#ive seen a few times were hes just like jolted himself awake and he looks so confused about what happened

[love-fireflysong]

Think my kitty had a nightmare or bad dream cause he just woke himself up by actually hissing 😭

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Captain John Price x Cis He/Him Male 'Soldier' Reader

Pairing: cis!John Price x cis!Male Reader Summary: Reader fell asleep in price's bed naked and price likes what he sees Words: 2,377 Warnings: sex Notes: Ive been meaning to post this but i completely forgot, im in the process of getting rid of my kofi so im posting all of that shit over here.

Price had been in his office all day working nonstop on paperwork and mission reports that had piled on his desk in the time the 141 had been out, The captain had barely gotten any sleep for the past few days working back-to-back on the paperwork and when john had finally found a good enough stopping point for the day he was dead tired and ready to pass out as soon as he got back to the barracks but once he opened his room door there was a familiar figure laying asleep in price’s bed, y/n. The older male couldn't help but hover in the doorway looking over y/n’s bare body. The younger male was naked, asleep in Price’s bed, the blankets were barely covering the soldier, exposing the whole of his back and the top parts of his ass.

Price stood in the doorway, the dim light of the lamp on the desk framing y/n’s body sensually. The younger was so quiet the only indicator he was alive was the movement of his back with his breathing, the longer Price stared the more it disturbed y/n until eventually, the younger had jolted awake after years of being in the military and working for the government had made y/n more and more sensitive to soundless disturbances. y/n turned his head to look at Price and once he caught sight of his captain he smiled softly, “Hey.” y/n’s voice was deep and thick from his sleep but the soldier was already wide awake and very aware of his surroundings.

Price continues looking over y/n's body before breaking the silence, “You shouldn't sleep naked, y/n. I could've been anyone.” Price’s voice is deep and gruff, y/n relaxes when he hears the older, immediately recognizing that John wasn't mad at y/n sneaking into his room to sleep in his bed. “The team’s seen it all before…” y/n hugs Price’s pillow closer to his chest and watches the older, “The enemy hasn't.” John’s words are soft and quiet in the room, he steps in slowly, letting the door fall shut behind him. y/n's eyes track John's hands as the older tugs his belt loose, y/n's voice is quiet and a little shakey when he speaks, “I've got nothing to be ashamed about.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from Price’s chest and he drops his belt to the floor with a hollow thunk, John stops next to the bed and lets himself admire y/n’s back and ass up close. He can't help but touch, lightly dragging his finger down y/n’s spine and hooking it under the blanket to pull it the rest of the way off to expose y/n’s ass, John traces his finger over the scars over y/n’s back before reaching down to grope the youngers ass cheek. y/n suppresses a shiver as Price works his strong rough palm on his ass, squeezing and groping his cheeks. “You’re a fine specimen” Price’s voice cuts roughly through the quiet of the room, y/n exhales softly “I’ve been working out more as your soldier, sir” y/n pitches his voice innocently at the end of his sentence in the way he knows drives price absolutely crazy.

“Mmh… Good on you…” Price runs his hand down to Grope y/n's smooth thighs, the older's voice is rough when he speaks. his heart flutters when y/n calls him ‘sir’. “Why’ve you been in the military so long, son? You like the boys here?” Price moves his hand back up to grope and spread Y/n’s ass cheek, “I like the men more, sir” Y/n's voice is low and just as rough, they’re both affected. The tiredness behind Price’s eyes has disappeared, and he's no longer thinking about his long days and the even longer week, Hearing his soldier is just as into this as John is makes the situation all the more heady.

Price hums appreciatively and gives a light smack to y/n’s ass just to see if it would jiggle, “I've got plenty of men for you to like, soldier.” price’s voice rumbles from his chest, he can't take his eyes off of y/n. The older sinks a knee on the bed to lean farther over y/n, “Only got my eyes on one man in particular, sir” Price's heart rate picks up, and there's a fluttering in his stomach, he looks down over the expanse of y/ns back, the lamp casting a dim glow throughout the room. “And who might that be. Sergeant?” Price is almost afraid to ask the question but he has to, he cannot ask it… just in case.

“You, captain” Y/n knows the power he has over Price, he knows just how wrapped up in him Price is. A warm feeling spreads throughout Price’s gut and a smile forces its way onto his face, he was right. Price had hoped y/n would say those words, he had dreamt about it but hearing his soldier admit it out loud couldn't compare to any measly fantasy his brain could conjure up. Price undoes his fly and moves on top of y/n, he presses his heavy arousal over y/n’s ass and bears his weight down onto the younger. y/n exhales sharply at the feel of John's hard cock against him and his own cock throbs at the thought of having that inside of him, knowing what was about to happen and having wanted John for so long, y/n has to bite back a needy groan. 

“I’ve had my eye on you too, sergeant” Price's voice is low and rough, he speaks into y/n's ear. To punctuate his words price rolls his hips down onto Y/n's ass, the soldier’s voice lowers to a whisper “I know.” y/n bites his lip at the feeling of arousal that rolls through his body in time with Price's grinding. John pauses and huffs against Y/n’s neck amused “You do?” he breathes hotly on the back of y/ns neck and drags his tongue over the warm skin, “You aren't exactly subtle, sir” Y/n pushes his ass back onto prices clothed cock, the older drags his lips across y/n’s neck and shoulders, y/n lets out a breathy groan and moves his hand to hold onto the back of prices head loving the feel of the older's lips on him.

Price shudders, his breath is dragged from his chest and he rocks against y/n's ass, unable to help himself. “Shouldn't try to waste your time then, huh?” price’s voice is breathy as he grinds his aching arousal against y/n’s ass. “That's what I like so much about men like you…” y/n whispers into the pillow, prices easy rolls get his hips grinding into the mattress below him sending spikes of pleasure through y/n’s equally hard cock. “You got a thing for men who know what they want and don't waste time in taking it?” prices voice is heavy and deep from desire, “Yes, sir” y/n's voice is breathy, and he's unable to think straight, the feeling of price against him gets y/ns brain fuzzy and has his words falling short. Price chuckles and kisses down Y/n's neck, he gets up and continues kissing down the younger's back to his ass, y/n rolls his hips down onto the mattress and breathes out a soft moan. Price grabs Y/n's hips and pins him down onto the bed, “Sir-” Y/n's voice is clipped, his brain isn't working right and he can't wrap his head around what his captain is going to do next. Price spreads Y/n’s ass again and spits down onto the younger's needy hole, y/n lets out a groan and wraps his arms around the pillow clutching it to his chest. 

Price flattens his tongue and licks a line from the younger's taint up to his crack spreading his spit before moving back down and licking solely over y/n's hole. y/n moans loudly and stuffs his face into the pillow to muffle his noises, price circles his tongue around y/n's twitching hole before licking into it and then pulling back out to tease the younger. y/n whines at the loss of prices tongue, the inside of his ass cheeks are starting to tingle from the burn of Price’s beard. y/n tries to move his hips back desperate to chase the sensation of John's warm tongue but the older's grip is too strong and it keeps him in place. “You take what I give you, Sergeant.” Price's voice is husky and thick with arousal, he enjoys the effect he's having on the younger man and the realization sends chills down y/n's spine.

Just as y/ns mouth opens to start begging for Price to keep going the older bears down, price hooks one of his arms under y/ns hips and lifts his ass in a better position before licking into the younger man intensely. The older hardly lets y/n think, Price eats his soldier out until y/n’s smooth body is tensing beneath him and the younger is shuddering through his first orgasm of the night. Price pulls back when y/n starts to twitch and whine from oversensitivity, “such a good boy” Price rumbles and kisses y/ns ass cheek.

John doesn't waste any time in shoving his pants down to his thighs and freeing his drooling cock but before he can start price leans forward to grab the small bottle of lube out of his desk drawer and to flick the lamp off. Once plunged into darkness he sets the bottle of lube down by his knee and familiarizes himself with y/n's body again, he runs his hands up and down the youngers back before moving back to his perky ass unable to keep his hands away from it. Price doesn't deny himself the pleasure of playing with it and he relishes in the way y/n tries to hide his needy whines into the pillow.

Finally, after what feels like forever price flips open the cap on the lube and coats his cock in a healthy dose, he spreads y/n's cheek with one hand, and with the other he guides his cock up and down the split in y/ns ass, groaning when the head catches on the youngers wet rim. “Please” Y/n's voice is muffled and needy as he begs he doesn't move his face from the pillow but Price is feeling generous, normally the older would tease but how desperate Y/n sounds for johns cock stirs something in his gut that makes him want to take it easy on the poor soldier.

Price, slowly and as gently as possible eases his cock in, y/n nearly sobs from the burn, he loves it and needs more. Once John gets the head in he stops to let y/n breathe but he doesn't stop for very long before he’s easing into y/n's tight heat. Once John has bottomed out and their hips are pressed flush together Price leans forward and lays back down on top of Y/n, his arms worm between the bed and Y/n to hug the younger to his chest and he rests his forehead on the nape of Y/n’s neck. The soldier pants heavily into the pillow, not only is Price thick but he's long too, and the older's cock feels like it's splitting Y/n open. it takes a while and a lot of deep breaths before y/n is ready for Price to start moving.

y/n attempts to press his ass back but Price is quicker, he meets y/n’s hips, pushing his cock in deeper. Y/n lets out a needy groan but before y/n could relish in how deep John was, price pulls out to his tip and presses back in so slowly that tears well up in y/n’s eyes. “oh fuck… please sir” Y/n sobs his voice is low and needy, price huffs into y/ns neck, amused and pulls out again. But, this time he presses in faster, price builds a rhythm of pulling out to his tip and pounding back in, y/n yelps as Price’s pace gets aggressive.

“Fuck… fuck fuck fuck” y/n babbles, price is practically pounding y/n’s brains out, making quick work of fucking y/n dumb. John clutches Y/n to his chest and fucks him earnestly “Haa- oh god!” y/n is only getting louder, the longer and harder Price fucks him, Price covers Y/n’s mouth and buries his face into the younger's neck, “Stay quiet for me love… cant have the guys hearing, yeah?” price’s voice is gruff and husky in y/n’s ear, the youngers eyes roll back into his head and he pushes his ass back to meet the older's thrusts, needy and desperate for the older. y/n can't get enough of John, everything the older gives him, y/n needs more.

“Mmph-” y/n attempts to plead but his voice is muffled by Price’s hand, Price just chuckles and pounds into y/n harder causing the younger to yelp into John's hand and his fingers flex into the pillow. “Cant- mmph! Take… it” Y/n manages to get out, he's being turned into a complete blabbering mess. Price growls and fucks into Y/n impossibly deeper, the older is panting hard into Y/n’s neck, “I want you to come again love…” Price growls, “Come on… do it again for me” Y/n sobs hard, price is hitting his prostate dead on, milking y/n closer and closer to his second orgasm before finally y/n lets out a muffled shout and comes a second time into the sheets. Y/n blinks tears out of his eyes and squeezes his eyes shut as Price continues, four more rough thrusts and Price is burying himself deep and releasing thick ropes of come, painting y/n’s insides white. “So good for me love… so good” he growls.

[obae-me]

Asmo and a really sick MC, ive seen some hcs about it but Asmo in those were sometimes a bit too on the fluffy side. Ya know sometimes hurt is prolly the right amount of warmth of me :]

(i just want some Asmo angst :,>)

+ Asmo and “I know it hurts, just focus on me”

I hope ya’ll are ready for some angst!

——————

Pain...You always found it facinating...in a sort of horrific way...how much pain it was possible for humans to feel...

“Look at me, look at me!”

But how could you? How could you when everything in your body hurt so bad, your vision was just swirling colors? You couldn’t even find it in yourself to scream or cry...every ounce of energy was zapped from...whatever it was that was making you feel like this...your mind was foggy...you couldn’t even remember... 

“Please!” 

And you had almost settled into this sort of...content numbness, the pain so strong, your body was already starting to shut itself down to save yourself. Numb the nerves, save the brain, that sort of thing. Then all the sudden, a hand filled with magic touched your skin, and a new sort of feeling flooded you. It invaded you, a foreign object in your body, everything in your skin screamed for it to leave, and so did you. Finally, your chest spasmed and you shrieked, wailing, wishing for it to be over. But whatever magic it was that was hurting you, also seemed to be helping you. The blurs in your vision and the muffled voice seemed to clear up. 

Asmo was holding you tightly against him, a few tears causing some of his makeup to run...he always looked beautiful...even like this...you managed to think amongst the torment... “Right!” He exclaimed all the sudden. “Just like that, keep looking at me like that.” As soon as he was done speaking, he pressed his hand down against your chest again, and that feeling of magic tore through you. Your head jolted back, and another shriek left your mouth, so loud, you made your own ears ring. You hardly knew that was possible. “I know!” Asmo yelled back, his breath hitching. “I’m sorry!” His lip quivered. “I’m so sorry...” He removed his hand from your torso, and adjusted your head to look back at him. “I know it hurts...but please...” His forehead was now touching yours, the smell of his perfume hitting your nose. “Please...just focus on me...” 

