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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Memories, Pt. IV

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 4878

a/n: The last part! I'm so sorry this took so long! I planned to have it done over the weekend, but life got in the way. Hopefully y'all like the ending though!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Months Ago

"Come back to me, okay?" Bucky pressed his forehead to yours, relishing in this moment.

"I promise. I love you" You give him a quick kiss before moving back to board the quinjet. He calls out his response just as the doors begin to close.

"I love you too!" Bucky watched the quinjet fly away, waiting until you were completely out of sight before he turned to go back inside.

He nearly ran through the building, the excitement and nervousness he was feeling rolling off him in waves. He nearly ran right past Steve before skidding to a stop, grabbing onto a wall to slow himself down.

"Hey Buck." Steve greeted him with a furrowed brow. Typically after you leave for a mission, Bucky spends the next week moping. "What's got you so happy with Y/N gone?"

"I need your help." Bucky grinned, so focused on his plans that he missed Sam and Tony walking into the room.

"With?" Steve prompted, eager to figure out why Bucky was behaving so strangely.

"Picking out a ring." Bucky stated confidently, earning gasps from all three men. He spun around, eyes widening in surprise to find Sam and Tony in the doorway.

"You're proposing?" Sam nearly squealed with delight.

"Do you need dinner reservations? I know a guy at L'Artusi, I could probably get you in the week she comes back even though reservations are booked months in advance. Oh! I need to get Pepper to start planning a party." Tony mumbled more to himself, thinking back to how he proposed to Pepper.

"Tony!" Bucky nearly had to scream to get the man's attention. "I appreciate the offer, really, but I don't think Y/N is a fancy restaurant, big party kind of gal." Bucky sighed, not having expected to share his proposal plan just yet.

Steve cut in before Tony could respond, knowing the billionaire would say something about everyone loving fancy restaurants. "Congrats, Buck. I'm happy for you."

"She hasn't said yes, yet." He mumbled in response, suddenly feeling a bit bashful at being the center of attention.

"She will. That girl is madly in love with you." Sam encouraged, but couldn't help adding in a playful joke. "For reasons unbeknownst to me."

"Thanks for the encouragement." Bucky rolled his eyes, turning back to Steve. "So will you help me?"

Steve nodded, happy to help in any way necessary. "Of course, did you have any ideas?"

"I'll help too!" Tony added in, inserting himself into the conversation. He held up a hand before either man could interject. "And before you say it'll be too much if I have any say, I'll just help you get the ring made and to you in a reasonable time."

Bucky smiled, about to thank Tony when Sam cut in again. "If he's helping, I want in too. You can't leave me out!" He whined.

"Fine. You can both help too. Just don't push it." He eyes Sam, knowing he would take any opportunity to mess with him.

"Did you have any ideas or did you want to go to a jeweler tomorrow?" Steve asked, trying to refocus the conversation.

"Actually, I have a few ideas." He took a deep breath, trying to prepare for any criticism the men would throw at him for his unusual choices. "Nothing too flashy, and I don't want a diamond."

Tony nearly fainted with how big of a gasp he took. "No diamond? But, but, diamonds! Diamonds are the best! She deserves diamonds!" He stomped his foot, nearly throwing a full on temper tantrum before Bucky jumped in again.

"You're absolutely right, she deserves the world." He smiled softly, just thinking about you. "I just don't think she would like a diamond." He tried to explain.

"Tony, Buck probably knows her best..." Steve cut in, trying to calm him down.

"Friday, call Natasha and Wanda to the kitchen." Tony sent out the command, receiving a response from the AI before anyone could protest.

"What are you doing? You can't tell them!" Bucky harshly whispered, knowing it wouldn't be long before the two women arrived.

Tony sighed dramatically, "Look. If you don't think she'd like a diamond, those two are going to be your best bet at figuring out what she would want."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but realized Tony was probably right. He hadn't made it much past his no diamond idea. "Fine, we can ask them for help." He resigned himself to everybody knowing his plans.

"Help with what?" Wanda asked as her and Nat strolled into the room, eyes slightly narrowed.

"What kind of engagement ring Y/N would like." Sam relished in the surprise that overtook their faces.

Nat recovered in seconds, scoffing immediately. "Well, definitely not a diamond."

"You're right. Too flashy for her." Wanda immediate went into planning mode.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, reassuring him that he was on the right track.

"Yeah, Romeo over here already ruined my plans with that idea." Tony huffed. "What kind of stone then?"

They all spent the next few hours debating between opal, amethyst, sapphire, and sunstone. Then another few hours debating the shape and style of the stone and band. By the time the entire ring design had been settled, the sun was rising the next morning.

"I'll send the plans to my jeweler. You should have it in hand a few days before Y/N is due to get back." Tony stated, happy that you would be receiving the best money could buy.

"Thank you. All of you." Bucky turned to look at the people who had become family to him. "I really appreciate the help."

"Now we just need to plan the proposal." Nat smirked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Nope. That is for me to know, and Y/N to tell you if she says yes." Bucky smiled, glad he had already planned how he was going to ask you.

"I'll worm it out of you. You know I will!" Sam narrowed his eyes, ready to start his barrage of questions when Friday cut into the conversation.

"We have lost tracking capabilities on the quinjet. Communication with onboard agents has failed. Enacting emergency personnel tracking protocols."

Everyone froze, anticipating Friday's next announcement. In seconds, they would all know if you were okay or if you were missing.

"Tracking failed. Agent L/N's whereabouts unknown."

They all took off to the lab, Bucky leading the way despite not knowing how to use the technology to try and find you.

Tony started asking questions: what was the jet's last known location? Did any of the tech onboard fail? Was another aircraft present in the vicinity? Were missiles involved? Any heat signature information from before it went offline?

Each question asked did little to calm Bucky's racing heart. It felt like his world was collapsing, his future falling apart right before his eyes.

"We have to find her." He whispered more to himself than anyone else in the room. "We have to."

Present

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky asked as he sat down in the debriefing room. Everyone else was already there, waiting for Tony to explain why he called the impromptu meeting.

"She's... She's in the med bay." Immediately Bucky was out of his chair, ready to run to you. "Barnes. You need to hear this before you go. She's fine, she just had a panic attack and passed out."

"Fine? You call that fine?" He was nearly raging, pushing to get back to the door.

"Relatively, yeah. Look, just trust me on this. We'll all go see her when I've filled you in." Tony sighed, knowing it wasn't going to be easy to explain what you told him.

"Filled us in on what?" Nat questioned first, honing in on Tony's distressed state.

"Y/N." He stated simply, finally getting Bucky to listen to him.

"What do you mean, Y/N? You just said she was fine!" His words cut through the room. He just got you back, he couldn't lose you again.

"Physically, she is. Would you just sit down?" Tony practically begged, trying his best not to break down at the memory of the pain in your eyes.

Bucky stomped back to his seat, giving Tony his undivided attention and gesturing for him to continue.

"I ran into her last night. Literally. She was running through the halls. It looked like she had just seen a ghost." He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to contain his emotions.

"I figured she was just having flashbacks to being held captive, so I made her talk to me." He closed his eyes, unable to look everyone in the eye as he continued his explanation.

"I should've noticed sooner. She wasn't acting right. I just thought it was PTSD. I-" Steve cut him off this time.

"Tony. What happened?"

"She wasn't making any sense. She said she didn't belong here, that she wasn't who we thought she was." Confusion grew on everyone's faces as Tony explained your breakdown. "Said she wasn't an Avenger. She was a murderer."

"The experiments..." Nat mumbled to herself, putting the pieces together as Tony continued explaining what happened.

"Long story short, she thinks she made a bomb that killed 38 people and that she was in prison for 3 years before we broke her out and brought her here." He took a deep breath, letting his words sink in for everyone.

"She was mumbling about experiments." Nat said louder now that Tony was done. "In the kitchen. She said they would bring her to another room sometimes, but it looked like it hurt for her to remember. They must've messed with her head."

Bucky could barely breathe. You strange behavior suddenly made sense. Your surprise at being part of the Avengers, not wanting to tell him what was bothering you, leaving bed before he woke up, not telling him you loved him. It all started making more sense.

"We have to tell her the truth."

While everyone was trying to come up with the best plan to help you with your memories, you woke up in the med bay alone.

You were surprised to have been left alone after admitting to your crimes, but you took the opportunity to finish what you started: running away.

You quickly found your way to the elevator hoping you could remember which floor would lead to an exit. As you snuck down the halls, you could hear voices coming from one of the rooms.

"We have to tell her the truth."

You felt your heart flutter at the sound of Bucky's voice. He had been so kind to you. it felt wrong to just leave him, but you didn't see another choice. You couldn't bear the thought of looking him in the eye now that Tony likely told him about your past.

You quickly made your way back to the elevator, figuring a different floor would be better suited for your escape.

You ultimately made it outside, deciding to forego any vehicles you passed. They could probably be tracked. Instead, you took off through the woods.

It wasn't long before Bucky got tired of debating how best to fix your memories. He needed to see you. He needed to know you were alright.

"Look, call Shuri and T'Challa. See if they can come here to help her." Bucky headed for the door, not waiting for a response before making his way to you.

Everyone but Tony, who was calling T'Challa, quickly followed his hasty exit.

When they arrived to the med bay, it was empty.

"Where is she?" Sam questioned, causing everyone to glance around the room.

Tony walked in as everyone searched the multitude of beds, making sure you were in fact not in the room.

"You said she was in the med bay." Bucky glared, waiting for Tony to explain.

"She was." He glanced around the room as well, confused by your absence. "She passed out, so I brought her here. They gave her a sedative to calm her heart rate. She should still be sleeping."

"She's not here." Bucky stopped moving, the realization causing a mixture of anger and panic to course through him. "She's not here." He repeats it louder, causing everyone else to freeze as well.

"Friday, where is Y/N?" Tony asked the AI, knowing it was a waste to search the compound.

"She left the Med Bay 23 minutes ago, briefly stopping outside the debriefing room before exiting the building from the garage." The AI easily recounted your quick escape.

"Are there any cars missing?" Tony followed up, figuring you'd be easy enough to track.

"All vehicles are accounted for."

"She's on foot. Friday, which direction did she go?" Bucky asked, barely waiting for a response as he ran from the room.

"I can track her movements via security footage east until she hits the woods."

Tony, Sam, Nat, Wanda, Steve, Vision, and Clint all followed right behind Bucky as he ran out of the compound.

Bucky and Nat headed east, following Friday's information. Everyone else split up, figuring it'd be best to cover all directions since you could have doubled back or gotten turned around in the woods.

You weren't sure how long you had been on the move, but you had made it about 3.5 miles when you found what looked like an abandoned treehouse.

With the sun setting and the exhaustion of waking up in a hospital bed catching up to you, you figured it'd be best for you to stop and rest for the night.

Hopefully you made it far enough to avoid detection for now. Ideally, they wouldn't start the manhunt for you until morning.

You climbed into the treehouse slowly, trying to distribute your weight over the creaking and breaking floorboards. You settled in the corner, propping yourself against the walls to keep an eye on the door.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the sounds of frogs croaking and crickets chirping invading your senses.

Your sleep was restless, plagued by memories of a life you barely remembered, memories that felt more like a dream than reality.

Nat and Bucky tracked you through the woods methodically. Every snapped twig or partial footprint lead them in your direction. The sun set early in their search, but it did little to deter their efforts.

A few hours after dark, they approached the abandoned treehouse you camped out in.

Even twenty yards away, they could hear your whispered screams.

"No. No, no, no. No, please. Stop. Bucky, help me. Please don't. Please." You begged.

Bucky's heart broke at the sound of pain in your voice. It killed him to know you were begging for him while Hydra was removing him from your memory.

He climbed the ladder of the treehouse rapidly, not paying any mind to the creaking floors and breaking boards. He rushed to you in the corner, pulling you into his arms as he tried to wake you up.

"Y/N, I'm here. I've got you. You're safe. I'm here now." He whispered into your neck, rocking you back and forth.

"Bucky?" You squinted in confusion, eyes adjusting to the dark.

"I've got you, doll. You're safe now." He easily replied, trying to calm you from your nightmares.

"No, Bucky. I- I killed people." You sobbed, your hands burying themselves into his shirt.

"No, doll. Y/N, that's not real." He repeated your name, trying to convince you of the truth. "Hydra, they messed with your memories. We can fix it."

"But, no- I hurt people." You were shaking, trying to explain even though you'd rather give in.

"Please trust me. Let's go back to the compound. We can figure it all out. We'll get your memories back, I promise." He held you in his arms in an unwavering grip, afraid if he let you go you would disappear. "Come back to me, okay?"

"I promise. I love you." You whispered the words more to yourself, trying to figure out why they came to mind. Images flashed through your mind; saying goodbye to Bucky, boarding a jet, being attacked in the air, Hydra.

"I'll come with you." Your voice was shaky, still unsure of what was true.

Bucky quickly lead you out of the treehouse, regrouping with Nat on the ground.

"Good?" Nat questioned, trying to prepare for if you ran.

"Good, for now." Bucky replied, scooping you into his arms to carry you back to the compound.

- You woke up to voices, patches of light flickering across your closed eyelids.

"Can you do it?" You recognized Bucky, but the responding voice was only vaguely familiar.

"I can. It will take some time, but it does not appear to be as severe as your own memory problems." His memory problems? What was she talking about?

"Shuri, you're a genius." Shuri, the name triggered something in your mind, but it's like you can't put the pieces together.

"I know. Now let me get to work." She shooed him out of the lab as your world faded to black yet again.

Bucky sat beside your bed the second Shuri allowed him to. If it weren't for Steve bringing him food, he wouldn't have eaten anything in the day and a half you've been asleep.

"Buck, you've got to rest." Steve tried for the fifteenth time to get his friend to sleep.

"I can't. Steve, if I sleep and she's not here when I wake up..." He trailed off, unable to put to words the pain of losing you again.

"I'll stay with her. She'll be here when you wake up, I promise." Steve sighed.

"You'll stay?" His voice was small, his body's need for sleep finally overpowering his concern for you.

"Promise." Steve nodded, pulling a chair to sit next to your bed while Bucky laid down in the hospital bed next to yours. "I would've preferred a real bed, but I'll take it."

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere." Bucky closed his eyes, knowing he had to at least try to sleep to avoid another scolding from Steve.

A few hours later, Steve couldn't help but smile as he watched Bucky finally get some rest. Even asleep in a different bed, his body was angled toward yours.

"Steve?" Your voiced cracked, throat dry from crying and lack of use.

"Y/N?" He sat up instantly, moving to pass you a glass of water.

"What the hell happened? Where's Buck?" You questioned, feeling as though your brain was a pile of mush.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Steve avoided your questions for the time being, subtly pulling out his phone to message Shuri.

"The mission. The quinjet was attacked. Hydra took me captive." You slowly put the pieces together. "But you saved me. Bucky saved me. Right?" You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to clear up the memories.

"That's right. Do you remember anything else?" Steve probed gently, unsure of how to tell you about the last few days.

"Um, there was a lab in the basement. They brought me there sometimes. I think..." Everything in your head felt incomplete, like you only knew part of the story.

"You're awake." A feminine voice called from the door to the med bay, causing you and Steve to turn your heads.

"Shuri! It's so good to see you." You pull her in for a hug as soon as she's close enough to your bed. "What are you doing here?"

Shuri eyes you suspiciously, willing you to remember everything with just her stare. "You'll remember soon enough. What do you remember from the past few days?"

"Um, where do you want me to start? I was just telling Steve, I left for the mission, but the jet was attacked and I was captured. I think Hydra must've tried to do experiments on me or something, I remember a lab." Your whole body shook, shivering from the bad memory.

"Good. It's good you remember that." Shuri nodded, a confident smile on her face. "What about after you were rescued?"

You thought back to that moment, but it was a little fuzzy. "Bucky... Bucky was there. He carried me out." Suddenly, an even more urgent thought popped into your head. "Oh my God. Where's Bucky?"

Steve gestured to your left, pointing out a sleeping Bucky in the bed next to yours. He always looked so peaceful while he slept.

You couldn't stop the grin from forming on your face as you watched him. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling while you were gone.

"Messages." You whispered. "I remember listening to messages from Bucky. He- He must've left them while he was looking for me, while you were all looking for me." Your eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/N?" Steve questioned, drawing you back to the present. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure." You shook your head, as if the action in itself would clear your mind. "I remember how I felt when I listened to the messages and it doesn't make any sense."

"How did you feel?" Shuri questioned, eager to see if she gave you back all of your memories, including the past few days.

"Guilty? I think." You replayed the messages in your head as best as you could remember.

"What do you mean guilty?' Steve questioned.

"Like they weren't really for me. Like I wasn't actually me." You looked at Steve and Shuri as they shared a look. "What are you not telling me?"

"I'll leave this one to you, Captain. She is healing nicely." Shuri turned to you before she walked out of the room. "You should understand everything in a few hours. Just give your mind time to put the pieces together."

"Steve, what is she talking about?" You settled a hard glare in his direction, knowing he knew more than you.

"Let me ask you this: do you know how long you were gone?" Steve sighed, unsure how exactly to explain everything.

"About 3 months. I tried to keep a tally while I was there, based on the daily routine." You responded easily.

"Well, when we found you, although we didn't know it at the time, you thought you had been there for 3 years." Steve looked like he was about to continue when you interrupted.

"38 people. I thought I killed 38 people." Suddenly, the pieces were falling into place. "They made me forget who I was. Erased my past and gave me a new one." Your breathing was speeding up as everything came back to you.

"Y/N, hey, look at me." Steve nearly commanded causing you to meet his eye. "You're safe now. We've got you."

You nodded, matching your breathing to his pace to settle your racing heart.

"How long has Buck been asleep." You looked at his sleeping form, wanting more than anything to wake him up.

"A few hours. Ya know, it's good to hear you calling him Buck again." Steve looked at his friend as well, knowing he would be furious that he was still asleep when you were now awake.

"What do you mean?" You turned back to Steve, the question clear on your face.

"The past few days, I mean we all thought it was PTSD." He ran a hand through his hair, guilt clearly playing at his emotions. "Well, not Nat. She knew something was up."

"Of course." You chuckled.

"You called him Bucky every time you talked to him."

"Isn't that normal though?" You were more confused now than before.

"No, not really. You use a lot more pet names than you realize. Plus, you didn't say 'I love you' when you woke up." Steve sighed, again upset at not putting it together sooner.

"Well, that should've been a dead giveaway." You joked, but Steve's eyes remained sad. "Hey, it's not your fault. I'm fine now. That's all that matters."

"I'm glad to have you back." He looked at you with so much sincerity, you nearly started crying again.

Before you could respond Bucky groaned, stretching as he woke up.

"Damn, that was a good nap. How long was I out?" He asked before opening his eyes.

"Oh, just a few hours. You should really sleep more." You answered casually.

"Y/N, you know I can't sleep when- Y/N!" His eyes popped open comically wide as he nearly threw himself out of the bed.

"I love you." You said it so clearly he froze next to your bed.

"You remember?" He asked, voice full of hope.

"I do." The tears pooled in your eyes again as you watched his body visibly relax.

"I missed you so much, doll." You pulled him on top of you in the bed, needing to hold him as close as possible.

"I missed you too. I knew you'd come for me." You smiled through the tears, breathing in his scent.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry I didn't realize everything sooner. I'm so sorry." He apologized over and over.

"Look at me." He moved his head back just far enough to look you in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Not one single thing. Okay?"

"But-" His protests were quickly cut off.

"Not. One. Single. Thing." You stared him down until he nodded.

The two of you cuddled in your hospital bed while Steve went to update everyone on your condition. He could've just had Friday announce it, but he wanted to give you and Bucky a minute to yourselves.

"I've got a date planned for you." Bucky smiled cheekily.

"Oh really?" He nodded. "Care to share with the room?"

"Nope. It's a surprise." He shared a small smile, the love he felt so easily portrayed through his eyes.

"I love you. So much." You couldn't help but blurt it out one more time before everyone barged into the room.

"I love you too."

"We're going to be late." Bucky huffed, waiting for you to leave the bathroom.

"Well, if you had told me where we were going it would've been easier to pick an outfit." You teased him back. He had never been good at keeping secrets from you, so the fact that your date destination was still a surprise shocked you.

"I told you to wear whatever you want. You always look beautiful." He relished in the bashful smile that you covered with a playful roll of your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm ready now Mr. Impatient." You grabbed his hand as you walked out of your bathroom.

"Good, let's go." He guided you to the kitchen where he stopped to grab a picnic basket. He then lead you hand in hand to a blanket set up by the lake.

"We were going to be late for a picnic?" You questioned, fixing Bucky with a teasing glare.

"Not the picnic. The sunset." He teased back, turning your head to look out over the water.

You hadn't realized the sun was already in the midst of setting. "It's beautiful." You smiled as you stared at the horizon, the ultimate picture of peace and tranquility.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for so long, I can't remember what it was like before I met you." Bucky kept his eyes trained on you as you took in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

"That's just because you have a bad memory." You joked, but your breath caught in your throat when you turned to look at him.

