#(just keep to that okay please do not ski sir.)

[russellius]

MOTOR SPORT: Never pushed harder: Russell seeks positives from miserable F1 season

I could comfortably lift my foot off the gas pedal and drive a percent below the limit and I could sit here right now and tell you that I wouldn’t make a single mistake. And probably when I sit through my championship years, I probably wasn’t being pushed as much as I’m pushing myself now. I’m purposely trying to push myself further and beyond, and I’m not satisfied with just being on par with my team-mate in qualifying or whatever it may be.

[hazbinwhoree]

OMGGGG pleaseee i need a part 2 to Adam’s sinner 😩😩😩😩 Maybe it’s the next extermination and Adam protects his darling sinner from exterminators 👀👀

Maybe more smut if you’d like 🫣

Adam’s Sinner

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: As much as I would love to make it smutty, I have a lot of smut requests and I don’t want it to get repetitive so this piece is just hella fluffy. I hope you enjoy anyway xox

Adam didn’t really come up with a solution to keep his promise, rather he just used his status in Heaven to come and go as he pleased, and would sneak down to Hell once a month.

His mask had demonic features, which worked in his favor staying discrete in Hell. Not that he was out and about for long, he always went straight to (Name)’s house, but still.

A year passed, and their little system was working, and before they knew it, the next extermination was upon them. “Remember,” Adam said during his last visit before the extermination. “Lock down. Stay inside. Hide.” “I know.” He kissed her forehead.

The extermination was brutal, as it always was. Adam had about a hundred and six kills under his belt and was bragging about his last kill to Lute. Then he saw something that made his blood run cold.

(Name), running from one of his exterminators.

Lute noticed Adam’s face drop, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Are you okay, sir?” Adam didn’t answer, instead rushing towards the alley his exterminator had chased (Name) into.

(Name) was on the ground, his exterminator’s foot on her chest. She raised her spear and (Name) closed her eyes. “HEY!” His exterminator, Danni, jumped, spear faltering. “Sir?”

“This one is mine,” Adam bit back his panic. “She fucked up one of my kills last year.”

“Oh. Sorry, sir, she’s all yours.” Danni flew off, chasing an sinner. Once she was out of sight, Adam rounded on (Name).

“What the FUCK are you doing out here? I told you to stay inside! You were almost fucking killed!”

“Adam-“

“No, you know what, I don’t even want to fucking hear it.” Adam was seething from the scare she’d just given him. “Get your fucking ass home, right now, we will talk about this later.”

They both looked around to make sure no one was watching before they each departed, Adam back to the skies and (Name) back to her apartment. Adam paused his killing spree to make sure she got home safe from afar.

Later that night, when all the exterminators had returned to Heaven, Adam made his way to (Name)’s place.

“You want to tell me why you were out on the fucking streets during the damn extermination?”

(Name) looked embarassed. “My friend–”

“No friend is worth risking YOUR life. You fucking hear me?” (Name) couldn’t look at him, slightly intimidated. Adam sighed. “...Sorry.”

He pulled her into him and closed his wings around her. She wound her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. For a few minutes they just stood there, Adam reassuring himself that she was there and she was fine.

“Don’t do shit like that, tits, you scared the fuck out of me.” (Name) chuckled, Adam sounding much more like himself now. She took his hands in hers.

“I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”

Adam scoffed. “Yeah it fuckin’ was. You’re lucky I love your dumbass.”

“You love me?”

Adam’s mind was a chorus of “shit shit shit”, but he owned it. “Yeah, what’s the big fucking deal?”

(Name) smiled and yanked him down to her level by the collar, pressing her lips to his. Adam melted into the kiss, his hands resting on her hips. After a long moment, they pulled apart.

“I love you too.”

[luveline]

coworker!james is fueling me rn thank u miss jade!! can i pretty please request a coworker!james drabble in which someone at work, a higher-up of some kind or someone visiting from another company being kind of cruel to reader, and jamie discovers that maybe there are several people who have just not been very kind to her, and she doesn’t really understand why he’s upset for her? please and thank u

—Why is James so upset? And how do you calm him down so quickly? fem, 1.2k

The horrible heat of the first week of British summer time finally breaks. It was an eventuality. Nothing good ever lasts for James —he must’ve been enjoying it too much. The sun is gone, the clouds are grey, and the office radiators pump a meek heat into the room.

The dreary skies outside depress him. “I miss the sun,” he sighs, putting the tips of his fingers together and bringing down his hands, base of his palms apart to stretch the sore inside of his wrists. They pang. 

“Sunny again next week,” Remus says reassuringly. “Just in time for your review!” 

“Please don’t remind me.” 

“I must remind you, Jamie.” Remus stands up, and he gives James a loving squeeze on the shoulder, voice close to his ear, “Because you need to pretend you like your job, at least for the next few days. Come and get some coffee with me.” 

James waves his hand. “In a second.” 

When James met Remus, Remus couldn’t take touch. Didn’t like it or want it, couldn’t accept so much as a compliment, but things change, and years of knowing one another makes squeezing and pinching easy work. Remus flicks him without cruelty and exits the nook, leaving James on his own. 

He glares at your empty seat, confused. When did you leave? 

Doesn’t matter. Coffee. James is in desperate need of coffee as Remus recommended to warm up. He exits out of his desktop and shucks his suit jacket back on, taking a hand to run through his knotted hair as he walks. Past the desk banks of the account managers and the reception bank to the hallway that runs into the break room and adjourning kitchen. The office is a weird maze but the worst part is having the big ‘conference’ room right next to the break room, so the people inside working can judge you for eating, and vice versa. 

The conference room door is propped open. 

James recognises you from behind, your hair and tight shoulders. He should recognise the stress, having caused so much of it. 

“It’s just not good enough.” 

“I know.”

“You coast by, doing half the work of your fellow accountants.” 

“I… I was sick for a week, I know it affected my turnover. But nothing went unfinished, sir.” 

“No, because your colleagues picked up your slack.” 

“Sir, I– I promise I work hard.” 

Your voice is so oddly unlike yourself, a tone James is unfamiliar with. He’s arrogant and agitating and has no business interrupting, but he knocks the conference door anyways. 

“Hi, Mr. Vida. How’s it going?” James asks.

“James, it’s fine. We’re just going through L/N’s review.” 

James pulls one of those boyish smirks that men often share when they should be grimacing instead. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hangs on like he has something else to say. 

“I think we’re about finished.” 

Mr. Vida is a predictable man. He ushers the woman away to make room for the man. His misogyny is unsubtle and unfortunate, your expression laced with hurt as you gather yourself and stand to leave. 

“Not looking forward to mine,” James says easily. You round the door, and he sends Mr. Vida a suck-up smile before he goes. He should stand up for you in a way that matters, but he’d felt it imperative to remove you from the situation, rather than escalate. 

He’s on your tail, coffee forgotten as you scurry back to the desks. “Hey,” he says, finding himself in a half-jog to keep up, “wait, wait, are you okay?” 

You slow. “I’m fine,” you say, so mildly perplexed that he doesn’t think for a moment you’re playing it cool. 

“He was getting a little heavy with you.” 

You frown in agreement, but otherwise move on, rolling your chair back with your foot to open your desk drawer. “I guess so. He’s like that.” 

“Is he? I’ve never had him that mad at me.” 

“He’s not that bad.” You pull a blister pack of painkillers from your drawer and pop three out in a row. “Have you met his boss? Oh, have you ever spoken to the manager of the account managers from the Brussels office? She sucks.” 

James doesn’t have the wherewithal to pretend he wasn’t following you. He stands with his hands vice-like on the back of his chair. “What did they say to you?” 

“Who, Mr. Vida’s boss? Or the Brussels manager?” 

“Both.” 

You sit and fish a bottle of water from your bag. “I actually filed a successful grievance again Mr. Vida’s boss, he kept calling me sweetheart. I know,” —you wince— “that’s a bit much, but it was really obvious he was looking down at me, so.” 

“And the Brussels manager?” 

“She emailed me thinking I was much more involved with the lab than I actually am. She kept calling me stupid.” You take one of your tablets and wash it down with a swig of water. “But,” you add, smiling at him, “I did manage to solve her problem.” 

“What do you mean, she called you stupid?” 

Your smile slips. “She called me a bunch of stuff. Professionally, you know, but she kept asking why my foresight was so sorely lacking. You know what they’re like.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Nobody’s ever called me stupid. Or sweetheart.” 

You smile genially. “Perks of being a girl. Or stupid.” You laugh at yourself softly.

“You’re not stupid.” 

You sober at his solemn tone. “I know,” you say. “I’m just joking.” 

“Nobody should be talking to you like that.” 

“I know, James, but what am I supposed to do?” 

He doesn’t know. What can you do? Nothing. What can James do? What should he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

Your frown deepens. “It’s not your fault. It’s really fine.” 

“It’s not fine. It’s not, though, it’s–”

“James?” you say. 

“What?” 

You stand up. You stand close to him, looking into his face. “Don’t be upset,” you say, mirroring his softer tone, “it’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.” 

“Well, luckily this time I had you to come and rescue me,” you say. “But it really is fine. I can look after myself, even if I shouldn’t have to. Okay?” 

Your hand finds his arm. You squeeze his wrist and his entire torso lights up, everything, his chest, the backs of his shoulders, like goosebumps but warmer and with a softer fuzz to it. Your eyes meet his, an encouraging smile playing on a pretty mouth. For the first time that day, he feels pleasantly warm, like he’s had that first hot sip of coffee. 

The pads of your fingers are so, so soft where you catch his bare skin. 

“Okay,” he says instinctively. He’d say the sky was red if you asked him to, in that moment. 

You rub the back of his thumb with yours before letting him go. You sit down and finish your drink, and it takes James a good two minutes at his own desk to remember he’s not the one who needed comforting. 

He opens his emails to write a formal complaint against Mr. Vida for poor work conduct. He doesn’t think twice about hitting send. 

[eccentricallygothic]

Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333 

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact. 

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly. 

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed. 

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you. 

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view. 

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head. 

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?" 

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…" 

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure. 

"Please–!" 

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face. 

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare. 

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so. 

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run. 

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled. 

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size? 

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable. 

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth. 

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly. 

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs. 

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air. 

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table. 

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper. 

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over. 

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either. 

Just what the hell is going on? 

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last. 

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly. 

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!" 

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves. 

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second. 

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you. 

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it. 

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room. 

. . . 

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket. 

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.  

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search. 

For you. 

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief. 

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them. 

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you. 

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were. 

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants. 

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head. 

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction. 

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end. 

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor. 

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you. 

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?" 

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words. 

Fuck. 

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes. 

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition." 

"C- Condition, s- sir?" 

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form. 

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge. 

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead. 

"Sir–" 

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety. 

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue. 

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock. 

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling. 

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now. 

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next. 

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!" 

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to. 

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle. 

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.  

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact. 

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration. 

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while. 

Then he told you that it would  feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good. 

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach. 

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot. 

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now." 

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders. 

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on. 

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy. 

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it. 

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body. 

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo. 

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably. 

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected. 

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well. 

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together. 

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much? 

That was, until one day…

. . . 

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you. 

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…" 

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately. 

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked. 

But you were too little to know those things. 

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house. 

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need. 

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior. 

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes. 

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat. 

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake. 

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place. 

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

~

Part 2 - Neteyam

The cold shock of wind that fanned Xilä’s face caused her to stir. With a pained moan she awoke, instantly remembering her fall and the creature that was inches away from attacking her. Eyes still closed she burrowed closer to the warmth that surrounded her body, immediately tensing when it shifted behind her. 

A strangled cry fell from her lips when she finally opened her eyes- the scenery before her causing sudden panic. There was blue everywhere! Blue skies to be exact. The blood drained from her face when she realized she was being flown high in the sky on a mountain banshee. 

Glancing down to the far drop below she jerked, accidentally knocking the person behind her with her already throbbing head. 

The person hissed at the contact and the thick muscled arm wrapped around her midsection, tightened its hold to keep her still. 

“No no no no, let me go. I want to get down. Now please.” Xilä was frantic and scared, her breath turning laboured. 

“Hey stop, calm down or you- Ow!”

She scrambled, clutching and squeezing his arm in panic as the creature beneath them sailed through the air. 

One, she’d never been on a mountain banshee much less anything that could fly and two, heights. Xilä did not do heights. She screwed her eyes shut as she shook with fear. 

“Shit,” muttered the male voice behind her. He shifted them, holding her closer so that her side rested flush against his chest. Xilä’s fingernails dug into his bicep as she hid her face in his shoulder. 

“Sir, are you there? Anyone copy? Dammit. Stupid connection.” 

Neteyam shot a worrying glance to the strange, cowering female in his arms. He had been in the middle of a hunt when he heard her screams, getting there just in time to slay the nantang before it attacked her. 

He saw when she fell, he’d heard the echoing crack of her skull and knew immediately that she needed a healer- he couldn’t very well leave her there. 

Where the hell did she come from though?

He’d never seen her before and he wondered what clan she was from. Definitely not the Anurai clan, not Tipani and certainly not Metkayina. He also highly doubted that she was an Avatar.

She was an odd little thing and it wasn’t until he saw her face that he realized she was Na’vi. 

Her body was completely hidden in strange garb- a mangy hooded cloak swallowed her…even her feet were covered. 

The skin on her face was a pale dusty blue- pale as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years, and when he’d scooped her up, he frowned in concern. She was light- too light. Even with the layers she wore she seemed to weigh nothing.

“You alright there?” He tried asking but she said nothing.

Uncomfortably seated on his ikran, he glided them to his home as she continued to cling to him. The wind knocked her hood away and her wild hair tickled his skin. It smelt sweet, like soap nuts. 

Neteyam breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the clan's boundary. Caring for wild, terrified, injured females was not his forte. He’d breathe a lot easier once he handed her off to a healer but for now, she was his responsibility. And just like everything else in his life, he did to his best- he was going to try his damn hardest to make sure he got her there in one piece.

She moaned and began to move restlessly. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay, you’re fine. Tell me what’s wrong?” He urged, squeezing her lightly, using the voice he’d usually use on his baby sister to get her to calm down.

“I want to get down, please…. it’s too high,” she said in a shaky, quiet voice. 

“You don’t like heights?” 

Her head shook against his shoulder in response. 

“Look we're almost there and you need a healer, so…just hang in a little longer…I’m Neteyam. What’s your name?” 

“Xilä.”

“Xilä,” he said, testing out the name. He noticed her accent was a bit different to the Omatikaya’s, so he asked, “Where are you from Xilä? What clan?” 

“Li'ona.”

Neteyam glanced down at her with a deep frown. “The Deadlands?”

She held the back of her head with her free hand and whimpered in pain. “Neteyam,” she said anxiously, and slightly slurred. “I- I don’t feel so good.”

And then she went completely limp in his arms. 

~

When Xilä woke again, the first thing she noticed was that something soft covered her eyes, completely blocking her vision. The second thing was that her skin prickled from the chill in the air- her body was void of her cloak.  

Wiggling her toes she realized her boots were missing as well. A violent shiver rocked her body and then almost instantaneously warmth came as a thick pelt was gently draped over her, gentle hands tucking in the ends. 

Hands. Hands?! 

She tensed and perked up in complete alertness. Fear spiking, heart accelerating- her body began to shake, and not just from the cold this time. 

Where was she? 

“Shhh child. Be calm, you are safe here,” said a raspy voice, tinged with age. Those gentle hands removed the cloth from her face. Xilä blinked as her eyes adjusted, then fell on an elderly and serious faced female Na’vi. 

Surveying the dimly lit area, she noticed it was a large tent of some sort. Plants, succulents, an assortment of bowls filled with pastes and powders and many other strange items littered a well-crafted table situated in the centre of the room. 

There were a few other bed rolls like the soft one she was laying in currently, but they were vacant. 

The space lingered heavily with the scent of medicinal herbs and spices, and the faint cries of mountain banshees and chatter could be heard from the distance. 

“Here, drink.” The elder helped her sit up a little then tilted a small bowl filled with water against Xilä’s parched lips which she drank greedily, despite her uneasiness. 

Sitting all the way up, she kept the pelt close and eyed the eccentrically dressed woman in mild apprehension. Movement caught her eye and her head snapped too quickly towards it, causing her to wince in pain. 

Those eyes. It was the Na’vi male who had saved her. Neteyam. He was standing in the shadows, arms folded while he leaned against one of the high beams that held up the roof of the tent. He was watching her as if she were some kind of dangerous creature, his face impassive. 

Xilä couldn’t help it, she felt her cheeks tinge at his attire. He was dressed in nothing but a high quality loincloth, a warrior’s belt and jewellery. She was not used to seeing so much skin, even the elder who was draped in a vibrant red, beaded shawl, seemed to be wearing very little. Xilä had to remind herself she was no longer in Li'ona. 

“Don’t mind him. He says he’s keeping guard, protecting me from you. Ha! I’d be surprised if you could even lift a weapon, much less use it- judging by how weak you are.”

“Where’s my father?” Xilä asked timidly.

From her question she saw Neteyam raise his arm, he touched his strange choker and whispered to himself inaudibly, his gaze still locked on her. 

“I am Tsahìk,” the elder said, ignoring her question. She then began creating some sort of concoction while she spoke. “You have a concussion. You are dehydrated and extremely underweight. Your blood circulation is poor which explains why you’re shaking like a leaf in this hot weather and I am placing you on mandatory bed rest for the next two weeks- three if necessary.” 

The healer filled the cup once more, with warm water this time, adding the green coloured concoction to it then handed it to Xilä. “Sip slowly.” 

Feeling overwhelmed and unsure on how to handle the present situation she kept quiet and did as told, sipping on the bitter flavoured tea- she was used to following orders…that she could do. 

Xilä heard the healer’s words about her health but she didn’t think that half of what she said even registered at all. 

“How long have I been here?” 

“Only a couple of hours.” 

The healer fussed over her some more, checking the back of her head first, then examining her eyes, ears and mouth. She had raised her eyebrows at the hand made bruises on her wrists and arms but did not comment on it, for which Xilä was grateful. She simply sliced open a succulent and rubbed its slime all over the ugly looking deep purple and blue marks. 

“Mo’at,” said a deep voice. A towering male Na’vi, half dressed similarly like Neteyam, entered the space and his sharp eyes immediately fixed on her, making her shrink into herself. 

“I thought Neytiri was going to do this?” Questioned the Tsahìk as she stood to face the male. 

“Tuk’s got a stomach ache, she’s clingy right now, only wants her mother,” he said with a little smirk.

The healer sniffed in acknowledgement. “Fine, but don’t overwhelm her, she still needs rest and she’s a meek little thing. I’ll pop in to see Tuktirey.” And then she left the tent leaving Xilä alone with the two men. 

The unnamed Na’vi crouched in front of her but she didn’t meet his eyes. Her father’s words rang in her head- she wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, she’d already broken the rule by talking to Neteyam and the healer. 

“Hi there. It’s Xilä right? I’m Jake Sully- Olo'eyktan for the Omatikaya clan.” 

Her eyes flicked up to his for a second, before darting away. Here was the Toruk Makto before her- she couldn’t be rude. She quickly bowed her head and made the customary Na’vi sign of respect towards him, ‘I see you.’

He chuckled and returned the gesture. “I assume you’re familiar with my son, Neteyam?”

Eyes snapping to those gold piercing eyes once more, she swallowed nervously as he continued to eye her. Neteyam. There he still stood, looking intimidating as ever. 

“Xilä…my son says that you are from the Deadlands? Li’ona?” She nodded. “Why are you here then? Has something happened?” He spoke softly, almost as if he were speaking to a child. He had kind eyes, she noticed.  

Fiddling with the empty cup in her hands, asked again, “Where is my father?” 

“Right. Neteyam mentioned that too. We have a team out looking for him right now. We’ll find him.” Jake sent a questioning glance at his son who shook his head with a small shrug. “Were you travelling with only your father? Just the two of you?” She nodded, mutely.

He rubbed at the bridge of his brow then asked. “Is he armed?” Her brows furrowed but she dipped her head in response anyway.

“Unit five, do you copy?” He paused, then touched the odd choker on his neck and spoke again. “I need an update on the Li'onan, stat.” 

Frowning at his sanity she looked around to see who he was talking to but there was no one. He wasn’t even addressing her or his son…was he crazy too, like her grandfather Haudhk? When he was alive, he saw and spoke to people who were never there as well. 

“Okay good, keep on those tracks then and just to note be cautious- he’s armed and possibly injured. There was a nantang attack.”

Xilä squinted at the spot Jake was staring at to see if she saw anything but nope. No one was there so she glanced at Neteyam instead. 

He was still looking at her but mild amusement quirked at his lips this time. Her puzzlement at Jake talking to imaginary people must have been funny to him. Feeling stupid, she focused on her hands again. 

“Xilä we’re gonna make sure we find your dad, alight?”

~

His father had been questioning the girl for almost an hour now and they still had nothing. 

She hadn’t said a word aside from asking for her father, choosing to either nod, shake her head or simply shrug her responses. 

Studying her for probably the hundredth time now since he stood there, he concluded that she was no actual threat. She was young- probably his sister Kiri’s age. She breathed innocence and fearfulness, nervously fidgeting with her fingers or flinching at the slightest shuffle from either him or his father. So he tried to stay as still and calm as possible.

There were a few differences between her and an Omatikaya Na’vi. Mainly her dusty blue complexion. Her long, wild and tangled hair had a slight tinge of brown to it and her ears were a bit more pointed. Her eyes though…they were what truly set them apart. They were bright. They almost looked like molten silver or the moon from where he was standing and he wished he had a closer look.

His jaw ticked when he’d first seen it, but he held his tongue from saying anything about the ugly bruises around her wrists and upper arms. They were clearly made by a large hand.  

“Sir, this Tasam, over. We’ve got a problem here and you’re need- Ahh!” Both he and his father heard the message from the comm devices in their ear, simultaneously going on high alert. 

Before Jake could ask what was happening, they were interrupted by a loud commotion coming from outside. An angry roar, shouting and what sounded like a scuffle echoed from the distance. 

He and his father immediately sprinted out the tent, down the stone planted steps and toward the unmistakable growing crowd.  

“Where is she! No no! Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I demand to see your leader!” 

Walking towards the congregated area, they saw three males trying to push back an angry looking Na’vi. 

He too was covered head to toe in a threadbare cloak and boots like Xilä when Neteyam first met her. When he broke free from their hold, showing his face, bared fangs and all, Neteyam noticed that his skin and eyes were the same as his daughter but other than that, they looked nothing alike. 

“Xilä! Xilä!” 

“T'shteyo.”

The Li’ona Na’vi stilled and turned in their direction, his demeanor changing instantaneously to one of composure. He sized up Jake who approached him, then seemed to reluctantly bow, showing the Na’vi sign of respect. 

“Toruk Makto, JakeSully…I am honoured that you remember me after all these years.”

His father took in the crowd of clan members before choosing his response. This was an odd situation, he did not want to cause unnecessary reactions from his people. He had to lead by example. 

“Twenty five years ago you answered my call in our clan’s time of need. It is my honour, brother.” He stepped forward and clasped arms with the wild looking Na’vi. 

T'shteyo locked eyes in Neteyam’s direction, his face morphing into an ugly snarl. “Xilä,” he spat. 

Neteyam jerked slightly when he noticed the girl standing near him. He considered himself a highly skilled warrior- nothing ever got past him, his years of training had embedded it into his being. So suffice to say it was not often that people snuck up on him and the fact that she of all people did was more than a surprise. 

At the sound of her name she brushed past him and hurriedly made her way to her father, still clutching the pelt around her body. She was barefooted and walked strangely, frowning at the grass beneath her. 

Neteyam shared a meaningful look with his father when T'shteyo roughly grabbed his daughter and fiercely began whispering to her. He then shoved her behind him as if she were something to be ashamed of. 

“I apologize for my daughter’s intrusion, I hope she has not been a burden.”

Jake's eyes narrowed on the wild Na’vi, disliking him even more every time he opened his mouth. “Why are you here, T’shteyo?” He finally asked, having enough of beating around the bush. 

“I prefer to speak with you privately.”

From the corner of his eye Neteyam saw his mother appear, weaving between the bodies of the crowd to flank her mate. 

“You will speak here,” hissed Neytiri. “You enter our lands with hostility. Attack our guard,” she gestured to a male warrior who’s cheek was split open and another who had a nosebleed. Tasam’s arm looked mangled. “Spare us your excuses! Our people will hear what you have to say for yourself.”

T'shteyo clenched his jaw, struggling to control his anger towards her. He looked toward Jake and glared. “Are you not the mighty Toruk Makto? You let your woman speak for you?”

Jake turned murderous- jaw clenched tight, body gone rigid. Neteyam knew by his stance that his father was seconds away from attacking and if it wasn’t for the hand Neytiri placed on his chest he knew his father would’ve already charged at the Li’ona male. 

Neteyam was ready to pounce the second he saw the ugly bastard- fingers gripped around the handle of his dagger. 

