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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO “Leading the Witness.”

Alright guys, this is going on longer than I thought and way more detailed as well but its been interesting. Also I am sorry for the late update, my boss has me rolling quarters at work so I am trying to do that and write this in between.

Thank you to my discord member Eddi for the testing logs he wrote and that I am using as evidence in this story. He deserves all the credit for the well thought out and executed test logs.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, gore, bodily mutilation and mentions of suicide. The Steel eye project development is very graphic, so if you wish to read, please skip the test logs, which will be bolded.

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all

He was sweating, and his body throbbed all over. Clammy hands gripped the sides of his chair as he sat straight backed in his seat. A line of cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Blood had long since drained from his face, and he wondered if he looked as sick as he felt half expecting the bailiff to walk over with a bucket or something. A part of him fancied he could feel every eye in the room staring at him. The prosecution was still talking, but he could barely hear them as his head spun around and around in circles, ears ringing.

The lights pulsed.

He jerked out of it as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up, confused for a moment as he tried to figure out where he was, the room was partially tilted and it took him a moment to realise that he was slumped slightly to the side. Waffles had her head in his lap whimpering very softly.

“Adam, adam are you ok, do you need to step out.”

He lifted his head and turned to look at Admiral Kelly, who now sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

His ears were still ringing but not enough to realise that the court had stopped.

The lead judge had held up a hand to the prosecution and was looking directly at him.

Well… at least now the blood was rushing back to his head, and he could feel his ears burning, “Is everything alright, council?” The judge asked, “Does your witness need to step out.”

The lawyers turned to look at him, hints of both concern and concealed annoyance on their faces.

They looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “No your honor. My apologies.”

His voice was surprisingly strong for someone who felt like he was about to pass out. The judge didn’t seem too annoyed at him, and looked on with some measure of concern. They whispered something to the nearby bailiff and then motioned the council to continue.

Admiral Kelly didn’t move seats keeping one hand on his shoulder. The bailiff walked over after things had started up again and sat next to them for a moment, “If you need to step out.” He whispered, “Take the side door to your right and someone will let you back in.”

He nodded, “Ill be alright, but…. Thank you.”

The man nodded and stood returning to the front of the room.

“As you can see, their first attempts at creating a proper drug cocktail to dull the pain of direct neural interface, was a complete disaster. Dr. Gladstone, assuming you were forced to use drugs instead of subdermal implants, how would you have gone about this? What is the proper procedure dictated by ethical state law.”

“Drug trials can take months to years, we test them on animals, rats monkeys and even inject them into synthetically grown human tissues and tube grown organs before we even test on animals. Each phase of testing can take up to eighteen months in clinical trials, and if the drug proves to be wrong we start over again.”

“Have you ever done phased drug testing on human subjects.”

“No, certainly not.”

“But of course they continued. May the prosecution present Experimental log 32 for For consideration by the court.”

Experimental log #32:

Over the past experiments we have been testing multiple drug mixtures to try and reduce the pain induced by the Direct neural interface our most recent tests have involved morphine much to our resident doctors discouragement it is one of the few drugs we have found capable of suppressing the pain induced by the direct neural interface. This test involves the use of an automatic dispenser controlled by the pain sensors in the arm.

The subject, as before has been sedated for the implantation of the test augmetic. This time however the drug reservoir has a direct link to the bloodstream.

-recording break-

The subject seems to be stable and moving around without much interference, although slightly lethargic and a little dopy due to the drugs.

We made sure to remove the augmetic well before the drug reservoir ran out. This seems to be successful and stable Several more tests are to be made to confirm this before moving on to the next stage.

“Dr, do you happen to know the laws in relation to the regulation and use of morphine during testing?”

The doctor nodded, “Morphine is heavily regulated even on the research level owing to its additive properties. Only doctors are allowed to prescribe it, and even then, the morphine dosages are regulated and reviewed by an internal board of directors. There is a cutoff point for the amount of morphine allowed for personal use,and the amount of morphine allowed for medical use. This cap can be broken if the board of directors determines the patient is terminal and in extreme pain.”

“How about for research purposes.”

“You can’t research with morphine, and you certainly cannot give it to a patient with no prior history of injury, or other medical conditions.”

“Thank you doctor, the prosecution wishes to present experimental log 34 to consideration.”

Experiential log #34:

Our continued experimentation has lead to the conclusion that stronger chemicals may be required to reduce the pain, one subjects auto-dispensary caused an overdose When the subject spent some time prodding and poking at the implant site it caused excruciating pain that was responded to by the auto dispensary by flooding the body with over 500milligrams of morphine. A stronger painkiller would mean lower doses are required thus avoiding an overdose. Despite our team's medical advisors continuing protests.

Prosecution turned to the judges, “You see here your honor that instead of considering the ethical questionability of their actions, they determined to use more morphine despite the overdose and even extend the use to even more potent drugs. These are not the actions of scientists who were considering ethics, or even the value of human life.”

“Objection your honor on conjecture about the thoughts of my client.”

The judge waved a hand, “It may pass.”

The defence took a seat.

The prosecution adjusted her tie, “Three people died as a result of these tests your honor. Marvin Dess, William Moseratt and Angela Vilgrin. Not once were the tests paused or delayed. Instead, they moved onto the next phase of testing.”

Adam was starting to feel a little better now. He wasn’t sweating so much and he had finally managed to even out his breathing.

“The prosecution would like to present experimental log 28.”

Experimental log #28

Calibration of the arm mounted augmetic seemed to proceed without error or difficulty, The drugs delivered through the internal reservoir developed by Dr. Nkosi renders the subject inured against the supposed pain induced by the augmetic. The primary tests we will be administering are of the use of high strength servo motors to power the augmeitc, reducing its weight and increasing the power behind the subjects rapid motions.

-Recording break-

The Reaction of the servo motors and torsion cables was far too extreme delivering significant damage and trauma to the subject, Further testing will have to be done and fine tuning of the suits will be needed.

Adam knew what was coming and tried to close his eyes and block out the sounds as the next visual log was projected before him.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears bleary and unresponsive. The augmentic is mounted on their right arm, supposedly their dominant one according to the research notes. The subject is drawn to attention by the scientist administering light taping on their cheek. Upon raising their arm the subject appears a little shocked at the size of the augmetic and the fact it is connected directly to an external power source, questioning the scientist on this who confirms it is just an experimental version. The augmetic appears to only be active on the elbow joint. The scientist appears to be requesting the subject extend his arm in an attempt to punch an invisible foe. Upon doing so the augmetic appears to cause an extreme reaction of force, resulting in not only damage to the subjects musculature, but outright stripping the subjects muscle tissues away from the bones, the pins seem to be functioning as anchor points as the subjects skin and muscles are removed from the skeletal structure. Functionally stripping the flesh away from the skeleton in a manner that can only be described as ‘glove like’. It appears that this area also contained the drug delivery interface as part way through the emergency removal of the upper section of the augmetic, the subject seemed to come out of the semi stupor and begin to register the damage done to themselves, screaming and becoming violent. It was only after the subject was re-drugged with the remaining contents of the drug reservoir that they calmed down.

His attempts to block out the sound do not stop him from hearing the hydraulic hiss, the tight whirr, and the horrific cracking popping noise as flesh is torn from bone. The screaming echoed around in his head. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Sweat poured down his back and neck and in between his shoulder blades. Flashes of red sky cut before his vision, the sound of gunfire and the smell of ash.

Admiral kelly squeezed his shoulder hard bringing him back. The dog was halfway in his lap her head pressed against him, and the Bailiff from earlier was on his other side steadying him as his body seemed prone to leaning to one side.

He took a few very deep breaths.

A few of the judges were watching him, but they didn’t stop the proceedings this time. Most of them just looked like they wanted an excuse to look away.

“Your honors, this is not the last log in the series. Even after the catastrophic failure, they continue to implant the steel ee pieces onto test subjects without prior testing in a controlled environment. I believe we have been making realistic ballistic dummies for the past thousand years. I am sure there is something that could have been done.”

Adam was fading.

The lights were growing up in his vision, turning everything around him white.

The defence stood, “THe defence calls for recess, your honors.”

There was a pause, “Recess granted. You have thirty minutes.”

The room burst into a flurry of murmurs and movement. Admiral Kelly leaned forward hands on his arms, “Adam, you should get up, walk around a bit.”

He nodded and stood feeling the world tip around him as he did. With one hand he gripped heavily onto the back of the pews and staggered forward out of the room. Waffles followed after him whining and whimpering. He waved admiral Kelly off him as he wobbled his way down the hall and burst through the outside door and into open air. He took a deep long breath and leaned against the wall trying to choke down the bile that welled into his throat.

“You alright here buddy.”

Blinking owlishly, he turned to the side to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the door.

“You don’t look so good, Cigarette?” He asked offering a pack of the things towards him.

Adam waved a hand, “I don’t smoke but, thanks anyway.”

The man shrugged and lit up puffing a billow of smoke into the air, “You know breathing exercises.”

Adam blinked and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Don't forget to do them. It will help.”

Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead breathing slowly.

“You seem to know a lot about this. Am i that easy to see through?”

The man shook his head “I was a soldier during the panasian war, I know what PTSD looks like.”

“My father fought in the Panasian war.”

The man nodded, “Better get back inside while you still have some color, boy.”

He did as told. He didn’t know the man but something about his calm demeanor and understanding was nice, and he stepped back inside patting waffles on the head as he walked back towards the courtroom.

He sat down before anyone else was there just yet and rested his head in his hands breathing slowly and evenly. The room slowly filled up again, and before he really knew it, things were back in session.

“The prosecution would like to present Experimental log 31”

He closed his eyes and began to count slowly breathing in and out, in and out.”

Experimental log #31

This test is the first among the replacement for servo motors for hydraulics The system was far slower and makes use of a combination of fast extension pistons and slower extension ones for combination. The test is the same as before a simple arm extension in the guise of a punch. However the augmetic will also include the shoulder. We have increased the dosage of the painkiller as so to prevent the increased implantation volume from inducing a negative reaction in the subject. -Recording break-

The reaction from the hydraulics was stronger than expected, and the delay and stack up of orders has caused significant issues. A halt override taken directly from the nerve system needs to be implemented.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears to be only semi responsive, appearing to function at a 12 on the GCS, Only held there by the active responsiveness of their motor function. This appears to fade somewhat when the subject is given physical stimuli by the scientist in the form of a light slap on the cheek. Bringing the subject back to consciousness. The subject is then encouraged to make the punching action as prior experiments. The subject does so, the fast reaction of the piston seems to achieve the scientist's goal, However the long extension piston appeared to continue extending. This continued, dragging the subjects arm outwards, dislocating the subjects shoulder, then elbow as well as wrist. The subject appeared to be distressed at this, however not unduly in pain. The scientist having stepped back to observe the outcome of events. The extension of the piston continued beyond tolerable human limits. The piston continues to extend despite the protests of the subject and attempts at removing it. The extension continued forcefully separating the subjects limbs at both the elbow and shoulder joint, ripping tendon and muscle as well as ligament structures, fully separating the limb in to two parts and away from the body. It is at this point the subject began to scream in terror and panic till the researcher sedated the subject.

A door opened at the back of the courtroom as a few more people stepped out. Adam sat there on the bench, his head tilted back and staring at the ceiling breathing even and slowly as light and color swirled around them. He could what speaking, but didn’t really hear what was being said.

He just had to keep himself together.

“....Log 35 to the court.”

Experimental log #35

Continued experimentation indicates that a combination of servo motors, torsion cables and hydraulics are likely to result in the desired effect. Since the previous experiments a stop override has been implemented in to the systems. This prevents the hydraulics from continuing to extend despite the users body having ceased movement. This should result in the desired movement structures. We are moving on from the single arm testing considering the current functionality and strength amplification satisfactory. The current test is simply to get the two lower limb implants to function in tandem with walking. We have had to once again increase the level of drugs in the users system to prevent the reaction to the pain induced by the interfacing devices.

-Recording break-

While the system is capable of walking, the addition of hydraulics have caused the system to be heavier and more cumbersome than intended. Additional servo motors and possible leaf springs for artificial support tendons will have to be added to prevent the augmetics from lagging behind their users.

“Objection your honor…. The court has seen enough….. This is simply…”

“Objection denied council. The evidence stands. If you must you may leave the room.”

“But members of the audience…”

“Can step out if they need to.”

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject once again appears to be somewhat unresponsive. This ceases when the scientist provides a physical interaction with the subject, tapping them on the shoulder. The subject appears to be somewhat disoriented. Upon being prompted to walk the subject beings to walk without much in the way of impediment, though seeming to tug at the augments as if they are holding the subject back. The subject is then prompted to move at a might higher speed. Running if possible. The subject manages this for two steps before the continued pulling against the augmetic and movement against the interface needles appears to pull the subject’s leg free, removing large sections of the subjects muscle tissues and nerves along with it. The subject seems to be disturbed, if not in pain. Likely due to the drug reservoir and input mounted on the subjects arm. The subject however seems to be announcing that they can no longer move their legs as the researcher requested. The subject is then sedated and recording ends.

Adam is being held up again by Admiral kelly his body tilting widely sideways and he is having trouble finding the orientation of the room.”

“.... experimental log 38 as a demonstration of the scientists moving development far too quickly.”

Experimental Log #38

Increased response time in the legs combined with the introduction of support springs within the armour have reduced that movement restrictions of the armour and made it much harder for the user to ‘pull away’ from the armor, this combined with several additional straps and metal binding to keep the users legs attached directly to the augmetics have solved several of the most recent problems. The newest set of experiments are moving on to vertical movement, focusing on the subjects ability to jump and move around obstacle strewn environments.

-Recording break-

It appears the engineers did not calibrate the hydraulics and other systems to function as shock absorbers, but rather only as force amplification devices. Meaning that impact shock is taken fully by the users body, This would normally not be an issue, however with the additional force and weight provided by the augmetic seems to cause issues upon landing.

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject is suffering the same symptoms as prior subjects, low levels of function and unresponsiveness. Once the subject is roused from the stupor via an open handed impact to the cheek, delivered by the researcher, they are directed to attempt an obstacle course. The subject seems to have little trouble with the primary obstacles, clearing them with little effort, however their recovery from each obstacle appears to be ungainly and improper. The subject is then presented with a three meter high wall and instructed to go over it. Rather than scaling it as expected the subject simply jumped over the wall, exhibiting far more mobility and control than prior subjects in experiments. However upon landing the subjects legs appear to buckle and collapse under them, folding at several points that do not have joints. Indicating shattering of the bones. The subject seems unphased by the injury, Pointing it out to the researcher and asking if that is normal. This indicates that the drugs being used are of a high enough dosage and strength to suppress not only extreme pain but the shock reaction of the body.

He can feel another person holding him up from the other side, but mutters that he is ok when anyone asks. E just keeps counting and breathing counting and breathing knowing that it has to be over soon. He just needs to hold himself together

Experimental log #42

The final tests regarding midriff functionality have been completed, with shockingly low failure or complications compared to prior testing phases, we are putting this down to our own excellent ongoing improvements of the system. This final text is a sequential system test where a single subject will be required to use each individual part in sequence to ensure that no errors are likely to occur during the whole body testing or further complications are likely to occur.

-break in recording-

The subject suffered no ill effects due to the armour itself. However the subject seemed to become agitated and seemed to be suffering ill effects until they were returned to the augmetics. So long as prolonged exposure to the augmetics is not an ongoing factor we do not see an issue with this.

“These testings had immense costs and horrific side effects to those who participated. Many of these men and women seen here are not functional or alive to testify in court as to what happened, however, the prosecution would like to call Admiral Vir to the stand as a representative of those who could not be here today, and s a member of the steel eye operation himself to ive the court a little idea about what this experiment did to people even when fully operational.”

Adam was still feeling light headed but even then he still knew what this was. This is what he was here for. Thi was the moment he had come to be a part of, the moment that he was here to help all those soldiers and test subjects used by steel eye.

Admiral Kelly stood with him as he made it to his feet, but he brushed off her hand and walked towards the witness stand. The judge stopped him on his way up.

“Are you well enough to testify Admiral?”

“This is why I came, your honor. Even if I had to crawl through a field of glass to get here.”

The courtroom murmured as he was sworn in, and he sat down feeling the eyes of the entire room on him.

He was still sweating and light headed.

“State your name for the record.”

“Adam Allen Vir.”

“And what is your position in the UNSC.”

“I am Fleet admiral of the UNSC space armada on loan to the GA.”

“And what branch?”

“Originally the air division. I trained at the Aerial combat academy as a fighter and shuttle pilot before being a member of the crew on the enterprise.”

“And how did you end up on Anin.”

“The Enterprise was being decommissioned for some wok, so I offered to go to Anin and be part of the war effort against the Drev.”

“And as a fighter pilot, you didn’t see much time on the ground.”

“No ma’am, I was primarily air support at that time.”

His voice was strong and hard, and the longer he talked the straighter he sat. he had to do this for them. He would NOT fall apart now.

“How did you end up on the ground forces then, Admiral.”

“Volcanic activity, ma’am, they call it the dark season when ash chokes the ai miles into the sky. It isn’t safe to land a ship or fly a jet in such conditions, so my vehicle was grounded. By that time the war was going badly and they needed every man they could get.”

“Were you trained for ground combat, Admiral.”

“Yes at the academy we were trained in ground combat though not as extensively.”

“And you lost your leg to a Drev.”

He reached down hand to his leg remembering the screaming of a red sky above, “Yes, I did.”

“What happened after that?”

“I ended up in a triage tent in out forward operating base. There was no medicine because all our supplies had been used up.”

“Would you say that you were delirious during that time.”

The defence stood quickly “Objection your honor. Leading the witness.”

“Dismissed, council.” The judge said, waving a hand.

“There were no painkillers, ma’am, so maybe. If not delirious than I was at least not in a right state of mind. I remember floating halfway in between being conscious and unconscious. I was in so much pain its…. Had to describe.” His voice wavered before he had it back on track shoring it up and strengthening it with memories of the men and women waiting back at the rehabilitation center.

“And at this time you were approached by Admiral Ablemen about the steel eye project?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And did he detail any specifics.”

He paused thought for a moment trying to remember back into memories that he really didn’t want to foster, “Not…. really. It's hard to remember but I…. I remember him saying that we could help him win the war. I remember him saying that when I woke up I would be a new man. He gave us the choice to go home or serve the UNSC one last time.”

“In your opinion, would you have said yes had you been more conscious.”

“Objection based on conjecture your honor.”

“Objection accepted.”

Adam paused and the mn let him continue, “Wat DO you remember about what happened to you.”

“I…. remember pain and….. Anger. I was never really all there during the steel eye project. I remember feeling invincible, like I could do anything but at the same time, hazy. I remember getting orders and going out, and then nothing after that.”

“Did they tell you there would be rugs involved.”

“No ma’am.”

“And after the war was over, what happened. How did all of this affect you?”

He paused and struggled to speak for a moment, opening his mouth and then closing, “I…. have never been so hopeless in my entire life. I tried to get help with the Veterans association but my claim was denied. I…. went through withdrawals…. Horrible horrible drug withdrawals where I. I was in so much pain, I just….”He paused then lifted his head to look up at th courtroom making eye contact with them. His voice was as strong as ever “I wanted to die, and I would have done it if I hadn’t had a good support system in my family. After a few months my brother got me in contact with a group of people who got ahold of my service dog, and I was able to heal.”

“Does what happened still affect you”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“In what ways.”

“I still have long term PTSD, and while it is controlled and I am no longer on medication, I still have bad days. Days where I can’t move or think, days where the quietest nosies send me into a panic.”

“Were you ever compensated for your injuries, Admiral.”

He paused again and shook his head, “No ma’am, I never received help.”

“Thank you admiral, you may be seated.”

He stood, his head was clear and his hands were dry. He stepped down from the podium with his chin raised and his back straight returning to his seat. He had done it. He had done what he needed to do and the only thing that was lft was to survive the rest of the trail.

He could do that.

He survived operation steel eye didn’t he?

So he could certainly survive this.

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Behave Yourself.

Paul (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: some bad language, mild injury, implied/very mild sexual content

Context: The reader works as a security guard on the Boardwalk, and is in a relationship with our favourite Count Fidget, Paul.😁

A/N: I hope to hell my inspiration comes back quickly, as this is already not quite to the standard I wish it was at, but anyhow, I hope it is enjoyable 😅💛💛

Masterlist

Every job has it's perks. Some of them totally out do the cons of a particular job, but some, like mine, have very little influence on how enjoyable the experience is, especially since the job itself can be incredibly energy-draining at times. Any job as a security guard takes a certain knack for not taking anyone's crap, a courage which any good one needs in order to be able to ignore the remarks and jibes from disgruntled people around them, but as a security guard working on the Boardwalk of Santa Carla, it can be very difficult to uphold these standards.

A dull ache has started in my chest from where some Surf Nazi has jabbed me, trying to threaten me into submission after I wouldn't allow him to use the carousel, having recognised him from a few nights before, where he started a brawl amongst a group of young kids, severely injuring one or two. Naturally, I'd taken this in my stride, not rising to the bait despite the rising frustration within me, my hand itching to crack him across the face, a neutral expression remaining in place on my face as I calmly told him to leave. Of course, he couldn't just do as he was told, instead deciding that squaring up with me was the better idea, though I quickly showed him the error of his ways, disabling him in seconds with only a hard prod against my chest being landed by him, sending him on his way with an angry grumble. Internally, I'm glad he hasn't tried to get back at me yet, though I'm well aware my shift has half an hour still to go, which is plenty of time for him still to try.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist, snapping me from my thoughts as a familiar scent envelopes me, alerting me to who my assailant is immediately. Chuckling, I remain standing upright, knowing that if I'm caught being "intimate" with a member of the public whilst on duty, I'll be fired, choosing instead to keep my eyes focused on the busy crowd ahead of me.

"Hey there, hot stuff." Paul greets, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he presses his chest to my back, trying to get a response out of me.

"Hey Mophead." I return, briefly turning my head to give him a swift kiss on the lips, pulling away seconds later so as not to draw attention to us, laughing at his whine of complaint.

"Busy night?" He asks, tightening his grip when I try to unlatch his arms from around me, holding me against his lean yet muscular body with ease.

"So-so. Sleep well?" I confirm, finally managing to pry his arms apart slightly, only to groan when they instantly move to pin mine to my sides.

"So-so." He mimics, the grin on his face almost audible as I wriggle in his grip, trying to escape, "Where're you trying to go?"

"Paul, you know damn well that I'll get in trouble if anyone reports seeing me like this. Let me go!" I playfully scold him, eyeing the crowd dubiously.

"Nah, I like having you in my arms. You're comfortable." He declines, pressing his face into my hair, or rather, trying to, the stupid cap my superiors make me wear getting in the way. He whines a little at this but is quick to remedy it, using his teeth to pull it off and drop it to the floor.

"Hey! Behave yourself! As much as I hate this job sometimes, I'd still like to keep it! Let me go, I promise I'll give you lots of attention later!" I protest, trying to bargain with him, especially when I feel his hands start to wander, "Paul, I swear to god if you even try something innapropriate here, I'll personally bathe you in holy water."

He only chuckles, kissing at my neck in response, his hand moving to untuck my uniform shirt from my belt, icy fingers tracing the skin that he manages to reveal before my own hands have clasped his wrists, having finally gotten free.

"Paul!" I warn him, spotting another guard a little way off, the muscular guy heading in my direction even if he isn't really paying much attention.

"Aww, such a killjoy." The vampire teases, licking a stripe up my neck as he pulls away from me, moving to stand beside me, a smirk on his face as I tidy my uniform up again.

"At least wait until we're somewhere private. You can come over to mine after I finish, if you want?" I offer, adjusting my composure accordingly.

"I'd never say no." Paul grins, winking at me suggestively.

"You are unbelievable, is everything about sex with you?" I say in exasperation, shooing him off as the other guard gets closer.

"You love it." He responds, leaning over to catch my lips in a rough kiss before he saunters away, leaving me frustrated and eager to get my shift over with.

Unfortunately, this takes longer than anticipated, due to a fight breaking out near the entrance, where a Surf Nazi has managed to offend a Metalhead, the two of them already beating each other into the ground by the time the guards in the area get there. In the process of separating them, a few of us (including me) got a little knocked about, resulting in some bruises, and even a nosebleed in someone else's case, meaning we needed to be checked over before we could leave. By the time it's all over, it's nearly twelve, at which point my shift should've finished an hour ago.

The walk home is no better, the stretch of road lonely and long as I go over it, knowing that Paul is most likely waiting for me at the house, which is why I can't get a ride off him. The air around me is cold, which is surprising given the time of year, making me shiver a little as I go, my hands instinctively moving to pull my jacket tighter over my uniform, concealing it from the view of the few other pedestrians I pass, though none of them pay any attention to me anyway. About half way through, my ribs start hurting on one side, where I took a blow from the Metalhead involved in the fight, the bruise starting to play up, making me slow in my stride so as not to hurt myself too badly, though I know it isn't a bad injury at all, just an awkward one. Annoyingly, this means I only arrive at my house twenty or so minutes later than I should've done, but I don't think much of it until I open the front door.

Instantly, I'm pressed up against it, a lanky body pinning me to the hard surface, hands pushing mine above my head. In the dark, his eyes appear black, though I don't get much time to see them before he's buried his face into my neck, lips busying themselves there as he kisses and licks at the soft skin, biting down here and there as harshly as he can without breaking skin, his actions drawing a surprised groan from me, my chest arching into his. Paul chuckles lowly into my pulsepoint, nosing his way back up to my jaw, where he nibbles a path to my lips. To my dismay, however, he stops there, pulling back a little.

"You're late." His breath fans hotly over my face, his hips pressing into mine.

"I got held up. There was a fight." I respond, eager to get back to it as I lean forwards, kissing him carefully, fully expecting him to back away and tease me for it, brief yet pleased surprise flaring up in me when he reciprocates with equal roughness, trailing his hands down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. As soon as they are released, I move my own hands to his hair, where I intertwine my fingers with the soft strands, pulling him closer as his move further down my body.

Once more, Paul's lips travel down the length of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the prominent vein pulsing under my skin, reminding me of my vulnerability, a moan leaving me as he brushes past my sweet spot, my grip in his hair tightening. Smirking against me, the vampire bites down on the area, being sure to leave it unbroken, his hands smoothing up and down my sides, having pushed up under my shirt, until a gasp of pain manages to escape me from where he passes over the bruise on my ribs, at which point he pulls away, confused and concerned.

"Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" He questions, moving back a bit so he can look me over, trying to find the source of my discomfort.

"I'm fine, you didn't do anything. I just took a blow from one of the kids in the fight." I reassure him, caressing his hair with a small smile on my face.

"You took a blow? Where?" His worry is sweet, hands pushing up my shirt to look for the offending injury.

"My ribs, but it's honestly fine, it's really not that ba-" I go to say, only to be cut off by a hiss of pain when he drags a thumb over the area (accidentally of course), eliciting a little noise of apology from him.

"I don't believe you." Is all he says before he's lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me further into the house, going to my bedroom. Once inside, he somehow manages to pull off my boots and jacket without putting me down, climbing onto the bed with me on top of him, arms cradling me against his chest. For little while, we remain there, his fingers massaging soothing circles into my tight muscles, encouraging out the knots as I let little gasps of air leave me every now and then, thoroughly enjoying being in his arms.

"I was wrong." I suddenly speak up, resting my chin on his chest as I look into his eyes.

"About what?" He inquires, looking puzzled.

"About everything being about sex with you. You can be really sweet, too." I smile at him, chuckling when he rolls his eyes.

"Only for you." He promises, now laughing at my own eyeroll.

"Bullshit, you can be really sweet with the boys, too." I remind him, tracing a pattern into his chest with a fingertip.

"Now, that is bullshit." He says in response, smirking at me.

"It isn't."

"It is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is-"

"I won't tell anyone." I reassure him, grinning at the protesting vampire.

"Fine. Swear to it." He grits out after a few moments, having apparently considered the offer.

"I swear."

"Good." He smiles down at me, chuckling when I yawn, the hours having caught up to me, "You should get some sleep."

"Are you sure? Won't it be annoying for you?" I question, too tired now to argue.

"Nah, I like sleeping with you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at this, obviously having an alternative meaning behind the words, giggling when I slap at his chest in mock disgust.

"Weirdo."

"Your weirdo." He points out, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"Of course."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

**A Chris Evans Story**

Previous Chapter Here

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language, generally a bit awkward

Notes: This is a long chapter, sorry. Any comments welcome, good and bad.

Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

“Let me just bring up your booking here, one moment please.”

The lobby of The Langham was an ocean of grey and blue. The sun was shining brightly outside, the hottest day of the year so far, and it reflected in every surface of the space and accompanying bar. It was sparse on the usual detailing, instead preferring a minimalist approach; the check-in desk consisted of a mere iPad and one lily artfully growing from a tall, geometrical glass vase. Random art hung from all sides. One looked vaguely like a donkey, Sarah was sure. There was also what she thought was an ash tray balanced on a pillar to the left of where she was standing but she didn’t dare to investigate it any closer in case it cost the price of a small car.

It had the same over-perfumed odour as the fragrance section of a Macy’s. The tiled floor look so clean and fresh you could be forgiven for thinking it had only just been laid that very morning. Sarah felt a pang of guilt walking in wearing her scuffed Converse. She always felt so out of place in places like this. It was the kind of place she would run a mile from if she had the choice but Greg had an “in” with the manager and now here she was.

“So that will be four nights in our Executive Suite with Central Park view. You also have the bar allowance of $150 per night. You just need to take the elevator up to the 32nd floor and it’s the second door on your left. Would you like a hand with your bags, madam?” She motioned for the concierge to come over but held her hand up when she spied the puzzled look on Sarah’s face.

“I’m really sorry but I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I didn’t book a suite, just a standard double and I don’t think I pre-paid for any bar allowance. I didn’t even know I could do that to be honest.” Sarah chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to diffuse the tension but it fell on deaf ears. She handed the key card back to the lady, unsure of what else to suggest.

The lady showed practically no emotion at the possible mistake and simply took another look at her records before confirming that she was in fact correct with the initial room choice. “It’s definitely your suite, and...everything is paid for in advance. Could it have been made on your behalf? It looks like it was upgraded yesterday afternoon.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she was asking her a question or telling her. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t biting her hand off but she hoped she hadn’t made some kind of horrific error her bank wouldn’t forgive her for. She could barely afford the double room she’d booked as it was and she’s sure the college wouldn’t have upgraded her without letting her know in advance. It made zero sense. They couldn’t have that kind of money going spare, putting students up in posh suites. She had no clue what could have happened.

Unless...Chris?

No, it wouldn’t be. He was less than pleased to hear she’d be away as it was. Except...well, who else? Sarah rolled her eyes a little too obviously before accepting the key card back. “That’s OK. I think I know what’s happened. It’s only the one bag. I can manage it.”

The lady nodded her thanks and, smiling politely, pointed her back towards the elevators. Sarah couldn’t move away from her fast enough.

Arriving at her floor, Sarah emerged from the lift expecting someone to come running up to her to confirm that they had in fact made a horrendous mistake. She slipped the key card into her door before pushing her way in to find her new home for the week.

The bedroom was large, uncomfortable so, with the bed positioned just off the middle in the room. Sarah figured the designer for a psychopath. It was big but not as empty as the lobby would have had her believe. In fact, it seemed reassuringly cosy despite the windows, so many windows stretching around the suite. There was a soft blue curved sofa opposite a screen that she’d seen smaller versions of in a cinema. Cushions fucking everywhere and fluffy white slippers she’d probably never take off again.

Everything seemed to be controlled from an iPad set in a stand by the bedroom door; the lights, the curtains, the air freshener, some background music for ambiance if she wanted. The windows tinted darker to block out the sunlight. Even the $1300 coffee machine was remote controlled; she had recognised it from the last edition of Home & Country Jocelyn had mailed to her, the exact one Shanna had been dropping hints about to Chris as a potential Christmas present.

The lounge offered her the clearest view of Central Park and with the light at this time in the afternoon, it was beyond stunning. She snapped a picture and considered texting it to Shanna but thought better of drawing attention to where she was staying. There was no way she could pass this off as a standard room even with her best efforts.

It was almost a shame to waste all of this on just herself. This room deserved romance, she thought.

Around the same time, Chris was on his third beer of the afternoon and lounging on his sofa. He had a new script in one hand, one he wasn’t particularly keen on but offered to read as a favour for a friend. He was so relaxed now that he had to re-read the last ten or so pages simply because it wasn’t landing. The whole room was lit softly by the sun outside. It had gone 4 o’clock when his phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Bernette! How was the journey?” he smiled into the phone as soon as he saw who it was.

“The bathtub is the size of my entire bathroom.” She announced, not giving him room to breathe. She heard him laugh heartily at the end of the line and could picture him looking smug and proud of himself, the dick. “I could have an orgy with the Patriots and still have room left.”

“Hey, don’t go getting any ideas.” he jostled with her. He placed the script down on the tablet to give her his full attention. “So, you like it, huh?”

“It’s...it’s absolutely gorgeous and utterly ridiculous. Seriously, dude, you did not need to do this.” She could sense his growing pride from here. “I’ve never stayed in anything like it. I have, like, a hundred towels.”

“That’s why I did it in the first place. Not for the towels, obviously, but just because you deserved something different. Something nice.” He enthused. “Don’t fight me on this, Bernette.”

“You should see the view. It’s so beautiful. I think I can see the museum.” She was stood on her tiptoes, pressed against the glass, looking at the tiny people milling around on the street so far below her.

“i know,” he responded. “You’ll be there for a week and best to be comfortable, right?”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She was tired and extremely grateful for the kind gesture. She’d be able to enjoy the place and her time in the City more if she could firmly separate her work from any space in which she could chill out. It wasn’t like she was going to be raving all night nor have much chance to see places at this rate, so more space was probably a good thing. She hadn’t had an unbroken night’s sleep in...she couldn’t even remember when.

“Thank you, Chris.” she spoke softly after a brief pause.

“You’re welcome.”

She put her phone down on the bedside table and set about removing her clothes from her suitcase. Well, “clothes” in the loose sense. What she’d packed was basically gym gear, sweat pants, t-shirts, nothing remotely attractive, and a simple paid of black trousers for the exam day itself. Who was going to see her anyway? Shanna had thrown a jumper in the mix without her realising, dismayed at her insistence that she was not going out to bars to hook up with someone.

“But you’ll be gone the next day! It’s. The. Perfect. Crime!” Shanna had said, exasperated and throwing her hands in the air in dismay.

The majority of space in her suitcase has been taken up with journals and textbooks, ones she hadn’t see since she left medical school and had long since expected she would never see again. Funny what opportunities life threw at you when you least expected it.

She was soon feeling the push and pull of the day and had planned on spending at least a couple of hours studying that evening, so she had a clean-up and threw on the first set of sweatpants that fell out of the closet. She tied her hair up and out of her face, pulled out her notepad and switched her Macbook on. The TV was showing some repeat of a gameshow with the sound on low, more for background company than anything else, and she finally figured out how to get the coffee machine working thanks to a small tome buried inside a drawer underneath the coffee table.

Chris 9.44pm: All OK? Need company yet??

Sarah 9.45pm: I love you guys bt I can’t tell u how amazing it is having space to myself. Been a looooong day

Chris 9.51pm: ah

Chris 9.52pm: OK maybe don’t look outside your door

Momentarily confused, she rubbed at her eyes trying to come up with a pithy response.

Chris 9.56pm: well this is awkward...........

Sarah looked at the door and then back at her phone. Looking up at the door again, she unfolded her feet from underneath her and slowly walked towards it. Pulling it open, she found Chris looking up at her through his lashes, sheepishness drenching his entire body.

“OK, funny story,” he said. “But I thought this might be romantic and then I got carried away and now I’m here and I can absolutely go if you need me to...?” He half-turned his body in the direction of the elevators. “I’m so sorry, honey. I just thought it might be nice and not at all annoying but it’s annoying, isn’t it? It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything. Dammit, I really thought I pitched this right.”

“Chris, it’s fine.” Sarah finally found her voice to speak. “Honestly. I’m...I’m just really surprised is all. I was not expecting you to...drive? All this way?”

He nodded. “Yeh, I just bombed it down the ‘95.”

Awkward silence fell between them as they stared at each other unsure of what to do next. Finally picking up on the fact he remained in the hallway, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, she moved out of the way and he entered the suite. Relieved, he placed his bag down and turned to see her close the door behind him. He looked mildly embarrassed and she was all too aware she wasn’t welcoming but it was getting late and her eyes had started to hurt a little as she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

“Fuck, that’s a long couch.” he announced, taking his black suede jacket off and placing it over the armrest nearest to him. He glanced over and saw papers strewn over the coffee table, her laptop light blaring brightly and looked back to her. She was working hard and he had ruined it.

“I am so sorry. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go home, I promise.” He held his hands up by way of an apology but she shook her head in response.

“Stop apologising.” she chuckled. “Do you want a beer?”

He nodded gratefully and looked so adorable that any annoyance she might have felt finally dissipated. “How about I give you a hug and then leave you to it? I need a shower and I can amuse myself in there for a little while. I don’t know why I just said that.”

Sarah laughed again and a little more relief moved through him. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous when he had been so confident of his decisions in the car all the way here. He’d rehearsed his lines and imagined her big smile when seeing behind the door. He had wanted to stop off and buy flowers but he was so eager to see her, he’d just kept driving. No daydream could live up to the reality of seeing her face up close.

He watched her from the bathroom doorway. She was cross-legged on the bed, studying the thickest textbook he’d ever seen with colour-coded notecards laid out across the duvet. He had earlier glimpsed a page over her shoulder but decided against pursuing medicine as a new career when he was faced with photographs of god knows what. He tried to remove the images from his mind by drinking another beer and thinking of Sarah in her scrubs. That tended to work well for him these days.

She looked so cute sat on the bed, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wanted to come up with a joke, calm the tension a little that had grown between them in the meantime, but she looked pretty hot. More hot than usual and it was distracting. Like a sexy Librarian and for the second time this month he discovered something else he was into.

One pen was stuck behind her ear but she’d forgotten she’d put it there and was now using a different one. Her hair was tied up at the top of her head in a messy bun that she hadn’t touched since she’d arrived, more and more strands falling loosely around her as the evening wore on, framing her perfect, round face. She seemed to engrossed in what she was doing.

He was still a little wet from his shower and pondered whether she would notice if he just whipped his towel off and offered himself to her. There really wasn’t anything he wanted more at this moment in time than to have her touch him, to have her run hands gently over his chest, to tease him a little bit. There’d be some time, he reasoned, and right not it was just was exhilarating to think of her being here alongside him knowing it would be just the two of them for a little while.

He perched on the end of the bed in front of her. She barely moved, barely seemed to notice him. He took one of her blank notecards and carefully placed it on the open page so as not to lose her place. She leaned back slightly, allowing him to gather up the papers and place them in a pile on the floor besides the bed before turning back to lean in towards her, one arm stretching out across her legs. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes again. She wanted peace and quiet and he decided to rock up just because he could. He sighed to himself. He was such a dick sometimes.

“Do you mind me being here?” he asked her, fully resigning himself to leaving if she now asked him to as hard as that might be. He’d got so caught up in his idea of surprising her that he hadn’t fully registered just how important these exams were or how well she wanted to do. Passing them wasn’t an option for Sarah; she wanted to knock it out of the park. She wanted to do better for herself and the more he got to know her like this, the more it became his favourite thing about her. And he related. He related perfectly. He knew exactly what that was like. “Cos I can go if you need me to.”

“Chris, I’ve said it’s fine. It’s nice that you’re here. I would just hate you feeling bored if all I’m doing is studying all the time.” She nervously twirled the pen between her fingers while taking in how amazing he looked following a shower, a little steam rising off his skin.

“I won’t get bored.” he assured her. “It’ll be nice hanging out with you. Just the two of us.”

He plucked the pen from behind her ears and she rolled her eyes realising the mistake she’d made. He tucked strands of hair back and leaned in placing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. He smelled like her coconut shampoo and she just now understood how truly spontaneous his trip had been.

“Listen, there’s another reason why I’m here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and I couldn’t wait until you got home.” he stroked her arm gently, looking down into her lap. “It’s been going around in my head and I’m not entirely sure what to say about it to be honest, but...it looks like Jenny’s done an interview with a magazine. A full thing with a photoshoot and stuff and it looks like I might be involved.” He closed his eyes for a second before correcting himself. “Not might actually, it’s pretty much definite that I’m in there for a large portion of it.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded. He for sure seemed weary of the whole thing and she felt for him.

“I just, I know she can be pretty unfiltered at the best of times, so-”

“-but she won’t have said anything negative, right?”

“No, no, not negative. I’m not worried about that exactly. It’s just that...” He was struggling to find the words. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, about me and her. I expect she’ll have this hyper-romanticised view of things and I guess I didn’t want you thinking it was some great love affair which is what I think she’ll spin it as.” He couldn’t quite meet her eye while he was talking. “I’m not proud of myself or of what I said or did at the time but I was low and she was there and it was...easy, I guess.”

He immediately regretted his choice of words. As much as he wanted Sarah to understand, he didn’t want Sarah to think he was dismissive of his relationships in this way. “Matt’s figuring out some damage control with them. Hopefully, it’ll go away as quickly as it comes.”

“You think he’ll be able to clear it up?”

Chris nodded. Matt was a formidable guy and he was assured things would look and read much better by the time it went to print. He placed his hand on her thigh and it was only now she registered just how close he was to surrounding her. “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve all too often but when I do, they know about it. I want to make them aware of exactly how I feel about them and I didn’t do that with her.” He dipped his head to catch her eye line. “So, when I do something for someone, it means something, y’know?”

“Yeh, of course. You’re a good guy, Chris. Everyone knows that.” She took his hand and lightly interlocked their fingers together.

“I guess I just didn’t want you worrying about her ‘cos there’s absolutely nothing there for me. Never had been.”

“You don’t need to explain this to me, I’m not going to hold anything against you.” she stroked his chin with her thumb and felt him relax into her hand. He glanced down at the mess he’d made on the floor and started picking a few things back up.

“How much left do you have to do tonight?” he whispered as his lips closed upon hers for a fleeting moment.

“I could do with finishing some notes but...half an hour, maybe?”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he kissed her again and got up from the bed, lifting her books back on top. “Just come get me when you’re done, yeh?”

Finishing up in the bathroom, Sarah switched off the light and moved towards the bed. She kneeled alongside Chris who was lying flat out, naked except for the duvet bunched across legs, reading what she assumed was the hotel magazine only to find upon closer inspection that it was in fact one of her medical journals. She giggled as she grabbed the moisturiser from the bedside table and began rubbing a small amount up and down her arms, regarding him as his nose creased up in apparent disgust at something he’d just read.

“Did you know the body has ten times more microorganisms living in it than actual human cells?! That’s bacteria, Sarah. Living, gross bacteria. All over us.” he looked at her, shock and horror crossing his fine, perfect features. She wasn’t sure whether to pat him on the head or laugh.

“It’s mostly good bacteria, though. Only, like, 1% of it is bad for us.”

“And when exactly were you going to tell me about this?!”

She creased up laughing and flopped on to her side next to him. “It’s all information that’s out there for the world to see. Remind me not to tell you about eyelashes.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever removed from somebody’s ass?” he asked.

“What? Why is that always a question people want an answer to?”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. Humans are weird.” he muttered, turning back to the pages in front of him. She was glad he had chosen one without pictures. That was the last thing she wanted to see before falling asleep.

“So, have you learned something new?” she asked, curling her legs under the duvet.

“I have. I think you should test me and if I get a question wrong, you can do whatever you like to me. Deal?” he asked, smirking. She shyly smiled and he tossed the book onto the floor. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She repeated. She watched as his eyes slowly travelled down her body. It was unreasonable how much he managed to disarm her with only a look.

His hand reached out to gently caress the side of her thigh, nudging the duvet slightly down before moving back up to her hip, a ticklish area he’d picked up on the last time they were together. He leaned in and kiss her on the side of her jaw, so feather-like and soft she barely felt it if not for his warm breath she could feel on her neck.

“You smell nice.” he whispered, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes. “We could have showered together, y’know? Save the planet?”

As much as she was getting used to the little things he would do when they were alone, rubbing her arm, tucking hair behind her ears, saying nice things about how pretty she looked, having him here in such close proximity with no else around to distract them or force them into the light...it was getting risky. Not that Chris ever pushed her, mind. He’d been nothing but understanding and respectful and she was grateful for that but also growing concerned he was perhaps a little...bored. Why else would he drive over state lines to see her. None of this was normal and the more time went by, the more she became fretful of what they were doing.

“What are you thinking about?” he kissed her shoulder. “Is it dirty? If it’s dirty, I wanna know about it.”

Sarah smiled and placed her hand on the side of his face, running her fingers gently over his beard. He’d thoroughly given up shaving but she liked how soft it still felt under her finger tips and judging by the breath he released as he closed his eyes, so did he, relaxing into her hand. He kissed her again. She was hoping he’d take charge so she could put off talking to him a little longer but instead, he refrained from pushing them any further and leaned back a little, looking into her eyes. “Talk to me.”

She could feel his hand move slowly and deliberately up her arm until he reached the back of her neck, his fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun. There was no getting away from this.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? It’s OK for you to tell me what you want.” She could feel his breath on her skin, his voice low and rough. His fingers moved again and she felt them touch her lips, one of them running back and forth over her lower lip until she parted them ever so slightly and his finger softly dipped inside her mouth. He seemed to like that and kissed her again, a little harder this time.

“Just keep kissing me.” she whispered, relieved that se finally got some words out.

He smiled at her, satisfied with her response, and kissed her again. Slow, wet, a kind of kiss that was full of promise of what he wanted to do and it made her whole body thrum with anticipation.

One hand now resting on the bed beside her and the other moved from her cheek back down to her thigh. She was frozen to the spot, this man focussed on her so intently, prepared to give her whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, expressing so much in a kiss that she didn’t register when her hand began moving slowly, grazing a finger ever so slightly over the waistline of her shorts.

“...and what else?”

A little more, he moved his hand until his fingers dipped inside her underwear until he felt her skin, hot to the touch. She broke the kiss momentarily to let out a breath, one hand resting on the back of his neck for leverage as he continued tenderly moving his fingers until he got to where he wanted to be. Feeling her wet for him seemed to spark something inside and she felt him push her carefully until she was lying back on the bed, head just off the pillow, and he leaned over her. He adjusted his hand ever so slightly until she could feel his fingers pressing at her entrance before moving in small circular motions, riling her up.

“Look at me, honey.” he whispered, his voice rough and turned on as he wanted her grabbing at the covers as he stroked her. She tried to but she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing again, zoned out with only his smooth and confident movements to focus on. It was almost getting too much with him hitting her at just the right spot for her to lose herself completely when, just like that, he pulled his hand away and grabbed both sides of her underwear to pull them down and off her legs. The next thing she remembered was the feel of him skilfully grabbing her from underneath her thighs, his tongue swiftly taking over.

It didn’t take long for her to feel like was she coming undone and him feeling proud of himself. She couldn’t fight it and with one arm draped across her lower tummy, he certainly had not intention of letting her get away. Any feelings of awkwardness were soon a thing of the past as she let the gentle, unbridled bliss he was giving her wash over her completely. She honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this before, she was so out of it. He was covering her completely, her wetness mixing with his own, his beard rubbing against her smooth skin adding another level of pleasure.

She ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up. His tongue hit her clit again and again causing her to give him a short, sharp pull. His groan was so filthy and deep from within him, she felt it reverberate through her, raising goose bumps up and down her skin.

He wanted her on the edge as much as he felt he was. He wanted her to want him, to tell him exactly what she wanted him to do. He wanted her on fire. He wanted to hear her beg.

Just as she was on the edge for a second time, he stopped and blew softly across her wisps of hair. He chuckled when he heard what sounded like a quiet yet frustrated groan leave her lips, followed by a chuckle, something innocent and familiar. Her hands loosened from his hair as they stared into each other’s eyes, their mutual breathlessness the only sound they could hear.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered, the breath from his words scorching her skin. He moved his tongue just a little lower, not breaking eye contact, and she felt him dip ever so slightly inside of her, his arm wrapped around her thigh and the pad of his thumb taking care of the rest. He did this a second time, then a third, and when he returned to pressing his tongue over her clit, drawing her into his mouth, she was soon grabbing at him in any way she could in a futile attempt to take the edge off the orgasm that was coming at her like a freight train.

She was close. He knew she was so close now and he held his arms tightly around her to keep her close to him. One more swipe of his tongue right....there...and she was gone.

When her breathing even out, she slowly opened her eyes to see him move up and over her, placing soft, wet kisses on her hip, her tummy, her neck, and finally on her lips. He seemed cautious to kiss her, unsure of whether she wanted him to but she grabbed his face with both hands to pull him back down to her, kissing him as passionately as she could manage with what felt like no energy. She could taste herself and it was so much more erotic than she could ever have imagined.

She felt him smile into the kiss as he carefully settled his body on top of hers, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. He moved the hair that was sticking to her forehead and stroked her face with one finger, gently mapping her eye and her nose and her cheek. She couldn’t reconcile this being the same man who had minutes earlier been so dominant. He had so clearly wanted to say something at that point if only his hardness hadn’t been so distracting. He mover one arm under her neck, using the other hand to move hair from where it had clung to the side of her face. Holding her as close to him as possible and feeling blissful when he felt her legs wrap around his own, he entered her and held still, enjoying the moment.

“We should’ve done this years ago.” he spoke and for a brief moment, without realising, she was pulled from their intimacy, a pang of guilt taking its place.

He was too busy pushing into her, needing whatever she had left to give him. He grabbed at the back of her neck to keep her in place, his face buried into her hair. She felt her skin heat up all over from his breath as he panted at her side. It was more frantic than he’d wanted it to be as he groaned and moaned and pushed his whole weight into her with force. It was really all she could do to just hang on to him as he fucked her deeper, as he surged towards his own orgasm, then letting go when she felt him shudder insider her minutes later. He sounded helpless and as much as he tried to hold himself up from collapsing on her, he soon gave up trying and laid his head on her shoulder.

His warm breath continued covering her skin as she ran her hand gently over the back of his head. She felt him chuckle a vibration into the top of her arm before a wet kiss landed just underneath her ear, a place he had deigned his own after he realised how sensitive she was on that particular spot.

Finally rolling off her to lie on his back, he kept his arm stretched across her lower tummy and rubbed his fingers across the apex of her thigh. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in this position but at some point he leaned over her to turn the bedside light off plunging the room into complete darkness and they continued to lie there in silence not really sure if the other was asleep or not.

He eventually turned onto his side to face her, keeping a firm grip on her waist. He was across her pillow and she could practically feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he watched her in the dark, a soft outline gradually appearing as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, making out her features. she felt his hand move up and down her ribcage and over the inside of her elbow, another sensitive spot that made her shudder and him chuckle again when he realised she was in fact still awake.

She turned onto her side to face him and his hand moved to her lower back where it finally rested over her hip. She pushed her leg in between his and he seemed content and comfortable in how they were existing in this space, both aware they didn’t have to worry about getting up any time soon. He was running his fingers up and down her spine in slow, circular motions and it felt wonderful. Too wonderful. And there was that guilt again.

“What will you do tomorrow?” she asked.

He took a deep breath in contemplation at her unexpected question. “Gym looks pretty good. I have a book and a couple of scripts, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” she murmured but he knew she was dwelling on something.

“I wanna be here for you if you need anything and if you don’t, you won’t even know I’m around. I promise.”

“I know that, too.”

She could sense him smile at her even in their dark. “Good.” he said. “It feels nice knowing I’ve made a good decision for a change.”

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fan fiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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archadianskies · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 21

Infection → part 1; part 2

Whumptober Masterlist | 21/31 of RK900 short stories

↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Team as Family × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Infection × Toothache

For all his quick reflexes and heightened senses, there’s still no accounting for human error. The pen hastily slapped onto the table begins to roll towards the end of it, so Freddie darts over to catch it just as Isaac crouches to lift up the heavy crate of equipment. Crate meets jaw. Audible crack upon impact. Damage to top and bottom left second and third molars.

“Oh shit Arlo!” Isaac cries, the shift in attention causing him to drop the crate in order to reach out in concern. Freddie grabs the crate before it hits the floor with a crash, straightening slowly to place it on the workbench.

