#ive been having a really bad whole body itch these past few days and i have no idea where it's coming from or when it's going to go away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pizza-soup · 3 years

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Sorry I've been missing in action.

Long story short I got very injured at the labs, but I've been making a fast recovery. For the more detailed, graphic version, you can read below. Warning: Mention of hospital, blood, car accident.

As I mentioned, I got really injured at work beginning on February 21 at around 9 PM. It was during a routine check at some of the sites, one in particular needed our higher clearance because there had been a breach at a fence that past week, so I, and two other guards went to check out any tampering of the fence again. They say it might be vandals but a lot of them say it was some kind of large animal. The road to those sites are a single path through the woods, lit with a few lights, no curves, just a flat road with a hill on one side. It hadn't snowed that week either, so no fear of ice or anything. It was just a routine jeep trek.

It happened so fast. Our vehicle was knocked over, I'm not even sure how, but we were rolling in the dark down a hill, hitting trees. I remember the shouting, holding fast, and the glass. I remember crawling toward a tree and trying to sit up against it or maybe I was put there by the other guard, Dolores, I remember her telling me to stay awake. I asked her if I was dreaming. It didn't feel real. I asked what was happening to me because I couldn't move right, everything felt so slow and muffled. I passed out by the time they got us into the medical ward. I don't remember them putting me in a gown or putting in an IV. I woke up later, I buzzed the call button out of fear and pain. My whole left side was throbbing. A nurse was relieved I finally came to. She gave me pain meds and called the doctor in.

I was told there had been an accident, that much I already knew, but no one was killed, just injured. I lost a lot of blood, my uniform was soaked in it and they had to cut it off me. Part of the metal from the door frame folded in and pieced my left shoulder and I had minor cuts on my hands and arms from the glass. My blood pressure dropped so low they were scared my heart might've stopped. I was given blood, hooked up to a lot of things and I would have to stay under watch for a few days. There was a lot of tests they needed to do to figure out just how bad my injuries were.

For the next few days I was just sleeping, I couldn't sit up without feeling dizzy. I had to lay semi flat, my blood pressure was still very low. My left side was still throbbing and the stitches itched. A lot of bruises developed from being tossed around like I was, mostly on my arms because I was shielding my face and head. My minor glass cuts stung while batheing. Nurses came in every few hours to check my vitals, help me use the restroom, shower, help me eat, ect. I got so tired from the smallest things. I couldn't call anyone, my phone was in my locker. I finally got someone to help me call my brother to tell him what happened. My brother was naturally scared, he thought something happened to me and he was sad to know he was right. He wanted to see me, but he couldn't, I was in the medical ward on lab property. He wanted to call our mom to tell her but I told him to wait, there was a possibility that I might be transferred to a local hospital where they can visit me, and I didn't want her panicking and trying to drive up here in bad weather. It's best she waited til things cleared up.

After the first week I was transferred to a local hospital after getting a bunch of tests done. No brain trauma, no broken bones, no blood sugar issues or thyroid problems. I could sit up in bed by then and eat on my own. I still couldn't walk very well without feeling really dizzy, again, low blood pressure. A lot of minor bruises were fading away. I never had my anemia officially confirmed, but they confirmed it and had me take daily iron and placed on a blood building diet in the new hospital. I was tested for covid, I came out clear.

My brother and mom visited me daily, and the other doctor said I was recovering really quickly, that gave us a lot of hope. I could be out of there by a few days, though my blood pressure was worrying her. Seems it wasn't so much the blood loss, but that it might have been an underlying condition already linked to my untreated anemia. She would get the in-house dietitian to include a bit more natural sea salt to my iron rich diet, as well as tell me what I should eat at home and that I need to drink a lot more water than I normally did. This is a problem I've had for awhile, I forget to drink enough water. The doctor warned me I better remedy that immediately especially with low BP. My mom was already taking notes. She really wanted to just take me home already. I really liked her being there, I'm not that shy about my body, but I honestly felt better having my mom bathe me and comb my hair instead of strangers doing that. She was also a lot more gentle around my stitches and bruises.

Eventually I did come home, I still needed a lot of rest and help getting out of bed. I had to fight the urge to clean house, help with groceries, ect. I'm so used to being self sufficient. I felt so frustrated that just walking around the room would tire me out, when I'd hike for miles just a few months ago. I was tired of sleeping and sitting down. But there wasn't much else I could do. I did a lot of origami, my bro got me a coloring book, I watched a lot of movies, took my iron -which is nasty btw-, ate meals that were saltier than I normally would prepare but my taste buds would have to adjust. I was happy my new diet included a lot of fish though.

I did have some close calls. I really thought I could stand up in the shower instead of sitting, and wound up calling for my mom to help me up after collapsing. I collapsed again when I was trying to cook dinner for myself. My face, according to my mom, was drained of color and my breathing was shallow. I felt so dizzy and nauseated. She nearly wanted to call the hospital again. My bro said I was pushing myself too hard and I always had a problem with not asking for help. That I needed to learn to stop being so damn stubborn and rest. To anyone else, that sounds harsh, but he knows me way too well, probably better than our mom. I do have that problem, I do push myself too much. After that, I decided to be more patient with myself. I was sick and might be sick for awhile.

This week I'm doing a lot better. I can do my daily things now, I even went to get groceries and take a little walk to the river. But I can't over do it, I can't stand up or walk for too long, and I can't lift anything heavy, otherwise I get bouts of dizziness and need to sit down. The pain isn't as bad on my back anymore though it's still very sore, my arms, especially my left side, have a dull pain. I can't sleep on my back and left side, only my right and on my stomach. A lot of the cuts on the back of my arms and hands have scabbed over, minor bruises are gone but major ones on my shoulder and neck are still pretty dark and tender. I'm still finding glue spots on my chest and stomach from the medical tape and the EKG patches they put on me, but a bit of lotion is taking it off. My stitching, according to my mom, is definitely going to leave a pretty bad scar above my shoulder blade, but it's fine. My body has a lot of scars here and there from close calls, but I consider them ' Marks of Life'. They're proof I survived and thrived.

It'll take time for me to really feel like I'm back to normal. My mom refuses to go back home until I make a full recovery. She hasn't tended to me like this for a long time, mainly because I rarely get sick. I trait from my dad's side. We don't get colds or flus for years, no history of cancer, heart issues or diabetes, and his family usually remain active to their elderly years, not to mention our graceful aging. My dad used to say it was our native blood, we're just built tougher. The only thing that could kill us is getting injured like this. God, he'd be so worried about me though. I remember how he'd fuss over me when I skinned my knee as a child or got my allergies. If he was alive, he'd probably refuse to let me do anything out of bed, but then that's exactly what I should be doing anyway.

I got a report on the other guards health yesterday. Dolores and Elijah. She was the least hurt out of all of us, just a dislocated arm, mild whiplash, and some really bad glass cuts on her chest and arms, she's home recovering with her husband and kids. Elijah was the driver and got knocked unconscious with a bad concussion, his entire left arm was sliced by glass and metal, he lost a lot of blood like me and is recovering just as slow as I am. He opted to stay in the lab medical ward because he doubts his roommate can care for him at home, he's on a lot of pain meds, so he sounded distant on the phone. I think out of all of us, he's going to take the most time to recover. I told him I'd pray for him and if he wants, I can visit. He appreciated that a lot. I thanked Dolores for helping us that night, she was the one trying her best to keep us alive and sent the distress signal on our ARK devices so they could find us in the dark. Without her, I think we would've bled to death.

God, it feels like a distant nightmare. I still can't figure out how we were knocked off the road like that. Something hit us out there and it was strong. I felt the impact in the backseat, but I didn't see it. Dolores says it looked like a bear, but bears aren't that strong. Eli says he saw horns, so maybe a bison. Bison are that strong, especially against a little jeep. The incident is still under investigation. The lab is also very concerned about how this happened. It's possible the same thing that hit us, has been tampering with the fence.

One less thing to worry about is the hospital bill, the accident happened on lab grounds, everything is taken care of through them, probably because they don't want to get sued. They are giving us another two weeks before we report back in to the doctor for another round of tests and physical tests, as well as check to see if my stitches were still secure. Our return to work solely depends on our results, we may not be able to come back until late April. They really want to be sure we're okay. Because I'm an 'Ophanim' aka Tier 3 guard, I'll also be given a mental test before being hooked back into Selene. They just want to be sure there's no cognition issues and I can sync properly to her. I may have to do a refresher since I've been away for so long, but I'll worry about that when it comes.

Well, if you read this far, thanks. I hope I didn't scare you all too much. I am doing a lot a better though, I promise. I'm getting stronger everyday, though activity on this blog will be slow. Send me some prayers, good vibes, whatever. I'd really appreciate anything. Hope you've had a good month, better than mine hopefully.

#Update #medical trauma #accident tw #injury tw #daily update

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softbiker · 5 years

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Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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hawkland · 3 years

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Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic.

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically:

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

#fandom5k #dear author #exchange letter

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interrogatormentors · 4 years

Text

Event Twelve: Underhanded Tactics

Eridan woke up in the medbay, a common occurrence these nights. His whole head throbbed, and he slid his tongue along the roof of his cotton-dry mouth. He cracked open an eye only to screw it shut again, head panging again as a jolt of fear rattled through his gut. The phantom scent of antiseptic teased at his memory, the sound of hair clippers and the saw discordant and lingering as the Empress crooned at his side. You are my confidante, she’d said. You must keep my secrets close, locked tight so no one can pull them from you. Stop crying, guppy, brain surgery ain’t so bad.

He took a deep breath through his nose, gills flaring as he struggled to avoid hyperventilating. The past couldn’t hurt him, initial panic notwithstanding. His arm itched, a faint movement confirming the IV needle sunk into a vein. He felt around for the needle, ripping it out of his arm and clamping his hand down to stem the resulting spurt of blood.

“Sir!” Eridan ignored the alarmed squawk of a nearby mediculler, sitting up on the medical platform and peeling his eyes open. “You should be resting--”

“I didn’t give nobody permission to bring me in, Icrusa,” Eridan said, voice a rough croak. He cleared his throat, replacing his whole hand with his index finger to put pressure on the IV site instead. The mediculler swallowed hard, shrinking back as Eridan shot him an icy glare. “Told you this the last time.”

“You keep passing out, sir,” Icrusa said. His ears flushed a brilliant yellow as Eridan glowered. “You really shouldn’t be drinking so much, not with your pan in such a delicate state.” Icrusa stopped speaking as Eridan gripped onto the side of the medical platform, highblood strength twisting and warping the metal frame.

“My pan ain’t delicate,” he said. “I’m no different than I was a sweep ago. I’m not some delicate pissblooded helmsman. I can handle it. And the next time you try an’ give me some holier than thou bullshit regardin’ my drinkin’ habits, I’m setting you out the airlock. I didn’ ask for you to give me fuckin’ unsolicited health advice an’ you’d fuckin’ do well to remember that.” He reached for his glasses, shoving them on his face. His finger skipped over the false slap of skin at his temples, hiding the new port for a biowire. His stomach rolled, and he shoved it away. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Shut off your emotions, guppy, like a husktop. “I can’t get work done in the medbay. Sign my release form.”

Icrusa hesitated before bobbing his head, scurrying back to his office. He knew better by this point than to point out that yes, actually, it was his job to give health advice considering his status as the ship’s official mediculler after the last time Eridan woke up hungover in the medbay. Eridan watched him the whole time through narrowed eyes, foot tapping at a near frantic pace as he waited. He left the medbay even before the mediculler left his office, lifting the cape folded at the end of the platform and swinging it back around his shoulders. A sweep ago he would have felt childish, wearing a cape again, haunted by wiggler memories of immature games and lofty aspirations he could never hope to reach. But the Empress had given it to him, just for him in her color, gold woven into the hem with his sign etched into the embroidery, marking him as hers.

He went to his block, avoiding the stares from crew members as he swept past them. He didn’t need their concern or their pity to do his job. The moment he entered he snatched a half-empty flask from his desk, draining the rest of it and sighing as his throat burned. Nothing beat a hangover like a bit of hair of the woofbeast, and a few minutes later his panic faded back into the background. Everything was okay. He was fine, everything was normal, and he could get to work.

Eridan sank into his chair, fumbling around for a bottle of soporific and refilling his flask as he eyed a desk drawer with distaste. He sucked in a breath before opening it, picking up the squirming biowire pinched between his index finger and thumb. He gritted his teeth before flicking the false flap of skin back, putting the wire to his temple. The biowire squirmed and sank into the port, and Eridan flinched as pain shot through his brain. The Empress had assured him the procedure was safe, convenient, but every time he hooked up to a computer Eridan felt like death clawed at his pan. He didn’t have psionics, he didn’t have all the electric pulses constantly thrumming through his body and shortening the neural pathways so the biowire could work efficiently. The biowire twisted his thoughts into agonized tendrils, every transfer of encrypted data giving him a migraine for hours.

Still he hooked himself to his computer, taking another draft from his refilled flask as he opened up his alerts and tasks for the day. A download automatically started-- a security update for the ship itself, procedures for lockdown in case of a hijacking. The rebellion kept forcing the Empire’s hand, this latest security update a response to the more frequent hijackings by the movement that drew closer and closer to the heart of the fleet. Eridan bowed his head as the details wove their way into the meat of his pan, sinking into the hardware and locking themselves away. His hands shook, and he had to take a few minutes before focusing back on his tasks. His duties as Head Admin hadn’t ceased. Supplies needed ordering, personnel needed allocating, and patrol routes needed vetting. The duties never stopped, they never stopped piling up, and the notifications at the bottom right of his husktop screen with the sheer number of them seared their image into Eridan’s eyeballs.

Eridan leaned back in his seat, scrubbing at his eyes and then staring at the ceiling. Turn off the emotions. He could do that, he needed to do that, in order to keep going. He couldn’t waylay the demands of the Empress, and he had a responsibility to his ship to keep it running. Wasting time freaking out about the lack of time and lack of autonomy held him back. Besides, he never made good decisions for himself in the first place.

The intercom crackled on his desk, and Eridan snarled as he depressed the call button with his finger. “The fuck you need, Shakes?”

“Uh. Sorry to bother you, but we got a docking request,” Shakes said. “You good?”

“Not relevant. The BC Condescension is a galaxy over until the end of the perigee, so tell whoever we ain’t dockin’ for shit.”

“No, no, boss, this ain’t just any old request. It’s, uh, an interrogatormentor cruiser?”

Eridan lifted his head where he’d been resting it on his hand, blood crystallizing into icy shards of fear. “What? Why?”

“Beats me,” Shakes said. “They’ve got all the required security codes all lined up neat for me. I couldn’t get a bead on the helmsman either-- It’s like they don’t even have one. Do I let them dock?”

“It’s th’ bloody interrogatormentors. Do we have a choice?” Eridan plucked the biowire from his skull, shoving it back in his desk and smoothing his hair flat once again. “Let them on. I’ll let the Captain know.”

He met the interrogatormentors in the docking bay as they disembarked their tiny cruiser. The two purples stood out, towering high above the third, weedy troll between them. Eridan had to shake himself as he took in the yellowblood, the image of the decrepit Helmsman superimposed over the far more muscled and smooth-faced interrogatormentor in front of them. The fact the interrogatormentor clearly had helming experience didn’t help, his skin riddled with resealable ports that shone in the overhead lights. That explained the helmsman, then. Of course Shakes wouldn’t be able to get a bead on a helmsman with interrogatormentor training. Eridan cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and approached.

“Are you the captain?” The yellowblood cocked his head an inch, looking Eridan up and down. Something in his tone indicated he already knew the answer to his question, and his lisp niggled at memory in the back of Eridan’s pan.

“No. I’m Head Admin Ampora. State your business and I will fetch the captain for--”

The female purple to the side of the first interrogatormentor held up a hand, cutting him off. She wore no face paint unlike her companion. The male purple in question stared at Eridan openly, twitching as he heard Eridan’s name. It took Eridan a moment to register Gamzee aged as he was, gone through his final adult molt and towering above him. He met Gamzee’s eyes for only a moment before tearing his gaze away. He couldn’t risk Gamzee opening his mouth. He only wondered how Gamzee had landed a position alongside an interrogatormentor squad considering how Eridan faintly recalled outing his rebel connections upon first meeting the Empress.

The yellowblooded interrogatormentor cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. His fangs flashed as he spoke. “You’ve been compromised, Admin Ampora.”

The voice finally knocked something loose in Eridan’s pan, unlocking memories of voice calls at midday and filled with shouting wigglers spouting heresy. “TwinArmageddons?”

“CaligulasAquarium,” the yellow interrogatormentor replied, without missing a beat.

Eridan stared at him, and stayed silent. They stayed at an impasse for a few moments, neither of them willing to out the other's rebel ties without revealing their own as Gamzee kept looking between them as the treasonous icing on the cake. It was as if Eridan had handed the interrogatormentor a grenade, and the yellowblood had pulled the pin while the grenade sat in their joined hands.

The female purple looked to the yellow, who cleared his throat. “I read his file. He read mine.” Eridan didn’t like how easily he lied, terror still prickling at the base of his skull. He scratched the back of his head, trying to ignore the wicked scar there.

“So. Right. You here to torture me?” Eridan asked. “Interrogatormentor…?”

“Captor,” the yellowblood said. He indicated the female purple, and then Gamzee. “Interrogatormentor Davrot, Security Officer Makara. We’re responding to an alert your ship is harboring rebels and they are attempting to remove you from your position as the Empress’ consort.”

Eridan’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “No. You got the wrong ship. I ain’t recruitin’ rebels. Especially none tryin’ to undermine me.”

Captor snorted, lowering his chin in a clear sign of arrogant condescension. He waved a hand and the two purples separated from his side where they’d clung like remoras to a shark’s parasite-ridden gills. “Strange. The report said you’re the one that caught the alert and brought it to the Empire’s attention.”

Eridan stared, trying to knit together the holes in his memory and recall ever summoning interrogatormentors. He did a lot of his work drunk now, true enough, but he had a handle on it and remembered the important information. If anything he only remembered the Empress, a foggy memory of her praising him for his work against the rebellion. Was this what she meant?

He turned as he heard yelling and a distant commotion, but Captor waved a hand. “Ignore this and get back to whatever you Head Admins call work while we deal with your infestation,” he said. “You’ll be updated when we get what we need.”

He walked away, silent as before as he ghosted after the two purples. Eridan watched him go before shaking himself back into reality, looking around to see a few crewmates halted in their duties and watching him. “You’re not paid to dick around,” he said, baring his teeth. “Unless any of the rest of you want to be investigated for rebel leanings. Might as well make use of the interrogatormentors while they’re here.” The idle crewmembers jumped back into their work, avoiding Eridan’s eye as he left the room.

Hours passed, and Eridan wanted to throttle something. Everyone wanted to know what the interrogatormentors wanted or needed, and he had nothing to give them. He didn’t even know the name of the troll being investigated, and he didn’t care. As long as the interrogatormentors weren’t knocking at his door and asking what he knew of Feferi and her rebellion, he didn’t care.

