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askguyslikeus · 7 years

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((thank you to guest writer @hurricanesunny !!!))

Michael backspaces on the seventh text he’s typed out since getting here twenty minutes ago. That, of course, doesn’t include the panicked phone call in the parking lot that he ended on the second ring or the three blurry Snaps of the sidewalk that he deleted, but who’s really counting?

See, Michael doesn’t want to text Jeremy. That’s important to understand here. He had already made a pretty big deal out of being cool with the whole thing when they had both received their orientation packets a while back. So Jeremy and Jake ended up having theirs together last week. Michael, on the the other hand, got stuck in the M-Z group by himself. No biggie. This is life just helping a bro out. He can totally handle it.

Give it up for Michael’s big, fat mouth. It’s okay, though! It totally is, because Michael has a plan. He’s already circled the classes he wants. The paperwork in his lap is a little wrinkled from him gripping it too tightly, but it’s completely filled out. The inevitable pow-wow with his guidance counselor is gonna be smooth sailing. Michael’s also memorized the campus map so he doesn’t have to ask anyone for directions if he gets lost on the tour, but he also downloaded the PDF on his phone and stuck an extra copy from the help desk in his back pocket just in case. During the drive up here, he only listened to the slowest of jams. A mix, specifically, that Jeremy had awkwardly handed him last night in hopes that it would maybe make up for his absence. When Michael got here, he immediately took the corner seat, back row. Hood up, headphones on, music off. Classic stoner diversion. All day he’ll just tail behind, make no eye contact, and get into the classes he’s been banking on since his early acceptance.

But then Michael looks up from the day’s itinerary to see that his plan’s about to be dragged out back, shot twice, then set on fire just for good measure.

“Dude, this freakin’ blows.”

Someone, a girl Michael’s never seen before, flops down next to him. She drops her knapsack, worn and littered with keychains, on the floor and gives it one swift kick under her chair. Her eyes briefly leave Michael’s to look up and blow a strand of hair out of her face. He continues to stare as she starts rummaging through her sweater pockets. With an entire conference room of empty seats to choose from, this girl decides to go ahead and take the one right next to him.

Life’s definitely not on his side today.

Michael flinches as a plastic baggy is shoved in his face. He blinks, trying to focus on it. The girl shakes the bag a little, causing the colorful contents inside to dance.

“Gummy bear?”

As if to demonstrate, she rips one in half between her teeth. Her eye contact doesn’t waver, which makes Michael vaguely feel like he’s the gummy bear in this particular situation. He swallows hard, reluctantly pushing his headphones down around his neck. Not like he was listening to anything anyway. The girl tilts her head. C’mon, Mell. Use your big boy words.

“My, uh, mom told me not to take candy from strangers,” he eventually chokes out. Smooth. The girl snorts. Whatever panic Michael just puked up on the floor must’ve been buried beneath what sounds like a pretty chill comeback. Still, he wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to cut her losses now and move on. It’s what people do, and it’s only going to get uglier from here. But right on societal cue, the girl shoots her other hand out to remedy the situation.

“PJ. You?”

Michael considers himself a pretty observant guy, at least when he’s able to hit the brakes on his runaway thoughts long enough to put the talent to good use. So whenever he starts to get a little too freaked by situations like this, he tries to identify things about the other person that remind him of his friends. It helps thinking of them anyway, like he’s not actually braving the social storm alone, but it also reminds him that not every interaction is necessarily unknown territory.

Take this girl, for example.

As Michael glances from her hand to her face, she wiggles her fingers and snorts again. It’s loud. Unapologetic. Her scrunched up nose, freckles and all, screams Christine. And Christine isn’t scary, right?

Right.

“Michael,” he answers slowly, wiping his palm on the front of his jeans before giving her hand one short shake. Her hand is small in his, but her grip is deadly. He’s almost afraid she won’t let go. “What's it stand for?”

“Whuzzat?” She’s already shoving another handful of gummy bears into her mouth, seemingly forgetting her earlier offer. It’s cool, though. Michael doesn’t think he could keep anything down right now.

“PJ. Like… are those your initials or something? First and last?” Michael makes a face. “Shit, no, you would’ve been in the other group then.“ His high school teachers were totally right. His 3.96 GPA is doing him wonders in the real world. “So… it’s your first two?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” PJ hums. She lifts the bag over her head and tilts it to catch the last few bears in her mouth. “Maybe I did miss last week. Maybe it’s my middle initial. Mayhaps,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “I don’t have a last name at all.”

“So you’re named PJ. Just… PJ.”

“Alright, alright.” PJ waves her hand dismissively as she crumples the bag up and shoves it in her pocket. “If you ever get pissed at me, feel free to go full parental and use my full name.”

“Okay? What is it?” PJ can barely keep a straight face.

“Pajamas.”

As Michael holds back a groan, PJ’s got a shit-eating grin that’s missing a gap in the teeth and a few more expletives coming out of it. Rich would totally get a kick out of this girl. Michael almost works himself up to testing her banter game, because this girl is definitely fucking with him at this point, but the opportunity quickly passes and he clams right back up.

“Oh!” PJ gasps, perking up. She leans in super close. “I like your patches.” She starts to trace the careful stitching around each one. First the flag of the Philippines, then all the way down his shoulder to the trans pride flag. “Did you sew them on yourself?” After no response, she looks up and frowns.

Green eyes study his face for a moment, analyzing. Michael’s warm under the collar and he can feel himself freezing up, but he remembers to think. He’s seen the same colors in Chloe’s eyes a hundred times, watching him amongst the chatter before sending a quick ‘You okay?’ text from under the lunch table. This girl must make the same sort of conclusion, because she silently scoots herself out of Michael’s personal bubble and God he can breathe again.

“Yeah, yeah, um.” Words, Michael. “I learned when I was a kid. Mom.” Michael points to the heart on his chest. “This is the first one I did. The stitching’s a little wonky so you can probably tell.” He points to the one near his right pocket. “This was a gift from a teacher in middle school. Got Philippines and Ecuador a little bit after.” Michael finally points to the last two. “Got these back when I, uh, came out.”

PJ lights up.

“Holy fuck, you should totally join Trans Alliance with me.” Michael almost laughs. He doesn’t do clubs. He would say that he only really does Jeremy nowadays, but fuck if that isn’t true either. Oh, God, did he really just think that? He did, he really did.

“Clubs aren’t… really my thing.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she whines. “I don’t want to go by myself and you seem like a pretty chill dude.”

“Being chill isn’t really my thing either,” Michael mumbles, all cryptic and shit. PJ raises one eyebrow and Michael prays to every deity under the sun that he doesn’t have to explain that today. PJ opens her mouth, presumably to push him further, but Michael beats her to the chase.

“Did you know that baby koalas can’t eat eucalyptus leaves yet?” he blurts out. “So, um,” because the stupid words have already come out of your mouth, great job Mell, “they eat a special kind of their mother’s poop called ‘pap’ so they can learn to digest them.”

Jesus fuck, out of all the useless junk in his head he went with that?

“Shit, dude, really?” PJ asks, unfazed. She then laughs to herself. “Heh. Shit.”

“Uh, yeah, I, uh, watch a lot of documentaries in my free time. I like learning weird shit like that,

,” Michael offers weakly, scratching the back of his neck. A terrible segue, but a successful one. He’s a little afraid to look up, because he’s seen enough faces turn sour when he reveals just how completely uncool he is (and it’s fine, because Michael likes himself enough to make up for it but boy does it still sting a little every time,) but when he finally meets PJ’s eyes they’re burning bright like a wildfire.

“That’s so cool. What else are you into?”

“Oh, y’know… stuff.”

“Liiike?” She gently punches his arm. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t wanna know.”

“Well, I’m kinda into music, I guess.” He glances down at the papers in his lap. “I was thinking of Theory and Comp as my major, but I dunno. It might be dumb.”

“Oh shit, Liberal arts re-pruh-seeent,” PJ grins, pointing two thumbs to her chest. “Gotchu a Fine Arts girl right here.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “A pretty Fine Girl too, if I do say so myself.” Michael can’t help but chuckle. He feels the tension in his shoulders start to melt away as he pushes up his sleeves. An unsteady hand works its way through his hair.

“I’ve read about the program here, God, probably a dozen times now online and it sounds rad as hell. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble declaring, but I’m trying not to worry about it. It’d be nice to finally get some formal guidance. I’ve been coasting on YouTube videos and underfunded music classes for years.” PJ nods along, encouraging him to continue, but her eyes flick down to the inside of his left arm and she freezes in place. A finger jabs Michael’s tattoo. PJ looks at him.

“Video games.”

“Video games,” Michael repeats. “...Do you play?” PJ stares at him a moment before slowly pulling away. Her fingers curl into her sweater sleeves. Michael feels a familiar twinge in his chest as he sees PJ almost shrink into herself, looking anywhere but at him.

“I guess you could call me a fake gamer girl.”

“Fake?” There’s a bad taste in Michael’s mouth as he says it.

“I, uh, own the viddy games. I love the viddy games. I am… not good at the viddy games.” PJ laughs nervously. Jake’s always been great at laughing at himself too, but anyone who listens closely can tell that he’s had more practice learning to laugh at things that have hurt him. Michael hears that same pain in PJ’s voice. “Plus I’ve only really played, like, Minecraft and Mario Party, so… I wouldn’t call myself a real fan or anything.”

“Are you kidding? Mario Party’s the shit. And I spent most of sixth grade locked in my basement trying to recreate Middle Earth in Minecraft. Only a damn fool and a liar would shake their head at anyone who digs that game.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah. I consider myself an expert at most things. You name it, I’ve played it. Atari 2600, N64, Dreamcast, the busted claw machine in the arcade back home,” Michael says, counting on his fingers. “So if I say that you’re a certified fan of video games, you gotta take my word for it.”

“Wow, ya nerd,” PJ mumbles, but her smile is back. “You better go easy on me.”

Michael laughs. “Not a chance.”

“So that means you’ll play with me sometime?” PJ suddenly asks. Her tone is innocent, but it reminds Michael of Brooke’s sugar sweet smiles and clever words that always rope you in.

“Uh--” Michael is interrupted by a few notes of Space Invaders playing from his pocket. He gestures apologetically as he fishes his phone out and checks his notifications.

From that gross heere kid 💕: Hey, I just wanted to check that you got to campus alright. It blows that we didn’t get to go together.

Michael quickly turns his phone on silent as another message pops up. From that gross heere kid 💕: We’re still hanging tonight, though, right? There’s gonna be Doritos galore and a packed bowl for ya when you finally get your ass back in town. From that gross heere kid 💕: When exactly is that going to be again? From that gross heere kid 💕: Anyway! Have fun, talk to strangers, make me proud. See you soon, buddy. “Who’s that?” Michael nearly jumps out of his skin. PJ’s leaning over in her chair, trying to take a peek at the screen again. “I saw heart emojis.” “It’s my friend. Uh, Jeremy.” Michael holds the phone to his chest, much to her dismay. “Jeremy,” PJ repeats, trying the name out on her tongue. There’s something about the way she says it that makes Michael wonder if he’s that obvious. “Yeah. He’s asking me how things are going.”

“And how are they going?”

“Good. I think.”

“You gonna tell him that?”

“Maybe. Once I know for sure. I usually put things off when it comes to him.” “Oo, there’s a story there. I’m intrigued.” “Easy there, Jen,” Michael quickly says, gently pushing her back. PJ falls back into her chair, squinting as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Wha? Who’s Jen?”

“Huh? Oh, fuck, I mea--” Michael’s cut off by the orientation coordinator at the front of the room. Clipboard in hand, she calls for everyone to group into pairs for the campus tour. Michael blinks. How long had they been talking? When he had arrived, he had definitely been the only one in the room. Now, at least a few dozen other freshmen are pushing past each other, loud and way too excited for a Monday morning. One by one, potential partners are picked off.

Understanding the urgency of the situation, Michael then turns to PJ, because this is the longest conversation he’s had with someone outside of the squad that wasn’t the 7/11 attendant back home. And him and Darlene are acquaintances at best.

“Uh, duh.” PJ rolls her eyes. She hops out of her seat, scooping up her knapsack by the Beanie Baby keychain and flinging it over her back. “So, who’s Jen? Is she pretty, too?”

“Just one of my other friends.” Michael stands up, carefully sliding his papers into his own backpack before slinging it over one shoulder. “You kinda remind me of all of them. My friends, I mean.”

“Oh. Well you can tell me all about ‘em at Trans Alliance, right?” She looks over her shoulder to make sure Michael is still following her. He is. “Maybe I can give you the scoop on some original Peej content too.”

Michael bites his bottom lip, thinks about it, then decides that maybe he should just roll with things every once in a while. See what happens. “Yeah, uh, yeah. I can. That’d be cool.”

“Great.” PJ grins. She falls a step behind. “Now, let’s go check out the cafeteria food. You think anything’s growing in there?”

“Oh, definitely. I’ve seen enough D-List movies in my time to know there’s a horror movie in there just waiting for us to star in.”

PJ suddenly pushes Michael forward. Such strength for a tiny girl. “Well, c’mon, then! It’s your time to shine!”

Michael laughs, digging his heels into the floor. PJ huffs behind him.

Okay, maybe life’s got his back after all.

#be more chill #michael mell #pajamas #hahaha guess thats gunna be the pj tag #hey i fucking love sunny #ive been sitting on this for a while BUT I CANNOT WAIT ANYMORE i must post it #askguestslikeus

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

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

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags???#I'll fix that later

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jeo9n · 3 years

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Majesty Pt 7 || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : Slow burn,Angst,fluff,virgin reader,King JK,futur smut.

Warnings : jungkook and y/n get in a little fight.

Wordcount : 4.8k

previous | next

You woke up the next day in the same position you fell asleep in. It was honestly really comfortable, cuddling with him like this, you didn’t want to get up. But you had to pee really bad, so you slowly started to remove his arms from your waist, hoping he doesn’t wake up.

You sat up once your were free from his grasp, removing the blanket from your legs and slowly getting out of bed. Both of your feet were already touching the carpet when you tried to get up. "Where are you going?" The King asked you in his raspy morning voice, while grabbing your wrist.

He looked so cute like this. Sleepy eyes, his hair all over the place, with a slightly puffy face. He had a small pout on his lips as he looked at you. You wanted to kiss the pout of off his face.

Wait! What’s wrong with you, why are you thinking like this, Y/n.

He squeezed your wrist, interrupting your thoughts. Catching you staring at him. "Uh I have to use to toilet." You answer awkwardly, cheeks turning red. He smirked, letting go of your wrist.

"Alright."

You quickly went to the bathroom. Getting yourself ready for the day and got dressed. Deciding for a light pink dress for today.

As you headed back in the bedroom, the King was sitting at the end of the bed, already dressed and looking at you. You walked past him to get to your side of the bed, to quickly tidy it up a bit. But he stopped you before you even gotten the chance to walk past him, he grabbed your hand on pulled you towards him, making you gasp. You were standing in front of him awkwardly. "What are your plans for today?" He asked you, putting his hands your hips and pulling you even closer so you would stand in between his legs.

"I don’t have any plans for today, your highness." You tell him, picking at your nails nervously. You could feel the heat of his palms burning trough your dress, making your head spin.

He looks up at you, removing his hands from your hips and putting them on your hands instead. "Spend some time with me today." He says, caressing your hands softly.

"Okay." You nod. Spending some time with him again might won’t be that bad. I mean, he’s your husband. You should spend time with him, right?

You were on walk trough the castle with the King. He showed you all kinds of rooms that the castle had to offer, but one stood out to you the most. It was the library. You always loved books. They made you feel safe, they made you feel like you could escape reality, even just for a short while.

So, that’s where you found both of you right now. You’re walking around, admiring all the beautiful and old books that were standing on the dark wood shelves. The library was huge, you’ve never seen a library this big. You loved it here. The King was standing behind you, just looking at you, loving the way your face lights up whenever you see a book you like.

"You love it here, don’t you?" He asks you with smile on his face, leaning against one of the tables that stand in the middle of the room, with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Yes!" You turn around quickly with a big smile on your face. Before turning around again to look at the shelves full of books once again. "You should’ve showed me this place sooner." You say, making him laugh. "I would’ve, if I knew you loved books this much." He answers, walking towards you.

You can feel the warmth of his body against your back. You turn around, already knowing he’s standing behind you. "I can’t believe you’ve kept this beautiful place hidden from me - what else do you keep hidden from me, your highness?" You tell him jokingly.

He laughs, showing you his cute bunny smile that you haven’t seen before. He looks cute this way, nose scrunching up while he laughs, showing you his beautiful smile. You feel your heart beating faster at the sight.

"Nothing." He says as he stopped laughing. "Come on, let’s sit down for a bit." Grabbing your hand, and leading you both to one of the tables.

You both sit down. The King sitting in front of you, never looking away from you. You can feel your cheeks staring to blush, so you look away. You can’t handle eye contact very well.

"You know." He starts, making you look back at him again. "Back at the competition, you said you’ve never been with a man before, right?" He asks you and you nod. "What do you mean by that?" He asks you once again. You look away again.

He knows exactly what that means, judging by look on his face. "I think.. you know what that means, your highness." You tell him, without looking at him.

"No, I don’t. Tell me, Y/n, tell me what you mean." He tells you with a smirk on his face.

You bite your lip nervously. You don’t know how you should tell him. I mean, this is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t get me wrong. But he obviously knows, so why is he asking you to explain? "It means," you huff. "It means that I’ve never done something with a man, your highness. The only thing I’ve ever done, was holding hands with a boy once! And that was when I was like 5 or something." You tell him, avoiding eye contact once again.

"Not even Kissing?" He asks you and you shake your head. "How come?"

This time you look at him. "Ive always wanted my first kiss to be with someone I love. Not with just anyone." You shrug. "A kiss for me is more than just kissing, it’s being intimate with another person, it’s sharing your feelings for one another. Sharing it with just anyone wouldn’t be as special as with the person you love, you know?"

He nods. "Would you kiss me?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

Your eyes widen. Your face suddenly turning red. "Uh I don’t know." You laugh awkwardly.

"Have you ever had any sexual thoughts before?" He asks you suddenly with a serious face. Completely ignoring his other question. "I mean, your not a little girl anymore. You had to have some thoughts about sex at one point." If your face was red before that, than your face must be on fire right now. His question startled you, not expecting him to ask you something like this.

Of course you thought about sex before, everyone does. That was a stupid question.

But why is he suddenly asking you all of this.

"Uh, yeah... sometimes. But don’t worry! Im not a pervert or something." You chuckle awkwardly. Embarrassed that you even told him this. He looks you straight in the eyes, his eyes holding something you cannot read.

He smirks at you once again. "Oh, I’m sure you’re not the perverted one here, Y/n." You furrow your eyebrows at that, not knowing what he means. "Have you ever touched yourself before?" He continues.

You almost choke on your own spit. You weren’t expecting him to ask you someone like this - Why does he keep asking you all these sexual questions? You really don’t want to answer this question. You try to come up with something different, to ask him something different instead. But you see that he’s still waiting for your answer, arching his perfect eyebrow at you. "Have you?" He asks again.

"Uh- I... i haven’t, your highness." Lying him straight in the face. You have touched yourself before, yes. But that’s something you don’t like to talk about, you never talked with anyone about this kind of stuff. That’s something too intimate for you. You’re sure he wouldn’t want to talk about wether he touches himself or not either.

He hums, obviously not believing your lie. "Does that bother you, your highness? That i don’t have any experiences?" You ask him worriedly. Your question makes him furrow his eyebrows at you. "Why would that bother me? Because your a virgin?" He shakes his head. "I like that you’re a virgin - I like that you’re untouched, Y/n. I like it more than I like to admit." He tells you, seeing something shift in his eyes again.

His words Relief you. You thought, maybe he wanted a experienced girl, someone that knows what to do in bed. But he chose you. So, it clearly doesn’t bother him. "Okay."

"Do you have any questions for me?" He asks you this time. You don’t really have any questions to ask him right now - no, wait! You do.

"I noticed that your parents weren’t at our wedding, were they busy?" You ask. You wanted to ask him this right after the wedding, but you forgot about it.

"Ah no, they weren’t busy, Y/n. They’re dead." He says, looking at you. You feel your heart shutter at his words. You did not know this! If you knew, then you wouldn’t have brought this up. "My parents died in an accident when I was very young."

This breaks your heart. You feel so sorry for him, knowing that he lost his parents at a young age. That must’ve been so hard for him. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you lost your mother, and he lost both of his parents at once, that’s so sad. "I am so sorry for you loss, your highness! I shouldn’t have brought this up. Please forgive me." You quickly apologize.

"It’s okay. It’s not your fault, You don’t have to apologize." He tells you honestly, which makes you relax. "Also, stop calling me your highness. We’re married, Y/n. You don’t have to keep calling me that."

"Oh, then what should I call you?" You ask him.

"Jungkook, You can call me Jungkook. Or what ever you prefer." He says, while reaching out and grabbing your hand. "What I prefer? What would you like me, to call you?" You ask him as he caresses your hand.