“I am alright.” He reassures the panicked human, who gives him a look of disbelief.

“Buddy I heard that sound.”

“Impact damage to my left molars.” He concedes, cupping his jaw. “But nothing more than fractures. My self-repair program should take care of it within an hour.”

Isaac looks at him warily and the concern is warranted; he’s only just beginning to associate physical pain with negativity after having spent the past eight months prior to his rescue being treated as a piece of equipment by Special Agent Perkins.

“And if it doesn’t, I’m taking you to First Aid, got it?” Isaac huffs, fixing him with a stern glare. He nods obediently.

“Got it.”

It heals within an hour. Mostly. There is one fracture, the deepest one, on his bottom left second molar yet to seal completely but it’s making progress. He says as much, reporting to Isaac who concedes with a sigh that alright, yes, that sounds fine and no he won’t drag him to the First Aid room.

Dr Olive calls him to the morgue because there’s a new cadaver brought in from the Red Ice lab case and Freddie knows there will be quite a lot of chemicals to process. Connor had already warned him with a quick message stating there had been several shots exchanged and a lot of the lab had been damaged, sending chemicals spilling onto the floor and contaminating the newly deceased. No matter. He is an RK900 and his toxicology abilities are far superior than any android created before him, even Connor.

Dr Olive waits for him to put on his full length vinyl apron and gloves, and he forgoes the surgical mask given he has no saliva to spit, and must have quick access to his mouth. She begins the Y incision and he touches the smudge of dried liquid on the victim’s forehead.

Cause of death is extremely clear, but what isn’t clear are the concoction of chemicals spilled on site. It didn’t seem to match those usually found at Red Ice labs, so the lab seemed to be cooking up something else on the side, coupled with the fact all the deceased have needle marks on the inside of their elbows which is at odds with the usual method of Red Ice inhalation. Freddie swipes what residue he can on the tip of his tongue.

>sample insufficient

“Anything?”

“Insufficient. The liquid has dried and the residue left behind is not enough to provide clear chemical analysis.” Freddie frowns. “We will need to see if there’s more on other parts of the body.”

“Or more on other bodies.” She quips. “Not the only one we’ve got to do today. Your dad’s sending in at least three others.”

“The track marks are inconsistent with the consumption of Red Ice.” Freddie points out, turning the victim’s arm to reveal the crook of their elbow. “It is possible they were working on something else, a new drug that uses Thirium 310.”

“How much blood do you need?”

“Not much.” Freddie dips his index and middle finger into the body, smearing what blood he can onto his tongue.

“We’ll still need to spin it up to make it official.” She reminds him, and he frowns as his HUD fills with new information. “What have you found?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can confirm until I’ve checked the others.”

In the end, when they forward the findings to the DPD after analysing four bodies and multiple tubes of various chemicals sampled from the site, Freddie knows the arrests made today, the destruction of the lab, has been done in the nick of time; they were in the midst of creating a new drug, a stronger one with highly addictive properties.

“Good job, Frederick.” She commends with a smile as they bin their gloves. “Lab will process everything for the secondary round of tests to make it official, but from what you say, DPD nipped this one in the bud.”

He attempts to smile in reply, wincing as a sharp burst of pain resonates from his bottom left jaw.

“What happened?” She demands, hand immediately on his shoulder.

“Oh um, it’s alright I- I um, knocked my jaw on some equipment.” He stammers, fidgeting under her intense, matronly gaze. “Very minor fractures on some of my molars but they’ve mostly healed. This last one just needs a bit more time I think.”

“Well we’re all done here, so I’m sending you home to get that checked out.” She declares and any thought of protesting shrivels up when he sees her stern expression.

“Yes, doctor.”

“Good. Now out of your uniform and call a cab to Jericho.”

He doesn’t go to Jericho. It cannot be that bad, surely, and so he takes a cab home instead. His molar just needs time to heal and now he has no more lab work, his system can focus on self-repairing the tooth. Unlocking the door, he crouches immediately and welcomes the Saint Bernard as Sumo lumbers over enthusiastically and mushes his face into Freddie’s middle.

After making sure he had fresh water and had been let out to pee, Freddie set about searching the fridge for a bottle of cherry cola Tearium. Where Connor prefers hot Teariums, and Caleb the alcoholic ones, Freddie much prefers the chilled, carbonated ones. Hank always buys a pack during the fortnightly grocery run, and keeps a couple in the fridge ready for consumption.

Settling on the couch with Sumo, Freddie blinks the television on and resumes the documentary on space exploration he’d started the other night. The cherry cola is sweet, and the carbonated liquid fizzes on his tongue. A moment later, his entire left jaw and cheek explodes with pain and he nearly drops the bottle, clumsily pawing to set it down on the coffee table before cupping the side of his face. Sumo whines in concern and he squeezes his eyes shut as the pain rolls in waves, a strong throbbing, piercing ache drilling right into his jaw.

The door clicks open and even through the pain, Freddie knows his dad and brother won’t be home for at least another hour. He looks up just in time to meet the surprised gaze of his twin, Caleb, who immediately sets down the small bag in his hands onto the console table in favour of closing the distance between them.

“Freddie you ok?” His brother rushes to his side, and Freddie shakes his head rapidly. “Show me?” Caleb offers his hand, retracting the skin. It takes a considerable amount of effort for Freddie to do the same, having to fight through and sweep aside the pain in order to execute such a basic command. He grasps his brother’s hand and shows him his recent memories and spills over the question of ‘what are you doing here’ through the link because he doesn’t think he can manage speech quite yet.

“Oh, I thought I’d drop by and surprise you all with some drinks. Our mission wrapped up quicker than we thought and David’s got some boring admin meeting.” His twin shrugs, still distracted by his pain. “I think your tooth is infected? All the chemicals you processed today probably hindered your self disinfecting cycle and prevented a proper repair.”

He whines in frustration and Caleb laughs, looping his other arm around him and drawing him close into a hug.

“We should probably get you to Jericho.” A pause. “Or, I mean. Maybe I could take the tooth out? Dad’s got a toolbox in the garage. I’ll sanitise the pliers. Your whole jaw will need to be detached temporarily so I can inspect it for infection and then we can ask Fabrications to print you another tooth.”

He doesn’t want to go to Jericho, and it must be plain on his face too because Caleb nods with a determined sigh. “Alright. Pliers it is.”

Long day. Long shitty day, but apparently some good came out of it: they stopped the production of some new drug being released onto the streets. Hank yawns, stretching languidly and standing aside so Connor can unlock the door. He’s not sure if Freddie is home yet- the boy keeps odd hours depending on what lab work is needed. So he expects one android, and won’t be disappointed if there isn’t one but instead he walks in and there are two androids.

“Caleb?” The other RK900 is holding a pair of pliers in one hand which he quickly and quite comically hides behind his back.

“Uhh hi dad.”

“...Do I want to know?” His eyes flick over to Freddie who is, for lack of a better word, sulking with the couch throw wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Sumo sprawled on his lap. He’s cupping his cheek, rubbing it as if he has a toothache. Can androids even have toothaches?

“...Do you think the tooth fairy will come, even for android teeth?” Caleb asks sheepishly, slowly bringing the pliers from behind his back to show Hank the single tooth in its grasp. “Freddie had an accident at work today.”

“That’s nearly split in half.” Connor frowns, reaching for the tooth and plucking it free from the pliers so he can inspect it. “But given its position in your jaw, how come your self-repair capabilities did not seal it together?”

“Because he was working your case.” Caleb reminds him. “Mouth full of chemicals.”

“And a cherry cola.” Hank nods in the direction of the bottle on the coffee table. “That oughta do it.” Freddie whines, rubbing his cheek again and Hank chuckles, tousling his hair fondly. “What’s the android equivalent of ibuprofen?”

“Nothing.” Connor shakes his head. “We could disable your sensors for a little while though, Freddie, until the infection site heals up?”

The younger RK900 hesitates for a moment, eyes darting to Hank’s as though seeking reassurance. “Go for it, kid. Don’t want you to suffer through the night.” With his blessing, Caleb touches Freddie’s LED and after a moment, the twin’s face relaxes, no longer pinched up in pain. Hank sighs, the tension unwinding from his shoulders. Surely now he can have a perfectly ordinary, lazy evening with the boys?

He has his own room, but most nights he spends in Connor’s instead. Last night had been no different, and something about the dull ache in his jaw and having a part of him missing exacerbated his fear of being locked away alone in the dark again. It felt a little too much like being locked in the armoury, left to repair himself and clean the gear and guns of the FBI SWAT team.

He feels safest when he’s with a family member, and most nights it’s Connor. His brother tells him each time it happens that he doesn’t mind at all, and Freddie knows this to be true and revels in it. Connor makes him feel safe and wanted and cared for. Connor would never lock him up in the dark and expect him to clean anything.

They rise at the same time, Connor pausing to lean over and bump his nose against his fondly before they start getting ready for the day. Freddie heads back to his room and notes the pillow has been disturbed despite him not using his room last night. Curiously, he rounds the side of the bed and lifts up the pillow to reveal a dollar coin. Picking it up, he turns it over in his hand and smiles brightly, taking a photo to send to Caleb. His twin replies a second later.

[Tooth fairy doesn’t discriminate!]

#rk900 #connor rk800 #Hank Anderson #Detroit: Become Human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Love Error

milkandheonnie said:

I am probably too late (as always), but it's worth a shot: I dare you to write Woong in your Becoming Human world.

Pairing: Jeon Woong x reader

World: Becoming Human (read HERE)

Genre: robot au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 3051

You weren’t too worried about the complications of taking your work home with you. Sure, you had been debriefed before leaving the lab and it was no secret within the company that falling in love with your work could be a possibility.

After all, your team leader was complete proof of that. Leo had fallen in love with Yerin and fought through everything that separated them from having an organic connection, one that indicated love could exist between anyone.

Even between a robot and human.

But when it came to you, well, you had no interest in love. You were married, for lack of a better term, to your job and held no desire for anything further than that. What made your heart beat faster was watching artificial intelligence mature. When a circuit board you had spent hours on got fired up for the first run and it’s successful. As a computer scientist, you had a love for facts. For things you could see occur before you.

Feelings weren’t something you dabbled in, even when it came to your job.

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us,” you assured Leo as he hesitated in handing over the package that contained all the information about the Woong bot beside you. You took it from his hand and smiled. “I’m only going to be working on sharpening up his errors. Nothing more.”

“That’s what I said,” a voice interjected, smiling at you both before stopping beside her husband. Kissing Leo’s cheek, Yerin then giggled. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

You grinned, despite feeling confident that what had happened to them would never occur for you. “I’ll owe you if anything does!”

“Oh, make a list of rules, even so. You don’t know how long he’ll be staying for and…” Yerin turned to look at Leo in distaste as he regarded her with a dark look and then she sighed. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“I expect a full report by the end of the week of how your testing pans out, Y/N. Shall we, my hard to please wife?”

“For that, you’ll be cooking dinner,” Yerin remarked as the couple waved you off and you listened to their banter with a warm smile before turning to the bot beside you.

Kboy Cyborgs had taken off years ago, though with the advances in robotics thanks to Leo’s near human-like emotions, they had truly changed the world. Kboys were everywhere and the first line of Kgirls was already in the testing phase. You had been working on them for some time now, so it was going to be far too easy to work with Woong over the week out of the office. He was already an established robot, though he had malfunctioned during staff training. Although he was still running online, and as you gestured for him to follow you to the underground parking lot, in which he did with ease, you had a lot to fix before he could go out and be in the world. It wouldn’t take you more than the week to fix and even though most people liked the idea of having a relaxing time away from the office, you were looking forward to this additional project.

Woong cleared his throat and caught your attention once you were both seated in your car. “So are we off to your house now, noona?”

“We are,” you confirmed as you navigated the evening traffic. It was odd to have a travel buddy when you normally drove home in silence. However, Woong was curious and asked many questions on the ride to your apartment.

Which didn’t stop once inside your home. “Wow, do you live here alone?”

“Yes, it’s just me.”

“Don’t you get bored? Do you own a cat? My sources indicate a lot of people who are live alone have feline companions. A dog, given your dedication to the lab, would be impractical.”

You stared at the robot and then sighed. “No, I don’t have a cat.”

“Are you allergic? Would you like one? I could search through adoption advertisements right now-”

“No, I’m fine without one, thank you Woong.”

His lips pulled together with a slight purse before he smiled and walked towards your bookshelf. “Wow, may I read these?”

“Sure.”

He then darted into your kitchen. “Should I make us some dinner? I have the appropriate functions installed to eat food. We can share our first meal together!”

You didn’t respond, feeling exhausted with how he flitted about your apartment so quickly. Was this why Yerin suggested rules? Had Leo been like this as well? You had a lot to decipher about this bot, but with how much he was chattering, you did the best thing to solve the issue. Swiftly, you reached for the button at the back of his neck, sending him off to sleep.

And then you took in a deep breath, relaxing into the silence that enveloped you.

You had no idea how anyone could live with a Kboy full time.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t leave Woong offline to get your work done. So, once you were sufficiently fed and ready to, you turned him back on, his eyes blinking rapidly as he processed new information. He gasped at you noisily which surprised you. “I was offline for three hours?! Why would you do that?”

“Okay, Woong. Let’s get some facts in place. You’re here for me to work on. Not to become my friend or anything like that-”

“But I would like to become friends with you,” he mentioned with a pout and you heaved a deep breath, trying not to focus on his expression. You felt a surge of guilt over his surprise at being shut off and it was the last thing you wished to entertain today.

You cleared your throat. “We will begin work on your processing error. I’m going to attach my laptop to you and if anything feels odd as I work, I need you to mention it immediately, okay?”

“Of course. I want to be functioning at the best I can because that means one day someone will want to be my friend.”

You tried not to play into his pettiness, ignoring the way he folded his arms across his chest. You didn’t know a lot about the living Woong, but so far your experience with the robot form was definitely more than you had expected. He seemed so polite and quiet in the introduction video you had watched earlier. Right now, he was very playful and easily offended. You wondered if there was an error in his programming there too. Then again, Kboys had evolved into becoming their own sentient beings. Base traits were installed from the idol modelling, but each bot had the ability to grow their intelligence.

This Woong perhaps was just like this naturally.

Thankfully, he was incredibly helpful during your initial testing. Whenever he found a circuit that ran too slowly or diverted, he let you know immediately. You had developed a solid working relationship already that you could appreciate. This remained the same over the next three days, and if it wasn’t for his efficiency whilst you worked – which you chose to do for the majority of your time together – you were certain you would have gone insane with all his endless chatter.

Unplugging your laptop on your fourth session, you smiled at him. “Thank you, Woong. That will be all for tonight.”

“Will you charge now?”

You smiled at the endearing term for sleep. Nodding, you got up and stretched your tired limbs. “I will be going to bed. Please, don’t make too much noise like last night. Perhaps you could read the books as you requested when you first came to stay.”

“Charge well, noona,” he said with the widest smile. You blinked, it was so genuine and you were confused at why you chest tightened. “I’ll promise to be silent.”

You awoke to a high pitched scream, jolting upright just in time for your bedroom door to be thrown open, Woong dashing into your room in terror.

You were completely distressed by everything that was happening, especially when the robot climbed up onto your bed and tried to hide behind you.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, noona! It’s GIANT!”

“What is?”

“The… the… oh my god, I can’t say it. But it’s so big and I was just sitting there reading my thirty-fourth book for the evening when it crawled my way and-” He let out an unintelligible whine, shuddering from head to toe.

You frowned. “A bug?”

“A BUG!”

“But Woong, you’re a robot. A bug shouldn’t scare you,” you explained, attempting to move him away from your pillows. You were too tired for this kind of interruption. Honestly, a bug?! A robot like Woong could kill it with ease. You knew you would have to report this behaviour to Leo, you weren’t aware of such a trait.

However, Woong refused to move off your bed. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Woong, I’m sleeping!”

“I’ll be quiet in here! Just don’t send me back out there to the bug!” he pleaded, and perhaps because you were too tired to remain awake for much longer, you waved him off, laying down again and rolling onto your side away from your work guest. Woong breathed out a relieved sigh and then laid down too. “Thank you for your acceptance.”

“I just want to sleep Woong, that’s all there is to it.”

And boy, did you sleep well. You had possibly the best sleep that you could remember. You were just the right temperature, not overly hot that you needed to kick off the blankets, and not too cold either. When you finally woke up, you didn’t quite want to get up. You were content.

It was during this moment you became aware of what was happening around you. Or, more specifically, what was on you. Opening your eyes quickly, you glanced down at the arm over your waist and felt a leg over yours. The firm chest that was imprinted in your back cradled your entire body and at first, you were surprised to find yourself so relaxed in the arms of the soundly sleeping robot.

And then you were frantic. “Woong!”

“What?” he mumbled, nestling in further. You gasped and slapped his arm off. “Why are you moving, I was comfortable.”

“You cannot sleep with me!” As soon as you were free to leap out of your bed, you did so, eyes wide when you found that Woong’s shirt had been removed. Darting your eyes to the ceiling, you attempted to calm yourself down. But your mind connected on a thought and you pointed at him incredulously. “Please tell me you didn’t infiltrate the old AI modes. You’re not in lover mode, are you?!”

“What is a lover mode? I was just charging. Besides, it was you who did it first. In the middle of the night, you turned around and snuggled into me saying I was the right temperature to cool you down and that you loved the sound of my system purring along.” Woong knelt upon your bed after fetching his shirt and threw it over his head. And then he smirked. “You even called me your cat. Are you adopting me, noona?”

“You’re making that up.”

He shifted closer. “Want to read my memory card?”

“No wonder Yerin warned me,” you breathed, shaking your head and then pointed to the door. “Out you go, it’s time for breakfast.

The humour fell from his expression, and instead, he looked concerned. “You’re coming right?”

“Why?”

“The bug, it might still be out there.”

“Oh good grief,” you chimed, heading for the door. Woong stepped in behind you, peering around you. After searching the entire space for the bug and coming up empty, Woong relaxed and started making you breakfast.

It was surprisingly a nice experience to share a meal with someone and it had become your favourite part of the day so far this week. You didn’t really talk, Woong was somewhat aware now of your prickly mannerisms, simply shooting you several smiles over the meal. You couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him by the time you were ready to work on his processing again.

Much like yesterday, you worked on his system directory and Woong helped you figure out the issues. You had already debugged three pathways and were working on the fourth when he yelped in pain.

“Are you okay?!”

“Ow, my neck!” he cried and you looked at the hand he had raised to cup it, gently reaching out to slip your hand to where it was. You gasped when you saw the bug there, darting your focus to Woong’s face. How had he felt the bite of the bug? Of course, being bloodless, the bug had just died upon contact, but it surprised you all the same.

“You, you really felt that?”

“What was it?”

“The bug, it bit you. It’s dead, don’t panic,” you added on as he went to move and he relaxed, frowning about his experience. You checked the area of his skin. “You even have a mark. How did that happen?”

“Well our skin is fired by circuits remember, it makes sense I would feel it if I can feel the touch of your hand on me as well,” he mentioned, his tone sounding thicker. You glanced down at him and away from where your hand resided, Woong looking up at you wholly. “I can feel you.”

Where it came from, even you were surprised. The words you had proclaimed to your team leader swirled around in your mind as your lips pressed to Woong’s, his own passionately moving against yours. Somehow, in the midst of the embrace, you found yourself pulled onto him, sitting in his lap as the kiss deepened. And just like the circuits you worked with day in and out, you felt a surge fire pathways throughout you. From your lips all the way to your toes, everything felt alive and open.

You were overwhelmed.

“I felt that the most,” he breathed when you pulled away, and you gasped, lifting your hand to your mouth in realisation. Woong smiled, tenderly pushing your hair behind an ear. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“January seventh, twenty-nineteen.”

“That was my first day in the lab,” you replied immediately, brows knitting together. “How do you know that?”

“Because on your first day you made a mistake with a robot and cried about it.”

You stared back at him, the memory resurfacing. You had been given a simple task of placing a memory chip into a robot in your first assignment, accidentally hitting a main circuit in the process. You had been told to fix it before you went home and to learn all about why circuits were critical. That moment in time had led you to become the best at repairing circuits in the entire laboratory.

How did Woong know this though?

He smiled, gently rubbing your back. “It’s okay, mistakes happen and I’ll be fine. Just like right now, with the bug. I’m okay.”

His words felt familiar and you snapped your focus to his face. “It was you. I made the mistake with you.”

“I mean, it’s fair. I didn’t have this face back then. Or any face,” he replied, cringing at the memory. Then he smiled. “But I hoped you would remember me. You told me that I would be your favourite robot if I survived. And I have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” you wondered and Woong smiled. “You knew I wouldn’t let you come home with me?”

“For a closed off human, you’re pretty easy for me to read, Y/N. I think we’re meant to be.”

“Oh no,” you rebutted, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m not about to go that far. It was one kiss.”

“We could have more,” he offered, leaning in closer. “I’ve always liked you, after all.”

You blinked rapidly, that thick tone was a curse and you were entrapped by it. Pushing Woong back, you laughed. “Easy.”

“Okay, so it’s too fast. I get it. Even though both times you’ve initiated everything, noona. Just remember that.” He laid back down and then pointed to your computer. A picture of complete innocence. You scoffed. “Aren’t we working right now?”

“What am I going to tell Leo on Monday?” you wondered aloud, heaving in a deep breath before leaning down to capture his lips again. After the kiss ended, Woong grinned up at you.

“Tell him there were more issues underlying the ones we knew of and that I need further testing.”

“Then he can do that in the lab.” Woong shook his head. “I only trust you inside my mind.”

“I don’t trust you getting inside of mine.”

“Why, are you afraid you might fall in love with me?” he mused, smiling up at you.

“Well, I did make a mistake with you in the past, and you’re still full of errors. I guess it is up to me to fix them.”

“One kiss at a time?” he suggested and you moved back to your laptop, working your way quickly through his memory bank to see your name clearly there from when his memory card was inserted. You smiled.

“Let’s just see how the rest of this week goes. I might want to trade you in for something better.”

“Hey!”

You glanced up, grinning wickedly. “Well, you opened my heart up to like more than just the circuits running inside of you. I should get a model that I find physically attractive.”

“Are you saying you… wow.”

You then wrote a code into his mind, logging it there permanently. It silenced Woong as he recognised it. “I have a love error?”

“Yep, my diagnosis is that your circuits are so messed up because of me. I’ll have to tell Leo, I’ve made an error that’s going to take a while to solve.”

Woong sat up and nodded. “And since you’re so good at figuring out how to work with my circuits, I’ll definitely make sure we share that same error by the time Monday comes around.”

_________________

[AB6IX Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

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kiritella · 5 years

Text

All We See [1]

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2.6k-ish

Warnings: Abusive relationship (emotionally and physically), allusions to sex (No Smut), alcohol usage, mentions of rape (did not occur, but talked about).

A/N: Important! This does portray an abusive relationship, so if you are triggered by this, do not read this, please. It alludes to sex, but there is no smut.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

The sunlight peers through the sheer white curtains, it’s warm embrace causing the fluttering of your eyes and the light smile forming on your face despite the early hours of the morning. The bed dips as your legs swing over the side and feet find the fuzzy slippers to escape the cold hardwood floor. The alarm gets switched off a few minutes before it sounds and the radio gets flipped on, playing the soft melodies of music as the bedroom door opens and sliding feet make their way into the kitchen all the way to the waiting coffee pot. The dark blue mug slips out of the cabinet by delicate hands and is filled with the heavenly black essence before sugar and creamer turn it a brownish color.

A slight moan escapes your lips as you sip the coffee and slip your way back to your room to prepare for the day. Half an hour later, you’re walking past the photos of you and your boyfriend as you make it to the living room and throwing the soft blue blanket over the back of the couch, making sure the daisies have enough water before grabbing your keys from the hook by the door and slipping into the New York air. Your dark pink, knee-high dress flows slightly in the wind as you lock the doors and walk out of your house and slip into your car, starting your drive to work, windows down and the music turned up, singing along to every lyric you know.

When you arrive at the compound gates, you flip off the music and grab your ID, letting the scanner check it and placing your thumb on the screen for validation. Once the security guard in the base confirms your face through the cameras, he clears the gate and lets you in. The glass windows of the Avengers Compound reflect the morning light and the soft glow is always mesmerizing at this hour.

You scan your ID as you enter the building, the security guard at the entrance lighting up when he sees you, “‘Morning y/n.”

“Morning Jones,” you say through a smile, “How’s Alex? Fever die out yet?”

“Broke this morning, still feeling icky, but he’s on the mend.”

“Good to hear, tell him I said hi, would ya?”

“Sure thing, have a good day!”

“You too!” you say as you spin back around and continue down the hall. The elevator takes you up to the third level and you follow the halls past the Chem Labs and to the Mechanical Engineering branch of the floor, pushing past the doors and into your office near the back. The walls are covered in blueprints, ideas scribbled out and pinned to corkboard, the markerboard filled out with equations that have yet to work properly. A couple computers sit on the desk that’s set in the back but centered in the room with a window wall behind it. Little pots of flowers are scattered around in the corners and by the yellow couch, dark blue throw pillows popping out against the color.

You stride across your nice-size office and place your coffee on the desk when a familiar knocking pattern has your lips turning up in a smile, “You can’t tell me you’ve broken something already, it’s not even ten o’clock.”

His chuckle has you spinning around to face the brown-haired supersoldier, “No, not this morning, but don’t test my capabilities. I was getting maintenance done on my arm when you came in, figured I’d say hi.”

Your brows furrow, “I thought your maintenance check wasn’t due for a couple more weeks, is something wrong with it?”

“It was gettin’ a little twitchy since our last mission, nothin’ too bad.”

You nod, “Alright,” you say as you take a seat in your chair and spin it around in a circle, before settling at your desk and logging on to your computer.

Bucky walks around the room, eyes scanning over the specs that have been there for over a month now, smiling at some of the notes you scribbled out, smiley faces in the corners, “How’s the project coming?”

The chair spins as you stand and skip over to where he is standing, “So far, it’s not. The calculations haven’t panned out yet and there’s an overheating issue, but I have a couple ideas in mind to try.”

“This is the leg upgrades for Rhodey, right?”

“Actually, those are over there,” you say while pointing to a set of blueprints on the other side of the wall, “These are for the bone reconstruction sleeve.”

