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backtobackbakubabe · 2 years

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Speak Easy Part 28

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4764

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Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

You tried to stay awake with every fiber of strength you had left. You really tried. But after the past twenty-four hours… you didn’t stand a chance against the exhaustion that sat so deep in your bones you could practically hear them groan.

Even when you slept it was fitful. You knew you needed to stay awake. You needed to keep checking on Dabi. You needed to make sure he was still alive. He had lost a lot of blood, and you wished there was some way you could just make it stop. A way for you to just convince his blood to clot faster, persuade his skin into stitching itself back together.

But you knew that wasn’t how your quirk worked. You knew nothing would happen if you tried. Your quirk was made for destruction… it was made to dominate, to break. You were a destroyer of men, never meant to be their salvation.

Every shallow rise and fall of his chest was confirmation he was still breathing but it was also a harsh reminder that he was in pain.

At one point you reached over and pushed his sweat damp hair away from his eyes and watched as his brows knit together. His arms attempted to tighten around you, but his strength was weaning and they loosened once again.

Your whole body ached, but it was something that you knew you could push through. It was more fatigue then anything. One look at Dabi and you knew… you were going to have to be the strong one to get the two of you out.

You had fallen asleep again when a loud boom rocked the foundation of the campus. Your eyes flew open and your heart pounded. They were here. Katsuki and the others… they had found you.

You rolled your head over and felt tears sting your eyes at how pale Dabi looked. “Hey… Babe…. Dabi!”

Your head screamed in pain with every word, but you yelled anyways. “DABI!”

His eyes cracked open only slightly. “Hm?”

“Dabi I need you to wake up baby. The heroes are here. We need to find them.”

Your collar was beeping now, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Katsuki blasted through the doors of the library. He was using the GPS signal and if your collar was beeping that meant he had to be close by now.

Dabi’s eyes closed again as he groaned.

You patted his cheek, “No, no, no. Stay awake. You hear me. You fucking stay awake!”

Sure enough the doors were blown off their hinges and within seconds you felt warm hands on your shoulders pulling you into a warm chest. “Y/n, come on we need to go. Now. We don’t have a lot of time before shit starts hitting the fan.”

You pulled away from Katsuki and ignored the pure look of hurt on his face. “Dabi… wake up Katsuki’s here. He’s going to get us out of here.”

He tried to sit up but hissed. “No… doll…. He’s going to get you out.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. Softer than you meant you reached for him, tracing your fingers down cheek. “…what…. No… don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine!”

He grabbed your wrist, but with none of the strength you were used to. There was no heat, no power in his embrace. He brought your hand to his mouth and gave it a kiss. “He’s gonna get you out baby. I… I have things I need to finish up here.” He coughed. “I’ll be fine. It’ll take more than a bullet to take me out.”

You felt Katsuki’s hands once again grip your shoulder. “Y/N… I’m sorry but we have to go. We don’t have time to—”

“No!” You pulled away from him. “We can’t leave him here. I won’t leave him here!”

Dabi sucked in a breath and you could tell by the expression on his face it was more difficult than it should be. “Get her out of here. I don’t care if you have to pull her out kicking and screaming. You get her the fuck out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here. You don’t get to make decisions for me. Neither of you do!”

Katsuki grabbed you around your waist and pulled you to your feet. Your head spun as he tossed you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. “Put me down!” You pounded a weak fist against his back. “Katsuki I swear to god if you make me leave him here… I will never forgive you…”

He pushed on ignoring you the best he could. You squirmed in his grip which just made him hold you tighter. “I mean it Katsuki! I will never forgive you. I will never talk to you again!”

He paused and let out an animalistic groan and put you down so he could look you in the eye. “So what? Maybe I don’t care if you forgive me. Did you ever think about that? All I care is that you’re fucking safe! I’ll gladly go the rest of my life knowing you hate me… because at least you’ll be alive!”

You wobbled on your feet and had to grab a bookshelf to keep yourself up. “I need him Katsuki… I need him please.”

His nostrils flared. No doubt hearing what was unsaid. You didn’t need Katsuki… you needed Dabi… and it was killing him. “Do you have any idea how fucked up what you’re saying is?” His voice was softer than you were expecting. “You’re giving me a fucking ultimatum. Risk your life to maybe save his. His life… which no offense means nothing to me. Or get you to safety just so you can hate me.” He ran a hand through a hand through his hair as the sounds of fighting got louder. “You know I love you… and you’re taking advantage of that love… and…” You swore his eyes shone with tears. Tears you knew he’d never shed. Tears that were out of pure frustration and heartbreak.

You chewed on your lip at the sheer amount of selfishness that was weighing down your heart. “I know you love me. And I love you. But I think we love each other in very different ways…” He sucked in a breath and his shoulders slumped. “You loved the me you used to know. You love the potential future we used to have together… but I’m not her anymore. I can never be her again.” A tear slipped down your cheek. “I know it’s selfish… but I need you to help him.”

His red eyed burned straight through you as he absorbed your words. His jawed ticked under the pressure you were putting on him. He stormed away cursing loudly enough for the whole campus to hear. When he returned he was supporting a very limp Dabi. “I said get her out… idiot.”

“Yeah well, I think we both know she’s fuckin stubborn enough to make sure my life is hell for the rest of my existence if I leave your sorry ass behind.” He turned to me. “I can’t carry the both of you and fight off the villains, so stay close and keep up.”

You nodded and summoned all the strength you had left. You let the adrenaline rush pour through you. You could do this. You could keep it together until you got out of here. You knew that if you faltered at all, Katsuki wouldn’t hesitate to drop Dabi and scoop you up instead.

You trailed close behind them, making a conscious effort to ignore the trail of blood Dabi left behind him.

Katsuki practically dragged Dabi next to him and you desperately wanted to grab Dabi’s other arm to help ease the burden, but it was taking all of your strength to even keep yourself up.

Katsuki was talking through his com device to someone who was giving him directions. He jerked Dabi down hallway after hallway, not even caring to be discreet. After the conversation the two of you just had, he was probably itching for a fight.

You rounded another corner and you started to get dizzy. You slowed down a little, but you pushed on. Another tight turn had you turning into a familiar face. You all stopped dead in your tracks and now that you had stopped moving, your nausea caught up with you and threw up.

Katsuki dropped Dabi who was immediately pulling you into his side and out of the way.

“Looks like we get a rematch huh?” Toga was standing between the three of you and the exit. You had complete faith that Dabi could wipe the floor with her.

So, your attention diverted to the man who was currently holding you. “Hey… how are you doing.”

Dabi grunted, “It doesn’t hurt anymore… but that’s probably not a good thing…” His fingers brushed over your cheek. “What about you? You’re not looking to good either…”

You could see the worry plain in his eyes. “I’m fine. I think I just pushed my quirk too hard earlier. I’m tired.”

His worried look only deepened. “Being tired wouldn’t make you spew your guts all over the floor… What if they…” He had to take a moment to collect his thoughts and breathing under control. “What if they did something to you? When they were…”

You knew what he was thinking. He was worried they injected you with something when they were torturing you. Loud explosion noises rang out, a sign that you would probably be on the move again soon. There was no chance Toga could put up a fight for long… especially when Katsuki was this angry.

“I don’t think so. Don’t worry. Even if they did, I probably would have burned it off with that massive power surge I had.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m fine I promise. Just need some real food and to sleep for a few days.”

Katsuki returned without a single scratch on him. “Come on. Let’s go.” He held a hand out to you which you took but as soon as he pulled you to your feet your vision started to blacken around the edges. “Shit! Y/N! Are you okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, “I’m fine. Just—”

Dabi was behind you now leaning on the wall. “I swear to god if you say you’re just tired again I’m going to combust. Something is obviously wrong.”

Another bought of nausea rolled through you but you managed to fight this one down. “It’s true! I’m just over exhausted. I hurt, I’m dizzy, and I’m tired, but I can push through it. I’m fine.”

Dabi growled in annoyance and looked straight past you to Katsuki. “She was tortured for hours only a few hours ago. She’s not fine. Please just leave me here. I can fend for myself.”

“Absolutely not! I will not. Leave. You. Here… End of discussion.”

Katsuki punched a hole in the wall as he paced. “FUCK! Why are you making this so fucking difficult. Can’t you see that the only thing either of us want.” He gestured between Dabi and himself. “Is for you to get out of here!” He stopped his pacing and looked at the terrible condition both you and Dabi where in and threw his hands us helplessly. “Fine… fuck it. You two just sit here. I’m going to go grab fucking Deku. He’s around here somewhere.”

He stormed off down the hall and you sank into Dabi’s side. Even when you closed your eyes the world continued to spin and tilt.

He kissed the top of your head. “If we both make it out here… I’m going to tear your ass to shreds for how stubborn you’re being.”

You kept your eyes closed as you tried to ground yourself. “When we both make it out, I’m going to tear your ass up for how easily you’re giving up right now.”

He cupped your cheeks in his cold hands, “Baby I am incredibly selfish by nature. There is no world that I would ever just give up on you.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I think it’s pretty obvious that one of isn’t doing very hot. And before you freak out on me… I just want you to get as far away from here as possible. I’m just holding you guys back right now. I’ll find my own way out of this, like I always do.”

“How… interesting. I knew the two of you were infatuated, but I never would have guessed it was this deep.” Your spine locked up at the sound of Shigaraki creeping up behind you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you from Dabi’s grasp.

Dabi instinctively reached for you but hissed in pain and fell back against the wall.

Shigaraki chuckled, the sound of it vibrating against your neck and making that nausea return full force. “Ah ah ah. Try not to move too much Dabi. Lest you want to spread the beautiful toxin currently in your system even further.” You stiffened and Shigaraki’s nose brushed up the column of your neck. “What? Did you think that was an ordinary bullet? No… That was a special bullet specifically designed for slow and painful, death. And wouldn’t you know it… your little contributions helped make them.”

Shigaraki shoved a gag into your mouth and locked into place before shoving you harshly to the ground. Your eyes watered at the sting of pain in your hands and knees. You wanted to throw up again, but with your gag in, you’d risk downing yourself in your own vomit.

Shigaraki’s eyes danced in triumph. “That bullet was a perfect mixture of Y/N’s blood, Venom’s spit, as well as a few slow releasing agents that make the effects… slow, makes them linger, and my favorite part! Keeps the wound from trying to heal.”

He cocked a head at Dabi who was currently trying to crawl to you. “I will admit I am impressed that he’s still alive.” He shrugged, “But he’s always been such a fucking cockroach.” He used the toe of his boot to step on Dabi’s hand that was reaching for you. Dabi screamed and you could smell that familiar smell of his hands starting to heat up. “Oh shut up! I don’t know how you can even move… maybe we should up the dosage on the next batch.” He smirked at you. “But we’ll need a lot more of your blood to so do.”

He would his fingers through your hair in an attempt to drag you away from Dabi. But a blue flame shot up his pant leg having him jerking away from you, desperately trying to put it out. “I’ve had enough! Of the both of you! It ends now!”

Shigaraki stalked towards a practically defenseless Dabi and you could feel fear and nausea boil through you. You had to save him. You had to do something. Anything. You couldn’t scream again because of the gag. You couldn’t touch him, you’d never get to him time. You were desperate. You were willing to try anything.

You could see Katsuki rounding the corner behind Shigaraki. But even as fast as he was, there was no way he’d get here before Dabi was reduced to a pile of dust.

You pushed yourself onto your feet. “Y/N… no… get out of here!” You ignored Dabi as you stepped between him and Shigaraki.

Shigaraki threw his head back in a wild laugh. “What are you gonna do Y/N? You can’t talk with a gag in your mouth and I can’t see any possible way that you win without that nasty part of your quirk.”

Your angry eyes connected with his and shoved into his head the best you could. You raised your hands up and you signed, ~Freeze~

Shigaraki stopped in his tracks. Hand still stretched out towards Dabi. His crusty fingers only a few inches away from his face. You slumped as you felt the effects of using your quirk sink into your already exhausted body.

Katsuki was there now, catching you. “What the hell did you do?” He looked between Shigaraki and you and then noticed the gag in your mouth. “Shit… where’s the key?”

You pointed to Shigaraki and Katsuki wasted no time shoving through Shigaraki’s pockets until he found the key. “Did you just use your quirk through sign language?”

You nodded and ripped the gag out of your mouth as soon as you heard the click of the lock. “Yeah… and I’m not done with him yet.”

Fury danced through your veins as you let every single moment of anger that you felt since coming here merge into one seething pit of rage. And the target of your rath was sitting frozen in front of you. Helpless. Just like you were the night he sat and forced Dabi to fuck you in front of him. Just like you were when you were strapped to a fucking table as he waterboarded and tortured you. As helpless as you were when you heard the gunshot that you were so sure claimed Dabi’s life… that still might take him from you.

You put your hands on the sides of his head and shot every ounce of fear and agony that had been accumulating in your soul. He couldn’t move, but you could see his eyes widen. You could feel him cowering under your hands. You leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You like to play God Shigaraki… but what’s a God against a force of nature?” You could feel Dabi and Katsuki’s eyes on you, but you didn’t care. “Heroes aren’t supposed to kill. Heroes aren’t supposed to chase revenge… but I’m not a hero. I’m a tool. I’m a monster. I’m the destroyer of men. They used to call me Helen and I used to fight it. The image my quirk gave me, but now… if you all want to see me as a monster, I might as well become one. So now I’ll be Medusa… because when Evil men like you look into my eyes. I want to turn them to stone. I want to rot them from the inside out. I’ll suck every bit of life you have in that pathetic soul you pretned to have and I’ll leave nothing but a hollow shell of you behind.”

You stared deep into his eyes and did something you always instinctively knew you could, but never dared. You paralyzed him. Completely disconnected his brain from the rest of his body. “You’ll never be able to move again. You’ll never be able to speak. You’ll never be able to so much as shit without someone else having to wipe your ass. But don’t worry… because with my quirk… I can make sure you still feel something…” You brushed a hand over his still frozen cheek and smiled. “You’ll feel the agonizing pain of your own quirk for the rest of your miserable life and you won’t be able to do anything to stop it.”

You turned away and heard him fall to the floor with a sick thud. Katsuki’s wide eyes were staring straight through you. You ignored him as you walked past him to Dabi. “We need to get you out of here and get you to a medic.”

His chest has heaving as he sucked in strained breath after strained breath. “It’s just a little blood loss doll. I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. You look about one inconvenience away from going on a murderous rampage.”

You knew he was just trying to joke around to distract you from the current situation, but you narrowed your eyes. “That’s probably because I am. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t push me.”

Katsuki reached out a hand and helped Dabi to his feet as Dabi mumbled something like “So dramatic.” Under his breath.

Kirishima and Shoto finally caught up. Shoto looked between his brother, you, and Shigaraki. “Do I even want to know what happened?”

Katsuki’s voice sounded mournful. “Y/N turned crusty the snowman into a vegetable. She’s about thirty seconds away from passing out from overusing her quirk. And your brother’s bleeding out. Any questions?”

Shoto assessed the situation for a few silent moments before shaking his head. “Nope.” He walked over to support Dabi. “I’ll take him. Bakugo you take Y/N.” He turned to Kiri. “You watch our backs.”

Kiri pointed to the comatose Shigaraki who was sprawled out on the floor. “What do we do with him?”

Katsuki picked you up bridal style and you let him. He wasn’t wrong about you over doing it. “Leave him. He’s no use to anyone anymore.” You heard Dabi spit on Shigaraki as you passed him, and you knew he’d probably like to do a lot worse.

The alarms that were wailing around you started to get quieter. You leaned your head on Katsuki’s chest. “Y/N? Hey, I know you’re tired. But I need you to stay awake okay? I want to get you checked out by a medic first.”

You mumbled something into his chest, but you were already half asleep.

“Y/N… baby if I can stay awake, you can too, come on.” Dabi’s voice was horse and you could hear the strain in it. You felt a warm hand on your cheek. “Fuck she’s colder than I am… We need to get her out of here, I think her system’s going into shock.”

Katsuki’s pace picked up and you could hear a shuffle of bodies and when you cracked your eyes open you saw Dabi being carried on Kiri’s back. You would have thought it was funny if you weren’t currently racing to seek lifesaving medical attention.

You could feel the vibration of Katsuki’s rough voice in his chest. “You said they tortured her? What happened.”

Dabi coughed and it sounded painful. “They waterboarded and electrocuted her… for hours. Then she.” He coughed again and sucked in a huge breath. “She lost it. She snapped. She screamed and it was like her quirk was trying to suffocate everyone in reaching distance.” There was a few beats of silence. “It was terrifying and overwhelming… I can’t imagine how it felt for her…”

Shoto was throwing open a set of doors ahead of you. “A surge of power like that could definitely be fucking with her system. We need to get her somewhere safe so she can calm down.”

As soon as you felt the breeze of fresh air, you could hear fighting taking place all around you. You burrowed further into Katsuki’s warmth and groaned as the world started to tilt and sway around you even with your eyes closed.

Katsuki gave you a gentle squeeze. “I need to go help Deku and the others. I’ll find you after okay?” You nodded as confirmation but made no attempt to verbally respond or even open your eyes. You wanted to tell him thank you. Wanted to beg him to be careful, to be safe. But you were being dragged underneath the surface of consciousness.

You felt him lay you down on something surprisingly soft. It only took a second for a pair of arms to protectively wrap around you for you to know you were Dabi’s lap. You could hear him wincing and hissing at whoever was trying to help him. “Easy! Hurry up and patch me up so you can look at her. She’s gonna pass out soon if you don’t—”

Blackness. Not a single dream to be had. Your body gave out. Your mind blank.

When you woke up you were in a soft bed. Daylight trickling in through a window somewhere. You felt well rested, better than you had been in weeks. You stretched your limbs and felt them protest, still a little sore.

You blinked back the sleep from your eyes and took in your surroundings. The room you were in was empty with the exception of the bed you were in and a dresser in the corner. It had an unfinished feel. As if someone was in the process of moving in.

The door that lead to the bathroom opened and Dabi stepped out with nothing on, but a towel wrapped around his waist.