He grabs your hand a little tighter, making you look down at both of your hands. "We’ll talk about another time." He smirks. "For now, you can call me Jungkook."

You smile. "Okay... Jungkook." You tell him, and he smiles back at you, showing his pretty bunny smile again.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It’s been a few days since the day at the library. Ever since then, Jungkook has been really nice to you. Always asking how your day was, if you ate enough or if you got enough sleep. He also tries to spend as much time with you as possible whenever he wasn’t busy.

Right now your having breakfast with him. Maria baked some delicious food for you both to eat. You were eating your food slowly, trying t enjoy the food as much as you can. Jungkook seemed to be in a hurry tho. He ate his food quite fast, you were scared he was going to choke on it. "Slow down. Why are you eating so fast?"

His fork was inches away from his opened mouth, about to shove his last piece of food into it. But he stopped, once he heard you speak. He removed the fork from his mouth and looked at you. "I need to hurry up. I have some important things to do today!" He tells, shoving his fork right into his mouth.

His cheeks were stuffed with food. The sight reminded you of a bunny once again, cute. His wide doe eyes sparkled under the chandelier that was hanging above you two. He looked so innocent, he looked like an eager child that tried to eat all their candy before they get caught by their mother, not like a King.

"What kind of important things?" You ask him, putting down your glass of orange juice.

"I have to get some things done, things that I should’ve done a lot sooner." He answers you, while he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"Oh, okay." You murmur. "Can I come with you? - You said I wasn’t allowed to leave the castle alone again. And... I don’t really have anything to do here. Can I please come along with you?" You ask carefully. He shakes his head right away before he speaks up. "No. Those are things that I have to do alone!"

You huff, letting your shoulders fall. Disappointed with his answers. "But why? I’m fine with just coming along. I won’t talk, I promise! I won’t do anything to bother you. Please let me come with you. Im so bored here all the time." You pout, and he smiles at your reaction. "No, Y/n. You stay home! I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see those things that are gonna happen today."

His answer confuses you. It’s just work. What does he mean you don’t want to see it? "What do you mean?" You ask him, confused look on your face.

He looks at you amused. Not understand why you want to come along so bad. "Hmm how should I explain." He says, tapping his finger against his chin. "These things... they’re a little dangerous, you see. I don’t want my beautiful wife to get hurt during those things. That’s why you should stay home!" He explains to you, saying those last words a little more clearer. But your still confused. But you don’t question him any further, accepting that he doesn’t want you there with him.

"I understand." You nodd. "I’m sorry for asking, your highness." He raises his eyebrows at you. "Hey! I told you to stop calling me that." He tells you in a serious tone, but still having a smile on his lips.

"Right! Im sorry, Jungkook." You laugh.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jungkook left for work 30 minutes after you both were done with breakfast. He said, he wouldn’t be out for long, telling you not to miss him too much when he left. You rolled your eyes at, which earned you a laugh from him.

You literally had nothing to do today. You were in your room most of the time, waiting for Jungkook to come home. You even took a nap, hoping the time would go by faster. But he still wasn’t home when you woke up. You decided to get out of bed, not wanting to fall asleep again. You walked towards the library, wanting to read a book that you saw there a few days ago, when you were in there with Jungkook. But you found out the doors were locked when you tried to open them. Weird.

Since the library was locked, you decided to walk down, smelling something delicious coming from the kitchen. "What Are you cooking?" You asked Maria when you reached the kitchen. She jumped a little when she heard you coming from behind her. "Dear, you almost gave me a heart attack." She says, rubbing her hand over her chest.

You felt sorry, it wasn’t your intention to startle her. But you couldn’t help a little laugh to come out of your mouth. "I’m sorry, Maria. I thought you heard me coming down." You laugh, giving her a small hug to apologize. She glanced at you jokingly. "I didn’t. I was focused on cooking, my dear." She explains. "But, to answer your question. Im cooking kimchi stew, it’s the King’s favorite." She says with a smile on her face, showing you the food she just made.

Your mouth started to water, once she took the lid off the pot. It looked as amazing as it smelled. It probably tasted amazing as well. "That looks so good!" You tell her, before she quickly put the lid back on. "Does that mean the King will be home soon? I mean, since your preparing the food already."

She looks at you and smiles, nodding her head. "Yes! He should be home soon - Why? Are you missing him already?" She jokes, and you laugh, shaking your head at her. "No, it’s not that. It’s just really boring without him here." You quickly explain. "Doesn’t it ever get boring for you?"

She points her finger at her chest. "For me? No, no. I have a lot of stuff to do everyday. It never gets boring for me. If it ever gets boring for me, it just means I’m doing my job right." She shrugs. She’s right. Of course it doesn’t get boring for her. If you worked here, it probably wouldn’t get boring for you either.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You went out into garden, wanting to get some fresh air to wake you up a bit, since you were still a little tired from your nap. You sat on the bench, the one were you had to sleep on a few weeks ago.

You were enjoying slight breeze against your skin, while the sun was shining down on you. A perfect mixture of both, hot and cold. You heard some rustling behind you, making you turn your head around to look where it came from. Your eyes scanned around the garden, before they landed on a bush. There you saw some movement, and then the rustling. You got from the bench and walked towards it, curious about what could be hiding in the bush. Crouching down, once you were in front of it. You reached out your hand to push back back the branches that were blocking your sight. The movement stopped right always, once you touched one of the branches. Whatever it was, probably scared of you. You kept pushing back a few branches, until you found what you were looking for.

There was a small grey bunny with floppy ears, in a corner far away from you, hiding from you. You gasped in excitement, you weren’t expecting it to be a bunny. It looked so cute, so small with its floppy ears that were a little too big for their head. You reached out your hands trying to pick the bunny up. But it pushed itself deeper in the corner once you did. Poor bunny, it was probably scared to death. You didn’t want to harm it. You reached out your hands again, trying to pick it up before it could run away from you.

You tried to comfort the bunny, once it was in your arms. Patting it, trying to calm it down. You could feel their heart beating really fast, you felt sorry. You didn’t want to scare it. The bunny looked really small, it was probably still a baby. You wonder how it got here. It should be with their mother, not alone in some garden.

You walked back inside with the bunny still in your arms, not wanting to let it down so it could run away again. You grabbed some carrots and some water for it, once you were inside. You went to your room to feed the bunny, without having to fear it will run away from you. You put the bunny down and held the carrot out for it, checking if it was hungry. The bunny took a few sniffs of the carrot immediately started eating away. "Aw poor you. You were probably looking for something to eat." You say when you saw how eagerly it ate. It almost ate the whole thing, before finally taking a sip of the water you had put into a bowl for it.

You suddenly panicked. Not wanting the bunny to pee or poo on the carpet. Not wanting to get in trouble with Jungkook. You quickly took it and brought it to the bathroom. It wouldn’t be too bad if he peed on the tiles, you could clean those easier. You left the bunny alone for a bit, to get some more carrots and other vegetables for it.

You noticed Jungkook was already home when you walked down the stairs. You did not hear him coming home. Probably because you were too focused on the bunny.

"Hi." He greeted you when you got to the last steps of the stairs. He looked exhausted and out of breath. "Hey!" You greeted him back. "Did you run all the way home, or why are you so out of breath?"

He shakes his head and let’s out a little chuckle. "No. I just brought something heavy up here, that’s why I’m out of breath." He explains himself.

"Okay. Where is it?" You ask him, and he looks at you confused. "The thing that you brought up here." You say. His eyebrows are furrowed, before understanding what you mean. "Ah, I’ll show you later. Let’s have dinner first." He says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dining room.

I guess the bunny has to wait for his food a little bit.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After dinner, you were curious about what the King would show you.

You were both walking down a hallway one that you haven’t seen before, one that you didn’t even know existed. It was a little darker than the other ones in the castle, but it didn’t look too different. You stopped in front of an old heavy looking door. Jungkook took the keys, that he was holding in his left hand to his right. Looking trough the many keys before eventually finding the one he was looking for. He pushed the key and unlocked it. Turning his head to look at you once again before opening it. A strange smile on his face.

He opened the door, and you were immediately met with coldness. Pure coldness, it made you shiver instantly. They were stairs that led you down. You saw nothing but darkness. You looked at him confusingly. "What is this, Jungkook?" You ask him a little worried.

He smirks. "You’ll see." Was all he said. Before he started waking down. Dragging you with him. Nothing was heard expect for Jungkook‘s your yours footsteps. That’s how quiet it was down there. It got colder and colder, as you got deeper down. You saw some light, once you were all the way down. Illuminating the dungeon just a little bit. You heard some whining and grunts coming from somewhere. You were about to ask Jungkook what was going on, but he dragged you somewhere before you had the chance to. You stopped, once you reached what Jungkook wanted to show you. You looked around you, trying to see what this place was. And your eyes widened at what you saw in front of you. You saw cells all around you, most of them had people in them, only a few of them being empty. The people in the cells were mostly man. They had no clothes on expect for their underwear, they looked like they hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Their skin was pale, dirty and full of bruises. Their bones were showing. They had no food or water, neither had they a blanket or a bed to warm them. Most of them were laying down, sitting, or either hugging themselves, trying to give themselves some warmth.

You were shocked. You would’ve never expected a place like this in to exist in the castle. Right under you, right under where you lived, right under where you lived happily. You couldn’t believe this. You had expected anything, but not this! Your body starts to shake, either from the cold or from what your seeing in front of you. How could someone to this? This is horrible. "Y/n, look." Jungkook shakes your hand, interrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to look away from these poor people, instead you look at jungkook in shock. "Look who we have here." He tells you, evil smirk on his face. Pointing towards two another’s cells.

You gasp and your eyes widen even more, if that’s even possible. Right in front of you are two man you recognize immediately. How could you not? These two were people you grew up with. They were around you all the time. They even were your neighbors once. "Jungkook, what is this? What is going on?" You ask him in a shaky voice, trying to take your hand out of his grasp, but instead he grabs your hand tighter and pulls you closer to him. "Those are the two man that touched you without consent,right?" He asks you, not taking his eyes off of them.

How did he find them? You never told him their names. "Yes. But why are they here? Let them go!" You tell him, hearing them whine in pain. "I told you not to worry about it! Why did you bring them here?" And he laughs, he actually laughs at you. You furrow your brows, not finding this funny at all! "What? Did you really think I would just forget about it? Forget what you told me about them? Forget what they did to you?" He says, almost yelling at you. "These man deserve nothing but punishment, Y/n! Why did you try protect them? Huh?" He ask you, now looking at you. "I will personally make sure, that they will never touch another woman against her will again! Never!" He yells angrily.

You jump at his tone, not expecting him lash out like this. You take your hand away this time, surprising both you, and him at your strength. "How did you find them? I never told you their names?" You ask him, raising your voice. He has the audacity to laugh again. "Y/n, I’m the King. It’s not hard for me to find out who you were talking about, it wasn’t hard to find them at all." You cannot believe this. Yes, these man touched your without your consent, but what gives him the right to punish them for it? It should��ve been you, not him!

You take one last look at them, before you walk away. You were so mad at him. You did not want to see his face anymore.

Jungkook called out for you but you didn’t care. You quickly walked out of the dungeon, leaving him down there alone.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You quickly went back to your bedroom. After grabbing some vegetables, remembering why you came down in the first place.

You immediately went to the bathroom when you got back to your bedroom, checking on the bunny right away. You saw that it had peed a little so you quickly clean that up. After that you gave it the veggies that you had grabbed and sat down next to him. You were still in shock at what you saw a few minutes ago. Never in your life would you have thought, that the King would so something like this. Having people down there and torturing them. How is that even allowed? And your still mad at him for getting those man and locking them up down there. You two got along so well these last few days, and he had to fuck it up. And the fact that he looked so proud when he showed them to you, makes even more mad. What did he even think was going to happen, did he think you would jump in his arms and thank him? For that? Ugh you can’t believe him.

You heard him entering the room, calling out for you. You got up and the left the bunny behind, you hope he doesn’t freak out when he sees it. You opened the bathroom door, and there he was, sitting on the bed. Probably already knowing that you were in the bathroom. "Are you serious, why did you leave?" He asks you, when you got out of the bathroom and closing the door behind you. "Are you not even going to thank me, for what I’ve done for you?" Omg you can’t believe him!

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Are you serious, Jungkook?" You say pointing at him, voice irritated. "I should thank you? For torturing someone?- I did not tell you their names for a reason! If I wanted you know their names, then I would’ve told you!" You tell him, walking towards your side of the bed. "You better let them go."

And he laughs again. His stupid laugh, it’s starting to annoy you. "Let them go? Oh, baby I will. But let me have some fun with them first." He says, the pet name throwing you off guard.

"Ugh I don’t wanna talk with you anymore." You say, rolling your eyes and getting into bed. Just wanting to fall asleep so the day could end. "Are you serious?" He asks you, but you don’t answer him. Instead you turn around and close your eyes. You hear him letting out a annoyed chuckle, before he starts to undress. Judging by the sounds of it. A few minutes later you feel the bed dip behind you, before he lays down.

You two did not cuddle that night.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist: @fangirl125reader @min-nicoleee @yzkyzkuniverse @safi4x @zoeshinelove

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eldritch-araneae · 3 years

Photo

Sparkpulse IV: Sleeping Beast Within.

Summery:

Bumblebee and Cheetor are chilling together on a nice quiet evening :3

It’s a nice and calm evening today. No Decepticons activities. Bumblebee and Cheetor are relaxing on a random ledge above the cafeteria, watching everyone chilling with their energon. Cheetor is currently in their spotted ray-cheetah alt form, laying with their limbs tucked underneath the body. A position which everyone lovingly calls a “loaf form”. Bumblebee is beside his feline friend, pressing onto their side and mimicking the same position.

Both Special Operations agents were talking about random stuff, from patrol and mission discussions to random shenanigans that happened to other Autobots. Life is never boring in their department, even during the night, considering a lot of agents are nocturnal cybertronians, including Bumblebee himself.

Bumblebee slightly nudges Cheetor to make them look at him. Cheetor is hard-of-hearing, and their hearing can vary from moderate to severe. They have hearing aids, but sometimes they are not much help. So everyone quickly learned that they must make sure that Cheetor sees them before talking to make lip-reading and signing easier.

“How was your patrol, by the way?” Bumblebee asks his diurnal friend.“Did you find any interesting stuff among the ruins?”

“Nope, whatever was in that building eroded long ago.” Cheetor sighs, but then grins a second later. “I still can’t believe you found that super old board game intact!” they exclaimed, lightly bumping the minibot with their nose.

Bumblebee giggles at the display of affection. He loves little things like this. He bumps Cheetor back with his forehead. “I know right! It was in such good condition that even acid rain and stuff didn’t eat it.”

At that moment, Jazz enters the room and as he sees the pair of “cats” on the ledge above, he bursts into laughter.

“I must admit, Cheetor, I never expected you to teach our youngest member the way of the cat!” the head of Special Operations Department chortles, “Bumblebee, please be honest! Can you purr already?”

Cheetor wheezes at Jazz’s question, while Bumblebee grins widely.

“Well, I tried, but apparently I can only growl.” the minibot answers with all his honesty. “It doesn’t feel like I am supposed to be a feline.”

“Well, it doesn’t stop you from being a cat anyway!” Jazz grins, gesturing at Bumblebee’s current “loaf” position. Cheetor wheezes, making a sound like a kettle from Wheeljack’s lab. That caused all three to burst into laughter. After that, they exchanged a few words before Jazz went to grab his energon cube. The minibot and the beastformer keep chilling on the ledge, observing everyone below them.

Imitation is an interesting thing indeed. It’s a natural process that allows a living being to fit better in their social environment.

It’s not like Cheetor was teaching Bumblebee feline behavior on purpose. It just happened because the minibot spent a lot of time with them and other Autobot felines after he made amends with Steeljaw.

Bumblebee adopted some cat mannerisms. This is when his beast protocols surfaced. Both Perceptor and Botanica are absolutely sure the minibot was bound to be a beastformer, but lack of resources forced him to take a vehicle-type alt form. This leaves a lot of questions, but it’s not possible to answer them for now.

Still, this explains a lot of things: his quadrupedal mode could be an attempt of his body to compensate for the lack of beast-type alt form. Or how he feels like he’s missing some parts, like additional limbs.

Bumblebee is sure he’s supposed to have wings! Every time he swings with his cables, the overwhelming nostalgia makes his spark ache and his back feels abnormally light. After a while, this feeling grew into an itch, and just swinging around the stronghold wouldn’t satisfy it anymore.

Windblade could see the pained look on his face, so she indulged him and took him skydiving. Just flying up with her already feels so much better. And the moment Windblade turns off her engines and they start falling is pure joy, making him tear up every time.

The wind rushing past him, the feeling of flying, the stimulant rush. Bumblebee forgets about all his insecurities and worries, feeling that he belongs in the sky.

This is the closest to flying he ever got, or will ever get, as sad as it sounds.

Bumblebee shakes his head. There is no reason to wallow about things he can’t have, he has to work with what he’s given. That’s why he can’t wait for Windblade to come back from her mission, so they can go skydiving again.

The anticipation quickly fades as the door opens to the cafeteria, revealing Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker going in. The minibot tenses upon seeing them. Those two are not buddies, not at all.

“Bee, are you okay? Your optics have slits.” Cheetor’s voice pulls Bumblebee’s attention to themself. Pupils turning into slits, another feature of a beastformer, that happens when one is angry, exposed to light, or in alt mode.

“I’m okay, it’s just... well him.” He hisses at Sunstreaker below, who seems like he didn’t realize that Bumblebee is in the room too. “I still don’t know what I did to him to receive such treatment.”

“He’s always been such a slaghead as long as I remember.” Cheetor sighs. “But it’s undeniable that he’s really out there to get you for no reason. Don’t worry, I will eat his shins if he tries to do anything to you!”

Bumblebee smiles at support. He really appreciates it. Though this smile fades quickly because the problem is still there and he does not know what to do with this.

Sunstreaker hates the minibot for unknown reasons and will grab any chance to harass him. Thankfully, his friends, especially Windblade, made it crystal clear that if he hurt Bumblebee, Sunstreaker won’t come out in one piece.

Still, Bumblebee feels that animosity directed at him from the yellow gladiator’s spark.

That’s just so unfair that it hurts!

Thankfully, before Bumblebee could start fully seething about this, Blaster, with his cassettes, entered the cafeteria. Cheetor greets the fellow Special Ops members, which pulls the minibot out of the spiral of negative emotions.

Suddenly, the optics of Bumblebee, Cheetor, Steeljaw and Nightstalker are locked onto each other. For a few seconds, they stared. Everyone who noticed this stopped doing what they were doing because they knew what would happen next.

Who will run first?

Who will start the game?

The next second, Nightstalker bolts from the spot they were standing into the stronghold corridors. Steeljaw jumps after them, followed by Bumblebee and Cheetor jumping from the ledge.

The chase has begun, leaving laughing bots in the cafeteria behind!

The stomping is so intense that someone might think it’s Dinobots, not three cats and Bumblebee running through corridors. He never said it out loud, but those games helped him to be more confident with his quadrupedal mode, making him even more agile.

After a few more turns of running, Steeljaw catches Nightstalker. Now it’s their turn to be chased. He turns around and runs in the opposite direction, into the medical wing.

A medbay door opens, and Ratchet almost got thrown on the floor if he didn’t see Steeljaw coming. With a yelp, he quickly jumps back into the room, and the rest of the group runs by him. He can only shake his head as he foresees someone getting hurt. But he cannot deny that cats need to get their zoomies out... though he still can’t believe they dragged Bumblebee into their games.

The three beastformers and the minibot keep running until Bumblebee finally catches Steeljaw.

“You’ll never catch me!” the minibot proclaims, as he takes an instant sharp turn and starts running at full speed.

“Hey!” Cheetor yelps, not expecting such a fast reaction from the minibot. Being the fastest quadrupedal out of Autobots, they quickly catch up with the minibot, almost being within their reach.

Bumblebee feels ‌Cheetor is getting close to him and takes another unexpected turn to avoid being caught. But surprises won’t end here.

Just ahead of him, the door opens and Optimus Prime steps into the corridor. Bumblebee sees it too late and slams into his leg at full speed. Optimus loses balance and falls onto his back. Cheetor, who was right behind Bumblebee, couldn’t stop in time and stepped all over their leader, including his face, before sliding into the wall. Steeljaw and Nightstalker, who were much farther behind, heard the commotion and slowed down, only slightly bumping into Optimus.

“What happened?! Are you okay, Optimus?” Prowl rushed from the same room to help his friend sit up.

“I am alright.” Optimus reassures the second in command and looks at the yellow culprit, who is laughing on the floor right.

“I’m sorry, Prime! I didn’t see you!” Bumblebee somehow utters the apology between laughs. He was so focused on getting away from Cheetor on his tail that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry too, for stepping on you!” Cheetor, who is giggling, apologizes next. “Looks like we got carried away.”

