and over again, and you closed your eyes. Your flashlight dropped from your trembling hands, and you didn’t pick it up. You listened as the struggle stopped, and everything was still. You were dimly aware of Derek talking softly into his phone, but you were too dazed to care.

“Y/n?” Derek’s soft voice asked.

You looked up carefully, but your eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of the preserve. You felt his fingers on your cheek, soft and gentle, and that was when you burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Derek whispered as you collapsed into his chest. “It’s okay, you’re safe. He’s out cold.”

He ran a hand down your hair, smoothing it out and carefully picking out the sticks and dead leaves that had stuck there during the struggle.

“He was watching me,” you whispered into his chest.

“What?”

“He came to the restaurant. He was following me and he was watching me, and this whole time he was your family?”

“My uncle,” he informed you. “But it’s complicated. He’s not...you said he was watching you?”

“He wouldn’t let anyone else seat him,” you explained shakily. “For months he came in, and I just thought he was some creep.”

“Fuck,” Derek breathed, squeezing you tighter. “But you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” you told him, breaking down into a sob. “No one else listened.”

You picked your head up, pulling your face away from his tear-stained shirt. Peeking over, you saw that Peter was still on the ground, like Derek had said, out cold.

Derek reached up, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face back toward his. “Scott’s going to be here soon to take him back to Eichen House.”

“Eichen House? The mental hospital?”

He was quiet for a moment as he nodded. “This was why you were so jumpy wasn’t it? He was scaring you.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, placing both hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m right here and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

You nodded and buried your face in his shoulder once more. Your cheek was still bleeding from Peter’s claws, but Derek didn’t seem to care that it was staining his shirt. He held you close until you were ready to pull away.

“We can go home as soon as Scott gets here,” Derek promised.

You sighed and rested your head back onto his shoulder. “And I was so excited for tonight.”

“Do you not want to go home?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re hurt.”

You thought for a moment. “Not that badly. I just want my night with you.”

Derek’s lips turned up. “We can stay then. As soon as Scott takes Peter, we can head up to Lookout Point.”

You smiled against his skin. “You’re amazing.”

“I think you’re pretty amazing too. After all, you did save my life.”

You sighed and shook your head at the inside joke. “Well, now you’ve officially saved mine.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead and smiled wider. Sitting there in the dark, with Peter’s unconscious body behind you and the bloody scratches on your cheek, the situation might have seemed horrible and terrifying. But you could also hear the sound of Scott’s motorbike approaching in the distance, and of crickets chirping softly from the grasp.

Derek was right next to you, wrapping you up and making sure you were safe and sound. After all the chaos, everything suddenly seemed still and peaceful, just for the two of you. You leaned back into his arms and gazed up at the stars peeking through the trees, thinking you didn’t mind staying a little bit longer.

#teen wolf imagines #derek hale imagines #derek hale #selfignitingimagines

248 notes · View notes

ursoself-satisfying · 5 years

Text

Tagging Game!! Answer 21 questions then Tag 21 people you want to know better!!

I was tagged by @sunnnymercury n @wassupitschloe !!!!! lol I almost forgot to do this its so fun im just absent minded !!!

Nickname: mo or momo ::))

Zodiac: aquarius !!

Height: like 5′6??

Last movie I saw: Bohemian Rhapsody Sing a Long lol,,

Last thing I googled: “all power corrupts” ((it was for an essay,, I was trying to find that Lord Acton quote rip))

Favorite Musician: just one??? Queen is always up there lol but I also rly love Blur and the Who!!!

Song stuck in my head: actually none rn God bless but I was singing “Anybody Have a Map” from Dear Evan Hansen yesterday rip

Other blogs: oof I’ve got like 9 blogs total but I dont use many of them,,,, I have my personal (@catbusfurrever) n a 70s blog I dont always keep up (@starlettecinema) n then an art one (@art-trek ) n then like another art,, a backup queen,, i think 2 backup personals,, n a shady one lol none of them are good besides these 4 rip

Do I get asks: yes!! I lovelovelove getting them too!!!! I would love to get more lol but ik I’m slow at answering n putting out content so i get it!! I’m always open tho my dms, my asks, my submissions!! I love to make friends!! ur all such lovely people lol makes me so happy talking to yall ::””))

Blogs following: following me or that I follow?? cus I think im following like 1k+ blogs rip but on this blog in particular i have about 800 followers that make me so happy everyday!! if I get to 1k I gotta think of something fun to do lol to say ty n ilysm!!!