His hand went to your chest again...And things went black

Then they opened...but Asmo was gone...but...so was most of the pain. You tried sitting up, but any attempt to do so sent the back of your head falling back to the pillow. Your body might as well have been pure stone. Taking just a moment to look around, you figured out you were back in your room. Opening your mouth, you tried to call out, but the best you could manage was a broken squeak. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long. The bedroom door opened with a light creak, and light steps made themselves quickly over to your bed. 

“I’m back-” Asmo started, his tone sounding like it was a line he had said many times before. But he cut himself off when he was capable of looking straight into your eyes. He inhaled a gasp hard enough to send him choking, but that didn’t stop him from practically leaping onto you, his nose gentle rubbing yours several times. “You’re awake! Thank Father...thank Father you’re awake...” That initial glee quickly faded into quiet cries as he hugged himself to you. Then, he pulled apart, cupping the sides of your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “You’re okay...you’re really okay...I was...so so worried.” He sighed, composing himself a bit, sniffing. “It’s okay now...all you have to do is focus on me...” 

[inevitableconfusion]

Thank you all so much for your response to part one - it’s been incredible!! This turned into an actual beast (I’m talking like 10 pages in microsoft word for just this part) so I have to split it up again. The final chapter will be up by the end of the week! We’re gonna end this thing on a happy note, you guys!!

All Left AU - fanfiction | part one | part two (here) | part three Creator of the au: @sabertoothwalrus​ (Here’s the post that started it all - cw: blood, gore)

Read on ao3

He wakes up on a Tuesday.

It starts out slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep that keeps trying to pull him back in. There are voices, quiet and calm, from somewhere near his feet. There’s a rhythmic beeping off to his left. Something tickles his nose, and it takes him a second to realize there’s a tube on his face. Beyond the tube, he smells antiseptic and soap, and recognition slowly sets in.

A hospital. He’s in a hospital. He takes a big breath, and lets out a groan.

A chair scrapes against the floor and footsteps hurry across the room. There’s a gentle hand on his cheek. “Adrien?”

His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to blink his eyes open, squinting against the fluorescent light. His sight is fuzzy at first, but there’s a familiar blue gaze above him, and everything starts coming back to him all at once. The fight. Hawkmoth. The wish.

“Ma-” he breaks into a coughing fit, voice scratchy and dry from disuse. Sabine appears with a glass of water and they help him sit up, tipping the rim gently against his lips. The water is cold and soothing, and he takes several long, grateful gulps until the glass is empty.

Before he can try to speak again, Tom comes back into the room with the doctor. “Mister Agreste, glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he croaks and clears his throat. “How long was I out?”

“About a week.” He jolts. A week? “Miss Dupain-Cheng, could you please step into the hallway? I need to ask him a few questions while he’s awake.”

Marinette seems to hesitate, but the doctor reassures her that it will only be a few minutes, and she eventually nods before turning back to him. “I’ll be right outside, okay? As soon as he’s done, I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” he whispers. Her eyebrows scrunch up a bit and she hesitates again, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back, and she turns and follows her parents out of the room. Everything feels a little colder as soon as she’s gone.

The doctor pulls over a laptop stand and slips some reading glasses over his nose. “Are you feeling any pain, Mr. Agreste?”

“No.” He doesn’t feel anything, actually. He looks down at his lap, where his left hand is fiddling with the hospital blanket, an IV taped against his wrist and an oxygen monitor clamped on his finger. He can see thick white bandages in the corner of his eye, peeking out from under the sleeve hanging off his right shoulder. “Just… a little sore.”

“That’s okay,” the doctor says, “soreness is to be expected. But if you start feeling lots of pain, tell me or the nurses and we can give you a stronger medication.” He pauses, taking his glasses off and looking Adrien in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. His expression is solemn and his voice is quiet, almost apologetic. “We tried our best to save your arm, but the damage was too extensive. The bone had been crushed in a couple of different areas and some of the nerves and blood vessels were pretty badly frayed –”

The words fade into the background as his mind flashes back to that day with excruciating clarity. The musty smell of the lair. His mother in a glass coffin. Hawkmoth charging at him with terrifying speed. Pain and more blood than he’s ever seen before, screaming, a flash of light as he de-transformed, his arm –

The doctor’s hand on his shin snaps him back to reality. The beeping of the heart monitor has picked up noticeably, so he closes his eyes and takes deep, shaky breaths until it slows down to a more acceptable pace.  “Mr. Agreste, are you alright?”

He winces at the name. “Please, call me Adrien.” There’s a stinging behind his eyes and he can’t bring himself to look at the doctor, instead choosing to stare off to the side.

After a pause, the doctor slowly straightens back up. “I… I apologize, Adrien. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He doesn’t say anything in response; the sound of typing fills the room. A few inconsequential questions later, and the doctor leaves as quickly as he came in.

Marinette walks in as soon as the doctor is gone, just as she promised, nervously fiddling with something in her hands. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, bites her lip for a second, and then holds out her hand to him. He takes a sharp breath. The silver ring shines beautifully even in the cold light of the hospital room. He can feel it calling out to his soul, an invisible siren song pulling him forward.

“I wanted to make sure you got this back. If… if you want it.”

He reaches out tentatively. The metal is surprisingly warm, cradled safely in the palm of her hand. He blinks back tears, curling his fingers around the miraculous. “Thank you, Marinette.”

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Here, I’ll…” she trails off, gently grabbing his hand so she can slip the ring on his finger. Her hands are shaking. Even after the ring is in place, her touch lingers, clearly lost in thought. It must be a painful memory for her, too.

He threads his fingers between hers and squeezes their palms together. Thank you. She offers a small, sad smile and squeezes back before letting go. Everything feels a little more right in the world.

She reaches up and touches her earring. “Plagg and Tikki… all of the kwamis have been dormant since… for the past two weeks. I don’t think they’re gone forever, but I don’t know when…”

She trails off and he frowns, his thumb tracing the underside of the silver band. Plagg is gone. Maybe not forever, but probably for a while, at least. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He curls his hand into a fist. “And… and fa – Hawkmoth?”

She takes a moment to speak, as if trying to figure out how to answer him. “He… he’s in a coma. Here in the hospital.” Another beat of silence. “Do you want to see hi-”

“No,” he cuts her off. He doesn’t want to see that man. He doesn’t want to see him ever again.

Marinette doesn’t say anything in response, but he knows she understands. Of all people, she would understand. She gently touches his hand, uncurling his fist into something looser, and he relaxes. He’s always found comfort in her touch – from both sides of her. Marinette. Ladybug. Two of the most important people in his life, now one.

“How many people know about our identities now?”

She frowns, and he notices for the first time just how exhausted she looks. Like she hasn’t slept the entire week since the fight. “Everyone.”

“What?” His stomach drops. Everyone?

“The… when the ambulance came, so did the police.” Her voice is thick and she grips his hand tighter. “I guess your father confessed when he called, because they knew, somehow. They just – they saw me, and then they saw you, and I didn’t – I couldn’t –” A tear slips down her cheek, but she blinks quickly and wipes it away. “And then the media caught wind, and it was just… chaos.” She closes her eyes, her voice a broken whisper. “There were so many people.”

Everyone. They all know who he is. Who they are. They all know what happened. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He feels so lost. But then, he feels the weight of the ring on his finger – solid, smooth, and real. She gave it back to him. And she still has her earrings.

That… that has to mean something, right?

He looks at her carefully. “So, what do we do?”

She sniffles and opens her eyes. Her expression is firm. Steady. Determined. And even through the tears, it’s just so Ladybug. “We face it, together.”

Adrien’s heart stutters. Together. He lifts his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin under her eye. He swallows the lump in his throat. “For the record, I’m really glad it’s you.”

Her brows scrunch up and she takes a shaky breath. She lifts a hand to cover his, pressing it against her cheek. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

He gives her a watery smile, feeling his own tears well up. “It’s you and me against the world, m’lady.”

“Always,” she whispers.

He feels his face crumble as everything comes crashing down. She throws her arms around him, pulling him closer, hugging him tighter, until there’s no space between them. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, finally letting out all of the emotions he’s been holding back.

He’s alive. She’s alive. They made it.

.

.

His father dies on a Thursday.

It doesn’t really come as a shock; he’s been waiting for the news since he first woke up two days ago. The doctors have been doing everything they can to keep him alive, but Adrien knew that nothing would help in the end. The wish saved his life, so it would take his father’s. The universe has to balance out, and nothing can change that.

What does come as a shock is information that he’s given directly after.

His head shoots up, eyes wide. “Nathalie is missing?” He hadn’t even thought to ask about Nathalie, given everything that’s been going on.

Officer Raincomprix pauses, then slowly closes his notepad. “We… have reason to believe that Miss Sancouer was working with Hawkmoth, under the name ‘Mayura’.”

“What?!” Marinette shrieks, leaping to her feet so quickly that her chair knocks over. “Why are we just being told this now?”

The officer holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, but since you can’t turn into Ladybug and Chat Noir right now, we could not risk having you try to go after her. It seems Ms. Sancoeur has fled the country, but we are doing everything we can to track her down and bring her back. Justice will prevail in the end!”

“She has a miraculous! We don’t know when they’re going to become active again, so the fact that she’s still out there means she’s still dangerous! And now that she knows our identities, don’t you think she’s going to come after us first?”

“Not to worry. By then, we’ll either have her locked up, or you’ll be Ladybug again. Either way, it wouldn’t be smart for her to try anything.”

“I am still Ladybug. And you have a duty to-”

“Wait!” Adrien shouts, interrupting them both. There’s a strange mix of cold emptiness and white-hot rage boiling up inside him. He feels his body shaking. “Wait. Did Gorilla know about this, too?”

Officer Raincomprix’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?”

“The Gorilla! My bodyguard!”

“Oh. No, he has been cleared of all involvement and released.”

Adrien rubs his eyes and then pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best to hold off the sudden, unwelcome tears building up. “Okay. So, two out of the three people living in my house were secretly trying to hurt me for years. Got it. Cool.”

“Ad-”

“I need a moment,” he snaps, and then sighs and softens his tone. “Please.”

They are quiet for a few seconds, and the policeman offers his thanks for their time before leaving, closing the door with a soft click. Adrien still has his eyes closed, but he can feel Marinette’s concerned gaze on him.

“Are you okay?”

His shoulders sag, feeling heavier and heavier as the day goes on. He leans back against the pillows on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t feel like crying anymore, he just feels tired. “It’s… a lot to take in.” He rolls his head to the side and gives her an apologetic look.

Sometimes he’s thankful that she can read him so well. She offers a gentle smile and grabs his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m gonna head home a little early today. See if you can get some rest before your therapy session, alright? I’m only a text away.”

She starts to pull away, but before she can get too far, he tugs her hand closer and kisses her knuckles. Thank you.

She stares for a bit too long, and he realizes belatedly that that was a very Chat Noir thing to do. Warmth crawls up his neck and over his cheeks, but there’s a fondness on her face that he’s not used to seeing. “See you tomorrow, kitty.”

Silence fills the room after she leaves, and it would be enough to drive him crazy if he had the energy to think. Instead, he lies back and closes his eyes.

  Father is dead.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. Just as quickly as the thought comes, the memory of whatever nightmare he was having fades into nothing. He’s not sure how long he managed to sleep. A few minutes? A few hours?

A gentle knock on the door tells him it was the latter. It’s time for his therapy session. He’s not ready. He’s never ready.

The physical therapy they’ve been having him do every day has been tough. His muscles are sore from a week of being unconscious, and his right shoulder hurts with even the barest movement. He has to re-learn how to do everything with only one arm – going to the bathroom, carrying large items, writing with his non-dominant hand. Even the once-simple act of tying his shoes or buttoning a shirt has left him in frustrated tears a few times.

Yet, the emotional therapy is so much harder. It’s difficult to turn his jumble of thoughts into words, much less coherent ideas that he can then dissect and analyze. And every time the counselor tries to bring up his father, he completely shuts down. Progress is slow and mentally taxing, and tonight is no different.

He finishes his dinner in a daze and Louise – one of his nurses – comes in. She sets his empty plate to the side and starts unwrapping the bandages on his arm to check on the stitches. She tries to make small-talk, but Adrien only answers half-heartedly, and eventually the conversation peters out. He feels a little bad; she’s a very kind lady, but he just doesn’t have the energy to talk. All he wants to do now is sleep.

After re-wrapping the bandages, Louise pulls an envelope out of the pocket of her scrubs and wordlessly hands it to him. He takes it, tossing her a questioning glance. “It’s a get-well-soon letter.” She picks up the dinner tray and gives him a small smile. “We thought it might make you feel better.”

She walks out of the room and he stares down at the letter, debating with himself. The exhaustion wins out in the end and he sighs, setting the unopened letter on the bedside table. He’ll get to it tomorrow.

.

.

The funeral is on a Friday.

His Aunt Amelie has insisted on have at least a bare-bones ceremony, because even though no one wants to honor the man who’d terrorized Paris for the past three years, she still wants the people close to him to have the opportunity to say their proper goodbyes. And by people, she means him.