“Ah, okay,” he mumbles and tries to ignore the butterflies at having you so close to him. You have a boyfriend, not that you ever talk about him, but he can’t stop coming down to your office as often as he can. He’d never make a move while you’re with someone, he’s not like that and respects you way too much to do such a thing, but he will continue to be your friend. That much he will do because having you in his life as a friend is better than nothing at all.

You spin on your heels and make your way back to the desk, flipping through a couple papers and logging onto your computer. Bucky crosses the room and almost takes a seat on the couch like he would usually do in the afternoon to find his next move in the chess game on the coffee table that you have been playing for a while when his phone dings. You look up when he groans, a furrow in his brow, “Everything alright?”

“Needed in a meeting,” he says before looking at you, and he gets caught a moment as the light coming from the window behind you lightens your features softly, enveloping you in a case of warmth.

His heart skips a beat when your giggle snaps him back, “Well are you gonna go or are you going to stand there looking like a lost puppy?”

“I do not look like a puppy.”

“Sorry, but you kinda do.”

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, “Whatever, darlin’. I’ll see you around?”

“See you when I see you, Soldier,” your smile widens when he walks out of the room with a mock salute, ignoring the way your heart feels too wide for your chest. Memories come crashing into your mind like unwanted guests, causing the ever-bright smile on your face to twist into a frown and the light in your eyes fade slightly. The gentle tremble in your hands when you place them on your keyboard make the task of typing harder than normal, but then again, you’ve gotten used to it by now. Pressing the memories out of your mind, you focus on the project at hand, fixing that damn glitch in Rhodey’s leg upgrade. If everything goes well, you will be able to reduce the weight and bulkiness of the machinery by almost half and increase the comfort factor. That is, of course, if you can fix the overheating issue. Before the dread has a chance to sink in your bones, you drown yourself in your work, the only thing left is the next equation, the next method, trial and error, effectively erasing everything about home.

~~~

After the meeting, Bucky curves his way out of the glass room followed by Sam and Steve, Natasha left a little bit ago due to an emergency mission with Wanda and Clint, the image of the halo of light surrounding you from this morning is his little escape from reality. The way your lips curl into a smile at the simplest of things, the way you always have your hair pulled back into a ponytail or something of the sort, it is something that captures his attention in admiration. Not only that, but the way you always listen when he’s stressed and ranting, the way you ask if he’s eaten because you know he sucks at maintaining a normal eating pattern, the way you remembered he had trouble sleeping, so you offered some oils and lotions to help, the way you seem to care.

“So are you going to tell us why you have that stupid grin on your face, or what? You have been looking like that for months now, it’s time to spill,” Sam says and it draws Bucky out of his mind and into the reality of where he is, and the aching in his cheeks from the smile on his face.

Bucky groans, “No, you can keep guessin’ though.”

“Come on man, who is it?”

“Nope,” Bucky smirks and keeps his pace down the hall without even looking back.

Sam rolls his eyes and heads to the elevator, “Whatever, man. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

“Unlikely.”

Steve jogs up and walks next to Bucky, “How’s Y/n doing?”

He shakes his head, “She’s fine, workin’ on some sort of bone regeneration sleeve.”

“Yeah, so why were you down there again?” Steve asks with a knowing smirk.

“You know why I went down there.”

“I do, and you know I think it’s a bad idea, Buck. You might want to stop before it gets too painful.”

“We’re just friends,” Bucky says as his smile falls, “She’s got someone, I know that and respect it, but I’m not just going to stop enjoying her company.”

“You’re hurting yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” he says, and fine he always was. He respects you and your relationship and will never do anything to get in the way as long as you are happy. He can live with the little visits and just being your friend.

~~~

It is a gentle brush on your arm and the soft voice that draws you out of your sleep, which is odd. You quickly realize you aren’t in bed considering you are hunched over on a table and are still in your dress, and your head snaps up, “I’m awake!”

A chuckle sounds next to you and you turn and see Bucky kneeling beside you, a soft smile spread across his lips, “I’m pretty sure you were out like a light, Sweetheart,” he whispers as he brushes some of the hair out of your face, “You should go home, it’s late.”

Your eyes widen when you realize the room is only lit by artificial lighting and your head snaps to the clock on the computer screen, your heart plummeting at the sight—10:42.

“Shit!” you say as you snatch your phone and check it, 18 missed calls, 47 text messages, all from your boyfriend, “Nononono!”

Bucky stands and staggers back slightly as you shoot out of your chair and quickly grab your things, “Woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

You send him a wary glance and Bucky nearly stalls, you look scared, “Sweetheart, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“I have to go,” you say and Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice so cold, so void of emotion, and it sends a chill down his spine. He quickly follows you as you nearly run out of the room, swiftly moving in front of you.

“No, no, what’s got you so out of it?” Bucky pleads, but you move around him, pounding the down button for the elevator, “Talk to me…”

“It’s fine, Buck,” you mumble and step into the metal box, Bucky right behind you, looking you over with worried features.

“It doesn’t look fine.”

The tension in the elevator thickens as Bucky watches you intently, his mind reeling from the obvious fear radiating off of you. He knows you’ve always had a strict time you would leave the office, saying you preferred to keep a good home schedule, not become a workaholic like you said you had a tendency to, but this doesn’t look anything like an upset schedule…

The elevator doors slide open and you practically dart out, swallowing the sick feeling in your stomach, the wild search of your eyes even though you know you are safe here at the compound. A firm hand grabs the curve of your elbow and a scream nearly makes its way from your lips as it spins you around, Bucky’s pleading eyes meeting yours.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

You pull your arm out of his frantically and slide into your car, “It’s nothing, Bucky, really, everything is fine, just late to be getting home.”

