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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

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Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 32)

Tw: mentions of past rape, molestation, injury, blood

Part 33

You were shell-shocked.

You were being evaluated at the hospital. The kind nurses treated your wounds and offered much-needed compassion.

They gathered as much evidence as they could against the assault. You didn't remember what they asked or what they wanted from you, but you did remember having Yves on the phone to settle everything for you.

It was the worst thing you've ever experienced.

You were admitted into the hospital for a few days because one of the wounds became infected and she managed to give you a hairline fracture on your leg. You don't know what has happened to Evangeline or her family, nor did you want to know.

You didn't want to see your reflection. So you were grateful when Yves agreed to only communicate via voice calls.

But that was because Yves didn't want you to see how much he wept for you behind the camera. It would have been the first time seeing his makeup being imperfect and ruined, to see this, shockingly vulnerable side of him.

He knew how horrible it was to go through this, the inner turmoil that this event will cause for years to come... he is reminded of all of it. Yves wouldn't care if it happened to someone else, or even himself. But it happened to you, and he blamed himself for not predicting this. For being careless in his research.

For not predicting that Evangeline will come by the exact time you're leaving your room. Yves didn't do enough digging on that evil woman, he underestimated her degeneracy and it cost you dearly.

He didn't predict how useless your housemates were. Yves already told them to watch out for Evangeline as she was dangerous, not to let her into the house and call the police immediately as soon as she's spotted in the premises.

Instead, they all hid in their rooms when you let her in. They didn't do the bare minimum of even alerting the police, choosing to protect themselves by locking their own bedroom doors.

He was speechless. Yves knew they were selfish, but he thought he could have utilized their selfishness. They were supposed to call the police out of fear that Evangeline would hurt them or damage the property (hence the landlord would force them to pay), not use you as a sacrifice!

Luckily Yves called Mr. Jones almost a day before Evangeline stepped foot outside their house, expressing his concern over his daughter's strange behavior towards your confrontation. He suggested keeping a closer eye on her.

He even contacted his wife. The disciplinarian of the family and the lesser liked parent because of her rigidness.

However, Yves made a grave mistake of thinking they would naturally agree with him. Of course they would give their angel daughter the benefit of the doubt, they love her and couldn't imagine her doing such atrocities. He could tell that they were offended, but well hidden behind polite words.

He forgot, parents tend to love their children unconditionally. Making them blind to their deeds.

It took Yves sending a picture of Evangeline walking up to the front porch for Mr Jones to start bombarding her phones with calls, with the intent of pleading with her not to go through with whatever she planned.

The wife didn't even bother, as she's comfortable in thinking her husband will handle everything.

They had no idea how much they infuriated Yves, calling her was futile, she was clearly in a state where she's unable to listen to reason! Yves fully expected them to zip through the highways to physically restrain her. To save what's left of their reputation or at least what's left of their sick excuse of a child.

The Jones family had sealed their fate as soon as Yves had to call the police himself, pretending to be a neighbor concerned about a violent dispute in your house. Where in reality, the households around you weren't even home to witness anything.

He threw in everything he could to make it their priority, Yves claimed that there were guns involved, the abuse of children, blood, victims close to death... anything to get them out and about.

Hell, Yves even contacted Montgomery. But it only went to voicemail because he was busy working. Same goes to your landlord, he didn't pick up any of the calls because he was asleep.

But it didn't matter what he did. It was too late. The police took their sweet time and Yves couldn't stop it from happening.

He had thought of sending his own men to snipe her down, but that would come with its own set of problems- you would be a lot more traumatized to know Yves a bit deeper. But he should have readied his men within a certain radius to intercept her. Yet, he didn't think of that nor did he believe it was necessary. He expected at least one of his fail-safes would work. None of them did.

Yves was furious. The people around you were supposed to care and love you, but they did not. Enraged that everyone let you down, angry that he let you down.

How could he do this to you? You're so young and innocent, he vowed to protect you and shield you from what he experienced in the past no matter the circumstance. But he failed terribly. All because he was undisciplined enough to be careless. He fucking hated those two words, yet it's being appropriately applied to him now.

You're fiddling on your thumbs, letting the horrors silently replay in your head. Too distracted to notice that Yves muted himself on the call.

If you could see him right now, your head might just melt from the sheer jarringness and bizarreness of his breakdown.

His gorgeous curls were sprawled across his hotel room desk as he sobbed in his arms, resting on the hard, cold marble surface. He was never messy before, but today is an exception; there were pieces of papers, either torn or crumpled out of frustration or intact spread around him. Pens that lost their caps rolled around the floor, his laptop screen is showing a live feed of you in your hospital bed but his tabs are disorganized.

The fact that the weather is still too unstable for him to leave is making him worse. No planes were taking off. These are things he cannot control and it's futile getting upset over it. But he can't help himself for being angry at fate, even if it did nothing.

He regretted it, oh, how he regretted parting away from you. None of this would have happened if he didn't hire Jones, if he's only there for 48 hours, if he didn't go at all.

He knows, Yves knows it's useless to keep beating himself up over this. What's done is done, he has to move forward and take care of you better. But the circumstances around him wouldn't let him get past it, and this is torture to him. Yves is literally out of commission, unable to be there for you in any way. He couldn't be that strong, flawless deity that ensures nothing bad ever happens to you.

Yves is not in control of himself as he thought. His discipline was not enough and it is a hard pill to swallow. But he has to.

Yves lifted his head off the desk and sniffled, grabbing a facial napkin from a tissue box nearby. He dabbed his nose, letting it absorb his drippings.

His lower lip trembled and his eyebrows were knitted out of agony as his bloodshot eyes landed onto the video of you falling asleep. More tears rolled down his cheek, taking the pigment of his mascara along with it. If only you could see him now with black streaks running down his face, you would think very lowly of him.

Yves lets out a shaky sigh. He took a few minutes to close his eyes and compose himself, just enough to seem like he wasn't bawling his eyes out.

He rakes his finger through his hair to tidy it up a bit, his eyes never once leaving you.

Yves cleared his throat and stood up. That's enough self-berating and self-pitying for now. It's time to clean up and think of the worst fate the Jones, your housemates, your landlord and Montgomery could possibly face.

Yves ditched the champagne flute this time. He opted to drink directly from the bottle. How uncouth of him, he feels like an uncultured, idiotic swine all over again. But that's what he is now, right? Stupid and naive to trust the people around you were reliable. A fucking moron to have full confidence in his abilities, a fucking dumbass for expecting the best in his lacklustre plans.

He looked out of the window. Taking a massive swig of his drink, hoping that it would somehow dull the pain he's experiencing. However, he knows better than to expect that. The best a full bottle could do is to mildly calm his nerves.

Yves learns from his mistakes. He now knows you had no one to rely on except him. And he will act accordingly.

You woke up to hushed chattering between a man who seems to be under distress and a nurse who is trying to calm him down.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

"(Name)!" Exclaimed Montgomery. He's oddly cleaner than usual.

You froze momentarily before trying to get away from him as much as you can, fearing that Montgomery is the next Evangeline. The nurse picked up on your clear panic and immediately told him to leave.

"Wait! Y-your sugar da-" He paused and then reworded his sentence. "Yves, told me what happened."

You looked at him with the most incredulous expression. What? Why would Yves tell your other abhorrent admirer about your situation?

"I promise, I won't touch ya', okay? What that bitch did was disgusting, it made me sick to the core."

You asked him a lot of questions. Actually, it should be more appropriate of you to ask Yves instead. Regardless, you asked him why would Yves tell him about you.

"I don't know how that bastard got my number, but I saw that he left a voicemail while I was at work. He told me about that girl and how he's worried that she might hurt ya. Y'know what, I'll let you listen to it your damn self."

He pulled out his phone and tapped a couple of buttons. The nurse was readying her walkie talkie, about to contact security to take him away. But you signalled her that you're tolerating her presence.

"Yeller. This is Yves. (Name) told me everything that has happened between them, you and Evangeline Jones. She molested (name) yesterday and I was alerted of her close proximity to their home a few minutes ago."

Yves's voice was uncharacteristically panicked and wavering. However, despite the obvious stress that Yves was under, he was able to clearly articulate what he wanted to say.

"She is very capable of doing harm and I'm not around to protect them, that is why I'm calling you. I know you care about (name) in your own way, Yeller. Please. I need you to go to this location. Now."

You listened to Yves giving out your entire address to Montgomery. Then, the voice message ends.

"I went straight to ya' house after work and it was a whole crime scene." Montgomery looked at you with a pair of regretful eyes. "I guess she really did a number on ya' huh?"

He doesn't know the full extent of her abuse. Or else he wouldn't be awkwardly laughing, trying to lighten the mood.

You asked him how did he know to find you here.

"It wasn't easy, ain't nobody wanna tell me nothin'. There were a bunch of people there, I think one of em' was named Jason, he was freaking out over your busted window and door." He continued, pulling a chair and sitting on it.

"One of ya' friends told me that you and that bitch got into a scuffle. You lost and had to be sent to the ER."

Friends? He must be talking about your housemates. They were at home this entire time? You weren't surprised that they were too cowardly to come down and defend you, but you expected them to at least call the police. Mr. Jones must have been the one who did it when he arrived.

Speaking of which, how did he know where Evangeline was?

You asked him if he thought this was just a fist fight. He stared at you, confused.

"Is it... not just that?"

There was a beat of silence before you told him no and looked away. You said you don't want visitors anymore, grateful that the nurse stayed the entire time. You were fully expecting for him to be escorted out by security, hissing and thrashing.

But you were astonished Montgomery didn't put up a fight.

"Alright. You know how to find me. I'll leave ya' be for now." He sounded... sympathetic. Understanding, even. There was an evident twinge of regret and remorse in his voice, you wonder why.

"I'm sorry, (name). I shouldn't have trusted her in the first place." After that, he left on his own accord, the nurse following behind him to ensure he was not lurking around the halls.

You let out a breath. It's... strange. There were so many things that didn't add up. You began making excuses, it wasn't hard to find Montgomery's details from the Internet. So Yves must have gotten his number there.

But who told him Evangeline was nearby? You suspected that it was one of your housemates. There is no one else. It's just extremely vexing that they weren't as nosy as usual, if they came out and began poking and prodding at Evangeline, this wouldn't have happened. But then... why would they even tell Yves if a stranger comes by in the first place?

Then there was the question about Mr. Jones. Evangeline doesn't have a car nor a driver's license. So she had to get here by bus.

He was in his uniform, that means he was unlikely to know that Evangeline even left the house. So who told him? Yves? Seems plausible, but the timeline doesn't make sense to you.

Although it felt like hours of torture, the incident happened within a mere 11 minutes, they arrived 8 minutes after Evangeline started. The last 3 minutes was spent trying to gain access. It's unbelievable, but that was the reality of it. You know the nearest police station is an hour away by car. So the call must have been placed much earlier, or it was a coincidence that there was some patrolling nearby. But the latter was unlikely, you're in a sketchy neighborhood because there's barely any cops.

Either way, it couldn't be Mr. Jones was the one who alerted the authorities, the timing wasn't adding up. He was already banging on your window 6 minutes into the torment.

You shocked yourself that you could keep track of the timing. Thanks to the wall clock in your room that you couldn't... seem to remember owning.

All these discrepancies were giving you a headache. You tried to stay positive and look at the bright side. But it was hard, you do the best you can.

You picked your phone up, only to see that it died.

Sighing, you threw it onto the tray nearby and shuffled around, minding the cast around your leg and the bandages near your groin.

You closed your eyes once more and begged hard for this to be a dream.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #oc yves #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc evangeline #tw rape mention #tw injury

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mariamariquinha · 6 months

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Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Nine

Eight

Summary: The LASD couldn't sustain its reputation as an honest police officer if it tried hard. In that case, no one tried.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: Bad words, talks about corruption, talks about sexism and racism, mentions of oral sex, mention of drug crimes, violence and other things related, strip clubs, sex workers, use of weed and... did I say sexism?

Author’s Note: I think this got a lot more personal than I thought, so I'm sorry if anyone has family members within the LASD who aren't corrupt - this isn't about them. This chapter doesn't have much romance, I'll warn you right away, but it's an important progression in the main characters' relationship. Give it a try!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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You were in the business a little while ago; a few years, nothing that still didn't stop you from getting suspicious looks or incessant questions to make sure your work was well done. Emma, at least, who was the one who mattered at the moment, trusted your instincts and your ability; at best, she said you had good directions.

At worst, that you were very witty. The moment she called you into her office, you were sure this was the version of you she was hoping to meet.

“What did you do over the weekend?”

On Saturday, after finishing the initial report on the Ballard case, you realized you'd only slept for 4 hours when your brother made a ridiculous phone call to a tennis match with probably very wealthy friends. You went. After a scraped knee and sore thighs, you found that it was enough for his office to get a big case of something you didn't pay attention to. Then you enjoyed what felt like an uncomfortable sea spray from your air conditioner, which ended up going out for good and you had to walk in shame to Target to buy a fan. You had seen what looked like a seepage in your bathroom while you were brushing your teeth and that was the last clear vision in your memory of how your weekend went.

But maybe that wasn't what she wanted to know - no, it certainly wasn't that. And you treated the situation as such: deliberate disinterest to speculate.

“... Nothing special.” You shrugged, averting her gaze since she wasn’t even giving you the satisfaction of looking at your face. From the time being, Emma was always busy. You being there didn’t make sense.

“Not making good use of the day offs?”

“My phone keeps on like I'm with the President himself,” Your tone wasn’t soft, nor polite. That grabbed her attention, enough to turn her eyes to you over her glasses, eyebrows raised. “Occupational hazard.”

“Mm.”

And she went back to her computer, typing and clicking and watching the screen as if you weren’t there. That made you scoff. Irrationally, you felt a twinge of disappointment and frustration with her.

“I won't tell you about what happened.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Thinking of ordering?”

“When you haven't used your authority for a long time, it becomes rusty. It's never a good idea in this line of work. Learned that from my mentor when I started.”

“And of course you thought you'd start this with me.”

“You are my main concern right now,” Emma made a scene to turn to you again, impatient and bothered by your behavior. “At first I thought you were fraternizing with the enemy too much, but then I'm pretty sure I lost you along the way. I don’t like this.”

In fact, you had gotten relatively invasive as the case progressed. Nick was never easy, that was a fact, nothing surprising or expected. The recent developments with Isla had left you in a position of naivete, as if you were as new to the business as an intern, deluded by TV advertisements and oblivious to what was really going on in the Department. If you got there and said everything, Emma would take you off the case. Maybe O'Brien even hinted at it, which could have led to that conversation, but the truth was that far from it or not, they both seemed to have a hard-on putting you in situations where they treated you like an avatar of personal control.