This earned a fit of giggles from everyone. Bumblebee’s laugh is simply contagious. No one can resist, not even serious bots like Prowl.

“This was bound to happen, I feel. Though, I wouldn’t expect Bumblebee to be the one throwing me off my feet.” Optimus chuckles. He turns to Bumblebee, who, despite the laughing fit, is cradling his left arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay!” Bumblebee exclaims, trying to throw his arms up, but his left arm quickly responds with pain from sharp movement. “Ow, ow, ow!” he grimaces. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Looks like I dislocated my shoulder or something.” he corrected with a giggle. Sure, it hurts, but this entire situation is too amusing to him to focus on the pain.

“Oh no!” Cheetor feels bad for their friend. “I will make sure he’ll make it to medbay!”

“Good. So what did we learn today?” Prowl asks the youngest member of Autobots.

“I learned that if I slam into Prime’s leg hard enough --” he didn’t even finish as everyone erupted into laughs again.

After everyone calmed down, Cheetor with the cassettes helped Bumblebee to get to the medbay.

When they entered Ratchet’s domain, the medic already could guess what happened. But he would never guess who fell victim to their shenanigans this time.

“Let me get this straight.” Ratchet slightly pinches the bridge of his nose.” You, Bumblebee, tripped Optimus Prime? And damaged your left arm in the process?”

The only answer he received was another row of laughter from beastformers, which served as confirmation.

“Aright. Bumblebee, you get into the berth, and your three are out.” Ratchet said. The minibot nodded to his playmates, and they went back to their game, chasing after Cheetor.

Then he walks over to the berth. Ratchet helps him to get on it with his magnetokinesis, before proceeding to inspect the injury. The medic carefully popped Bumblebee’s shoulder into the socket. The pain is lifted.

“Thanks, Ratchet.” Bumblebee says sheepishly.

“You should be more careful with their games. You are not as durable as they are, Bumblebee, and they tend to play rough.” Ratchet grumbles.

“C’mon, they never hurt me, and it’s fun!” Bumblebee protests. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his condition, though he knows this comes out of concern. “Alright, alright I will.”

Ratchet nods, satisfied with the answer. “Hold still, I will check if your arm sustained any more injuries.”

Bumblebee decided to check radio channels as he waited. Maybe he can hear if Windblade is coming back soon. After swapping multiple channels, Bumblebee stumbled upon a strange signal.

The signal is transmitted through a channel that he never saw before. As if it was turned off until someone began using it recently. And the signal itself is something he never heard Autobots or Decepticons using. It sounded like a series of beeps, short and long.

“Is something wrong?” Ratchet asks, noticing the minibot’s confused expression. Bumblebee opens the radio channel with the medic, letting him listen to that signal.

“Did you hear something like this before?” he asks the medic. He’s one of the eldest Autobots. Surely he heard something like this, right?

But Ratchet is confused as much as Bumblebee, “I do not know. We should notify the High Command about this. Who knows if Decepticreeps invented another way of secret communication… after I finish with your arm.”

The minibot nods and continues listening to the signal. He can’t help but feel it seems oddly familiar to him. After multiple passes, Bumblebee notices it has a specific pattern that looks like this:

... .... .- -.. --- .-- .-.. ..- .-. -.- . .-. --..-- / .-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / - .- .-.. -.- .-.-.-

After he got the pattern, much to Bumblebee’s surprise, his system recognized it and began deciphering. When he saw the meaning of the message, his spark almost jumped out of his chest.

“WHAT?!”

#transformers #maccadam #bumblebee #cheetor #sparkpulse au #my art #my fanfics

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professional-benaddict · 4 years

Note

Mafia Daddies Stephen and Tony taking over a smol café for a meeting and Peter is their waiter >:)

ive left jensen babe hanging with this for wEeks but i think i managed to scramble together smth!! and that smth includes Tony being an absolute Whore and having a Danger Kink™️

Mafia bosses and husbands Stephen and Tony, bodyguards Steve and Bucky, waiter Peter, mafia aus, threats and use of violence, manipulation, Tony just being That Bitch and embarrassing his husband

“Why are we here?” Bucky’s tone is as grumpy as ever, and Tony rolls his eyes. The man had practically hissed the words out, putting as much force into it as possible without angering his bosses too much, nor causing a big scene.

“You know, the Petersons have been causing all sorts of trouble for us. We’re making a plan of action.” Stephen replies, so that Tony does not have to. The aggression in Bucky’s voice rolls off Stephen like water on a duck. He is not bothered at all, which he rarely is. That is what makes him a good boss, not that Tony does not have other qualities that makes him just as good as his husband. They complete one another in that way. And in a way, Bucky and Steve do that as well, in their roles as the second pair in charge, just below Stephen and Tony.

“No, I mean, why are we here?” Bucky rephrases. If Steve were with him, he would give Tony that infamous look, which signals that he is questioning him. Even with the blonde guard on stand by, and not present with them, Tony feels his presence along with Bucky’s snarky question.

Out of all the places in the world, the three men are meeting in a café. The place is small, but designed purposely in a way to maximise the space completely. It is almost impressive how much they have fit in here without the space feeling like it is suffocating you. Instead, it feels homey, and it smells like fresh coffee and baked goods.

It is just after 8 am, so the morning rush is coming to an end as the sun rises higher and its’ rays do not feel as harsh and blinding anymore. Still, Tony is wearing his sunglasses where he is sat next to his husband Stephen. Besides being very stylish and framing his face nicely, the shades serve another purpose. It lets Tony’s scanning and calculating gaze go undetected. And just like he was briefed the day before, the café is does not have any security cameras. In addition, the gang of four have taken up the largest table in the café, and with how intimidating they look in their black clothing, no one will sit down next to them on the surrounding tables. No cameras, no prying gazes nor eavesdropping ears. Perfect. However, they will wait a few more minutes before starting on the agenda of the their meeting. They have not ordered their coffee of choice yet either.

“Hi! What would you like today? Black, no sugar? Gotcha!”

The sound of a chirpy voice catches Tony’s attention, and he turns his head a bit, as if to see what Stephen is doing on his phone, but actually his gaze is looking somewhere beyond his husband. He looks towards the counter of the café where an adorable, 20-something boy is stood in a dark brown apron, fixing the coffee machines with the speed and precision of an experienced worker. The warm brown curls on top of his head bounce around his ears and the nape of his neck as he moves. They look silky, freshly washed, and perfect to tug on. The boy perfectly fits the profile Tony got from the briefing. This is him, the cute boy who will be covering the café all by himself until 10 am. The place is all theirs, and Tony smirks to himself before finally looking away as the boy hands the finished coffee to the waiting customer.

“Because, I want to have a good cup of coffee, and some fun.” Tony tells Bucky to answer his question about why they are at the café and not at base. “Is that too much to ask, Barnes? I know you don’t smile often, but you must at least be able to appreciate a good, hot drink now and then.”

“I do like to drink.” Bucky replies dryly.

“I don’t mean that way.” Tony corrects.

“All right.” Stephen cuts off by rising from his seat. Always the diplomat, Tony thinks. “I’ll go and order. What would you like?”

Tony and Bucky make their requests in, and watch as Stephen heads to the counter. He returns a few moments later, and once more the group of three fall silent and watch the boy make their coffee behind the counter. There is no one else in the café now, just the way that they planned it all.

“He’s cute.” Tony comments to Stephen quietly. With the way Stephen is sat sideways next to him, Tony cannot see his husband’s eye roll, but he knows he did it anyway.

“You just had one yesterday. Keep it together. We’re just here for business, so please… Don’t mess it up.” Stephen replies quietly, and looks over at Tony to show that he is serious. But, Tony makes no promises, and sits back to watch the boy behind the counter again. Thanks to the sunglasses, Tony does not have to politely avert his gaze when the boy heads over with their drinks on a tray. The man is unapologetic with his staring, and if he was a cartoon character, he would be drooling long ago.

“Here you go! Who’s got the espresso?”

Tony lifts his hand a bit, and thanks the boy as he sets his drinks down. Stephen and Bucky do the same with their black coffees that the waiter sets in front of them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Tony asks the boy.

“Peter! Peter Parker, sir.” The boy replies with a bright smile, tucking the empty tray under one arm. “Been working here for just over two years now, and I love it.”

“Really? You seem like a natural, that’s for sure.” Tony continues, letting his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to peer at Peter from above them.

“Oh, thanks!” Peter beams, seemingly a bit taken off guard by being complimented by a complete stranger. “Well, I really do hope you enjoy your drinks. If there’s any problems, I’d be happy to re-make it.”

Next to Tony, Stephen clears his throat after taking a sip of his drink. He shoots his husband a warning look, then adds quietly.

“Honey…”

“Oh, I’m sure it is absolutely perfect.” Tony continues without caring at all about Stephen’s warning. Bucky is sat quietly with his drink, since he has no business to interfere with this, not when he is second in charge.

Flattered once more, Peter laughs a little nervously, but does not shy away from Tony’s eyes. Just when he turns to leave, Tony stops him by pressing his gun against the boy’s hip. Peter halts when he feels the harsh pressure, and looks down at the gun with a mix of horror and confusion. His mouth gapes when he looks at Tony, just a second away from asking what is going on. Tony speaks before he has time to do so.

“There is one thing… Would you mind switching the sign so it says it’s closed? We’re about to talk some serious business, and we’d hate to be disturbed.”

“I’m- I’m going to ask you to leave.” Peter states, and the two other men raise their heads at the command. Stephen scans the scene, where Tony and Peter are frozen and looking at one another intensely. It is almost like, Tony is holding the boy at gunpoint, and Stephen sighs audibly when he realises that his husband is doing exactly that.

“Honey.” Unlike earlier, Stephen’s voice is sharp now. Once more, Tony ignores his husband’s warnings.

“We haven’t even enjoyed the coffee you made us, sweetheart. I’d hate to let something so good just go down the drain. That would be a shame, don’t you agree?” Tony continues, still looking at Peter through his sunglasses. “So, why don’t you-“ Tony halts mid-sentence and from beside him, Stephen tenses and sits up.

“Peter… Put it down.”

The boy has got the sharp blade of a pocket knife up against Tony’s throat, resting just above his trachea, and with the tip pointing at the artery on the side of his neck. The knife is cheap, probably bought somewhere online, but it is quite beautiful still. Both the blade and handle have a multicolour holographic effect, and it looks like the metal and plastic have been dipped in oil. But, aesthetics aside, the knife is still dangerous, at least as long as it is pressed against one’s neck.

“I’m not doing anything.” Peter stresses through gritted teeth, and challenges Tony’s gaze by looking at him even more intensely. The older man can see that he has tucked away his fear somewhere, because all he can see in his brown eyes now is rage. And incredible beauty.

“Well, whatever it is that you are, or aren’t doing, you look stunning while doing it.” Tony drawls with a purr, shooting Peter his best and cockiest smirk. The boy looks amused, but only for a split second before adding more pressure to his blade.

Based on the briefing of this café, Tony would never have thought it would end up like this. The chirpy and bouncy personality is just a facade. The little bastard has been armed this whole time. Tony takes it as a compliment that he was the only that brought out the self-defence response in the waiter boy. But, as fun as this is, it is still a bit humiliating to be put on the spot in front of his second in-command, Bucky. The guard might just be plotting a coup right in this moment, considering just how weak Tony is being now. Time to turn that around.

“Okay, sweetheart, how about we make a deal?” Tony offers, but suddenly averts his gaze to the door. Another customer has entered, and both he and Peter hide their weapons.

For a second, Peter hesitates with heading back to the counter. It is like he is asking Tony permission to leave, or rather daring him to stop him from doing his job. Accepting defeat, for now, Tony nods towards the counter, and Peter heads off without a word.

“You, fucking idiot!” Stephen hisses to Tony, just quiet enough for the other customer to not hear.

“Quite an eventful morning, huh? Perhaps I underestimated this place.” Bucky muses with a chuckle and sips at his coffee. “We should definitely come back. And this coffee is quite good, actually.”

“Shut it. He’s coming back.” Stephen points out in a hushed whisper.

It seems like the customer sensed an uncomfortable atmosphere and left before Peter could ask if they wanted anything. For a second it looks like the waiter is leaving as well, but he just heads to flip the card saying ‘open’ to ‘closed’ instead. Still, Tony takes note on how the boy does not lock the door. If he had a nose like an apex predator, he could probably catch the scent of fear from the boy.

“You’re scaring away my costumers.” Peter states bravely, crossing his arms as he stops by Tony and his gang’s table.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony coos condescendingly. “Do you need some extra tip to make up for it? I must say, your coffee was excellent, but-“

“Ten.”

“Ten dollars?”

“Ten thousand.”

Stephen sputters over his coffee.

“What do you-“

“For all the trouble you’ve caused, and for me being quiet about everything. And don’t pretend like you don’t have that kind of money, because you do. So, give me it, and then get out of here.”

Tony chuckles once, then he laughs merrily, but Peter does not falter.

“With what? You can’t threaten me, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing, so we can just walk out of here. And I think we will do just that.” Tony says and claps his hands together to signal that this conversation is over. He rises along with his husband and guard, but suddenly the man stumbles back into his chair. The waiter just tripped him? “What the fuck-“

“Sure, walk out.” Peter starts with a smile, but his face quickly drops into a death stare. “And I will turn over the video I recorded on my phone of you threatening me to the police.”

“You-“

“I started recording as soon as you came in. I knew you guys were trouble, and look? I was right. So, ten thousand. Now.”

“You, little shit…” Tony says through gritted teeth, but a hint of a smirk still lingers on his lips as he gazes at Peter in front of him.

How did he get so lucky?

“Steph, darling, could you write the waiter a cheque? And add my number on the back of it.”

“I won’t call you.” Peter deadpans.

“Oh, I think you will.” Tony chuckles, then adds in a lower, and much more sinister tone. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me.”

If Tony could not smell the fear on Peter before, he definitely does it now. And he loves it.

#my prompts #jensen babe #mafia!tony #starker #ironspider #starkerstrange #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #james bucky barnes #ask

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

I don’t know you anymore/Part III (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II /Part III / Part IV / Part V

———————

Summary: Reader has to do something before her relationship with Spencer get worse. Spencer has to rebuild his life without her. Could he do that?. Now Reader ends up involved in a case that is more complex than it seems.

Word Count: 4359.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. Angst.

Warnings: References to murders, dead bodies, drug traffic, illicit activities, etc.

A/N: This is Part III of “I don’t know you anymore”. Thanks to everyone who read this and commented previous parts! I really appreciate your support!

——————–

I know I let you down Again and again I know I never really treated you right I've paid the price I'm still paying for it every day

The least I expected to see when I walked into my apartment after work was a piece of paper under the door with the letterhead of Hawthorne Police Station and my name written on it. It was an urgent summons to present myself there. The reasons were not very specific, only it was important in order to collaborate in an ongoing investigation. I tried to imagine what this was all about. It didn't occur to me what it might be, but it seemed urgent, so after eating something I took my keys again and headed for the police station.

I felt something strange about this. And it’s true things in my life had been a bit strange lately. I had recently started a relationship with someone. Well, 'getting started' is perhaps a vague word in this case, given I had a relationship with Hunter before, when I had just arrived in DC, more than 5 years ago, even before met Spencer. We restarted contact the moment I asked for help to leave DC a little over a year ago. He helped me settle in Philadelphia and while I wasn't ready to have a relationship with anyone again, a few weeks ago I gave it a try and we started to get closer again. Hunter is a good man, loving and caring. Unfortunately we had seen little of each other in the past few days because he was out of town due to his job as an interstate realtor. It seems I have a fixation on men who have jobs involve travel. Anyway, at least in Hunter's case travels seemed to be more sporadic.

When I got to the station I walked over to the main counter and asked about Detective Gibson, who was the one who signed the paper I found at the entrance to my apartment. I handed the paper to the officer and he immediately made me walk down a hallway to the entrance of a room where there were three chairs around a metal table. He asked me to wait for the detective sitting in one of those chairs, he would come to talk to me soon.

****

"Reid?... Spencer?... Spencer!". In the distance I felt a voice repeating my name seeking some reaction from me. When I woke up, I was lying on the couch in the meeting room where we’re installed and felt the eyes of Prentiss and JJ fixed on me. I looked around and there was no one else in the room. I had a hard time putting my thoughts back on what had happened before I passed out. Within seconds I was sitting and everything had come to my memory again.

"(Y/N)..." I said, trying to get up from the couch. Prentiss stopped me and started talking, while J.J. handed me a sandwich to replenish my fatigue.

“Spencer. You cannot speak to (Y/N). As J.J. said, she is on the list. We had not made the connection when seeing her name since none of us knew her last name, but we did the checkup and yes, it's her…”. Prentiss explained.

"Where is she…?" I said, after taking a piece of the sandwich and beginning to eat it by inertia.

"In the debriefing room waiting for Detective Gibson. But before he interrogates her, we have to agree with him what our line of questions will be... and if it is necessary for any of us to be present" said J.J.

"How is that about ‘line of questions’?... It should be the same thing has been done with the rest of the women from the list..." I answered a little confused.

"It’s not so. We did a quick checkup with Garcia and (Y/N) could be more involved in this matter than we think… she know directly to Hunter Rosten, the 'owner' of the list” said Emily, studying every reaction on my face.

"What?... it's not possible, she wouldn't get involved in something illegal... no, (Y/N) is incapable of something like that...". I said, already getting up from the couch and starting to pace around the room.

"We are not saying she is involved in that way, strictly speaking we do not know if Hunter Rosten is too, we only know he is the owner of the list and he is missing. We need (Y/N) to get to Rosten first”. Emily finished, as I sat back down in one of the chairs around the conference table.

"I don't get it, if she is involved with the deaths why would she be here now... it doesn't make sense". My mind was trying to fit the pieces of what was happening.

“It's what we have to find out. But for that, I need you to stay out of this. The only thing you can help us with now is to obtain more information about (Y/N) that could give some clue, but you cannot conduct the interrogation, much less approach to her” said Emily. I just shook my head trying to shake off the confusion and discredit of what was going on.

"And who's going to question her, besides Gibson?" I asked without raising my head.

“That is the problem, she knows us all. Who do you think makes her feel less intimidated? It’s clear she’ll know you are in this, but if she doesn’t see you, she will be of help…” J.J. asked. I thought for a few minutes before answering.

"It should be Emily. Although she knows we are friends, being you unit chief she’ll tend to be more cooperative if you explain to her this is for a greater good and doesn't matter if I’m involved”. As I said it and I let out a sigh. I started to panic. What had happened in this year in the life of (Y/N) to ended up involved in something like this?

"Okay, I'll do it" said Emily, taking the folders from the table. Before leaving looked at me. She didn’t know what to tell me but she knew had to say something before walking out that door. “Spencer, we shouldn't jump to more conclusions without further evidence. Let's just do our job to clear this up. I know it's hard, it's about (Y/N), but please try to stay calm as much as you can. We need you on this too". I could only look at her with pleading eyes. Then she left the meeting room. With Prentiss out my eyes turned to J.J.

“I need to see her, even if it is through glass. J.J., please…”. She knew what I was asking was quite outside Emily had instructed, but that thin limit allowed her to take some pity on me. She nodded, peered into the hallway to make sure (Y/N), Gibson, and Prentiss were in the interview room, and then motioned for me to follow her.

****

The wait seemed endless. I didn't know how long I was waiting until two people entered the room where I was sitting. A man and a woman. The man in uniform I assumed was Detective Gibson, the woman meanwhile, I was sure I 'd seen her before. At that moment, with the nerves I didn’t know how to associate her face with my knowledge of who it was, until both of them introduced themselves.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), my name is Albert Gibson, homicide detective with the local Philadelphia police office, and she is FBI Special Supervisory Agent Emily Prentiss… we need to ask you some questions about Hunter Rosten”. Sure, of course I knew the woman. This is Emily from the FBI, Spencer's boss. At least she was in the time we were together. Emily realized I recognized her and nodded, giving me the answer I needed. She crossed her hands on the table between us and began to speak.

“(Y/N), my presence here is only intended to be able to ask you questions about a case that we’re working together with the Philadelphia police. That’s the reason for the citation in first place. We have a series of disappearances and… deaths related to people who knew Mr. Hunter Rosten, so any information you can provide about him is important…”. Emily's voice was calm, as if she was trying not to disturb me despite the information she was giving to me. These people are amazing, they make terrible things seem like normal things.

"Hunter? Why? What does he have to do with all this?". I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"We have no certainty at the moment. We are following leads and the only thing we know about Hunter is he is missing and he had a list of women... women who come from different parts of the country and settled here in Philadelphia. Unfortunately there are 3 women on that list who are dead now…”. At that moment I froze. A list? What was she talking about? Hunter missing? None of this made sense.