Amount of sleep: hm Ive been sleeping in lately so probably more like 9+?? depresso vacation mode is still on but on my normal schedule its more like 7 hrs

Lucky number: my favourite number is 9 bc I like to write it,,, i like the flow n curves of it,,, i think my lucky number (cus like numerology n all that) would be 6!! n yes,,, ik,,, 69,,,,

What am I wearing: my jammies!! i dont wear anything other than pajamas if I dont have to lol,, my pants have Christmas trees n my shirt is Weezer haha

Dream job: artist,, just like in general,, I do a lot n i wanna make a lot n if I could make a living off of that it would be amazing lol,, but like going to school for stuff?? if I dont make it as a musician lol I would love to get back into film n work my way to director wow

Dream trip: hhhhnnnngggg,,, i love japan ik it sounds cringey but I love the countryside n I would love to see all the historical sites just as much as the amazing cities

Favorite food: idk if I have a favourite but mac n cheese,,, w parmesan,,, n some bread crumbs or like crutons on it,,,, amazing,,

Play any instruments: yup!! guitar n ukulele n I’m picking myself up a bass n REteaching myself piano rip

Languages: english mostly but Ive taken God idk how many years of spanish like,,, 8 yrs??? n I can barely speak it but I understand it ok

Favorite songs: OOF lets do favourite CURRENT songs,,, i love Moscow by Autoheart n the iSpy remix (iSpy Sins Not Tragedies is a BOP) n uuhhhh,,,, oh man A Quick One While Hes Away (Live) n Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy ofc ::””))

Random fact: uuuuuhhhhh I was Prom Queen junior year lol not bc i won the votes tho its a story haha

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: idk uuhh soft,, old,, alone but not in a sad way in a peaceful way,, chaotic but it makes sense,, spur of the moment decisions,, reusing old bags n always having unnecessary things rolling around in ur backpack bc u wanna be prepared for any situation lol,,,, idk its hard to see yourself from an outside perspective n determine if u have just one aesthetic cus i tend to flop from vie to vibe n I just kinda,,,, exist u kno?? just be u !!!

I’ll tag @angrylizardjacket if she wants to do it n @deakydeakyfics @deacytits if yall havent done it yet!! also @jem6869 n @princessleiaqueen bc theyre so lovely!!! N anyone that wants to that means U!!!! have fun!!!

#not queen #personal #games #tagged #mutuals #friends #followers #about me #this was hard but fun!!#she has a voice!!!

8 notes · View notes

writinginstardust · 6 years

Text

Just In Case

Pairing: Ezra Mason x Kady Grant

Request: anon asked “Hi can you write a smut fic about kady grant and ezra mason ?Thank you very much.”

Warnings: smut is ahead, swearing as per the norm

A/N: so like i’m still bad at smut, i still can’t believe someone wanted more smut from me after the last one i wrote because let’s be honest it ain’t great, pretty sure this is a bit better though so that’s good. They have unprotected sex because pretty sure getting a condom on the Mao isn’t gonna be easy but make sure y’all have safe sex okay?

This originally had more to it but i’ve been really struggling to find time to write this so i left it here. I may write the part 2 but i’m not sure yet, if you want me to then let me know!

Word Count: 1896

12 hours before the survivors of the Bei-Tech attacks were set to arrive back at Kerenza IV, Kady Grant was trying to sleep. It wasn’t working out well for her. Her mind was screaming at her to check and recheck everything for the thousandth time, to analyse the plan and find anything that might go wrong yet again. She couldn’t keep it quiet. She needed a distraction.

With an irritated sigh she got up and left the private room she was allowed to use. It was cramped and used to be a storage room but considering how everyone else was living aboard the Mao, she had nothing to complain about.