He was seething now, along with many of the other onlookers. How dare he speak of his mother that way.

T'shteyo, as if realizing his mistake, quickly gave a half assed apology. “I…mean no disrespect. I forget our ways are different, is all.” Before Jake could curse him out, he rushed out, “My daughter and I seek Uturu.” 

The crowd erupted into gasps and whispers, though his father and mother showed no signs that his news shocked them- both glares remaining fixed. 

“My position was overthrown. The people…they wish us dead.”

“Why?” Jake hissed.

“The rivers are dry. We have not had rains in almost two decades. The lands bear nothing. No game to catch. My pe-” he shook his head, “The people grew angry, they blame me for their suffering.” 

Mo’at pushed through the crowd now with determined steps and whispered something to Neytiri who nodded in response. 

Prowling slowly as T'shteyo continued to ramble his case, Neytiri circled him with scrutinizing eyes. She moved closer to Xilä who was still hidden from Neteyam’s view and her ears perked up in alarm, eyes softening at whatever it was she saw. 

“Neteyam!” She called immediately.

His reaction was instant and he strode over to his mother. 

“Take her back. She needs rest,” Neytiri said, urging her gently towards him. 

Neteyam frowned at Xilä, she looked even paler than before and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. The pelt and the ugly garment that was hanging off her frame, made her look even more fragile. Just as he reached out for her, she squeaked when she was roughly jerked back. 

“No!” T'shteyo glared at him. “She stays with me. She’s fine, aren’t you girl?” He asked, shaking her. 

“Yes father,” she mumbled automatically, unfocused eyes locked on the ground. 

“See? Leave her be, she don’t need your fussing.” 

His hold looked painfully tight around her arm and Neteyam felt fury bubbling inside of him.

Who the hell was this man?

“She is not fine,” Neteyam hissed in a low growl. “I saw her fall. She hit her head so hard I’m surprised she's even coherent. Your daughter is sick and concussed. Look at her, she’s barely standing! Xilä needs rest and fluids and proper food for Eywa sake! Would it kill you to give a shit?” 

T'shteyo had a thick pulsing vein on his temple that looked as if it was about to burst. “You dare speak to me that way boy? Do you know who I-”

Neyetam marched into his space, his expression menacing. He had a good two inches on the Li’ona Na’vi who had no choice but to look up at him. “You came here. You are the one seeking refuge- our help. So give her. To. Me. Now!” Neteyam hissed through clenched teeth. 

T'shteyo’s cold eyes darkened even more, nose flared before he glanced at Jake Sully to see if he would do anything to stop him but all his father did was raise an eyebrow as if saying “So what’s it going to be?”

“Take her then.” He shoved her forcefully into Neteyam’s arms, as if he were throwing out dross. She slammed into him and a dizzy spell hit her so hard she closed her eyes tightly and had no choice but to press her forehead between his pecs, trying to swallow down a wave of nausea. 

Cold, thin fingers gripped him for balance, tucking into the space between his skin and the tough material of his warrior belt. 

Without a second thought he scooped her up for the second time that day and strode off, not even bothering to spare her father a glance. The crowd parted easily for him and his grandmother trailed behind, muttering angrily to herself. 

Xilä murmured something that didn’t reach his ears. He hoisted her up a bit higher and her check stuck flat against his shoulder blade, eyes screwed shut. “Is it your head?” He asked, concerned. 

“Y-yeah, feels like it’s about to burst.”

Looking down at her, he felt a pang in his chest. He felt unsteady and uncomfortable with the emotions she was suddenly uprooting within him. This girl was a complete stranger and it irritated him how quickly she got under his skin. How quickly he seemed to care.

~

As soon as he placed her feet on the ground, of the healing tent but keeping an arm around her, he heard his name being called. 

“Hey man, what the hell is going o-”

Both Neteyam and Spider startled at the sudden shriek from Xilä, both watching in utter confusion as she scrambled. Hands reaching up to Neteyam’s shoulders, she flung herself into his arms. Her long strange garment rode high up her thighs as her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“-Ooff!” He stumbled slightly but grabbed her waist and thigh automatically to steady them, his body going into full alert, trying to spot the threat. Spider went wide eyed as well, frowning as he watched the tiny cowering female in his friend’s arms.  

Xilä was shaking, her pelt had fallen to the ground, forgotten. Keeping her eyes locked on Spider, she asked in a petrified whisper, “What is it? Why does it look at me that way?”

Neteyam looked around not seeing any danger, eyes sweeping the ground for any crawlers but no- nothing, so he tracked her stare to an equally confused Spider and frowned. “You mean Spider?”

“It is a spy-der?” She asked, rubbing the back of her head with a grimace.

“Hey what’s up…I’m Spider. Nice to meet you.” Spider spoke in the Na'vi language and sent her an ‘I see you’ gesture in hopes it might calm her. 

Her head snapped to Neteyam, face pale with a horrified expression upon it and instant understanding dawned on him. 

“Xilä, this is Spider, that’s his name, he’s a human. You’ve never seen a human before, have you?” 

“No…I thought they were weapons of mass destruction. My father said so…” 

Neteyam tried putting her down but her hold tightened around him. Alright, I guess we’re doing it this way.

He walked closer to the human boy. “He’s friendly, see?” 

Spider grinned through his mask and gave a wave, wigging his five strange fingers. Her ears perked up looking less terrified the more she examined him through squinted eyes. She guessed he looked harmless.  

“Alright,” she whispered, slumping against Neteyam, weakly.

Mo’at walked in at that moment, passing them straight with an armful of blankets she went to collect. She seemed to be still seething in anger judging by the scowl on her face. She knelt in front of her workstation, and began tinkering with her ingredients. 

“You can put my patient down now, Neteyam.”

~

“-and that could have ended far worse, Neteyam! What the hell were you thinking? You don’t know the capabilities of these people, did you get a good look at T'shteyo? He looks like a goddamn psychopath. Unhinged. Feral.” Jake was pacing the length of their family tent, currently laying into his son over his very public altercation with the ex Li’ona leader. 

“Quick frankly I’m downright surprised at you, I would’ve expected this from your brother, not you!”

Neteyam was glad that Lo’ak was not there to hear his father’s snide remark, they were already only just back on speaking terms since their last dispute. He hated fighting with his brother. 

“Sir-”

“Li'onans are ruthless, they aren't like other clans. I haven’t seen T'shteyo in almost twenty five years, and that was on a battlefield against the RDA. I don’t know what is happening there, but they have practically segregated themselves from the rest of Pandora. They’re savages alright.”

“Sir-”

“No, I’m telling you this so you understand what we're up against. He’s put me in a precarious situation here! There are people who want him dead. People who could potentially track them here, and now you’ve gone and put a big fat target on yourself!” 

Neteyam stared at his father. 

“Look… I get it. I saw what you saw too.” He shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. “That poor girl…I’m proud of you alright, for standing up for her. But we need to tread lightly here.”

“I know sir and I apologize but I’m not sorry about it. I’d do it again,” he said earnestly. 

Jake huffed at his son’s honesty, mildly impressed. Hands on his hips, he smirked. “I keep forgetting that you’re all grown up now.” 

“I’m twenty-three, dad. I think I’m way past grown up…I passed my rites since I was fifteen. Remember?” He grinned, before turning serious again. “So what's the plan here then? Are you going to let them stay?”

“For the while? Yes.” Jake scratched the back of his head. “Your grandmother would skin me if I told that girl she had to leave. Your mother too.” He squinted at his son. “And I’m guessing you’re in the same boat?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “I may not give a shit about her father but, dad…if Kiri or Tuk looked like that…”

“I know, I know. Alright, T'shteyo is my responsibility. I’ll make sure he stays in line, teach him our ways- find out what I can about his intentions and if what he has said is the truth. He only gets to stay if he passes the rites.”

Jake side eyed Neteyam. “Can I count on you to do the same with Xilä? To show her our ways?”

“Dad, I don’t know if I’m the best person for that…”

“Oh yeah? Well tough shit. You made your scene and told T'shteyo to give her to you. Well you got her now.” Jake chuckled and patted his son on his back jokingly as they walked out of the tent. 

“Come on son, I’m sure it won’t be that bad. You could use a little excitement in your life.”

~

Yay, finally some Neteyam action!

Sorry for any errors.

Let me know what you think :)

Tags: @riatesullironalite

[sl-walker]

Today in Lines I Loved Writing

From the second chapter of Stardust:

“Heads up!” Ted shouted, cheerily, swinging off of a catwalk like some kind of acrobat, only to smack Random Henchman #3 -- on a shelf below him beside an open crate -- in the middle of his back with both boots, which--

--sent him flying down right into Booster’s outstretched arm, who clotheslined him neatly, saving him from a potentially bone-crunching meeting with the floor. “And down!”  The henchman dropped in a heap with a grunt and wheeze.  Booster winced, looking down at the guy.  “Oooh, might wanna watch the face, those ski-masks aren’t really much protection.”

Random Henchman #5 was running for the doors after #4 tripped and tumbled, because it had frankly only taken three minutes of chasing them around the warehouse to take most of them down.  “Grab him?” Ted asked, sounded surprisingly winded, and Booster glanced down at the guy he’d just dropped before taking off after the one running.

It was a quick collar -- literally! -- and just so he wouldn’t have to babysit, Booster hoisted and hung that guy off of a pulley by the leather belt he was wearing before flying back to make sure #3 and #4 were still subdued along with the others.

In the meantime, the Blue Beetle wasn’t looking so good even in the dim light; he was still hanging from the catwalk and something about his pallor was alarming.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Booster asked, wasting no time flying over there.

Ted’s skin was sweaty where it was exposed, and up close, he was clearly having an incredibly hard time holding himself up. “Heart.  Ride down?” he panted, and sagged with a grateful sounding sigh when Booster took his weight and he could let go of the catwalk. “I’ll be okay,” he said, shivering. “Just need to lay down.”

Booster was less convinced, but he landed them soft and didn’t let his alarm show when Ted literally stretched out on the floor of the warehouse, thumping against his chest with the side of his fist.

“--should I tie them up?” Booster asked, even as he hit his wrist-comm. “Skeets, call the police, send ‘em to our position?  Then hone in on my position and get here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, please,” Ted said, though he had picked up his head and was watching; he beamed despite looking like hell. “Do I get to meet your robot?!”

Booster smiled, shaking his head, and went to go figure out how to secure their random henchpeople.  “Your lucky night.  Hey, do you have anything I can use as handcuffs?”

Ted fished something out of that thigh holster, then held up a handful of zip ties that were sticking out of his fist like porcupine quills. “These work?”

“You came to a bust with zip ties?  And while I’m at it, do you actually keep a gun in there, or is it just like your all-purpose junk drawer?”

“Actually, I do have a gun!  It’s called the BB gun, because I’m clever like that.”  Ted let his head rest back on the floor and took a slower, more even-sounding breath.  “But yeah, I also stick random stuff in there because I don’t have pockets.  It’s got pouches in its pouch,” he added, with a snicker. “Like a Liefeld comic.”

Booster didn’t get the reference, but he did happen to think the word pouch was funny, which was why he was giggling like a twelve-year-old as he zip-tied their disgruntled henchfolk.  “And don’t want any civilian games of guess that lump?”

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

“They do make some impressively sized baked goods in this era,” Skeets said, zipping through the half-open man door. “Also, the police will be here in approximately forty-five seconds.”

“Skeets!”  Booster grinned, then nodded back towards where Ted was sitting up gingerly. “Your new biggest fan ever wants to meet you.”

Skeets paused for a moment mid-air, a barely noticeable hesitation, then flew over to hover in front of Ted, offering a cordial, “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Blue Beetle.”

Ted made a noise that Booster might’ve ascribed to an overly excited young dog being shown a new toy.  Like-- maybe a verbal flail of excitement, if that was a thing.  Then he said, “You are so cool.  Booster!  I’ll buy the pancakes if the ‘bot comes with us!”

Booster sat back on his heels and watched, even as the sound of vehicles roaring up outside filtered in; something about the scene -- Ted sitting there in wide-eyed wonder and Skeets hovering at eye level -- grabbed him by the heart.  Good, mixed.  “Blueberry pancakes?” he asked, rising to his feet so he could go lead the cops in.

“Pal, I’ll get you the whole damn blueberry bush.”

“Deal!”

--

Why I loved writing them: OMG, the dialogue. I've had the fortune of occasionally having pairs of characters who, if you give them even the barest kind of space, will take a scene and run away with it. And writing Booster and Beetle is just like that; one of them starts, the other builds on it, and then they just keep going, rolling it along and chasing it down the road.

So, I had fun having Ted taking a potshot at Rob Liefeld because I cut my teeth on comics in the 90s and don't even get me started. For all those fans out there who might be unfamiliar, Liefeld's not like-- the only reason 90s comics are just Like That, but he was a big contributor of it. Like, I really can draw a very clear, unambiguous line between Cable's design and Booster's look post-Overmaster arc. It's not even subtle. So, everyone who ever squinted at that really godawful run of really bad design, you almost have to blame it on Liefeld.

Ahem. Anyway. The other part is the whole bit--

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

--starting with that. It's not the first example of those two kind of 'yes, and'ing' each other in the story, their introduction to each other was the first, but it serves as a good illustration of their easy patter and ability to build on one another. And there's something super charming about them basically turning a joking bit of banter into a decision to go out to eat together, which leads to them spending almost the whole day together, which--

I've also had friendships like that, albeit without the unresolved romantic tension. But where you just enjoy the other person's company so much that you don't want to let them go. LOL! @b-radley66 can attest. @shadowmaat can, too. And many, many other people over the years.

And finally, I just also really love the mental image of Ted and Skeets meeting, just as much as I love Booster's reaction to it.

[justjams2003]

Indiana Jones Blurb

Okay so this is just s quick little blurb bc I've recently become obsessed with him. Not spell checked or anything. Tell me if y'all would read more Indiana Jones 😜

Time travel! He's the first person to have recorded time travel! And just look! Ancient hundred year old war machines, tactics, languages, things he'd been studying his whole life! Things that he'd spend his much younger days searching for in dusty dry lands, in dark caves or even wet rat filled locations. But now, here it all is, in it's prime out in the open on green grass under blue skies. And the cherry on top, he reached Nasser before those damn Nazi's could.

"Kind Sir, you have saved my people and brought knowledge with that has sped up my research for years. How can I repay you?" Nasser confronts Indiana in his ancient and he answers without a single thought. "Can you give me one more visit through time before I go back?" His old hands shake as he begs. The mathematician examines the clock in his hands. And then nods. "I repay the man who has given me more time, with time. Where to?"

It's a swift, smooth blur, much different than the incredibly bumpy plane ride the first time. And much, much more quiet. The first thing he hears is your voice, begging his own father to stay awake. He remembers this like it was yesterday. He'd just confessed his love to you the first time, believing he would die in the three quests to the holy grail. But as selfish as he was back then, he didn't wait for a reply.

Then, he sees you hunched over his dying father. Covered in dust and your skin the same golden colour he used to be. Now in his old age one of his many regrets was not having you both wear more sunscreen. "Psst! Doll face!" He whispers his nickname for you, and by some force of the universe, you're the only one who raises their head. "I need some fresh air..." You mumble and once again the damn Nazi's let you, knowing you wouldn't run off.

He's hiding by some rocks, but your souls are attracted to the other and you find him almost instantly. You're just like he remembers you. How he wished he spent more time focused on you instead of old gold and pottery. Because that there is always more of, but of you there never will be. "Indy?" Your voice is like sweet melodies to his ears. His past and present collides in one cruel bang as he pulls you as close as he can.

He holds you tight as he can, you're utterly confused. Not only by his presence but also by the sheer force he holds you. As if he's lost you a million times over. "Indy? No...not my Indiana." He laughs at your confusion, trying to drink up every single bit of you. Your smell, your voice, the crinkle between your brows and your warm smile. "Always so clever, doll face." Your nose scrunches up and the crinkle between your brows grows, but before you can say anymore, he interrupts you.

"I don't have much time to explain, but-" You can see tears form in his eyes. His hands are shaking and he still refuses to let you go. "But I need you to break my heart. I need you to leave me and never come back. Please-" his voice cracks, and he shudders, trying to keep himself composed to finish his request. "Please I can't handle the hurt anymore." You can see just how much he is struggling. How much he wants to break down in your arms. And you reply by pulling him tighter. He smells much different. There is no longer that lingering scent of leather and gunpowder. But his warmth is still the same, your body still fits in his the same.

"I'm not there anymore, am I?" All he does is shake his head, you know he wants to cry. "How long has it been? Without me, I mean." He shudders again, grabbing your shirt and clenching it. "Six years. It was-" you stop him, "And you still love me?" Again, he just nods. "Then why do you want to get rid of me?" Now the flood gates open, while you just stand there as his support. "Because if I don't love you, then I won't hurt anymore. Please, please I can't do this anymore. I can't live without you."

You push him off you. "No. No I won't do it, you senile old man. Over my dead body." His eyes hold so much pain, so much fear, you know what he really wants, is to get rid of the pain and have you back. "I won't mess with time. And I won't break the heart of the man I love. Not because he's become a wuss in his old age." This causes him to laugh, he misses that spark so much. "I love you, Indy. Please don't grow cold because of it." Your words strike him, deeper than any bullet, whip or knife. Is this really how he wants to spend his last moments with you?

He laughs again, and pulls you close, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't ever change. And keep that reckless boy in check." You laugh, and wrap your arms around him. You still can't make your arms all the way around him. "I will, you know that. And I love you, I hope you know that too."

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 16/?

Falling, burning, like a star

Billy's listening to "Trapped under ice" and "Fade to black" by Metallica (album "Ride the lightning" released in 1984)

***

The way February rolls in, it's moody, ill-tempered.

There are strong piercing winds stinging Billy's face, cutting through his jacket, making him shiver with bitter cold. Their dreary howls constantly remind him of how much he wants to escape from this place.

And how much he can't.

Ice rains come together with the gusty winds. They cover everything in an icy crust, and

Tommy wasn't kidding. Black ice that happens, is the worst thing possible.

On a day like that Billy slips and almost falls down the second after leaving the house, then the moment he starts his car and sets it in motion, it begins fucking sliding. Billy's never tried skating, but that's probably how it feels - skating and spinning on a fucking ice-rink. What he's experiencing cannot be identified as driving.

Tommy has been going on about changing tires since November - for winter ones, but Billy didn't listen. He didn't want to spend money on the new tires that he would only need for three months, and there's no point in buying them now with only one winter month left to survive.

He probably should've paid attention to Hagan's words, shouldn't have been so careless about it.

After reeling to school, Billy then almost wipes out on the way to the building. Shit, that would've been embarrassing. Years of surfing and always finding the balance have helped him, but it's a formidable challenge.

Sullen skies that have swallowed all of Hawkins drive Billy up the wall. He needs sunshine, but there isn't a single ray of it.

The low heavy sky, overcast with colourless clouds, weighs down on him, like a coffin lid that's gonna close soon.

The fuck is this weather. When is it gonna finish.

The goddamn frozen land - wherever you look - puts Billy into comatose slumber but sometimes his lethargic state is disturbed, and he's woken up from it only to choke on his own bile.

He's already on edge, but it feels like everything around is pushing him further and further, he no longer has any ground left under his feet, he can hear the stones falling down, the cliff is biting the soles of his shoes. He's just an inch away from going down.

It's supposed to be sunnier in spring.

***

Neil is just perfect at making Billy's mood better. Always bringing that vibrancy in, you know? Shaking the gloom off, keeping him entertained.

This time Billy gets an after-dinner dessert, brought to his room, no less, on a fucking silver platter.

The moment Billy closes the door to his room, it's being thrown open again. Neil storms inside, seizes his son by the scruff of the neck and pulls. Like a naughty little pet who made a mess on the carpet. When Billy was younger Neil often dragged him like that by the ear. He has stopped with the ear, that's good. But Billy's collar, neck, sometimes even hair is still an option.

Billy doesn't even understand why this is happening, he's scrambling to remember what he has done wrong today.

His dad drags him into the kitchen where Susan is putting away what was left after dinner in the fridge.

"Son, say thank you for the food and apologize for your behaviour."

Oh, that. Did Billy not thank Susan?

Crap. That's right, he forgot.

"Neil, honey, please, it's okay, really." Susan is looking at her husband, smiling nervously, hoping to dissolve the tension. She is not looking at Billy.

"Who cooks for the family?"

"Susan." Billy's voice is quiet. He didn't expect any of that

"Does Susan also clean the house?"

"Yes."

Neil is so quick at giving him a little backhanded slap in the side of his head

"Speak up, like a man, not like a damn pansy!"

Billy's raising his voice. Like a man

"Yes, sir."

"Do we provide food for the family?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do we pay for the house? Keep the roof over your head?"

Billy wants to scream. Yes, goddamn it, YES !! you do all these things, for fucks sake

He's taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to collect himself.

"You do, sir."

"That's right. So where is your gratitude, son?"

"Thank you. Sir. Thank you, Susan. The dinner was delicious. I am sorry I forgot to say it right away. It won't happen again."

Billy talks staring down, at the floor. He can't look up at Susan or he'll burst into fucking helpless tears.

Everything that he's been working so hard at .. his muscles, his strength

His badness

All his ideas about taking responsibility for his own life. Being adult.

It all goes to shit every time Neil shows his power.

Billy feels so small

He's almost 18, and he still feels like a little kid who is morbidly, gut-wrenchingly

Afraid of his dad. Whose heart crumbles in the face of his father. He freezes up, paralyzed with fear

What does dad want from him? What does he want ?? It was just once, that he forgot to say the fucking thank you, why does it feel like he's commited a fucking crime??

Why is Billy such a coward? Why is he so scared? Why can't he stand up for himself, fucking once?

He's not strong enough for that.

Who is he trying to fool. Until he's out of here, he'll always be a snotty kid getting slapped around by his dad for every tiniest thing, it'll never change

"Go to your room, you ungrateful bastard. And don't you ever forget to thank those who make your useless life possible."

Billy shuffles back and quietly closes the door.

Susan, how can you love him, don't you see who he is, how can you sleep in the same bed with him

Susan doesn't have a problem with this. Billy is not her son. Billy is nobody to her.

The thing is, he, indeed, forgot this simple routine. Left the table without showing courtesy.

It was all Harrington's fault, of course.

During dinner Billy kept racking his brain over the possibility of it being Steve, slipping the damn note into his pocket.

The whole weekend that follows finding it

Billy is not himself. He's working on the beamer in Old Joe's garage, but everything is falling out of his hands, he literally has to force himself to concentrate on the job.

"Are you okay, kid?"

"Yeah, never better. Thanks, Mr. Dailey."

Get the fuck away from my head, Steve

Why the fuck does this jackass keep throwing him off balance?

Why is Billy so sure it's Harrington who left that note?

He isn't. It can be Jennifer. Or Alison, a pretty junior who they've been exchanging interested looks with for quite a while now.

But I really want it to be him.

Of fucking course Billy doesn't call. He still respects himself that much.

At home, he comes near the phone, stares at it

Itching to dial the number. Almost slapping his own hands away.

He can just call and hang up. Just uh .. to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

Make sure it's Steve.

No, this is stupid.

Billy is dying to pick the receiver up, and feels extra fucking stupid too. Look at him, turning into a pining bitch. His heart sinks when he imagines that he is calling and Harrington answers, says something pretentious like

"Harrington residence."

And Billy's gonna say

"Hey dickhead. Why did you leave your number in my pocket?"

What do you want?

And then Steve will ask him

"You wanna come over?"

No he's not gonna say that. Maybe his parents are home for the weekend. Hargrove has heard it from Tommy that Steve's folks are often away, dad has a business in Indianapolis or something like that.

He'll probably say

"Want to hang out?"

Want to kiss me again?

And Billy will be like

"Why not, dumbass."

He'll smile into the receiver as he will hear Steve's soft

"Alright .. uhm .."

Stop ! The fuck is this? He's having imaginary conversations with Harrington, for real now??

It's like there's this want .. this confusing yearning, the inexplicable hunger, rising from within, spreading all over his insides.

That's new.

Fucking hell in flames.

Calm the fuck down, Billy.

It’s not at all clear who put the note into his pocket. Maybe it’s a chick, maybe it's some kind of a prank, Vicky can be plotting something against him, cause Tina once said she's still heartbroken, it can literally be anyone and anything, but Billy is already drooling over the idea that it's Harrington.

Hargrove, seriously man, you need to chill. Take a step back. Switch gears. Be careful. There's black ice on the road. You need to get back in control. Drive with caution.

Let's fight fire with fire.

On Sunday evening, after driving himself to the point of madness, and after finishing his shift, Billy goes behind the repair shop, takes out the note, puts it in a bucket and flicks the lighter. It burns bright for a second, and Billy kicks the bucket, letting the wind blow away the ash.

***

So Monday is another Ice day. Let's roll, motherfuckers.

When Max jumps into the car to get her spoiled ass driven to school, she bangs the camaro door too loud, and Billy hits the roof.