He took a few steps towards the dresser but froze when he noticed you looking at him. “You’re awake…” He moved so suddenly that it was hard for you to keep track. He was on the bed next to you in seconds pulling you into his side and kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, anything his lips could reach.

“I guess I missed something?” You chuckled as he just pulled you tighter to him, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

“Baby… I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You could hear the hurt in his voice, so you pulled him back to look at him and just cupped his cheeks. “What do you mean? Last I checked, you were the one in critical condition. I was just a little tired. I needed a nap. Don’t be so dramatic.”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “You didn’t take a nap… you went into shock Y/N. Your body was freezing, you were vomiting everywhere and then out of nowhere you just stopped breathing.” His hands brushed down your sides before rolling over and pulling you on top of him. Your head rested on his chest as his fingers carded through your hair. “I had to sit there and watch as that medic performed CPR for God knows how long. It felt like hours. I couldn’t do a damn thing but watch and wait.”

You didn’t say anything. Just let him hold you. He needed this. “I’m supposed to protect you. Keep you safe. But the whole time you were in that fucking campus… I fucking failed you.”

You leaned back to look at him. “You did no such thing. You were trapped between two hard choices and you did what you thought was best. You kept me safe. Whether you want to see it that way or not, you did.” You kissed his chest. “I’m here, you’re here. We’re both alive and safe. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed the top of your head and you both sat in silence for a few minutes. “So… are we gonna talk about the fact that you not only screamed like a fucking banshee, but you also used your quirk with sign language like some character out of Naruto using hand signs?”

You shrugged. “I never really pushed my quirk too far growing up. I was always comfortable enough with what I could do… I guess there’s more.”

Dabi sighed. “Yeah well that little extra bit, was what pushed you into shock. So, if you wouldn’t mind like never doing that again. That’d be preferable.”

“No promises. But I’ll try…”

He hugged you and you relaxed into his embrace. It was probably the first time in months that you felt this content. “So, Medusa huh? I like it… I don’t know how the public will react though. Doesn’t sound very heroic.”

“Good thing I’m not a hero then huh?”

He put a finger under your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his. “You’re not a monster either though. I hope you know that.”

You nodded wordlessly as tears leaked out the corners of your eyes.

Dabi brushed them away with his thumb. “You know Medusa wasn’t a monster either. Despite what the myths would tell you.” His thumb continued to brush over your cheek in such a gentle gesture, proving he understood just how fragile you were in that moment. “She was a priestess in the temple of Athena. Devoted her life and chastity to the Gods. Then… Poseidon one of the very Gods she had devoted herself to… hunted her down and raped her.” His voice shook a little, so you intertwined you fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. “Athena was so mad she cursed Medusa so for the rest of her life a man couldn’t gaze upon her without turning to stone… it wasn’t her fault. She got caught up in a game played by those with power and she lost.”

You leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “If I’m not a monster, then neither are you… understand?”

He nodded and gave you a quick kiss. “I’ll try to…”

*************

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

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Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need@katsukibakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy@kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb@silverstardrop@bakubby99@squichymochi@sarahschance@babayaga67@starenemy@squichymochi@soapbubblesx @haylaansmi

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bondsmagii · 3 years

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I was watching the Crown and you know what I don't get? When they went and blew up the boat in Dublin, I keep thinking how the fuck the royals didn't think they would get murdered. They knew of the conflict and went to fucking DUBLIN. Are they stupid or just ignorant? Like, going to Ireland seems like a very dumb choice. Scotland, too. Just stay in for fucks sake. Also fuck Thatcher and seeing her on the series made me want to kill the bitch all over again.

yo was he in Dublin in the series? I haven’t actually watched to that part yet, so I’m not sure if they changed it for the show. at the very least, in real life it was even worse. he was blown up in county Sligo, at a place only a few miles away from the border and not only that, but a spot on the border that was notorious as a crossing point for IRA men. like, that entire border area -- Fermanagh and Armagh in the north, and Cavan, Monaghan, Louth, and to an extent Sligo and Donegal in the south -- is notorious for IRA activity. I mean, it was popping off constantly in that area from the 50s to like... well, it was still going on when I left for university lmao.

anyway, to get to the point: Dublin would have been safer. aside from a few isolated incidents, Dublin was left out of the unrest. most of the south was, with the exception of the border areas. if he had been in Dublin it wouldn’t have been such an exponential risk, considering the IRA also travelled to England for their campaigns, so really the risk would be no greater there. but the fact that he was in Sligo, and the fact that he was in a place only 12 miles from one of the most notorious IRA hotspots in the country? not only that, but this was a summer home of his. he had a routine. he had local people working on his estate. the local villagers would have all known him and recognised him and they were absolutely passing information to the ’RA. he made a catastrophic error of personal safety, and to be honest I don’t feel sorry for him. what he did was fucking stupid. he was essentially walking around with a target on his back, putting everyone he interacted with in danger. the bombing was the second known attempt on his life -- before, there had been an attempt to shoot him, but due to bad weather the sniper hadn’t been able to take the shot. that would have been a better way to do it, in my opinion, because bombs always cause collateral damage. as well as the legitimate targets, a civilian was also killed (a boy of 15), and while Mountbatten’s grandson could also be seen as a legitimate target he was still only a child (14 years of age) and I’m kind of in the “don’t kill kids even if they’re royal shits” camp. he had no choice as to where he was; the adults around him should have assessed the risks far better than they did.

the fact that he knew the danger he was in; that he never bothered to practise basic security; that they left the boat unguarded and allowed an IRA volunteer to climb aboard the damn thing and wire up a bomb; that they never varied their routine; that he put his family and civilians in danger despite knowing the inevitable risk; and that he thought he had a right to show his face there in the first place? what the fuck did he expect lmao. literally negative sympathy. I practised better security as a wean living in the same general area, and I was a regular-ass civilian. all I had to watch out for was getting caught up in things, and yet he was a huge fucking target and off he went without a care in the world. his death was inevitable, yet everybody acted so fucking shocked. the royals really do live on another planet.

#sorry for going off but like i'm from south armagh i have Opinions™#the wee 'ra tag #anon #asks

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

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“Wet Sugar” [Part 24 of 30]

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"Every time I make a run, Girl you turn around and cry, I ask myself why oh why, See you must understand, I can't work a 9 to 5, So I'll be gone 'til November,

Said I'll be gone 'til November, I'll be gone' til November, Yo tell my girl I'll be gone 'til November, I'll be gone 'til November, I'll be gone 'til November, Yo tell my girl I'll be gone 'til November, Janurary, Feburary, March, April, May, I see you crying but girl I can't stay…"

Wyclef Jean – "Gone 'til November"

"Shh…don't move. Stay still…"

Erik looked down at Sydette who sat next to him hidden behind some large bushes.

Sydette rocked on her backside to move closer to him. She patted his arm.

"Mama coming?" she whispered.

"Yeah…here she comes. Shh…"

They both turned to peek through the leaves as they heard Yani walking down the path to the cove. Her head turned left and right as she tried to find any clues to where they were hiding. Sydette's right hand clutched at her mouth as she bounced next to him, her eyes shining with excitement.

"She can't see us…" Sydette said leaning into him.

"Nope."

Yani passed them by and Erik gave Sydette a high five.

"C'mon, let's go hide in another spot. Remember…quiet all the way baby girl."

He bent down and clasped her hand in his as they moved in stealth mode in the opposite direction.

"This time I want you to hide by yourself, okay?"

"'Kay," Sydette said looking up and watching his eyes with intense concentration.

"Look for a good place," he whispered.

"Like Jerome?"

"Yeah, like Jerome. So Mama can't see again…"

Erik watched Sydette scurry behind the bushes lined up against the wall that led up to the pool.

"Move back baby girl, I can still see your shirt and jeans."

Sydette scooted further back until he couldn't see her at all.

"Don't make a sound," he said moving away from her.

He walked up the stairs that led to the pool and positioned himself where he could see the bushes and the path that Yani would come up. Erik texted Yani to let her know that Sydette was hiding by herself around the middle house grounds.

He heard leaves rustling and soon Yani emerged from the hidden path. She looked around carefully and he allowed her to see him up at the pool area. She spent at least ten minutes walking around the entire area, and when she circled back around, she gave closer inspection to the bushes and trees around the pool wall. Yani looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. Erik frowned and tilted his head. He leaned over the pool wall and looked down to where Sydette had chosen to hide. Yani saw his eyes look there and she took another peek.

"I can't find her," Yani said.

Erik walked down the steps and went directly to where he last saw her.

"She was right there," he said. He thought for sure her bright yellow shirt would give her away. Yani pushed plants and flowers aside and Erik scanned the area using his own keen skills.

"Killmonger…where is she?"

Yani's voice held a touch of panic.

"Sydette!" he called out.

"Sweet Pea!" Yani shouted.

They split up and searched section by section of the middle grounds, each tree, bush, and flowering plant.

"Let me go put some shoes on and we'll go back down toward the cove," Erik said jogging up the pool steps. Yani was right behind him. They rounded the pool and came to a halt when they heard soft giggles.

Eyes scanning the pool, they rested on a dirty pool towel tossed inside a large hamper.

Erik and Yani walked to the hamper.

"Sweet Pea?" Yani said.

They saw the hamper move slightly and more giggles erupted.

Erik lifted up the towel.

"Boo!" Sydette's big black eyes twinkled at them as she gave them another giggle fit after surprising them.

"Little gyal!" Yani said reaching down and lifting her daughter up.

Erik stared at Sydette flabbergasted. How the hell did she get past him without him noticing her moving and climbing into the hamper? He was standing less than ten feet away from the hamper.

"How come you didn't answer when I called?" Yani said.

"Baba say be quiet. So yuh can't find me."

Yani stared at Erik and he found himself grinning with pride. Stealth mode for real.

Erik glanced over the pool wall and tried to fathom how he didn't see her bright yellow shirt moving among the dark green plants or the slate gray stairs…

He looked at Sydette again. She wasn't wearing the shirt.

"Where's your shirt Sweet Pea?" Erik asked.

Rocking her little tan undershirt, Sydette pointed back at the hamper. Erik looked inside and saw her yellow shirt balled up. She had taken off her bright shirt and crawled through the bushes and right behind him blending into the background…

"I'll be damned…" Erik said staring at Yani.

"You have to answer me or Baba if we call you, okay?" Yani said.

Sydette nodded.

"Good job," Erik said giving Sydette another high five.

Sydette wiggled on Yani's hip until she was put back on the ground.

"Let's hide again, Baba," she said grabbing for Erik's hand.

"We have to go, Sweet Pea," Yani said.

"Find us Mama…Baba come on…"

Erik stared at the tiny viewscreen on his armband. The tracking device he had on Klaue was indicating a return.

"Hey Sweet Pea, it's time to go. Baba has to work," he said.

Yani glanced at his face.

"Klaue and them are on their way back," he said.

He gave a weary sigh and reached out to give Yani a hug.

"I can come over later tonight if you can swing it," he said.

"Nannette is having her study group come over tonight and I have to watch the girls. I wish I could."

"How late?"

"I don't know. I can get away tomorrow for a few hours after four—"

"I'll be with Klaue then…shit…"

He looked back down at Sydette. Holding his hands out for her, he lifted the girl up.

"Time to go baby girl."

Sydette's face twisted up and they both heard the whine in her throat.

"I wahn play more," she said.

"Another time."

They headed up to the compound entrance. Leona saw them and came out of the front house to greet them.

"On your way out?" she asked.

Her hands stroked Sydette's back as she rested on Erik's hip.

"Yeah," Yani said.

Leona glanced at Erik.

"They're on their way," he said.

"I better get dinner started early then. You men act like starving wild beasts when yuh leave here and return after a few hours."

Leona headed back inside the front house. They could hear Cee Cee calling out to Leona for assistance.

"Klaue won't be upset that I brought her here?" Yani asked.

"Nah. I stopped the security feed. I'll turn it back on when you leave."

"You sure?"

"Don't worry about it."

She nodded and gave him a warm smile.

"Today was fun. You have fun, Sweet Pea?" Yani asked Sydette.

"Yes."

"I'll call you," he said.

Yani took Sydette from his arms.

"Bye Baba."

Erik gave Sydette a kiss on the cheek and watched Yani itch to kiss him too. He kissed her forehead and felt her lean into him wanting more. The struggle was real. He was trying his best to wean himself from her. And that included not being overly affectionate with her. Hugs and quick kisses on the cheek or forehead were his cut off points.

"They will be here soon, Yani," he said.

"Maybe we can get together later this week? Go out to eat…?"

He nodded, not making any verbal promises.

It had been so hard for them to see each other.

Klaue had them on an accelerated work schedule. Free time was at a premium and unfortunately, it never matched up with Yani's schedule. Their get-togethers were Disney-rated because it was always with Sydette present. Erik didn't mind. He was happy to spend as much time as he could with them both and it was easier to be with Yani if they kept things platonic. The moment Klaue gave the word, they would be heading to Sweden to hide out. Erik's Aunt Serah had sent an urgent and private message to him weeks earlier letting him know that the British Museum would be getting the first viewing of ancient East African art pieces at the end of the year. Art pieces that spanned the time period he was looking for and also the tribal affiliations he was after. He and Klaue wanted to be in striking distance. They were still baiting Agent Ross from the C.I.A.

Klaue made the brash decision to tell Ross that he had a large chunk of vibranium to sell when they did not have any more surplus in their possession. The man was sent a minuscule sample to make it look like they had some, but Erik was worried that Klaue would get caught up in the C.I.A. scheme and forget the plans to go back into Wakanda. It was truly difficult keeping the man focused. And even more difficult for Erik not to kill him. Something was going on with Klaue. He was brasher and more erratic than usual, changing his mind every other day and cursing his crew when they pointed out any contradictions or oversights in his plans. Most of the head-butting came from Erik, but he did his best to keep even-keeled. He couldn't afford to lose Klaue's trust and confidence. Linda was in Erik's corner, but even she couldn't get a handle on Klaue's behavior. The man acted like he was a God who couldn't be stopped. Especially with his new arm and the power he held within it.

Erik watched Yani drive away from the compound and the weight of the world returned to his shoulders. Being with her and Sydette lightened the days for him, and each time they left his side, the gulf of what was to come only grew wider.

Erik focused on breathing and he went into his bedroom to take some medication. Stress was eating him hollow. One of the last times Erik saw his child therapist Dr. Davis was right before his father died. His parents had reunited after a trying separation and he couldn't process all the feelings he had. His brain couldn't turn off. Dr. Davis explained to him that he was caught in a loop. His anxiety had him thinking about the future and worrying about his parents staying together, and his depression had him caught in the past still coming to terms with his Aunt Lia's assassination in front of him. He had to learn how to live in the moment, especially the good ones. That's what he tried to do with Yani and Sydette.

Stay focused on the sweet limited moments he had left with them.

Like playing hide and seek.

Listening to the precious laughter coming from his Sweet Pea knowing how close they were to losing her.

Seeing the smile on Yani's face when he snuck away to meet up with her in her university parking lot to bring her a surprise lunch.

Hearing Yani's voice singing made-up lyrics in her apartment to an old track his ex Disa had made from one of her d.j. mixes from his M.I.T. days.

Eating oxtails or stew chicken with Yani in her apartment as rain showered around outside as she told him stories about her life as a young girl being wild with Twyla.

He had to stay in the now.

Keep his thoughts away from their past beginning or shooting far ahead into the future when he would be on another plane to his destiny.

###

Klaue's eyes looked irritated.

Erik stood next to him in the living room of his main house as they stared at the wall viewscreen.

"This Ross prick is stringing me along," Klaue grumbled.

"I don't know why he's trippin'. He has a real sample of vibranium, so he knows we're legit. I smell a setup." Erik said.

"Let's sell to another buyer, fuck the C.I.A.," Linda quipped.

Her impatience at being on the island was wearing thin. Erik suspected it was more than just the waiting around. The island was a playground for the other mercs, they were happy to hang and wait.

Linda was annoyed at him.

Because of Yani.

For someone who prided herself on being the end all to be all, Linda was beginning to act like a jilted Ex with Erik. After drinking with the guys, she tried to tag along with him on one of his late-night runs off the compound but he refused her.

"Sneaking to see the cleaning lady," she said with a bite in her tone.

He didn't confirm or deny what he was doing, but she knew.

"So typical," she tossed at him.

"What's your problem?"

"You men and the low-level shit you settle for—"

"Mind ya business—"

"I thought you were better than that."

Erik jumped in her face.

"Fucking watch your mouth."

"Got a diamond in front of you but you go for the—"

"Understand something-"

"Please-"

"Focus on Klaue and not my dick. Got it?"

"Think I'm concerned about your—"

"You funny. Seems like you worried about someone else's shine being brighter than yours."

"You're not the only man around here you know."

"Then go get you some dick."

He walked past her and she grabbed at his arm. Her legs were shaky and she kept smoothing her hair back the way she did when she was one drink away from being sloppy drunk.

"Killmonger…wait…don't go. Stay here and have a drink with me. Smoke a little herb."

"No time for that."

"I just want to talk with you. We haven't hung out and talked in a long time…like we did in Jo'burg…remember? The guys here are boring."

She slinked up to him, her voice a seductive purring in his ear.

"Not tonight. I gotta go girl."

"That bitch…" she mumbled.

He could've snatched her up by her neck and throttled her. Backhanded the shit out of her for disrespecting Yani, but Linda would like that. Think he was being his usual dominant self and find it a turn on. It would make her come at him harder. He just glared at her. She wasn't worth the trouble. But he didn't want to alienate her and maybe cause her to leave the team. He needed her around. For a little while longer before he cut her loose.

"Tomorrow night. Some pool and good weed," he said, knowing Klaue had plans for them and he could blame the man for when they couldn't chill together. A sly smile painted her lips.

"Alright," she said stepping back from him, "go do your slumming tonight, but I'm holding you to tomorrow."

The fake smile he gave her pleased her and she sauntered away like she had won something.

Staring at her on the couch, her focus was on the work and not him.