"Maybe so, but I don't want to remember any part of my life that you weren't in." He stated from his kneeling position. "I knew from the second you agreed to get dinner with me that I would ask you to marry me someday."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a teardrop cut sunstone ring, small diamonds set along the band.

"Y/N, will you marry me?"

You shook your head up and down as you willed your voice to answer him.

"Yes. Bucky, I- yes."

He slipped the ring onto your finger, silently thanking Nat and Wanda for knowing your ring size. He then pulled you down into his lap, pressing a series of quick kisses to your lips between smiles.

"I love you so much, doll." He whispered, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

"I love you too, Bucky." You responded in kind. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

He cuddle you closer, sliding the picnic basket next to you. "Let's start with dinner."

"I think I might be too excited to eat." He laughed at your pout.

"Well, if we hadn't of been late, you would've eaten before sunset." He smiled at your carefree laughter.

You looked out over the lake one more time, taking in the dusk sky as the sun swiftly dipped below the horizon.

"It was perfect just like this. You're perfect." You kissed him again, unable to contain the utter joy you were feeling.

"I'm hardly perfect." He objected.

"You're perfect to me." You countered.

"I love you. So much." He whispered one final time before kissing you again.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

Memories taglist:

@otherglowcloud @dontxfearxthereaper

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #marvel fic #mcu fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fic

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

No Body, No Crime ✁ 1

AU - Y/N L/N is a second-year law student attending Stanford and studying under Professor Aaron Hotchner. Along with his associate attorneys, Ms. L/N is alongside some of the most ambitious and cutthroat law students in the nation. However, her life gets flipped upside down as she’s thrust into a life of murder, sex and lies.

Main Pairing: Spencer Reid x [F]Reader

Content — Mature themes, blood, major and minor character death, violence, angst, triggering themes, bad coping mechanisms, drugs, mental health shit, alcoholism, lots of smut, language, fluff, mystery, thriller, mentions of cheating, canonical typical themes , dark academia vibes, explicit content - read with caution

DISCLAIMER: This story will contain MATURE content. It will include themes such as smut, violence, etc (see content). If you are not 18+ and unable to handle such themes, respectfully, please exit this story. It is not my intention to make readers uncomfortable or trigger them in any way. If you continue to read the story despite the multiple warnings, I am not responsible for any triggers that may pop up.

Also, based off this blurb!

I am also not a law student, so there is bound to be misinformation!

【 ao3 | Masterlist | Playlist 】

CHAPTER 1: Death and All His Friends

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Blood, she thinks, you never really know how much blood is in a person. Logically, she did know; she had to learn how many pints there were in the human body from med school and the mass amount of profile study cases. From looking at crime scenes, reading textbooks, medical journals and fake charts; blood has never bothered her, if anything, she got used to seeing and being around it.

There are roughly about ten gallons of blood in the average adult, but typically, losing more than forty percent will result in death. That was about two thousand millilitres.

But, you never realize just how much blood a person can hold, not until a human is slaughtered like an animal, eyes glossed over, body turned cold and stiff — splayed out in front of you. It seems like a lot more than what was described.

There’s a saying, bleed like a pig. Well, she understood what it meant now.

God, she sounded like Spencer.

“What are we going to do with the body?”

“Let’s leave it. We need to go back and clean!”

“No, let’s bury it.”

A chuckle of utter disbelief forces its way out of Derek’s mouth in a rush. It’s both strained and ragged and sounds as if he’s about to burst into tears, but the shock and anger seem to immerse deep in his bones and control his actions. His head shakes subconsciously, “You’re — you’re fucking joking, right? It’s the middle of winter! Tell me how the fuck we’re going to bury a body when the soil’s hard?!”

There’s a collective panicked sigh that goes through the group as the implications finally start to settle in.

“Be any louder!” Emily half-shouts. She paces back and forth, the freshly fallen snow crunches under her shoes as they leave footprints in their wake. Her hands make extravagant hand movements, almost in an attempt to speak with her actions. But, the only thing that has Y/N somewhat grounded is the rusty blood on Emily’s hands. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the deep red does nothing but make bile rush to her throat.

“The body is what gets us caught!” JJ cuts in through her half-sobs.

“The one time it snows in California! Since when do we get snow?!”

Sticky, cold, dry, flakey blood. It brings too much attention to the blood painting her body in a cruel, evil painting. Y/N lifts a shaky hand as she turns to observe the way the pads of her fingers were stained red. Underneath her fingernails, she can see the blood caking, dried underneath and can feel the heavy liquid travelling up her sleeve.

Her fingers pressed together before a hand shoots up, trying to pick off the blood in a hasty attempt.

Everything was uncomfortable — too uncomfortable and it was sticky and disgusting and there was too much happening. Her brain was overstimulated and all she wanted to do was yell or cry or strip herself clean from these heavy clothes, hiding the blood drenching her underneath. A hand went to claw at the fabric — she needed to breathe — she needed air and it was too tight and —

The falling snow had finally come to a stop, the ground becomes muddy, wet snow being tracked all around but aside from that, it’s dry out. Panic is slow seep within her body, only just registering the dull, prickling ache that travels up the side of her right arm. Not to mention the pounding in her skull felt like someone had taken a power tool, drilling a burl hole into the side of her head in hopes of creating a make-shift lobotomy. On instinct, her hand reaches up to her temples, massaging small circles in hopes to find relief.

But then she catches sight of her hand again from her peripheral vision, or rather, it’s as if she can feel it laminating her skin. Blood.

Now there must be smeared streaks of dried blood coating her face. Fuck, now she really feels like throwing up.

A soft wail can be heard in the background somewhere, but it sounds distant and underwater. She thinks it’s JJ. Her high-pitched cries are loud and she thinks that’s Derek’s voice yelling at her and god… it only amplifies her headache.

She needed an aspirin, Advil — maybe Spencer had some.

Her mind wanders back to the group. Emily… Emily — she’s — Y/N doesn’t know where Emily went actually. She could have sworn she was by the trees…

She continued to pick at her skin absentmindedly, and now she couldn’t tell where her blood started and the one that was sprayed onto her ended.

And Spencer, he’s pacing and hadn’t muttered a word since they left Hotch’s house. His body language is closed off, his hand rubbing up and down his arms in either a self-soothing method or because it’s cold out. She assumes it’s the former.

The one time — the one fucking time the asshole is supposed to be smart, his IQ magically drops below zero.

Everyone is arguing and they all hear the faint cheers, laughter, early fireworks and music blaring in the background. The sound of the bonfire crackles in the distance and all she can do is drown it out. She was supposed to be having fun. She should’ve been visiting home, or maybe studying of fucking Spencer, not wearing shoes twice her size, gloves to cover up her fingerprints; not trying to come up with an alibi and there definitely shouldn’t be someone else’s blood clinging to her. She should’ve been anywhere but here. It’s too much.

Lightheaded, Y/N stumbles backwards, supporting herself against a nearby tree. The shadows and black coat camouflaged her, engulfing her into the night and she feels an odd sense of comfort by it. But, it does anything but calms her down as her chest begins to rise rapidly up and down.

Oh god, oh shit, shit, shit! They’re all fucked — she’s fucked. Her DNA is all over the crime scene. The crime scene is on her and probably under the body’s fingernails. There was no way she was getting out of this. It wasn’t even her fault and look where she is.

She should’ve listened to her Grandparents; don’t go to law school, it’ll turn her into something she’s not. Y/N smiles twistedly thinking about it, they were right.

You can’t get away with murder.

Shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“We need to stop wasting time,” Emily announces, appearing remarkably calm.

“W-we should call the police,” Y/N mumbles in a shaky voice. Her voice hitches and she sucks in a cry.

All of their heads, besides Spencer’s, whip over to her; she’s on the verge of breaking — possibly even running off and going straight to the local police station. Her phone suddenly feels heavy in her pocket.

“What we’re not going to do is that! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?!” Derek exclaims. His mouth goes to open again before he suddenly halts, looking over to Spencer and shouting. “Ayo, kid-fucking-genius, could you, I don’t know — think?!”

The yelling makes her shrink in on herself. Yes, call the police, turn yourself in. Obstruction of justice; tampering with evidence, manslaughter, attempting to hide a body, invasion of privacy, possible perjury — all this leads to incarceration and more time. Maybe she could even get a deal, say that she was in shock, dealing with PTSD. Immunity! Maybe she could strike herself and Spencer an immunity deal.

God — they killed her. They murdered someone.

Immense guilt bubbles its way through her before she turns to gag on air. Her hands clutches her stomach as she heaves, distantly hearing the arguing background.

“— about Hotch?”

“What about him? He’s going to put us in jail himself. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill us so we can skip a life sentence!”

JJ cries louder. God was she fucking annoying.

“He doesn’t give two shits about her —” “Could everyone just stop for a fucking moment,” a new, irritated voice cuts in. It sounds like it’s been pushed through gritted teeth, muddled by straining and holding back tears. It’s Spencer.

His eyes shut, the palm of his hands pressed harshly on them before rubbing them hard. But, they travel up to his forehead and through his hair, pulling down so hard that Y/N would be surprised if he didn’t already lose a chunk. But within a swift motion, he crouches to the ground in a fetal-like position; the balls of his feet roll back and forth, making his entire body bounce in small rhythms.

He’s having a panic attack, judging by the way his breathing cuts in and out in large volumes, hyperventilation bound to happen soon.

The entire group stays silent before Derek has enough. He walks up to Spencer, a hand clutching his jacket which forces him to stare straight into his eyes.

“Don’t treat him like that,” Emily tries to cut in.

“If you don’t give us something good within the next few seconds, you better pray to god —”

With newfound determination, Spencer meets his eyes with a fiery look, his chest puffed out a bit and his voice is even.

“We burn it.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✈︎༺━━━━━━━━━

Friday, August 29th, 2003

Palo Alto, California. Apartment 7

Four months before

A clanging sound reverberates throughout the empty hallway for the third time within the last five minutes. Her keys.

An annoyed sigh involuntarily leaves her lips as she struggles to lift the stacks of heavy boxes in her arms. Her attention was drawn to a bulletin board near her door. A missing person’s photo was plastered, marked with an eye-catching red border. Printed underneath a photo of a man in bold letters: George Floyet, twenty-five-year-old student at Palo Alto University. Last seen on July 30th, 2003.

When Y/N L/N was fourteen, she vaguely remembered people asking her where she saw herself in the next ten years. Now standing outside her newly rented apartment, sweating as she juggled a stack of large boxes without tripping — well, she certainly hadn’t thought this.

Life had many ups and downs, as cliche as that sounded. She hadn’t expected to graduate university with an English and Human Physiology degree, nor had she expected into medical school before ultimately deciding to take the LSATs, pursuing a career in law.

Truly, had Y/N used one word to describe her career ambitions at the moment, she’d say she’s pretty fucked and clueless. Although, she’d liked to consider herself fairly motivated, resilient, perhaps even strong-willed and quick on her feet. Scratch that, if anything, the one thing she did pride herself on was her ability to compose herself quickly and the want to overcome fear. It was a motto, of sorts, which she’d been sticking close to: going with the flow.

If anything, those were the attributes that built the foundation of what anyone needed to become a successful lawyer. Yes, that made her situation sound a lot less… pathetic.

But certainly, standing in the middle of a corridor in a shitty apartment with walls too thin to save money on rent, she’d consider herself pretty pathetic.

Oh, the joys of moving.

Just as she felt one of the boxes tipping, the sound of shuffling fills the hallway. A pair of large pale hands come out of nowhere, swiftly catching the stacked cardboard boxes with ease.

When she looked up, she hadn’t quite caught a look at the man in front of her as he bent down to pick up her keys. But when he finally stood straight, eyes locking, she took note of his features

He was tall, much taller than herself and dressed in black slacks and a light lilac dress shirt which was pushed up by the sleeves. He was young, probably the same age as her or younger. He was wide-eyed, almost doe-like and wore a nervous yet seemingly gentle expression.

“Hello,” said the stranger. His hair was rumpled as if he’d just woken up as darken eyebags accentuated his face. His face was sharp, features dark — but in a soft sharp way that made the shape of his nose and lips the most noticeable. Pink lips, a tired look, pretty face.

This stranger was friendly and very attractive. That was her first impression of him.

“Hi,” she replied, a bit breathless from the weight of juggling the boxes. But still, she smiled and her head tilted to the side slightly.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were my new neighbour, I hope you don’t mind me helping, you looked like you needed it,” he says nervously, his extra free hand goes back to rub the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes shoot over to the door at the end of the hallway, conveniently next to hers: apartment 8. He must've heard the banging against the doors and walls, and suddenly, she felt guilty. She must’ve woken him up.

“Haha, yeah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“No! It’s fine.”

Now, both stand there a bit awkwardly before she coughs, which has him nodding and fumbling with her keys in his hand, “Er — I have a couple of minutes before I leave for work, do you still need help?”

“Right, yes!”

Y/N hands him over her other box, her hand taking the keys back as she clicks open her door. The smell of cleaning products filled her nose along with the smell of old books. It’s spacious, considering what she’s paying for it. It’s a flat, aside from the bathroom and kitchen and there’s a small balcony that’s connected with another set of railings outside. The view of green trees and flowers could be seen and suddenly, Y/N considers herself lucky when she’s realized the place she’s snagged.

The man trails behind her, setting the boxes down on the kitchen counter before dusting off any non-existent lint off his pants. His eyes quickly scan the area, in an analytical fashion.

He clears his throat, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

She nods too, walking back up to her door to lead him out. “Likewise, neighbour.”

This time, a real smile crosses his face before looking down sheepishly, a small tint covering his cheeks. “Please, I’m Doctor Reid — but please, call me Spencer.”

“Doctor?” Her face lights up with curiosity. This man looks as young as her, younger — and she’s only twenty-four.

“Oh, I don’t practice medicine,” he quickly adds. His hands go to fiddle with each other, “I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187,” he explains. However, it’s not in a blatantly rude manner — like he’s trying to flaunt it. If anything, he looks embarrassed. His head drops to look down at his shoes, trying to make himself appear smaller, seeming uncomfortable. But like she said, Y/N likes to believe she’s quick on her feet.

“Well then, Doctor,” she teases, which has him going a deeper shade of pink, “I’m Y/N L/N, I have no PhDs, I used to practice medicine and I have an IQ of — probably a hundred or less.

At this, Spencer visibly relaxes as a deep chuckle makes its way out. He nods again, making his way out the door and does a small wave before disappearing back into his apartment. Y/N leaves her door open, but her back is faced towards it as she hears his door click back open and she feels the vibrations of his door closing before the tapping of his feet becomes more and more distant.

There are a dozen other boxes she ends up hauling in, but she’s noticed that Spencer must have somehow carried a few of the boxes to the top of the stairs rather than just leaving them in the lobby.

As she wipes down the surfaces, music blasting through her earbuds before unboxing her new bed frame, a smirk crosses her face; cheap rent, enrolled at one of the top law schools in the country, has enough money saved for the next few months and a cute, tall, polite and a fucking doctor that just so happens to be her neighbour — damn, Y/N doesn’t mind this at all.

【 Next Chapter 】

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pagingevilspawn · 3 years

Text

how's your heart after breaking mine?

ts x jolex week 21

day one: fearless - mr. perfectly fine (taylor's verion) (from the vault)

wc: 2.5k

pairing: Jo Wilson/Alex Karev. Alex Karev/Izzie Steven (mentioned)

summary: years after they last saw each other, jo and alex reunite at a conference, and while she is still struggling from her heartache, he seems to be mr. perfectly fine.

rating: general audiences

category: angst.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, alcohol consumption.

A/N: guess who finished this just now? me. that's who. I was actually working on this one long before the announcement for this event came out, but it gave me the motivation to continue this! Alex is unintentionally an ass in this and for that, i’m sorry. Anyways… hope you enjoy! (first part's pretty crappy, but after that it gets better.)

(this was also proofread, like...once, so of there are a plethora of errors i apologize)

____

The absolute last thing Jo wanted right now was to attend a medical conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. There were multiple reasons why she should’ve said no. One; she had just started her second year of her OB GYN residency a few weeks prior, and there were a very limited number of lectures on her new line of study where she was headed. Two; she now held an absolute hatred for the Seattle Tacoma International Airport, since it was the place where her ex-husband stood before her, placed a soft kiss on her lips and promised to see her in a couple of weeks, lying to her face about seeing his mother in Iowa, when in reality he was going to see his ex-wife and kids, never really planning on returning home.

It was ironic really; how not even two years ago, she was standing in front of gate 48, saying goodbye to him, and now she stood in the same spot, in front of the exact same gate, with him nowhere near her side as she glared up at the same exact entrance she last saw him at.

(She also now hated the number forty-eight)

But, since Meredith had been hounding her non-stop about attending this event, she gave in. Because how was she supposed to say no to the woman who had barely survived the pandemic? Along with a plethora of other things she was too lazy to memorize. (The answer was that she couldn’t. She felt guilty for leaving Meredith behind for OB, so she now did whatever her former mentor wanted, even if more than two years had passed) If Meredith Grey asked for something, Meredith Grey got it. She was turning back into the intern who cried fake tears and would do anything to earn her approval, and Jo was not a fan.

“It’ll be good for you Wilson. You need to leave that loft of your’s and go somewhere Wilson, blah blah blah,” she mutters to herself as she shows the attendant her ticket, not even bothering to return the smile, settling on brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear instead. The messy bun on the top of her head bounced in place, and she felt like a college student after a night of studying, but rather than books tucked under her arm it was a neck pillow and a carry-on.

She shuffles into her seat, thankful that it was an aisle one before letting her eyes shut, trying to catch a wink of sleep in an attempt to make up for the less than few hours she had gotten the night before. It proves to be unsuccessful, because the businessman sitting next to her ate his chips so loud she had to restrain herself from coiling into herself every time a chip crunched beneath his teeth, and the toddler behind her continuously managed to kick her seat, no matter how many times his mother told him to stop.

After three hours of loud chewing, seat kicking, and crying babies, she lands in Salt Lake, taking in a deep breath when she finally escapes the crowded airport and is met with humid air. She picks up her rental car, and arrives at her hotel not long after, immediately tossing her bags into the corner and sprawling onto the bed. Eventually, she moves to unpack her clothes and other necessities, casting a glance at the clock which read 10:37.

Taking a look around the room, she decided that nothing more needs to be done; all of her makeup is laid out for the morning, and what she chose to wear is already hanging up in the closet, freshly ironed and wrinkle-free. She yawns, crawling under the covers and flicking off the light, sleep coming easily.

When she wakes up the next morning to her alarm clock going off, she’s freshly rested and in a better mood than she normally was when she had to wake up before nine. The early morning sun beats down onto her face, and she knows that if she wanted to get to the first lecture on time, she needed to start getting ready sooner rather than later.

With a sigh, she begrudgingly gets out of bed, hopping in a quick shower and changing into her clothes. She adds some soft waves to her hair, in the hopes that it made her look more put together than she felt. It didn’t seem that just because she got hours of sleep made up for the fact that she would rather be curled up in the soft sheets of her bed at home than the stiff ones the hotel provided.

It doesn’t take long until she’s arrived in the lobby, where doctors all around her were dressed in firmly pressed suits and skirts. Tables advertising different events throughout the day were lined up and down the hallways, fellow surgeons and mentees passing out little pamphlets with information about their courses littering the pages.

Jo passes by a few stands displaying lectures on the OBGYN field, mentally making a list of the ones she would like to attend.

A quick glance to her watch tells her that the first item on her list was starting soon, and with that she dumps the now-empty coffee cup she had ordered a few minutes prior as a pick-me-up, and shuffles into the seat of the auditorium, the chairs around her filling up quicker than she expects.

It’s only a few minutes later Dr. Maria Cavanaugh steps out onto the stage, silencing the crowd after a round of applause. Jo leans back into her seat, feeling grateful that Meredith had pushed her to go to this conference.

If her whole weekend is spent listening to experts talk and teach about her new specialty, she thinks she’s going to enjoy it.

____

It’s hours and a multitude of lectures later when she exits another grand room, fellow surgeons beside her chatting about the new information they’d acquired. She feels a small smile grace her lips as she realizes that the excited squeals could only come from the med school students that had been invited from the nearby college.

She pulls out her phone, seeing a text from Link and Meredith, both along the lines of that they hoped she arrived safely and that she enjoyed her time away from home. She responds, pocketing her phone and making her way to the hotel bar, settling into one of the few empty seats and ordering a whiskey sour, thanking the bartender when it's placed in front of her not even a minute later.

She sips the drink slowly, feeling some leftover tenseness from sitting all day leave her body as the alcohol starts to flow through her veins. She was far from drunk, but even saying tipsy felt like too much of a stretch.

Pleasantly buzzed, she decides on, taking another sip of her drink, making a brief second of eye contact with a man on the other end of the bar. He raises her glass with a slight nod of his head, and she does the same. She’s tempted to continue; take use of the way the man’s making subtle glances to the seat next to him when her ears pick up another conversion from a few feet away, freezing her in place, glass nearly dropping to the floor.

“Do you want anything?”

“Just a water’s fine. I’m gonna go talk to Dr. Conwell about some of the research her and her team were talking about.”

She turns in her seat, against her better judgment. She watches as he kisses her cheek before leaning against the bar’s counter a few feet away.