Someone knocked on his door. Eridan jumped, almost knocking over his flask onto his keyboard and only just managing to catch it before it fell. He swore and stood, opening the door to see the trio of trolls from earlier, Interrogatormentor Davrot dragging a fourth, barely conscious troll behind her by the hair. Olive blood oozed from multiple lacerations across the troll’s face and arms.

“Bricks?” Eridan tried to not sound so betrayed, but his voice dripped with it.

Bricks stirred, groaning before opening an eye. His other eye was swollen shut. “I’m not a rebel,” Bricks said. He yelped as Davrot yanked his hair up, clinging to her wrist for dear life in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pain. “I’m not. Don’t listen to them-- I just tried to get you help!”

“Help with what?” Eridan’s fingers curled in the hem of his cape, and he let go only when he caught Captor staring at the gesture like a predator eyeing its prey.

Bricks stayed silent, hissing as Davrot forced him onto his knees. She leaned in, grabbing him by the horn and twisting. “No. No no no-- Not again--” Bricks screamed as Eridan caught the sound of horn splintering, grinding against itself. “The Empress! Stop-- She’s killing you, Ampora, can’t you see it? Anyone with eyes can fucking see it, it’s only the rebellion that might care! I don’t give a shit about anything else they do, I just wanted them to get you out of this place before it gets any worse..”

Eridan bristled, hands curling into his fists. Captor moved forward before he could say anything, footsteps inaudible on the metal tile. He put his hand on Bricks’ shoulder. “He sold you out,” he said. “You’re preaching to the choir now.” Bricks blinked, looking from Captor to Eridan who stood immobile. Captor snorted, snapping his fingers. Davrot grabbed Bricks’ hand, linking her fingers with his and holding it high above his head as Captor leaned in and grabbed Bricks by the chin. “It’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? You selling each other out to try and save your own sorry hides. You thought you could get away with this? With trying to snatch the Empress’ consort out from under her?” Captor dropped Bricks’ face and turned his bicolored eyes on Eridan. “You employ soft crewmembers, Admin Ampora. We didn’t even have to press hard to crack him open.”

Captor moved his left hand, swiping it overtop his right. Psionics shimmered in its wake, coalescing into a solid blade of hard light. Eridan could feel the thrum of power from here, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in the wake of this blatant flexing of psionic ability. Bricks jerked his hand in Davrot’s grip, but she stood immobile as Gamzee grabbed his uninjured horn and kept him locked in place. “Ampora. Eridan. Come on. Who the fuck do you think keeps scraping your sorry ass off the floor every time you pass out? Tell me they’re lying-- You wouldn’t throw me under like this. I know you.”

“You don’t know me,” Eridan said. He couldn’t remember telling any interrogatormentors about an outgoing message to the rebels, or even mentioning it offhand to the Empress. He didn’t know if he wanted to. The Empress gave him everything, she gave him status and gifts and he served as her comfort and her informant. Bricks wanted to take that all away-- He wanted to ruin everything Eridan had worked so hard for and send him back to step one in the dirt with rebels. Rebels that Eridan had burned so many bridges with it might as well be a scrapyard, that had said to his face and beyond that he would never be welcome until he shaped up. He’d shaped up, he’d shipped out into the stars, and crafted himself into something better that neither Feferi nor any of her other cronies could hope to touch. “I… Yeah. I did.”

Bricks’ face fell, only for him to scream as Captor swiped out with the psionic blade and separated the engineer’s hand from his wrist with crunching bone and the smell of seared flesh. The hand skidded across the floor, smearing a trail of olive blood along the floor and landing at Eridan’s feet. Eridan stared down at it as Davrot and Gamzee let Bricks crumple to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming.

He only looked up as Captor advanced on him, schooling his face back into the blank slate the Empress had taught him. A thin line of yellow blood snaked down the interrogatormentor’s face from his nose due to no doubt immeasurable strain required by him wielding that blade. “Keep this close as a reminder to your crew. I trust you’ll do the right thing,” Captor said. He bent down and picked up the hand, and dropped it into Eridan’s. Eridan’s muscles tensed to throw it away, stomach rolling, but he only stared down at it, conditioned by this point to be totally numb as every instinct screamed at him to do something. Instead, he could be good. He could do nothing. The Empress would be proud of him, or at least he hoped as much.

He snapped back to attention as Captor inclined his head and spoke again. “Long live the Empire.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eridan said, straightening his back as he automatically saluted, expression schooled into a blank mask, the drunken flush from earlier banished from his face. “Long live the Empire.”

Captor swiped at the trickle of blood on his face with his thumb and nodded, turning on his heel. The two purples flanked him again, bringing up the rear as they disappeared down the hall.

Eridan dropped the hand the moment the interrogatormentors went out of sight, skin crawling, but he couldn’t bring himself to so much as whimper. He couldn’t trust his crew. He couldn’t trust his memory. He could only trust the Empress, that she would recognize the dangers pointing daggers at his back and save him, as she no doubt had in sending interrogatormentors to his ship.

He shut the door to his blocks, leaving Bricks sobbing on the floor. He didn’t feel anything, anything at all. Even as he sent the Captain a message about the incident and Bricks writhed on the floor in pain outside his blocks he felt nothing, the tears that finally spilled from his eyes more a physical response to the lingering smell of charred flesh in his nose more than anything. He’d have to do something about the hand eventually, and he wouldn’t put it past a sadistic interrogatormentor to actually make sure he kept the hand on display somewhere. That definitely would not win him any brownie points with the crew, especially with how alienated he felt from them by this point. He doubted even Shakes would give him the time of day after this, with what he let happen to Bricks. Fuck, he needed another drink.

They’d told him in Fleet Academy that space was vast, that space was empty and cruel and cold. But no one had told him, they didn’t warn him, that space was so fucking lonely.

#homestuck #homestuck au #interrogatormentors #fic #eridan ampora #sollux captor #gamzee makara #alcohol use #alcoholism #torture #amputation #for fun and profit!#and here we are #the last chapter #hope everyone had a better time than the characters here #book one is now complete!

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biznichwrites · 5 years

Note

Hi, how are you? I hope fine! ❤️ I have (a little strange) a request. Can you write a one shot about Giyuu and reader being together, but reader finds out Giyuu is kissing another girl and runs away, with Giyuu following her, but reader ends up being hit by a car and she is in coma but then she wakes up and all happy and fluffy things in the end? Thank you, and sorry for the bother! ❤️

My one shot skills are a little rusty, I haven't written a true fan fic in about… 6 or 7 years LOOOOOL but I'll give it a try! I’m sorry I haven’t written this one for you yet, it left me a bit stumped for some reason.

I put this under a cut because it came out to be like 5 pages long (WHOOPS I APOLOGIZE FOR NOTHING)

Giyuu wasn’t one to kiss others, typically. He was always loyal, typically. The boyfriend you bragged to others about, typically. But typical wouldn’t over this situation now, would it?

Or at least that’s how you rationalized what you were seeing. You were coming to meet Giyuu for a party after classes and work, but you desperately asked him to come so you couldn’t back out now, even though you really wanted to. Maybe you could make an appearance and dip, you doubt your boyfriend would have an issue with that. As you walked up to the party you tried to call him to receive no answer, not to mention your texts from earlier weren’t answered as well. Well, that was odd, but maybe he took the initiative and went to the party ahead of you!

Pocketing your phone you walked up to the party and things fell into a hush. Well shit, that’s awkward. Shinobu was the first to snatch you from the crowds of the party and bring you to a quiet hallway.

“What the actual hell is going on?” The cute butterfly clip in her hair betrayed the strain in her voice.

“What are you talking about? I told you I was coming to the party and dragging Giyuu along.”

“Ah, well it seems there’s a miscommunication going around.” With a twist of your face and a confused tilt of your head she continued. “We were told you weren’t coming, but things should be fine.”

“Should be?” The short woman was always a mystery and full of sass, so you didn’t question much. Before you could even get a breath and leave the hall Mitsuri made her way down to you. Was something really that bad?

“I was so worried about you when I heard! I had no idea what was going on.” The pink haired woman had obviously had a couple of drinks and seemed as if she were floating.

“No one told me what happened and now I’m getting anxious. All day I’ve been at class then work, is anyone going to tell me?”

“Shinobu didn’t say?” A gasp flew from the other woman’s lips. “It was said you an Giyuu broke up!”

“WHAT?”

No. No, no, no. Not an option, you were going to be together forever.

“Someone was showing messages from you that said you didn’t want to see him again. But now I think about it, there wasn’t really any way to prove who it was…”

You wanted more detailed but you heard Giyuu’s voice though the party goers. So he showed up without you? With a rushed apology to the love guru of the dorms you bolted off to find him. You found him in the kitchen of the frat house, pouring himself two drinks. Two??? He didn’t look especially sad, or happy, or really anything.

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. There was some rage, to put it lightly. Especially as he turned towards you a girl popped up, pulling his face to hers to grab a few sloppy drunk kisses.

THAT BITCH. She had always been trying for Giyuu long before the two of you got together. You were so mad that you froze. You could hear two voices from behind you, sounding awfully like the women you spoke to earlier.

“See, Giyuu, I told you that wasn’t real. No one other than her would-” Whatever snide comment Shinobu was going to make died on her tongue as she came to the scene. You rage took a deep plunge, spiralling out of control in mere seconds.

So if you broke up with him he had someone to replace you that night? Was that really all you meant to him? And with a girl you never trusted to begin with? Even your friends knew better, but he, of all people, didn’t?

Tears blurred your eyes as his own locked with yours, making time stand still for a moment, and you darted past the crowds. You wanted to go home, you didn’t need to be here. Misturi called for you but it just made you run faster. Not today, you couldn’t deal with this right now. You made your way through the house, ignoring calls of your apparent ex-boyfriend.

You just wanted to make it to your car, at least you could shut everyone out and find some semblance of stability enough to drive home. Right as you hit the street you heard his voice calling clearly, something about wait, and despite your better judgement your head swung around to look at him. Why did he have such a horrified face on?

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

You woke up in a weird room. What the fuck is going on? Jesus, everything hurt. Why did your body feel so strange? A choked groan left your lips as your eyes adjusted to the light. This sucked, from what you could tell you were in the hospital. You didn’t even remember much about how you got here. Did you get black out drunk? Someone spike a drink with LSD and you tripped way too hard?

With effort you brought your hands up to itch your eyes. Well it was a shitty enough night, all things considered, you needed to get out of here and go home. When you went to stand up some alarms went off and you couldn’t stop the pounding in your head that followed.

“Damn, just shut up.” Your voice sounded scratchy, like it didn’t belong to you, but that was the least of your problems. With a huff you turn towards the door to get a nurse to turn off the machine, but Giyuu is standing there, looking shocked. Why was he looking at you like that? You’d just seen him a couple of days ago before class.

You’d never seen him move so fast. Everything in his hands was on the floor and he ran up to you and scooped you up in a hug. What was that noise? Was he crying? You would move your arms to push him back to see if he was okay, but the sheer number of IVs in your arms stopped you.

“I was so worried you wouldn’t wake up.” His lips brushed your temple and it left you in a state of shock. He was never so affectionate, not in any amount of time you’d been with him. Strange. “Let me get the nurses so they could discharge you.”

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

If you were to be honest the whole thing was a haze. The next day you were allowed to come home after a few scans. In fact it wasn’t until your discharge paperwork rested on your lap did you even realize it was going on. When the doctors said you had “been out for a while” you had expected a day or two, not 3 fucking months.

On your way out of the hospital you were absolutely losing your shit. Your job, your classes, your bills, THE PLACE YOU LIVE. Oh fuck, your life is over. Giyuu picked you up but you were getting car sick fast, but the glances you saw weren’t going to your place.

“Giyuu… Uh, where are we going?”

“Home.” So eloquent, a man of few words. “I’ll explain when we get home”

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

You sat on his bed, looking at your belongings filling the once empty space of his room. He said he had things figured out, this isn’t what you had expected in the least.

“You might be upset with me.” Maybe, things were just weird as hell now.

“I talked with your parents to make sure you were taken care of.” Shocking, considering he never really spoke to them, even during visits.

“So um… Your stuff is here. To make sure your account didn’t overdraw from rent your parents broke the contract.” Probably the only reason your phone was still working.

“Your classes… I finished them.”

“What?” You could only take so much, like damn.

“Your parents had them transferred to online versions, so I completed them for you. It was too late to withdraw and I know you didn’t want an F on the finals”

You didn’t know how to respond. Of course he said he loved you, but he really meant it. Like REALLY meant it.

“Giyuu-”

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

He didn’t really go past that, but he didn’t seem to want to let you go.

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

“I know I shouldn’t have.” Finally he told you what happened. He hid his face behind his hands, but you could still tell his eyes were on the verge of tears. “I was hoping to see you there, I wanted to see you face to face. I shouldn’t have started drinking, I should have thought about you.”

You hadn’t seen him cry over anything so much, especially for your sake. Even the anniversary of his sister passing didn’t get such a reaction. Slowly you moved closer, as best as you could where you were with recovery.

“Giyuu, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He huffed, but at least he was looking up at you.

“Well, yes and no. It wasn’t an okay experience, but things worked out, right?” Your hand rose to his cheek, cupping it as you brushed away a stray tear.

“Things working out, like I ruined your life?” He looked over, seeing a few faint marks along your body that weren’t there before. “I don’t know how to live with myself for letting this happen to you.”

You shut him up with a soft kiss. He really couldn’t deny you, now especially.

“I love you, Giyuu.”

“I love you, too.”

#ask #giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #kny imagine #kny x reader #kny giyuu x reader #XXXXL JUST FOR YOU BB!#lilsushicinnamonroll #biznichwrites

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katieelizabeth · 4 years

Text

What would you call your body type? Definitely curvy

Are you a morning person? Yes and no. I’m taking sleep meds for nausea so right now waking up is kinda hard.

Have you ever been to Target? Loveeeeee Target

Do you like iced tea? Iced tea is always my jam

When is the next time you’ll be at work? Hmm it’s kinda up in the air right now. I’m itching to get back tho.

Do you have a savings account? Yes. one for myself, one with my boyfriend

Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Only once.

What color bedsheets are currently on your bed? Currently grey

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? Yes, I wanna say total like 6 times.

Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? It absolutely does.

Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? My boyfriend thinks I'm a terrible wrapper hahah

Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? Yes.

What would you say is your favorite television show? If I had to narrow it down, probably Skins.

Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Yes and no. I don’t care for holiday dinners with my family but I love holiday dinners with my boyfriends family.

Is there any piece of jewelry you’re constantly wearing? I’m not married or engaged but I do wear a small silver band on my ring finger.

What is one thing you desire as of now? To be able to just go and sit down in a restaurant. This virus has everyone living in fear and I'm tired of it and want to live normally and enjoy my pregnancy

What kind of phone do you have? An iPhone XR.

If you could move anywhere, where would you choose? Canada or London

Do you blog a lot, if at all? No not really. I used to when Xanga was big.

Is your present hair color, natural? Nope.

What makes you the most angry when it comes to people? My boyfriend thinks that anytime my opinion is different than his, then I'm trying to argue with him. It’s so fucking frustrating.

Describe your current outfit? Anaheim Ducks shirt and matching pj pants hahah

What was the last thing you ordered online? Some toothbrushes lol

Have you ever felt as though you were drifting apart from a best friend? Ive had two best friends in my life completely shut me out before. It sucks.

What color are your eyes? Poop brown

Have you ever worn color contacts? I have but I could never wear them because of the astigmatisms in both my eyes. Lasik was the best decision of my life

What’s the best thing about a hug? Right now I miss everything about hugs

Biggest fear? Losing my loved ones, death, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life....

If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? Just celebrated three years

Do you know any genuinely friendly people? Yes.

Do you buy your friends gifts? I try to when I can

What was the last thing you plugged in? My phone to the charger.

How old are you? 29

What color headphones do you own? They’re black.

Have you ever shopped on Urban Outfitters? No, just a reminder than I'm fat

Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? Amazon, Goodwill

Would you rather wear necklaces or earrings? Necklaces

Do you consider yourself fortunate? Very

Do you enjoy watching fights? Nooo.

Have you ever been in a physical fight? No way

Do you tend to talk badly about people? I try not to but everyone is guilty of that

Where are your parents as of now? Watching tv in the tv room

Does your computer cooperate most of the time? I literally just bought it so yes haha

Does your family have any cheesy traditions? Kind of

When did you last go to a book store? Gosh it’s been a while!

What’s the closest book store where you live? Barnes & Noble.

How much money do you have on you right now? On hand, $20.

Favorite personal feature? my hair and my lips

Are you wearing make up at the moment? Nope.

Favorite television channel? Bravo, E!, ID, HBO

Describe any piercings or tattoos you might have? 6 tattoos no piercings

Have you ever been fired from a job? INope

Are you currently losing a best friend? No.

Describe the worst day of your life: I’m good.

Do you play any video games? Not at the moment

Would you say you hate anyone? I feel hatred towards racists, homophobics, ect.

Do you think freckles are cute? Very cute!

Last time you went to the mall? Gosh its been a really long time

Name something that’s your favorite color: anything teal

Have you been to Red Lobster before? Yesssss. I want seafood

Do you judge by appearances? Anyone who tells you they don't to some degree is a fucking liar.

Do you follow a certain religion? No thank you

Who is your role model, if you had to choose? Im not really sure

Would you rather have nice hair or lips? Hair.

What are you most self conscious about? Pretty much my whole body

Do you have any family members who live out of town? Yeah.

Do you consider yourself short? Nope, I'm average height for a girl

What room are you in? Mine.

Hoodies or jackets? Hoodies.

Are you outside a lot? No not really. The sun doesn’t like my skin haha

Have you ever been dumped via text message? Nope

Do you like dreamcatchers? Not really

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? I don’t have one.

Do you hate repetitive people and things? Depends on the situation

Do you think autocorrect is a blessing or curse? BOTH

Do you believe in any particular curses? No.

Ever play a Ouija board? Nope, my mom wouldn't let me growing up

What movie scares you the most? The Exorcist. I can watch the movie now no problem but it FUCKED up my childhood.

What was your bedtime as a child? 9. I remember watching Happy Days from 8-9

Reason why your favorite holiday is your favorite: Who doesn't love Christmastime?

Do you work with any close friends? I work with my baby daddy

Do you consider yourself spoiled? I would say in some way I'm probably spoiled

Do you listen to any country music? yes

Favorite high school teacher: I don’t specifically remember any high school teachers I liked. Probably my French teacher. He was super cool!

