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ghostofaboy · 3 months

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Inter-Agency Cooperation

Summary: Jack runs into another agent on a mission and figures out a new way for them both to get what they want.

Pairing: Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels/Javier Peña Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only | Word Count: 2633

Warnings: Frottage, anal sex, public sex, Jack is his own warning

Note: This as not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay/bi characters. Please make sure you've read the warnings. Header by @beskarandblasters

Of all the places Jack thought he'd find himself today, a dive bar in the middle of butt fuck nowhere watching a cage fight wasn't even on his list. Silly, really, considering all the strange places his Statesman missions took him. All around him, large drunken men in plaid shirts jeered and shouted at the two half naked men in the cage. The entire bar stank of stale beer and sweat, which made Jack long for the heady woody smells of the Statesman barrel room, but he couldn't argue with the view.

In the cage, a massive slapdash metal structure that dominated the center of the rundown establishment, were two young men. Neither could have been older than twenty-five, both striped to the waist in just their jeans, and both covered in blood and sweat. It was the most homoerotic shit Jack had ever seen in such a painfully hetero bar. He had to stifle a laugh whenever he thought about it.

Taking another sip of his shitty beer, Jack glanced over to his mark, only to find him in the exact same spot since the last time he checked. Fast asleep in a corner booth, drooling into his thick, bushy beard. Another quick look around the bar confirmed that no one else was paying either of them any attention; except for one man.

Sat at a table, set off to the corner with a view of Jack, his mark and the cage, was a broody looking motherfucker. Sporting a well-worn leather jacket, a mustache similar to his own and a casual air that oozed practiced confidence, the other man had definitely made him. Everything about this guy said agent, the only question was what kind.

Jack's money was on CIA considering the dealings his sleepy mark was into, but FBI was also a possibility. There was only one way to find out, and considering Jack didn't feel like competing with another agent for the mark, working together was the better option for them both. Eying the other man, Jack could see he was also nursing what passed for beer in this shithole. There was his opening.

Sliding off his barstool, Jack glanced over at the two young men now slumping against each other, gasping for breath, the sweat rolling off them. Swaggering over to the stranger's table, Jack was met with a single raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head.

"Evenin'." Jack tipped his hat, before leaning down slightly closer to the other man. "Enjoyin' the entertainment?"

"Not my usual kind of thing." The other man smirked and Jack could just pick out the hints of a Texan accent. "But when in Rome or whatever."

"I agree." Jack gave a chuckle. "Almost makes up for the terrible beer. Do you mind if I join you?" Jack gestured to the free chair next to the stranger.

The other man didn't respond beyond a small nod, but his eyes watched Jack intently as he slid into the seat.

“I don’t know about you,” Jack leaned in conspiratorially, “but I usually prefer somethin’ a little stronger. Now, I’m a whiskey man myself. How about you?”

“I’m a cut the bullshit kinda man.” The stranger sat up a little straighter, locking eyes with Jack with a steadiness that could only come from years of experience in the field. “So, why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me who you are and what you want.”

“To the point, I respect that.” Jack nodded. “All right. I’m Agent Jack Daniels, and I’m here keepin’ an eye on that fella over there. Reckon you know who I mean, seein’ as you’ve also got eyes on him. I need him alive as part of an investigation, and I get the feelin’ you do too.”

“You CIA?”

“No.” Jack carefully pulled his fake DIA badge from his jacket, flashing it under the table at the stranger. “You?”

“DEA.” The stranger mimicked Jack, carefully and covertly showing his badge. “Javier Peña. Our guy has links to a new player in the narcotics trade.”

“Indeed he does.” Jack nodded again, glancing around to make sure no one was watching or listening to them. “Amongst other things. Peña, huh? Weren’t you part of the team that took down Escobar?”

Javier shifted in his seat. “That was a long time ago. So what do you want to do? I’m here tonight to see who he meets up with.”

“He ain’t meetin’ up with anyone tonight. He was meant to, but I’ve already made sure that ain’t happenin’.” Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting over to the cage fighters who were rolling around on the floor trading punches. “The dumb fuck’ll stay here, so I was gonna wait until the mornin’ and tail him back to wherever he’s holed up. You’re welcome to join me.”

Jack watched as Javier’s sharp eyes assessed him thoroughly. Jack could feel those dark eyes taking in every detail of him and knew that on some level Javier wasn’t buying his story. But was it enough for him to leave?

“Fine.” Javier scowled, taking a swig of beer, pulling a face at the taste. “I guess we just wait then.”

“At least there’s a show.” Jack gestured to the cage, scooting his chair back slightly so he was parallel to Javier at the table. “Who’s your money on? The fuckin’ twink blond or the other one?”

“At least that one can grow facial hair.” Javier let out a harsh laugh as he watched the two fighters.

The crowd was getting impatient now, roaring and booing for the two young men to hurry up and finish. The blond responded by lunging at the darker haired man, who stepped back to avoid the attack. Grabbing hold of each other by the jeans, the two men fell to the floor of the cage again, tussling back and forth, much to the pleasure of the crowd.

A loud whoop came from one section of the gathered men and as Jack craned his neck to look he could see that the blond had managed to pull down the other man’s jeans, exposing his ass. As the fighters rolled, grabbed and tugged at each other, the jeans worked their way further down until the man’s cock and balls were free. By this point, he was pinned under the blond, who had straddled his back, causing the other man’s legs to kick wildly. The result was a fantastic view of his asshole bared for the crowd, with his heavy dick and balls swinging back and forth.

Much of the crowd was cheering now, clearly enjoying what they were seeing, as the blond fighter rolled the other man onto his back, yanking his jeans completely off victoriously. Now stark naked, bruised and bloodied, the other fighter slowly climbed to his feet before quickly barrelling into the blond.

Jack could feel his cock stirring as he watched the younger fighter’s naked body in front of him. He wasn’t alone, and Jack could spot more than a few tented pants in the audience. The blond was grabbing the other fighter’s ass and pulling his cheeks open, giving everyone a good view of a tight puckered hole, and Jack could feel his cheeks heating up as he stared. Pulling his eyes away to grab his hip flask from his belt, Jack’s eye flickered over to Javier.

The other man was leaning back casually in his chair, giving the impression to anyone that he was completely disinterested in what he was watching. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Jack let his eyes drift lower, his curiosity getting the better of him, and to Jack’s delight he could see the very obvious outline of an erection in those ridiculously tight jeans.

Holding his flask out to Javier, Jack couldn’t stop himself smirking as the other man jumped slightly, dropping the veneer of coolness for a moment, before taking the flask. Letting his eyes drop back down to the bulge in Javier’s jeans, Jack made sure to let the other man catch him looking as the flask was returned to him.

“Good show, am I right?” Jack’s voice was a husky whisper as he leaned over to Javier.

“Uh, sure.” Javier’s cheeks flushed slightly as he glanced around, looking everywhere in the bar except at the two young men glistening with sweat as the naked fighter ripped open the blond’s jeans as he swung him against the cage. His body clattering against the metal, his long cock squashed against the bars.

Jack waiting patiently until Javier’s eyes returned to him before gesturing discreetly at his hard on. “Wanna fuck?”

/////

Crashing around the back of the bar, lips clumsily found lips as teeth clashed and hands roamed. Slamming Jack up against the wall of the building, Javier’s mouth forcefully met his as the two men grunted and moaned in the cold night.

Venturing his hands lower, Jack cupped Javier’s erection through the denim, making the other man buck into his palm as he forced his tongue past Jack’s lips. It had been a long time since Jack had been with someone so aggressively dominant, and it was going straight to his cock, which strained against its confines.

Tugging open Javier’s fly, Jack reached inside, stroking the hard length, feeling it twitch in his hand as Javier’s finger’s tangled into Jack’s hair under his hat. Freeing his own cock, Jack pulled Javier in closer, bringing their erections together, as he began to steadily pump them with his hands.

Javier moaned into Jack’s mouth an incomprehensible stream of English and Spanish as he trapped Jack against the wall, pinning him with his body as he rolled his hips in time with Jack’s strokes. But it wasn’t enough. Jack needed more. There was something about this grumpy DEA agent that was filling his head with the most obscene thoughts, and damn it if Jack wasn’t going to try and fulfil some of them.

Pulling his head back slightly to break the frantic kiss, Jack nuzzled against Javier’s jaw as the other man growled and ground against him.

“You wanna fuck me?” Jack panted into Javier’s ear, stopping his hand and pulling it away from their cocks. “I got lube and condoms.”

“Yes.” Was the simple, growled response as Javier took a step back, glancing around as Jack fished a condom out of his jacket.

As Javier busied himself putting it on, Jack quickly unbuckled his belt, pulling his jeans and underwear down to his knees. Reaching behind him, Jack pushed a finger into his ass, hissing at the coldness of the lube, before adding a second finger. Satisfied at the lubrication, Jack handed the tube to Javier, who applied a couple of drops before returning it.

Turning round, Jack steadied himself on the wall with his forearms, planting his feet as far apart as he could and bend over slightly to give Javier access to his ass. He could feel a hand on his bare hip and the tip of Javier’s cock lining up with his entrance before, slowly, Javier began to enter Jack.

Jack let his head drop down as he bit back a moan as Javier’s thick length steady began to fill him. Inch by inch, Javier sank into Jack's hot waiting hole, both hands now gripping Jack's hips as his cock disappeared into Jack's body. Then, once he was buried to the hilt, Javier paused. Jack could hear him muttering and breathing heavily behind him as Jack adjusted to the size.

"You good?" Javier eventually whispered, one hand idly stroking Jack's exposed skin.

"I'm good." Jack hissed back, his arousal fogging his head. "Gimme all you got."

Jack heard a soft chuckled before Javier began to move. Pulling almost completely out slowly, before suddenly slamming back into Jack's waiting ass. Jack bit back a yelp as Javier began to set a rough, unrelenting pace. Each thrust pounding into Jack, rocking him forward until his cheek was barely touching the cold stone of the building. Javier's hips snapped against him as the obscene sound of flesh against flesh filled the night air.

But it still wasn't enough. Jack was sure at this pace Javier wasn't going to last long, and given their extremely public locale that might be for the best. But Jack needed more. Arching his back, Jack tilted his hips slightly and sure enough the next time Javier plunged into him a jolt of electricity coursed through Jack. That's what he needed.

Javier seemed to quickly pick up on what Jack wanted, grabbing his hip with one hand and his hair with another to keep Jack in the right position. Then, like a jackhammer, Javier began to brutally fuck Jack.

Jack's skin prickled with heat as the tension building in him threatened to explode. All he could do was get out shaking moans, and Javier huffed and panted behind him. The pace was becoming more erratic now, with each strike of Javier's hips against his ass, Jack could feel the other man's grip on his control slipping. The hands holding him dug their fingers in deep as Javier's tempo faltered.

Between his legs, Jack's cock swung with every thrust, adding to the tantalizing anticipation as he got closer and closer to the edge. Then with a grunt and a hard snap of his hips forward, Jack felt Javier come. For a few seconds, he stilled, as Jack felt the cock inside him twitching through its release. Then, without warning, Javier began to pounding into Jack again.

The hand on his hip moved, reaching under to gently pump Jack's cock in time with Javier's thrusts. That was enough.

Like falling off a cliff, Jack came, spilling himself onto the dirt as his trembled in Javier's grip. Shockwaves of ecstasy rocked him as Javier continued to roll his hips, hitting that sweet spot, making Jack's knees buckle.

Jack would have been content to rest there against the wall of the bar, Javier's cock still buried in him, as he allowed the high of his orgasm to ebb away for a little longer. But just as his head began to clear of static, he felt Javier tense behind him, then quickly pull his softening length from Jack's now gaping hole.

"Fuck." Javier hissed. "Someone's coming."

"Dammit." Jack muttered, his words slurring together as he fought to pull his jeans up.

Voices drifted through the cold night air and Jack watched warily as two men stumbled their way towards a truck, laughing heartily as a third more sober looking friend brought up the rear. Turning back to Javier, who was in the process of disposing of the condom, Jack smirked.

"We're good. You wanna head back inside, or are you up for a second round somewhere a little more private?"

"Fuck." Javier chuckled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and after offering them to Jack, brought one to his lips and lit it. "Tempting. Very tempting, actually. But we have work to do."

"Ah, that dumb fuck'll still be asleep for a few hours yet." Jack waved a hand, but following as Javier started to make his way back round to the front door of the bar. "How about we wait till this place clears out some, then have round two in the men's room?"

Blowing out a puff of smoke, Javier stopped at the door, looking around thoughtfully. There were only a handful of patrons still in the bar now. As predicted, their mark was still sound asleep where they had left him. The fight was over, with the two young men now redressed and counting their winnings at a table in the corner. Leaning against the doorway, Javier turned back to Jack with a smirk.

"You wanna fuck me this time?"

/////

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#agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #javier peña #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

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Clover Club // Robert Floyd

Summary: After a near fatal accident, Bob comes face to face with the reality that time really is fleeting. Deciding that taking the leap to love you while he has the change is better than to not have had the chance at all.

Warnings: Robert Floyd x Reader. Mickey Garcia x Stepsister!reader. Depictions of injuries sustained from a serious car accident. ANGST! & a lil bit of fluff.

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Note: I don’t wanna hear shit about this one. This is 100% Whump. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m sick in the head—but this entire concept was inspired by Claire’s accident in McLeods Daughter’s. If you aren’t Australian and haven’t seen it just look it up on YouTube. SAD BOI HOUR. Also: this also serves as a milestone post—thanks for the 2k following.

Bob hated his birthday. He had for three years. Not because he didn't like presents or because he didn't like cake. It wasn't because he did have friends and family who would celebrate with him each and every year that passed. It wasn't because he was a lonely person or someone who didn't mind the day being about him.

It was because it served as a memory of the women he lost. A memory he could never ever forget even if he tried. How could he? Reaching out across his bed to be met with emptiness– Bob opened his eyes with a long drawn out yawn. Looking around the bedroom to be met with just himself. Sitting up, Bob threw his legs over the side of the bed. Noticing the date on the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table.

His Birthday–

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Three years earlier

“This is just perfect, he’s gonna be thrilled—“ Rooster placed his hands on your shoulders excitedly as he shook you slightly. Standing behind you as he admired the birthday decorations that you’d worked hard to hang up around the entirety of the Hard Deck. Fairy lights and birthday streamers. Helium balloons in all different colours, and the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. “Bobs gonna love it.”

“You think so?” Rooster thought that you and Bob should have gotten together a long time ago. He thought you were two of the best people he knew and the undeniable chemistry you two both gave off whenever you were left alone to your own devices together just seemed like a perfect match. But that was just his opinion. The matter of fact was you and Robert Floyd weren’t even dating. It was more of a situationship than anything else. A blooming romance that enjoyed taking its sweet sweet time developing. “I just hope it’s not too much.” Planning Bob a surprise party for Bob’s birthday wasn’t something you thought you’d ever do, but it had been fun nonetheless.

“No, this?” Rooster questioned as he jumped over the bar, working quickly to pour himself a glass of beer from the tap. “It’s perfect.” Snatching the schooner from Rooster's hand before he could take a sip, you sent him a warning glare. Having followed him right around the bar before he could get too comfortable.