You noticed that your reports were right there on her desk - that she read them. Still, you shifted in your chair uncomfortably and looked away again, a grim expression crossing your face as you heard her sigh.

“You should have taken the days off I told you to.” The comment grabbed your attention after a beat of silence.

No, don’t you dare-

“... I'll pretend you're not implying what I think you are.”

“It happens, you know? Maybe we did you wrong for not bringing the subject up for so long.”

“Don’t bring Theodore into this.”

“I’m trying to understand what’s happening!”

“What's going on is you've got a fucking cop on the verge of corruption taking the pomp and shitting rules around here,” You snapped, your voice quick and full of venom as you leaned in to make yourself heard. “What's happening is there's a girl who almost died because she was helping Nick and now she has a huge target on her back. The biggest problem is that these things happen around here as if they were routine and when a fucking person gets shot in the face, you have the indecency to call it a side effect when everything was nothing but irresponsibility.”

There were things in your life that were untouchable, things that Theodore had done or that circumstances had only presented - things cruel or subtle, but things either way. That was from your father's side, people said, of being reactive to the unfair. He's always been on that part of the spectrum, even if the cops with questionable ethics and ambiguous behavior were in his basement collections.

You had chosen that career for the sake of the right thing and your cynicism carried you far enough to pass certain contexts in silence. Emma never got it out of your mouth that you knew what Nick and the guys did at the weekend parties or how the cocaine bust counts never rallied because someone ended up taking some for themselves. That even happened in the DEA as far as you knew. And you let all that go, because in the end that would be your job and there would always be a smaller percentage of subversion than of solution. O'Brien still caught the bad guys. Circumstantially, Mathias too. But one of the two always had a bit of powder in their nostrils or their cock inside an addicted whore.

“Don't tell me it's the job. I’m aware.” Emma shut her mouth as soon as you said that, one hand raised to stop her. “But you and him make it all seem like a game of who's going to budge some kind of boundary you set. I’m not obligated to go through this.”

“What do you want me to do?”

The sigh that left your mouth was tired, suffocating.

“Stick to my reports if you can. And if you're taking suggestions, don't try to be my friend. You're not very good at this.”

When you got up to leave the room, Emma didn't stop you, but you didn't have any sense that you were winning anything. There was no relief. Your face was hot and your steps erratic.

Certain reputations had to come from somewhere, after all.

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“My husband was a member of the group.”

Isla had a calm voice despite the context in which she was inserted. There were no handcuffs on her wrists or a guard inside the room; everything was done very smoothly. There was, however, a palpable tension in the air, as if a black cloud of violence or distortion hung within that interrogation room.

Really, you shouldn't even be there, watching. Henderson was sitting to one side as he watched through the glass the conversation Zapata and Gina were having with the woman, and that should be enough for them. Even so, it was Gina who suggested that you participate indirectly, presumably to find out details about the photography issue as she had a curious background in the business. She was good, you could tell. Depressed too.

According to the file, Isla was of Albanian origin. The parents were immigrants and ran a small textile business in Coney Island, but they weren’t anything but a fast topic of conversation. The features of her face, such as the more rounded nose and the full face, were half erased by the bruises. One eye was swollen with purple and yellow hues, her jaw was bruised and her lips were dry. One of her arms had been broken, as well as the shoulder on the same side had also been dislocated. You didn't see her coming, but you guessed that she walked with difficulty because of the wound in her left calf. It was the only shot she took, grazed but painful.

Looking at it that way, she didn't look so much like Debbie. Maybe their comparison was in the look: the two seemed equally taken by a feeling that hovered only in Nick. One that you didn't know what it was and that maybe nobody could put their finger on.

She spoke of everything. Kosovo, her relationship with a man named Oliver Clark, her marriage and children - Selim, with 5, and Dafina, with 9.

You just noticed that Nick entered the room when you smelled his cologne. Bad smell, as always, enough to break any serious moment with that fragrance. You couldn’t help but make a face, pinching your nostrils once and clearing your throat. He ignored you, of course. Benny appeared right behind him with two cups of coffee - you two shared a brief look.

“We have the search warrant,” He said to everyone in the room, eyeing the scene in front of you with a stern face. “I also got WPP.”

A little late for that, you thought but decided not to say anything.

“Anything important?” Took you time to understand that the question was directed to you. When the silence became too much, you turned to him and saw everyone staring.

“... Nothing I didn't already imagine. I'll have better luck when I have the equipment,” You leaned over the table, just a touch, and read the notes you’d taken. “Leica M6 35mm, Pentax K1000 and… Nikon 35 Ti. Analog. This Leica is a rarity, I think it was the one she used for her first Homicide case.”

“Couldn't it have been someone else?” Henderson asked.

“Is that just a stupid question or do you want to make sure we've tested all options?”

“Both. So?” Nick pressed, arms crossed and nothing but harshness on his tone.

You observed him for a beat, considered your chances there.

“... The Leica is from the beginning of the last century, like, the 30's to the 50's. At least this model she said she has. In addition to being rare, not everyone nowadays can handle it because the resources are basically mechanical. It would be an absurd coincidence, which is not quite the case.”

“We've dealt with coincidences before.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

O’Brien didn’t answer. You rolled your eyes, going back to the notes before giving Isla another look.

“How long has she been doing this?” The question was kind of thrown up in the air, as no one dared to answer. You glared at them, specifically at Nick, who huffed in annoyance before saying something.

“One year.”

“And the case landed in your lap…” You said. “It seems that you really work with coincidences.”

Again, no answer. Feeling like you couldn't get from point A to B with anyone there, you jotted down some more information on paper and stretched your back, rolling your shoulders.

“It will be manual stuff then. They’ll have to look at each negative.”

“If it can be done then I don't see a problem.”

“Of course not,” You conceded, voice contained to prevent any progression there. It was like swallowing a fucking lamp.

Everyone was quiet when they heard Isla speak again, attentive as they watched every detail of the story that should no longer be news to Nick's ears. You were so concentrated that the noises of chairs dragging on the floor didn't even call your attention. Someone said something, the door opened and closed, and suddenly there was a cup of coffee right next to you.

Benny tapped the lid twice.

“Decaf,” He mouthed discreetly, just for you to understand, before retrieving his proximity and leaving the room.

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Benny didn't have a very organized routine, but he could count how many times he thought about you after that shitty lunch: two.

1. That coffee wasn't for you, but he thought of you when he noticed that the Starbucks server had made the wrong order. It was kind of spontaneous. Suddenly you were there, at the front of his mind, like you were hovering around and ready to just emerge. He put it there, left the cup as if saying ‘you can have it if you want, but if you don’t it’s fine’. No one brought the subject up.

2. Nick had gone to the store to meet an informant and someone, probably Connors, saw a familiar figure at the register when they entered. Benny knew it was Murph who commented, but he saw Zapata turn his head to look at the guy.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Who?” Benny frowned, unaware of the commotion. He turned his head, saw the dude standing there staring at his phone - like a normal person.

“This is Theodore Park, our trouble girl's ex.”

There was only one person Connors called 'problem girl' and it wasn't usually the kind of comment that came from beyond the grave. However he recognized the guy, whether it was a run-in at office parties that Benny barely attended or some private investigation that bordered on a stalker personality from Murph’s part, it seemed to be true. When Magalon looked back again, Theodore Park was gone.

The second time, then, he discovered who your ex-husband was while listening to what seemed like irrelevant information to the investigation. In the midst of Nick's reticence and failures, Theodore Park was the object of his interest.

He was tall; compared to the 5'7 that Benny was. Maybe 6'2, compared to O'Brien. There were some university articles about him (three paragraphs at Berkeley, two large PDFs at CSULB that he didn't read, and good references at Caltech) and he seemed successful with an information systems company or something. Benny could never speak properly about these things because he was never interested; as long as he had a phone that worked, he knew how to use the most intuitive social media and that was it. But not Theodore, no. The guy was a successful man indeed in that aspect, indeed. A rich guy on the way. Without much effort, Benny would see this dude doing TED Talks and making Forbes in a few years.

Which had nothing to do with him, or what seemed like your type of guy. If Theodore was on one side of the spectrum, Benny was on the other in every way.

Well, that was distracting. Still, Magalon didn't do much with this information. There wasn't much he could do with it anyway.

It was only later - days later - when they had agreed to go to a 'club' to 'decompress', that he found himself thinking about you for the third time.

Earlier that day, he saw you talking to Lennon over what seemed like conventional pleasantries between friends. You were wearing jeans, both hands in your back pockets as you paid attention to something that was being said. Your usual lab coat was gone, probably because Benny could clearly see that your shirt was tighter, had a wider bust and the position of your arms gave a subtle view of your breasts. Nothing indiscreet, because you weren't indiscreet. That outfit, however, made Benny have a sudden indiscreet thought, and it stayed in his head all day.

He hadn't looked for you anymore - he hadn't had the chance to do that. Things escalated and suddenly there he was talking about how similar he was to Nick, pushing you away with the worst of comparisons. You didn't even react, which he understood as full acceptance of the fact that he was an asshole, as if that was the one thing that Benny and a technology nerd like Theodore had in common: being a scoundrel. You treated him as always, even though what had already happened between you should have been enough for that 'always' to change.

The girl standing next to him was called Lindsay. She sat down, started a conversation; they talked very little. Lindsay was wasted, not even bothering to clean the traces of cocaine from her lips or the way her eyes were dark; Benny asked if she wanted to go home and another friend, named Tracy (or Tara), who was visibly lucid, said she would take her. He paid for the taxi, made sure they got into the car safely, and discreetly showed the driver his badge. Like any other night.

He watched the taxi disappear down the street, then, on the other side, the movement of cars on that side of the city. It was late summer and the breeze of the change of season was a sure sign of the arrival of autumn, so he felt the wind hit his face.

Benny didn't go back up to the hotel room with the guys. He handed the parking pass to the usual guy, got in the car and headed home.

No, not like any other night. That time, Benny felt another wave of what someone once said was a ‘midlife crisis’.

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You weren't a fan of bathtubs. Well, you had one, but it was that kind of thing... borrowed into your life, shoved down your throat because it wasn't so bad after all. Just like the coffee table. And the kitchen window. And the kind of lamp that lasted so little but, look, it was chic. So like all things, which seemed to be the biggest provocation that accompanied a 'gift' from a big son of a bitch, or a reminder of how there was a sense of ease in making your life miserable, you enjoyed it.

Something like that.

You had plans to get rid of each of these things soon, because all in all, the financial part of your life was also… complicated. A visit to the bank, a mortgage proposal, expenses for the large yard and the last remnants of your student fund. You looked through apartment websites for sale and just that idea left you incredibly depressed because, on top of everything else, you were a crybaby who lost the comfort of a husband who paid most of the household bills. And not to mention the job, because… damn, the fucking job. It had been days since you closed your eyes and saw Nick, Isla, Emma, Ballard, Mathias; what kind of fucking burnout was that?

So that night, when your heels were swollen and your back was sore, you allowed yourself a few minutes of privilege. Bath salts, then the heat of refreshing water and, among other things you haven't done in a long time, you felt a little sorry for yourself.

Connors had posted a photo with the guys on Instagram - you saw it by chance, one hand resting your head on the edge of the bathtub and the other scrolling through your phone. ‘bday party w/ the fella 🔥🔥🔥’, with Benny below his arm in what looked like a half drunk pose, in what also looked like a strip club in the background. You stared at it for a moment. Then another. Then another. There were easy smiles, joyfulness, even happiness; like it was just a standard day, as if the world was okay as soon as the first beer landed on their tables.

There was never a question with them, a doubt. It was as if, arbitrarily, the main characteristic of a cop wasn’t useful for them to become the ideal professionals that everyone thought they were. There is no need for moral duty, responsibility and care, as proof that the world, in itself, was also not moral, responsible and careful.

That was it. It was this pain, this itch, that disturbed you, because you knew that no questions were directed at Theodore when things ended. He, above the law, with money in his pocket and a successful career ahead of him, didn’t receive any dirty looks for having cheated on his own wife, who in turn would, in fact, receive condescending comments, pats on the shoulder of comfort and an unfair response from a boss, who attributed your problems to the great evil of having lost an idiot husband. That was what you always hated the most.

You abandoned the phone at the closed toilet seat.

“Alexa, turn up the music!” You said after a moment, listening to ‘Life on Mars’ in full volume and with your eyes closed.

-------------------------

The first sip of coffee was distracted. When the taste hit your tongue, you immediately grimaced and threw the drink back into the cup, staring at the totally undrinkable dark thing.

Great. No good coffee as well.

You wiped the corners of your mouth with your fingers and left the cup on the table, a little unsure whether you should throw it away or not. Just… Ugh. You threw it in the trash can, massaging your eyes with the heels of your hands before taking a long breath.

The break room was naturally busy in the morning, with people on double shifts taking a break and those who were arriving, like you, in and out of the tiredness of the end of the day with the beginning of another. Everyone was chatting amongst themselves, exchanging details about cases they were working on or the new bar that had opened nearby, so it was a bit strange that as soon as you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension, everyone turned their attention to a Lennon out of breath who entered the room with an urgent voice.

“Did you know?” That's all he said, then turning on the TV and stopping in the middle of the tables to pay attention. You, who were further in front and close to the coffee machine, had to lift your head a little more to understand what was happening.

“Recognized for the successful work carried out on the Merrimen case, Los Angeles County Major Crimes, coincidentally on the day of the closure of one of the most intense operations carried out in the city and credited in its name, hands over the most recent drug trafficking case to the Drug Enforcement Administration, the DEA…”

You could hear some gasps from your colleagues, murmurs and shushings, so that they remained quiet and could listen carefully to what was there as if it wasn't obvious. After that, you just stared at the screen in disbelief, your brow furrowed and your hands outstretched at your sides. When they cut to the scene of the press conference in the building's press room, which appeared to have taken place not long before you arrived, you could only see Nick standing next to the sheriff, Walsh's team, and Mathias himself at the lectern making the announcement.

Mathias's voice was a background sound, almost like an irritating noise in the silence of that room that seemed huge. No commotion, no direct press releases, just a 'peaceful transition' (Walsh's words) to 'a more prepared and complete team' (also Walsh’s words), which indirectly could mean more than cutting spending by the County government but rather a nudge coward of someone who didn't have the balls to chest someone basically… male.

You felt a little bad about that.

But, heavens, everyone thought that. And when Gina, of all those present, said mid Walsh's phony speech right after he highlighted the inefficiency of the forensic team (a part you only realized when he used the terms 'difficulty communicating with experts' and 'inadequacy expert with the magnitude of the case'), you blinked and saw her standing for herself, arms crossed and ready to fight.

“Yeah, but you're not in front of the fucking San Francisco Chronicle, Walsh. For someone who always speaks your mind, you're putting on a bad act.” She said to the TV.