Do you ever get drunk? Of course. Can’t drink yet tho until after baby

Have you ever had highlights before? Nope

Favorite number: 7,10

Do you still sleep with any stuffed animals? Not anymore. I used to for a a long time

What is your biggest regret in life? Eh I've got a few

Would you say you think you have a mental disorder of some kind? Depression/anxiety. Ive taken meds for it

Are you normally an independent person? I like to think myself as independent but my boyfriend sure takes care of me. I dunno what id do without him

Do you have any paintings? a few

What is one clothing fad you wish never existed? anything from the early 2000s haha

Do you like to be organized? Do I like it? Yes. Am I organized? NO

Have you ever failed a class before? oh yes

Ever been judged because of your weight? All the time. Not so much as an adult tho

What is your favorite breakfast cereal? The sugary bad ones, ha.

Ever had a wish come true? Nope

Do you regret meeting any of your exes? No way

Do you own any coloring books? Yes haha those adult ones

What’s the meanest thing someone’s called you? I can’t think of anything specific. Probably fat

Have you ever bullied someone? I likely have, unfortunately :(

Do you ever watch Lifetime? Only for the reality shows

Ever tried to intentionally sabotage someone’s grade? God no

Do you own any brown clothing? Hmmm I don’t think so

What color are your walls painted? White.

Last thing you drank: I’m drinking decaf coffee

Have you ever seen a tornado in person? Noooo.

Do you have an inground pool at your house? Nope

What is the first digit of your phone number? 9

What’s the prettiest town you’ve been to? Anywhere in England

Do you tend to sleep a lot? yes and no. I’m taking sleeping meds but it’s hard for me to fall asleep

Silver or gold jewelry? Silver

Do you sometimes celebrate holidays early? Not usually. My boyfriends family Is out of state tho

Have you ever been in love? Yes.

What’s the best gift you’ve ever received? My unborn child

When was the last time you showered? Last night

Would you consider yourself attractive? Sometimes yes

Has anyone made you mad today? Nope

Favorite smell: Vanilla

Are you afraid of insects? I wouldn't say afraid

Do you have any children? I’ve got one cookin in the oven haha

If so, what are their names? I’ll tell you when I know the gender

Would ever consider having children in the future? MORE children? Lets see how traumatized this first one is haha

Have you ever lived on a farm? No.

Ever played any sports? Oh yes, played soccer till I was 18

Do both of your parents have jobs? They're both retired from jobs they were at for 40+ years

Where is the best place you’ve been on vacation to? Its a tie between South Africa, London and Colorado

Are you afraid people won’t accept you? Not anymore. Being an adult means getting over that haha

Are you, for the most part, an honest person? I try to be

Did you make prank phone calls as a child? oh yes!

Do you like to make donations? Yeah.

What is your current ringtone? Just the standard apple ringtone

Meet anyone from your past lately? No.

Have you ever called a teen suicide line? No.

Have you ever caught something on fire? Not that I can think of

Ever been obsessed with a show? Ive been obsessed with many shows

What type of perfume or cologne do you use? English Laundry Signature

What’s the last book you read? The book that Ted Bundys girlfriend wrote

Dream career: Zooologist

Have you ever climbed a mountain before? Yes, in Colorado

At what age do you plan to get married? Not sure, we aren't in a rush to marry

Ever been in a car accident? Yes, three

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tvntae · 5 years

Text

heartbreak hotel 4

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

Genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

word count: 3.7k ish

A/n: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING SO DAMN PATIENT!! I NEVER TAKE THIS LONG WITH UPDATES BUT IVE BEEN BUSSSSSY LATELY. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!! <3

You shut your eyes tight when you feel Jungkook’s body slightly shift next to yours. Either he was a wild sleeper, or both him and yourself couldn’t sleep. But neither one of you says anything to each other. If you were honest with yourself, you hated that you had sex with Jungkook. Yes, it was arguably the best sex you had ever had, but it didn’t deter you from the fact that it was morally wrong. You chew on your bottom lip as your brain races, nothing making sense, you want to get up from the bed and ran away. Run as fast as you can but what difference would that make really? What’s done is done. It was consensual, something you both had wanted, and now that it’s over you feel sick. You can’t help but wonder if Jungkook feels the same way you do. You know he wouldn’t leave his fiance for you, and besides, that isn’t something that had ever crossed your mind. So, you could bet your life that he didn’t want that either. Jungkook snuggles up closer to you and begins to snore softly; you figure he’s probably comfortable now. This isn’t a bed Jungkook is used to sleeping in. One can assume he rests in a much more expensive, much larger bed than your own. Jungkook’s lips trace the crevice between your neck and collar bone, ticking you. You try your best to move further closer to the edge of the bed but, Jungkook who is most likely not fully asleep just yet groans, loud, might you add and the sound rings in your ears. So used to it being silent for the past hour, expect for Jungkook’s occasional snore. Jungkook smacks his lips to together, gathering saliva to wet his dry mouth. You try to slow your breathing to try tricking him into thinking you’re sleeping.

You don't understand why you’re acting this way if you were uncomfortable you could kick him out. Indeed this is your home. But apart of you likes that Junkook is still here, still holding you, strong arms snaked around you as if he was the one afraid you’d leave him. You hadn’t had a man touch you this way in so long, Jungkook’s affection blinded you and even when you caught wind of how treacherous the situation was becoming you welcomed said danger with opened arms. You could have said no. You had several opportunities to do so and yet you did the complete opposite. Situations like this only end in despair. Moreover, in your case, it could end in losing your job, being homeless or even having to move back home and move in with your parents. You grimace at the fact.

“Please, for the love of God stop moving y/n.” You hear behind you, and your eyes shoot open. You couldn’t possibly be making that many movements for Jungkook to pick up on that fast. You close your eyes again and pray he lets it go.

Jungkook shifts and this time you can tell he got up from the bed. You hear him stretch and yawn, extremely obnoxiously, and for a second you wonder to yourself if he did it to be annoying or because he’s just that much of an ass in the wee hours of the morning. Jungkook is still butt ass naked and for some reason that annoys you more. You don’t even walk around your place naked.

“Want something from the kitchen?” Jungkook ask you, and you’re so damn tempted to turn around to look at him, but you resist, still wanting him to think you are asleep. He huffs and you know he still doesn’t quite believe you're sleeping but, for the time being, it would do. You breathe a sigh of relief once you hear his footsteps tracking down the hallway towards your tiny kitchen, and now you kind of really regret not asking him to grab you a bottle of water from your fridge. With Jungkook now being out of the room, you move your duvet aside and get out if bed, slowly tip-toeing as not to alert Jungkook that you are awake as he had previously suspected. You reach your dresser and pull out a nightie, something you don't usually wear, but you'd rather not have Jungkook see you in your regular sleepwear; which are old dingy sweatpants and a way too big tee.

It's quite dark in your room, only light from the hallway slowly seeping through the crack in your door. You couldn't see much but can quickly dress and promptly crawl back into bed. By the time you've secured your duvet in walks Jungkook. You close your eyes tight again and relax your shoulders when he too gets back into bed. He doesn't say another word, and soon you hear his breathing even out.

Your alarm is loud as fuck. You nearly fall out of bed when you finally notice that it isn't apart of your dream, or should you say nightmare, but it is indeed time for you to adult today. You had gotten no sleep last night, and you feel shitty. Your head ached, and your muscles were tense. You turn to your side and see Jungkook is no longer in bed and his clothes are gone as well. You don't know how to feel about him being gone so soon, and you can't help but wonder what time he could have gotten up. You would have heard him leave, right? He wouldn't just up and go without saying anything. He's the type to at least leave a note on a girls nightstand after a one night stand. At least you think he is. But your judgment shouldn't be trusted seeing as you also thought Jungkook wasn't the type to hook up with an employee.

Groaning you step out of bed and turn off your alarm. It's 9:00 am, which means you need to get ready and be out of your door within the next hour. The last few days that Jungkook had been staying with you he advised you to stay home since you would have no use in the office without him. He said he was going to take a few days off from work, which fucking surprised you because The Jeon Jungkook doesn't do work breaks. Staying home was boring as fuck, the occasional flirty conversation with Jeon was fun but, Jungkook mostly stayed on his phone and rarely left your apartment.

The plus side was he did cook and did the dishes and cleaned up after himself like the gentleman that you knew was in him all along. Jungkook wasn't a bad guy, but sometimes he just wasn't the best guy. He had a short fuse, and in the small amount of time he crashed on your couch, and an even shorter time on your bed, you saw just how angry he could get, small or big, and yet you were more than fine putting up with it. You weren't sure if it was because he was your boss and you were afraid of being fired if you got to loose-lipped or if you were growing a soft spot for the guy, you prayed it wasn't the latter.

Finally deciding what to wear today you get dressed and call a cab. You usually take the bus to work in the early mornings but because the weather forecast says it's none stop rain with a possibility of thunderstorms it's best to play it safe today. Besides, you spent a significant amount of time on your hair and makeup today. Just because you feel like hell doesn't mean you want to look it as well.

You walk into your office feeling like a nervous klutz, your palms sweaty, pits itch, the whole nine. You'd been here for 20 minutes waiting for Jungkook to call or at least walk in to tell you his next 'order' and he hasn't. Typically, he at least has some task waiting for you at your desk. Hell, sometimes he's waiting for you inside of your office before you even get there for a quick briefing. So him not making his appearance known is... unsettling. You pace around, your hands covering your face. Your stomach grumbles from the lack of food this morning. You thought having a cup of black coffee for breakfast was a great idea at the time. You were running low on cash so you couldn't stop to get anything on your way here. Ugh, the day was looking to be more and more frustrating.

Two hours pass and Jungkook still hasn't shown up to your office. You scroll on your Twitter and Instagram feed for the 100th time, sighing when you notice your mutuals aren't as active during the morning as they are in the late afternoon and early evenings. You wanted to bang your head on your desk from the anger that has started to boil inside you, Where the fuck could he be? What an asshole. You stand up from your desk chair and decide to make the first move, and that move is heading straight to Jungkook's office. The only time you've been in his office is if he calls you in, which has been less than ten times since you've started this position. You hadn't minded that much about it. A man's office is his personal space, you guess. Jungkook's office isn't too far from yours; it's just a few steps away from your very own much smaller one.

Standing in front of his office door has your heart thumping loud. You're nervous, again for the second time today and it does nothing more than to annoy you further. All you needed to see was if Jungkook was in his office or not and if not then you'd be taking your merry ass on your way. You open the door to Jungkook's office and step inside and what you see makes the blood in your veins completely freeze, actually maybe you freeze altogether.

There's a woman in Jungkook's office; actually, it isn't just any woman. You recognize her as the one from those pictures, his fiance, and he's kissing her. They haven't noticed that you were behind them and you sure as hell don't want to make your presence known. You want to turn around and exit, to pretend like you never came into his office in the first place. You'd been standing there for 30 seconds too long, and when you belatedly decide to leave, Jungkook turns around to face you. Your eyes bulge out if you head and you can tell he looks slightly mortified that you'd 'caught' him but soon that look of shame leaves his face altogether and anger replaces it.

Jungkook doesn't even give you enough time to let you explain yourself before he's excusing himself from his finance and dragging you somewhat roughly out of his room. He's pissed but rightfully, so are you. You've been here for almost 3 hours already, and he still hasn't given you anything to do. If you knew he was in his office this entire time sucking face with his fiance, then you would have just called in sick or some shit. You feel like the absolute worse human on the planet, when did you become a whore? Okay, whore is a harsh word, but still, you had sex with your boss, your taken boss, your soon to be married with 3 and a half kids boss; alright, that last part you're not so sure about, but your point still stands. You're as much of dick as Jungkook is. Maybe you're an even bigger one.

"What the fuck were you doing in my office?" Jungkook is seething, and the grip on your arm has only gotten tighter. He makes you feel like a child again. Like he didn't just fuck your brains out less than 24 hours ago. The thought only makes you feel guilty. You are silent for a moment, and Jungkook's eyes only get wider as he awaits your answer. You stumble over words in your head, trying to piece things together but your brain is ultimately failing you when you need it the most. "Are you fucking dense? You can't just walk into my office whenever you feel like it." If this were anyone else you'd have kicked their ass by now, but this is Jungkook, your boss and you've learned to bite your tongue when he gets this way.

"So what, you're gonna stay silent the whole time?" You open your mouth to say something finally, but he cuts you off. "Fine then. Get your shit and go home." He deadpans. Wait, for what? "But I haven't even worked half a shift today I-," "Don't care. Out. Now." You wanted to cry, and you never cry. Okay, so maybe you always cry, but this was so uncalled for. You look up at Jungkook, silently pleading for him to let you stay. He was so vague with you, and you weren't sure if he was firing you or just making you leave for the day. Either way, it was enough for you to drop your head in embarrassment. You mumble an okay, and Jungkook releases your arm. He doesn't say another word and so your spin on your heels and walk to your office to gather your purse and coat. You were sure that if he fired you, he'd outright say so. But you being dismissed early kind of feels worse honestly. It feels like the walk of shame, and you had nothing to be ashamed about. You hate being unproductive at work and you thought going into Jungkook's office was a great idea. You guessed it would show initiative. That'd you cared deeply about your work. But it didn't seem to appease him; it was the absolute opposite. He's annoyed and specifically with you.

The ride home takes forever. The traffic is terrible around this time. Honestly, you thought the rain would slow the commuters today, but it seems not to hinder them from their daily lives and duties. The rain has eased somewhat but you know soon it will pick up again. At least you can get some more much-needed sleep when you get home or order some takeout since you had little to no food to eat. The rain does distract you from Jungkook for awhile and that you are appreciative for.

You immediately kick off your heels when you enter your apartment and throw your coat on your couch. You know you need a shower, but for now, you want to lounge around. You step into your room and flip your light switch, quickly changing into something less constricting like this pencil skirt that's a size too small for you. You jump into bed after you've put your work clothes in your hamper. Something isn't right because as soon as you land on the side Jungkook was previously laying on the night before a sharp object pierces your ribs. Wincing, you roll over closer toward the edge and pull your duvet back reviling a very shiny, expensive looking Rolex. You pick it up to inspect and roll on your back. Holding it into the air so the light can hit it correctly and you watch as it shines. It's beautiful, and you think it might be custom made. How the fuck can someone afford a gold encrusted watch? Well, that rich bastard Jungkook could. You wonder if Jungkook has noticed that he left it here. Hopefully, you pray he doesn't think you stole it from him. You set the watch on your nightstand and decide to worry about what to do with it later. Shit, you might even toss it in the bin. Serves the bastard right.

You awaken from a nap a few hours later. Going by the time displayed on the digital clock on your nightstand you slept for a good five hours.

You order yourself lunch on your laptop from your favorite takeout place. The restaurant wasn't too far from you so it won't take very long for the delivery driver to show up. You head into your living room to go searching for your cellphone. You usually take it everywhere with you but, because you were so bummed about the Jungkook situation you decided to leave it in your bag.

You had a few unread messages, some from your mom. She frequently texts you during your work hours because of the time difference. It must be nighttime where she is right now. You miss being home, a lot, if you were truthful with yourself. Things were so much different back there, and you were still trying to get accustomed to the life you have here. You would probably be in an excellent relationship by this time if you never left. The guys from your city weren't all bad. There's going to be a few bad apples everywhere you go. You sigh and quickly text your mother back and tell her how your day went, albeit leaving the part where you were sent home early out.

The next few notifications you scrolled through were emails from your Gmail app, as dull as ever. You managed a lot of Jungkook's events and meetings through Gmail, so most of your notifications were mostly work related. You put your phone aside and flop on your couch and start up Netflix.

The takeout you had wasn't as good as it usually is. Today was the perfect day to cry and crawl under your cover for the rest of your days. No one would even notice you were gone besides your parents, but after a while, they'd give up looking for you and go on with their lives. You figure now is the best time to take another nap before you something else uneventful happens. And you're sure your heart couldn't take anymore before it completely stops functioning altogether.

You jolt from your sleep when you hear it. Banging. And it's close, almost like it's coming from right outside of your door. It's loud a fuck and its dark as fuck in your living room, and you can't help but think this is how it ends. You still, too afraid to get up from your couch to check it out. You've watched enough scary movies to know that if you open that door, then you'll be walking into your ultimate demise. This is exactly what your father warned you about when you told him you were moving to South Korea.

"Y/n, open the door I know you're in there," huh? The killer knows your name. "Y/n, come on it's me." Is that... Jungkook? You wipe the saliva from your face and rub the sleep from your dry eyes. What the hell is he doing here? It's 9 in the evening. You turn the lights on so you can see better and unlock the door to see what it is he wants.

"I left my watch here," he says offhandedly and pushes past you heading for your bedroom. "Excuse the fuck outta me." You whisper under your breath. You fold your arms over your chest and follow Jungkook into your bedroom.

He's searching every nook of your room and muttering. You're confident he won't find it at the rate he's going because he hasn't even turned the light on yet. To make this more comfortable for the both of you, he could just ask you if you've seen it. But honestly, you like seeing him struggle, fuck him.

You switch the light on since you're standing right next to it. You just want Jungkook out of your place as soon as possible. You notice he's wearing a completely different suit than the one he had on earlier at the office. As he spins to turn towards you, you see a Chanel brooch on his jacket. How funny, Jeon Jungkook looking for his gold-encrusted custom Rolex in your home while wearing a Dior suit and a diamond Chanel brooch. Your broke ass could never.

Jungkook's hair is slightly parted, and you don't think he's ever looked this good before. Well, he always looks good but right now it's a different type of good. He looks like money and power and you know he probably smells so pure. His beauty always has you at a loss for words.

He notices your staring and scoffs to himself, almost like he's disgusted either at you or himself. And you're more than confident it's directed towards you. Jungkook has everything any man could ever ask for, and he had sex with you, the bottom of the barrel trash. You lower your head in humiliation, and you've never felt this bad about yourself before. You can't help but feel so inferior to him. You're only a few years apart in age, but he's got his whole life together, while you still ask your parents for money from time-to-time when you're afraid you won't make ends meet. You did something so heinous, and now Jungkook can't even stand to look at you correctly.

"Have you seen my watch or what? Don't just fucking stand there, help." He addresses you with such anger and disgust you almost burst out into tears. You point to where you had left the watch, which was on your nightstand and you hear Jungkook walk over and damn near snatch it. He mumbles some more as he wrestles with putting it on and you can tell he's having a hard time. This is the first time you've ever seen him, so ansty and he looks nervous as well. He must have a big meeting or something because why else would he be dressed like this. You walk over to help him, and you're not sure why but you can tell he needs it, and he lets you. You see him visibly relax, and that soothes you somewhat. You're still scared out of your wits, but it isn't like he's about to murder you. At least you hope he isn't.

"I'm sorry about everything, I wish circumstances were different." You look up at Jungkook, and he gives you a sad smile. What does he mean by that? His engagement or your employment. Maybe both? You stare up at him for a while. Pleading with your eyes to get an explanation from him.

You aren't sure who makes the moves first, but in a matter of seconds, his lips are on yours.