Grabs her by the hand, squeezes like he wants to break it and tells her in a sweet menacing voice

"Bang it one more time, Maxine, and I'll cut your fingers off. Or will chop off your whole hand, do you hear me?"

And like, okay he can slam the door too. Any time.

Billy loves his baby but he's not gentle with it

But Max shouldn't do it. He drives her around, adjusts his own schedule to fit hers and she fucking slams the door? As a thank you?

Just recently the meaning of gratitude has been explained to Billy, and Max looks as if she's in need of a demonstration as well

The little rat glares at him, hatred in her feral icy blue eyes

"God, you're such an asshole!"

She's on the verge of crying, but she's not gonna. They are similar this way.

She just rubs her wrist pitifully and mutters quietly

"I have no idea why El .. Jane even likes you. You're a total dick."

Billy doesn't give a shit what she's mumbling there. Just stop banging the fucking door, Maxine, be on time, and we'll be alright till summer. After July comes we'll be perfect because we won't ever see each other's faces again.

He turns the car stereo on, inserts the tape.

I don't know how to live through this hell

Max groans, closing her ears

"Oh noooo, turn it off !!"

Frozen soul, frozen down to the core

Break the ice, I can't take anymore

Hargrove cranks the volume to the maximum.

No-one knows, no-one hears what I say

"BILLY !!!"

Cry out, I'm trapped under ice

He shows her the middle finger.

Max pulls the hat down her ears and face, covers her head with the hood of her winter jacket, throws arms over it and slumps in the seat.

Yeah. That's better.

Wrapped up tight, cannot move, can't break free

Cry out, I'm trapped under ice

***

Also on Monday he skips the last class - Español - and smokes pot with Tommy. It's freezing under the bleachers with all the blustery winds whistling around, so they take it to Billy's car. It's a fucking smoke house on wheels, the camaro, shaking from the deep bass

Life it seems, will fade away

Drifting further every day

Windows all fogged up, and the two boys get so stoned, they don't even understand someone's knocking on the windshield to get their attention.

Getting lost within myself

Nothing matters no one else

It's Carol.

"Oh hey baby." Hagan opens the door, a goofy smile spreading over half of his face. "How you been?"

Carol sizes him up and sighs

"I've been fine, Tommy." There's no point in mocking a stoned boyfriend

Emptiness is filling me

To the point of agony

Growing darkness taking dawn

"Jesus, what are you even listening to?"

Billy's turning the music down

"Did Delgado give us shit for not being in class?"

"Nah. Not much."

Tommy is turning to Hargrove who's just sitting there staring at the roof of the camaro

"See, I told you man."

They are both giggling and Tommy is reaching out for a fist bump

"We got away with it. I think we're just lucky."

Carol's rolling her eyes like, you dumb idiots.

"It's not pure luck, Tommy. I told Ms. Delgado you have diarrhea," -

both guys are close to asphyxiation cause they are wheezing

"And Billy had to drive you home cause your car wouldn't start in the morning and you had no chance of driving home yourself. Now get the hell away from the parking lot before she sees you two."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hagan wipes off the tears and gets out of the Camaro.

"Also, I don't think she's gonna go after you, Billy. You aced the last test."

Tommy is looking at her with a question in his eyes

"You didn't, baby."

When Hagan drapes himself over his girlfriend and they walk away in the direction of Tommy's ford, Max materializes near the passenger's door.

"Billy, open the windows! It stinks! I'm underage, I can't be breathing this smoke!"

Stop fucking pestering, Maxine.

"You can't drive when you're stoned. I don't want to die because you're a drug addict."

Tough luck, Maxine.

"Are you gonna say something?"

First, enough with the damn yapping. It's the gremlin's annoying mouth just going yap yap yap yap

Jeeesus.

Also.

He kinda wants to really say something to her to make it a bit better between them after he so violently grabbed her wrist in the morning. But then it's like fuck no.

Max throws her hands up in a desperate cry out to dull leaden heavens to ask for .. what? To pierce Billy with a lightning bolt?

And drops onto the seat.

Billy suddenly wonders if he's gonna miss his dad when he gets out of here. After all, it's his only family. Maybe there will come a time when Billy's gonna call Neil for Christmas.

Weed makes you think weird things, huh

***

These days Billy gets another disturbing dream about his mother. They never even happened so often any more. He almost stopped having them during the last year when he was still in California, but here the wound seems to have started bleeding again.

It's perplexing too, cause it's not like Billy started thinking about his mother more. He's made peace with his situation, if you can ever make peace with something like that. All the tears are left in childhood. All the pain has dulled itself.

Billy is six or seven, a little happy boy, he can feel happiness living inside him

He is running on the beach after his mom, they are playing catch, that's what they are doing, right? But it's the same like with the dream where he was trying to reach her in the cold ocean,

He's running and chasing her till he can't anymore, but no matter how hard he tries, he's not able to catch up with her. She then vanishes out of sight completely and Billy is left standing on the shore all alone. He can hear his heart breaking, like shattered glass, like a little explosion within. He presses his hands close to his chest trying to hold his heart together. It hurts, everything hurts, and when he looks down at his hands, they are covered in bright red blood. He can still hear the sound of glass being crushed when he opens his eyes in the middle of the night.

Billy involuntarily touches his chest.

Everything is fine. He turns the bedside lamp on, looks at his hands. Of course, there is no blood.

It's just a bad dream. It's okay.

The happiness is gone, but at least his heart beats like it usually does.

***

***

Steve's watching Nancy smile at Jonathan. They are standing near her locker, talking about something, Byers' hand cupping her elbow.

It's not jealousy, no. King Steve and princess Nancy, they weren't meant to be. End of the fairy tale.

He doesn't have a problem with it anymore. Their story wrote itself and came to an end.

It's more like emptiness.

Nancy seems happy with her new boyfriend. Shared trauma and everything. Harrington wonders, who's gonna share his frigging trauma?

Steve's feeling good, all things considered. He has come round a new mind set to follow - if the world is close to ending he might as well enjoy his every day and not turn himself into a paranoid crybaby, hiding in the corner of his room.

Every morning he rises and spends not less than an hour on making himself shine. He looks extra good, he's stopped brooding.

Steve Harrington is a total catch, nothing has changed that, and the senior year still means that he has the right to have fun. In fact, it's written in the constitution. Pursuit of happiness, or something.

On Saturday evening Steve does what he's been meaning to do for weeks now - he takes Nicole out on a date. Steve's without the car temporarily but that's what friends are for - Tommy lends him the ford. They go to a diner and kiss for half an hour in the backseat of Hagan's Lovemobil, as Tommy called it before handing the keys over to Harrington.

Steve is excited and super horny, and his cock definitely wants to go all the way, Nicole doesn't seem to mind, but his parents are at home, and it's not very comfortable in the Lovemobil, after all.

So they take a raincheck. It's even better this way, Steve has always preferred to prolong the feeling of chase.

Hargrove doesn't call at the weekend.

Of course it was Harrington who slipped the sheet of paper with his phone number in Billy's jacket pocket. Duh.The dude left it on the bench in the locker room, while he was soaping up his ass in the showers, and Steve acted on impulse.

After the date when Steve's back home, he asks his mom

"Hey, did anyone call me while I was out?"

"Yes, honey."

Oh my god, really? He actually called ??

Californian badboy took the bait, he is hooked

"It was uh .. Mr. Dailey? From the car repair shop?"

Oh.

Oh okay.

"Did he leave a message?"

"Yes, he said they had a delivery today in the morning. Your new windshield has arrived."

"Great! It means I'm going to get my car back soon! Yesss! Thanks, mom."

On Monday morning his parents are leaving for Indianapolis, and Steve's sort of glad they are.

He throws a small private party on Tuesday, for close friends only - Tommy, Carol and Nicole.

While Tommy is like

"Let's invite Hargrove, yeah?"

Steve is not psyched about the idea

"I was thinking, it's only couples this time, Tommy. I've got plans."

Hagan winks at him in understanding and lets it go, although he really likes it when Billy is around.

The party turns out great. Just what the doctor ordered. Nicole lied to her parents that she's having a sleepover at Carol's, so they have all night.

***

Once again, Hawkins high has something new to chew on.

Steve Harrington finally got over the painful breakup with Nancy Wheeler who's full on dating Jonathan Byers now.

He's free and on the market again .. or .. wait a second? Is that Nicole Anderson who King Steve is kissing on the way to school on Thursday morning?

Uh-oh, ladies, looks like one of the most popular guys at Hawkins High is taken again. Unless, it's nothing serious? Stay tuned to find out!

So it's Thursday, and something else happens in the parking lot, something that is not for everyone to see.

It's only a couple of minutes before the first period, most people are already inside the school, and there are only a few students left, in a hurry to get to class. Nobody wants a tardy.

Steve's walking with Nicole towards the entrance, right arm thrown over her shoulder, new lovebirds alright, and he's turning his head, spotting Hargrove smoking near the camaro, watching them like a hawk. The guy's puffing as if he's mad at the cigarette.

Why didn't he call?

Harrington's not gonna lie, such indifference has wounded his pride a bit. Maybe Hargrove needs a little incentive. Maybe he didn't understand it was a note from Steve.

He double checks that no-one's around to accidentally catch sight of what he's about to do.

The parking lot is clear.

Harrington's deep hazel meets Hargrove's changeable blue, and they hold the gaze. Steve brings his left hand to his face and makes the "phone" gesture with it, mouthing "call me" and smiling.

Fucking smiling. Fleeting, lustful. Like a personal invitation.

Like the fucking asshole that he is.

Billy can't believe what he's seeing. The cigarette stub burns his fingers.

Is Harrington for real ??

So it was him, whose phone number Billy slapped himself from dialing. Hargrove's sixth sense didn't let him down.

Fucking "call me"? In broad daylight?

The rich brat is completely off the rails. What if someone else sees it? He's hugging a girl, for fuck's sake!

Billy has heard the rumours. He knows that Nicole stayed overnight at the king's castle from Tuesday to Wednesday. Maybe it's gonna turn into a regular thing. By the looks of it, it might, and there's a sour taste spreading in Hargrove's mouth.

He doesn't wait long to start fighting the black snake coiling in his chest.

Jennifer's face lights up when he catches her by her locker before the second period

"Hey, sweetheart."

Billy leans on the nearby locker and looks at the girl like he's head over heels in love with her. He hates doing it to her, but he also needs it for his own sanity.

They go out to a pizza place on Saturday evening, Jennifer is sparkling with joy, she's been waiting for it for ages, apparently. The pleasant evening leads to kissing in the camaro, and Billy's letting the girl believe they are at the start of something wonderful.

He doesn't forget to ask for her phone number.

On Monday the whole situation gets a bit ugly, cause Vicky who, in all likelihood, still hasn't recovered from their breakup with Billy - it wasn't a breakup, they just stopped seeing each other -

Intercepts Jennifer on her way to the table where Billy's sitting waiting and

Oopsie, Hargrove's new girl's tray goes flying up and while her lunch is on the floor, the cola is all over her fluffly white sweater

"You skanky bitch! You think you can get away with stealing someone else's guy like that?"

Jennifer turns out to be no coward and gets her sharp claws in Vicky's frizzy hair

"He was never yours, you stupid cow!"

Fucking shit. Billy's springing up to his feet, trying to hold Jennifer back and thinks he might be done with girls altogether.

Of course, teachers interfere and both screaming guilty parties get taken to the principal's office.

Tommy watches Hargrove in awe. No girl has ever fought over him like that.

Even Harrington's lips are parted in amusement like he's watching a very entertaining performance.

***

For the record, Hargrove wasn't only busy breaking girls' hearts these days. He's also been working like crazy on Harrington's beamer. Billy promised him a week and a half, two at most.

On the same Monday during one of the breaks between classes, when Steve is hugging his new fucking girlfriend near the science lab, Billy comes up to him

"The car is ready, Harrington."

He hates the name.

"Come pick it up."

Steve's smile blinds Billy, stuns him. For a couple of seconds he can't see anything around him.

"That's awesome, man! I'll come by after school, yeah? Can't wait to get it back!"

He kisses Nicole on the cheek

And it's like. A fucking dagger in Billy's throat

He hates, hates, hates him so much.

***

In the afternoon Steve and Tommy arrive for the beamer.

Harrington looks like a little boy opening a Christmas present he's found under the tree. Billy can see, he's happy with the result of - mostly - his work.

There's some .. intangible tension in the air. Like .. the two boys want to say something to each other, more than what they are actually saying, but Tommy is there, and unspoken words electrify the air around.

Tommy could totally get into his ford and drive away. He's not catching on.

Steve settles business with Mr. Dailey and leaves some extra money. A tip for Hargrove.

Billy's eyes follow Harrington getting in the beamer, the asshole waves his hand at him. He's over the moon, it's obvious. Who wouldn't be, Billy's done a terrific job.

Hargrove doesn't want a tip, what he wants is to jump in the car with Steve, ride shotgun, watch his movements while he's driving, his hands on the steering wheel, and one on the gearshift

Does he look confident when he's on the road, does he look different

Even prettier, even hotter than he is

A generous fucking tip, actually. It burns his hand, the 100-dollar bill.

Fucking rich people. Billy deserves it, and more. He took care of every fucking inch of that beamer, it looks brand new now. So why does he want to shove this money deep into Harrington's preppy ass? Why does he feel uneasy accepting it?

Billy doesn't put it with the rest of his stash at home. He puts it in the glove compartment instead,

And curses the unceasing inner turmoil that's been fraying his entire being.

***

They are sitting at different tables in the lunch hall. Billy is surrounded by people, his hand is on Jennifer's shoulder. They are smiling and laughing and, except for Vicky's agonising gaze across the hall, everything is good.

Harrington is with his usual company, hand around Nicole's waist. They are talking about some unimportant stuff, and yeah

Life is nice and easy.

Not a single soul notices

All the side glances, thrown casually

An invisible thread, thin as a cobweb

Connecting them, so fragile, so easy to be torn.

They are nobody to each other.

They've put lips on lips three times

Each one for his own reasons.

If you ask Harrington, he'll say he was - probably still is - looking for distraction and generally can't be held accountable for anything these days. Aside from the usual problems every senior student has to face, he went through a rather earth-shattering breakup and, also, on top of that, learnt that monsters are real.

Steve would honestly just say "monster" as an excuse for anything now

"Mr. Harrington, why haven't you done your project assignment? It was due yesterday."

"You should've seen the monster, Ms. Babcock. Massive. Terrifying. Can you push the deadline for me a bit?"

"Steve, honey, why didn't you unload the dishwasher? I asked you to give me a hand?"

"The monster, mom. Can we install bullet proof everything in the house, I actually think it might help me sleep better at night?"

"Harrington! Why the fuck did you suck face with Hargrove for the third time? You gay, or what?"

"Tommy, my brother. Gay or no gay, it makes no difference for the monster. You should've seen the thing."

Too bad he can't talk about it with anyone. The creature, and the kisses.

Obviously, no living soul should know about the kisses, all three of them.

It seems as if Steve has so many secrets these days.

***

If Billy was the one to open up, it would be something like

It's only to make the year more bearable and

I have this need sometimes and

Did you know that about Billy Hargrove -

I always do what I want, no-one's the boss of me.

But, honestly, Billy doesn't quite know anymore. The excuse to make the time go faster in this shithole sounds especially weak.

Something else is happening, and Hargrove doesn't like it.

He might be kissing a new girl, but Harrington is always on his mind.

In classes, depending on who is sitting behind

The gaze of that boy every once in a while lingers on the broad back of the other.

Eyes quickly averted to find another object to look at.

They are both so young

Both so clueless

Of fate, having set certain tiny gears, cogs and wheels in motion

And of how the future might unfold.

***

***

Billy's eyes are closing, his lids are heavy, heavy with exhaustion. It's a seesaw, just like on a kids playground. Billy's down, feet touching the ground, and he's trying to talk some sense into his own self.

Realistically, nothing can come out of it, right?

Realistically, Billy doesn't need it.

Realistically, Harrington is just a capricious bitch. He kissed Hargrove on a whim cause he was going through stuff with his ex-girlfriend. It's not gonna go any further than than. Maybe Steve's still in love with Wheeler, and that's just part of his game while he's trying to win her back.

Billy is a rational person.

When the night comes, before falling asleep Billy replays the finishing day in his head, recalling its various moments. What Harrington was wearing, how he smiled, how he took a drag of a cigarette, standing near his shiny BMW, how he answered some stupid shit in Literature class and sneakily pulled out a cheat sheet during the test in History, how he again jerked his long hairy legs in front of Billy's nose during basketball practice.

Billy also wants to smoke with Harrington and chat about something. Tell him how he took his time levelling out the dents on Steve's car, how carefully he was spraying the paint, almost lovingly, making sure everything looks great, impeccable. How glad Billy was when the windshield was delivered on time, as it had been planned.

Hargrove even kisses Jennifer while hugging her in the lunch hall, only for Harrington to see, to make him look his way.

Pay fucking attention. It's not like you mean anything to me. Are you jealous, pretty boy?

Cause I'm not.

Everything is fine with Jennifer, she’s a nice-looking girl, with her full lips and soft bouncy tits. She sometimes talks too much, some bullshit Billy's not even listening to half the time, and again, just like Vicky, she loves discussing prom, what the fuck is wrong with chicks going insane over stupid prom, all these conversations make Billy sick and tired.

That's okay cause he couldn't care less.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with Jennifer, but for some reason Billy's dick doesn't get as hard for her as it does for King fucking Harrington.

Billy really wants to punch him in his beautiful face.

Why does the asshole have to be so beautiful.

Billy has seen more handsome guys in California, but he's never found anyone's face so beguilingly attractive.

Then grab him bullyingly by his stupid polo or his expensive fucking cashmere sweater and drag him into an empty room, a lab or the janitor's closet, rough him up a little, push, squeeze

And kiss him to death.

Tug him closer by the waistband of his pants. Unbuckle the belt. Unbutton. Unzip. Pull the pants down a little to make space for his movements. Slide the hand in Steve's underwear, into the heat.

Put his hand on his dick and make him cum in his boxer briefs

Watch how he closes his eyes during orgasm, how his Adam’s apple dances and twitches under the skin, the tender skin of his neck, smooth like velvet, thin like silk when he moans quietly and trembles under Billy’s hands,

Listen to the sounds escaping his pretty lips, kissing them, kissing them, kissing them

The seesaw soars up, Billy's heart drops, and all sensible thoughts go to hell.

There is nothing rational about him thinking about Harrington. There is no point.

And yet,

Billy is hard again.

He knows the drill.

[crazy56u]

Happy Valentines Day, time for newspapers and jackass raisin-looking fuckers.

“Last time on Quantum Leap: Oh, I bet you thought we forgot about that chip subplot… Get fucked.”

And now the wolf is in the hen house, and odds are he ain’t fucking leaving.

Also, Ben wrote a letter; in unrelated news, Tom is pissed.

Hard cut to the 80s!

Cinematic parallels: Ian got an ominous phone call last week, Ben gets one today.

“Look, I could tell you more about the people who are gonna die, but because I hate you now- (CLICK!) (beeeeeeeeeeeeep)”

“God, where do I find you people?!” …the want ads?

Why does the guy Ben leapt into look like Jack Quaid?

Ben, you are doing swimmingly at acting normal today.

And the reporter is dismissing the fact Ben got an ominous phone call, and I vividly remember a car blowing up in the trailer for this episode, so, 5… 4… 3…

“Look, I’m Connie Davis, fuck your phone call.”

“This is the biggest story I’ve had in months.” And hard cut to Halloweentown.

“Steve, exactly how big is your pumpkin?” Big enough to topple the government?

I love how you can tell Connie wanted to die the second “Good gourd” was spoken.

“Now Steve, I know your viewers are dying to know- just like how your wife is probably literally dying, based on that cough-”

Meanwhile, the real 3 Ws: Waffles, wine, and Wednesday afternoon napping

“Okay, Steve said words, I wanna leave now.”

“There, I punched the camera, that’s how you know the battery died.”

“Look, Ben, you stopped a stroke, but car crashes are a little more unpredictable. Also, there’s this guy, Gideon-“

And I’m hoping to God the produces bought that number before someone tried to call it…

“Can we please focus on the leap, and not the subplots?”

My guess, Connie got fired for talking shit about Barbara Walters.

“And now she does-“ “Pumpkins.” Phrasing.

The more pumpkin puns she is forced to hear and say, the more Connie wants to die.

And cut to Newton’s shit ass cradle.

[Full disclosure: I am actively muting the parts of the episode involving Gideon. I have captions in, but still.]

“All I’m suing is blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

Just saying, Ben had three shots to indirectly erase Gideon from the plot, and I doubt this one’s gonna be the one.

“Look, sir, I’ve been kept in the dark, maybe let me in on this subplot?”

[And now I am actively glad I am muting Gideon; I can just tell he’s saying this bit of expo with a smug tone.]

Oh fuck you, I wrote “blah blah” because I didn’t have time for your bullshit, you don’t get to use “blah blah”.

…calling it now, whatever “needs” to happen, Magic is gonna take one for the team.

[Sound goes on.]

Meanwhile in the parking garage of doom.

Bean, you suck at the news.

…okay, I was joking, but is the parking garage haunted?

Fellas, you ever get cockblocked by an answering machine?

“Look, man, I know I have a gun and a ski mask, but you are freaking me the fuck out; why were you talking to a ghost?”

Dude, Ben doesn’t even know what the story is. Neither do we!

Game Theory: The guy actually forgot to check if his gun was loaded, and had to pivot at the last second.

“That’s right, I punched you in the face, I hope you learned something today.”

[“Okay, Ben blacked out, cue the title.”]

Stop telling Ben to drop a thing he knows shit all about.

…is it bad that I thought she was gonna dump whiskey on his wound?

“I think we have a story-” “A concussion.” A story-driven concussion.

BREAKING NEWS: Pumpkins are attacking people!

“Look, I had to make you look like a dumbass to save your ass.”

“What if this is the next Watergate? You know, I heard the real reason that got tipped off to the press was because a college professor snuck into the building so that this one student could say goodbye to her dad before he went to Vietnam! He even did a dance on the steps and talked to a ghost!”

“Rule one of doing work: See rule one.”

“Why are you always covered in blood, and do I keep thinking that’s low key hot?”

Ben, the universe can suck an egg.

“You’re the best leaper I know.” Meanwhile Elsewhere, Sam Beckett is seething.

“It was either being a journalist or being in the military, Ben.”

Ben 100% stole that whiteboard.

And now Ben and Addison have to figure out what the plot is.

“What do we know?” “Not much.” For example, throwing this out there, the date?

“A suit works at a company.” Mic drop.

It took mentioning a lawyer for us to get within the ballpark of the date this leap is happening on.

“There, I wrote ‘Lawyer’ big. Are closer to solving this leap?”

That fucking beast of a computer…

“Look, it’s an all-nighter, and I want a distraction from the Gideon subplot.”

Ben, no, you were doing so good, don’t get distracted by relationship shit!

I have a sinking suspicion that wasn’t all the coffee Ben drank…

Okay, so, technically Tom was the puppet.

“Look, I can do my job and be pissy about relationship bullshit.”

“I got a call at 3 in the morning telling me to burn Quantum Leap to the ground.” I swear to fucking God if that was an indirect way of saying NBC’s cancelling the show…

[No sooner did I type that, Tumblr tried eating this post, I ain’t taking any chances, part 2.]

[chimielie]

kita + 7 (are you hitting on x for me?) + meet cute + coffeeshop au!!! i get that this might be a handful so i understand if you scrap it :)

i wanted to request sold to inarizaki but you crossed that out 😞 (/j)

surprise! i'm still doing these ahaha i'm so sorry. so so sorry. that's all i've got slkdfjsj tysm <3 sorry no one was sold to inarizaki in the making of this fic

kita shinsuke + “are you hitting on x for me?” + coffeeshop au + meet-cute (fic)

You’ve always loved the rain.

While you know that it’s bad for business— especially during the first few days of the wet season, as everyone stays inside and tries to acclimate to colder temperatures and gray skies, you can’t help but smile to yourself as you lean your elbow on the counter and watch the heavens open outside. The soft music perpetually playing during open hours is only complemented by the sound of tapping on the windows and roof, relaxing you so much you nearly forget that you’re supposed to be working when someone walks in the door.

You straighten up when you realize that your view of the street has been obscured by— oh, my.

He has greyish hair, layered underneath with jet black, a frame that suggests a healthy balance of hard muscle and softness, and a book tucked beneath his arm. You notice that despite the deluge and a noticeable lack of umbrella, he’s somehow not wet, and for one wild second you wonder if he’s a god from the old stories, here to test your human kindness. Then you return to your senses and remember that you share an overhang with the neighboring business.

“Hello,” you say, somewhat belatedly as he’s already nearly reached your countertop. “I hope your day’s going well.”

“It is,” he says, voice as melodious and even as the patter of raindrops outside. “How about yours?”