Look, the system was a curious thing, clearly presumptuous and obviously selective. It has always been like this, world to be world, human beings to be human beings. And perhaps that was what generated discontent that soon disguised itself as responsibilities and survival, at least on the part of people like you, Gina and Emma, in the sense of gender, and in Henderson or Lennon in the sense of race, for example. It was like a constant obstacle, often exposed like a ghost that could lie dormant until it struck again.

No one there got caught up in it because they didn't have time, but everyone recognized the mechanisms and adapted to them. Neither you nor Gina whined much when the sheriff organized annual running competitions and didn't stay to reward the winning women; from what little you knew of Henderson, you didn't see him complaining, for example, about the fact that Nick always put him in for questioning black suspects, tapping him twice on the shoulder and saying 'you know what to do', but heavy in a condescending tone. Hell, you always saw the same ridiculous type of episode happening with Lennon as well.

Taken back to reality by the commotion bubbling between your colleagues, you noticed Emma standing in the doorway as if she had sneakily appeared to observe the reactions and the two of you exchanged very tense silent looks. She didn’t look defeated, but averted your gaze as soon as it became just a staring contest.

You turned to the TV - to the takes of Nick and the guys during the Merrimen case, then at their faces during the press conference.

Huh.

-------------------------

The atmosphere was burial-like, to say the least. You had spent the day in the laboratory, like a forced routine return, and it was as if no one had the balls to open their mouth and speak verbally about the subject. There were official emails from the DEA requesting evidence that had already been collected, reminders from Emma about other cases you were working on in parallel, one thing or another from Ballard (who didn't know how to create an email conversation and ended up answering each of your responses with a new email). There was a sepulchral silence from Major Crimes, but not the kind that left them untainted in the precinct's dome of recognition and social hierarchy; it was a shameful silence.

If you could bet on a collective concern, perhaps everyone was tense at the idea of having been publicly exposed as incompetent, and if even the best team of detectives in the county had failed, there was no certainty of the stability of the Department's resources. This would not only make the LASD incompetent (or corrupt), but also incomplete.

You have a new text! Your phone said, right when you were in the middle of a photo digital treatment of a license plate from a robbery case, even if your mind were wandering. In one of the browser tabs, Zillow was open with apartments in the central area of the city and, in another, your aunt's Facebook because your mother said she had done a hair atrocity (she had dyed her hair egg yellow, which could be an atrocity indeed). You looked at the phone screen lazily, already expecting another question from Ballard about anything that was already written on your reports, and when you saw who it really was, you were surprised.

-------------------------

“Is this a bat cave or something?”

In fact it didn’t even look like a cave, it was just the rooftop of the building. From afar, you could see the maintenance guys working in the electrical system on the top floor (which was where the Department's technology section was located), so if O'Brien and the others were trying to create some kind of reflective scene after a defeat like Zack Snyder, you could only read how pathetic and improvised the attempt was. It almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Was that supposed to be funny?” Zapata asked with a scowl, to which made you raise your eyebrows at the animosity.

“I think so, but if you're offended I think I'm on the right track.”

“You really are a bitch.”

“Tony-” Benny intervened.

“Yo, there’s no need to-” Connors said.

“Yeah, Zapata, watch your fucking mouth,” Biting back wasn’t exactly the best idea, because you knew the spirits were agitated, but it was obvious that the context didn’t allow for that type of behavior against you. Everyone there knew that that reaction was the remnant of misdirected anger.

You two shared a silent glare. Tony considered your face for a moment and you did the same; when Magalon pushed him to avert the attention, Zapata waved him off and walked away - you and Benny shared a small glance, one he soon ended to look at Nick, who watched the scene while lighting a cigarette.

“We done?” He asked.

“Don’t know, Nick, are we?” You sighed in defeat, sitting on a concrete support and looking anywhere but him. Again, you did what seemed like a copying mechanism: brushed your hands over your face, leaned over your knees and just… accepted. “How?”

“He used Isla.”

And so, being a somewhat literate person in the context of dealing with police officers, you could see the pattern and tone of the conversation that had just begun: it was almost an interrogation. Everyone there, kind of around him, looking for the person who would go to the guillotine. It took a while, between the silence that followed, the way everyone (except Benny) was staring at you and Zapata's reaction so spontaneously explosive, but when you lifted your head and looked at that scene, connecting the dots, you frowned and felt truly offended.

“Wow.”

“We need to be sure.”

“And who do you think you are to act like that? A fucking Corleone?” That made you scoff, giggling in disbelief. You adjusted your stance, arms crossed and erect back. “Believe me, O’Brien, if I had anything to do with this shitty show, you would know it by my own mouth.”

“You reacted to Isla.”

“Because I’m a human being, Nick, the fuck.”

No one said a word. There was this soft breeze flowing around, given the time of the year and the area where you were, one that you noticed that made their hairs flow and you shiver a little. If you paid close attention, you would see frustration and rage and that regular disappointment of a kid when they have lost a toy they like or are denied a candy. The loss, whatever it was, hurt for them but not for professional reasons but for honor. A very uncompensated and arbitrary honor, but an honor nonetheless. And it was always easier to blame someone else. You knew it was easy to make a calculation that would work for you because there would always be the feeling that you were impulsive, stubborn, even cruel - because men hurt you, because you still resent things in your personal life.

“I think it's common sense that almost no one here likes you very much,” You said in a low tone. “And we can agree that ethics and professionalism aren’t exactly the main pillars of what we do.”

Nobody said anything, because you were right. It was actually impressive that you managed to maintain a calm, almost soothing tone right after being basically accused of something so serious. Deep down, you felt that, at least, Nick didn't put much faith in this hypothesis, that this was a demonstration of power in front of others because his hands were tied and this was truly new to him.

And you didn't ask what the plan was, what they were going to do next. You didn't care about that. No one needed to cry because they lost the case, it was obvious that it wasn't the first time this had happened - it certainly wasn't the last either.

Nick puffed some smoke out of his chest, eyeing you for a moment. Then, with a ‘tsk’, he walked closer and crouched down in front of you, eye to eye, making you realize how much he hadn't been getting a good night's sleep.

“He promised exclusive protection. For her children, for her… Even for the fucking cats she has,” He said, but you knew it was a personal talking, something the others knew but didn’t quite understood. “I can't offer that.”

“It became personal.”

“... Yeah.”

“And do you like her?”

No answer. Nick looked at you for a moment, then averted his gaze to the floor. You saw Benny there, watching, expecting, and you didn’t know why that made you sigh in some kind of compassion.

“You’re tired,” Not a question, but a statement. One you did calmly, almost whispered just so he could hear.

You two looked at each other. Nick was clenching his jaw, holding words in his mouth and turning them around enough so they could come back in a dry swallow. When he looked away first, looking at the floor, blinking a few times, it was the first time you really saw genuine frustration, a moment of weakness that maybe, one day, Debbie had seen, or that the co-workers who were around you at the moment also witnessed in a rare way.

Your brow was furrowed and you were truly confused by this gap. Looking around, above O'Brien's head, you saw Zapata looking at the city around him with an annoyed look, his back to the two of you; Murph kept his hands in his hoodie pockets, Henderson had his arms crossed. Benny watched you, then looked at the ground, shaking his head.

No, this wasn't about you, nor was it your fault. In that context, you were just a part of the realization of something you hadn't touched until you saw every defeated feature on that terrace.

“... Are you sure?” You asked, blinking a few times with a shaky voice.

Nick shook his head.

“And you expect me to do something about it?”

“No,” He said with a firm tone, getting up on his feet. “No one here is sure.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” It was directed to Tony, who just tsked and averted his gaze.

When everyone kept quiet, not daring to admit their mistake or even apologize, you were the one getting up, still not sure how to react and uncertain of how to end that conversation.

“Never do that to me again, don’t-” You collected your voice, clearing your throat. “If you're disappointed with how things ended, don't expect me to help put out your fires.”

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“So what are you asking? Mm? Because I know you don't want me to pat you on the head and tell you everything is going to be okay,” There was harshness in your tone, almost a fury. And surprisingly, he didn’t answer that equally. “Share the weight of your conscience with those who are really at fault. And, I don't know, investigate, prove, don't do anything. You're Nick O'Brien, Big Nick, the badass. From what I see, everyone here has the right to doubt, so if it's worth the advice, start asking questions in the right place.”

“Maybe you won't like it if I start doing that.”

“Oh, is it a threat?” With raised eyebrows, you walked a few steps closer, staring at him in the eye.

“It wouldn't be the first time you tried to harm my team with your shit. You were the first to point the finger at me because of Isla, but you didn't hesitate to make a scene with Walsh and put Benny in the middle of whatever it is you have with the guy.”

“Listen now-”

“Excuse me?” You frowned, not even letting Magalon finish the interruption he was doing while getting closer. “I didn't ask anyone here to defend me! If this fucking case went wrong, try to consider your incompetence or the fact that no one asked you to fuck a suspect.”

When he kept quiet again, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“It’s so easy, isn’t it? Walk around like you rule every place, do whatever the fuck you want, put the blame on everyone to feel better… I've always seen Walsh that way, but he's not an exception, he's a rule. You come here, accuse me, then insinuate something so…”

“So what?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then I was wrong. You’re dumb and naive enough to not see that. Or a coward.”

You nodded.

“You always had all the tricks in hand and let a widowed single mother almost get killed by a gang. Who really is the coward here, Nick?”

Turning your back, you walked away from him, already opening the door to leave the terrace. Before you could, though, you eyed him one more time.

“Whatever your plan is, when and if they ask me, I'll be sincere. About you and about her. Because I can do that.”

“You would never say anything against Emma.”

“And I don't blame you for not believing that. It’s clear that it's been a while since you've been able to understand honesty.”

-------------------------

“You called her a bitch.”

Hearing Benny's voice break the silence was strange, so everyone was confused before understanding what he was saying. When they understood, he saw Zapata shift uncomfortably on the couch, looking at the coffee table.

“I didn't think straight at the moment.”

“It seems like no one here has done that.”

“You want to say something?” Nick pressed with a rough tone, as if ready to snap at the detective right away. Benny measured him, shrugged.

“I told you it was a bad idea.”

“We needed to be sure. This shit is going to get ugly soon.”

“And you pushed away one of the few people who could keep us from getting screwed over too.”

The intimacy created that kind of unexpected conversation, even though everyone there saw Nick as an older brother or a symbol of leadership. When they exchanged glances after Benny's response, there was a silent consensus that the disagreements were slowly getting bigger, something that had been surrounding the group long before you showed up or the case.

Everyone continued smoking in silence and the tense atmosphere didn’t dissipate. Things weren't going well.

-------------------------

Who were you to point the finger? To define people by a standard of behavior? To say 'you’re good' or 'you’re bad'?

You knew Nick could and did play dirty. You would imagine, given recent events, that Emma had learned to play this game from the position she had. This left you in a spiral of personal conflicts because, in the end, you felt like a hypocrite for wanting so much for things to be as per the booklet. Hell, you knew what you were getting into when you started your career there - you always did. And at the same time, after all that, you felt a hint of disappointment, of suffocation, as if you didn't have a shred of rationality.

It was an explosion of things, of sensations; you didn’t know how to deal with anything and you couldn’t tell anyone. Maybe you were a little paranoid too. Sometimes you were watching Emma, waiting for something, as if at some point she let out a more strategic and 'selfish' nature.

The marijuana stash (that's what your brother called it) was in the drawer next to the bed. When you were with Theodore, he also used it, although he didn't really like it because he had headaches, so it was a common thing in the house.

You were on your third or fourth drink, staring at the ceiling and releasing smoke into the air. There was no music, just the low light in the room and the brightness of Kojak's aquarium. Someone had been trying to call for half an hour, but you didn't answer, keeping your eyes distracted on the ceiling - There were some stains from the beginning of an infiltration near the window. You would have to fix this too before considering selling the house. The idea made you grunt and grimace.

Before you could put the cigarette back in your mouth, someone knocked on the door. The doorbell had stopped working a while ago and that was another thing that had to be fixed.

“Who’s it?” You asked in a high voice, not moving from your spot.

No one answered. That made you frown, then sit - which gave you a small discomfort. Seconds later, your phone had gone off.

“... Hello?”

“It’s me. Lemme in?”

Everything was screaming for you to say no, to hang up and leave him waiting outside until he gave up and disappeared. It would be very convenient for him to be there, ready to convince you of something, to change sides or be more malleable; it made sense. Still, you were a little out of orbit from the weed, slightly sluggish and relaxed, so you calmly got up, abandoned your phone on the couch and walked over, opening it but not waiting too long to see him enter.

You took slow steps into the room. There was the sound of the door closing, then being locked, and then his footsteps coming behind, but keeping his distance.

“Weed?” He asked.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I could,” That answer made you snort. “But it’s Cali. And you’re literally my teenage wet dream right now, so I can let it pass.”

Teasing or not, you looked at yourself and noticed your clothes (or lack thereof): panties, a long t-shirt. When you turned to him, standing in the middle of the room, Benny was staring at your legs, but he wasn't smiling.

“You're like a broken record, you know that?” You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips. “All you say is that I'm in your dreams. This is cheesy as fuck.”

“You didn't complain about that when you were riding me.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Well, you’re being quite hypocritical.”

“Fuck off.”

“Stop it.”

“What do you want?”

“You didn't answer my calls.”

“That doesn't answer my question, so I guess we're even.”

He was tense, stressed. You could tell. Benny wouldn't talk to you like that if he wasn't angry about something, maybe even frustrated because you weren't 'clear-headed' to talk at all.

For a few seconds, he considered you while licking his lips, as if the gears were turning in his head. Yours was also moving, but more gradually, slowly, which left you a little unresponsive when you saw him take off his jacket.

“This must be good, you didn't even hear me.”

“Mm?” You blinked, taking in the sight of his forearms while he lifted his shirt sleeves. That made him crack a giggle.

“Can I have some?”

Oh. Oh. The weed. He was already walking closer to the coffee table to grab the joint between two fingers, so you watched in awe as he put the cig on his lips and took a long drag, eyeing the burning tip with curiosity. Benny hummed and nodded while puffing the smoke.

“Shit’s really good. How did you get it?”

“... My brother,” And before he could take another drag, you pick the joint from his hands. “Smoke, hold and pass. That's the rule, smartass.”

“Are we in college or somethin’?”

“Shut up and sit down.”

That's what you two did (or at least he did). You took another drag, handed over the cigarette and lay down on the floor again, next to his feet, and faced the ceiling again.

-------------------------

It was a very silent few minutes, almost making you forget that Benny was there. When the effect of marijuana hit him, he was already lying on the sofa, without his shoes or his top shirt, limiting himself to showing his arms in a white tank top. This gave you a period of lucidity, very brief, and soon there was no more marijuana to smoke, despite the joint not being finished.