Bucky can do nothing as you close the door and start the car, driving out of the parking lot, leaving him there alone and in a small panic at how crazed you had become. The fear in your eyes, the utter terror he saw when he grabbed your arm, it’s making him sick, but he can’t do anything about it.

~~~

The bedroom light is on when you make it to your house, the fear making your hands tremble as you put your purse down and smooth out your dress, forcing a smile on your face as you make your way to the door. The smell of alcohol and puke hitting your nose as you walk by the kitchen, and peeking inside, you see the mixture of the two on the floor. So, with a sinking heart, you make your way to the laundry room and grab some rags before cleaning the mess, fighting your own gag reflex as you do so. You pick the almost empty bottle of whiskey up from off the coffee table and place it back in the cabinet, the headlights from the cars driving down the street shining through the windows.

The bedroom door creaks open as you step inside, light-footed and your boyfriend looks up from his place on the bed, “Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep, I—”

“I called you!” he says, voice raised as anger boils into his tone, “You can’t just ignore me like that, you have to tell me where you’re at. You are supposed to be home, and you never answered me, think about what could have happened to you!” He continues as he stands and storms across the room until you are pinned against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” you say as fear spikes your blood into a mix of regret and pain.

“Just look at you! You’re weak,” he spits as he grips your arms tightly, wrenching them to the sides, “You’d never be able to help yourself if someone tried to take you from me. Can you imagine what that would do to me? You’re incapable of handling yourself, and you keep flaunting yourself around like a little whore in these damn dresses. Are you trying to get raped?”

“No! I-I don’t—” your shaky voice halts as you get a glimpse of the lipstick smeared on the underside of his jaw, bits trailed down his neck to the hickey just barely visible under the collar of his shirt, marks you know weren’t placed by you.

“Hey!” he shouts, shoving you back against the wall, your head crashing backward and causing the room to spin a moment, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Baby, I didn’t mean to, I’ll be better, okay? I’m sorry,” you recite the familiar phrase like a song stuck on repeat in your mind.

His eyes soften from their icy sharpness and the death-grip on you arms loosens, “It’s okay, Baby, it’s alright,” he says, his voice suddenly quiet as his thumbs trace circles on your arms before one of them raises to cup your face, “I know you didn’t mean to do it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shh, I know, it’s okay…” he says quietly, nodding a moment before he leans closer, the stench of his whiskey encasing your senses, making you cringe as his lips connect with yours, his tongue slithering into your mouth. You allow him his freedom, not daring to oppose as he parts and trails his lips down your neck to your collarbone, sucking and nipping at your skin and running his slimey tongue over the spots. A sickening feeling follows his hands as they creep under the hem of your dress and up your sides, “I’ll make sure you remember who you belong to,” he whispers and your heart drops.

—————————————

Okay, so my Series Masterlist part 2 link isn’t working because it is apparently retarded, so here is Part 2.

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

Tags:

@englishwriter15 @bucky-barnes-posts @stoptryingtofightit @chipilerendi @elvira212007 @lochnessie

#all we see #bucky #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x abused!reader #bucky x reader protective #james barnes #bucky x you fluff #bucky x reader fluff #fluffy bucky #protective bucky #avengers #abused reader #bucky x hurt!reader #hurt reader #scared reader #scared bucky

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hazelandglasz · 4 years

Text

Netflix And Chill

Inspired by this post, as requested by @lilyvandersteen

As a side note, I know literally nothing to how the netflix help service works, so let’s call of this artistic license ;)

On AO3

“Come on, come on, work this time …”

This is, officially, Kurt’s worst night ever.

And to think, he kept his expectations so low too: all Kurt wanted for this Monday night was to come home, reheat a soup he had in the freezer, and binge-watch The Good Place with a bowl of ice cream afterward.

Was that so much to ask?

Apparently, yes. Because his Netflix is not working.

It’s not a matter of unpaid bill, that’s certain. He already unplugged and replugged his provider’s box, so why doesn’t it work, for fuck’s sake?

Kurt doesn’t cry often, but this time, when the white screen with a big “ERROR” appears again, he feels like bawling like a baby.

Before going to that extremity, though, he has one more chance.

The Hotline.

Also known as the 8th level of Hell, by all users and customers worldwide, but he has no other option at this point.

So Kurt dials up and puts his phone on speaker.

Twenty-one minutes later, the waiting music stops and a perky male voice echoes in his living room.

“Thank you for your patience and welcome to the Netflix hotline. I’m Blaine, here to help you.”

“Oh!” Kurt didn’t expect someone with such a … positive attitude. “Hi. Hello. I’m--I’m Kurt.”

“Good evening, Kurt. Can you confirm your address and your subscription?”

Kurt gives him all the correct information.

“And before you ask me, I already tried turning it off and back on,” he adds just as Blaine seems to launch into his next question.

“Oh. Alright then. That already makes you my favorite customer of the evening.”

“You don’t say.”

“There is major network problem in your area right now, but we have found out a way to regulate that. But having to explain to some of our, err, older users how to use their remote …”

Kurt lets out a surprised laugh.

Blaine laughs too, a small but warm chuckle, before clearing his throat. “Right. Back to your issue. So, what you need to do is …”

What follows is almost half an hour of Blaine gently guiding Kurt through plugs and buttons, all while doing tests and manipulations on his own side of things.

And then, finally, miracle of miracles, the big, red N appears and lets him in the menu.

“Yeah!” Kurt exclaims, and Blaine sighs in relief. “You fixed it!”

“I’m glad it worked,” Blaine replies. “Maybe we can … try it out? To make sure the problem is gone for good?”

“Try it out?” Kurt repeats, a smile forming on his lips without him realizing it. Through the whole ordeal, Blaine has never lost his cool, being gentle and supportive and, yes, charming. “Like, watch a movie or something?”

“Or something.”

“That is very … thorough of you. Do you hang out with all your customers in need, Blaine?”

“Err. No. Only the ones who don’t insult me and my ancestors and laugh at my jokes.”

“I feel privileged.”

“You should.”

“Oh.”

“And, um, if we’re being honest, I need to tell you that you’re probably the most interesting person I’ve talked with all day.”

“Oh!”

“Now, um, what could we watch to test my repairing superpower?”

“What about ‘When Harry Meets Sally’?”

“Excellent taste, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt grins at his phone. “You flatterer.”

“Gets you everywhere.”

Kurt lets the movie load before starting it, snatching his snack box from under the couch.

“Are you munching on something?” Blaine asks as the credits roll at the beginning of the movie.

Kurt looks down at his lap. He has a bag of pretzels and a bag of M&M’s opened, and he mixes them.

“I am. Is my speaker that finely tuned?”

“It is. I’m jealous.”

“Don’t have snacks?”

Blaine snorts. “I have been forbidden from having snacks in my cubicle.”

Kurt openly laughs. “Is it that bad?”

“Oh, it is. I have a tendency of mixing snacks together and it bothers my colleagues.”

“Mixing?”

“Sweet and salty. The last straw was when I dipped potato chips in Nutella.”

“Oh but that sounds delicious!”

The movie goes by while they chat--except for some key scenes, where Kurt and Blaine can recite the lines in perfect synchronisation.

“Well, Kurt,” Blaine says when the movie is over, “it seems like everything works perfectly now.”

“So it seems.”

“Did you have another question for--”

“What will I do if it stops working unexpectedly?”

“--me, oh. Well. You can always call back. Either one of my colleagues or me will be delighted to help you.”

Kurt can feel his face turning red. “But what if I want to be sure you help me?”

“I--”

“Because you did it so well, and with such gentleness.”

Kurt would swear he can hear Blaine smiling, even though he doesn’t know what Blaine looks like. It doesn’t matter.

“That is very kind of you to say, Kurt. And if you could just say that when they send you the automatic email to check on your contentment level …”

“Of course.”

“But if, um, if you want to be sure to contact me to check on your Netflix, maybe I could …”

“Yes?”

“Give you my personal number?”

“Is that the usual protocol?”

Blaine doesn’t speak up, and Kurt has his answer.

Blaine sighs. “I’m sorry if I overstepped or misunderstood …”

“No!” Kurt exclaims. “No, no, you didn’t. I just--you surprised me.”

“Ah. So …?”

“So I would be honored to have your phone number, for my … peace of mind.”

“For your peace of mind.”

Blaine gives Kurt his number, and it is definitely a New York area code.

“Well, Kurt, if that is all,” Blaine says, his voice changing to his earlier “corporate voice”, “on behalf of Netflix, I thank you for choosing our services and I hope you’ll have a pleasant evening.”

“You too, Blaine,” Kurt says softly before hanging up.

Kurt looks around his empty apartment, looking for a witness, but the only other presence is the glow of his TV, where Harry and Sally look at each other.

“Was that a date?” he asks aloud, but alas, the characters stay quiet.

Where are Santana and Mercedes when he needs them?!

The interaction stays on Kurt’s mind for days. It wasn’t just Blaine’s niceness, but his humor, his comments, his laugh …

They’re occupying every single one of his thoughts, to Santana and Mercedes’ long suffering.

“Okay, Kurt, you know I love you,” Mercedes starts one evening where all he did was sighing when they turned Netflix on, “but enough is enough. Either call him and get a date, or go out and get yourself a man--”

“Or go out to a club and get litteraly fucked,” Santana calls from the kitchen where she is in charge tonight.

Mercedes glares in her direction. “No need to be crass, ‘Tana, but yeah, it is the gist of it. Either do something about your Netflix Boy or shut up about him.”

Kurt pouts at her, crossing his arms over his body pillow. “I haven’t talked about him that much.”

Both women give him a look of such condescension that all he can do is flee the room.

And dial the number.

(Turns out, Blaine was slowly driving his own roommate crazy with his description of the Customer Who Went Away.

Kurt apologizes by asking him for a coffee.

And then another.

And another.

Until he knows what Blaine is going to order simply by looking at him, and until Blaine knows Kurt’s coffee order down to the extra drop of caramel syrup.

And then they go to the movies.

And to the restaurant.

Until Blaine asks Kurt to come to his place for a Netflix date.

Where they don’t spend that much time actually looking at the Netflix menu and dedicate a lot of the date on the “chilling” part of the popular saying.)

#lilyvandersteen #sometimes i write #klaine au #netflix #help line #fluff #thank you for the prompt #and sorry for the time it took me to write it!

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teamhook · 4 years

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A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 21: Treacherous

Malcolm Peters decides to take a walk and get familiar with the little port town he now calls home. He wanders to the docks and he notices the beautiful view. During his trek in the distance, he notices the conversational exchange between two youngsters and two older men. The men he can surmise from the luggage are just arriving in town. The men seem to be satisfied with the conclusion of their chat and had departed leaving the boys behind.

The young boys resume their observation of a lone ship docked and are lost in an animated conversation. It is obvious that the ship is special to them. In all honesty, he can see the allure of it. The magnificent vessel stands tall on the water, rocking in a hypnotic motion, attempting to lure the boys and to prove that it warrants their undivided attention. He wonders if they will even acknowledge him if he approaches.

"Excuse me, young men, do you know who the owner is?" he asks as he points at the ship they are mesmerized with.

"That is Captain Killian Jones ship The Jolly Roger, the fastest ship on the sea. It has outrun all the military ships that have attempted to capture her," Felix volunteers the information in awe.

"Captain Jones, is that the same man that recently married?"

"Yes, the same. I wonder if he will get a new crew. Hey, Rufio, do you think he will finally let us join him?"

"No, he thinks we are still too young. That is what he keeps saying." The two share a wistful look.

Malcolm notices the disappointed looks on the youngsters faces.

"I believe you are both ready for a little responsibility. How about your parents? Do they feel the same as the Captain?"

Rufio is the one that answers. "We are both orphans and so is the Captain. He looks out for us as much as he can and lets us help him with the minor repairs on the ship but now that he married that fancy lady, we have no idea if he will have time for us or the Jolly."

Malcolm wonders if he is the same Killian mentioned in the document he read long ago. The name doesn't seem to be all too common. "Well, I was actually offered a very promising job at the Booth's Estate and might consider hiring a few hands. Would you two be interested?"

"Sir, the sea is what calls out to us."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I understand and perhaps you are wrong about the good Captain. I hope you understand he may no longer be able to spend time with you two. I know that the young lady he married comes from a fine family line."

The two young men look sad and lost at the confirmation of their worst thoughts. The lack of attention from the Captain will only lead them to trouble. Kids their age don't have many options and Captain Jones had always tried his best to lead them away from a life like his own.

"If you both would choose to come to work for me I guarantee I will never cast you aside. I don't have a wife or any children; you will never have to worry about my priorities. Think about it and once you decide you can find me at the Booth estate. Just ask for Mr. Peters."

Malcolm wants some allies he can mold in his likeness and there is no way he can miss with two orphans craving attention. He heads back to the estate, hoping Mrs. Booth has already taken care of any issues that may impede him from starting his new job.

Milah is lurking in the shadows of the Booth estate, sulking while everyone sleeps. She is still angry about the day's events. Her love married the only person she despises, actually one of the people she despises. The other is her husband's shrew of a mother. Her mind wonders for a while if Cora will die anytime soon. She has to, the woman is a hag. She cannot live forever, at least she hopes.

Her mind finally decides to resume her prior ponderings. She needs someone to help her with her plans. She is tired of everything working out in Emma's favor. She sees the silhouette of a man standing in the darkness of the office with the doors wide open.

"Hello?"

He turns and sees her. "Hello."

"You are the new steward my mother-in-law hired to replace my cousin's husband, Mr. Peters, is that correct?"

"I am. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, even at this late hour. Shouldn't you have retired for the night?"

"I don't think my husband or mother-in-law would like to know you were in their personal office alone. I won't tell if you will keep my insomnia secret. I hope I'm not disturbing you. If I may be completely honest with you, I have had many restless nights recently." She approaches him in an attempt to use her womanly wiles to gain him as an ally. At this point, she doesn't care who it is or what she has to do.

"What could possibly cause a beautiful young woman to lose sleep?"

"I would love to be completely honest without being judged? My cousin, Emma, married the man I love, to keep us apart. I know I'm married to August but I only married him to save my family. Everyone thinks she is perfect but they don't truly know the darkness in her heart."

"I'm sorry."

"I know I just met you but it is obvious you haven't yet been bewitched by her. She has everyone fooled. If only a miracle would happen and she would somehow be removed from the way. I know Killian still loves me and we could still find a way to be together, if not for her interference. I would be forever grateful if someone could make that a reality."

She is staring at the older man trying to read if he is willing to help her. She leans in towards him to see if she can persuade him. How far is she willing to go? Physically hurting her cousin should not be a consideration but she cannot help see the allure.

"I have an idea that may help. If she disappeared for a few days, it could help prove that the young captain's heart doesn't belong with his bride and that the pair should not be together. I imagine with the influence that the Booths have, anything is possible. I have a feeling my aunt and uncle would do anything to rid her of him."

"No one has to know of our involvement in her disappearance. If this works out I could help make you a very rich man. I would be indebted to you if you keep my relationship with Killian a secret."

Malcolm considers her proposal and he holds no loyalty to anyone, only to himself. "I accept your offer, my lady. However, I may be many things but I am not a killer. If you desire your cousin's death, you will have to do it yourself."

"I just need her out of the way long enough for Killian to realize the error of his ways. I know Killian, and if there is one thing he loves above anything, it's his ship, The Jolly Roger. The ship has been his true home for a very long time and he would never sacrifice it for anyone."

"We could give him a choice of his ship or his wife?"

"That sounds perfect."

"My lady, have you considered that he may pay the ransom."

"If that happens I would request for you to burn the ship to ash."

"If I was to do that I would lose my payment. I do endeavor to aid your quest but I will not lose my profit should things not work in your favor."

"I understand it would not be fair but I know it will not come to that. That union should have never happened and I will make sure it is wiped from existence as if it never was. Please believe me, Mr. Peters; I will have my happy ending at Killian's side."

"I have to confess madam, I enjoy your confidence."

"Thank you, now I will bid you goodnight, it seems our conversation has calmed my nerves and I should fall asleep without a problem. We will need to meet at a discreet time to finalize the plan."

"I will look forward to it."

The next morning Cora is upset, that damn letter has disappeared. She is frustrated and angry. This cannot be happening right now. Her son has returned home with his duplicitous wife. She will never trust Milah but for right now she needs to find that letter and destroy it.

"My dear Cora, what is troubling you?"

"Peters, if you must know, that letter you owe your employment to and like to hold over my head has disappeared."

"Am I to believe someone with your intellect kept the letter after all these years?"

"It would appear so. Apparently, I am not as astute as you imagined. To top it all off, my dear friend Snow saw it. She didn't read it but she was able to get the gist of it."

"What do you plan to do about it?"

"I think I was able to convince her of my version but there will always be the doubt. She recognizes the pirate's resemblance to my late husband. As long as that letter is out there I have to worry."

"How about we give her a scare?"

"What do you propose we do?"

"Her lovely daughter could disappear and during that time of turmoil perhaps her focus will shift and she will realize that her family is all she should concern herself with."

"This would be done only to scare her? I wouldn't want any harm to come to Emma. I'm quite fond of her but I cannot deny it is a good idea. I just wonder if it is possible. The pirate doesn't seem like the kind to let his bride out of sight for a long time."

"Do not worry, I will find a way. I actually have an acquaintance in the town a day from here and he will be of great assistance for the right incentive."

"A day from here, are you referring to the small town Golden Cove?"

"Are you familiar with the town?"

"I believe I passed through there with Brennan a time or two. It is small but quaint. I don't remember it being too prosperous."

"I learned that the hard way, along with many other people. That includes my friend. He was an upcoming doctor that unfortunately lost his medical license due to a feud with a colleague. He had it all and once he lost his practice, his wife Mary followed."

"I'm sorry, but how will a disgraced doctor help in the matter at hand?"

"I'm going to need something to put the young lady to sleep and I cannot go to the local doctor with the request."

"I imagine you will need to travel to obtain the drug required."

"I will take the fastest horse available and return promptly but I do require the monies to convince my old friend Dr. Hyde."

"I don't hold a lot of money within the walls of the house but I have some expensive jewelry that should suffice and get our point across."

"I will leave tomorrow morning then."

"I will give you the jewels tomorrow. Please try to hurry and not be gone long. I shall tell my son that I sent you on an errand to inquire about perhaps purchasing some lands in the neighboring towns."

"I don't plan on being gone that long, perhaps three days tops. One to go and one to return, the extra day will allow me to convince my old friend to obtain the drug. He should come around right away once he sees the jewels. The last I saw of him he was still seeing patients and should still be stocked."

"How can he still have patients? Do you believe there is a chance he will turn down the offer? This could complicate things for us. I just cannot think of an alternative plan. Let me reiterate we don't have time to make another plan. The sooner we set the plan in motion the better."

"Don't worry Cora he will not turn down the offer. Yes, he sees patients but these are people that cannot afford the services of a doctor under normal circumstances. He doesn't enjoy the clientele he once did. I will be making Hyde an offer he cannot walk away from. He needs this as much as we do."

"I hope you are right, I will be preparing the jewelry that you will offer in payment. Good day, Mr. Peters, and thank you for your assistance in the matter."

"I haven't done anything yet, my lady, but I look forward to exploring our newfound alliance."

He sees her walk away. He wonders if he has time to go to the docks and invite the orphaned boys he met before to go on the trip and perhaps convince them to help. Lady Jones seems to be pliant and he thinks she will not be any trouble. He doesn't mind keeping these women's secrets at all. The knowledge provides leverage for him, he would be a fool to turn away.

In his brief time in the house, even from afar he has noticed the coldness between the two; the young new bride and the matriarch of the house. The irony of their similarity is not lost on him. He muses that he would be gaining favor with the two with one simple action; the capture of Emma Jones. He will stand by his words to both, he will not hurt the young woman, only keep her away to appease his new allies. He has no doubt that in the future they can turn on him and then all will be revealed. A tryst before a wedding and a bastard son who will be extremely well respected and wealthy once his lineage is revealed. Somehow it all ends with the young Pirate Captain.

Malcolm Peters is not an honorable man by any means and surely once upon a time he did a good deed or two but now he needs to ensure his future. He will take his leave and obtain the chloroform needed to render the girl unconscious and with that, he will be closer to endearing himself to the ladies. Perhaps even get Cora to consider him as a real partner. He could show her that a union between the two would be rewarding.

Milah wakes from her slumber to find her husband getting dressed for the day. "August, after sleeping I have reconsidered some of my thoughts. I think you are right and my family does love me equally to Emma. I was hoping I could visit with my aunt and uncle since I didn't partake in the reunion."

"I would love to accompany you. I have yet to apologize to your uncle for the change in betrothal and now his daughter is married to a scoundrel."

"August, I thought you saw the good in your old friend? But now that he married Emma he is a scoundrel? I expected comments like that coming from your mother and my aunt, especially my uncle but you were his biggest supporter and now you retract your support."

"I just think there is more to the story. I hate to think he may have taken advantage of Emma in some way."

"Of course this has to be about Emma. It always leads to her somehow."

"Milah, this is not about her. I think you are the one that makes everything about her, you make it into a competition between the two of you."

"I don't want to argue anymore about this and I'm not the one that makes it into a competition between us, it is all of you. My uncle, aunt, your mother and now even you!" She desperately wants to add Killian to the list but has to hold her tongue. The slip would only lead to questions she cannot answer yet. Once Killian is hers again she will not care about consequences.

"Shall we ready ourselves for the visit?"

"Give me about 15 minutes and I will be ready to go." She would rather go alone but it appears that is not in cards for her. "Oh, I need to let Joanna know she finally will be going back home."

"That is fine, I should be ready by the time you are done."

She quickly finishes the final touches. "I will be right back, I'm heading to the servants quarters. Do you mind if Lucy stays behind? I'm sure my aunt would not object, after all, she allowed both of them to accompany us on our honeymoon."

"No, I don't mind, and I'm sure Enith doesn't want to have to take care of all of us. Imagine poor Enith, my mother is enough work for anyone."

She cannot help smile at the remark. Her mother-in-law is quite demanding. "I think you mean she is too much work for all of us."

"Milah!" She is sure he means it in a scolding way but she cannot help notice the silly grin on his face.

Soon Milah, August, and Joanna are in a carriage on their way to Nolan's house. The house is beautiful in its simplicity. Two-floored white stone, large windows in almost all the rooms downstairs and some large oak trees to provide shade. A part of her had missed her home; she had not enjoyed it growing up as much as Emma but it still was the closest thing to home to her. Her mother Jacqueline was never able to give her that.

August knocks on the door with Milah and Joanna flanking him.

David answers the door with a big grin on his face at the sight before him. He quickly grabs Milah into a hug and mutters some words to her about missing her and so on.

"Snow, it is Milah and August. Oh, and Joanna is here too."

"I will be there in a second."

"Uncle David, what is Aunt Snow doing up there?"

"She is removing blankets from the covered furniture and airing out the rooms."

Joanna looks at the group from the corner she is currently occupying waiting for her orders. Milah then turns to her and gives her instructions. "Joanna, be a dear and go with me to help my aunt. That will also allow the men to talk."

"Yes, Mrs. Booth." She curtsies and leads the way up the stairs. Milah follows right behind and then she disappears up the stairs.

"Mr. Nolan, I had asked Milah to give us a minute or two to converse. I fear it is my fault that Emma married Killian."

That comment makes David curious. "What do you mean?"

"I believe that once I called our engagement off and pursued Milah, she may have been too broken-hearted to deter advances from a man like Killian. I mean an experienced man with women. In her innocence, Emma may have misunderstood his attention for her."

"August, if I may be frank. I was never happy with the betrothal between you and Emma. I always wanted her husband to be her choice. I'm not happy with the current situation but I believe my daughter when she tells me that she is happy. That is all I wanted for her. Jones seems sincere in his feelings for my Emma. He and I had a similar talk and although I will keep an eye on him as I stated to him, I stand by my assessment. He seems sincere and only time will tell. Now about Milah, I will have to advise you the same I did to Jones, I will keep an eye on you; I hope I don't need to clarify any more than that."

August is dumbfounded at the threat made to his person. It makes sense for him to say that to Killian but to say them to him, an honorable man. He doesn't understand the need for the warning.

Meanwhile, upstairs Joanna drifts away to the other rooms to give the ladies time to talk.

"Aunt Snow, I can see how happy you are. You are practically glowing."

"I am very happy. David is back and I was able to mend some fences with Emma."

"Oh good, did you ever find out her new address?"

"Yes, Cora gave it to me but I may have stumbled onto something."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Killian is Brennan's son."

Milah looks confused as she hears the news. "What do you mean?"

"He looks so much like him, at first I didn't notice because I was so upset that Emma wanted to marry him, but the resemblance is striking. He looks more like Brennan than August does."

"Do you think Emma knows of this?"

"I'm not saying for sure but it is a high possibility that he is his son due to Cora's reaction to my comment. I sincerely doubt Emma knows about this, she has never mentioned it to me."

"The possibility is there Aunt Snow. My mother-in-law loves her and she may have shared the information with her. Do you think that is why she was so eager to marry him? If he is, in fact, a Booth that could still be beneficial to her."

"Milah, Emma has never cared for any of that."

"She never cared because it was supposed to be hers to begin with, but then August fell in love with me and that all changed."

"My daughter was about to become a nun and take vows of poverty. I know her well enough to say that she had no idea and Cora would never share that kind of information with her. Milah, it is only speculation on my part. I have no proof to support my theory. There is no need to repeat my words to anyone."

Milah looks at her aunt intently and nods in agreement. "I agree aunt, this is only a theory. I will not share it with anyone."

"Thank you, sweetheart, so how was the honeymoon?"

"It was a nice trip. We got to see so much of the country."

"Milah, I know you prefer big cities and I'm sorry I dragged you both back."

"We are family and you needed us at the time. It truly is no problem." Milah knows she would have been blindsided on her return if her aunt had kept quiet about the wedding.

"Here is the address for Emma. I wanted to send an invitation to her and her husband."

"I could deliver the message for you tomorrow. I also came across some clothes Emma could use along with her little chest, the one she loved in her earlier years."

"Oh Milah, that would be amazing! I know Emma didn't think she would have a use for it at the convent. I would greatly appreciate the assistance."

"It will be my pleasure." A thought occurs to her that this is her chance to plant the photo and have a talk with Killian. She will find a way to have a private chat with him. Milah's knuckles turn white as she clenches her fist at the mere thought of Killian's new title. She wonders if he suspected about the possibility he could be August's brother or if her own husband knew. No, he cannot know, seeing as he deems Killian unworthy of Emma. She can use the information she has gathered.

Snow and Milah continue with their tasks and eventually find their way downstairs to join the men. The men seem in an awkward silence throughout the rest of the day. Soon Milah and August say their good nights to finally go home. She is armed with a small trunk and information she can use.

The following day Milah wakes replenished and tells August she wants to go have a private talk with Emma and deliver her trunk and invitation.

"I wish you would allow me to come with you."

"I haven't had anyone on one time with my cousin since our return and besides I doubt that her husband will be home. What are you going to do while we talk?"

"I know you are right but I do want to apologize to Killian for my words. I upset him with my questions."

"I could extend an invitation of our own for them to join us for lunch."

"That sounds lovely, I will have the carriage ready for you."

The Jones home had found a routine the newlyweds loved. They would enjoy their mornings with some enjoyable activities and sometimes it went a little long. They would have to forgo breakfast and Killian would get ready to go to his office.

Today was not one of those days. The roles had reversed seeing as Emma was the one to leave early to obtain some things from the market. Food and other basic necessities were on her list.

The knock comes as a surprise to Killian. It cannot be his wife because she has her keys. Smee and Thomas know he will be in the office by midday. They know better than to interrupt him at home. He values his time with his wife and if his men value their life they will stay away from his home.

He opens the door. "You better have a damn good reason to be at my doorstep."

"Is that any way to treat family?"

"Milah, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I have a delivery for the lovely Mrs. Jones. Is she here?"

Killian scratches behind his ear, a habit of his. "She stepped out, I will fetch her things from the carriage and you can be on your way."

"You are falling short on your hospitality." Milah waves to the coachmen to bring the chest and luggage. "My aunt sends these things for Emma. She also wanted me to extend an invitation for lunch for the two of you."

Killian lifts an eyebrow in disbelief that this is the only reason for her visit.

"Killian, before I go I would like to ask you one question."

"If that is all it takes to get you to leave, ask away." He places Emma's things on a small table by the door.

"Before I forget, did Emma tell you that she married you because she thinks you are a Booth also?"

"Milah, what are you talking about?"

"It seems you share an uncanny resemblance to Brennan Booth."

"I knew him when I was a young boy and I don't see the resemb-" He remembers Thomas mentioned he reminded him of someone he once knew and surely he would have met Brennan Jones. There was no way he was his son. It could not be possible. Emma couldn't know or even suspect such a thing and not share it with him. This was a con from Milah.

"Oh my God Killian, you actually believe she fell in love with a dirty pirate? She has to know or at the very least suspect it and that is why she took a chance with you. You do know that Cora thinks very highly of Emma and she may have mentioned it to her. I just want you to realize I'm the one that truly loves you."

"You are lying, my Emma truly loves me. We love each other deeply. I admit part of the reason we bonded was that of the affair between you and I, and the impending revelation of it due to gossip may have started it, but the feelings are real. Nothing you say will ever make me doubt her or our marriage."

"Don't say I didn't try to warn you of my dear cousin's duplicity. See you soon; you will come back begging me to forgive you."

Milah looks at him one more time and walks out of the house. She hopes that the plan she has created with Peters will be set into motion soon.

Killian closes the door after Milah leaves and in his frustration knocks the little table over. The little chest tips open and then he sees an old photo. He kneels to pick it up; perhaps it is a photo of his love in her childhood. He stops once he notices the face looking back at him is not that of his wife but of a younger August Booth, he slowly picks it up and cannot take his eyes off it and he flips it around to read "My Only One True Love." Why would she still have this photo? He starts pacing and he can feel the anger rise within.

The door opens to an unsuspecting smiling Emma. The smile quickly fades as she takes his demeanor in. "You look like a caged animal."

"Do you care to explain this to me?" he asks as he flips the photo in her direction.

She picks it up and once she realizes what it is, she understands. "How did you get this photo?"

"That is not an answer Emma."

"I know and I will answer once I find out how you got it."

"Milah stopped by with all those things from your mother's house." He pointed in the direction of some things she recognizes from her old home.

"Milah dropped these things by? That was not enough to make you wonder about her motives?"

"Emma." He looks angry, clenched jaw and his eyes seem darker somehow.

"Sorry, that is an old photo. Cora used to give me photos of August during my engagement. Look at the photo, it is clearly old. I must have left it behind when I first left for the convent. I never went back to my old house. That is why I never got rid of it. How could I?"

"That is the only reason?"

"Killian, I love you and only you. I have to admit that I truly never loved August. I didn't know him. I still don't know him."

"Is August my brother?"

"What do you mean?"

"She also said that you know that I'm also Brennan Booth's son. She claimed that is the only reason you wanted to marry me."

"How would I know if you are his son? Killian, that makes no sense."