Adrien doesn’t want to go, but his counselor thinks it could be cathartic, an opportunity to get everything off his chest. The hospital releases him an hour before the funeral starts, and even in death, he realizes he’s still stuck under his father’s thumb.

When he walks into the lobby, Gorilla is sitting by the door, and he feels a flood of relief. The man stands as soon as he spots Adrien, and his stoic face melts into something softer before engulfing him in a hug.

Gorilla isn’t officially his bodyguard anymore. He isn’t being paid; he has no obligation to be here. He has the right to uproot his life and start fresh somewhere new. Adrien wouldn’t blame him if he did. And yet, here he is.

It… it means a lot.

They step out of the doors together and are immediately swarmed by the paparazzi, the sound of inaudibly shouted questions and incessant camera shutters filling the air. Thankfully, Gorilla manages to mostly block his body from view, and they’re in the car just a few steps later.

The funeral itself is nothing to marvel at. A small church that he’s never set foot in, a simple urn, a wreath of flowers next to a picture of his father. It’s the only photo he’s ever seen with his father smiling; a family portrait from when he was a child. A happy, loving family that’s long since disappeared. The pews are almost empty, since very few people were allowed to attend. Not that many wanted to attend, anyway. He sits alone at the back, eyes scanning over the rest of the guests as the organ music drones on and on. The priest is kneeling off to the side, dutifully entranced in prayer. His aunt and cousin are in the second row; Andre and Audrey Bourgeois in the middle section; Roger Raincomprix and Gorilla standing guard at the doors. And that’s it. The only people in the world who cared about his father, all gathered in one room. Not a teardrop in sight.

He slouches in his seat, very aware of how much he does not want to be here. But someone sits down next to him, and he jumps. There, wearing a simple black dress, blonde hair in a sleek updo, looking like she’s halfway to tears, is Chloe Bourgeois.

“Chloe?” he whispers, unable to hide his shock at her presence. He hasn’t seen Chloe in… months. At least three or four months, probably. Not since he’d confronted her about her increasingly cruel behavior, and she’d subsequently cut him out of her life.

But here she is, eyes locked on the dangling sleeve of his suit jacket. Without a word, she reaches out and touches the sleeve, slowly closing her hand around it, as if afraid to see if it was truly empty. It is empty, of course. The realization seems to hit her hard, and she clasps her other hand to her mouth to muffle a gasp. She looks up at him, mascara already starting to run down her cheeks. “Adrien, I’m so sorry.”

It’s a little weird. Chloe’s become almost a caricature of herself over the years, really leaning into her mean-girl attitude, especially after cutting Adrien out. So, it’s strange to see her be so… vulnerable now. The way she’s looking at him, it reminds him of the girl he used to know growing up; the girl who shared her teddy bear when he cried, who played with him when he was lonely, who always stood up for him whenever his father was angry. Something like hope sparks in his chest, seeing her now. Maybe, just maybe, his friend isn’t totally gone after all. Maybe she just needs a friend, too. Someone to pull the old her out of this new shell.

He feels the corner of his mouth lift a little. “I lost an arm, Chloe. I didn’t die.” She wipes away her tears, taking a moment to compose herself. “I thought you hated my father?”

“I didn’t come here for him,” she scoffs. “I came here to support you, Adrikins.”

That’s… actually touching. A small, fond smile tugs at his lips. “Thanks, Chlo. It means a lot that you’re here.”

She faces the front and rests her head on his shoulder – a brief, silent show of solidarity. He rests his head against hers in response, and when the organ music cuts out, they both sit up straight. The priest walks to the front and begins the service with a solemn “Thank you all for coming,” and Adrien has to fight not to scowl. He wouldn’t have come if he’d had the choice.

Marinette plops down at his other side, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late, the police almost didn’t let me in.”

He ducks his head closer to her, feeling significantly more at-ease. “That’s okay. I’m glad you made it.”

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. But she stiffens when her eyes lock onto something over his shoulder, and he realizes with some apprehension that she’s caught sight of Chloe. The two girls are staring each other down, and the air that hangs between them is so thick that he’s almost choking on it. But the tension breaks when Chloe gives her a curt nod, and Marinette nods back in some sort of weird understanding, and they face the front again.

The sermon is as short and to-the-point as it can be, but it still feels like it drags on. Marinette holds his hand the entire time, and it’s the only thing that keeps him from disassociating. When the priest asks if anyone would like to come up and say a few words, Adrien stays silent.

Afterward, as people are leaving, the priest offers the urn to him. He tries to refuse, but Aunt Amelie suggests that he take the urn to the mansion and spread his father’s ashes in the garden, next to the statue of his mother. And well… it’s as good an idea as any.

The ride to the mansion is silent. It’s just him and Gorilla now, and his bodyguard was never much of a talker. Not that he feels like talking, anyway. Adrien looks down at the urn resting in his lap, and frowns. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to his father, aside from that day. He can’t even remember the last time his father had hugged him. And here he is, cradling his ashes gingerly, as if he – as if he cares.

Gorilla stays in the car while he steps out, choosing to walk around the exterior to get to the garden. He doesn’t dare step foot inside the mansion. The last time he was here… well, it wasn’t a good memory. He didn’t have a lot of good memories here, actually. At least not after his mother died.

And his mother wasn’t really gone, it turns out. She had been in the basement for years, frozen in some sort of awful cryo-sleep. She was always there, waiting in limbo; while father was torturing him, and his friends, and all of Paris; while his house – the place where he was supposed to feel safest – became a prison; while his only remaining parent cut his arm off… all in the name of bringing her back.

Adrien sets the urn on the grass and takes off the lid. It really is a beautiful urn. It’s a shame it holds such an evil man.

He picks up the urn with only a little difficulty and starts spreading the ashes as best as he can, taking care to keep them close to his mother’s statue so it won’t harm the other plants. Now – now he can be with his wife for eternity. It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? Never mind his son, never mind that he still had family – all that mattered was bringing his wife back from the dead.

All of the love Adrien had for his father, all this time… it was all one-sided. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. The empty urn drops onto the grass with a dull thud.

He’d done everything his father had asked. For years, he’d done everything – things he didn’t want to do – piano, fencing, Chinese lessons, homeschooling, modeling, all of it. He was left to grieve his mother alone, he was isolated in his home, he was kept from having friends and seeing other family; all while working sun up to sun down, until he was exhausted to the bone, and even then being pushed to do more. And despite it all, he tried his best to be the perfect well-behaved son that his father expected him to be. He – he’d tried so hard just to get a little praise, a little attention, a little love, but he never did.

His father had been so blinded by his goal of resurrecting his wife, that he failed to realize that he still had a son. He had his son, right there, hurting and in need of a father when it mattered most. And he hurt him further. Adrien wanted love, and all he ever got was pain, pain, pain.

No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. He was never enough.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tears drip onto his hand. He wipes roughly at his cheeks, but they just keep coming. He’s crying – why is he crying over this? Over this person, this person who caused him so much anguish? This person who was supposed to love him?

He feels stupid for crying. He feels angry.

Why?

The question he wanted to ask his father as he slipped out of consciousness. The question he will never truly know the answer to.

Why?

A wave of grief crashes over him, knocking him to his knees. He curls in on himself, ribs pressing into his legs so hard that he can barely breathe.

Why?

Because despite it all, despite everything, he couldn’t hate his father. He wanted to, god, he wanted to. He wanted to be able to move on, to carve out all memory of him and live the rest of his life in peace, to say he hated the man who had cut off his arm and ruined his life. Yet, he can’t. He can’t erase the memories of playing in the garden with his mother and father, laughing in the sunshine, his father smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. He can’t shake off the ghost of his father’s arms, circling him in a hug when he got home from his first day at school. He can’t unsee the panic, the regret, the tears dripping from his father’s face after he de-transformed. His father was the only family he had left. Adrien had loved him so much, so unconditionally, for so long, that he – he didn’t know how to hate him.

Why didn’t you love me back?

Strong arms pull him off the ground and into a hug, and it just makes him cry harder. It’s like everything he’s been holding back, everything he’s been refusing to let himself feel, is all crashing out of him at once. The flood gates are open and there’s no turning back.

He’s angry, and he’s confused, and lonely, and sad, and relieved, and it’s just – it’s all too much.

“I was there, that day, before the ambulance came.”

It’s the first time Adrien has ever heard Gorilla speak, and it’s enough to startle him out of his thoughts. His voice is deep, but quiet.

“It took me a while to break into the room, but by the time I did, you were already unconscious. So was Gabriel, and Marinette was kneeling by your body. She looked so scared.”

Adrien pulls back and looks at Gorilla, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

“She told me who she was,” he says, “and who you were, and who Gabriel was. She said that there was a wish – that, if you make a wish using two of the miraculous, it could save you. Your father knew this, and wouldn’t let Marinette make the wish herself. He was the only one who knew the incantation, and he refused to tell her unless she gave him the miraculous.”

What?

“She had no choice, so she gave them over. He made the wish, and then he collapsed.” Gorilla moves his giant hands to rest on Adrien’s shoulders. “Your father loved you. He was proud of you. I heard the way he talked about you when you weren’t around. He tried to do what was best for you, he just went about it the wrong way.” Gorilla pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “He wasn’t… a good man. But he did love you.”

Adrien’s gaze falls, a few fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. “I… I can’t forgive him.”

“You don’t have to. No one has to. What he did – especially what he did to you – was unforgiveable. But,” he tips up Adrien’s chin so he can look him in the eyes, “You can’t hold onto this anger forever. Your father couldn’t get over his grief, and that was what lead him down the wrong path. Negative emotions like this, they’re important to feel – they’re what make us human. But if we hold onto them for too long, they can turn us into monsters.”

A shiver runs up his spine. He doesn’t want to turn out like his father. He doesn’t want to be another monster that his father created. But he can’t… he doesn’t know how to move past this. Not when looking at his reflection, seeing his missing arm, is a daily reminder of what his father did to him. “How? How do I let it go?”

Gorilla pulls him into a gentle hug. “You do better. Be better than he was. Turn your anger around into something good. It’s okay if you don’t know how yet. You are the strongest person I know, Adrien. And you have all of us – your friends, and your family, and all of Paris – behind you, to help you. We’ll always be here, so don’t worry about facing this alone, because you are not alone.”

The words are a weight lifted off his chest, a warm fire melting the ice that has surrounded his heart since his mother died. You are not alone.

He closes his eyes and buries himself into Gorilla’s chest.

 That night, he’s the one to bring up the topic of his father in therapy. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

[722alycat]

 Face Down

pt i pt iii pt iv

Summary: Kuchel Ackerman makes a bargain, setting into motion a series of events that would leave her sons life forever changed.

“Everything you know about Levi,” Stout had demanded. 

The pieces all came rushing together in technicolor clarity. They weren’t here for revenge. They needed to pump you for information regarding your first friend. Levi Ackerman, they said in disgust. As if he wasn’t your partner-in-crime, your confidant, the only boy you had ever felt like you could- no, no, he was Levi Ackerman the fool, who left you for dead in the underground city and took the only family you had ever known with him into the light. 

He had left you. 

You kept your lips closed. Regardless of the way that betrayal still ached and throbbed like a bruise on your soul, you knew you would never, never, tell either of these men shit about Levi. How could you, when they had spent days ruthlessly beating you and cutting you, trying to pry submission from weeping wounds and dry eyes? If they did this to you out of hope you knew anything about Levi, you could only imagine what they would do to the man himself. 

Despite your silent resolution, you couldn’t help but think about the question. What did you know about Levi Ackerman?  

Above all, Levi was a survivor. He got that from his mother. 

“Yensen! Please be reasonable!” Miss Kuchel simpered, batting her eyelashes at the pimp before her while you shook limply in his grasp, halfway to being tossed into the street. You bawled your eyes out, only six years old and beginning to learn the cruel truth of life. You were wailing and shaking your small fists in the air as she bargained on your behalf, too young to understand then what was happening in front of you.

Yensen sized Kuchel up, looking at her figure, the sway of her too-skinny hips and coy smile on her face. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, a whisper of I know something you don’t know! behind the pretty gray. She was a rare beauty that he had collected, and he found it intoxicating to be caught in her crosshairs. 

“Reasonable? Kuchel, darling, this child is now without a parent. She most certainly cannot pay the rent. I know it must be hard seeing this, being a mother yourself, but I can’t support every orphan in the city!” he cried, his wide gestures jolting you around as you cried harder.

You were an orphan now?

“Why wouldn’t mumma wake up!?” you wailed, still not understanding why she hadn’t stirred when you tried to shake her awake, not understanding why she was so cold. Kuchel flinched. She always knew your mother had tried desperately to shield you from the seedier sides of the underground, although everyone knew it to be a lost cause. You had never seen a dead body, were unaware the only home you could remember was a brothel, and life was stealing that innocence quickly, one swift hit after another. Your mother had lived Kuchel’s worst fear. What if she got sick and left Levi alone?