She feels as if ice had just been dropped down her back —frozen in place, unable to move as she watches Alex drum his fingers on the dark wood, head nodding along to the soft tune playing through the speakers. He grabs his drinks from the bartender; two waters, one with ice and one without, about to walk towards the woman he was with earlier when he spots her.

“Jo?” he questions, blinking multiple times as if to see if it was really her, and not a trick of the light.

She wants to run when he makes his way over to her. She wants to run, and scream, and throw her drink in his face. But instead, she places a tight, thin smile on her lips and acts as if nothing was wrong.

“Alex, hi!” She turns to face him, her voice too high for her enthusiasm to be true, but if he knows it he doesn’t make any move to show it.

He runs a hand through his hair —it's longer than the last time she saw it, a bit of grey speckled in so lightly that it wouldn’t be noticeable to someone who wasn’t looking.”I uh, I didn't know you’d be here.”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains. “Well,” she spins her drink with the straw, watching as the ice cubes clink against the glass “The feeling’s mutual.”

“How are you?” He asks after a few beats of silence, and she wants nothing more than to yell at him that he couldn’t talk to her like this —like they were old friends who had lost contact after a while, and were due for a catch up. Because they weren’t old friends. They were so far from friends that someone could build a bridge with the amount of space they had between them.

“Fine,” she lies through her teeth, her heart nearly beating out of her chest in nervousness. She was worried that she was going to break down at any second, spew the words that she had said to Carly in anger at him if he looked at her any longer as if things were okay between them.

“You?” she questions, not interested in the answer, sipping her drink similarly to how she had the night of Bailey’s wedding, the unwelcome memory of the start of their relationship blossoming to the front of her mind.

He sips his water, “Good. I’ve been good.”

With his hand clasped around the glass she catches sight of the pristine, shiny gold ring that sits on his fourth finger, and she has to fight back the growing lump in her throat that threatens to escape.

“Congrats,” she says instead, eyebrows pinched together as she nods towards the ring, a tell that always told whether or not her words rang true.

He seems to have forgotten that, and takes her words as a compliment. He gives her a small smile, “Thanks.”

Jo wants to laugh, because this was so far from the Alex Karev she had known, the man in front of her unfamiliar and so, so different from the one she married years ago. The Alex she knew would’ve never ordered a water instead of a beer, or act as if everything was okay between them when it was so far from it.

He’d changed, and she couldn’t say that she liked it.

“How are the kids?” she asks, and she can tell that she’s surprised him. He looks taken aback for a moment, before smiling gently and reaching into his pocket for his phone. “They’re great,” he says, pulling up a photo of them, the twins smiling brightly into the camera.

“That was at their birthday party last week,” he explains, and she notices the large 7 balloons that are floating in the background.

“He looks like you,” she comments about the boy. He grins, and she wants nothing more than to slap him for not being able to see that she’s so obviously hurting, that her heart is breaking inside of her chest. That she selfishly wants him to say that he made a mistake, that he was in love with her, not Izzie. But her life wasn’t a trashy romance novel, and even if it was, Alex was never one to admit to his faults, his pride and ego too large to have it bruised in such a way.

She had always wondered what he had been up to after he had left. If he was okay. She’d imagined different futures for him, some including Izzie and the kids, some of them not. She’s even naively envisioned ones with her and the children they had always talked about having one day.

Somedays, when she was feeling worse for wear, she had wished that he was miserable —that he and Izzie weren’t together and as far as they went communication-wise was a phone call to see who had the kids that week; that he was as alone and bitter as she was.

But instead, here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. The man who had looked her in the eyes and told her he would never go away.

Here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. Married to the woman he had left her for, a shiny gold ring on his finger instead of neat, polished wood.

For the past two years she’d been picking up the pieces of herself that he had shattered and left behind, only just starting to put herself back together, and here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. While she was piecing together her shattered heart, he was picking up her, the woman he had left her for.

She had thought that he was different from the rest; different from everyone who had ever left her. But he wasn’t —the man she had thought was so different was so exactly the same as everyone else.

“I’m sorry, Jo.” he says, and she has the urge to laugh —laugh because he wasn’t sorry, she could tell. He was sorry that he left her and caused her pain, sure. But he wasn’t sorry that he had done it, that he had married Izzie again and lived with her and his kids on a farm in the middle of Kansas. He wasn’t sorry about that at all.

Mr. Insincere Apology so he didn’t look like the bad guy.

She acts as if she believes him, giving him another tight smile, and lies through her teeth once more. “It’s fine Alex. It’s in the past.”

Jo checks phone, making a face when she ‘realizes’ the time, eager to get out of there as soon as she could. “I need to go, early morning,” she fibs, and she internally rolls her eyes at how he believes her. While he seemed to have forgotten everything about her, she still remembers every detail about him.

“It was nice seeing you again Jo,” he’s playing with the sleeves of his jacket and his eyes meet hers, and for less than a second it’s almost enough to break her resolve.

Another tight smile graces her lips, and she begins to walk away when her body fights her mind and she finds herself leaning down, her lips against his ear.

“I’m glad it was worth it, Alex.”

Her voice is harsh and bitter, yet broken, and she doesn’t need to look at him to know that his face has fallen, and he’s realized that everything she’d told him that night was a lie. She turns and lets the tears fall silently, making her way back up to her room with a head full of thoughts about her ex-husband, about Alex Karev.

About Mr. Perfectly Fine.

____

@thejolexgroupchat #tsjolexweek21

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

Masterlist

Previous chapter

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DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando

#javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine #javier peña x reader #illicit limerence

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margoshansons · 4 years

Text

Desperate Measures: 18/?

MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/N comes back to camp, where several people are waiting to welcome her. But she can’t stay long, especially with Finn and Murphy out there. Bellamy doesn’t take too kindly to a figure from Y/N’s past.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of a massacre, swearing, guns, death.

Notes: MY BOY DESERVES FUCKING BETTER JROTH! Anyway, I decided y’all needed some healing after that last episode so please enjoy this long chapter filled with plenty of Bellamy/YN.

If any of you guys ever need to talk about 7x13 and what happened, I’m always here for you. Based on 2x05 “Human Trials”

***

Her breath threatened to betray how strained she felt from the walk to Factory Station and back. She clutched Monroe closer to her. The two women, suffering from similar wounds, leaning on each other for support as they struggled to cross the last few meters.

Her side split in pain, legs buckling underneath the weight of Monroe on her shoulders. She thought she could feel the stitches in her leg come undone.

“They’re back!” Someone shouted as they collapsed against the grassy fields, Octavia relieving the weight by taking Monroe off her hands. Y/N raised herself up, leaning against Bellamy for support.

“I’ve got you sparky.” He whispered, a reassuring smile on his face. Y/N couldn’t find it in her to berate him about the nickname. Her energy cells were depleted, and her leg was ready to bust open. “You’re going to be okay,”

Her balance was thrown off by a body colliding into her, disbelief erupting in her body as she removed her arms from Bellamy’s neck to her long lost friend. The blonde curls impedeing her vision confirmed her theory. Clarke was home.

Clarke was safe.

“You’re okay” She murmured through tears threatening to escape her, voice breaking, “You’re alive.”

She felt Clarke’s smile against her shoulder, “I thought I’d never see you again,” The blonde murmured, tightening her embrace, not ready to let go.

“Neither did I.”

When the two women let go, Clarke shared another tight embrace with Bellamy and Y/N felt herself almost plowed over by another body colliding with hers.

“Holy shit you’re actually alive,”

Her heart almost stopped when she heard the voice in her ear, hands running through the dirty blonde waves that had once been so familiar to her.

She pulled away, unable to believe who she was seeing. “Kyle?” Her voice broke as she said his name for the first time since solitary.

“Hey Sparky,” Wick’s eyes glazed over before pulling her back in for a hug, arms tightening once again around her waist as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his familiar frame, “I missed you,” He whispered in her hair.

She pushed herself away, wrestling herself out of his stupidly strong grip. “Hey,” she spoke through unshed tears, voice thick with emotion, “Feelings are dumb remember?”

He let out a chuckle and she forgot how much she missed hearing him laugh. “Right,” Wick replied, pulling her inward toward his side, “Feelings are stupid.”

She let out a similar chuckle before a cough threw them out of their reunion. Y/N locked eyes with Bellamy, her throat constricting as nerves jumped upward at the thought of them meeting. This was going to be awkward.

***

Bellamy curled his lips at the sight of the taller guy holding Y/N so close to him, and he didn’t really like the anger stirring within his stomach as he caught the looks they gave each other.

Not that he had any claim over her, but he thought they were headed toward something at least.

“Who’s this?” He asked, trying to keep the irritation from leaking through his voice.

Y/n swallowed before plastering a bright smile on her face, “This is Wick, he was my partner in engineering on the Ark.”

“In more ways than one.” Wick remarked, garnering a playful snort and a smack across the chest from Y/N.

Bellamy nodded, hoping the white hot rage deep in his gut wasn’t visible to everyone the way he thought it was. What the hell did he mean? Who was he to talk about her that way?

“Anyways,” Y/N continued, gesturing toward him, “This is Bellamy, he’s my…”

He swallowed as she creased her eyebrows, struggling to find a way to define their relationship. “He’s my co-leader.” She settled on, and he tried to ignore the way his shoulders seemed to deflate at the sound of the term. He had hoped they were something more.

He wanted to be something more.

Didn’t she?

“Nice to meet you man.” Wick offered his hand out, which Bellamy took for the sake of being polite. “Y/N’s told me all about you, you know before Councilor Sydney went all batshit and crashed the exodus ship.”

“Wait?” Y/N asked, “That was her? That makes so much more sense.”

Wick nodded, wanting to continue talking. Bellamy was grateful for Clarke’s interjection.

“We can play catch-up later” She announced, turning back toward Bellamy and Octavia, “Where’s Finn?”

He saw the hope in her eyes die as Bellamy uttered those three words. “Looking for you.”

Clarke stepped back, ready to launch into a series of questions about what had transpired until a gasp of pain coming from Y/N’s mouth tore them from their conversation.

“Y/N?” Wick’s trembling voice came from Bellamy’s side, the two boys rushing forward to catch her as her leg buckled “Hey, Sparky can you hear me?” Bellamy shoved down his irritation at the use of the nickname and focused on Y/N’s smaller frame.

“Come on,” He urged, pulling her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, almost fading out of consciousness from how hard she had walked. His breathing increased rapidly, heartbeat pounding against his ribs as they made their way to the med tent, Bellamy’s gaze never leaving hers.

If they had he would’ve caught the look of realization crossing Clarke and Wick’s faces.

***

For the first time in a very long time, Y/N actually felt somewhat normal. Her leg was hardly bothering her anymore and she could actually move it without worrying too much about any extra pain.

“Hey Sparky,” A familiar voice called beside her, and she smiled in relief as she realized that her reunion with Wick hadn’t been a dream.

“Hey Kyle,” She moaned as she pulled herself up, the lack of sleep over the past few days finally catching up to her. “Where’s everybody?” She asked through a yawn as she gazed around the medical walls surrounding her. She drew her eyes to the gaping hole in her jeans as she ran her fingers down the perfectly neat stitches, the other hand embracing Kyle’s. “How did I get here?”

“Bellamy Blake,” Wick responded, the slightest smirk on his face as he leaned back, releasing his grip on her hand, “You know I think he really cares about you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting her weight so her legs hung off the table, ready to jump to the ground. “I’m not doing this now.”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted me to come down to help with this situation.” Wick brought up, and she groaned, her feet slapping the floor as she remembered their conversation from long ago.

“I hate that you remembered that.” She uttered, able to walk better than usual. Her eyes glanced around until they fell on a pile of clothes not that far away.

Wick stood up to follow her, “I remember a lot of things, like how Jackson said that you shouldn’t spend anymore time on that leg until it’s fully healed.”

Y/N scoffed, ripping off her tank to replace it with a grey thermal from the pile. Wick’s eyes lingered on her torso, eyebrows shooting themselves up into an arch.

“You gonna stop staring or do I have to close that mouth of yours myself?” She teased, the familiar flirtation sending something uncomfortable ripping through her.

She hated this feeling.

She hated the fact that even having Wick here was bringing these memories back.

She hated that it wasn’t Bellamy she was trading innuendos with.

Y/N ignored the smirk spreading across Kyle’s face as he leaned back, “You were the one who broke things off, so just remember that when you want some of this.” He defended, gesturing to his body.

She threw her head back and cackled, the sound freeing her from some of the responsibility she had been shouldering since she came down.

It was true what they said.

Laughter really was the best medicine.

“You come all this way to try and rekindle something Wick?” She used his last name, knowing it was less intimate. First names meant something to them, they didn’t just throw it around because they could.

“Actually I’m here to check on you,” His eyes flickered to her bare legs as she pulled on a new pair of jeans, lacing up her boots as she turned to face him. “And to tell you that your friends are planning on going after the two you left behind.”

Finn and Murphy.

They were still out there and Clarke was back home.

As if sensing her confusion, Wick continued to explain, “The council’s cutting them loose, Raven and I are helping you guys sneak out.”

Y/N bit her cheek mirthlessly, “Great, when do we leave?”

The medical flap opened, revealing Raven standing there with a brace surrounding her bum leg, a duffel bag of rifles around her shoulder as she handed Y/N a pistol. “Now.”

***

Bellamy failed to hide his surprise upon meeting Raven and Y/N at the electric fence, the latter in fresh clothes with a pistol strapped to her side.

“I don’t like you coming with us.” He muttered, shifting his gaze between the two women.

“It’s a shame I don’t listen to you then.” She smirked, handing him a rifle as the pitter patter of footsteps rounded the corner.

Clarke smiled at the two of them, “Nice to see that not everything has changed.”

Bellamy scoffed, hiding the pleasure he felt at the idea of Y/N accompanying them on their journey. He liked her company, and he knew Clarke wouldn’t leave without several stashes of gauze and painkillers on her.

Octavia’s wild braids made an appearance and determination crossed her face. “I’m not letting you leave here without me.”

“Octavia--” Y/N moved before getting cut off by the other girl.

“Finn and Murphy are headed for Lincoln’s village,” She brought up, the argument clearly practiced, “I’ve been there, have you? Have they?” She threw a pointed look at Bellamy and Clarke before Y/N pulled out a pack.

“I was going to say I know.” She smirked, the two girls sharing a smile before Octavia moved forward.

“Whoa,” Raven drew her cane in front of his sister, “Not so fast Pocahontas.” Her cane touched the fence, electricity sparking and crackling as the five of them jumped back.

“I thought you said it was handled,” Bellamy growled.

“It is” Y/N spoke up, raising a radio to her mouth uttering three simple words. “Shut it down Wick.”

She handed the radio to Raven, and Bellamy once again tried to get a hold on the anger raging inside him at the thought of Y/N and Wick spending time together while he was out petitioning to save their friends.

He hadn’t been there for her. Not like Bellamy had,

The next time the cane touched the fence, nothing happened. And he supposed he had Wick to thank for that.

He sighed as they snuck out, barely catching the look Clarke gave him and Y/N as they shuffled forward behind Octavia, footsteps matching each other.

***

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably on the log, eyes locking onto Octavia’s sleeping frame, a small tug at his lips recalling everything the two had been through. Clarke slept a few beats away, curled up next to the flames, blonde hair splayed out on the grass beside him. He was grateful to have her back. Having her around made things so much easier.

When his eyes flitted to Y/N’s blanket, he perked up in worry, the pack abandoned on the forest floor as he looked around, searching anxiously for his co-leader, his friend, his...something.

“Relax,” Her soft voice answered, footsteps settling next to him before she sat down next to him, her body warming him more than any fire ever could. “I was just scouting the area,” She waved her pistol before holstering it in her pants like he once did, letting him know that she was armed and ready to defend herself.

He let out a sigh of relief before turning his gaze beside him, eyes scanning her illuminated features. She stared out at the fire before him, ponytail drifting over her shoulders as she leaned forward, elbows against her knees.

“Did you mean what you said?” He swallowed his nerves, ready to get an answer to the question that had been plaguing him since the day she got shot. “Back at the dropship, before we got seperated. Did you have feelings for me?”

He watched her shoulders tense at the question, and he knew he had taken it a step too far. They were in the middle of a war, they shouldn’t be talking about this. They shouldn’t be focusing on this, but he needed to know.

“Yes.” She breathed, eyes flickering to his mouth, “I do have feelings for you. Murphy was right.”

His chest exploded at the confirmation, nerves evaporating into relief as it pumped through his veins.

“That’s a relief.” He joked to ease the tension, “I was afraid I had to beat Murphy if it wasn’t true.” She chuckled, the hushed laughter sending his chest pounding with pride. “Maybe I’ll beat him anyway.” He continued, his lips tugging involuntarily. “Just for kicks.”

“You should cut him some slack,” Y/N spoke up, surprising both of them before letting out a yawn “Even he and I have something in common.”

It was Bellamy’s turn to chuckle, “You should get some sleep,” He brushed a piece of hair that had fallen loose aside, pushing it behind her ear as he examined her beautiful face again, the touch sending shivers down his spine.

“So should you.” She pointed out, hands brushing themselves across the wrinkles in his forehead.

He couldn’t keep the adoring smile off his face, wanting nothing more than to press his lips against hers right then and there, to take her in his arms and forget the rest of the world existed. She made him want to be better.

She made him want to live.

“I’ll sleep when we find Finn,” He said, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind as he remembered his own reality. “I knew what they were capable of, and I let him and Murphy leave with two automatic rifles.”

“We let them leave.” Y/N reminded him, grasping his hand in hers, drawing his gaze toward her intertwined digits. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

His gaze moved up her arm, meeting her exposed neck until it finally landed on her soft lips, and the desire to kiss her had never been greater until that moment.

It seemed so perfect.

The gap was almost nonexistent.

Inching closer and closer--

“I’m sure it was just like the dropship,” Clarke’s trembling voice rang through the fire, tearing the two apart. “It had to be done.”

Bellamy nodded slightly before shifting his gaze to the fire, one final question lingering on his mind. “How long until chocolate cake turns into being hung upside down and drained for their blood?” His voice shook, as if he couldn’t handle the truth. As if one wrong move would topple him.

“I don’t know” Clarke admitted, sitting up, “But we don’t have much time.”

Y/N nodded with him, “First we find Finn,” She chimed in, “And then we rescue our friends in Mount Weather.”

“And Lincoln.” Octavia announced, everyone finally awake. “Think we’ve slept long enough.” The rest of the group agreed.

“I’ll go find us some water to extinguish the fire.” Y/N announced, tearing herself out of Bellamy’s grasp to enter the darkened forest.

“She’s good for you Bellamy.” Clarke told him as soon as Y/N was out of earshot.

Bellamy nodded, ‘She’s good for all of us.” He said instead, ignoring the knowing look on Clarke’s face. “I don’t think any of us would’ve survived if she hadn’t been on that dropship.”

“You got that right.” Octavia snickered, a soft smile on her face as she caught the look in her brother’s eyes. “We got lucky.” She said.

Bellamy nodded, sending a look in the direction she had disappeared in. “Really lucky,” He murmured to himself.

***

“We’re almost there.” Octavia announced, continuing her way through the endless amounts of trees, “Once we reach the statue it’s only another kilometer or two.”

Y/N creased her eyebrows in confusion, she tilted her head as she linked eyes with Bellamy.

Statue?

Were there remnants of Old Earth that had survived the bombs?

Her question was answered once they stepped deep into a clearing, the dirt path stretching before them, but Y/N’s eyes were trained on a vine covered monument above her, a brief moment of awe crossing her face before a sob pulled her back to reality.

“The reapers came from there.” Octavia spoke, tears falling down her face, “I couldn’t save him Bell, I couldn’t save him.”

Bellamy pulled Octavia close, reassuring her that they would find Lincoln again and he would make sure of it. Y/N shuffled closer to Clarke, glad to have her with them as they traversed forward.

“I recognize this statue,” the blonde announced, “He was a great peacekeeper before the cataclysm.” Clarke and her stared up at the statue once again, letting Bellamy and Octavia have their moment. “I destroy my enemies by making them friends.” Clarke whispered, and Y/N tilted her head, not recognizing the quote. “It was quote of his. One that I think we need to implement.”

“How you reach the goal matters.” Y/N told herself, realizing what Clarke was hinting at, “You wanna seek peace with the grounders?” She asked, knowing it was the most logical conclusion.

Clarke nodded, “Their people are in the mountain too. We need--”

Shots rang out, pulling the foursome back to reality as they raced toward the village, hoping they weren’t too late.

They scrambled down the man-made path, dirt roads and statues forgotten as their eyes graced the horror awaiting them at the grounder village. A burnt farm crumbled at their side, blood poured onto the streets and a man with a face tattoo released a guttural scream to the sky.

They scrambled down the hill, and Y/N’s gaze went to Murphy, whose gun was slung behind him. She turned her eyes to Finn, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle.

She leaned down next to Octavia, examining the warrior--no, the child bleeding onto the pavement beneath him.

Beside her, the sobbing man closed the child’s eyes whispering one phrase. “Yu gonplei ste odon*.”

Behind her, Finn’s crazed eyes were locked onto Clarke’s whispering a phrase of his own.