All your caution was being thrown out the window, you knew, but it wasn't like it was going to make any difference.

“Hey,” You called him in a low tone.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Benny stayed quiet for a moment or two, as if gathering his thoughts, then you listened to him squirming on the couch, getting on his side to look at you. Sensing the attention, you did the same.

“Shoot it.”

“What happened with Walsh wasn’t on purpose.”

Silence. For a beat, you even thought that he didn’t hear you, given the fact he was already zoning out a little. You started to feel embarrassed - weird. Well, you were high, which could lead to a version of you who would babble about a lot of nonsense and shit, but that was something that came from your lucid mind, probably a thing you wouldn’t say so softly without the weed.

“It wasn’t a question,” He teased in a calm voice, smiling at you.

“... I know,” You smiled back, but it turned into a bunch of stupid giggling while you hid part of your face in the carpet.

It cooled down soon.

“I didn’t see it this way, you know. Walsh is a stupid motherfucker.”

“Jackass.”

“Dickhead.”

“Yeah… His head looks like a dick. An ugly one.”

“And there’s any pretty dicks somewhere?”

“Just as there’s pretty pussies.”

“Have you ever seen others?”

You looked at each other, a small smile playing on your lips. When realization started to slowly creep on him, he opened his mouth in shock.

“It was in college-”

“Always in college,” He rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.

“I had this friend, Kennedy. We were roommates, I was single at the time, you know… It happened. But now we’re just good friends.”

“Mm.”

“I’m serious!” You laughed.

“So you’re telling me that if this Kennedy comes up here tonight, ask to go down on you or whatever, you would say no?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fuck, I would. I’m not cold blooded, gatita.”

A series of laughs filled the living room again.

“We’re going out of the question here, yeah? Having a serious conversation.”

“You were the one talking about dicks here!”

“Because you called Walsh a dickhead!”

“Okay,” He sighed, adjusting his body to lean over his arm and have a better look at you. Little by little, Benny started to frown, as if thinking hard on something. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a beautiful sight.

“So?”

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” His voice was soft, calm, even if a little concerned. “Plus, you had just signed a divorce and Walsh was there talking about it, humiliating you. That wasn't right.”

You considered his words calmly, blinking heavily but still paying attention.

“Nick wasn’t in his right mind when he said that.”

“You think?”

“Mm-hm. And Zapata too. He acted like a fucking animal when he called you a bitch.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” The question was serious, probably the first serious question you said since he came to your house out of nowhere.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re with them. Like… you know. With them.”

Benny nodded, taking in your words carefully.

“Fair enough.”

But he didn’t push the topic, nor tried to apologize or something. He let you have your doubts, probably because he himself couldn’t help but agree that maybe, if it was the other way around, there would be uncertainty on his part as well. You sighed, then, returning your eyes to the carpet and poking it every now and then, as if looking for something on it with false concentration.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“‘Wanna feel you,” He almost whined, extending one of his arms to grab you.

“That’s why you came? To feel me?”

“Are you fucking mocking me, woman?”

“I am,” You sat up carefully, smirking at him lazily. “Looked like you just waited for the best opportunity to come back here and fuck me.”

“But I don’t wanna fuck you, I wanna feel you.”

“What’s the difference?”

The position you stayed couldn’t be more convenient: him, starting to sit as well, legs spread while you rose on your knees, ready to get up. It gave him some time to stare at you with a lazy grin.

“Saying I wanna fuck would imply that I just came here for it,” He explained. “Feeling you could lead to sex, but with some warm up.”

“Both times we had sex had some warm up,” You argued, hands gripping his thighs lightly.

“And it was so good, wasn’t it?” Benny asked when you rose just a little to get closer to his face.

You observed his face for a moment before pecking his lips lightly. When he just sighed, melting into it, you smiled and gave him another kiss, this time a little longer, wetter - enough to, when you part ways, it made a muah. The fabric of your shirt was worn out, old enough to make it more thin and give you a better feel when you gently brushed your chest on his. It made you sigh against his lips, doing it again when he groaned a little, unable to move a muscle but reacting in slow breaths.

Both of you, silly high adults, brushing your noses, kissing soundly and ready to fuck each other’s brains out as if the world wasn’t basically on fire.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

This made you move your face, just a little, and the look on your eyes scrunched up in confusion. It felt like a spontaneous burst of lucidity, almost like a punch, and when he turned his face to the side, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, you felt brutally rejected. You moved your hands away from his legs. Suddenly, the carpet was hurting your knees and you stood up, muttering a 'sorry' as you sat on the edge of the sofa, a little away from him.

“Did you come to defend Nick or something?”

“This has nothing to do with Nick.”

“So why are you here?”

He considered your face for a moment, still taking in the effects of the weed - even if you both started to feel more buzzed then properly high.

“You don't want to go to war with him.”

“Oh,” You raised your eyebrows, scoffing a sarcastic giggle. “So you came to be a gentleman and defend me from the evils of disagreeing with Nicholas O'Brien? I thought you made it clear that you didn't have much chivalry in your personality.”

“I don’t.”

“Mm.”

“But that has nothing to do with chivalry. You’re not being rational.”

“About…?”

Benny sighed.

“We both know it was Emma.”

“That shit again…” You groaned, getting up brusquely from your seat and wobbling a little before starting to walk away to the kitchen.

“What happened was-”

“A mistake. A fucking mistake.”

When you turned, Benny was up too, standing a few feet closer to the kitchen entrance with his arms hanging loosely on his sides. The lack of answer made you shake your head, grabbing a glass bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a good amount.

“I'm not naive to think she couldn't have been involved in this, but I'm not naive or stupid to absolve Nick of the shit he should be responsible for,” You noticed his dry lips, the way he just blinked at you with a stern expression. With a tsk, you caught hold of a cup in the sink for him and poured some water in it, not daring to give, but letting it rest closer.

He came, grabbed the cup.

You could feel the effects of the marijuana, which were already weaker before, start to leave your system. You were sick, you made a face, but you swallowed your discomfort with more water.

“I'm not Isla.”

It slipped out of your mouth like a slim and unstable thought, one that made him just nod, sipping on the water calmly while leaning on the sink beside you, eyeing the other side of the room.

“Didn’t think you were.”

“No?”

“Nn-nn.”

“But it would be easy to pretend that I am, wouldn't it? I’m alone, recently divorced, dedicated enough to work but very reticent about my boss.”

You knew you had offended him the moment you said it, but Benny didn't show any anger. He stayed quiet, sipped the rest of the water and stood in front of you, face to face, in such a firm way that you almost backed away if you weren't so irritated.

“If I were as much of a son of a bitch as you think I am, I would have let you finish what you started on that couch,” That made you avert your gaze, but he gently pushed your chin, bringing you to eye his face again. “I'm not Nick.”

“I'm sorry if you made it clear otherwise. I'm not very good at reading between the lines of someone who literally said they’re just like him.”

“With other people. I never crossed the line with you, did I?”

“Because I never expected anything from you. I don't expect anything from you, actually, but I get a little offended if you show up at my house and say things like that.”

Before he could answer, you kept going.

“She's just a bargaining chip, Benny. She always was. And despite our visibly very different lives, I know what it's like to be used and then discarded as if you’re nothing, as if every promise was nothing more than a lie to achieve something very personal, something that never had to do with you,” You said. “I don't want you to come here and expect me to point fingers or accuse people. If it was Emma, if it was Walsh, it doesn't make any difference if the person primarily responsible for this doesn't take the real blame.”

“You know the world isn’t a fairytale, don't you?”

“I do. And Isla knows it too, better than anyone. This has nothing to do with an imaginary, but with commitment. When was the last time Nick used his badge for anything other than taking it out of his pocket while a whore gave him a blowjob?”

Nothing. Just silence. For a long, perceptive, heavy moment - silence.

“Emma received a letter of recommendation from the DEA forensic department,” He said in a low tone, catching you completely by surprise. That felt like a test, the way he observed your reaction with care, looking for an answer. When he found it, Benny nodded. “That's why I came here.”

“... What? I don’t understand.”

“I can't remember the last time I had five minutes of conversation with someone who had nothing to do with this shit.”

You could barely process the information, what that implied, because you had every right to disbelieve and have your doubts. There was a suspicious look on your face, he knew that because you didn't hide it, but he didn't take offense this time.

“Stay away. Things are going to get fucked up.”

--------------------------------

Taglist (no pressure)

@cheesybadgers

@nerdyreaderpapi

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@mysoulisasunflower

@seaweeden

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@servenas-inner-fangirl

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon #benny magalon x reader #den of thieves fic #reader insert #female reader #maurice compte

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magnum-caelum · 10 months

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pspsps okay okay so quick question, for the Niras trio, do their parents favour one out of all? How do they treat the kids differently?

I feel like it would be interesting to learn more about the parents of the Niras yknow 👀

- tired

Oh their favoritism is blatant. The relationship they have with their kids is weird-- they don't really feel the typical love that parents normally feel for their kids.

They're aware of how they should act, and how they don't feel the love they should, but more often than not they just couldn't be bothered enough to care. They're busy with their politics and running Hycinth, after all, and the kids have food, shelter, education, and wealth.

However, considering that their firstborn, Adazan, is to be the next Zaviran leader, they did try a bit harder with him. Up until he was maybe seven years old, they would dedicate a portion of their busy schedules to him. They did "parent things," like reading him stories and going on walks with him. (It was always somewhat robotic and forced and awkward, and Adazan doesn't exactly have the fondest memories of those times.)

They were little better with Yunitan, but they were the worst with Xyria.

Yunitan, they treated like just another child. His genius was something they acknowledged (they'd smile and nod superficially whenever someone commented on his brilliance), but they never really took the time to understand the depths of his intelligence. He started his studies much earlier than Adazan did, though.

Xyria, though? The Zaviran parents never wanted a daughter. They didn't ever really outright express their distaste for her, but they never went out of their way to hide that they cared even less for her than her brothers. Since they refused to acknowledge her, she did act out a bit out of spite. She'd leave artworks on their desks, interrupt the lesser meetings to tell her parents "i love you" (spoken overly brightly despite the way desperation for their love and repulsion of them writhed together in her heart) to see them grind their teeth and force and smile and exclaim, "we love you too!" to keep face in front of the other officials (all of whom had taken a shine to the Niras trio).

Across the board though, their parents severely neglect them, though they're always expected to show up at the dinner table (which is always an awkward affair).

Adazan grins and bears it, because he's the heir, because it's the best way for him to protect his siblings. (if he acted out too, they'd blame it on the influence of his siblings).

Yunitan hates it, but keeps it under wraps the best he can. (swears to his siblings every night that one day the three of them will be rid of them for good).

Xyria's the only one that really bites back (though it's more snarky and in a way that isn't technically rude). it was the parents' coupled not wanting a daughter and xyria's delinquency that they shipped her off to the Hycinth Army when she was just eight. (secretly, of course. they told everyone else that she'd been sent to a boarding school in Skiga).

#> niras trio

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nikethestatue · 2 years

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Honestly, I do not understand why no one in the IC stood up for Feyre regarding the pregnancy. In the past, Amren and Cassian called out Rhys and Az for the Eris thing. We're just expected to believe the entire IC is just okay with keeping vital medical information from Feyre...? No one objected to it at all? I don't know, it just seems very OOC for everyone to have no problems with lying to their High Lady.

OMG, it was handled so terribly, I can't...

Even if theoretically, we can understand why Cassian and Azriel wouldn't tell her--it's husband/wife thing, they are loyal to Rhys more than anything, etc. --i still can't believe that they were so casual about it, even for HIS sake. They didn't know about the death pact, but they would've understood what Feyre's and the baby's deaths would do to him. Also, they are part of his POLITICAL IC, so no one thought to have a discussion about the political ramifications of her death? Knowing that he is pretty much going to be catatonic and completely out of it for a period of time AND there would be no heir.

Mor and Amren, Feyre's 'best friends' did not think to pressure Rhys--considering that they are his 2nd and 3rd too--into discussing this with her?

Also, I dont care how mad Nesta was at her, when Cassian told her, she was just like, oh, well. I dont believe it for a second! THey had a lot of issues, but if Nesta knew that Feyre was dying, that her nephew would likely die too, AND that Rhys wasn't telling Feyre about it, she'd fucking get those silver flames flaming. That, at the minimum, she wouldnt demand to talk to Elain? and discuss this. Because if Feyre dies, what is THEIR position? Like, Rhys is a brother-in-law to a dead sister...and they literally have nothing. Sure, Nesta might have assumed that he wouldn't toss them out, but realistically, that never crossed her mind???

Ugh. I dont know if SJM was drunk or whatever, but this is probably her worst piece of writing ever--the entire stupid pregnancy plot. She literally made every single person an asshole, for no reason. The entire IC, Rhys and Nesta, and technically Helion, and Drakon and Miryam. Basically, everyone knew and no one told. And then, she didn't even bother to write Feyre's reaction and how she felt about the betrayal.

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acespec-ed · 1 year

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Hi please ignore this if it is too personal but i read your post about your experience with limerence and I related so hard. I'm going through something very similar atm. Did you ever end up telling your partner about it? I usually talk with my partner about silly little crushes and we laugh about it but this is so intense I dont think it is a good idea to tell him...

(Post in question.)

I'm sorry you're going through that hell. It's 10x worse when you already have a partner.

I've always told my partner about any new crushes. We joke and laugh too. But- I never told him about that one. I told him I had a crush on the guy, but not that I was full-blown obsessed with him.

To be fair though, when this was going on, we weren't seeing each other in person because COVID cases were really bad here and it was before vaccines. And prior to the limerence episode, we hadn't had any physical contact in about 8 months. I think that’s what fueled it. I wasn't seeing my boyfriend and here was a good-looking guy throwing me a scrap of attention. (If you could even call polite conversation with someone you're forced to interact with "attention.") By the time I was seeing my boyfriend again, the worst of the limerence was over. It was still there, and I was still struggling to get over him, but the guy was out of my life at that point. I saw no need to bring it up. While I didn't think anything bad would happen, it didn't seem worth the risk of potentially hurting him. Like, I didn't think it would do much damage, to tell him it. And even considered telling him at some point. But then...

I ended up with a major crush while still in the process of getting over the guy I was limerent for. (Not a fun time.) As usual, I mentioned it and we had our usual laughs. But eventually, I went a bit too far and he admitted to being a little hurt by this one. I was confused because, he never minded all the other crushes. But to him, this was different because it was a person I knew whereas the other crushes were celebrities/fictional characters. After that conversation, I knew I could never tell him about the actual limerence. So I don’t have any plans to.

Some might think I'm a terrible person for keeping such a big secret from him. After all, you're not supposed to keep things from your partner. But there really is no need to tell him something that will at best change nothing, and at worst end up hurting him. It's been almost two years since I last saw the guy. I'm over him. COVID lockdowns are over. Things are currently going great with us. So why bother mentioning it? It's not like I acted on my feelings.