She hushed you, stepping much closer to Yensen to pat your head the way she’d seen your mother do, back when she would send you off to play so she could start working. She flashed a playful smile at her pimp, watching him under her long, dark lashes. “You’re a business man, and a roguish one at that!” she teased, brushing lint from his shoulder, “I’m sure you know a good investment when you see one.” 

She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she looked at you, knowing the life she was so easily condemning you to with her manipulative words, however pretty they were. But this was the underground. The only ways to make money here was with a gun in your hand, or laying on your back. Your mother had been pretty enough to rake in a fair few customers, and as Yensen leered at you, he could see the family resemblance in your childish features. 

Kuchel felt no better than a human trafficker, watching the way his face twisted into a sick grin of delight. “Beautiful, you are one of a kind,” he crowed to her, “you could smell a nugget of gold in shit, I swear to god!”

Kuchel waved away the praise, however disgusting it was, demurely telling him that she was only paying her dues to him, since he had been so kind and generous in the years she’d been here. She felt bile rise up her throat as she walked away from you, still in Yensens grasp. 

But you would survive, and if Kuchel had her way, Levi wouldn’t be alone.

“Hey, kid.”

You glanced up at the speaker, and giggled. “Aren’t you a kid too?” 

Honestly, he was only a little taller than you, and missing his front two teeth!

The dark haired boy shook his head, pointing to himself, “I just turned seven!” he proclaimed, then snidely turned his nose up, “I bet you can’t even count that high!”

You went quiet and shrugged. Mumma had been teaching you the alphabet, and you were gonna start on numbers next, but...

Mumma was gone.

You sniffled, and the boys eyes widened, “Hey! Don’t cry! Mom’s gonna kick my butt! Come on, don’t be a crybaby!”

You really began to cry at this, curled up on the ground and wailing as he berated you in a terrible attempt at stopping the waterworks. “Y-you’re so mean!”

He looked about ready to cry himself when he heard the telltale click of heels on the concrete. She was gonna kill him...

“Levi! I told you to bring her to our room! Not be cruel to her!” Miss Kuchel hollered at the boy- Levi, “She’s been through enough these past few days!”

“I- I tried, mom! But she’s such a baby she started crying before I could even get the invite out!”

You whimpered at this, having never had anyone be this rude to you in your life. Mumma always sent you to play with Isabel down the road, and she was never this mean. And she had pretty red hair.

Life was so much easier when she was alive. You never cried this much then. She used to read you stories before you fell asleep, and now... you couldn’t remember her voice.

Miss Kuchel knelt on the ground in front of you, and tilted your chin up to make you look at her. She cooed, brushing tears from your cheeks with her knuckles. “There, there. I know Levi can be a little harsh sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just how we Ackerman’s are, sweet thing. Now stop these senseless tears.”

You took one look at her kind face and sobbed harder, realizing you couldn’t picture your mothers any more. Miss Kuchel frowned at this, realizing quickly how weak you were in the wake of your mothers death. 

“Y/N,” she began, and her tone of voice had changed, no longer was it the sweet cadence she used on Yensen, on her clients. It was now harder, flint gray like her eyes, something that could conjure a spark, “I know your mother tried her best to shield you from how cruel life can be. She was a kind woman. I am not her.”

You looked up with her, shocked into silence, your sobs hiccupping quiet as Levi watched on, shocked still.

“I know you’re young. It must hurt so much to have lost her. But she would have wanted you to live on. Listen to me,” Kuchel demanded, gripping your shoulder now, your chin still caught in her grasp, “crying will not do anything. It won’t bring your mother back. It won’t make this world less cruel. It will not save you. Only you can do that. Now, stop these senseless tears. If you want to live, you have to eat, and Yensen has given us extra rations to keep you fed... he’s investing quite a bit in you.” 

She tugged you to your feet with that hand on your shoulder, hands rougher than mummas had ever been, your shocked stiff form almost toppling once she released you. 

No one had ever- 

You had never been spoken to like that. 

As you followed Miss Kuchel, numb and weary, you realized your tears had finally stopped.

You stopped weeping so much after that. Really, you had stopped all together. You wanted to make Miss Kuchel proud, wanted to prove to that rude boy, Levi, that you were not a crybaby. If miss was right, and tears solved nothing, then you figured they were a waste of time. 

You resolutely built up a wall between you and the part of you that screamed and cried whenever anything went wrong, instead choosing to foster a calmer version of yourself, one made of sterner stuff, like Miss. Even now, in the early morning, you resolutely reminded yourself that if you wanted to live, you had to be stronger. 

“Levi, take the girl out of here once she’s finished eating. I have a client this morning, and I need you both out of the room earlier than usual,” Miss Kuchel said, putting a pretty hair pin into her hair, twisting the raven locks into an elegant sweep. 

You smiled at her, chirping “Wow, miss, you must be really good with your clients, if they come this early!”

Miss Kuchel froze, her expression becoming more fragile than you had ever seen, before she shook herself, and scowled. She looked older, somehow, when she was angry. 

“y/n, it doesn’t take much talent to spread your legs and look pretty,” she snapped, and you recoiled.

To what?

“A good whore,” Kuchel snapped at you, heedless of how you shrank away from her, “is one who can survive. You’d do well to remember that. Listen to people around you. Learn how to make them love you, and if you can’t do that, make them fear you.” 

You gawked up at her, feeling pieces click too rapidly in your young mind. You had just turned seven, only half a year had passed since your mother died. A whore? She had been a..?

“Miss...” you began, voice quivering despite how you tried to steel it, “you... did my mother..?”

Kuchel huffed, all her hot air going quickly at the sight of you, brows furrowed in confusion and sorrow. She reminded herself of how little you knew, and how fast you were learning. She felt some kind of pride when she looked at you now, stronger and braver than you’d been when she bartered for your life, when she found you crying on the floor, “she tried to shield you from it. I have as well, but there comes a time where protecting your child means they cannot protect themselves. Your mother did what she had to do to make you survive.” 

What she had to do to make you able to survive, you thought rather bleakly, was die. Die and leave you to the Ackerman duo, even Levi too sharp and too cunning despite his age. You were a kitten in a snake den, and they were as apt to bite you as they were to protect you. 

But still, it was better than the streets. 

Still, you felt safe here, cared for here, protected here.

You turned to the quiet boy by the door, watching him watch the situation unfold, and sighed, “Levi... lets go.” 

Kuchel smiled then, teeth too sharp in the dawns light. You felt like she was somehow proud of you, then, for shutting yourself away from her, even if only for half a moment. 

Levi considered you slowly, slate eyes watching as you trudged to the door. His eyes flicked to his mother, seeing how her gaze settled on the two of you, her cubs. He had never seen her look so viciously proud as right then. 

You glanced at Levi, waiting for him, unwilling to venture out without him by your side. He shouldered past you through the door. 

“C’mon crybaby.” he murmured, and you bristled. 

“Hey!” you shouted, chasing after him as he strode away from you, “I don’t cry anymore! Stop calling me that!” 

Kuchel watched you go, and felt a weight lift from her weary shoulders. No, Levi wouldn’t be alone, not with you so clearly beginning to latch onto him.

She felt, for the first time in six months, that the bargain she made with your life was paying off.

“Don’t say it like that.” you snarled, low and angry. Your hands shook where you had balled them into fists. 

You see, all that crybaby energy had to go somewhere. It went right to your blood. The emotional outbursts had refined from tantrums to acerbic words and clumsy fights. Circumstances had turned you into a livewire, and it was giving Levi a constant headache. 

See, you weren’t good at fighting. You never had learned the skill, with how you mumma had coddled you, and how Miss Kuchel was usually busy with clients. Instead, you flew by the skin of your teeth. You threw punches with shitty form, you couldn’t dodge a hit for anything, you were pint sized, compared to your usual opponenets. Your fighting style was simply swing until something stops moving.

Half the time, you didn’t even have your eyes open.

Even now, as you stood across from a bully from the orphanage who was above your weight class, you had your eyes halfway to shut. 

“What? Whore? Are you offended because that’s all you’ll ever be, living in that brothel?” 

You snarled, furious and thinking of your mother of how her face was a warm blur to you now, her voice a calming buzz, who had died a whore, who had died trying to keep you safe and innocent in a world that gave fuck all for safety, for innocence. 

You thought of Miss Kuchel, who seemed to get more tired every day, without your mother there to help ebb the flow of pickier clients. You watched her be run ragged as a whore as she tried to survive to keep her son alive, to keep you alive. To keep you both from being alone.

How dare this little shit say the word whore with such blatant disgust. 

Your blood was brought to boil. You lunged. 

Levi got there first.

He grabbed you violently around the shoulders, using his larger mass to tug you away from Vic, hissing expletives in your ear all the while about how mom would kill him if he let you get your ass beat again. 

Vic made a move to follow you, but the sound of horses broke him from the action, as you watched the clean men in the nice uniforms come back into the town. One coughed into his fist a few times, shoulders shaking as he did, and headed towards the brothel. 

“Come on, brat.” Levi muttered, tugging you along by your skinny wrist as he took advantage of the distraction. 

You growled, but relented, instead hissing and jabbering at him. “How can you stand that, Levi!? How can you just be so... so calm!? Miss Kuchel is the strongest person I know! Just because Vics mom works for the wall people at that orphanage doesn’t mean she’s better than Miss! Just luckier.” 

Levi continued dragging you, almost like he hadn’t heard. You took a deep breath, gearing up to keep on blowing off steam, when he stopped suddenly and grabbed your hand. 

You blanched. “Levi...?”

He cradled your still clenched and shaking fist. He soothed his fingers along the lines in your knuckles until you stopped huffing quite so angrily, and then he uncurled and recurled your fingers back into the shape they were in, but wrapped your thumb over the middle of your fingers, on the outside.

“If you’re going to risk throwing a punch, don’t break your hand,” he finally muttered, “you’re too reckless.” 

You bared your teeth at the criticism, but then it fell away as you read the sentimentality behind the words, and you smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Levi, for teaching me.” 

He scoffed, dropping your hand like he was scalded. “Just stop picking stupid fights. Especially on moms behalf. She’d go insane if she knew.” 

You hummed, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just... she’s always looked out for me, you know?” 

He looked at you a little oddly, before nodding shakily. 

“Cmon. Lets go see what the brothel has to offer for lunch.”

When Miss Kuchel got sick, there was little you could do. 

You tried to convince the pimp to get her medicine, to help her, but he only watched you, as if waiting for something from you. He eventually shook his head, looking past your short frame into the room. He took in Kuchels frail frame, shoulders shaking beneath pale and sickly skin as she coughed. Her gray eyes, once so pretty, so lively, found his, and he resisted the urge to flinch. They were already deadened.

He pursed his lips behind the strip of cloth he used as a mask, watching as you grew desperate before him, begging him softly to please help her. He reached out and ruffled your hair, like Miss Kuchel did, like Mumma, like Levi, and your skin crawled and stomach tossed. 

He read the thinly veiled revulsion, and grinned sickly behind the mask as you still didn’t push him away. He watched you steel yourself and continue to plead. Yes, he realized, you would be a great investment. It seemed the fundamentals of being a whore came naturally to you. If you could keep your virginity, you may even be auctioned off for your first night...

“She’s not worth the coin,” he said coldly, even as his eyes fell on the little dark haired boy curled by his mothers sick bed, clutching her hand. “I’m doing you a favor now, even letting her stay here with how disgusting she is. She’s not gonna make it the week.”

You heard the shuffle of Levi behind you, curling deeper into himself, grabbing his mother tighter, as if he could keep her warm, keep her alive through force alone. You were hungry, you were starving in this room with Kuchel too sick to feed you. You were sore, and tired, and scared of what would happen if she-

What if she left just like mom had?

You were furious. 

You knocked his hand away from where it rested on your head, and watched with grim satisfaction as it flopped to his side, hearing him let out a shocked grunt. You took a breath, beginning to gear up for another one of your snarling rants when-

“Yensen.” 

Kuchels voice was like broken glass. Far from the tinkling harmony it usually was when she spoke to the pimp, winding him around her finger. 

“You’ll remember what I said?” she sounded so tired, so spent, and he nodded, looking suddenly uncomfortable at the memory of her convincing him to take you in, “Levi... he helps her. Don’t toss him to the wayside.” she begged, and the mans face grew grim. 

“Kuchel, I cannot take in every damn orphan in the underground,” he growled, before striding away, closing the door behind him. 

Levi had gone stock still, you saw, and you knew what he was thinking of. 

Orphan?

Kuchel snarled, and then coughed wetly into the hankerchief gripped in the hand free of her sons. She let out a broken sounding sob, and the noise nearly brought you to your knees. “Miss...” you murmured, reaching out to her. 

You had never seen her so small. Her shoulders were birdlike beneath your hands, her skin graying rapidly. You had kept her clean, washing her skin when she became too weak to move from the illness, but now you doubted you could even move her without hurting her. 

“Fuck...” Kuchel hissed, weakly scrubbing the tears from where they had spilt down her temples, “I’m sorry, children. I’m so sorry.” 