"The C.I.A. will pay the most," Klaue said.

"What about…?" Erik stared at Klaue.

"Not those fuckers," Klaue said.

"Hey, the enemy of your enemy," Erik suggested.

"Who are you talking about?" Linda asked.

"H.Y.D.R.A," Klaue spat.

Erik glanced over at Linda.

"Another greedy group trying to take over the world…the usual bullshit. There's always some organization wanting to be the big swinging dick. They just a bit more ruthless," Erik said. Linda's lips puckered up.

"Sell to as many who want to buy, that's what I say. Klaue, is there a time limit you're shooting for? If the C.I.A. is stringing us along, and this H.Y.D.R.A. is sketchy too, who else can buy the vibranium quickly for your asking price?"

"I've got other options, but I need the C.I.A. in my pocket. Things are afoot my friends. I've got some other deals brewing in Eastern Europe, so we'll be busy in Sweden, but I have to have Ross," Klaue said.

"What about Wakanda?"

Erik let his father's homeland settle on the open air. Klaue's eyes regarded his with annoyance.

"We'll get there."

"When?"

"Wakanda is not Angola or South Africa. It's not Nigeria or the Congo. You need to comprehend the amount of pre-planning we have yet to begin in order to get into that place. That country is beyond anything your mind can conceive."

"Then we need to work on it now. We have time. I've made you weapons. I've made you money. I'm ready to move on that place—"

"You don't run this show, Killmonger! I do!"

Linda flinched when Klaue shouted at Erik. Erik stared at the man without backing down.

"You've been running a shitshow the last few weeks—"

A streak of blue heat shot past Erik's head and destroyed a drum fixed on the wall behind him. Klaue's wild eyes ogled Erik, but Erik wasn't fazed by the behavior. Klaue stood with his weaponized arm stretched out.

"That shit won't last forever. Eventually, it will run out of energy and what do you have to replace it? Nothing. Want to try for the drum on the other side? Or maybe the masks hanging above me?"

"Killmonger…don't…" Linda whispered. Her back was pressed harder into the couch. The stench of incinerated wood and ancient goatskin singed their nostrils.

"You know I'm right. Stop fucking around and let's get cracking on Wakanda. I'm ready. You're ready too. We just need to focus on it with the time we have now."

"You're such a brazen bastard, you know that Killmonger? I could blow your head off—"

"Then do it. Be about it."

"Jesus, Killmonger, don't goad him," Linda hissed, her eyes watching Klaue's arm shut itself down.

"He won't kill me. He needs me. And I need him. Ain't that right, Klaue?"

A smirk dragged across Klaue's mouth.

"I might just kill you after Wakanda. What do you think of that?"

"Not if I kill you first."

Linda stood up.

"Clearly this meeting is adjourned for the night. Ciao, gentlemen."

"Sit down, I was just joking with him," Klaue said walking over to his globe liquor bar.

He poured himself a shot of scotch and poured another for Erik.

"Drink up you smug bastard," he said.

Erik took the drink and gulped it down.

"Only you have the balls to talk to me like that with shit blowing up all around you."

"I'm 'bout that work. Not the bullshit. I came into this game with you to get to Wakanda. Get my hands on a motherlode."

"You'll have it. I promise. But those Wakandans…those savages…you have to be more ruthless and more cunning to outsmart them."

Klaue's eyes swept over Erik's face. He drank down his scotch.

"You're right. We need to go there soon. We start planning once we get to Sweden."

"Bet."

Klaue wandered off to his room in the back. Linda crept over to Erik and he poured her a drink.

"Why do you push him?" she asked.

"Because I can."

"He's unstable when he drinks. You know that. He could've killed you."

"He won't."

"Let's make our money in one piece, okay? Without antagonizing him."

Erik poured more scotch into her glass and his own.

"Chill," he said.

"You chill."

He slapped her on her butt.

Keep her close.

Comfortable.

He let his hand squeeze her ass again as he pushed up on her. He felt her breathy sigh blow on his cheek. He slapped her butt again. Linda punched his arm and he winked at her. She relaxed.

The way he needed her to.

###

He stood in the parking lot waiting for Yani. Right next to her car. He saw her walking toward him.

"Is that a Grand House Ceasar Salad?" she asked.

"With the champagne dressing and cheese biscuits," Erik said.

Yani jumped for joy and ran to him grabbing the large brown bag he carried. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward an open area where there were benches to sit where she could eat her lunch.

She tucked into her salad wasting no time drowning it with the dressing and smacking her lips over the biscuits. She tried to keep from spilling anything on her steel blue nursing uniform.

"I needed this…Jesus…classes were intense this morning…and I have to tell you about volunteering at the hospital…."

She wolfed down her meal and Erik watched her while eating one of her cheese biscuits. His mood lately had been quiet. Contemplative. They interacted as affectionate best friends and that was hard for her. She knew why he did it. Trying to make their upcoming separation easier for her. But it was doing the opposite.

Once she finished eating, she drank up the soda he brought with her food.

"Tell me about the hospital," he asked.

Yani held the cola can against her chest.

"Oh…the babies…they are so tiny. Dr. Candace has me spend two hours on the preemie ward and I just hold them against my chest. They don't even feel real to me. When I had Sweet Pea, she was so big and plump, even at seven pounds, but these babies…like fragile tiny dolls. So small…but they have the fight to live in them. I held a little boy that squirmed on my chest the whole time I had him, and I could almost see through his skin. Next Saturday I will observe the critical care unit for children again and shadow Dr. Candace's colleague there."

"Which do you like better?"

"Mmm, maybe the critical care unit. I can talk to the children and I like the different ages. There's a lot more to do there because of the different needs. Most of the time in the preemie ward I am sitting and holding the babies quietly."

Her mind went to her morning class and she grew quiet.

"What?" he asked.

"We're doing an Intro to Epidemiology unit in one of my classes and since Sydette was ill and Star passed…I think I'm interested in studying diseases. I've been reading a lot into that, and I think I want to move into that field."

Erik nodded his head encouraging her thoughts.

"I want to work with babies and children so I have to figure out what will make me happy. That virus came through the island so fast and so deadly. A lot of the islands were hit hard and were so unprepared throughout the Caribbean."

She crushed up her soda can and put it inside the brown bag her salad came in.

"Seems like school has you beyond excited."

"I'm having so much fun! My mind is soaking up everything and Dr. Candace has become a great mentor to me."

"Black women uplifting other Black women."

"She is from here, unlike some of the other doctors, so she really understands the needs of our people. You know what she told me last week?"

"What?"

"She thinks I should consider becoming a doctor again. She says I have an affinity for medicine and the smarts to be a doctor. I thought it was too late to dream that big again, but…"

"Hey…Yani…," Erik stroked her back.

Yani wiped her eyes. The unexpected tears surprised her.

"I used to think I was a failure for giving up Uni after getting pregnant. My parents and a lot of my family made me feel like it was too late to have that. But now…to have a doctor tell me to my face that I have what it takes to be like her, another Black woman doctor…mi feel like anything is possible again."

Erik pulled her in for a hug.

"I know you can do it," he whispered in her ear.

"Now I believe it too," she said.

She wiped her eyes again and leaned back from him. Glanced at her wristwatch view screen.

"I need to get to my next class."

Erik took her trash and tossed it in a waste receptacle near the bench. She reached out and touched his hair.

"Getting so full," she said.

"I want to loc it back up again."

"I can do that. Come by tonight?"

"Can't."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Maybe."

"Chez is taking Sweet Pea to his mother's church for a gospel fest. I can do your hair at my place uninterrupted. Nannette will be around, but she always stays in her room watching her tv shows."

Yani didn't want to sound desperate, but she wanted to be alone with him. Even if it was just to do his hair for him. She needed to touch him. She leaned in to kiss him and he accepted her lips. He allowed her to throw her arms around him and she nuzzled her face against his neck. He smelled like expensive aftershave.

"Get back to class," he said pulling away from her.

"Thank you for lunch."

"See ya later, Dr. Galiber."

Yani smiled and he gave her some dimples with his grin.

He kissed her cheek and she walked away from him. Stomach happy. Heart slightly heavy.

"Yani."

She turned to look at him.

"I'll come by tomorrow."

Her face beamed and she had to stop herself from skipping away from him like a little school girl.

The rest of her day sped by fast, her brain filled with facts and ideas and a need to do more personal research on viruses and bacteria and public health policies.

Sydette had a great day at daycare and Yani treated her daughter to ice cream before dinner. Back at their apartment, Yani packed Sydette a little overnight bag to give to Chez. He would take her with him to stay with his mother after the gospel fest. Yani would be able to sleep in an extra hour Thursday morning because Chez would drop Sydette off at daycare for her.

She fell asleep on her couch with her laptop glowing in front of her face with completed homework sent to her teachers and Sydette snoozing right next to her.

###

"What are you doing?"

Erik's voice was curious as he watched Linda standing in the middle of Klaue's living room. He caught her staring at the floor.

"Just admiring the tile. Seems discolored in some places."

"Grout cleaner probably discolored some of it,' he said walking past her.

He opened up the globe liquor bar and poured himself a bourbon on the rocks.

"Want one?" he asked.

"No. Trying to keep this tummy down," she said patting her flat stomach, "been overindulging a little too much. Drying out."

Erik sipped and her eyes dragged over him. She studied him.

"What do you know about Wakanda?" she asked.

The wall view screen popped on when she waved her hand over the power source and a map of Africa filled out his vision. Linda swiped the screen and East Africa came up in sharp 3D relief.

"About as much as you," he said.

Linda glanced behind her to see if Klaue was in earshot.

"It's land-locked. Not really on anyone's radar…"

"And?"

"How does a poor country with no real GNP and an unknown resource it doesn't harness have complicated security monitoring? I can't hack into any computer source around it or inside of it. It has a powerful blackout network that I can't crack. And you know I can get into anything anywhere if given enough time. I've spent two months trying to find a way in. Klaue says that it is a powerful place. I thought he was exaggerating, but now…this is some next level shit, Killmonger. Vibranium is just the tip of the iceberg. Who are these people…for real?"

"The future, Ma. The future."

Linda's eyes regarded him to assess if he were truly serious. He didn't flinch.

"How the hell is our skeleton crew going to go up against that?"

"We're not going to war. Just taking vibranium."

"I didn't sign up for a suicide mission."

"You signed up to make bank. So make bank."

Her eyes were wary.

"Does he still have the Kabul goods?"

Erik stayed silent.

"That's why he has you here for the long term."

"Wakanda is not a suicide mission."

Linda's eyes gazed at the map. She outlined Wakanda with her hand.

"Wakanda is my last big job. After that, I'm out. Retiring," he said.

"You retire? You love this shit. You were made for this shit."

"I'm done after that place. On God."

"On God? Hmmm. You must be serious."

Her eyes flitted about the room before she walked over and made herself a drink.

Erik turned off the view screen and stepped out onto the balcony. Closing his eyes, he listened to the surf down below rush in. The liquor coursing through his veins warmed up his insides as a cool breeze tickled his skin.

Retire.

Right.

The soldier in him had to stay vigilant.

"I'm so ready for Helsingborg," Linda said.

She stood next to him and watched the water.

"You'll miss all of this, won't you?"

"I lived well here," he said.

"Suits you. Sun. Surf. Someone to cater to your needs all day. Cooking your food. Cleaning your housing. La dolce vita."

"Life is sweet here."

He felt her eyes on him, but he concentrated on the view in front of him. His cell vibrated. He ignored it while Linda stood there. The gentle ping on the intercom system notified them all that dinner was ready.

Erik walked with Linda up to the front house and found the other men there already surrounding the dining table and drinking heavily. The energy was festive and relaxed. A change of pace from the last few weeks of tension and shutting down operations in St. Thomas. He watched Leona and Cee Cee place trays of meat and vegetables on the serving tables and the motley crew fixed their plates.

Erik didn't participate in any conversations and ate his food fast. He wanted to get to Yani. He was eager to feel her fingers on his scalp. When dessert was brought out, Erik made his leave.

###

Yani dipped her finger in the fresh loc butter she brought from Twyla's house. It smelled like lemon cookies, and she kept her nose in the jar until Killmonger walked into her apartment. His hair was freshly washed and she had him sit on the floor between her thighs. The heat from his body warmed up her legs. She wore black shorts and made sure her legs were shaved and smoothed in cocoa butter.

She sectioned his hair and massaged the loc butter into his scalp and onto the ends of his strands.

"Smells good," he said.

"How thick you want them?"

"Same as before."

She started at the front of his scalp, palm rolling the soft texture of his hair and clipping the new locs to the side. When she got to the patch of red hair on his scalp, she took her time there and created three locs. One for him, one for his mother, and one for his father. She clipped the birthmark strands and his head turned up to look at her. She bent down and kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes and she moved her lips to his mouth. Her tongue licked the seam of his mouth and his lips parted. The tip of his tongue darted out and touched hers and she sucked on it eagerly and moved her upper body down closer to his. Erik reached up and touched her neck before pushing back and allowing her to continue palm rolling.

His head slumped forward and his breathing was relaxed and deep. His hands reached around her ankles and rubbed her feet as she finished up the back of his head.

"You sleep?" she asked.

"Nah."

"Almost done."

She unclipped his hair and finger-combed the new locs back. She spritzed it with some floral-scented distilled water.

Yani passed him a hand mirror and he stared at her work.

"Looks good."

He pulled a wave cap from his back pocket and she helped place it over his hair. He leaned back into her thighs and rested his face on her right one. He kissed the inner flesh there and she felt a giddy fluttering in her belly.

"Kendall has a show this weekend. A promo party for his new EP. You want to come?"

"When is it?"

"This weekend."

"If I can get away, yeah."

Yani glanced at her cell phone when she saw it light up on the end table. She read the text Chez sent her and cracked up laughing.

"Lookie, Killmonger. Chez says Sweet Pea is trying to play Hide and Seek in the church right now."

She held her phone out to him and he saw the picture Chez sent. Sydette was under a pew.

"Getting her dress all dirty. See what you started," Yani said.

Killmonger grinned and handed her phone back. He checked his watch.

She held onto his shoulders.

"You have to go back?"

"Nah, just checking the time. When is Nannette coming back?"

"I don't know."

She felt nervous. Jumpy. Fearful that he would leave.

Switching channels on her tv, she found a show she liked and moved back into the couch. He moved to sit next to her and she leaned into him. He settled down more and threw his arm around the back of the couch. She lost interest in the show and glanced at his face. He seemed to enjoy what he saw. She stroked his thigh.

"Killmonger…why won't you touch me anymore?"

"I touch you—"

"You know what I mean."

"Told you…surface level."

"I don't want that. I know you think it's to help me get over you. But it won't. I want to be with you… in all ways."

His eyes focused on her chin and not her eyes.

"It hurts me not to be the way we used to. I crave everything about you. Don't you miss me too? Touching me like this?"

She reached out and placed his left hand on her breast. His fingers clutched at the soft cotton of her shirt and the fullness of her.

"Mi still yuh sugah, yeah?"

His breath sped up and he squeezed her breast.

"Yani…"

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she had.

"Baby…"

His hands snaked around her waist as she bounced on him.

"Yuh miss me?" she whispered in his ear. Her tongue darted along the shell and the groan from his mouth made her bolder. She pulled off her shirt and let her breasts bounce in his face.

"Shit!"

Erik's eyes watched her tits and she felt the swelling from his dick under her mound. Winding her hips, Yani slowed down her movement.

"Love me?" she asked.

His dick jumped under her and he thrust up.

"Tryna make me cum in my pants again."

Erik stood up and she wrapped her legs around him. He walked them into her bedroom where he released her. They undressed and crawled onto her bed.

His mouth was on her neck when she heard Nanette enter the apartment.

"Yani!"

"I'm in my room studying."

Erik pressed his mouth into her neck to muffle the laugh that bubbled out of him.

"My sister is with me. We have some take out, you want some?" Nannette said.

"No, I'm not hungry…thank you…oooh…"

Yani's hands shot out around Erik's neck. His erection separated her sticky folds and she lost her breath for a moment.

Nanette and her sister moved around in the living room and her daughter ran around in the next room playing with her toys.

Erik lifted up Yani's legs and drilled down into her pussy. They both tried to keep quiet, but Erik's pants were so loud in her ear. She gasped and clutched at his back, clawing his skin, his muscles moving beneath her fingers. The firm scars all over his traps anchored her even though he was making her bed move. The headboard clanked against the wall. Erik reached up and held onto the metal bar headboard, his thighs widening as he shifted above her. His dark brown eyes watched her face as she tried to keep quiet.

"Fuck me…" she gasped.

His eyes narrowed and became more intense.

"Pussy so wet…fuck…I love that sound," he groaned.

Yani didn't know what was more erotic, Erik's facial expressions and soft moans trying to keep quiet, or her own breathy pants. The more they kissed, the tighter her pussy felt surrounding his length.

The loud babble of Nannette and her sister and the banging of toys on the floor in the next room swirled around them. It didn't matter though, she and Erik only heard each other. Yani lifted her legs higher around Erik's waist, wanting him deeper and harder inside of her.

"I'm not pulling out!" Erik groaned in her ear.

He held still and Yani felt his heavy dick pulsing inside her pussy. His cum shot deep inside of her thick, raw, and hot. A sharp cry flew out of Yani's mouth when she felt her orgasm spasm around Erik's rigid length. He kissed her to keep their noise down but his mouth on hers only made her want more.

Erik's cell buzzed. He ignored it until the third buzzing made him pick it up. Yani tucked the bed covers under her neck as she watched him. His face changed from sated bliss to uncertainty.

"What is it?" she asked.

He put the phone on the nightstand and fell back on the bed.

"Killmonger?"

He turned to face her.

"We're moving out."

###

Chapter 25 Here.