She slowly made her way towards the hanger where she knew Ezra would be, probably over-thinking everything just as she was. There was a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, other pilots might live or die by his orders. To everyone else it seemed as if he took everything in his stride but Kady had witnessed the toll it was really taking on him. She knew he needed a distraction too.

Finally reaching the hanger, it took mere moments to locate Ezra. He was fussing over his Chimera, talking to a tired-looking mechanic about who knows what. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Kades? I thought you’d gone to get some sleep?” he turned in her arms, face scrunched up in confusion.

“I did, my mind wouldn’t let me though. I can’t sleep without you there.” His face softened and he leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead.

“Let me finish up here and I’ll come to bed with you.”

“Ez, everything is fine, there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Come with me and let the poor mechanic go to bed, she looks almost as tired as you, …no offence.”

“None taken Kady, I’m exhausted.” She offered the pink-haired girl a grateful smile and left her and Ezra alone.

“Come on, come to bed,” she took his hand and led him back to her little room.

Laying with her head on Ezra’s chest in a bed only meant for one, Kady once again tried to find sleep. Though the steady beat of his heart and his gentle touches lulled her, her mind continued over-working itself and preventing her rest. She let out a groan of frustration and felt Ezra shift beside her.

“What is it?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, about everything that could go wrong, about all the people that might not make it back, …about you not making it back.” Tears pricked her eyes as she turned to look up at the boy beside her.

“Kades, everyone’s been over this plan a hundred times already, if there was a way to lessen the risk we’d have found it by now. We can make this work, we can get everyone through this. I’m sure of it.”

He meant it, she could see the determination and surety in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in the strong grip on her. She knew he would do everything to make sure they pulled this off but she also knew how relentless Bei-Tech were, how much more training they had. The odds were seriously stacked against them and it was highly likely some wouldn’t survive the assault. She couldn’t bare the thought that Ezra might be one of them.

“I know, I just wish it didn’t have to be you.” Ezra leaned down and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead before speaking softly against her skin.

“I wish it didn’t have to be any of us. But I want to fight, because I’m fighting for you. I can’t not do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“Just, just promise me you’ll make it back.”

“I promise. I’m not giving up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not giving up you.”

And then they were kissing, expressing their love through the movement of lips, the touches of hands, the entwining of bodies. They kept kissing like it was their last chance to do so, in the back of both their minds they knew that it could be.

As the touch of their lips continued both became more desperate for each other and the kiss became deeper and more passionate. Their mouths worked in perfect harmony, tongues exploring and drawing needy sounds from each as hands tangled in hair, brushed cheeks, mapped bodies, committed every detail of the other to memory just in case.

Gasping for breath Kady broke the kiss. At some point she’d found herself on her back, Ezra hovering over her. He moved his lips from hers and traced a line across her jaw before moving to press a line of kisses down her neck, pulling little gasps and moans from her lips. He reached her collarbone and sucked harder on the skin there, intent on leaving a mark. Kady let out a much louder moan at the action which only spurred him on. As his lips continued to mark a path on her skin, Kady grew louder and louder until he eventually had to pull away from her.

“Kades, I love you, but shut up, people are gonna hear you.”

“If you think I care about that right now, you’re gravely mistaken. And if you don’t want me to be loud then stop being so good at that.”

He chuckled and reattached his mouth to hers as his hands began sliding under her t-shirt, dragging the material up her body at a tormenting pace and eventually chucking it on the floor. His lips left hers to leave a trail of kisses down her body, setting her skin aflame everywhere he touched. Lost in his touch, Kady barely noticed the rest of her clothes being discarded and his mouth working its way towards her centre until the first flick of his tongue against her brought her back to awareness with a sharp gasp. Her eyes shot open and her hands flew to his hair, tangling in it and keeping his mouth pressed against her.

Waves of pleasure rolled through her body as Ezra’s mouth continued to work its magic, every flick of his tongue bringing her closer to the edge. His hands gripped her hips to keep her still as she writhed beneath him, slowly losing her grip on reality as she became completely undone. Unable to hold them back, loud moans spilled from her lips as her orgasm ripped through her. Ezra ‘s tongue continued to work against her as she slowly came down from her high and pulled his face away from her when the stimulation became too much.