You knelt beside her, next to Levi, keeping your hand on her shoulder, and the other wrapped around his wrist. You felt Kuchels chest heave as she sobbed out years of pain and worry, and for the years she would miss. You felt Levi’s pulse between your shaking fingers, the jackrabbiting of it telling you everything you needed to know about if he was as scared as you. It was so odd, seeing Miss Kuchel break down. It was wrong. 

Minutes or hours later, when Kuchels tears had dried, she pulled herself away from the two of you, hauling herself up onto her elbows to sit up. She hissed when you reached to help her, swaying dangerously to keep away from you. 

“Listen to me.” she said, voice crackling and gravelly, and you thought how strong she was yet again, “Levi.”

Levi hunched deeper into himself, shaking harder now, and your heart broke for him, a chasm opening within it. But even so, you could feel an ache rising to fill it, an anger. 

“Levi!” you snapped, “Look at her!” 

He flinched at your tone, wide eyes finding yours in shock, and you gripped his wrist tighter as he tried to pull from you. You would have given anything to have had this chance with your mom. You wouldn’t let him squander it.

“She’s your mom,” you cried, “look at her!” 

While you still have the chance rang unspoken in the air, like a tolling bell, and he looked away. When he finally gathered the courage to look at Kuchel, you could see the wetness in his eyes. 

“You’re so strong,” Kuchel said, shaking hand coming to ghost over her sons cheek, “An Ackerman, through and through. I want you to beat this world. I want to watch you come out on top.” 

You felt like you were intruding on their moment, watching her imbue his spine with the same metal she had always had, even as her arm quaked holding herself up. 

“I never wanted to leave you alone,” she murmured, eyes flickering softly to you, and she reached out to ruffle your hair softly, washing away Yensens touch in moments, “and thanks to her, I won’t. Take care of eachother. Stay alive. Survive, whatever the cost. I beg of you.” 

You nodded your head swiftly, hand wrapping around Levi’s shaking one, and you pursed your lips in determination. Levi’s fingers twisted to twine with yours, and he shook harder beside you, desperate eyes drinking in his sick mother. Every moment felt like the last, every breath she took, you fought the urge to hold yours.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling boy,” she whispered, growing tired. “Of both of you. Now please, go play. Leave me to rest.” 

Levi opened his mouth to protest, and you stood to leave, releasing him. 

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t.

You raced through the door, desperate to find medicine. 

If no one would help you, you would help yourself.

You fucked up. 

You knew stealing medicine would be harder than the petty theft you and Levi had screwed around with, but you didn’t know it would be tied-up-and-beaten hard. 

The store clerk had left you, curled on the ground and spitting blood, promising to turn you to the Military police on their next patrol. You felt so scared, so out of your league. Miss Kuchel couldn't save you. Levi would never leave her side to find you. You were alone here.

Maria, Rosa, and Sina help you. 

The one thing Miss Kuchel had asked of you...

You couldn’t leave Levi alone. 

and so you got to work on the knots binding your wrists, the rope rubbing your skin raw and red. 

You needed to grab that fucking medicine and go. 

You didn’t know how long it took you, tugging at the ties and hissing as your sore fingers cracked and popped from keeping them curled up in such an unnatural way, before you were finally loose. 

The store clerk had gone to bed, not seeing such a small girl as a threat. Foolish bastard. He would pay for that. You scrambled out of the small room he kept you in, knees aching and legs wobbling after sitting for so long. You launched your small elbow through the window of the store room, unwilling to bother with wasting time on the lock. Kuchel needed you. 

You frantically snatched a variety of medicine, frantic and quick as you heard a crash from the floor above you. You didn’t have time to read labels, just shoving handful after handful into your knapsack. You let out a frantic whimper as you grabbed one last fistful of bagged powder from beneath the counter, and sprinted out of the shop as fast as your legs could carry you. It was dark in the underground at night, and you were more scared now than you were when the store owner caught you. You had never been outside so late. 

You tripped some blocks away, adrenaline fading fast and leaving you feeling all the aches and pains the man had left you with. Your ribs burst with needle like jabs every time you panted out a new breath, and it didn't help when you crashed to the ground on them, arms curling to protect your stolen medicine more than your injured body. 

Kuchel needed you. 

You had been gone for a few days now, the frantic trek across the underground to one of the lesser known clinics took you a while, and you knew going back would take longer still, with your wounded body throbbing reminders of what you had survived with every step. 

Still, you trudged on.

Kuchel needed you.

Levi needed you. 

Please, you thought, let me get back in time. 

You didn’t make it back in time. 

You knew as soon as you opened the door, days old stench rising to meet you. You were far too late. She had died while you were still fiddling with knots, while you cut your elbow breaking glass to steal antibiotics, while you were napping because you got kicked in the head a little too hard.

You looked at the scene before you in shock. The proud and strong Miss Kuchel left to rot in her bed, her leakage staining the sheets she worked to keep pristine and white. You couldn’t... you couldn’t understand. 

You had got the medicine. Everything was supposed to be fine.

You threw up, shocking yourself. The mess landed at your feet and on your shirt, adding an acrid smell to the sweetness of rotting meat.

“M-miss...” you croaked, stepping towards her. you were halfway across the small room when you kicked something. Looking down, you saw Levi. Curled in on himself still, like that day you left. 

Your hands shook as you kneeled to look at him, taking in his sunken features from days without food, unsure and aching. What were you supposed to do? What would Kuchel do?

You knew the answer to that one. 

You grabbed Levi’s hand, prying it from where it was curled around the back of his head. He startled, looking up at you with fear and shock in his eyes. 

He blinked, once, twice, then grimaced, “I thought you were gone,” he croaked, “like mom.” 

You shook your head, “I’m sorry, Levi.”

He let out a dry sounding sob, before stilling again, “I thought I was gone, too.”

You grit your teeth. You thought of Kuchel, of how she had drug you back from the brink, of how she taught you how to survive. You would not lose the only person you had left, you vowed, you would return Miss Kuchels kindness with another. 

“Levi. Get up. Miss wouldn’t have wanted you to die here. You have to survive,” you yanked him easily to his unsteady feet, taking in how he wavered and drooped in your grasp, “Walls, Levi, you have to eat.”

You pulled him from the room, desperately, tugging him along. If you could get him out of there, into fresher air, you could save him. Just one step after the other. You had lost your mother, you had lost Kuchel. You would not lose Levi.

You released him from your grasp outside the room, a little further down the hall. You let him sag against the wall as you pulled a loaf of bread from your knapsack. “here,” you whispered, “eat.” 

Levi took a cautious nibble of the bread, before savagely scarfing it down, shaking and sobbing as he did, seeming to finally break apart as you held him close, tucking him against your chest. You let him sob his heart out into your filthy shirt, clutch your aching waist as he scrambled for something to keep him grounded. You didn’t know how long the sound went on for, the desperation, before he calmed. He sounded so much like Miss Kuchel when he cried. You fought back the emotion rising in your throat, unwinding a hand to wipe the side of your mouth.

You glanced up when you heard footsteps, steeling yourself to see Yensen. If that son of a bitch even tried to separate you and Levi, you swore you would kill him. Your hands found the broken shard of glass in your knapsack, from the window you had busted. You weren’t letting anyone be taken from you by him again. 

Your arm curled tighter around Levi’s still shoulders, feeling his sleeping form puff breaths against your neck. Your gauze wrapped fingers curled around your makeshift knife with vicious determination. Never again, you promised yourself.

You heard the footsteps round the corner and snarled, only to find an odd man you had never seen before. Dark hair going down to his shoulders, an earring, slate gray eyes, and a tall lithe form approached you slowly. 

The stranger looked impassively at the two of you, just some whoreson and whore-to-be to him, but he still pursed his lips, long fingers on scarred hands pushing his black hair from his face.

“You kids know where Kuchel Ackerman happens to be?” he questioned, before nudging Levi harshly with his foot, as you snarled, startling him awake, “kid, I’m fucking talking to you. 

“Leave him alone! If you’re here for her body, you can find it yourself you fucking bastard. Let Levi rest!”

The stranger stilled. Eyes taking in Levi and you with far more interest, lingering on the boys familiar features, dark hair, and slate gray teary eyes. Well, I’ll be fucked, he thought, “I thought she’d gotten rid of it.”

He watched you curl around Levi, the boy obviously still sleepy and confused. He saw the glint of the glass in your gauze-wrapped hand. Fuck me twice, Kuchel adopted a wildcat.

Still, he forced himself back onto the more pertinent topic. 

“What do you mean, brats? ‘The body’?”

pt iii

[icedcappujaeno]

kingdom come | prologue

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

genre: mafia!au | fluff | angst | smut

pair: Jaehyun & reader

warnings: language, sexual content, drugs, blood and violence, guns

↤ previous | series masterlist | next ↦

( a/n: voila. let me know your thoughts. feedback would be greatly appreciated. cross posted on ao3. will update there regularly, updates here will be feedback based. c: )

Jaehyun remembers the day when you first met.

“I think the children like you,” you said, a delightful grin gracing her painted lips. “I’ve never seen them this enthusiastic.”

He could only smile in return, allowing the deep indents of his cheeks to appear. He feels his ears warming, painting it a pinkish hue as he continued to unbox the goods they brought in for the orphanage. “Thank you.”

“I’m guessing you’re a man of few words.”

Your giggles were soft; soothing - like how the bell chimes every time he steps in the doorstep of his home in Busan. How he wishes to come back, yet hearing the soft chortles of yours already brings him back.

The smile on his lips stretched wider, crescent eyes falling upon yours and flawless cheeks turning a pinkish shade as his ears. Jaehyun remembers the same feeling as he was in sixth grade, it has been a while since he looks at another person with such admiration. His heart beating faster than normal, hands sweaty in every contact with yours. 

Crush. The tiniest form of a one-sided intimacy. Jaehyun was pretty sure it was all a short time feeling - he’ll probably only meet you this once and never again.

━ ┉ ━

“Thank you for the donations again. The children learned to bake and they’re  pretty much  invested, thanks to you.”

Jaehyun finds himself back in the orphanage, a box full of goods on his arms as you lead the way to the storage. Since that day he always finds his thoughts back to you - your smile, your laughs, even your embarrassing facade. His co-workers would tease him during work as he keeps spacing out, of course, his replies would be mutters of denial. 

Johnny sees it though, that’s why they are back at the very orphanage the company helped months ago.

“Thanks to the  company ,” he corrected, placing the box over the table. He could feel your excitement and he chuckles, stepping a little aside with a nod towards the box. “I think I’ll let you do the honors of opening this.”

“You’re part of them, so,” you trail off, failing to hide your excitement and stepping your way to where Jaehyun stood. You peel off the tape from the box and open to see more baking supplies inside. 

You can’t contain the happiness and it was evident in your facade.

Jaehyun thinks it was more than a crush.

“I think you’re more excited than the kids,” he chuckles.

“Am I?” You returned the gesture back. “I just thought that with these, I could spend more time with the children.”

“You love them so much, huh?” Jaehyun babbles, but you take no offense from the statement. 

“I just love children,” you reply, the childish grin still on your lips as you took almost everything out of the box. “A mixer?!”

Jaehyun nonchalantly shrugs but overwhelmed with pride as the mixer was from his own pocket, not from the company. He would not admit it though. Though he would admit one thing.

“I love children as well.”

He blurts the second time, and like how you reacted earlier, grin still on your lips, you reply. 

“Great!”

A pause and Jaehyun’s eyes fixate on your warming face. He figures the statement was incomplete, so he waits for another.

“We’re compatible, then.”

You hope it was soft enough for him to not hear, but as he was focused on you, he never missed it. His lips turned into a wide grin. Jaehyun leans his bottom on the tabletop, trying to sound composed and poised as he asks:

“Really? Then, let’s test it out on a date.”

━ ┉ ━

Jaehyun remembers the time you said you didn’t want a ring when someone asks for your hand in marriage.

You were lying with him on your couch, watching some boring documentary when you suddenly babbled. The statement was confusing, so he asks you why while he plays with your hand.

“I don’t think it’s really necessary. You know, all those extravagant preparations, dragging your friends—I don’t know. I just think it’s all for show.”

You cuddle to him closer, the slow beating of his heart lulling you to sleep as you sleep on top of his clothed chest.

Jaehyun takes note of it mentally and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

━ ┉ ━

Jaehyun remembers how he almost thought he’d lose you.

“You’re going to be assigned to Los Angeles with Johnny and Haechan. Apparently, our  client  ran away from  home , I need you guys to fetch him in case he gets lost,” Taeyong says. He slides a blue folder on the tabletop while Jaehyun stands there, clearly baffled with the designation of his next assignment.

“Excuse me?”

Taeyong looks visibly surprised. Jaehyun was never one to have orders repeated as he gets them clearly in one saying. With a lone brow raised and his hands curled together as his chin rested on it, he repeats. 

“You’re going to be assigned to LA with Johnny and Haechan.”

“L-A.”

“Yes.”

“Los Angeles, California.”

“That’s what LA stands for. Jaehyun -”

“In America.”