“Oh, it’s great,” you say, and your eye contact lingers just a little too long. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“A black coffee and, ah, one’a these, please,” he says, picking up a newspaper from the stand on his side of the counter and sliding it halfway to you. You tap the screen of the register, then read off his total, inwardly cringing as you revert to your customer service voice automatically. “Oh, and just a little sugar and cream, if that’s okay.”

“No,” you say, a grin teasing the corners of your mouth. “You have to drink it as bitter as possible, didn’t you know? Store policy.”

“By all means, then,” he says, eyes twinkling. Those eyes look like café au lait, you thought, turning your face away from him so he won’t see the way your mind is spinning over simple coffee-colored eyes. You stare at coffee all day, every day; you should be desensitized, even to such a beautiful shade in a beautiful face.

Café au lait, café au lait, café au lait.

Those gentle, knowing eyes remain in your head while you make the drink, and when you’re handing it out to him you realize with no small amount of mortification that you’ve made him a café au lait. You jerk your hand back last minute, hissing as scalding coffee pours over your palm and wrist.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He half-rises from his seat, looking so concerned you could just die from embarrassment.

“I just realized… I made you the wrong drink — you have the easiest order ever, too, this is so… I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll fix that, and-and let me get you your money back, gosh—”

You’re not even sure if your rambling is sensical as you back away from him, resisting the urge to smack yourself on the head for fear that you’ll look even crazier to him — Kita, he’d said his name was, even though there was no one else in the shop. He even has an attractive name for crying out loud. You want to go home and un-live this experience.

“Alright, here’s your coffee,” you say, holding out a black coffee containing spare amounts of sugar and cream. “I’m so, so sorry about that, and here’s your money, too. I hope you weren’t in any kind of rush; I apologize again.”

“Don’t worry,” says Kita, a kind smile on his face. “And please, keep the money. I like to pay for my drinks. It wasn’t any trouble, so don’t stress yourself about it.” He’s nice, too. You’re sure your face is hot enough to steam right now. Perhaps you should go and take a walk in the rain.

“No, please, it’s on the house,” you insist, still holding out the money. “Besides, it was all my fault — if you won’t consider it for the time taken, consider it for the very great pleasure a pair of fine eyes can give. Uh.”

You clamp your lips shut. Oh, you’ve done it now. You sound deranged, quoting Pride & Prejudice to this stranger. You really need that walk in the rain.

He laughs; not a polite, restrained laugh, though it’s not a shocked burst either. He simply sounds… happy. Happy to hear you spend five minutes being an absolutely nonsensical wreck of a human being, if you can believe it. You nearly can’t.

“If you phrase it like that, I guess I can’t refuse. But I’m sure I’ll be back to repay ya.” He takes a sip of his coffee, savoring it. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You wave faintly as he exits the shop, bell on the door jingling cheerfully and a flash of bright eyes looking at you through the window before he passes out of sight. Perhaps, you muse out loud to yourself, that wasn’t so bad.

Kita keeps his word — you weren’t sure he would, being apparently a man bound by great politeness to soothe a frazzled barista, but he does, and far sooner than you’d thought he would. The next day, he walks in again, still untouched by the tempest outside. He orders the same thing and doesn’t seem to notice when you give him a twenty percent discount, and this time you keep yourself together enough to have a pleasant (if short) conversation with him and make his drink correctly. He comes in the next day, and the next day again, and the next and the next and the next.

He comes in when it’s busy and when it’s empty, when the sun finally makes its return under weak cloud cover, when you’re not working the register and then he simply smiles at you while he takes his daily newspaper from the stack. It was difficult from the get-go, but now you’re starting to have serious concerns that you’re developing real feelings for a customer. You wonder if he’d still come in for black coffee if there were pigs flying in the sliver of sky you can see from the storefront window.

While you’re in certainly more than the average employee, even a small business owner has to take a break sometime. You can’t resist coming in to check in on your beloved coffee shop and are pleased to see it buzzing with activity, enough that you don’t want to trouble your employees by ordering something yourself. Instead, you walk outside to check out the other shops in the area.

Next to you is a bookstore, which you haven’t visited since the week you moved in. The owner had been away, then, visiting his grandmother in the country, so you’d made your introductions to his interim manager, a friendly man named Ojiro. You’d also left a bag of roast beans and a voucher for a huge number of free pastries that you’re not sure had ever been used, topped with a card stating well wishes for the owner and his family.

Stepping inside, you wish instantly that you’d thought to stop by in between. The store has a beautiful ambiance and the sweet smell of books permeates the air. You head straight for the shelves, losing yourself quickly in deciding what you want to buy.

“Can I help you find anythin’?” You look up from a worn copy of Kokoro and feel your face break into a smile without your permission. Across from you, Kita looks equal parts shocked and pleased, his thick eyebrows raised. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” you say, somewhat shyly. “Um— actually, yes, do you have…”

He leads you through the stacks with a natural air of confidence; never over-inflated or egoistic, just like he knows where everything in the store is or goes. As you walk, he picks up stray books and reshelves them without pausing, keeping up a natural flow of conversation as he asks about your current reads or past favorites.

In the end, you buy three books, and he walks all the way to the register with you. He must be really dedicated to making this sale, you think.

“Heya!” The cashier is a blond man with a sparkling smile who looks just a few years younger than Kita. His nametag, which is askew on his shirt, reads Miya. He must be related to one of your employees — the same last name, and the same face. “Oh, you’re the coffee person, right?”

“I suppose I am,” you say, setting down your choices on the counter. You’re neighbors, after all, it wouldn’t be surprising if he recognized you from visiting his brother or getting coffee.

“I gotta say, you’ve got great taste in books,” says Miya. “Not that I’d know, I can’t read — that’s a joke, don’t worry — but I’m sure Kita-san approves. He does like someone who’s as into words as he is.”

“I hope he does,” you smile at Kita, who has stepped behind the counter to organize a stack of books. “He helped me pick them out.”

“You already knew what you wanted, I just made a few suggestions. One, really.”

“Ooh,” Miya waggles his eyebrows. “The ol’ customer service trick. Ya sly fox, you.”

“Be professional,” chastises Kita, but there doesn’t seem to be much heart in it, and the tips of his ears are an enchanting shade of pink. You have to tear your eyes away and focus on your own hands so that you don’t say anything stupid or accidentally tip two hundred percent.

Atsumu seems to notice it as well.

“Hey, you must be a library book,” he says loudly, and you wrinkle your eyebrows, confused.

“Atsumu, this is a book shop,” says Kita helplessly. He is ignored.

“Because he can’t stop checkin’ you out!” That startles a laugh out of you.

“Thank you? I think?” Atsumu nods at you wisely, sidestepping his coworker’s fumbling attempt at nudging him into ceasing. Kita seems to be blushing more now, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips even as he seems unable to make eye contact with you.

“Your total will be thirty-three-hundred yen,” the younger man tells you. “Also, Kita-san, d’you wear glasses?”

“Clearly not?”

“Maybe you should, ‘cause—” Kita claps a hand over Atsumu’s mouth. You think you hear something like phone rent faintly escape the gag, but it makes no sense, so you can’t be sure.

“Are you hitting on me… for him?” You ask, amused. His reply is enthusiastic but incomprehensible.

“Atsumu, thank you, I can take it from here. You should take your break now. Goodbye.” Atsumu is shoved in the direction of the back room, and disappears with a cheeky salute and one last eyebrow wiggle.

“I’m so sorry, his twin took all the brains in the womb. It’s a very serious medical condition.”

“I’m sure,” you say, mock-seriously. “But I appreciated the effort. It was cute—”

“Ya thought he was cute?” Kita looks up at you with sharp eyes.

“—Even if it was by proxy. I wouldn’t mind it directly from you, next time, if there were a next time. Uh. Yes.”

“Yes,” Kita says, like the word’s a revelation. “Yes. Um. Your receipt.”

“Oh, I don’t need it,” you say, but he’s holding it out, so you take it, tucking it under the front cover of one of your books and scooping them into your arms. “Thank you, Kita.”

“Thank you,” he bows shortly. “Come by anytime.”

It’s only when you open the book and the receipt comes fluttering out that two things come to light. Firstly, forty percent had been taken off your total. Employee discount was noted next to the calculations. You suppose he had noticed all the times you’d charged less for his coffees. Secondly, there’s handwriting on the thin sheet of printed paper.

Kita Shinsuke. (xxx) xxx-xxxx. I hope this isn’t presumptuous.

Next to it, the writing much smaller, as though he didn't want you to actually read it:

It would be a Crime and Punishment not to take you out.

[mommymooze]

Can You See What is Growing Before Your Eyes?

seteth & Flayn, Reader & Flayn, Seteth X Reader

Sitting on the fishing dock as the sunset blazes across the skies, it is quiet and peaceful in the monastery. You can almost imagine there is not a war going on, that the Imperial army isn’t marching towards your location to attack you and your friends who have arrived for the Millennium festival. Your thoughts are peaceful as you observe the rose and orange colored skies reflected in the pond Your bobber floats motionless on the calm waters.

“Are the fish biting?” Flayn calls from the far side of the water.

Just as she speaks your bobber begins to twitch. You hold up a finger with one hand as you grasp your pole more firmly in the other. Watching, waiting, suddenly the red and white float goes under, you jerk the line, hooking the fish. It is a short battle, the bullhead gives up quickly.

“It’s about average.” You answer as you look over your basket. “I have 15 fish, so after a few more I will bring them to the kitchens.”

“How are you able to catch such an abundant amount? My brother and I would be here for half a day or more and still not catch that quantity.” Flayn chides, her hands on her hips.

“If I had any fishing secrets, I would not hesitate to share them with you and Seteth.” You smile.

“Perhaps I shall watch you and learn of your mysterious technique.” Flayn decides, sitting on an empty crate nearby.

Retrieving and rebaiting your hook, you toss it back into the water, causing ripples to spread across the pond. You sit, still as a statue. Out of the corner of your eye you watch Flayn switch the position of her legs, then look around, fix her hair, and otherwise appear bored. You have not moved, except to shoo a bug from getting close to your eye. Even that movement was performed slowly and silently.

The bobber twitches in the water, moves left, stops briefly and heads right. It becomes halfway submerged, only to pop back up again immediately. You do not move. It begins moving away from your position. Just as it submerges you yank the line and are fighting the hooked fish. The fish jumps, trying to get away, however you keep steady with your pull on the line, hauling it closer to the dock.

“A golden fish!” Flayn excitedly laughs.

Hauling your catch close to the dock, you grab the fish by its jaw, remove the hook and secure it in your bucket.

“That one will pay for the accompaniments to an excellent fish stew!” You announce, beginning to pack up your fishing equipment.

“I did not see anything special about your technique. You used a worm and I saw no special powder or magic cast upon it. Strange.” Flayne ponders.

“First, you must learn to be one with the water. If it is still, you must be still. If it moves, you can move. The fish will be disturbed by your wiggling, especially on the dock.” You share your wisdom with the lovely young lady.

“I will have to tell my brother of this discovery, and that we will be having a fine fish stew this evening. Thank you!”

Selling your fish in the market, you take the rest to the kitchens. The cooks are thrilled to be able to provide a hearty and protein filled meal to the masses, there will be enough to go around. More and more people are arriving at the monastery to assist with the war efforts.

After returning your belongings to your quarters you head to the Cathedral to give prayers of thanks. Thanks for the food today, for so many willing to help defend the church, for the return of so many students and for the return of Professor Byleth. Now that they are back, hopefully they can lead the church and Blue Lions to victory. Your mind falters at that, observing the wounded and broken man that Dimitri has become. You watch as the Professor approaches him, trying to speak to him, trying to get him to eat. The conversation is one sided. Dimitri says nothing. Your eyes go wide as he leaps at the Professor and throws them against a stone column, then returns to his place at the crumbled goddess statue.

Without thinking you run to Byleth’s side. You are well within Dimitri’s range, but your focus is Byleth. Their head is bleeding, and they are moaning. Quickly you heal the head wound. It is not deep, however there is a lot of blood. You struggle to drag them further from Dimitri to a safer part of the Cathedral.

“Professor, can you hear me? Please?” You whisper to them, your voice shaking. They’ve just returned from being gone for five years, it would be horrible to lose them again so soon.

The professor shakes their head. “I am okay. He caught me off guard.” They answer as you help them to their feet.

“Can I take you to the infirmary? Do you have pain elsewhere?” You anxiously ask as they lean on you slightly while you hold their arm, walking to the pews.

“I am alright.” They nod. “My head was hit. I may have a bruise or two, nothing that will not be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you are sure. There is no need to suffer with pain if we can help.” You smile.

Professor Byleth heads back to the bridge leaving the Cathedral, refusing your offer to accompany them. You remain, offering further prayers for Byleth’s health and healing for Dimitri.

You return to the infirmary, your home away from home. Manuela is no longer here, she sided with the Empire. Being thrust into the position of one of the main healers, you remain out of battle, dealing with the injured soldiers. Before the war you worked your shifts in the infirmary, Manuela handled the serious cases.

When the war started, everyone fled the monastery. You packed more books on healing and treatments than you did clothes. Seteth encouraged you to lead the healers for the Knights of Seiros. Every place you travel, you consult with other healers in the area, trying to increase your knowledge as well as theirs. You hope you are adequately filling the shoes he sets forth.

At the infirmary desk you pull out the file for Byleth and make a note regarding todays treatment. When the Knights of Seiros returned to the monastery, you were happy to find many of the medical notes still here. Thieves must not have a use for them. All potions, salves, bandages, and lotions were gone. You have been working with several other clerics building up your inventory.

A sudden knocking brings your attention to the door of the infirmary.

“Greetings. I see you have no patients today, I hope everything is well.“ Seteth bows.

You look up at the handsome man in the doorway. “Good afternoon, Seteth. Byleth was injured by Dimitri earlier. If you see them, make certain they are not hiding any injuries I was unable to find.”

Seteth nods, “I understand your concerns. There are many that take care and have themselves treated properly. Then there are others, I understand your concerns.” He smiles, “Flayn said you were fishing earlier.”

“Yes. I am not a hunter, however I do want to do my part to keep the food stores filled. An army marches on its stomach.” You answer as you file papers in the cabinet.

“Flayn advises you are considerably successful at fishing. Perhaps I can join you and observe your techniques.” Seteth smiles, it makes him even more handsome.

“I am no master fisherman. Flayn simply is not patient, she can’t hold still.” You laugh. “I have seen you fishing with Alois. You would be more successful if he was not there, he is rather boisterous.”

“True. I suppose I like to fish because it is relaxing. These are stressful times. I do hope you are taking care of yourself too.” Seteth answers, a bit of authority creeping back into his voice.

“Noted, sir.” You nod, then begin to unpack dressings and filling the cabinets.

“I am asking you to take care of yourself as a friend. We have worked together for these many years. I’ve seen you exhaust yourself taking care of the knights.”

“War is not conducive to sleep. I will sleep when the war is over.” You chuckle. “Besides, when I finally do leave to find rest, I notice there is still candlelight coming through the windows of your office. Perhaps you should lead by example, my friend.”

“Touche!” He chortles. “I will put in further effort.” Seteth nods, returning to his office.

You treat minor cuts and bruises the remainder of the afternoon. Flayn stops by and asks you to join her for dinner. After all, you were the one that provided the ingredients for this evening’s meal. You promise to meet her after restocking the supplies.

In the dining hall you take your bowl of fish soup and look for Flayn. She is sitting next to her brother and waving for you to join them. You take a seat opposite them. She is easily excited.

“I am so happy that you are able to join us.” Flayn smiles.

“It is important to keep your body healthy and nourished.” You nod and smile softly at Seteth. You are happy to see him in the dining hall. He has had too many meals in his office, overworking himself.

“Yes. An army runs on its stomach, and it is important for everyone to eat properly, especially those that support the army.” Seteth tells Flayn, encouraging her to eat.

“Does that mean I can have seconds, brother?” She asks, sucking in her cheeks a bit to appear more undernourished.

“Only after everyone else has had a portion.” He waves his spoon around the room at the other diners.

Flayn pouts.

Observing her sad face, you have an idea. “If you would like, we can fish tomorrow early in the morning and hopefully catch more for a fine fish dinner.” You pat her hand that is resting on the table.

Flayn’s face now wears a huge smile. “Really? I am excited! You can teach me more fishing techniques. Oh brother! Maybe you can join us?” Both of you look at him, a hopeful smile on your faces.

Seteth’s brow furrows. “I will have to check my schedule. I will see if I can make the time.”

The next morning you get up at dawn to head to the woods, digging up earthworms and grubs for bait. The ground is still moist from the rains and the worms are close to the surface. You have plenty for everyone, including Byleth, who you share bait with frequently. They buy bait from the merchants when they are out, and every coin is needed for the war.

The day is slightly windy, causing the water to dance on the pond. The sunlight sparkles on the surface as the sun rises higher in the sky. Flayn joins you. Instructing her on proper baiting of the hook you remind her to sit as still as possible. You sit far enough apart to softly talk, yet not interfere with each other’s quest for fish.

Flayn has been listening attentively, her basket of fish is proof of her improvement. She brings a fish to you that has swallowed the hook and you show her how to use a tool you’ve made that will help loosen it. Instructing how to slide her hand down the fish so she will not be pricked by the fins, then use the tool to release the hook. Suddenly a shadow is blocking the sunlight over your shoulder.

“Good morning, brother. We are having a marvelous time fishing!” Flayne giggles.

“I can see that. You both have a surprisingly large catch. Perhaps there are many secrets you can pass along to us.” He smiles at you. That is a very handsome look on his face.

“I would be happy to help.” You smile as Flayn puts her fish in her basket and baits her hook for the next catch. “I have a nice collection of worms today, help yourself.” You point to the can.

“Hmm.” Seteth frowns. “Would you mind giving me pointers on how to set the bait? My wife usually baited the hooks. I can manage with some things, but worms are tricky.”

“I understand. My father would set my bait when I was little. I was afraid of the wiggly bugs and worms. Though he is gone, I will pass along his techniques. It is a good way of remembering him.” You take a worm and quietly show him how to set the worm on the hook, leaving the end close to the barb of the hook to wiggle.

“I always make sure the barb is just through the end there, touching it but not piercing your finger. There. You’re ready to go.” You smile as you let loose the hook and it dangles and spins in the air.

“Appreciated.” Seteth smiles. The relaxed look on his face is a sight to behold.

You cast your line into the water and wait. Flayn is to your right trying very hard to be still. Seteth is to your left, taking a seat on a crate after casting his line in the water. Flayn’s bobber starts to wiggle. You hear her stifle a noise, trying to remain quiet. Suddenly her bobber goes under, she pulls her pole back.

“I have one. Oh, it feels heavy!” Flayn excitedly giggles as she works to haul the fish to land.

You lean to the edge of the pond, grabbing the fish as soon as she has it out of the water. “That certainly is a large fish. I think that fills your basket this morning!” You laugh.

She puts her fish away and gives you a huge hug. “You have taught me so well. I’m going to take these to the kitchen right away. I feel like a successful fisherwoman!” she grins.

“You are an excellent student. What an amazing haul!” You laugh, watching her struggle with her heavy container of fish.

Seteth now gasps as he hooks a fish. You grab the fish by the side of the mouth when he gets it to shore.

“Oh my, it’s swallowed your hook. That’s the fourth time today. They must be really hungry to gobble them down so quickly.” You mutter, heading to your tackle box to grab your tool to remove the hook.

“You can retrieve the hook? I usually have to cut the line and tie on a new one.” Seteth is happily surprised.

You call him closer as you follow the line into the fish’s mouth. You hand him the tool and instruct him as he uses it to free the hook. He stands much closer to you than he normally does. He smells like myrrh, cinnamon, and ginger.

“That was certainly educational today.” Seteth smiles. “Thank you for your instruction.”

“Any time.” You smile softly. “The company was very enjoyable.”

A week later Seteth invites you for tea in his office. Checking the calendar, you note that next week everyone will leave for battle, so he must want to review final plans. You arrive at his door at the exact appointed time, holding several folders of paperwork that he may find useful to allay his concerns.

Seteth invites you inside and gestures to the table by the windows that is set for tea.

His desk is piled high with folders, stacks of letters to be sealed, parchment and inkwells randomly scattered amongst his work. Mounds of opened letters fill the box on one corner of the desk while multiple completed replies occupy a box on the other side.

“Is that paperwork for me?” He appears to be surprised at the bundle in your hands.

“I thought you may want to discuss the inventories and preparations being made for our upcoming march.” You respond shyly. The last thing you want to do is provide more work for him.

Seteth takes the folders from you and places them on a nearby table. “Actually, I have the greatest trust in you and would only speak to you about it if you need my guidance. Please, take a seat and join me for tea.” He gestures to the table and chairs by the window.

Taking your seat, you pull the cloth napkin to your lap. You feel a bit nervous. He has only asked you to his office to discuss matters of the church or war. This is your first purely social visit.

Seteth pours the tea, handing you tongs to take a sweet treat from the basket.

“Apologies, I do not know your favorite tea. I hope you do not mind Four Spice Blend.” He smiles softly as he takes his seat, making certain his chair is at a proper gentlemanly distance from you.

“I drink Four Spice in the cooler weather, the flavor seems to warm me from within.” You return the smile. This must be the excitement the students feel when Professor Byleth invites them to tea.

“I am glad you enjoy it.” Seteth hums. “I have been having conversations with Felix lately about the importance of friends in our lives. I then realized that I have been negligent myself in not taking time to visit with my friends.”

“I am delighted to call you my friend, of course. We have worked together for these many years, but we have not made proper time to simply chat.”

“I am making an effort to correct that mistake, starting today.” Seteth nods and takes a sip of tea. “Do tell me about yourself, what books you like to read, what are your hobbies?”

You chat back and forth until the tea has grown exceedingly cold, exchanging tidbits of knowledge into who each of you are as a person. You speak of the books you’ve read recently and share impressions you have on your allies.

“This has been simply fascinating. A fantastic break from work. I feel very refreshed,” Seteth smiles. “I have learned quite a bit about you and your many talents.”

“I feel the same! I have learned so much about you as well. Thank you for inviting me to a very lovely tea.” You stand and reach for your paperwork.

“Perhaps we can make it a weekly occurrence, to make certain we have the time to check on each other,” He offers.

“Fantastic. I would enjoy it immensely.” You are beaming with happiness as you head out the door. Your heart skips a beat as you head down the hallway. You don’t mind that there are a few patients impatiently waiting inside the infirmary.

It is a few weeks before you can have another quiet tea together. Travel and battle do not allow for much time to socialize. Your hands are full setting up the infirmary tents, organizing the clerics, making certain the army has well stocked bandages and potions for the fighters.

Flayn is going to be on the field for the battle and you worry over her as she finishes attaching the last pieces of her armor. She comes to speak with you frequently, discussing a few adult matters that she is not confident with confiding in her brother.

“Watch out for arrows, if you are hurt, fly straight to the infirmary. Your brother would never forgive me if I cannot get you back into perfect health as soon as possible.” You kiss her on the forehead and send her off to her wyvern. You have become quite close friends and say a silent prayer for her safety. She reminds you of your younger siblings that you raised when your mother passed away.

Now you are standing at the edge of camp, watching what little you can see of the battle. Seteth and Flayn are flying close together on their wyverns, protecting each other. You send a quick prayer for their safety as you head back into the infirmary tent, injured fighters are already arriving.

Wrapping a bandage to a soldiers arm you’ve completed stitching and healing, you hear a wyvern’s roar outside the tent. Running to the front of the tent, Flayn is guiding her brother’s wyvern to the ground next to hers. Seteth is nearly unconscious as you hurry to lift him from the saddle. You have no idea where your strength comes from as you carry him into the infirmary and place him on an examination table. You’ve carried unconscious soldiers before, but Seteth is very solidly built.

Flayn dashes in behind you, filling you in on what happened. “He was hit by a lightning bolt. His wyvern was hit as well, but it dealt with the hit better than he did. I think it was because of the arrows he had taken prior that had weakened him.”

“Help me get his robes off.” You quickly instruct her.

She helps remove his robes and armor as you strip him to his undershirt and trousers. His pants are ruined by two arrows, you cut them off just above the arrow in his thigh and around the other in his calf. Neither of the projectiles are close to arteries, however the one in his thigh is very deep into the muscle. It seems to take forever to remove the arrowhead from leg. You had to cut tissue and pull his flesh out of the way. Finally, you work faith magic deep into the torn tissues, encouraging the flesh to bind back together.

Flayn works on his shoulder where the burns from the lightning strike entered his body. Luckily it traveled down his arm and exited close to his hand. You heal what you can of the burns for now, they will need further attention later.

Two strong soldiers help lift Seteth onto a stretcher, moving him to his tent. Gently you guide him on to his bed with Flayn’s assistance and she stays to watch over him. Before you leave, you examine her for any injuries, healing even the smaller cuts, knowing her brother would not be pleased to waken and see she was not treated.

Returning to the infirmary you triage the incoming soldiers. The new casualties begin to dwindle and those that are well enough leave for dinner. You make certain those that can eat do so. You then proceed to check on Seteth.