“I found you.”

***

That night her mind refused to sleep, replaying the massacre over and over, recalling the final words the man with the face tattoo had spoken to that child, the screams that followed. She couldn’t get them out of her head, and when she slept they only made things worse.

She wanted Miller here.

She wanted him to steal moonshine and tell her that things were going to be okay, to cheer her up with his awful jokes and play games together as they spilled secrets they wouldn’t whisper to anyone else.

Pulling herself out of bed, she shoved the flap of her tent open, wind rushing against her exposed legs, not caring about who saw her. His tent was close enough to hers.

No one would question it.

Especially what remained of the hundred.

Warm light flooded the room, almost blinding her as she stormed into Bellamy’s tent, the brunette rushing his hands through his hair. She suspected his mind was doing the same thing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Was all he asked, eyes widening.

She shook her head and he gestured toward his own bed, she moved in next to him, the last of the oil in the lamp burning out as she pressed her body against his, relishing in the warmth they gave each other.

***

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!!! Our babies are together at last! I debated about changing it so it happened much later, but after tonight I think we all could use some romance in our lives, especially with Bellamy Blake.

DM Taglist (closed): @chloe-skywalker @im-a-writer-right @clarkewithameme @shatteredlovesick @your-typical-giggle @rhyxn @amongthewildthingss @furiouspockettoad @niammain @cxddlyash @lena-davina @kaylinfayezink @gingerxarmy @super-marvel-dale @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @nerdbookish @valeskasecco @strangerliaa @simsvetements @molethemollie @thebookisbtr @im-a-stranger-thing @jordangdelacruz @oopsiedoopsie23 @multifandombookstore @okj232 @asian-male-enthusiast @minigranger @jooheonbee @libraryoffandomsuniverse @pancakefancake @weird-pale-blonde-person

#the100fanfiction #the 100 imagines #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake #reader x bellamy blake #fic: desperate measures #series: desperate measures #otp: I need you to live #desperate measures #my fics #{FUCK JROTH}#{THAT SHIT DOES NOT FLY HERE NO SIR}

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dreams-of-the-arcana · 3 years

Text

Took a bit but here it is! @positive-meme-experience

Pairing: Zotikos “Tikos” Orion Katsaros-Yakinthos X Jasmine Faucher ( @xvi-the-tower’s OC)

⚠️ Warnings: Violence, Description of injuries, Blood, mild Possessive Behavior, Fire, Stitches (This is kind of dark so please read with that in mind) ⚠️

Mine Now

The crew of the Charybdis’ Decent were not strangers to conflict. If anything it seemed as though they drew it straight to themselves. Or maybe it was as the First Mate often suggested and the hideous figurehead brought it instead of protecting them. Tikos refused to remove it though, insisting his Siren was much better than some generic deity who would expect things.

So as the ship gripped tightly to another and the crew swarmed on board with weapons at the ready, it could even be considered a normal day. Chaos erupted on the deck of their opponent. Flashes of steel and loud yells of challenge flew from everywhere. In the midst of it was their Captain. Tikos brandished a sabre along with a hungry grin, his eye taking in everything. Alongside him was his faithful companion, Jasmine Faucher. The pair traded jokes as they sparred and boasted as to who would take down more enemies. Nothing got an opponent quite as angry as being disrespected during a battle and it happened to be a specialty of theirs.

“Oh look here, Darlin’. I believe this big sword is compensating for something,” Tikos laughed loudly and pulled the sword straight out of their hand.

“Must be, Cap! Compensating for lack of skill!” She returned and launched her chain and sickle at anyone who tried to approach Tikos’ back.

“Think you’re scary? Think again.”

“What should we have for dinner? I’m getting bored here!”

“Stay down and watch me count out your coin or get up and see what happens. Your choice.”

Back and forth they went happily, seemingly having the time of their life.

Then suddenly Jas spotted a large figure with a hidden dagger out of the corner of her eye.

“Watch out!”

She yelled and launched herself at Tikos who went stumbling away just in time. Jas unfortunately just put herself exactly in line with the dagger. It bit into her shoulder and dragged for a fraction of a second before being pulled back out. When Tikos regained his bearings he quickly jumped at the attacker with his bare hands. They went tumbling to the floor where Tikos pulled them into a tight headlock. Now he was quiet as he strained his muscles to block their airway until they lost consciousness. He dropped them unceremoniously and stood up to look towards Jas. She waved the hand on her uninjured shoulder and silently reassured him. Though she expected he’d want to make sure personally.

But Tikos had missed seeing the knife strike her entirely. So he gave a relieved sigh and put his boot on the knocked out persons back.

“How nice of you to join us, Captain Houghton. Haven’t seen you since... well since you slithered away from our deal like a coward!”

Jas usually loved watching this part. Something about seeing her lover standing proud and victorious sent excitement straight through her. But as she felt her wound start to pulse with her adrenaline waning, she wanted to get to the Doctor. So, stealthily she snuck away back to the Charybdis’ Decent to find them.

Tikos didn’t notice at first, he’d gotten used to Jas being around and watching. Usually it led to the two of them being unable to keep their hands to themselves as soon as things were settled. But as he tossed Houghton into the cell and looked around he couldn’t find her anywhere.

“Heh,” Houghton chuckled as he pulled himself up to sit against the bars.

“Got somethin’ to say?”

“It took me a bit but I figured it out.”

Tikos wouldn’t humor him by prompting any more and instead waited.

“That girl,” Houghton finally said. “Honestly Zo, I didn’t expect to find you shacking up with August’s sloppy seconds.”

But Houghton had made a grave mistake, he hadn’t waited for Tikos to close the locked door before saying anything. Tikos soon showed him the error in this.

A sickening crunch filled the brig and caused Houghton’s imprisoned crew to recoil in fear. Then a scream followed, one of intense pain. Houghton curled into himself defensively while Tikos hovered overhead with his fist still raised and bloody.

“Y-you broke my... my fucking nose!”

“Shut up,” Tikos’ voice was calm and cold. “Say another word or even think about her and I’ll put you on the bottom of this ship myself. That’s my woman. Get it? Mine. Now pick yourself up, you look like a disgrace.”

He stood still as a statue until Houghton stood back up. As soon as he was back on his feet Tikos slammed his knee into his stomach which sent him right back down with another groan of pain.

“This time, stay down.”

With that Tikos swept out of the brig. Frustration still biting at his heels. It’d been some time since he’d heard that name mentioned and the anger never subsided. For the time being, he wanted to find Jas and hopefully work out the pent up tension.

The longer he searched though the more it built. Where could she even be? It wasn’t like her at all. By this time after a fight they’d be locked together where ever they decided was fit and enjoying the afterglow. Something wasn’t right and it just doubled his frustration. She was definitely going to get all of it when he got his hands on her.

Soon he was completely pissed and throwing open doors with much more force than necessary. The usual rush of endorphins after a battle had soured. Until finally he found the right door.

As soon as the Doctor’s door flew open, Jas jumped in her seat and hissed in pain. They’d been mid-stitch and the Doc gave her a stern warning not to move again: ‘No matter who comes in throwing a tantrum.’

Tikos strode inside angrily until he spotted Jas laid out on the little cot. His eye snapped to the needle repairing her shoulder. The room fell silent, dangerously silent. Jasmine squirmed under her Captain’s hard gaze (and maybe because a heat had begun to pool in her belly) while he stood motionless and watched. She knew that look, oh Arcana did she know that look well. The Doctor continued his work, blatantly ignoring the anger from one occupant and the building sexual tension of another.

‘Kids,’ he thought to himself.

“... who did this.”

It wasn’t a question, Jasmine knew that, it was an order. One that sent a shudder down her spine.

“It’s really not that ba-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Jasmine shut her mouth immediately. The look on his face was cold and calculating. He was replaying the battle trying to find any instance where she was out of his sight. It dawned upon him and he ground his teeth together.

“Houghton.”

“Yes, but I put myself between you two willingly-“

“Stop talking. I’m going to fucking make him suffer...”

With that command he turned and left the bay. Jas turned an apologetic but questioning look to the Doctor who only rolled his eyes.

“You can chase after him when I’m done and not a moment sooner.”

She huffed and sank back down on the bed with a pout. It was only a little cut. But she knew whatever Tikos was planning would be much worse than anyone could anticipate. Oh how she wanted to be there to watch it unfold.

Only a few long hours later, Tikos stepped back into the med bay. The same hard look on his face as he gave her the briefest gesture to follow him. Jasmine hurried to obey and rushed to his side. He led the way back out and onto Charybdis’ Decent’s deck. The entire crew of the captured ship stood in a line along the port side of the ship all shackled together and waiting. In front of them was Houghton, dried blood down the front of his face and shirt. The Charybdis’ Decent crew seemed to vibrate with energy. They knew what was coming and they couldn’t wait to watch it.

Tikos took his place in front of Houghton.

“You’ve been defeated, Jakob Houghton. As such I now revoke your title as Captain. I claim your ship, The Hades Damned as mine.”

The crew snickered, it was the highest dishonor to a Captain to not only lose their ship but be publicly humiliated like this. They couldn’t wait to get to shore and spread the tale.

Jasmine’s eyes were fixed on Tikos though, she knew there was more to this.

“Now Houghton,” he stepped forward and lifted the other man up by his lapels. “Watch.”

Tikos dropped him facing the port side where The Hades Damned sat. Confusion clear on the parts of his face not too swollen to emote.

“Zo, what are y-,” Houghton started.

“RELEASE!” Tikos cried out.

The other ship began to float away slowly while everyone aboard watched. Confusion ran rampant, why would Tikos set loose a ship? A ship he could sell or claim for his own fleet. It didn’t make sense.

... But it soon did.

Tikos raised a hand towards the ship as it moved away faster. Almost storm force winds pushing it away. Suddenly a loud explosion shook through the air and set The Hades Damned ablaze.

Jasmine gasped aloud, that had been a fine ship and now it would burn into nothing in minutes. All because the Captain had hurt her. The burning of The Hades Damned was nothing compared to the desire coursing through her at that realization. Tikos had set all this up to make the person who hurt her suffer. She looked over at the slack jawed pirate watching his ship burn. A grin tugged at her lips. But Tikos wasn’t done yet.

“Now, two miles in the opposite direction of your useless hull is an island. I suggest you swim fast, Houghton.”

Before anyone could process, Tikos reared back and kicked him firmly off the ship into the water. Many of the crew ran to the edge to watch as Houghton desperately swam for his life. Laughs and jeers rained down on him.

Tikos didn’t stop to watch and instead turned to the crew in shackles with a cold eye.

“Any of you having any strong feelings about what just happened?”

They smartly said nothing.

“Good, take them back to the brig.”

Finally, he turned to look at Jasmine. The intensity in his eye stunned her for a moment and she couldn’t move a single inch.

“You and I have unfinished business.”

“But... but what if Houghton gets away? What if he comes back with a grudge? He definitely hates you now so-“

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure? What if-“

His hand reached out and covered her mouth. Slowly he leaned in close until she could feel his breath on her ear where he whispered.

“There’s no island.”

A hard shudder ran through her again and she knew she was in for a sleepless night. She couldn’t wait to start.

#fan apprentice #arcana apprentice #arcana oc #other people’s oc #arcana fanfic #tikos the pirate #Jasmine Faucher #Tikos x Jasmine #Blood cw #violence cw #graphic descriptions of violence #injuries #dark romance #protectiveness #Jas is into it #Tikos has cold anger

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actress4him · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 21

We get to bring in two new characters to the mix today! I won’t say who yet, you’ll just have to read to find out. :)

Read on AO3

Read on FFN

Day 21 - Chronic Pain

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: nudity (non-sexual), foster home mention

It was a bad day. A really bad day.

He had plenty of bad days, those came nearly once a month. Those he could power through.

But this was one of those days that thankfully, didn’t show up too often. He hadn’t had one this bad in probably a year or more. Certainly not since coming to space, which he was more than grateful for.

Curling in tighter on himself, Keith stifled a whimper with his pillow. He was pretty sure his roommates were already long gone, but he still didn’t want to risk anyone hearing him make pathetic noises. He needed to get up. It was getting late in the day, and he was still in the bed, and he was pretty sure he had a mission at some point to report for. If he didn’t get up soon, somebody was going to come looking for him, and then not only would he be in trouble, but he’d have to explain why he was curled up like a kitten with the covers pulled over his head and tear tracks staining his face.

And he didn’t even know. All he knew was that it hurt, and it had been doing so for his entire life.

Okay. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna get up.

Willing his right arm to move, he threw off the thin blanket. The air was cool, just like the other Blade members seemed to like it. Apparently Galra ran warmer than humans. He was generally cold at night, but didn’t want to be a bother by asking for another blanket.

Now he had to force himself out of the fetal position. He started with the left leg, stretching it out slowly, slowly. The ache grew the farther out it went, until he was turning his face over to keen into the pillow again.

The second leg he decided to do fast, just to get it over with. Throwing it out straight, he gasped involuntarily as pain shot through it. For a moment he just lay there, letting the aches settle until they were at a semi-tolerable level, then began the equally painful process of levering himself up.

By the time he was sitting up, he was close to tears again. Breathe, he reminded himself. Keep breathing.

All that was left was to stand up, walk to the shelf to get his suit, walk down the hall to the communal bathing room, get undressed, bathe, get dressed, walk back to his room to put his sleep clothes away, walk to the bridge, then go on a mission.

Yeah. Sure.

Never mind that each of those individual tasks felt like the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest. He had no choice. He was a Blade, and Blades didn’t just let a little thing like pain stop them from doing their jobs. If he couldn’t do this, if he tried to get out of going out today, then they might decide he wasn’t worthy of being one of them. They would kick him off the base, and then where would he go?

Not back to the Castle. There was no more room for him there, not without kicking someone else more deserving out of their place. And even if he thought he could make it all the way back to Earth, there had never been anything for him there. Just an empty, lonely, rundown shack in the middle of the desert, and the only reason he had lasted so long out there the first time was the Blue Lion. She wasn’t there anymore.

Okay. Getting up.

Standing took three times as long as it should have. Walking felt like the floor was covered in spikes, and like someone was following him around stabbing him with knives all over his legs. His back wouldn’t quite straighten all the way, at least not without adding a few more knives to the mix, so his posture resembled that of a wrinkled old man. He managed to make it all the way down the hall without running into anyone, thankfully, since he was hunched over and moving at a snail’s pace, and also thankfully was late enough that he was alone in the bathing room.

Galra didn’t do showers. He had learned that upon first arriving at the base. Instead, they used large, square tubs that could fill with either water, dust, or some kind of blue goo, depending on the needs of the individual’s skin, scales, or fur. It had taken him a while to figure out all the different settings, and he had accidentally set off the dust and goo a couple of times in the beginning. Right now, he was hoping that some nice, hot water would be what his body needed to cope with the day to come.

It did feel good to start with. Certainly nicer than he had felt the whole day so far. Keith was able to stretch out his legs, arms, and back fully for the first time without excruciating pain...for a few minutes.

Then the cramps started creeping back in, seizing up his muscles, making him whine. Tucking his knees up under his chin, he let the tears come again. He was tired. And so tired of hurting. A normal day, a day where his bones throbbed but he could use exercise or just pure willpower to get past it and ignore it...that he was used to. He should have been used to these days, too. But they never failed to catch him by surprise and completely knock him off his feet, sapping all his energy and will to do anything but stay in bed. These days turned him into a pathetic excuse for a person, and that was to say nothing about being a soldier. He hated feeling so weak and useless.

The timed bath ran out, and the water began draining. Keith was left curled up in yet another ball, shivering, unable to summon the strength to climb out. The cold doubled the intensity of the pain. His jaw was beginning to add itself to the list of aches from clenching it so hard to keep his teeth from chattering, but he couldn’t even make himself reach over for his towel.

You’ve got to get up. Do you really want someone to find you like this?

As if reading his mind, the door swished open. “Keith?” a familiar, accented voice called. “Are you in here?”

Regris. He lifted a trembling arm finally, swallowing a grunt, trying to get himself covered before he was spotted, but had only made it to the top of the tub when his partner rounded the corner.

“There you are!” Regris stopped, taking in the empty tub, the shaking limbs, and the streaks of water down Keith’s cheeks that were probably very obviously not bath water, and frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith gritted out through his teeth. “‘m fine.” He continued trying to reach the towel, but his arm didn’t want to unfurl quite enough to nab it.

“Ya don’t look so fine, mate.” Crossing to the side of the tub, he snatched up the towel himself and threw it over Keith’s shoulders. “Are ya sick?”

“N-no.” Now he had to get up, whether he thought he was capable or not, so he gripped the sides of the tub with sore fingers and began to push, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the screaming in every inch of his body. “Told you. ‘m fine.”

Regris shook his head with a sigh. “Course you are. That’s why ya can’t even stand up proper.” Leaning down, he grasped Keith’s arm in his clawed hand and hoisted him up. While he did need the help, the sudden movement sent a wave of pain through him and he wasn’t able to hold in his cry.

The young Galra jumped back like he had been shocked, swearing. “What is it, mate? You’re injured, aren’t ya? Why didn’t you go to the med bay?”

“‘m not...injured.” Shakily, he adjusted the towel so it was wrapped around his waist, then gave in and grabbed onto Regris’ shoulder so that he could painstakingly step out onto the cold floor. “Don’t need th’...med bay. Doctor’s never did anything for me before. ‘cept tell me it was...just growing pains.”

Regris’ brow furrowed as he watched Keith slowly collect his clothing. “Well, what is it then, if you’re not injured? Ya look like somebody stabbed ya in the gut.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Feels...kinda like somebody put concrete in all my bones.” He paused, thought about that comparison, then added, “But it’s expanding concrete.”

“I’ve no idea what ‘concrete’ is, but if ya feel that bad then maybe you should be restin’ in your room.”

Keith shook his head. “Got a mission soon. Need to get ready.”

Regris groaned. “Don’t be bone-headed Keith, ya can’t go on a mission like this.”

Turning his back, Keith started shuffling back toward the door. “Pretty sure the...Blade of Marmora doesn’t give...sick days.”

“Pretty sure the Blade of Marmora doesn’t want someone who can barely walk on a stealth mission!” Regris called to him just before the door slid shut.

He was right. He needed to get his act together. If Kolivan saw him like this, he’d kick him off the mission for sure, and then it wouldn’t be long before he was kicked out of the Blade altogether. Especially if he found out that this was a semi-regular occurrence.

Making it back to his room, he sat down on his bed and attempted to put on his uniform. Ten dobashes later, he had managed to get it over his legs and up to his waist, and had then fallen over sideways on the bed to fold up and shake some more. That’s when a knock came on the door. He jolted, thinking to try to sit up, but the door opened before he could.

“Regris informed me that you were feeling ill. I believe that he may have understated the severity of your condition.”

Quiznak. Why did stupid Regris have to go and get Kolivan?

“N-no, no, ‘m fine, I told him I was fine.” He pushed himself up much faster than he thought would be possible, avoiding eye contact with the towering Galra while he tugged his uniform up further. “I’m not sick. Just...a little sore.”

“Keith.” The severity of the tone made him glance up for just a moment, but he couldn’t hold the steady yellow gaze. “We have worked together for quite some time now. I have seen you after the hardest of training sessions, when older, more experienced Blades have thrown you to the floor and against the walls repeatedly. I have seen you after missions when you were shot, cut with a sword, or caught in an explosion. These things would all cause you to be more than ‘a little sore’.” He paused as if for effect. “Yet I have never seen you like this, barely able to leave your own bed. Clearly you are suffering from more than simple sore muscles.”

Keith clenched his jaw again, his arms wrapped tightly around his bare stomach. He wasn’t going to get away with lying. Kolivan would see through any of it, and he couldn’t even think of a believable excuse to give him.

“It’s nothing,” he finally said quietly. “Just this...pain, that I get from time to time. It’s not usually this bad. I can usually work through it.” He lifted his head. “And I can today, too. I know this mission’s important. I’ll make it happen.”

“What kind of pain?” Kolivan asked, his voice almost as soft, uncharacteristically so.

Keith shrugged, though he immediately regretted it. “In my bones...my muscles...feels like...they’re being compressed. Like there’s not enough room in my skin for what’s inside of it.”

Kolivan nodded solemnly, not speaking for a moment. Inwardly, Keith was beating himself up for allowing his secret to be found out, waiting for his leader to break the news that he could no longer be a Blade.

Instead, he crossed the room and sank down gently onto the bed next to Keith. “This has been going on for a long time, has it not?”

Keith nodded slowly, still expecting the worst. “My whole life. Or at least, as long as I can remember.” Countless foster families, social workers, and doctors had dismissed his pain, telling him that he was being overdramatic and exaggerating the intensity. Eventually he had learned not to tell anyone.

Kolivan hummed in thought. “As a full-blood Galra, myself, I do not know much about this phenomenon. But I have heard that it is, indeed, very painful.”

It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in, and then Keith was too surprised to do more than stutter, “W-wait, what?”

“Growing pains,” Kolivan stated matter-of-factly, and for a tick Keith thought he was being dismissed again and he wanted to melt. “Many half-blood Galra struggle with it. It is much like you described - likely your bones are more like that of a Galra than a human, and are attempting to grow at the rate that matches. However, the outside of your body is very much human, and is holding them back.”