“…fuck…me…,” it was only a rasped breath, the only thing she could say through the hazy bliss her body and mind were in.

“Yeah that’s next on my to do list,” humour laced his voice and Ezra’s face had stretched into a self-satisfied grin at the sight of his girlfriend so undone by him. Kady wanted to wipe that grin right off his perfect face. So, she did.

Finally recovered enough to control her body again, she rolled on top of him quick as a flash and leaned down to kiss away that smile. Faintly she could taste herself on his lips but she didn’t care. She wanted to see him as wrecked as she’d been moments ago, and she knew just how to do it.

As they kissed she ground her hips into his eliciting a low groan from Ezra that she’d pay to hear again. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to. As she continued moving against him more groans and sharp intakes of breath greeted her ears, and she enjoyed every last one.

It didn’t take her long to divest him of his clothes and her hands and mouth began thoroughly exploring his body at an excruciatingly slow pace, worshiping every inch of him until he was practically squirming with the need for her to do something more. With a wicked grin on her face she looked up and locked eyes with him as she slowly kissed her way towards where he ached for her to be, stopping only millimetres away and going no further. It was torture for Ezra and it took every ounce of self-control to lay still and wait for her to do something, anything to provide some relief.

Just as he thought he might combust from the tension and need running through him Kady moved and finally, finally, brought her mouth to him. It was only the tiniest flick of her tongue but after all the teasing touches it made Ezra see stars. A loud moan to rival Kady’s earlier ones tore its way out of his throat and she smirked before finally giving him what he needed.

As Kady’s mouth worked him into a state of euphoria, he could do nothing but lie back and take what she would give him. Just before he thought he might fall over the edge Kady pulled away causing him to let out a whine which he’d never admit happened.

“Shut up you big baby, I figured you’d be annoyed if I let you finish then,” she was right.

“You didn’t have to get me that close though, you’re such a damn tease.” He grinned down at her to assure her he didn’t really mind before pulling her up and into a heated kiss.

He rolled them so he was once again on top and checked she was ready before sliding into her agonisingly slowly. Twin groans escaped them as Ezra filled her, the feeling of being so connected heightening their pleasure. At Kady’s request Ezra began to move his hips against her, his thrusts slow and deep, turning Kady into a desperate mess beneath him. He wasn’t far from that himself, holding himself back was excruciating.

“Please…more…please!” Kady gasped out in desperation, her hips bucking up as she pleaded with him to give her what she wanted. And Ezra could never refuse her. He sped up his movements and her hips continued to meet his at every thrust as their desperation for both each other and their release built within them. When finally, it came crashing down on them Kady’s shout of his name drowned out Ezra’s own groans though she was hardly aware of it as her senses went into overdrive and her body was flooded with wave after wave of ecstasy.

It took a few minutes for her to come back to herself and she opened her eyes to see Ezra collapsed on the bed beside her in a similar state of exhaustion. She smiled as she brushed some hair from where it stuck to his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he reached up and entwined their fingers, gently bringing her hand down to his lips and brushing a feather-light kiss on her skin.

Sleepily she pulled a blanket over the two of them, curling her body up against his side as his arms wrapped around her and his hands started tracing patterns on her skin. She tilted her head up and their lips met in a soft and loving kiss which warmed her soul. No more words were spoken between them but the light kisses and gentle touches they shared until exhaustion made them succumb to sleep said all they needed.

#ezra mason #kady grant #ezra x kady #ezra mason x kady grant #ezra mason fanfic #illuminae #the illuminae files #illuminae fanfic #kady grant fanfic #smut

25 notes · View notes

silver-the-cat · 6 years

Text

“I’m sorry. But Jack….from now on, he vill be in critical condition.”

All it took was those few words, those two simple sentences, to suddenly change everything forever.