Standing at the entrance on the tent you announce yourself. Flayn beckons you to come in. Flayn is sitting in a chair, knitting a sock as she quietly sits by his side.

“I am so happy that you taught me how to knit. It is keeping my hands and mind busy so I do not hover over him so much. He has been sleeping peacefully since he was brought here.” Flayn updates you.

Leaning over the cot that Seteth is silently sleeping on, you check his vitals then his wounds to make certain he has not bled through the bandages. You’ve noticed his and Flayn’s heartrate are not the same as others. There are a few things you have seen over the years that sets them apart from the others. You keep these things to yourself, honoring their privacy.

Looking over at Flayn you smile reassuringly. “Would you like to go visit with your friends a bit? Promise me you will stay right in the middle of camp. No going off anywhere or your brother will have my head. I’m sure you want to check on them as well. When the sound the night bell, be back here very quickly. “

She gasps with excitement, “Yes! Thank you so much.” She hurriedly packs away her knitting and runs from the tent.

Remaining by Seteth’s side, you heal the electrical burns to his shoulder and hand. Exhausted, you doze lightly in the chair with a blanket over your legs and your hand resting on his chest. If he makes the slightest movement your eyes are wide open and you observe him for any discomfort.

Flayn returns a few hours later, tired and happy that she could visit with everyone. She kisses Seteth on the head and tells you good night just as he wakens.

Opening his eyes, his first sight is her. “Flayn!” He gasps. “You are alright.” His eyes close and he visibly relaxes for a moment.

“She is fine. A few minor scratches. Absolutely nothing compared to your injuries.” You pat your hand on his chest.

Seteth moves, attempting to sit up. He shifts his legs then grimaces with pain. With you pushing him back into his cot, he finally settles back into a prone position.

“You were hit by two arrows and then lightning. How you managed to keep perched on your wyvern is a miracle. Flayn brought you back. The battle is long over, you need to rest.” You answer his questions before he can ask them.

“I am happy to see you are recovering. Good night, brother.” Flayn calls as she heads out into the night air to her tent.

“Please tell me if you have any pain. I will help you sit up to have something to drink after I heal you further. I can get you anything you need, food, water, just name it.”

“I feel extremely fatigued, like every muscle in my body has been worked to exhaustion,” he quietly answers. “I only felt pain when I tried to move my leg. You have done a wonderful job, thank you.”

“You are a good patient. Let me change the bandages on your leg and then sit you up to have a drink. You should sleep and let the healing take full hold.” Taking your basket of fresh bandages and healing salves you move to the other side of his cot and begin unwrapping his wounds. Cleansing and applying further deep healing to his leg, you wrap it with fresh, clean dressings.

Taking a waterskin in hand, you help him sit up enough to drink nearly two cups of water. You take a handkerchief to dab his lips.

“There was a significant amount of blood loss. Drinking plenty of fluids will help you replenish them. I’ll make sure you eat a high amount of protein tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Seteth whispers as he lies back and closes his eyes. You pat his chest and he takes your hand in his. You are relieved that he is too tired to notice a slight blush on your cheeks.

Seteth awakens in the morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. You carefully help him to sit up.

“Flayn is in the infirmary tent, helping with those she can.” You begin. “They are tearing down camp and we will be headed back to the monastery soon. Do you need me to help you get a change of clothes? You will need new pants, I had to cut the others to get to your injuries. I can send someone to assist you if you prefer.”

“Let me see if I can stand, perhaps I can manage on my own.” Seteth slowly sits himself up and swings his legs off the cot. You reach outside the tent, then turn around and hand him a training lance.

“This should help you keep steady on your feet for now.“ You say while hovering over him as he takes a few cautious steps to the chair next to the table. Once he is seated you make certain he has fresh water to go with his food.

Back at the monastery you currently have four patients in the infirmary. Riding in the back of a wagon did not help their conditions much and it takes considerable time to heal and stabilize them until you feel that they are settled and without pain.

Flayn appears in front of your desk as you document the charts. “Are you finished with the patients?” She asks sweetly.

“For now. I will have someone monitoring them throughout the night and wake me if their conditions worsen.” You answer as you finish making an entry.

“Good!” Flayn takes you by the arm and pulls you down the hallway to Seteth’s office. Pulling you inside, you see the table set for three. The smell of the delicious dinner is heavenly, you’ve not eaten for many hours. Seteth is already seated at the table

“Please excuse me for not standing.” Seteth blushes slightly

You laugh. “I would be angry if you did. You’re keeping the leg propped up. Excellent.” You see that his color is good, he is healing well. You give a huge sigh of relief.

Flayn guides you to the seat next to him and she sits across from her brother. While the meal progresses, Flayn tells her point of view of the battle and how the Professor led them all to victory.

“This is quite a happy surprise. An excellent dinner and amazing company. I could not ask for more. Thank you both for having me.” You look greatly pleased.

“It is the least we could do to thank you for your excellent care,” Seteth assures. “You have been working nonstop since the battle. When you are finished, Flayn will escort you to your room and you will sleep. The healers here have been under your watchful eye and will take good care of the wounded. We need you to take time to care for yourself.”

“Yes. I will sleep and you should as well. I’m sending Flayn back to check on you. If she finds you working at the desk, I’ll run up here and bring a stick with me to chase you out.” You laugh.

Seteth chuckles. “I do not wish to incur your wrath. I promise to head straight for bed after dinner.”

“Should I change your bandages while I am here?” You ask.

“I did not invite you here to work. Flayn will aid me.” He nods to her.

Flayn suddenly interrupts. “I really should get the dishes back to the kitchens, you know how they can be. Perhaps it would be best that she escorts you to your room and check you this evening. This will probably take me a few trips.” Flayn says as she hurriedly stacks the plates, cups, and cutlery together and heads out the door.

“Do you have salves and bandages in your room? Should I pop by the infirmary for some?” You inquire.

“You had best get them. I know Flayn has some in her room, however I am not certain that I have any myself. I will meet you at the stairs, we can go up together.” He answers as he reaches for a cane to keep himself steady.

You observe Seteth as you follow him up the stairs, he is being especially careful and favoring his leg. He unlocks the door to his room on the third floor. You try not to let the curiosity get the best of you. Briefly glancing about, his quarters are pristine. Comfortable and heavy furniture come into view as he lights a candelabra.

“Would you prefer to change your bandages on the couch or your bed.” You ask.

“The bed I suppose,” he sighs as he leads you to his bedroom.

“Do you have a spare towel in the bathroom? I want to make certain nothing gets onto your bedclothes.”

“Of course, there is a basket by the door.” He gestures to the open door.

Retrieving a towel, you return to his side. Seteth is seated on his bed, his back propped by his pillows. His pants are removed from the wounded leg, the other covered by his blanket.

Raising his leg, you carefully place the towel underneath. You observe his grimace out of the corner of your eye.

“Which wound hurts more, the one in your calf or the one in your thigh?”

“The thigh. That one was quite deep,” Seteth answers, slightly gritting his teeth.

Unwrapping both injuries they appear to be healing well, the scarring is pink, not red at the edges, no signs of infection or bleeding. You slightly lift his lower leg, asking him to move his foot different directions. Turning your attention to the healing injury on his thigh you begin pouring faith magic into the muscles, knitting the torn tissue further together bit by bit. Massaging the muscles around the wound you flex his knee. The healing is progressing quite well.

Briefly you glance to his face, his eyes are closed, he appears relaxed. You are blushing again. His muscles are perfect, his thighs well-toned. Taking a deep breath, you pull your brain back into your professional mindset.

“Any other pain? Any lingering tingling from the lightning in your arm?” You softly ask. “You have walked on that leg too much today. Limping around on a cane will cause pain in your hand and arm as well as throwing off your gait and leading to lower back pain. I’ve done what I can today. I would like to treat your thigh injury one more time tomorrow.” You turn away to gather the soiled bandages and cool the steamy thoughts in your head.

“You are worrying too much. I will be fine.” Seteth answers. He sounds sleepy, which is relieving. You make certain he has a glass of water on his nightstand before you leave.

You make your way back downstairs. Flayn is taking the last of the dishes back to the kitchens. You wish her a good night and tell her to fetch you if you are needed. Once she is out of sight you head to the infirmary to check on the patients. The night cleric is relieved to see you, a soldier woke up and fell trying to get out of bed, undoing quite a bit of the work everyone had put into him. A few hours later you leave the heavily sedated patient, hoping they will retain the use of their arm.

The next day you find yourself being scolded by Flayn when she finds your bowl of oatmeal is still half full on your desk and it is already lunchtime. You are too busy working on the soldier’s reinjured shoulder to eat.

“Stop this at once!” Flayn stamps her foot for good measure. I am hereby relieving you of your duty and sentencing you to complete bedrest until tomorrow.

You turn around to argue with her, however two knights are gently taking you by the arms and leading you from the infirmary to your room. As you close your door behind you, you can hear Flayn giving them orders to stand guard and not let you leave until tomorrow morning.

Your head is pounding as you reach for a glass of water. Being told to take your own medicine is quite the bitter pill to swallow. It is reassuring that the soldier should be fine and rest is the best thing for you now.

The next day Flayn apologizes for her mutiny. Instead of being angry with her, you give her a huge hug and thank her for her bravery. You invite her to bake cookies together later, perhaps some ginger snaps, since her brother may like the flavor.

Meeting Flayn in the kitchens she confesses, “Everyone says I am a bad cook. Before the war I cooked a dish so bad only Dimitri and Raphael would eat it.” She pouts.

“It is not that you are bad at cooking. You simply do not understand the why and because of it all.” You explain as you gather and measure the ingredients for the cookies.

“Butter for example.” You begin, “We’re not using it in this recipe, but many times softened butter is an ingredient in cookies. You can’t use cold butter, it won’t mix well with the sugar. If you melt the butter, it will mix with the sugar, however the consistency will be wrong. If you melt the butter too long, it will brown the butter, giving it a completely different taste. Leaving the butter in a slightly warm place for about 30 minutes should soften the butter enough to mix with the sugar and make a fluffy creamy mixture, perfect for many baked goods.”

“So cooking requires the ingredients to be in the correct state as well as quantity.” Flayn nods in understanding.

“Exactly! And you cannot always substitute items in a recipe. If you want to use a plum instead of a peach, that will not cause problems. However, if you use baking soda instead of baking powder, that may make your cookies or cake refuse to rise.”

“But they both are for baking and making it rise.” Flayn frowns.

“Would you substitute mandrake root for arrow root in a potion?” You ask.

“Goodness no! One has healing properties, the other is a poison!” Flayn shudders.

“Both are roots, both are powdered and about the same color. Always use the correct ingredient.” You nod encouragingly. “It is like brewing potions. The right ingredients in the right quantity will make someone sleep peacefully. Too much and they will be in a coma.”

“I am beginning to understand your instruction. One cannot substitute ingredients willy-nilly. You must have knowledge as to how they work together to understand the effects of changing the composition of the baked item.” Flayn smiles widely.

“Once you get the basics, with experience you will be able to change things in the recipe. Let’s go by the recipe today and experiment another time. So did you measure one cup of sugar or one cup of salt here?” You place the bowl in front of her.

“Um. I am uncertain.” Flayn blushes.

“Taste it.” You push the bowl closer to her.

Flayn takes a pinch between her fingers and puts it on her tongue. “Ew! That would have been horrible!” she gasps as she heads to the larder to obtain a cup of sugar, abandoning the cup of salt on the counter.

Later in the afternoon you join Seteth in his office for Angelica tea. You surprise him with a box of the ginger cookies baked earlier.

“Ginger cookies! I have not had one in quite some time.” Seteth eagerly grasps a couple with the tongs, putting them on his plate.

“Flayn made them this morning.” You smile.

Seteth’s smile falls from his face as his eyebrows furrow slightly. He looks back to see that his door is indeed closed. “You do know what her cooking is like, don’t you?” He whispers.

You laugh. “Really Seteth, I was with her the entire time. We had a very productive cooking session. You may be surprised. Go on, take a bite.”

Seteth brings the cookie to his lips as if he has been requested to bite the head off a viper. He stares down at the cookie for a second and sniffs it. It does not smell as if it is burnt. It smells of ginger and sweetness, which is unusual for a cookie baked by Flayn.

Finally, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, silently praying that his teeth do not break off by doing this. Instead, his teeth sink into the slightly soft, slightly chewy, perfectly baked cookie. The ginger mixed with the molasses and other spices meld together in his mouth in the most delightful and rewarding flavors. His eyes open wide as his lips pull into the sweetest smile.

“You are absolutely certain that Flayn made these? They are delicious!” Seteth gasps.

You nod. You are so proud of her right now. You wish she could see the look on Seteth’s face right now. It’s precious.

“I must thank her later. You are a miracle worker.” He reaches forward and takes your hand in his.

Your face feels as if it is on fire as it heats up with a blush. Taking your teacup you try to hide behind it as you watch Seteth reach for another cookie.

The infirmary tent is outside of Fort Merceus. You can hear the battle raging on the fortress above the wall. You’ve just finished treating the wounds of an armored Knight, closing the lance wound to his shoulder. Suddenly things are quiet. You then hear a strange whistling noise followed by an explosion. Rocks rain down from the skies, causing the large tent to collapse around you. Pain overwhelms you as the world suddenly becomes dark.

You jolt into consciousness. Sitting upright you grab your head as it throbs fiercely between your hands. Your fingers feel wet, they are covered with blood.

“Brother! She is awake!” you hear Flayn’s voice next to you. Bleary eyed you look over to her, it is difficult to focus through the pain.

Seteth kneels at the side of the cot, wrapping his arms gently around you. “I thought that we might lose you.”

You manage to reach your right arm toward, your left arm refuses to cooperate. Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself. Your head pounds mercilessly.

“What happened?” Your voice trembling, remembering the last things you saw.

“The Fortress is gone. It is nothing but rubble. Pillars of light came from the skies and caused explosions everywhere. An entire wall crumbled and crushed part of the infirmary. The battle is over, for now.” Seteth’s voice exudes sadness.

You sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. The loss of life must have been great. Slowly the flow of tears subsides.

“Here, you must drink something.” Seteth offers a waterskin.

You drink your fill. Your eyes are more focused now and you notice you are in Seteth’s tent. You open your mouth to speak, his finger covers your lips.

“You need to rest.” Seteth softly says as he holds a potion bottle for you to drink. You smell the bitterness of the sedative. Nodding your head, you drink the contents. He then lays you back on his cot.

You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and soldiers walking through the camp. This time you are not nearly in as much pain as you were previously. Sitting up, you assess your injuries. Based on the wrappings and pain your left shoulder has been broken. You have multiple contusions on your arms and legs. Feeling your head, your hair has been washed and there are a few spots where cuts are healed.

You watch the tent flap open and Flayn brings two plates of breakfast to set on the table.

“I am glad you are awake. My brother is in the war council meeting. Let me help you walk over here and get something to eat.” Flayn’s smile is soft and encouraging.

As you both eat, she updates you on the status of the camp. The battle was won, then the Fort was attacked. They did lose two clerics and several soldiers when the tent was hit by debris. They repaired the infirmary tent and treatment of the wounded is ongoing. The soldiers are reorganizing, preparing for the march to Enbarr.

“I feel bad for stealing your brother’s bed.” You frown. You are unaccustomed to inconveniencing others, especially your wonderful friends.

“He slept on the floor next to you to make certain you did not wake up and head back to the infirmary.” Flayn giggles.

“He knows me well.” You nod.

“He hovered over you like a mother hen. He was very worried.” Flayn looks at you, her eyes seem to bore into you. “Do you like him?”

“Well, yes, I do. We have been friends for many years.” You answer, deciding that the eggs on your plate are very interesting so you stare at them. They stare back.

“You would make a great couple.” She giggles.

You almost choke on the food you are chewing. Grabbing a drink of water, you take a few gasps of air. “What makes you think that?” Your face is bright red, you can’t look her in the eye.

“I am getting pretty good at noticing these things. When things are difficult, you tend to find someone that you can lean on and support you. Dimitri and Marianne, Felix and Sylvain, Mercedes and Dedue. It is only natural. You and my brother watch out for each other, keep the other from overworking, make sure they eat properly. I think it is inevitable.” She grins and looks quite satisfied with herself.

Your brain goes into overdrive. “I spend a lot of time with you as well. Knitting, cooking, fishing.”

“Yes. However, you do not act romantically toward me, your attitude is more…hmmm,” Flayn puts a finger to her chin. “Motherly.”

“It is true that I am that way toward you. My mother passed not long after giving birth to my youngest brother. Father relied on me to help raise my siblings as I was the oldest. I see so much of my siblings in you. Your naivety, looking at the world through innocent eyes. I feel very protective of you and understand your brother’s concern. I also recognize his attitude of overprotectiveness. You are all he has left.” You pat her hand.

“True. I thank you for your support. He needs to learn and understand that I am no longer a little girl.” Flayn pouts, slightly ruining her ‘I am an adult’ speech.

“Perhaps you should speak with him. Have a heart to heart conversation.” You feel relieved the conversation has shifted to her feelings about her restrictive sibling.

The remainder of your breakfast is quiet. Flayn returns the dishes to the cooks as you slowly make your way to the infirmary tent. Late in the evening you are lying and resting in an empty cot when you hear Seteth’s voice. You sit up as he approaches.

“There is no need to get up.” He apologizes. “I was simply checking on your wellbeing.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to take his hand. “Thank you for helping me. I have been pacing myself and taking frequent breaks. I am very grateful for everything you have done. I am sure you would like to enjoy your privacy and sleep more comfortably.”

Seteth squeezes your hand. “You are not a burden. My door is always open for you. Sleep well.” He smiles as he leaves.

You lie there, overthinking the short exchange. Are you special or simply a good friend? You want to curse Flayn for lighting aflame these thoughts in your head. You eventually drift off to sleep.

Several weeks later you march with the troops back to Garreg Mach. The war is over. Enbarr and the Emperor are defeated. Rhea is rescued and officially appoints Byleth as the new Archbishop. The Knights are busy taking out rogue bands of Imperial troops and bandits, returning to the monastery to be healed and rest up for the next battle.

Seteth is constantly overworking himself along with Byleth as they create the new doctrine for the church. They also communicate with Dimitri by letter, regarding plans for the continent. You find yourself constantly interrupting their meetings, forcing them to break for food or to take a walk to get fresh air.

“I thought we had just stopped for lunch. Is it time for dinner already?” Seteth looks up from the table filled with scattered parchment and books. Byleth doesn’t look up from his writing.

“Yes. Flayn and I have caught some fish and we are having it for dinner. No excuses.” You glare at them sternly. “Join us in the dining hall.” You do not say now, however it is implied and they stop their work quickly.

While eating, Seteth and Byleth attempt to continue their conversation regarding a particular section of doctrine.

“I order both of you to rest. Talk of something not business,” You plead. “I have heard that Dimitri will only work six days a week, taking one day for his mental wellbeing and health. I completely stand behind that mindset. True, there are always some issues that have to be dealt with, however the focus of the day off is to give yourself a break.”

Byleth looks at you as if you have two heads.

“Vessel of the goddess, yeah, yeah.” You frown at them. “You still need to eat, to sleep, and to rest. Keep this up and you’re headed straight for another five year nap. How much work are you going to finish then?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, looking at them smugly.

“She seems quite serious and peremptory. I don’t think we have much of a choice in this.” Seteth acquiesces. “Saucy little woman.” He whispers to his soup.

“What was that?” You snip.

“I said you make a fine spokeswoman.” He quickly shovels more fish into his mouth.

A week later they announce that Sunday shall be a day of rest except for what must absolutely be accomplished. The first week goes quite well. Byleth and Seteth spend much of the day resting in the afternoon sun as they fish in the pond.

They even admit to a renewed spirit as they return to their work the next day, having clearer minds and feeling rested. Things go well until the fourth week.

You are in the infirmary long enough to heal and bandage a burn on Annette’s arm when you cannot help but hear Seteth and Flayn’s very loud and angry voices emitting from his office. Quickly you dismiss Annette, telling her not to utter a single word.

As you approach Seteth’s door, Flayn runs out crying and fleeing to her room upstairs.

Seteth is sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

“I do not know what has gotten into that child. She simply does not understand that I am trying to protect her.” He groans.

You knock on the door frame. Seteth waves you in and you close the door behind you.

“Apologies. I am sorry you were a witness to our outburst.” He sounds exasperated.

“She has grown to become quite the independent woman.” You disclose. “She has emotionally developed from a child into an adult since I met her all those years ago.”

Seteth groans. “The world is a dangerous place. I only want to keep her safe. Just a few years ago she was kidnapped right under my nose. I cannot let any harm befall her.”

“It hurts. It hurts to let them go. Watching them flee the safe and warm nest you have prepared.” You begin. “Your relationship is like a hand full of sand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze it tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You can hold on to some of it, but most of it spills. A relationship should be like sand held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it will remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively and the relationship slips away and is gone forever.”

“I cannot lose her.” The tears flow from his eyes.

You come around to his side of the desk and hold him to your chest. “There are two times when parenting is most difficult. When the baby first arrives and when the adult first leaves home.”

“You are not fully aware…” He chokes on his words.

“That you are her father? She has slipped too many times in her speech. I know you love her more than anything. You have raised her as your child, regardless. The thought of her leaving breaks your heart. I know.” You assure him. You had felt like you died a little every time one of your brothers and sisters left the nest.

“I want to take her and flee. Hide deep in the mountains where I can protect her.” He gasps through his tears.

“Have you asked her if that is what she wants? If you take her and run, she may escape, putting herself out alone in the wild and into even greater danger. If you let her remain, surround herself with friends who love and protect her, just as you have, could she be safe? If you part from her angry, will she ever come back? These are things you need to ask yourself.”

“If I did that, I would truly lose her.” He looks at you knowingly.

You nod and hold him as he shudders, his sobs filling the room. You pat his back and shoulders reassuringly. After a few minutes he takes a few cleansing breaths.

“My deepest apologies, I did not mean to bring you in to this.” Seteth obtains a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his tears.

“I am here to help you. To help Flayn too. Both of you can be quite stubborn when you want to be.” You rub circles on his back, continuing to bolster him.

“What should I do now. Where do we go from here?” Seteth looks completely overwhelmed.

“Start with a nice tea together, in a neutral territory. Perhaps on the star terrace? I will check with Byleth and see if that is acceptable. Let her know this is the first of several conversations you will have. It is like any negotiation, discuss the good and the bad. Let her know more details of what you are worrying about. If either of you begin to get upset, step away from the table and calm your mind.”

You pause to let him think for a moment. “Remind her that no matter what, you love her, wanting only the best for her. You want her to understand your concerns. You need to understand her concerns, her dreams, her priorities. Keep communicating. Talk and talk some more.” You hug him tightly then head for the door.

“I cannot thank you enough.” Seteth nods as you smile at him before leaving.

Standing guard at the foot of the stairs to the third floor you sip your tea for a bit then return to knitting. They have been up there talking over tea for over two hours. No doors slamming. No yelling. This is a good sign.

Seteth calls from the top of the stairs, asking you to join them.

Flayn is carrying the tea set into Rhea’s former bedroom. She places it on and end table, then rushes over to give you a hug.

“Thank you.” She quickly whispers before heading down the hall to her chambers.

You walk outside to stand next to Seteth at the balcony. The stars twinkle brightly in the cloudless sky. You look up to him as he stares into the heavens. The air is still and cool now that night has fallen. Patiently you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

“We had a productive conversation.” Seteth begins softly.

You hum in agreement, not wanting to interrupt.

“We spoke of many things. Some good, some bad. All of it necessary. You are correct, she has grown up before my eyes and I could not see it. She is a beautiful young woman.” He speaks slowly, each word tearing apart his heart.

You want to take him in your arms and reassure him, you can see the sadness in his eyes. His precious Flayn must be allowed to be free, and he feels like it is killing him. You settle with leaning against his shoulder with yours.

“She said she worries for me just as much as I for her. She fears that when she leaves, I will shut myself off from the world. I have told her many times that she is my world, that all I do, I do for her. She knows the sacrifices I have made for her sake. She is grateful. But she wants to do things on her own. How to fend for herself. I just—” his voice falters.

Seteth hangs his head low, gripping the balustrade tightly for support. “I am terrified.”

“Let her know you will always be there for her. That you are a place of safety for her, a refuge.” You rub his shoulder as you remain looking skyward.

“Of course, I will take her back, in a heartbeat. There is no doubt. I would bring her where I am without question.” He says with conviction. “The hardest part is to let her go in the first place.”

“She is still here, you have time to mend your hearts. You will always worry for her, she knows this. You have earned that right.” You softly pat his opposite shoulder your arm around his back..

“Thank you for being here.” Seteth turns and hugs you to his chest. You hug him back and stand with him in the cool air, sharing warmth with each other.

Flayn and Seteth have several teatime conversations, adult to adult. One day they decided to take a short holiday together, packing belongings on their wyverns and return several days later.