#bangtanarmynet #bts angst #bts au #bts x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts fics #bts fanfiction #bts drabble #bts reactions #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts series #bts smut #bts smut angst

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lenjaminmacbuttons · 4 years

Note

Hope you’re doing okay, I know there’s been a lot going on the past couple weeks. 🌈🌈💛💛

FOOF YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN

thank you for the good vibes anon, i love you and it means a lot to me. however unfortunately now im gonna use this to vent dump exactly how much has been going on the past couple weeks off the top of my head. this is actually pretty far from Everything thats happen but im so tired and dont want to think about any of it anymore

my grandma passed away last week. we were prepared for it and we know she’s at peace in a better place et cetera et cetera, her body was all full of restraints & impediments that she doesnt have to deal with anymore and the next time she’s in a body it’ll be all New And Improved and awesome. i missed so much work in anticipation of this that now i can’t get work off on the day of the funeral, so i can still go to it but i’ll have to go immediately to work right from it and have to pretend everythings fine and dandy and nothings going on.

everyone at work Does know there’s something going on however and the two coworkers i have who are actually like i consider them friends mostly they’re all like Hey Im Here For You Talk About Your Feelings Honestly with me and i. dont. want. to talk about my feelings at work. thats not what work is for and i dont like talking about my feelings anyway and i dont want them to ask anymore

the changes to the handbook and the honor code have completely sunk my heart. i had so much hope up until those hideous ridiculous unfathomably transphobic things they wrote and now i don’t feel like i can trust or have hope in ANYTHING the institution does anymore. ive been up all night going back and forth over whether i want to go to church today. or ever again. it’s not bringing me joy. it’s making me feel anxious and depressed and frustrated and alone. i keep seeing people just on the street or on facebook who are so happy and content with the church and whatever it does and i just…i get struck every single time with this thought of “they don’t care about me. they don’t care about any of these problems. they’re not affected personally by it and so they don’t care.”

and then that makes me feel like such a hypocrite because!!! ive been them too for so long!! what makes this moment so different!!!!! why is this the straw that breaks the camel’s back when the camel should have thrown off the whole burden and run to join its friends at the first strike of the owner’s whip!!!!!!

plus it’s making me feel gross about my mormon memes blogs. idk if i can keep running those anymore.

im failing this semester anyway and i keep getting emails about it. i was planning to take a break from school After this semester but ive missed so much class that i just really can’t go back to any of them so i guess im just dropping out right now. as much as i’d love to participate in all the incredible amazing protests going on right now i really really cant be on campus at all without feeling literally physically ill. and my Hope was to do really well this last semester and then submit mission papers and that way i’d know exactly what next to do with my life until i decide what After, and id be able to Get Out somewhere and travel someplace while still feeling like my life has some semblance of structure and direction. however! HOWEVER!!!!!!!!

i’ve been feeling so, so horrible and so worn down and i dont even know where or what my testimony is anymore. but that’s probably a lot lower on the list of Why I Can’t Serve A Mission, because a. i still don’t trust my Local Bishop enough to talk to him about things The Handbook says to b. i am finding it harder and harder and harder to be perceived as female. i never really have dysphoria about my body or my presentation or anything but like, when people say Sister and Ma’am and Miss and Daughter and Hey Pretty Lady It’s Me Your Relief Society President it’s like…that’s not me. that feels gross. and i wear suits and ties to church, have done so for a while and never get any flak for it, and im gradually working up the nerve to maybe start introducing myself as lev or levi instead of lillie buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut. socially transitioning apparently is not allowed.

not to mention my temple recommend expired ages ago anyway. anxiety about bishops prevented me from ever going in for an interview to renew it. i haven’t visited the temple once since before graduating high school. but every time i see it or think about it i long for it so badly and it hurts so much.

and also like, i get that same kinda horrible regretful longing feeling whenever i hear violin music? because i played violin for a few years and then stopped but i still have the instrument because it was given to me by my grandmother. who played it herself until sickness wouldn’t let her anymore and she entrusted it to me and i Stopped Playing but then i hoped to pick it up enough to at least learn how to play her favorite song and aw wouldn’t that be so nice to play that for her on her violin except i never actually got around to printing out the sheet music or practicing At All. and now she’s gone.

and one of the last things she said to me was that she would love to hear my book since her eyesight was too gone to read it so i said i’d record it as soon as i got the right software/hardware to do that and then i never did that either. also i promised alla yalls that book would be Published Published coming up on four months ago now and i still haven’t done that

i took a pair of safety scissors to my forearms as mentioned in a previous post and surprise surprise, the lines have not healed still, it’s getting warmer outside and thus harder to wear long sleeves, and guess what! a while ago on a separate occasion i complained that i kinda wished my self harm scars looked more like the classic cutter lines and Now They Do!! And I Hate It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a couple nights ago my little sister saw them and so i told her i got attacked by a spider-pawed bear and fortunately my brother Understands and backed me up like “dang what do they teach in schools these days i cant believe youve never heard of the spider-pawed bears that live in the mountains and are totally normal and real”

and steven universe is ending. that’s a thing.

and like….okay. not everything in my emotions right now is bad. some of it is just complicated. one coworker friend i have recently confessed that she’s had a crush on me for several months now. fortunately when she said this i was able to be honest and say that im not super eager for a relationship right now, im not ready in the slightest to settle down or anything, im still hung up on my high school crush and also dealing with issues from my last relationship, and she replied that’s all perfectly fine and she doesn’t have any expectations and she’s great being friends and we can take things at whatever pace is good

except i also now have a date with said high school crush loosely planned for tomorrow and i told this coworker friend about it and she admitted it’s making her a little jealous and then she said jealous is an ugly word and amended it to Insecure and i feel bad about that

but i also like. am really excited for this date. like it’s not really a for sure romantic capital-d Date and that’s fine, but i haven’t seen this friend irl for so long and ive been missing her so much over this past little while that we’ve been internet chatting and that ive been i guess officially falling back in love with her but i also like, i dont know what her deal is romantically right now i don’t want to presume anything but i really really really am itching to see her

work is stressful. it’s only gonna get more so as weather gets warmer. but we’re getting two new managers with loads of experience and glowing reviews next week. i have hope that they’ll makes things a little lighter.

and there’s also. good things. peridot took off her visor for the first time ever in canon and i saved like 50 different gifs of it to my computer cus it rocked my world. sonic has she-ra toys for the kids meals and i managed to snag a tiny inflatable version of the sword. i’m making cosplays of the tres horny boys from the adventure zone and they’re all very exciting and making things makes me very very happy. i’m finding joy in all the fanfictions i’m writing right now and in talking about dungeons & dragons with my brothers and friends. ducknerva is a very beautiful Good Ending version of marahope which makes me happy and taako is a super effective projection outlet. i bought cupcakes today and they were delicious. and when i think about those good things, when i think about any good thing no matter how small, everything else disappears.

whatever happens happens i guess.

she who lives will see.

#talkyllama #hey if anyone needs tags on posts like these please please let me know asap #i always forget that actual people see the things i post #i dont usually trigger tag cus i dont usually think i need to but if i do i will

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spn-ficfanatic · 5 years

Text

F*ck Cancer- Ch 1: The Discovery

SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO

Summary: You’ve been hiding a crushing secret from your best friends (Well, one best friend and one sometimes-lover if you want to get technical about it). How will they react when they find out that the woman they grew up and hunted with for most of their lives, may only have a few months left to live?

Genre: Angst

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Platonic!Reader* *For my Dean ladies: it may not be romantic between him and the reader, but it’s a very close brotherly/sisterly relationship and I still think y’all will really enjoy it :)

Words: 3277

Warnings: Cancer/chemo talk, swearing

A/N: I’ve only written one series prior to this. It was also a Sam x Reader, was 8 parts long just like this, and just like this it marked a huge milestone on my blog. The first chapter of “The One Moment” marked the 100th post I’d made... this marks the 300th :)

Your phone rang as you stared lazily out of the window. You knew you were lucky, not many of the other patients had this view; it certainly made the whole process seem a little less intimidating. Your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw it was Sam who was calling, for good or bad you weren't sure. You and he had been together in the past, it was never anything serious because the life of a hunter would never allow that, but to say you didn’t have some semblance of feelings for him would be a big fat lie. You took a deep breath and accepted the call, holding your hand over the microphone in an attempt to shield the hospital sounds surrounding you.

“Hey Sam, been a while,” you told him, trying to sound casual. Thankfully you had only just started treatment 10 minutes prior so the vomiting hadn’t started yet, and your voice would definitely have betrayed you in that instance.

“Hey yourself Y/N, been good?” he replied; you could hear the smile in his voice which in turn had you grinning. You really had missed him.

“Can’t complain,” you lied. “How are you and bonehead going?”

“Hey, I resent that,” Dean’s voice protested in the background and you and Sam shared a laugh.

“He’s good, we both are.”

“So, what are you boys up to at the moment? Gimme all the goss,” you begged, reclining in your chair.

“Actually we’ve just finished a case and will be driving through Austin pretty soon to the next one, thought maybe we could stop by and say hi.”

You nearly dropped the phone as you bolted upright. Holding onto it tightly you quickly debated on the best way to handle this. No way were he and Dean going to find out about this, especially not in the middle of treatment.

“Y/N? You there?” he asked, concern filling his voice.

“Shit yer, sorry, I sat back and nearly dropped my phone. Um, now’s not really a good time,” you told him, scrambling to come up with a good excuse.

“Is everything ok? Are you in trouble?” he asked, jumping straight into protective mode. You forced out a laugh.

“It’s all good, I’m just not at home. Hitting a salt and burn a few states over unfortunately.”

“I thought you were having a break from hunting?” Dean asked you skeptically. Curse his big brother senses.

“Yer but this came up and, I dunno, I felt like scratching that itch or something,” you scrambled, picking at a loose thread on your jumper sleeve nervously. “Anyway I think I’ll be here another couple of days so we might have to try for next time. Sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine. Sorry to miss you, was looking forward to it,” Sam replied, sounding pretty beat up. God damn it Winchester!

A nurse started to approach and you realised you had to get off the call before they overheard her talking about your IV line.

“Anyway guys I better get going, it was really great talking to you. I’ll call you tomorrow perhaps?” you rushed.

“Oh, uh, yer sure. That’d be great. Talk soo-”

You had to cut him off, the nurse got too close and was about to open her mouth and blow your cover. You berated yourself for it, he probably thought you didn’t want to see them anymore, and you face palmed yourself and groaned in annoyance.

“Oh hun, is the nausea starting already?” the nurse asked you kindly.

“Yer, only it’s not the chemo this time.”

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

“Did she just hang up on you?” Dean asked incredulously. Sam was looking at his phone, the call disconnected before he’d even managed to get his sentence out.

“Uh, yer, it would appear so.”

“What the hell did you do to her man?”

Sam held his hands up defensively. “I didn’t do anything! At least I don’t think I did. Things were good last time, we email and message while we’re on the road. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

An awkward silence filled the cabin while the boys each contemplated the exchange.

“Did she sound a little flat to you?” Dean asked, starting to grow concerned.

“I dunno, a little I guess. Maybe this hunt’s taken a lot out of her, it’s been a while.”

“Do you… Nah.”

“What?”

“Well, do you think she was on a hunt? Really? Maybe she’s just avoiding us.”

Sam gave Dean a look, before leaning over and grabbing his laptop from the back seat. Dean kept his eyes on the road while Sam brought up the GPS tracker and put your number in.

“Dude, really? We’re stalking her now? She’s gonna kill you if she finds out you did this, you know that right?”

Sam didn’t answer as he watched the program track your phone, his heart dropping when it landed on the one place he never expected it would.

“Dean, how far away are we from Austin?” he asked as he stared at the screen, his voice sounding a little dangerous.

“Uhhh, a couple of hours. Give or take. Why, is she there?”

“Yer she’s, uh, she’s at Cornerstone Hospital.”

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

3 hours later and you were finally done with your chemotherapy treatment for the day. You’d had a bout of nausea a little while ago but generally were starting to come good again. Knowing what happened last time though, you had about 45 minutes to get home before you could barely stand through the pain.

Waiting for the nurse to see you, you drummed your hands on the armrest while you looked around the room. A few people had come and gone in the time you’d been there, some having just a half-hour treatment. You were the youngest there you noticed, and you always got the pity-stare from the older patients when they walked in and saw you. So you kept to yourself… making friends with people at this stage in your life seemed relatively moot.

You were too busy reading a new poster on the wall to hear the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. You may have recognised them if you have been paying attention, you’d heard them on enough hunts in the past. A deep voice broke through your thoughts and turned your blood cold; if you hadn't still been connected to all the wires you might have tried to make a run for it. Instead you took a deep breath and turned to face the brothers. Neither had noticed you yet, their backs to you as they spoke to the nurse at the desk opposite. They were in their FBI gear which surprised you.

“Hello, we're looking for Y/N Y/L/N?” Dean asked in his professional voice.

Sam started looking around the room and before the nurse could point them in your direction, his eyes landed on yours. His jaw dropped as he took your frail form in, and before Dean could even turn around he was headed to you.

“Y/N, what the hell?” he cried, trying not to be too loud but he was obviously upset. Dean too came toward you, you don’t think you’d ever seen him look so worried before.

“Is everything ok here?” the nurse asked as she approached your chair, eyeing the men cautiously.

“Yer it’s all fine Tess, thanks for checking. Could we have a sec before you unhook me?” you asked her quietly. “I need to talk with my friends.”

She nodded with a warm smile and patted your knee gently before walking off to help another patient. You watched her leave, and sighed as you turned back to face the guys. Both were staring at you with mouths agape, and you rolled your eyes and gave a little huff of amusement.

“You guys wanna close your mouths? There’s a few flies buzzing around in here.”

“Don't joke Y/N, this isn't funny,” Dean scolded.

You hung your head. “You're right, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to talk about this stuff.”

“How long has is been going on?” Sam asked, nearly in a whisper. The guy looked heartbroken, and you felt like dirt.

You rubbed your neck awkwardly, you knew they weren’t going to like the answer you had for them. “Umm, this is my second cycle of chemo.”

Sam tried to stay composed but your admission took him by surprise. “Wha- SECOND? You didn’t think to call me after the first? Why the hell haven't you said anything?” he whispered angrily, trying not to draw attention from the other patients. It was a futile effort though, there wasn’t much entertainment in the treatment room so all eyes were locked on the display.

“Sam please, not here,” you begged, tears starting to form in your eyes as you looked around.

“She's right Sammy,” Dean replied calmly, noticing the attention as well. “Let’s just get her home and we'll figure it all out then.” You let out a breath, thankful to Dean for taking control.

“Thank you. I have my car so I’ll just m-”

“Wait, you drove here?” Dean scolded loudly. Well, so much for having calm big brother on your side.

“Is there a problem with that?” you asked defensively.

“You barely look like you can walk Y/N, let alone drive. What are you thinking?” Dean chided, and your ears grew hot with anger.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous. He’d only heard you speak to one other person like that before and it was Crowley when he dared to called you “sweetcheeks”.

He sighed, realising he was out of line, and tried to back-pedal. “I just mean…”

“No, I know what you meant Dean. You know, just because I’m going through this doesn’t make me a damn invalid. And sure I’ve lost a little weight and my hair’s a bit thinner but hey, that’s what’s gonna happen when my body is being pumped with poisoned to kill the asshole tumour growing in my noggin. But none of that really matters because I’ll probably be dead in a few months time anyway.”

As the conversation had become more and more heated the nurse was quietly and graciously removing your IV, she could clearly see this conversation was uncomfortable for you and wanted you to have the option to remove yourself from it if need be. It was all you needed to get up off your chair and start walking out the door, leaving the brothers behind you.

“Go after her and I’ll call security,” you heard Tess warn, and if you hadn’t been pissed as fuck you would have smiled. You’d developed a good repore with her in the time you’d been in the hospital, and considered her your closest friend at this point in your life. No-one else knew about what you were going through, you had quit your job ages ago and were supporting yourself with your safely stored away inheritance. You were thankful to not hear heavy footsteps following after you, and headed quickly to your car to head home. You didn’t know if you’d have enough of a head start to beat them.

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

You were panting by the time you reached your front door. The headache had started on the way home and the stress of what had just transpired with the brothers was becoming too much in your state. You grabbed your keys out of your bag but your eyes became blurry, and you leaned your forehead against the door frame as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. Staying where you were you looked down as you found the key you needed, and gently leaned over to put it into the door. The roar of the Impala came around the corner and you groaned… why couldn’t they just give you a little time to process? Bloody men!

To your annoyance the key wasn’t fitting in the lock and you threw your hands up in the air in frustration, your head still resting on the door frame. You heard them pull up to your sidewalk and quickly tried to find the key you needed, only to drop them on the ground.

“What the fuckity fuck!” you cried out loud, stomping your foot in frustration like a 5 year old. You gave up and slumped on the sun chair by your front door, holding your head in your hands with your elbows on your knees. The car doors slammed and you could hear them walking up the path to your front porch.

“Y/N?” Sam called out when he saw you, and when you made no move to greet them he and Dean quickly raced to your side. “Hey, Y/N, you OK?” he asked, brushing the hair behind your ear.

“Stupid fucking key wouldn’t go in the stupid fucking lock,” you told him bitterly, and you heard Dean pick them up.

“I see the brain tumour hasn’t dampened your potty mouth,” Dean told you wryly, and you lifted your head gently to look at him.

“Did you just joke about my cancer?” you asked him with a smirk. He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the mention of the C word, but he pushed through it and gave a tight smile.

“Do you need Sam’s help to get inside?”

“Um, I don’t think so. I think I’ll be ok, thanks,” you responded, giving Sam a smile as you stood. You screamed at yourself internally when your left knee buckled, and quick as a flash Sam’s arms were around you.

“Y/N?” he asked, sounding more scared than you liked to hear from him. You closed your eyes and nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I’m ok, just tired. Maybe I could use the help after all,” you admitted, not daring to meet his gaze. You were grateful when he didn’t swoop you into his arms, instead wrapping your arm over his shoulder and supporting you as you walked into your living room together. Dean grabbed your bag and put it on the floor by the door as he closed it, following you both.

Once Sam had you seated on the couch he took the spot next to you, Dean opting to lean against the wall instead.

“Do you need anything?” Sam asked, watching you carefully.

You shook your head. “I’m ok. You guys help yourself though, there’s some beer in the fridge I think.” When Dean’s jaw clenched you gave a small smile. “I keep it there for you guys, I’m not drinking I swear.”

He relaxed and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest letting the room fall into an uncomfortable silence. You found yourself picking at your sweater sleeve as you considered your next move.

“Thank you,” you told them quietly. “For not making me feel completely useless right now. I’m sorry I blew up at the hospital, that wasn’t fair.”

“No, you’re under a lot of stress, we get it,” Sam told you kindly, and you shook your head.

“You didn’t deserve that. What you did deserve to know was that I’m sick, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t know how, I tried so many times but it just wouldn’t come out.”

“It’s a, uh, brain tumour?” Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yer, found out about a couple of months ago I think. I dunno, the days are starting to run together a little bit.”