Jameson took in a deep breath, resting his elbows on his knees. The entire room was almost dead silent, minus the sound of the heart monitor beeping every so often. It didn’t help his own nerves that the faint scent of whiskey still hung in the air. He sat not far from the bed, right next to the nightstand. There were the normal things you could expect from a hospital nightstand, a white, clean lamp, a digital clock, a few flowers that Jameson could only assume were from family and other friends. There was also a strange magic 8-ball sitting up against the clock, but he knew better than to touch that. An IV drip and heart monitor sat on the other side of the bed, attached to the man who laid in the bed, completely still minus his chest moving slowly.

Just a few weeks ago, Henrik had suddenly come back from his vacation. He had told them he would be returning, but it was far sooner than any of them had expected. Next thing Jameson knew, Marvin had called him, worriedly explaining both him and Chase were now at the hospital. That something was wrong with Jack. It took hours before they had any news on Jack’s condition.

Hours before he had heard those two sentences.

Now, Jameson had a basic understanding of how hard words affected other people. He was mute, not deaf after all. But it still seemed slightly amazing to him that, when strung together in a certain way, words could have such an effect on other people. Maybe it was just the fact that he couldn’t express his emotions in the same way everyone else could, through their own voice. He wasn’t too sure.

He simply sat there, mulling everything over. So much had changed in the past few week, he didn’t know what to think of anymore. What exactly were you supposed to do when someone you’ve known since...well, forever, was in such a bad shape? That they might never even wake up?

“Where….Where Jack?”

Jameson bit his lower lip, looking to Marvin. The magician didn’t look as if he was going to answer, instead striding right by, hands curled into fists. Robbie looked to Jameson, tilting his head like an innocent child (which Jameson supposed he really was).

He’s….He just needs to rest for a while. The gentleman signed, only to earn a confused look from Robbie. He took a moment to find his favorite whiteboard and marker before writing out the message.

“So….he’ll be back soon, right?” Robbie asked. Again, Jameson bit his lower lip, sincerely wishing Marvin hadn’t run off so quickly so he could at the very least have some sort of help.

I really hope so…

What else could he have told Robbie? Jack was going to die? That they just had to sit tight and wait for Henrik to pull some sort of miracle out of thin air and save him?

He fidgeted slightly in place. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of this. He really couldn’t do anything either, which was, in his opinion, the worst part about any of this. He didn’t like this feeling of complete and utter hopelessness, unable to do a thing to help one of his closest friends. But he didn’t have magic on his side like Marvin did, he didn’t have the same superpowers as Jackie did, he didn’t have the medical training Henrik did. Hell, he couldn’t even replace Jack in his normal videos like Chase had been doing, given the fact he had no voice. He was just Jameson Jackson, the mute who carved a pumpkin for a Halloween video.

When your friends could all do something to help out, even just a little, it only made it sting a little more when you realized you could do absolutely nothing.

He checked the time, realizing he probably needed to get back soon. Chase would be visiting in only an hour too, as he normally did. He heaved a silent sigh, standing up and about to sign a goodbye to his friend. He knew it was no use, but still did it out of force of habit. This time, however, he stopped himself.

An idea suddenly flashed into his head. He opened the door, glancing from side to side until he saw the person he was looking for. Doctor Henrik Von Schneeplestein.

“Are you finished yet, Jameson?” The doctor asked tiredly once he caught sight of the dapper man. “Or is zere something you need?” Jameson thought for a minute, before quickly signing out a request. Henrik gave him a questioning look, but obliged anyways. He ducked into his office, coming out with a notepad and marker.

“You’d better give zis back. And don’t take much longer eizer.” He said, handing the notepad over. A nurse called from down the hallways for him, causing him to sigh tiredly. “I have business to take care of. Please don’t take too much longer.”

I won’t, I promise! Jameson quickly signed in response, before heading back to Jack’s room. Sitting back down and resting the notepad of his leg, he began writing out a message with a small smile on his face.

Once finished, he quickly folded it up and stuck it in between the clock and magic 8-ball. He stood up for the last time, sticking the notepad under his arm so he can sign goodbye to his friend. Jack didn’t react at all, but again, Jameson had grown used to that.

About several hours later, Hernik had stopped by just to clean up and check up on Jack’s vitals once more. Chase and Jameson had been the only ones visiting as of late, but even then Chase managed to create a mess every time he visited. Although most times it was just bottles of alcohol he had accidentally left behind.