Unbelievable. Taeyong isn’t comprehending that Jaehyun’s actually answering him this way. It wasn’t in his character - and as amusing as it sounds, Taeyong isn’t having any of it today.

“Sorry, Taeyong. I have to decline -”

“Jaehyun.”

“I really can’t. I have some important matters to attend to -”

“If it’s about your girlfriend, you should drop it off,” Taeyong finally snaps. He stands from his seat with his eyes full of frustration - one of his top agents declining one of the biggest missions they had in years. “You know the field of your work. Do you really expect to live a life of happy endings -”

“Fine!”

Jaehyun snaps back, heart heavy at the guilt Taeyong imposes. There was no lie in it though. His job endangers not only his life but the people around him as well, that’s why from the start they were asked to forbid emotions to bloom, but alas, love just strikes hard.

“When do we leave?” 

“Well, since Haechan is still training and we’re still gathering enough data...you’ll leave in three weeks.”

Begrudgingly, Jaehyun grabs the folder on Taeyong’s table and leaves his office in angry strides.

━ ┉ ━

“It’s okay. It’s for work I understand.”

You say to him as he curls up within your spoon. His hair feels smooth against your fingers. He acts like a child when he feels like it, especially when there is a favor to ask, but this time, his permission felt a little different than the others.

But who are you to dictate him to stop?

He looks up to you, your chin earning soft pecks from his dry lips.

“You aren’t…”

You wait for him to finish, but he just curls up more to your smaller frame. You adjust to make him comfortable, enveloping his head to your arms and burying it to your chest.

“I’m not mad. It’s not like you won’t come back.”

But Jaehyun is.

What if something went wrong? What if there was a miscalculation? What if he comes back home inside a wooden box?

“You’re thinking too loudly, baby,” you shush, continuing to thread your fingers through his thick tresses. “I’m sure you’ll come back to me.”

Jaehyun hopes as well.

━ ┉ ━

He feels the sting, but he’s not even backing up a step.

He feels the blood drip down his nose, but he keeps his stance.

A left jab from his opponent, but he dodged, moving downward to avoid his fist. He countered with an uppercut and seeing his opponent stunned from the attack, Jaehyun took the opportunity to grab the knife strapped on his thigh. With quick movements, he slid down and stabbed the guy with more force than intended.

When he doesn’t feel like he’s moving anymore, Jaehyun grabs his knife back, standing up to return the blade back to its previous pocket, but a sudden bang from behind jolts him forward.

A bullet on his rib.

Blood was continuing to flow.

And it was from him.

“Jaehyun!”

He hears Johnny scream, but he’s already tumbling forward, vision darkening to a pitch black.

━ ┉ ━

It is painful when he wakes up.

The ceiling is white, and when he looks down, the same hue paints the walls, his bed, his clothes. The only vibrant color on his vision is blue, the color that paints the curtains of the windows on one side.

“Hey,” he hears Johnny say, but he doesn’t respond. “I know you’re awake. Your fingers twitched. Haechan is already calling the nurse.”

“Are we still in LA?”

“Yep,” Johnny replies with an emphasis on the ‘p’.

“How long have I’ve been here?” 

“A week.”

No.

Jaehyun tries to stand, but Johnny stops him from doing so. With his state, he knows it’s useless to fight against the gentle giant, but he has you waiting for him back home.

“We already contacted her,” Johnny says, but he still feels restless. 

The door opens and Haechan, along with his attending physician and a nurse greets him. They were smiling, an act of reassurance, but Jaehyun isn’t having any. He stares at them, void of any emotion.

Johnny takes this as a cue and leaves, dragging Haechan along.

He undergoes examination as facilitated by the doctor. It was a while until he was cleared. When the tests are done, the nurse summons Johnny and Haechan back to the room.

“He’s good to go,” the doctor says, filling up the clearance form. He passes it to the nurse who hurriedly steps outside to work on his clearance and dues.

Before leaving, the doctor prescribed him mefenamic pills to ease any pain. Johnny and Haechan bid them thank you and goodbye as the physician closes the door.

“What’s the earliest flight we could book back to Seoul?” Jaehyun asks in a hurry.

“We already have tickets for tomorrow morning. Taeyong booked it—“

“What time is it anyway?”

Haechan looks at his watch. “It’s one in the afternoon, LA time, hyung.”

Jaehyun pulls the IV out of his dorsal,  almost , as Johnny’s reflexes work better that it halts the action. “Whoa, easy there, tiger. Let the nurses do their job.”

“Can we go to a jewelry shop after this?”

━ ┉ ━

“You know,” you quip as you sit beside him while scooping a spoonful of yogurt from the cup. Jaehyun hums, but there is confusion on his face while he waits for your reply. 

“You’ve been acting weird since you came back from LA.”

“Am I?” He asks without even tearing away his glued vision on the television screen. He is watching a documentary, and you’re sure that it isn’t as interesting as the usual dramas that he watches. You know he’s not interested in your question, but you pursue anyway.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to take interest in whatever he’s watching. You take a spoonful of the frozen yogurt and wince from the cold as it stays in your mouth. 

“You’re an idiot,” to which Jaehyun finally looks at your direction, but of course, with a flick on your forehead. 

“Look who’s talking,” you murmur, sliding down the couch to get more comfortable. He snatches the second spoon you’ve already scooped and he, too, winced from the sudden coldness. “See?”

When he gulps down, he looks at you intently, and you notice how his eyes glistened and softened as it looks at yours. His lips pressed in a thin line, making the indents of his cheeks appear, a trait you always loved of many. 

“What?”

“How many people have you already listed on our wedding guest list?”

“Huh?”

You bit your lip. You’re pretty sure that you’re the only one who knows about how you list your future plans: wedding included. It’s stored in your laptop, folders after folders, and you’re wondering how Jaehyun knew of such self hidden secret.

To which he seems to catch upon. A toothy grin stretches on his lips. “Gotcha.”

“How did you know?”

“Baby, you can’t answer a question with another.”

The show long has forgotten, you quizzically look at his smug demeanor before placing your near-empty cup of yogurt on the nightstand beside the couch. Lying is useless as you were already caught, and since you had been dreaming that Jaehyun would be the one to fill out the blank on the column GROOM , you figure that it’s better to say the truth. Nothing wrong with it anyway.

It’s just a guest list.

“I’m not sure. It’s on my laptop if you want actual numbers.”

He presses closer, nose almost touching yours. “Who is invited?”

“Well,” you quip, trying to focus on remembering your list rather than the feel of his hot breath against yours. “My family, of course. And my close friends. Around twenty...I’m not really sure.”

Jaehyun hums. You don’t exactly know where this conversation is going, so you pull your head slightly away from his. “What is this, Jeong Jaehyun? What are you plotting?”

His toothy grin breaks into an ever wide smile that shows the crescents of his eyes, the whiskers that form on his nose, and the deep dimples that you always find adoring. He lets you go, bouncing as he rests his arm over the edge and lets his head rests on his palms. “Go get your laptop baby.”

“Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Just get it.”

Although you want to resist, your feet already turn to the direction of your bedroom, all the while, Jaehyun fishes a tiny, red velvet box from the pockets of his sweater. He peeks, making sure that the jewelry is there. Suddenly, the room feels hot with him.

You come back with the laptop in hand. Jaehyun tells you to open the guest list file you’ve been long hiding and you do so. You slump down beside him, the file big on your laptop screen. 

“Add Johnny and the rest to the list.”

You look at him incredulously. You hear him say it, but you’re not sure - did he really told you to add his friends on the list? Why?

“What is this, Jeong Jaehyu-”

“Then maybe you can add my grandparents. I’m sure they’ll come.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Have you thought of the theme? The color scheme?”

“Jeong Jaehyun.”

“What?”

You want to cry. You really want to. The tears are already forming on the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh, shit, baby, why are you crying?” He panics. You had your fair share of arguments in the past and he’s yet seen you cry because of him. The plan was naturally smooth in his mind. Go home as if nothing happened. Casually bring up the guest list he saw you making a few days before he left. Propose to you in a very casual way - crying was not in the schedule.

“You’re an idiot,” you say between hiccups. The tears fall from your eyes like there’s no tomorrow, and your nose is getting stuffed with snot as you try to stop crying.

“Don’t say something that will make me hope,” you say.

Jaehyun’s eyes visibly widen. He never thought that you’d think he’s only fooling. Suddenly, his arms stretch out to yours, inviting you over for an embrace, but since you decline, he pulls you towards him - laying your head on his clothed chest. He smells like his favorite perfume, a scent you already resembled home. You feel his chest vibrate as he let out a low chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he coos, threading your hair through his long, ragged fingers. You did not reply, rather shift comfortably in his embrace. There was no exact reason why you said those words, but Jaehyun’s tone as he says he’s serious comforts you.

"I thought you said you don't want a grand, exaggerated proposal, so I..."

You see his other hand opens a red velvet box.

A diamond ring nestled within the comforts of the foam inside the box.

“Marry me.”

He commands, and for the second time tonight, your wails echoed through your apartment in joy.

━ ┉ ━

“You’re getting married?”

Taeyong sounds excruciating. Jaehyun sees the seriousness in his facade and tone. He has his hands overlap one another in front, casually feeling the metal ring against his ring finger. 

“I am.”

“Then what?”

Jaehyun raises a single brow. “Then what?”

“Endanger your fiancee’s life?” Taeyong asks. The older leans on the rest of his swivel chair but the ferocious look on his eyes never left Jaehyun’s. “Isn’t an easy commitment by being a boyfriend enough?”

“She’s not in danger-”

“Maybe she is,” Taeyong then pulls a folder from his desk drawer and puts on the tabletop gently. Jaehyun takes this as a cue and grabs the folder from the table, eyes widening from the picture clipped on the folder. 

It was your picture coming out from a grocery. Jaehyun remembers the chore from a few days ago.

“You know what you oathed for, Jaehyun,” Taeyong says, and surprisingly enough, in his tone was empathy. “The higher-ups don’t exactly want distractions within their agents’ personal life.”

“I’m also human, Taeyong hyung. Give me a break.”

“I would, but I can’t,” Taeyong sighs. “You’re an adult. You know what to do.”

He drops the folder back to the table and places his hands on his sides, curling into a fist. He chooses to remain silent.

━ ┉ ━

Winter came to the country’s capital.

You said that ordering pizza was fine, but he was thinking otherwise. Jaehyun took you to a fancy restaurant for dinner, saying that he just got paid and since it was only two weeks before your wedding, he took it as an opportunity to let you de-stress.

You appreciate the sweet gesture.

And now you’re going back to the comforts of your home. Snow started to fell as you billing out of the restaurants, and the floor was blanketed in glass ice in only a few minutes.

He was seated on the driver’s seat, one hand manning the wheel while the other intertwined with yours. You tell him to focus on the road and let your hand go, but his grip only tightens and brings it to his lips when it came to a red light. 

With the seconds ticking red, he looks at you, a toothy grin etched on his lips which caused the deep indents of his cheeks to come out. He looks at you admiringly, taking in your angelic features even though only illuminated by the dim lights brought about by the vehicles and street lights. 

“I love you,” he says, and no it has been thousands and millions of times you’ve heard those words - but it never fails to make you flush beet red and heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s a green,” you huff, eyes focusing back on the road. Jaehyun laughs and lets his hand back on the wheel. 

You didn’t know the dangers that lie ahead.

Jaehyun swore to protect you. Everything that he needs to keep, he successfully kept it from you. 

The true nature of his job. The true nature of his company.

The true nature of Jeong Jaehyun.

Winter came to Seoul too soon.

As for Jeong Jaehyun as well.

He hears you say “I love you” which caused him to glance at you for a brief moment, but his peripheral saw white-

A blinding white light.

He hears you scream. 

And then there was ringing. His vision was pitch black as his eyes were closed, yet his reflex in before was to hold you. 

He did. He grasps your hand, and your touch was the last sensation he felt as he started to succumb into a deep slumber.

━ ┉ ━

“Bye Teacher [Y/N]! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye, little one! See you tomorrow!”

Jaehyun sees you wave at the children as they go out of pre-school in a cold afternoon. The surroundings were covered in gold as the sun starts to set and children are scurrying to get home, some along with their parents.

He sees you smile towards them, a smile he had always admired and cherished. You never notice his figure in the background as you were busy with your goodbyes, but he notices your exhaustion by the weary look on your face. You go back inside the premises, hands stuck inside your apron to keep you from the cold.

He only wishes one thing now.

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

[gospelofme]

Super Nova

Chapter 2: The Offer

A year after that encounter with Master Tarrek, Sayriel would find herself on a transport leaving the atmosphere of Yavin IV, all of her possessions fit into a backpack. She didn’t have much, so it didn’t take her but minutes to pack.