“Penny doesn’t like it when you flyboys come behind the bar—“ You reminded him, watching as Rooster rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders in defeat. Trudging along as he went to sit at a barstool. “I need to pick up Mickey from the airport and stop by Bensons to get the cake. Can you finish getting this place all decked out before the birthday boy arrives?” You wouldn’t consider yourself a hard task master. Simply a bartender who had a thing for the big eyed bigger soul weapons systems officer who’d always given you the time of day. But with the way Bradley Bradshaw was looking at you like you’d just asked him to cut off his own arm—perhaps a hard task master was more appropriate. “Rooster—?”

“Two on the house beers and a bowl of fries and you got yourself a deal.” Rooster beamed as he leaned on the bar. His elbows pressed against oak as you looked at him dumbfounded.

“On the house just means out of my paycheck you jerk!” Sighing as you fished your keys from your back pocket. “But fine, whatever—I really don’t have time to argue.” Stepping out from behind the bar you threw Rooster the keys to the bar. It wasn’t yet open for patrons. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rooster shouted back as you raced out the door. Looking at your watch you had about an hour and a half to get Mickey and Bobs birthday cake before meeting Rooster and the rest of the TopGun gang back at Hard Deck. You’d planned everything perfectly, even reached out to Bob's family. His hometown friends, everyone who was important to him. “Drive safe!”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“So, are you and Bob a thing yet?” Mickey Garcia had been in your life since you were about five years old. His mother had been dating your father and as the years went on? He became your step brother. Officially. “I mean—if you’re planning the guy a whole ass birthday I think you should at least make a move don’t you think?” Mickey had been visiting your parents in Seattle on his annual leave, coming back just in time to make it for Bob's birthday.

“I’m pretty content just waiting in the shallow end.” You’d been hurt before. Pretty bad as a matter of fact. Driving back towards the Hard Deck with precious cargo in the back seat. Bob's birthday cake—the massive three layer sponge cake with fresh cream and white chocolate caramel. “We have time, I’m just trying not to get too involved, I mean—I think he might be interested. But I also just don’t wanna get my hopes up. And I’ve already told everyone to say it was you.”

“Me! I haven’t even been here!” Mickey laughed to himself in disbelief. “Bob is gonna know straight away that this was all you.” Mickey was probably right, but you weren’t about to put yourself out there like that. Not when you weren’t entirely sure where you stood. Sure, you’d really like to be exclusive? If that’s what you’d even call it. There’s been a handful of dates, a few moments where eye’s lingered and lips almost connected. But maybe Bob just wasn’t in it. Or maybe you were reading too much into it to begin with. “Besides, he’s different. I don’t think Bob would ever hurt you, not like—“

“Mickey—“ Cutting off your brother with a sigh, you shook your head softly as you drove down the road. “You don’t need to bring him up.” Your ex boyfriend had been that bad, that when you finally managed to get away all you took were the clothes on your back. Mickey was the whole reason you ended up in Miramar—when he’d found out that the daggers were staying as a specialist unit, he hooked you up with a job working for Penny. Keeping you close by surrounded by people who’d always protect you. He never expected you’d stay on your own accord. That accord being one Robert Floyd.

“All I’m saying is Bob is good people, he does like you, talks about you all the time to anyone who falls victim to it.” That made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t really felt this way about someone since high school. It felt childish—but in the best of ways. “Maybe just try to get him to yourself tonight?”

“Can’t, working behind the bar—“ It wasn’t uncommon for you to get side tracked talking to Bob as you cleaned tables and collected discarded glasses. Although you knew Bob wasn’t a drinker, he was one of the only few you’d ever bring a fresh glass to every so often. His order always the same every time. Lemonade with lots of ice, lime wedge on top.

“That has never stopped you before.” Mickey taunted as he looked down at his phone. “It’s beyond me how anyone actually gets a drink whenever you’re working and Bobs in the building.” You couldn’t help but to laugh with Mickey as you felt your cheeks heating at the embarrassment. The smitten kind of embarrassment. “You’re like a moth drawn to a flame—“

“I’ll drop you on the side of the road if yo—“ In an instant, what had been a simple drive back to the Hard Deck as the sun set, turned into a horrific scene of twisted aluminium and bloody bodies.

“WATCH OUT!!” It came out of nowhere, leaving you with little to no time to react more than slamming your foot down on the break. Only to be completely cleaned up by the car coming at you at what felt like the speed of goddamn light. The sound of tires screeching and glass shattering rang through your head as airbags did the best they could to stop your head from smacking violently against whatever part of your car you were thrown against as you rolled and rolled and rolled. Your car ended up at the bottom of the embankment just a five minute drive from the Hard Deck. If you looked close enough with your eyes squinted slightly, you could see it. The lights that had begun to glow a people that looked the size of ants swarmed in.

“Mickey?” You cried as you tried to move. Trapped. “Mickey you there?” There was no response as you listened closely for something, anything to give you a sign of life. Nothing. “Oh, oh god—“ Panic set in quickly as you felt yourself disappearing, the edge of darkness threatening to take you victim as your head spun and eyes rolled. Blood dripped from your mouth. The last thing you consciously remember thinking before coming to a complete stop was the cake sitting in the back seat. The car kept slipping down the embankment, slowly but surely creeping further and further away from the line of sight of oncoming cars. There’s no way it survived. Dizzy and feeling like you were hanging from the roof, you let the taste of iron consume you. Tired, you just needed to close your eyes for abit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had the slightest inkling that you had been up to something. He just wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. But as he came through the front doors of the Hard Deck and was taken aback by all the decorations, the balloons, the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. He knew in that moment you were behind this entire get together.

“SURPRISE!!!” Everyone in the entire bar cheered and shouted as Bob looked around at all his friends and family that had all come together to celebrate his birthday. It wasn’t something he did every year. Not one big on birthday celebrations. But as he looked around—his eyes scanning the entirety of the bar, looking amongst a sea of people? How could Bob not love his birthday even for a moment. You’d done this all for him he knew that the second he saw the specific way the streamers were twisted. But where on earth were you?

“Happy Birthday man, how’s it feeling huh? Another year older?” Hangman teased as he handed Bob a birthday hat. Something childish alright but it kept with the theme. Bob Accepted it with a smile and nodded in response as he tried to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Feels good—yeah, hey have you seen Clov?”

“Is she not behind the bar?” Jake responded with a questioning brow. If you weren’t here where the fuck were you? “Ah well, she can’t be too far away right?”

“No, yeah no I guess you’re probably right.” Bob tried to shake the almost gut wrenching feeling he had. Checking his phone to see if you’d messaged him, if he’d missed a call. The last text you sent being the one you sent him on his lunch break—reminding him to arrive on time. Sending you a quick message asking where you were before joining in on the festivities the best he could.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was the smell of gasoline and burning rubber that broke Mickey Garcia out of his unconscious state. His first instinct was to unclip his seatbelt which had him hurtling towards the roof of the car that had somehow become the floor. With a groan, he crawled out of the broken passenger side window—army crawling his way along the dirt and grass that shattered glass had covered without a rhyme or reason.

Laying on his back, Mickey closed his eyes as dry blood covered his face. A deep gash still dripped fresh blood down the left side of his cheek. He could feel it dripping.

“Fuck—“ His torso hurt from where the seatbelt had locked up against him. Probably the only thing besides the airbags that saved his life. “What the hell—?” It shouldn’t have come as an afterthought but it did. “Oh fuck, hey—Clover!” Scrambling to his feet, stumbling as he held his hand to his torso, Mickey crouched down near your window. “Clover can you hear me?” It wasn’t your name, Clover. More so of a designated call sign the resident Aviators you surround yourself with had given you. You’d brought the cocktail with you when you started at the Hard Deck. Asked Penny if you could redo the cocktail menu. A Clover Club had quickly become the special. The mix of raspberry, gin and egg whites winning over the crew who seemed to take you under their wing. “Clover, hey—!” It looked like the scene from Carrie, the one where blood was just dumped over her entire being. Your seatbelt doing God’s work holding you into your chair upside down. Unconscious.

“Help!” Mickey could smell the gasoline leaking from somewhere close to him, so close and so strong it burnt the hair in his nose. “Help me–!” A voice so panicked sent shivers down Mickey's spine as he turned to see the other car. The one who had hit you, the one that had come out of absolute nowhere at a million miles and hour. “Please–” Checking your pulse carefully and as gently as he could, Mickey left you for much longer than he liked as he raced across to the other car, the man trying to claw his way out of the driver's side window. glass cut and dug into his skin as he fell to the ground. Bloodied, broken and bruised.

“You alright?”

“Does it fucking look like i’m alright! You guys hit me!?” Mickey couldn't believe what he was hearing, he did his best to assess the man as he kneeled beside him. “What the hell even happened.” Without question, Mickey knew the man was drunk. He could smell it just as prominently as he could smell the leaking gasoline.

“Okay, we need to get some help out here.” Looking around Mickey could see the Dard Deck just off in the distance. He could run it if he really needed to. Where was his phone? Patting himself down he realised it must have gone flying in the wreck somewhere. “Do you have a phone sir?”

“I did, somewhere, I was arguing with my wife.” Fucking perfect. A double whammy if there ever was one. Drunk and using his mobile. With a throbbing head and a weak constitution for blood, Mickey stood to his feet, making his way back to you. Just in time too, you were coming back to him. Squeezing your hand to gain your attention, Mickey crawled slightly into the car. Assessing if he should hit your seatbelt buckle or not.

“Mickey?” It came out so soft. Barley even audible as you came to. “What–what's going on?” Trying his best to keep you as calm as possible, Mickey sent you a soft smile. Looking up at you as you looked down at him. Blood dripping everywhere.

“Just had a bit of an accident–” Mickey squeezed your hand as he shimmied further into the car along broken glass. “But I feel like we should try and get you out of here, I'm not a big fan of the smell coming from the engine Clov.”

“Oh god, Bob–” It actually pained him to hear you say it. “It’s his birthday, the cake.”

“They’ll be other cakes Clover, but not another you alright?” Trying to keep his voice as calm as he could, Mickey's heart sunk into his chest. Your legs had been jammed up under the steering wheel column. Jagged edges of plastic from your dash stuck into your thighs, ripping them apart like no tomorrow. So deep he wore he saw bone. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” Coughing slightly, blood bubbled up forcing you to cough a little more aggressively. “Im so sorry Mic–”

“Not your fault at all.” Mickey was trying his best to keep himself together as he tried to look for his phone, to no avail. “But I do have to go get help so I can get you outta here.” It was almost as if you’d just woken up and realised what was actually going on. Because the minute you felt Mickey slightly pull his hand away from out of your grasp, you panicked. Tears fell with the gravity of being trapped upside down.

“No no no, don't leave me.” Begging as you cried, trying to unbuckle your seatbelt. It had become jammed from the impact. “Mickey don't you leave me here to die, please–please don't leave me.”

“Clov I can’t not get help.” Mickey tried his best to convince you, but you weren't having a bar of it. Clawing at your seatbelt trying to set yourself free as your steering wheel column dug deeper and deeper into your thighs. “Clover stop!” Mickey tried his best to still you, your hair caked with blood as he held you still. He assumed that there was so much adrenaline pumping through your veins that you couldn’t feel the damage being done to your legs. Either that or shock. “You’re stuck, please don’t make it worse by moving—“

“Get me out Mick—“ It was the worst kind of plea for help because Mickey Garcia was in over his head. He didn’t know what to do. On one hand he could find a way, but the damage he could do in the process might outweigh the cost of setting you free. On the other hand? He leaves you here to get help, what if you weren’t to make it? How could he ever live with himself? “I’m serious, get me out!” Screaming at the top of your lungs as you tried with all your might to free yourself.

“Hey shh, shh—listen?” Mickey looked around the roof of the car which had become the floor, your phone lit up across the other side. With his emotions running wild as he tried to reach it Mickey groaned. It was Rooster trying to get a hold of you. “Shit, I can’t get to it.” Just as Mickey was reaching for your phone it stopped ringing out—a loud overpowering explosion consuming you both entirely. Sending the car rolling over a little more down the embankment. Mickey had smacked his head as the car rolled, rendering him unconscious as you laid pressed against the steering wheel still trapped.

“Mickey?” It hurt to breathe. “Mickey!?” It hurt to speak. “MICKEY!” You didn’t know what had happened—what had caused the car to shift again. To roll over. Whatever blood had rushed to your head while you had been upside down was now pumping back through the rest of your body.

And fuck did it hurt.

Rooster stood on the front porch of the Hard Deck biting his cuticle as he listened to your voicemail for the third time. Where the hell were you? You should have been back by now? By a while.

“Dude? Where’s Clover? I thought she was the one who set this whole thing up?” Jake questioned as he came to stand with Rooster, picking up on the decorated pilot's worry.

“Should’ve been back by now.” As Rooster clicked on your contact once again—Jake jumped slightly beside him at the explosive fireball that shot up in the near distance. Just down the road.

“Holy shit what the hell was that?”

“Whatever it was, it can’t be good—“ Watching as the fire ball dissipated and thick black smoke followed in its tracks, Jake and Bradley were both too scared to admit to one another that they both had the same gut wrenching feeling. What if it had something to do with you? “We should check it out—“

“Yeah no doubt.” Before the two men could get very far down the front steps of the Hard Deck, Bob was coming after them.

“Oh my god, what happened over there?”

“We’re gonna go check it out man.” Rooster explained. “Stay here, enjoy the festivities! It’s your birthday.” Bob didn’t want to admit it, but without you there to taunt and tease? He wasn’t having all that good of a time. “Sure it’s nothing.”

“Well if you’re sure it’s nothing we’ll be quick and be back before anyone even notices, right?” Bob stood his ground. Hesitant to drop the subject because what Rooster didn’t know, what Jake didn’t know, what Bob didn’t know—was that they were all thinking the same thing. But no one wanted to say it out of pure fear. “So what are we doing still standing here?”

“He’s right, let’s just check it out and get back before everyone throws a tantrum—“ Jake had become a little less jerky and a whole lot more tolerable since the success of the uranium mission. But he still had his moments.

The road was pretty much a straight shot to where the explosion had been. The three aviators all jogged somewhat seriously towards the fire. The smell of gasoline and what could only be described as a mix of burning rubber, aluminium and human flesh completely consuming them the closer they got.

“Oh shit–” Jake saw it first. The familiar silver of your Toyota Corolla caught his attention as it sat crumbled up in the embankment next to what he could only imagine had been another car. Completely engulfed by flames. “Fuck–” Pausing in his tracks as he gripped Bob by the forearms. Pulling him back as his eyes widened. Realising it was your car. His heart immediately racing in his chest. “Don't do it to yourself man, go back to the Hard De–” Ripping his arm out of Jake's grip, Bob raced down the embankment, sliding down on his arse to avoid the steep incline and force of gravity. “Call an ambulance man–” Jake's voice was soft as he gestured to Rooster who stood completely gobsmacked by the sight before him. There was no fucking way anyone would walk away from this?