Keith just stared at him as his brain processed this information. Finally, somebody believed him. That in and of itself was almost too good to be true. And not only did he believe him, but he had answers? He knew why Keith was hurting? He still had so many questions, though, and wasn’t sure whether he could believe this quite yet.

“If...if it’s a half-Galra thing, then why didn’t Regris know what it was?”

“It all depends on not only what the other species is, but also what traits from each species you acquire from your parents. Others may struggle with different types of mixed blood related problems, while some, like Regris, seem to have no conflicts between their two halves. What you are experiencing is quite rare, but not so rare that I have not encountered it before.”

Biting down on his lip, Keith considered this. “Okay, but...I’m eighteen years old. Shouldn’t I be done growing by now?”

He could have sworn that Kolivan almost smiled at that, and kind of almost looked like he wanted to reach out and ruffle Keith’s hair. “In human years, maybe. By Galran standards you are still quite young, and Galra also continue growing well into their young adult years.”

Keith sighed heavily, hunching over himself further. “So in other words, I’ve still got a long time left to deal with this.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kolivan stood. “But if you will accompany me to the med bay, I believe we will be able to find something to help you, at least on these especially hard days.”

Keith grimaced. “Thanks, but pain medication doesn’t work for me. At least not for this.”

Kolivan leveled a knowing stare at him. “Keith, when was the last time that you tried pain medication for this?”

“Um…” He bit his lip, realizing the answer. “Before I found out I was Galra…?”

“As I thought.” Kolivan held out his hand. “Come. I will assist you to the med bay, and once you have taken your medication I want you to come back here and rest.”

“But the mission -”

“Will be handled by others.”

“Kolivan, I -”

“You are ill. We cannot afford to have anyone on a mission who is at less than their best.”

Keith stared down at the floor. “I know,” he whispered.

“There is no shame in taking care of your health. Everyone must do so from time to time.”

A spark of hope replaced his disappointment, and he looked back up. “You’re gonna let me stay?”

Kolivan’s brow furrowed. “Of course. You have yet to give me a reason not to.”

Relief washed over him. Someone believed him, he was getting help, and he wasn’t being kicked out. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

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

A/N: And Kolivan managed to make Keith tell him that being cold made it worse, so he gave him a ton of blankets for his bed. The End.

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astoldbycrimson · 4 years

Text

There's Power in a Name

Summary: Reader is a blind, force sensitive Dathomirian (and jedi). She saved Mando's life while he sought after a bounty on her planet. Nearly a year into their travels, she still doesn't know his name.

(This is ripped straight from my personal fanfiction series. I just changed my OC into the reader. If this does well, I will post more excerpts from my fic.)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, injuries, and death

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5

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

"...Are you going to let me help you?" Mando asked as you both boarded his ship. "That looks… uncomfortable."

You shook your head and offered a shaky smile. You felt as though you'd taken a lightsaber to the back, but you didn't want to worry your companion. "I can handle this myself, Guns. It's just a scratch." You turned to approach the cockpit when a gloved hand circled your wrist.

"...Let me help you for once, (Y/N)." It was honest and strangely sincere. The way he said your name, even with the modulator, made your skin crawl.

You'd been playing this back and forth for a while now. Dancing a fine line between friendship and something more. Something foreign. Mando would allow you to share his space without complaint. He let you heal his wounds and touch him without flinching. You spoke far more frequently, but he was still reserved. Very little was shared in regards to your pasts and you still didn't know his real name.

After a reluctant sigh, you nodded. "Very well."

Mando set up a little station with his mobile bed, preparing the cauterizer as he gestured for you to lie down.

You did as was requested and carefully lowered yourself until you were laying, body faced forward with Mando at your back.

You felt him fidget with the torn part of your garment, grumbling when he couldn't get a good view of the wound. "You might need to…" he cut himself off, trying to find a polite way around it.

"Remove my shirt?" You finished and you heard him grunt in response.

Your face flushed at the thought of stripping in front of the Mandalorian, especially because he could clearly see all of you while you in turn saw nothing. But you planned to have a little fun with this situation. "I don't even know your name, Mando, and you want me to strip for you?" You teased and you could sense him stiffen.

Before he could respond, you were undoing your sash and tugging the garment down, exposing the soft flesh of your back to the Mandalorian. Mando felt himself blush definitely under his helmet. How could you have such an effect on him?

As he prepared his tools, his eyes wandered over your exposed flesh. He felt himself wanting to touch it, run his fingers over your sunkissed skin. He subconsciously extended a hand to do so, but stopped himself as his eyes found a gnarly scar covering the expanse of your right shoulder blade. The hunter wondered who could've done this to you.

"You won't break me, Mando. Just get it over with," your voice ripped him from his thoughts.

"...R-right… This may sting a little. I just need to clean the wound before I seal it."

You nodded and winced slightly as he wiped the disinfectant over the open wound. He mumbled an apology, but continued until it was clean. "Now this is going to burn, but it shouldn't take long." After you gave the okay, he turned the cauterizer on and began working.

He couldn't stop thinking about your scar and how you acquired such a serious injury. It wasn't during your travels with him, that's for sure. Besides, it looked fully healed and quite old. Before he could extinguish his curiosity, Mando had already opened his mouth. "...How'd you get that scar?"

You were trying to think of something besides the burning sensation when you heard his question. You visibly stiffened a moment, realizing he'd never seen the deep scar of your history. But rather than shaking it off, you opted to share this painful memory in hopes that maybe he'd open up too.

"Long before my birth, my mother was part of the Rebel Alliance. A true Dathomir warrior, fighting for the end of a tyrannical regime. Unfortunately she had acquired a serious injury and was forced to return to her homeland before the war was won. But it was on Dathomir that she met my father.

"Having been a warrior for the Alliance, my mother always had a target on her back. She knew that, but she couldn't stop herself from falling in love. And then later having a child. Me. But years passed after my birth and no one came for her, so her worries dissipated and she was able to settle into her role as mother and wife. Happiness and peace were abundant in our village. Everything seemed perfect for her.

"It was a quiet morning, shortly after my fifth cycle, when my mother and I went into the Vast to pick some fruits for breakfast. We were singing an ancient song as we went about our picking. It was happy and the forest around us was peaceful. It felt like just another day. But then my mother heard the beeping she had so deeply feared. Shortly after, blaster fire echoed through the forest and then everything silenced.

"My mother fought hard to defend me, calling upon the force surrounding us to fight off the hunters. But her old injuries had weakened her greatly and having not needed to fight for so many years didn't help her. While she was able to relieve them of their blasters, she was unable to fend them both off. Mother used her final bit of strength to shield me before collapsing.

"But as they approached her dying body, and raised their blade, I ran to her, covering her body at the last second… Father had gotten to us shortly after, destroying the bounty hunters that had harmed his family as if they were mere insects. But unfortunately it made no difference. He was too late. Mother had already gone off to be a new star…" Your voice was weak and your body began to tremble, the memory drawing fresh tears from your eyes.

Mando had remembered you speaking of your father, the chef he'd met at the cantina nearly a cycle ago. But he didn't recall you ever mentioning your mother. And now, as he heard your tale, he regretted asking you. Yet the situation of your past made him feel closer to you, knowing you had experienced loss so young in life as well.

He had finished cauterizing the wound a while ago, but sat quietly, listening to your painful story. At the sight of you shaking, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, his fist clenched around the tool so hard he nearly snapped it.

This sort of thing hadn't happened before. Mando wasn't good with emotions. Bounty hunters had to be stoic. Emotionless. It made the job easier. Made killing easier. The sob stories of his bounties never affected him. Moments like this weren't supposed to bother him, but here he was hurting for you.

He was silent as he gathered the tools and rose to put them back in the med cabinet. Mando was touched that you had shared something so painful from your past. It started to eat away at him that he had yet to share something equally personal with you.

Finally he broke the silence, turning to face you, his voice barely above a whisper. "...Din."

You pulled your shirt back up as he stood to walk away and retied the sash. You weren't hurt by his obvious lack of outward empathy. Emotions weren't exactly his thing. He needed to be detached from that in this line of work. Bounty hunting wasn't for the weak hearted.

But you turned to face him when you finally heard him speak. "I'm sorry?"

"...My name. It's Din. Din Djarin."

As you heard those words, your tears stopped. "Din Djarin," you tested it on your tongue and it tasted very sweet. Soon a warm smile spread across your face as you gazed warmly at him.

Saying his name aloud was a weird feeling for him, but when you said it... it was almost angelic. Seeing your smile made his chest tighten and soon a soft smile tugged at his own cheeks. That's when Din knew he had fallen way too hard. There was no escaping this...

#the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #reader insert #there's power in a name #Mandalorian fanfiction #Mandalorian x reader #the force that brought us together #din djarin / mando / the mandalorian #din djarin x reader

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 64

Warnings: mentions of depression, PTSD

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

He wakes up gasping for air; body covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his legs frantically kicking at the blankets covering them. The weight against his limbs seeming unbearable; thin, smooth cotton weighing him down and trapping him where he lay. Chest both heaving AND aching; a mixture of sheer terror and utter panic squeezing and tightening his lungs as he struggles to draw in a single breath. Brain stuck between the horrors of the nightmare he’d just endured and trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Fully aware that he SHOULD know where he is, yet finds it impossible to piece all together. An after effect of the handful of pain meds he’d swallowed dry before settling down to sleep; the strength of them further muddling an already battered and tortured mind. It’s gotten worse since the Ketamime. Increased instances of short term memory problems and finding himself more easily confused and having trouble with remembering even the simplest of words during a normal conversation. And it frustrates him. Makes him feel broken and utterly useless.

It also makes the rage inside of him grow. An anger so raw and so profound that he can barely rein it in; worried that he’ll snap and take it out on the people who don’t deserve it. And there’s fear; bitter and legitimate. Concerned that somehow the ketamine has caused permanent issues; aggravating his already brittle and fragile brain and leaving him with the worry that he’ll never get back to where he was before all of this ever happened. The neurologist had long ago warned that it could happen; the damage done from lack of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the OR either worsening or becoming progressive. And he’s operated under a guise of slight fear that his frustration surrounding his mental issues and the confusion he often experiences will only grow and eat away at him from the inside out; turning him into someone he no longer recognizes. That he can no longer stand.

The nightmares started twenty four hours ago.Vivid and horrifying. Temporarily parlazyed by drugs yet hands and feet still restrained by zip ties; a captor’s hand on his throat and another tightly gripping his hair as he’s forced to watch some of Mahajan’s men slowly torture and brutalize his wife and children. Mocking his rage, disgust, and grief; spitting in his face and digging their fingers into his eyes to force them open whenever he tries to close them. Unable to move yet desperate to save his family; resorting to sobbing and begging for mercy. Pleading with them to just leave Esme and the kids alone; that they’re innocent and Mahajan could do whatever he wants to him. But they only laugh at him, keeping him firmly in place as they continue their brutality and make him listen to the way his family screams and cries out for them to help them. And it isn’t until one of the captors puts a gun to Esme’s head and pulls the trigger that he snaps awake; unable to move or speak in the same way he’d been immobilized and silenced three days before.

It’s the inability to move or speak that brings on the panic. His heart pounding in his chest and his lungs impossibly tight and burning as they try to suck in air; violently shivering, his body covered head to toe in a cold sweat. And when the feeling of being paralysed subsides, his body and mind choose to fight; kicking and thrashing and writhing while tears spill down his cheeks. Unable to fully graph what is going on around him; hearing the thundering of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears both overwhelming and deafening. And he’s vaguely aware of her voice trying to push its way through all the madness; his name gentle and concerned at first, then more stern and forceful. He can feel her hands tightly gripping his forearms and then his shoulders. Looking right at her yet not actually seeing her. Focused instead on those horrible images still taking up residence in his brain.

“Tyler!” Her hands on his face, nails digging into his cheeks. “Look at me! It’s over. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re right here. Look at me!” She forces his face towards her when he attempts to look away. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it was, it’s gone. It’s okay. I’m here and you’re here and everything’s fine now.”

It finally begins to dissipate; panic subsiding and his lungs releasing and his heartbeat returning to normal. Breath still coming out in ragged pants and his legs -previously drawn impossibly straight and tight= relaxing and his fists letting go of their grip on the fitted sheet. He closes his eyes; feeling her hands on his face and the way her knuckles stroke his beard and her fingertips brush away his tears and her thumbs swipe across his lips. And when he opens them he can actually see her; those terrifying and gruesome images from the nightmare disappearing. Her face mere inches from his; dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, tears in her eyes and the moonlight bathing her skin in a soft, silvery light.

“It’s okay now,” Esme says. “Everything’s fine. You’re not there anymore. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore.”

“Fuck…” he manages through ragged breath. “...what the hell?”

“It was a panic attack. Or at least I think it was. One of those dissociative types. You used to get them all the time right after Dhaka. You haven’t had one in a long while. A few years at least.”

He sighs heavily -and shakily- and drops his chin to his chest. Easily relaxing at the touch of her hands; soft and soothing against his face and the side of his neck. Fingertips grazing his skin and gently tracing each tattoo and scar and bulging, strained muscle.

“It’s alright,”her voice is gentler than he’s ever remembered hearing it, and one of her hands slips around to the back of his head, the other rubbing his shoulder. “YOU’RE alright. Bad dream?”

He nods.

“You want to tell me about it, or…?”

“I can’t. Not this one. I can’t tell you about this one.”

“Worse than the ones you were having at home?”

“Way worse.”

“About me and the kids?”

“Don’t...please…don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She gives a reassuring smile, running her nails along the back of his neck and up into his hair. “Baby, you’re sweating like crazy. You’re drenched. That must have been a really bad one.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“I’m not asking you to talk about it.” The tone of her voice never changes; soft and low and comforting. And she doesn’t become defensive or irritable when he snaps at her. “Look at me...Tyler...look at me.”

He raises his head from his chest. Afraid of what he might find in her eyes. Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment. Or even worse, pity. But none of that is there. He finds nothing but genuine concern and a tenderness and love that -even after almost seven years- he’s not sure he deserves. And neither of them speak as her eyes slowly take in every inch of his face and her fingertips brush across his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. Then over the scar on his forehead and near his left eye.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is just shy of a whisper, and he closes his eyes once more when that impossibly soft touch travels down his jaw. “...everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m more about you than my sleep. Are you okay now?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits.

“Do you at least feel a little bit better?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“It’ll be alright. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t real. None of it actually happened. Wherever you were in that dream, you’re not there anymore. Do you need some anxiety meds or pain ones or a drink of water or…?”

“I can take care of myself.” His response is more irritable than he’d intended it to be, and now he sees the annoyance creep into her eyes and face. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you babying me.”

“Let me love you,” Esme implores. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done it for me.”

“I’m supposed to. I’m the guy.”

“Oh for fuck sake. Shut up, Tyler. You know how I hate when you say shit like that.”

With his face resting in her hands once again, she presses a kiss to his forehead. And his eyes flicker open as she climbs off the bed; feeling that slight dip in the mattress and then watching her as she heads for the ensuite bathroom. He feels pathetic; a watered down, weakened version of his former self that needs someone looking after him. His body and brain so messed up that he can barely function as a self sufficient adult. When the fuck did that happen? When did he become so goddamn soft that he needs someone...especially a woman...to take care of him? It makes him angry. Frustrated. That seven years ago some fucking teenager trying to impress a drug lord took so much away from him. His confidence. His pride. His ego. And that he’s been struggling ever since to hold onto the remaining shreds of those traits.

“What?” Esme inquires as she returns from the bathroom, holding a bottle of meds and a glass of water in one hand and a damp face cloth in the other. She looks so goddamn cute; her hair messy and wild from sleep, clad in one of his t-shirts falling well past her knees and hiding the sleep shorts she wears underneath. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.” His response is simple. But heartfelt. And true.

“I know,” she says with a smile, then kneels in front of him in the middle of the bed. “And I love you. Here…” she hands him the bottle of meds and the water, then places the cloth against the back of his neck. It’s cool to the touch, and she holds it there for several seconds before softly patting it against his clammy skin. Over the nape of his neck and along his hairline line before moving to his forehead and temples.

“Why do you do this?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this.”

She moves the cloth to the left side of his neck. “Would you rather I didn’t? Would I rather be the type of wife that doesn’t give a shit about you? That doesn’t give a fuck when you’re struggling?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know you hate it. I know you think I’m babying you. That you somehow think it makes you less of a man. And I won’t get into how that’s the biggest bunch of horseshit I’ve ever heard. I do it because I love you. Because I want to take care of you. Because I worry about you. And because you’re my husband and the father of my children and my best friend and I hate that you’re going through this.”

“I’ve been going through it for about seven years. And you’re still here. Doing this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Because my life would totally suck without you in it. Because we have a lot more really good times than we have really bad times. And because regardless of what you think, you deserve someone that loves you wants to take care of you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. And besides, you’d do it for me. You HAVE done it for me. More times than you even realize. You’re not weak, Tyler. Being human doesn’t make you weak. You’re not a goddamn cyborg or some shit like that.”

“I just hate it. Being like this. It’s so fucked up, babe. My brain. I hate it and I hate living like this.”

“You’re not like anything. You have issues. Lots of people have issues. Are they weak? Do you see them that way? How about me? I have mental health problems. Am I weak?”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You stick around. Through all of this bullshit. All of MY bullshit.”

“I stick around because my life is better with you in it. Because I love you and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you look at me like I’m the most beautiful, incredible woman on earth. And because we have a good life. A GREAT life. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes when this kind of stuff happens.”

He nods in agreement, eyes closing when he feels the press of the cool cloth against his throat; soft, feathery touches over the gathering of scars and tattoos and painful to the touch bruises. Before her, he’d never experience this; a voice so gentle, a touch so tender, eyes so loving. No one has ever looked at him the way she does. Not even having to touch him or even speak, yet so effectively letting him know exactly how she feels. It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. And even now...after almost seven years and five kids...he’s embarrassed by the tears that well in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Esme continues, running the cloth down the bridge of his nose, then along one side of his jaw, followed by the other. “That this is happening. The things going on in your brain. It’s not like you can stop it. It’s not like you can help it.”

“I haven’t been there in a long time. This place. This dark, hopeless fucking place. And I don’t know if I’m going to make it out. It’s dragging me down and it won’t let me go. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, okay? Because that’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. We’ve got you through this before. We’ve got you out of that dark place. And we’ll get you out of there again.”

The tears come now. Slipping easily down his cheeks as she cradles his face in her hands; lips placing impossibly soft kisses across his brow and over his eyes; along each side of his jaw and then onto his lips. And her forehead comes to rest against his, hands moving to the back of his neck and then into his hair.

*****

“It’s going to be okay.” she whispers. “You’ll be okay.”

“I fucking hope so. Because right now? I just want to put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

“That’s what you THINK you want to do. But I know you don’t. Because the last thing you want to do is leave those kids. I know that’s one of your worst fears; the kids growing up without you and forgetting about you. And I also know that you love those kids more than you love yourself. That you’re an amazing dad and you don’t take a single second with them for granted. You were given a second chance. A new life. And you don’t want to lose that.”

“They’d be better off. Without me. Without the bullshit that comes with me. All this fucking bullshit. The people I’ve pissed off. Guys like Mahajan who want me dead and will stop at nothing to make that happen. Who will hurt them to get to me. They don’t deserve that, and if I wasn’t around…”

“No. Stop,” Esme orders. “Don’t go there. Don’t let your brain go there. That’s a bad place to go into, Tyler. Don’t even think about it . Don’t open that door. Because once you do and go in there…”

“Can’t you fucking see who I am? Why are you blind to it? I’m a fucking mercenary. I’m a shit person. I kill people. For money.”

“You HELP people. For money. And sometimes, yes, you have to kill. And it sucks and it’s hard and you always feel like shit after you do it. But you do it because you have to. Not because you WANT to. Not because you enjoy it. Would you rather it be you? Would they rather they kill you first? Or is that what you’re hoping? That someone will. So you don’t have to do it. You’re hoping that someone else does it for you. Is that where you are right now? Is that you’re head space?”

“I don’t want you to spend your life looking over your shoulder. Worrying about who’s going to come after you. Who’s coming to come after the kids. It doesn’t matter how many people I wipe off that list. It doesn’t matter if Anil takes out Mahajan. How many more do you think are out there? People that would love to get a hold of me and teach me a lesson? How many toes do you think I’ve stepped on? How many people do you think I’ve pissed off? You’re never going to be away from that. You’re always going to be a target. And so are those kids.”

“And I knew all of that going into this. I knew who you were and I knew all about your past and what you did for a living. It was always right out there. I was in it too, remember? It’s how we met. Right off the hop I knew everything I needed to know about you. Just like you knew everything about me. And if I didn’t think I could handle it...handle YOU...I never would have stuck around in Australia after Dhaka. I would have left. Pregnant or not. If I didn’t think I could deal, I would have been gone and you never would have heard from me again. I would have made sure you never would have been able to track me down. You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler. You’re not the only one who has pissed people off and put yourself on umpteen shit lists. The people I’ve lied to? The people whose lives I wormed my way into and who trusted me only to have me fuck everything up and bring in guys like you? Those kinds of people make Mahajan look innocent. So don’t sit here and act like you’re the only one who’s left a shit ton of burnt bridges behind you.”