Tag List:

@fd-writes @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone

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#wet sugar #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #klaue #black panther #erik stevens #n'jadaka #blackpanther fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe

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my-proof-is-you · 5 years

Text

The Cost of Protection - Final Chapter

Summary: Pain, bruises, and cover-up. You had come to accept that this was now your life. He was cruel, but you had to stay with him. It was the only choice. That is, until you meet the green-eyed stranger that refuses to let it go… You have protected others for a long time. Can you learn to be the one to be protected? Can you trust two strangers that say they won’t let anything bad happen?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; abuse

**I do not own any images or gifs

Masterlist

You

You spent days in darkness. Every time you would come close to consciousness, you would back off, afraid that you would wake to the horrible nightmare that had become your life.

Every now and then you could hear sounds around you: voices whispering to each other, machines making odd sounds you couldn’t place, your own even breaths. You thought you heard Dean’s voice a few times, but you were sure you were just imagining him again.

You were coming near consciousness again, but some new things caught your attention this time. The way you were breathing was odd…too perfectly even. It was also effortless, but not in the way it is when you unconsciously breathe every day.

There were also the things you could hear the imaginary Dean saying to you. Instead of saying he was going to save you or get you away from Rahab, he kept asking you to fight.

Fight what? Rahab? I can’t win against him.

Confused, you hid in the comfort of the darkness once more.

Dean

“It’s been a week, Cas. Why hasn’t she woken up?” Dean asked, sitting at your bedside where he had been almost constantly for the past seven days.

“Dean, I’m afraid I don’t know. Her body is healing slowly. However, I think at this point she has to make a decision,” Cas responded from his spot near the door.

“What decision?” Dean asked.

“Whether or not she wants to live.”

“Of course she wants to live! She has to!” Dean exclaimed. Sam stood up from his spot on the couch in the hospital room and walked over to Dean.

“Maybe she doesn’t know that she has a choice,” he said, looking between Cas and Dean.

Cas tilted his head. “Yes, maybe she doesn’t know she is safe, or that she could pull through this.”

“Well then how do we tell her?” Dean asked.

“I believe I can put you in her mind to talk to her. But Dean, I must warn you: you have to let her make the decision. If you bring her out of this and she doesn’t want to live, things will get very messy,” Cas explained.

“I know. I’ll let her choose, but I gotta try, man,” Dean responded. He knew in his heart that given the decision, you’d come home to him.

“Okay, then hold still,” Cas said, placing his fingers on your forehead and his.

You

The darkness lifted and you were back in the bunker. You were sitting in your favorite chair in the library when you heard footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Dean!” You exclaimed, running to him the moment you saw him.

“Hey there, beautiful. I’ve missed you,” he said, snuggling his face in your hair.

You pulled back to look at his face. “Where have you been?” You asked.

“It’s you that’s been gone, darlin’,” he said, looking into your eyes.

You scrunched your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time.”

“None of this is real, Y/N. I think you know that,” Dean said, looking around the room.

You looked around too, and noticed that the edges of the room were fuzzy. “Are you real?” You asked, touching Dean’s face softly with your fingers.

“I am. Cas brought me here to talk to you. It seems you have a decision to make.”

“What decision?” You asked, still trying to piece everything together.

“To live or die.” Dean had sadness in his eyes. When you looked into them, everything came back to you. You gasped and held your hand to your mouth.

“Oh, God. Oh God…I remember,” you said, looking at Dean who was nodding his head.

“I think you know what I want you to do, darlin’. I love you, and I want to spend forever with you. But it’s your decision, and I’ll respect whatever you choose.” Dean leaned forward and kissed your forehead. When he stepped back, he smiled lightly and was gone.

You had to decide whether to live or die.

Why is this even a hard decision?

Obviously, you loved Dean—and your family, Sam, and Cas—and you wanted to go back to be with them. But, at the same time, to be released from all the pain you’ve been feeling, the pain of your past, everything…it was tempting.

And you were tired. Protecting your family—both biological and chosen—had weighed on you in ways you hadn’t ever really considered. It felt like danger sought you out, and you weren’t sure you wanted to go back to that again.

You thought of your family: your nieces’ giggles, your sister’s round belly and loving smile, your parents’ welcoming hugs. It all seemed impossible to give up.

Then you thought of Sam and Dean. Sam’s laugh when you made fun of Dean, Dean’s soft lips and perfect kisses, the way he made you feel every day.

You knew what your decision was. The people in your life were worth every ounce of pain you were going to go through, and they would be for the rest of your life.

It was time to wake up.

Dean

From the second Dean was back in his own head, he had been watching you. He waited, suddenly not so sure what you would choose.

Another day went by with no changes.

"Why is this taking so long? I just want to know either way,” Dean said, still holding your hand and touching his forehead to it.

“I don’t know, man. It’s gonna be okay, you know?” Sam said, trying in vain to comfort his brother.

Dean let out a long sigh, then placed a small kiss on your palm.

“Dean. Dean!” Sam said. Dean looked at Sam and saw him nod toward you.

Dean turned his head toward your beaten and battered body and saw your eyelids begin to flutter. The machine measuring your heartbeat started beeping quickly. Your eyes opened wide, full of panic.

“Y/N, sweetheart, look at me,” Dean said, hovering over you so you could see him. You started to gag from the tube that was down your throat. Your eyes darted around the room wildly. Dean placed his hands on your face to get your attention.

“Look at me, darlin’. You have to listen. You have a tube down your throat that’s helping you breathe. You have to relax and let it do its job until they can take it out. Just let it work, sweetheart, relax.”

Your heartbeat began to slow down. You gagged a few more times before letting the machine do its job.

“Sam, go get the doctor and tell her she’s awake!” Dean said. Sam immediately left the room to go find someone.

Dean turned his attention back to you, stroking your hair. “I’m glad you decided to stay, baby girl.”

You blinked a few times and Dean saw a few tears roll down your cheeks. Dean kissed them away.

“Do you hurt? One blink yes, two blinks no,” Dean said. You blinked once, and Dean continued to stroke your head. “They’ll be in soon, and they’ll take care of you. You’re going to be okay.”

You looked at Dean, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Rest, darlin’. Just don’t leave me again,” Dean said, smiling. You closed your eyes and Dean watched you until Sam brought the doctor in. She asked Dean to move while she worked on weaning you off the breathing tube. Dean stayed as close as he could, holding your hand the whole time.

He wasn’t going to let you go any time soon.

You

Today was the day you finally got to go home. You had been in the hospital for nearly a month. As soon as you were able to get out of your bed, you had worked every day with the physical therapist to get back to even walking on your own.

Also, walking was a bit of an overstatement. You had a broken leg, three broken ribs, a broken jaw, broken wrist, and seven broken fingers. So you weren’t so much walking as you were hobbling down the halls of the hospital with crutches and the support of the physical therapist.

Your mouth had been wired shut for a few weeks after they removed the breathing tube so your jaw could heal. When it was finally removed, you talked for nearly an hour straight without pausing, just because you could. Dean laughed and listened to you the entire time.

Sam and Dean had been amazing throughout your recovery. They were at the hospital almost all the time, and you often had to force Dean to go home and get some real sleep. Most nights, though, he had slept with you in your small hospital bed, holding you and whispering sweet words until you fell asleep.

But today you finally got to go back to the bunker with the boys. You were able to walk on your own now with the use of crutches. Cas was able to heal some of the more superficial wounds on your face and skin, so you at least didn’t look like a zombie anymore.

You sat in the back seat of the Impala with your leg propped up, smiling to yourself and humming along with the radio.

“Listen, Y/N, there’s something we need to tell you,” Dean said, turning the radio down. You looked at his concerned face staring back at you in the rear view mirror.

"What? What is it?” You asked, scared to hear the answer.

“Well, when you were in the hospital we had to talk to your family a bit—make sure they knew what was happening. We told them to wait to see you because we knew how bad you looked. We wanted to wait and see if there was anything Cas could do first,” Sam explained.

"Okay..." you started, wondering where this conversation was going.

“We talked to your sister about a week ago. She was going into labor,” Dean said. His face looked braced for anger, which was the correct position.

“What?!” You exclaimed. “She went into labor and you didn’t tell me?”

“We knew if we told you that you would want to leave the hospital, and we couldn’t let you do that,” Sam said, turning from the front seat to give you puppy dog eyes.

You heaved a deep sigh and rolled your eyes. Though you didn’t like it, they were right. “Okay, well, I want to go see them, NOW.”

“We’re already halfway there,” Dean said, smiling at you. You weren’t quite ready to let him off the hook yet, but you gave him a small smile back.

When you pulled up to your sister's house, you felt your heart flutter in excitement. Dean helped you out of the car and you hobbled your way up to the front door, opening it and walking right in.

“Hello? There’s an auntie here that’s dying to see her nieces!” You called into the house.

The two oldest girls came running, heading right toward you like they wanted to jump in your arms. Luckily, Dean intercepted them, catching them both and lifting them up.

“Hey pretty girls,” he said while they both giggled and tried to get away. “Listen, we have to be extra gentle around aunt Y/N, okay? See that cast on her leg? She broke it.”

“Oh no, aunt Y/N, are you gonna be okay?” Sadie asked from over Dean’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, sweet pea. Just gotta be careful for a while.” You turned toward Sam, who had an amused look on his face seeing his brother getting along so well with the girls. “This is Dean’s brother, Sam.”

“Wow. You’re even bigger than Dean!” Sadie exclaimed.

You hobbled a little closer to her, whispering loud enough so that Sam could hear you. “You know, he likes to be tackled even more than Dean. He’s easier to tackle, too!”

The girls got mischievous grins on their faces once again and Dean let them down. The ran after Sam, tackling him in the living room where he pretended they were much stronger than him.

“I thought I heard your voice,” Sarah said, coming into the foyer.

“Is this the newest bundle of joy?” You asked, looking at the baby in your sister’s arms.

“Yes, this is Emma. Emma, meet your aunt Y/N,” she said, angling her so that you could get a better look.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Sarah.” The baby had the same hair and eyes as her mother, but her father’s other facial features. She let out a small coo in her sleep.

“Do you want to hold her?” Sarah asked.

“Sure, but I have to sit first. Dean, could you bring her to me over on the couch?” You asked.

Dean took the baby in his arms while you went over to the couch. Once you were seated, you looked up. Emma was awake now, a tiny smile on her face while she looked up at Dean. She had grasped his finger and he was moving it around to entertain her.

You smiled at what you were seeing. The hunting life didn’t exactly lend itself to family, but you knew by the way Dean was looking at your niece that one day, it could happen for you. Dean smiled, handing you the baby. You took her, a small tear running down your cheek.

“Everything okay, darlin’?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. He put an arm around you and you leaned into him.

“Yes, everything is perfect,” you said. You gave him a light kiss on the lips. Your parents, sister’s family, Cas, Sam and Dean—they were your family. It may have been unconventional, but you knew they were worth everything you had been through, and that you’d do it all again just to keep seeing their smiles.

THE END

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14

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Deanies:

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This Fic:

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#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn fanfic #spnfandom #SPNFamily #spn imagine #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester/reader #Sam Winchester #castiel #fluff #angst #abuse #fanfic

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

Hi babes! Chapter 4 for you! It’s a biggie!

Eternally grateful to the tripod, without @dirtystyles -and @bleedinglove4h I would fall on my face- maybe into someone’s cleavage if I timed it right!!

Ski Da Yo- Chapter 4

It's silly really, the entire scenario that she's found herself in. Ada could laugh, nobody would hear it over the music. It's loud, and people are taking turns at the stage. Though She could go join the group, she should, rather than lurking in the corner like a weirdo, fixated on a previous performance. She's not laughing, even at herself. She'd kinda drooling, way more embarrassing.

But she just had to watch him.

He was in his element, relaxed, on, charming, lit up like a Christmas tree. Merry, bright.

She'd never seen him like this, in the flesh. Glimpses, in the interviews she watched and called research. She'd seen the fuss there, agreed to the picture partly on the strength of it.

She could see it, what the fuss was about. And it was the first real glimpse she'd had, besides those moments she felt she had to steal from him to get on film. She was beginning to think there was a limited supply of Styles' magic. Perhaps, that was why she was only able to get a precious few minutes a day.

Watching him now, that did not seem to be the case. Harry was incandescent and she felt blinded by the light. She could chalk that up to all of her rockstar fantasizes brought to life, but it didn't explain everyone else's rapt attention on him, their enthrallment. Maybe they all had a grunge fetish too?

When she walked in and she clocked him, even with the stupid glasses that obscured his face, festive she supposed, he looked different.

On set he looked, perfect was the word that came to mind, but not in the way people usually meant. Polished and made up and proper in his prince clothes. Perfect, fake. And anxious, like the film was a bit of an albatross around his neck. Or maybe the pressure. And he looked like it was heavy, all the trappings trapping him. Ada worried over it. Like, the movie made him regress. Maybe it felt too familiar. He said that a lot when they talked about scenes, when he was frustrated with himself.

"I know just how he feels."

Because he had been there. Is that why he had such a hard time getting the shot? Because it made him freak out a little, feel like he'd not called his own shots for years? But he'd made these choices. Had agency. Maybe she could help him see it as therapeutic. Because it was a way to safely rebel - a redo, no risk.

She'd talk to him about it. They needed to have that drink. She could order him one now.

Ada shook her head. Not tonight. She didn't want to kill his vibe tonight. It was too lovely to watch, and to live she guessed. No shop talk.

He looked light as a cloud, and as soft edged too. Nothing perfect or fake about him. His skin was a little slick under the stage lights, the ridges near his nose were shiny especially. He had glitter on his cheeks, but not like highlighter, like the glasses he wore were cheap, and shedding tiny pieces of shine.

But he did shine.

And he had sounded good.

Not everybody could sing Nirvana, in a chest voice no less.

She was weaned on that. And really into indie rock, especially grunge, while her dad was fostering 90's slick hip hop. It was a silly means of rebellion, but she took her opportunities to disappoint Garner seriously.

She remembered her dad had called the cover of in utero obscene, which made her laugh as he had just put out a video full of nearly naked females in bikinis, but anatomical drawings were obscene. Okay.

She had snuck a new copy in after he threw the first one away and poured over the lyrics in her baggy jeans and crop top with a flannel. Had a giant crush on Kurt, May he Rest In Peace, and when she met Dave Grohl it may have been the only time she was really starstruck.

Well, she felt like she had been hit about the head by a celestial being currently. Harry had it, that was for sure. How had she missed it? The bushel basket he'd been hiding his light under must have been thick. There was something obscuring her view or his personality definitely. Not tonight. Star power was all over him tonight; that was the boy she had signed up to direct. Right there, from those red carpet clips she'd watched. Those sold her and then she had watched concert footage, shaking camera and all. Those were another level. This silly karaoke gig almost matched the wattage when he was bedecked and bantering on stage. He looked dashing, and like he could carry a movie on his thick shoulder pads all with a joke on his vibrant lips. That man was in this building, singing one of her all time favorite songs. It had an effect.

Wow, the rasp in his voice. God, she was still reeling and hiding out in the back like her crush was nearby.

Her eyes widened.

That's what was going on! She was doing what she had done with Danny Diaz in 10th grade. She wasn't teenage dream obsessed about him, really. But, she'd paid him a lot of attentions, clandestinely. He'd been so cool, and was really into raving. Which, in hindsight, made his post high school life a little clearer. But he liked music that had nothing to do with her dad and he was cute, had long bangs and a shaved head and he could dance! She loved to dance.

She needed to go, before this bloomed like a cherry blossom and she fell off in a great big clump to wait for shoe marks. Like 10th grade, only less poetic.

The pathway to the door was clear. Her heels on the floor made a click click click, though nobody should be able to hear it. She turned back to make sure nobody was following her, was watching, and her heel caught, right in a crack in the concrete floor.

"Shit!" Her ankle twisted and her heard a crunch, that was not good, but her trajectory to the ground wasn't either. Her hands went out to catch her.

He smelled good, like leather a bit, smoky, with a sweet tinge. And he caught her and hoisted her up like she was feather light. She never felt like that, because she was the tallest of her friends, not even tall, just taller, and she had never been small. She had that insta baddie body before it was popular. Grown up in the big titty, little hippy 90's. She always felt huge.

But not right now. He had her, was righting her before her weight came down and she properly broke something. This felt like that time she'd sprained her ankle jumping fences to go skating with the boys. Stupid heels.

Back to the rom com moment she found herself in. He's caught her under the arms. His hands span her whole armpit and his fingers curled into her scapula. Ada spared a thought for how sweaty her underarms might be. Yuck! But she should be ok, she'd gotten properly ready, lots of antiperspirant. She knew that, took a deep breath and then realized she'd missed something. He's staring at her expectantly. The rockstar with the totally revealed charm. Harry.

"What?" It came out with no finesse, like a burp.

"You ok?" Harry was kinda grinning and loose, left eye more hooded than his right, and his breath, definitely 80 proof. She heard the shift and he's no longer got her in a dip fit for a tango . She felt like she'd been whirled and thrilled.

"Um, I think I'm ok." She realized they were still locked in an embrace when she tried to check her foot. Ada looked down at the place his hands had migrated to, on her hips. She didn't really need to look, she could feel all ten fingertips, like little bruise marks formed from hope not pressure. It saved her from looking at her own hands where they were full of the muscular forearms she knew to be covered in tattoos beneath the green button-up he had on. It was a a stall.

But Harry released her the minute he saw her eyeing his familiar hands. She had him well trained apparently. Massive walls between them. They were massively out of place at the moment, regrettable. She wasn't balanced on her feet yet either. Ada nearly fell before he steadied her with a rebound hand at her hip. She caught it to stand on one foot, for safety.

Her ankle circled around ok. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was entirely manageable. That was good. She'd probably need to stay off of it, no treadmill tomorrow, and she'd need to elevate it. Ice too, she could ask the bartender for some. She was plotting how to locate an ace type bandage, and who would be best to ask for that. They may have some in makeup - they'd used them to bind breasts on Wildflower, but she couldn't think why they'd have them for this movie. Harry had perky nipples, but they didn't need to be bound. Stop thinking about Harry's nipples. The lowlight would thankfully mask her blush. Wait, Maybe she could ask his friend, Masa, he owned a gym.

Harry. She could ask him too. And that would be really easy because he was still right there. Holding her hand.