“What do the doctors say?” Sam asked, and you could hear the reluctance as he did. He didn’t want to know this anymore than you didn’t want to tell him. You sighed, and looked up to meet their gaze.

“It’s aggressive, growing fast and they can’t operate right now. They’re trying to slow it down and hopefully shrink it with chemo before looking at surgery as an option, but because of where it’s located and the speed that it’s growing they think there’s only a 5% chance they’ll be able to remove it before it… before it, ah…” you stumbled, clearing your throat as your eyes started to fill with tears. Shaking your head slightly, you swallowed down the massive lump in your throat before continuing. “I probably won’t make it, is basically what I’m trying to say.”

Silence filled the room, and you let it this time. You were beyond exhausted, the treatment and this conversation were draining the very last of your energy. Despite your best efforts your eyelids began to droop, you barely noticed when you started to slide toward the cushions. Gentle murmurs barely broke through your haze, and you couldn’t find the energy even to acknowledge the one of them who lifted you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. The fluffy pillows and quilt enveloped you, and without ever opening your eyes you drifted off to sleep.

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

Sam stood at your bedside, watching you sleep. He'd never seen you looking so vulnerable, and it was scaring the crap out of him. This wasn't a monster he could fight for you, not a battle he could try and win on your behalf. This was the one thing no hunter ever expected to die from, knowing it would simply be too cruel an irony to befall them. And yet here you were: half the size you used to be, pale as a ghost and so frail you could barely stand. He stayed watching you for a while, making an easy decision in the process. Regardless of what Dean thought, he wouldn't be leaving this house without you again.

“Hey, did she stay asleep?” Dean asked as Sam came down the stairs and through to the kitchen. He had cracked a couple of beers and was currently whipping up some pancakes, their first home cooked meal since the last time they were in your house 3 months ago.

“Yer. Um, Dean, we need to talk-”

“So I was thinking that Y/N might be better off in the downstairs bedroom,” Dean started, cutting Sam off. “If she wants to that is. Just makes sense with the chemo kicking her in the ass so bad. You could take the study next to her so one of us is nearby, and I could take her room. Or vice versa, I don’t mind. Oh, and I had a quick look and there's a job going at a garage a few blocks from here, figured I could go out after we ate something and see if they'll take me on. Thought you’d rather be home for Y/N to take her to appointments and such, so no need to find you a job. We can figure out the rest when she wakes up. Now, do you want strawberries or blueberries with your pancakes?”

As Dean turned around holding two plates of stacks he found Sam staring at him like he was possessed. Dean rolled his eyes and took the plates to the dining table, heading back to the fridge for the toppings leaving Sam to catch up.

“So… you want to stay?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Dean asked defensively as he sat down, quickly shoving a large bite of pancake into his mouth.

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to go all apple pie life on me.”

“This is for Y/N. She's saved our lives more times than I can count, now it's our turn to save hers. She's family,” he said with finality, gently pushing Sam’s plate toward him and gesturing for him to sit down. Sam smiled broadly and did as requested, mentally planning out the new life they were making for themselves.

CONT.

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SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO

Tag Lists (Open)

Series Taglist: @deghostyboi , @dreaminemz

“Dean/Jensen” taglist: @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk, @perpetualabsurdity, @mlovesstories

“Everything” taglist: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @im-dead-inside05, @julzdec, @adoptdontshoppets, @meghanbeinghappy, @sleepylunarwolf , @sammysgirl1997, @imaginationisgrowth, @screechingartisancashbailiff

People who requested tags, that I cannot tag (but will still mention because I feel bad :( ): @ronja-uebrick, @lilydarcy

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tenerifeholland · 6 years

Text

The Truth and The Talk(Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: reader finds out peter is spiderman, they broke up for a while, tony gives a pep talk to reader about peter and the rest is basically fluff

i hate this so much oh my god ive had 0 inspo for the past few days so bare with me

word count: 1.278

•

You were trying to cover your puffy undereyes with a concealer when you heard a knock on your door and it seemed pretty impatient.

You rushed to the door, tripping on your own two feet while doing so. You tried your best to smooth out your hair. You knew it wasn't Peter yet you couldn't help but hope. It was a coping mechanism at best.

You opened the door, only to face a very disappointed Tony Stark looking down at you. Your mouth dropped open, not believing the billionare Avenger was at your door. He had a very expensive looking suit on and he didn't look pleased.

"H-Hello? Mr. Stark? Hi, uh-what? What are you doing in here? Is-is there something I can help you with?" You stammered, struggling with forming sentences.

"Hi, y/n. I'm here on behalf of Peter. May I come in?" He asked but it was more out manners, he needed to talk to you.

"S-sure." You got out of his way, allowing him in, your moms words of not letting strangers blaring on your mind. But he was an Avenger after all, and mentor of Peter.

Tony stepped inside, making his way towards your living room. He didn't want to waste anytime.

"Quick question, why did you and Spiderling broke up?" He sat on the couch and started to talk, his eyes on the photos of you and Peter. You haven't had the courage to take them down yet.

"I-" you were stunned. His eyes turned to you and you cleared your throat.

"He lied to me about this whole...Spiderman thing." You muttered.

"And do you know why?" He questioned.

"He didn't trust me enough, I guess. He kept making up new lies on why he was always gone at night time and why he was late to school. I dunno, maybe he didn't want me to be in his life that much, so I cut it off." You answered, fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt. You felt bad, guilty almost.

"Sweetheart, that's wrong on so many levels." He objected, making you look up to him. His brown eyes were warm, tired.

"Peter lost so many people in his life. His parents, Ben. When he first became Spiderman, he hid that even from May. He doesn't want anyone to be in danger because of his...you know, powers. He wanted to stay anonymous, look out for his neighbourhood and protect people. He didn't want to drag anybody with him and he still doesn't want to."

He stopped for a moment, realizing you needed a minute to process all of these new information. You obviously knew who Peter lost, he sometimes even cried in your arms. But you didn't know he had all of these reasons behind hiding such an important part of his life. You placed your head in between your hands.

"I'm an idiot." You mumbled, biting your lower lip.

"Well, all teenagers are idiots." Tony retorted and you scoffed.

"Anyways, if he hid that from you, it means he cares about you. A lot." He summed it up.

"How do you know this? Maybe he's even happy he got out of this." You questioned.

"Look, I'm an adult and I know these stuff. Hot-headed teenagers fall in love and fight and if they really love each other, they find a way." Tony assured you. You chuckled sadly, thinking how you two didn't for the past two weeks.

"And also, he has been staying in the compound for the weekend and I'm so done with him crying and whining. All he talks about is you."

"What?" You raised your head.

"I wasn't supposed to tell that. Oh, God. Parker's going to murder me." He facepalmed.

"Well, since I've revealed this much and I can see your bloodshot eyes and undereye bags, you miss him and he misses you too." He stood up and headed towards the door, stopping at the doorway.

"Peter has been beating himself up for not telling you. He deserves forgiveness and both of you deserve love. Don't make this harder for any of you." He left your house, leaving a very messed up you behind.

•

"Can we talk?" You sent a text to Peter before you chickened out. "I'm home."

You wandered around your house nervously, trying to distract yourself. You knew he wanted to come, he would.

You were about to cry, thinking he wasn't going to come when your doorbell rang once.

You ran to the door, tripping over your own feet once again in the same day.

You opened the door slowly, coming across a Peter Parker with messed up hair, clear that he tried to get it in shape but failed.

"Hey." You managed to say, your voice pretty low.

"Hey." he replied, a sad smile tugging on the side of his mouth.

"Come in." You allowed him inside and went back to your living room, knowing he'd follow.

"How are you?" Peter asked awkwardly when you two sat down.

"Alright, I guess." You mumbled.

"Did Mr. Stark come by today?" He continued, his hands gripping the side of his sweatpants, itching to hold your hand.

"Yeah, we talked." You replied, not knowing what else to say, you were trying to hold your tears back.

He suddenly turned to you, hating the tension between you two.

"Look, y/n, I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm so sorry that I lied to you and made up stupid excuses instead of the truth. I just didn't want you to be in danger because you know, what I do, this whole thing puts me under the spotlight and a possibility of my identity being exposed and there is always a risk of the people I love the most being in risk-" he started rambling and you couldn't hold back anymore, he just looked so sad and desperate that it was everything you needed to see to believe he was being genuine. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tight.

"I know." You whispered as his arms slowly made their way to your waist, pulling you closer. He was still slightly afraid to do something that will push you away but that wasn't going to hold him back, he lost two weeks and he didn't want to lose anymore. He just held you as your tears stained and your hands strongly gripped his tshirt.

"I missed you." He mumbled into your hair.

"I know." You breathed in his scent, the one you missed like crazy. "Me too."

He pulled back and looked at your face. You chuckled with so much relief and he smiled at you, hands wiping your tears.

You leaned in for a kiss shyly and he didn't hesistate to place his lips onto yours, pressing your body onto his. You climbed to his lap, finally having him back to you. His arms held your waist tight, your hands on his hair.

You two kept kissing until you needed air and pulled back, lips swollen. Peter wasn't much different. You slowly cuddled closer to him, only wanting him by your side for a while before his "Spiderman-time." would come.

He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and you two lied down on the couch, his legs tangled with yours.

"Glad to have you back, Spiderling." You laughed, remembering the nickname Tony used.

"Oh God." He buried his head into the crook of your neck, knowing that wasn't going away anytime soon.

"But I love you and the Spiderling." You said in a sing-song voice, making him look up at you and his eyes to shine with excitement.

"I love you too, angel."

#peter parker #fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #spiderman #tom holland #spiderman: far from home #tom holland x reader #spiderman 2 #tom holland x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #tony stark #dad!tony #tony stark being a dad

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cherry3point14 · 6 years

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ALONE | BUMPED HER HEAD AND BRUISED HER SOUL

DESCRIPTION: You can’t begin to believe how close you were to death, or how much you wouldn’t have cared to go.

SERIES MASTERLIST

[Chapter One takes place before EP5 of S9. Eventual Dean x Reader. Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OFC (Readers Sister) Warnings: light violence I guess. Also, there’s talk of a butt for one whole line]

It might be the drinks you've been sipping for the past few hours or the fact that you haven't eaten much of the meal in front of you, but either way you wink at your little sister and mutter under your breath as the waiter walks away, "bounce a nickel off that thing, right?"

She wrinkles her nose at you but there's laughter in her eyes, "you're such a perv."

You both suddenly dissolve into fits of giggles, like you have since you were kids when forming an in-joke or planning a masterful prank. You have matching laugh lines around your eyes as you laugh, and it ends with you both falling back against the leather booth seats and waggling your eyebrows at each other. You're not sure there's a better sound in the world than you both laughing together like this.

Even though you've spent the last few days with your sister, while you visit her and her new apartment, it feels like it's been years. It feels like long enough that your heart aches for seeing her again and you want nothing more than to soak up every second. When you'd first seen her, you'd felt like something was off, but you'd ignored it just as quickly because she was there in front of you. Her eyes sparkling, her hair wet from the shower and her sweatpants as ragged and worn as they had always been.

Now you're sitting in this tiny restaurant days later and nothing had changed. You were still constantly struck by the need to greedily hoard every joke and memorize every expression. It was a weirdness she had been constantly calling you out on, but you had no explanation. You'd just stare at her all doe-eyed and tell her you'd missed her.

"So this guy…" you begin almost feigning indifference. Almost.

She rolls her shoulders like the question might roll off her back with enough effort, a habit of hers you'd forgotten, "I'm just not ready for you to meet him and give him the third degree is all."

You scoff into your glass, hiding a grin, "I am not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that… you do remember what happened to Scott, the poor schlub who actually dared ask me to prom?" She eyes you suspiciously like you're planning a repeat performance.

You remembered well enough. You, being five years older than your dear sister, had shown up at school to pick her up the following day, found the boy in question, and then proceeded to give him a very detailed lecture that touched on feminism, respect, and your sisters right to choose her prom date. But that also included your right to choose where to bury him if she came home upset or assaulted in any way. What Sophie hadn’t understood at the time was you weren’t just her sister, you were as much her mother and father too.

You held up your hands in mock defeat, "so I was… overprotective. I'm practically a different person now."

And the strange thing was you were different, but you couldn't explain why. All you knew is that there was an insufferable gnawing in the pit of your stomach, like an itch you couldn't quite reach. You were older and wiser, but your sister? She was just the same as she had been years ago. It should have been off-putting that she'd remained a snapshot of a personality frozen in time while you had changed with the years, except you refused to see it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be convinced her new charmed life was the same as growth. The job she always wanted, the decent sized apartment not far from work, and now the so-called perfect guy. Well, the perfect guy she wouldn't introduce you to.

You reached out your hand across the table, like so many other times this weekend, suddenly needing physical contact with her. You ran your thumb over her knuckles drawing her in for a serious moment, "but promise me, next time I'm in town? I swear I'll be nice, I just want you to be happy."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I can't keep him away from my best big sister for too long."

"I'm your only big sister," you reminded, acting offended by drawing your hand back and placing it over your chest.

She raised her glass to your mocking, "wouldn't have it any other way, sis."

After a little more teasing about her mystery man, asking if he was the one and making sure he was treating her right, you decided to call it quits on the evening since it could only last so long. There was no way you were going to finish the food in front of you. The thought of eating it and letting it bloat you any further made you feel sick to even consider it. Not when you could feel the alcohol in your system buzzing away and, along with your sister's presence, it all made you feel light enough to float away if no one held on to you. It was one of those perfect early summer evenings. Warm enough that you didn't need a jacket but not so humid that everything felt sticky. How you'd got this lucky to be spending an evening like this you didn't know and frankly, you didn't want to question it.

You lured over the waiter again with what you thought was a charming smile but likely looked ridiculous on account of the alcohol in your system. "Can we get the check please?" you hummed.

"You're already paying for a hotel room instead of staying with me, at least let me buy you dinner!" She whined suddenly giving you a flashback to her as a child. All pigtails and high-pitched squeals.

"Nah uh, short stack." You teased as you waved your card at the returning waiter.

It was after signing the receipt when you stood up and reached for your bag, that you noticed the hazy quality of the street lamps you could see through the windows. They were almost blurry and not in the you've-had-too-much-to drink way. Like there was something wrong with them like they were made of the wrong stuff or…

"Move it, some of us have work tomorrow." Sophie bumped your shoulder with hers snapping you back from wherever your mind wandered to. It was just the glass distorting the light, you decided. Although you made a conscious effort not to look at the lights again when you got outside, instead slipping an arm into Sophie's and hurrying her in the direction of the waiting taxi. Like you didn't want to risk finding out something wasn't right about the evening.

In the back of the cab, you laughed a few more times and made rushed plans for the 4th of July before the car stopped outside of an impressive apartment building, "text me when you're home," you insisted as she slipped out onto the sidewalk.

She pulled a face at you as you rolled down the window, and grandly gestured behind her, "erm, it's right there."

You rolled your eyes, "you know what I mean. When you're home and the door is locked. You know, when you're inside your home dummy."

"You're such a weirdo."

"Your favorite weirdo. Love you!" You nodded to the driver that he could carry on to your destination.

"Yeah love you too. Text me when you're inside your LOCKED hotel room, freak!" she called after the car as it pulled away.

Your lips stretched into a grin as you sunk back into yet another seat, comfier than any taxi you remember but then again this was the city, maybe things were just nicer here. You lived outside of a small town across the country so you probably couldn't compare expectations for public transportation.

The breeze from the window you'd left open whirled about you as the cab rounded corners and avenues. You couldn't help smiling to yourself, amused by the cool air whipping your hair around your face, as a child might be.

"Do you want me to close that?" the driver asked into his rear-view mirror, unable to see your face and gauge if it was bothering you.

"Nah, I'm good." And you were. Really good. Comfortable. Happy and—

Cold. Why were you so cold?

Why was everything so much darker than you remembered? Your arms were heavy above you and your wrists stung from keeping your body suspended above the floor. The toes of your boots barely able to reach the concrete below. And that's when it happened. The flood of realization that you weren't, in fact, sitting in a comfortable cab on a warm summer evening but you were surrounded by darkness and a world of monsters. Something sharp was buried in your neck and you could hear movement. The weight of stormy footsteps and muffled voices.

That's when they appeared. One of them, the offensively tall one, immediately started working on the ropes that bound you to the ceiling while the shorter one, although still taller than you, lifted your head with the crook of his finger to take note of your fluttering eyelids while he gently pulled the IV needle from your neck. They were all sharp jawlines and strong eyes the pair of them. Close enough to be the only things in focus among the blurry world that was still coming back to you.

"She's alive, must have snapped out of it when we killed the son of a bitch. We've gotta get her out of here." He commanded his friend.

Your throat felt like it was burning, like sandpaper against a stone, and you rubbed at your neck to try to ease the feeling once your arms swung free from the ceiling, "both of them?"

"What?" they snapped in unison, surprised that you were even speaking.

"You killed both of them?" you croaked again but you didn't need to wait for their answer because you could see it now. A flash in the darkness, two glowing blue eyes appeared from nowhere and began approaching the three of you bringing on waves of Déjà vu. Flashes of the hunt, finding the place, the dead girls, and nearly killing one of them only to be caught in their trap.

But both the men in front of you were seemingly unaware of the approaching danger while they focused on your face.

You were weaker than normal. Drained of not just your blood but a vast amount of your strength, still your reactions were no less impressive in the face of impending danger. You yanked the blood-soaked knife from the man who had cut you down and elbowed the guy in front of you before launching yourself forward with every possible ounce of energy you had left. A grunt echoed off the walls for your effort, the noise catapulting you forward as much as the adrenaline until you felt the satisfying contact. The Djinn's face frozen in shock as his meal turned into his demise.

The blade dug into his chest but burrowed deeper into his heart as you fell forward, the weight of your body landing on top of the parasite with your hands trapped between you, still wrapped around the handle of the knife. For a moment you didn't breathe. You were motionless enough laying on top of him that you might be dead. Watching his face closely with your own, waiting for any sign that you hadn't killed the bastard.

When you were finally satisfied you rolled sideways off of the now dead Djinn and gasped for air or hope, anything. Reeling in the truth that nothing had been real. Not your well-adjusted sister with her hopes and dreams or your arguably boring life as a mildly popular newspaper columnist, hidden in a cabin away from the world. No. She was still as dead as she had been before the Djinn sent you off to wonderland and you were still living a lonely and dangerous life hunting the scum you didn't even want on the bottom of your shoe.

That’s when you realized you were shaking. You'd almost allowed it. You'd been so happy to stay there watching her grow up that you ignored every red flag. There had been no fight in you, nothing tethering you to this reality full of violence and hard decisions. And now you'd been dragged back here, forced to carry on living, knowing what you could have had back there. You don't need to say it out loud to know the truth, you'd have happily died there, just like those girls before you.

But there was no time for the tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks, there was never time. You felt two pairs of strong hands lift you up as gently as possible. Gripping you and barely touching you at the same time.