“You’re not the one with blood on your hands.”

“The hell I’m not!” she argues, body and voice shaking with anger, tears threatening. “Who tracked down those guys in Dhaka? That had Ovi at that apartment. Who got people to trust her enough to tell her where Ovi was? It was me. I found out where he was and I was the one who sent you there. So yeah, I do have blood on my hands. Saju is dead because of me. Because he had to get me out of that fucking shit hole. And you? What happened to you? That sniper, Farhad, the whole fucking mess? That’s on me too. And for seven years you’ve done nothing but blame yourself for decisions you made in Dhaka. Decisions you made for me so you could get me out of there. So YOUR blood is on my hands too.”

He blinks at the vehemence in her voice.

“You think you’re the only one with guilt? With regret? That you’re the only one who hates themselves for the way things went there? Every day for seven years I’ve felt like a shit fucking person for what happened. To Saju, to you. Every time I would see that scar on your neck or you’d talk about what happened or you’d second guess the choices you made, all I would think about is how much I hate for myself before being the one that led you to the goddamn bridge.”

“You weren’t. It was the only way out of there. We had no other choice but to go there. None of that was on you. None of it.”

“IF I hadn't been there...in Dhaka...you wouldn’t have to make the choices you did. You could have gotten yourself out of there. None of what happened on that bridge would have gone down. You don’t think I live with that? That I haven’t been living with? You think I don’t feel guilt or regret? That I don’t think it’s my fault that all this happened to you. That I don’t think ‘if only I’d left. If only I’d pushed him away. If only I didn’t let things happen between us’. You’re not the only one who thinks those things, Tyler. Every time something goes wrong...every time some asshole comes after you...every time you get dragged back into this bullshit...I think about it. How what happened to you on that bridge was my fault.”

“But it wasn’t,” he insists. “None of that was your fault.”

“You always talk about how you could have saved me from this life by pushing me away, by forcing me to leave, by not letting things happen between us in Dhaka. You think you’re the only one who thinks shit like that? That I haven’t thought about it? That I haven’t thought ‘if only I’d made him leave, he wouldn’t be going through all this crap trying to keep me safe’. It’s all I’ve been thinking since all this shit with Mahajan started. That I’ve I never let things happen or I’d pushed you away or if I hadn’t stayed in Australia…”

“If you hadn’t stayed, you’d be out there with my kid. My daughter.”

“But she’d be safe , right? You seem to think she’d be better off without you. That her life would be better if you weren’t in it. Isn’t that what you said five minutes ago? That if you weren’t around, her life would be better. Did you not say that?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah...I did.”

“You wouldn’t have known about her. You wouldn’t have known her name, what she looked like. Nothing. And that’s okay with you?”

“No. That’s not okay.”

“Had I walked away, you never would have known her. And she’s beautiful and she’s amazing and she’s so fucking smart and she’s so much like you. And she deserves having you in her life. Whether you want to be in it or not.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “Of course I want to be in. She’s my daughter. My little girl.”

“Then why would you ever…ever...say that she’d be better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. She loves you. She thinks the sun shines out of your ass, for fuck sakes. She adores you and worships the ground you walk on and yet you turn around and you’d take yourself out of her life?”

“I just want to protect her. All of them. You.”

“And you think not being around would do that? Saju is dead and Mahajan still went after his family. Neysa and Aarav are in hiding because of him. What makes you think they wouldn’t come after me and the kids? You really think they’d leave us alone? You being gone wouldn’t stop him, Tyler. He’d come after us regardless. And we wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing you being gone would do is kill all of us. Because without you, there’s no one to stop him.”

“And you think I can? Stop him? Look at me.”

“I don’t need to look at you. I don’t…”

He takes her chin in his hand, in the curve between his thumb and forefinger, and turns her head towards him. “Look at me. Take a good look at me. Look what they did. What one guy was able to do. I won’t be able to stop them.”

“You’re not going to be like this forever. A week at the most, right? And then you’ll go back to being you. You don’t let anything stop you. I saw you on that bridge. After that sniper got you. You were already in rough shape…horrible shape...way worse than you are now…and you still got up and fought back. Nothing stops you. Especially not when it’s about your kids.”

He sighs, then lays his forehead against hers.

“The only thing that you being gone would do, is kill me,” she says, eyes closed as the tears trickle down her cheeks. “Inside. Because I don’t want to do this without you. This life. We have five kids. We have a whole life ahead of us. We have a lot of years to go still. We have kids to put into college and to see graduate and get married and have their own children. We’ll have grandkids to spoil. And I don’t want to do all that without you. It’s not that I can’t; I know I can. I just don’t want to.”

“Baby…” he holds her face in both hands and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that shit. It’s just all too much. Mahajan, his people, the other night, the fucking nightmares. It’s weighing me down and it’s eating me alive and I hate what it’s doing to me. And I’m scared. Because if anything happens to you or my kids…”

“It won’t. Not if you’re here. And I just don’t mean, here, here. I mean HERE. On this earth. As long you’re here, fighting for us? Nothing can go wrong. And I need you fighting us. Not just me and the kids. But US.”

“I don’t know how much fight I have left in me, Esme. I’m pretty fucked up. The other night? What the guy managed to do? That never should have happened. If I was half the guy I was seven years ago….”

“You’re better than you were seven years ago, Tyler. In every way. One bad night doesn't erase who you are and what you know and the things you’re capable of. And I don’t know how I can drill that into you. I don’t know to make you see yourself the way I see you. How your KIDS see you.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You mean with the sun shining out of my ass?”

“Yeah,” she manages a small laugh. “Just like that. Or through Addie’s eyes; shitting rainbows and glitter.”

“The day I shit rainbows and glitter IS the day I put a bullet in my head.”

“You have five kids that love you so much. Five beautiful, amazing kids. That YOU helped make. And they’re worth sticking around for, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, baby. I didn’t really mean what I said. I’m frustrated and I’m in pain and I just want this shit to be over with. I just wanna go home.”

“I miss home,” she laments. “More than I thought it would. I miss it just being us and the kids. I miss the beach and sitting out there at night with you. I miss us. The us we were BEFORE all of this. When things were calm and we were happy and didn’t have to worry like this. I want that back. I want US back.”

“So do I, Esme. You have no idea how bad I want that.”

“It hurt,” she says, and nestles her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Hearing you say what you did. That your kids would be better off without you. Because that’s so far from the truth. It would destroy them if something happened to you. And I would never forgive you if it was by your own hand. If you purposefully destroyed our children.”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. I just said it. It’s been a shit few days and I’m pissed off and I’m in pain and I feel like a weak, useless fuck. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“I just need you to hang in there. In a few days, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll feel so much better and you’ll be ready to get back out there. You just need some time; to heal. You’re no good to anyone like this and you’re especially not good for yourself and you’ll put yourself in danger. You just need to spend a few days NOT worrying about the job. Just hanging out with me and the kids and letting everyone else figure shit out. It will be nice, don’t you think? Time with me and the kids?”

“Of course it will.”

“And I know you won’t stop thinking about it entirely. Because the threat is still out there. But you’ll get some time with your family. And it would do the kids a world of good having you here and I know it will do the same for you.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I don’t ever want to hear that kind of talk from you again. Saying we’d better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. You have no idea how loved you actually are. I’d give anything to take this all away. So your brain wouldn't be the way it is. I’d fix it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. And I AM sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was pretty fucking stupid; what I said.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It was. But I know you’re hurting, Tyler. And not just physically. We should go on a trip; when all this is done. Just the two of us. Just get away for a week or two. No kids. Just adult time.”

“That could be our making number six time,” he muses.

“It could be. If number six wasn’t already on the way.”

His body freezes against hers. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not until I had a doctor confirm it. But I was having all that PMS and it would go away and come back, go away, come back. Then I thought maybe I was just really stressed. Which I am. My stress level is the freaking roof. So when I started feeling sick and dizzy, I just thought that’s what it was. I mean, Addie’s only two and a half months and that would be really, really soon. But then again Millie was only two months when I got pregnant with the twins and…”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“I let on things were normal. That nothing was going on. Because home tests aren’t always accurate. We had HOW many negative tests with Declan? So I thought I’d just keep it quiet and go along with it whenever you talk about having another one. That I’d just wait until we got home and I’d go see the doctor. And I also figured you didn’t need anything else on your plate right now, so…”

“You’re not joking, are you.”

Esme shakes her head.. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before. But there’s never really been a good time to tell you. So I just kept it to myself and…”

“Baby…” his hands find her shoulders, and he pulls back to look at her. “...are you fucking serious right now?”

She nods.

“Things haven’t been reversed yet. How did it…?”

“Doctor mistake? You never went back to check if things were working. Or not working. Or whatever. You were supposed to go back but Addie came early so you never did. So we didn’t find out for sure if you were shooting blanks or not, so…”

“I just assumed I was. I didn’t have reason to think the doctor fucked up.”

Tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you? That this is a fuck up? I mean, you wanted another one, right?”

“I don’t mean a fuck up in that way. I mean the doctor fucked up. Hasn’t he done one of these before? How hard could it be? You go in and shit or whatever. How do you screw that up?”

“This is kind of your fault too. I notice you didn’t tell me that we should have been using protection for a few months. The doctor must have told you that. He had to have told you that.”

“I mean, he might have. I don’t remember for sure. I guess he could have said something and I just forgot.”

“Well…” she shrugs. “...surprise. You’re going to be a dad. Again.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t know how reliable the tests are here. I’m assuming they’re fine and it was two pink lines and we’re pretty much experts on what two pink lines mean. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. Like you’re getting ready to flip your shit. I know it’s not the right time. But it is what it is. We’re having a baby.”

“Jesus Christ…” Tyler breathes, then pulls her into his arms. One hand on the small of her back, the other buried in her hair. “...are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this. About ANYTHING. We have this uncanny ability of making babies at the worst possible time. And if you don’t want it and you think we can’t handle it, then…”

“We can handle it. We’ve handled five before this. Millie didn’t come exactly at the right time either and we made that work. We found out about Addie in Ireland and that was pretty fucked up too.”

“You see why I need you around? THIS is why I need you. My kids need their dad. This baby needs you. I don’t want to do this without you, Tyler. We’re in this together. The two of us.”

“Well, actually, it’s three of us now, but…”

“Tell me this is going to be okay. That WE’RE going to be okay. That this baby will be okay. I need to hear you say it.”

He gives a small, reassuring smile. “The baby’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the first time arriving in Mumbai that he’s been that confident. About anything.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #chris hemsworth character #best part of me

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years

Text

Tony x Reader- Anytime

Cuddling with Tony Stark x reader ?

Warnings: Injury, asphyxiation

You were an absolute idiot, never before had Tony Stark met a more infuriating person. You didn’t listen, you always had to share your two cents-if it meant you got to piss him off- and you never, never let anyone know when you were in need. You were by all accounts, the biggest pain in his ass he had ever encountered.

That being said, he had grown used to the discomfort. He supposed your quick wit and blinding smile made up for all you put him through. Your impulse control was zero and it took years off his life, as well as giving him gray hairs (god forbid), but your laugh could restore him in a second.

You were hobbling off of the Quinjet before anyone could register that you were completely landed, the turbine fans still speeding at a deafening roar. Tony followed after you, noticing how you held your arm tight to your side, your left leg trailing a bit behind your right.

“What’s the rush kiddo?” Tony asked as he came to walk behind you, the other avengers now making their way towards the tower as they talked among themselves.

“I want to take a shower before Bucky takes all the hot water,” You grumbled. Tony chuckled softly but he continued to walk with you as you made your way to your room. “Relax, Stark,” You ordered as you arrived at your door. “If I was going to drop dead I would have done it in the jet, more dramatic that way.” You teased as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Don’t know what your talking about,” He said but his gaze betrayed him as he narrowed his eyes at you, trying to pinpoint every single injury. “But, now that you mention it, you should go see the medics, I saw you take some heavy blows out there,”

“I can handle it,” You promised, passing the threshold into your bedroom as Tony paused. He would usually invite himself in but you two were still new. It had been a good month but that wasn’t a lot of time and he didn’t want to make you feel like he doubted your strengths or that he was coddling you. Tony was simply worried.

“Alright then,” He finally relented as you gave him a half smile over your shoulder, the door to your room sliding shut with a mechanic hiss.

Tony closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to walk away from your door. As much as he wished to join you in that shower he was sure you needed the time alone to wind down from the mission. Frankly, he needed it too. “Friday, let me know if there are any...disturbances in Y/N’s room. I want to know if she’s alright,” Tony spoke softly to the AI.

You lowered yourself into the tub, wincing and biting down harder on your bottom lip as you submerged yourself. Your ribs were aching something fierce and if they weren’t broken they had to be severely bruised. Time would tell, you supposed as you took in the deepest breath you could without triggering more pain.

You had a gash in your left calf that left your leg feeling stiff but the sharp sting from the water had dulled to a steady throbbing that you could manage with a shot or two and some pain meds. You settled against the back of the tub, your head falling back to hang over the lip as you focused on your breathing. It was all you could do to not let your thoughts overwhelm you.

You were dead, this was it. You thought as you bolted around the corner, trying to reload your gun. The hydra soldier was just around the corner, out for blood and yours had left a crimson trail down the sterile white hallway you had been fighting in. He had gotten a lucky swipe, knife sinking into your leg and tearing at the muscle. It slowed you down more than you’d like to admit and now your heart was in your throat as you tried to breathe.

You were leaning against the wall, focusing on anything but the screaming pain in your calf. You had reloaded your pistol, ready to put a bullet through that bastard’s brain when a hand shot around the corner, grabbing your injured leg and pulling it from under you. In the blink of an eye you were flat on your back, lungs protesting as you tried to draw in a full breath, the back of your head aching.

The soldier was swift. He knocked your weapon from your hands, grabbing your wrists in the same moment as he straddled you, legs squeezing tight to keep you in place. The details of his face blurred, these men all looked the same, but one thing stood out. The man was smiling as if you had just given him the Christmas present he had been asking for since he was a child.

His large hand encircled both your wrists, squeezing hard enough you winced visibly. His other hand went straight to your throat and if you thought he had been squeezing your wrists too tight it was nothing like this. His grip was firm and uncomfortable and your legs thrashed beneath you, forgetting your leg and the ache in your ribs.

Your eyes watered, eyelids refusing to shut as your mouth opened and closed like a fish taken out of water. Your eyes were wild as you tried to call for help, tried to beg him to stop, tried anything. The edges of your vision were growing dark and your legs slowed in their effort to free yourself.

“Not yet,” He demanded, hand falling away from your throat as you gasped for the air that was now invading your lungs. You tried squirming again, using all the strength you had to try and get the upper hand. It was for naught however as the soldiers hand returned, bruising the column of your neck as he cut off your air supply, a deep chuckle reverberating as he smiled even wider.

The darkness was swift to return this time, your lungs already begging for air. You couldn’t even fight back. Your body was heavy, your wounds numbing as your brain grew foggy. The lights above you flickered as your consciousness finally faded, the soldier unable to keep you conscious despite releasing you for the second time. How many times did he wish to dangle your life over your head? You wondered, and then everything went blank.

Next thing you knew, you were jolting back to consciousness, gasping as tears erupted from your eyes, your back rigid as you sat up. Sam was beside you, relief clear in his eyes. “It’s not your time yet,” He scolded softly as he rubbed your back, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“Thanks bird brain,” You smiled gratefully, your voice coming out strained.

“God you and Tony are perfect for each other,” Sam rolled his eyes at the unfortunate nickname you had chosen for him.

You let yourself smile fondly as Sam wrapped your arm over his shoulders, helping you stand. “That being said, don’t tell him. I’m fine and living and all good, he doesn’t need any more guilt on his shoulders and if he thinks I was seriously in danger he’d never forgive himself,” Sam nodded in understanding after thinking for a moment.

“You ought to cover up then,” Sam paused, motioning to your neck where bruises formed to create the damning shape of a hand. You gave Sam your thanks, tugging your cowl up higher as you readjusted your hood.

Sam didn’t mention that he felt you shaking the entire way to the quinjet.

It was the cold bathwater that brought you back to the present as you pulled the stopper from it’s place, not realizing tears had started falling in fat drops down your cheeks. You bit them back for a moment longer, standing and finding your towel as your leg protested, tensing dangerously and almost causing you to fall forward. You lowered yourself onto the toilet seat nearby as you secured your towel around yourself, grabbing the hefty first aid kit you kept handy.

You were able to hold yourself together as you stitched yourself together, even if every so often you had to rub the tears that threatened to fall-you couldn’t have them impairing your vision- and wait for the shaking in your hands to subside.

Once you deemed your wound taken care of you raced from the bathroom, not glancing at the mirror for even a second. You weren’t ready to face the bruised you were sure littered your neck. You’d been shot, stabbed, flung across rooms and electrocuted. You’d gone through your fair share of frights but for some reason none of it seemed to compare to the way this stranger had you at his complete mercy, laughing as he stole the air from your lungs and the life from your eyes.

You couldn’t shake the way he had been smiling.

It took your last bit of strength to toss on a tshirt and some pajama shorts, not wanting your stitches to snag on anything, as you fell into bed. Once you were breathing in the familiar air of your room and felt the comforting weight of your blanket over your shoulders you let the tears come freely, not being able to stop them this time around as they took control.

You shook violently as the memories flashed behind your eyelids, pillow becoming damp with your emotions as you burrowed into it.

“Sir, it seems Y/N is experiencing high levels of distress.” Friday reported as Tony’s brows furrowed together, hopping from his chair as he tossed the gadget he had been fidgeting with to waste the time before he had an excuse to go see you and be there for you. It seemed the time had come.

“Thank you Friday,” Tony mumbled as he made haste to your room, hearing your choked sobs even before he had knocked. Should he knock? If he did you might try to pretend you were fine. If he didn’t know however he risked upsetting you even more deeply. He would do this on your terms, he decided.

“Kid?” He called hesitantly as his knuckles played a tune against the door. Your sobs caught in your throat as you waited for Tony to speak again. “Y/N, let me in?” Tony tried to ask and not demand.

“I-I’m tired Tony, come back later?” You tried but you knew he wouldn’t fall for it.

“Please?” He begged. “I want to help...”

Tony sounded sincere and you knew you couldn’t shut him out without hurting the both of you. “Alright,” You finally conceded, wrapping your sheets around you tightly in an effort to hide your battered body from him.

Tony entered and he immediately went to your bed, crawling next to you. “Oh, princess,” He cooed affectionately. “You don’t have to hurt alone, I’m here,”

The reminder made your eyes burn with tears but you seemed to have given all you could, the only sign now of your distress was the whimpers that escaped your lips, body shaking and shuddering as you tried to block it all out. “He almost had me Tony, I almost didn’t-” You cried out as Tony pulled you against him, arms tight around you as your cocoon fell from around you, baring the back and blue column of your neck to your boyfriend.

Tony stared in shock as his fingertips came to brush gently against the fierce discoloration. Anger was the first emotion that seemed to register and it flashed bright in his eyes but he knew it was the last thing you needed. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“It wasn’t your fault, I was clumsy, not on my A game,” You admitted.

“Why didn’t you ask for backup when things went south?” Tony’s voice was strained as he tried to contain himself.

“I can handle it-” Alone. You meant to say but Tony cut you off.

“But you don’t have to!” He hollered, “We are a team, and that means no one gets left behind, no one gets left to the dogs even if that means a failed mission. Your life is more important than that,” Your life is more important than anything. The thought was loud in the back of Tony’s mind.

“I know!” You sniffled. “But I’m the youngest on the team, the weakest, I wanted to prove myself,” You admitted with some shame now that Tony was looking at you with concern.

Tony pulled you tighter against his chest, kissing your forehead as he forced himself to stop staring at the bruises. “You have proven yourself, far before you became a part of the team, sweetheart,” Tony promised. “We all know your worth, I know your worth.”

You nodded as you slipped your hands underneath his t-shirt, hands seeking the warmth of his back as you tried to ground yourself.

“What can I do?” Tony asked, feeling hopeless as you continued to shake against him.

“Just hold me,” You sighed looking at him in the eye for the first time since he’d arrived.

Tony let a half smile appear. “Anytime,” He said simply but he knew you understood. You could ask him anything, anytime and he would be there no matter what. Never again would he let you suffer alone.

“Thank you,” You said, a weak smile trying to work it’s way onto your features. “Tin man,” You added in hopes of lightening the atmosphere that had fallen heavy over you two.

“You’re welcome kid,” Tony snorted rubbing your back gently as he coaxed your muscles to relax. This time when your eyes shut, heavy with exhaustion, you didn’t see the smiling soldier. Instead you simply felt Tony beside you, unwavering in his support and that was all you needed to feel safe again.

#fluff #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony x reader #iron man #iron man x reader #angst

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years

Text

PART TWO

LOVE OR HATE?

WARNINGS: none really, the ending is sad I guess?