They had laced their fingers at her hip. Ada looked at Harry, he had a huge lazy smile on his face. Pleased as punch. She was punch drunk, though she wouldn't say it. He looked so young and toothy. Though the gathering of sweat at his hairline, little droplets above his upper lip, made him real. Imperfect.

She shook herself and their hands unlatched. "I need ice I think?" Of course she needed ice. What was she talking about? Who even was she? Next she's start babbling, and tuck her hair behind her ear and duck her chin.

"Yeah, and a way to put it up." His head swiveled around and he nodded. "C'mon." He gently took her arm and looped it around his shoulder. He was just tall enough.

The table was closer than she would have liked, a walk under his arms was worth remembering, but it was good for her foot. Harry sat her in a booth and put both hands out in a straight stay there motion then grabbed a chair and propped up her ankle gently. The wrong one, but she went with it.

"Be right back." He tripped a little as he looped off to the bar. Ah, that looked normal. The trip to the bar was only the chorus of the song too. He didn't wait long for the bartender. The whole place seemed to be filled with their group, pleasantly vibrant, but not busy. . It was a quick exchange, with a little sign language thrown in. He was big on hand talking on a normal day. Gesticulating when he described most things. He was very full body engaged and engaging before scenes, before he floated away on her.

Huh, she just thought about that, Henry wasn't gesticulative. A little more in the Akio scenes.

She hadn't noticed that Harry had layered physical control into his performance. She found herself nodding. That was good. Made total sense for a royal.

He was walking back to her now with a thin white towel and he was crunching ice in it. Oh shit - she hadn't switched feet, she'd been watching him.

"Cold!" She flinched, "a little warning Styles!"

"Sorry," he chuckled. "I figured me walking from the bar with a towel after I went over to get ice was warning enough." He curled his tongue a little at her and the ice gave her goosebumps.

Wow, maybe he needed liquid courage on set sometimes. All his nerves were gone.

"Usually someone tells you they are about to put ice on you, even nurses, unless they are trying to be little shits!" She arched one of her brows st him. They were her favorite feature and she used them to her advantage.

"You got me, just wanted to see you squirm, since you get to see me uncomfortable a lot." His slow cadence sometimes bugged her on set. It was another thing she could find irritating, during the literal 11th hour. Ada talked fast. She talked a mile a minute on set because they had shit to do and her brain was usually ten paces ahead of her mouth.

But it was kinda nice, the way he took his time.

"You sounded really good! When you were singing." Oh God he blushed. It was his job to sing, did he know that? "You moonlight in a Nirvana cover band often?" She flexed her foot where his hand was still moving ice around to find the sore ligaments, on the wrong foot. She followed the fire and ice.

He squawked a laugh. "No, just the one time, and only because Kunichi is so persistent. I think he could sell bad fish to a Tokyo chef!" He raised his eyebrows and Ada caught her hand just before she covered her laugh.

"So, it's not the song you've always wanted to sing? That wasn't you living out your teenage rock dream?" He shook his head, just hers then.

"Oh, it's a great song, I love rock." He moved his head like, obviously. His body of work spoke to that. "But I like a little more melody when I'm convinced to do karaoke," he made a drinking motion and she was laughing again. "I like disco divas and duets. And if there is absolutely nobody around to tell on me or god forbid, record, Britney Spears is a blast to perform." He'd placed his hand to block his lips from curious eyes and leaned in to tell her this secret. His lips were plump, they like to reach out and touch her faith.

She was thirsty.

Oh shit, did she just say that out loud? How much had she already had, while skulking in the shadows?

"Sure, what do you fancy?" Quicksilver grin, poisonous and enigmatic.

"Um," what had she already had? "A dirty martini!"

"How dirty?" He flashed his eyebrows.

"Very, three extra olives." She gave him her single brow, the one that she used to dare him when that was what he needed on set.

"Three olives!" He made a shocked face. "Well, I never." And he gave her the goofiest grin and went to grab her drink. He looked comfortable. Like a favorite hoodie she wanted to wear. She only got to really watch him one way. He was back quickly.

He sat by her when he put down her cloudy drink. She'd switched legs while he was away and thought she'd got away with it, but caught his eye as he was studying her legs and he smirked at her.

That was a damn good face. "You need to do that for the scene Monday, the one at the club." Ada segued seamlessly into shop talk. She was actually really excited about that one. It was set at a place she had frequented in her time here; she had really happy memories. She was feeling really excited too, this felt like an actual fresh start, she should have taken Harry up on his offer of a drink ages ago. He was a joy loose. This was the rapport they needed, him loose and smirky, handsome with a side of solicitous and cocky sauce. This was the Harry Styles she'd been waiting for!

🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵

Harry felt like he should get an Oscar for this performance. For his steady hands, that he was currently sitting on, and the confident smirk. It wasn't all an act, but the amount of times he'd had to turn this on like a lightbulb in an interview was invaluable right now. It was mostly fake those times, maybe even faker now. He had been relaxed and joyous, and then he had been so relieved to see her smile at him, he just went with it. But the minute he walked away from her, the first time, for the ice, the nerves kicked in. But he faked it, like a seasoned porn star, because she was looking at him, and touching him, and holy shit! Ada Scott was hanging with him. He would keep the action and make the moans believable.

Wow! Was this the way women felt all the time? When they had to put on some performance for the man they were interested in, or for the men they weren't, but couldn't offend?

It felt easier to relax tonight. The day had set him up for success. Things had ended so well on set, and he'd been in the best mood, and had gotten brave. He'd gone to her trailer. To invite her again. Harry was excited about the evening at the bar and seeing music, though he wasn't sure what it would be like, because it wasn't a gig, nor karaoke, some hybrid he had been told. He liked novel nights out.

But everybody was coming. His whole Japanese network, including Jeff and Masa and his girl!

Everybody but Ada. So he'd put on his man panties and went going to ask her. She needed to be there, and even though she'd turned down all of his invitations and returned the replacement shoes, he was going to ask her again. For the whole cast. They had months left and needed to bond.

He needed to bond with her. It felt possible after their day on set, her brow wasn't creased and she didn't speed walk away. She slowed down enough for him to keep up. They'd had a conversation, not about a scene. He'd kept up and not drifted away on her voice. She walked and talked fast. He liked it.

Masa loved to laugh at him, and was doing just that while he psyched himself up to go talk to her. "Just go ask the lady." He'd arrived to take him back to the hotel to Harry stalling. Masa was giving him a look.

His grin was presumptuous. Harry didn't like it. It felt like he knew. Yuki knee, Masa might. Harry did, know, but he didn't think he was so obvious. Did she know?

"You need a tutu?" Masa heckled.

"What?"

"Your mind is like a dancer on drugs," he made a flitting motion with his hands. "you might need a tutu for making the decision. "

"Oh fuck off, man!"

"Just go ask her. It's a cast party, I haven't even met her and she's supposed to be the leader. She needs to come. A leader should." Masa's brow shrunk.

"She is the leader, she's the boss!" He was full of defenses for her. "If you were allowed on set you'd see."

"Oh, I'm not allowed." Harry had neglected to outright tell him that, just let him be distracted, that would run out when they had to go on location. Whoops.

"You'd make fun of me, I've been totally fucking up. So you aren't allowed. At all."

"Isn't the movie about a royal fucking up?" Masa said after catching his wheezing breath. He sounded like a dragon with hay fever.

Hmmm, Harry'd have to have a think on that. That was a plot point he should consider when he was flagellating himself. Maybe he could use it, all his self frustration. He shook himself and jumped up and down like he was going on stage, when he turned around to tell Masa he was going, he was laughing at him, again.

"What now?"

"Are you going to punch her?" He gulped the air. "You do that before you box."

"I just need to hype myself up." Harry shook his head out.

"She must be really pretty."

"Shut up." She was really pretty, but it had been an asset today, made the scene work and Harry had decided he needed exposure therapy. So he needed to be around her, more. He was gonna go talk to her, get used to her face.

He strode to her trailer and stopped cold outside before he could knock. For once, it was not over nerves, but his jaw which had dropped to the floor. That sound as coming from her trailer.

She was singing. Well! To Mary J. Blige's Real Love. And he wanted to sit on the little steps up to her door and listen.

So she could have gone into the music business, had everything going for her there. Connected daddy, pretty face, hot body, and pipes. Wow, she could belt! He had goosebumps. Her voice was rich and evocative. Deeper that he expected.

And he could not talk to her. Not now. Now she was even more impressive.

So he did what any brave young lad would do.

He asked his manager to do it.

Jeff smirked, but sent the text. And like the magic 8 ball he could be, he made the face he did when the outlook wasn't good.

So Harry had resigned himself to Ada not coming to the bar. He was disappointed, but also relieved. Those two feelings must be dating as often as he felt them together when it came to Ada. If she didn't come, he could relax and have fun, let loose, but not bond with her, or have another chance to impress her. Or throw up on her. There would be alcohol involved again. He needed to gain back the ground he'd lost when he spewed at her feet.

A second chance at a first impression.

But Jeff seemed to be right, as he often was. Ada was softer with him after the last cut because he had done a good job. He'd work that angle to bond.

He resigned himself to having another kick ass day on Monday for him and Ada, and having a great time tonight for himself, free of expectations. He was feeling buoyant, Kunichi had noticed right away, pounced and got him on stage. First on the drums, which he played like a 7th grader after a few lessons, and then on the microphone.

God, it was fun. So fun. And he felt the perfect amount of tipsy, like tomorrow he'd need two paracetemol and extra water, a good sweat and nothing else.

He felt extra intoxicated when he spotted Ada. In tight jeans and a slimmer t-shirt than normal, and high heels. He tried not to stare at her ass on a sneaker day, he was doomed with the thrust the 3 inches gave her curves. She looked amazing, but she looked like she was leaving. And he'd just realized she was there!

The social lubricant in his blood didn't give him a chance to think better of it. He was walking to Ada. He got there just in time. Her heel stuck in a crease in the floor, and he caught her. It was every rom com moment he'd ever sat on his mum's couch moon eyed over in one.

He got to help her. And he was able to talk to her like a normal human, and get her a drink. All in the span of 20 minutes!

She seemed relaxed, her shoulders pressed against her tee nicely, but were down, easy. And she smiled at him, a lot.

He was trying his best not to think, he'd spin out. When he went to get her ice towel and then the martini, god, she kind of flirted, right? People flirted with him all the time, or went mute. She didn't do either until tonight. And he was buzzing, more off the flirting at this point than the alcohol.

The little insecure boy inside, the one who was really loud in new situations or around new people, especially people he admired, was chiming in about the stage. The stage cast a spell on people, and he worried about people who knew him from it or expressed attraction to that aspect of him.

It's why he'd always held back with Helene, regrettably.

He didn't want to make that mistake again, he'd made wrong assumptions that cost him Helene's affections. He didn't want to do that here, wanted to do the opposite. Part of him wanted to dive in, head first, but he wasn't sure. Rejection hurt no matter who you were, and though he'd had his share, Harry's skin was still cling wrap thin. He wanted her to like him too. He wanted this to be real. Which meant he had to be honest, and open. But he was rushing it, like he did when he was crushing.

He was going to let this night be what he hoped it would be, a beginning. And he was that guy, the one on stage, with the smirk, and the wit. He was also less commanding, and lost his cool at times, but she'd seen that guy. He just needed to show her more of his best side, tonight, and on set.

He caught Kunichi motioning to him. Ah, he'd almost forgotten his promise.

He leaned back, let his arm brush her shoulder while he relaxed. He'd turn on the charm for just a minute, he could manage that, he wanted something he'd been a little consumed with for the better half of this night. And he wanted it from Ada.

He flexed the dimple and titled his head to the side. "This smile?" He pointed his finger at his lips.

"That's a good one, but no. The cockier one!" Oooh, he really did love that eyebrow. Gave him tingles.

"I will do my absolute best," he smirked and her lashes fluttered. "If you'll come up and sing with me."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #a premontion of love #apol #chapter 4 #ski da yo #talk to me

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sarcastic-sunshines · 5 years

Text

ABIONA AU - Part 4

Pairing: T’ Challa x Black!Reader

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2738

Link to ABIONA by @writingmarvellousimagines

Link to Face claims (2)

Part: (1) (2) (3) (I1) (I2)

Part 4

“Good morning, Beautiful. How did you sleep? Did you keep Mama busy last night? Don’t worry Baba is going to be home very soon to give you all the hugs and kisses you deserve.”

“I hope you are also coming to change diapers. I have no idea what your daughter eats, but the poops are disastrous,” Alix said with a scrunched up nose.

“You should be asking yourself that. Is it not your breast milk that she has been consuming,” T’Challa said going back to cooing over Abiona.

“I see Okoye and the other Doras have gone back to lying to you about being funny,” Alix said hoping to get a smug comeback from T’Challa but he looked a little distant.

“She is growing so quickly. Every time we talk she looks so different and I have only been away for 1 week. What will happen if I cannot sort out this council mess. Will I continue to miss moments of her life?”

T’Challa looked downward, not wanting to convey all the emotion that he was currently feeling. Alix felt bad, she was not really sure what to say to comfort him. T’Challa was always so good at words and she wanted to be his comfort just like he had been in the past for her.

“Hey! Buck up!” T’Challa laughed at her sad attempt to change his mood. “No seriously, I need you to be be the undoubting King I know you are. Yes, the council is difficult, but you are King. What you say goes. Abiona is your rightful heir. It only makes sense that she come home to be with her father. And since she is at such a delicate age, it would not make any other sense for me to come as well. Plus, word on the street is that I am your woman.” T’Challa laughed at the ending of Alix’s motivational speech.

“You are right. Everything makes sense.”

“Of course, I am right, Kumkani. Go into that meeting with all your eggs laid out leaving them no choice but to get on board or get out,” Alix said emotionally as she moved Abiona from one arm to another.

“Ooh feisty, I like it. Almost as much as I like it when you call me Kumkani, ”he said knowing good and well Alix would have to respond.

“Okay! That is the last time I do anything remotely nice for you. You have this is in the bag, T’Challa, do not worry. Everything will be fine.”

Abiona began to fuss.

“Go feed her, it is okay. I will call you after hopefully with good news.”

“Hey, positive energy only. It will be good news. Okay, Abi, say bye Baba.”

“Goodbye, my beautiful. I love you so much and I miss you. You too, entle, though I know you are happy to have your bed only to yourself,” he said as he gathered his papers to prepare for council.

“Actually it has been kind of cold. So hurry and come back, I need my big spoon.”

“Okay, little spoon, I will try my best.” He ended the call and put on his beads. He knew what needed to be done and he refused to leave council without his needs met.

All the council elders stood as T’Challa entered. With his mother and sister to his left and Okoye to his right, T’Challa knew he should only hope this ended in his favour. After asking everyone to sit he began to speak. “You all must know what this special council meeting entails. I have been blessed with a beautiful daughter named Abiona, as of two and half months ago.” Pictures of Abiona began to appear from Okoye’s beads and T’Challa could not help but to smile. “She is probably the best thing that has happened to me. She is the heir to my throne. She will one day be Queen of Wakanda and the protector of its people. She will be the Black Panther. It makes no sense for my child to live abroad when she deserves to be treated as the princess she is. I am here no longer asking but demanding the recognition and legitimacy of my child,“ T’Challa finally finished.

Olaniyi, the leader of the merchant tribe spoke first. “T’Challa, support for your child has always been present and never contested. Of course, we are not happy with the way this child was brought into this world, but she deserves to be given her birthright. The problem alway lies with the child’s mother. This Alixandre is not Wakandan in this least bit. She would serve what purpose to the court? To you as King?”

“Why do those details matter? She is nursing our child. Moreover, she is the mother of my child.”

“Exactly, she is nursing the princess currently, and what happens when she is weaned? Will she return to her home in France,” the Elder of the River tribe questioned with malice. Not only was he traditional and a close friend to T’Chaka, but his disappointment in T’Challa calling of the engagement to his daughter Nakia made him bitter.

“Of course, she would stay here with me. We are a family and it would be wrong to keep Abiona away from either parents at any point during her life”.

“And the issue of the court, is she your future queen? Will she take on the responsibilities from your mother,” the Border Tribe Elder asked.

T’Challa was becoming irritated. He didn’t see the need of talking about him and Alix when she wasn’t allowed to be here to defend herself and it truthfully wasn’t any of their business.

“Alix and I are not ready for marriage yet, therefore she will not be doing any queenly duties. When and if the time comes, we will discuss her role on the court. Right now, Alix is willing and ready to work as part of the Wakandan Council to the UN.”

“You would have an outsider represent us to the world?”

“She has a name, and you will not call her anything outside of it not in my presence, not ever!” T’Challa stared the River Tribe Elder in the eyes menancly. He made the man appear smaller than he actually was. “She has experience, so much actually. On the continent and beyond. She is an innovative thinker and very hard working. I am not saying this because of the nature of our relationship, but she has outstanding references from her former employers and from other high officials in the UN. She worked alongside my father and they had a great rapport. I too have gotten the opportunity to work with her and her work speaks for itself.”

“We get it, Brother, you are dating her.” He turned to glare at his sister signaling to her that today was definitely not the time for her jokes.

“T’Challa, this all sounds so nice but, before your father died, he did not speak very highly of this woman,” the Mining Elder finally spoke up. “If I remember correctly he had forbade her from entering Wakandan air. Your father was a wise man and a good king. Why should we go against his wishes now?”

T’Challa scanned the room before taking a large breath and beginning. “My father was a good King, and a wise man. That is why he was so impressed with Alix and her intelligence. However as we know, my father was not trusting of the outside world, and he was not wrong for thinking this way. But my father also made several life altering mistakes in his attempts to keep Wakanda hidden. We have had to pay the price. I have had to pay the price. My father has taught us is that hiding ourselves does not help us. Of course, we must be smart about it, and we have been smart, but he has also taught me life is unexpected. I never planned on my start as King to look like this.” T’Challa closed his eyes and smiled a little. “Not in the least. I have taken what Bast has given me and my life has changed for the better. Abiona and Alix are my life. I would never ask Alix to leave our child so she could stay alone, not to talk of the fact she would never allow it. To have them away from me and not in Wakanda would make my job as a father difficult. It would make my job as King undedicated because no matter the amount of work or how much I love my people and our nation, there will always be two pieces of me missing and I will not be able to be here knowing those pieces are so far away. So again I say, I need my family to be able to be by my side.” T’Challa looked around the room waiting for a response.