“Hunter is not missing… I mean, he's travelling. He called me three days ago... no... how?...”. My face must have denoted my stupor, because Emily offered me a glass of water. I accepted it with a shy nod. My hands were shaking and so as not to cry and avoid looking at the two people who had their eyes on me, I concentrated on the mirror at the end of the room. I tried to regulate my breathing. I knew there were things I would have to say and although I didn't like the idea of revealing certain things from my past and current life, there were women dying and that was upsetting me. I was more upset to know Hunter might have something to do with it. If it had to be an open book as long as this cleared up, I didn't care. Even knowing that behind the glass would be Spencer. Don't ask me how, but I could feel him.

****

It had been over a year since I saw (Y/N) last time and seeing her behind the glass in the interrogation room only reminded me to the last moment we shared together. When she said goodbye and gave me one last kiss. Now I could see her even more vulnerable than last time, and more scared too. Her body language denoted stupor, confusion, and huge fear. Every time Emily added some information, I could see how she tensed more in the chair and began to fidget her fingers, a typical gesture when she was nervous and overwhelmed by something. Her confusion and amazement looked genuine, I couldn't tell she was lying about it. It’s clear I was not the best judge at the moment, but I was sure J.J. and Rossi, who were in the room with me, could say the same as me.

"How long have you known Hunter Rosten?" Detective Gibson asked her. (Y/N) spent a few seconds thinking before answering.

"Maybe a little over 5 years. When I moved to DC I looked for a real estate agent to help me find an apartment near where I worked. A colleague from the office where I worked in Baltimore gave me Hunter's contact and I called him for that purpose…” (Y/N) replied.

"Did you keep in touch after that?" Gibson asked again.

"Yes. Finally he showed me several places that could be suitable according to I was looking for. I chose one I could pay with the money I had up to that moment…” said (Y/N).

"What was you working on at the time?" Gibson interrupted.

“Upon arrival in DC, I began working as a research assistant to a professor at Georgetown University. Given my computer skills, I was trained to work in databases and statistical analysis”.

Yes, that was how I met (Y/N). When I started teaching sporadic classes in Georgetown I had the opportunity to collaborate with Dr. Andrew Stevens, the boss of (Y/N) at the time. She started as his assistant, but eventually became his most prolific collaborator. Honestly speaking, Stevens was pretty much nil when it came to processing data, so he relied heavily on (Y/N) 's abilities.

"And after finding an apartment, did you keep in touch with Hunter?" Gibson continued.

"Yes. He helped me get a good move tips and helped me with the rent paperwork” said (Y/N).

"A gentleman, right?... Did you keep seeing each other after that?" I knew where Gibson wanted to go and was sure (Y/N) too, but his discourtesy in his words made her stand on the defensive.

"Yes, a while. Are you going to ask me if we dating? Yes, we were dating a while, if that's what you want to know” she replied with visible weariness. Surely uncomfortable saying all that in front of Emily.

"How long did the relationship last?" Gibson asked, not caring about (Y/N)'s discomfort.

"A few months, maybe 2 or 3. It wasn't very long" she stated.

"Why you broke up?" Gibson asked without flinching.

“Is all this really important…? Do I need to talk about my personal life...?. At that moment I saw the anger in the eyes of (Y/N). She never liked rodeos and clearly this interrogation seemed like exactly that to her.

"We just want to establish closeness between you. It’s not to know details of you relationship, but we need to understand some actions or decisions Hunter could have taken in this time…”. Prentiss said, trying to calm (Y/N). She held her head in both hands. She looked tired.

"Ok. Ok. I already said our relationship lasted no more than three months. We ended because... because I fell in love with someone else... and told him so". Saying that, she looked directly at the glass. She knew I was there. Or at least suspected it.

"How did Hunter take it?" Emily asked.

"Well, he wasn't too pleased with the idea. But he understood. After that, we only talked when I had some friends questions about properties, or if he wanted some publicity among my colleagues. Did we broke up in violent term? Absolutely not. Nor did he insist or try to make me change my mind. After that we didn't see each other anymore. Just a few calls or emails” (Y/N) said dryly.

"Did that last over time...? Emails and calls?” Prentiss asked.

“No… after a year we finally lost contact. I mean, I always had his number and he had mine, but we never spoke again”

"When did you resume contact and why?". Emily asked. I could see (Y/N) biting her lower lip and her eyes began to fill with tears.

“A little over a year ago I called him. I was in a difficult situation. I never had many friends in DC and ... I needed to get out of town. To start again somewhere else…” (Y/N) tried to explain.

"Were you involved in any misconduct and needed to escape...?" Gibson interrupted. Prentiss looked at Gibson reproachfully, for he was pushing harder.

"No! Of course not! ... I just had to leave the city... I had… I broke up with my 3 years boyfriend, with whom I lived and I needed to get away… from him”. She ended saying with a sob. Those words hit me like a truck and made me angry enough to punch the wall behind me. Rossi and J.J. looked at me with concern.

"Spence... maybe you better not keep watching the interrogation..." J.J. suggested. I just shook my head.

"I'm fine. I can stay here. Don't worry about me, just focus on her and what can be useful for the investigation”. I said without even looking at them.

"And how did Hunter help you?" Gibson asked.

"I asked him if he had contacts to look properties in Chicago..." said (Y/N).

"Why Chicago and not Philadelphia in first place?". Emily asked with a frown. (Y/N) sighed and then replied.

“My first choice was Chicago, I wanted to try luck at Chicago State University. I thought it might be a good option for me. But Hunter convinced me Philadelphia was better, being a slightly smaller city compared to Chicago and it could be more compatible with the quieter life I wanted to lead. Moreover, he gave me some contacts to speak at the University of Pennsylvania, where I'm working now..." said (Y/N).

"That's weird..." said Rossi. And yes, he was right. (Y/N)'s first choice was not Philadelphia but Chicago, and Hunter had convinced her to change her mind.

“It's the same thing he could have done with the rest of the women on the list. Maybe he convinced them to come to Philadelphia” added J.J.

"But... for what purpose?... What did he gain bring they to Philly?" Rossi asked. My brain also began to search for potential reasons to make sense of the facts. I tried to make connections and two things came to mind, one of which I didn't even want to verbalize at the time.

“This in part has to be related to properties. Moving to Philadelphia has to bring benefits to Hunter, beyond a good commission for every rent or sell he makes...". I said trying to explain part of my point.

"But that does not explain why there are dead women and, even more, with such a specific victimology" replied J.J.

"Maybe it’s a dual purpose: to attack Hunter's business and Hunter himself..." Rossi reflected. That said, he dialed Garcia's number. “Garcia, we need to know more about Hunter Rosten's business. He was presenting himself as a property agent. Is there something special about the properties he managed? Did he be associated with something other than the real estate business?". Penelope replied she would search and would call us immediately when she found something. J.J. texted Prentiss to ask (Y/N) if something strange had happened to her or Hunter these days. Meanwhile Prentiss and Gibson continued the interrogation.

"All right. After you settled in Philadelphia, did you keep in touch with Hunter?... ” Gibson continued.

"Yes. We keep in touch during these months. From time to time he called me to ask me how I was…” .

"And something else besides phone calls?" Prentiss asked.

"Well... two weeks ago we started dating again... and now we are in a relationship...". (Y/N) said quietly, as if trying I wasn't able to listen. But I don't know why when I heard it I felt angry. I had no right. In fact I was also in a 'relationship' with someone, but imagining another man touching her stuck a stake in my stomach. She had definitely got on with her life. Did I do the same?

"Do you live together?... do you know where is he now?" Gibson hurried asking.

"No... we don't live together. Five days ago he went on a work trip, he told me. Hunter called me three days ago to tell me he was fine and to ask me if I was fine. He looked worried, but he didn't want to tell me if something happened… although after knowing all this, I suppose something did happen…”

***

I didn’t know how much longer I could stand in this interrogation. I felt like I had been there for hours. And they kept asking me the same thing over and over again. It wasn't enough I had to talk about my relationship with Hunter, or to admit I had left DC because I had broken up with Spencer and start all over again. Also I had to try to think if I knew the three women who were murdered and who were related to a list of which I had no idea that I was part of.

I was astonished when they told me Hunter had “helped” many women settle in Philadelphia. I felt like I was part of some crime I completely ignored. I felt dirty and didn't know why. I felt guilty and nobody knew to explain me why.

Finally they finished questioning me and left the room, but not before telling me to wait a moment for a police officer to escort me to my house. The same officer who would later remain a fixed point outside the building 'for my protection'. I don't know how they expected me to take something like that, but at least I was more confused than when I got to the police station. I had more questions than answers. But I didn't want to fight anyone, I was tired and I just wanted to go home to sleep. I didn't mind knowing Spencer was on the other side of the mirror, surely judging me for everything I said in that room. I sat staring at the table that was now empty. From time to time I looked at the mirror, but I couldn't hold my gaze on it, both for me and for whoever I knew was on the other side.

***

After the interrogation, Rossi and J.J. were to the meeting room to join Prentiss. Seeing I wasn't following them, J.J. looked at me. "I'll go soon. I need a few minutes”. I said looking to (Y/N) through the glass. J.J. said nothing and left the room closing the door. I was unable to contain the tears that had been stagnant during the entire interrogation. I would have given everything to go hug her, to go comfort her, to tell her that everything would be fine, that she was not alone. But I couldn’t. And while I was sure she knew I was there, that gave me no right. Her eyes fixed on the table were a sign she didn’t want to look at me. For just an instant I felt her eyes on me. And I knew it. I had never stopped loving her. And no matter what I did, how long time passed or how far she had run from me, my feelings hadn't changed in the least. She is the love of my life. I had to do something to get her back, but first I had to do something to make sure she is safe. After taking a deep breath I took my eyes off her and left the room to join the rest of the team.

"Ok. Garcia, what did you find out?” Rossi said, as we were all around the meeting table.

"I don't know where to start. But I can assure you every fact I’ll will say it follows a worse one…”. My stomach started to clench again.

"Tell us..." Prentiss hurried.

"Yes. Ok. Hunter Rosten. It’s true he has a certificate as a real estate agent. But his profession of origin is chemistry. This isn’t in the official records, in fact I had to open sealed files..."

"Sealed by whom?" Luke asked.

"The same FBI. And this is where it gets all interesting. It turns out Hunter Rosten was a asset to Domestic Terrorism between 2008 and 2010. They then lost his track until 2013 when he appears in DC selling his first properties. The problem is that properties Hunter manages are 'dirty' properties…”

"Dirty? What does that mean? ..." J.J. asked

“They are properties are associated with drug dealers from different cities where he worked and were 'cleaned' by Hunter between 2013 and 2018. Many of them belonged to local cartels, others to small traffickers, and a few to interstate networks… even in some of them he had his own lab”.

"So the list has to do with 'cleaned properties'... and the women he installed there?" Tara asked.

Hunter didn’t work alone at that time. After he reappeared in 2013, he was linked to an associate, Gabriel Dickinson. In fact, Rosten's list also Dickinson had it. Records say Dickinson broke ‘business’ relationships with Rosten and he joined one of the Philadelphia cartels. Dickinson has reports of assault on women and was arrested multiple times for domestic violence…"

"But go from domestic violence to serial killer..." Matt interrupted.

"What if it's just to get revenge on Hunter?... that is, his partner softens over time, stops cooking drugs, decreases the amount of cleaned properties, he realizes he collaborated with the FBI... he must be very upset…” Rossi argued.

"Okay. And why now? And why kill women and not just Hunter?" I asked. That was what bothered me the most. I could understand the big picture, but it didn’t explain the women deaths.

"Jealousy" said Emily. "Think of it this way: Rossi is right, Hunter's life is going according to plan with his partner, but in addition to 'softening' he begins a relationship with (Y/N) 'two weeks ago'. The murders started a week ago. The similarities of the victims with (Y/N) are evident. They are a message to Hunter…” pointed Emily.

"Surrogates for (Y/N)?". I asked barely audibly. Now it was making all the sense to me, I just didn't like where this was going.

"And not herself... because it’s a message. If he had directly attacked (Y/N) he knew would lose Hunter completely” said Rossi.

"Guys... guys!" Penelope's voice rang out on the speaker. "I know where Dickinson is now. Traffic cameras place him on Allison Street with Master Av.… this is two blocks from (Y/N)’s apartment…”. Garcia was unable to finish speaking and I grabbed my blazer and ran from the police station. From a distance I heard Emily was trying to stop me while Rossi summoned the police officers from the station. This bastard was about to finish his job but a surrogate wasn't enough, now he was after (Y/N). I don't know how with my trembling legs I managed to get in the car and start driving with all the speed I could. I knew even with a fixed-point cop in the building, (Y/N) 's life was in danger. I had to hurry up. I couldn't allow something to happen to her. I had to stop this madness. While I was driving I just kept saying “(Y/N), please my love… don't leave me... don't leave me. I'm on my way, I'm on my way…”

——————–

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid angst

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celosiaa · 4 years

Text

steady, love (chapter 7)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

Chapters 1-7 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(The EYE speaks in glitched text. Jon’s thoughts are italicized.)

WARNINGS: illness, hospitals, medical talk, addiction mention

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

P̘ͮnͯͧ͋̏e͓̳̭͗ͩu͔̲ͥ̽̿ͯ̾m̲̑̉̿̏̅ͨ̿̔o̭͚͗̏̉̂̌ͪ̿͗n̪̟̫̩͉̍̓ͤ̈̿̂i͙̥͕̱̯̿ͮ͋̄ͣ̄̀a͎͔̮̻͗͊ͣ̓ͯ̄͛͒͑ ̝͇͍̯̫̺̋ͫͯ̍́ͤ̄ͤS̹͍͓̪̠̙̯̟̥̔ͬ̑̋ͪ̚e̻͉̳͈͕͔̟͍̲̖ͭ̈́̎̿ͦv͈͓̼̲̭͍̖̲͐̒̿͊ͬ̉ͭͅe̻̫̞̬̬̤̯̹ͨ̃ͤͩͤ̉ͦ̈r̪͚̙͖̩͉͓͙ͤ͐̆̽̑̊͒̚i̼̘̖̼͕̫̦̻̩̙̬͐̓ͣ̇̚t̤̙̹͉̭ͭ̄̔ͭ͊̍̓͛͋̚ẙ̼͙̩̻͈͙̈́́̒ͣ̿̋ͣ̚ ͙̺̱̣̪̒ͩ̋͑ͫͤͭ̓̌Î̺̼͓͇̖͖͋͒ͥ̓͋̇ṇ͇͎̓̿̄͛̐̂̽̿̓d͚̤̩̹ͤ̍̈ͭ͐̄͗e̫̺͓̺̤̺͋̒͋̂x̖̟̦͊͂͂̾̓ ͈ͨ̈̾ͣ̿̅Ŝ̗̗̈́̇c͓ͪͧ̓o̭̜re:

aͦ ̀c̤̏l̠ͪi̻͍n͉̿̋i͖ͨ̉c̘ͬͬa̗̖ͅl̹͊͂̈ ͉̊̉̔ẗ̗̥̣ö̻̳̓̄o͒͛̋̈́̚l̘̳͂̃͒ ͎̋͌ͪ͋f̙̖͑ͥ̒̍ọ̼̭ͭ̈̃r͎̥̪̓̏̇ ͖̞͍̐ͫ̀m̱̣̖̤̎ͯͩe̮̫̙ͯ͐̚ͅȧ͉̥ͨ̂ͧͣs̮̟̗͇ͧ͒̅u̥̥͕͔͕̔̾r͙͍̘ͨ̈́͗̂ḯ̠͙̹̘͒̍n̗̐̌̎̋́ͭ̊g͚̝̜̳̬̈́ͦ̂ ̘̗̗̓͂ͭ͊͑t͓͙̯̩͒͌̾͌h̲̳̝͓̊̓̆̚ẻ̥͚͉͙̑͒̑ ̫̤͊ͦͥ͊̄̈́l̮̦̯̏̎̽̈́ͥỉ̟̖̲ͯ̿̓̊k̜̬̮̙ͬ̑͂̂ḛ̭͕̽͊̄ͦͅl͇̺̼̤̿ͦ͒̚ï̠̙̮̪̠̓̎h̯̱͔͖ͭ͗̉ọ͖̝̘̔̊ͮo̳̬̬̩ͧͩ͋d̲̦̩̰̿̍͒ ̲ͨ̀̾͋͋ͩo̤͖̤͋ͨͭ̚f͌ͥ̈͂̄̅̈́ ̞ͨͭͬͭ̚m̮̪̄̆͋̔o̬̰̺̤ͥ̈́r̘̳̈́̔̐ͅt͕̳͇̎̉a͓̤̫͕ͪl̤͍̰͋ͮì̫̠̂͒t͙̥ͧͥẙ̤ͦ̓ ͓͇̺̻f̤́͂r̼͑̏o̦̱̘m͐̓ ̲ͮp̙̀ṉėu͉monia.

A̮ ̞s̬ͨc̥͈ǒ͆r͈͂e̪ͤ̚ ̼ͬͯiͭ̾̑s͙͗̌̓ ̮̪̝͙g̻̿̊͛i̹͛̒ͬv̯̄̿͊ͦe͚̺ͣͨͦn̙̹͂ͤͩ ̠͙̝̊͒b͊̇̔̆̉a̝̰ͧ́ͨs͕͖̝͗̌ḛ̣̥̄ͣḓ̥͌̄ͩ ͚̙͈͊ͯu̘ͪ̋̊̂p͕̥ͫͫ̚ȯ͖̙̒ͬn̗̓ͮ̎̿ ̘̽̈́̊͂t͙̞̻̯̏ḫ͉̰͕͚e̼̫̳̩̤ ͇̐͆͆̅f̓ͭ̄͛ő̜̯̫l̹̉ͪ̂l̩̘̻ͦo͔͕̊w̯̞̃i̇̍̈́n̞̾ͩg͙͒ ̻̊f̻̚a̽c̰t̄ors:

God, shut UP.

Jon buries his face in his hands, the familiar hunger-driven brain fog beginning to settle in. It’s been nearly thirty minutes since Martin had his x-ray, and he’s been dozing ever since. Left with nothing but the silence for company, Jon’s head has been spinning with information that he doesn’t want, he doesn’t need, he doesn’t understand.

He rubs at his eyes.

Christ, I am exhausted.

Before he can sink further into his misery, there is a sharp rapping on the door, and Jon is forced to pick up his head and push wearily forward. Martin’s eyes flutter open along with the door, which reveals Aaron, cheery as ever.

“Hi again, how are we doing in here?” he says, flashing a wide smile in Martin’s direction.

Eyes still half-lidded with sleep, Martin gives yet another thumbs up in response. At this, Jon cannot help but roll his eyes and sigh, sharing a sidelong look with the doctor. Aaron returns the look, nodding at Jon in acknowledgment before he continues.

“That good, eh? Well, the results are in, and—drumroll please…”

With a flourish, he slides Martin’s x-ray in front of the lightboard and points at dense-looking white spots on Martin’s lungs.

“You’ve got a pretty significantly sized infection in your left lung, with a small spot of infection in your right. Which means that it’s a double pneumonia, and a pretty nasty one at that. But you knew that already, I’d wager.”

Martin lets out a faint sigh, and nods. Seeming to sense his growing fatigue, Aaron lowers himself to sitting on a rolling stool, and turns to address both Martin and Jon in a softer voice.

“What happens next is this: we need to get that fever down a bit and get you some antibiotics. So we’re going to keep you here for a few hours while we get you those, as well as an IV to get you some liquids, and see what happens from there. If you seem to be doing better, we’ll send you home with oral antibiotics and oxygen, in case you need it. If not, we’re going to have to send you to the hospital in Aberdeen for treatment tonight, since I can’t keep anyone overnight here. Does that all make sense?”

Sending a glance towards Martin, Jon squeezes his hand to elicit some sort of response, but he merely continues to stare at the doctor, blinking owlishly. Jon clears his throat.

“Err, yes—that makes perfect sense, thank you,” Jon replies for him, certain that Martin had not taken in anything that had just been said.

“Happy to help,” Aaron replies, shooting Jon a lopsided grin. “Anything else I can do for you in the meantime?”

Jon takes a moment to think, watching as Martin’s eyes droop closed once again.

Basira. She’ll want to know.

“Actually, yes—is there a phone I can use here?”

“’Course, just take a right down the hall. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

Aaron stands from his stool then, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“No trouble! Isla—Martin’s nurse—will be around to get all that stuff to you. I’m just a shout away if you need me, alright?”

“Right. Thank you, Aaron.”

He dims the lights as he exits, closing the door behind him. Turning his attention back to Martin, still drifting into fever-induced slumber, Jon takes up his left hand again, holding it in both of his own. Slowly, nervously, he begins working his fingers over Martin’s palm, clumsily imitating Martin’s well-practiced massage technique. He looks down at his own hands, scowling at the scars peppered across them, faded and pale against the dark of his skin.

My hands are too rough, this is foolish.

He is proven definitively wrong when Martin lets out a soft sigh of contentment, fogging up the mask instantly.

Jon grins from ear to ear and keeps going.

(13:37)

His left knee aches as he walks unevenly toward the hall phone, old injury pulling at him in the wake of half-carrying Martin to the car that morning.