My excuses aside, I can't say whether you should tell him or not. Your relationship sounds similar to mine where you can share crushes. It probably wouldn’t hurt to tell him you currently have a crush. It might even lessen some of the guilt you feel. But personally, I wouldn't let him in on the intensity. As long as you don't act on your feelings, and as long as it's not affecting your relationship, I see no reason to. BUT-

I think you should reflect on your relationship to make sure there's nothing going on that could be causing you to fall limerent for your crush. Sometimes people in relationships fall limerent for others because there's something in their relationship that's making them unhappy. If you discover any issues you haven't yet noticed, it's good to discuss those with your partner and work to change that. If everything is going good, then no worries there. But there could still be other factors contributing to the limerence. Might be good to do some soul searching, especially if this isn't your first time experiencing this.

You should, however, do what you can to get over the person you're limerent for. You must know that you have a problem, and that your feelings are wrong, or else you wouldn't be hesitant to tell your partner what's going on. You didn't ask for advice, and a full-on lecture is probably not something you want to hear. But speaking from experience, things will be better once you're over the person. I look back at that experience with horror as to how far things could have escalated had he not been ripped out of my life. It's very possible I could have fucked up my relationship over it. Because the limerence was only getting more severe each passing week. Don't let that happen to you. Cut contact if possible. Limit contact if not.

You're welcome to ask me anything else if you need to. I know how rough it can get. ❤

#asks #not aspec

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minuy600 · 7 months

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Review 79-05: Miniature Golf (Atari 2600)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh. One of the first ever golf games and BOY does it ever feel like it. Be forewarned, I didn't even bother to do more than one full round because I wanted to quit playing as soon as I started.

Also, I like how the name is super formal, this is really gonna convince granddad to have a go at the old golf stick.

Graphics (1/5)

It's like SpongeBob SquarePants, except the SpongeBob Pants part of it. It's alllllll Square. I guess you can make minigolf layouts with it, but don't tell me you could have implemented some blocky corners or make the golf stick... not undecipherable. I didn't even know what I was looking at untill I properly looked at the manual.

Even Space War has more graphics than this, and that's a blank screen with two arrows shooting against each other.

Heck, they can't even show you the par of the hole after you putt once, nor show seperate scores per hole, ONLY the total putts. It's literally not even fully functional.

Sound (1/5)

Out of all games that use generic Atari beeps and not much else, this is easily one of the worst faring ones. The game makes a high pitched noise every time the ball hits a wall, which means one thing if you hit it at a high enough speed. That's right, deafness! Golf was always meant for making a huge cacophony, right?

I have a soft spot for how bad the sound is when you get a ball in the hole. It's like the console is about to die on itself with a small staticy fart. Again, really fitting for the sport.

Gameplay (1.5/5)

This ain't it, chief. Technology was not advanced enough yet to make golf play exceptionally well yet. See, you have to putt by moving your big square at the right point of the screen and using the fire button. Then the ball would ricochet all around and if you get lucky or know the game mechanics very well, you get closer to the hole.

That hole, by the way, is super small and doesn't have the best hitbox ever. If you shoot too fast, the ball goes right through it. That makes those not good at the game suffer wayy more than neccessary.

Shooting also feels horrible by the way. When you move the shape around, it slips over the screen like a snail stuck in honey at first, before it finally speeds up and you move around like normal. Why? The normal speed works perfectly fine for precise shots too. Makes the game play even slower in my experience.

Lastly, it's quite silly that there is just a SINGLE obstacle, and all it is is a moving block that pisses me off. Red square, I hate you and you should feel bad.

I UNDERSTAND the concept of gameplay and it 'works' if you squint, however the execution is so exceptionally flawed and unenjoyable that I can't give a high score on those merits alone. It needed far more time in the oven.

Longevity (2/5)

I hate to admit it, but even though the game only has a single proper mode, these 9 holes are pretty replayable if you're so inclined. Early golf games surprise me in that aspect. You get that slight tingle of 'hey, I could do better than that' and suddenly hours have passed.

The fact that there exists a TAS that only lasts a MINUTE though, does read kind of negatively in how far you could stretch the slightness of the cart. Worse yet, the longer you spend on this game, the less enjoyable it becomes! Who wants to keep hitting the ball into corners with the pressure of having to get a hard to get overall Par? Not me.

Overall

There's some people that feel nostalgic for this one and still enjoy it, and I can see why. Too bad I disagree with all of them. Painful to learn, painfuller (good word) to master. The graphics are a joke, the sounds an even funnier one. Sorry Miniature Golf fans, you're allowed to grab your pitchforks for this one.

I could argue this is the game that single handedly aged the worst out of all games i've looked at. It's too early to judge if this is the worst golf game to ever exist- at the moment, have a medal, you, you overly polite fartbuster.

#retro gaming #minuy600 #review #atari #sona #atari 2600 #1979 #minuy's below basic math awards #miniature golf

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untiltheendoftime · 3 years

Text

Summary: Staring at a stranger leaves you with an empty plate of fries and a heart filled with the slightest bit of love.

gif by @stevenrogered

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: A normal amount of swearing, other than that it's pure fluff.

Writers note: This is for @celestialbarnes "4k writing challenge"

Reblogs, likes and your thoughts are so much appreciated. Feel free to point out any errors.

─── ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ───

Can I steal your fries?

You had found yourself in a small diner, after another terrible date, with a large portion of fries in front you. Perhaps alcohol would've been more helpful to forget the whole day, but sadly your work schedule didn't allow you to get drunk and risk a hangover.

As soon as you sat down, you deleted the dating app off your phone, earning an amused look from the stranger in the booth in front of you when you had muttered something along the lines of "Fuck this shit." and "Might as well start referring to myself as a trash can if trash is all I attract."

You could feel the warmth of a blush rising on your cheeks when you heard the stranger chuckle and you were sure that you looked exactly like the ketchup on your fries. Why did you have to blush so easily? Fuck.

Unfortunately he was quite handsome, which didn't help your ketchup-face problem at all. His hair was rather short, though it looked like he was growing it out, and he gave off cozy vibes with the navy blue hoodie he was wearing and the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He was far more than quite handsome. It was then that you noticed that his eyes, unfairly blue like the sky on a perfect summer day, were focused on you.

He fully caught you staring at him. Damn it.

In order to hide your embarrassment, you quickly adverted your eyes to the plate in front of you. Suddenly the fries were very interesting.

The sound of footsteps appeared and just when you had thought that you creepingly staring made the stranger leave, a muscular body came in sight and you were starting to feel anxious.

Thinking that apologizing was the best way to get over with this as soon as possible, you tried to come up with an excuse "Look, I'm sorry for staring. I jus-" you started bubbling, but he quickly interrupted you.

"Wouldn't have caught you staring at me if I wasn't staring as well, would I?" he said, his voice surprisingly sweet and when you had gathered up enough courage to look up at him, you were welcomed with a breathtaking smile.

Without any hesitation, he sat down in front of you and the anxious feeling quickly washed away, being replaced with irritation instead. Sure, he didn't look bad, but he was a stranger after all.

You eyed him suspiciously and he did the same, obviously mocking you. "I don't want to sound rude but I believe your coffee wants your attention more than me" you said, actually not really bothering to sound polite.

"Does sound rude to me, doll."

He probably used the nickname a lot, however it didn't stop you from feeling flattered. Not wanting to acknowledge it, and turning red again, you decided to keep your mouth shut.

The silence was starting to feel uncomfortable and from the way his brows slightly furrowed with thought, you could tell that he didn't want the conversation to end so soon.

"You're not here for the first time and I actually wanted to talk to you for a while." he admitted, "Even tried to get your attention, but all you did was stare into your phone and yeah" a faint blush crept up on his cheeks.

It took you a solid minute to process his words. Yes, you were a frequent customer, most of the times visiting after another date went downhill and sometimes you would google dating advice and gag at all the bullshit everyone wrote. You didn't exactly hate being single, though having someone to come home to wasn't the worst thought you could think of. The more dates went wrong, the more you and your family, especially them, began to wonder what was wrong with you.

"Always love a stranger watching me" you joked and instantly grimace at how badly you had worded it. That's not what you meant.

His laughter filled your ears and it was full of warmth and so contagious, you had to laugh as well.

After the laughter had died down, he cleared his throat and extendended his right hand to you "I'm Bucky" he softly said and while shaking it, the contact sending slight shivers down your spine, you tell him your name.

"Now that we know each others names, can I steal some of your fries?" Bucky asked, not waiting for an answer as he reached for your plate.

"No" you chuckled out, playfully swatting his hand away, and he glared at you for a second before dramatically putting the hand on his chest, claiming that you've really hurt his feelings and it might take decades to mend the pain in his heart.

The conversation between the two of you flowed nicely. He told you about his visits to different countries and you would ask questions about how the people were and if the food tasted good, the latter truthfully answered with a "I usually went for cheeseburgers due to the lack of time."

You had told Bucky how much you despise going on dates now because your family would pressure you, saying that the problem has to be you since your ex shortly found a significant other after the break up.

Bucky's jaw tightened at that and he voiced out how fucking rude your family was, wondering if they don't have anything else to do than rubbing their noses in your love life. Seeing that he has was way more understanding than your own family, empathy had always been something all of them undoubtedly lacked off, made you even more fond of the handsome stranger and you felt comfortable sharing personal pieces of your life with him as hours passed by.

Midway through your story you paused to look at your plate, realizing that it was almost empty now and the only reason why he didn't stop your rambling was because it allowed him to eat your fries.

"Stop taking my fries." you muttered out, causing him to grin.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he questioned, voice heavenly charming as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Perhaps this was the most cliché thing to do, but the look he gave you when you threw a few fries at his face was something you wish you would've gotten a picture of. His eyes were still slightly widened in shock when he, not so attractively, shoved all of the fries in his mouth, making you laugh at his childish behavior.

"I got to eat the fries. Seems like I won, sweetheart." he proudly declared.

Banters and stories later, your eyes caught a glimpse of the clock on your phone and you frown when it reads two a.m

You jolted up from your seat, calling out an apology to the old waitress who seemed to be startled by the sudden change of energy. "I do enjoy talking to you, but my shift starts in six hours." you said, your voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Bucky stood up as well and reached for your phone that was still lying on the table. He handed it you, signaling for you to unlock it, and when he had access to it, he quickly typed in his number and pressed the saving button. A cheekish smile on his lips when he puts it in your grasp again and you can't help but beam at him, too.

He held his hands up in defense, "Figured you need my number after you have deleted all the datings apps."

You rolled your eyes in response and, who knows where the confidence boost came from, step closer to him. "Goodnight" you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his cheek and they instantly heat up, which made him look adorable. Maybe you had found someone who blushes just as easily as you.

Once you had entered the front door of your apartment, your phone gave off a noise, signaling that you had received a message. A quick glance at the screen told you that it was Bucky asking if you came home alright. He definitely is a gentleman. Just when you were about to answer him, another text popped up. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop you from grinning like a lovestruck teenager while reading it.

Bucky:

When will you take me out?

Sincerely, your trash

─── ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ───

First story on here. Hopefully it's not that bad? I would absolutely love to hear some feedback. Thank you for reading everything ♡

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mythicalninjas · 3 years

Text

A Hard Choice To Make - Part 1

"Go talk to him. It's the only way to wash your emotions away." April, the reporter of Channel 6, advise you.

"No!" Your eyes went wide "No, I won't!"

"Then do you want to live with it stuck into you for the rest of your life?"

You lower your head, not knowing what kind of response you should give besides this not-desired possibility. April is right.

Since you met the brothers—three years ago—you have created a strong family bond with all of them, specially with the fearless leader in blue who your heart shines for. You knew that something within you is brougth to life every time Leonardo is around, and it is kind of torture because you literally fell in love with this terrapin.

But there's a doubt haunting you: Is Leo with the same feelings about you? The objection behind it is almost invalid in your point of view. He is the leader of his group, known as being the only one who tries to keep his brothers in line, making decisions for each time they are out for patrol, dealing with the most heavy and difficult choices and moments throughout their adventures. And you... You are just a human as you always say.

You sigh, turning your eyes back at April "Ya know, I have no idea if he feels the same about me. I'm afraid of how he'd react from my declaration."

April leaves her desk, and sits next to you on the sofa in the living room of her apartment. "Y/N..." she said softly, landing her slender hand on your shoulder "Soon or late he will know; but if I were you, I would go talk to him. He won't figure it out alone". You nodded, staring at the floor again with your mind lost in an ocean of thoughts and emotions. "Try, Y/N. Do not let it consume you; or it will get worse" the reporter rubs your shoulder and embrace you in a comfort hug.

"Would you like me to talk to him?" She offered herself.

"No! No... I must be prepare myself first."

April let's out a soft giggle "Okay. Take your time, sweetheart. Call me if you need help." She smiled.

You let the comfort of her embrace take you completely as a help to try to kick out your anxiety, but your nervousness insists to stay. How would you say to the most respectable man that you're in love with? How would he reacts? Will he treat you in a bad or good way? You knew he wouldn't treat you like an idiot or something but even that you are not secure.

A few weeks has passed since April's advice.

You and Casey Jones were called by Chief Vicent to attend a meeting at NYPD police station for a debate about Shredder after his sudden disappearance in the day that Technodrome has appeared in the sky. And for your surprise you're not the only one who were invited.

Your mutant turtles best friends are there.

And speaking of them...

"Hey Casey and Y/N!" Mikey was the first one who came up to welcome you both as you enter in the police station. "Finally you're here! Chief Vicent is waiting for you" the young brother pointed at up stairs of the building.

You and Casey went quickly to the second floor.

Arriving there, Mikey pointed at one of the several rooms throughout the large corridor. From outside you could see three shells facing the only door of the small space, and your eyes shone. In the middle of the three massive terrapins, a blue and well-written kanji with a pair of katanas.

"Y/N? Are you coming or...?" Casey called, noticing your behaving.

You froze, desperate about what you would do with that handsome man a few steps away from you—actually standing on the other side of the table.

Gulping, you walked behind Casey as you both enter the room.

"Good evening, Casey Jones." the blond-haired woman nodded from the other side of the rectangular table, facing you both "And Y/N" she nodded again, sharing a polite smile. Other three pairs of eyes landed on you while you stand beside Casey "Hey, guys" Donnie waved with that cute grin he has. "Hey..." Raphael said with a neutral voice; and finally Leonardo who, as Chief Vicent, shares a nod and a smile.

Oh God, that smile makes your bones shiver.

"So what are the news, Chief?" Casey asked, leaning above the table to watch papers and pictures scattered above it.