“Clover!!” Bob shouted as he stood to his feet. “Clov? Are you there?” In retrospect, yes it was a stupid question to ask. But Bob didn't know what else to ask. “Clov!” When he finally laid his eyes on you Bob held back his imident automatic response to throw up the entire content of his stomach. “Oh my god–” With a hand over his mouth to sooth the urge, Bob tried his best to open the door. Pulling at the handle to absolutely no avail.

“Won't work–” With your head resting against the steering wheel, you mumbled softly with your eyes closed. Conserving whatever energy you had left. Whatever light. “Bob–”

“Hey pretty girl.” Bob’s bottom lip quivered as he pulled himself through the broken window. Being careful enough to avoid the shards that threatened to slice his torso. “What happened, hey? Do you remember?” All he got as a response was a soft moan, anguish evident. “Can you open your eyes for me?” Bob was careful as he moved your blood stained hair from your face. Dried and stuck in the cuts and gashes that covered your cheeks, your forehead. Watching as your eyelids fluttered open and blood dripped from your slightly open mouth. “There she is, hi Clov.”

“Hi–” It was all you could muster up the strength to say. Small almost inaudible responses. “Mickey?” Bob wasn't thinking straight, he hadnt even thought that Mickey would be with you. He hadn't noticed Mickey sprawled in the back after being thrown around when the car rolled again.It was supposed to be a surprise. Pulling himself out of the window to turn back to Jake who had managed to find a way in, retrieving Mickey from the back before placing him on the ground.

“He’s got a good pulse, I don't know shit else Bob, they aren't in a good position–can you get Clover out?” Statement, question, statement, question. That's all Bob heard. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't see, couldn't hear. This was the woman of his dreams he was dealing with. He’d been too afraid to make a solid move on. “Bob!”

“Sorry, Sorry–ill uh, i'll try.” Shaking himself out of his own head Bob turned back to where you sat trapped in the driver's seat. Assessing the situation. “Clov, I'm gonna try to unclip your seatbelt, yeah?” You’d gone back to just responding with groans, eyes closed. “Open your eyes for me.” Bob reminded you as he reached in and around to unclip the belt that had come loose in the last roll. Shifting you slightly forwards when it unsnapped. Your eyes open just barley.

“I got you–got you a cake.” Okay. Maybe Bob could work with this. Keeping you occupied with absent minded conversation while he stayed with you till the ambulance arrived.

“You did? What flavour was it?” Bob's heart dropped out of his arse when he saw the damage that had been done to your legs. Specifically your thighs, completely cut into and torn off the goddamn bone from your sternwheel column. Completing trapping you regardless if he was able to get the door off its hinges. “Clover, what flavour was the cake?” He wasn't giving up, but Bob quickly realised the best thing he could do would be to just say with you, keep you talking.

“White Chocolate Caramel.” There was not a part of you that wasn't covered in blood. Bob knew the human body held a lot, but he’d never seen it leaking from so many places before.

“Well, I'm sure it would have been perfect.” searching for your hand, Bob gripped it as tight as he could. “I'm here okay, I'm not going anywhere, helps coming Clov.” This had to be the sickest joke the universe had ever pulled on Robert Floyd. He had a plan, you see. Bob was pretty sure that tonight would be the night he finally worked up enough courage to ask you if you wanted to date. Start off slow, go with the flow. Enjoy each other's company more exclusively. He wasn't sure if he’d ever get the chance to now.

“Guys, I'm pretty sure there's a dead guy burning over near the other car–” Rooster shouted as he raced down the embankment. “Ambulance is like five minutes away.” Bob didn't reply, he was too caught up with you. His eyes weren’t leaving yours as you just sat there, resting against your steering wheel. Face squished.

“Bob?” It was a sob. Clear as day. Bob noticed the tears welling in your eyes as they fell down your cheek. Mixing with the dried blood that caked your skin.

“Yeah Clov, I'm here.” Squeezing your hand as you gave him nothing back. Your fingers just twitching ever so slightly.

“I really like you, like a lot.” You didn't feel good at all, something was very wrong and you didn't want Bob to go about his life wondering if you did or didn't like him. Despite your insecurities? Bob had been a good friend. Always. You just needed him to know that there was more than friendship on your part. Just in case. “Just need you to know–” Coughing up blood as you really struggled to keep your eyes open and tried on Bob. “Just in case–”

“You aren't dying on me.” Bob was stern when you leaned further into the car. His face just inches away from yours. “You don't get to die on me, God if you die on me Clov i'll be–”

“Angry?” Of course he’d be angry, you ruined his birthday.

“Completely and utterly heartbroken.” Bob finished his sentence before you could let your mind run wild with the thought of Bob being angry at you. “I couldn't never be angry at you.” It was the Silence that fell as your face changed. Stilling as muscles relaxed and your breathing shallow even more than what it already was. “Clover? Hey– Clov you stay with me alright?” Bob panicked as he pushed your hair back out of your face. Your hand fell limp in his as you smiled softly at him just one more time. Your vision blurred and became dark and dazed. Sirens alerted Bob to the fact that emergency services were just getting to you now. They began racing down the embankment with gear they needed.

“What I would give to know what it would be like to be loved by you.” It was the last thing you said before darkness came for you, going completely limp as a steady stream of blood poured from your mouth. Eyes still open as your entire body weight collapsed onto the steering wheel. Bob couldn't believe it. No–he wouldnt let you just fucking die on him.

“Clover!!! Hey, no no no no don't you do this to me! Don't you do this, c’mon, you're alright.” Complete denial had set in as he tapped your cheek trying to get you to wake up. “No baby don't do this, please don't leave me–”

“Sir, step aside!” The paramedics on sight were quick to push Bob to the side. The feeling of his hand slipping out of yours Bob swore he’d never forget. “She's not breathing! Let's get her out of here quickly!” Bob stumbled back as he felt his heart racing, tears streamed down his face until his back crashed against Rooster. Finally breaking as he fell to his knees. Listening to the paramedics as they worked on you. “Where's the defib?” “I can't get a pulse!” “Pass me the saw now!!!”

“Bob?” It was Mickey's voice that pulled Bob out of his own head. Watching as paramedics placed him on a stretch with his neck in a brace just for good measure. “She loves you, you know.” Your blood was all over his hands, his shirt, his jeans. Bob couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think of anything else but how he’d never get a chance to love you as fiercely as you deserved to be loved.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

As you cleared the empty glasses from the top of the tables, you caught the sight of Bob in your peripheral. Sitting off to the side while the rest of the aviators he’d accompanied to the Hard Deck played a game of pool. Respectfully—it wasn’t Bob's thing. The pool table and booze weren’t what he came to the Hard Deck for. It was and always would be to see you.

“You want another drink Lieutenant?” Still working to clear the table before turning to face Bob with a smirk. “I can make you a mean mocktail.”

“You know I hate asking—“ Bob looked down at the empty glass of lemonade that he held in his lap.

“It’s not asking if I’m offering.” Taking the glass from Bob's hand, you stayed comfortably between his legs as his hand moved to glide against the side of your thigh, fingers playing with the hem of your waitressing apron. “One Clover Club mocktail coming right up.” It all seemed to give you a case of Déjà vu. You’d done this before.

Too many times to count.

“What about the cake?” Bob questioned as his eyes lingered down towards your thigh. Confused, you tilted his chin up with your fingers.

“What cake?” Huh, this was new. This wasn’t what you were expecting Bob to say.

“My birthday cake—“ Reaching out to cup your cheek, Bob left a bloody handprint against your cheek. “You ruined it.”

“What are you talking about?” Storm clouds were quick to take over the sunny sky that had been blistering outside the Hard Deck. Glass shattered around you as three branches smashed into the bar. “Bob! What’s going on!?” Falling to the ground on top of you—Bob protected you from the wild weather and broken glass. Bob used his body as a shield.

“Quickly, follow me!” Rising to his feet Bob took off running. Trying your best to follow him, you stumbled back to the ground. Your legs were numb. You thighs were cut up and bleeding, so badly you could see bone. Flesh torn apart. “Clover! Over here!!”

“I can’t walk!” Panicking you felt your chest tightening as the storm outside got worse. Where had everyone else gone? “Bob! Help me!” The entire Hard Deck looked as if it had been caught in the eye of a hurricane.

“I’m over here!!” His figure has gone, vanished into thin air. “I’m here Clover!” Where the fuck was he? Why did he leave you?

“How do I get to you! I can’t walk, I can’t see you!?”

“Just wake up.” Bob's voice had softened, like he was whispering right in your ear. “Please come back to me—“ Scrunching your eyes tight as you balled yourself into a foetal position a steady beeping came through the thunder. The beeping drawing you back to reality because when you opened your eyes again you were no longer at the Hard Deck. You were in what you could only assume was a hospital bed.

Cold. That’s how you would describe hospitals in one word. They were always so cold. The steady beeping of your heart rate monitor was the only sound you could concentrate on as you slowly but surely looked around. Your arm was casted. Had you broken it? Trying to shift yourself up the bed slightly you noticed how unbelievably heavy your legs were—or lack thereof. Wait—why couldn’t you feel your legs?

“I uh, I just stepped out for a coffee. Didn't expect to see you awake for a while.” Bob’s voice was soft as he stopped himself at the threshold of your room. Holding a large coffee in his hand and a fresh bunch of flowers he’d gotten to replace the practically dead ones that were in the vase across the room. Timidity, he entered. Not sure how to act even though he’d been by your side since you were moved into a room by yourself. “Not saying that you being awake is a bad thing, I just um–the doctors told me not to get my hopes up.” You didn’t say anything in response as you watched Bob fixed the flowers he'd brought you into the vase, discarding the old ones before he came to sit beside you. He looked tired. Scruff has settled in nicely across his chin and cheeks.

“It's that bad huh.” You cut right to the chase. Not wanting to beat around the bush too long with it. Bob just took a sip of his coffee as he tried to hold back tears. He’d gotten pretty good at it over the last week or two. He’d just swallow a bunch of times and clench his jaw to stop himself from breaking down over a girl who wasn't even his to break down over. “Bob?”

“I should go get your parents.” As Bob tried to leave, you reached out for his wrist, keeping him from moving away. He hated the little oxygen tube that fed up into your nose. He wanted to rip it right from your face. But he knew better than to do that. It just hurt to know you’d been through so much. That he couldn't do more to help. “Clov–”

“You won't sugar coat it, please?” You knew if your parents had a chance to explain what was wrong with you, they would give you all the odds and tell you to fight and keep strong. But Bob? He was a statistics guy. A realist. He knew exactly how bad things were. You could see it in his eyes. “I wanna hear it from you.” Running his hand down his face as he placed his coffee on the table beside you. Bob reached for your papers. Sitting back down in the chair beside you as his free hand squeezed yours. The pad of his thumb rubbing softly against the skin of your palm.

“Um–so–” Bob didn't really know where to start. Clearing his throat as he looked back to the woman he loved so dearly. “So you had an accident, a pretty serious one.” Explaining what had happened the best he could with the information he had. “I think a good place to start is that Mickey is already discharged, he’s good, a couple of broken ribs and bruises here and there but otherwise he walked away pretty unscathed.” That in and of itself had been a miracle. It was good to hear though. “A little bit of a concussion but that was to be expected.”

“Why can't I feel my legs?” You really just wanted to get to the worst part of all of it. Bob was reluctant to explain but he knew you would appreciate him just cutting the cord. “Rip the bandaid off Flyboy–” It was something you called him just to tase him. Flyboy. Even as you laid practically on your deathbed, you still had a massive thing for Robert Floyd.

“You broke your back in two places Clov, doctors said you had a pretty high risk of losing function possibly from the waist down.” Bob's entire demeanour changed as he lost the smirk that crept across his face at the pet name you called him. Settling for something more serious as he held your hand and explained what was going on. “They tried to operate, you know, clear the bone fragments that had shattered and tidy everything up. Relieve the pressure on your spinal cord.” Bob paused a he look a deep breath in. he’d had more time to come to terms with this but he still hadnt fully processed it. “The surgery offered slightly better odds on the paralysis front but you were in critical condition–the surgery came with real risk.”

“The risk being, I'll never walk again?” It cut through Bob's heart like a hot knife into butter.

“The doctors seem to think there's a slight chance, but if we’re looking at it from an odds perspective here Clover it's like one in one hundred.” But he told you the truth like you asked him to. Didn't sugar coat the situation at all. He told you openly what you were facing. “There's options like rehabilitation, but the chances of ever walking without aid again are pretty slim to none.” the silence lingered as you processed what Bob had just told you. Frowning, you simply tried to change the subject.

“Did you ever get another birthday cake?” Bob looked at you like you were on some sort of medication he wasn't aware of. “I think if anything you need a cake.” Pushing the hospital blanket off your legs you tried to sit up. But couldn’t on your own accord. “Bob, help me up would you?”

“Y/n” Bob hardly ever used your name. Noone really did these days. It always always callsigns and nicknames. So when Bob said your name it struck a nerve that someone was severely wrong. “I'm not gonna do that alright, just–let me get the doctors for you and ill–”

“I'm fine, see–?” Pushing yourself up with your good arm. A jolt of pain flashed up your spine. Gritting your teeth you tried to act cool. “See, now help me off this goddamn bed.” Trying your best to throw your dead legs over the side of the bed, Bob had to reach out and physically stop you. Forcing you to stop what you were doing. “I'm fine! I'm totally fine!”

“Clover your paralysed, please–don't make it worse just, please, i'll go get the doctors.”

“I dont need some fucking doctor! I need to get out of this fucking bed!” A nurse walking past had heard the commotion coming from your room, stopping in the doorway to see Bob struggling to keep you still in your bed. Paging for someone to come check on you before the situation spiralled out of control. “Bob if you aren’t going to help me get the fuck out!” Not knowing what to do, Bob ignored your pleas for him to leave, how could he do that when you were so clearly not alright. “Get out!! GET OUT!”

“I'm not gonna leave you here alone Clov” Bob tried to hold you still as he saw the doctors coming in. “It's just a lot right now–”

“Fuck. Off. Floyd.” At this point you didn't really know what you were saying as Bob stepped back and let the doctors who knew what they were doing take over. “Get out of here!” It was hard not to take things as personally as he did. Bob knew it was just the process of grief taking effect. It hits everyone differently. You didn't mean what you were saying, but the fact you had just been told you probably would ever walk again had your emotions everywhere. You needed someone to blame, someone to hate. Bob had just been the closet victim.

Watching as the doctors and nurses sedated you for your own benefit, Bob let his emotions escape as tears streamed down his cheeks. Standing over near the flowers he’d brought you. Settling you back into the bed, one of the nurses turned to Bob, offering him a few tissues.

“You shouldn't leave, she clearly needs someone–it’s most likely just the cocktail of drugs we’re pumping her with.”

“Oh I wasn't going to.” Bob was quick to clarify. “Just hard seeing her like this.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had waited until your parents had arrived before he left your side. Since you’d asked him to leave he hadn’t been back. Well, as far as you were aware anyway. He’d slip in to check on you while you were sleeping, but he was too afraid to overstep a line you’d drawn in the invisible sand of your relationship. As days turned into a week, you’d begun to worry irreversible damage had been done to your relationship.

But something Bob couldn’t let go of was the fact he’d watched you die. He’d watched your light fade into nothingness. He’d watched the girl he’d pinned over for months with your intoxicating laugh and bright smile fade to nothing. He’d been given a chance to love you—he wasn’t letting that go.