Should have brought my brace.

Martin has been sleeping on and off for the past few hours, rousing only to cough or smile pleasantly at Isla when she comes by to tend to him. He’s been set up with IV fluids and fever reducers since noon, and his first dose of antibiotics went down with little issue. Left only with the prospect of waiting to see what happens, Jon finally feels comfortable enough to leave a sleeping Martin in the room for a while to call Basira, grab some coffee, find a bite to eat, and—

No, you will NOT smoke today. Not an option.

Reaching the phone, Jon hesitates for a moment, mulling over what to say before finally dialing Basira’s number. She lets it ring out a few times before picking up brusquely.

“Hussain speaking.”

“Basira? It’s Jon.”

“Jon? I don’t recognize this number. Where are you? What’s going on?” she asks rapidly, voice ticking up in concern.

“I’m calling from the village clinic. You said to call if Martin got worse, and…well, he has.”

“Shit. What happened? Is he alright?”

Jon sighs exhaustedly, running a hand through his hair. He can’t quite keep his voice from shaking.

“I’m…not sure, yet. They’re keeping him under observation for the rest of the day to see if he needs to go to the hospital.”

“Jesus.”

“He was running a fever of nearly 40 this morning and sounded like…well, like he couldn’t breathe, so I took him here for help. Apparently he’s got pneumonia. He’s fallen asleep, so…I thought I’d call to let you know.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“Y…yeah.”

Jon’s voice breaks roughly.

“How are you holding up?” she asks, in what might be the gentlest tone Jon has ever heard from her.

A lump forms immediately in his throat, making his eyes sting and his vision swim at the edges.

Pull it together, come on.

Tipping his head back for a moment, he blinks away the tears and takes a damp, shuddering breath that must have been audible on the other end.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” she soothes, her voice nearly a whisper.

Jon clutches at the receiver, as if it will somehow bring her closer.

“I-I’m fine, Basira. Just…just tired. And worried,” he says, voice thick.

“And hungry?”

“…yes.”

She sighs at this, pulling her phone away from her face for a moment. Jon braces for her tone to be harsh upon her return, but to his relief, it remains decidedly softened— understanding, even.

“The statements should be there by tomorrow. So there’s something good, at least.”

“R-right. Something good.”

Silence falls for a moment before Basira continues, her voice returning to her usual matter-of-fact register.

“He’s going to be alright, Jon. Even if he does have to go to the hospital. He’ll recover, and then you can get back to your usual hopeless pining.”

At this, Jon can’t resist huffing out a laugh.

“Well…it’s not so hopeless anymore, actually.”

She gasps in shock.

“You’re joking! You actually went for it, then?”

“Not-not exactly, it just sort of…happened. I don’t know exactly how, but—yeah. It’s…good. Really good, actually,” he stammers, unable to keep his smile from bleeding into his tone.

“God, listen to you. You’re like an enamored schoolboy,” she replies fondly.

Jon sputters in mock-indignation, pulling a hearty laugh from Basira.

“Well, I’m happy for you both. You deserve something lovely, for once.”

“So do you, Basira,” Jon replies softly.

“…thanks.”

They allow the silence hang for a moment. Basira then exhales sharply before continuing.

“Well, enough of the mushy shit. Let me know what the doctors say, alright? And tell Martin I hope he feels better soon.”

“I will. Call you later, then.”

“You’d better.”

She hangs up on him, as always.

(14:43)

Half-empty coffee and a bagel in hand, Jon walks back to Martin’s room from where he had been standing outside, fiddling with an unlit cigarette for the better part of an hour. It had taken everything in him, but he had managed not to light it, instead walking back through the clinic doors and deciding to snag some food on the way back to the room. He cannot help the guilt welling up inside—for his struggle, for the way his hands are shaking, for bringing the cigarettes with him in the first place—

He opens the door to see Martin smiling back at him, and it all fades away.

Cheeks flushed and face pale, Martin is half-sitting in up in bed now, the heat no longer rolling off him with such vicious intensity as before. His oxygen mask has now been replaced with a nasal cannula, allowing Jon a clear picture of the sunny smile Martin offers so freely.

Something warm tugs at Jon’s heart, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s got an upgrade,” he says lightly, stepping toward the bedside.

Martin’s own smile widens at this, and he reaches out for Jon’s hand as he sets his coffee and bagel on a nearby table. Scooting his chair closer before sitting, Jon gently takes Martin’s hand in both of his own, closing his eyes and lowering his lips to the back of Martin’s palm.

3̙̩8͖̓͊.̘̹̎7͖̏.͙

At last.

Jon smiles against Martin’s hand for a moment before looking back up.

“Your temperature’s down,” he says, trying not to sound as dizzy with relief as he feels.

Martin nods quickly before clearing his throat, causing something to catch in his chest. Turning away at once, he presses his face into his elbow as heavy-sounding coughing erupts from him, causing Jon’s brows to knit closer together in worry with every moment that passes. Mercifully, the coughs fade away after about fifteen seconds. Martin flops back gracelessly against the pillows, panting and exhausted.

And still smiling.

“Lucky to have you,” he rasps, lifting a hand to Jon’s cheek.

Jon leans closer, expression lightening, and brings up a hand to press against Martin’s palm where it rests.

“Lucky to have you,” he whispers, gazing intensely into the warm hazel of Martin’s eyes.

They remain like this for several seconds, neither wanting to violate the sanctity of this moment. Martin then inhales sharply, mouth open to say something—before snapping it shut again, looking suddenly nervous. Jon’s brows furrow instinctively.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, head tilting to the side of Martin’s palm.

The corners of Martin’s mouth curl up at the term of endearment, pulling a deep flush to his cheeks and ears. Looking up again, he determinedly matches the intensity of Jon’s gaze.

“I…I love, you, Jon.”

He inhales more confidence.

“I love you. Just…so much.”

Every nerve in Jon’s body is on fire. Vacantly, he knows that his mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide, his face flushing with heat—but for a moment, he cannot move, nor breathe, nor speak.

Martin LOVES me.

Martin loves ME.

At last, he regains some measure of control, managing to keep hold of Martin’s left hand while shifting his weight to sit on the edge of his bed. Reaching out his other toward his face, he cups Martin’s cheek with a still-shaking hand. Their faces are just inches apart now, hovering, begging to be pressed together.

“I love you too, Martin Blackwood. More than…more than I know how to say.”

Martin smiles then, wide and charming, before craning his neck up to brush his lips against Jon’s, questioning.

“Say it like this, then?” he whispers.

“Gladly.”

Their lips meet in a gentle blush of a thing, hesitant and brief, before deepening into a warm, unhurried kiss. Martin’s hands move into Jon’s hair as they find the perfect rhythm, gentle and passionate and utterly their own. When he manages to pull small noises of pleasure from Martin, Jon grins against his lips in pride before pulling him back in for more.

After nearly a minute, Martin urgently pushes back against Jon’s chest. Immediately breaking contact, Jon pushes himself away frantically, careful not to touch him, panicked at the thought that he’d done something wrong.

“M-Martin, I’m so sorry, what ha—”

He is cut off as Martin pitches forward violently, coughing deeper than Jon has ever heard—as thick grey fog pours from his mouth, his eyes, his nostrils.

“God, Martin, here, here—”

Jon braces him by the shoulders as he leans forward, chest rumbling in desperation to clear the way for oxygen. Guilt floods Jon as he feels the force of Martin’s convulsions beneath his hands.

Why did you kiss him? Damn it damn it damn it

Dense fog is filling the room now, and Jon is struck with terror at the thought of anyone entering the room to see this. The tendrils have nearly reached the door, could snake beneath it at any moment—

Tͮ̀h̥ͫ̎̂ë̗̹̯̜y̬͔͖̝̅̇ͧ ̯͙͈͖͙̈́͛̚w̮̺̻̜̔̈́ͬͩͮi̙̠̙͍̤̒ͩ̂̽l̺̣̣͕̩̥̟̈́̔ͨl̯̺̩̳̰͂̍̉̈́͌ ̼̼̬̟̞̘̏̈́̌͑ñ̩̞̲̯̤̅̉ͮo͓̝̠͌ͤ͊͗̿ͤṭ̯͂̈ͥͧ̂͆ ̳̦̣̃ͬ͒c͓ͥ̍͛̃o̔ͪ̈́m̓ͮe.

Jon pays for this knowledge with pain, every Mark on his body throbbing furiously.

Breathe it in, and let it go.

Breathe, let go.

Focus.

At long last, Martin’s hacking subsides, leaving him utterly spent and hunched forward on the bed. Jon begins rubbing slow circles on his back with aching hands, calming him as he finally manages to regain his breath. After a few moments, Jon gently guides him to lie back against the pillows. Tears leak out of the corners of Martin’s eyes as he does so, and Jon’s heart clenches briefly with sympathy before Martin begins to laugh, a toothy grin spreading across his face.

“Wh…what is it, Martin?” he asks, confused.

“I think…I think that was the last of it, Jon,” he says, voice wobbling.

Jon inhales sharply, taking Martin’s hand.

“What? Really?”

“Y-yeah, really. I can feel it, I…I think it’s really gone. I’m not…I’m not Lonely, anymore.”

More tears spill over Martin’s cheeks as he resumes his weak laughter. His own eyes brimming, threatening to cascade over a growing smile, Jon cups Martin’s face in his hands, wiping gently at his tears with his thumbs. He then moves upwards, stroking a hand through Martin’s soft curls, watching as the last remaining bits of the fog dissipate forever.

A few minutes later, Martin smiles up at him, playfully swatting at his forearm.

“Let’s not do that again until I can breathe properly, though.”

At this, Jon laughs in earnest, before pressing his lips tenderly against Martin’s forehead.

I love him I love him I love him I love him

And he loves me.

He loves me.

#tma #tma fic #tma sickfic #jonmartin #tw illness #tw addiction #time for Peak Softness (TM)#my writing

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bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

Careful Fear and Dead Devotion

To: @happyzimm

From: @doggernaut /RabbitRunnah

Rating: T, for mentions of alcohol.

Relationship: Jack Zimmermann/Eric Bittle

Characters: Jack Zimmermann, Eric Bittle, Bad Bob Zimmermann, Kent Parson, original child character

Tags: Jack Zimmermann, Zimbits, Jack Zimmermann character study

Happy Valentine’s Day, @happyzimm! I hope you enjoy this little Jack Zimmermann character study. I tried to incorporate some of the other things you asked for as well.

Jack Zimmermann is five years old, and his feet don’t touch the ground.

He’s sitting in a hard, plastic chair at a table for two while Papa waits in line to order doughnuts. There are two Papas in this doughnut shop — the one standing in line, and the one on the poster behind the counter.

The Papa in line is wearing his home clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, running shoes. The Papa on the wall is wearing work clothes — his Pens jersey but not his helmet — and holding a doughnut decorated with black and yellow sprinkles.

Even though the real Papa’s back is turned to him, it feels like he’s watching Jack.

When Maman takes him to get doughnuts after his swim lesson she always takes him to the shop across the street from the rec center, the one with yellow tables and the smiling man behind the counter who always hands Jack his chocolate old-fashioned doughnut and cinnamon sugar doughnut hole before he orders. The one that does not have a picture of Papa on the wall.

But Maman is working in California — Jack has never been to California, but he knows it’s a place people go to work, because Papa goes there too — so Papa had to take Jack to his swim lesson today. Papa doesn’t know Maman always takes Jack to the other doughnut shop, and when he told Papa this is the wrong one it was too late. They were already here.

The boy behind the counter is much younger than the man who works at the other doughnut shop. He must be friends with Papa because he greets him by name and talks to him longer than he talked to the other people in line. Papa knows a lot of people.

“Told you that wouldn’t take long, Jacky.” Papa sets a sprinkle doughnut with white icing on a paper napkin in front of Jack and opens his chocolate milk for him.

Jack frowns and picks at the black and yellow sprinkles on the doughnut. He doesn’t like the colors, or the way they feel in his teeth when he chews them.

“What’s wrong?” Papa asks. “Not hungry?”

Jack is hungry. He’s always hungry after his swim lesson. He picks off a teeny tiny piece of doughnut — a part that isn’t touching white icing or colored sprinkles — and sticks it in his mouth. He eats the entire cake part of the doughnut this way while Papa eats his maple bar and an apple fritter. When he’s finished, all that’s left is a ring of sticky icing and sprinkles.

“All finished?” Papa asks when he notices Jack is no longer eating. “Do you want another?”

Jack thinks. It would be rude to ask for another doughnut, but Papa is offering. “Can I have chocolate?” he asks.

“Hey, Paulie!” Papa’s voice is loud in the mostly-empty shop as he waves to get the attention of the guy behind the counter. “Can I get a chocolate doughnut for my boy?”

Paulie comes around to their table and hands the doughnut to Jack. Jack whispers a “thank you” as Papa hands Paulie some money and tells him to “keep the change.” He winks and smiles, and it’s the same smile as the Papa on the poster behind the counter.

Jack takes a bite of the new doughnut and chews. The chocolate is rich and sweet. He takes another bite and swings his legs as Papa smiles at him.

ii.

Jack is 18, and he is so close to having it all.

“Drink up!”

The bottle Kent presses into Jack’s hand is cold and smooth except for the label, damp and wrinkled from condensation. Jack doesn’t like these parties and he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol. It burns on the way down and tastes like spite, a bitter, caustic thing that burns inside of him whenever Papa offhandedly remarks that Kent just might go first. Jack doesn’t like the way that feels, or the way he feels for feeling that way. But he likes the way he feels after a few beers, the way it makes him loose and brave. Kent says it makes him more fun. So Jack takes a pull of his beer and grimaces, quickly twisting his mouth into a smile when he catches Kent glancing his way.

One beer makes Jack loose enough that his smile comes more easily.

Two beers and the world starts to shimmer around the edges, suffusing everything with a nice haze that makes him feel buoyant and bold. When he’s on the ice he feels loose and free, not heavy and grounded the way he feels as soon as he removes his skates. On the ice he does the right things and the words come easily; people smile and cheer his name. Two beers in and Jack feels closer to the way he feels on the ice, his ever-present anxiety and self-consciousness fading into something palatable.

Three beers is the magic number. He can laugh at jokes made at his expense about that shot he missed and flirt with the girls who somehow always know where the team is partying. With three beers in him, Jack’s hand can find Kent’s in the dark and he doesn’t worry that he’s not really this brave. He doesn’t worry about any of it.

“Zimms! There’s girls here!” Rusty, yelling from the other side of the room, is anything but subtle. Though these girls, with their loud, exaggerated laughter, don’t seem like they value subtlety anyway. One of them catches his eye, a small blonde who doesn’t look away when Jack catches her staring.

Jack runs his thumb back and forth over the smooth label, wearing away a patch in the center. Bits of paper bead up and cling to it, turn gritty under his thumb. When he tries to brush them away they just stick to him.

“Awww, is Zimms gonna score again? Score on the ice, score off the ice, is that how it works?”

“Shut up.” Jack elbows Kent.

“Make me.”

Jack swallows hard, suddenly remembering exactly what he did to make Kent shut up last night, and the night before. He can’t do this right now. He shouldn’t do this ever. The one thing that matters, the only thing that matters, according to Jack’s father, is THE DRAFT.

That’s how he thinks of it, in all caps.

Tonight when Jack counted out his pills, there were seven missing. He doesn’t know how it happened. He’s good with numbers, at knowing the score at all times. He remembers the shots he made and the shots he missed, keeps a running tally in his head. He memorizes stats. Not just his, but those of every first round draft pick of the last five years, and those of every guy who has even been mentioned as a first round pick this year. He is constantly calculating his odds.

Jack is good with numbers. How has he lost track of the pills he’s taken?

Somebody pries the beer bottle, now warm, from Jack’s hand and replaces it with a new one. Jack didn’t even realize he’d finished the first. Jack takes another drink.

He is so close to having it all, and he is so close to losing it all.

*****

iii

Jack is 24, and when he swiftly pays for Bittle’s coffee, telling his teammate he’s “good for it,” he realizes he is. It’s not just that he can afford it because he’s about to sign an NHL contract. It’s also because Bittle is his friend, and Jack enjoys doing nice things for his friends.

Somehow, and Jack still cannot explain how though he suspects it has a bit to do with Bittle’s own grit and generosity, Bittle has become one of Jack’s best friends.

Checking practice, a morning workout that it turns out they both needed, isn’t really necessary anymore. These days, the early ice time with Bittle is just an excuse for an extra workout. Sometimes they even goof off more than they practice, a concept Jack would have found sacrilegious a year ago. They race each other around the rink, skating faster and faster until their breath comes in aching gasps. Or Bittle will pull out a jump, tentative and imprecise. “I know it’s not impressive,” Bittle says self-deprecatingly, “but just imagine if I had my figure skates.”

Bittle is wrong. Jack is very impressed. Somehow those words catch in his throat when he tries to voice them so he just nods.

Afterward, they get coffee. Jack drinks his black and bitter. “Like your soul,” Bittle once joked. Jack used to think that was true, but now he thinks that maybe he’s softened. More and more, he feels the way Bittle’s milky latte looks: lighter, cooler, sweeter.

Jack takes a sip of Bittle’s latte by accident and ... it’s not unpleasant. There’s an underlying smoky sweetness Jack’s own black coffee is missing, a richness that makes him yearn for a second sip before he hands it back. It’s not the worst thing.

“Good?” Bittle asks, eager and expectant, like Jack’s answer will reveal the secrets of the universe.

“It’s not disappointing,” Jack concedes.

“Well, for five dollars I should think not!” Bittle scoffs as they head back out into the cold.

Bittle wears gloves in 40 degrees and pulls his toque down low over his ears, and sometimes Jack catches himself wondering what it would be like if he could provide that warmth. He decides, when Bitty gives him a friendly hip check, that maybe he’s getting there.

*****

Jack is still 24, and he’s in what his boyfriend just called “Southern-Fried Hell.”

Okay, not really. Objectively, Bitty’s MooMaw’s place isn’t bad at all. It’s the fact that he’s here, sweating profusely and trying to politely choke down a plate of terrible coleslaw, while every single Bittle and Phelps in the state of Georgia attempts to engage in polite conversation when all he wants to do is find a private corner where he can make out with Bitty.

Jack doesn’t even like coleslaw. It’s slimy and stringy and this particular coleslaw is oddly sweet yet somehow bitter and acidic at the same time. There’s pepper in it? Pepper, and something gritty that might be sugar or possibly dirt. Jack hopes it’s sugar.

From the other side of the yard, Bitty catches his eye and hides a smile behind a slice of watermelon as Jack explains his upcoming training schedule to some uncle or cousin or neighbor. He’s been introduced to so many people today, and it’s exhausting. Jack genuinely wants to get to know Bitty’s family, but he also wants Bitty, and only one of those things is possible at the moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bitty laughs as he cards his fingers through Jack’s hair later that night. “You did not have to eat Aunt Connie’s coleslaw. Bless her heart, she tries, but we all stopped pretending we liked it years ago.”

“I wanted to be polite,” Jack says. “Make a good first impression. My parents always made me try a little of everything at their parties.”

Bitty’s face does something complicated, a look equal parts pity and irritation. “Jack. I promise you nobody in this family is gonna think less of you because you don’t eat Aunt Connie’s coleslaw, or Uncle Hank’s ribs, or Judy’s potato salad. I’m not gonna think less of you. It’s enough that you’re here.”

Bitty presses a little closer to Jack, and Jack’s body registers every point of skin-on-skin contact: elbows, hands, thighs, calves. Bitty’s bare foot where it tangles with Jack’s. It feels like there’s an electric current running through each point, vibrating at a frequency only they can feel.

Or it could just be the humidity. Georgia in July is really fucking humid.

Overhead, the fireworks show is starting, far enough away that they can see but not hear the spectacle.

“Promise me,” Bitty says, corners of his mouth quirking upward, “that next year you’ll skip the coleslaw.”

It should feel scary, to make that promise when this is still so new, but Jack can clearly see the years spooling out ahead of them, years of avoiding Aunt Connie’s coleslaw and making small talk with the strangers he met today until they’re no longer strangers.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bitty sighs happily and rests his head on Jack’s chest, a pleasant weight that reminds Jack of everything he’s found since the day he lost it all.

*****

Jack is 36, and some days he feels every day of it. His shoulders and knees ache more often than not, especially when a four-year old is perched on top of those aching shoulders. When they walk into Bitty’s shop he gently lifts Evie from his shoulders and sets her down in front of the bakery case so she can look at the day’s treats.

“Chocolate old-fashioned?” Bitty’s sliding the doughnut across the counter before Jack orders. He knows his husband. Never once, in all the time he’s owned this shop, has Jack ordered one of the novelty doughnuts he keeps on the menu even though there’s nothing really “novelty” about Skittles or Hot Cheetos on top of a doughnut these days. They’re a holdover from the previous owner, who made his name creating Instagrammable confections. Bitty’s taken his original recipes in a different direction, experimenting with natural food dyes and delicate floral infusions. His creations have gotten some attention in local foodie circles, but most people come in for the classics.