WORD COUNT: 1528

When Katie's younger sister comes on the field trip with her, they meet Officer Jake Riley. Instantly there's some kind of hatred forming between her and Jake, but, when both of their worlds go spiralling, they both have to question if it was really hate or a disguised love?

Y/n slowly climbed out of bed, rubbing her eyes and sitting with her legs hanging off the edge. She looked at the time. 10.27am. At least she got a decent amount of sleep, not that any of it was particularly good though. Ever since the whole rape incident she had been getting nightmares every night, but usually she'd have sleep pills smtp help prevent them, but as this wasn't an overnight trip she didn't bring any and Doctor Cannarts wanted to use them to help ease the pain of patients, which was fair enough. She looked to her left to see Jake and Katie day crossed legged on opposite sides of Jake's bed, laughing and chatting lightly. Y/n pushed herself up, a wavy off dizziness hitting her like a truck and she immediately collapsed. Jake saw her from behind Katie. "Hey, y/n! Are you alright?" He called, standing up. Katie was quick to follow. They rushed over to her, crouching down and trying to figure out what was wrong. "It's her ion deficiency." Katie realised. "She normally has tablets for it, but I guess she doesn't have any at the moment. We need to get her in a bed with her feet and head elevated. Jake scooped her up and put her onto her bed. "Wait." Katie said before Jake could place her down, look under the cover. Katie ripped the duvet back to reveal a huge blood stain in the bed. "She only gets this bad when she looses blood, like, for example, on her period." Realisation dawned in Jakes eyes and he put her down the the spare bed, grabbing sine pillows and propping up her feet and head. "Thanks Kates. Just tell everyone in here about my awful blood and my periods." She smiled weakly. Jake smiled slightly, "she's got her normal attitude, so that's good." Katie laughed and walked I've to the door, "I'm going to see if there's any ion tablets here." Jake have her a nod and she walked off.

"Do you need anything? Water, a diaper.." Jake trailed off. Y/n reached up and hit him on the shoulder lightly. "Get outta here." She said with a reciprocated smile.

————————————————————————

A few hours later she was up on her feet, they'd get to find any pills but Jake had gone on a quick run to a local pharmacy- with a list of meds from Doctor Cannards. Y/n sat at one of the few tables in the cafeteria, staring blankly out the window and just thinking. Thinking about what she'd be doing right now if this never happened, thinking about being a cop, thinking about Jake. Jake. Wait - why was she thinking of Jake? She hated him. He was an asshole who needed to bugger off and keep making Katie swoon. UGH.

The sound of boots interrupted her thoughts. Her head snapped round to see Jake stood in the doorway, holding a small paper bag. "I brought supplies." He said with a little smile. Y/n remained straight-faces, looking back at the window. "Thanks." She muttered as he placed the bag on the table behind her, taking the seat next to her. She grabbed the bag and look through: sanitary items, ion tablets and sleeping pills. She looked up at him. "How did you know about the- " she was cut off, "sleeping pills? Katie mentioned it. No wonder you've been so tired, you haven't been sleeping well." He said, looking down at his lap. "Thank you." Y/n said sincerely. He looked over at her, making eye-contact for the first time, "you're welcome." They shared a smile. "Jake?" She asked tentatively. "Yeah?" He said calmly. "Why do you hate me? My reason is valid. Something awful happened to me and when I see you, I-I, I see him." She said sheepishly. He didn't answer for a moment. "I don't hate you, trouble. I just- oh I don't know, it's your attitude and your harshness towards me for something I would even consider doing." Y/n nodded, looking back at her lap.

Jake stood up, "I should go find Katie, tell her I'm back." Y/n stood up too, "okay." They shared a small smile and suddenly the dizziness settled in, Jake catching her in his arms as she collapsed. "Y/n! Y/n? Are you okay?" She nodded weakly. He got her only the table and raised her head and feat, running off to get a glass of water. He fished out the ion tablets and read the box. Getting out two he handed them to her, along with the water. "Here, it should help the dizziness subside." He smiled. She smiled back, knocking back the pills and taking a gulp of water.

————————————————————————

(First person. - y/n)

"KATIE!" Jake screamed. I looked over the crowd of people and saw him, searching frantically. "Y/N!" He shouted as loud as he could. "I'm here!" I shouted back, running through the chaos towards him. His looked at me and some concern in his eyes faded. "Oh thank god I never thought I'd be this happy to see you gain." He breathed. "KATIE!" We both continued shouting, searching everywhere for her. "SHES OVER HERE!" I hear Jake shout. I run as fast as I can, rounding the corner I half to a stop. "Oh Kates I was terrified!" I exclaimed, moving towards her. Jake puts his arm out to stop me. "Y/n, stay back, the girl's infected. Mary's infected." The sorrow in Jake's voice is unmistakable. "Kates, no." I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Tears well in my eyes as I look at her, covered in Mary's blood and her lifeless body lying limp in her arms.

"I tried to save her. She was hit - a car. I-I couldn't save her." Katie sobbed. My threatening tears escaped, running down my cheeks. Jake spoke slowly and calmly to her, "Katie, I need you to leave her body and come with us, keep your distance and try not to touch or cough on anybody. Y/n, get your helmet on, I dint need to have two infected people to take care of at once." He was authoritative and direct, clearly in cop-mode. I pulled my helmet on and we walked to the car, getting Katie into the back. Once we got in the front I took my helmet off, leaning my head back against the headrest and letting the tears flow. "Hey, hey. Y/n, trouble, she'll be okay, she's not showing symptoms. She might not be infected or she may even be immune." Hake soothes me. I nodded and wiped the tears away, focussing on the rioters swarming the roads.

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It had been almost 48 hours, not long to go. Me and Jake has gone to the mystery apartment and I was currently going through what we found. Jake was with Katie, charting and completely ready for her to be fine. I decided to go check on them so I headed downstairs. Just as I got into view of her isolation cell I say her cough blood all over the window. I froze. No no no no no no no. No. This was not happening. She's fine. She only had a little while left. I scream and run off, Jake chasing after me.

"Y/n! Y/N!" I run into the tiled corridor and sink down. Screaming into my hands over and over. Jake finds me and walks I've to me, pulling my hands from my face, keeping hold of my wrists in his gloved hands. "Shhhh, shh. It's going to be fine. Doctor Cannarts thinks he's found a medicine to delay it. He thinks it may work. Katie is going to try it." I stare him in the eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks. "And what if it doesn't, Jake? What if she dies? Then what?" I shout. "It will. It will work. I promise." He said firmly, holding me there until I calmed down.

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I'm sat in the cafeteria, the same spot I was a couple days ago, only now thinking that my sister might die, that the medication won't work. It will. It has too. I hear footsteps and turn around, only to see Jake with blood-shot, swollen eyes. His face is red and he look broken, distraught. He just stands there, staring at me. I finally break the silence. "What is it?" I ask, confused. "Jake? Is Katie okay?" He didn't say anything, tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. I cover my mouth with my hand. "No! No no no. She fine. She's alive." I state, unable to face the alternative. Jakes looks down at his feet and backup to me, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Y/n, Katie's dead."

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bitch-banshee · 4 years

Text

Goner

Prompt: Reader finds Derek on a hike while he's been wounded from hunters. She doesn't know about supernaturals so she thinks there's a serial killer. She takes him home and tends to his wounds.

This has been sitting for so long....sorry y’all.

Masterlist

Living in a town where the main attraction is the woods was a blessing and curse. Hiking was always fun, finding new places all the time by a simple veer of the beaten path.

Until today.

I had just passed a small creek when i heard a sharp shout and a thud. Against my better brain waves and ignoring every movie ever. I decided to venture even further to see what was going on.

"Uhh hello?" The gentle English tilt to my voice slipped out in my fear. "Is there someone there" i continued treading as lightly as i could. If it was an animal that was hurt the last thing you wanted to do was scare it. I came around a large tree slowly, it wasn't an animal.

"Oh my god!" I whispered and fell to my knees. It was a man, and he had 4 long slash marks on his bare back. "A-are you okay, oh my god, who did this to you, can you stand, oh my god" my hands trembled as they reached for him. Too many questions Olivia.

"Okay okay okay, i need you to stand, can you do that for me?" A grunt, we were getting somewhere. "Alright, wanna tell me your name?" He leaned heavily against me, and i was thankful for all the months I'd been hiking.

"Mm Derek" he slurred, his head lolling to one side. "Okay! Derek, I'm gonna bring you to my car okay? Is that alright?" Another grunt. Not a man of words i see.

"It's just over the hill, can you make that Derek, i need you to tell me, or else I'll call an ambulance to help" at this his eyes snapped open, "no hospital " it was clear, free of the slur from before. Okay, "cool, no hospital, i can work with that, you're lucky I'm a doctor, not for people but i don't think that matters" a dry laugh slipped from my lips.

I was rambling, and i knew it. More than once i was all to aware of his slipping consciousness, and the blood sliding over my fingers. But by some miracle we made it to my truck.

"Okay Derek, can you lean here for just a second, I've got a towel in the back" incoherent words slipped from his lips, an agreement i think. I'll never know.

Still with shaking hands, i draped the towel over his back. He hissed, I'd drenched it in water, because putting a dry towel on an open wound was stupid. "Sorry sorry" somehow i got him in my passenger seat. He didn't lean back.

Okay, so he's aware enough to not get blood on my seat. Great. With a shut of the door and a sprint to the other side. The car ride was filled with shuddering breaths and soft apologies. Someone had tried to hill him. With a knife it looked, I'd been paying attention to the news.

Animal attacks, and half found bodies, someone was slaughtering people so bad the only explanation was an animal. My mind churned, i wouldn't be going back into the woods until they caught that lunatic. If i found Derek, that killer could find me. I looked over with frantic eyes "still with me Derek" a soft hum slid from his chest to my ears.

When we pulled up to my house, getting him out was way harder than getting him in. "Okay Derek just lean over like that, I've got you, Oh shit" he slipped and i caught him twisting before we both fell.

"We're not doing that again, agreed" i didn't expect him to answer. His face was ashen, it made me nervous. With fumbling fingers and hot breaths i busted through my front door. We didn't make it to the garage where i had a table for this sort of thing. The kitchen it was.

With quick hands i sent everything onto the floor.

"Sorry Ana" i whispered to my housemate that wasn't in. "Derek, you there, i need you to lay on your stomach,I'm gonna clean you up okay?" I whispered, he flinched anyways.

Once he was laid down i ran to the garage. Pulling antiseptic and hydrogen peroxide. I heard a deep groan and raced back. He was moving, pushing his arms from the counter. "No no no no no" i pushed him back down.

"This isn't gonna hurt, but it won't feel good either, you ready?" A nod, halfhearted and heartbreaking. I pursed my lips in concentration, trying to still my wiggling hands. "Cmon liv" i admonished myself and tending to his wounds.

The cuts were long, deliberate and they weren't the only ones. Through careful cleaning and inspection there were bruises under all the blood. "Jesus. You still with me" i ran my fingers over his head, like i could a dog before snapping it back.

This was a person, flesh blood bones and brains. A muffled "yeah I'm here" and i almost cried out of relief. "AH words! Yes okay" i pulled out a needle and thread and stared "I'm gonna gave to stitch these, okay" a deep sigh, "okay"

After several deep breaths and some winces and grunts I'd put in about 150 stitches. "Don't move, I'm gonna get bandaids" i placed my hands softly on his shoulders, a drowsy murrp came from his mouth. Minutes later he was bandaged and lying on my couch. "Are you allergic to any pain medication?" I squatted before him.

"Derek, i can't give you anything for the pain if you don't tell me." The assertion in my voice surprised even me. "No, no meds, m'ok" he groaned and went to stretch before his face screwed up and his eyes popped open. Wide and scared.

"Don't panic, you're fine, you're okay" i soothed slightly "are you allergic?" I asked again. He shook his head, probably annoyed with my pestering. I nodded and stuck him with some morphine.

Maybe 20 minutes later Derek was fast asleep. I was thankful for the open floor plan because i could see him from the kitchen.

"No Ana i didn't go out looking for an injured man" i hissed over the phone. "Why did you bring him back?" "You've seen the news, people are dying, i couldn't leave him here. He looks like escaped from someone. You know what whatever, are you staying with Brenton tonight?" She humphed "i could be" i rolled my eyes, hearing her smug smile. "Do" was all i said before i heard Derek groan. "I'm gonna check on him, i call you later" "okay liv, be careful" i sighed and hung up.

Rounding the couch i saw he was still asleep but sweating. I put my hand on his head and he was burning up. "Shit" he was going to sweat the pain meds right out. I went to the fridge and took out some frozen corn before placing it on the back of his neck. He blew out a long breath, before settling against the chocolate brown couch. At that moment my stomach grumbled. "Let's hope you're alright while i cook" i said to his sleeping form, pulling my hands through my hair.

30 minutes later I'd made tomato soup and a grilled cheese when Derek moved. It took me all of four seconds to be in front of him. "Derek, hey, take it slow you're gonna rip your stitches" his green eyes were frantic, swiping over the unfamiliar room before landing on me.

"Who are you" he mouth settled in a scowl, eyes blazing green fire. "I-I'm Olivia, i found you in the woods. Y-you were dying" my voice trembled out, words flying from my mouth. I recapped the whole story of finding him and bringing him here and stitching him up.

His face softened, but not enough to not look intimidating "thank you, but i should leave" he made moves to get up. My hands slapped down on his still bare shoulders.

"LEAVE? You can't leave, you shouldn't even be able to stand. Your pain tolerance must be though the roof. You shouldn't be moving around for a few days Derek. Then we should go to the police. I wanted to take you to the hospital but you said very seriously in your blood loss haze no to that. I'm sorry, I'm talking a lot, but you can't leave." I kept shaking my head, hands squeezing his shoulder involuntarily at my hasty speaking.

"Okay" was all he said. Gruff and annoyed.

"Okay" i responded "i made soup, do you want some" he nodded slowly, his gaze so alert and sliding over my face it made me shiver. I made him promise not to move while i got his food.

Derek needed to leave. He needed to get out of this house with this strangely nice and gorgeous woman. His eyes slid over her face and he'd wished he'd remained on her eyes. The baby blues were captivating enough. But when he let his gaze wander to the small nose and full pink lips being worried by her teeth. He felt his nostrils flare when she walked away from him.

She smelled like rain and honeysuckle. Not to mention the unintentional way of her hips made him weak and willing to do anything for her. When she set the steaming food in front of him with an easy smile and an earnest nod he knew he was a goner.

"What were you running from?" She inquired, smelling of anxiety atop her natural scent. He didn't answer, he couldn't, clearly she didn't know anything of his kind or the hunters hellbent on ending his life.

"Cmon Derek, it's okay, someone tried to hurt you, no doubt a serial killer that would've cut you up and scattered you around the woods" her voice lilted in a way that proved not only did she know nothing about supernaturals she also wasn't from here.

"How did you know what to do" he asked a question of his own. She faultered, caught off by such a question.

"I'm a vet, i moved here a few months ago, and I've been unable to catch up with the clinic owner here" she shrugged and nibbled at her sandwich. Derek caught a whiff of sadness and immediately felt bad.

"Sorry, thank you for not letting me die" his voice was stiff, he knew the slashes had already healed. Unless they hadn't, by the twist of his back and the ebbing pain that bloomed being any indication. She was immediately up, swathing him in her scent again "don't do that, God you're going to rip those open" she was behind him.

Soft fingers searing over his back, warmth flowing from her to him. He humphed "you're a good cook" he tried to appeal to her, to ease her strong feelings of anxiety and lingering sadness.

"Liar, I'm a horrid cook, you got lucky we had the only thing i can cook in the house" she laughed and it was like windchimes. Floating through the air, she was so soft spoken it didn't hurt his werewolf ears.

Like stiles did when he rambled, getting louder and louder. Her voice thinned and quieted as more words flew from her mouth. He realized he hadn't been listening to what she was saying. Her mumbles quiet as she continued to look over and slide her fingers over his back.

Yup he was a goner.

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@dylinski @terminallygenius @parker-potter @just-jordie-things

#alpha derek #derek hale #hale #derek #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf #teen wolf au #derek x oc!#tyler heochlin #tyler hoechlin #derek is such a dumb soft boi #someone tried to kill him and liv is gonna figure out who.#i just need someone to care for derek #i deserve hale babies

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years

Text

Survive Or Live Chapter 4: Baby Steps

AN: I am soooo sorry its been so long, guys, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been putting off this chapter, but as soon as I did, I jumped right on top of writing it again, I did not mean to neglect it for a whole month, whoops!

Characters: Levi, Reader

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language, aaaaaand that’s pretty much it. They’re feeling each other out (Not that way, you filthy minded peers of mine, bwahaha) so there’s not much going on outside of that right now.

Word Count: 4229

<---Previous Chapter Masterlist

*Mae’s POV*

Thankfully, there wasn’t that much gore on Mae’s clothes from today’s trip because of the scarcity of Rotters while she’d wandered the town. So it didn’t take long for her to scrub out the stains that were on her shirt--it just took some elbow grease and some numbness in her fingers after her hands were plunged in the water so long. There was a shaded spot by the bank that was thick with trees, giving her plenty of cover away from any unwelcome eyes while she worked while she had a clear view around her immediate surroundings. It was a decently long walk away from the farmhouse, which meant she was going to have to haul water back an unpleasant distance so Levi would have water to do his laundry. He could probably rest comfortably on the steps with his leg elevated on one of her gas tanks or something. On the bright side, she just needed to haul the water over, he was the one who had to scrub all that gore and grass stains out of the clothes, not her. She could settle for that trade.

Though, on another downside, it was going to take about six trips, three to the river and three back, simply for the laundry today. Thank God she wasn’t out of shape.

Six trips later, with her laundry put up on a line in the backyard between two trees, two buckets of water sitting at the foot of the steps as well as a large gas cannister for Levi to elevate his leg on, and her arms aching far more than she wanted to admit, Mae skipped up the steps, heaving a sigh as she walked back inside. Levi was still stretched out on the couch, though considering he was facing the front of the house and could see out the window, he’d probably been watching her make three times as many trips as normal simply to get him set up to do his laundry.

“All right, I got you all set up to do your laundry on the steps, if you’re okay with doing that now,” Mae said, clawing back some sweaty strands of hair that were plastered to her forehead after lugging the full buckets all the way from the river to the house. Levi was already rising off the couch halfway through her sentence, being mindful of his leg but still moving with overall ease as he started for the door. His hand trailed across the occasional surface, looking like a simple passing touch, but Mae was suspicious it was actually for a bit more added stability as he did an odd sort of stubborn hobble to and out the door. Considering all the fuss he’d made so far about helping him, Mae let him be stubborn, so long as he wasn’t putting any--or at least not much--weight on his injured leg.

“I’ll make dinner while you’re doing that!” she called after him, the only response the sound of the door shutting behind him.

Not too friendly...I guess I understand why, he has an injury that could put him on bedrest for a month or longer which could be a death sentence in certain sticky apocalypse situations, he’s stuck with a stranger, I can only imagine what happened to draw practically all the Rotters in town to him…but still.

Shaking her head, Mae started flickering through different rooms of the house both upstairs and downstairs, gathering the things she needed for dinner, getting a fire started in the fireplace, and even remembering to grab a few things for Levi to pass the time with since he was going to be stuck on the couch for a while. Dinner ingredients was the last thing she gathered, already grabbing one of the bouillon cubes she’d found on her scavenging trip today, a mix of white and black beans, water she’d already purified and stored for drinking and cooking...

She hesitated in the kitchen, hand hovering over a stash of some of her more...richer ingredients. Or at least, ingredients she was hesitant to use because she’d noticed her guest was so sharp. Sure, she was trusting him enough to let her into her home, but he was also injured, so she felt she might be able to take him in a fight if things turned sour. And while she had shared some of her medical supplies with him, she hadn’t showed him where she was hiding them because she didn’t trust him that much, yet. Did she really want to use ingredients that could tip off her sharp guest to the fact that she was a little more well off than most, that she had a comfortable set up that allowed her a source for fresh seasonings? Did she want to suggest that what she was putting in their dinner wasn’t all scavenged, that some of it...was grown? That the beans weren’t canned and pilfered from town? That she had a spot she could grow green chilis?

Not to mention, she liked using those chilis in the winter, so she stored as much as she could. Did she really want to tap into that storage now? Normally what she was making she’d save for the winter, but Levi was injured, and she wanted to cook something a little more feel-good because of that. He was in a shitty situation, she knew that, and she was willing to try and make it better for him.

Cause even if she still did have the survival sense and caution to not blindly, completely trust him right away, she was trying to build a bridge here, not raze the entire forest to the ground. Even if the basic caution levels of today’s world wanted her to not do certain things, she had to in order to extend an olive branch and hopefully get someone to talk to.

She didn’t want to go crazy from the isolation, especially while knowing what was happening to her but being unable to do anything about it.

She didn’t want to survive if it meant withering away forgotten in some quiet corner of the world.

She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Was it too much to ask that she had someone in her life again, someone that--from what she had seen--was perfectly capable of taking care of themselves so she wouldn’t have to worry about them. She didn’t care if he was a friend, a neighbor, or even the old world equivalent of that delivery guy you saw so much you were on a first name basis, she just wanted another human being somehow involved in her life again.

Screw it.