He saw you out of bed, sitting by the window in the wheelchair the hospital had provided. Knocking gently, you didn’t turn around. For a split second—Bob was going to turn on his heels and dip. But he stood his ground. Clearing his throat as he entered your room.

“You know, I never did get to eat that birthday cake.” Bob started as he came to stand beside you. Noticing the glazed over look in your eyes as you looked longingly out the window. “So I thought, why not share one with my best girl.” A little bit of Bob's southern hospitality jumped out when he sat the small two person cake on your lap. Holding up two silver spoons as he ducked to kiss the top of your head. Chuckling softly, you shook yourself out of your daze. Watching as Bob sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you last week.” It was a heartfelt apology you knew Bob deserved.

“It’s not an issue, really.” Bob was quick on the draw as he shook his head. You didn't need to apologise for grieving.

“Why’d you stay away for so long then?” Silence fell for a moment before Bob decided to just be truthful, be honest.

“I just wanted to give you time, some space.” It was the truth. “I still came by and sat with you while you slept. Checked in with the nurses, your parents, Mickey.” Opening the plastic lid on the cake before he dug his spoon in as he spoke candidly. “You’ve kinda got me in a spiral here Clov and I dunno what to do.” It was Bob's first admission. Taking a spoonful of cake into his mouth as he sat back in his chair. Mimicking his actions you did the same, taking a spoonful of cake onto your spoon. “I'm pretty sure I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, but that could also be the whole I saw you die thing still making it hard to sleep.”

“What did you just say?” Coughing on the cake you just swallowed in a lump.

“The whole I saw you die thing making it hard to sleep?” Bob repeated as he frowned his brows. “I mean yeah, i just can't get the image out of my head, and then there's the blood–”

“No Bob, I wasn't talking about that–'' It wasn't that you didn't care about what Bob was going through, seeing someone die in front of you would be hard on anyone's mental stability. “What do you mean you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?” It felt so natural to say that Bob hadnt even realised how much that could weigh on a person. “Robert Floyd, you know I'm in a wheelchair right? For possibly the rest of my life– you can't do that.”

“Why not?” He was being so casual about it that for a moment you thought you were going crazy. “What law says that?”

“There's no law it just seems–” You paused as you hung your head low. Almost shamefully. “Unfair.” That really hit Bob. “I feel like you'd be more of a carer then a partner and I don't want you being stuck with a girlfriend who can't walk. Do you know how many things I'd be cheating you out of?” It really did sound like you were trying to talk Bob out of whatever decision he’d made about you. “Not to mention the process of–”

“You don't get to think of yourself as any less deserving because of this.” Bob was quick to interrupt as he brought you a little closer to him by your wheelchair. “You are the best person i know–”

“Bob please–”

“You're so funny, you light up any room you walk into.” Bob smirked as he saw your eyes get a little bigger, a smirk trying its best to take over the muscles in your face. “Do you know how many Clover Clubs i've drunk just so i had a chance to talk to you?”

“What do you mean?” You could not believe what you were hearing as you tried to hide your smile, biting your bottom lip softly as Bob softly rocked your wheels back and forth as he admitted his feelings, his little smooth criminal moves.

“I hate eggs, God the idea of drinking raw egg whites makes me want to vomit, but goddammit the way you would always ask, so nicely, so sincerely, how could I say no!” It was the laugh you let out that had Bob beaming. He hadnt heard you laugh in so long. “Even if it was non-alcoholic id still rather drink anything else than raw egg whites.”

“You should have told me!” Between genuine chuckles that evoked tears of joy, your smile had come back. Bob was certain at that moment he was going to marry you one day. “I would've just made you something else, or better yet brought you over something you actually wanted.”

“Now where's the fun in that?” Bob beamed as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. Holding you against him for a moment before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “Honestly, if you want to, we’ll take it slow and just see how things go? But this?” Bob gestures to the wheelchair you sat on. “Does not change how I feel about you. If anything it's made me realise just how fleeting time really is and all I wanna do with the time I've got left on this god forsaken earth is love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“You're gonna end up resenting me.” It was hard to trust that someone could love you with how broken you really were. “For all the things i'll never be able to do.”

“I could never resent you.” Bob was as honest as he could be. “Never could I ever resent you for just being you Clov.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Present day

Bob hated his birthday, a little part of him died that day. He would never take life for granted again. He cherished small moments with the people around him more than most people would ever know. Not only would he take mental pictures of life's greatest pleasures, he’d taken up photography in order to make sure he could always look back on the memories he’d made with the ones he loved. If Robert Floyd was around? You’d best be sure there was a camera not far behind.

Yawning as he made his way down the hall, Bob kicked away balloons that had littered the floor of the hallway. He knew you weren't far away.

“Babe, what is all this?” Rounding the corner of the living and kitchen area, Bob froze in his tracks as he locked eyes on you. “What the hell!” Completely stunned.

“Happy Birthday Baby!” You beamed as bright as the biggest star as you stood just slightly away from the kitchen counter. Standing still on legs that had not held your full weight on their own in three whole years. Your cane close by, Bob could see it sticking out from behind the island bench. But that didn't matter. Because as you took three very wobbly steps towards him unassisted? Bob couldn't have asked for anything else besides your happiness. “Been working towards this since you told me I was still worth your love.”

“You will never stop amazing me, pretty girl.” Bob was quick to catch you in his arms as you lost your balance, crashing into him. His lips on your in an instant as he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were his one in one hundred chance. The love of his life. “I love you so much.”

Robert Floyd hated his birthday. His birthday brought around memories of the women he lost. Forever trapped in that smashed up car. But he’d never for a moment forget how to love the women who he had the chance to love as fiercely and as passionately as he did. He knew a part of you died that day, but he was just thankful to be able to spend his days with the best parts of you that were left.

“I love you so much more, Flyboy.”

#robert floyd x reader #mickey garcia x reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert bob floyd #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fanfiction #mickey garcia fanfiction #top gun bob

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kazutora-lover · 1 year

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Title: Between Thunder And Balls

Itoshi Rin x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, humor, friends to .. yes.

Summary: a disastrous football game with your friends had you with one foot in hell or — how Itoshi Rin let you know that he too, can have a soft spot. Small as a molecule, but it's there.

Warnings: dumb humor combined with mid writing, beautiful characters may cause aftershock, loss of brain cells — performed by professionals, do not try at home

Notes: hey, it's my first ever Blue Lock fic! I really tried my best and hope you guys will like it. It's based off one of the polls I made. Also, I apologize in advance for accidentally ooc-ing the characters 🥹

"Oi Bachira, pass the ball."

A crazed look and an, "Alright," later was all it took for you to hear the sound of loud cheering. Isagi had striked yet another goal in combination with Bachira's pass.

No, this wasn't a serious game against a strong opponent. No, this wasn't a practice game either. It was a simple 'just-for-fun' game with their good old friend, you.

You, who was currently sat at the edge of the football field, watching quietly upon their wish for you to play with them. You had promised them to join in and kick the oversized egg a little bit after looking at their tactics.

You knew. Deep down you knew how exhausting things were going to be because at the end of the day, an out of the ordinary 'just-for-fun' game won't stay that simple. These men turned into monsters on the field, no matter your presence or not.

Isagi's words of affirmation still rang in your head like a mantra. "We will go easy on you. Trust us," Followed by that golden smile of his and an, "You can't possibly do any harm y/n, come on it'll be fun."

Hmmn, sure. They might go easy on you but they won't go easy on the person to suffer the consequences of future occurrences. And you? You won't be able to feel anything at all after facing the wrath of said unlucky person. At least that's what your ever living imagination tries to tell you.

I mean after all, we're talking about a man with centipedes as eyelashes. Dangerous breed. Do not touch. Definitely bites.

But enough of that, let's get to the point where the fiasco began to take place, shall we?

After everyone took a sip of their drinks, Chigiri, who was also there, jogged over to where you sat to lend you his hand to pull you up from the ground. Gosh, how much you wanted to go home. Why did you agree again? Probably to feed their ego a little further.

It didn't take long for Chigiri to notice that you were anything but ready to join their little escapade. But if he opted to say something, he stopped himself shortly before speaking. Instead, he patted your shoulder a few times in assurance before he ran off again.

Bachira wore a smile so huge, you were sure it made the sun shine just a little brighter. Contrary to the good weather on your side of the field, you were sure it was close to a thunderstorm on the other half. Rin's frown sat so deep, you swore thunder could strike you alive if only you dared to get closer. Dark rainy clouds ready to let hell rain upon you and your 'team'.

A bummer, really.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled you out of your torturous thoughts, "You know the most important rules, do you?"

Ah, it was Isagi. The lord and savior.

You shot him a smal yet nervous smile, "Yes.... I think?"

An exchange of reassuring smiles and a chuckle from Isagi settled the start of the game.

Things have been going well so far, the boys spared you for the first few minutes and passed the ball among themselves, giving you the opportunity to warm up to their tempo.

Bachira scored once, Nagi scored the second one and suddenly the ball was in your possession. Everything was at your mercy, the boys on the other side of the field looked ready to turn you into a ball of their own and your mind? Went blank.

Rin, who had long stopped paying attention due to his explanation, "Letting a beginner play football is lukewarm, I don't see the point," completely missed the object flying at a crazy speed. Oh what were the odds.

And then it happened. Lightening stroke, the sound of thunder followed and you were sure the gates to hell opened with the vip lounge all empty just for you. A glass of soda with the name, "I'm a star," waiting for you to devour.

The devious laughter and occasional outbursts of, "The best shot I've ever seen," and "Y/n, didn't know you had it in you," followed by, "Welcome to your team, Messi," around you became louder the second the ball fell from the back of Rin's head to the cold, hard ground with a defeating thud. Oh really, what were the odds.

The man of the hour himself spared you of any reaction, or so you thought but what did a smart person once say? Sometimes second thoughts are better than no thoughts because the next second you swore, your breath didn't only hitch, no. It got snatched. Scratch that, he had your lungs dancing on his fingertips.

The glare he shot you, as his head turned around ever so slowly, the way his gaze met yours and you felt like being trapped in a snowstorm in the midst of summer, was something you would've never dreamt of receiving.

You, who just wanted to go home.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you turned to search for the help of any of your 'comrades' with flailing arms but they weren't of any help at all. Most of them didn't even try to stifle their giggles and you knew, you were busted. You had a feeling Rin already strongly disliked you beforehand but now you were sure you were the first on his 'elimination' list.

It didn't help that you heard slow but steady footsteps coming your way. And damn, how long has he been walking without you noticing? His figure became clearer the more steps he took and the only thing you could do was smile at him, give him the brightest smile you could muster.

De nial is a river in Egypt and you were taking a swim in it. You didn't aim at his head, the ball didn't even touch him in the slightest. His head is fully functioning and you're sure you haven't just unintentionally stolen thousands of brain cells of his. What's a brain to begin with?

Teal eyes looked down on your form as the person they belonged to came to a stop in front of your slightly trembling body. Your time has come, you're ready to descend to the flaming pits of hell. But the change of temperature never came?

Rin's hand must've moved on instinct but it didn't matter, not right now. That very same hand of his found place on your head, patting it once, twice and then letting it fall. A ghost of a touch still lingering after.

His frown didn't falter one bit and you were sure the thunderstorm didn't stop thundering either but in that moment you learnt that, around you, he had space for a small ray of sunshine. A ray so small, it disappeared as soon as it arrived as he made his way around you in threatening speed. Already charging at the others for laughing at him so shamelessly.

Maybe, it wasn't all too bad to stay for a little game. As for the others, they should've kept their mouths shut.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #chigiri hyoma #nagi seishiro #dividers can be found @/benkeibear #kazutora-lover

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user2772636 · 10 days

Text

Puppy Love

A pissed golden boy

《♡》《♡》《♡》

When the school's golden boy finds a list about a few girls in his class (which include you), all hell breaks loose. You decide you think he looks adorable mad.

》》》

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: screaming match, boys being boys, swearing, loads amount of fluff

Modern-ish!AU (They're still in highschool tho)

》》》

A list. That's where it all started. One list. And your name. It started there, too.

You might be wondering what started. Here's how it goes.

The year was 2001. Voltaire High was filled with students roaming around the corridors talking about their day, the exams coming up, summer, and more. You were one of the students. Your friends were, too.

"Ugh, I can't wait for summer to start. I need to get out of this sweat polluted hell hole called school." Simone gags as you all walk past some boys who just got out of gym class. You and Michèle laugh.

"I can't wait for summer to start because-"

"Your boyfriend is finally all yours." You and Simone finish Michèle's sentence in a mocking tone, burting out after a few seconds. You see Michèle roll her eyes with a smile.

"Well, atleast I have a boyfriend for this summer. What do you guys have?" She shrugs, and Simone is quick to butt in.

"Well, I, for one, have your brother." Michèle shoves Simone away, scoffing in surprise.

"Be glad I was calm about it. I was ready to smash your heads together when I found out." They tease and laugh around. They both turn to look at you.

"That leaves you, Y/N." A smile starts forming on their faces again. "Any luck with the golden boy?"

Joseph Descamps. Also known as Voltaire High's "Golden Boy". He was tall, athletic, smart, basically perfect, hence the nickname.

Joseph walks down the stairwell with his friends, laughing like dogs, so loud the whole school could hear. But who cares?

He was on his way to the courtyard when he overhears something. Paper crumpling and getting passed around. Whispers and such. He pays no mind to it, thinking they were just talking about the tests.

It was break time, so they did whatever after.

》》》

You lean against your hand in class, trying not to fall asleep right then and there. It was so boring you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer.

Joseph was glancing towards you, chuckling at how adorable you were dropping your head and catching it in a loop. He licks his lips, trying to bring his focus back on the discussion, but his eyes keep lingering towards you again and again.

Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper flies in the air. It lands right on his desk, and he immediately gets it in his hands. Some of his classmates roam around him as he unfolds it, revealing ink scribbled down.

On top, it read "VOLTAIR HIGH BEAUTIES RANKED." There were ten rankings. He read through them. In first place was Annick, their classmate who currently wasn't in this class. The next few were some of the girls from other grades. But on ninth is what shocked him.

Your name was written. There was a sidenote that said, "already targeted; stay away or try." What does that even mean? Do you have a boyfriend he doesn't know about?

His thoughts begun to roam, and then the bell rings. Students rush out the door, but he's quicker. He rushes to the stairwell, hanging off before screaming.

"Hey!" The people walking stop, looking up at him. He begins to get nervous, voice shivering, but he tries to toughen up. He notices your eyes on him, and he thinks maybe he can't do this. But he does.

"Why the fuck is there a list of the girls from here? Are they some kind of joke to you? Go look at yourselves before thinking about what other people look like!" He exclaims, throwing both his arms up in frustration.

"And why is Y/N on ninth? Ninth? Are you all serious? She's supposed to be in first, in my opinion!" He doesn't even realise he said that till everyones eyes turned to you. But you kept your eyes on him. Even if he was almost a hundred feet away, the way you looked at him right then made his knees weak and throat as dry as sahara.

Then, when he least expected it, almost everyone in the stairwell said, "We know!"