Jack still doesn’t eat sprinkle doughnuts. The sprinkles, even the organic ones Bitty uses, still stick in his teeth and make them feel funny. But Evie loves sprinkle doughnuts. She especially loves it when her daddy hands one to her and takes a break to sit with them while she eats it.

“How was your swim lesson, sweetheart?” Bitty asks, a soft sigh escaping as he sits for what is probably the first time all morning. Jack listens to the two chatter happily as he picks at his own doughnut, chewing slowly.

Jack remembers sitting in a shop like this with his own mother, and — occasionally — his father. He and Maman would stop at the doughnut shop across from his swim lesson for “a little treat,” as she liked to call it. They always went to that one instead of the chain shop Papa had an endorsement deal with; it was a long time before Jack realized Maman intentionally chose the smaller shop because of its anonymity.

“That’s Papa.” Evie points at the poster on the wall behind Bitty, at a smiling Jack holding a cake doughnut topped with sprinkles, Falcs blue and yellow. After the last Cup Bitty had the idea to recreate the advertisement Bad Bob did years ago, and with time Jack agreed that it could be fun. Somehow, the photographer managed to capture Jack at the exact moment he saw Bitty and Evie walk in. Bitty says it’s the most natural photo Jack has ever taken.

“That is your papa,” Bitty says. “Remember, we took the pictures together and talked about how we were going to put the one of just Papa up here in the shop because his team won the Cup? How does he look?”

Evie take a bite, swallows as she tilts her head and considers the Jack on the wall. Suddenly, he recalls with perfect clarity what it felt like to be four or five and see another version of his father in a public space. The way it made him feel proud and shy and scared for reasons he couldn’t articulate.

“Happy,” Evie finally declares, swinging her legs and beaming up at her fathers. “I think he looks happy.”

#bv2020 #bittyjack #bitty's valentines #omg check please!

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chanbangblog · 4 years

Text

ive only felt religion when ive lied with you- 10

A/N: (smut, Chan x reader, Canon compliant, fan/idol)

You fell down on the bed in your room and let the impact knock the air out of you as you stared up at the ceiling. You were back in your room, well, yours and Robyn’s room that apparently neither of you had slept in, what a waste of money that had been for Chris to pay for.

You had texted Robyn, but hadn’t gotten a response. You were mildly worried but not too badly yet, you trusted Jisung, you knew she was safe with him. But Minho was pretty drunk when you left the rooftop so you couldn’t imagine what her night had entailed. You were dying to hear about it the more you thought about it, actually.

You needed a distraction, something, anything to get your mind to stop turning at a million miles per minute. You pulled out your phone, avoiding Youtube this time and went to Netflix, you had a couple kdramas pulled up on there but you didn’t want anything close to romantic. So you went to the horror section and picked the first movie you saw.

You rolled over on your stomach and set your phone in front of you, but two minutes into the movie you realized you were not going to be able to focus at all. Your mind was too occupied, and there was one person in every single thought.

“Ughhhhh!” you screamed dramatically, slamming your phone down on the bed.

What is wrong with me? Why did I do this? How can this end well? This is just like the Avengers, over a billion different scenarios and only one where you could win.

But you didn’t even know what winning was anymore.

Okay so I like him, a lot. But what is the goal here? Do I want to date him? Impossible. See him everyday? Impossible. Why is everything so fucking impossible?

You really didn’t want to cry, not again, but your thoughts were threatening to overwhelm you. You wanted to call your mom, or a friend or just anyone and tell them what was going on and ask for advice, but you couldn’t. It made the situation just seemed that much more fucked.

Right when you were on the verge of giving in and having a good cry you heard someone at the door.

Robyn walked in in last night’s clothes as well, looking thoroughly exasperated. She typically only looked like this after you started telling her one of your stories or being particularly annoying, so you decided to wait to ask for advice. You made eye contact with her as she entered the room and smiled.

She froze where she was standing, eyes growing wide, “he’s crazy,” she said simply.

“I’m sorry, who?” you asked.

“Lee Minho, Lee Know, whatever you want to call that yahoo” she said, making hand gestures that had you on the verge of chuckling.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you questioned, quickly becoming amused by this.

“What I mean is, after finishing the alcohol that you and Chris so graciously left for him to drink, he started—�� you cut her off there.

“We didn’t leave him anything though?” you said, confused.

“Are you kidding me?! He said Chris told him to drink your alcohol or it would go to waste!” Robyn exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

You couldn’t help it, you were chuckling at this point, “It sounds like he just needed an excuse to keep drinking because you all were trying to cut him off.” You speculated, as it seemed to click in Robyn’s mind.

“The audacity of that man! The nerve! I cannot wait to tell Jisung this!” She said, moving to sit on the bed in a huff.

“Okay so keep going,” you urged her, “why are you so pissed?” You were really invested in this story now.

“Why am I so pissed? Why? Okay, let’s start with the fact that he started a hand stand competition on the roof to see how far each of them could walk on their hands. On concrete! While they were drunk! It was an injury waiting to happen! Then he decided to organize a wrestling tournament with the maknae line, drew a bracket and everything!” you were laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes at this point, just the mental image you were getting from this was hilarious.

“By the time we got him inside and to his room it was 2 in the morning. We put him in bed but every time we would go to leave he would follow us and try to go with us. So we just let him come with us to Jisung’s room because we couldn’t trust him not to wander about the hotel.” She explained, and tears really were falling now, “So we tried to put him in bed in Jisung’s room but he kept saying he wanted to party. He went to the bathroom and me and Jisung were trying to plan how to get him to go to sleep when we heard a crash. We go in the bathroom and Minho had fallen in the floor and was laughing and was covered in shaving cream, he had written ‘lee know #1 rapper’ on the mirror in shaving cream!”

“No! No he did not!” you cried out between bits of laughter, this was the best story you had ever heard.

“Oh yes, I assure you, he did.” Robyn said, looking so unamused, “So we took his shirt off to try to clean him up and he ran down the hall and to the maknae’s room shirtless! And brought them back to our room to do karaoke! They were singing Day6 and GOT7 songs until 3am!”

“Oh my god Robyn, I’m dying, so then did you get him to go to sleep?” you asked, still cracking up laughing at the mental image of drunk Minho tormenting Robyn and Jisung.

“Well, we got some clean clothes on him and tried to get him to go back to his room but he said he wanted to stay with me and Jisung, I was so tired at that point, I just didn’t care. I tried to sleep on the couch but he said he would cry if I didn’t sleep in the bed. So I tried to sleep by Jisung but he said he wanted to sleep in the middle, so I got on the other side and he grabbed me and Jisung and hugged both of us to his sides, said we were in a ‘cuddle puddle’ and passed out.” Robyn finally finished.

“That is…the best story I have ever heard.” You said, laugher coming to an end, thankfully because your abs were starting to hurt.

“Yeah, try living it, he’s like the Tasmanian devil.” Robyn said, waving you off.

“But you stayed and took care of him, that must mean you care,” you said winking at her.

She huffed and crossed her arms, “Of course I care about the little psychopath but I told him, next time me and Jisung are the ones getting drunk and he can take care of us!”

“And what did he say?” you pressed.

“He said okay and that he would,” she added slowly, “and then he went and got me a coffee and served it to me in bed.”

She was blushing, and you were eating this up.

***

Going to a concert after sleeping with Chris was weirder than you thought it would be.

And you already thought it was going to be pretty fucking weird.

You and Robyn spent the day taking a much needed nap and then getting ready for the concert. Chris had sent your tickets to your phone and somehow you weren’t surprised when you arrived to the venue and found out they were P1 tickets.

“Shit this means we get group photo with them,” Robyn had mused.

“That’s sure to be a good time.” You smirked back.

Watching Chris, well all of them really, on stage after being so close with them was so weird. It was similar to the feeling you had at the airport. The feeling of being totally in over your head.

Watching his body rolls, the beads of sweat running down his face, the way his arm and leg muscles clenched. It just had your mind racing back to the times he did this in your most intimate moments. It was a whole new experience, one that left your head swimming.

Hearing him talk to his fans, telling them how much he meant to them, how Stay is his everything, pretty much had you gushing. It was like seeing your partner hold a baby for the first, it pretty much made your heart explode and you melt into a puddle. Because you knew everything he was saying was true, he meant every word, he had such a beautiful heart.

And all of it could be ripped away because of what he was doing with you.

The thought turned your stomach.

The concert, as always, was over too soon and you were corralled like a herd of cattle with other fans into a line for group photo.

“I wonder if they expected us to actually do this part,” you whispered to Robyn.

“Well shit I’m doing it, it’ll be fun,” Robyn whispered back, grabbing your hand reassuringly.

“But won’t it be kind of awkward?” you asked.

“I mean, it would be, but that’s why we make it funny.” She said, smiling.

You liked where she was going with this.

You walked in and there were ten chairs lined up in front of the nine members. Chris was on the far end of the room and his eyes lit up and he started laughing when he saw you. You speed walked over to him, trying not to draw attention to him. The staff was rushing everyone to sit down as you reached him.

Once again you felt that confidence you had felt at the first concert with his eyes on you.

“OMG! Bang Chan! I can’t believe I’m meeting you!” you said as you took your seat, “Can we do a hand heart?!” you moved your hand behind you so you could make half a heart. Chris was so busy laughing at your antics he barely got a word in.

“Yeah no problem,” he said, just before the camera went off he raised his hand to complete the heart. “It was nice to meet you” he said, eyes full of laughter.

“You too,” you said, while being shooed away by staff and you, somehow by an act of god, bit your lip. He saw it and you swore his eyes darkened.

Tonight will be fun.

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fics #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan fic #skz smut #skz fics

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fan-imagines · 5 years

Text

Mark Sloan ~ Said Yes

MASTERLIST

Mark Sloan x NeutralReader

Synopsis - You are doing a surgery on a man and he asks to speak to you alone. He kisses you against your will and Mark steps in to help.

Word Count - 1.9k+

**Warnings** man forcing himself on reader

***Please don’t read if sensitive***

“Dr. Karev, go ahead.” I say. I look at the patient that we are treating. I’m an attending In plastics like Dr. Sloan, and we are working on a patient together.

“John Christian. Thirty-seven years old. He wants to have a forehead lift, a chest tightening and a hairline correction surgery. He has currently been having Botox for two years.” I nod at him, and thank him. He hands me the chart.

“So, Dr. Y/l/n and I were thinking we could do the surgeries simultaneously, and get it done quicker. Would that be okay for you?” Sloan asks Mr. Christian. Mr. Christian looks at me and smiles. I take as him being nice, so I smile back.

“As long as Dr. Y/l/n will be in there, I’ll do anything. The more time I get to spend with her, the better.”

“I will be in there.” I smile.

“Good. Go ahead.”

“Great. Karev, start prepping him for the surgery. I will be back in a second to finish after I check on Ms. Magnolia.”

“Of course.” He replies. I smile at the patient once again, before I leave the room. I hand a nurse the chart before I turn around. I run into strong chest, and I look up to see Mark.

“Hello, Mark. You’re kind of in my bubble.” I chuckle.

“Ha, sorry. Um, that patient was a little weird, huh?” He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“He was just nice.” I dismiss him, and start to walk to Ms. Magnolia’s room. Mark follows me.

“That was not nice. That was flirting.” He looks at me.

“Well, I’m not surprised. I’m hot.” I smirk and walk into my patients room. I turn to see Mark, laughing before he walks away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I finish taking care of Ms. Magnolia, and head back to Mr. Christian. I open his door, and he smiles when he sees me.

“Hello, Y/n.” I chuckle at him using my first name.

“Hello, John.” I go over to his arm, and check the IV that Karev put in. John watches me the entire time, and I keep glancing back at him. I take out the IV; he doesn’t need anymore of the medication we’ve given to him, so he doesn’t need the needle.

“How long until my surgery?” He asks me.

“An hour or so. By then the meds we gave you should kick in, and it’ll numb your face before we put you under to operate. The surgery will take two to three hours. Dr. Sloan and Karev will do your hair fix and the face lift. I will do your chest tightening while they are doing the first things. They will finish before I do, and they will help me afterwards.” I place the needle onto a moving cart, and push it to the other side of the bed.

“Okay. Um, I have a personal question I need to ask you, and I was wondering if you could close the door so I could ask you in more confidentiality?”

“Yes, of course.” I get up and walk over to the door and close it. I go back to him, and sit on the side of the bed farthest away from the door. He moves from the bed, and his legs hang over the bed.

“I wanted to know if I had a chance with you after this surgery?” He asks me, somewhat shy. I sigh and think of the words I can use to let him down softly.

“With my job, and you being a patient, I cannot date you. It’s not an explicitly stated restriction with the job, and it’s not you, it’s just that I personally don’t want to mix patient life with my personal life. I’m sorry.” I lightly smile, thinking I did a pretty good job and diffusing the situation with water, and not oil. He stands, and so do I.

“Okay. I get that. But it would have been so, so much easier if you said yes.” I look at him confused, and the next thing I know, I’m pushed up against the wall. I gasp, and I guess that he assumed I was going to yell, so he covers my mouth with his hand. This freaks me out, and makes me want to scream. My eyes widen, and I feel one his hands push my stomach to the wall, and hold me there. I look to the door, as If I can make someone appear by looking at it. He kisses me on my neck, and I try to push him off. He move his hand from my stomach, and grabs one of my arms. Tears spill out of my eyes, terrified. I look around for anything that can help me, and I see the moving cart next to the bed. I move my leg out from under his and kick it. It falls over, and makes a loud crashing sound. John looks at me, then the door. No one comes, and He smirks before kissing me again.

Two minutes go by, but It feels like forever and a minute. I squeeze my eyes shut, just waiting for all of this to be over. My eyes shoot back open when I hear the door being opened. I sigh when I see Mark. I see his eyes change from normal to furious. I see him look at John, John holding me against the wall, the knocked over cart, me, and my terrified face. For some reason, John doesn’t seem to hear him. Mark runs over to John, and pulls him off me. I breathe raggedly, and fix my shirt that was slowly lifted up. Mark lifts John up from the ground by his collar with one hand, and punches him with the other.

“Mark! Stop!” I shout at him. This man is no reason to lose your job over. He doesn’t listen to me, and punches him again.

“He deserves it!” I look up and see a few people looking into the room.

“No, Mark!” John suddenly gets strength and pushes Mark. He falls and hits his head on the cart. I see blood coming from his cheek, but he ignores it. Mark quickly gets up and they wrestle each other. I get closer to them, and start pulling John away from Mark. He throws his elbow back, and it hits me in my cheek. I fall to the ground and I press on it to stop the stinging.

“You ———-!” Mark lunges again at John. I look at the door and see Derek and Hunt running Into the room. I sigh, glad to see them. Hunt Is stronger than Derek, so Hunt pulls off Mark, and Derek pulls off John.

“What the heck is going on here?” Hunt shouts. I continue crying and look at Mark.

“Nothing. I was just thanking Y/n for the surgery early.” John says. Mark lunges at him again, but Hunt stops him.

“You know that is not what you were doing.” He spits. Derek looks at me, and realizes what was going on.

“Nurse, get security in here!” Derek shouts, and pushes John into a corner, just in case he tries to leave.

“Are you okay?” Hunt asks me. I swallow, and nod, even though I don’t feel okay. The security comes in and they take John out of the room. I finally feel like I can breathe with him not being In the room. Hunt and Shepherd get paged, so they leave the room. I grab a suture kit from the supplies we have in the room and I tell Mark to sit down.

“Y/n, I don’t need you to do this. I can do it. You should take it easy.” He says. I shake my head at him.

“No. I need to do this. I know you can, just let me.” I plead to him. He must hear and see the desperation, so he sits on the bed. I grab a stick wrapped in guaze and covered in antiseptic to wipe his head and disinfect the area. I grab his chin and he lightly rolls his eyes and sighs, but i focus on wiping the wound. ^^^

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asks once I start to stitch him.

“I, um, I came in and he asked about the procedure. I told him about it, how we would all be working at the same time. He wanted me to close the door so he could ask me a personal question with less exposure. That was so stupid of me.”

“Hey, no. You don’t get to call yourself stupid for what he did. You didn’t know, and you obviously didn’t want that. You shouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that in your life. Let alone, your own work place.” I lightly smile and nod. He smiles back, and I continue.

“I closed the door and sat next to his bed. He asked me if there was a chance I would be with him after the surgery. I politely told him no because I didn’t want to date a patient. I wasn’t mean, I wasn’t malicious. He stood up and I did as well. He said something like it would have been easier if I said yes. The next thing I knew, i was up against the wall, and he, he uhh, he.” He stops me and my shaking hands.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.” I put some guaze on his face, and hold it in place with tape.

“You came in at the right time.”

“ I heard the clatter, but didn’t think anything of it. Then I thought it was weird when I didn’t hear anything else. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. I didn’t know that was a signal for help.” He looks down as if in shame for not getting there quick enough, when he did.

“I‘m not mad. Like i said, you came at the right time. And not saying he didn’t deserve It, but why did you beat him up. I mean, you got hurt. You could have lost your job over someone as irrelevant as him.” I sit down on the bed next to him.

“Y/n. Come on. I’m not just going to sit down and let this guy harass someone and not do anything about it. Especially if that someone is you. You don’t deserve that. I know I’m not a great guy, but I know when someone I love needs defending, and this was one of those times.” I look up to what he’s saying, and I think he only realizes what he said when I look at him.

“You love me?” I ask him. I’ve always had a crush on him, but when I found out he was dating Lexie, I pushed it down.

“I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.” He gets up to leave, but I stand too and grab his arm. He looks at me, about to apologize again, but I pull him to me. I kiss him, and he kisses me back after two seconds of shock. It wasn’t what I would have expected from Mark Sloan. He is gentle and slow. I feel him pull away.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, now feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I just think you should have some time to recover after what happened.” I smile and nod.

“Thank you.” He kisses me on the cheek, and we leave the patient’s room.

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shannonwhumps · 5 years

Note

for the whump dialogue thing: either 4, 19, or 20! it’s up to you.

I’m gonna try and add them all together!!!!4: “I’m going to break your hand now. Please do try and keep the noise down.”19: “The pain meds aren’t working! Don’t you hear him?” 20: “Bud, you can’t rest yet. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter doesn’t know how long it’s been. All he know is that he doesn’t remember a life before pain. He remembers breaking his collarbone, 2 ribs, and femur all on one night of patrolling and compared to this, that felt like nothing.

This man, holding him in this dark basement for only God knows why, has hurt him in so many different ways, Peter can’t even start to compile a list of injuries. So much hurts that nothing truly hurts anymore. It hurts so much, it’s numb in the worst way.

He doesn’t even know if he’s screaming anymore. His throat is too torn up to handle even a whisper. He must scream though because the man picks up his hand in his and holds it gently. His voice isn’t as gentle as his touch, but he’s not exactly soft-spoken either. “I’m going to break your hand now. Please do try to keep the noise down. Your constant screaming gives me such a headache.”

Peter would let out a sob at the warning earlier in his captivity, but now, a broken hand is nothing. It’ll probably just tickle--.

“Break his hand and I’ll break your fucking neck.”

That voice...that voice is familiar. It makes Peter feel safer than he has in weeks. It’s been a while since he’s heard it. It’s been a while since he believed he’d hear it again.

The man holding him goes still and Peter can see the fear in his eyes as they widen. He turns his head over his shoulder and then Peter can see him. The light shining from behind him outlines him like an angel. His guardian angel.

“Stark--?” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Tony is punching him across the face and he drops to the floor. Even though he doesn’t get up and Peter knows he’s unconscious, it doesn’t make him feel any more relieved. Feeling relieved is just an easy way to let his guard down and let more pain in.

So, even though he was safe and out of danger, he didn’t move. He was never truly safe. Not down here. Not with this man.

Tony barely spares that man on the ground another look as he took a step closer. He reaches a hand out but didn’t stopped just before it came near him as Peter felt his body flinch. Or at least he thinks it flinched. He isn’t sure what his body does anymore. He tries to distance himself from it. It’s easier to deal with the pain that way.

“Pete, it’s me. It’s Tony...” His voice is quiet and not how Peter remembers it. “I’m gonna take you home now.”

Peter lets out a gruntled whine involuntarily. He can’t leave. That’s against the rules and he knows the consequences of not listening. He doesn’t want that lesson repeated. So he stares ahead and blinks.

Tony looks more worried and his eyes are watery. Peter wants to fall into his arms like he’s imagined in every rescue scenario, but now he’s terrified. “Buddy,” he tries again, his voice cracking, “it’s me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Peter lets out a whimper he wishes he could have held back because he only seems even more pathetic. His eyes flicker down to the man unconscious on the floor.

Tony follows his gaze and just like always, he knows exactly what to say when Peter says nothing at all. He turns around to someone behind him (Peter can’t bring himself to focus on who it is) and snaps, “Get this prick out of here and away from the kid. Now!”