Olaniyi finally spoke. “Kumkani, is there any way we may have a moment to convene?”

“Of course,” he said as he his mother, Shuri and Okoye rose to leave the elders to talk.

T’Challa began to pace up and down with no end. He did not know a moment would be an hour and a half. He looked at the flashing light from his kimoyo beads. It was Alix. He had promised to call her with the verdict an hour ago so he responded and quickly told her what was going on when Okoye called him to rejoin the meeting. This was it. T’Challa knew whatever was said in that room today would either make or break him and Alix. He knew if it was a no she would be less willing to give this relationship a chance. T’Challa knew his heart would probably never recover from that.

He put on his brave face and entered the throne room.

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

Alix had just put Abiona to sleep. She nervously tapped her foot as she waited for T’Challa to call her back. He had told her an hour ago that the elders were discussing and hadn’t heard a thing yet. She had done a lot of positive talking to him in the morning but she wasn’t so sure now. This meeting had gone on for a long time. The last time T’Challa went, he didn’t even bother telling her until he got back and could hold Abiona as some sort of comfort. She didn’t want to see him devastated like that again.

“Yo, Alix, you are almost stomping the ground, how am I supposed to hear the TV?” She gave Jules a fierce glare letting him know today was not the day for his antics.

“I will take that as a cue to go watch it in T’Challa’s study”. As Jules got up the Kimoyo beads lit up. Alix turned off the TV and sat in the middle of the chair before placing the beads on the coffee table and answering.

“Hey...”

“How was your day?”

“You know good and well I do not want to talk about my day,” Alix said crossing her arms. She heard Abiona crying in the background. She looked at T’Challa.

“It is okay. Go get her. I missed her today.” Alix stood up looking at T’Challa trying to read his face, but for the first time she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. She grew nervous as she picked up the baby and tried to calm her down. Nothing seemed to be wrong with her, she just was tired of sleeping.

Alix sat back in the middle of the couch and T’Challa immediately started to coo and talk to Abiona who immediately stopped crying. She was starting to become such a Baba’s girl.

“Hello Beautiful, why are you crying? I cannot wait to see you tomorrow so I can properly hold you.”

“Wait, tomorrow? I thought you had a few more days there?” Alix’s heart was beating out of her chest.

“Yes, I had plan those days in case I had any extra business but I don’t, and we must start preparing for the move,” he stated, finally lifting his eyes from Abiona to look at Alix’s.

“Move? They agreed? The council agreed? Oh my god T’Challa, I was about to have a heart attack! You couldn’t have just said that? What is wrong with you,” she said with feigned anger that was ruined with the smile on her face.

“I was trying to have some suspense. Sue me for wanting a little fun. I have been stressed all week.”

“So you chose to stress the mother of your child out instead. Perfect, really, you thought this through.”

“I did, Alix, I should have called you thirty minutes ago but I spent that time yelling and thanking Bast.” She laughed as Abiona looked a both her parents not understanding what the joy was about.

“Well, thank her for me too. Did you have to give up anything?”

“Just some more resources to specific tribes. You have been asked to run a linguistic class at the university once a week once ‘Ona is old enough to be left with a nanny. I said yes without consulting you but if you feel like it is an issue I will find a way around it.”

“T’Challa, it is fine. If that is it then I am more than happy to do it.” They smiled at each other and continued to talk about the move and play with Abiona who soon fell back asleep in her mother’s arms.

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

At 10pm the next day, there was a jingle of keys at the door. Alix slowly approached it to make sure it was who she thought it was. As soon as the door opened to reveal T’Challa, her feet started to move towards him and she ran into his arms. She had not only shocked herself but T’Challa too who had never thought he would see the day. They shared a long kiss before he put on a mischievous grin and said, “And to think I thought her heart was frozen.”

“You couldn’t just let me show you love, could you?”

“It is a strange feeling I am not climatized to.” She hit his chest playfully as he put her down.

“Okay, where is my child?”

Alix held his hand to stop his movements. “No, please, I just put her down. She has been fussy all day.” Abiona’s cries immediately began. Alix looked tired and defeated. T’Challa felt bad, not for ‘Ona waking up, but for having to leave her and her mother alone.

“Don’t worry. I am back so I will take care of it. You go to bed. I will join you after. Alix nodded and went to her, wait, their room, but she didn’t get into the bed immediately. She stood by the door and listened to T’Challa sing the Wakandan lullabye to Abiona in between kisses. Abiona was soon back to sleep. Alix climbed into the bed pretending like she wasn’t listening in. He had only been back for 10 minutes and the apartment felt warm again. She was brought back from her thoughts when T’Challa layed down on the bed. He began to pull her in. “Come on, little spoon. I am cold and need a cuddle to get my body used to this horrible French weather.”

“I cannot wait for me to go to Wakanda and complain to you about how hot it is. You will be sick of me and send me back,” she giggled.

“I would never. I would be sick of you, yes, but unfortunately I love you too much to get rid of you. I would ask Shuri to build a machine to monitor and adjust the temperature in the city so you would finally be quiet,” he laughed.

“Even when you are shady, you are poetic. Just say simple sentences, T’Challa, it is not difficult.” They shared a laugh as he kissed her shoulder.

“It is hard to be simple around you.”

She turned and looked at him. “I really did miss you, T’Challa.”

“Do not worry, no longer will we have to be seperated.”

Alix easily fell asleep in his arms, allowing him to watch her and admire her beauty without her being aware. She still had some of her baby weight and, frankly, he didn’t want her to lose it. Her glowing skin reminded him that her heart is where his home lied.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@dramaqueenamby @writingmarvellousimagines @teechallas-blog @ashanti-notthesinger @wakanda-inspired @lovely-geek @chaneajoyyy @chefjessypooh @imagine-mbaku @90sinspiredgirl @dopegalkk @fonville-designs

#Abiona AU #Part 4 #t'challa x reader #t'challa #writingmarvellousimagines

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years

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here’s some sad stuff for @irondad-spiderson-duo who suggested ralbert angst

ship: platonic ralbert

warnings: minor character death, alcohol addiction, breakdown and shiz

editing: nah nah

Albert’s phone rang loudly next to him, and he put down the highlighter he was using to annotate Jane Eyre to pick it up. It was his 14 year old brother, Thomas, calling and Albert frowned. Usually if they needed to reach him, Albert’s brothers texted him. It was rare that they’d ever call.

He picked up tentatively, “Thomas?” Loud, frantic breaths could be heard on the other end and Albert sat up straighter, instantly feeling more alert.

“Al-Albert,” Thomas panted out, sobs intermixing with his breaths, “Albert, I can’t- he, I- and dad didn’t- fuck, Albie, help.”

“Thomas, Thomas, hey,” Albert soothed, running an anxious hand through his hair, “Breathe for me, man. I’ll help you however I can, but you need to breathe first so you can tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t do it, Albert, I,” He hiccuped brokenly, “Elijah, he-”

Albert’s stomach sank, “Thomas,” he said, dread causing his stomach to clench, “What’s wrong with Eli?” Elijah was his 10 year old brother whom he’d raised along with Thomas. Their father had been absent emotionally ever since their mother’s suicide in Albert’s junior year of high school. The two of them meant everything to Albert and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something happened to one of them.

“Th-there was a car crash,” Thomas choked out, “And Elijah- Albert, I can’t.”

Albert swallowed any fear that consumed him in the moment and switched his mind into parent mode, “Thomas, dude, can you try and take a deep breath for me? Do you remember how we used to do it? In for four, hold for four, out for four.” He could hear Thomas struggling through the breathing exercises on the other end and he patiently coached him through until he sounded somewhat calmer. He was still crying, but he was no longer hyperventilating, which was an improvement.

“Awesome, man,” Albert praised, “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“His neck snapped,” Thomas said, a fresh wave of sobs coming through the speaker, “Albie, he’s gone.”

Albert was speechless. Suddenly, Thomas’ cries seemed a million miles away. All thoughts slipped out of Albert’s mind as Thomas’ words bounced around in his head. ‘He’s gone’. He’s dead. Elijah’s dead. His neck snapped and he’s dead.

“Albie, I’m sorry,” Thomas cried, “I’m so, so sorry. I should have-”

Albert snapped back to the present. He cut Thomas off, his voice more controlled than it should have been, “Thomas, I need you to listen to me, are you listening?”

“Y-yeah.”

“This is not your fault. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”

“But maybe if I had just-”

“Stop it, Thomas, I won’t have you blaming yourself for this. His death is not your fault,” The reality of the situation sank in and Albert felt the air leave his lungs. Being on the phone with Thomas felt like too much all of a sudden, and before he could think about what he was doing, Albert said, “I gotta go, man, I’ll call you back in a bit.” He hung up without waiting for an answer, feeling slightly guilty that he’d left Thomas on his own. But these feelings were soon forgotten as grief engulfed his entire being.

His brain felt like mush. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He wanted to punch something, but his limbs weren’t cooperating.

He found himself in the kitchen with no recollection of how he got there. Numbly, he stumbled towards the kitchen sink and opened the cabinet underneath. Near the back was his stash of liquor. Two small whiskey flasks and one large bottle of vodka were hidden behind the hand towels. In his freshman year of college, the first time he’d been able to escape his father’s abuses, Albert turned to alcohol to deal with his pent up trauma from his time at home. It quickly turned into an addiction, affecting every aspect of his life. There was rarely a time when Albert wasn’t drunk on something. Whether it be hard liquor, or a beer, he was constantly buzzed. It was an escape from his own mind. He could numb out the rest of the world, while simultaneously feeling more than he had in years. He depended on the warmth that alcohol brought him. His addiction lasted until his liver almost failed and he had to be hospitalized in his sophomore year. After he was released from the hospital, his roommate and high school best friend, Racetrack Higgins, put his foot down and demanded he quit. In his words, ‘if not for your own good, then for your brothers’’. It took awhile, but eventually Albert was weaned off his dependency, but he could never bring himself to fully get rid of his stash, always keeping some kind of juice under the sink for emergencies.

This was an emergency. Albert reached for the vodka and desperately screwed off the cap. He brought the bottle to his lips and down a quarter of the vile liquid in under five seconds. Tears pricked Albert’s eyes as the alcohol burned his throat and instantly, he felt a new sense of calm wash over him as it spread through his system.

Closing his eyes, he took another large gulp and his brain began to feel fuzzy. The pain of Elijah’s death lingered at the back of his mind, but for now, he was lost in the serenity of the buzz. He drank more, half the bottle already gone. He could tell that he was approaching drunk, but he didn’t care. Heavily, he lowered himself to the floor and was just about the take another swig, when the apartment door opened.

“Yo, Al,” He heard Race call, “You here? Oh, there you-” Race froze as he took in Albert, sitting on the floor, bottle in hand. His head was lolling to the side slightly and his eyes were heavily hooded. He was drunk.

“Albert, man,” Race said, anger, confusion, and concern tugging at his gut, “What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like, Higgins,” Albert slurred, holding up the vodka for emphasis, “M’partyin’.”

“Albert,” Race didn’t leave the disappointment out of his voice, “You were doing so well,” he crossed over to him and carefully tugged the bottle away. Albert tried to fight back, but he was weaker than Race in his drunken state. Race dumped the rest of the vodka into the sink and tossed the bottle in the recycling.

“Is there any more?” He asked in the same tone. Albert nodded wordlessly and pointed to the sink cabinet. Race sighed and knelt down to dig through, quickly finding the flasks of whiskey. He disposed of those as well, then hoisted Albert up.

Albert leaned heavily on Race as he dragged him to his bedroom. Albert flopped onto his bed, sleep overcoming him almost immediately.

By the time he woke up, it was dark outside. A massive headache was pounding his skull and he groaned loudly. Everything that had happened earlier in the day came flooding back and Albert had to resist the urge to vomit as guilt and grief mixed with his nausea. Race entered his room, holding a tall glass of water and two tylenol tablets in his hands. He handed them to Albert, who took the pills and downed the water greedily. Race sat at the foot of his bed, waiting for him to finish. Albert set the now empty glass on his bedside table and sat up against the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“We need to talk about this, man,” Race said, softly. Albert kept his gaze on his sheets, refusing to look at Race, “Why’d you relapse?”

Feeling surged back into Albert as he remembered Elijah’s passing, bringing unbearable pain with it and he soon felt like he was drowning. The room felt too small and he pushed off his blankets as emotions suffocated him.

“Hey, hey,” Race said, eyes widening, “Breathe, dude, breathe.”

Albert forced himself to take a couple deep breaths, becoming acutely aware of the fact that his face was wet with tears, “E-Elijah,” he croaked, “You know my brother, Elijah.”

“I know Elijah, yes,” Race said, eyebrows knitting together, “What about him?”

“Thomas called me earlier to tell me there was a car crash. Eli didn’t make it. His neck snapped and he-” Albert let out a sob and he pushed himself further into the headboard.

Race blanched and he shifted further onto the bed, reaching out hesitantly to Albert. He allowed his hand to hover above Albert’s shoulder in silent question. When Albert nodded, Race pulled him in and held him tightly.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Race murmured, sounding close to tears himself, “I can’t even imagine…”

“He was ten fucking years old,” Albert cried into his shoulder, “He didn’t even get to middle school.”

Race hushed him, rubbing his bicep soothingly. They stayed in that position for what seemed like forever while Albert cried. Eventually his sobs slowed to small hiccups and he pulled away, rubbing at his face.

It was quiet for a few moments, then Race asked, “What do you need?” He’d learned a while back never to ask Albert if he was okay, because if they were in a situation that warranted that question, the answer was most likely ‘no’. Instead, he had taken to asking him what he could do for him. This way, Albert didn’t need to outright ask for help- something he was never good at- instead, he could simply request comfort.

“Could you..” He trailed off, biting his lip.

“Could I what? I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Race said, gently squeezing his knee in encouragement.

“Could you stay the night?” Albert blushed, feeling ashamed.

Race smiled kindly, “Of course, Al.” He toed off his socks and climbed into the bed next to Albert.

“Blankets or no?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“Uh, sure,” Albert said, settling his head back onto one of his pillows.

“Okay, let me know if you need them or me off at any point,” Race said, pulling the blankets over the two of them. Albert curled onto Race’s chest and closed his eyes, breathing in his best friend’s familiar and comforting scent. He was briefly brought back to high school when he’d escape to Race’s house if his dad was being particularly harsh or physical and they’d share a bed, Race holding Albert tightly.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Race,” Albert whispered, voice hitching slightly.

“I’ve got you, Al,” Race whispered back, “I’ll help you figure this out.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“I’m here for you, Albert, but do me one favor.”

“What.”

Race’s voice took on a certain sternness as he said, “Next time you feel like you might want to drink again, call me first. I swear to God I’ll come home right away.”

Albert hesitated, emotions rising in his throat again, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Race said, “I’m not mad, I swear. I just want you to come to me next time, yeah?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah.”

“Thank you. Now try and sleep, I’ll be here all night if you need me.”

“Okay, thank you. Goodnight, Racer.”

“Goodnight Albert.”

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu if you wanna be added to my tag

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#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #platonic ralbert #its kinda sad #poor al #i put him and race through so much fucking shit honestly someone take my laptop away its not right to these boys yikes #sorry #yote #YEET #yyyt #ok #im done #im kinda astral projecting rn i barely remember writing this

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sunaddicted · 6 years

Text

Day Thirty-one: Light Vore

For @superbatbigbang unofficial inktober prompt list

(Cw: graphic injury description, blood drinking, flesh eating)

***

One second Hernan was towering over the terrorist, handcuffs in hand and ready to snap them around his wrists, and the following one he was on the ground, writhing in pain as green light bathed his features contorted in pain.

Kryptonite.

Kirk didn't think he had ever acted so fast in his life; usually there was Bekka to help them and since she was faster and stronger than him, Kirk would rely on her to keep Hernan safe - but she wasn't there now: Bekka was back at home, she had left them alone, and Kirk snapped his mechanical wings open to descend upon the other man.

There was only a directory in his mind and he wouldn't be stopped from executing it because he couldn't stand seeing Hernan in pain - because the grimace that twisted his face into a dark mask reminded Kirk too much of the endless days of withdrawal his beloved had gone through, when he had decided to wean himself off of alcohol. Back then, Kirk had been unable to do anything to stop the pain: he would have to sit by his lover's side, useless and pathetic as he tried to expose Hernan to as much sunlight as he could and made sure the other man drank plenty of water.

But now he could do something, he wouldn't be idle.

Kirk landed on the terrorist, fangs bared in anger and fear as he effortlessly snapped a wrist and stole the Kryptonite from limp fingers before he threw it away - as far away as possible, using every ounce of his superhuman strength; he normally would collect any Kryptonite he found and hide it away, so that nobody could use it to hurt Hernan, but the rock was too big for the lead-lined compartment of his belt and he needed to get it away from Hernan before the radiation weakened him further.

It wasn't enough.

Kirk slammed the man down against the ground and snarled, ignoring the creaking of fragile bones in favour of listening to his heartbeat that throbbed ceaselessly in his temples - sluggish, panicked and hungry.

He missed the neck only because somewhere at the back of his mind, a pale ghost of Hernan's voice reminded him that they were trying to be better and stop killing: they were trying to be examples people could look up to because they truly did good, not because of their out of control vigilantism. If he tore the man's neck out, Kirk would destroy all of the work they had done to restore their image in the public's eyes - he would betray Hernan's trust and dreams.