He freezes up, looking around. They're all just staring at him, dead pan. One of his friends, Dupin, walks up to him.

"Just fucking talk to her already. Go." Dupin pushes Joseph to the actual staircase. Joseph gulps, adjusting his shirt. The whole time, everyone stares. He keeps his eyes on the ground, scared he'll trip and fall and embarass himself. Especially infront of you.

When he makes it to you, he wipes his face. He clears his throat, but before he speaks, he looks around again.

"What are you looking at? Go home!" Everyone statts wlaking again, and he hears you laugh quietly. His cheeks flush.

You nod to Simone and Michèle, indicating them to go and that you'll tell them everything later. You turn back to Joseph.

"Hi." You say, smiling up at him. You fidget with the coat inbetween your arms.

"Hi." He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You stay quiet for a bit before you cut the silence.

"First place huh? You really think so?" You ask him, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

His head shoots up, looking at you with an even redder face than before.

"Yeah... I mean, who wouldn't think that?" He flashes his teeth, and he's so adorably awkward compared to his façade when he needs to be the golden boy.

"Well, everyone did. Everyone but you." You look down at the floor, trying to keep your smile smaller to avoid showing him how giddy you are.

"Yeah, everyone but me." The awkward silences make you cringe, but you're too happy about this to cast him down.

The next sentence included both of you speaking at the same time. You two laughed it off, and from then, he asked you out. That's when it really started. Earlier was the beginning. But this, now, was the start. There's a difference, okay?

You guess you do have a boy this summer. And he's as bright as the sun. He's the golden boy.

》》》

Guess what? It's 5,30 am here, and i finished this in 30 mins (im losing my mind) ANWWW i hope this is good enough sorry for taking so long w this

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #fanfic #reader insert #michèle magnan #simone palladino #golden boy #theyre so cute #fluff

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evilkitten3 · 6 months

Note

do you think another reason the chuunin exams were created (besides filtering out the "untalented" nin & introducing them to the life of a shinobi) was to create a trauma-bond between the teammates that survived/passed it? it's no secret that kid's lives or their innocence were never really valued in Konoha (or anywhere else for that matter), so I wouldn't be too surprised to find out this was done to strengthen the bond between teammates & better their teamwork/spirit

also, do you think the chuunin exams were especially traumatic during the sannin era, especially bc they were 6 (or a few years older but defo younger than naruto's gen) ??? and even if it wasn't the chuunin exams goal to create a traumabond, it certainly did for the sannin?

honestly, no. it's possible that i'm just the sort of person who tends to assume the best of people, especially fictional ones, but it's also true that i just tend to find fucked up shit more interesting when it was done with good intentions. i'm only into cartoonishly heinous motivations when they're applied to individuals rather than systems, i guess.

the thing you need to keep in mind concerning my view of the naruto universe is that literally every single character is deeply traumatized, whether they're aware of that or not. for starters, the vast majority of characters were raised to be child soldiers in a world where that's considered normal. our modern view of the 18-21 age group as the youngest adults doesn't apply there - legally, these people are becoming adults at ages as young as twelve (and that's the improved version - a lot of the older cast members have been shinobi since as young as five or six).

even the characters who never became ninja have all been through some pretty serious trauma. ayame and teuchi lived through the kyuubi attack, tazuna and his family had to deal with the whole gatou situation, and so on. no one in this world is remotely okay by our standards. but what that means is that being a neurotic mess is the norm. for the whole. entire. world.

a world based on structures so fucked up is going to be full of thoughts that to us seem entirely contradictory - how can konoha say it cares for its citizens when of the five most famous genin-by-six, the most functional is jiraiya (kakashi is a mess, tsunade is drinking and gambling away her problems, orochimaru is out there inventing to moral event horizons to cross, and itachi murdered his whole family and tortured his little brother about it)? but - and this is something that is understandably hard for people to wrap their heads around - we're shown things from people like the sandaime's point of view. we know - for a fact - that hiruzen cares deeply about his village and its citizens, and that most of the people he was personally involved in fucking up are the ones he - genuinely - cared for the most.

the second thing you need to be aware of is that the rankings in the naruto world are based on real life ninja ranks - jounin, chuunin, and genin are all real world terms that were modified to fit the world of naruto. whether irl ninja could move up in the ranks or not is something i don't know, but given that naruto is a shounen, it makes sense for the protagonist to have a clearcut explanation of the steps he needs to take to achieve his goal (ninja president) laid out early on, and that he and his friends be given the opportunity to move through the ranks throughout the course of the story (although, as many people have pointed out, naruto stayed a genin pretty much the whole time)

from an irl perspective, the chuunin exams are a way to introduce other characters, give the main trio a chance to level up, and also have a tournament arc for funsies. in-universe, the purpose is for genin to get a chance (or six chances kabuto) to become chuunin, and to strengthen ties with other villages via a show of trust - we're showing you our next generation. this is incentive to maybe not go to war again pretty please heart emoji poop emoji.

the thing is, life and innocence are valued in konoha, and likely the other villages as well, though we don't see it as much. but it's such a twisted, foreign concept to us real world non child soldiers that it doesn't seem like it (more accurately, it's valued by the people but not the system, and the people in charge of the system ignore that bc unfortunately for the entire naruto universe sakura didn't get around to inventing mental health until after the fourth war ended)

danzou and hiruzen exemplify this perfectly imo. hiruzen is full of ideals and beliefs and trust, and bc of that isn't able to see the system for what it is and can never fully understand why all of his good intentions keep churning out shitshows. on the other end of the spectrum, danzou is very aware of the world he lives in, possibly more than almost any other character. but bc of that he views the nature of humans as a flaw for shinobi to overcome - ninja are tools for the good of the village, and can and will be discarded just as easily. from a brutally practical viewpoint, danzou and hiruzen were probably genuinely extremely effective at keeping konoha together. it's just that how that worked out and how they did it is morally abhorrent to the majority of people (including hiruzen himself)

lastly, the concept of trauma as we view it not only doesn't but honestly can't exist in the world of naruto. say someone has a jutsu that allows them to create a brain scan similar to something we can do irl. the effects of mental illness on an adult brain wouldn't register as anything abnormal bc that's what everyone's looks like. you aren't having a "panic attack" or a "trauma response" or a "flashback", you're just going through the same shit everyone else is. that's all par for the course, it's just what life is like. that's how the world of naruto sees it, at least.

so where we see "children going through horrific events together and bonding bc they have no choice", the residents of narutolandia see "tuesday". so no, i don't think the chuunin exams were formed with the intent of gluing people to each other via trauma - they don't need to be. that's what life is for.

concerning the sannin, i'm not sure they ever took the chuunin exams. i honestly don't even know if the chuunin exams would've been a thing yet - the earliest one we know of is the one kakashi and his team were at, which was konoha-only and thus already fairly different from the one naruto went through. the sannin lived through all of the first three ninja wars, and though they probably didn't fight in the first one, they likely became genin just as it ended (otherwise i'm not sure how sarutobi would've had time to teach them...?). orochimaru's parents were already dead by the time he became a genin, so it's not hard to imagine they died in the first war. the sannin are actually relatively lucky - the second world war didn't happen until they were in their 20s, so they got a good two decades of not being at war (this is the longest space of time between the wars, followed by the time between the third and fourth wars (~15 years) and then the time between the second and third wars (less than 1 year)).

actually, thinking about it now, i think it's possible that spend early pre-ninja childhood with their village at war, then spending the rest of their youths in (relative) peace, and then finally getting tossed right back into shitshow two electric boogaloo might've been why they ended up more fucked up than most. so i guess the solution really was the moon coma after all

tldr: madara was right. not where i thought i was going with this but it does seem to be where we ended up

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chaifootsteps · 5 months

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[long rant incoming, sorry!]

sorry to distract from HH but I saw someone claim 'Blitz exploits Stolas' PTSD & childhood trauma to borrow the book' and that Stolas is the one being sexually exploited and like

aside from the visceral reaction of 'hand me the sick bucket', like what??? There is no getting around the fact that Stolas is the one who proposed the deal. If it had been Blitz's idea there might be a leg to stand on here, but it wasn't - Blitz was actively ducking his calls

absolutely no one forced Stolas to do that. He is the one using Blitz for his own needs. He is the one whose X-rated rants and sexual petnames make Blitz shudder and spit out his coffee. He is the one who responds to Blitz having a nervous meltdown by sexualizing him some more

All Blitz wants is to borrow the book, he never wanted to sleep with Stolas! even in their first hookup he had 0 intentions of actually sleeping with him, he seduced him and then was fully intending to just dip and leave Stolas alone but changed his mind out of pity. Stolas was the one who kept pursuing him after the fact, which should have told him something about the level of Blitz's interest in him

Also like if I can get dictionary definition for a second:

exploit: make use of (a situation) in a way considered unfair or underhand.

Gee, that definition kind of fits exactly what Stolas did in getting Blitz to agree to the full moon deal in the first place by underhandedly making use of the fact he was being shot at!

If Stolas is 'exploited' in any way here it's entirely his own doing because he cooked up a deal to get sex out of Blitz every month - he literally called him with that in mind, he didn't trip and fall his way into the deal! In no way is it Blitz's responsibility that Stolas caught feelings & outside of the one scene in the circus (that Blitz clearly thought of as a one time thing), we never see Blitz toy with or deliberately manipulate Stolas' feelings so he can keep using the book - the closest he comes is inviting him out to Ozzie's and he doesn't even use the word 'date', Stolas does - Blitz doesn't do anything on that occasion to suggest he wanted to have anything other than a fun evening dancing; it's a club and it's in the lust ring, hardly proper first date material (plus that wasn't even to keep Stolas on the hook for the book, it was him unrelatedly spying on M&M). in all other scenarios he acts like sleeping with Stolas is an obligation he has to fulfill because that's exactly what it is. after the way Stolas had behaved all season he had no reason to think Stolas would assume there was anything serious behind the invite - his breakdown at the end of the episode makes it clear he assumed Stolas would just want sex at the end of the night, like he always wants. Stolas has practically trained Blitz to respond this way!

tldr but in what world does someone propose an 'I'll give you X if you give me Y' deal only to turn around and say they were the one exploited in that scenario when they got exactly what they asked for & had all the leverage in the first place? it's like fans expect Blitz to have traded away actual affection to Stolas, which is horrific considering Stolas never asked for The Boyfriend Experience, just sex, and even if he had Blitz would still be acting and doesn't owe him real love! (and it would still be deeply messed up for Stolas to have set the deal on those grounds too, a transactional relationship is not a relationship at all)

it just boggles my mind that 'Stolas had a bad father and was forced into an arranged marriage' suddenly means he has the right to feel hard done by because the person he forced into his Sex Extortion Deal didn't give him the True Love he actually wanted which he at no point communicated! (and fans get on Blitz's case for not communicating properly)

not to mention that Blitz also had a bad childhood but his supposedly exploitative behavior towards Stolas doesn't get a pass? not to mention that Stolas is a literal prince - yes, an arranged marriage sucks but if he doesn't want the responsibility then he could have abdicated his power & privilege. Blitz meanwhile never had an option to escape his circumstances because he's trying to keep the lights on - circumstances that, once again, Stolas trapped him into!

I just don't understand the mental backbends on display here. genuinely what's going on? are these fans just projecting a crush that didn't return their affections onto Blitz or something?

[end rant]

Sometimes there's not much else I can do but wearily put my hands all over an ask that says everything I want to, and this is one of those times.

#Anonymous #stolitz critical #stolas critical #stolas #helluva boss critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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aleksa-sims · 7 months

Text

RL Simself Story ( 18+)

CW: Pregnancy, adult topics, cheating

I didn’t think I’d get so jealous. But it’s my own fault I would say. 😕Nobody forced me to come here, where my ex and his (Ex) -fiancée lived together...

Nico: Sorry. But I put away almost everything that was possible. Her furnishings I can’t just let disappear overnight.

Me: What?... Um, no! I-... I don’t mind those furniture she bought or all that stuff. It looks great. Tbh, this is perfect! I just wonder, why didn’t it look like this in our apartment back then? I couldn’t even buy a new couch, without you starting to discuss with me. But you allowed her to change everything here.

Nico: Didn’t you listen to me a few mins ago? She bought all this shit here without my permission. I had no idea about it! I was playing soccer abroad. And you got a new couch back then. Just remember how many times I painted the walls for you. Hm?

Me: All this here looks pretty expensive, compared to our apartment. I kind of feel like she’s.... like Isabella.🤑

Nico: Isabella?... Hell, no! ..And she’s not wealthy like Isabella, if that’s what you wanted to know. Actually, she’s like.... you. Self-conscious, anxious, indecisive, a bit shy and.... sad. 🫤

Me: You must have a weakness for depressed women, ha?

Nico: You know what I meant. But she's not hooked, she has other serious..... issues. Just she’s not as cute and hot as you are to me.

Me: Yea, sure.... I just don’t understand why you moved in with her? I mean, you have a house! A pretty big one! An apartment was not really necessary. 🤨

Nico: Excuse me?.. Why would I live with my mother? You and P. also had plans to move together. Why is it allowed for you, but not for me?... Yes, he told me you chose him, when I visited him at his fucking college. So I had to move away, to avoid the two of you! But this here isn't her place. I was here before she and I got....well, serious.

Me: Sorry. I didn’t mean to. And I didn’t really choose Philip. I thought I had it, but.... no. I lied to him and myself. I always felt bad about you and he too! That’s why it was so easy for me to fall in love with Daniel. Frankly... I was glad that it was over with Philip. I didn’t want anything to do with you two, after I was with him abroad. 😒

Nico: That wasn't my fault, his ... Natasha bitch. I never did such a shit to you. But to be clear, I’m not blaming you for my own mistake! I’m sorry I asked you to sleep with him. I never admitted it, but.. the first time I saw you & him together,..... I wanted to kill P. ... Yea, now it’s out. I was jealous. Even though that damn thing was my fucking idea.🤷‍♂️

Me: And still, you insisted that I continue.......Hm? You know? But that spa-weekend was pretty nice. We should definitely repeat this. Just the two of us, of course!! Without Philip...... So sorry, N.

Nico: And I'm sorry for being crazy. I was so stupid to share you with Philip and pass between the two of us. I thought that would help you and I trusted P. Never thought he’d take you away from me. I was sure you would choose me if necessary.

Me: I chose you, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn't want to hurt P., so I went nuts and told my Dad.🤦‍♀️I told him the last 3 weeks alone with P. were hard. He locked me up not to relapse... and that you couldn't leave me alone, bcs I started using. I said all this to him... I wanted my Dad to get me out of that mess. Not really, I just didn't know what to do?...I was so unhappy bcs you had to go back to Italy. And at the same time afraid to lose P. But my crazy Dad sent you away, not Philip.

A bit later....

Nico: That movie sucks, babe. You really wanna keep watching this crap?... I’d rather continue with you.😏

Me: I gotta tell you something... Something serious. (🍼🤰 )

Nico: Daniel?? 🙄

Me: Agh, no... Anyway, let's talk later. I want you, too N.

Nico: From now on, you stay with me.

Me: She didn't even really move out here.... but I'd love to stay with you. 🩷

Nico: Then you stay, babe. No time to waste. I have so many plans for you. But most importantly, you divorce Daniel.