"We got a prove that Shredder must be still alive" she continued "We have captured Karai who was with him in the day that Kraang has arrived on Earth for the first time, and has confessed that Shredder was teleported into Technodrome. It was the last time she has seen him" she finished, glancing quickly at Shredder's picture on her right side and then looked up at everybody there present.

"Wait, wait..." The hot head turtle interferes "Last time? But how? Karai and Shredder used to work together all the time! Perhaps she is laying-"

"We don't know, Raph." The leader cuts his brother, then Mikey continued "Or maybe Shredder is working for Kraang.", Donnie moved his body a bit to stand face-to-face with his brothers and continued "We do not know if all those suggestions are valid, but I fear what Mikey said. Shredder must be working for Kraang."

Chief Vicent nodded positively, leaning above the table "I wouldn't discard this possibility."

The idea of Shredder working for Kraang freaks you out. Shredder is known for being dangerous, and Kraang is known for being deadly; and the two of them together is a nightmare.

After a few minutes of silence, Casey questioned "So, what are we gonna do now?"

"Wait. For now." Chief Vicent responded, not breaking her eye contact with the Shredder's picture beside her, and the room was filled with Raph's indignation voice "Wait?! How much time of wait?!"

"Raph, more respect!" Leo punch his brother's arm, murmuring and shaking his head in disapprove by his brother's behaving.

You tried to not giggle by their brotherhood behaving.

"We don't know..." Chief Vicent replied "but all we can do now is use what we have available to find Shredder; and Kraang. I'm highly doubt that Shredder isn't on Earth. Maybe he was brought back by Kraang. As you said before, Donatello" she pointed "the atmosphere in Technodrome is toxic for those who have a normal cardiovascular system. Hardly Shredder would survive in that thing out there".

"There's an interesting point" Leo continued "But It's been months since his disappearance and till now no one has seen him. For sure, if someone have, they would warn us."

"Or they would help him" Raph participated one more time "We don't know if someone is his follower."

"You mean a new Shredder?" Mikey asked, surprised.

"I would freak out if it is true." You said.

"Me too." Chief Vicent agreed, sighing.

The worst nightmare of the boys is that another (or other) person ended up like Shredder. For sure someone out there have inspired themselves on that horrible assassin and perhaps will keep on doing his dirty work as a next generation of the Foot Clan. It must be happening in any city, state or country right now.

After two hours of debate, Chief Vicent has decided give a break, and then back to the reunion.

You are checking out your Pinterest in another small room of the building to spend some time. But your is mind busy thinking more about Leo than paying attention to the pics on your social media. You just scroll down, the pics passing through your phone screen quickly; then your mind focused in flashbacks of your conversation with April a few weeks ago.

You want to confess your love for Leonardo. You want to face him and say how much you love him.

But why are you feeling something negative inside you?

You sighed, without knowing what to do. Your eyes lift from the screen and scanned the small room around you. There's a desk with a deactivated computer in the left and a cupboard on the right. Cupboard? Why is it here in a office? Maybe this room is used like a kitchen. And speaking of it... where's the coffee machine and other stuff used by workers?

You shrugged, ignoring it and paying attention to your phone again.

"Y/N?" A familiar deep voice called from the door frame. You jumped and quickly looked up at the person.

Actually, at the turtle.

"Oh, hey Leo" you smiled, pretending you didn't got scared by his sudden apparence. But he was giggling a bit "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he came in, picking up a chair and sitting beside you.

Butterflies started to fly wildly in your belly.

"Come on, Y/N! Say something!" you thought. "So... How's things going?". "Really, Y/N?! Is it all you can say?!" You coursed at yourself.

Leo glanced at you and says confused "Um... Things are great. Thanks." he smiled.

Now is the time. You have to tell! You want to tell! But you're fucking afraid.

Your thoughts says to do not do it but your heart says yes. You took a deep breathe, rubbing your hands on your thighs nervously and finally looked up at him.

"Leo..." You called softly.

"Hm?" He looked back at you in the eyes. It seems that your heart will get out of your chest, and you could feel your cheeks burning.

"I...".

He just tilted his head, waiting for your answer.

"I... am gonna take some coffee. W-Would you like some?" That's it. You wanna punch yourself in the face.

He lift an eyebrow—at least you could see.

"Um... Yes, please". He answered, still suspicious about why are you acting that way. You got up from the chair where you were and walked out of the room, but before you could leave, Leo grabs your arm and makes eye contact with you, worried "Are you okay?"

"Why? Yeah! Why wouldn't I am?" You tried to act as normal as possible, but you couldn't hide it from him. This man can notice if something is right or not. And you fear that. You don't wanna mess your moment. You just want to relax with him, and not put more worry into him. Leo and his brothers are already dealing with Shredder's disappearance which is shaking them inside out frenetically. And the last thing you want is bother him with your love.

"I'll be right back." You gently released from his massive hand and left the room, leaving him alone.

"Damn, Y/N! What's wrong with you?" the whisper leaves your mouth and suddenly you bumped with another woman, hitting your shoulder with hers.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Oh, no. It's okay" the red-haired waved, grinning "I must apologize, I was distracted".

"Don't worry, I was distracted too." You giggled, then kept on your way to find a coffee machine which you have no idea where it is.

For sure your thoughts are torturing and preventing you by something you wish to do. You've been hiding your love for Leo for almost three years.

After ask a cob where to find a coffee machine you finally have found it in somewhere on the third floor of the police station.

"Okay, Y/N. You can do this" you whispered while you fill almost to the top two cups with the dark liquid. "You can do this. You can do this..." You continued to repeat, trying to fill you with courage.

"I'm ready. I can do this!"

Picking up the two cups with dark coffee youheaded back to the small room where the handsome man is waiting for you.

Stopping beside the door frame—you can't see what is happening inside the small room—you took a deep breath and get yourself ready for the long-awaited moment of your life.

Smiling, you walked in.

And froze.

Leo was there, as you expected, but he was kissing the woman who you accidentally bumped early on your way to get the coffee.

Your heart broke like someone has ripped it out from you.

It seems that the world has fallen under you; your body falling into an precipice.

You prepared yourself for three years for nothing. All the worries, expectations, and hopes you used to have, all that moments you've spent practicing what you would say to your best friend, all the great moments you and him spent. Three years of your life were wasted.

Leo and the red-haired woman broke the kiss and directed their eyes on you, surprised. You have to admit that you saw a light blush covering on his cheeks.

"Oh, Y/N." He said, smiling "Allow me to introduce you my girlfriend".

You felt a knot forming in your throat.

"Y/N, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is my best friend, Y/N." He used his hand to mention you and his girlfriend while introduce you both.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Melissa waved.

"Nice to meet you, Melissa..." You shares a small smile, hiding your frustrating, and waved back.

You take a step forward to place the cup on the small desk next to you. Some drops of the dark liquid slipped out from the object "You should drink before it gets cold, Leonardo." You simply said, trying so hard to not cry. The leader got surprised when you said his full name. It's rare to you do it. Since you both got intimate—as best friends—you started to say his nickname as you do with the others. He doesn't understand very well the reason of your sudden change.

"Um... Yes, I will". He pronounced every single word slowly, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you. Melissa noticed your uncomfortable expression and asked worried "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"No!" you screamed mentally. "Yes! I am. I gotta go. Sorry." You whispered the last word, turning and heading out of the room, leaving the woman and your best friend together. Your eyes starts to get warm and a wet feeling of tears disturbs you completely; you refuse to cry in front of important and serious people from this place. So you forced your legs to walk fast towards the exit.

You were so distracted that you almost bumped Chief Vicent. You gasped.

"Hey, Y/N. We're going to back to our reunion right now. Have you seen Leo? I can't find him anywhere." the blond-haired woman asked.

"He-*deep breath* He's in that room." You pointed at the door in the end of the corridor. C. Vicent lift an eyebrow, studying your facial expression.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

"No, I'm not!" You gulped as see Chief Vicent's eyes going wide by your anger, then you immediately completed, "I'm not feeling good..."

But before Chief Vicent had a chance to talk to you, you lower your head and ran away, the knot in your throat and the pain in your heart growing up wildly.

You couldn't stay in that building anymore, not with Leo there. Not with the news of his sudden dating with someone. All you want now is go home, lay down on your bed, bury your face into a pillow, and cry like there's no tomorrow—well, actually there's no tomorrow for you.

How much time Leonardo is dating? And why April didn't tell you about it? Or any of his brothers? Do someone know about his dating? Or does he didn't tell to anyone yet?

You don't wanna know.

Actually you couldn't blame him because he has no idea that you are in love with him.

And now you have to deal with a new reality.

#tmnt #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles out of the shadows

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queerautism · 2 years

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Hey so uh. Idk what exactly is going on with me. If this is some form of plurality or not. I feel like I might have created an Entity who is more than kind of a nuisance? I decided to personify my intrusive thoughts to make them easier to deal with. I personified them as an annoying guy named Jimothy who tries too hard to be Edgy™ and he doesn't do anything but spout terrible ideas all the time, telling me to do things that will harm myself or others. I created Jimothy for the sole purpose of telling him to shut the fuck up when he starts telling me to do harmful shit. But now I feel like he's become Real in a way? Like I often feel a Presence with me, it feels like something hanging above and behind my left shoulder and it feels stronger when I'm having intrusive thoughts but seems like it's sulking when I tell Jimothy to shut up. I don't think it/he's Dangerous, Jimothy doesn't have the guts to Actually do something harmful, he's just an edgelord who thinks he's cool. I've come up with a description for him and what his personality is like and everything and I kind of want to draw him. I'm just not sure what this is or if I should be concerned or anything. Is there a word or term for this that I can look into? I've been following you for a while, and never really considered that I could be plural until recently, but I'm feeling a really strong pull toward your uniquely plural tag and a thirst to learn as much as I can but I'm nervous about asking questions because I'm constantly afraid of coming off as Rude even when I think I'm being polite. What is a good place for me to start learning? Any blogs or posts I can read? Thanks for reading and I hope I didn't bother you or anything!

Hi there! Please don't be scared to ask questions, you can totally DM me if you'd like to keep it private, and I'll do my best to explain. I always say if you're feeling a pull and connection to a certain community, there's a reason for it. You're absolutely welcome here, and you're no bother at all.

Personalising things like intrusive thoughts, anxiety, or depression is nothing new. I'm not sure if there's any specific terminology for it thought. But it is a fairly common framework to understand things like this.

This is just my personal view on it, and how I handle things like this based on my experience. I have horrible intrusive thoughts myself, and I have a facet that sort of 'personifies' that, plus another one that personifies my childhood trauma. We try our best to take care of both those facets, as a system. Ignoring them, or telling them to shut up don't work for us.

They are scared facets, lashing out in pain and fear, but not out of malice. They need comfort. My intrusive thoughts especially just need someone to listen. They'll say the most outrageous stuff, the worst my brain can come up with, because that's how they get attention. I am learning to listen, reassure them, then let the bad thoughts go away. They don't actually mean it.

Personally, I think you should try to draw Jimothy. Talk to him. It must be lonely if the only interaction you get is someone telling you to shut up. But it would make sense that you might still seek that negative interaction still, if it's all you can get. But being at such odds with what's essentially a part of yourself isn't healthy. You can learn to coexist and he could help you deal with intrusive thoughts in a better way.

Again, this is just how I personally see things, but hopefully it's an useful pov at least.

I also recommend you check out Healthy Multiplicity, it's a good site I've been reading through lately :)

#uniquely plural #pluralgang #actually plural #plural community

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Go Go Nekoma! Push it, Push it Nekoma! Coaches Chemisty (pt. 1)

Warnings: Angst, breakups, mention of virginity loss, Swearing

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Word count: 6000+ (split into 3 parts)

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I just don't see this going anywhere. We are both leaving for college soon and going to different schools at that" your boyfriend of the past 2 years, Naoi Manabu said as he looked down to the ground kicking the dirt below his feet.

Your eyes watered as you drown out the words he's saying.

"B-but we can make this work. I can come see you on weekends and we can still see each other over holidays and school breaks" you plead trying to save a relationship you know is doomed.

The past weeks had been rough to say the least. Manabu had been growing distant from you. Making excuses and staying later for volleyball practice to avoid walking home with you. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It broke your heart.

"Y/N I'm sorry, I just can't do this" Manabu said as he looked up seeing tears welling in your eyes.

"I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?" You say sternly as tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y/N-" he starts saying as you place your hand in front of his face.

"No. Don't. I gave you everything. I stuck by you through it all! I stayed late to walk with you home from volleyball practice. I came to as many games as I could! I stayed up late helping you study! Fuck I gave you my virginity!" You scream.

The emotions are just too overwhelming.

"Y/N-" Manabu tries to say as you turn.

"No. I'm done. Good luck with your life Naoi" you turn away letting the tears flow as you start to jog away.

Almost on cue the sky opens up and rain pours down on your head. This is just like one of those awful romance novels. The girl gets dumped by the love of her life only for rain to continue to dampen her day. Just fucking fantastic.

This was quite literally the worst day of your life.

*8 years later*

"Y/N darling can you please water the flowers outside. I forgot to have Vee do it this morning" Your boss asks you politely with a smile.

"Of course! Let me just finish this arrangement and I'll get to watering. You can head home if you like Bella. I know your poor husband must be starving waiting for you" you giggle as Bella rolls her eyes.

"Let him die. No good worthless piece of crap. Couldn't even take the garbage out last night like I asked him too" Bella huffed as she walked over to your table.

"Stay single Y/N, trust me getting married is for the birds. Sure you meet some handsome young man and he charms his way into your life but the MINUTE he says 'I do' its all down hill from there" Bella says to you as she sternly shakes her finger.

You can't help but laugh. Bella is in her 70s and has been married to the same man for 50 years. He's really very kind and helpful in the shop when he comes and visits. Sometimes you think Bella expects too much from her husband but she's quick to shut you up.

"If you don't establish dominance Y/N, these men will walk all over you! You are young and beautiful. You don't want any man. And if you do, find one who will worship the ground you walk on. A man who will lay his coat over a pile of manure for you to walk. A man who will put your pleasure before his own" she says as she lectures you for the 10th time this week.

Bella loved you like her own daughter. Her son had moved away years ago and wasn't around much. She often invited you and Vee to have dinner with her and her husband. The dinners were entertaining to say the least. Usually ending with Bella ranting about how naive women now a days are or how shallow men are.

You enjoyed your time with Bella and her husband even if you didn't share the same sentiment as Bella did.

You hadn't been on a date in over a year. Every relationship seemed to go the same way. There was never a connection. You tried hard through college and after to find someone but always managed to come up empty.

After you graduated college, you took a high paying job in Tokyo. While you were more than qualified for the job, it provided you with little pleasure. It wasn't until you stumbled into Bella's flower shop that you found yourself truly happy.