Mae shook her head, grabbing green chilis, onions, garlic, oregano, and cloves without any further hesitation. If she wanted to make a change, she had to throw caution to the wind. She was gonna be kind even if this ended up being a mistake and her guest turned on her. She had to be willing to trust and make an effort with people if she wanted people in her life again. Sure, there were a greater amount of dangerous people left in the world that meant she had to be careful, but that didn’t mean there weren't any decent people left. She wasn’t going to know if it was the right choice if she didn’t try, and she was already this deep into this situation, what was the point of hesitating now? He hadn’t hurt her, he’d let her help him, even with his stubborn ‘I can take care of myself’ attitude. So far, she had no reason not to trust him except paranoia. She’d keep giving him more trust little at a time until he gave her a reason not to.

*Levi’s POV*

With his turtleneck sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his leg propped up on the gas canister as comfortably as he could manage, Levi scrubbed at the plethora of stains on his clothes. He was glad to have something to do with his hands, something he enjoyed, nonetheless, but his gaze still roamed across his surroundings while he worked.

There was plenty of open space stretching out in front of the farmhouse that gave Mae enough of a warning if one of the ghouls or a group of them were coming--something that would come in handy if and when that horde in town decided to migrate, which could lead them this way. He didn’t care much for the treeline, though. It gave too much cover for an approaching horde or a hostile group of people--by the time either broke through the forest, it would be too late to try moving. It was either standing and fighting, maybe escaping with next to nothing in the truck if Mae managed to avoid getting shot by a hostile group in the process, escaping on foot out the back, or, in the case of a horde, she could try to hunker down and wait it out until it passed. That all depended on if she had the nerves to withstand being surrounded by a horde for an unknown length of time, and enough supplies to last a week or more in case the horde took a while to pass. He didn’t know what her food situation was--yet--though she seemed to be set with her other supplies. She was apparently comfortable enough to willingly give him pain meds--not the cheap kind, either--and was confident enough to not even ask for anything in return from him when he’d asked for her hay.

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

This was some sort of trick, right? Was she trying to get him more and more indebted to her before asking something truly taxing from him? Did she just want him indebted to her indefinitely so she could continue to ask things of him in the future, no matter how much he didn’t want to do them? She couldn’t be doing all of this for him out of a good-hearted nature and a simple desire to talk to someone.

Then again...if she was as well off as he suspected with what he had seen of her supplies…

He hadn’t been the most sociable person even before the world went to shit, so it didn’t bother him being alone, and he’d still had Scout and Ash to talk to if he really wanted to. But Mae really was out here by herself from what he could tell so far--that could wear a person down after so long, he was pretty sure there’d been studies about that to prove as much.

Only time would tell if she was truly genuine or if she was planning on pulling the rug out from under him when she thought he least expected it. He’d have to stay on guard, and wait and see what her true intentions really were. It wasn’t like he was able to do much else in the meantime.

As Levi finished with the last of his laundry, his gaze returned to the far end of the field, attention caught by the sight of movement amongst the trees. After a few more moments of following the distant motion with his gaze, a ghoul finally broke through the treeline, stumbling blindly towards the farmhouse with a lazy, unguided gait.

Levi was already getting to his feet, hand twitching towards the katana at his side before the door opened behind him and Mae appeared, strolling casually past him with bow and a single arrow in hand.

“Dinner’s nearly ready, if you want to head back inside. I’ll go ahead and hang your clothes up with mine, so you can just leave those there,” she called, knocking the arrow and partially pulling the string back.

Mae whistled, just loud enough that the lone ghoul would hear, but soft enough it was faint even to Levi’s ears, which lowered the risk of drawing any other ghouls towards them. Levi started to head inside, still watching Mae as the ghoul turned its attention towards her and starting running at her. She simply brought her bow to a full draw, held perfectly still for maybe two or three seconds, then released, the arrow sailing right through the ghoul’s eye before it could even close half the distance to her. With one last glance around the treeline, Levi tore his gaze from Mae as she made her way to retrieve the arrow, and made his way inside.

If she was good enough with that bow to hit infected barreling towards her with one clean head shot, surely she was decent at game hunting, too. Sure, you couldn’t get a rabbit or a deer to come at you like you could an infected, but moving around towns to scavenge also required a certain level of stealth to avoid drawing the attention of too many ghouls. Put that together with her aim, she was probably perfectly capable of bagging a few rabbits or squirrels, perhaps even a deer if she was lucky enough to come across one.

Levi paused, halfway to the couch. Was he really already calculating what more she could possibly offer him if they did enter into some kind of agreement going forward? He hadn’t even decided if he trusted her or not, yet. Then again, it wasn’t like he could shut that part of his brain off--it was all about survival these days, and whether he decided she was a potential ally (something he hadn’t had in a long time) or a threat, he needed to know what she was capable of, and what she had.

Levi resumed his position on the couch with his leg propped up on throw pillows, breathing in the strong scent of...chili? He looked over at the fireplace to what must have once been a metal gallon paint can now being used as a makeshift campfire pot, the source of the smell. The scent opened his airways as he tried to pick out what he was smelling exactly, able to pick out the smell of chicken easily.

There was no way there was actual chicken in that can, was there? He hadn’t seen any chickens running around the farmyard, and from his experience finding a can of chicken that was still good was like winning the lottery these days.

Aside from the distracting aroma of whatever was in that makeshift pot, Levi also noticed there was now a candle, a flip lighter, and a few books on the coffee table, all within arm’s reach. He picked through the titles to see what options she’d given him, a small frown on his face as he did so.

A compilation of a thousand poems, a compilation of short stories, the novelization of the original trilogy of Star Wars, and the last two Lord of the Rings books. All but the short stories were pocket book sized, so maybe she could justify packing them around if they looked smaller...even if they were still thick books. You had to keep some kind of entertainment when it was just you out here, right? For him, it was pretty much survival work and cleaning what he could with what he had. For Mae, it looked like books were what she preferred.

Well, at least there was some variety and he wouldn’t be stuck looking at the same book over and over again.

Mae came back inside, not a speck of blood on her and hands shining with water after putting his clothes on the line, setting her bow back in its spot by the door before she disappeared briefly into the kitchen After coming back with two bowls and spoons, she started divvying out what was in the can. Levi noticed a lack of white meat in what he could now visually confirm as a chili of some kind as Mae passed him his share, though he definitely smelled chicken, much stronger now that he had a steaming hot bowl in hand.

She’d managed to get her hands on broth, then. A find he envied her for, though the envy was abated since she was sharing it with him right now. And even though the chili was missing the meat, it looked like it had everything else.

As they ate in silence, Levi mulled over the taste, doing his damndest not to look at Mae and tip her off to the fact that he was coming to quite a few conclusions simply from the chili. There were herbs in this, and onions, maybe garlic, not to mention two different kinds of beans--not only was it the fact that she had these ingredients that caught his attention, but it was also the fact that it tasted fresh. He knew the difference between processed shit that had been sitting for a long time on a shelf, and actual, fresh foods. He hadn’t seen a blatant garden around her farmhouse, yet, but now he was sure that she was comfortable enough and had been here long enough to be growing things. The only thing that was definitely scavenged for this was the broth and maybe some of the beans. She didn’t have livestock (clearly, who did, in times like these?), but she was growing things. And here she was, wasting more of her resources on him, wanting him to come by regularly and at least take her hay--he could probably work out a trade of some kind for whatever she was growing if he kept an eye out for something she didn’t have, something he could give in return since he was positive the currency of companionship only extended so far.

Slow down, don’t jump the gun, you’re smarter than that. Figure out if you can trust her or not before you start planning for a trade partnership of some kind.

This all had to be too good to be true, there had to be a catch somewhere. He just hoped he could figure out what it was sooner, rather than later.

*Mae’s POV*

Even if her current guest was frustratingly hard to converse with, at least she wasn’t alone anymore. Levi was a man of few words, it seemed, while Mae seemed to have too many to spare. He didn’t stop her from chattering at him, but he didn’t respond much, which made it hard to continue conversations. As such, Mae found herself continuously trying to think of ways (with increasing complexity) to get the stoic man to have to respond to whatever she said. It was starting to get to the point she was sure she was simply making a fool of herself every time she tried. At this point, she was positive he knew what she was doing, and was purposely making it difficult for her for his own amusement. She hadn’t forgotten that one time she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch towards a smile, or the amused glint in his eyes when she’d finally thrown in the towel one day with a pout and a huff of frustration. If he really was doing it on purpose...well, it was frustrating, but at least she knew he had a sense of humor, even if at the moment it was at her expense.

Of course, she was also rapidly running out of topics to talk about that didn’t intrude into personal subject matters she knew for a fact were still far, far off limits.

Today, however, there was bound to be a conversation of some sorts, since she was finally checking his leg to decide once and for all if it was fractured or sprained. Which meant she was also going to be telling him whether he was stuck on her couch even longer, or if he was going to be allowed to start moving around again. For the time being, Levi’s steel blue eyes were trained on Mae as she prodded at his leg, eyes looking for bruising or swelling, fingers feeling for sensitive spots along bone or muscle…

“Well, it’s not fractured,” she eventually announced, noticing that some of the tension seemed to leave Levi’s shoulders at the news. “But it is still a rather nasty sprain. You’re going to need another two, three weeks out of the action to make a full recovery. More time off your feet at the start, and then slowly getting back to moving around--”

Levi was already shaking his head, moving to sit up and pull his leg away but finding himself stopped by Mae keeping a vice grip where her hand was still resting just above his calf. “I can’t wait that long, I have to get back--”

As he tried to stand again, Mae pushed him back down with more effort than she cared to admit. “You’re going to stay on bedrest if you don’t want to fuck up your leg any worse than it already is. Would you rather be stuck on bedrest for a month or more?” she pointed out sharply.

Levi scowled, looking out the window once more and stewing silently with his thoughts as Mae got started re-wrapping his leg. He seemed like a rather practical person, so Mae figured that after telling him trying to go running around on a still healing leg was going to simply restrict him to more bed-rest to heal a worse injury, that would be the end of it.

Apparently not.

“There’s a horse where I’ve been staying. It's why I need the hay. What I left for him will be running out either today or tomorrow.” As Levi spoke, his entire posture was taunt, like the information was being forcibly pulled from him by necessity. He wasn’t looking at Mae, either, gaze still stubbornly fixed out the window. “That’s why I can’t wait. I need to get back.”

Mae leaned back, feeling her molars start to grind together out of annoyance as she let out a long breath through her clenched teeth. “What the hell?”

Levi’s gaze snapped back towards Mae, and he appeared genuinely surprised to see that her reaction to the news was annoyed anger.

“You should have said something earlier, this could have been handled better,” she huffed, pausing in her wrapping and taking a moment to consider what she could do. It wasn’t like she was going to let his horse starve. He needed to be off that leg as much as possible, but she didn’t have a trailer or anything to put a horse in if she was going to make a retrieval trip by herself, not to mention she doubted Levi was going to let her go to his safehouse by herself when they hardly knew each other. Sure, she’d let him see hers, but that didn’t mean he trusted her enough to show her his--or at least let her wander around unsupervised. At least while Levi was here, he couldn't really move around, and the ground floor was open enough she could see if he tried hobbling about. They’d both have to go. That way he could be sure she wasn’t sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, and they could have one of them drive back while the other rode the horse--preferably Mae, so Levi wouldn’t be jostling that leg too much. As for what to actually do with the horse...well, there was plenty of hay, here, and it was a farmhouse for a reason. She’d have to do some work, but she could set something temporary up in time for the horse to come down tomorrow, at the earliest.

Shaking her head, Mae resumed wrapping his leg. “Today, I’ll go make sure the barn is in stable condition--no holes or anything like that, set up a spot for your horse, get some hay out of the field, and tomorrow we can bring...you said him? We can bring him down here so he’s looked after and fed, and I can still keep an eye on you so you don’t mess up that leg. And I can start looking at fixing that fence so they’re not cooped up in that barn the whole time you’re recovering.”

“I don’t want--” Levi started to say in what was surely protest at the thought of Mae finding out where he was living, but she quickly cut him off.

“Well how else are you going to get up there and back down without me? I don’t have a trailer for you to put a horse in, and if you try getting your horse down here yourself, you’ll probably put a lot of stress on that leg and end up stuck down here with me even longer. I’m coming so life is easier for both of us. End of story.”

Levi’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “If you’re so keen on getting me talking, are you ever gonna stop interrupting me?”

“Probably not when you’re just going to be difficult,” Mae sassed. She wished she had a pair of glasses to peer over as she looked up at him, simply to complete the effect. Levi’s scowl only deepened, retreating back into that silence that Mae had been going nuts trying to crack all this time. Ah, well, at least they’d had something of a conversation today. It was a hell of a lot better than talking to the sky or the occasional rotter.

Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @arthurmorgan-wiki

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

Can’t go out

Pairing: Joe Anoai X Reader, Roman Reigns X Reader.

Warnings: None

*Knocking*

“It's us” Renee said from outside the door. I forced myself to get up and open the door. “Hey,” she started, but stopped when she saw the look on my face. “Girl. Are you having a flair?” I couldn't even try to mask it. I just nodded yes and started walking back to the bed gingerly climbing on it. “Why didn't you call me?” She started fussing over me immediately.

I have Fibromyalgia, and Renee always tried to take care of me when I felt bad, but I didn't need it. I'm a grown woman who can handle copious amounts of pain. “I can handle it,” I said as Dean peeked in the door.

“What's going on in....” He looked at me. “You've been crying.” Thanks for pointing that out to me Captain Obvious.

“I'm fine,” I said as Renee pulled a blanket over me. “But I'm not going out with you tonight.”

“No. We'll stay with you.” Renee insisted.

“Don't be silly” I winced as a muscle in my leg began to spasm, causing me to cry out in pain.

Roman must have heard, because he bolted through the door to my side. “What's going on?”

“Y/N is having a Fibromyalgia Flair.” Renee explained. “She's in too much pain to go out.” He looked down at me sweetly. “So we're going to stay here. You can go with Becks and Seth,” she said to Roman.

I started talking before she even finished talking, “No. You guys, I can take care of myself.” I'm sure I would have sounded more convincing if I hadn't been wracked with a shooting pain in my back which caused me to yelp out and writhe for a second.

“Nope! I'm not leaving you alone!” Roman said. “I'm staying here.” He looked first at me then at Renee with a determined face. “You two go join Seth and Becky. Have a little double date. I'm staying here.”

His stubborn proclamation stopped my protest immediately, but Renee was going to start protesting when Dean covered her lips before she said anything. “Honey, don't try to argue with him when he's like this.” He tugged on her arm to try to get her to leave.

Pain jolted through my shoulder and I cried out, making both Renee and Roman focus on me. Having seen one of my bad flairs, Renee knew exactly what to do. She grabbed my hand quickly. “Squeeze, honey, and breathe.” I squeezed her hand and focused on my breathing. “Where is it, hun?” Still unable to talk, I pointed to my shoulder to show her. She began moving the joint around while massaging the area. It didn't really help, but I thanked her anyway when the pain subsided.

“Roman,” I said. “You don't want to stay here. Trust me. I'm going to keep jerking around and yelling out. People tend to feel bad when they see me suffer and can't help.” Renee started to assure me it wasn't true, but I knew better.

“Y/N, stop. I'm not going to fight with you. I'm staying.” With that, it was settled. “We'll order delivery and watch movies.” He started pushing Dean and Renee out the door. When they had gone, Roman turned his attention back to me. “Are there any medicines you need to take?” He sat next to me in the bed.

“I already took it.” I pointed to the bottle of Vicodin on the bedside table. I'd put it on a notepad with the time I took it written down. Roman investigated the bottle and figured out when I could have more.

“Is there anything else we can do?” He asked as he rested his hand on my arm.

“Not really.” I said meekly. “Booze helps sometimes.” I yelped as a pain ripped through my thumb. “Fuck!” I screamed as I started to try to pop my thumb to no avail.

Roman's first reaction was to do as he'd seen Renee do, and he began moving the joint around and massaging my hand. When my joint popped, I yelped out again and then moaned at the momentary relief. “Better?” I shook my head yes. “I've never heard you cuss before,” He mused as he continued to massage my hand. It wasn't necessary, but it felt so good.

I just chuckled a bit. “Sorry,” I looked down at the bed. “I cuss when the pain gets too bad.”

He laughed with me. “Don't even worry about it. So alcohol? Want some wine?” He quirked an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head no. “Ro, I'd need something stronger.”

“Name your poison. I'll see if I can make it happen.” He said.

“My favorite? Ice cold Patron Citronge Orange.” I chuckled slightly and then cried out as the pain ripped through my calf. Roman's hand reached out to mine, and he told me to squeeze. I did, and unlike with Renee, I knew I could squeeze with all my strength. There was a comfort in knowing I wouldn't be able to hurt his hand even if I tried.

“Damn, baby girl. That bad?” He asked, and I nodded yes. “Where is it?”

“Don't.......... FUCK!... Don't worry about it.” I said.

“Where?” Roman barked out demanding an answer.

“It's in my leg, but I haven't shaved my legs today.” I admitted.

“Don't worry about that. Where?” he insisted. When I pointed to my calf, he began massaging it, and this time it helped. It hurt like hell, but it was making the muscle spasm stop. I sighed in relief as he worked the knot out of my muscle. “Better?” he asked, and I agreed. “Let's see about that tequila.” He reached over to the phone and called the front desk. I was very skeptical, because the kind I wanted was hard to find, but after giving the front desk his name and what he wanted, he waited a couple of minutes before thanking them and hanging up. “Done.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, “They have it?”

“No, but they're getting it for me.” He said it as if it wasn't impressive. If I had called the front desk, I would have been told they didn’t have it, but at the mention of his name, the hotel was going to make it happen.

My thought process was interrupted by a pain in my arm. I let out a little yip, and held my breath as I waited for it to pass, squeezing Roman's hand a bit. “Breathe, baby girl.” He soothed me until the pain was manageable.

We fell into a routine of me crying out, and Roman offering his support either by massaging the spasm out, or letting me squeeze his hand and reminding me to focus on breathing. In between all of that, we ordered Chinese food delivery. Perfectly timed, the food and the tequila came at the same time, the later in a bucket of ice with a few shot glasses.

We set up dinner at the little table in my room, and settled down to eat. We talked about my illness, when it started, how it felt, the frustrations of it, and how I tried not to let it interrupt my life any more than it had to. I took a couple of ice cold shots which helped a bit with the pain. After dinner, we settled down to watch movies.... starting with Hobbs and Shaw, which I hadn't seen yet.

Roman sat on the bed with his back to the headboard, and I curled into his side, feeling so warm and protected. As my meds began to wear off, the pain got worse, eventually leading to me crying at the worst of the pains.

I could see the frustration in his eyes. He didn't even need to say it. He wished he could take the pain away, but nothing could do that. I just had to get through it. When the pains hit, I held my breath, tensed up and even cried at the worst of it. He soothed, massaged and comforted me the best he could. I ended up being more worried about the stress this was causing him than the pain. At his urging, I took two more shots to ease the pain, and he took a couple with me.

We'd fallen silent, me snuggled into his side, watching the movie. Spasms wracked through me from time to time, but a violent spasm that completely incapacitated my hand and arm caused me to scream as a tear slipped out of my eye. Roman reached for my hand and began to massage it. He hit the nerve right away and began to massage the pain out. I moaned in relief.

“Fuck, baby girl,” Roman hissed through his teeth. I peered up at him to see why. Instead of an explanation, he kissed me softly and then pulled away suddenly. “ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I…. fuck. I’m sorry Y/N. That was… fuck. I’m sorry.” I noticed his hand briefly move to adjust the bulge in his pants. “I shouldn’t... It was just…. your breath kept hitching, and your body is pressed against me…. which was hard enough to resist, but then you moaned and it sounded sexy... I …. it was....I'm sorry.”

I placed my hand on his cheek, “Don’t be.” I leaned up to kiss him, softly. He kissed me back passionately.

“You feel the same?” I smiled and nodded up at him. He kissed me again, and it lit a fire in me.

“I fell for you...” The pain surged again. “Fuck! Fell for you months ago.” I said.

“You never gave any indication.” He started kissing my jaw line down to my neck.

“Roman, please, make me feel good. Make me feel anything but this pain.” I begged.

“How, Baby girl?” He cooed down at me.

“Ro, baby. You have the power to make me feel better.”

He arched an eyebrow down at me. “I do?”

I nodded up at him and simply answered, “Endorphins.” I waited as he figured out that the best way to get my endorphins to kick in was sex.

As another pain ripped through me, I pressed closer to him, tilting my head up to beg for relief. “But you've been drinking, and you've had Vicodin. You're not in a position to make this decision.”

“I've wanted you for months. Do you trust me about that?” I asked as the pain subsided, and I pressed a kiss to his neck. He looked to be considering what I said.

“I want you too. Trust me.” He said, but still held himself back, so I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and scrolled to a conversation Becks and I had about Roman yesterday. He grabbed the phone and read the conversation, his eyes growing wider when he got to the part where we talked about my feelings for him.

He set down my phone, not saying a word and leaned toward me to kiss me again, this time not holding anything back.

#Roman Reigns Joe Anoi

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