Me: This time, I’m not questioning what you’re up to.. I’ll do whatever you want. Besides, I have plans for you too. (😬🍼) And Daniel took off anyway. He doesn't want me.

Nico: His mistake, my gain. Such an moron!

And that's N.'s (ex-) fiancée. Stephanie.🤨 Don’t worry, she didn’t catch us in bed!!! But she was there! I didn’t see her myself the moment she came. I was sleeping. Nico was up. She came by to pick up her stuff, he thought. But she also wanted to talk to him and did not intend to leave. He didn’t tell her I was in his bedroom, he just asked her to leave. Nico told me she was crying and wearing... sleepwear?

He seemed worried and was somehow.... weird to me after she showed up at his place. I had the feeling, he didn’t want me anymore? 😞 All though a few hours ago, he wanted me to stay with him. He wanted me to move in with him. You know? However, I asked him to drive me home to my parents. I had to change & shower, so yea, he dropped me at my parent's house and said, that he would pick me up in 2 hours. I was so relieved that he wanted to come back. I was afraid to lose him a second time. Besides, I was pregnant. I mean, I haven’t taken a test yet, but I just knew it. Something changed in my body, I could literally feel it. It was like the last time I was pregnant. And btw, I told Nico what happened to me last year, about this whole annoying issue with my contraception. He reacted totally relaxed. He said, if I want a baby, he wouldn’t use protection. I really didn’t expect that!! 😲 I knew Nico never wanted to have children. At least not at this point. I was about to tell him, I was very likely pregnant, but I wanted to take a test first, to be absolutely sure!! I was so happy about N.’s composure on this subject. I already imagined our future with our Baby and all this. 🩵 Just as I mentioned before, the next morning, all this seemed to be in danger, bcs of that girl, Stephanie. 😓

Previous/ Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #myrlgameplay #rl story #simself #cw pregnancy

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antennaed-shidou · 10 months

Text

Small Chances

♫ Mikage Reo x f! reader

♫ Warning: not prof-read

♫ Extras: Word count 1k+

♫ In which you misunderstand Reo actions, and he understands yours

She sat in her parking lot waiting for her date to pick her up. Time passed and {Y/n} was still sitting in her parking lot. She looked at her phone seeing the time 19:43 and there was no sign of Reo showing up.

She took a deep sigh heading inside giving up on Reo. She plugged her phone in deciding not to text Reo why he didn't show up. She thought if she did she was be more disappointed than already.

{Y/n} lays down on her bed facing the ceiling watching the fan rotate around. Salty tears filled her eyes as they slowly fell down her cheeks.

{Y/n} was so excited when Reo told her he would take her out on a little date. But when he never showed up, her heart just sharted like a piece of glass being shot.

Soon she was able to fall asleep letting all the thoughts slowly leave her mind about Reo.

The following morning when she woke up her eyes were a little puffy. {Y/n} placed some ice around her eyes to help with the puffiness. The female walked to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

While she was eating {Y/n} debated on whether to go to school and there was a high chance of seeing Reo and getting embarrassed. And obviously, if she didn't then there would be no embarrassment. Which she would do.

She also didn't want to ruin her perfect streak of showing up every day because of a guy that would obviously shoot her down. After she was done eating breakfast she got her things and was ready to head off to school whether she may cry or not!

At first, the day went on normally, {Y/n} talked with her friends her classes went on smoothly. But around lunch is when things started to go downhill.

"How was your date with Reo?" One of her friends asked while posting silverware to the female she was talking to.

{Y/n} took a deep gulp not sure how to answer. Her friends were protective of her and always wanted what was best, and what would happen if they found out about the most popular guy and the school stood her up?

"It was ok," {Y/n} answers smiling guiltily hoping no one would notice she was living straight through her teeth.

"You're lying aren't you?" The friend asked sigh seeing straight through the words.

The [h/c]-haired sheepish smiled rubbing the nape of her neck. "Maybe he didn't show up and I sat on my parking lot for about two to three hours last night."

The friend sigh as she got up from the table, "Well then... wonder if the popular guy has ever had a fist cross his face."

{Y/n} quickly jumped out of her chair going to stop her friend, "It's not that serious. I mean in all honesty I should have known Reo wasn't going to show up in the first place. I mean look at me..." She motioned to herself knowing no one would ever go out with her.

"Then look at him..." She motioned over to Reo who looks where beyond compare. "He's just too popular and handsome for me."

{Y/n} felt her hand move and it wasn't her own doing. When she looked over to see who had done it the most popular purple-haired male was standing right beside her.

The friend took {Y/n} back as she stood before Reo. "So you stood up my friend on a date, huh. The most popular couldn't do a smile task such as telling the female you hated her."

Meanwhile, Reo stood there dumbfounded at what the girl was saying. He looked over her shoulder to see {Y/n}, he saw a small tear roll down the side of her face. Reo tried to talk to the [h/c]-haired female but the friend left to no avail.

"She doesn't want to talk to you buddy. Go away and talk to one of those other girlfriends you have."

"Please, just go away Reo." {Y/n} muttered facing the other way covering her face that he assumed would have dried up tears.

Though he did listen and walked away from the table sitting back on his own. If only the friend wasn't there then the male could say what he really wanted to say.

Reo knows where you were coming from, he didn't show up last night at all and that was indeed his fault and what made it worse was he couldn't explain himself further.

The rest of the day he tried to take to {Y/n} but he couldn't find the right time. He definitely didn't want to text it to her because that would make things worse than need be.

Reo was pacing back and forth in his room deciding whether to show up and her house and tell her what was going on or decide to meet with him somewhere.

...

{Y/n} heard loud honking outside. She opens her curtain and was met with Reo who was holding a Bouquet of flowers. She rushes downstairs putting on some nicer clothes and shoes before meeting again face to face with Reo.

"Why are you here, Reo? Aren't you supposed to be with another girl? I mean I completely understand, I'm not pretty at all, and not any of the other guys want me so there is no need to feel bad if you deny me too. It's happened many more times than you can think." As she was rambling on Reo stopped her from sprouting any more nonsense.

"No, you've got it all wrong. I love you, {Y/n}. Actually, I've liked you ever since I first laid eyes on you. Your smile that lights up even the darkest of nights, your eyes so delicate I can see your soul. Even your soul, so delicate from being broken so many times by guys that never deserve to even look in your direction. Most important your sweet and caring personality that moves people to strive and do better. I don't just like you, {Y/n}. I love and adore you, {Y/n}."

While he was talking tears start to fill the female's eye. Once Reo was finished with his speech the female took the bouquet from his hands and grabbed him for a hug.

"Then why did you not show up yesterday?" She asks breaking away.

"I was so excited for the date that I lost track of time setting up everything, by the time I was finished it was already the next day and when I showed up to your house, you were no longer there." He bawled his fist hoping she would believe him, he wasn't telling a lie but his statement could be a little hard to believe. "I didn't text you either because I didn't want to disrupt your sleep.

A small smile cracked on her lips. She put the flowers aside and gave Reo a kiss on the cheek, "All in forgiven. Now please can we go on the proper date."

He wraps his arms around her walking her to the vehicle, "I would be deleted to take you. I know you'll love it."

I wrote this late, or finish it late. I was on a roll baby my fingers were on fire. (reblogs are welcome! Request are open)

#anyway this is longer #but was fun to write non the less #mk. stories #mk. oneshots #mk. reo #blue lock manga #bllk #fanfic #blue lock #reo mikage #blue lock x reader #blue lock reo #reo x y/n #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo #have a cookie 🍪

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

Text

Antonio- Meeting Him

I arrive at Mollys to meet my brothers Jay and Will, same dad different moms. I haven't long moved to Chicago to be with my brothers after my mom passed away recently.

Seeing my brothers sat a table, I approach now noticing a few other people

"Here she is. Severide, Dawson this is YN" Will says standing up and giving me a hug

"Hey" I greet him and Jay who also give me a hug. I look at the other two guys "hi it's nice to meet you"

"Like wise, Jay and Will have told us a lot about you. Kelly Severide" Kelly stands up and shakes my hand

"Antonio Dawson" Antonio also shakes my hand. I sit in between my brothers. Jay nudges a glass of coke towards me

"Thanks"

"Jay told us your a teacher. What year?" Antonio asks

"Kindergarten so age 5"

"30 5 year olds in one room, no thank you" Kelly shudders at the thought

"They're not that bad. It's the parents you have to watch" I chuckle "so do either of you have kids?"

"No" Kelly shakes his head

"I've got two. Boy and girl. Have you?"

"No. Never found the right guy I guess"

"I'll drink to that one" Jay mutters lifting up his drink to take a sip

"Hey my relationships haven't been that bad" I nudge Jay

"Errr yeah they have. There was Jake-the deadbeat, then Alfie- the drug dealer..."

"Woah ok I didn't know and as soon as I found out I broke it off. Anyway we weren't that serious" I shrug

"Don't forgot Dan. God he was the worst" Will says "you know, she rang me in anger because Dan stole her money. Had to ring Jay"

"Ahh so you were the stolen purse case Jay left us a week for"

"Guilty" I give Antonio a smile "fine ok my relationships have sucked, that's why I'm having a new start here and not dating for a long ass time"

"Yeah yeah, your like your brother there" Will nods towards Jay "you see a hot guy and you can't keep away. Like a moth to a flame"

"She just needs the right guy to tame her" Kelly says

"Don't even think about it" Jay points at his friend. I roll my eyes at my brother being over protective.

The hours tick by and before I know it, it's now Saturday morning and I have had far too much to drink

"I'm gonna have to call a taxi. Will Christopher be ok with me leaving my car here?" I ask standing up on wobbling legs

"He'll be fine about it. Would rather you get home safely" Kelly shrugs

"Well thank you for the drinks, but I'm super tired"

"Don't worry about it"

"Let me give you a lift home. I've not drank" Antonio offers

"No it's ok, don't worry..."

"I insist. I know your brothers would feel happier knowing that you got home safely by an officer than worry about you in a taxi on your own"

"Ok. Thank you" I give into Antonio.

Slipping into Antonio's car I rest my head on the window, tiredness starting to win the battle to try and stay awake

"Your seats are comfy" I mutter. I hear Antonio chuckle next to me "will your wife mind that your dropping me off?"

"No wife. Divorced"

"Oh. I'm sorry I didn't mean..."

"It's ok, well now it is. For a while I wasn't allowed to see my kids. Things have gotten better"

"I'm glad things are better. I've worked with some parents who don't get along and it puts a strain of the kids. Sometimes it just takes time for divorced parents to figure out how to work" I realise I've probably been talking out of place so I apologise to which Antonio tells me not to be silly. We arrive outside my tiny house, I turn to look at Antonio and smile "thank you for the lift"

"Don't worry about it. I'll get someone to drop your car off for you tomorrow"

"Jays on my insurance, ask him"

"Ok. Goodnight YN"

"Goodnight Antonio" I exit the car and walk to my front door, noticing that Antonio hasn't left yet. Once I find my house keys and open the door I turn around to give him a wave. I lock the door behind me and that's only when Antonio leaves I assume making sure I'm safe.

#antonio dawson #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson x reader #Antonio Dawson x you #Antonio Dawson x yn #one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago pd

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 8 months

Note

Heyyyy I’m kinda new to tumblr but I love your posts and was wondering if you could do one where reader has some sort of chronic illness and is having a particularly hard time so Wanda cheers her up. Maybe like a cute breakfast in bed or picnic?

I was recently diagnosed with a couple and a, having a hard time. This would mean so much to me. Of course no rush and I totally get it if you can’t.

Also I saw in one of your replies where the anon asks to be doll and you greet them that way. Could I be sweetheart? I’m not sure if that’s how it works.

Hmmm… Well, let's see what I can come up with. Sooo… I'm not a doctor, and besides, that wasn't really my focus. The thing is, a lot of people find it hard to face dietary restrictions, when they have a condition and the outside world doesn't always make it easy, so I wanted to focus on that and also explain that it doesn't have to be impossible. You can still enjoy all the things you love, you can still eat delicious foods, while staying healthy.

Please, also note that I wrote this fairly quickly, so it may not be my best work.

I'm not sure if that's what you were hoping for, but I hope you like it.

Warnings: Disease, dietary restrictions, angst, fluff, happy ending, domestic sweetness… I think that's it? If I missed anything, let me know

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

You always thought of yourself as a healthy person. You had the normal pains and aches, got the flu or a stomach virus sometimes, but generally, you felt good. You never felt the need for any special check-ups, so you went grudgingly, only to appease your girlfriend’s mind. She worried too much. And she had lost so much too, that the fear of losing you as well, was almost crippling at times. That’s why you agreed. You just wanted her to feel more at ease. Everything was going to be just fine. Or at least that’s what you told her. But it was not just fine… High blood sugar levels prompted the doctor to take more tests. And it was a good thing he did. When he called you to his office, closing the door behind him, Wanda had started to play nervously with her rings, but at least he had the good sense to let her inside first, otherwise you feared your girlfriend would have broken down the door from worry. It turned out you had Type 2 diabetes. It was manageable. A lot of people lived with it and led perfectly normal, happy lives. You could too. But you had to make some adjustments to your diet. You had to monitor the disease and yourself, otherwise you could suffer serious consequences. When the doctor explained it all, gave you a list of recommended foods and also advised you what to stay away from, handed you a prescription for medication and advised on regular check-ups with him, as well as keeping your blood pressure low, it all seemed very simple. Except, Wanda spent the next week buried in research, giving away the cookies she had baked for you just the night before to the neighbours, making a whole new groceries list to accommodate your condition, it started to dawn on you that it wasn’t going to be simple. What made it worse, was the fact that suddenly everywhere you went, there was temptation. You would walk to work, passing by fast food places and burger joints, your colleagues would bring doughnuts to the office, you had to bring your own decaf and refrain from adding your favorite milk, random people would be eating sugary sweets, they’d be drinking all kinds of carbonated sweet drinks, or invite you to that steak house after work. Even just the air smelled like fried goods. It was everywhere. All the food you were meant to stay away from, right there, in front of your eyes. It was driving you crazy.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk in the nearby park after work to clear your head and you saw an ice-cream stand, a group of children waiting in line to buy their favorite flavours and for some reason you snapped. You could hardly wait to get home, and greeted with the sweet, loving face of your girlfriend, you broke down. You were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you tried to explain to her through sobs what had upset you so much and it broke her heart, to know that you were taking it so harshly and that she hadn’t noticed how much it hurt you. In the end you begged her to forget all those diets and just let you lead a normal life. The medication would help. And if you had complications – so be it. You didn’t want to live like this! Wanda calmed you down with kind, soothing words and she helped you out of your work clothes, picking out soft clothes for you to wear at home, trying to tell you that everything was going to be just fine. She would make sure of it. She tried to move past dinner as quickly as possible, seeing the unshed tears in your eyes, when you were met with the green salad and grilled vegetable she had prepared and she cuddled you on the couch, picking out your favorite movie to watch, until you were all sleepy and relaxed. Once she put you to bed, Wanda once again buried herself in research, but this time a completely different kind. She had her mind set that she would help you feel more at ease with your new dietary restrictions and showing you that the disease didn’t mean you couldn’t have a good, delicious meal. The next morning she woke extra early, running to the store to get all the things she needed for the special meal she had in mind and she came home, starting to prepare everything, hoping to be able to finish before you even woke up. When you did, you were greeted by your girlfriend sitting at the edge of the bed, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. “I made it especially for you.” Wanda whispered as she offered it to you. “I got you vegan almond milk. Now you can have cappuccinos every morning.” She explained, already knowing what you were thinking. “Really?” You could barely contain yourself, sitting up, so you could take the cup from her hands and take a sip. “Is that sugar?” “Sweetener.” She explained with a smile. “And I have a surprise for you for lunch. So drink up, baby.” Wanda watched you go through your regular routines, and she smiled happily as she saw you finish your first cup of coffee, after 2 weeks of drinking nothing but plain decaf. She spent the morning with you, mostly talking and showering you with affection, watching you relax and feel more at ease, until she told you she’s taking you to the park. Suddenly you were feeling all the negative emotions from the previous day rushing back, but Wanda was quick to soothe you.