"Maybe Cora shared that information with you, I have no clue."

"If this is true, Cora would never share it with me or anyone else. Killian, I love you because you are a good man. You treat me like no other. You don't see me as weak because I'm a woman. You respect me and I know I will never love another man because you are truly a pirate and you stole my heart."

"I'm sorry my love, the photo really upset me."

"I know. Do me a favor and throw it away or burn it for all I care."

He laughs at her request. "Are you sure that is what you want?"

"Hand it over." She waits for him to give her the photo.

"I, Emma Jones, love and honor my husband Killian Jones above any other." She rips the photo into small pieces as she recites her vows to her husband. "I know at the time we exchanged vows we were not honest with each other but I hope now you accept them as true."

He rushes to her and hugs her tightly. He whispers his vows in her ear. She giggles and melts into his embrace. Milah's words are long forgotten.

Milah eventually has a moment for a quick word with Malcolm. He tells her he will leave to obtain an object for their venture. She quickly understands his meaning and wishes him good luck. Finally, Malcolm finds his way in the direction of Golden Cove.

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#Captain Swan #teamhook SavageHeart #CS Mafia #cs ff #CS Crew

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 55

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Things have been out of whack in the real world for a bit, so I know I’ve gotten behind on things like updating the Master List for this story, and especially behind on posting it to Wattpad. My goal for this week is to have all that sorted out by Friday, so keep your eyes open.

Parts of this chapter were inspired by a conversation I had with @baelpenrose. It’s always surprising what things in my life inspire parts of this story, especially the people.

Content warning: Someone yelling and throwing things. It’s a temper tantrum, and no one gets hurt, but just in case, I wanted to give a head’s up.

”Damn it all to HELL!”

I stopped in the middle of what I was telling my sister as we both whipped our heads toward the shout, which was quickly followed by a crash. We glanced back at each other, her wide-eyed expression a mirror of what I imagined my own face looked like.

That shout came from my quarters, with a suspiciously heavy Irish accent.

We dashed to my door, stopping to peer around the corner as slowly as possible. I wasn’t sure about Tyche, but I had seen Conor angry before. It was rare, and it took a lot, but when it happened, it happened in a big way. This time, even I was surprised by the sheer magnitude; as we watched, he shouted and threw things, subconsciously careful to avoid hitting any terrariums or people. Even so, Zach Khan was dodging to hide behind whatever piece of furniture he could impose between himself and my enraged partner.

Taking a deep breath, I stood tall and squared my shoulders, gently pushing down my sister’s arm when she tried to stop me from confronting Conor. Firmly, I knocked on the threshold of the wide-open entrance before striding in with more confidence than I currently felt. “You could at least close the door,” I suggested airily, trying to get his attention.

As I hoped, he whirled around to face me, disheveled hair falling in his face. “Sophie,” he started trying to explain. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“Hello to you, too, sweetie,” I smiled before stretching on my tiptoes as he automatically leaned down to let me kiss his cheek. “I waited until you were on the other side of the room, facing away. But that doesn’t explain why you’re currently scaring Zach and Tyche.”

All anger gone at this point, he stepped around me and toward my sister. He crouched and softened his voice like he was coaxing a scared kitten, which I reminded myself firmly not to laugh at. “Oh gods, Tych, love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t hit you with anything, did I?” He whirled to face me, all color drained from his face. “Please tell me I didn’t hit you with anything?” he begged, hitting his knees.

“Zach, you can come out now. It’s over,” I called softly to the sofa, before walking over, wrapping my arms around Conor, and assure him I was fine. Really, all he had done was make a mess. “Maybe take up boxing,” I suggested softly, brushing his hair back out of his face. “It’s a much healthier outlet for your frustration.”

Tyche came in the room, tentatively at first, then more confident when she saw Conor’s face buried in my stomach. She started to pick up debris from the floor, but was interrupted. “Put it down, woman,” the muffled admonishment came from my abdomen. “I made the mess, my job to clean it up. That’s the rule.”

She sputtered in exasperation. “Then what can I do!? This place is a mess, and my anxiety says to clean or do something to fix it,” she scolded at my back.

“How about some coffee,” I suggested with a chuckle, patting Conor on the shoulder in indication that he should get started with cleanup.

Once everyone got settled – including Zach with a cocoa, seeing as he was practically vibrating with anxiety – and Conor went about restoring order to our living space and apologizing to the plants, I asked, “Are you going to blow up again if I ask what you were so angry about?”

Conor dropped his hands to his side and tilted his head back to face the ceiling. “No, I won’t. And it was Huynh.”

Tyche growled ferociously before elbowing me. Oh.

That was me growling, not her.

He continued blithely. “The diving platforms are showing signs of rust damage.” Frustration was showing in his tone, but not anger. So far, so good. “Since I was head of the project, he is coming down on me hard. Trying to say I cut corners, didn’t coat everything properly, used the wrong materials, basically just bollocked the whole thing.”

“But you were the one who ordered one of the platforms taken out entirely because it was too close to the line for spec…”

“Hey,” he pointed at me firmly. “That thing would have been clearly out of spec if the temperature varied more than about twenty degrees.”

“It’s climate controlled, and that’s my point. You literally went with ‘better safe than sorry’ the entire time, and he got mad at you for wasting materials to meet the guidelines.”

“That’s my point!” he cried in frustration, flinging his arms wide and falling to his back with a thud that made me wince. “And now, he’s reversed course and accusing me of shoddy workmanship. I can’t win! Even though Mav signed off that everything was dead level, on the nose within tolerance.”

“Wait,” Zach interjected, wrinkling his nose. “Why would Maverick sign off on that? He’s a pilot. That doesn’t make sense.”

Tyche snickered. “He’s a pilot when we need a pilot. Which is nearly never, so he’s more like an insurance policy there – better to have and not need than need and not have. No, he’s quality control for any equipment in the research labs.”

“That’s just… what? Not tracking.” Poor Zach looked like he was getting a headache. I dropped another marshmallow in his cocoa, and he looked like I had answered his prayers. Ah, yes. Marshmallow makes sense in this crazy world.

“He has an insane eye for detail and is a completely arse about precision,” Conor’s tone was so fond it barely escaped being considered cooing. He shook his head and glowered at the boot wedged under a piece of furniture. “Huynh is calling that nepotism, by the way.”

“But he’s even worse here!” I cried. Tyche nodded vigorously, having been subjected to a two-hour rant when she put away a fork the wrong way. Not in the wrong drawer, the wrong direction.

Maverick was permanently in charge of setting the table for every meal. It was the only way to avoid killing him outright.

“Okay…” Zach trailed off, pinching his nose and vigorously wiggling his mug to beg for more chocolate salvation. “But the platforms are still rusting?”

“All three,” Conor confirmed. “They’ve warped badly enough that we had to declare them unsafe until we can figure out the issue.”

“Wait. They rusted that badly in four months?” Tyche looked so confused it made my face hurt in sympathy. “How is that even possible? Even if you didn’t take any measures to prevent rust, it shouldn’t be that advanced.”

“Grey is trying to figure that out. It’s also why Mav is stuck at work and not here for dinner.”

As much as I wanted to laugh at the – very manly – pout I was witnessing, I was also frustrated by the interruption in our routine. Shaking my head, I tried to steer the conversation away from our errant pilot. “Is there a possibility that one of the lab’s experiments could have caused the issues?”

Conor shook his head before surveying the area for any more storm damage. “If that was the case, it would be so corrosive everything in the habitat would have died, and all the swimmers would be burned. We would have known almost instantly.” He raked a hand through his hair, turning to face us. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s Grey.”

“What I don’t understand,” Tyche ventured, “is that the materials were fabricated here on the Ark, right? The facilities are obviously more advanced than anything we could have managed before.” She waved her hand at the ceiling for emphasis. “So, how could there be any flaws in the materials themselves?”

“The program still has to be written,” Zach groaned as he leaned forward. “You’re right about the system being more advanced, but that also means it’s incredibly finicky and precise. One character out of place, and everything used could be worthless. And before you ask,” he held up both hands defensively, “I personally checked the programming against what it should have been, and there are exactly zero errors. It’s literally the cleanest bit of programming I’ve ever seen.”

Conor nodded, heading to the kitchen for his own coffee. “And before anyone asks, we’ve had the calculations checked over by six different people, plus our mate Noah. Calculations are accurate, they were programmed in accurately, and Grey’s people have tested to make sure the output is accurate. Mav has already measured the samples with everything he could get his hands on, and they all show the amount of precision you would expect from an advanced civilization. No fault to be found in the materials, whatsoever, which is where I come in.”

“Ugh. Huynh needs someone to blame, and since the materials are as perfect as you could ever dream of, he’s putting the fault in the construction?” I may have had my moments of grudging respect, but I never quite managed to like the bastard. Here he was, proving me right.

“Which puts me on furlough until they figure out what the cause is, yeah.” He huffed explosively and flopped down into the seat my sister vacated for him. “At least I can still work in the hydroponics lab.”

“No offense to you, Zach, but have you considered having Derek cross check the program?”

“None taken, and yes,” he sighed. “But he’s been holed up in his quarters for two weeks now, won’t talk to anyone. I sent him several requests, but never got a response.”

Alarmed, I started to say something, but Tyche cut me off. “I already checked with Noah, and Derek’s okay. Not sleeping well, but otherwise his physical health is fine.”

I stood anyway, frowning. “That’s good to hear, and I know he goes through periods where he can’t be around people, but two weeks? It’s not like him.” Snatching up my purple fuzzy blanket, I headed to the door. “Mac in your quarters?”

“Yeah, but Soph – “

“Nope. I’m taking him the blanket and the cat. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk, but at least this way I can see him with my own eyes. I won’t be long, I promise. Zach, feel free to stay for dinner. We’re doing pizza tonight.” With that, I took off, focused on my mission.

It only took me about fifteen minutes to collect my furry co-conspirator and make it to Derek’s quarters. “Hey,” I called softly, praying he still had the outer microphone on. “I heard you’ve been taking some alone time, so I thought I would bring you the blanket and your buddy. No clue how you managed two weeks without him, but Mac misses you – “

The door slid open, revealing a piled of blankets with a surly, squinting face poking out. The door is keyed to let him in, Derek said impatiently before stepping aside to let me in.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the blanket monster stomped past and dropped on the bed. I was relieved that nothing about the room immediately screamed for help. Low lights, white noise in the background, and about as tidy as I could expect from a seventeen-year-old. Two arms thrust themselves from the heap of fabric on the bed, hands grasping in a gesture that needed no working knowledge of sign language to understand. Obediently, I handed over the soft purple offering in my hands. Meanwhile, Mac dropped gracefully next to Derek with a demanding yowl.

“He likes to be invited,” I explained gently. It was taking every ounce of willpower – and some I was pretty sure I didn’t possess – to keep myself from interrogating him on the length of his isolation. Instead, I watched him rub my blanket against his face with one hand while the other tugged the large black cat onto his lap and started stroking it. Despite token resistance, Mac quickly settled in for what was likely long-overdue and well-deserved attention.

I waited a few seconds, in case Derek wanted to talk, then cleared my throat. “Well… let me know if you need me to bring you anything else, okay? And remember, cheese will make Mac sick, no matter how much he likes it.” Quietly, I left with clenched teeth and eyes burning from tears I refused to shed. I was trying to break my habit of smothering people, but it was hard. Logically, I knew Derek could take care of himself – superficially, he had been doing fine. But the fact that every blanket he seemed to own was layered over him, even just to answer the door? He needed comfort, clearly. Being incredibly touch-averse, I had to restrain my urge to hug him and let Mac and the blankets do the work.

Halfway back to my quarters, my databand chirped. With a flick, I displayed the screen to see a message from him. “Not sleeping well. Nightmares. They make me jumpy. Mac will help.”

The corner of my mouth quirked up, despite my heart wanting to break. “He’s good for that,” I replied. “He eats nightmares, I think.”

“I’m not a child, I don’t need silly stories.”

I scoffed. “I know that. I’m being serious. I never have nightmares when he’s around, and he always makes that face like he just ate when I wake up. Either he’s figured out how to work a console or he eats bad dreams.”

“I’ll lock down my console and let you know.”

With a deep breath, I told myself Derek would be okay and strolled back into my quarters. Zach, Tyche, and Conor were in the kitchen, laughing and working on getting the pizza dough going. It panged my heart not to see Maverick, but a part of me hoped that he would still manage to make it home in time to eat with us.

I’ll make an anchovy pizza, just in case, I told myself.

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#the miys #humans are weird #relationships #science fiction #original writing #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #apocalypse #scifi #sci fi #original sci fi

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notarelationship · 5 years

Text

In A Minute - Ch 3

Klaine Fic - In A Minute

Summary: AU. Kurt’s a bit clumsy, and Blaine needs a boyfriend in a hurry. What more do you want? Words: ~2900 Chapters: 3/? Warnings: none

AO3: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

Sorry about the extended delay, I needed to rewrite the whole chapter when it didn’t really go where I wanted it to.

Thanks to @honeysucklepink for the beta! I claim all errors as my own.

Santana had been laughing for six straight minutes. Well she did take a break at about the three minute mark to catch her breath, but still. Kurt was actually starting to worry.

“I’m sorry *wheeze* you pretended to be someone’s boyfriend?” She doubled over with a snort, gripping the side of the dishwashing sink to keep from falling over.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “He seemed perfectly nice! You said they were regulars! I figured he was all right,” he defended himself. And honestly Kurt never once felt like Blaine was doing anything that he should consider a red flag for weirdness.

“Hummel,” Santana said, once she’d caught her breath. “I am friendly to all the customers - that’s how you get tips.” She snorted again, covering her mouth with one hand. “But you went on a date with him.”

“I did not go on a date with him,” Kurt said, adding air quotes when he said ‘date’. Blaine used air quotes - Kurt shook the thought from his head before explaining himself, again. “I felt bad, I spilled water all over his lap!”

“Okay, yes you did do that. But the remedy for spilling on a customer is to comp them a slice of cheesecake, not meet the parents and get them excited about grandchildren.”

“There was no discussion of grandchildren Santana,” Kurt volleyed. “And I offered him pie. He said he’d take me up on it later.”

“Honestly Kurt, that little fella is probably harmless, but don’t make a habit of it. If he asks you to put the lotion on its skin next time you go out text me and I’ll call the cops. Just leave your lojack on.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. This was a one time thing. Dinner with the parents - that’s it.” Blaine had made it clear he didn’t want to extend the whole boyfriend charade to his extended family, which totally made sense. What kind of person would invite a stranger with him to spend an entire weekend trying to convince their family that they were in a relationship. It was too crazy to even consider. But, for good measure and because he didn’t want Santana to think he was without a sense of humor, he added, “Besides, my skin is perfectly moisturized at all times.”

The diner had a lot of regulars, people who came in every day for coffee, or every other day for lunch or a slice of pie (which was in fact better than the cheesecake, much to Kurt’s personal disappointment).

Kurt had no idea what category of regular Blaine fell into. Did he only come in after sports, like the first time Kurt had waited on him? Maybe he was just an occasional regular - often enough that they knew him and his friends, but without any set time to come in. Kurt considered asking Santana how often Blaine came in, but three hours into their shift together she was still laughing every time she looked at him, so he opted not to pull that string.

It was fine, Kurt told himself. It’s not like they were friends. Blaine had asked him for a favor, and Kurt had been able to help him out. He would come back to the diner whenever, and Kurt had enough long shifts coming up that he wasn’t going to have a lot of time to worry about it anyway.

Halfway through Kurt’s third straight fifteen hour shift in as many days, Blaine came into the diner and sat at the counter, alone. Kurt tried very hard to act normal as he pulled a menu from the rack and set it down in front of Blaine.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kurt teased. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Santana’s head jerk up and look in his direction, but he ignored her.

“Hi Kurt,” Blaine said, a nervous smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Um, how’s the cheesecake?”

“Terrible, actually.”

Four nights ago, sitting with Blaine’s parents and pretending to be his boyfriend, Kurt hadn’t been nervous at all. But now, with Blaine sitting in front of him, Charming Kurt had taken a hike, and Awkward Kurt had moved in.

“So how are your parents?’ Kurt blurted out. Might as well lean into it.

Blaine’s eyes widened for a second and he cleared his throat. “Fine. Great actually. Asked about you.” Blaine chuckled the sweetest laugh Kurt had ever heard.

“Wondering if I’m heartbroken after our big breakup?” Kurt cringed on the inside.

“Kurt -” Blaine started to say something, but was interrupted by Denny yelling across the restaurant.

“Hummel! Tables!”

“Oh god - I’m sorry Blaine we’re just really short this shift. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right back.” And then, because it was entirely possible Blaine was there to eat and not visit Kurt, Kurt added, “Did you want to order something while I take care of some customers?”

Blaine nodded. “Cherry pie? And a coffee.”

“You got it,” Kurt said, as he went to cut his slice of pie and pour the coffee. He left Blaine with what he hoped was a casual smile and went to take care of the waiting tables.

Between taking orders, bringing orders out, and helping the busboys clear some of the busier sections, it was thirty minutes before Kurt could make his way back to the counter to talk to Blaine. When he finally did, Santana was standing in front of Blaine, chatting. She stopped when Kurt approached.

“So, Santana, don’t you have some tables to see to?” Kurt suggested pointedly.

Santana looked at Kurt, her eyes narrowed, and took about ten seconds too long to answer. “Yeah I guess,” she finally said before walking away.

“I hope she wasn’t too terrible,” Kurt said when she was out of earshot.

Blaine paused and scooped the last bite of pie onto his fork, but didn’t eat it. “Well, she did ask me if I was a serial killer, and let me know that if anything happened to you that she would not hesitate to poison my waffles the next time I came in.”

“She - what - she - oh my god -” Kurt was still sputtering when Blaine grinned.

“I guess you told her about dinner?” Blaine asked. Kurt half shrugged a yes, and Blaine nodded. “Cool, I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’s going to hang out with my parents any time soon.”

Kurt laughed. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t bring them here.” Kurt risked a glance in Santana’s direction. “Ever.”

“That is not going to be a problem,” Blaine answered with a laugh. “Can you imagine my mother in here?”

Kurt stood awkwardly, waiting as Blaine finished his pie. “Can I get you anything else?” He was the waiter, after all. “More coffee?”

Blaine shook his head. “I actually came here because I wanted to ask you a question.”

“You want me to meet your grandparents?” Kurt joked, but Blaine just kind of winced. “I was kidding. Do you really want me to meet your grandparents?”

“Well -” Blaine sucked in a lungful of air, his mouth set in a line. “I was kind of hoping you might reconsider coming to the wedding with me?”

Kurt blinked several times in rapid succession. He had really been hoping that Blaine would come back into the diner, and over the course of a couple of weeks Kurt would work up the nerve to ask him on a real date, rather than a pretend one. But here Blaine was, asking if Kurt wanted to carry on being his pretend boyfriend.

“I’ll pay for everything - well, for the train ticket and any extra expenses. My parents are covering the hotel. The wedding is at a working vineyard in Connecticut.” Then he added, “I think they have a spa?”

“You know you can get an escort for this sort of thing, I know a few guys,” Santana said as she walked behind the counter to use the soda fountain. She walked away before either of them could answer. When Kurt looked back at Blaine his face was flushed pink.

“I’m sorry about her, she’s -”

“I promise Kurt, it’s nothing like that. I -” Blaine paused and pulled out his phone. “I told my parents I wasn’t sure you could make it, which seemed fine, but then somehow Sebastian got my phone number - honestly I suspect it was my mother - and he’s been sending me really - suggestive - texts.” Blaine unlocked his phone and Kurt leaned over to look at the screen.

The texts were a little raunchy, but no worse than Kurt had seen on dating apps. One of the texts was even a shirtless photo of a fairly attractive guy.

“He’s kinda hot, are you sure you want me tagging along?”

Blaine made a disgusted noise. “Yes - I definitely am not interested. And I know I could probably just tell him no, emphatically and very likely over and over again for the entire weekend, but I honestly don’t want to cause a scene.” Blaine sighed, and Kurt could tell that he was struggling. “I understand if you don’t want to, if this is just too weird, but if honestly just seemed like it would be easier than telling everyone the truth, at least for now.”

“Nah, I get it.”

“So? Will you?”

Kurt bit his lip, it could be fun, and Blaine was a nice guy, or at least he seemed like one so far. “When is it?” Kurt thought it was coming up soon.

“It’s next weekend. I’m really sorry it’s such short notice.”

“It’s fine. Let me see if I can get Santana or one of the other girls to take my shifts.”

Blaine looked relieved, bouncing on his stool. “Oh my god, thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kurt said. “I’m going to use the hell out of that spa.”

Ten days later Kurt was on a 6:25 train out of Grand Central Station headed to Eastern Connecticut.

Kurt had ended up working a series of double shifts in order to get enough time off for the weekend, although Santana seemed grateful for the swap. Aside from her commercial auditions, there were a half dozen open casting calls during the week she had wanted to get to.

He and Blaine hadn’t seen each other, or even talked really, in between when Blaine asked Kurt to reprise his fake-boyfriend role and when they met up at the train station. They had texted a few times; mostly to confirm the dress requirements (“you won’t need a tux. I’m sure whatever you select will be perfect” - Kurt had preened a little in private at that), and the schedule for the weekend.

Friday night they were expected to make an appearance at a post rehearsal dinner cocktail party, and the wedding was Saturday at five with an elaborate reception to follow. All the rest of the time was Kurt’s, and Blaine had promised he would get Kurt on a train by noon Sunday so he would have time to catch up on some homework. Kurt would definitely have time to take advantage of the hotel spa.

But at 6:25 on Friday morning, all Kurt wanted to do was sleep.

Blaine was waiting for him on the platform, and Kurt was a little surprised to see him in a bow tie at that hour. At dinner with his parents Blaine had also worn a bow tie, and while it suited him, Kurt had assumed it was simply chosen for the special occasion. But here he was at an ungodly hour of the morning, wearing a bow tie with what looked like an expensive polo shirt. Kurt couldn’t quite tell, as Blaine was also wearing the most adorable shawl collared navy cardigan.

“Thom Browne?” he asked. When Blaine just looked confused, he continued. “Your sweater. It looks like it’s from his Brooks Brother’s line.” Now that he was closer he could also see that the bow tie had tiny ducks embroidered on it.

“Oh,” Blaine touched his sweater self consciously. “Yes, my, um, grandmother gave it to me for Christmas a few years ago.”

Kurt hmmed approval. “It looks great. Never lose it.”

Blaine laughed. “Okay.”

The train wasn’t exactly crowded, but there were enough passengers scattered throughout that they wound up walking through several cars before they found two acceptable seats together.

“Do you mind if I nap on the way?” Kurt asked once they were settled in their seats. “I’ve done three double shifts this week and I feel like death.”

“Oh, no, of course. Go ahead,” Blaine answered with a polite nod. “We have to transfer in New Haven, I think.”

“No problem. Just give me a little shove when we get close.” Kurt put in his ear buds and leaned back against the seat, wondering what on earth this weekend would have in store.

Two hours later the conductor was rousting both of them awake, and Kurt was only slightly embarrassed to find that in his sleep he seemed to have nestled right onto Blaine’s shoulder.

“Time to wake up boys, this is your stop.” The conductor was gruff but bored, and didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that two boys had fallen asleep on each other on his train. He’d probably seen a lot worse.

“What! Oh god,” Blaine jerked awake from where his own head had been resting on the top of Kurt’s. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep too.” Blaine’s face was beet red.

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, wiping a small amount of drool from the corner of his mouth, hoping Blaine didn’t notice. “I think I used you as a pillow when I was sleeping. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Blaine stood quickly and pulled their bags down from the overhead rack, as Kurt sat up and gathered loose items from their seat area. He gave Kurt a tired looking smile. “Let’s go. There is supposed to be a shuttle to the hotel.”

It turned out the shuttle stopped at a few local spots before their hotel, so by the time they arrived it was almost noon.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Blaine said as the stepped up to the front desk. “I should let my parents know I’m here, but do you want to get some lunch?”

“I am at your service, but I could eat a side of beef at the moment.”

“You are definitely not at my service, Kurt,” Blaine protested. “I appreciate your doing this for me so, so much, but outside of the wedding obligations, you should enjoy the amenities. It looks like a great place,” he finished, looking around the lobby.

Kurt tried not to watch Blaine as he checked in to their room, but whether he was just too tired to exercise restraint, or he simply didn’t want to, he wasn’t entirely sure. Blaine was sweet and handsome, and it was going to take Kurt a lot of self-control to not do something very, very stupid. Maybe a shower and a meal and a nap - possibly in that order, would help.

Once Blaine had gathered the room keys and other information about the hotel, Kurt followed him to their room. It turned out that the hotel had been converted from the original living quarters of the first owner, and had a lot of restored details from that time period, whatever it was. As they walked through the half modern lobby to the elevators, Kurt couldn’t help thinking that the entire place looked like Netherfield. It wasn’t going to do him any good to think of Blaine as his very own Mr. Darcy.

“Here we are,” Blaine said, stopping to match the number on his key to the number on the door. “219.”

The key was an actual key, and not an electronic card, which Kurt found classically appealing. The room was not especially large, which made some sense, as they would have had to work with the existing architecture, but it was beautifully furnished, with an oversized armchair, a small writing desk, a wardrobe for their clothes, and an absolutely stunning four poster king-sized bed.

“There were supposed to be two beds,” Blaine said, his voice strained.

“Huh?” Kurt turned from admiring how well appointed the room was to see Blaine staring at the bed, appearing slightly panicked.

“The bed. There were supposed to be two. I specifically called and made sure we could have two beds.” Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. “I remember because they said the only doubles they had were full sized beds, because the rooms didn’t fit two queens.” Kurt snorted a laugh, but Blaine didn’t seem to get the joke, so he let it go. “I’ll call the front desk. They can fix this.” He moved quickly to the room phone, but Kurt stopped him and hung up the phone.

“Blaine, it’s fine. It’s only two nights.” Blaine just made a pained noise. “It’s a huge bed. And - don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not going to take up a lot of room.” Blaine continued to frown, but he seemed a bit calmer.

“Still,” Blaine said, stretching his neck like he was working out a kink. “I think I’ll call and see if they can change it.”

“Up to you,” Kurt said. He went into the bathroom to give Blaine a moment.

He needed a moment too, if he was going to face sleeping in the same bed with Blaine for two nights.

#in a minute #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic

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maskedblackfox · 5 years

Text

Title: Remember Me (Unfinished)

Pairing:TogaFuka

Series: Dangan Ronpa (Main AU)

Characters:Toko Fukawa, Byakuya Togami, Mikan Tsumiki,

Warning:This is based on an AU, The aftermath of a car crash appears briefly, my togafuka fankids are present.

Author’s note: Part of this was prompted by one of my friends(Who doesn’t have a tumblr), the rest was from a dream.

Should i finish this? You guys let me know.

Summary: After a terrible accident renders Fukawa almost dead, it’s up to Togami to try to help her remember who she truly is.

(Note, if there are any grammatical errors, I’m sorry)

(I also don’t really know much about how Japanese hospitals work, and i apologize for that.)

{May 21st, 11:30 pm}

Toko wasn’t home yet. She had driven over to visit Asahina for the day, and she said she’d be home by now. He was worried.

His phone vibrated. He checked to see who messaged him, to his relief, it was Toko,who had sent him a text.

{F: Heading home now. Sorry I’m late, Asahina wanted me to stay for a movie.}

{T: Don’t worry. I’ll be here for when you get back. Drive safe.}

{F: I will. ❤}

He set the phone down, She’ll be back in an hour or so. He’d be willing to stay up that late. No matter how long it could take.

{12:23 am}

His phone rang.

It was Toko’s number, she was on the road, why was she calling now?

He answered, to her frantic voice on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Yes! My car’s gone off the highway!”

“What?!”

“B-Byakuya?”

“Yes?”

“I-I’m sorry! I thought I called 911.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not exactly sure! My car is off the road in the trees!”

“Are you in the car?”

“N-no, I got out. I’m sitting next to it.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I feel like i’m dying, and I think I’m bleeding.”

“Where?”

“Um, everywhere I think.”

“Stay where you are! I’ll be right there!”

“You’re not allowed in that lane.”

“I don’t give a shit, I’m going to get you!”

“O-ok...”

*Click

{12:28 am}

Byakuya’s heart raced, he could barely breathe as he drove in the wrong way lane, his eyes scanning the ditch to his right, just trying to find her. He just hoped his he wouldn’t hyperventilate and pass out while driving.He could at least tell it has rained earlier, and had stopped recently. “Focus Byakuya, Focus! You’ve gotta find her!” as if his yelling would make his eyes work better.

Wait a second....

Suddenly he saw flashing lights of an ambulance as a totaled truck came into view. This was the site, but that wasn’t her car. He slowed as he scanned the scene, a person was being helped out of their battered vehicle, fortunately, they could still walk a bit. As he drove a bit farther he saw something or someone laying near the side of the road about a meter from the site, who appeared to stay unnoticed by the rest of the scene.

It was her.

He pulled over, and got out. His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough to her. She was badly bleeding from her forehead, she was shaking, from the cold, shock or bloodloss, he couldn’t tell. “Toko!” He held her, trying to escort her to his car.

“Byakuya?” her response was a murmur.

“Yes. Yes, I’m here. We’re going to the hospital.”

“I can’t see..”

He noticed that the blood from her forehead had poured down into her eyes. She could barely keep herself up, she was fading.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’ve got you.” He tried to sound as calm as he could, despite feeling like his heart was in his throat, choking him.

He opened the passenger car door, and helped her in, and buckle the seatbelt.

“Wait. My bag. I dropped it..”

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

With that, he closed the door, and quickly found her red bag, that contained her things. He hastily picked it up and got back into his car, turned it around and drove.

“Byakuya?” she was very quiet now.

“Yes?”

“Am I going to die?”

His panic increased.

“I’m not sure, if I get you there fast enough, you won’t.”

“What if you’re too late?”

“Now’s not the time to think about it.”

“What about the kids? What will you tell them if I die?”

“I-I don’t know, I’ll figure that out if you do die.”

“Byakuya?”

“What?!”

“Why was I on the side of the road?”

What a strange question.

“Your car crashed, I’m not sure how.”

“Why was I driving?”

Why was she asking this?

“Because you were leaving Asahina’s house.”

There was a brief pause, before she spoke up again.

“Who?”

What?

“Asahina, one of your friends.”

“Oh. I have friends?”

Maybe it was the bloodloss that was making her act like this.

“Yes, you have a few of them.”

“Huh.”

There was another pause, as she reached out blindly, and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Bya..kuya?”

“Yes Toko?”

“Am I going to be ok?”

He let out a deep sigh.

“I hope so.”

“Ok. I hope so too.”

The rest of the drive was mostly quiet between the two, with Toko’s laboured breathing as the only sign she was still alive. The car smelled of blood, from her wounds, her hand had now slid off of his shoulder and onto the brake, limp.

They finally reached the hospital. The doctors took her in, examined her, and proceeded to take her to an operating room for surgery, due to her split forehead, and internal bleeding. Byakuya couldn’t seem to bring himself to stay, but he gave in to the doctor’s request. God he wanted to scream, he wanted to get angry, he wanted something to distract him from the overwhelming anxiety that choked him so badly.

He sat in the waiting room, fidgeting his hands, he was terrified. What if she died during the surgery? What if she did, but was never the same? His mind raced into a blur, and everything went black.

He woke up almost half an hour later on a bed. A nurse had just removed a cloth from his forehead, he recognized her, Mikan Tsumiki.

“You’re finally awake. You fainted in the waiting area, and we were worried if you were ok.”

“I’m not ok.” he snapped as he sat up “Toko’s-”

“Oh yes!” Tsumiki clasped her hands “The doctors wanted you to know that her surgery is complete! She’s still unconscious, but she’s alive. We’re not sure if she’ll make it through the night, but you’re allowed to see her.” She paused as she began to comb part of her hair with her hands. “Though I’m sure it’s only for a little while though...”