I probably shouldn’t even let him drive anymore. Henrik thought, taking one of the whiskey bottles and dropping it into the bin. ….Or let him bring zem into ze hospital in ze first place. How ze hell is he even getting zem in at zis point? He moved to go check on Jack’s vitals when he noticed something on the stand, not far from where the whiskey bottle had been. It had fallen over when he had taken the bottle, still stuck between Marvin’s gift and the clock.

Henrik set his clipboard down, taking the thing, which turned out to be a folded up piece of paper labeled “To Jack” in big curly letters, and unfolding it. It was a letter, all written in the same curly letters (albeit smaller).

Dear Jack,

This was somewhat spur of the moment, but it’s the least I can do. If I can’t communicate directly, I’ll just write it out then.

Anyways, I don’t know if Chase has been telling you everything, but I guess I could give you an update. Everyone’s been taking….what’s happened in different ways. Chase suddenly started drinking again whenever he’s not filling in for you. He keeps trying to act like nothing's wrong, but you can always smell the whiskey on him. I’m surprised you haven’t woken up from the smell alone!

Henrik’s been trying his best too. He’s always tired and really stressed out, I can tell. I don’t even know if he’s rested since he got back from his vacation. I feel bad for him, I think he believes this all is on his shoulders. That he has to do this all alone. I wish I could help, but I’m no doctor.

Then there’s Marvin. He’s been acting weirder than normal. He barely even leaves his room nowadays too. But he did give you that magic 8-ball. I keep trying to get him to talk or come out, but he keeps saying he’s working on ‘magician business’. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about? Maybe it’s just Marvin being Marvin again. He always was a strange one.

And as for Jackieboy Man….I have no clue what he’s up to. Once we all got the news, he just disappeared. I see him sometimes out in the streets, but even then it’s hard to tell because he isn’t in his normal outfit. I think he might even be taking it harder than both Chase and Henrik. I really hope he’s doing okay. Robbie and I might go try to visit him soon.

That would just leave me then, I guess. Well, I don’t know what to think about all of this. I just don’t like sitting by doing nothing. So that’s why I’m going to start writing these letters. It’ll be my way of telling you everything that’s happened so far! You know, unless you actually did hear Chase telling you everything and you can still remember it whenever you do wake up.

Please try to wake up soon….Robbie’s getting super worried about you, he’s even getting scared that you might not be coming back. We’re all really worried. And honestly, I’m not sure how much longer we can all keep going like this. We all really need you and your….what did you call it again?

“PMA….” Henrik read softly, hand gripping the paper slightly. “Positive….mental attitude…” It was taking almost all of his self-control not to break down right then and there.

Anyways, I’ll be back to write another letter soon. I’ll try my hardest to keep you as updated as possible.

Your’s best pal,

Jameson Jackson

“So zhat’s vhy you needed the notepad.” The doctor said, giving a small, sad smile as he folded up the paper. “You could’ve at least told me beforehand, ozhervise I would’ve zrown zis out.” He carefully placed the letter back once more, before looking back to Jack.

It had been weeks since this entire ordeal had first started. Weeks since he had first uttered those words that had thrown all of them into chaos.

“Ach….I really do need more sleep….” Henrik finally said after a few moments of silence and thinking. “A patient is only as healthy as zeir doctor, I suppose….” Grabbing his clipboard once more, he started for the door.

Never getting the chance to see a faint flicker of static pass on the heart monitor’s screen.

((Ok, so since the fandom is completely on fire and possibly nuked atm, I thought why not contribute in the only way I know how. By writing. Since I can’t draw at all. So boom, here’s my interpretation on what’s exactly going on with the coma and the egos and whatever. Yk, just my interpretation and stuff

Also, personal headcanon that Jameson writes Jack a bunch of letters trying for him to read whenever Jack does wake up, if it even is in a happy ending type thing. I think I’m just lowkey falling in love with Jameson in general and seeing what everybody else does with him. Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading!))

#jacksepticeye #a thing i wrote #fanfiction i guess?#jse egos #also would really appreciate feeback #but yknow #jameson jackson

17 notes · View notes