“I have something good planned for you, baby. I promise. Please, trust me?” She spoke and you couldn’t help but melt at her words, nodding slowly at her invitation to take you out. She had prepared everything in advance. All the food she had made placed in special containers and she quickly put them in a bag, grabbed your picnic blanket and the two of you walked there, hand in hand, while Wanda tried to distract you from your thoughts. As soon as you entered, you saw all the ice-cream stands and the little booths selling sodas and you felt yourself stiffen, but she settled you down on the fresh grass, choosing a spot away from all that, spreading the blanket and starting to take out all the little containers with a big smile and you couldn’t help but feel excitement. “For lunch, I have made you…” She paused for dramatic effect, holding the container. “Burgers!” She exclaimed, opening the box to show you her creation. “It’s a grilled vegetable patty, with a bun made from whole grains, entirely vegan, low-fat cheese and leafy greens. I made the sauces myself. Everything there is good for you. I promise it will be amazing!” She explained with pride and you could help but beam at her, hugging her tightly and burying your nose in her neck so you could breathe her in. She had made all this for you! To make you feel more at ease. To make you happy and you couldn’t help the warm, loving feeling that spread over you at her efforts. “And that’s not all!” She said with a wide grin. “Home-made lemonade, made with water, freshly squeezed or blended fruits, mint leaves and a squeeze of lemon.” She explained, as she pulled out a bottle. “I also have all your favorite fruits for dessert.” She said with a smile, one of her hands touching your face and stroking your cheek affectionately. “Thank you, Wanda! This is incredible! And it looks so delicious!” “Anything for you, love.” She said with a thoughtful smile. “I’m sorry it took me so long to notice how unhappy you were. I was so focused on getting you to eat only what was best for you, that I didn’t consider how hard it must be to watch everyone else eat all the things you shouldn’t. But I have several new recipes to try, and I promise, it will all be ok. You can have everything you like… With a twist.” She winked at you, making you laugh. “You are… Just marvellous. I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you!” “So are you, my precious girl. Never forget that.” She smiled once again. “Now eat up, I want to know what you think.” She encouraged. As you took your first bite, you could tell the difference easily, but you also realized that it was absolutely delicious! You couldn’t even believe how much time and work it had taken her to research and make all that, but the end result was spectacular and you didn’t stop telling her that throughout the entire meal. The hours in the park passed by you quickly, while she fed you fruits, as the two of you talked or just cuddled on the blanket and as you decided to head home, gathering all your things, you couldn’t help but look at the place with a whole different view. The stands with ice-cream, sweets and soda didn’t look so tempting anymore. They were just regular things. “I’ll make you home-made ice-cream. I have a recipe.” Wanda whispered in your ear, when she spotted where you were looking and in that moment, as you took Wanda’s hand in yours, you knew that there was nothing you couldn’t face, while you had her by your side. ______________________________________________________ Why wouldn't it work that way, sweetheart? If that's what you want to be called, than it's my pleasure.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #type 2 diabetes #diabetes #fluff

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littlecherryhuanlin · 1 year

Text

A Tale of a Lonely Heart- Na Jaemin

You may like: Ghost of You with Nakamoto Yuta

Disclaimer: Here is the prequel to "Love at Dawn", first I would like to apologize to those who had to wait so long for this, second this is not what I wanted to be delivering to you, u see I had a completely different story ready in Dec (I wrote on my phone and went directly to my drafts on the computer while reviewing and I was stupid enough to delete the backup since I would post it the next morning), for some reason Tumblr ate my drafts and I ended up losing not only the og version of this but also everything that was there, I'm not proud of this work, but I still hope u guys enjoy it.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Jaemin POV, but also contains the use of bad words, descriptive content, mentions of alcohol, kinda angst, short mention about Jeno's bed, angry behavior, Jaemin crying, fluff if you squint

Jaemin liked to keep his feet on the ground when it came to serious matters, despite the mixed image people had of the boy due to the near-bipolar discrepancy in his personality, everyone agreed that Jaemin was a carefree guy: unable to mind anything that wasn't on his priority list, which led to the belief that he wasn't a big fan of relationships, as his owns rarely lasted more than a few weeks.

What nobody knew, however, was that for him love was a very serious matter; the tales of souls carefully chosen to share the beauty of life with the children of the moon were universal, and having grown up listening closely to all the stories about how the imprint was the most precious thing in a werewolf's life, there was nothing he wanted more than find his mate and settling down, his short relationships being solely derived from the fact that none of the girls on campus were her.

And yet, he was completely taken aback when he saw her for the first time, things around him slowly losing focus as her scent completely overpowered his senses, his thoughts fading away and being replaced exclusively and immediately by her, a strange heat slowly rising through his body consuming every inch of his being, he even thought he would die trapped in the intoxicating sensation that took over his heart, the one that seemed to be on the verge of collapse the closer she got and before he even realized it, he was knocked down by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life, his imprint.

Say that he had to hold back when she stopped in front of him would be an understatement, he violently fought the urge to get up and wrap his arms around her, which caused him to stare at the ground as Donghyuck introduced her as his best friend, obviously, her existence was no secret to any of them: Haechan spoke of the girl at every opportunity since the beginning of the school year, gradually making everyone extremely curious about the mysterious YN - being the means the boy used to keep her hidden from the group for half a year a secret to everyone.

Jaemin was so out of his mind that Jeno was the one to introduce him quickly, thank goodness the boys were too entertained with her to notice his strange behavior.

Unable to say anything, he just watched discreetly as the girl animatedly chatted with the boys about things he couldn't even understand. He was too busy trying to put himself in order to recognize any sound around him, everything has became a blur and he was no longer lucid, he would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of the situation, he was terrified, trying all the time to calm down before he had a heart attack.

Jaemin was never really able to speak properly to her, not the second or third or any of the times that followed over the next year, little by little he managed to answer back, but for some reason, everything that came out of his mouth sounded like snarling attacks and the more time passed the more "what ifs" occupied the boy's mind as the unfriendly tension between YN and him grew. Slowly the hopes he had upon the relationship with the one he had imprinted on disappeared, and despite the frown that he put on every time he was around the girl the feeling that had taken over him the first time they met never really disappeared.

Although he considered himself a strong guy, there were moments that Jaemin had broken because of her, like the first time she spent the night in the house he shared with Jeno, Haechan and Renjun:

The first time the boys totally lost control around her (which, to Jaemin's dismay, only meant one thing: she was one of them now) and she ended up having to stay the night because everyone was too drunk to do anything, imagine Jaemin's surprise the next morning when he opened his best friend's bedroom door only to find the girl tangled up in his covers while Jeno was passed out on the couch next to her.

Jaemin drove for four hours straight, he realized at that moment that not only Haechan -to say that he had grown to hate his friend a bit would be more than adequate; their closeness disgusted him, Haechan and YN understood each other so deeply that the boy often doubted the veracity of the supposed connection he allegedly has with her- was a threat, but all of them, other than that, he couldn't help but dislike her at that moment not only for showing up in his life but for also stealing his friends.

Even though Jaemin wanted to hate the girl he found himself completely in love with her, so in love that the next time he broke down- so badly- over her was also the first time one of the boys found out who she was to him:

YN had a boyfriend, the news that Haechan shared so excitedly with the group while making fun of YN brought immediate tears to the boy's eyes, his heart squeezed so hard that Jaemin thought he was going to pass out, he was so busy trying to breathe properly that he couldn't he noticed his friends entering the library much less Mark approaching him worriedly. Fortunately, the older boy managed to drag Jaemin to the back of the building and patiently waited while he calmed down, however, the moment Nana noticed the sad and surprised expression on his friend's face he knew that the pieces had fallen into place for Mark and his secret was no longer so secret.

When her relationship finally ended Jaemin found himself having mixed feelings: he was happy that she was single, but hell, he hated to see her sad and was ready to kill whoever made her cry, in the end, Mark had to convince him that broke Hyunjin's face was not a good idea.

At a certain point, Jaemin found himself rooting for the end of any minimal relationship that the girl had with any man outside their circle - it was difficult, but the boy was proud of having reached an agreement on the closeness of YN and the boys: he decided that he would be happy that she had true friends who would always take care of her instead of hating his friends for it - on the other hand, the more time passed, the more he questioned whether the girl's permanence in his life was, in fact, a good thing: at the same time that he loved her, he hated the way his heart always seemed to be torn apart because of her.

Please do not copy or translate any of my works, all creative work is copyrighted and therefore plagiarism is a crime.

#nct scenarios #nct jaemin #na jaemin #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream #nct dream reactions #nct dream jaemin #nct reactions #nct werewolf #nct dream fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #nct fic #nct u #jaemin

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karamazovposting · 20 days

Text

On Ivan and bipolar disorder (part four)

Since this is (finally) the last part of this essay and I've already previously mentioned what it will be about, I don't have an introduction to make, but I do think I need to give a couple disclaimers before getting right into this mess. First one: I have a lot of explaining to do because this gets medical again and I can't just assume you all know exactly what I'm talking about and/or to what extent; I hope I won't overexplain or sound condescending. On this same note, I forgot to open part one by explaining that bipolar disorder is a chronic mental illness that is treatable through lifelong medication and not necessarily lifelong therapy but not curable because to me that's a given, so sorry if you didn't have much knowledge on the topic and had to read my yapping with little or even no context. Second one: I will be using some words (such as "delusional") that are to be taken literally, in the medical sense. I'm not saying this because I think you are all stupid of course, but to highlight the seriousness of what I've been talking about these past months; it seems to me that lately medical terminology regarding mental health has been watered down a lot by Internet culture to the point of it losing its meaning, with memes about being "delulu 🤪" or reducing mania to dyeing your hair by yourself at 2 AM leading people to not take these things seriously. I don't mean to be a spoilsport or anything, I like and share those memes too but I've actually been (hypo)manic and delusional in the past so I guess I have the right to joke about it at least. Maybe it's not that serious but I want it to be serious at least here, which is also why I've never referred to episodes as "mood swings". I don't do that in real life either, even when talking to people who don't know much about bipolar disorder, because I've always found the term reductive and misleading: everyone has mood swings, it came free with being a human being. In my opinion it contributes to the misunderstanding of this disorder and the people who have it; no, we are not moody by default and no, we don't change our minds every five minutes or are happy one moment and then suddenly sad the next (seriously, who came up with these stereotypes and how?), but I digress.

This said, let's get down to business. I want to start with one detail that is either one of the most absurd coincidences in the entire history of literature or proof that Dostoevsky was somewhat somehow familiar with bipolar disorder and decided to integrate some things he witnessed in Ivan's character (I guess without knowing, as at the time there was very little understanding of it to the point it wasn't really considered an illness and was referred to as circular insanity and later as manic-depression, which are both cooler names than bipolar disorder but again I digress) because I swear I can't find any other explanation for it: the timeline of The Brothers Karamazov. It might seem like a very small detail, but as soon as I figured out the timeline I thought of fucking course. Now, we all know the timeline of this novel is a little confusing at first as there are almost no indicators of how much time has passed between Alyosha running from one house to another first and shit going down second, but in the first half of the novel we know it all starts in late August and honestly I didn't make anything of it, but then the timeline becomes clearer after Dmitri's arrest and we end up in early November for the trial and I mean, nothing particularly interesting or peculiar about a book covering the events of a (little over) two-month timespan, right? Technically yes, because it's not the amount of time that has passed that matters, but the time of the year: if it all had, for example, taken place from late June to early August or from late December to early February I wouldn't even be talking about it, because there's no seasonal change taking place in those months. August to November, however, is another story. I also find it interesting that it's the change from warm to cold weather, as it's the one that's the hardest for most people (for me personally it's the opposite, the shift from Winter to Spring is a nightmare, but I'm a rare case when it comes to that); I don't really know why, but the seasonal changes are always delicate periods for people with bipolar disorder as they can trigger episodes, I guess it's pretty much the same mechanism that occurs in seasonal depression. So, let me lay the timeline out for you: the Karamazovs reunite in late August, Ivan leaves a few days after, Fyodor is murdered shortly after, so probably in early September and Dmitri is arrested the same night, then Ivan comes back five days later, the trial takes place in early November the day after Pavel hangs himself, and Dmitri is sentenced five days before the story ends with Ilyusha's funeral. This timeline detail seriously drives me insane because all the other puzzle pieces I've been putting together for a while could be related to other disorders/conditions as well, such as schizophrenia (schizoaffective bipolar disorder is a thing too but I don't have it so I can't really say anything about it) and autism (autism and bipolar disorder have a lot in common), or even to just personality, but this? It's a little too oddly specific in my opinion, but I'll just keep assuming it's a coincidence for the sake of my own mental health.

Anyway, this means the story starts when a seasonal change is approaching, which is already a delicate time on its own, and Ivan has to put himself in an unpleasant situation that has a high chance of turning into a shitshow (and it does): going somewhere he wants to leave as soon as possible to discuss things he doesn't want to discuss surrounded by people he doesn't want to deal with. That's not a good start at all and it would be enough to put me, someone who has been medicated for seven years, on edge (and it has in the past); no wonder he's pissed off all the time. And it's only the start since, as we all know, the worst is yet to come. I love that the reader only gets bits and pieces of the build-up of Ivan's episode through the other characters' points of view and I particularly love how said build-up reaches its climax; it doesn't happen when Ivan hallucinates the devil (as it's mentioned he's seen him before and has also had other similar experiences in the past, I'll get into that later), but exactly a moment before that. But first, let's focus on the main build-up moments we see bits and pieces of before that. I was impressed by how realistically the whole thing was portrayed, especially considering that at the time almost everyting about this disorder was unknown; still to this day, in 2024, many people think bipolar disorder is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, with the person being "normal" one day and waking up "crazy" the next like some sort of magic happening overnight, but that's straight up not true, it doesn't happen. Bipolar disorder is way more rational than one would think (very fitting for Ivan, isn't it?) and at times you do have an awful amount of self-awareness but can do nothing with it, it's kind of like being stuck in the passenger seat of a car with a broken steering wheel and broken breaks that's speeding straight against a wall; you know what's happening but can do nothing but watch and hope the crash won't be that painful. And that's how I felt reading too, every time I saw those bits and pieces of Ivan's story I thought oh no it's happening. And Ivan knows it's happening too, as we see in Book Eleven.