Byakuya let out a deep sigh as he began to get up off of the bed, shaky but determined. “That’s fine by me.” Tsumiki nodded at his response, and escorted him to the room where his wife was recovering.

Toko lay like a sleeping princess, bandages wrapped around her forehead, heart monitor responding at her side, a blanket draped over her from shoulder to toe. She seemed to be at peace, a worrisome thought to behold.

He stared at her, as a weight filled his chest. This was a moment that would mark a change in their lives, and he couldn’t bare it. He couldn’t even bring himself to hold her hand, not by himself. He needed Tsumiki to guide his hand.

It was warm, it felt strange to him. He was still convinced that it should be cold, but nevertheless, her heart kept beating. He brushed a hand across her cheek, brushing some hair our of her face, knowing there was a chance he would never do that again. He hoped that it wasn’t, but he couldn’t be too sure. If he loses her tonight, he wanted to remember the warmth of her hand and peaceful expression. If she did make it, he wanted to latch on to something to help him hold on to her, even as he was escorted out by the doctors. They needed to monitor her to know for certain if she’d survive the night.

Byakuya sat in his car, as her drove home. The smell of blood still lingered, and her bag sat on his lap. He worried to whole way home. He was afraid of if she didn’t make it. What would he tell the kids? How do you tell two seven-year-olds that their mother was dead? “Don’t think about that.” he repeated to himself, as he was determined to get home, and wait for the news from the doctors.

{3:45 am}

Once he reached his house, he took his wife’s bag out of the car and headed towards the front door. He hung up his coat, and took off his boots. He headed to his room, his vision blurring as tears began to well up in his eyes. He punched himself in the chest, trying to repress his overwhelming emotions.

As he closed the bedroom door, everything overflowed as he began to sob, he was so afraid, he couldn’t bare the thought of losing Toko. He sank to the floor, his tear-streaked face hidden in his hands. Her bag at his side.

He tried to pull himself together, trying to find some hope. “She’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok,” he kept repeating to himself, he needed to try to feel better, he needed to cling to something. Anything.

He tried to imagine her smiling as he rose back to his feet. Shaking as he made his way to his bed. He had to try to feel better better, for her sake.

He got himself in bed, set the bag down on his nightstand with his phone next to it, staring at the ceiling. He breathed deeply, and tried to sing, but no lyrics came to mind, they all reminded him of her. All he could do was repeat to himself “She’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok, she’s gonna be ok,”

He repeated this until he fell asleep.

{May 22nd, 7:03 am}

Byakuya woke up to his phone ringing. It was the hospital calling. He picked up.

“Hello?”

A doctor replied

“Hello, is this the residence of Toko Fukawa?”

“Yes, this is her husband speaking.”

“We’ve finished the surgery, and let her rest. She’s unresponsive, but she’s alive. I recommend waiting a day or so before visiting so she can heal.”

“Alright. When do you suppose will be a good day?”

“We’ll let you know once she’s responsive again, and decide then.”

“Alright, I’ll wait until then.”

*Click

Byakuya set his phone back on the nightstand, and began to cry. She was ok. She was going to be ok.

That’s all he needed to know.

{May 22nd, 1:30 pm}

Byakuya had received confirmation from the doctors that Toko was in a relatively good state, and able to have visitors. He drove to the hospital with his kids, Miyuki and Kenji, to the hospital to see her.

“Hey Dad, why is Sophie in the hospital?” Miyuki asked.

The two always called their mother “Sophie”. That might have been his fault for letting them watch that movie.

“I’ve already told you, she got hurt driving back from Auntie Hina’s house, so she had to got to the hospital to get better.” that was the easiest and least traumatizing way to explain that their mom nearly died in a car accident.

“Is she coming home with us?” it was Kenji’s turn to ask something.

“No, I’m afraid she still hasn’t healed enough to come home yet.”

“But you said she was hurt, she should be ok by now.”

“I know Kenji, but the way she got hurt is much worse than a scraped knee, a bruise, or something like that. She’ll take longer to heal, because the injuries were bigger, and more dangerous.”

“How dangerous?” Miyuki piped up again.

“Very.”

As he said this, he pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. He breathed deeply, finally ready to see her again, and he knew the kids couldn’t wait to see her either. It felt like a big moment for all of them.

The three entered the hospital, and approached the desk , and after stating why they were there, were told to wait in a waiting area.

Byakuya was quite pleased that the kids could entertain themselves just fine. They read some of the picture books that were there, while all the tired man could do was think, letting everything else fade away.

He could only think of her. How she trembled in the cold, how the blood stained her face, how strange and sad her questions were on the drive to the hospital, and how much he wanted to see her in a better state. That’s all that ran through his head.

About 10-20 minutes had past before he was snapped back from his thoughts by a nurse, telling him that Toko was awake and able to see visitors. The kids were visibly quite happy and Byakuya nodded in agreement with a smile on his face.

Finally.

The three were escorted to the room where she was resting. He looked in and finally saw her. She looked calm and surprisingly peaceful, for her laying in a hospital bed. She had bandages around her forehead, were the bleeding had stemmed from. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, he had brought them with him, to give back to her.

“Fukawa-san, your family is here to see you.” the nurse came in and chimed polity. “Oh, t-thank you.” Toko looked confused as she responded, and even more so when her kids and husband walked into her room.

“Sophie!” the twins cried happily as they ran up to their mother. “Oh! I-I wasn’t expecting this!” she exclaimed as the kids crawled onto her bed and gave her a hug. “Who are these two?” ok, that was a strange question.

“Those are my kids.” Byakuya spoke up.

“Oh, they seem really sweet.” she replied as she tried to give the two a hug. “Why do they call me ‘Sophie’? Is that my name?”

What? She knew why, they call her ‘Sophie’ because of a movie.

“No, it’s basically a nickname. Your name is ‘Toko’, remember?”

“I’m afraid not. But these kids know who I am, why?” she looked at him, confused.

The panic pricked at his throat again. “They’re our-my-your kids, what do you mean to don’t remember?!”

Miyuki and Kenji looked at their father, worried by his sudden change in voice.

“Dad, why are you angry?” Worry was written on his son’s face as he asked. “Sofie’s just playing a game.”

“What are your names, you two?” Toko asked as she turned her gaze back to her kids.

“I’m Miyuki!”

“I’m Byakuya, but everyone calls me Kenji! It’s my middle name!”

“He’s named after Dad.” Miyuki stated, as she pointed to the somewhat agitated-looking Byakuya Sr. standing by the door.

“What lovely names.” She cooed, “Miyuki, Kenji, can you two wait outside for a second so I can find out why your dad is upset?”

The two nodded in agreement, and slipped off of the bed, walking towards the door.

“Is she really playing with us Miyuki? What if she really doesn’t remember?”

Miyuki put her hand on her brother’s shoulder and answered to the best of her ability. “Maybe she hit her head really hard when she got hurt. Maybe that’s why she might not remember.”

With the two now standing in the doorway, Byakuya walked towards his wife’s bed. She started to feel like a stranger to him, and by gods did he hate that feeling. As he sat on the bed next to her, he wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to so badly, but is she truly didn’t remember him, than he didn’t want to make things weird for her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, placing her hand on his arm. A gesture that almost brought him to tears.

“Do, do you truly forget the kids, do you forget me?”

She could see the tears welling in eyes, well she kinda could. “I’m afraid so. All I remember is that I woke up in this bed, after getting surgery for something. The doctors never said anything else.”

“I see.”

“You know me. The nurse said you and the kids are my family, maybe you could help me remember.”

A spark of hope lit in his chest. He had dealt with amnesia before, due to Junko, maybe he could use that experience to help her remember.

“You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because something about me forgetting you hurt you.” She wrapped his arms around his waist , resting her head on his shoulders. “I must be important to you.”

He nodded. “Very.”

“May I ask you something that’s been bothering me since I got here?”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Why is everything blurry? It’s kind of annoying.”

He almost completely forgot he had her glasses. “Oh yeah! I kept these after you were dropped off here, I thought I’d give them back to you.” As he said this, he pulled her glasses case out of his jacket pocket.

“I wear glasses?” she asked as she sat up and gently took the case from his hands, and lit up as he nodded. “That’s why I can’t see! This makes so much sense!” as she said this, she took the glasses out of their case and put them on. “Oh, everything looks so much better now!”

She was completely fine, despite one of the lenses having a crack in it.

“Byakuya, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Miyuki and Kenji are your kids?”

“Yes, they’re twins.”

“Interesting.”

There was a brief pause as the two looked at the kids peering from the doorway.

“They’re my kids too, aren’t they?”

Why was he surprised by that one?

“Would it scare you if I said yes?”

“Well, they do both look more like me, and honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Well, at least you’re at peace with that news.”

She hugged him. “I have kids and a partner! Today’s already starting to feel better!”

The kids ran back over, giving their mother another hug.

“So, Byakuya?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me remember who I was? Not all at once, but maybe Miyuki’s right, maybe my injuries affected my brain.”

“That is a possibility.”

“So, will you help me?”

It was his turn to join the family hug.

“Of course.”

#togafuka #byakuya togami #toko fukawa #Remember Me #Cloud's crap literature #fanfiction #chapter 1

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agustdef · 5 years

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Here & Now - Chapter 19

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,057

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

The tension in Bang’s office made me feel so uncomfortable I couldn’t sit still. Joon had to squeeze my shoulder a few times to try to get me to calm it down, but my nerves weren’t letting up.

I hadn’t gotten the chance to make a choice if I wanted to work there, but that might be snatched away from me. It was so frustrating that I’d possibly be punished for something that wasn’t even my fault. And that it could affect the boys when nothing had happened.

Nothing that had been documented held any weight. Not one thing screamed dating in secret. It barely showed that we were friends at all; just that we spoke when in proximity to others. But of course the select few wannabe FBI agents wanted to stir bullshit.

The longer that Bang stayed on the phone with a blank expression, the more uneasy I felt. He hadn’t seemed mad at me in particular, he was actually quite reassuring that he would handle it. But it still would be smart to avoid this stuff and just revoke the offer.

When Bang put down the phone and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Once they were open again he glanced around the room, looking at Joon, Yoongi and then me. Though he’d maintained the blank look at first his expression softened once it met my face.

“We have it handled. They posted it on their side account, but then reposted it on their personal account where their name and high school are very present. It didn’t take much time to find them and legal will handle it from there. Also working on the more aggressive attackers and then legal will get to them too.”

He said it so nonchalantly that I felt confused about what the heck was happening. Which must have been clear on my face.

“Kendall, I offered you a job because even with the first incident you kept up the good work and didn’t just abandon your job. You did it with the second one too. You are not the problem, they are. And it’s just a few people stirring the pot and causing mass hysteria for a few hours. It will not harm anything. Even if you two were secretly dating they have nothing, but it doesn’t make this acceptable. I will not tolerate attacks on them or you for false or true statements.”

His words were reassuring and sweet. I could feel the tension leave my body, it slumping a little as the anxiety I was starting to feel started to dissipate.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s being taken care of.” This time a smile graced his face, then he turned to Joon. “Make sure everyone knows what’s going on and just relax. Today and tomorrow are your off days, so don’t worry too much about it.”

Joon nodded and then turned to leave. Yoongi pressed a hand to my lower back and guided me out of the room. None of us spoke until we were in the practice room where everyone had convened.

They’d been whispering amongst themselves when we entered but stopped the moment we came in. They all wore expressions of worry, eyes flickering between all of us, but lingering on me and Yoongi.

Joon cleared his throat and gained all their attention. “The person who took the pictures of Kendall here has been found and legal is handling it. They’re also going for all the people have been extra hostile towards her. So, we don’t have anything to worry about and I’m sure a statement will be released later today.”

There was a group sigh of relief and I watched as Hobi and Jungkook slumped heavily. They looked like they’d been carrying a heavy burdened.

“You two okay?” I asked.

They didn’t respond at first, just stared at each other for a moment. Then Jungkook turned to me. “We were just worried Bang might take back the offer and try to get us to interact less.”

“Dude, same.”

Even though I was relieved before something about hearing others with the same fear helped along the disappearing anxiety. I released a frustrated scream to just get it out and none of them seemed fazed.

“Maybe we should decompress. Spend the night in and watch movies like when Hals came to visit last week and her, Kendall and Hobi were all stressed and on the verge of exploding,” Jimin offered.

The night had been helpful for decompressing, otherwise, I might have literally combusted. A work thing somehow messed up and I had to work from scratch with two days. Plus I had major writer’s block, but a short story due on the same day.

I nodded. “Sure, we can do it at mine. Just give me like an hour or two.”

There were murmurs of agreement and then we all packed up and headed out. Before I could get into the car to take me home though Yoongi pulled me to the side.

“You're okay, right? Don’t need me to come with you?” Yoongi asked.

He was still clearly angry and stressed about everything, which I hated. I tried to be reassuring, squeezing his hand and giving the best smile I could muster.

“I’m fine. Going to clean, get in comfy clothes and draft something to be posted once the statement is out. All is good. Promise.”

He grimaced and seemed hesitant, but after a second nodded and release my hand. “Okay, we’ll be over in an hour and a half. We’ll get the food and snacks, so don’t worry about it.”

A thumbs up from me and then I was headed home. My apartment was a distance from theirs just to avoid nonsense, but not so far that it was very out of the way. When I got inside I did exactly what I said I would. Cleaned the living room and kitchen. I pulled the large bean bag chair closer to the couches and then got comfy. Some sweats and a SHINee tour shirt I’d gotten forever ago.

By the time all that was done and I’d finished parting and braiding my hair an hour had passed. So with that time I’d settled in my seat and pulled out my phone. I checked Twitter and saw accounts Soompi had already posted about the statement being out, which was perfect.

I read the statement through and was pleased with it. Flattered even by the protectiveness of it. Of course, they’d protect the boys, but they’d made it a point to not attack me and were mostly coming for those who’d sent direct threats and hate my way.

With that out of the way I took a deep breath and began typing out my message; a few sentences in I switched to the notes app.

I’ve tried to be as calm as possible about all this drama, but it’s starting to get hard. To constantly have people grasp at straws to form some “scandal” that doesn’t even exist is tiresome. For the third time, a group of people have created this romantic relationship that Yoongi and I don’t have. They called me names, attacked my appearance, my race, and my work. All because they’ve deluded themselves into thinking he and I are together. Because they’re deluded themselves into thinking they have some hold on people who are human and adults who are free to live their lives.

In truth, I’m not even that bothered it all, but I’ll be damned if I allow this shit to keep going unchecked. To get to a point where it messes up my friendships and my job opportunities. But thankfully I don’t have to do the checking. I’m very thankful to Bang PDnim for his support on this. He didn’t have to deal with those directly attacking only me, but he did.

I don’t want to have to go through this again, because I will not be as pleasant the next time around.

Once finished and checked for spelling errors I took screenshots and quote tweeted the statement from the official BigHit Twitter page. Once that was done I muted Twitter and sat my phone on the coffee table.

Before I got the chance to relax through my doorbell was ringing. Sighing, I hopped to my feet and went to the panel. The video showed Yoongi by his lonesome, which threw me off, but I let him in nonetheless and returned to the couch.

A few seconds later he was in the living room ad staring at me intently. It made me very uneasy.

“We need to talk,” he said.

My heart stopped and I felt nausea stirring. Being scared, nervous or sad always made me physically sick and those words in the situation we were in hit my nerves bad.

Yoongi must have seen the shift in me because his expression softened and he shook his head.

“Not like that. Nothing bad, I promise. But you know, we should talk. We should have talked a while ago.”

He wasn't wrong and though he assured me that things were fine, I still felt nervous. Though at least it wasn’t nervous because I thought he and/or all of the boys wanted to end our friendship.

I motioned for him to take a seat and he did, turning to face me head-on. The intensity that he had before returned, but without the dauntingness of it all. Though when he says nothing and we sit in silence for what feels like five minutes I become a tad more unnerved.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you returned my feelings?” Was what he eventually opened with and was not what I expected him to say first.

My face dropped and my eyes narrowed on him. “How can one say they return feelings they don’t know the other has.”

He scoffed. “You knew.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll that came. “One can assume, but until it’s stated cannot know. So, unless you said ‘Hey Kendall, I like you’ and meant it in a romantic way I couldn’t know anything.”

“Hey Kendall, I like you. And not in a platonic way, I want to date you,” he blurted out.

Even though he’d basically confirmed it without saying so I still froze in surprise. And then an intense bout of happiness washed through me. I tried to push down the smile that was taking form, but I couldn’t and could feel the slight tingle from smiling too hard.

Yoongi was smiling too, his possibly wider than mine.

“So…” he trailed off, watching me closely.

Took a second for me to realize he was waiting for me to respond to him. “Oh goodness, same. Wait, no. Not same. Still wrong. Wait. Okay. I would also like you in the sense that I would date you.”

By the time I’d finally gotten it out he was laughing at me being a mess and I couldn’t help but join in. Then he stopped and was leaning closer to me. His hand cupped my cheek and my gaze flickered to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes. They held such gentleness that it made me even more giddy to kiss him, but when his lips were barely touching mines I pulled back.

My brain wouldn't allow me to experience the happiness though. I had a new fear, one that was quite ridiculous and I regretted saying aloud. It needed to be addressed though because it would surely be something we had no other choice but to deal with.

“But wait, they just made a statement that we weren’t. What if this time they actually get something tangible and things spiral even more. I can handle most of their bullshit, but this could get worse and it would be worse for you than for me; especially here. I know Bang can only take so much of all of this.”

“Well…” he paused and I could tell he didn’t have the answer either.

Before we could recover to discuss the doorbell rang again and I knew I couldn’t leave the boys in the hallway, someone could see them and possibly get photos to start another round of nonsense.

So, I got off the couch and spent the rest of the night engaged, but distracted and confused.

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #original character #oc #bangtanarmynet #sugaxoc #yoongixoc #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #producer!oc #writer!oc #bts fanfiction #min suga #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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latetothegreysparty · 6 years

Text

She Gets That From You: Chicken Scratch

Good evening, lovely people! I’ve finally found the time throughout the chaos that is my life to write another little fic. I have another work in progress, but I’m not sure how long it will be until that one gets uploaded. Anyway, back to the topic at hand, here is the next installment in the She Gets That From You series. I hope you all enjoy it!

She Gets That From You: Chicken Scratch

“What’s up, Els?” Amelia asked as she walked into the kitchen. Ella had been working on her homework studiously at the kitchen table for the last 20 minutes with Amelia periodically checking in to see if she needed any help. As she fully entered the kitchen and saw her daughter, she was surprised to find that her daughter had set her pencil down and was now staring dejectedly at the worksheet in front of her.

“Nothing,” the sullen 7 year-old replied, never lifting her eyes from the page in front of her.

Amelia sat down in the chair next to Ella and placed a hand on her small shoulder. “Hmmm, really? Nothing?” she asked. “Because it looks to me like you’re feeling down.”

The little girl glanced up to meet her mother’s eyes, giving Amelia an even better view of the sadness lingering in her eyes. She stared up at her mother for a moment before finally saying: “I hate handwriting class.”

“Hate is a pretty strong word, Ella Margaret,” Amelia chastised gently. “We’ve talked about that before.”

Ella huffed out a breath. “I know, Mama, but I do hate it. Handwriting is the worst!”

Amelia decided to let this one go. Though she generally tried to teach her daughter to avoid using the word “hate,” her main goal was to teach Ella not to use that word in reference to other people. If Ella was this adamant that she disliked a class in school, it probably wasn’t the end of the world that she’d chosen to use that word. “And why is it the worst?”

Ella gave another small huff as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m so bad at it, Mama!” she lamented, her voice bordering on a whine. “I try so hard, but I’m terrible at it.” As she spoke, she bent down to pull a folder from her backpack. She opened the folder, pulled out a stack of papers, and splayed them on the table. Amelia glanced down at the pile of papers, and she immediately could see what had been bothering her daughter.

Unsurprisingly, the daughter of Owen Hunt and Amelia Shepherd was an accomplished student. The combination of intellect, ambition, and work ethic that she’d inherited from both of her parents meant that she always did very well on her schoolwork. She was quite used to getting near-perfect scores on all of her assignments and exams, and Amelia and Owen had grown to expect nothing short of glowing reviews during parent-teacher conferences. The stack of handwriting assignments lying on the table, however, were a departure from Ella’s usual performance. Instead of the scores in the upper 90s that she usually received, her scores on these assignments ranged from the high 70s to the low 80s.

Amelia glanced back up from the papers on the table when she heard her daughter begin to speak again. “Every assignment I get a bad score. I spend more time on handwriting than any other class, but my grades are still bad.”

Amelia nearly told her daughter that the grades she was receiving weren’t bad grades, but she stopped herself before the words came out. Ella Hunt was a perfectionist like her mother, and there was no way Amelia would be able to convince her that average grades were fine. She expected to excel, and she was disappointed when she did not. Amelia was hard-pressed to try to convince her daughter to think differently when Amelia herself expected excellence in all her endeavors.

With that in mind, she tried a different approach. “Nobody is good at everything, Els,” she said. “We all have some things that are easy for us. You are an incredibly talented girl, and that means almost every subject in school is easy for you. But nobody finds everything easy. For some people, math is hard. For other people, reading is hard. For you, writing neatly is hard. That’s okay. I understand that it’s frustrating, though. I get really upset when things are hard for me, too.”

Ella didn’t look very convinced by her attempts at reassurance. “But your handwriting is so pretty,” Ella argued, looking pointedly at the neat penmanship on the grocery list that hung on the refrigerator.

Amelia lifted her small daughter out of her chair and onto her lap then turned her so that she sat sideways across Amelia’s lap. She used her right index finger to tip Ella’s chin up so she could look her in the eye. “Do you know whose handwriting isn’t pretty, though?” Amelia asked. Ella shook her head wordlessly. “Daddy’s,” Amelia supplied.

Ella’s eyes widened in surprise. Apparently she’d never paid any attention to the chicken scratch on the notes her father had written when she’d had to be absent from school when she was sick. “Daddy has bad handwriting?” she asked, her voice displaying her intrigue at this new information.

Amelia nodded seriously. “He sure does. Everybody in the hospital complains because they can’t read the things Daddy writes.”

“But he’s so good at everything!” Ella argued.

“Not everything,” Amelia corrected. “Like I told you, babe, nobody is good at everything. Everybody has things that are difficult for them. Some people, like Daddy, are good at more things than most people, but even people like Daddy have things that are hard for them. For him, one of those things is writing neatly. You seem to have inherited that from him.”

Ella’s face softened a bit. Hearing that her chicken scratch handwriting had come from her father seemed to pacify her a bit. She idolized her father. Being told that she took after him was one of the highest forms of praise anyone could give her. Finding out that he struggled with neat penmanship just like she did made her weakness far easier for her to except. “What does Daddy do to be better?” Ella asked.

“I’m not really sure,” Amelia admitted. “But I have an idea. Could you please go get Daddy for me and bring him to the kitchen?”

Ella wordlessly nodded before climbing down from Amelia’s lap and scampering out of the room. Within moments, she was returning to the kitchen with her small hand encased in Owen’s larger one. “What can I do for my two favorite ladies?” Owen asked with a smile. As he spoke, he pulled out the kitchen chair next to the one Amelia sat in and lifted Ella into the chair.

Amelia smirked as she met her husband’s eyes. “Miss Ella is having a tough time with her handwriting homework tonight. She’s a little frustrated that good penmanship doesn’t come naturally to her. I thought that since she’s not the only Hunt who struggles with neat handwriting, maybe we could all work together on this assignment.”

Since Owen was standing behind Ella’s chair, safely out of view of the 7 year-old, he felt comfortable rolling his eyes at his wife’s unabashed complaint about his poor penmanship. Nevertheless, he was more than willing to do whatever needed to be done to help his little girl. “Sure, Mama, what do I need to do?” he asked before sitting down on the other side of Ella.

Amelia slid a sheet of lined paper and a pencil toward Owen. “Why don’t you do the assignment alongside Ella?” she suggested. “What’s the first thing you need to do, love bug?”

“This week we’re practicing writing our g’s,” Ella explained. “We start by printing ten of them.” Owen nodded seriously and followed along, beginning to print a few g’s on the lines on his paper.

Amelia looked at his paper first. “Daddy, your circles are awfully flat,” she corrected. “Make them rounder, please.”

Owen nearly snapped back with a snarky comment. By this point in his life, he’d grown frustrated with the frequent remarks he heard about his handwriting, and he had a pretty short fuse when people criticized his penmanship. Before he said anything, though, he stopped and reminded himself that he was here for Ella. She was struggling with her homework, and she needed to see him struggling too to realize that it was okay to have a hard time. “Okay, Mama, I’ll work on that,” he said calmly, utilizing all of the willpower he had within him to keep his voice neutral.

For the next 30 minutes, Amelia looked over Owen’s and Ella’s writing and helped them correct their errors. Ella was amazed to see that her father got just as many corrections as she did, if not more. After Ella finished writing the line she was working on, she looked up to her mother. “That’s the last one,” she said.

“Look at that! You did it!” Amelia celebrated.

Finally, after an hour of grimaces and pensive looks, Ella cracked a small smile. “I finished,” she confirmed quietly.

“You didn’t just finish,” Amelia said, “you wrote very nicely. I’m so proud of you!”

“But it took me forever, Mama,” Ella argued, the hint of a whine once again returning to her voice.

Amelia opened her mouth to reply, but Owen spoke before she had the chance. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he assured. “It took me just as long as it took you. When something is hard for you, it’s going to take you a little longer. That’s just how it works. You shouldn’t be ashamed because something is hard for you or because it takes you a long time. We all have a hard time with something. The thing that matters is that you work hard in everything you do. I’m proud of you for working hard on your handwriting, even though it’s difficult and frustrating for you.”

Amelia beamed at the pair in front of her. “You get your work ethic from your father,” she said before pressing a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead and then repeating the action on her husband. As she stared down at the lines that Owen had painstakingly written out and the matching sheet of lines that their daughter had produced, she could feel her heart swell. Ella really was just like her father. For that, Amelia was extremely thankful.

#omelia #omeliafic #omeliafanfic #amelia shepherd #owen hunt #omelia family #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy

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originalhybridloverfics · 6 years

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Opening His Eyes to the Light

Summary:

When Oliver learns Felicity was injured in the aftermath of the Undertaking it forced him to be honest with how he felt about her and just what he was going to do about it. [Post Season One Finale]

Notes:

Okay, so this is a canon AU. It's just something I couldn't get out of my head and decided to write down. I hope you like it.

I apologize for any mistakes or grammar errors and medical inaccuracies.

Oliver paced the waiting room unable to keep still. When he managed to pull Tommy out before CNRI collapsed with nothing more than a few crack ribs and a broken leg he actually believed he wasn’t going to lose anyone he cared about. He was wrong. He returned to the Foundry only to see Diggle carrying out an unconscious Felicity, blood on his hands, blood soaking Felicity’s clothes. “What happened?” he demanded, moving forward in long quick strides. He was at her side in seconds, pressing a hand to her neck, checking her pulse. It was weak but it was there. “A part of the structure had collapsed and struck her. She had a metal rod embedded in her stomach. She’s lost a lot of blood. She was barely conscious when I found her” Digg’s steps to his car didn’t falter, reaching it in a few quick strides. Oliver kept pace with him ignoring the pain from his own injuries he sustained in his fight with Malcolm. “I’m coming with.”