"So you're a hunter?" the shorter one asked.

All you managed to grumble before the blood rushing to your head made everything dark again was, "good guess Columbo."

Continue to Chapter Two

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #spn #spn reader insert #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn fanfic #sam winchester #alone: a spn story #probably needs more editing #but yolo amirite?

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Four

On the verge of his tenth mile, Elliot had a feeling like he had to urinate. With seemingly no shrubbery around he contemplated just going in his shorts. He figured by the time he’d reach the finish line the ratio of sweat to urine would hide the fact that there was any urine at all. When he made the decision that he was going to go for it, he slowed to a trot and attempt to release, but he couldn’t. There was only more feeling of having to go. He decided to ignore everything and began running faster again.

The wind and sweat made the road rash on his wrists and knees scream. On a whim he took a left at the next side street and slowed his run to a walk. Eventually he came to a complete stop. He found himself in a sort of rundown neighborhood that had a shoddy old shopping plaza in it vacant with more boarded windows than windows. For some reason he turned his microphone off. I did not realize this until we played back the tape later on, I was consumed in the bar lights with Juno Rafferty.

Elliot began walking door to door and pulling on them to see if any were accidentally left unlocked. He figured there had to be an old toilet somewhere inside. He doesn’t remember if it was the fourth or fifth door he tried but he noticed the board on the window next to it was loose. He looked around to make sure he was alone before climbing in. He was shocked when the light flicked on when he flipped the switch. The majority of the bulbs were burnt out but there was enough life in the lights that lit to allow him to see things clear enough. It looked like an old insurance company or doctor’s office, the smell of ink and paper still lingered among the dust. It was a room that sat stagnant, waiting for nothing. When he turned the bathroom light on the light flickered and fought before eventually burning consistently. He stood over the toilet waiting a lifetime to piss. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled before finally feeling a painful trickle. It looked more like apple cider than lemonade. Fuck he said beneath his breath. He attempted to flush but nothing happened, nor did the water turn on so he couldn’t wash his hands. He cranked the paper towel spool and unraveled a few sheets of hardened yellowed tissue and dabbed his wounds with it. Thankfully his cuts didn’t look as bad as they stung.

When he walked back out into the office the room felt dimmer. He wondered if more bulbs had burnt out while he was urinating. He pondered lightbulbs for some odd reason. He found it funny that when one burned out at his house, he didn’t change it right away. He’d just get used to dimmer light. He’d wait until enough burned out and change them all at once. There’s less flaw in dimmer light, he liked that. It leveled the playing field. He felt the same about the snow. Everyone’s yard looks the same in a snowstorm.

When he climbed back through the window, he gazed out upon the empty parking lot. The broken streetlamps, the dead weeds stuck between cracks in the concrete. The trashy graffiti that meant nothing to most people and everything to whoever created it. He tried to resurface from his cavernous mind, but something was off. He kept falling deeper. He stared at the graffiti for much longer than a moment. Stuck in gaze, he couldn’t make out what it said. A voice shouted startling him from his daydream. He didn’t hear what they said, he waved and trotted back toward the marathon course.

10.87 miles- Bloody. Brown piss. Delirium.

He didn’t remember to turn his mic back on until he felt the adhesive tape itching against his chest reminding him that he was wearing it.

“Paulie? You there?”

“Jesus Elliot, where have you been?”

“Took a fall, had find a toilet.”

“You alright?”

“I think so.”

He would never admit that he was not okay. He wasn’t even halfway through and so dehydrated. I told him to stop running but he kept rambling about lightbulbs and parking lots attempting to sound philosophical. It apparently made sense in his mind. I had to laugh because it reminded me of the first time we got drunk together.

“Call off the dogs E. I am worried about you now.”

“They’re so lonely and beautiful.”

“What?”

“Parking lots. They’re always waiting.”

“What?” I laughed but not really.

“Arrivals and departures. They’re stuck in between. Like an elevator if you pressed all the floors at once.”

“I am coming to meet you.”

He continued. “I have to show you the most beautiful parking lot I found.”

“Elliot, you need water.”

Total distance eleven miles. Total time one hundred twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Split pace eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds per mile.

Not long into his twelfth mile, his legs wouldn’t allow him to run. He struggled to walk for a short while before he couldn’t move at all. An ambulance arrived and took Elliot Knox away from the race. They took him to South Shore hospital and pumped him full of fluids. The last thing he said before turning his microphone off was “keep the clock running”.

I parted ways with Juno. She was kind enough to stay with my stuff at the bar while I took a cab to South Shore. The cab drivers name was Kingston and he drove like Jeff Gordon. It felt as if the tequila sodas I consumed were very disrupted in my stomach. He took sharp turns through back roads and went fifty miles per hour on straightaways. I managed to keep from vomiting but not by much. When I got to the hospital there were two other marathon runners awaiting a room, apparently Elliot was bad enough they booked him right away.

I tried to make sense of everything a I walked the long corridors of lights and glares pasts room that smelled of insulin and disease. He only ran eleven miles… sure he drank alcohol the night before and probably didn’t hydrate but Elliot seemed healthy enough to run at least a half marathon and possibly walk another half. It wasn’t until I arrived at his room and the doctor informed that Elliot wasn’t healthy enough to run a marathon nor was he healthy enough to run a half marathon. I felt dizzy and delirious much like Elliot sounded when he was talking about parking lots and light bulbs. Everything went blurry. I felt worse than I did in Kingston’s cab. I could no longer hold back the vomit once the doctor informed me that my best friend was dying.

When I went into his room, he was lying in bed smiling as the IV drip nursed him back to hydration. I did not tell him what the doctor told me. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Suddenly the jargon about light bulbs and parking lots made much more sense.

Parking lots are places that no one ever talks about. They’re not glamorous. They’re often quite the opposite. They hold no address, and they’re left off maps, it’s like they don’t exist. So full of exhaust and the pollution of strangers constantly arriving and departing. So full during the day and so empty and lonely at night. Painted in bird shit, chewed gum, and cigarette ash. Full of Styrofoam trash, and paper cups of smoke, and they carry the weight of the happiest hellos and the saddest farewells.

I sat down in the chair at his bedside, and he insisted he was not done running. He brought up the time I saved his life. He always makes so much more of it than it was. I don’t think I really did much, but I suppose it goes to show how much we are affected by one another. Not just our friendship but people everywhere. The little things make a difference. The slightest detail can change someone’s everything.

“I didn’t save your life Elliot. I just happened to be there.”

“Yeah. You were there when I did not want to be.”

“It was Christmas Eve, I was just dropping off a gift.”

“Not just a gift. You gave me a Blonde On Blonde signed vinyl… possibly one of the greatest records of all time, signed.” He laughed.

“I didn’t realize you liked it that much.” I said.

“I don’t. I like that I was going to kill myself that night and you showed up with a gift.”

I didn’t know how to respond when he said that, so naturally I said. “How come you didn’t tell me that you’re dying.”

“Everyone’s dying.” He replied.

“You’re dying quicker.” I said.

“Imagine if I could apply my speed at dying to running a marathon.” He joked.

“Yeah.” I said not knowing what to say.

“Look, life is a marathon. I have been running my whole life. I’m tired Paulie. The outlook isn’t good. I want to enjoy whatever time I have left.”

“Did you enjoy running the Boston Marathon?” I teased.

“That was miserable. But I have to finish it.” He sniffed his nose toward me. “You smoke?”

“I smoked three cigarettes. Yes.” I replied.

“You’re a smoker now?”

“Does three cigarettes make me a smoker?” I said.

“Does eleven and a half miles make me a runner?” He replied.

“God no.” I laughed.

There was a resounding pause after that laugh that I’ll never forget. It was as if I could feel him coming to terms with his mortality even though he showed no signs of vulnerability. I guess when you know someone well enough you can see through them. It was difficult seeing Elliot be weak. I had only seen him week twice in my life, once that Christmas Eve night, which we never spoke of after, and then today on this October afternoon so full of gloom.

Later that evening he felt stable enough to refuse any more treatment. I called us a cab and lo and behold, Kingston was our driver. Elliot enjoyed the ride much more than I did. When we got back to the hotel, Elliot vanished into his hotel room for the remainder of the evening. I walked back to the bar hoping to God that she would still be there. I felt almost out of body as I reflected on the day. I felt a little guilty that my life back home hadn’t crossed my mind. I found myself wanting to smoke one hundred cigarettes with the Goddess of Light, Juno, on a sidewalk in the dark.

I pushed open the heavy door and walked in to find that she was gone.

0 notes

panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Action!{FINAL}{Lance x YouTuber!Reader}

Words: 8264

Summary: Being a YouTube guru is hard enough without the added stress of living with Lance McClain, the man who insists on bombarding into every YouTube video you try to film. His viewers love him, and so do you.

Pairing: Lance McClain x Youtuber!Reader

Notes: p1 – p2 – p3 – p4 – p5 – p6 ; well here it is guys - the final! i really just wana say a massive thank you to everyone who has read this series and sent me feedback. the outpour of positive messages that this message brought was overwhelming and i don’t think i’ve ever felt so proud of my own writing before. that’s all on you guys. you guys made me feel like my writing was actually doing something, and that is an indescribable feeling. i love you all, and i hope you can look back on this series one day and smile. i know i will. thank you for reading and enduring all this angst with me x

The thing about Lance McClain, you had noticed over the course of three years, was that he spoke whenever he was trying to avoid a topic.

He spoke whenever he was nervous, whenever there was something lingering in his brain that he didn't exactly want to indulge on.

A part of you wanted to believe it was just the fact that he was pumped up on all sorts of pain-numbing medication, but the other part of you knew the real reason as to why he hadn't shut his mouth in the past ten minutes – you had walked in the room, and he quite frankly didn't know what else to do.

His parents were seated at his bed side, Francesca listening on in mild confusion as Lance babbles on about how he's scared he's going to feel 'phantom pain' where the blood once pumped through his system and now it wasn't. Averall had to constantly remind him that the blood had been replaced, and you didn't feel pain in your blood anyway.

But Lance wasn't having it. Or rather, he didn't want an excuse to be quiet.

You leaned against the door frame, arms folded over your chest as you listen on to him talking. You don't want to feel bad for him in this moment, but his clearly flustered state is enough to make you feel just a little bit at fault – he was already under enough stress and, no matter how badly he had hurt you, you didn't want to cause him even more unnecessary disturbance.

“Lance, honey, I think it's time for you to be quiet,” Francesca sighs, patting her sons hand gently. “Your father and I need to go and see about your discharge papers, but until then -” She looks up, gives you a warm smile. “Y/N can help you pack up your hospital bag, yeah?”

You nod your head without hesitance, the task seeming so easy. You had helped him pack on multiple occasions – he was a pilot in training. There was always some place he needed to go to, some place overseas that he needed to be at. This was an everyday thing for you.

You move out of the way of the door and allow Lance's parents to exit the room, leaving you and Lance alone at last.

For a single second the air is clear. The air is normal, unmoving. For a single second, it's just you and Lance and old times sake. No hurt. No memories. No regrets to place a wall between you two.

It's shattered as soon as Lance starts to talk again.

“Do you wanna see my surgery scars? I think they're pretty cool, but my parents don't want to look at them. They think they're gross. I, personally, think they're natural. Like – Like a sign I survived or something cheesy like that. Do you wanna see?”

You narrow your eyes, hauling his empty hospital bag onto the bed at his feet to begin packing away his essentials. “I think I'm good.”

Lance frowns. “Fine. I'll just let you dismiss the evidence of my life. I'll look at them happily on my own. I don't even need anybodies support. I've got myself. That's all I need.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“And maybe, like, two churros to keep me busy. I've never liked not having something to chew on. It's like a tic of mine.”

“I know.”

“Remember that bag full of sunflower seeds we kept on the mantle piece after we watched Holes? We thought the sheriff's habit was so cool, even though sunflower seeds tasted like baking flour and vinegar.”

You remember. You simply nod in response, keeping yourself busy by folding his clothes up and trying not to make eye contact with him. The idea of looking into his eyes and seeing that mild case of panic he always had on whenever he was in one of his nervous states was almost too much for you to bare. You had seen him wear said expression before, but never around you. He never needed to wear it around you. Whenever you two had anything to talk about, it was the easiest thing in the world to just sit down and talk things through.

Not this time, apparently. Apparently this time was different.

“The nurse told me you stayed by my bedside the whole time.” Lance's words startle you a little bit. You were hoping he hadn't been informed of the situation – you were hoping he hadn't heard you say the things you had said to him the other day, right before he woke up. You didn't want to give him hope that things could go back to normal, because even you weren't so sure of such a thing. But the words you had spoken were the truth, whether you wanted to believe it or not. If he had died, you would have been in ruins.

At least he knew that.

You purse your lips as you throw his alcohol-stained shirt into the sports bag his parents had hauled down from his hotel room the day before. “Right.”

Lance nods, eyes watching your hands work at his clothes. You can tell he is itching to help by the way he hesitantly reaches forward every now and then, before pulling his hand back.

“That was sweet of you,” he says. “You didn't have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Lance chuckles. He takes one look at your deadpan face and the humour in his voice wears off immediately, half-startled by your lack of response to something that would usually have you at least cracking a smile. “You don't have to feel guilty for the collision. I know you well enough to know that you feel guilty about it.”

You shrug loosely. There was no point in denying it, because he was right. He did know you well enough to know that. He had seen you in these kind of states before, completely paralysed by your own guilt against something that you couldn't have helped.

But the thing with this situation was, you could have helped. And that thought plays like a broken record in your mind as you work at packing up Lance's clothes for him.

Lance sighs, leaning his head back against the freshly-fluffed pillows. “It was my own stupid fault and we both know it. My body can’t handle more than a few bottles of beer. Any more than that and-”

“And you’re stepping out in front of moving vehicles.”

Lance nods slowly, looking at you now. You can feel his gaze burning the side of your head as you work, a soft smile forming itself on his features that he clearly tries to hide with the back of his IV-littered hand. He doesn’t want to push his luck. He doesn’t want to think you’re making jokes with him to ease the tension.

Maybe you were mad at him. He didn’t know that and he certainly didn’t want to assume anything less.

“You know,” he continues, pushing himself with a grunt of pain that the medication had yet to chase away, “my parents work full time at the high school. The doctors won’t let them take me back to their house with them, which means I’m gonna have to go back to the apartment in San Fran.”

He pauses, waiting for you to catch on to what he is saying. You know what he’s insinuating, but you don’t speak up. You keep your eyes glued onto the pair of trousers you are currently folding.

He nibbles on his bottom lip before continuing. “I know I’m probably overstepping my boundaries by asking you this, but I just - I kind of need help getting places, and the doctors won’t let me leave if I don’t have a guardian who can take care of me whilst this heals up. If it can’t be my parents, I would - uh - I would love it - appreciate it - if that person could be you.”

There it is.

You feel the butterflies bubbling back in your stomach, the idea of being back in your apartment with Lance with some sense of normalcy to it making you more happy than you would like to admit. Because he had hurt you, badly, and things would never just go back to normal like you hoped, but this could be a start.

A start you weren’t even sure you wanted.

But you had to put your grudges aside for now. He was right. You could either be the decent person you always claimed to be and help him out just this once, or you could leave him to rot in this hospital until his leg healed.

Lance was lucky you were raised right.

You nod your head, finally looking up from the folding of clothes you had been so engulfed in. “I’ll go back to the apartment with you.”

Lance’s shoulders visibly relax, a hesitant smile gracing his lips and making his pale face look slightly brighter than it had done over the past few days. You smile back just as hesitantly, unsure of what this all means, of how you should feel, if this is right.

It’s just to help him out until he gets better. That’s what you had to remind yourself. It was just temporary, and the reason behind your agreeing was based firmly on your own morals. Nothing more.

No strings attached.

“Jesus Christ, Lance, you need to help me out here!” you grunt.

One of Lance’s arms were strung over your shoulders whilst you held him up, guiding him up the long set of stairs that took you to the apartment you had been avoiding for nearly ten days now.

Your other hand held his crutches, meaning you had nothing to lean on to keep yourself balanced bar Lance’s body, and that wasn’t much use. One of his feet was wrapped up in bandages and he could put hardly any weight on it, and besides that, he had surgery scars to heal up from, meaning he shouldn’t have even been standing up right now.

“I can’t put weight on anything,” Lance hisses. “The fact that I’m even standing up right now is, quite frankly, a miracle.”

“With the way you’re tugging me right now, it’s a miracle that I’m still standing as well.”

You groan as you finally throw you and Lance forward, reaching the red door that led into your apartment. You quickly fish the key out of your pocket, place it in the door and unlock it, watching as it slides open to reveal the cold, abandoned room you had lived in for three years.

It had only been left alone for four days whilst you and Lance were in LA, and yet it still seemed completely foreign to you when you stepped inside. Nothing major had changed - the sofa had a few extra pizza boxes lying on top of it, but that was the extent of it. The TV needed dusted, and as you stepped in you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose up at the lack of Febreze that had been sprayed around.

Nothing major and yet it felt like a new place to you. You felt as if you had never been in here before.

You grunt as you let Lance drop onto the sofa, him immediately letting out a sigh of relief when his body hits the pillows. You make a show of stretching your limbs out, popping your neck in the way that always made Lance squirm out of discomfort.

Even now he looks up at you and shakes his head at the action, but he clearly doesn’t think scolding you is a good idea.

You are unsure of what to do from this moment onwards - do you sit next to him? Does he need his meds? Does he want the TV on?

You purse your lips, awkwardly hovering over the back of the sofa as Lance fiddles with the pillows in an attempt to get himself comfortable. His face twitches in pain at almost every movement he makes, and you’re half tempted to question whether him being released from the hospital was a good idea.

“My mum used to sing Spanish lullabies to me whenever I got sick,” Lance says, suddenly.

You inhale deeply, shocked at the sudden conversation starter. You try to make yourself look like you hadn’t been standing over him for the past two minutes.

“I don’t know any Spanish lullabies,” you tell him. “And I can’t sing.”

“I wasn’t asking you to sing for me,” he scoffs. “I was just telling you a fun fact about my childhood. I thought that was one you didn’t know.”

You shrug. “I knew that one. You bring it up every time anything goes wrong with your health.”

“Which isn’t often enough for that fact to be put in your long-term memory,” he replies. “I have a very strong immune system, and my bones aren’t exactly easily breakable.”

You raise your brow. “Yeah. That’s why you currently have a broken ankle and can barely stand up without assistance.”

“Cut me some slack! My bones may be strong,but certainly not strong enough to fend off a car coming at me at 70mph.”

You roll your eyes, spinning on your heel to face the conjoined kitchen. “I’m gonna go make us some food. The drive from LA has me hungry. Do you want anything?”

“Something I can drink through a straw, please. I don’t feel like chewing.”

You nod as if his words were the most natural thing in the world, as if your heart wasn’t moving at one thousand miles per minute, as if everything right now didn’t seem completely twisted and scripted.