Seteth works twice as hard to make up for the lost time in his office. You spend time with Flayn as she tells you of her plans. Ignatz and Raphael are going to work as knights for Lorenz who has taken over Gloucester lands from his father. Lorenz is fully employing Ignatz to be ‘a knight that paints’. She will join them in a month’s time. She is in love with Ignatz, however does not want to jump into things too quickly. With her other friends there, she will see how the budding romance goes.

You giggle along with her about her exciting plans, what she wants to do for herself and things she will see. She is quite excited about visiting Derdriu. She’s always loved the ocean and the other coast is just north of the territory.

“What will you be doing now that things are settling down? Do you want to travel or start something new?” Flayn looks at you curiously.

“I’m still recovering from going through the war. I’ve always enjoyed working here. Because Byleth is staying here, friends will come to visit frequently. I am not much of a wanderer, so traveling is out. I don’t want to go north, the snow we have here is plenty.” You think for a moment. “Teaching sounds interesting if they decide to reopen the academy or a regular school. I would like to research some additional healing spells. There are many things to do. Deciding is the hard part.”

“You should think about finding someone special to settle down with.” Flayn smirks.

You nearly spit tea all over yourself. “I..um.” You cough into your napkin and gather your wits. “Unlike some people I know, I do not rush into things.”

“I have watched you pine over him for years.” She laughs.

Looking away from her you wiggle nervously in your chair. “I have no idea what you’re alluding to.”

“You both are so hopeless.” Flayn huffs.

A few days later, Flayn leaves a box outside your door labeled ‘Educational Materials’. You take them in your room then head to the infirmary for work. She has left a box there labeled ‘Medical Supplies’. You open the box and restock the shelves with the gauze and bandages. At the end of the day you return to your room deciding to open the box she has left for you. It is filled with romance novels. How strange. Educational? You think as you open one of the books to peruse through.

Flayn has finished packing her belongings. She distributed a few things around the monastery, leaving enough of her belongings in her room so that she will not have to pack anything when she comes to visit Seteth. The wagon from Gloucester territory has arrived and she watches them load her belongings onto the back. Flayn stands outside the carriage saying her goodbyes.

“Byleth, thank you for accepting me in your class. It began my journey to the independence that I celebrate today.” She gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I must thank you for everything you have done for me. You have taught me how to cook, amazing fishing techniques and patience. Thank you for everything.” She takes your hands in hers as she gazes your face with a sincere smile. She kisses you on both cheeks, like the adult women of the court say goodbye.

Flayn jumps up and gives Seteth a tight hug. She buries her face in his chest so she cannot see his face.

“I will miss you most of all, brother. I promise to write. I will be safe, you’ll see.” She pauses so that he can kiss her on the forehead, then she turns and quickly enters into the carriage before anyone can see a tear fall from her eyes. The carriage pulls away and she waves out the window with her hand.

Byleth stares as the carriage leaves. “Do you think she will cry?”

“She is bawling her eyes out right now.” You manage to chuckle, trying to hold back your own tears. A sniffle still escapes.

Seteth has moved inside the building, most likely to hide his own tears. You stand next to Byleth, not sure what to do with yourself. Byleth eventually looks over to you.

“I’ll go to the wyvern rookery to make sure he doesn’t try to follow her. You should go talk to him.” Byleth announces as they head out.

Heading up the stairs to the second floor of the faculty building, the trip seems much longer than usual. You have no idea what to say to him. You pause outside his door, praying the goddess gives you the proper words.

“Seteth. May I come in?” Announcing your presence as you knock.

“This is not a good time for conversation.” He answers, not opening the door.

“We don’t have to speak.” You answer. “Please?”

The silence from the other side of the door is deafening. You wait, not moving.

“Enter.”

You enter, seeing him seated at his desk, looking toward the wall. You silently close the door. Approaching Seteth like you would a terrified animal, extending your hand toward him slowly and gently, you touch his shoulder.

He hangs his head and weeps into his chest. You place your head on his shoulder and arms around his back, letting him mourn his loss. His muscles are all tight as he pulls into himself, his body shakes with emotion.

When he has run out of tears, he pulls himself from your embrace. He tries to hide his face, swollen from crying. You reach for a pitcher and pour water onto a cloth, chill it with magic and place it on his forehead and eyes. You tilt his head back to rest it on the back of his chair. Moving behind him you massage his temples and apply healing magic to relieve the headache from crying.

He looks as if he is resting, or at least trying to relax after having tensed his entire body for so long.

“I am always here for you.” You say softly before leaving his office.

You arrange for dinner to be brought to his door. Disappointment crosses your face when you see the food is untouched hours later.

The next morning your rise early to fish, but the fish have no interest. You glance at the windows of Seteth’s office and there is no light. Heading to the infirmary you walk past it and stand outside of his office door. You knock, there is no answer. You attempt to open the door, it is locked.

While treating a cut on a soldier’s arm, Byleth enters the infirmary.

“Have you seen Seteth? He is late for our meeting this morning.” Byleth says, looking concerned.

“No. Perhaps you should check on him?” You offer. “I believe he skipped dinner last night and the cooks said he was not there for breakfast. He did not touch his food at dinner last night as well.”

Byleth frowns and heads for Seteth’s office door. You hear his knocking from inside the infirmary. Soon the hallway is quiet. A few minutes later you hear the tapping of Byleth’s boots walking down the hallway and going up to the third floor.

Putting away the bandages and salves, you jump when Byleth bursts into the infirmary.

“Come quick!” He orders.

Dashing up the stairs you head to Seteth’s room. Byleth is with him in the bedroom, having placed Seteth on his bed. He had found him lying on the floor of the front room.

You quickly assess Seteth’s condition. He has exhausted himself. His eyes are dark and sunken, black lines hang below his eyes. He has probably not been sleeping and certainly has not been eating. You knew he had not been sleeping well, he looked tired yesterday however, today is much worse.

“I can take over from here. Let the infirmary know I am indisposed for a day or so.” You announce as Byleth helps you pull a comfy chair from the parlor next to the bed. You also set a pitcher and two glasses on the nightstand.

“I’ll send dinner up.” Byleth says as he leaves the room.

You check Seteth frequently. He is sleeping soundly. You eat, leaving the dishes outside. He still has not moved. Grabbing a throw blanket, you curl up in the chair, settling in for the night. You leave your hand on top of his, you need to wake if he stirs.

The moonlight shining through the windows gives a bluish glow to the room, the sun has not yet risen, however it will in an hour or so. Seteth begins to stir. He yawns and instinctively reaches to cover his mouth. Just as he moves, you bolt upright in the chair and look at him. He notices you there, bolting upright as he realizes you are in his room.

“What are you doing here.” Seteth huffs.

“I am watching over my patient. Apparently, someone cannot be trusted to take care of themselves properly.” You fold your arms on your chest and give him a glare that could frighten a demonic beast.

Seteth attempts to hide his shame behind his hand, using it to cover his face. “My deepest apologies. My mind has not been in a good place. I have been overwhelmed with grief since before Flayn had even left. I know she is alive and well, but that does not lessen my concern for her.”

“I should write to her and tell her exactly what you have done to yourself as soon as she left.” You scold. “She put me in charge of you, no matter how many times I assured her that you are a grown man and capable of taking care of yourself. I have misjudged you. I am certain she will not be pleased to know she was right.”

You get up and hand him a glass of water. He takes a few sips, placing it on the nightstand. You hand it back to him again pointing to the center of the glass. He drinks half of the contents and looks at you. You nod and he puts the glass down. A few moments pass as you stare at each other.

“Are you hungry? I can run to get you something. Do you have any pain?” Your face softens.

“I will be fine. I think I will lie here and rest for a little while longer.” Seteth takes your hand in his. “You should get some rest as well. You don’t need to stay here and watch an old man sleep.”

“Apparently, I do.” You softly laugh, squeezing his hand and moving over to sit on the bed next to him. “You do not look like an old man. Sometimes you act like one, however when I saw you fighting during the war you were on the front lines along with those young men and you were running circles around them. I’ve seen you wield your lance, you are a force to be reckoned with.” You smile warmly at him.

“Oh? So you have been watching me?” He raises his eyebrows a bit.

“Yes. Watching you fight and fly on your wyvern is breathtaking.” You pause, “You are breathtaking.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you?” Seteth blushes.

Giving him a smile, you whisper, “We have much to discuss. But right now, we are both exhausted. Scoot over, I am not sleeping in that chair one more minute.”

“That is not proper. We shou-“ he gasps.

You lay next to him. “Shhh. Scoot. We are consenting adults who need sleep. I am fully clothed. You are under the covers, I am over them. No different than last night, except I will be comfortable and won’t wake with a pain in my neck.” You snuggle next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and arm across his waist. “Good night.”

Seteth lies there stiffly for a while. Then he heaves a sigh and lays his cheek on the top of your head, drifting off to slee

[mediocre-writerr]

peer pressure [jo wilson]

jo wilson x reader

requested by anon: hey there! i saw you accept requests for greys anatomy, so i was wondering if you could write for jo wilson? she's dating y/n in secret bc the two of them are still figuring out their relationship. y/n is brought to the hospital and since no one knows about the two, jo is assigned to operate on her but jo gets really stressed and panicked, not wanting to mess up. protective jojo would be sweet <3

warning: shooting, blood

*not my gif*

The sound of a phone ringing awoke you from your peaceful slumber. You grabbed the pillow from next to you as you threw your head over it. A familiar weight on top of you. 

“Jo,” she just hummed in response, “Jo, your phone,” 

Her head immediately shoots up and grabs it off your bedside table, but not before elbowing your stomach in the process. You let out a groan, “Oops, sorry love,”

“Hello,” her voice rang out as she answered her phone, “Okay I’ll be right there!”

You remove the pillow off your face as she hung up, “I have an emergency surgery that I need to scrub in on. You’ll pick me up, right?” 

“Same spot, in. my dark ominous tinted car,” I joked with her and she jokingly rolled her eyes. You paused before continuing to talk, “Have you thought about us? I know after Alex you weren’t sure if you wanted to date again, but I don’t know if we’ve been going on dates and getting closer. I know you want to be ready-” 

She leaned over as she changed into a pair of scrubs that she kept at your place, just in case stuff like this happened, and placed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“We’ll talk about when I get back, okay?” you let out a sigh knowing that this isn’t the first time that she avoided the conversation, but you put on a tight lipped smile before nodding. 

“I’ll call you when I’m off,” she shouted before walking out the door.

“Okay, I love you. Go save some lives Supergirl!” you shouted back, but it was too late the door was closed. 

That’s what you always did, you always shouted it right as the door closed, because you knew that she wouldn’t reciprocate those feelings. 

You understood her need to keep her walls up. She was married to Alex and then he just up and left, but you wanted more than hiding on a corner block away from the hospital just so her friends wouldn’t see. 

You looked at the time on your clock and let out another groan. There was no point in trying to get a little more sleep. You rolled out of bed to get ready for your day at work. 

The day was a little cold compared to the fast few days. But you continued your walk towards the familiar coffee shop you stopped in every morning before work. However, today was different, through the coffee shop window you could see a heated argument occurring.

You bursted into the coffee shop to see your usual barista Kate shaking in fear. The man turned around and he had a gun in his hand. You put your hands up immediately knowing what to do in a situation like this.

“Hello sir, whatever you need we can give it to you,” you told him, trying to ease the situation.

“I want the money that’s in the register!” he screamed.

You shook your head, “Okay, you got it. Just put the gun down please,” he slowly lowered the gun and you gave Kate a nod, “Unlock the register, it’s going to be okay,” 

Just when you think you’re safe and the man’s about to leave. His ski mask slips off his face and you breathe out a sigh, knowing now that you’re a liability. 

“Shit!” he yells, pointing the gun back at you and Kate.

“Just go, we won’t say a word,” you told him. 

He shook his head,  “I can’t let you do that,” 

And with that a shot rang through the coffee shop. You felt your body go cold as you fell onto the floor, clutching your side. 

Then you could see him point his gun at Kate, so you did what you were taught to do. You got up quickly from off the floor as you stood in front of her. The bullet hit your shoulder as you fell down once more. Before another shoot could ring out, you could see the blurry visions of officers behind him. 

Your breathing started to become ragged as the blood starts to leave your body bit by bit, “Kate...” you whispered and she looked at you panic in her eyes, “I need you to put pressure on my wound, okay? I’m losing too much blood to-to do it myself,” 

But before you could feel any pressure, your vision slowly faded away.

“Y/N, you don’t have to pick me up right now. There was a robbery at the coffee shop, there’s one injured and I was assigned. I’ll call you again when I’m done,” Jo spoke into the phone after trying to call you three times. 

Jo immediately ran out to the parking lot where the ambulance park. The paramedics arriving right as she got out there. They burst through the ambulance door as Jo went over to them. 

“What have we got?” she asked, not giving a look at the patient for just a second.

“We found the ID of Detective Y/N Y/L/N,” the paramedic said.

With that Jo immediately lifted her head from the bullet wound and saw your pale face going in and out of consciousness. A pit falling into her stomach as she completely blocked out everything else.

“Y/N,” she whispered, fear evident in her eyes.

You looked at her with a loopy smile, grabbing a hold of her hand, and squeezing it with all your might. You could feel your eyes start to slip away again, “I-I love you,” 

Your eyes shut as you slipped out into unconsciousness, “Dr. Wilson,” the paramedic said sternly, “She’s losing too much blood we got to get her to an OR,” 

“Right, yeah. Get her to OR one,” 

They placed you on the OR table as you were blacked out. The loss of blood making it too hard to stay awake. They hooked you up to the anesthesia before opening up your side.

“We’re ready Dr. Wilson,” the anesthesiologist said.

Her hands started to shake with the scalpel in her hand. Thoughts rushing through her mind. 

Focus Jo, just focus. 

But her thoughts wouldn’t quiet, “Dr. Wilson, is everything okay?”

She shook her head, “No, someone grab my phone and get Dr. Grey on the phone,” 

A nurse immediately grabbed her phone and dialed Dr. Grey, “Wilson, what’s going on?”

“I need you to get to the OR as soon as possible,” she said, her voice slightly cracking.

“I’m on my way,” 

Jo spotted Meredith walk into the OR, “I need you to do this procedure, please,” 

“Why?” Meredith asked as she immediately took Jo’s place, but Jo didn’t respond, “Wilson, if I’m going to take over for you I need to know why because this is a simple find the bleeder,” 

“This is Detective Y/N Y/L/N, she’s my-” Jo starts before the tears started getting choked up, “I don’t know what we are, I’d always avoid the conversation, but they-”

“They mean a lot to you,” Meredith finished and Jo nodded.

“Can I stay here with you? I don’t wanna leave their side,” Jo whispered.

“Only if you tell me about them,”

Jo pulled out a seat and watched as Meredith worked on you. She told Meredith everything about what was going on. 

“They always asked me about us and what I wanted us to be. They were always ready for a relationship, they wanted to make things official but I-I just couldn’t,” she whispered.

“What was holding you back?” Meredith said as she used the suction to take the bleeders out of you.

“I guess I was scared, Alex left and I met Y/N and I fell for them each more every day. The thought of losing them or I guess them abandoning me, I couldn’t take it,” Jo said, staring at your face. 

She ran her thumb over your cool skin and smiled at you with tears in her eyes, “Every time I left their apartment, I’d give them a kiss, and I’d say bye. Right as I shut the door I hear them call out and say ‘I love you! Go save some lives Supergirl!’. I never said it back, I need to say it back,” 

“And you’ll be able to, they’re stable. We’ll take them to the ICU and they’ll be able recover nicely,” Meredith replied as she stitched you up, “Just make sure you tell them this time,” 

You awoke to the sound of soft beeping noises and a bright light on your face. The familiar weight that’s usually on top of you when you woke up was right there. 

Your eyes fluttered opened as you see that you’re at Grey Sloan Memorial. The familiar weight was indeed Jo, sleeping peacefully on your chest in her navy blue scrubs. 

“Jo,” you whispered and she stirred awake looking up at you.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, holding you even tighter.

You let out a soft groan, “Ouch love, that’s the wound,” 

“Oops sorry love!” she exclaimed once more and you laughed softly.

“It’s okay. Not that I’m complaining, but I’m surprised you’re on top of me. I know we’ve been keeping us a secret,” you asked, kind of confused. 

She looked at you with a guilty look in her eyes, “I'm sorry. I was scared, after Alex, I didn’t think I’d find love again. But then you, you came, and every day I fell in love with you more and more. I never wanted to talk about what we were because the thought of you abandoning me like everyone else did killed me. So I thought if there’s no label and you leave I won’t get hurt,”

“But then I heard the paramedics ID you and the thought of losing you without telling you how much I love you killed me more. I can’t lose you Y/N,” she whispered, “I love you so much and I can’t lose the person who put me back together,” 

You cupped her cheeks softly and kissed her sweetly. As soon as you pulled away you placed your foreheads together, “So we’re dating?” you teased and she laughed softly before nodding, “I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere,”

“Good,” she kissed you once more, “Just please no more jumping in front of bullets,”

“What? You can’t be the only one who saves lives,” you teased, but you could tell that she was being serious.

“I know that’s your job, but seriously love you weren’t even off the clock. I need you with me,” 

“Then with you is where I’m going to be,” you kissed her forehead before she settled back into your arms, holding you tighter than ever before.

[duraxxor]

New Beginnings and Old Returns

" Are you sure about this, Lord Daevara? " A feminine elf spoke to a leather-coat wearing gentleman that was packing a briefcase full of belongings in one of the apartment buildings. Black hair cascaded down his back like an river of ink. Right before the case stood a sword in it's sheath that was clearly designed to be used by two hands. " Are we ever sure, Lady Sunveil? But... I don't have anything left to lose at this point other than my own life. Besides, I've been wanting to see the world for what it was. It's time I had a change of scenery. “ 

The blaze haired elf frowned with an envelope in hand with his signature on the front of it. " Very well. I'm not going to stop you despite how good of a tenant you've been. You didn't have to pay your final rent for another week. " She found herself being offered a calloused hand for a shake by the individual before her, golden eyes stared directly into her mint greens. A soft smile added to the dealings of a gentleman. " Better to do it while I'm here than keep you waiting. And next time I see you... just call me Aiden. I've had just about enough of these lord titles... we're beyond that age. "

Handshakes and equal opportunities were set in place as two exchanged one last handshake for the time being. Lady Sunveil even added an exchanged hug for good measure after what he had been through in the recent months? Years? It was hard to tell with how time seemed to fly by after what had become of the opening of the Shadowlands. " Are you going to be okay? " 

"... I have to be, ma'am. Every day we get is a day we survived to live to the next. " He looked to a photograph of himself, his sister, and their father before silently tucking it away and throwing the satchel strap over a leather-bound shoulder. " Be well and I hope you're next tenant is as good to you as you have been to me. " Wasting no more time, he departed through the doorway to go on his way. And as he walked the cobblestone streets of shining city of Silvermoon, the memories that lead to this point flowed through his mind.

I suppose you were expecting my father to tell this tale, aye? Well he would be if he were here right now. So please, sit down and listen for this is not a tale of happy endings. I cannot even fathom how long it had truly been but everything seemed to be at peace for a time when the Scourge began assaulting Eversong Woods and Tranquillan again. I joined in the battles that took place as I felt as though I was an aspect for this considering my father was once reborn from the magics that created these terrifying monstrosities. Coincidentally, it was a Darkfallen that was behind everything as he referred to himself a Lord? What nonsense! It sounded as though someone was wishing to copy my father's own work. I bet you're thinking " Well, Aiden? Where is the tragedy? " To which I say... I'm getting to that. 

I returned not long after to recuperate and continue my usual works of training when I went for my usual visit to the White Lotus Tea Shoppe. What I didn't expect, however, was the smoke coming from Market... Aiden had heard a commotion from the training grounds and was rushing frantically in the direction which he had grown all to familiar with. Smoke was rising to the afternoon skies in the same area of destination he sought. Sweating and panting, desperate to go from one side of the city to the other. Running through the corridor that lead to this section, he gasped as the image of a blazing, tea shop came into clear view. Silvermoon magi were trying to put out the flames with summoned water elementals and frost spells and Aiden was pushing through the crowds of people until he came across the guards.

" Sir, we are going to have to ask you to stay back! " The Silvermoon guardian stood imposing, trying to hold his ground against the panicking Aiden with a stare.  

" That's my auntie's tea Shop! Is there anyone still in there?! Are they alright?! " Aiden's expression was entirely worrisome as he appeared as though someone had struck his heart. 

" There was one person found within the blaze- " The guard spoke with a calm tone when he was suddenly cut off by the Son of Daevara. " Who?! Auntie Vivi?! Xanthariel?! WHO?! " He began to shake the guard and growled with fiery frustrations. ".. I don't have time for this! " At that point, he ran to where it appeared that medical assistance was tending to the victim that he never caught the name of. 

" Sir, we're going to have to ask you to stay back! She's in critical condition and she could slip away at any moment! " The female priestess held a single hand up, yielding Aiden to approach with caution. It was when he looked to the covered body with nothing more than blonde tresses and scorched lips that Aiden's fears were worse than expected. It was his older sister, Raven-Lynn Daevara! 

" Raven... No! " He instantly fell to his knees and approached while the injured sibling was coughing. " I said stay back! " The priestess chastised with a point of her finger and a glare. " I can try to heal her too... Please! She's the only person I have to go off of what happened... " Pleading eyes stung the glare as the priestess sighed and simply nodded. Aiden placed both hands upon where Raven's stomach would be located, trying to dimly projecting the healing factor of the Light. An art while he wasn't quite adept in, he was desperate to bring her back from this. Hands shaking nervously while the light sputtered like a campfire that threatened to go out at anytime. Even the priestess herself was beginning to shake from the strained application of magic with little progress on her healing. Another hand, burnt and bloodied reached from beneath the sheet that was placed upon her form and weakly gripped the brother's. Both priestess and Aiden gasped in shock as Raven managed to sputter some words. " A..Ai..den... listen to me... " Aiden tried to shush her and pass that stereotypical matter of telling her to conserve energy before the sister rebelled by fluttering a slap against his hand. " N-no... you lis...listen to me.. They... are.. g-gone... I have no... idea where b-but... they all l-left... Revusss... Vivi... Xanth... the fire was al-ready lit... they all... abandoned... us.. " 

Aiden began to tear up at her words as even the priestess herself bit her lip, seeming to think the worst of these people despite the story not quite being clear. " Sister... It can't be true. They would never do that. " His fingers were clutched tightly that hand as she put every bit of strength she had left into this final speech. " Aiden... -gasps-... tell dad... when you see him... hello... the way... I... I... " She trailed off in a series of mumbles and faint laughter until she collapsed completely to the ground. 

" Raven! Noooooo!! Don't leave me, please! I can't lose you too! " Aiden bawled his eyes out as this time his sister would not reply with any sort of comment. " C'mon, sister! Tell me how much of a big baby I am! Don't you fucking do this to me! " He shook her to try and rouse her as the priestess herself began to cease her own actions, dropping her head as even she felt helpless in the moment. " No! Don't stop healing her! She's going to make it! She'll make it! Raven... RAVEN! "

I still remember screaming her name for hours. That entire fiasco had caused me to lose more than just my voice, however. My beloved sister was gone and I was a fool to think that her words were nothing more than an assumption. The White Lotus was no more and no one could get in touch with it's owners. Owners I thought of as family. Family that was not there even when Raven's burial was administered. The only familiar faces that attended were Lady Sunveil, Avariel who was Raven's girlfriend, and Dominic Sunflare that had been a close friend of hers for a long time. Not even they were aware of what happened and the guards themselves were of little help. They tracked the fire to be caused by a malfunction of one of the cooking ovens but I say at this point that foul play was far from off the table. 

I grieved my loss of my dear sister and over time, I began to despise the thought of the rest as days turned into months. No sign of those that I cared for. Occasionally, my mind went straight to my father but even he did not return. Spite turned into Hatred, something that I began channeling in an unhealthy manner until finally at the training grounds I had completely destroyed one of the target dummies with brute force. Even the nobles were beginning to look at me more so like they once looked at my father with disdain. And they were right to, I never belonged in the house of nobles. This was something my father placed upon me before he departed and over time, I even began to hate him as I feel this may have been what sparked everything. 

But now, things were changing and I would not see it continue to bleed from this hole in my heart. I would find purpose by going around the world, just my sword and I. Maybe then I would have some form of peace in fighting to help others? Right?

Elsewhere in the wilds of Tirisfal Glades in today's world.. A portal opened in the midst of the thickets just outside the Agamand Mills, two figures exited through this magical pathway. A bat chittered by in a flapping frenzy as an omen before one of the pulled a hood off to reveal a phantom cascade of hair that trailed down his back. To which, this familiar individual spoke. The light of the pale moon gleamed off a crescent smirk of predatory teeth.

" We're home, Anna... home at last... "

[ Tagging @gravekeeper-anna​ for last minute mentions ] 

[nanamixxkento]

Always (Nanami x Female Reader)

Rating: General

Content Warning: mentions of blood/injury.