Surrounded by beautiful flowers and arrangements. It was like heaven. You returned to Bellas weekly to get a bouquet. Soon you found yourself becoming friends with Vee and Bella. It wasn't until Bella mentioned needing help that you made the decision to quite your job and start anew. While the jobs pay was much less than you had become accustom too, your lifestyle really didn't change. You sold your suits in exchange for overhauls, shorts and t-shirts. You got accustomed to dirt below your fingers rather than finely manicure nails. Sure it was a big change but you were so much happier.

You're days were long and busy. Often starting early and closing late. You didn't have family close by, and no significant other so you often took extra shifts and offered to help so the other two ladies could enjoy their husband's.

Both ladies knew about your past dating relationships and the "one that got away" as they so ironically referred to it.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You often thought of Naoi Manabu.

What was he doing?

You were sure he had to be married by now. It had been 8 years since you had last seen him.

After you broke up, you avoided the man like the plague. It helped you only had a week before school ended and you graduated. It didn't seem like he was too worked up over your break up. You had spent far too many nights crying over him.

You felt like you had lost the love of your life.

You, in fact, had.

💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐

"KENMAAAA" Coach Nekomata screams "stop running from the ball! We've been over this a million times!"

"I'd like to keep my limbs thanks" Kuzome Kenma whispers as he turns back to see Kuroo Tetsuro snickering.

"Kenma you act like you've never blocked a ball in your entire life" Kuroo teases the setter mercerously.

"Well I wouldn't have to if someone had read into the switch" Kenma glares at Kuroo who's smile drops.

"Alright that's enough" Naoi shouts as the boys return to their practice match.

He sits next to Coach Nekomata as he sighs "do you think they will be ready for nationals? We've only got a month before we leave. They've still got a long way to-"

"Naoi have faith. They will be ready. They are strong" Coach Nekomata smiles as he watches the boys continue to practice.

The game ends as the boys begin to pack up the gym.

Yaku Morisuke sighs as he finishes his stretches.

"Yaku what's got you bothered" Kuroo says as he kneels down to the team libero.

"I'm just thinking about Mai. I really like her but how do I even tell her. Confessing isn't really my strong suit" Yaku says as he rubs the back of his head.

"How about chocolates? Or maybe flowers?" Kuroo says with a smug grin "girls love flowers!"

"Tsk like you'd know Mr. Periodic Table" Kenma says non-chalantly as he walks by.

Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev laugh at the rooster headed team captain as he glares at the 2nd year setter

"Are you even sure she likes short guys Yaku?" Lev laughs as the team shakes their head.

Yaku runs up to Lev kicking him straight in his back.

"Dumbass" Yamamoto shakes his head as he puts the remaining volleyballs away.

"Why don't we go check out that flower shop on the way home? What's it called like Bella's or something. It looks pretty nice" Kuroo says as he gestures to Yaku.

"Kai, you coming?" Kuroo says to his fellow third year and co-captain, Kai Nobuyuki.

"Sure I'll tag along" Kai speaks softly with a smile.

"Alright guys good practice! Remember we have practice this Saturday as well in preparation for nationals" Naoi shouts as the boys groan.

"And Kenma no skipping out. I'll have Kuroo drag you here if he has to" Naoi glares at Kenma who shakes rolls his eyes and huffs.

The boys showered and change, preparing to head to the flower shop as they wave their fellow teammates off.

Naoi boards the train heading home to his small apartment. To say things have gone to plan in his life would be an understatement. While he was doing what he loved, his love life was lacking to say the very least. He had tried numerous relationships, only to have them fail because he could never fully commit. He often found himself in a one-sided relationship where his partner would confess their love but he couldn't.

It became draining for the people he was with so he ultimately stayed single. He knew, in fact, what the problem was. The problem was that he had messed up the only relationship that mattered to him. He'd blown his chances with the only person whom he ever truly loved.

He had blown his chance with you.

When he decided to break up with you, he really thought it was for the best. He knew you had a bright future ahead of you and he couldn't help but feel like he was weighing you down. He thought it would be best to let go before it became impossible. Not that it wasn't hard to do. It broke him.

He found himself unable to date for years. You had been his first everything and you had been it. He eventually forced himself to move on. Having one night stands and short term relationships but never more. Commitment was hard when it wasn't you. He still kept the ring he had wanted to give you for your third anniversary.

Unfortunately he never got the chance to after he inevitably broke you heart. He often found himself staring at it, wondering how life would have been if he had in fact stayed with you.

By now you must be married with babies he thought to himself. It hurt to think about but he knew it would never be. You'd never be his. And he'd never be truly happy.

#nekoma cats #nekoma #haikyuucoaches #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #naoi manabu #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs

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bondsmagii · 3 years

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Miceál, my brother has become an incel... He used to be such a smart and, deep down, sweet boy, but now all he does is play lol. He almost never leaves is room, he doesn't shower, doesn't wash his clothes, doesn't ventilate his room, all of that makes him smell like a death animal. He survives off coca cola, fries and burgers and vent his anger by harassing women and minorities. I suspect the reason he is the way he is now is because of some traumatizing events during our childhood, I guess the way he coped was playing online game to forget about everything. My parents no longer give a crap about what is he gonna do once he becomes a legal adult, but I'm personally deeply worried about him. After all, I kind of understand that after all, he's just a 16 year old who didn't get the emotional support he needed. Do you have any advice on how can I help him realize that his lifestyle is not healthy at all? He won't listen to me (nor anyone else, really), whenever I try talking to him he just tells me to fuck off and leave him the fuck alone. Sorry for bothering with such things, but when it comes to this type of stuff you seem to give good advice.

honestly, this is the worst situation I can imagine when it comes to ideology and people you care about. unfortunately the only tips I have are time consuming and often unsuccessful -- with this kind of thing, the person has to consent to helping themselves, too. if they refuse, there's not really anything that can be done.

unfortunately I'm speaking from experience. a short while ago I had a friend I was close to and who I'd known for two years. one day, totally out of the blue, she told me she felt we were close enough that I would "understand", and that she didn't think I would judge her because I was so "open-minded", and a bunch of other compliments that she laid on thick before telling me she was a TERF. her own words. she was a straight-up TERF, ran a discourse blog full of TERF shit, had an entire group of friends who were TERFs... it was a mess. at first I talked to her about it, and similarly to your brother she had been through a lot of trauma when she was younger, relating to her sexuality and gender presentation. it had forced her into making changes to her body that she regretted and was in the process of reversing. she was angry and bitter, and rightly so, but again like your brother she was misdirecting her anger towards those who didn't deserve it rather than the system that allowed it all to happen in the first place. at first it was promising, and she really did seem to realise what she was doing wasn't the right way to go and made some real progress in moving away from the circles... but then a few months later she was back into it again, sending me link upon link to "proof" and trying to persuade me that she was right. at that point I broke off the friendship and stopped contact with her.

I'm sorry this doesn't have a happy ending, but unfortunately these groups -- TERFS, incels, Nazis, etc -- are very good at targeting the vulnerable and telling them exactly what they want to hear: it's not their fault, all the shit that's happened to them and the pain and resentment they feel. it's the fault of whatever minority or group they want to target, be it women, trans people, immigrants, Jewish people, whatever. it's an attractive concept for these people because it means it's not their fault and there's a cause they can rally behind to make things Right. these groups are also very good at indoctrination, building up slowly and exposing people to the really nasty stuff when they're ready to accept it. it is a form of grooming, and it's so slow-burning and insidious that we often don't notice until it's too late. the left is also catastrophically bad at recruiting and maintaining activism because of the purity culture and the constant infighting; a lot of the jokes the alt-right make about the left are completely true. to somebody like your brother, the incel community is organised, saying what he wants to hear, and the political altnerative is a bunch of weirdos shouting at one another about children's cartoons. it's a no-brainer. he feels powerful and enlightened, which is a very attractive thing for someone who is, at root, a traumatised child.

the best thing you can do at this point, I think, is try to separate him from as much of this input as possible. you'll have to work slow, and subtle, but the more time he's away from this indoctrinating information the more likely it'll be that phase two is successful: beginning to essentially reeducate him. to do this, you need to find common ground and validate it, and then slowly turn his annoyance and opinions around to the real cause of it. it takes time and has little chance of succeeding, but unless he decides to throw it in on his own, it's his only chance.

he's still young, and while he's living at home his potential to cause harm is thankfully at least somewhat contained. be patient, work subtly, give him other options. try to keep him away from his incel friends, distract him with things that keep him busy and give him a sense of real accomplishment and satisfaction. build up his confidence, compliment him when he does something worth admiring, and try to avoid outright conflict. remember: common ground, and then gradual education. at the end of the day only he can make the final call, but these communities rely on total isolation so that even if somebody wants to get out, they've burned all their bridges and realise they can't -- they'll have nobody left. for as long as you're able, emotionally and morally, keep that bridge open for him. even having just one person to fall back on might be enough for somebody to find the courage to leave one of these cults.

#anon #asks

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sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

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find the word tag CCLXXVII

my new phone is not that bigger than my old one, but the difference is still so nice. the not nice thing is that I don't have a case yet and as such will be tiptoeing around with it. this baby (ooh I need a name) is very precious.

from @spacetimewraithwrites (I did long snippets just like you)

kiss (anxiety story d0)

“Oh, Aiden,” Theo breathed into his hair. “Tell me you’ll be alright.”

Aiden didn’t want Theo to worry about him and he sounded like he was worrying. “I’ll be alright.”

Theo held him tighter again and Aiden felt him pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

“I like that,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Like what?” Theo sounded amused.

Aiden was glad Theo couldn’t see his face. “You, um, didn’t you just kiss me?”

Theo laughed then, his deep voicing piercing the cold air and making everything seem warmer. “Aiden, you are seriously too cute. Ah, I wish I could keep you in my pocket. You’re important to me, you know that, right?”

He supposed he did know that, but it was still nice to hear. “Ye-yeah. You’re important to me, too.”

home (trans-dimensional ghosts, 2016)

Caden covered his face with his hands. A now sleeping human, half-asleep ghost and a feisty werecat were seated on his couch and Caden wanted nothing more than to just kick them all out.

“If you could bring us a couple blankets, I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable in here,” Qaz said all too politely.

Caden smiled without humor and stood. “Sure. And I’m sure you can find your own way home in the morning.”

“If Emrik is still here then we will need you to help us send him back.”

“Emrik?”

“The ghost.”

Caden rubbed at his face. “You knew his name this whole time?”

Qaz shook his head. “Discovered it just now.”

Werecat magic was seriously weird sometimes.

fall (shots, 2019)

To her dismay, it was Jay who walked into the building, eyes immediately taking in how she was sprawled against the bar with her hand clutching her side. The blood was slowly trickling out in a meager but steady stream and the effects of blood loss had turned the air around her fuzzy and cold. Lexi was far more bothered by that than by the burning sensation along her ribs.

"I thought you promised you wouldn't get hurt." Jay crouched beside her, frowning.

"I didn't," Lexi protested before realizing that sounded like a lie. "I mean, this isn't from today. But since I hadn't planned on getting rammed into a table, the idea of it reopening wasn't really forefront in my mind."

"How are you always so eloquent even when you clearly can't see straight?" Jay asked, amused and worried at the same time.

"Just a talent."

After quickly inspecting the wound, Jay didn't even bother trying to help her stand, choosing instead to just pick her up.

Lexi accepted it with all the tired angst she could muster up, meaning that she didn't actually protest and instead just let her head fall onto his shoulder like she didn’t hate being a damsel in distress.

crush

way (anxiety story d1)

“You asked me to stay."

It took a few more seconds for Aiden to process those few words than it normally would, but Theo was patient and let him work his way up to it. “That was just, I was just making a wish.”

“And I granted it. Surprise!” Theo whispered the last word but Aiden winced anyway.

Theo slid closer and placed his thumbs on either side of Aiden’s head, massaging exactly where the throbbing hurt the worst. Somehow, he always knew what Aiden needed. “You scared me a little, earlier,” Theo said eventually, after silence had built up for a few minutes.

“I did?”

“You were decently out of it. Hearing how tired you’ve been recently didn’t help to appease my concern.” Theo’s voice was calm and steady, an ocean between them without the space.

Aiden closed his eyes. “Ree already knows. It’s normal for me.”

“I maintain my right to be worried as your other best friend, though.” The ocean voice was so warm, so kind. Aiden wanted to drown in it forever.

tired, dream, appetite, effort. BONUS: considerate, blessing. @lanawritesalittle @writing-with-melon @gwens-fiction @toboldlywrite @kosmosian-quills @drippingmoon @diphthongsfordays OR ANYBODY or nobody

#find the word tag #tag game #searching circle

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark

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jesuiscalmedammit · 3 years

Text

In The Dark – (1) Pilot chapter || [Din Djarin x reader]

“What are you doing down here?”

Letting out an annoyed groan, you put your hands on your hips and turned around to look at your host. “Looking for some clothes that aren’t soaking in my blood.”

You expected him to tell you where to find something to wear but he didn’t move. At all. Knowing him, not talking wasn’t surprising, but being this still was quite alarming. Had you crossed a line by going through his things? Well, it surely wasn’t polite but you were really just looking for clothes. Under different circumstances, he probably wouldn’t have a problem with that, but this was a special situation and you didn’t know when he would figure out the truth about you. Until then you were just a stranger to him.

When you saw his head move a little, indicating that he took a good look at your body, you finally realized what was wrong: you were in your underwear. Not seeing his face made it difficult to figure out what he was thinking about. Was he embarrassed? Shy? Confused? Or was his mind full of dirty thoughts? You hated being in the dark. You were used to it, but it didn’t mean you were comfortable with it. And then more silence followed and you began to feel anxious out of the blue. Would you finally say something?

“I should take a look at your wounds. I have a feeling you couldn’t really reach the one on your back,” he suddenly said.

Even though his voice wasn’t perfectly clear because of the helmet, you could still tell it was neutral. The fact you were almost naked apparently didn’t bother him. That was good. He clearly wasn’t planning to take advantage of the situation, although you had never really assumed he was that kind of man to begin with. Why it didn’t bother him, though, was a mystery, and for a moment you began to think about the possible reasons. Was he that experienced? Or was he just absolutely not interested in this kind of stuff?

In the end, you scratched the back of your neck to avert your thoughts. “Thanks, that would be great.” Nodding, he left for a short while to find what he needed to help then pointed at a big metal box. Once you sat down, he pulled something to sit on behind you and you heard him pack out the equipment. “Did you leave the little guy up there?”

“Yeah, but he’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” you asked as you pointed at the small creature who stood almost right in front of you. “He looks pretty interested in what we’re doing down here.”

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips before he moved to pick up the kid and put him somewhere he could keep an eye on him. “Stay here, okay?” he said before walking back to you. “Why do I have a feeling he’s gonna be a handful?”

“He’s still a child, that’s what they’re the best at.”