As you make soup over the stove, watching Lance from the counter as he keeps his eyes glued on the now-turned-on television, you can’t help but realise just how weird this entire thing was. A little over a week ago, you would have cursed the person who forced you and Lance into a room together. One car crash later and here you were; making him soup as he rewatched Friends for what you knew was the hundredth time in his lifetime.

It didn’t necessarily feel wrong as much as it felt fake. There was an underlying topic that you two were avoiding, gently pulling it out of the conversation as if you were playing Jenga with conversation starters. Trying to work your way around inevitable collapse, getting rid of all of the things that could trigger said conversation.

Everything was peaceful now, but you didn’t know how long it would last for. How long you could keep up this charade of oh, everything’s fine!

Lance was good at putting on a front, but you knew him well enough to know that he felt the same way. The way his eyes shifted to the ground whenever he was at risk of making eye contact with you, or the way he narrowly avoided the topic of Shiro whenever the two of you were discussing how Emma, Samuel and he had gotten home. He had only asked about Emma and Samuel, even though he knew full well Shiro was accompanying you also.

You hated to admit it, but you had barely thought about Shiro outside of the incident. Any time his name popped up in your head, all you could think about was the look on Lance’s face whenever he saw Shiro’s arm around your waist, the horror and the anger and the misplaced betrayal that immediately slapped itself onto his drunken features.

You felt bad about that. He had treated you with nothing but kindness and all you could think about was the man who had ripped your heart from your chest. And now, said man was sitting in front of you with a broken leg, a fractured collar bone and a skull that still had mild swelling in it.

Oh, what a day.

“Y/N!”

You pluck your earphones out of your ear, cautiously looking over at the closed door that currently separated you and the patient you had been forced to care for.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you sleeping? I can’t stand up to come and wake you up, so if you could just stop that, that would be great!”

You roll your eyes, throwing the earphones down onto your laptop, where your face is popped up on the editing program you were currently using. After making Lance and yourself some soup and watching yours get cold whilst Lance slurped his up in seconds, you had excused yourself from the living room to go and do something useful with your time. Despite your exhaustion from having driven a 6 hour drive from LA to San Fransisco, you didn’t trust Lance enough on his own to fall asleep, so you instead decided to edit your recent video.

But it seemed as though Lance had other ideas for your evening.

You trot downstairs grudgingly, barely popping your head around the living room door. “What is it?”

Lance perks up at the sght of your face. “Oh, you’re not sleeping. Great. I was just - uh - I was just wondering if you would help me get to my room? I feel lonely in the living room on my own, and I wanna sleep on my bed.”

You raise a brow. “Why can’t you just sleep on the sofa and save us both the bother?”

“Sleeping on the sofa is a bother. What if we get robbed during the night? I can’t run, and I’m the first person they’ll see.”

You shake your head slightly, fighting off the urge to roll your eyes. Same old Lance.

You say no more before you make your way over to him, looping one of his arms around your shoulders and hauling him into your side. He hisses out in pain, letting out a chorus of “Ah, ah, ah’s” as he bounces slightly, trying to find a position against you that would stop the pain from going through his body.

His body which is pressed to yours very closely.

You bite at your bottom lip, shoving all thoughts out of your head. He was ill. He was hardly leaning on you for anything more than medical reasons. The fact that he can’t even stand upright is most likely a big part of it.

And even know you know this fact is truth, your heart still picks up at the way his arm tightens slightly over your shoulders as he tries to find a good position to hobble in. A blush still creeps up onto your cheeks whenever he instinctively winds his fingers through yours in an attempt to keep him upright even better.

You still lose your mind whenever his breath tickles your neck.

“Fuck,“ he hisses now, his hopping coming to a halt as he finally gets comfortable against you. “Sorry. Did I hurt you there?”

You go to speak, but your mouth opens and no words come out. His fingers are still wound with yours, and you aren’t letting go, but neither is he and you can no longer think past the warm feeling spreading up your arm and the way his hand fits so closely with yours and how familiar it all feels even though it shouldn’t.

So instead, you opt for simply nodding before leading him up the stairs in silence, trying your hardest to hide your blush behind your hair, trying to make it seem like this was just exactly what it should have been - an innocent, morally charged exchange. You were helping him out because he was ill. He couldn’t do this on his own, and that was all there was to it.

You arrive at his room and you inwardly cringe at the sight of it - he clearly hadn’t been sleeping in his room during your time away, because your side of the bed is still a crumpled mess from the last time you had gotten out of his sheets. It seems like ages ago.

Lance clearly notices the crumpled sheets as well, as a blush begins to take form on his cheeks and his fingers tighten around your own. You inhale deeply, shake your head to nothingness as you set him down in the centre of the pillows, trying not to make it seem like you still thought of the right side as your side. He could have the whole bed to himself if he wanted.

“There,” you say, cracking your knuckles dramatically. Lance scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully at the over-exaggerated action. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll be just down the hall.”

I want to be beside you, but we both know that can’t happen.

You wince as the thought strikes you, too quick for you to dismiss it before it grows into something more.

Lance nods at you, giving you one last lazy smile before you turn to leave. Half you wants to leave. Half of you wants to stay, curl up in Lance’s arms like you had grown so used to those three months you had done so.

“Oh, Y/N, wait.”

You pause in your tracks, hand hovering over the door handle.

“Hm?”

Lance pushes himself up, turning to face you fully now. “I never thanked you for the soup you made me. It was nice. Thank you.”

How such a simple comment can make your knees feel weak is beyond you, and you silently curse your low tolerance levels when it comes to Lance McClain.

You hide your suddenly woozy state by smiling softly, whispering “No problem,” and exiting the room.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you catch your breath. You need to. The day had been so simple, so easy and usually, chill days like this took nothing out of you. But today, something had affected you and it was making you feel a thousand emotions at once.

Nostalgia? Regret? Confusion?

Everything. Even happiness, though you didn’t want to admit that to yourself right now. You wanted to keep yourself under the illusion that you were just here for moral reasons, to keep yourself from feeling guilty. You were helping out somebody in need.

But the happiness was unavoidable. Happiness whenever Lance smiled at you. Happiness at the fact that he was sitting on the sofa, smiling, laughing along to the television, alive. He was alive. He was thriving again, and sure, he was in pain and he wasn’t as active as he used to be, but he was happy and he was trying to make you happy even though he knew he had messed up and you would be a fool not to see such a thing.

You close your eyes and lean your head back against his bedroom door, hoping and praying that he doesn’t hear the slight bang that comes from the contact. Even though your heartbeat speeds up at the risk, you don’t move. You simply keep your ground, inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying everything and anything to keep yourself from crumbling all over again.

“Okay, but if I had an adult colouring book, I wouldn’t be complaining so much about now having an adult colouring book.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, your laptop balanced on your knees in the way you found so uncomfortable. You hadn’t realised that looking after Lance meant having to sit with him in the living room all day, listening to him complain about not having an adult colouring book.

“I’m not going to the shop and buying you an adult colouring book. Those are expensive, and the Adpocolypse has been cutting me short lately.”

Lance groans, throwing his head back. He sat on the sofa across from you, the TV playing in the background though he didn’t seem to be paying it any attention. His eyes were fixed on your working form, watching as you sat hunched over your laptop, putting the finishing touches on the video you were making.

“I already offered to pay for it, for gods sake! All you need to do is go down the street to Barnes & Noble and pick one up for me.”

“Why can’t you just have a normal colouring book?”

“Because I am an 19 year old adult who needs an adult colouring book.This isn’t a game of pick and choose, Y/N. I can’t just pick up a Mandala colouring book and be on my merry way. That’s basically fraud.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. You had to constantly remind yourself that he was ill. He was hyped up on pain medication, and that was why he was being such a pain.

“Maybe later, Lance,” you say. “I’ve gotta get this video up tonight or else there will be questions.”

Lance sighs, slumping back against the sofa again. His arms hang loosely over the back of it, though you had warned him time and time again that that would do nothing good for his sore back. He had ignored you, claiming he was tough enough to put up with it.

He watches you now - you can feel his stare. You knew he had always taken an interest in the way you worked off camera. How you could take your happy, make-up obsessed persona and suddenly replace them with this work-savvy tec person who knew everything there was to know about editing videos and the process behind it all. After working with editing videos for nearly half of your life, you had picked up a thing or two and editing had become just as simple and thoughtless as breathing.

Lance had always found that cool. How you could watch a YouTube video on how to edit and suddenly you were being filled with stock-piles of information. A little bit of practice and a weekly upload schedule had you becoming a professional even before you had met Lance.

The topic of your YouTube channel was one you hadn’t brought up until now, either, and you knew it had caused some tension. Though you didn’t want to dwell on it too much, it was quite difficult to dismiss. The way Lance suddenly got quiet, the way he pulled his bottom lip into his teeth and chewed awkwardly, watching you now as if waiting to see you bash him in a video for what he had done.

But no. It was a simple make up tutorial. You had gone another week on your YouTube channel, totally ignoring the rumours which had been circulating the internet from the moment Lance’s interview had surfaced. You were hoping they would blow over eventually. Until then, a smokey eye tutorial would have to suffice.

Lance speaks up suddenly. “I watched your LA vlog that you put up a few days ago.”

Your eyes snap up, mouth forming a line as you do so. “Right. What did you think of it?”

He shuffles awkwardly in his position on the sofa, finally pulling his hands into his lap and intertwining his fingers together. “I was a little shocked that you still put it up after - after what happened with me. Surprised you had found the time to edit it.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands whilst I was waiting for you to wake up. The waiting room has surprisingly good WiFi.”

Lance winces, your tone of voice so monotone, so free of emotion. You had planned it that way. You didn’t want him to think that you dwelled on him too much over the past few days, even though you had. Keeping your voice low and monotone would wipe out all hope he may have of you rekindling anything with him - you hoped.

No you don’t.

“Well, it was a good video. I enjoyed it. The art looked - nice.” He shifts his eyes up hesitantly, meeting yours for a moment. “You and Shiro looked like you were having a good time.”

There it was. The name that he had been avoiding since he had woken up four days ago. The name which had seemed almost a taboo topic had just fell from his mouth and had opened up an entire can of worms.

The tension was undeniable, because you went silent as soon as he mentioned Shiro. Your eyes darted back to your computer screen, your demeanour completely changing as you try your hardest to fight off the conversation which is now inevitable.

Lance leans forward a little bit, hisses in pain and decides against it. “You were laughing a lot with him. Going through the rooms of the museum and stuff. You looked happy.”

“I was having a good time,” you grunt. You don’t want to talk about this any longer, because you no longer have the choice to just get up and leave. You have to stay and take care of him, which is your invisible handcuff to this room.

He didn’t need to make it any more awkward.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “But it’s just - I don’t mean to bring this up now and make things awkward between us, but since we have nothing else to talk about, I might as well. It made me think about all the good times we used to have together and how we used to break the rules like that. We used to laugh about it, remember? Just like how you were laughing with Shiro.”

You bite down harder on your lip, suppressing the urge to throw your laptop to the side and walk off. What were you even supposed to say to that? Were you supposed to apologise for doing things with Shiro that you once did with Lance? Were you supposed to feel the stabbing guilt that you were currently feeling?

“Lance,” you breath out, clicking mercilessly at the screen on your laptop - anything to distract yourself. The more distracted you are from Lance’s prying eyes, the easier the words will come. “I was having a good night out with my friends. It was Emma’s special day, and I wanted to enjoy myself. You’re selfish if you think I can’t have a laugh just because my best friend pulled the rug out from underneath me a few days prior.”

Lance’s eyes widen and you hear him take a breath. He clearly hadn’t expected you to bring that situation up. He had clearly hoped that he could take a dig at you and your friends and get away from his own wrong-doings scotch free.

“Hey, hey, you know that’s not what I meant,” he says frantically. “I was just commenting on it. It was playing on my mind so I said it.” He winces as he folds his arms over his chest. “No need to get mad.”

You grit your teeth, hands clenching the fabric you had balled up in your hand in an attempt to ease the anger swarming through you. It was weird how you could go from questioning your anger towards him to suddenly realising why you felt it all in the first place.

You’re not yelling because you don’t want to ruin the happiness between you two. You still care.

“You know what, Lance?” you nearly exclaim, cutting the thoughts off before you can stop yourself.

You were going to prove yourself wrong. You didn’t want to be friends with Lance any more. You could yell at him. You could get mad if he gave you a reason to be.

Lance looks up at you, arms still folded over his chest, waiting for you to explode.

One look at his face and you feel like melting all over again. You can feel your anger disappearing and you grapple for it as quickly as you can, pretending the butterflies in your stomach weren’t there.

“You - You have no right to form an opinion on my social life any more,” you say, silently cursing yourself for stuttering. “You messed up. That’s not my problem. You’re not my problem any more. You’re lucky I’m actually staying here right now, because me of all people has every right to walk out and leave you if I wanted to.”

Lance blinks.

“Don’t act - God - don’t act stupid! You’re clearly annoyed about me and Shiro getting closer even though you have no right to be.”

“I’m not mad,” Lance insists, and it seems as if his nervous persona had melted away. His eyes are burning directly into yours as the two of you argue, him moving around as dramatically as his injuries will let him. “I was just commenting on the video you put up! Excuse me for trying to start a fucking conversation!”

“You really must think I’m stupid,” you scoff. “Or soft. Or something like that. Thinking I would just never replace you after what you did. You don’t orchestrate my life like that, Lance! You hurt me, and you’re surprised whenever I’m finally getting my life back on track-”

“My God, Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he exclaims. “You know I would never do anything bad to you without a good enough reason-”

“I was hoping not even a good reason would be enough for you to hurt me. I thought our friendship was strong enough for that.”

Lance grits his teeth, his hands tugging at his hair even though the action clearly pains him. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for complimenting your stupid little vlog. Sorry for being interested in your day-to-day life.” He grunts and folds his arms back over his chest. “Plus, I’m not jealous of you and Shiro. I could never be jealous of that stupid-haircut-looking cunt.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, anger souring through you. “Are you serious, Lance McClain?”

He had pulled the final straw. You set your laptop to the side, standing up after slamming the lid closed. Lance follows your movements, but his eyes don’t meet yours. They click on every other part of your body that he can find - legs, arms, stomach. Anywhere that aren’t your eyes, because even as you glare down at him now, you know he’s repeating the words he has just spoken in his head and realising just how petty and angry he had sounded in his moment of weakness.

“You cannot insult Shiro. You just can’t,” you seethe. “He’s a better man than you will ever be, because he knows how to treat people who show him kindness.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance mutters.

“No. I don’t wanna hear it,” you say, waving his apology off. “I’m going to my room. If you need help off the sofa, call me, but I don’t wanna be associated with you outside of that.”

You start towards the hallway, hands balled up at your sides, nails digging into the flesh on your palm so harshly you’re almost certain there will be blood when you uncurl them. Everything in you screams to stay, but you know it’s just the remaining remnants of friendship you had with him - remnants which you hope will disappear after tonight.

“Y/N, please wait,” Lance calls after you, suddenly sounding exhausted. “Y/N, please! Let me explain myself!”

“Go to hell, Lance!”

Your door slams closed, blocking his voice out for good.

The night brings no sleep for you.

Your bed feels cold and unfamiliar. Your body rejects it, feeling each and every spring you had missed shove itself into your spine, making you twist and turn in an uncomfortable attempt to escape it.

Usually Lance’s arms around be wrapped tight around you, protecting you from the protruding springs which were currently jabbing into your back due to how old your mattress was. Contrary to popular belief, being a YouTuber didn’t rack up a large wad of money. You needed to use things for as long as possible, meaning your mattress hadn’t seen a replacement since you moved in here.

That was your excuse. It was old. That was why you couldn’t sleep, even though you had only been out of it for a little over a week.

You knew the real reason, buried deep within the back of your head - the part that was blocked by the fuming anger you had towards Lance, the disbelief at the audacity he had shown today.

He shouldn’t have said the things he did. He shouldn’t have insulted Shiro just because he was mad at you.

But in the same breath, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions whenever he was talking about the vlog you had posted. Maybe he was genuinely just curious - anybody would be. He wanted to know if he had been replaced and, in the moment, that had annoyed you. You had forgot to realise that Lance wasn’t a bad guy. He was a good guy who had done something bad to you - that didn’t mean every single word that fell out of his mouth was a sinister attack on you and your friends.

You sigh and bury your head in your pillow. 4am was soon to be rolling around and you had a multitude of videos to film tomorrow, as well as taking care of the big child you had left gob smacked a few hours prior. How you were going to handle the day in all it’s awkwardness was beyond you, but you were going to have to make it work.

You weren’t going to take back what you had said. It was one step closer to you illiminating him from your life completely, and maybe that was what you needed.

Not particularly what you wanted, but you couldn’t have it all.

It was around 4:30am whenever you heard it.

It was quiet in the house for the most part, meaning the sudden crash and grunt of “Oh, fuck,” wasn’t difficult to miss. It had you bolting upright almost immediately - any excuse to get out of the confines of your sheets, in which you didn’t want to be trapped in any longer.

You were out of your bedroom in seconds, marching down the hall to Lance’s room. You threw open his door and wasn’t surprised to see him lying face-down on the carpeted floor, a globe laying broken at the side of him and his sheets tangled in his legs.

He looks up at you when you enter, groans before lowering his head back onto the carpet.

You don’t speak as you march over to him, kicking the broken globe out of the way and untangling the sheets from his legs, being careful of his ankle cast. He doesn’t speak either. It’s an unspoken exchange, a confirmation that you were serious about what you had said earlier in your fit of rage.

You haul Lance to his feet with a struggle and set him back on his bed. That was all. That was all you were needed for, and you quickly turn to leave, but his voice stops you.

Of course it does.

“Please call me stupid.”

You pause in your tracks, narrowing your eyes. You could have easily turned and left, continue on being mad at him, but you stay exactly where you are, waiting for him to continue.

“Do it like you used to,” he continues. “Don’t block me out.”

You grit your teeth, lowering you head. You don’t want to give in. He had done this too many times, against his own knowledge but that wasn’t important.

Your fingers close around the door knob, ready to leave. Ready to continue on with the charade until he gets better and you can leave for good, but Lance has other plans.

He jolts his body forward, yelling in pain as he tries to make his way over to you, but his broken and fractured and bruised body doesn’t let him get very far. His hand has barely closed on your arm before he’s tumbling to the floor, yelling in pain.

You gasp, whirling around at the sudden movement which was the last thing you had expected him to do.

“Lance!” you exclaim, grabbing onto his arms. He closes his eyes in pain, his mouth in a box shape as small hisses of pain escape his lips. His fingers crawl up your arms as you go to grab for his shoulders, a signal for you to wait a minute as he catches his breath.

You look down at him, worry coating your expression. He became overwhelmed with pain almost every time he tried to stand up, but you hadn’t seen him like this. His eyes are screwed shut, deep breaths leaving his mouth alongside little whimpers of pain that claw at your heart and make you want to pull him into a hug.