A grand total of 15 years had passed since that encounter now. A 32 year old Sayriel stood under a stream of hot water, the steam of her shower fogging up the refresher. She had been too tired to shower the night before, so she made a point to get up early and wash up. Dried blood and dirt flowed off her body and swirled down the drain. She had found herself thinking back to that conversation with Master Tarrek. She still had issues with meditation, but it was most likely because she didn’t practice it much anymore. There were some thoughts she didn’t want to confront and areas of her mind that she refused to explore. She briefly wondered if she had made the right decision regarding leaving the sect on Yavin IV. They were pushing you out more and more every day. They wanted you to leave, they were practically showing you to the door. She reminded herself as she turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her now clean body. She bent over the sink and twisted excess water out of her long, dark brown hair.

After finishing her morning routine, Sayriel got dressed and checked her datapad for any messages. She frowned when she noticed one new notification. She didn’t really feel like seeing him today, but he was often associated with credits, which she did feel like accumulating more of. She already had a job she needed to complete today, so his message would need to wait. She dressed in dark grey pants and a white shirt. She paired this with black boots that hugged her mid-calf securely. They had seen better days but they were sturdy and still did their job. The thick soles protected her from broken glass to semi-molten metals. Plus they were fun to kick people with when she needed to. She secured her blaster to the holster on her thigh and her lightsaber was securely hidden in a pocket on her pant leg. After downing some caf for breakfast, and left her small apartment. Corellia was still largely asleep, but some businesses were starting to open up. The sun was just beginning to show itself at the horizon.

She walked in the direction of the landing pads where her ship was parked and hopefully awaiting the shipment of it’s cargo. She passed a few businesses on her way, some still securely locked up and others being set up for the customers that would eventually arrive. She knew a couple of the shop owners, a few of the market vendors, and the guy who ran the shipyard she used, but that was it. She didn’t want to be too known. Besides, she didn’t know how long she’d call Corellia home. Once at the shipyard, she typed in her access code and the gate slide open slowly. She found her ship on pad D4 and sure enough there was a Twi’lek male waiting for her with a stack of crates and a service droid. Sayriel smirked, at least he was on time this morning.

“Is this my shipment of Burra fish?” She inquired once she was closer in range.

“Yup, packed with the industrial ice packs as requested.” The Twi’lek responded. “I just need you to sign for them and I’ll have my droid load them onto your ship.” The vendor gestured to her Allanar N3 freighter, The Revenge. Sayriel took the datapad he held out for her and inspected the manifest and then opened one of the crates. Sure enough the fillets lay neatly wrapped surrounded by plenty of the industrial-grade ice packs. She checked all 10 crates and was pleased with all of them. She signed for the shipment and the Twi’lek’s droid set to work loading them onto her ship.

“So where are all these crates going?” The Twi’lek asked, making small talk. Sayriel hated small talk.

“Somewhere.” She replied with a “that’s all you need to know” smile. The man took the hint and didn’t try to continue the conversation.

Once the crates were securely loaded, Sayriel settled herself into the pilot’s seat and started her ship up. Within moments she was soaring through the atmosphere of Corellia and soon after that she was out among the stars. It was her favorite place to be truthfully. After a few calculations, she jumped to hyperspace and settled in for the two hour journey. She decided to try her hand at meditation again, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing. A quick series of beeps jolted her awake, it was time to drop out of hyperspace. She must’ve fallen asleep during her attempted meditation. Honestly that wouldn’t be the first time that has happened. Nar Shaddaa loomed in her viewport and Sayr piloted her way through the atmosphere to Wormstew Town. She had always wondered how that place got its name, but felt that she didn’t want to truly know the answer.

“This is Nova, I’m in route to Wormstew with your shipment of Burra fillets.” She commed her contact’s frequency. There was a crackle of static and then a reply for her to land on platform C5. She did as instructed and disembarked once she landed. She was met by a human male and a Rodian with a datapad. The Rodian scanned the cargo once it was unloaded and gave a nod to his human counterpart

“Looks like everything is in order,” the man said, lifting the lids on each crate and inspecting the contents. He pulled out of the ice packs and held it between his hands. “The hospital will be most pleased with this generous donation from your benefactor. Now if you come with me, I’ll get your delivery fee sorted.” He added, gesturing for Sayr to follow him to a small building near the platforms. The man tossed the industrial-grade ice pack from hand to hand casually.

Upon entering the small building, which was essentially 4 walls, a ceiling, and a desk, Sayr was greeted by a female Twi’lek. She was dressed in hospital garb, but Sayr could spot the outline of a blaster under her white coat. The man handed the woman the ice pack, who then carefully opened it along one edge. She took a test strip out of her coat pocket and dipped it into the substance that was starting to soften. The test strip emerged blue and the woman smiled.

“The bacta is still viable. This will help immensely. The Hutts have cornered the market on this stuff and are charging much more than we can ever afford.” The woman explained. Sayr found it disgusting how one life form could withhold live-saving equipment or substances from another. Bacta was an essential hospital tool and to charge an insane amount of credits for it just because they can was monstrous. This shipment of about 240 total frozen Bacta packs wasn’t a lot but at least they’ll be able to have some at the hospital here and send some to the smaller clinics they were affiliated with. She felt good participating with these causes, as she felt it helped balance out the unpleasant ones that also found their way into her calendar.

The credit transfer took place and Sayr took her leave of the pair, passing by the crates on their way to the hospital. She noted a male Zabrak leaning against the edge of her ship, she knew who he was. As she got closer she could make out the stupid smile on his stupid face. She had hoped he would’ve waited for her to answer his earlier message, but no. He felt the need to follow her here instead.

“What do you want Varex?” She asked with a weary tone. The Zabrak pushed himself off the side of her ship and scrambled up onto the loading ramp to block her way. Sayr tried to side-step him and he moved to match her. She stopped and gave him a glare.

“I just want 15 minutes of your time. I have an offer that I think you’ll be interested in.” Varex said, he sounded excited but that could just be a ploy to get her to agree.

“And what if I say no?” She countered, trying to side step him. He moved to still block her.

“Then I’ll follow you until you say yes.” He replied, Sayr knew he was serious and gave a weary sigh. She didn’t have any other job lined up right now anyways. She didn’t have to say anything, the look she gave the Zabrak pirate told him she agreed.

“Great!” He jumped off the edge of the landing ramp and back onto the platform. Sayriel made sure her ship was secured tightly and followed the pirate into town.

She followed him to a cantina fittingly dubbed The Wormhole. They walked through the small crowd at the front and settled in a back booth. A waitress came over and gave them both menus and said she’d be back in a bit to take their orders. Sayr folded her arms on the table top in front of her as Varex made himself comfortable in the seat across from her.

“So, it’s been a couple months.” He noted, Sayriel smirked.

“Is this a business proposition or a catching up meeting? Because time started when we walked through that door. You have 12 minutes left.” Sayr responded, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest. She wasn’t interested in talking about the “old days” or what she had “been up to”. The Zabrak raises his hands in mock surrender and was about to get down to business when the waitress returned. Varex ordered the house-made Ale and Sayr got herself a Sparkling Stardust. Their drinks arrived quickly and Sayr took a sip of the sweet glittery drink. Varex shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Sayriel asked with a raised eyebrow, “a woman like myself can’t enjoy a girly drink?” She added with a teasing smirk.

“It’s just odd to see a woman like you sipping a glittery drink, I’ve seen you do some very unladylike things.” Varex explained, Sayriel shrugged in acknowledgement. The Zabrak then got down to the reason why he had followed her to Nar Shaddaa.

“A collector on Coruscant contacted me with a very intriguing job opportunity. He is a purveyor of ancient artifacts and has heard of some items of a Force-like nature hidden in caches on a few different planets.” Varex began. Sayr narrowed her eyes at the term “Force-like”. She had a feeling she knew why Varex had contacted her.

“What are these items of a Force-like nature?” She asked, eyes still narrowed at Varex. The Zabrak looked around to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

“I can’t say here, but I can tell you that they’re very old and very valuable.” Varex said, leaning forward. Sayriel stayed with her back against her booth seat. She wore an unimpressed expression on her face.

“What are they? Master Yoda’s bedtime slippers?” Sayriel asked sarcastically. Varex gave her a confused look in return.

“I don’t know who that is…but you can’t wear these I don’t think.” Varex replied, Sayriel rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

“So are you asking me because you value my company and think I make a wonderful work partner? Or is it because I have some tricks that will make these things very easy for you to find?” Varex didn’t hesitate with this reply.

“Both, but mainly the second thing.” Sayriel frowned and leaned back in her booth again, Varex quickly adding, “but also the first thing. You are a delight to have on the ship.” Sayriel held his gaze for a couple beats more and then turned her attention to her drink. She did appreciate his honesty and she did find his offer interesting. He drank his ale quickly and waited for her to finish her drink, which didn’t take long. Sparkling Stardust was always served in a small, delicate, wide-rimmed glass. But it was worth it.

“Okay fine, what the kriff. You were right, this sounds interesting.” She answered, Varex smiling in relief. Her joining his crew, even if on a temp basis, would make this mission so much easier. The two left the cantina, Varex paying for Sayriel’s drink on the way out. Varex gave Sayriel the coordinates to the current safe house. They both then parted ways and Sayriel found herself back out in space, surrounded by stars and silence.

Tag list

@jgvfhl @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun

@baby-queen-zen @halzore @escapedthesarlacc

[elles-writing]

When The Worlds Collide - Kili x reader, IV.

Pairing: Kili x reader

Gif and pics on moodboard not mine

Warnings: fluff...just...way too much fluff...a lots of fluff tho

masterlist     part one         part two       part three

A/N: I hope you guys are going to enjoy this one. It’s really fluffy and for the next chapter I’ll have a fanart. For this one I’ve created a moodboard for you (reader) in this story, and I’m nervous to post it (you don’t want to see me when I’ll be posting it with the fanart, you really don’t).

I love your feedback guys, feel free to comment (but no hate, we’re nice and peaceful community). I wrote also one angsty two-shot, so lemme know if you want to read it or not. Aside from that, my school schedule is weird and my brain is just not used to school anymore, so today, when I was trying to study, I was just not capable of too much.)

I got four new books for quite good deal today, and I started reading one and guyss, I’m in love with reading AGAIN I’d dare to say (even though I red one page of The Hobbit yesterday and I just can’t finish it, because I know what’s gonna happed. Yes, I didn’t even watched almost whole third movie. I’m just not ready for crushing my soul like that just yet. Plus I don’t ship Kili and Tauriel. But the actress of Tauriel is funny lady.)

Tags: @moony-artnstuff​   @whenputtingpentopaper​

Moodboard:

Your pov

You’ve woken up when morning sunlight touched your face. You threw the edge of your blanket, hanging over your head, over your eyes and decided to drift off to sleep again. It wasn’t time for waking up just yet, anyways.

You tried to grab your other cover to keep yourself warm, remembering you were indeed sick, but you found only that blanket. You furrowed brows and realized you were halfway sitting...on a couch.

I must’ve fallen asleep here yesterday, you thought. When it was? Was it that late or- You froze when you realized what happened yesterday. It cannot be possible, you thought and hesitantly opened one eye and pulled the blanket aside from your head.

Your mouth was open wide. No, this must be just dream, you thought when you noticed Kili was hugging you in his sleep and his face had peaceful expression in deep slumber. You covered your mouth with your hand. Oh my god, oh no, you thought. It was real. They were here. You looked over the living room. And scared the shit out of me, you thought.They are here and we need to think of way to send them home...you corrected yourself.

You tried to get up, carefully, not to wake Kili, but his arms only locked more around you and pressed you more to his chest.

„Kili,“ you hesitantly whispered. Nothing. He was deeply asleep. You sighed and decided to study his face, while he was not moving around all the time, only inhaling and exhaling deeply, and moving slightely in his sleep, occasionally.

His dark hair were tangled and messy, just like you’d expect from a long journey, but they were surprisingly clean, only a bit of some leaves and twigs. As if he was be climbing some tree, you thought.

You also noticed they were thick, strong and wavy at some point, which was probably mostly why they were tangled. You looked over to his face, which you could see closely now.

Aside from dark, thick eyebrows and dark, long and thick eyelashes, you’ve seen the scruff he had on his cheeks, chin and jaw. You knew he was feeling bad for it, since the longer beard, the more honourable and attractive the dwarf was, and Thorin was his father figure, so he truly wanted to prove himself, especially to him...but by human eyes, he was indeed very attractive, and his funny, kind, friendly and brave, though restless, reckless personality was something many girls and women would make to eye him at least. You felt a jolt of jealousy going through your insides when you thought of him and Tauriel. Maybe they haven’t met yet, or what if this is some alternative universe, where they‘ve never liked each other...You looked in the distance and scrunched your face, deeply in thought.

Third person pov

You were so deeply in your own thoughts you didn’t noticed that Kili’s eyes fluttered and lazily opened. He felt a weight of another body and his arms around it. He immediatelly knew who that was and looked down at you.

He’ve seen your eyes you were clearly deeply thinking about something. He was admiring your e/c eyes, their color clear and deep, your pink lips and tint of similar colour on your cheeks. He looked over your face features and thought they were perfect. He wanted to cup your face in his palms, run his hands through your hair...

He didn’t noticed you looked back at him and noticed he was awake. You slightely smiled looked away, your cheeks blushed.