“I guess this means you have experience with them.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of this. “Oh, no, I usually try to avoid them,” you clarified.

The silence that followed your words made it quite obvious he was giving you a strange look under that shiny helmet of his. But once he cleared his throat, he returned to his previous spot behind you and you soon felt his gloved finger tracing your skin as he tried to figure out which bloodstain was covering an actual wound on your back.

Then he suddenly stopped, you felt another finger on your skin, and he said, “This wound is really nasty so I’ll have to clean and stitch it.” You nodded and waited while he picked up whatever he needed to do that. “Since it’s pretty deep, the cleaning part will hurt, but try to stay still, okay?”

When he put his palm on your stomach, you knew he only did it because he wanted to make sure you didn’t move around much from the stinging pain that awaited you. Despite knowing this, your body reacted without your brain’s consent and you let out a quiet hiss as you tried to move your upper body away from him.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“No, it’s the vambrace,” you told him quickly, hoping he would understand that your reaction didn’t mean you found this inappropriate in any way. “It’s pretty cold, for some reason I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh.” You heard him stand up so you turned around to see what he was doing. Apparently, he decided to wrap the metal piece into some cloth he found and you were honestly grateful for him being this thoughtful. Others would have probably told you to stop whining. The next time he touched you, you didn’t even feel the cold metal anymore. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. You ready?”

Your pain threshold was high and you were used to pain, but this… This stinging feeling was the worst part of treating open wounds. Though you cursed under your breath and instinctively tried to get out of his hold, Mando held you firmly enough to keep you relatively still. Seconds felt like hours, and you were only snapped out of your thoughts by his soothing voice.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to take deep breaths. I’ll quickly stitch and bandage it then we’re done,” he said, waiting for you to nod before doing anything else.

The rest of the treatment was bearable and you didn’t move around that much anymore. When he finished, you turned around to be face-to-face with him. “Thank you. For everything,” you told him with a smile.

“Well, you helped us escape and they blew up your ship because of this so that’s the least I could do.”

Oh, your ship. Being around Mando again made you forget about that tiny little detail. Which wasn’t exactly tiny considering you had to travel somehow. You couldn’t just settle down at some randomly chosen place. But you had time to worry about that later, this is why you decided to learn about his plans first. “Where are you going now?”

“I don’t really know yet,” he began with a sigh as he looked over at the kid. “I guess somewhere remote because we need to lie low for a while. Hopefully, they’ll stop searching for us soon.”

These guys stopping soon? Everybody was looking for this child, and the bounty on its head was high enough to keep them interested until the end. But you didn’t want to make him feel bad now so you decided to keep your opinion to yourself. A part of you was sure he had already known that, though, because he was everything but an idiot.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I'm sorry,” you said as you looked back at him. “I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

A low, humming sound left his throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It's just…” How could you tell him? He wasn’t about to figure it out on his own so you had to tell him the truth. But it was hard. Then again, you wanted a normal conversation which meant he had to know. Once you let out a long sigh, you decided to get it over with. “I didn't know the voice modulator in my helmet worked so well that you wouldn’t recognize my voice without it.”

“What are you talking about?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We've known each other for a long time, Mando. I like to think of you as my only friend in the Tribe.”

This was the moment when he finally understood what was going on. When silence fell between you again, it wasn’t the same as before. You weren’t uncertain about what he was thinking about, you knew it perfectly well. And as you waited for him to say something, you couldn’t hide your wide, happy grin.

“Is it really you?” he asked cautiously. When you nodded, he stood up and began pacing in front of you. “But how? They all died.”

“I wasn’t there when it happened. By the time I returned, they were already gone. That's the only reason why I helped the two of you because I knew it was you, Mando.”

“Where’s your armor?”

It was a perfectly understandable question, after all, you hadn’t been wearing it when you met again. “It was on my ship but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm done with that life. I don’t need reminders of the past,” you informed him once your smile disappeared from your lips.

“Why?” Since you didn’t know how to answer, you shrugged. “So what, you want to settle down now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Once again you wished you could see his face under the helmet. But he was so loyal to the Tribe’s rules that you knew he wouldn’t take it off in someone else’s presence. So what could he be thinking? Was he happy? Was he mad at you? Could he hate you for not telling him sooner? Did he despise you for leaving your armor behind? And why was he so silent? Just say something. Anything!

“I still can’t believe it’s you,” he said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

Tilting your head to the side, you glanced over at the child who was still watching the two of you. “And I can’t believe you became a single dad.”

“I’m no–” He fell silent when he followed your gaze and looked at the little guy. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Do you what’s the best thing about this beskar armor of yours? I saw the pile of armors and immediately knew you were probably still alive,” you admitted out of nowhere.

“I saw the pile and thought you were dead,” he replied without hesitation and you could’ve sworn he sounded sad and maybe even a little relieved. He took a deep breath then went on. “I kind of understand why you want to leave that life behind. With all those rules we follow it’s… easy to become jealous of average people and their simple lives.”

“It’s not just that. Having to wear that helmet all the time makes it hard to do certain things.”

He thought about what you said but didn’t ask what you meant right away. But when he realized you weren’t about to elaborate on your own, he asked, “Did you fall in love with someone?”

“It’s not–It’s complicated,” you said, trying really hard not to tell him the truth. You wanted to be honest, but definitely not this honest. You had been in love with someone way before this tragedy happened, although he didn’t have to know that.

“All right, I won’t ask,” he said eventually. “Look, I have something for the pain, but it will probably knock you out. Do you want some?”

Sleeping sounded nice. This conversation turned pretty awkward pretty fast, but this way you would have some time to come up with a believable explanation. And you could also figure out what to do next. You didn’t have a ship. You had nowhere to go. It wasn’t an easy situation. “Yeah, that would be great.”

note: i don’t know if i’ll continue this one or not, we’ll see. i just... had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head. also, i haven’t started s2 yet because i want to binge-watch s1 and s2 together. so yeah, don’t think much about the timeline. || feedback is always appreciated. || sorry for the possible typos, errors etc.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine

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astro-rain · 4 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter four - mri’s & other modern commodities

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: bucky faces his first day of treatment, and discovers some new things along the way: some scary, some awesome, some maybe slightly embarassing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my gif

When he woke up, he scanned his room, making sure everything was the same as how he left it the night before. Making sure no one came in while he was asleep and poisoned his brain. Making sure he was waking up in his living quarters in Wakanda and not a damp cell in some secret Hydra base. It was just something he did now.

Some may call it paranoia, others may call it adaptation. Either way, once he stepped outside and made sure he was alone, he allowed himself to take a breath.

Today was the day, the first day of official treatment. He had no idea what to expect; he was just hoping to high heavens that it would end up working. Freedom. That's all he wanted. Liberation from the chains Hydra had had around him since he fell from the train all those years ago.

He was apprehensive for sure, but he tried his best to keep himself optimistic. Bucky was sure that Shuri was smarter than any Hydra scientist he once came in contact with. So, if they can tear apart his mind, perhaps she can put it back together. Right?

Her in addition to (Y/N). That psychologist woman. He had spoken to her the day before at the lake. She was funny, and she seemed decently easy to talk to. That's a good sign, he guessed. She told him that she hadn't minded relocating to assist in his treatment, but he honestly couldn't make out her true feelings. She was rather hard to read. Perhaps it was a psychologist thing; he tried not to look too far into it.

He waited outside his door until two Wakandans came to escort him to Shuri. Bucky noticed they were armed. Guards. He wasn't surprised nor did he blame them. However, that didn't make it any easier to trust. He hadn't had that luxuy in a very long time. The former assassin fought against the voice in the back of his head telling him to analyze their every move in order to ensure that he wasn't in any danger. That any minute they weren't going to strap him down and rip his brain apart the way it had been so many times before. So many times. He gave the slightest wince at the thought. His brain suddenly felt prickly, painful memories creeping up on him.

Not now, don't think about it.

Sometimes, if he fixated on the thoughts for too long, he would drive himself to this panicked state of fear and constriction. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing was. All he knew was that these things - these episodes - were extremely unpleasant, and utterly unnecessary at the moment.

He shook his head (somehow hoping that this would rid him of the prickly memories like a dog shaking off water), strands of long brown hair swaying quickly in front of his eyes, and fixed his gaze to the floor.

Floor. Floor. Floor. Floor. Just the floor. The floor. The floor. The floor-

"Sergeant Barnes!" Shuri welcomed him happily.

Oh. He was in the lab now. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Let's do this.

"Good morning," he smiled, "and just Bucky's okay."

"Of course, of course. This is my lab! Best place in Wakanda in my humble opinion. Today's only the first day of treatment, so nothing too intensive. But, we will be working all the same!"

He glanced around the lab. The guards were at the doorway and they didn't look like they were leaving anytime soon. Again, he wasn't surprised. Moreover, sitting at a table a few feet from Shuri, was a familiar face. This familiar face soon met his gaze.

"Hi, Bucky" (Y/N) greeted, offering a polite smile. "See! I remembered this time."

Bucky grinned. "Are you still (Y/N), or is it Dr. (Y/L/N) since we're in the lab now?"

"I'm always (Y/N)."

"I don't know, if I went to school for as long as you did, I'd make everyone call me Doctor," Shuri added.

(Y/N) laughed. "Well, if you want to call me Doctor you're more than welcome, Shuri."

"That's the spirit, Doc," she declared before turning to Bucky. "Now, follow me and we'll get a quick MRI done."

"A what?" He quickly caught up to Shuri who already started walking away.

"An MRI. It stands for magnetic resonance imaging. Basically, scanners use strong magnetic fields, magnetic field gradients, and radio waves to generate images of the organs in the body."*

Yes, very basic.

(Y/N) leaned over to Bucky, explaining softly, "It's used to form pictures of the anatomy and the physiological processes of the body."**

"Oh."

"You just lay down and it scans you. Y'don't even feel anything."

"Thats... not too bad, I guess."

"It's a bit of a tight fit though, so I hope you're aren't claustrophobic."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, after cryo, I doubt tight spaces will be too much of a bother for me."

"Right," said (Y/N), "but it's still decently in your personal space. Just so you know - so there's no surprises."

He nodded. They didn't say anything until Shuri stopped short in front of them. She stood a couple feet from a shiny metal table which was lined up in front of an equally shiny and metallic semi-cricle arch. It was long enough to fit - well, would you look at that - a body.

"Oh. I guess there is a surprise," (Y/N) blurted, turning to Shuri, confused. "That isn't like any MRI machine I've ever seen."

"That's because you're in Wakanda," Shuri flashed a proud smile. "Tech's a bit... advanced here."

(Y/N) turned to Bucky. He thought he saw something resembling self consciousness flow across her features, but he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, I guess I was wrong. But, honestly this is way better than a typical MRI set up. It's much more open... and wide. Regularly, it would be like a super narrow tube with hardly any space inside. This way, you'll even be able to see us and the rest of the room."

That's good. More space. More freedom. And he'll be able to see her- them, see them.

Shuri clapped. "Alright! Shall we get started then?"

He had no idea how any of this worked; he was way out of his element here. He just barely learned what a damn MRI was, and had to hide his shock when he found out. Medicine has changed dramatically since 1945. Although it is helpful, he is completely clueless. Great.

"Do I jus-just lay on the table?" He asked, unsure.

"Yep! Just lie there and be absolutely still, and I'll do the rest," Shuri replied, reassuringly as she walked around to a control panel next to the machine, preparing to start.

Bucky took his place on the thin metal table, and he thought he was seeing things. Was it was levitating? Honestly, from what he's seen so far he wouldn't even be surprised. He stared up at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. A string of various questions and uncertainties fluttered through his battered mind.

Would the metal arm interfere with the magnet- oh. Right. No arm. Just a scan, no need to worry. (Y/N) said it would be fine. Can I even trust her Then again, can I even trust anyone yet? She's the best I got right now. Damn it, I wish I wasn't so wary of everyone.

"Hey," a gentle voice pulled him out.

He looked over to the left of him, the side with no arm. (Y/N).

"I can practically hear your brain whirring around right now - which is justified - but do you need anything?"

'Do you need anything?' He hadn't heard that phrase in a while.

He adjusted his body on the table. "I'm alright, just... a bit out of my element here."

She nodded, knowingly. "Honestly, me too. This lab looks like somethin' out of a sci-fi movie for me, so I can't imagine what it must feel like to you."

She was looking down at him. He felt vulnerable, exposed. It seemed like she noticed.

"Here, I have an idea."

With that, she turned and grabbed something from a nearby table. Rotating around to face him again, she displayed what she had taken: a pair of headphones... but without a wire? What the hell?

"Are they broken?" he asked, feeling perpetually confused.

"No, they're wirelessly connected to my phone. It's called bluetooth."

The look on his face was almost laughable.

"Bluetooth? What kind of name is Bluetooth?"

"The kind of name that I didn't invent nor should I be blamed for," she chuckled. "Do you want to listen to music while you're in there? It might help to keep you down on Earth with us."

Music. The thought was almost surreal. He hadn't been privileged with such a pleasure in longer than he'd care to admit. It actually seemed... nice.

"Y-yeah," he said, pondering. "That'd actually be nice."

"Awesome."

She leaned over him to put the headphones on his ears, causing him a very conflicting series of emotions.

First of all, close. She was very close to his face. His face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. It almost seemed a tad bit intimate. And then he realized he hadn't been this close to a woman in forever. A real woman, not some fellow assassin he had to take out. He hoped the shy embarrassment he felt didn't show on his cheeks.

Second of all, she was wrapping something around his head, his brain. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop the muscle memory of what he'd been conditioned to feel. Hydra's machine would wrap around his head and rip his psyche apart. His mind expected pain, the worst pain, the dehumanizing, out of body, mind splitting pain. He hoped the way he flinched ever so slightly didn't offend (Y/N).

She didn't seem offended, and her voice was soft. "You're good. Just music and a scan. Then you're done."

He looked up at her face, reassuring and calm. He took a deep breath.

"Good?" she asked.

He nodded. "Think so."

"If it's too much at any point just let us know, and we'll pull you right out. It's your comfort level, your choice."

His choice. Choice. Control. The prospect gave him comfort.

She gave him one last look before stepping away and signaling Shuri to start the machine. The seemingly levitating table began a smooth descent into the machine when the music started playing. It almost startled him, but he then he was pleasantly surprised by what he heard.

There were loud drums, guitar riffs with attitude, and voices that had so much emotion they were almost screaming. It was like no music he had ever heard before, and he loved it. In fact, he was so into it that he didn't even notice when the MRI had finished. That is, until he felt a feather light hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened, and (Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face. While taking the headphones off of him, she looked very pleased with herself.

She looked at Shuri but declared to no one in particular, "Bucky likes Rock and Roll!"

- - -

* = from wikipedia

** = from wikipedia

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