Word Count: 2,827

A/N: I’m open for Nanami x Reader writing requests.

He was late.

It wasn’t uncommon for Nanami to work overtime but he’d never been this late. The hours ticked by sluggishly, until you were pacing your living room with your heart in your throat and your phone in your hand.

You knew something was wrong. You knew it when you didn’t receive his customary text to let you know he was heading out or working overtime today.

And now you felt it. He was not answering his phone.

The worry got the best of you.

Scrolling through your contacts, you sought out a different number.

“Hello?” Gojo answered on the third ring, nearly making your knees give.

“Gojo,” you breathed, voice wavering. “Thank god you picked up!”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He immediately sounded concerned, no doubt hearing the anxiety in your voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m at home,” you quickly reassured. “But I don’t think Ken is. He’s late Gojo, he’s so late. And he’s not answering his phone and I haven’t heard from him all day.”

Gojo swore softly. “Give me five minutes, I’ll find out where he was sent and get back to you.”

You went back to pacing, now with a slightly more hopeful note in your chest. With Gojo on Kento’s case, surely you’d at least be able to relax knowing where he was.

However, another anxious thought found you before then. What if ... what if Kento was so hurt he couldn’t attend to his phone? What if he was dying?

Your breath hitched with oncoming tears. That couldn’t be happening. So lost in your grief you nearly jumped when your phone rang again.

“Yes?” You answered wobbly.

“Y/N, I know where he is. But I ... I’m not anywhere close, I can’t go check on him. I asked Ichiji to stop by and he’s on his way—“

“Where is he?” You demanded, now scared.

“Titan High, but it’s too dangerous, don’t you dare try to go there Y/N!”

It was too late, you’d already made up your mind. “Sorry, Gojo but I have to find my husband. Thank you for your help.”

“Y/N—!”

You ended the call, dashing to grab a coat and your keys. If Kento was hurt, if he was grievously injured, like hell you were going to sit around and wait for him to die or be rescued. You didn’t care what happened to you then, as long as you could be with him.

Outside, it was raining relentlessly, the skies the darkest grey. It rendered your vision awash with fuzzy colours but you couldn’t slow down, stomping the pedal and whizzing through the streets with your map giving instructions in the background.

Titan High was on the other side of the city, and you cursed everything alive and dead in the half-hour it took you to get there. It would seem you beat even Ichiji to the deserted location.

You stumbled out of your car, and rushed through the metal gate that was left ajar.

Immediately, you felt the lingering swirls of doom in the air as you drew closer to the doors. You noticed fallen chunks of concrete in the open field, and the deformed soccer goal post.

They were all signs of battle that made adrenaline course heavily through your veins. But if there was one thing you feared more than the invisible monsters Kento fought, it was losing him to said monsters.

You made it through the doors, ringing Kento again and again until you thought you heard the distant ring of his phone. It made you race for the staircase, breath puffing out rapidly and sweat beading on your forehead.

It was several degrees colder on the second floor. One wall was entirely blown out, several windows were completely shattered.

Traipsing through the crumbled wall into the classroom, the first thing you noticed was the dust still hanging in the air. The second thing you noticed was the absence of Kento. And finally, you fished out his cracked phone from under a toppled desk.

By now you were so frustrated and scared you could cry. You clutched his phone in a death grip, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. He had to be nearby.

This time, you threw your reservations out of the window, opened your mouth and screamed his name over and over hoping he would answer.

Your feet carried you to the third and final floor where more signs of battle left the corridor with dents in the metal doors and shattered floor tiles. You struggled through the wreckage, the dust making you cough until finally you arrived at a broken down supply closet.

The yellow light bulb flickered eerily, casting out just enough light to see a heap on the ground.

“Kento!” You cried, falling to your knees by his bleeding figure.

He was propped up against the metal closet, a wad of tissue paper curled to his bleeding side.

He stirred at your voice, blinking slowly. “Hmm, Y/N?” His blood stained fingers pumped your cheek lightly, and he frowned. “Huh.”

Awareness seemed to slam into him moments later as he made the connection that you were real, and actually crouched there with him in the closet. “Wait—“ he struggled to righten himself, breathing strained and you lurched forward to help him. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Have you lost your mind!”

He wheezed slightly, his hand clutched his side again as small rivulets of blood trickled out through the tissues.

You looked around wildly for anything to use to stifle his bleeding and got up to rummage through the closet and shelves until you found small packaged towels and rags.

“Please don’t talk,” you pled, distantly aware of the tears streaming down your face as you ripped open package after package and replaced the tissue with the towels.

He hissed as you pressed down on his wound, making your heart twist in your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “We have to stop the bleeding, please just— please hang in there. Ichiji should be here any minute.”

Kento clumsily used the back of his shaking knuckles to wipe your tears. “Hey,” he attempted, still sounding pained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... to yell at you ... you’re okay ... please don’t cry.”

Ichiji found you several minutes later, still crouched over Kento who was thankfully bleeding less now with you there to apply pressure on his wound.

He paled considerably at the sight of the both of you covered in blood, your eyes puffy from tears and Kento’s squeezed shut.

It took the strength of both you and Ichiji to help manoeuvre Kento down three flights of stairs and finally to the backseat of Ichiji’s car.

“To the hospital Ichiji, quickly,” you said, crowding against Kento’s side to press on his wound again.

Half-way through your trip, Gojo called, sounding a little wild over the speakers. “Ichiji, tell me those idiots didn’t get themselves killed!”

“G-Gojo-san,” Ichiji swallowed thickly. “We’re on our way to the hospital—“

“—the hospital?!”

“—because Nanami-san is injured—“

“HOW INJURED?”

Ichiji was sweating bullets now, nervously flexing his fingers over the steering wheel. He’d never heard Gojo-san shouting before and it made him incredibly nervous. “We ... we don’t know yet.”

“Your location, now, Ichiji,” Gojo’s voice came out calmer with a hint of steel underlying it.

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Did you run into Y/N? I swear if something happens to her, Nanami will have me castrated.” Gojo muttered darkly. “Make sure she’s safe, Ichiji, you got that?”

“She’s um, she’s here with me and she can hear you,” Ichiji offered meekly but Gojo had already ended the call.

Silence flooded the car again, but for Kento's harsh, wheezing breaths.

You used your free hand to stroke through the damp wisps of his hair, tugging comfortingly at the crown of his head. “Ken, you have to stay awake,” you told him regrettably, tugging gently at his hair again. “Stay with me.”

He made a soft groaning noise but his eyes cracked open.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, barely managing to hold back a second wave of tears. “Focus on my voice.”

You talked to him about the trip you were organising for next month, where you planned to go, and all the ridiculous endeavours you vowed to pull him into. By the time you reached the hospital, he was struggling to keep his eyes open for a second longer but by then a squad of nurses with a stretcher rushed to his side and you felt some relief wash over you.

You were checked in too, even when you insisted all the blood wasn’t yours, but the elderly nurse in charge gave you one stern look and hooked you to an IV.

Ichiji stayed by your side, shuffling nervously and gulping at every sudden noise, no doubt fearing the appearance of Gojo.

When Gojo appeared an hour later, Ichiji did indeed jump a foot in the air. “G-G-Gojo-san! You made it!”

At least he wasn’t shouting, but something about his expression looked distinctly foreboding. “You,” he pointed a finger at you. “Are an utter idiot!”

You gave him a sheepish look but made no apologies whatsoever.

“What if Nanami hadn’t exorcised the curse, huh? You could’ve died.” He huffed, leaning his long limbs against the wall. “And then I would’ve had to spend the rest of my life avoiding him. Sheesh.”

You shrugged stiff shoulders. “You couldn’t have stopped me.”

“That’s because you’re as stubborn as him!” Gojo said. “And as dumb as him,” he pointed viciously at Ichiji who shuddered.

“I gave you one job,” he told Ichiji. “One. How the hell did she beat you to it?”

Ichiji was looking throughly chastised, sweating profusely with his gaze locked on the floor.

You used your foot to lightly kick Gojo’s ankle. “Stop bullying him,” you said. “It’s not his fault.”

Gojo huffed again, but heeded your wish.

A couple of hours later, you were allowed to see Kento when he finally awoke from his surgery. Gojo and Ichiji lingered awkwardly at the door while you dashed to his side to take his hand and pepper his face with grateful kisses.

Kento wrinkled his nose slightly at you but he was smiling. “Kisses won’t make me less mad at you for putting yourself in danger, Y/N,” he scolded, albeit gently.

“Shut up and accept my love,” you said unfalteringly, earning a laugh from Gojo who finally wandered into the room after you.

“Don’t they just warm the cold cockles of your heart?” He sighed fondly to Ichiji.

“You’re not off the hook either,” Kento threw him a mild glare. “I know you told her where to find me.”

Gojo cleared his throat and ignored him. “I think the moral of today is that we’re all alive. And that’s what we should be talking about. Of course that and the fact that Y/N called you her husband.”

You jolted, flushing as you realised that you did indeed call him that in the heat of the moment earlier.

It was easy to forget sometimes when you and Kento already shared everything. You’d been living together for years, you’d even discussed kids.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I think the true moral of today,” you said, “is that Jujutsu sorcerers should never be sent out on solo missions. And you really should invest in some location trackers and an earpiece.”

“Mhmmmm,” Gojo hummed slyly and clapped his hands. “Well now that the lovebirds are reunited, Ichiji and I will see ourselves out, right Ichiji?”

“Yes, sir,” Ichiji yelped, slinking out of the room immediately.

Gojo’s smile was satisfied but it quickly morphed into a serious expression as he gazed at the both of you through his blindfold. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nanami. And Y/N,  if you weren’t, I might have had to bring you back to life just to kill you for being an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah, we love you too Gojo,” you smirked teasingly at him and waved him out.

The exhaustion of tonight’s events were beginning to catch up with you. It was nearing three in the morning and all you wanted was to curl into Kento’s warmth and catch a few hours of rest.

He cleared his throat softly and scooted over. “Come on sleepy head,” he patted the space next to him. “Get in.”

You smiled gratefully as you slid into the cosy space beside him and carefully rested your head on his chest.

The lights overhead dimmed a few minutes later to a hushed warm colour that engulfed the room with shadows.

Kento stroked your hair lightly, his breathing soft but not yet asleep. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he murmured quietly, just as you were beginning to wonder if he was finally falling asleep.

“Ken,” you chided gently. “Go to sleep. There’s nothing to apologise for.”

He hummed contemplatively. “I knew what I was signing up for with this job,” he sighed. “But it never gets easier. Especially that I have you now.”

It wasn’t like Kento didn’t know your true feelings about his occupation. You supported him in everything he did, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Constantly risking his life would never be something you agreed with.

“I know,” you sighed too, tracing feathery circles over his chest. “It’s not easy for me either. So you can’t blame me for what I did today, okay? Losing you is not an option, I don’t care what your job description entails.”

He squeezed your shoulder lightly, as if to acknowledge your words. “I promise I’ll always come home to you ... even if it means you might occasionally have to haul my ass there yourself.”

You cracked a smile and felt it mirrored against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss to your brow. “That’s fine by me,” you declared and snuggled closer to him.

Silence descended again but for your rhythmic breathing and the warm thudding of his heart under your ear.

It was a much-needed peace after the storm. He was alive and breathing and in your arms, and you couldn’t have wished for anything more.

“Y/N,” he said a while later, stirring you from the first stages of falling asleep. His thumb was fluttering lightly over your cheekbone, and you suspected the innocent strokes were what was lulling you to sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Did you really call me your husband?”

A wave of butterflies, nerves and surprise cleanly banished any lingering sleep from your system. You attempted a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Yes.”

You felt the ghost of his smile again. “Was it by accident?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” he echoed and you heard the light humour in his tone. “What if it matters to me to know whether you think of me that way?”

You swallowed. “Well ... we’ve been together for years now. I don’t see myself with anyone else and if it won’t be you, then it won’t be anyone. For me at least.”

The thumb on your cheek brushed lower to hook just under your jawline and tilt your head up. You looked up at him and were startled by the adoring look on his face. “It’ll always be you for me,” he said and pressed your lips together.

You melted under the loving ministrations of his mouth, your heart racing and racing. Everything always seemed too good to be true with Kento, even the overflowing affection in your chest.

Cradling his cheek in your palm, you pressed closer to him, lips lingering together for a long, wonderfully charged moment.

When he pulled back he was smiling faintly, but his eyes were serious. “Do you understand why it matters to me to know?”

You bit your lips shyly. “Well ... a girl can hope ... that it means you like it?”

He chuckled. “Close. Very close.”

“Okay, then tell me,” you pressed your thumb to his lips and tried to resist your smile as you felt his own grow under your touch.

“It means ...” he began slowly, letting the tension mount. “That I do like it of course ... but that I only like it because I feel the same way Y/N. I’ve been planning to ask you. I won’t now, not like this. But I will, soon. And when I do, I’ll hope your answer is yes... I’ll always hope your answer will be yes to me.”

Blinking away a tear, you buried your face in his throat and let out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” you said unequivocally, and cuddled closer to him.

He pressed his face into your hair and smiled. “Sleep?”

“Yes,” you said again, smiling wobbly.

“Do you love me?” He teased.

“Yes.” You replied fervently. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His palm pressed over the back of your head and held you closer, sighing contentedly. “I love you, too sweetheart. Always.”

[erectionsandtea]

Roller rink skate date headcanons! (poly party) insp. by this post, for @mike-wheeler-is-gay (I know you wanted byler specifically and I usually write poly party, but I tried to stick some extra byler in here for you, I hope I did it justice and that you like it!)

So many paragraphs this should really just be a fic, I'm sorry

- Mike is super tall and gangly is absolutely the worst skater in the party (tied only with Lucas, who put on his very first pair of skates and promptly fell on his face and they weren't even on the rink yet, they were still on the carpet area)

- the moment Mike steps into the actual skating floor, he falls bc he's tall gangly uncoordinated Mike, and Will is just standing there rolling his eyes, like "babe, you're a mess" but he doesn't mind bc it means he gets to hold Mike's hand (and hold Mike in general) while he helps his bf balance and skate

- and Mike is like "I don't deserve you, why are you even with me, I'm so awkward" (poor self deprecating bby), and you know Will would respond with "are you kidding, you're amazing, why are YOU with ME?" (also a self deprecating bby), but then he falls and pulls Will down with him (aka on top of him lol)

- and they laugh, and just as their lips touch, the moment is ruined by Max zooming in their direction screaming "get up before you get run over!!" And she manages to avoid them (being the zoomer that she is) but Lucas has to swerve and falls the fuck over ofc (luckily the rink isn't super crowded that day so nobody's in any real danger)

- and Dustin is looking at byler like "this isn't even that hard guys, come on, are you even trying??"

- El and Will have totally been going to the rink (sibling bonding yo) and everyone realizes that's how they got so good bc El is totally the best skater in the group

- except for Suzie who is a skating queen

- El and Suzie totally having races from one end of the rink to the other

- Max totally joining them and they let her win, just once

- Dustin joining them and after he wins twice in a row (pure luck), Max and El pretend cross his path and bump into him, totally fucking him up, and Dustin's just like "are you shitting me?" (but it's all in good fun, everyone knows that)

- El and Max holding hands as El helps her get better at skating, bc Max is decent on skates but better on her skateboard (bc how do you wheels on both feet separately ??) (like skiing vs snowboarding)

- byler doing that thing where holding hands facing each other, and Mike learning how to actually move his feet and skate forward, and that's propelling Will backward (and Will constantly throwing praise at him and Mike grinning so big bc he's doing it! lol)

- Will and Mike holding hands as they slowly skate around the edge of the rink

- Mike needing to stop a moment and grab the wall to keep himself up and steady, and Will coming around in front of him, his hands over Mike's,and they stand there all adorable and then kisses (except Mike has to duck down bc Will cannot stand on his tippy-toes in skates)

- eventually Mike is like "I need a break" (from falling and stuff, tho he has gotten better) and he goes to sit down

- and then El comes over to join him bc "you looked lonely" (he isn't really lonely, he just kind of has a resting bitch face sometimes, tell me I'm wrong, am I actually wrong tho ??)

- they sit together in silence, watching the rest of the group playing some weird skate-tag game (rules at the bottom)

- Mike is watching Will with a smile on his face, laughing and having fun, and he says to nobody, really "what did I ever do to deserve him?"

- El replies "probably whatever I did to deserve you" and they look at each other and smile and then cute lil Mileven kiss

- their hands reach over (cos they are sitting like RIGHT next to each other, no space)

- they continue to sit there, hands clasped, her head on his shoulder, watching the group and sometimes making comments to each other and laughing

- after a while Will comes over to check on his bf and sis) ("I don't know which is more bruised, my knees or my ego" -> Mike, "you're doing really well!" -> El), which is actually kind of nice for El bc she wants to go skate some more but she doesn't want to leave Mike by himself

- before she leaves tho, she wants a kiss, so still holding Mike's hand she gets up and wheels around to face him and grabs his other hand and is like "I want a kiss" bc she's just blunt like that (it's a good thing)

- and mike laughs at her bluntness bc SO CUTE, and so Mike gives her one of those super cute kisses where he puts his hands on the sides of her face, you know? And she has to balance herself by putting her hands on his knees (Sorry, I just had to get a Mileven kiss in here)

(so much detail in those moments ^ I'm...sorry?)

- so Will sits there with Mike, and they hold hands and share kisses and say cute sweet things to each other, and honestly they spend more time looking at each other than anyone/thing else

- Will goes and buys them one giant drink to share bc boys gotta stay hydrated (can someone please draw this or maybe ALL of this idk ??)

- the rest of the group annoys them (but not really) by hanging over the wall and saying "AWWW" super loud and making kissy faces

- and then El comes back over later and says "okay, that's enough sitting down, we're going back skating, come on" and she grabs Mike's hand and Will's hand and tries to pull them up but it's hard bc wheels (like she's about to slip and the boys have to grab her arms to catch her), but the boys comply and go back to the rink floor

- Dustin and Suzie can totally do skate-dancing, whatever that is (and they totally get applause)

- Max skating by everyone so many times and being like "zoomer!" and everyone is like "pls stop, we get it"

- Dustin trying to tell help Lucas how to skate by actually explaining how the skates and the rubber stoppers work, and Lucas not getting it and just being like "can you explain in English please??" And Dustin throws his hands up like "I fucking give up, you're hopeless"

- Max learns how to skate in a small circle (basically just turning around without stepping) and she's super fucking proud of herself and does it constantly

- Max eventually needs to be stopped by El and Lucas bc "babe, you're gonna get so dizzy" (you can decide who says that 😊) but it's too late bc she's already dizzy

- Lucas and El lead Max off the rink floor and she just immediately falls down to sit on the carpet bc so dizzy and El falls down next to her bc hand holding (she gets pulled), and Lucas sits down too

- the girls can't stop laughing and Lucas is looking at them like "tf is wrong with you guys?" (but not really), also he's just smiling at them and laughing with them bc goddamn they are so cute, his girlfriend is the most beautiful girl in the world and seeing her as she is right now just inflates his heart

- eventually Max can't stay upright so she lies back and El follows her and they are just lying there together (Max on her back, El on her side facing Max, no space), giggling so hard, they can't stop laughing for some reason (I think it's bc when one laughs, it makes the other laugh too)

- Max is like "you, boyfriend, kiss" and so Lucas complies

- an employee has to come over and say "you can't lie down here, it's a safety hazard" and Lucas is like "we're sorry, sir" and he's like "babe, we gotta move"

- so he gets the girls up and they bring max to a bench where she can sit, instead of sitting tho, she lies down again, on the bench with her head in El's lap, and then elmax kisses as El plays with her hair

- El and Max basically take over the bench that Mike and Will were sitting on, and they also steal the boys' giant drink (barely a quarter empty) cos hydration

- Will and Mike trying to kiss while not holding the wall, but fucking down AnD having his eyes closed throws Mike way off balance bc what a klutz, and then he falls and Will is fuckin laughing and he feels bad but also it's funny

- so then Will gets down too (more gracefully but lbr, anyone can be more graceful than Mike, without even trying) and is like "it's okay, we can do this here" and then sitting kisses

- El trying to help Mike but she's having too much fun and ends up just speeding around while Mike tries to catch up with her, and she has to keep going back for him

- Mike feeling kind of embarrassed bc his gf is amazing while his own skating is questionable, and he confides this to her and is like "why are you with me, I'm so clumsy and awkward" (self deprecating again), but El makes him feel better by telling him that she's with him bc she loves him and actually she thinks it's kind of cute that he's not that good at skating and she likes being the one who helps him for once (bc he's helped her for so long with so much)

- and then Mike gives her one of his lil mike-smiles (you know the one I mean, like the one right after he kisses her for the very first time, in season 1)

- and then a Mileven kiss, but Mike almost loses his balance again like he did with the byler kiss, but El can sense it's about to happen and has to break their kiss to hold him up (she's holding both his hands, fingers intertwined), but it's okay, they just smile at each other share a little laugh at the situation and how uncoordinated he is, and they scoot their skates really close together in a sort-of huh type thing

- arcade games after!! (But I'll put that in its own separate post 😄)

- rules to the weird skate-tag game: 1) the wall is the safe zone, but you can only stay there for 10 seconds at a time 2) you cannot untouch the wall for one second and then go back to touching it for 10 seconds, you have to actually leave the wall and skate (HOWEVER you can try to skate from the wall on one end of the rink to the wall at the other end) 3) you are allowed to skate around the edge while touching the wall, as long as you only do so for no more than 10 seconds 4) whoever is 'it' cannot hover around those on the wall 5) crashing into someone does not count as tagging them 6) no tag backs

~

I tried to get equal parts of all the ships in this one but I know I failed miserably, I'm so sorry lol (clearly you can tell who I ship the most)

If you want to add more (I will if I think of any), send me ideas, or request anything, please feel free! 😀👍🏻

[rafael-silva]

steady me with your touch: a tarlos fic

A call brings the 126 crew, APD and the Texas Rangers together. When Carlos gets hurt on said scene, Gabriel bears witness to TK working through his worry as he takes care of Carlos, the love and deep connection between them evident as clear as the sun shines. In the aftermath, TK is there for his boyfriend, in more ways than one.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + arm in a sling 

hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, paramedic tk, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, kisses, whump, comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft boyfriends 

5.7k | rated T | on ao3

*****

Walking into the precinct that morning, the air heavy with tension and stress, Carlos had an inkling about the day that lied ahead. And in retrospect, Carlos’s gut was proven right.

*****

Switching off the siren and hopping out of the patrol car, Carlos and Mitchell quickly stride towards their captain, who is wearing a grim look as he speaks to a couple of other officers. Carlos looks around, noticing a perimeter already being set by his colleagues as bystanders start to gather across the street.

Captain Kendricks turns in their direction as they approach him.

“Reyes, Mitchell, good that you got here so quick,” he says.

“Captain,” Carlos nods as he slips on his vest. “We were a few blocks over when the call came in.”

Before the captain can reply, the echo of more sirens grab their attentions. Turning in the direction of the incoming sounds, Carlos immediately finds the bold 126 numbers painted on the side of the firetruck, followed by the ambulance.

His eyes remain fixed on the vehicles as the firefighters disembark, watching as Owen searches the crowd for the person in command of the scene before even his boots hit the ground.

The fire captain’s eyes quickly find Carlos and Captain Kendricks and he says something to Judd before hurrying over to the police officers.

“Captain Kendricks,” Owen greets, extending his hand.

“Captain Strand,” Kendricks replies, shaking Owen’s extended hand.

“Officer Reyes, Officer Mitchell.”

“Captain Strand,” Carlos responds next.

“What’s the situation?”

“I was just about to brief Officers Reyes and Mitchell. We have a hostage situation, it was called in about ten minutes ago. The daughter made the call, she and her parents had come home and according to her, she had gone to her bedroom straight away, and a few moments later she heard arguing and strange voices coming from the living room. She discovered three men in black ski masks, armed, and yelling at her parents. She ran back to her room and called 911. And it appears to have started out as a robbery.”

Owen nods. “So, at least three robbers.”

Captain Kendricks nods. “We’re still trying to establish communication with the intruders, and in the meantime, the daughter is still on the line with 911,” the captain continues. “Where is she hiding?”

“Her bedroom, north-east side of the building.”

“Any updates, Captain Kendricks?” Another voice pops up, approaching the group.

At hearing the familiar voice, Carlos turns to see his father making his way towards them and gets a nod from Gabriel when their eyes meet.

“No new updates yet, Major.”

“Sir,” Carlos greets his father.

“Captain Strand,” Gabriel extends his hand.

“Major Reyes,” Owen reciprocates, shaking the offered palm.

“Captain Strand, I’ll need you and your crew close and on stand by,” Kendricks states, then turning to Carlos and Mitchell, “Reyes, Mitchell, I want you to cover the back door, along with Banks and Carter. Keep your eyes open and watch each other’s backs, report any movement.”

“Yes, sir,” Carlos responds.