The thin skin stretched over the collarbone ripped like a sheet of paper and Kirk absentmindedly swallowed as the blood poured on his tongue - crimson and hot and rich like the cold plasma that sustained him could never be, so nourishing that it made his starved body shake and tremble ubder the onslaught of life that was invading his arid arteries and made his heart rate spike with a flutter. Kirk bit harder; the bone shattered under his fangs and he didn't care that later he would be sick because of the shreds of flesh and shards of bone that he had gulped down together with the blood, solid material that his body couldn't possible handle digesting and that would need to be rejected.

Nothing mattered but the blood.

"Kirk!"

And Hernan.

"Mi amor, stop!"

His beloved was calling him.

Kirk tore his fangs out of the terrorist's collarbone and the man shrieked in pain but he couldn't focus on that because his eyes were on Hernan, who was walking towards him with his hands up in the air in a soothing gesture - just like when he had found him, huddled in a dark corner in the docks as he sucked a rat dry.

Suddenly, Kirk felt ashamed like he had that night and he looked down at the man sobbing on the ground - unable to look Hernan in the eyes, not with the evidence of his savagery displayed for everyone to see: the jagged edge of broken bone shone a bright white amidst mauled flesh, clipped veins and snapped tendons.

The work of a monster.

Kirk didn't want to be one.

"It's okay, mi tesoro" Hernan dropped to kneel in front of Kirk and he cupped his face in his hands, trying to make the other man focus on something else "It's okay, he'll be fine: I'm going to fly him to the hospital and the police will take it from there, alright?" The man would live, Kirk hadn't broken their new rules and Hernan was sure that nobody would complain about a terrorist getting a little roughed up when they had just saved hundreds of lives. Hernan leaned in and kissed Kirk, slightly tightening the hold on his face before the other man could recoil from the display of affection; he didn't understand why Kirk was more bothered than he was by the taste of blood or plasma on his lips - it was what kept his amor alive, there was nothing Kirk had to be ashamed of "Go home"

"Hernan, I'm so sorry"

"I know: you were scared, you just wanted to keep me safe"

Kirk nodded, eyes welling up with tears behind the red lenses of his goggles "You were hurt"

"And you stopped that - you stopped the pain" Hernan swiped a thumb over the other's chin, smearing away the quickly coagulating blood "Go home, I'll be there before you can miss me"

"I always miss you" Kirk took a deep breath and gently freed himself from Hernan's hold "Take him to hospital, I'll grab the Kryptonite and then head home" he reassured, briefly squeezing one of the other's hands, taking comfort in its warmth "I love you"

"Yo también te quiero" Hernan murmured and stole another kiss "I'll see you at home"

Kirk watched him fly in the blue sky and wondered what he had done to deserve the other's love; he didn't know the answer to that question - he probably never would - but he had to believe that it would last, that Hernan would keep loving him even when he stumbled and fell.

Even when his monstrous nature overpowered him.

And maybe, one day, he would find a cure and be worthy of Hernan's love.

***

Aaaannnd this is the last prompt!!! Thank you so much for everyone who liked/rebblogged these drabbles (even the crappy ones) and supported me throughout October ♡

#my writing #superbat #superman #hernan guerra #batman #kirk langstrom #cw: violence #cw: body horror #blood drinking #gods and monsters #justice league: gods and monsters

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babyconnectingworld · 4 years

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Can weaning your baby cause maternal depression?

A year into nursing my third son, I went to feed him for the millionth time and the strangest thing happened: I was overcome with the almost nauseatingly strong urge to not. I knew it was time to begin the weaning process, just as I’d done before with my other two babies. It took a few weeks to fully wean him, using the same gradual approach I’d taken with his big brothers, all around the 14-month mark. I expected a smooth transition into toddlerhood and looked forward to a life without another human attached to me. But the onslaught of physical and emotional changes that soon followed was overwhelming and all-consuming. I developed seemingly random symptoms I’d never experienced before: debilitating headaches, mood swings, sadness, anxiety and lethargy—it felt like PMS with a side of the flu. It was more intense than the first months of pregnancy had been. After some passive attempts to google my symptoms and find someone who could relate online, I realized I was dealing with one of the least discussed but more difficult parts of postpartum life: an intense reaction to weaning. I can describe it only as the “weaning fog.” My always reliable social media mom groups, and even some deeper research, produced little advice and very few articles on the weaning fog. Of course, I found information on the basics of weaning: preventing engorgement and finding alternative ways to continue bonding with the baby. But this wasn’t what I was experiencing. I took pregnancy tests (negative), visited my doctor (“It’s a phase”) and talked to other moms (huge variety of experiences). I was frustrated and I needed to know why I was feeling like garbage. My husband and I now refer to what happened to me as the “dark side” of weaning. Let’s start with the facts: Research does not, technically, show that postpartum depression or anxiety surges at this time. But that’s because mothers aren’t specifically screened for depression during weaning, as it’s usually a temporary phase and everyone weans at different times—it could be three months postpartum or three years postpartum. High-quality research simply does not exist yet. However, plenty of women report feeling the effects of the hormonal changes that occur during weaning. Reproductive psychiatrist Alexandra Sacks, author of What No One Tells You: A Guide to Your Emotions from Pregnancy to Motherhood and the host of the Motherhood Sessions podcast, explains it this way: “Some women are more sensitive to hormonal shifts than others; some have more dramatic mood changes around periods, during pregnancy, postpartum and around weaning, but these are individual sensitivities—so some people feel better, and some feel worse.” Others don’t notice any mood changes at all. A decline in oxytocin, the bonding hormone stimulated by breastfeeding, may lead to some women feeling low, says Sacks. She also explains that some women feel better after weaning if they had found breastfeeding to be stressful or disruptive to their own sleep (which may increase stress hormones). When you stop breastfeeding, prolactin (the milk-production hormone) drops off, estrogen shoots back up, and all of it sent me into a PMSing, semi-permanent state of terribleness. Verinder Sharma, a professor of psychiatry with a cross appointment to the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the University of Western Ontario, confirms that the prolactin decrease is the issue, but it’s not the whole story: What matters is how the prolactin affects other changes in the brain and results in depression—or even mania. Sharma says to look for a “clustering of symptoms.” Some women may experience comparatively simple hormone changes with weaning, while others might be plunged into a full-blown postpartum depression. I sure had a cluster of symptoms, but I didn’t feel they were depression-like. It felt more physical for me. “We make a distinction between symptoms and syndromes,” says Sharma. For women, all “reproductive events” related to hormonal changes—this can include pregnancy and postpartum, as well as monthly PMS, menopause, and when you’re getting your period for the very first time—increase the risk of psychiatric problems, he says. For example, bipolar disorder mania is extremely affected by hormonal changes—one in three women with bipolar disorder will experience an onset within a year of starting puberty or getting their first period. It’s also the mental disorder most exacerbated by childbirth, according to Sharma.

How to stop breastfeedingIn the 18th century, doctors and psychiatrists did, in fact, distinguish between postpartum disorders and the “lactational period,” but in contemporary studies, they haven’t done this. Sharma says we are still evaluating men and women too similarly and that a paradigm shift needs to take place for us to more holistically consider a woman’s hormones in relation to her mental health. “That change should reflect the heightened risk around the time of reproductive events,” including during weaning, says Sharma. Due to the lack of research in this area, Sharma says there are no concrete numbers on how many women experience depression or other mental disorders during weaning. He thinks screenings for mood disorders during weaning should be as commonplace as mental health assessments during the early postpartum period. Ideally, doctors should be considering and connecting potential changes at each major hormonal shift in a woman’s life. While my so-called weaning fog was nothing like bipolar mania, I’m certain it was affected by the soup of hormones flowing from my pituitary gland and swirling throughout my body. In addition to this hormonal chaos—or maybe because of it—I was also feeling a little sad that breastfeeding was over, while simultaneously feeling glad that we had stopped. After nursing three babies, I felt a sense of nostalgia and freedom at the same time. It’s that classic push-pull feeling of parenthood: Looking forward yet yearning for the past, too. Mourning the breastfeeding period and feeling a sense of grief or loss is common. Catie Agave*, a 36-year-old mom in Toronto, felt it intensely, since she knew she was most likely going to have only one child. “The journey was ending for us, so that brought on sadness as well,” she says. While she weaned her three-year-old gradually, she started to feel foggy within two weeks of completely weaning. “I wasn’t prepared for the change,” she says. “I didn’t feel like myself. I was more exhausted even though he was finally sleeping more. By week three or four, I had a lack of interest in daily activities, which is difficult when you have a child of that age.” She kept her feelings to herself at first, and then did some googling, but she found very few research-based articles and a lack of support, even in her usual go-tos: her Facebook mom groups and breastfeeding forums. “Nobody talks about it.” “There are a lot of people talking about postpartum depression,” she says. “And reading their symptoms, I thought, yeah, this is what I have—this is depression. But nobody ever said you can have postpartum depression from weaning, too. I was very sad, and it lasted for a long time. I couldn’t find anyone else going through that,” she says. “It was a scary experience.” Agave says she was hesitant to talk to her doctor because she assumed postpartum depression (PPD) was for moms of infants, not moms of toddlers or preschoolers, and she worried she’d be judged for her choice to practise extended breastfeeding. She credits her sister with encouraging her to see a doctor, in spite of her fears. “The doctor was supportive and mentioned postpartum depression can happen up until three years,” she says. Sacks is working to popularize the term “matrescence,” originally coined by an anthropologist in the 1970s, as a better way to describe and fully capture the ongoing transitions of motherhood over time, even if your baby is now growing into a toddler. “It’s a helpful framing of new motherhood as a developmental phase, like ‘adolescence’—it’s not a coincidence that the words sound similar,” she says. “Both matrescence and adolescence describe shifts that are challenging because they involve changes in so many parts of life, ranging from the physical, hormonal, social, emotional and all the rest.” Adolescence is a gradual process—it isn’t instant in the way motherhood can be divided into pre-baby and post-baby life. But we need to be forgiving of ourselves, and to acknowledge that it might take time to adjust to all the shifts and challenges happening at once. Your body, your brain chemistry and your identity are all changing. Whether it’s a few months after birth or three years later, women shouldn’t feel ashamed if they experience the weaning fog, like me, or true depression symptoms, like Agave. We all have our own recovery period. Sacks encourages moms to remember that the end of breastfeeding doesn’t mean your baby needs you any less. Agave, who had struggled with anxiety in the past—but never depression—was ultimately referred to a treatment program where she improved through cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). She was relieved to know CBT was an option, in addition to taking prescription medications, such as antidepressants. (She was prescribed an SNRI but chose to focus on CBT treatment instead.) “Eventually, my hormones regulated and the feeling of depression significantly decreased, but to this day, the anxiety piece is still there. I think a lot of it is the stress of being a mom.” Around the time I was preparing to pursue professional help, my own symptoms eased up, around two months after they began. I found myself reflecting back on the previous two months, asking, “What just happened?” It had felt like the flu, mixed with mild depression, combined with all those yo-yo-ing feelings about my relationship with my baby. I felt so thankful to feel “normal,” or like myself, again. Batya Grundland, a family physician with an emphasis in obstetrics and women’s health in Toronto, and the former head of maternal care at Women’s College Hospital Family Practice, says gradual versus cold-turkey weaning can play a part in the intensity of hormonal changes. She believes weaning is unlikely to be the sole cause; rather, it’s a complex puzzle with multiple additional factors happening all at once. “The tricky thing is that it would be hard to associate symptoms only with weaning,” she says. For many mothers, reductions to the nursing schedule often coincide with a return to full-time or part-time work. Some women will also experience the return of their period, with ovulation and menstrual cycles beginning to regulate again during the same time frame. “It could make sense that describe feeling pregnant. With the prolactin and estrogen changes, you could feel a whole bunch of things,” says Grundland. Not only are hormones changing drastically during this phase, but women may also be spending long days away from their babies, weaning by necessity (or attempting to pump at work), juggling full-time employment, adjusting to the work/daycare dash, not sleeping enough at night and forgetting to take care of themselves in all of this. “Moms are so busy—they need to be reminded that self-care is important, and we need to figure out ways to better support mothers,” says Sacks. She nudges parents to ask themselves how much they’ve slept and when they ate their last real meal. Do you have time to simply go to the bathroom and brush your teeth alone? Have you had time to yourself not engaged in childcare? Sacks says moms need to reconnect to who they are outside of parenting—like seeing friends, spending time with a romantic partner or pursuing non-child-related interests. “If you cut out the majority of activities that were essential to your routine before having a baby, you may feel disconnected from your identity.” Both Sacks and Grundland also recommend seeking help if temporary feelings of sadness become long-term or interfere with daily activities, but they agree that some sadness can be normal for some individuals. Most women can expect to feel physical and emotional changes for about four to six weeks, says Grundland. My journey through the weaning fog, and my version of self-care during the recovery period, meant seeking out meals with multiple food groups, a simple thing that had fallen off the priority list when I was caring for a colicky baby and keeping my other two toddlers alive and happy. I distinctly recall a three-course lunch I bought for myself, including a rack of ribs, that reminded me how to enjoy other things again, as a separate human from my baby. I had forgotten that I needed to eat real food, too. The end of breastfeeding doesn’t mean your baby needs you any less, emotionally, says Sacks. It’s like every other bittersweet aspect of parenting: “You feel a sense of longing when you see clothes your child no longer fits into, but you’re happy they’re growing. A baby is able to eat foods, but the ‘baby phase’ is now behind you. You can want two things at once.” I wanted to be the selfless, amazing super mom, but to also feel zero guilt treating myself to that rack of ribs—alone—instead of nursing a baby for the fourth time that day. I wanted to feel even-keeled and clear-headed again, yet still bond with my baby in the ways breastfeeding had magically provided. In the end, the months-long weaning fog was just another example of the bizarre and unexpected, yet temporary, phases in my first few years of motherhood. Read the full article

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

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More of The Getaway please? I am addicted to this amazing teenage AU.

Opting for safety, Claire hid herself in the back of the Frasers Land Rover. The blacked-out windows shielded her from the prying eyes of students as they streamed out of the school gates. Burrowing further into the seats, she wrapped her arms around her middle as Ellen tapped her fingers nervously against the faux-leather steering wheel.

“He willna be long, Brian sent him a message so he knows I’m coming for him.”

Smiling tightly, Claire rolled her shoulders as the dread began snaking its way up her spine.

Ellen sighed, nothing would ease the poor lassie now –only Jamie. Tuning the radio slightly, Ellen cut the tension, letting the local radio station break the silence as the two DJ’s wittered on about some local fete.

Inhaling softly, Claire pulled the air through her teeth as she tried to calm the butterflies doing laps in her stomach. As she and Jamie had parted at the airport, each flying home separately, she had wished to see him again as soon as possible, but this had not how been she’d envisioned their reunion.

Seeing a familiar flash of red, Claire gulped, her heart stammering at the sight of Jamie rushing towards his mother’s car.

“He’s going to hate me…” she sobbed, thrusting herself backwards as far as the seat would allow, scrunching her eyes closed as if she could make it all go away by wishing it changed.

“He won’t,” Ellen whispered, sliding her hand backwards to rest against Claire’s knee as the door opened, letting a fresh blast of air into the vehicle.

Caught unawares, Jamie frowned goodnaturedly. “I won’t what?” He asked, a smile lighting his face for just a second. Looking sidewards, he caught a glimpse of Claire, his eyes flickering between her and his mother as he realised he hadn’t just imagined her there.

“Claire?” He questioned, his hand reaching forward to take hers as he leaned closer.

“Jamie lad,” Ellen mumbled, tapping her son on the shoulder, “why don’t ye get into the back wi’ her and I’ll take us home?”

Nodding, Jamie slid backwards, closed the front passenger door and climbed in next to Claire. Taking hold of her hand once more, he rubbed his fingertips over her cool knuckles.

Licking her dry lips, Claire tilted her head to the side until she rested gently against Jamie’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, sassenach,” Jamie sighed, shifting his weight, the leather squeaking beneath him as his knee nudging carefully against hers as he tried to coax from her the reason she’d crossed the border in search of him.

“I’m pregnant,” Claire spluttered, her throat almost closing up completely as she spoke the words.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Jamie’s vision blurred, his palms sweating at Claire’s confession.

“I didn’t know what to do…I w-wanted to call–”

“It’s alright, Claire,” he interjected, sensing her growing fretfulness, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” She whispered, her brain concocting a myriad of different outcomes that could bloom from his apology…none of them good.

“Sorry that you had to go through all of this alone,” he replied, finally breaking the short silence that had Claire spiralling into despair.

Quiet descended once more as Ellen pulled down the long drive, the wheels crunching on the gravel as she brought the car to a steady stop. Leaving them alone, Ellen climbed from the front seat and closed the door quietly behind her.

Waiting until his mother was safely away, Jamie let out a long breath, his lungs throbbing with the release of pressure. “Oh God, Claire,” he stuttered, his hand falling from hers as he placed his palm flat against her small tummy, “I should have been wi’ you…when did yo–”

“During my exams,” she returned, guessing his question before he had chance to finish, “the morning sickness hit me just before the end of them.”

“But ye did complete them, aye?”

Nodding, Claire’s hand found the top of his and she slid her fingers threw his where it lay, hovering just over her womb. “Yes, they’re all done.”

“Then ye’ll stay here? With me…?” He asked, hope lacing his tone.

“If you’ll have me,” Claire replied, feeling daft for voicing her worries. Whatever he thought, she knew honour would always win out.

“Ach, Claire!” Jamie sighed, holding her tight to his chest, the idea of her returning to Oxford without him slicing him in two, “I dinna know what I’d do if ye didna stay.”

“B-but this…it ru-”

“No.” He broke in, a stern lilt to his tone, “no, it doesna.” Moving away, Jamie took hold of Claire’s chin and brought her eyes level with his. Serious now, he butted his nose with hers as he smiled shyly. “It’s meant to be, Claire, aye?” He reassured her, his warm breath fanning over her face as she let the tears fall from her eyes, overwhelmed as she realised the depth of Jamie’s feelings. The truth was out now, everyone knew, and she could finally allow the joy to seep through her. “What we dinna ken, we’ll learn. Together, just the two of us.”