Two men come running in and drag the limp body away. Peter waits for the body to disappear and a moment longer to make sure he’s not coming back. He looks around the room, waiting for someone to jump out and prove this is all a trick. Tony really isn’t here. He’s dreaming. It’s a dream. But nothing happens. Tony stays there, looking realer than he ever has and Peter stares. Tony is patient and doesn’t rush him.

Peter fidgets once and lets out another whine, but it’s all his body can do. He hasn’t spoken in...well, Peter’s lost count. He lifts his handcuffed hands towards Tony slowly and still, Tony doesn’t move. He’s waiting. Peter can’t do much with the restraints so he wiggles his fingers beseechingly and then Tony asks, “Can I hold you?”

Peter nods his head, desperately. Tony leans forward and wraps his arms around Peter. He doesn’t care that Peter is filthy with dirt and blood; the man only showered him down with cold water every few days. He pulls Peter in so close to his chest Peter feels like he can’t breathe. But, it’s not like the ‘can’t breathe’ when the man held his head under water. It’s the ‘can’t breathe’ he’s forgot how good it felt just to be...hugged. Just to be touched in a way that caused him no pain.

He fell into his arms and melted into the embrace. Tony holding him so securely, his heart beating against Peter’s ear, the soft words Tony is mumbling to him, the way Tony’s hand finds its way into his curls...it breaks him. It breaks the shell he’s built up and he lets it all go at once. He feels the pain-- he feels every last bit of it and he sobs.

Tony pulls him in closer and his own voice sounds close to breaking. “I’ve got you, Petey. It’s going to be okay.”

Peter knows this. Now that Tony is here, he knows it’s going to be okay. He’s nowhere safer than in Tony’s arms. So he relaxes in his hold and lets his eyes flutter shut after countless sleepless nights.

Tony doesn’t like that idea. “Bud, you can’t rest yet. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter grunts but doesn’t open his eyes. He just wants to sleep.

Tony pulls back and Peter whines at the loss of contact. “You cannot sleep. You need to get checked out.” He looks Peter over and he can only imagine what he looks like...chained up in his boxers, covered in bruises, blood, and welts. It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. He can’t stop the next sob that leaves him. Tony cups his face and Peter leans into the touch. He lets his eyes shut for good this time despite Tony’s voice in his ear telling him to stay awake.

He needs the sleep and he’s safe. So he does.

He wakes up to a burning pain in his leg. Everything hurts. It’s all on fire and it’s too much for him to deal with. But there’s an even worse pressure on his leg. He’s not sure what he did-- he fell asleep. He isn’t supposed to sleep. That’s why the man is punishing him.

Peter tries to hold back the cries. He’s not allowed to make a sound. He bites so hard on his lip, he tastes the blood. He’s been bleeding so much, he’s surprised there’s any left. But there is. And the blood he draws from his fills his mouth with a metallic taste.

He can handle the pain on his leg until the same feeling starts in the other one. Is the man breaking his legs again? But he didn’t try to escape! He stayed still-- he didn’t move!

Something snaps in his leg and he he can’t hold back the scream that rips through his throat. He thrashes before he can remember that he’s not supposed to move when he’s being hurt. He’s supposed to sit through the lesson and take it without complaint. But when one scream comes out, he can’t stop the rest. He only stops when he needs to take in a deep breath.

“The pain meds aren’t working!” He hears a voice shout, sounding angry and scared. “Don’t you hear him?”

“There’s nothing-- we need to reset these bones, Stark! We already knew the meds might not work. It’s chance we had to take.”

Peter cries out, wishing he can beg for them to stop, but that would require talking. He isn’t allowed to do that. So, he cries.

“He’s in pain. Dammit, stop!” The voice is closer.

“I told you you’d need to leave if you got too upset,” the woman warned. “I’ll ask you to leave if you don’t stop.”

There’s another hand on him again. This time holding holding his hand, much more gentle than the other hands breaking his body. It reminds him of they way Tony held him in that dream. It had to be a dream because if he were back home and safe, why would Tony let them continue to hurt him? He wouldn’t.

He hears his voice though. And maybe it’s in his head. Probably because there’s no other way he’d hear it over his screaming. But it brings a sliver of comfort to him. The voice is safe. The voice is home. “You’re okay, Pete. You’re okay. I’m right here and I will never leave. Not again.”

#iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #peter and tony #whump #captivity #mute #torture #broken bones #rescue #conditioning #writing #the-great-escapism

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stephfights · 4 years

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First post...waiting for my fate

You have a lump. Wait, what? My entire life was about to change. But let me back up and tell you what has led me to this point. At 38 years old I have been relatively healthy my whole life. Mean as a snake, country as cornbread and loyal to a fault....that’s me. But not sick. I married my soulmate, Chris, in 2003 and had our son (my angel), Clayton, in 2007. I was a stay at home mom for the first 8 years of Clayton’s life. I then decided it was time for me to get out of the house and I have now been working at Kroger for over 4 years. I have a wonderful family, the BEST friends ever and the most awesome customers anyone could ask for.

In the last couple of years my hair seems to be thinning more that it always has. I am always hot...not warm....HOT! I sweat uncontrollably...mostly from my head/face/neck by just doing simple tasks. I don’t sleep well. I have gained quite a bit of weight that will not go away. And I have more acne now than I ever had in high school! But...I am that person....that person who doesn’t really care for doctors and thinks nothing bad will ever happen to them. I am the strong one. I take care of everyone else. I guess that is what has gotten me to where I am today. I have spent so many years taking care of everyone else that I put myself on the back burner.

Fast forward to May 2019. I wake up with a horrible case of vertigo. Drunk as pet monkey and vomiting I go to the local family physician’s office that I have been going to for 5 years (only for small things like the flu) Of course...there was a new nurse practitioner. This was about the 5th different one in the last 3 years. He started asking me questions about my medical history...and wanted to know why I hadn’t had a well care check up in years. I told him I didn’t have time...and I didn’t really see the point. At this time my husband shows up at the office. He has left work because he thinks his wife, who never gets sick, must be on her last leg. He made me promise before I left that I would come back and have that visit. Then he lectured me about smoking. That’s right, I have been a cigarette smoker for 22 years. I smiled and thanked him and went on my way.

Over the summer Chris starts riding my ass about my promise to the NP to have a well care check up. He then proceeds to tell my best friend, Amber, who also rides my ass. After getting tired of listening to them I finally agree just to get them to shut up!

August 2019. I go for my well care visit. I decide if I’m going to do this I might as well tell him every little thing that I think is “wrong” with me. I have had a large thyroid for many years (thanks Dad) but never had any problems with it. I haven’t had a thyroid ultrasound or blood work in 10 years. He thinks that may be the cause of some of the symptoms I am having. So I agree to do both. The blood work comes back perfectly normal. The ultrasound shows a goiter and 2 small cysts. No big deal really. He didn’t do anything else. He doesn’t do pap smears or breast exams. So I think I am home free! But he wants me to see a specialist. Just to see what they think. I am referred by one of my customers to an Endochronologist at Vanderbilt. Of course I can’t get in until November 4th. I was pissed but what could I do. I wanted to see the best.

November 4th comes. Chris takes off work to go with me. I have to admit...I was SO nervous. I don’t know why. I just don’t like doctors. After self diagnosing on the internet (don’t EVER do that) I was convinced I had a brain tumor. Dr. Craig Sussman comes in and is the nicest man I have ever met. Like Mr. Rogers nice. I was totally at ease. He asked about a million questions and answered any questions I had. He wants to do an exam from the waste up. I’m like okay...whatever floats your boat. So I put on a lovely (enter sarcasm) gown and he comes back in to do a breast and thyroid exam. Right breast...all good. Left breast....he finds a lump. I couldn’t believe it! I made him show me where it was. Then he showed Chris where it was. Damn, it was large! Where did that come from and how did we miss that? Even though I had not been to a female doctor in about 8 years I still did a self breast exam. A lot of times at night while I was laying in bed watching TV. Dr. S then does a thyroid exam but doesn’t really feel anything worrisome. I can tell his worry is about that lump. He wants to schedule a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. Of course...he tells me it is probably a cyst. I still had a super uneasy feeling. My mom has had several breast cysts and I think maybe I have inherited it from her. So I schedule the tests....and wait for 2 weeks until that appointment.

November 18th. I have dreaded this for 2 weeks. I have heard all of the horror stories about how horrible and painful a mammogram is. I do not like pain...in fact...I’m kind of a wuss. I ask Chris what if the scans do show something. But he doesn’t really want to think about that. I am hoping he can come back with me for the tests....of course they will not let him. I am literally shivering with tears in my eyes waiting for my mamm. The tech, Jessica, is so wonderful. She tries to calm my nerves and gets me in position for the first picture. Beep...that’s it? Yep....a mammogram is nothing. I thought they were going to try to squeeze my boobies as flat as a pancake. I knew that wasn’t going to work! But it is literally as easy as an xray. Jessica laughs and we go on and finish all of the scans. You have to have a lot more pictures with a diagnostic mammogram as opposed to a screening mammogram. Then onto the ultrasound. It’s your typical u/s with the sticky gel and them pushing on you with the little flat scope. I watch as she measures and pauses. Then she goes up into my arm pit. I’m thinking hey...I know my boobs are not perky anymore and they ain’t way up there, but I let her do what she’s doing. Trying not focus on the weird position she has me in and the cramp that is developing in my shoulder. She then goes and gets the radiologist. I know something must be up...but maybe it’s just my fat non perky boobs not cooperating. She pushes and pauses, pushes and pauses and they whisper back and forth. Telling me that they are just looking for certain things. After they finally get done...they ask if my husband is with me. They are going to give me my results today. Yippee...I don’t have to wait another flipping week and worry about this! They go get him and put us in a little room and I tell him that it was “easy peasy” and I don’t know why I was so worked up over it. We sit there and laugh about how dumb I was and how crazy I had been leading up to this appointment. Then the radiologist comes in. I swear she must be some kind of angel. Her name is Dr. Sara Harvey. She is sweet, kind and gentle. She sits down, looks me in the eye, and says you do have a mass and it is solid. Solid? Cysts aren’t solid? She continues with you need a biopsy ASAP. Do they biopsy cysts? Nothing is making any sense. I look up at her and ask is it cancer. She says yes...I am 90% sure it is. At this moment my whole world changes. I can’t look at my husband. I can’t look at her. I can only look at the ground and think wow, so this is how I’m going to die. Chris takes over and asks if we can do the biopsy that day. She leaves the room to go see what can be done. As she walks out and the door clicks shut I lose it. I am sobbing uncontrollably. Begging my husband to tell me what I am suppose to do now. He has no words. He just holds me. Dr. Harvey comes back in and says the biopsy can be done at 1:30 that afternoon....or the following Monday. Again, I can’t speak. So Chris tells her we are going to do it that day. I finally find my voice and ask her who would be doing the procedure. She says there are a number of radiologist who can do it. I don’t want them. I want her. I don’t know why but I feel this weird connection with her. She tells me if I want her to do it then she will change her schedule around and do it. We leave the office and have an hour and half to wait before I have to go back for the biopsies. I can’t eat, I can’t think, I can only sit and cry. Chris starts making phone calls. To my dad so he can pick up Clayton from school. To my best friend, who is absolutely beside her self. To my boss, who is not only my boss but a wonderful friend. To my brother, who lives 9 hours away.

That was the shortest hour and a half in my life. As I said before, I do not like pain. But I REALLY do not like needles! I have no tattoos, I refuse to take shots, IV’s send me into a panic attack. But I know I am fixing to have a huge needle suck in my left breast. And again my husband cannot go back with me. I have to do this by myself. I am taken back to a room and the nurse goes over exactly what they are going to do and any complications that could arise after. Dr. Harvey comes in....and wraps me in a big hug. I cry and cry. And she just keeps on hugging me. I lay down on a gurney and they put a warm blanket on me. Dr. Harvey explains that she will tell me every little thing she is doing before she does it. First things first is another ultrasound the see exactly where she wants to start. Then it’s time to numb me up. I have expressed my fear of needles and they both tell me how great I am doing. She says it will be a little bee sting and BAM....that is one big ass bee! I’m not going to lie and tell you that it didn’t hurt....because it did. But it slowly became numb. Then BAM....there’s that damn big ass bee again. She continues over and over until she thinks we are good. Here comes the biopsy needle. Which I learn is a core biopsy so it is a much larger needle. It is so large that she has to cut a slit in my breast with a scalpel to insert it. She puts it in and it doesn’t really hurt. It doesn’t feel good but it is tolerable. She tells me I will hear a click....CLICK....she’s got it. I am thinking that I am so glad this is over. Then she tells me that she needs more. She wants to make sure she has enough so there are no questions later. I tell her to get extra. I do not want to do this again! Click, click. Okay I’m going to make it. When she inserts the needle for #4 I feel a sharp stab. Seems she has to go very deep for this one. So more numbing meds for me. Click, click. She ends up doing 5 total biopsies. They are telling me how proud they are of me and how strong I am. I don’t feel very strong. In fact I feel like I have been beat down. Both emotionally and physically. I will get the results in 2-4 business days. So guess what....more waiting.

Chris stays home with me on Tuesday to make sure I am okay. My mom comes down and stays with me Wednesday and Thursday. And we sit and wait. Every time the phone rings I am looking at the caller ID wondering if this will be the call. At 2:45 my mom leaves to go pick up Clayton at school. At 2:48 the phone rings. It is the call I have been waiting for and I am here by myself. The lady on the phone must be a saint. There is no way I could do her job. “Mrs. Preston I am so sorry to tell you that your biopsies have come back and it is malignant. You do have cancer” And just like that. I am now a cancer patient. I start trying to ask questions but she doesn’t know any more details. I am set up with an appt on November 26 with an oncology surgeon and a medical oncologist. Wow, I get 2 specialist. She tells me I will find out exactly what type of cancer I have and what stage it is at those appointments. So once again....we wait.

The worst part of this was having to tell my 12 year old son. The first thing he said was “But Mom I don’t want you to die” Yeah...try not to cry after that!

It is a very weird feeling waiting to see if you are going to live or die. Can this be treated or are they going to give me a certain amount of time to do the things I have always wanted to do? I do know that I am a fighter. I have went thru being scared and sad...and now I am just pissed off! Breast cancer will not beat me! I have to watch my son grow up! I can’t kick the bucket and have my husband bring some hoe up in my house! My parents are not going to have to bury a child! And my brother will not be an only child!

I am ready for the news tomorrow. Let’s get going on get this done so I can get on with my life! Cancer can kiss my ass!

Love to all,

Stephanie Preston

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journeyanddream · 4 years

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Burning Life, Burning Passion

Have you ever ignited all that you have remaining, to shed light onto the path of others, guiding those lost souls to their destination?

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning, everything sitting perfectly still as if even time himself have stopped his path to appreciate the beauty that is life...

I started my day with BST (bedside tutorial), the usual routine of seeing patients on the wards, taking a history, do an examination and discuss the results. However unlike any other BSTs, I had no idea the one I was walking into would hit me the way it did.

From here onward, all the critical / patient and health related information have been modified to maintain confidentiality.

As soon as we walked into the room, we were greeted with warmth and a smile by Mrs. X, a middle aged lady whom if you walked past in the street, you wouldn’t think twice about the possibility ill-health. Her crescent shaped eyes and pale complexion radiated warmth and kindness, which reminded me of my own late grandmother. She sat on a small bench-type sofa at the end of her room, with various lines coming out of her and an IV bag connected to them.

“Hello! Wow, it’s like a party inside here.” She said with a smile after seeing 6 students and 1 supervising clinician, like a bunch of new born chicks following their mother. After some brief exchange regarding the purpose of our visit, she happily agreed to talk to us and possibly let us examine her towards the end.

She sat comfortably on the bench as we each took turns to ask questions about her symptoms, past medical history, and we took the time to get to know her as a person: her hobbies, work life, family and wishes going forward.

Mrs. X is diagnosed with end-stage cancer, spread across multiple parts of her body, she has lost alot of weight over the past few weeks and finds it increasingly difficult to get food down - a task we took for granted now became a chore for her, one look to the table next to her, you will see plates of unfinished or untouched food with half glass of orange juice...glistening under the hospital light. Her journey thus far hasn’t been easy, battling with multiple symptoms that threatens to take the light out of her life, the pain and the struggle are simply imaginable. But...she told us all of that with a smile and even managed to crack a few jokes along the way. I can’t fathom what must’ve been going on in her head and what thoughts she must’ve had in the past few weeks as her “remaining light” slowly trickles away to a dim.

Was she scared? Was she worried about leaving the family behind? How must her family and friends felt about all this? What about her children? What about her dreams and goals in life that’s yet uncompleted?

“I love travelling and visiting my family in a different country, I also love my job and to be frank...I cannot wait to go back!” she said with excitement and determination; “But unfortunately I don’t think I will get to do that anymore, there are a lot of things I still want to do, but I guess that’s just life...you have to make the most out of it no matter what!” her smile never fades. She is a true warrior, a trooper and an inspiration; how much i wish I could do something to turn back the clock...I feel her pain.

As we moved onto examination...she slowly stood up from the bench and shuffled towards the bed, as if using all her might to make that journey. We asked for her consent, and whether it was okay for students to examine as well...”No problem at all, don’t be worried” she says as she removes the garment. The students lined up anxiously with our palm clasped together, held in front of our chest. Each student moved forward in turn while others waited at the back.

When it was my turn, I shuffled forward while slapping my palms with alcohol rub. “Would I be okay if i examine you, please let me know if I cause you any discomfort of pain” I said cautiously. “Go ahead”, She nodded. I looked and pressed gently with both of my hands, while constantly looking back at her expression to make sure I am not causing her any discomfort. I closed my eyes and tried to visualise the mass in my head as my fingers ran over its borders, examining its size, shape, consistency, regularity, mobility, depth and tenderness. About 20 seconds later, I took one step back and expressed my gratitude “Thank you so much”.

I thought to myself, here’s a wonderful lady in the twilight of her days, who could’ve enjoyed a quiet morning, who must’ve been so exhausted by all the chemotherapy, surgery and cancer...where talking, eating, and standing up take tremendous amount of energy and courage. But now she is here, surrounded by a bunch of strangers whom she had never met before examining her, exposing her and troubling her...I felt an intense sorrow and embarrassment.

In reality, Mrs. X may not be with us anymore in a few weeks or months time, she deserves every opportunity to be as comfortable and as happy as possible. And yet she agreed to let us to learn from her, from her condition, from her story and journey and most importantly...her body that tells a whole different story itself - at the end of her life.

I am unsure to why i feel so bad about this and who i should talk to about this, but how i think about it...she ignited her last bit of energy and life to pass down knowledge to students she had never seen before, she embodied both the teacher and the lesson; and we were her students...and she was the light that illuminated our path, allowing us to see further and clearer.

“I hope you all the very best in your studies and future endeavors, I am sure you will all become great doctors!” Mrs. X smiled and greeted us as we made our exit. Although we here this all the time from patients, but something about this hits differently. Even as we moved onto the next case, I find myself intrigued about Mrs. X, it was a powerful encounter, a memorable moment...though transient.

I just want to say THANK YOU! for everything you had done and the lessons you have left behind. I will make sure to do my very very best to all my future patients, and part of your legacy will remain with me for the rest of my career.

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big-bara-boys · 6 years

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Turtles and their S/O

Some fluff, and some turtle x reader lovin’. Enjoy!

Leo:

“I cannot believe the nerve you have, Leo!” he watches as you huff and continues pacing. “Don’t look at me like you’re cluel- do you even know what I’m talking about?” you stop your pacing and stare at your blue clad boyfriend.

“No, darling I don’t,” leaning back against the couch, Leo runs through his head all of the possible things he could’ve done, “Please explain.”

Not passing the opportunity to let him know exactly how you feel, you let it all out. “As of late you have really been crossing the line with how you talk to me. You’ve been using that I’m-not-taking-your-bullshit-I’m-the-leader tone with me lately and I don’t appreciate it. It’s the same tone you use with your brothers. I’m not your brother, I’m your other half. I’m the one who loves you unconditionally with all my heart. You, Leonardo, carry my heart with you, and I hope I hold yours. But when it comes to being with someone you love, you don’t treat them like you would treat your siblings when they step out of line.”

Walking over to him, you get close to his face and hold his icy gaze, “All I ask of you, is to treat me like I'm your equal, because it's what I know I deserve," and with that, you walk away from him and head home, not once looking back to his pleading eyes.

Night fall comes around and you’re curled up on your queen sized bed when there's a tap at the window. Sighing, you get up to go and open it, knowing your boyfriend is on the other side.

Pushing open the window, you stare into his cerulean eyes, "Hi Leo," is the only thing you say to him before walking inside.

"Y/N, I want you to know how sorry I am. I- I have realized what I've been doing lately and I didn't bother thinking too much about it. You seemed fine so I payed no mind to it. And you are my equal, you're my love, my life, and one of the few things that keep me going. And I'm so sorry I failed to let you know just how much you truly mean to me. Please forgive my mistakes?" Leo stands in the middle of your living room, head bowed, waiting for you to say something.