Looking back in the direction of the firetruck, Carlos sees the 126 crew standing near, talking together and looking at the building. He quickly finds TK, and unlike everyone else, the paramedic is looking straight at him, also having sought out his boyfriend amid the crowd.

They start a wordless conversation, declarations spoken through brown and green gates as they connect on a deeper level, the world around them momentarily fading away. A wave of understanding sways between them, an invisible string extending and bridging them together; they both know what the other is expressing, speaking through their hearts, the words echoing in their eyes, seeing into each other’s souls. Carlos gives TK a nod, which the paramedic replies to with a small smile.

Turning back, Carlos shares a look with his father.

Gabriel’s hand moves to Carlos’s face, gently patting his cheek then his shoulder.

“Be careful, son,” Gabriel pleads.

“Will do, sir,” Carlos replies, giving his dad a smile.

Gabriel watches as his son glances over his shoulder one more time before walking into the opposite direction and towards the back of the building, his partner on his heels.

Gabriel turns to glimpse in the direction Carlos had just looked in and easily finds TK, the younger man’s eyes trailed on Carlos. The Ranger’s movement then catches TK’s eyes and they share a look. Gabriel gives him a smile and nod, which TK swiftly return.

*****

They found the daughter, TK had overheard Captain Kendricks telling Owen and Gabriel.

The atmosphere is tense and the air thick as PD and the Rangers work to establish communication with the assailants, which still hasn’t proven manageable. And now without the daughter on the line with dispatch anymore, they are blind to what is happening inside the apartment.

A couple of other officers were assigned to the back of the building along with Carlos and the others, but it’s also been radio silence on their end.

TK is pacing back and forth in front of the truck and ambulance, his shoulders squared and face tight, rubbing his hands together, busying himself.

He can hear his father, Gabriel and Captain Kendricks nearby, discussing what the best course of action would be if it remains radio silence for another few minutes.

He stops moving when the radio comes to life with Carlos’s voice.

“This is 363-H-20,” Carlos’s voice is low and hushed. “Possible movement in the back.”

TK holds his breath, waiting, and then his heart promptly plummets into his stomach at the next transmission, his eyes going wide with fear at the words.

“Shots fired, I repeat, shots fired,” Carlos yells, his voice loud now. “Requesting back up!”

TK swallows against his dry throat when his ears catch the harsh sound of bullets hitting steel and brick in the background of Carlos’s message.

The sun watching over them and the heat engulfing them is suddenly too much for TK, his entire body sizzling from the inside out as his heart beats fiercely against his rib cage.

“Four suspects fleeing north, in pursuit on foot,” Carlos continues a few moments later.

“Hey, hang on, brother,” a close voice pierces TK’s ears. He turns to find Judd’s hand on his shoulder. “They’ll radio if they need EMS. He’s okay.”

He’s okay? TK wants to scoff. He just got rained on by a shower of bullets, he thinks.

TK then looks down and realizes he’d taken a few steps forward, unconsciously trying to get to Carlos. All possibilities of what could go wrong start to rush through his mind; what if Carlos got hit but the adrenaline is masking the pain? What if he collapses while he’s chasing the criminals?

And as if Judd had spoken it into the universe, the radio chirps to life, an unfamiliar voice to TK calling for medical assistance.

The foreign voice alone gets TK’s heart racing some more, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that Carlos is the one hurt now that he’s not on the radio. It’s not a given, of course, TK knows, but his mind can’t be convinced otherwise in the moment, his fear of losing Carlos bigger than logic.

TK lifts his head towards the group of officers just in time to see a bunch of them joined by a few Rangers, including Gabriel, rush to their vehicles.

A few other officers make their way towards the paramedics, and lead them to where they’re needed, towards the fallen officer. TK’s legs move on their own accord, he needs to know.

TK feels the sweat roll down his neck and back as they get closer to the officers, he tightens his hold on the medkit, repeating please be okay, Carlos, please be okay, over and over in his head.

He gets a proper view of the officer on the ground and his shoulders sag a little, a sigh escaping him when he sees it’s not Carlos. He drops the medkid and kneels next to the cop, his partner speaking on his behalf.

“He took a round to his vest, it didn’t go through but he said it hurts to breathe a little.”

The paramedics work in unison to get the officer assessed and stable. TK had seen both of the cops at Carlos’s precinct a couple of times but he hasn’t spoken to them before.

A question over the radio grabs his attention then.

“What’s your location, Reyes?” Kendricks speaks into his radio.

“Just passed Brazos and East 4th,” comes Carlos’s quick reply around his pants.

“Copy, back up is in en route.”

TK takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering his nerves. Carlos is going to be okay.

A few blocks away, Carlos watches as the four suspects break into two group, each going in opposite directions.

“They’ve split up,” Carlos relays. “Banks and Carter, go East, Mitchell and I will stay on them heading north.”

Sirens fill the air around Carlos as he pushes his muscles and wills his legs to keep running, the suspects just ahead of him as he sees them turn a corner.

“Suspects have turned a corner, heading West on 5th,” Carlos speaks into his radio, slowing to a jog and eventually stopping.

“Reyes?” Mitchell questions as she slows next to her partner.

“We can cut them off before they reach West Avenue,” Carlos tells Mitchell, gathering his breath. “There’s a shortcut to West 5th,” he explains, pointing to a nearby alley. “Through there.”

Mitchell nods and follows Carlos into the alley. They quickly make their way between the buildings, eventually reaching the main street. They slow down when they’re almost at West 5th street, staying close against the wall to conceal their movements. Carlos carefully peaks his head out, his heart hammering in his chest as he searches for any signs of the suspects.

“Anything?” Mitchell whispers.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies. “They’re heading this way, almost half a block behind.”

Thankfully, the street isn’t busy and there are no bystanders in close vicinity of the robbers. When Carlos gives the signal, he and Mitchell jump out from the alley and into the path of the men, their guns drawn.

The two men freeze, their own guns in their grip and Carlos can instantly read them like an open book.

“Don’t move and don’t even think about it. Lower your weapons and the duffel bags, slowly,” Carlos orders.

“Do it,” Mitchell adds with a stern tone.

The two men don’t move for a few moments before they follow the orders, lowering their guns to the asphalt along with the bags. With her gun still drawn, Mitchell carefully moves forward and kicks the guns away. Then she and Carlos return their own guns to their holsters and move to cuff the suspects.

In a quick move, the man Carlos is holding flicks his head back, and Carlos would have ended up with a broken nose if it weren’t for his quick reflexes, jerking his head backwards and out of the way of the oncoming assault. Carlos’s grip, however, loosens on the man, giving him just enough leverage to slip a little from his hold.

Carlos recovers quickly, locking the man’s wrists to keep him in place as he reaches for his cuffs, but the man continues at his attempt to break free from the officer’s hold.

Carlos is also aware that Mitchell is having her own go with the other suspect, trying to secure him in the same way, too.

The man in Carlos’s grasp sharply and suddenly leans forward, his arms still behind him as he wiggles some more, swaying his body to the side and tipping Carlos’s balance. The man, in another strong tug forward, manages to escape Carlos’s hold when the officer tries to regain his balance. He only reaches the end of the block before Carlos is tackling him to the ground, but not without injury, though. Carlos hears a sickening crack coming from his shoulder when he thuds harshly on his side, his arm and shoulder colliding with the asphalt, his other going around the man to keep him in place.

White, hot pain surges through his nerves and body, and he wants to scream out in agony. He manages to keep the man in place just long enough for Mitchell to run over, having cuffed the other guy and handed him to the back up that arrived moments ago, and takes over using Carlos’s cuffs on the man on the ground.

Carlos breathes out a throaty groan, his good arm free now to cradle his injured shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to regulate his breathing.

“Reyes?” He hears Mitchell call out but he doesn’t reply, the pain clouding his head and preventing him from doing anything except breathe through the continuous throbbing.

He’s vague aware of the sirens around them now, blaring and ear-piercing and he can see the red and blue lights dancing across beyond his closed eyelids.

Carlos’s focus leaves his surroundings and travel to the aching pain and shocks running up and down his arm. But soon, another voice filters through, getting closer. At first, the voice seems so far away, as if Carlos were underwater and the voice above. That voice is one he replies to.

“Carlos?”

“Dad…” Carlos mumbles through clenched teeth.

“What happened?” He hears Gabriel ask.

“Carlos tackled him to the ground, but I didn’t see it happen. I looked up after cuffing the other guy and Carlos was on the ground with him,” Mitchell explains.

“Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Carlos takes a deep breath through his nose and wills his eyes to open. He finds his father’s concerned face through the momentary blur, and he shakes his head to clear his vision. It seems that wasn’t the best of choices because the action sends a sharp sting running through his head but it fades after a few moments.

“There you are,” Gabriel visibly relaxes a little at seeing Carlos awake. “What hurts?”

“Shoulder,” Carlos pants. “Fell on it.”

Gabriel’s eyes go to Carlos’s shoulder and he grimaces at the unnatural angle the joint is in.

“It’s dislocated,” Gabriel sighs.

Carlos groans again, moving his body to the side, as if he wanted to curl into himself and will the discomfort away. However, all he ends up doing is hissing in pain.

“Stay still, Carlos,” Gabriel warns and then turns to Mitchell. “Radio for EMS.”

She nods, getting to her feet and hauls the cuffed man away, pressing down on her radio to request medical and reports their location.

Gabriel then kneels next to his son and gently settles a hand behind his uninjured shoulder.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Gabriel says, and receives a nod from Carlos.

Carlos lifts his good arm and wraps his fingers around his father’s wrist for leverage, and mostly using Gabriel’s strength and with the Ranger’s support on his back, they manage to get Carlos up and sitting in a swift but careful motion, but even the slight jostling sends sharp stabbing like pains through Carlos’s arm and shoulder that have him groaning again.

“You okay?” Gabriel asks, his voice coated with worry, hating to see his son in pain.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies a few moments after collecting his breath, his voice shakier than he intended.

His good arm goes back to holding his other, and Gabriel keeps his hand on Carlos’s back, supporting Carlos both literally and figuratively. A part of Gabriel knows that Carlos can very well tumble backwards if it weren’t for his support and it’s also to remind for Carlos that he isn’t alone.

Gabriel looks up when he senses quick movement approaching and sees the paramedics jogging towards them.

“Major Reyes,” TK is the first to speak, his grip on the medkit strap tightening.

Gabriel can pin point the moment TK realizes it’s Carlos who is injured, by the way the young paramedic’s breath hitches and eyes go wide. But he also quickly observes how TK is doing his best to keep himself composed, focused and professional, and to not let his emotions cloud him or cause him to freeze.

“He tackled the suspect and hit his shoulder and arm on the ground,” Gabriel tells them, his eyes moving back to Carlos.

“Hi babe,” TK meets Carlos’s eyes as he kneels next to him, his green irises radiating worry.

The officer gives him the best smile he could muster in hopes of easing the panic he can see drawn on TK’s face.

“How are you doing?”

Carlos swallows. “Okay.”

“How’s your pain?” Tommy asks next, her voice calm and motherly.

Gabriel notices how TK’s eyes keep moving  from unpacking the equipment they need to Carlos, emitting fear and worry. He can see how TK takes some comfort from the fact that Carlos is sitting up, awake and alert, but Gabriel can also tell it’s still not quite enough to completely relieve the young man’s anxiety at seeing Carlos injured, judging by the strain in his shoulders as he works.

“Uh…the pain is maybe a seven? Eight?”

TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s face, studying him and finds sweat collecting on Carlos’s forehead. His eyes then move down to his middle, where Carlos is holding himself a little unnaturally and taking shallow breaths, TK creasing his eyebrows at the realization.

“Carlos, does anything else hurt?” TK asks, worry evident in his voice.

“My back and down my side,” Carlos winces around a breath. “Breathing hurts a little. It’s like…every breath echoes into my back and it’s like a stabbing pain.”

TK nods and with the help of Gabriel, they gently remove Carlos’s kevlar vest and then TK moves to lift Carlos’s uniform shirt.

He knew to expect a bruise there, Carlos’s momentum when he hit the ground enough to cause that, but he still can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the dark red bruise already formed down his boyfriend’s back and side.

TK sees Gabriel have the same reaction from the corner of his eye. He gently starts examining the bruise, lightly pressing down on the skin around it and Carlos lets out a low groan.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

Carlos nods, it’s okay.

As he lowers the shirt, TK shares a look with the Ranger and sees the same concern surging through his own body mirrored back at him.

“Cap, back and side are heavily bruised.”

Tommy nods in acknowledgment and then turns to Nancy when she speaks.

“Vitals are holding, Cap, a little low, but they’re stable,” Nancy reports.

Tommy nods again. “Lets see what we can do about that pain now, yeah, Carlos?”

Tommy tells Nancy to administer pain medication through the IV line she just inserted and secured. Carlos lets out a steady breath a few moments later.

“Better?” TK asks.

Carlos nods.

“That’s good,” TK gives him a smile.

“Okay, Carlos, we have to slip your shoulder back into the joint. It won’t be pleasant, the pain will only last for a few seconds though and the meds we gave you will help,” Tommy says.

Carlos nods. “Had a dislocated shoulder before.”

“Alright, then, you know the drill.”

TK moves to Carlos’s uninjured side as Gabriel gets up and steps back, giving them space to work. Tommy now opposite TK, together they get ready, positioning Carlos and TK takes Carlos’s uninjured hand into his own, giving it a squeeze.

After a moment or two, Tommy starts counting and in between the second and third count, she expertly reduces the dislocation and Carlos’s shoulder pops back into the socket.

Carlos’s knuckles go white as his grip on TK’s hand tightens, the seconds of pain causing him to squeeze TK’s hand with everything he’s got. He feels TK run his thumb over his skin as the wave of pain begins to wash away.

“All done,” Tommy smiles at Carlos. “It’s going to be tender and sore for a few days, so take it easy,” she gives him a pointed look.

“Reminds me of an exact same conversation we had a few years ago, that time he sprained his ankle and wanted to walk around the ranch to fix some holes in the fence,” Gabriel says, his tone playful and a little teasing. “We told him to take it easy and yet I found him limping down the stairs less than ten minutes later.”

“I just…like to be helpful and I hate it when an injury gets in the way of that.”

“I hear you, Carlos. But don’t push yourself or you might end up doing more damage. And in this case, it means complete minimal movement of your shoulder, and it’s best if you don’t use it at all for a few days,” Tommy says.

Carlos drops his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t forget, I know your boy really well,” Tommy turns to look at TK. “I’ve learned how to deal with a certain version of the phrase taking it easy.”

Gabriel chuckles again at Tommy’s comment, getting the sense that the two young men have more in common than he initially thought.

TK doesn’t argue, instead he reaches for the arm sling and Gabriel watches as he carefully helps Carlos put it on, securing his arm against his chest and tightening the strap so his arm is properly supported.

“There,” TK says. “And take it easy,” he winks at Carlos.

Carlos chuckles and nods.

Gabriel himself relaxes a little more after watching the exchange, seeing how both Carlos and TK were a little more at ease now that the officer was a little better. He can still see concern at the edges of TK’s eyes and on his face, but he supposes it will be a few days until the remnants of worry are completely gone.

“Can you walk to the ambulance?” Tommy asks.

Carlos frowns, eyes going to his father and then TK. “I thought we were done.”

TK shakes his head. “We still need to take you to the hospital, get some x rays to make sure everything is okay and to check on your muscles and ligaments, too. It’s precautionary, just to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and nothing on the inside has been injured in the fall.”

Carlos sighs and nods.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Gabriel says once they get Carlos inside to rig and TK hops in after him.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carlos starts from where he’s lying upright on the gurney.

Gabriel’s shake of his head stops the officer. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he repeats.

“Okay, sir,” Carlos gives him a grateful smile.

Carlos is pretty exhausted and sleeps during the ride to the hospital, TK keeping a steady hold on his hand the whole way, grounding him and giving him comfort.

Carlos is taken to an exam room upon arrival, the nurses allow TK to stay with him while Tommy and Nancy are told to stay in the waiting area, which is where Gabriel finds them ten minutes after their arrival.

“Major Reyes,” Tommy says once she spots him. “Carlos is being examined right now, TK is with him and he’ll come with updates.”

Gabriel nods and takes a seat in one of plastic chairs, fishing his phone from his pocket to call his wife.

After reassuring Andrea that Carlos is okay and he’s being checked over and promising Carlos will call her as soon as he can, he hangs up in time to see TK walk over to them.

“The doctor’s initial exam shows that everything is fine, but they’re taking him to get an x ray to make certain,” TK explains.

“That’s good to hear,” Gabriel smiles, patting TK on the shoulder.

TK nods, returning the smile.

Carlos is back in the exam room shortly after, TK and Gabriel with him. Carlos is speaking to his father after finishing his call with Andrea when TK’s radio comes to life.

“It’s okay,” Carlos says before TK can apologize. “I’m fine, and the x ray is going to show just that.”

“I’ll take him home,” Gabriel nods.

“Oh,” Carlos frowns a little at a realization. “My car is at the precinct.”

“I can have dad take me there after shift and I’ll get it home,” TK says.

“Okay,” Carlos nods. “The keys are in my locker.”

TK nods, moving closer to Carlos. “I’ll see you at home,” he takes Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’ll see you at home, babe,” Carlos squeezes back. “Go save lives.”

“Bye, Mr. Reyes,” TK waves as he walks towards the door.

“Bye, TK. Stay safe,” Gabriel replies.

TK nods again and with one last look at Carlos, who is still smiling and gives him a nod himself, TK turns on his heels and walks through the hospital, meeting his team outside.

*****

“Babe, I’m home,” TK calls out as he walks through the door, dropping the keys into the bowl sitting on the table next to the door.

He immediately spots Carlos in the kitchen by the fridge, who smiles widely upon seeing TK.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos replies, closing the fridge door. “How was the rest of shift?”

“You should be resting,” TK raises his eyebrows as he walks over to Carlos. “It was fine, a little slow towards the end.”

“I am, resting that is, I was just getting some orange juice,” Carlos replies. “Welcome home,” he whispers before returning the soft kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs into the kiss, a hand going to cup Carlos’s cheek. He pulls back slightly to plant another kiss to Carlos’s lips, both of them pouring their everything into it, feeling each other, reassuring each other.

“Hi,” TK whispers when they pull apart, resting his forehead against Carlos’s.

“Hi yourself,” Carlos whispers back, a small smile spreading on his face.

“How are you feeling?” TK asks, a thumb caressing Carlos’s cheek.

“Okay,” Carlos replies. “Me and dad ordered pizza. You know, one of the easier things to eat with…” he trails off, gesturing to his sling.

TK nods.

“Definitely easier than changing out of your uniform with a sore shoulder,” Carlos shakes his head. “And showering.”

TK frowns, eyes turning sad at the thought of Carlos in pain, but Carlos quickly goes to reassure TK.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle though,” Carlos says. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know, I just…I hate that you got hurt,” TK sighs, face falling and eyes going to Carlos’s injured arm.

It’s Carlos’s turn to gently cup TK’s face and guide him to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos soft calls. “I’ll be good as new in no time. A couple of weeks and I go for a check up and we take it from there.”

TK nods, eyes not leave Carlos’s, almost afraid that Carlos would somehow disappear if he looks away.

“Okay,” Carlos says as he closes the gap between them with another kiss.

Before either of them say anything else, TK’s stomach rumbles and reminds him that he’s very hungry. Carlos lifts an eyebrow, making TK chuckle.

“I ordered a pizza for you too, I put it in the oven to keep it warm,” Carlos adds.

“My savior,” TK brushes a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, you saved me today,” Carlos responds.

“Well, call it even,” TK smiles. “I’ll go take a quick shower then I can eat and we can carefully cuddle and watch a movie.”

“Exactly what I need.”

TK, however, doesn’t move and keeps watching Carlos.

“TK?” Carlos questions, his face turning into one of confusion.

“I’m not going until I’m sure you’re sitting safely on the couch,” TK shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Taking it easy, remember? I don’t want you hurting your shoulder again, and your parents hearing about it…I do not want to receive that phone call.”

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Okay, I’m going.”

He grabs the full glass of orange juice off the counter and walks over the couch, setting the cup down on the table and then lowering himself down on the fluffy cushion.

“Safe and sound. Now go shower,” Carlos gestures towards the bathroom. “I miss you and your cuddles.”

“Give me ten minutes,” TK smiles as he walks over to Carlos, dropping a kiss to the top of his head and then to his injured shoulder.

As promised, they’re cuddling thirty minutes later. TK had finished eating and went to grab a couple of water bottles before gently sitting on Carlos’s unhurt side. He lifts his arm for Carlos to come closer and TK carefully places his hand over Carlos’s injured shoulder, mindful not to add any pressure there.

Carlos snuggles against his boyfriend, pressing a light kiss to TK’s neck and then resting his head there. He closes his eyes as he breaths TK in, his mint scented body wash fresh and captivating. That’s what home smells like to Carlos now.

Carlos hums happily when TK starts carding his fingers through his loose soft curls, and TK smiles, knowing very well how that gesture calms the officer and relaxes him.

“How’s your back, baby? I know the doctor said the bruising isn’t as bad as we thought but are you in pain?”

“It’s okay, as long as I don’t move too much, I’m not in a lot of pain. And the doctor prescribed a gel that should make it better.”

TK sighs.

“Baby, it’s just cause it’s only been a few hours since…and sleep is going to help. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll ice it for you and apply the gel before we sleep. Is there anything you need right now?”

Carlos looks up at TK from his position. “I’ve got everything I need right here. You’re all I need, Ty, anytime, anywhere.”

“You’ve got me, ‘Los, always.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a few extra moments. He needs to know that Carlos is really, truly okay, he needs to feel Carlos, and Carlos understands. So he tries to move even closer to TK without pain flaring up across his body.

“My dad was impressed by you, you know,” Carlos says after a few minutes of them watching the movie in silence.

“Me?”

Carlos nods. “With how you handled everything and stayed calm.”

“Oh, no, I was freaking out,” TK replies.

“I mean, he told me he could see how you were shaken up when you realized it was me, but you didn’t let that cloud you or get in the way. You stayed calm through the panic, stayed professional and held your ground even though you were freaking out on the inside. You controlled it, and he told me he’s rarely seen people be able to do that,” Carlos explains.

“Well, I had to make sure you come out of it okay.”

“And he’s also very grateful for that. My mom, too. I could hear it in her voice, she felt better when I told her you took care of me,” Carlos continues.

TK feels his heart warm at the knowledge of Gabriel and Andrea’s support and appreciation. It uplifts him and makes him incredibly happy, and he’s even happier knowing how much their approval of him means to Carlos.

“I was honestly just too focused on the pain so I wasn’t paying much attention to anything around, I hate that you had to see me hurt, but I’m also glad it was you at the scene. Because once I knew it was you next to me, I felt safe. I knew I was safe,” Carlos expresses.

“I’ll be here, always,” TK vows. “Through it all, I’ll always be right by your side.”

“And I will always be right by yours,” Carlos vows back.

“Just, let me take care of you, please. You’ve always taken great care of me, and of everyone really, it’s who you are and I know how important it is to you. But remember, baby, it’s okay to rely on others too, to get help when you need it,” TK says.

Carlos stays silent for a few moments, brushing his fingers over the material of his sweats. “It’s not…the easiest thing for me, doing that,” he eventually replies.

“I know and that’s okay, babe,” TK reassures him. “It starts with small steps. Besides, I always want to pamper my wonderful boyfriend.”

That makes Carlos smile and he nods. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”

They seal their promises with a passionate kiss, each of them giving as well as they’re receiving, immersed in each other in every possible way.

“That also wasn’t the first time I freaked out on that call,” TK admits when they separate.

Carlos sits up, facing TK and frowns a little.

“They called for medical after you reported shots were fired and it was another officer who requested EMS and…I freaked out. I was heard the call and I terrified you were hurt,” TK sighs.

“Oh, babe,” Carlos says softly. “That’s completely understandable. It all happened so quickly, the shots, Ryan getting hit in the vest…next thing I knew, I could hear Robert call for medical and I was already after the suspects. But hey, if I were hurt then, you would have taken great care of me, like you always do,” he strokes over TK’s hand with his thumb. “Like you did.”

TK nods, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears, making the green of his irises even brighter than normal.

“It just scares me,” TK sniffs.

“I know, and I’m scared for you, too. I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, but what I can promise, is that I will always fight to come home to you,” Carlos replies.

“I promise the same,” TK reciprocates. “Always.”

Carlos leans in, touching his forehead to TK’s and closes his eyes, taking comfort in the way TK gravitates towards him and his touch. “I’m okay, you’re okay…we’re okay, baby.”

TK closes his eyes as well, and they breathe together, anchoring each other, hearts beating as one.

“So,” TK starts when they separate, intertwining his fingers with Carlos’s. “What’s that story about you trying to walk around to fix the ranch fence with a sprained ankle?”

Carlos chuckles and settles back against TK’s chest, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Well, I was eighteen and I had taken a bad tackle during a football game the day before…”