I've focused on The brothers get acquainted, Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor already, but I have to mention them again because as I've already explained they're such a pivotal point; before that we don't really know what Ivan's deal is, but as soon as we get acquainted (sorry, I had to) with him we start to notice that something's definitely up, and there is one seemingly small detail that I just can't get out of my head: when Ivan gets up and starts walking after his talk with his brother, Aleksej points out to himself that he's swaying a little. Considering it's implied that Ivan has a problem with alcohol (it runs in the family after all) in other occasions too, that's probably an indicator that Ivan had been drinking during his stay. Not only is there a strong link between bipolar disorder and substance abuse (how could there not be? Shit's tough and sometimes you have to self medicate, especially in the 1800s), but alcohol and drugs can trigger episodes or make them worse; Ivan is also once again dealing with everything alone and trust me, that's recipe for disaster. And of course after that the aforementioned metaphorical car does nothing but gain speed and Ivan increasingly becomes angrier, restless and frantic: he has trouble sleeping, he starts isolating himself even more, he talks faster, his thoughts start racing, his speech pattern becomes more and more incoherent and he can't stay still as he's mentioned walking back and forth for seemingly no reason in different occasions; all textbook symptoms. He visibly looks sick too and bipolar episodes are known to take a toll on your physical appearance (I looked like a walking corpse for years) as well as having physical symptoms manifest along the psychological/psychiatric ones, such as headaches caused by stress, which Ivan frequently has, because stress is a major trigger for bipolar disorder (and Ivan is undeniably quite stressed). Sleep also plays a huge role when it comes to bipolar disorder as it can quite literally determine your faith: the the very first sign to watch out for if you feel something might be wrong is a change in sleeping habits; if they start changing significantly it means something's definitely up and you need to intervene as soon as possible (I have prevented episodes from either spiraling or happening at all like that but it takes years of practice). Ivan's sleep schedule, if we can even call it that, during his episode reminds me of my own during an insane (no pun intended?) mixed episode I've had and it makes sense since after every manic episode comes a "crash", and during mixed episodes you can crash back and forth for days; it happened to me. But what is a manic crash? It can be summed up with a simple phrase: what comes up must come down. It's like throwing a ball in the air, it reaches its peak up there and after that it's all downhill until it crashes down on the ground and the higher it goes, harder the crash: if you stay up all night while manic, you'll sleep all day while depressed, the more euphoric you are, the more dysphoric you'll be; so it makes sense for Ivan to sleep more and more as he "comes down". As for the fever, stress can do that. Brain fever is nothing but a 19th century literature thing because it's not a real diagnosis and at the time severe emotional and psychological upset was classified as either that or hysteria, which isn't a real diagnosis either.

Another puzzle piece that fits way too well is that little mention of him tidying his room himself despite having someone to do it for him; I know it's probably thrown in there to highlight his self-isolating independence, but cleaning and tidying are very common (to the point it's almost a cliché) activities to do when you're having a (hypo)manic or mixed episode because they help getting rid of all the extra energy and give you a sense of control over your life; for me it's almost compulsive (compulsions and obsessive thoughts are common in bipolar disorder because bipolar disorder is like three different conditions in a trenchcoat), I've found myself obsessively cleaning my bathroom every day for months and fighting the compulsion to do the dishes even when it wasn't necessary. It's mentioned that Ivan feels the increasing loss of control and is ashamed of it, which brings us to the very important topics, when it comes to him, of self-awareness and control.

I already mentioned it in part one but I want to say it again: control is crucial when it comes to bipolar disorder; something out of your control happening in your life or not having enough control over your symptoms and emotions is enough to send you down (or up) a dangerous path (sounds familiar?). It takes years of treatment to be able to deal with the unexpected and to let go of this control freak attitude, but Ivan is riding this rollercoaster with no seat belt so here we are. I think this reflects best in his attitude when visiting Pavel in the hospital after Dmitri's arrest, when Ivan says he came back from Moscow as soon as possible to fix the mess they all made in his absence. He's particularly keen on letting Pavel know he has no intention of playing games and it's clear he has a no bullshit allowed policy when it comes to his family, which checks out with what I went over in part three: Ivan's presence in the Karamazov household means quiet and order. Ivan definitely has a strong personality and to me it feels like that kind of strong personality one has to develop to stay afloat, and considering Ivan is not comfortable with showing "weakness"...well; I'll get to that later. I don't know if it's a middle child thing because I'm not a middle child but I'm the only diagnosed and medicated person in a family that feels more like an emotional minefield and let me tell you, I've been running that shit like it's the Navy for years and I'm pretty sure I'm the only case of a youngest son with eldest daughter syndrome in human history and yes, it's a bipolar thing. The need for control is so strong that it extends to your surroundings and therefore the people around you; I don't know how to explain it because it's not a manipulation thing, it's an I can't deal with my own emotions so having someone express theirs in an extreme way makes me uncomfortable and I also need a stable environment to not lose my mind so I need to de-escalate any situation that might trigger me thing; it's cleaning up after other people's mess for your own sake. And maybe a little savior complex, at least in my case. Anyway, if Ivan keeps his family stable he keeps himself stable as well, so he has to take matters into his own hands even when it's too late. Damage control is a very important skill if you have bipolar disorder.

I've already been over Ivan's visceral anger so I won't go over it again, but I want to spend a few words for that one part where he punches Pavel: been there done that, and normally I'm not even a violent person. It was a pretty similar situation too: someone had been tormenting me for months while I already wasn't doing good at all, took it too far one day and I just snapped; I didn't even mean to hit that person but it's not something you can gain control over when it gets to that point, so I get where Ivan was coming from and I'll defend him until the day I die.

Since I'm going in chronological order, as you might have already noticed, this means I've finally reached the fun part. Brace yourselves, this is going to be long. I don't have much to say about the whole devil ordeal that hasn't already been said, after all it's the most blatant manifestation of Ivan's mental health status, and I think it's more important to focus on what's around the hallucination rather than the hallucination itself. The first and most important thing I noticed is that Ivan is not scared, and it makes sense for him to not be because the narrator says that situation feels familiar to Ivan, making this the second time it's mentioned by the narrator that Ivan has a past history of both depressive and dysphoric manic (usually referred to as mixed) episodes, which alone qualifies for a formal bipolar disorder diagnosis; now that I think about it I could have just said this instead of making four posts about it, but where's the fun in that? Also I don't have enough information to armchair diagnose this 19th century fictional character with a specific type of bipolar disorder, so I laid out all the relevant information for you to interpet it however you want, if you're familiar with this stuff. I think he could be either bipolar I or bipolar II as there aren't many differences between those two types. For reference, I'm bipolar II (electric boogalo), which is usually mainly depressive and has less intense "ups" (mania when it's bipolar I and hypomania when it's bipolar II, but mania and manic are often used as umbrella terms and I've used them as such in this). Ivan's episode seems more mixed (having both manic and depressive symptoms at the same time, I should've explained it earlier, sorry) than purely manic and mixed episodes are more likely to happen in bipolar II and/or to those who start having symptoms in adolescence regardless of type and I think that checks out (go to part two for that). However, hallucinating a whole person and having conversations with them is a pretty big deal and my own hallucinations are nothing like that, usually hearing noises such as knocks on my door or seeing shadows or bugs at the corner of my eye and things looking slightly off and changing in shape and size; nothing big that I can interact with and I can easily ignore that the rare times it happens. Wikipedia says that any kind of hallucination classifies as mania, but my psychiatrists obviously know I've hallucinated in the past and still haven't changed my diagnosis so don't trust Wikipedia I guess, probably because my hypomanic episodes have never significantly impaired my ability to function (like they haven't significantly impaired Ivan's; trust me, he could be doing much worse). There is a lot of nuance that Internet articles lack in my opinion.

Anyway, let's go back to focusing on how Ivan feels: he's not scared, but he is exhausted and desperate. And it's heartbreaking. Not the hardest part of The Brothers Karamazov for me to read, not at all actually, but way too familiar. Ivan, who has a strong personality and a no bullshit allowed policy, who usually speaks in a firm voice and who refused to get help even if he knew his mental state was getting worse, breaks down (in private, of course) and begs and pleads; please leave me alone, shut up. He goes back and forth between desperation and rage (very mixed episode of him) and what struck me the most is how harsh his words are: almost every time the devil says something, Ivan replies with an insult or even more in a row. Yes, it's not that atypical of him considering how he talks and refers to Pavel or Dmitri, but it's, again, heartbreaking because he's never acted like that with them (or even with his father) and he knows the devil is actually himself. He's reserving his worst words, his worst attitude, his most burning and consuming rage and hatred, for himself. And he knows that. Worst thing of all to me is that at some point he covers his ears to not hear the devil, his own thoughts, and I've done that. Sometimes those thoughts are so loud that they seem to come from an outside source and covering your ears comes naturally. It obviously doesn't work. I have many other thoughts about Ivan's devil but they don't have much to do with bipolar disorder so maybe I'll write another post in the future if I feel like it. Also honorable mention to the thrown glass because apparently I've done something similar once even if I genuinely don't remember it at all (bipolar disorder also causes memory loss so you barely rememeber your episodes, it's kind of like trying to recall the events of a party you got drunk at, we're not getting into that though).

Maybe I see Ivan's story and character as less dark and tragic than the average reader does, because to most people constantly walking up and down restless with racing, out of control, incoherent thoughts and experiencing delusions and hallucinations is understandably a terrifying experience, but for me up until a couple years ago that was just a random Tuesday. I mean it is terrifying but you get used to it, after a while you understand the twisted logic bipolar disorder operates under and it becomes less scary (still is at times) and more annoying, you try to keep up with your meds and manage your symptoms as best as you can and just go on with your life while still trying to fight it when/if you can (it's less depressing than how I'm describing it I swear, I really don't know how to convey that feeling). I don't see myself as a walking tragedy or as doomed (anymore), mental illness is just mundane to me and so is to Ivan; I think Dostoevsky did a marvelous job at portraying just how uneventful it can feel from the inside and we see it the contrast between what's happening to Ivan and his reaction to it and also between the other characters' perception of him and his own perception of himself. There is nothing other than concern coming from his loved ones, no judgment, they acknowledge that he's unwell and they usually refer to him as such; Ivan on the other hand refuses to and therefore refuses to take care of himself or, God forbid, let others take care of him. He knew an episode was approaching, but as long as he was physically okay his mental state didn't matter to him. Ivan's biggest flaw is that he's independent and self-absorbed (for lack of a better word) in an unhealthy, negative, bipolar way and it only fuels his anger: the only valid judgment and opinion of himself is his own and he doesn't have a positive view of himself. The devil tells him the people at the trial will pity him and Ivan snaps; he doesn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want to be seen as "weak" because he has internalized refusal for "weakness" and "cowardice" (he asks himself if he's a coward in different occasions, sometimes straight up calling himself that). How could he not have internalized it? He was neglected growing up and as an adult he always seems to be held at an impossible standard due to the way his personality was forced to develop, from being expected to keep the peace between the Karamazovs to even after his father is brutally murdered; at the trial Ippolit Kirillovič says that if Ivan was so sure of his brother's innocence, why didn't go to the police after Smerdyakov's confession? To them that must mean said confession never happened and that Dmitri is the murderer, but in reality Ivan (poor thing) didn't go because he was delusional and thought the two of them were going to confess together the following day. People expect him to be able to think straight and fix his family's mess even when he can't. And still, he doesn't break down even at the trial: he's firm even in his delirium, he never falters, his voice never breaks, he's determined and strong like he's expected to be, even if the others can't see it. He does the right thing for himself, not caring about anyone else's opinion, and in a sense he's some sort of modern Cassandra, cursed to tell the truth without being believed by those who can save his family (and in some versions of Cassandra's myth she goes mad due to witnessing the fall of Troy). He never cries; there's only one mention of him crying in the whole novel and contrary to other characters crying, it's not something we are told by the narrator himself but it's thrown in a conversation between Katya and Alyosha by Katya. Ivan only cried in private, in front of the person who insisted to take care of him. This talk about his relationship with "weakness" and the (partial) act he puts up definitely makes more sense in relation to part three and I hope you get what I'm trying to say.

Speaking of the trial, I was struck by the attention brought to the Karamazovs', as a whole, ability to see and navigate through two opposite abysses. Dostoevsky, what the hell? Does it mean what I think it means? I don't know, but it sure is a familiar image to me and Dmitri does seem to walk the fine line between regular human behaviour and diagnostic criteria, but I don't have many thoughts about that, it could be anything really, mostly because none of them are actual real people. My own interpretation of those characters is more "literal" even if I know they're just tools to convey certain topics and messages and if you want to get more symbolic with them please do, I'd love to read it. Honestly I like the idea of a character with a heavily emotion-driven arc such as Ivan having a disorder that fucks with one's emotions so much; also seeing someone behaving like me being treated with tact and a particular kind of sensitivity by the other characters and the author himself is so special to me (at least considering the historical context, I mean they could've just thrown him in a madhouse and called it a day but nobody even thought about doing that) because uhm...I didn't receive such kindness growing up.

There are many characters from other books, movies, and shows that I love and relate to but have never seen as bipolar coded in any way, they were just relatable, but Ivan hits different as he's the first character I've seen that is so unapologetically bipolar. I've watched shows and movies with characters that canonically have bipolar disorder and even they can't hold a candle to him (let bipolar people or at least people who are familiar with them write bipolar characters I'm begging you). There isn't a single character from The Brothers Karamazov that I hate or even dislike (yes, not even Fyodor, he's not a good person but he's a good character) and all the brothers are special to me, but I just can't help having this soft spot for Ivan, I want to give him a hug and my meds.

I'm not really going to talk about Ivan's ending because while I do obviously have things to say, they don't belong here. I just want to say that him having an open and uncertain ending (I love open and uncertain endings) even more than the other characters do is very fitting.

And that's a wrap! Thanks for sticking with me and I hope this was an interesting and maybe even educational (there's a lot of ignorance regarding bipolar disorder and I try to raise awareness every time I can) read, but most of all I hope I managed to make sense. I like this part more than part three because I wrote it after surviving the seasonal change while during part three I was in the trenches but oh well, the past is past. No notes on part one and two, those are good I guess. Also I've said variations of been there done that a ridiculous amount of times in this whole thing but my Twitter display name is Ivan Karamazov kinnie for a reason. And I won't apologize for the shitty jokes by the way.

See you soon* with other literary analysis!

*= don't rely on my words too much, it could be tomorrow like it could be in ten years

#I hope it's clear I'm not trying to downplay or dismiss bipolar disorder as not a big deal or anything #I can't stress enough of much of a big deal it actually is #it's just that after a while you have to come to terms with the fact that it's your life and it'll be like this forever #there's not much you can do about it y'know #it's hard to accept but again it's not like you have other options #anyway it's very funny how I started this thing citing the specific chapters I was referring to and gradually went more and more “fuck it”#and only mentioned in which books the things I'm talking about happen or straight up mentioned absolutely nothing just vibes #this stuff is all in the book tho I swear #the brothers karamazov #ivan karamazov #bipolar ivan karamazov agenda #thoughts #mine

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