You walk up next to him and place your hand on the side of his face, turning him to face you. "I can forgive you, only if you actually pay attention and do something about the way you're talking to me. Let's be honest babe, the only time I really need to be reprimanded is when we're in bed," you both chuckle at your joke.

“I can definitely promise you that.” Leo reaches up and strokes your cheek. Smiling he leans closer and kisses you.

Raph:

“God damn it, Raphael, pick up your damn phone!” You angrily toss your phone onto the couch and continue your pacing. Patrol nights were never easy on your anxiety, especially not after what happened six months ago. Six months ago it was just a regular night. You went to visit the turtles and splinter and hung out with them for the day. When night fell they mentioned that it was time for patrol, so you told them you would stay back and wait for them.

Two hours later you were reading a book when you heard frantic voices. Standing up, you face towards the entry way and watch as Leo, Donnie, and Mikey drag a near unconscious Raph. Your heart skips a beat as you rush over.

“What the hell happened?!” you stare at them with wide, panicked eyes.

“We were messing around on the rooftop of a building over on 34th street, when we were ambushed by the Foot. Raph got hit by some tranquilizers that knocked him out fairly quickly. But if I’m right on the kind of sedative that they used, he should be fine within a few hours. I’m just going to run some tests really quick and see if I can’t try and flush it out of his system quicker.” Donnie paces over and has Leo and Mikey place Raph on the curved table they made to fit their shells.

Suddenly you heard the rushed sound of clawed feet coming up behind you. Turning around you see Splinter walking towards you and the turtles, “What on earth has happened?” Leo and Mikey immediately go into detail on what happened. Tired of standing there, you walk up to Donnie and ask if you can do anything to help, “Uh, if you could go over to that metal cabinet and get the prep supplies for the IV insert that would be great,” Donnie replies without even turning away from his unconscious brother.

You walk over to the cabinet Donnie told you about and open it. Looking over the shelves you find what he was talking about and bring it over to him, “Thank you Y/N,” Donnie smiles at you and immediately begins getting Raph ready for the IV.

Ever since that night happened, you’ve been very apprehensive on letting the boys go on patrol night. Of course you couldn’t tell them what to do, you could only tell them to be safe and come back in one piece. But one rule that you had set down was that they were to answer their phones when you or splinter called. Your reasoning being that you wanted to make sure that they were fine and hadn’t gotten taken away before you could do anything to help. You only ever called on that rare occasion where they were out for more than two hours. The turtles were usually very good at coming back on time (thanks Leo) but there were always those nights where it sometimes turned into three or four. Tonight just so happened to be that night, the first night they’ve been late since the run in with the Foot.

You try calling again, and you even call Donnie, but there’s no answer. In an attempt to calm your racing nerves, you turn on the cooking channel for some background noise. About an hour later you’re sitting on your couch when you hear series of taps on your window, instantly telling you that it’s Raph. Rushing over to the window, you rip open the curtains and throw open the giant window.

“Are your brothers with you?” Raph begins to shake his head no, “Good, now get inside, Raphael,” instantly Raph knows something’s up because you only use his full name when he fucks up. When he’s stable on the ground, he turns and shuts the window, locking it in the process.

“Baby doll, I’m sor-,” Raph starts, but you don’t let him.

“What happened? Why did it take so long?” instantly your panic is noticeable to him. Guilt overrides any possible emotion he could’ve felt in that moment. He knows how worried you’ve been getting ever since that night all those months ago.

“We were messing around on the chrysler building again, just practicing some parkour.” His voice is soft and gentle, an attempt to lower your emotions.

“Where’s your phone, Raph? I called you and you didn’t pick up, I even called Donnie and he didn’t pick up.” You continued to press, even while knowing that you were starting to overreact.

Slowly, Raphael walks up to you and gathers you in his embrace, “I’m so sorry baby doll, I didn’t mean to worry you like that. Upping your anxiety is the last thing I’d want to do to you.” He leans down and smothers his face into your hair, taking in your scent. Gently he starts to rock you both from side to side, knowing that relaxes you. Pulling away just enough to look at him, you say “Please answer your phone next time? I just want to know you’re okay,” with a small kiss to your forehead he whispers his promise.

Donnie:

Laying in bed you stare at the ceiling waiting for your boyfriend to walk into the bedroom. A bit more time goes by and he still hasn’t come lumbering in. Turning onto your side, you stare at the alarm clock and see that it’s been twenty five minutes since Donnie said that he would be in bed with you. Sighing in frustration, you get up off the bed and walk towards his lab area to see what he’s doing. You don’t bother knocking on the door, knowing that he wouldn’t even hear it.

Opening the door you see Donnie hunched over his desk, mumbling to himself while using a pipette to drop a liquid into a test tube. Rolling your eyes you walk over, “Donnie c’mon, time to go to bed,” you run your nails over the back of his shell causing him to release a squeaky churr.

“Darling, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Donnie puts down his equipment and smirks at you. “Well I can’t exactly do anything when you’re stuck in your lab at one in the morning, now can I?” you raise your eyebrow at him and cross your arms.

“One in the morni- what? That’s not the time, I swear it was just like, what, midnight?” His face contorts into a confused expression. Looking down at his watch he see’s that it is in fact, one in the morning. “Well shit, I’m sorry honey I lost track of time. Let me just go ahead and put this away.” Donnie stands up and starts sorting his stuff away into his cabinets and draws. Once he’s done you grab his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

“I believe you and I need to have a bit of a talk, Donatello,” climbing onto the bed you turn and gesture for him to sit down.

“Sure, what’s up?” setting his mask on the nightstand, Donnie settles into bed next to you.

"I love you, very much, you know that right?" You start, staring at him. He nods his head, "Then you must know that I enjoy spending time with my boyfriend, right?" Again he nods his head. "My question to you is, do you like spending time with me?" You lean back and watch his face to gauge his reaction.

"Of course I do, why on Earth wouldn't I?" A look of bewilderment crosses his face, "When I'm with you I'm the happiest I've ever been!" Donnie grabs your hands and holds them close to his chest, "And I'd be a fool not to be".

Softly smiling at him, you lean up and rest your hand on the side of his face, "Then why do I barely see you anymore? I love you to the moon and back, but there is always something so godawfully important in your lab. It always take your attention away, and lately I've barely seen any of you. I consider myself to even be lucky to watch you get food out of the fridge!" With a light chuckle, you hope you got your point across.

As much as you loved watching him tinker around and create little inventions, you loved spending time with him more. Even after three solid years together the flame of chemistry between you two never died. In fact, the bond only grew stronger. But, it's strongest was when you two would be in each others physical company, which has been a rarity as of late.

"Wait, no, we've hung out plenty of times! Like last ni-",

"You were working on the computer until three in the morning.", you answered before he could finish.

"Oh! Then it was three days ago that we- " again you interjected him,

"Three days ago I was working a double shift and didn't come over at all." You exhale, slightly amused by his confusion. "Donatello, the last time we truly had any time together was a week ago. I've been trying to be understanding and let you do your own thing, but I miss you. I honest to god miss my boyfriend. I'm tired of the mumbled responses I get when I pop into the lab. I miss my "Hello beautiful" greetings that I would get from you. I miss my random kisses throughout the day. And most of all I haven't had sex in like two weeks. How can you expect me to still be sane when you look this good and won't pay attention to me? Hmm?" You fold your arms across your chest and pout. Donnie has been looking extra good lately and you haven't been able to get any of it!

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I hadn't realized what's been going on. I've been so kept in my own thoughts and ideas that it just kind of took over me. How can I make it up to you?" He stares at you with pleading eyes.

"I have a few ideas in mind," smirking slyly you grab his hand, leading him further onto the bed for a night of fun. Suddenly you weren't as tired as you thought you were.

Mikey:

“Hey Mikey,” pulling out a chair, you sit down next to your boyfriend as he sketches away in his sketchbook.

“Hey Angelcakes, what’s up?” Putting down his pencils he looks up at you. You got him some art supplies for Christmas, knowing he was extremely talented.

“Nothing much I was about to go to the fridge and grab a bottle of soda. Do you want one?” Looking over his sketches you see that he was doodling funny pictures of his brothers.

“Yeah sure, that’d be great.” smiling up at you he leans over to give you a kiss.

Smirking, you walk into the kitchen area and make sure no ones around. As of lately Mikey has been a little busy with his art. He’s been running around town and practicing his graffiti and designs, which in turn has taken his attention away from you quite a bit. His lack of presence has left you to think, and that’s never a good thing because this is when a prank war starts. When you are left to your own devices and left “unsupervised” you come up with some whack shit, and this is one of them.

You walk over to the fridge to get a bottle of orange crush for your boyfriend and yourself. Reaching into your pocket you take out the roll of dental floss you placed there earlier. Setting the floss aside, you grab his bottle of soda and undo the cap and set that aside as well. Picking the floss container back up, you take out two small pieces and make an X over the rim of the bottle; reaching back into your pocket you pull out a single mentos mint and place it on the floss pieces. Quickly, you loosely screw the cap back on, just enough to hold everything in place, and grab some scissors.

After you had trimmed down the floss to where it couldn’t be seen anymore, you grab your bottle and head out to your awaiting boyfriend. When you walk out you notice that he’s still working on his art. Walking up you set both sodas aside and grab his face and kiss him. You use the distraction to move his artwork and tools aside so they don’t get ruined. Backing away you smile and wink at him and hand him his soda. He smiles back and stares at you as he uncaps his soda...only for it to start gushing all over his hand and then squirt up into his face.

“AH! Y/n, what did you do?!” he shouts as he quickly stands up and rushes over to the sink in the kitchen.

Mean while you’re still at the table laughing to the point where you’re snorting. You watch as he practically throws the bottle into the sink and stands there, dripping in orange crush soda with wide shocked eyes.

“I- I just put a mentos mint into your soda” you finally manage to get out in between laughs.

Slowly, Mikey starts to stalk towards you, still covered head to toe in sticky soda. “Oh y/n, I do believe I haven’t gotten a hug in quite some time. Why don’t you come over here?” A predatory glint sparks in his blue eyes.

Your heart stops, you start to panic because you’re wearing brand new clothes you just bought. Getting up from the table you go around to the back. “Mikey, let’s think about this, do you really wa- Ah! No! Mikey leave me alone! I just got these clothes!” he continues charging towards you with a smirk on his face.

“You should have thought about that before doing that, Anglecakes!” he laughed as he hopped over the soda covered table.

And suddenly, a prank war was born.

#TMNT #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt donatello #tmnt Donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt bayverse

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graceful-defender-of-paris · 5 years

Note

Theonsa high school sweethearts

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115370

Sorry for the late reply!

(2347)

If you had asked Sansa a month ago or even five minutes ago what she thought about Theon she would have said he was like a piece of furniture, he was always around the Stark household.

He had always been Theon her brothers best friend. Theon who was her brother in all but name if Robb had his way, he was an honorary member of the Starks.

So why was it that after being dragged along by the rest of the family to Theon's swimming gala. So she of course was disgruntled because she had planned to visit Margaery to watch ‘Love Islands’. each year they took attractive singles from all over Westeros and put them on an island, the year before they were in the Arbor but this year they were on Dragonstone, it was so exciting! Especially since Margaery's brother Garlan was on so it was basically her civic duty to watch it and support her friend's brother.

But, instead, she was watching Theon. In his swim shorts, that showed off his surprisingly toned body with a chiselled abdomen that the droplets of water cascaded so attractively down, as he pulled himself out of the water, her eyes were drawn to his muscled biceps that glowed as though sun-kissed in the fluorescent lighting of the Winterfell leisure centres swimming pool.

Oh, gods, she might have a crush on Theon.

This was TERRIBLE! No no no this cannot happen , she absolutely cannot like Theon because he is much older (a year above her) , he is a notorious womaniser and worst of all he definitely sees her as his little sister.

So, all in all, she was definitely screwed.

There was no way she could ever look Theon in the eye again, let alone be in a room with him so obviously, her best option now was to run away and join the silent sisters.

Yeah, that could work.

They were going to arrive home late-probably after midnight so she would have to watch Love Island on catch up at home. After Winterfell academy swim team won they were all invited for a celebratory meal where Sansa found herself increasingly panicked at the realisation that Theon was not just hot but extremely hot.

So she did what any normal person would do. She panic texted her best friend Margaery.

[Sansie]

Okay so

Has Theon suddenly become hot or have I been blind my entire life?

[Margie]

You’re only just realising??

If I wasn't having my world rocked by your stupidly hot brother I'd jump on that

Also, have you realised that you are in love with him yet?

[Sansie]

please don't use 'world rocked' and 'hot brother' in the same sentence ever again

AND I AM NOT

[Margie]

Sure San…

[Sansie]

I mean it!

It's just that

Did I blackout for ten years or something cause I swear he was Robb's annoying best friend yesterday but now he's all attractive and annoying and oh god's I like him don't I?

[Margaery]

Yep

Now go get him before anyone else does

Since there were so many of them the family had been split into their mum's people carrier and Robb's small Toyota Prius, unfortunately for her, she was in Robbs car, which also seated Theon. She was in the back in the middle seat squashed between Arya and Theon and wondering if her life could get any worse.

She was terrified to even check her phone in the case any more of Margaery's messages came through and he would see it- which had happened with Rickon earlier.

He kept making kissing noises at her and Theon and now she found herself here.

It was nearly impossible to ignore him now. All her senses were heightened when he was around and now all she wanted was a scented candle of him, How he managed to smell like the sea and Winterfell would forever elude her but gods it was intoxicating.

Arya had been giving her odd stares as though she had been acting weird- which given the situation was understandable but it was when Theon whispered close to her ear “are you okay Sans? You're not acting like yourself” that she really fell apart.

Turns out all it took was watching Theon get out of a swimming pool for her to question everything in her life and then some.

She squeaked out an affirmation that was supposed to mean “I am fine” but sounded more like a smothered cry for help. Which Theon took to mean “I'm cold” as he took off his jacket, put it around her and put his arm over her shoulder and snuggled her closer to him.

And to make it worse, she fell asleep.

“Sans”

Her pillow seemed to be wriggling so she held on to it tighter to keep it still

“Sans, c’mon you have to let me go now”

Why was her pillow trying to talk to her?

“hrmph”

She could hear a little some bickering that sounded like one of her brothers but she just wanted to go back to dreaming of a world where Theon didn't just see her as his little sister.

Ahh Theon

Unbeknownst to her, of course, was that she had just said this out loud in front of said object of desire

“Uhhh… okay” her pillow seemed confused, “Sansa, Robbs about to drop me off at home, I'm just going to remove your arms from me so I can get out..”

Wait, what? Was she lying on Theon? Suddenly a rush of adrenaline shook her awake and she was keenly aware of how she was lying on top of Theon

She blearily tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes when she saw Theon's sea-green eyes staring intently at her, his mouth broke into a relieved smile and she fell deeper.

“You can keep my jacket, I know its cold, it's about a minute or two till Robb drops me off and I didn't want to have to wake you while everyone was watching” his eyes darted to Robb and Jon who were happily oblivious to the affairs of the back seat, and Arya who was texting away on her phone.

[Sansie]

Oh god it's so much worse I've gone completely 0-60 and now I can never show my face again

I slept on theon in the car

[margaery]

That's it?

No outburst of I love you?

boring

though if you were going to do a random declaration of love I would've liked to be there so I could do it justice in my maid of honour speech

[Sansie]

Let me live! ive only realised I liked him four hours

[Margie]

And he's liked you for at least the past four years

Honestly, I'll be dead before either of you make a move

I heard Jeyne has a thing for him, so really confess your undying love soon before we have to go on a ben & jerry's rom-com binge to mend your broken heart

[Sansie]

JEYNE?!?!

I'm so screwed :(

[margie]

You're using emojis

It's worse than I imagined

******

Its been three months since her startling realisation that she had a crush on theon and so far she had done absolutely nothing about it- not for Margaery's lack of trying.

“You know he likes you back” Margaery all but declared in the middle of the hallway on their way to geography- the one class she hated (she was failing at geography). What made that matter worse was that her teacher, Mr Luwin, had organised for Theon to tutor her for her upcoming exams.

Apparently, her teacher was out to get her as well.

“He doesn't! And I don't want to make things awkward for him and Robb. I also don't want to fail geography”

“c’mon! You cant say that you haven't loved every minute of your late-night study sessions” Margaery teases, Sansa could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the thought of Theon in his oversized hoodie and messy hair sitting at the desk in her bedroom.

“That's irrelevant.”

Margaery shot her an incredulous look and opened the door to their class, “you never know until you try and I have it on good authority that he would be very open to you advances” and gave Sansa a knowing wink before sitting at her desk.

Ugh, there was really no escaping it anymore was where Margaery would rest until she finally jumped the bones. And at the rate she was going she thought that theon probably would just be bones before she finally had the guts to tell him.

Thought of theon consumed her throughout geography and she found herself at a complete loss when she was called upon to answer in class.

“Miss Stark?, I asked you a question.”

She felt her heartbeat race as she stuttered out “um, could you repeat the question please?”

“How many islands make up the archipelago of the iron islands?” Mr Luwin repeated

She knew this one, Theon would always talk about his homeland and the way his eyes crinkled when gushing about the bracing wing and the waves crashed against the rocks had embedded itself in her mind “31 Sir”

“That's right Miss Stark” She let out a breath of relief, perhaps she might survive this after all.

****

She had taken Margaery’s advice to heart, so she had decided that tonight would be perfect. He was coming over for their study session and her parents and younger brothers would be away for Rickon’s Skagosi fighting tournament, Jon would be at his “nights watch” band practice and Margaery had promised her that she would keep Robb occupied.

She didn't want to know how , all Sansa knew was that she needed to do something now- or forever hold her peace.

Maybe that's a bit too much , she thought. No need to scare him senseless like “oh hello theon thank you for helping me study, by the way, let's get married”

‘Bzz’

her phone vibrated alerting her of incoming texts. She had been in the middle of getting ready- but not too ready for Theon's arrival and she rushed over to check her messages.

One was a snap from Margaery with her fingers crossed with “GOOD LUCK!” and “GET IT GIRL” splashed across it, the other was a message from theon.

[Theo]

Swim practice finished early so I’ll be there in ten

I'll lift some coffee on the way, your usual?

Oh no.

She was supposed to have at least another hour to prepare herself. She was supposed to be calm and collected not frazzled and panicked.

[Sans]

Sure :)

Crap she must sound like a prat.

She began pacing the house- her room couldn't contain her anxious energy and was midway through her second tour of the living room when Arya ambled in and said “could you please stop pacing! Just tell theon that you like him and be done with it” she had forgotten that Arya was home.

Spluttering she could barely form the words to try and denounce her claims when the doorbell rang.

Her eyes locked with Arya’s and it was a race to open the front door. Arya was using her training to vault over the sofa but Sansa’s determination drove her to push herself faster until she almost slid past the door entirely,

Her hair was a mess, Arya had just clung onto her jacket- which coincidentally was a leftover from theon when she had slept on him so long ago and opened the door. To a quite perplexed theon.

Her mothers teaching kicked in after the awkward pause since opening the door, she shook off Arya's grip and welcomed theon “Come on in!” in her best imitation of her mother's hostess voice.

Arya had other ideas, “Sansa likes you, you like Sansa. Can you two go off now and stop moping?” and pushed Sansa into Theon's arms before trudging up the stairs to her room to presumably notify the family group chat of this occurrence.

She thought Margaerys matchmaking was bad but now she was screwed.

No way to come back from this.

There was little that Sansa could really do about her predicament, Theon had dropped their coffees to catch her, “uh, hey sans” theon appeared confused as she looked up at him and then a mischevious glint appeared in his eyes and he teased “so you falling for me?”

She felt embarrassment take over as her worst fears were realised.

Pulling herself up with as much dignity is possible she turned to theon to say “There's no need to make fun of me if you don't like me that's fine and I can study just fine on my own” and made to close the front door on him.

Mother would baulk at her for such rude behaviour.

Before the door could close theon had stuck his foot in the gap preventing her from pushing him out, “Sansa,” her heart sunk further theon never used her full name. “Do you want to maybe get coffee?”

She nods tentatively in response.

Theon smiled in relief and he offered her his arm- if Margaery was here she would say his arm.

The remnants of their spilt coffee lay at their feet but maybe this was her chance, maybe he does like her.

As he opened the car door for her he bashfully asked “Was, was what Arya said true? Because, uh… if it was I would say that feel the same way about you.” she leant against his car stumped at his revelation. Sansa struggled to find the words to say to him and her eyes became drawn to his lips before dragging them back to the ocean pools that were his eyes.

So, instead, she pulled him in closer to her and placed a quick, barely-a-kiss on his lips.

He murmured “Do you have a map? Cause I got lost in your eyes”

Idiot she thought but still found herself giggling at it.

He held her closer to deepen their kiss and she could feel his smile that threatened to break out.

#sansa stark #theon greyjoy #theon x sansa #theonsa #my writing

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