“Yes,” she returning, stifling a hiccup as she curled herself around Jamie, her chest finally free of the burden she’d been carrying all these weeks, “together.”

–

Glancing out of the window, Ellen and Brian stood hand in hand, watching Jamie and Claire’s silhouettes out in the back of the car.

“Christ, El, they’re young. Younger even that we were when we had William,” Brian sighed, twisting Ellen’s bright auburn locks through his deft fingers.

“No’ by long,” Ellen replied, her Scots lilt becoming more prominent at her response to Brian’s statement, “and it doesna matter does it, what’s done is done. What matters is that we’re there for them now. Julia and Henry will be here soon and we can discuss what’s best for the bairns–”

“…and *their* bairn,” Brian smiled, prodding Ellen in the side as he found his humour.

“Ach! Awa’ wi’ ye…Brian Fraser,” Ellen castigated, wriggling away from his keen fingers as she tried not to giggle too loudly.

“I’m a lucky man to have such a fair wife,” Brian chuckled, kissing the side of her forehead as they watched Jamie pull Claire from the car, circling his arm around her waist as he guided her towards the house, “do ye think–” he began, tilting his head to the side as he eyed his son. Having grown in such a short period of time, Brian could already see the fine man he’d turned into with the release of those three poignant words from Claire.

“O’ course he will, silly auld fool,” Ellen muttered, butting her arse backwards against Brian’s legs as she tisked and shook her head, “gi’ the lad chance and he’ll make sure she doesna want for anything, her and the wean.”

Silence filled the kitchen as the front door opened and closed. Both waited with baited breath as footsteps pitter pattered through the hall and away into the lounge.

Smiling, Brian turned Ellen in his arms and tapped her nose with his finger, “verra wise ye are, Mrs Fraser,” he appraised, mock-saluting her as he took one step backwards.

“And dinna you forget it,” she returned, quirking her brow, a sarcastic glint in her eye, “now, you go and grab some of those eggs from the hens and I’ll get on wi’ supper.”

–

Feeling bone-tired, Claire followed Jamie as he escorted her up to his room. She felt awkward going there, her good manners telling her it wasn’t really the done thing. Jamie, of course, was having none of it.

“I think we’re a little late for that, don’t you think, sassenach?” He’d replied, his soft tone commanding but gentle.

Toeing off her shoes, she climbed under the duvet, burrowing her face in the pillows as Jamie curled himself around her, his arms keeping her secure to his chest as she closed her eyes.

“Sleep, mo nighean donn,” Jamie whispered, rocking her slightly as he hummed a wee tune.

Letting the stress of the day fall from her shoulders, Claire succumbed to slumber, her body craving the oblivion that only sleep could provide.

Slipping his foot through her calf, Jamie let the rhythm of her slow breathing lull him too, his eyes – heavy now from the news she’d bestowed upon him– closed.

Weary and spent, Jamie and Claire drifted, her belly leaning gingerly against his as they dreamt.

–

Peeking her head around the door, Ellen smiled, her cheeks pinking at the sight of them.

“Sleep sweet my precious ones,” she mumbled, pulling the door closed once more.

“Aye,” Brian interrupted, coming quietly up behind Ellen and taking her hand, “because verra soon sleep will be in short supply.”

#anonymous #;mod mbd #The Getaway #teenage jamie and claire #teenage pregnancy #Jamie X Claire

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news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog · 5 years

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Why so many people type 'lol' with a straight face: An investigation

There's a deceitful act I've been engaging in for years—lol—but it wasn't until recently, while texting a massive rant to a friend, that I became aware of just how bad it is.

I'd just sent an exhaustive recap of my nightmarish day when a mysteriously placed "lol" caught my eye. Not a single part of me had felt like laughing when I typed the message, yet I'd ended my massive paragraph with the words, "I'm so stressed lol."

I had zero recollection of typing the three letters, but there they were, just chilling at the end of my thought in place of a punctuation mark. I hadn't found anything funny, so why were they there? Unclear! I scrolled through my conversations and noticed "lol" at the end of nearly every message I’d sent — funny or not. That's when I realized how frequently and insincerely I use the initialism in messages. I was on auto-lol.

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The next day, I arrived to work with a heightened sense of lol awareness and took note of my colleagues' behavior on Slack. They too, overused "lol" in conversation. Chrissy Teigen tweeted about the family hamster again? "Lol." Someone's selling a jean diaper? "Lol." Steve Buscemi's name autocorrected to Steph Buscemi? "Lol."

It was ubiquitous. And though some made audible chuckles at their desks throughout the day, the newsroom remained relatively silent. People were not laughing out loud whenever they said they were. It was all a sham!

As I'm sure is true with everyone, there are times when I'll type "lol" and smile, chuckle, or genuinely laugh out loud. But I'm also notoriously capable of assembling the three letters without moving a facial muscle.

Curious to know why so many of us insist on typing "lol" when we aren't laughing, I turned to some experts.

Why so serious? Lol.

Lisa Davidson, Chair of NYU's Department of Linguistics, specializes in phonetics, but she's also a self-proclaimed "prolific user" of "lol" in texts. When I approached Davidson in hopes of uncovering why the acronym comes out of people like laugh vomit, she helpfully offered to analyze her own messaging patterns.

On its surface, Davidson suspects "the written and sound structure" of "lol" is pleasing, and the symmetry of how it's typed or said likely adds to that appeal. The 'l' and 'o' are also right next to each other on a keyboard, she notes, which makes for "a very efficient acronym." In taking a deeper look, however, she recognized several other reasons one might overdo it with the initialism.

Davidson often sees "lol" used in conjunction with self-deprecating humor, or to poke fun at someone in a bad situation, like "if someone says they're stuck on the subway, and you text back 'lol, have fun with that.'" And in certain cases, she notes, "lol" can be included "to play down aggressiveness, especially if used in conjunction with something that might come across as critical or demanding."

"For example, if you're working on a project with a co-worker, and they save a file to the wrong place in a shared Drive, you [might] say something like, 'Hey, you put that file in the Presentations folder, lol. Next time can you save it to Drafts?'"

Extremely relatable.

Admitting we have a problem

After hearing from Davidson, I set out to analyze a few of my own text messages. I found several of her interpretations applicable and even discovered a few specific to my personal texting habits.

When telling my friend about my stressful day, for instance, I realized I'd included the lol that anchored my message for comfort, like a nervous giggle. In my mind, it meant I was keeping things light, which must mean everything's OK. In many cases, I also add "lol" to a message to make it sound less abrasive. Without it, I fear a message comes across as cold or incomplete.

On occasion, I'll send single "lol" texts to acknowledge I've received a message, but have nothing else to add to the conversation. And as much as it pains me to admit, the lol is sometimes there as a result of laziness. I experience moments of pure emotional exhaustion in which I'd rather opt for a short and sweet response than fully articulate my thoughts. In those cases, "lol" almost always delivers.

A poor soul removing his "lol" mask after a long day of pretending to laugh.

Image: bob al-greene / mashable

The realization that "lol" has become a sort of a conversational crutch for me is somewhat disturbing, but I can take a shred of solace knowing I'm not alone. As previously noted, many of my colleagues are also on auto-lol. (If you need some proof, 3,662 results popped up when I searched the term in Mashable Slack, and those are just the lols visible to me.)

When I brought up the topic of lol addiction in the office, offenders quickly came forward in an attempt to explain their personal behavior. Some said they use it as a buffer word to fill awkward silences, while others revealed they consider it a kinder alternative to the dreaded "k."

Several people admitted they call upon "lol" in times when they feel like being sarcastic or passive aggressive, whereas others use it to avoid confrontation, claiming it "lessens the blow of what we say."

"I've also noticed a lot with my friends that if they say something that creates a sense of vulnerability they'll use 'lol' or 'haha' to diminish its importance," another colleague noted.

While there are a slew of deeper meanings behind "lol," sometimes the lack of audible laughter simply comes down to self-control. You can use the term to communicate you genuinely think something's funny, but you might not be in a physical position to laugh about it — kind of how people type "I'M SCREAMING" and do not scream.

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Understanding the auto-lol epidemic

Nearly everyone I spoke to believed the auto-lol epidemic is real. But how exactly we as a society arrived at this place of subconscious laughter remains a mystery.

Though "lol" reportedly predates the internet, a man named Wayne Pearson claims to have invented the shorthand in the '80s as a way to express laughter online. As instant messaging and texting became more popular, so did "lol," and at some point, its purpose pivoted from solely signifying laughter to acting as a universal text response.

Caroline Tagg, a lecturer in Applied Linguistic and English Language at Open University in the UK, favors emoji over "lol," but as the author of several books about digital communication — including Discourse of Text Messaging: Analysis of SMS Communication — she's very familiar with the inclusion of laughter in text.

"Over time, its use has shifted, and it has come to take on other meanings — whether that's to indicate a general mood of lightheartedness or signal irony," Tagg confirms. "These different meanings emerge over time and through repeated exposure to the acronym."

In some cases, the decision to include "lol" in a message might be stylistic — "an attempt to come across in a particular way, to perform a particular persona, or to adopt a particular style."

Ultimately, Tagg believes everyone perceives "lol" in text differently, and makes the conscious decision to use the initialism for various reasons, which are usually influenced by "conversational demands."

As for the increase in frequency over time, she noted that if you engage in conversation with someone who's a fan of saying "lol," you could wind up using the term more often. "Generally speaking ... people who are in regular contact with each other do usually develop shared norms of communication and converge around shared uses," she said.

Think of it like a vicious cycle of contagious text laughter.

Embarking on an lol detox

Now that I'm aware of my deep-seated lol dependency, I'm trying my best to change it. I encourage anyone who thinks they might be stuck in an lol rut to do the same.

The way I see it we have two options: Type lol less, or laugh out loud more. The latter sounds pretty good, but if you're committed to keeping your Resting Text Face, here are some tips.

Try to gradually wean yourself off your reliance on lol by ending messages with punctuation marks instead, using a more specific emoji in place of your laughter, or making an effort to better articulate yourself. Instead "lol," maybe, "omg that's hilarious," for example.

At the very least, try changing up your default laugh setting once in a while. Different digital laughs carry different connotations. If you're ever in doubt about which to use, you can reference this helpful guide:

LOL/HAHA — I really think this thing is hilarious as shown by my caps!

Lol — Bitch, please OR I have nothing to say.

lollllllllll — Yo, that's pretty funny.

el oh el — So unfunny I feel the need to type like this.

haha — Funny but not worth much of my time.

hahahaha — Funny and worth my time!

hah/ha — This is not amusing at all and I want to make that known.

HA — Yes! Finally!

Lmao/Lmfao — When something evokes more comedic joy than "lol" does.

LMAO/LMFAO — Genuine, impassioned laughter, so strong you feel as though your rear end could detach from your body.

Hehehe — You are softly giggling, were just caught doing something semi-suspicious or sexting, or are a small child or a serial killer. This one really varies.

heh — Sure! Bare minimum funny, I guess! Whatever!

In very special cases, consider clarifying that you are literally laughing out loud. As someone who's received a few "Actually just laughed out loud" messages in my lifetime, I can confirm that they make me feel much better than regular lol messages.

One of the major reasons we rely so heavily on representations like "lol" in digital interactions is because we're desperately searching for ways to convey emotions and expressions that can easily be picked up on in face-to-face conversations. It works well when done properly, but we've abused lol's polysemy over the years. After all the term has done for us, it deserves a break.

If we make the conscious effort to scale back, we might be able to prevent "lol" from losing its intended meaning entirely.

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#_category:yct:001000002 #_author:Nicole Gallucci #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_uuid:be58bf7d-b237-3847-bb74-89d253cc0906 #_revsp:news.mashable

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, SIDNEY! You’ve been accepted for the role of ROMEO. Admin Kaitlin: Whew... getting to this point has been such a whirlwind experience, but man Sid reading over the in-character portion of this app (and the out of character stuff, but especially the in) just makes me feel so all over the place, and I think that speaks volumes to just how all over the place Roman is himself at the moment. We’ve just witnessed on the dash his further devolution from the man he wants to be into the man his father wants him to be, and you play with his side of this scene so beautiful, showing all the little facets of his thought process that make him as soft as he is sharp. I know you know this, but I literally cannot wait to see your Roman on the dash, and I can’t wait to write against him. It’s going to be magical. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

IN CHARACTER

Character | Romeo / Roman Montague

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? EAT YOUR HEART: Love is a large part of the recipe of Roman Montague. He was bathed in it as a baby, weaned on it as a child, thrusted into it as a young man. Your heart is your greatest virtue. His mother said that to him once, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as she scooped him up into a towel after a bath. And for so long, he believed her. He cherished everything he touched, handled others with such care, cracked open his chest and offered up his heart like it belonged to the people. To the ones generous enough to pledge their lives to his family, to those down on their luck and less fortunate than he. Your heart is your biggest weakness. His father said that to him once, hand clasped tightly on his shoulder as tears streamed down his only son’s face. Such disappointment made a home within Damiano’s features in that moment; Roman will never forget it. And never will his actions garner such a look ever again, not if he can help it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say this is a constant struggle for him by any means. He made a clear decision, nearly a decade ago, to never let his heart rule him any longer. Charity remains high on his priority list, still wanting to reach out to those around him in need and lend a helping hand where he can actually make a real day-to-day difference, but with the recent destruction of To Tame A Soup, he’s disheartened by all that effort gone to waste—the safe haven he created with his bare hands now just a pile of ash and rubble. This is where I see the real struggle. What’s the point of good deeds if they can be so easily burnt away? I’m interested in whether or not Roman can find his way back to love, to generosity, to goodness, or if it’s lost forever. And what it would mean if the latter is true.

WELCOME TO THE NEW AGE: redacted

THIS IS HOW LEGENDS ARE MADE: redacted

*in the effort of not revealing the bigger group plot, I’ve taken out the last two! I’ll fill them in later on as things are discovered. :) Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

“When will you get your head out of the clouds?” His father’s tone is cruel, features twisted in the disappointment Roman knows so well. Only worn by Damiano when his son makes a decision with his heart instead of his head.

“Wanting to rebuild isn’t me having my head in the clouds. It’s strategic. The press have questions so why not give them answers? Answers we carefully construct. This terrible act was committed by one family and one family alone. Their soldier is dead—” he almost winces at the self-reminder, a flash in his mind sending him back to that night with Faron by his side, matching gun in hand. The Capulet had dropped so quickly, fell to the cobblestone like he was nothing, as if he hadn’t just been a living, breathing man. Are you next? The words echo and Roman can practically feel Faron’s hand on his shoulder, urging him to get outta there. Why had he listened to him? Why did he turn and run? He should have finished off Tiberius himself. “—but what the people don’t know won’t hurt them.“ It’s a truth he swallows uneasily, and it tastes like poison as it coats his tongue. Their ignorance will always be their saving grace, but abusing it like this will always make Roman feel like a tyrant—like he’s no better than his father. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

He lays his plan out, gestures wildly from where he sits on the other side of the wooden desk if only to try and make his point hit home, to make his idea seem like the good one he knows it to be. “And if it helps them at the same time, then isn’t that good? We want their favor. We’ll need them on our side.”

“And what of Measure by Measure? Can you explain to me how that is an asset? A pit of fools beating one another to death. Assurdo.“

“It was his,” is all Roman says, averting his gaze down to the floor.

“The Capulet you ki—”

“Yes.“

“Fine, then,” Damiano clears his throat as he reaches into his breast pocket, cigar appearing within his grasp as his hand fades back into view. “As long as it makes a profit, I don’t care.“

Roman is silent, lips set into a straight line as his mind wanders, drifting off to the place—the person—he was that night. What would his mother say if she could have seen him? Gun in hand as he pulled the trigger, smile curling across his face as he shifted targets. She’d be ashamed, of this he’s positive. His father had been so proud, though, clapping a hand to his son’s back approvingly the moment the news hit his ears, and dio, he’d do anything for that rush again. The silken pleasure of a father’s ever elusive praise.

A loud crash comes from across the room, slicing through the tense silence as the door clattered against the wall behind it and a body was thrown to the floor at their feet. A familiar one. Faron Vasiliev. With a bullet in his leg, it would seen.

“What is the meaning of this, Laertes?” Damiano asks calmly, assessing the situation with a cool head, brows raised at the problem Lawrence felt the necessity to bring to his Don’s figurative doorstep.

“You want to know who put me in prison? I found him.” Gun cocked, Roman watches as his best friend aims the barrel right at one of their newest emissaries heads.

“He did what?” Blinking hard a few times, the sight before him feels unreal. Like a nightmare brought to life just to mess with the still-pliable mind of a boy king; his worst fears come true. Loyalty taken for granted, spit on by someone his father had assured him would be a profitable alliance. All he can do is listen, head in his hands as Lawrence explains. Talks about how Faron had his own idea of justice, personal feelings ruling his traitorous actions.

Roman doesn’t look back up until a question is asked, until their brand of justice is asked for.

“I’ll do whatever you think is just,” the lion says. So brave of heart it almost breaks Roman’s to see Lawrence this hungry for it. So full of bloodlust, so sure a debt is owed.

“It’s your call, Roman. One of your soldiers turned on their own. What does that heart of yours tell you now? What is just?” His father goads him, smoke billowing from his mouth as he exhales in the direction of the bloody heap on the floor. Resentment is all he feels. Toward Faron for behaving so foolishly and taking matters that aren’t his into his own hands, for pretending to have his family’s and their allies’ best interests in mind. Toward Lawrence for forcing him into this situation, for making Roman to be the judge, jury, and executioner in every way but one. Perhaps the most important.

Let me carry it out.

But it was still his order to give.

“You,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, head turned toward his father. “You did this.” Roman stands, points a finger accusingly at Damiano. “You brought him here,” then points again at Faron for emphasis. “You let him get this close. This is on you."

He looks to Lawrence now, fists clenched as an all too familiar sense of betrayal consumes him, wreaking havoc on his insides, cinching his heart and wringing out any mercy left within.

"Do it. Now. Or I will.”

BANG.

Extras: Playlist

#accepted #accepted: romeo #:)

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