Diggle nodded as Oliver yanked the back door to his car open. “There’s a duffle in the back with a change of your clothes.” Oliver climbed into the back, immediately turning and reaching for Felicity. He laid her on the seat and quickly reached for his duffle bag, changing his clothes as quickly as he could while keeping the pressure on her wound. It was difficult to do but he managed somehow. Diggle quickly got behind the wheel and sped off avoiding the wreckage with sharp turns. With his free hand, Oliver pushed Felicity’s hair from her face, his hand trailed down her neck, relief washing over him when he still felt her pulse if not a little weak but still there. She was still breathing and that was the most important thing to him. He leaned down pressing his forehead against hers, her skin felt feverish against his own. “You’re going to be fine, Felicity.” His breath left him on a shaky exhale. “You have to be. I need you to be okay. I’ll never forgive myself if you’re not.” he whispered to her so quietly that the sounds of sirens off in the distance and the roar of the car engine, Diggle pressing down harder on the gas, drowned out his words from anyone but him. Oliver remembered rushing Felicity through the chaos of Starling General Memorial Hospital’s emergency room, demanding for her to be seen. And it was so close to his hood voice that the staff jumped and rushed to Felicity’s aid bypassing others in need, seeing to her immediately and shooting him wary glances. A nurse had wanted to get him seen as well motioning to the spot bleeding on his shoulder, too close to his heart however he refused treatment, dismissing it as a minor flesh wound and told them that they needed to do their damn job and focus on Felicity. He was more than glad that the nurse had not pressed the issue. John who had mostly been silent pulled him aside, telling him he needed to bring it down a notch. He was too close to his hood persona and he needed to act more like Oliver Queen, a concerned friend and not like Starling City’s Vigilante, The Hood, who would destroy anyone who got in his way. That was nearly two hours ago, the waiting, the not knowing was driving him crazy. He needed to know that Felicity was going to be okay. He needed that like he needed air to breathe. He knew he should check on Thea and Tommy. Find out what was going on with his mom but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He couldn’t leave Felicity here not knowing if she was going to make it. “Oliver, man, you need to relax, pacing and driving yourself crazy is not going to help her.” Oliver turned to Digg, his eyes narrowing on the larger man, sitting in one of the hospitals waiting room chairs. “How can you be so calm?” “Felicity, she’s strong. She’s a fighter. She’ll pull through. There’s no way she’d leave us on our own.” Oliver wished he had Diggle’s certainty but he was so used to the good things in his life being ripped away from him. All he could think about was all the things he refused to acknowledge, all the things that went unsaid between them. Feelings he couldn’t admit to anyone. Thoughts he had refused to let himself think in the waking hours. Quiet dreams that he kept to himself. The possibility of never having the chance, to be honest with Felicity had everything he pushed down, refused to admit, rushing to the surface unable to be denied any longer. He was no longer able to keep lying to himself. “Ollie!” He looked up and barely had time to brace himself before Laurel was barreling into his chest. “Have you heard about Tommy?” Oliver subtly extracted himself from her arms. After everything that had happened, he admitted to himself that the feel of her body against his own felt wrong. “No.” Oliver shook his head. “Is he going to be okay? Do you know?” “The doctors say he’s going to make a full recovery if not a long one. He got lucky.” her brow furrowed in a look of confusion. “Why are you here if not for Tommy? Did Thea get hurt?” “No.” As far as he knew Thea was fine. He would make sure as soon as he knew Felicity would be okay. “Felicity was hurt.” “Who?” “My friend, Felicity Smoak. You met her once at Verdant, beautiful, blonde hair, glasses, she has this adorable habit of babbling.” “Oh, her,” said Laurel an odd tone to her voice. “The tech help for your club.” Diggle who was keeping quiet mostly through their entire exchange gave a long-suffering sigh. “She’s not just the tech help. She has a name. And she’s gonna be fine. Thanks for your concern.” “I barely know her. I’m sorry if it came off like I don’t care but what does it really matter? She’s just Oliver’s employee.” Oliver bristled at her words. “Felicity Smoak does not work for me. She works with me. There’s a difference and it matters. She matters to me and I won’t let you be disrespectful toward her.” Laurel’s eyes widened, her face reddening. “Ollie, I didn’t mean anything by it, I-” Oliver’s head snapped to the left when he spotted the doctor who took Felicity into surgery. He brushed past Laurel, ignoring her calls, meeting the doctor halfway. He didn’t have to look back to know Digg was right behind him. “Felicity is she…?” “She is resting now. Ms. Smoak was very fortunate. The piece of metal that impaled her abdomen narrowly missed anything vital. However, she lost a lot of blood and we had to give her a blood transfusion. However, she does have a concussion. We’d like to keep her overnight for a day or so but she should be able to go home in a few days.” “But she’s going to be fine?” Diggle wanted to double check. “She will make a full recovery. Yes.” Dr. Sawyer smiled. “Can we see her?” Oliver asked, stepping forward. If he could just see her he would know everything was going to be fine because she was. “Yes, you can. If you will just follow me.” Dr. Sawyer began walking away and Oliver and John fell into step behind him instantly. “Ollie!” he ignored Laurel’s voice calling after him and kept walking. Dr. Sawyer took them up four floors, leading them down a series of corridors until they reached a room numbered 421. He pushed the door open and Oliver’s breath caught in his throat, freezing in the doorway, his eyes locked on her sleeping form. “Oliver.” Digg propelled him forward with a hand on the back of his shoulder blade. It seemed that was all the push he needed. His feet carried him to her side, his hand cupped her cheek, taking relief in the feel of her warm skin against his hand. His breath left him in a rush. He didn’t care that there were other people in the room with him. He brushed her blonde hair from her forehead, the back of his knuckles brushing her skin, kissing her forehead, lingering for just a moment before standing up straighter and just took her in. The reassuring way her chest rose and fell with her breathing, the sound of the monitors beeping rhythmically. The way the color was slowly returning to her pale skin. “A member of my nursing staff will be by later to check on her.” Dr. Sawyer informed them. Oliver nodded vaguely as he pulled a chair up next to her bed, sinking into it and clutching her hand. He knew Dr. Sawyer left but he couldn’t remove his eyes from her to confirm it. Digg stepped forward, placing his hand on Felicity’s arm for a moment before taking the last available chair in the room. Oliver could feel the weight of John’s eyes, scrutinizing him. “How long?” John asked. “How long what?” “How long have you had feelings for Felicity? I thought you were still chasing after whatever you had with Laurel.” A beat passed before Oliver could bring himself to answer. “I don’t know when I started to feel something for Felicity. Maybe it was from the very beginning, the moment I saw her, the moment I walked into her cubicle, the moment I met her, I don’t know.” “And now?” asked Digg. Oliver finally turned his gaze from Felicity to his friend’s searching gaze. “And now I can’t imagine doing any of this without her.” “What about Laurel?” John's eyes narrowed. “Laurel is apart of my past. She’s a friend but I know that’s all we were meant to be. Anything more than that is out of the question. It just doesn’t work.” John nodded. Glad that Oliver had finally removed his Laurel blinders. Oliver’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, Thea’s name flashing across his screen. “It’s Thea. I have to take this.” “Go. I’ve got our girl.” Oliver hesitated before nodding pushing from his seat and reluctantly leaving the room. “Hey, Speedy,” he answered. “Oh, thank God,” Thea breathed in relief. “I’m at the hospital and-” “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asked worriedly. “No, I’m fine but Tommy got hurt.” “I know, but he’s going to be fine.” Oliver was quick to reassure her. “They said he was lucky but he has a lot of healing to do. They're talking physical rehab.” “Tommy can handle it. He’s strong.” Oliver said, his eyes sliding shut. “Ollie, where are you?” he could hear the tears in her voice and it made his chest tighten. “You should be here with me. You should be here for Tommy.” Oliver opened his eyes and looked down, feeling a wave of guilt. He knew he should be there with them. He knew they were here in the hospital somewhere but he couldn’t leave Felicity’s side. He needed to be there when she woke up. “I want to be there but I can’t.” The silence that followed was like a crimination of everything he was doing wrong until finally, his sister broke it. “What you’re doing? Is it important?” “Yes. Very important.” Being by Felicity’s side was what he needed to be doing. “Okay,” Thea said and was surprised by how understanding she sounded. “Do what you have to do. We’ll still be here.” Oliver was surprised once again by her understanding and was grateful for it. “Thanks, Speedy.” “Call me if you need anything.” “I will,” They said their goodbyes shortly after. Oliver slid his phone back into his pocket and stepped back into Felicity’s hospital room, returning to his seat at her bedside. “Tommy’s going to be okay. Thea’s with him now.” he retook Felicity’s hand in his own. “That’s good.” Diggle clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you gonna be here? I want to check on Carly and AJ.” “I’m not going anywhere.” There were zero chances of that happening. “Go check on your family.” Digg nodded, reaching out a hand, giving Felicity’s arm a squeeze before leaving. Oliver leaned his elbows on her bed, holding her hand in his and just watched her sleep, taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Everything else, the fall out of the Undertaking, all of it could wait.

The sound of a repetitive beeping and a burning ache in her stomach had Felicity's eyes opening, her face scrunching up. It was white everywhere, the ceiling, the walls. There was a lemon smell mixed with some chemicals. She frowned, she was in a hospital. That much was obvious. She turned her head to the sound of the incessant beeping, seeing that she was hooked up to some monitors. Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what happened to land her in the hospital. She remembered the building structure starting to come down, she remembered something hitting her in the head, she remembered the sharp agonizing pain in her stomach. The more she tried to remember the faster the details came back to her. She remembered the blood. There had been so much of it. And John. John trying to help her, to slow down the bleeding, telling her she was going to be okay. She tried to move her hand but couldn’t. It was only then that she realized a warm hand with calloused fingers held her own. “John?” she turned her head expecting to find John but no, it was Oliver. Her eyes widened at the sight of him fast asleep his head pillowed on his forearms, resting on her bed, his hands clasping her own even in his sleep. If he was here, things couldn’t be bad. Everyone must’ve gotten out or else he wouldn’t be there. He would be with his family. Or Laurel. Not with her. Or maybe it was her. Maybe she was hurt more than she thought. The beeping of the machine increased. The second it did Oliver jolted up as if he was intuned with any change in the machine. Felicity watched as his eyes shot to the monitor alert but when they landed on her they widened and a shaky breath left his lips as they parted. “Felicity.” “Um, what are you doing here?” she asked, eyes taking him in, even though he had been resting he still looked exhausted. “You were hurt.” The way he said it was like her being hurt was the worst outcome imaginable. “Is it bad?” she worried her bottom lip. “No, you’re going to be fine. You just have some healing to do.” She was sure she imagined the way his eyes flickered down to her lips then back to her eyes. His own eyes a shade darker than before. She must have gotten hit in the head harder than she thought. “You needed a blood transfusion and you have a concussion.” That explained why she was imagining things. Like the way, Oliver was looking at her so intensely. It was like he thought if he looked away she’d be gone, out of his reach. Clearly, her mind was playing tricks on her. Oliver would never in a million years look at her like that. That look, that level of intensity coming from him was reserved for Laurel Lance. “The hospital wants to keep you overnight for a few days for observation.” Oliver continued, his thumb had started moving back and forth across the top of her hand. “But you’re going to make a full recovery.” Felicity nodded, a little unfocused. The brush of his thumb against her skin was more distracting than she was accustomed to. “You don’t have to stay. You should be with Thea.” “Thea’s fine.” She tried to pull her hand free but he only held it more tightly. “I’m exactly where I need to be.” he brought her hand up to his mouth, lips brushing her knuckles. “With you.” Felicity’s eyes widened. “Oh.” she stared at him in wonder, half believing she was asleep and fantasizing about him. It’s not like it would be the first time. He was looking at her and saying all the things she could only dream of him saying to her so this had to be a dream. She shifted trying to shuffle up the bed to sit up but pain tore at her abdomen. She gasped, closing her eyes tightly against the pain and breathed out slowly. Okay! Not a dream. That fracking hurt. “Felicity?” Oliver was up out of his seat leaning over her immediately, concern coming off him in waves. “I’m alright.” She got out through the pain. “It just hurts when I move too much.” Oliver nodded, reaching for the call button and pressing it before focusing solely on her. “Just breathe with me. You can get through it.” he cupped her jaw and Felicity leaned into his hand, his touch as his thumb brushed the apple of her cheek. The door to her room was pushed opened but she barely noticed unable to tear her eyes from Oliver. It was only with the sound of a throat clearing that she was finally able to slide her eyes away from Oliver to see Digg. “John.” she smiled. Digg stepped forward with a smile, stepping up to the other side of her bed. “You scared the crap out of us.” he reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Yeah, I’m getting that.” Felicity glanced at Oliver out of the corner of her eye. He was still watching her with the same intensity. Like she would disappear from his sights if he wasn’t looking directly at her. “Well, we would be lost without our girl,” Digg responded. “You know we can’t do any of this without you.” Felicity smiled at his words. “It’s a really good thing you don’t have to then, huh?” “Definitely,” Oliver said before Digg could respond, his hand tightening around hers. Felicity turned her smile on him, squeezing his hand back. A warm feeling filling her chest as she stared into his blue eyes unguarded for once. It was like he was letting his walls down so she could see him. The real him. The man beneath the Hood. Behind the mission. The man who felt everything more deeply, more intensely than anyone could imagine. From the moment she met him she knew he was more than what most people saw, she had seen it even when he didn’t want anyone to but she could now that he did. He wanted her to see him and she did. But more than that she liked the person she could see.

Two days in the hospital and Felicity was anxious to leave. If the doctors needed her to rest up she could do that from the comfort of her own home, relaxing on her couch, catching up on all her favorite TV shows. She didn’t need to be here. The door to her room was pushed open by Dr. Sawyer. “Please tell me, you’ll be sending me home today,” Felicity said in greeting. Dr. Sawyer chuckled, amusement in his eyes. “Ready to leave us so soon, Ms. Smoak?” “Since yesterday,” Felicity said. “Not that you haven’t been taking great care of me. Hospitals just are not anywhere I want to be.” The door to her room was pushed open again but she kept on talking. “And I’m ready to get out of here.” “Not without me, you aren’t,” Oliver stated coming to stand at the end of the bed as Dr. Sawyer checked her vitals, writing something down on his clipboard. Felicity frowned at Oliver. “I thought you were going to visit Tommy with Thea?” “I did.” he clasped her hand in his. When she first woke up it surprised her that Oliver was at her bedside but over the past two days she gotten used to him being there and reaching out to her. In any way, he could. In any way, she would allow. “You were gone barely an hour.” she pointed out. “And it was enough time. They’re fine. Thea understands. Oh, and Tommy says to get better real soon.” Felicity snorted. She could say the same thing about Tommy but she appreciated the sentiment. Felicity turned reaching for her phone, moving slowly not wanting to strain her wound. “Here.” Oliver was already holding her phone out to her. “Thank you.” she smiled at him and sent a text out to Tommy. Get better soon. I’m glad you’re going to be okay. It would have killed Oliver to lose his best friend. “How is she today? Does everything look good? Is she healing okay?” She could hear the concern in Oliver's voice as he asked Dr. Sawyer question after question however she was distracted by an incoming text message from Tommy. Don’t underestimate your own worth Smoak. Oliver would be lost without you. “Felicity?” She looked up to see both Dr. Sawyer and Oliver looking at her in varying looks of amusement. “Hmm?” she looked between them. “What?” Oliver looked at her. “Dr. Sawyer said you’ll be able to go home later today.” Felicity smiled and her whole face lit up. “Best news I heard all day.” “I do have some conditions.” Dr. Sawyer cautioned. “You have to take it easy. No strenuous activity. And I want someone to stay with you during the first week of your recovery.” “I live alone,” Felicity informed him. “Is there anyone who can stay with you?” Dr. Sawyer inquired. “No, not rea-” “It won’t be a problem.” Oliver interrupted. “I’ll stay with her.” “I’m sorry, you’ll what?” Felicity looked at him wide-eyed “How about I give you two a moment?” Dr. Sawyer suggested, moving toward the door. “Oliver you can’t stay with me.” Felicity protested as soon as Dr. Sawyer was gone. “You have never even been to my place.” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “What does that matter?” Felicity opened her mouth but then shut it. “If the thought of me being at your place makes you uncomfortable you can stay at my place instead.” Oliver offered, moving to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” She shook her head, trying not to show how affected she was by his sudden proximity. “Either you stay at the manor with me or I stay at your place so I can take care of you.” Felicity scowled. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” “I know that.” Oliver licked his lips and her eyes followed the movement before snapping back up. “But I would feel better if I was there in case you needed anything. Felicity tilted her head at him. "Why does it have to be you? Why do you want to be the one to help me?" Oliver lifted his hand to cup her cheek, his hand warm against her skin. "Because I care about you and I want you to be okay." "Oh." Felicity breathed in surprise. It had always seemed like Oliver only had eyes for Laurel Lance. She had thought her obvious crush on him was one-sided but maybe it wasn't as one-sided as she first thought. "Oliver." She bit down on her bottom lip. Oliver's gaze dropped down to her lips and her breath hitched as he slowly leaned forward, giving her time to pull away. But she didn't. She didn't want to. She was too caught up in the moment to care how this would change things. “Alright, have you two come to an agreement?” Dr. Sawyer asked stepping back into the room. Oliver pulled back the moment broken, his hand falling back to his side. Felicity’s eyes fell disappointment washing over her but then she felt her hand encased in Oliver’s warm one, washing the brief feeling of disappointment away, replacing it with one of reassurance and warmth. “Will you be staying with Ms. Smoak, Mr. Queen?” Dr. Sawyer asked, his eyes flitting between them and down to their clasped hands. “Yes, he will.” Felicity locked eyes with Oliver and his lips pulled up at the corners in a smile that was just for her. “Good. Glad to hear it.” Dr. Sawyer proceeded to give them instructions on how to change her bandages and reminded her repeatedly to take it easy and to be careful not to pull her stitches and reopen her wound.

Diggle pulled the car up outside of Felicity’s apartment. Oliver was seated in the backseat next to her. Diggle got out and moved to open her door before she could. “Are you okay with this?” Digg asked as Oliver got out rounding the car. “Yeah,” she nodded accepting his offered hand. “I’m good.” “I just wanted to make sure,” he replied as he assisted her out of the car. “I know and I appreciate it. You're a good friend, John Diggle.” “You make it easy,” he replied with an affectionate smile. “Remember to take it easy.” Suddenly Oliver was there, wrapping an arm around her and encouraging her to lean on him, offering to help her. “Do you got her?” Digg asked. “Yeah, I’ve got her.” Oliver nodded as he started to lead Felicity to the steps that led up to her apartment. “We got it from here, Digg,” Felicity assured when he looked at her. “I’m sure Lyla and AJ are expecting you.” “Call me if you need anything,” he told her before getting back in his vehicle. Felicity waved as he drove away before turning back around to Oliver, letting him help her up the steps to her apartment complex. She grimaced as she reached the top of the stairs feeling a pull in her abdomen. Oliver frowned concerned, seeing her face pinch together. “Are you alright? Maybe I should..” His arm moved to wrap low around her waist. Felicity could see what he wanted to do without him even having to say it. She held a finger up at him. “Don’t even try to pick me up to carry me, Oliver Queen. I can walk just fine.” Oliver sighed, tightening his arm around her waist. “At least let me take more of your weight. Let me help you.” He encouraged her to lean on him more. “Okay.” Felicity nodded, leaning more of her weight on him as they walked up the steps of her building.

They made it to her apartment and Felicity unlocked her door pushing it open and stepping inside. Oliver immediately started guiding her over to the couch, urging her to sit down and relax back against the cushions. She watched as Oliver bustled around her apartment, asking her where everything was. In a matter of minutes, he had her tucked into the couch, a blanket thrown on her lap, a glass of water on the table, the TV remote in her reach. “Can I get you something to eat? I’m sure I could whip something up.” Oliver shifted on his feet. “You cook?” asked Felicity in delighted surprise. “Raisa taught me a thing or two,” he admitted a bashful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Huh? Guess that’s another thing you can do better than me.” Felicity mused thoughtfully. “You can’t cook?” Oliver found it hard to believe that there was something Felicity couldn’t do. “That’s an understatement,” Felicity said with a wry smile. “I’m sure you can’t be that bad at it.” she was always so good at everything. “I burn water.” Felicity dead-panned with a dry look.

“That’s not possible.” Oliver shook his head.

“It is with me.” Felicity insisted. A chuckled passed Oliver's lips surprising them both. “Felicity Smoak, MIT graduate, bested by the act of cooking.” he teased. “Hey, watch it, I could ruin you,” she warned, her eyes lit with laughter, enjoying this new side to Oliver she was seeing. “Oh, I know .” Oliver murmured but he was sure he would enjoy every second of it. He knew she hadn’t meant it like that but after admitting to himself that Felicity had always been something more. It was damn near impossible to keep his mind from going there. Felicity flushed, the words came out entirely suggestive. Usually, she was the one who made the most innocent of words sound dirty. Oliver cleared his throat doing his best to ignore how far that attractive flush traveled down her neck. “Are you hungry?” “No, I’m good. I figured I just catch up on my DVR.” Felicity allowed the moment to pass. Oliver nodded casting his eyes around her apartment, noticing all the small things, the splashes of color. It was more welcoming than his own home. Felicity went through her DVR list, settling on one of her favorite shows. “Have you ever watched an episode of Game of Thrones?” Oliver’s expression clouded over with confusion. “No.” Felicity’s lips pulled down into a frown. “Not even one?” “No,” Oliver shook his head. “Not even one.” Felicity's frown deepened, her brow pinched. “That is a crime within itself but don’t worry, we’ll rectify this immediately.” she waved her hand at the other end of the couch. “Sit. I am going to educate you on all things Game of Thrones.” Oliver’s lips turned up into a smile, his eyes shining with amusement. He took the seat next to her, close enough that his arm brushed against hers. “I do have one thing to ask you first.” Felicity turned her eyes to him. “What is it?” “When your better would you like to go out with me?” Felicity froze, eyes wide, her heart pounding in her chest. Oliver had expected more of a reaction from her. Blushing, spluttering, adorable rambling, something, not her staring at him unblinking. “Felicity?” he asked in concern. She jolted at the way he said her name, sounding so unsure. “When Dr. Sawyer interrupted us I thought we were having a moment but I also thought maybe I was imagining things, seeing them differently than you were." “ Felicity. ” his hand cupped her jaw and she instinctively leaned into his touch with a quiet hum. “You weren’t imagining things.” “What about Laurel?” The last time Felicity checked he was madly in love with the woman. His other hand came up to her neck, his thumb brushing her pulse point. “After everything that has happened, I see things more clearly than I ever have before. I’m opening my eyes to the light. I don’t want Laurel. I want to be with you.” Warmth spread through Felicity’s chest, seeing the way he looked at her with so much emotion. “ Oliver. ” she murmured softly, reaching out and fisting his shirt in her hand and her other hand coming to rest over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart through his shirt beneath the palm of her hand. Oliver leaned forward slowly giving her a chance to pull away but she couldn’t, didn’t want to. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it to be real. Oliver closed the last remaining distance between them, brushing his lips against hers tentatively at first but at the feel of her pressing back with her own, he moved his lips over hers more eagerly. Felicity sighed, the feel of his mouth on hers more real than any fantasy she had of him and there were a lot of them. Oliver's mouth moved over hers with a single-minded focus, coasting her to open to him and she gave in, feeling consumed by his intensity in the best way possible. Oliver kissed her until they were both breathless, he eased back leaning his forehead against hers. “Felicity Smoak, would you like to go to dinner with me?” Happiness bubbled up in her chest, her stomach doing somersaults. She smiled wide, her eyes shining brightly. “Yes.” she released her grip on his shirt, patting his chest. “But first we’re watching Game of Thrones.” Oliver chuckled releasing her, he settled back against the cushions, gently pulling her into his side. “Anything you want.” Felicity smiled at the feel of his lips pressing a kiss into her hair, burrowing deeper into his side mindful of her injury. Oliver wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, feeling at peace more than he had in a long time. It was everything. This moment, this feeling, this new beginning with Felicity. It was everything and so much more. She was everything.

Notes:

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#oliver queen #Felicity Smoak #oliver x felicity #Olicity #arrow fic #olicity fanfic #one-shot #olicity one shot #au fic #canon AU #canon divergence #arrow

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multifandommandy · 7 years

Text

Beneath Me

Summary: Ever wanted to read the classic ‘giving head under the desk when someone walks in on you’ for our this handsome fella? Look no further. Requested by: my thirsty ass. ( gif credit. ) Pairing: Merlin x female Reader Warnings: This whole thing is basically porn without plot, so entirely NSFW. Do not read if you’re under the age of 18. Word Count: 2.4k. I need help.

Everything had started after a hectic week at the office.

One of the agents in the tech department made a critical error with – something or other. You didn’t speak in binary like that good looking boyfriend of yours. And said boyfriend had spent the past week working non-stop to help retrieve all the lost data. Between the stress and the workload you were lucky to spend five minutes alone with him before he rushed off.

Friday morning rolled around with a slight spring in your step. You had been feeling downright miserable for the past five days. Not only was Merlin your better half, he was your best friend. Heaven knows he had coped by himself when you were gone for days during a mission, so you’d done your best to shoulder your responsibility of being the good girlfriend. Your phone had chimed at 5:46 am with a text from Merlin, letting you know that everything was back to normal and how much he missed you.

In the three years you and Merlin had been a couple, you’d never gone this long without sex. Without any current operations to work on, you planned on spending your morning in the most fulfilling way possible.

You didn’t even wait for him to respond to your knock before you swung the door of his office open, letting it shut behind you with a grin. The two of you race to meet each other in the middle of the room, no longer weighed down by the distractions or the stress of your work. The second you’re within reach, Merlin hoists you up easily into his arms. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, clutching the back of his sweater as he tilts his head back to kiss you intensely. His mouth is insistent against yours, sending shockwaves down your spine and making your body shake. You only part when your lungs scream for air, hanging on tightly as the Scot moves both of you back to his office chair.

“I’ve been thinking about getting you alone all week,” you confessed to him quietly. Merlin nods in understanding; spending time with you in his arms is one of the only ways to clear his mind. You settle easily into his lap with your legs on either side of his hips. “We’ve got all weekend to relax with each other, sweetheart.” You can’t help but give him your patented puppy eyes, trailing one of your fingers down his chest slowly. “But you’ve been working so hard… I think you deserve a reward now.” The evidence of his agreement is quickly hardening between you, the corner of his mouth turning up into a sly smile.

“We do have half an hour before we’re due for our debrief,” Merlin noted lowly, leaning back to get a better look at you. His deep green eyes looked over your figure appreciatively, like he hadn’t already seen it hundreds of times in various stages of undress. Your cheeks flushed under the intensity of his gaze, itching to get your hands on him in whatever way possible.

“C’mere love,” he beckoned you closer again, instinctively chasing your mouth as you drew nearer. He kisses you slowly and gently this time, feeling every ounce of affection and love pouring from the movement of his lips against yours. Only after you give his bicep a reassuring squeeze does the kiss deepen, all teeth and tongue and small moans from both of you.

You trail kisses from the corner of his mouth down the side of his neck, nipping lightly over his pulse point and making him grunt. “I wanna taste you,” you whisper against his neck. Your words have the desired effect on the man beneath you, smirking when Merlin’s erection twitched against your thigh. “Baby, it’s been five days. I need t’ be inside that pretty pussy of yours.” The movement he made to undo your trousers was short circuited by you grinding your hips down and providing the much needed friction the two of you had missed.

Merlin tosses his head back with a low grunt, taking the opportunity to slide your hand underneath his sweater. God – you’d missed the feeling of his smooth chest under your hands. “We’re never going this long without sex ever again,” you told him breathlessly. “Let me take care of you. Please?”

If the two of you only had a half an hour, you might as well make use of it.

Pride swelled in your chest as you dropped to your knees underneath Hamish’s desk. His mouth was swollen from your kisses, erection straining eagerly against the zipper of his slacks. If you hadn’t been on a tight schedule you’d have taken your time to tease him properly. But after going so long without having him at all, the only thing you could think about was his cock in your mouth.

In one swift motion you tug Merlin’s trousers and boxers down. His erection springs free, bouncing against his flat stomach. “Fucking hell - y’see what you do to me?”

He has to tug his sweater up enough so the pre-cum he was leaking wouldn’t smear over his clothes. All you could muster was a soft moan of your own, gripping his thighs while you lick a line up his shaft. You drag your tongue slowly from root to tip again and again until you’ve tasted every inch of him.

It’s all Merlin can do not to fall apart right then, watching you blink up at him innocently while he bit down hard on his lip. Thankfully he knows exactly what buttons to push to turn you on, gathering your hair away from your face in a loose ponytail.

“You love sucking my cock, don’t you sweetheart?” Unabashed with your affection for this man, you nodded as best you could without hitting your head on his desk. As if the way your mouth was practically watering at the sight wasn’t confirmation enough. This time you kiss your way to the swollen head of his cock, your boyfriend letting out a deep sigh once you wrap your lips around him entirely. “Shit… such a good girl for me.”

You can’t help but mewl in response to his words – it should be illegal for everything to sound so damn good with such a deep voice and thick accent. By now you had squeezed your thighs together as best you could, rocking your body forward when you dipped your head to try and relieve some of the tension. You take a little more into your mouth each time, Merlin’s hips flexing beneath your hands to try and chase the pleasure even further. One of your hands moves to keep a hand on the base of his cock, timing the movement of your lips and hands together to draw another string of curses from Merlin.

“Y/N… fuck, feels so good,” he praises lowly. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, following the rise and fall of his chest on show for you like a private display. Merlin felt as if his brain would short circuit any moment – from lack of blood or his impending orgasm, he couldn’t tell. It had been far too long since he’d last felt your mouth on his cock, biting down on one of his knuckles to try and maintain some of his dignity. If he came already he’d never live it down.

He had just sat forward to try and unbutton your blouse when a sharp knock sounded at the door, both of you freezing like deer caught in headlights. Oh crap, oh crap! What were you supposed to do now? There’s no way you could make yourselves presentable at this point, blinking up at your boyfriend with a panicked gaze that he returned. Merlin’s mouth twitched to dismiss whomever was on the other side of the door, but he wasn’t even given the chance as the door swung open and someone stomped their way into his office.

“I’m sorry to barge in, my friend, but if I don’t get this off my chest I may explode.” A voice you recognized belonged to Harry Hart sounded behind you. If you weren’t so petrified of being found out you would have laughed at the irony, his ‘friend’ half naked with his cock still in your mouth. “Harry, this isn’t really the best - ”

“I’m well aware of the fact that Agent Bors has never been particularly appealing on a personal level. He may be a damn good agent, but he’s a sodding prick!” Clearly his protest had fallen on deaf ears, continuing on like he hadn’t heard a thing. “First he deliberately slacks off on our mission report, leaving me to do the work as usual…” You hummed your approval quietly, the vibrations reverberating right through Merlin’s cock.

You knew you should stop… but it had been so long since you’ve had this glorious cock in your mouth. Surely you were well hidden enough underneath Merlin’s desk? And by the repeated back-and-forth thumps continued, it sounded like Harry had begun to pace again. The process of being considered becoming the next Arthur was weighing heavily on him. Just like the way Hamish’s cock was weighing heavily in your mouth, hard enough that you can literally feel his heartbeat on your tongue.

Oh – fuck it.

Resuming your pace took Merlin by surprise, jolting up in his chair and pushing his cock further into your throat. It takes every ounce of your strength not to gag or sputter loudly and give away your position. His hand clenched and unclenched on his thigh, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. Stubbornly, you dug your nails into his thighs to tell him you weren’t going anywhere.

You could feel Hamish twitch inside your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and giving him a healthy suck. This elicited a knee-jerk response from him, the thunk landing just above your head and making the desk vibrate.

“Are you feeling well? You look as if you’ve come down with something.”

You have to bob your head further down to stifle the laugh you felt bubbling in your gut. Every part of Merlin’s body was completely stiff, gripping onto the arms of his chair so hard you were worried he’d gauge right through the plastic.

“F-fine. ‘m fine, Harry. Just tired.” Your friend hummed in understanding, running his hands through his hair as he continued to pace a hole into his hardwood floor. Maybe Merlin’s excuse of “being tired” would be able to explain why he hunched forward suddenly just to rub his brow.

You had finally worked your way all the way down his impressive shaft, your nose pressed firmly against his pubic bone when you hollowed out your cheeks completely. His hips jerk instinctively in response, starting to panic because fuck he was close.

Risking a glance down, he immediately wished he hadn’t. You looked completely blissed out in the moment, your face flushed with arousal and your eyes rolled back into your head. The way you were trembling and breathing quickly told him you were getting off on this, sucking his cock like it was your only lifeline. He glanced back up once he heard Harry stop pacing, flashing him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Merlin?” The other man asked, taking in his friend’s deep breathing and rigid posture.

“Sure! ‘m s-sure… just need t’ rest,” he stuttered lamely.

Practically growling from the cocktail of mixed emotions, you were swallowing his cock over and over and over again. “Well – we’ve got about 10 minutes left until morning debrief. Best to let you catch a few winks, yeah?” Harry marched his way out without another word, Merlin grunting in acknowledgement before the door clicked shut.

“I… I… oh fff - ” he spoke the second the two of you were alone again, six-foot-two frame quivering as his hand gripped the back of your head. You could barely get a grip on him before he hunched forward with a grunt of your name.

You’re careful to breathe through your nose as he fucks your face, pumping his release into your mouth like you’d been dreaming of all fucking week. Pulse after pulse filled your mouth, swallowing as quickly as you could with your eyes wide. When he finally pulled back he was breathing heavily, hand falling limply from your hair before he suddenly went quiet.

For a split second – you thought you’d killed him. The poor guy looked as if he could have passed out in his office chair after way too many drinks, slumped back with an arm covering his eyes. “Hamish? … Hamish!”

You’ve never moved so quickly in your life, springing to your feet and grabbing his face in both your hands. His pulse was still running wild against your fingers, moving his hand away from his face to get a better look at him. A whole second passed that felt like an eternity before his eyes fluttered open, managing a low moan before you kissed him firm on the mouth.

“You scared the shit out of me! What happened?” You gingerly tugged his pants back up without disturbing his softening cock. “- Fucking hell. ‘m sorry love. Apparently I really needed that.” he mumbled drowsily, trying to draw you into his lap again. Instead you opted to stand, Hamish wrapping his arms around your waist as both of you caught your breath.

“Are you all right? I’m sorry that I kept going, I just wanted- ” Merlin shushes you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your hip and making your smile. “S’fine love. I know y’would’ve stopped if I’d asked. Besides, think it’s obvious I’m extremely relaxed now.” He unwinds himself from you to tap his bottom lip, the “grown up” version of puckering his mouth for a kiss which you happily gave him.

“Let’s just hope Harry doesn’t realize what was going on,” you giggle quietly. Hamish was already dutifully straitening your clothing for you to smooth out any wrinkles he caused. “Aye – he’d probably run screamin’.” The two of you share a grin before his phone rings; leaving one hand on the small of your back while he uses the other to pick up the call.

It’s Harry’s voice that rings out, clear enough to make you dissolve into a fit of stifled laughter.

“Are you and Y/N quite finished in there?”

WRITTEN WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS:

@cyber-nya @missredherring @orchiddarling @whirlybirbs @fishofmordor

#kingsman imagine #kingsman x reader #merlin x reader #merlin imagine #*

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