Instead, you keep your hands on his shoulders until he’s ready to move again.

“The things I put myself through for you,” he grunts, eyes still closed, breathing still shallow. “Is this enough for you to hear me out? Because I won’t move until you’ve spoken to me.”

You blink rapidly, heart still racing. “Are you-”

“I don’t care if you’re dating Shiro,” he says, eyes finally opening but his fingers tighten on your arms, stopping you from moving him any further. “I’m happy if you’re happy, but I don’t want you leaving this friendship - what we had - without knowing how - how I feel and why I did what I did.”

Your mouth is running dry and your hands are shaking and no words come out of your mouth. Nothing is clicking right now. All you can see, all you can hear is Lance.

He takes your silence as a reason to continue. “I didn’t get paid to do that interview.” You gawk. “I was walking on the street one night whenever you were back at the apartment, and some guy recognised me from the video we did together. He came up to me and was saying all this stuff - all this crazy, weird stuff about how he had hacked into one of your old phones from when you were a teenager and found all these texts between you and your mum. Right when she was beginning to get sick. He said - He told me he wanted a tell-all interview or else he would release the texts and I panicked. I freaked out and I said I’d do it, because I know how private you are about your mother’s condition. I didn’t want him to put you through that, and I thought me ‘exposing’ you would hurt a little less than him leaking those texts to the world.”

Your chest burns. Your eyes burn, tears falling down your cheeks without you even realising it. At the mention of your mother - a lady who had been diagnosed with MS whenever you were young - the tears fall even quicker.

You had never spoken publicly about your mothers condition. Keeping it silent was a lot easier than explaining to everyone why she had limited time left on earth, or why none of her treatment was working. Pretending that everything was okay was a lot easier than explaining why it wasn’t.

That was why you hadn’t brought up anything about Lance in your recent videos. Explaining to people why was a whole lot more difficult than ignoring the situation completely.

Hearing that Lance hadn’t been getting paid, that he had done the interview to protect you and your mother, made your heartbeat pick up with a thing you wanted to say was hope. Hope that this could all work out. Hope that this wasn’t the end of you and Lance.

Lance reaches up with his shaky arms and wipes the tears off of your cheeks. You simply stare down at him, mouth open in shock, frozen.

He nods gently. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried to distance myself from you afterwards because I knew that when the interview released, you’d want nothing to do with me anyway. And I was right, and I don’t blame you. I wasn’t even going to say anything because I want you to go on without me if it makes you happier, but I - I can’t live with the fact that you hate me, Y/N. I don’t want you to ever hate me. If I can’t love you in the way I want to, I at least want to be friends. But I can’t have you out of my life forever. I wasn’t wired to function without my best friend.”

A stab in the gut would have hurt less.

You close your eyes, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders and letting yourself fall back against his bed frame. Once your back has hit the frame, you tug your legs up to your chest, rest your chin on your knees and let the tears fall freely, soft sobs racking your body.

Lance does his best to sit up as quickly as he possibly can, hissing in pain in the process, but he eventually manages to move himself to the side of you, where he finally wraps his long arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his side.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I can call Shiro if you want. Get him to come over. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t-”

“Thank you.” The words sound scratchy against your throat, burning as they arise to the surface. Two words you never thought you would be saying to Lance again.

Lance tenses at the side of you. “For what?”

“For protecting me and my mother that way,” you reply. “You - You risked our friendship to protect my family. That was a brave move.”

“I still jeopardized our relationship-”

You shake your head, swallowing the golf ball sized lump in your throat. It doesn’t budge, and your words come out even groggier than before. “No, you didn’t Lance. I was mad before because I thought you had used me for the money and the publicity, but now I know the truth. I know why you did it.”

“Y/N, please don’t feel pressured-”

“I’m not dating Shiro,” you say. You look up as you say it, watching in mild amusement as Lance’s face goes from stiff to completely placid, eyes widening and mouth falling open.

His eyes meet yours and he immediately closes his mouth, coughing awkwardly into his hand. “Oh, you aren’t?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not. Wanna know why?”

“There’s a reason?”

“It’s because I’m in love with my best friend. Head over heels in love. Completely smitten.”

Lance smiles, biting his lip at the same time, clearly trying to hide the overjoyed expression making it’s way onto his face.

You let your knees fall away from your chest so you can look at him dead in the eye this time. He looks at you, eyes still wide, hands hesitantly reaching out to grab your own but you pull away from his grip, opting to wrap your arms over his shoulders instead.

“I fell for the man who protected my family from media outcry. I fell for the man who used to lock me in the bathroom when I was being moody so I could calm down. I fell for the man who never fails to race me up the stairs, even though there’s only three steps to walk up.” You smile down at him now, eyes glistening with both tears and lust. “I fell for the stupid idiot who got hit by a car because he was mad at Takashi Shirogane.”

Lance raises a brow now, hands instinctively coming to your waist as you hover over him. “You’re being awfully vague. I think I need more hints.”

You roll your eyes. “What I’m saying is, I love you, Lance McClain. Being away from you was the hardest task I’ve ever had to endure, and I don’t wanna do it again. Not in a million years.”

He grins. He grins widely and brightly, happily staring up at you as he does so. “You won’t have to be away from me ever again.”

With those words spoken, you seal the deal with a kiss. Long and drawn out and needed, but not needy. It’s soft and gentle, though the way Lance’s hands tighten on your waist and the way you pull him impossibly closer make up for the distance you two had had from one another for the past ten days.

You’d missed this. Feeling happy. Feeling happy with Lance. Feeling like the world could no longer drag you down because you finally had your anchor back with you, even if you knew things would be mildly complicated from here on out.

You would have to deal with Samuel and Emma, who no doubt would have a lot to say about you going back to an ex. You would have to deal with Shiro - you weren’t sure what Shiro felt about you. If he felt anything. If he really did like you in that way. You just knew you would deal with it all eventually - but for now, you were with Lance.

Finally, you were back with Lance.

#voltron #voltron headcanons #voltron scenarios #voltron series #voltron fics #lance mcclain #lance voltron #takashi shirogane #shiro voltron #keith kogane #keith voltron #pidge gunderson #pidge voltron #hunk garrett #hunk voltron #lance mcclain x reader #lance x reader #lance voltron x reader #Action!

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cjqdion · 4 years

Text

day 30 of wfh (more like day 46 of me stilll not leaving home - by choice lol)

this quarantine imade me realize how much I love boiled kamote, nilagang mani, and some choco wafers lol. (also i miss msg and cholesterol and cancer and diabetes inducing foods lol)

i miss ying ying’s soy chicken T^T

i miss wasting money for food (most esp for ice creams lol)

i finally have savings for the first time but idk what to do with them. like do i just let them stay idle in my bank where i can easily access it or invest them somewhere lol)

ive been reading so many investment articles and house & lot properties for sale lately lol this is the itch of getting rid of them as I am not very used to having money lol

medium articles are practically my bestfriend this quarantine. the articles being recommended to me are always insightful and motivational. subscription well-spent! ;)

another thing that i learned from this quarantine is that u dont beg for people to stay. they just do when they really do. it feels so rewarding to finally feel independent of other people for your happiness. the moment u learn how to control your emotions and enjoy things for urself speaks something. It also feels nice to have that personal liberty of enjoying things that are beneficial to you without having to worry about someone else’s disapproval. The sense of detachment but still caring for someone is for another discussion. i’m just talking about how liberating it is of not being paranoid of what other thinks about ur personal choices, and by learning how to fully accept your wholeness and not letting your insecurities get in the way :)

now that im done with the dark knight trilogy, i wanna catch up with A24 movies! followed by Wes Anderson then Tim Burton if i still have the time haha

fave parts of the day: going to bed, waking up and staying at bed for few minutes (or hours lol), washing the dishes, taking a shower, going to the bathroom (gives u that precious few-second luxury of solitude to think/daydream abt life lol), and watching a movie in bed before going to sleep :>

if theres only one thing that is healthy about me this quarantine is that i finally have savings. my body? god i feel bad every time i think of it :/ im not getting enough proper exercise, im not sure if my diet is still ok, my skin is breaking out again, my belly fats are just getting bigger every time i look in the mirror and ugh -.-” but hey at least my toes are getting ‘healed’ now from its uhmmm blisters(?) (and other impurities lol) for taking a break from wearing heels this past 2 months! :) tho i knda miss wearing formal clothes haha

#apr 28 2020 tuesday 10:32 #journal

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doyouevenshipbr0 · 7 years

Text

Forever

author's note :hello everyone! ik its been a loooonnnng time since ive written anything but… as u all know… fairy tail is over. my overall rating of the ending is a 6/10. i expected more but at the same time, a lot of it makes sense. in terms of gruvia, i do believe they are a canon couple. BUT, we saw no answer?! the answer that has been hyped up for almost 100 chapters im p sure?! and an “apology” that gray was gonna give juvia?! we never got that either which is suuuuper annoying lmao. but i do believe an answer happened. my hope is that one of these days later on in life mashima releases an omake dedicated to gray’s answer, but, until then, ill have this lmao. i tried to make this as realistic and as little ooc as possible. bc as seen in the last chap, while he is much more open towards juvia, gray is still a grump little tsun. and juvia is still a cutsie doting wifey. SO without further ado, here’s my take on gray’s answer.

For the first time in a very long time, Fairy Tail was at ease. Anyone or anything that was a threat to the world had been defeated. Things were possibly even considered “peaceful” for once. Just the thought of “peace” seemed like a foreign idea, a distant memory that was long gone from everyone’s mind for a long time, but finally, the war was over, and everything was back to normal.

Well, maybe not quite.

While calmness finally seemed to reign over the world, the city of Magnolia, like most of the rest if the country, was in shambles.

Some cities were practically turned to dust, others had some fractions of buildings left, some were completely obliterated and almost unrecognizable to the former townspeople who once called that place their home.

Most of Magnolia, including Fairy Tail itself, still stood proudly.

After all this town/guild’s been through, it was apparent that it was a fighter. Even after a whole war, it still remained in one piece. (Barely).

The first thing everyone did was get to work on repairing the town and the guild. While the guild itself didn’t look too bad, there was still much work that needed to be done.

Just a few days later things were looking much better than before, with the help of everyone from the guild.

Gray however, did not have the guild as his number one priority. Sure, he was putting his heart and soul into fixing the place he loved, the place he and his friends called their home.

But there was just something on his mind that kept bugging him. As if he had unfinished business to attend to.

And every time his eyes landed on Juvia, he was reminded just what that little something in his head was. He promised her an answer, right before the war began. Now that the war was over, he just didn’t know exactly what to do. Hell, he was so stuck he hadn’t even talked to her for the past couple days. As much as he hated to admit it, he was avoiding her.

While Gray was a stubborn man, he wasn’t a stupid one. Especially after this war he knew where is head was at and what Juvia meant to him, but he didn’t know how to put his jumbled thoughts into words.

As he caught himself staring at Juvia as she painted the walls for, well, he didn’t even know how long, he decided to take a break hammering the floor for a second.

“I’m gonna go get some air” He said to Laxus who was hammering with him.

“Sure, Fullbuster. But don’t take all day. We got a lot more work to do.” He harshly reminded Gray as he turned around and began to walk out.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand and continued for the door, well, where the new door would be going.

As Gray away from the guild, he saw a certain place stick out to him. It was the balcony he and Juvia had their last real conversation. Where he promised her an answer.

But honestly, Gray didn’t know what the answer was. He didn’t even know where to start! How could he put his feelings, his emotions into an “answer”? What would he say? Where would he do it? When? How would he even start the damn conversation?!

“Gray-sama?”

All of his questions came to a screeching halt, and any minuscule scraps of a “plan” he had came crashing down.

He jolted up from the edge he’d been leaning on and quickly turned his body around to face Juvia. Just the very sight of her drained everything from his mind. He just looked at her so–so differently now. He saw her in a completely different light yet it seemed so right? And maybe even familiar? As if a part of him had seen her like this all along. It was all so strange but so familiar. He didn’t know what to make of it, or even what to say.

“J-Juvia!? What’re you doing here?”

“Juvia did not mean to frighten you! But–” She stopped and looked to the ground while fiddling with her fingers in her hands. “I saw you leave, so Juvia followed you.” She said more timidly.

“Well, I just came out to get some air. We should head back.” Gray avoided eye contact with Juvia and began to walk back to the guild.

“Oh. O-ok.” Juvia said even quieter, and much sadder.

His mind was practically screaming at him: “What are you doing you idiot!? Now’s your chance! Talk to her!” But his mouth remained shut and his legs kept walking past her.

Maybe he was a stupid man after all.

“No.” He thought to himself.

He planted his feet before he let himself walk too far away from her. Before he let this chance slip away. Because if anyone knew that life was too short, it was Gray. The world could be a cruel place. He might’ve never gotten the chance to speak to Juvia again for all he knew. Juvia could get taken from him all over again, and he would look back at this moment and hate himself for never getting to say what he wanted to say. He was not going to ignore this feeling anymore, because he might never get the chance to express it again.

“Juvia, I wanna’ say something.” He said, sure of himself. But as soon as Juvia looked up at him with those adorable big eyes that were glistening with slightly welled up tears, he lost it all over again. Just why did she have to look at him like that?!

“Yes, Gray-sama?” She asked, more curious than sad, now.

“Well- I- uh–” He looked around and itched the back of his head.

As he stuttered out somer more gibberish, his eyes met Juvia’s again. This time though, her gaze put him at ease. As her head tilted, the azure waves of her hair slightly fell and parted perfectly, just like always. Her slightly puckered and parted lips along with her hooded doe eyes beckoned him. He felt as though his eyes could get lost in the ocean that were hers, and, did she always have such long eyelashes?

“Do you remember before the war? When I–” He paused. The words just were falling out of his mouth, even though he tried his very best to make sense of it all in his head. “–promised you my answer?”

“Oh of course! How could Juvia forget!” She lit up instantly and a natural smile spread across her face. Gray always loved that about her– how the littlest things could always put her in a better mood and make her happy again. As if she wasn’t feeling the opposite just a second ago.

“Well, to be honest,” Gray strolled back over to the ledge and rested his elbows back on the ledge. “I kind of can’t stop thinking about it”

“Oh?” Juvia hastily followed him to the ledge. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding Juvia?”

“Yeah.” He admitted. He turned his head to Juvia. “I’m surprised you haven’t come up to me before today, actually.”

“Juvia figured Gray-sama would talk to Juvia when the time was right. But, it had been days since you’ve even stood in the same room as me. So Juvia decided to come talk to Gray-sama.” She said simply. She then leaned her body over the ledge and placed her elbows on it, just as Gray was.

“I see.” Gray looked back out onto Magnolia.

Before anything else was said, Juvia scooted over and rested her head on Gray’s shoulder. It startled him a bit at first, since Gray was never the touchy-feely type, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked down at Juvia, saw her peaceful smile and closed eyes, and looked back out.

“Juvia’s thankful that you’ve been by her side.” Gray eyes widened a bit, and he looked back down at Juvia, listening to her. “Through it all, you’ve always been there with me, Gray-sama. I’m very grateful to have you.” Gray remembered words very similar to those when he said them a little while ago, in that very same place, right before the war.

“Hm.” He hummed. “Suddenly I have a weird case of Deja Vu.” He huffed a small chuckle.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Juvia said those words over and over and over again during the war. It’s what kept me alive, really. It was my spirit. Knowing that Juvia was a help to you, knowing you were grateful for Juvia, knowing Juvia would get an answer after the war was over. It all contributed to my fight. That was my reason for fighting. So that Juvia could remain at your side, helping you, Gray-sama. And then when Juvia took her life for you. And why Juvia did that blood transfusion–” Chills were sent down Gray’s spine as a look of disgust was put on his face. He hated thinking about that day. How he thought he lost her. It was complete agony. “– it was all because I love you.” She looked over and smiled sweetly at him.

“And Gray-sama has been there just the same for Juvia. So, thank you.” Juvia leaned over and placed a cheek on Gray’s cheek.

Gray felt his face warm up, and he knew he was blushing. He looked back out in front of him, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, you don’t have to thank me for something like that” Gray stood up from the ledge, and turned to Juvia, looking at her. “Because I will always be by your side.”

Juvia looked up from the ledge with wide eyes and blushed cheeks. “And I mean that, Juvia.” Gray continued. “I will always be there when you need me and when you’re in any type of danger, or just if you need someone to talk to, even. For whatever you need.”

“Gray-sama…” Juvia said, almost like she was in a daze.

“And- and when you did that blood transfusion, and I thought I lost you… I– I can’t let that happen again. And I’m sorry you had to ever put yourself in that kind of danger for me. So I will be by your side. I will protect you so you’ll never have to do something like that again.” Gray was more serious than ever. Something as precious as Juvia’s life meant so much to him.

“I said I was gonna’ take your feelings seriously, and I mean it. No more uncertainties, no more waiting for answers.” Grays mind was going a mile a minute, and everything seemed to be flowing out of his brain and onto his tongue perfectly. “This is it. Just you and me.” He paused for a moment. “Forever.” He blurted. He was really blushing now.

Juvia stood up straight, across from Gray. “Forever?” She repeated.

“Yeah. Forever.” Gray confirmed with complete certainty and seriousness on his face.

A huge smile took up Juvia’s whole face. “Oh, Gray-sama!” She squealed as she held arms up into their and jumped into his, wrapping her arms tightly around Gray’s neck.

Gray paused for a moment and staggered back, but a smile eventually snuck its way onto Gray’s face as well, and he reciprocated the hug. Juvia continued to squeal and it made Gray chuckle as he wrapped a second arm around her.

“Alright, Juvia you’re kind of choking me.” Gray murmured out as Juvia’s arms slowly got tighter.

“Juvia is just so happy!” She loosened her grip and pulled away slightly to face Gray.

“I can see that.” Gray smirked.

“Well isn’t Gray-sama happy too?” Juvia asked.

Gray paused for a bit. He took a moment to look down at the woman in his arms. It was the woman he’d risked his life for time and time again, the woman who showered him with unconditional love that Gray never knew that he needed, the woman who drove him crazy, the woman who could be so thick at times, but was so clever and smart and knew him better than anyone else, the woman who would do absolutely anything for him, the woman he cared about more than anyone. And he was sure.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I am.”

Juvia matched his smile with an even bigger one. She fully broke free from his arms and placed her hands on his cheeks as she pulled him in for a much awaited kiss.

Gray was shocked for a good few seconds and wasn’t sure what to do until he finally rested his hands on the small of Juvia’s back and fell into the sweet kiss of the woman that Gray would call his.

Forever.

Thank you, Hiro Mashima, for bringing this beautiful couple into my life. And thank you for the adventure.

#gruvia #gray x juvia #juvia x gray #fairy tail #ft #fairy tail fanfiction #doyouevenshipbr0 #ft fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fan fiction

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