„Good morning!“ Fili said and you jumped up. You and Kili looked at him as children on sleepover and he laughed.

„You should see your faces right now!“ You blushed and groaned, covering your head with your blanket and Kili quickly unwrapped his arms from you.

You felt as if he was about to go somewhere away, so you sat and got up.

„I’ll go make some tea,“ you mumbled and left to go to the kitchen. Fili turned to his brother.

„Soo, did I interrupted something?“ Kili shook his head and gave him innocent look.

„I don’t know what are you talking about, Fee.“ But he knew Fili was about to start teasing you both, not just him.

„Nah, Kee, I don’t think so. You know very well what I am talking about.“ He looked over the room and stepped to the window. He looked outside and noticed your backyard, where was sun peaking through a fog. Kili stood up next to him and asked.

„Do you think they have any goblins or orcs here?“ Fili shrugged his shoulders.

„We will find out. If there are any elves though, you know that Thorin’s going to be furious.“

„More than he already is?“ Kili grinned and both of them giggled.

„What are you two talking about?“ Asked Thorin and both young dwarves stiffened. They didn’t noticed he already woke and got up.

„It’s nothing, Uncle.“ Both answered way too quickly and with high-pitched voice they normally didn’t had.

„Which tea do you want? Oh, good morning Thorin,“ You came to the doors. It was still alien to you that now you’ve had a few dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, an elves and another human in your house.

Both dwarves quickly got to you to escape Thorin and you giggled and shook your head. You knew why they were your favourite duo.

In the kitchen, you’ve explained to them that you had no orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves or dragons in our world, that there were only humans and animals and, well, plants.

Both of them were wondering why you were drinking black tea with milk, and so you decided to make them some in different mugs just in case they wouldn’t like it. While you were preparing it, you were explaining to them why you’ve liked it.

„Well, people drink this, because the tea by itself is strong, but the milk gives it sweeter taste and it’s not so strong. Many people drink it this way, but some add only a few drops of milk, others give quarter of milk and three quarters of tea, you can add lemon or honey, or both.“ You finished talking and handed them their cups.

„It’s surely not sweeter than you,“ Kili winked at you and drinked on his non-milk tea. You blushed. That was the side of Kili you mostly knew from the movies.

[sugarbeandude]

Hold tight, baby boy mute

sooo me again spamming my shitty fics :) i really hope you guys don’t mind and enjoy this angsty fic

rated M

2k + words :)

“Targets eliminated.’’ Mute announced through his radio to Smoke, who was in the next room. “Any casualties?” Mute asked, since Smoke didn’t copy.

A bang.

“No more casualties, but keep your eyes open, we got ambushed, so I don’t think these are the only ones around.” Smoke warned, walking towards Mute with his submachine gun pointing at the floor.

“Jager radioed, they’re on their way.’’ Mute said as he peeked over a window spotting more hostiles outside their location, they were still trapped. “Multiple hostiles, 12 o’clock.’’

“Don’t open fire, we’re outnumbered.’’ Smoke indicated as he peeked himself through the window, analyzing more possibilities. Mute had to obey, Smoke was still his superior after all.

“What do we do? we don’t have many options.’’ Mute started, lowering his voice of course.”We step outside, we’re going to get shot, we stay, they’ll find our location soon enough.’’ Mute said as he waited for an answer from his superior.

“So we stay, we’ll buy more time that way, I still have a canister left, that can hold them back if necessary, don’t worry, they’ll be here just in time ‘’We still have plenty of ammo.’’

“Someone is approaching the front door, they’re not alone.’’ Mute was the closest to the door, he just glared a gaze at Smoke through his goggles, ready to take down whoever was willing to step inside. Smoke nodded, getting into position.

The door creaked, someone stepped in, peeking their head first to look around, apparently, the place was empty, so they confidently slit their whole body inside. That was Mute’s call to enter the scene. Quiet enough, he wrapped arms around the intruder’s neck, making them rustle around trying to escape his choking grip, their companion was alerted by the rustling the intruder did so they entered too, finding the same empty room apparently, echoing their friend’s name, now, that was Smoke’s call to interfere.

This second intruder was bigger and heavier than Smoke, and by a lot. The white mask landed over Smoke’s body as Smoke tried to choke him to death, but instead the intruder made him wheeze, making Smoke loosen the grip around his neck just enough to let him suck in a little air to fight back his restrainer.

Mute quickly realized Smoke was having trouble when he heard the second intruder whine angrily. Mute hugged his prey harder than before, killing them. Only when the hands that were trying to pull off his grip slid off, confirming he was dead, he let go of the body and stood up to help Smoke.

“Mute! Back off! He’s armed!’’ Smoke warned his approaching teammate as he won back the deathly grip on the intruder’s neck.

Another bang.

Smoke jolted, alarmed by the loud roar the gunshot made. He strained the intruder even harder, making their neck snap due to the force Smoke applied.

Mute was standing still, frozen, gazing his look over Smoke, a hand on his abdomen, right below his vest, Mute’s hand started soaking in red, the tips of his gloves that were white turned crimson red, all of them, and then he dropped to the floor, getting caught immediately by Smoke.

“Hang on mate, press down as hard as you can.’’ Smoke indicated as he pulled his teammate to cover, they’ve been spotted, white masks screaming from outside the building threatening to open fire.

Smoke pulled Mute’s heavy ass from the collar of his vest towards some metal barrels filled with sand for cover, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

“Kay’ sweetie, look at me, I need you to stay awake, don’t try to close your eyes.’’ Smoke said calmly as he removed the vest from off Mute, revealing his uniform with a big stain of blood on the side of his stomach. Smoke pulled up the shirt and used his hands to created pressure over the wound.  Hard clinging of metal could be heard in front of them, indeed they were getting shot at.

“Where the hell are you! Mute’s down and bleeding out fast! I need you here now!’’ Smoke screamed over the radio, Jager answered they were just minutes away and passed him over to Doc.

“What happened? where’s the wound?’’ Doc asked.

‘’Mark’s been shot, down, near his hip.’’ James stopped talking and leaned his head over the engineer’s chest, then talked again through the radio.’’ No liquid in his lungs, but bleeding out fast, bullet still inside him.’’

Mute moaned in pain, he threw his head back and placed his hands over Smoke’s, begging for him to stop the pain.

“Tell me if you feel, Mark.’’ Smoke ran a finger down his left leg, a nod. “Good, now the other.’’ Smoke ran another finger on the right leg now, getting another nod. “Feeling in both his legs.’’ Smoke announced to Doc through the radio. “ I think it brushed his gonadal vessel.’’ Smoke carefully palmed the younger’s abdomen, getting painful moans from Mark as a response. “ His abdomen’s filling with blood.’’

‘’Try and create a plug, that will hold it together for now, we’re just landing, hold on.’’ And the radio went silent. The chopper could be heard from afar.

‘’Hear that Markie Mark? you’re going to be just fine luv, tis’ but a scratch, innit?’’ His hand pressed over the wound as if he had placed an anvil over Mute. With his free hand, he started ripping a piece of cloth off Mute’s shirt to use it as a plug.

"You might want to bite down on something, it's gonna hurt like a bitch. "Smoke helped pull of Mute’s mask and Mark immediately tried to reach with his mouth for the collar of his shirt to bite down, but he couldn't reach it, he was too soggy to even tilt his head down. James heard huffing from Mark as he was unable to bite down on his clothes. "Come on, bite on my shoulder, you're gonna have to." James offered his shoulder and brought it closer to Mark as he worked on his wound. Mark carelessly placed his teeth over the clothed shoulder and closed shut his eyes, ready to let the pain in. "Ready?" A nod. "Okay, here it goes." James started pushing in the piece of cloth inside the wound to create a sort of plug to momentarily stop the bleeding. Mark started to gradually bite harder and harder as James stuffed his wound, eventually, he tore James' uniform and drew a string of blood that started running down his arm, James just simply huffed, ignoring the hard bite on his shoulder.

“Geez luv, remind me not to ever let you blow me.’’

Mark just smiled at the stupid comment Smoke did, always finding humor even in the worst situation.

Now they just had to wait. Smoke sat down, bringing the engineer near him, resting his body over his lap, carefully making sure there was still pressure over the wound.

Mute started panting like an old dog, he was starting to blackout slowly, he had lost so much blood it was just about time he started blurring out of reality, Smoke couldn’t do much but to hold him tight.

“Aye, aye,’’ Smoke snapped his fingers in front of Mute, gaining his attention momentarily. "I need you to stay with me Markie, they are almost here, come on, you’re doing too much of a drama for a scratch!’’ Smoke tried to soften the situation as always, Mark just smiled at the funny commentary, making his best to keep himself conscious to hear what other funny things Smoke had left to say, but he couldn’t, his eyes were heavier than anything else in his body. Mark shut his eyes closed, he couldn’t keep them open, he was too tired, he heard Smoke’s voice so muffled he’d swear he was under a pillow, and then, he felt something soft pressing his forehead and more muffled words, ‘Don’t leave me yet luv! come on, nerd! we’re almost there.’ and the last thing he heard before going out, a soft cry, muffled by a mask.

“Marky?” Smoke gave a few slaps over the man’s cheeks, he mumbled and babbled, he wasn’t okay.

His radio activated, they were here. “Smoke! move out! we cleared the path, be quick!” Jager screamed over the radio with his characteristic german accent. “Roger.”  Smoke replied, he kneeled towards Mute and picked him up, god he was heavy. Carrying the engineer like a princess, Smoke stepped out of the building jogging with Mute’s unconscious body towards the chopper, Doc, Sledge and Jager were waiting for them.

“He’s unconscious, probably lost a litter by now.” Smoke informed as Sledge assisted him to jump in the chopper with Mute’s body. Smoke placed Mute’s body over a table where Doc was waiting. He helped undress Mute, leaving the man just in boxers, and his wound completely exposed. There was a lot of blood leaking from his clothes and the table started soaking in red too. “I’ll handle the rest, James, you did a good job.’’ Doc said as he connected an IV on Mark’s arm.

James took a seat near Seamus, he stared at his hands, his gloves soaked in his friend’s blood. A big hand settled on his shoulder, Seamus. “He’s going to be okay, lad, he’s in good hands now.’’ Seamus padded James’ back a few times before putting his arm away. James wanted to die, how could he ever let this happen? Mike is going to kill him, even if everything turns out fine, Mike is going to hang his ass, Mark is kind of his favorite right now.

James avoided looking at Doc and his patient,  he couldn’t stand it, he wanted to cry so badly, but he couldn’t, he isn’t allowed to, he's trained not to cry.

“I’ve clamped the vessel, took out the bullet and drained his abdominal cavity, but he will need surgery to repair the vessel.’’ Doc informed everyone on board. “We must hurry, he’ll need a blood transfusion and I can’t keep that vessel clamped for too long.’’ Doc informed Jager, pressuring him into hurrying. “We’re minutes away, Gus, we’ll make it in time.” That was indeed true, the military hospital could be seen from the windows of the chopper.

It just broke James’ heart to see his friend, the guy he liked, intubated, tools and tubes sticking out of his wounds as they rushed him inside the hospital. James rushed inside the base, stepping inside the bathrooms to furiously wash off his shaky hands soaked in his beloved friend's blood on the sink, staining it pink and making it smell like iron. He took off his gear, shoved it away in his personal locker and entered a shower stall. The water was steaming hot, it burned over the bite Mark left on his shoulder and on his sensitive neck scar. James stood in the shower for quite a while, the skin on his hands had already wrinkled.

His skin was all pink and sensitive because of the shower. He wore a white shirt and blue jeans before stepping into his shared room and jumping on his bed bunk. James kept himself awake the whole night, he couldn't just sleep, Mark’s painful whines were stuck in his head as gum stuck in hair. The only thing he could do is wait. Seamus tried to cheer him up by bringing him some orange juice, James accepted it, took a single sip, and left the juice box aside, he wasn’t hungry at all.

It was about time, James steeled himself and walked into Mark’s room, he was peacefully sleeping, he needed rest.

James sat down by his side, grabbed his hand, crossed their fingers together, and stared at the floor, getting lost in his thoughts. James couldn’t help letting out quiet tears, soaking his pants and hands. He was all shaky and anxious even though Doc told him Mark was completely fine and will likely recover quickly, he just needed a lot of rest and would probably sleep one or even two whole days.

James looked over Mark’s sleeping face, he looked calm as he usually was, he looked cute. James printed a kiss over his forehead and made sure he was cozy before leaving his room, reminding himself ‘He’s fine, everything's alright…’’

James went back to his dorm, Mike was inside already, arms crossed and a blank face, nice.

“I heard what happened.” Mike said seriously. Great, here we go again.

“I’m- I'm sorry, I lost control of the situation and, and- it's my fault this happened.” James started excusing himself. “Just, just suspend me already, tell Harry.” James cried out.

“Are you kidding me, Porter? you took the situation like a champ, I’m proud of you, your actions saved a life back there, y’know? Gustave told me.’’ Mike padded James’ shoulder firmly as he walked towards the door. “I didn’t expect less from you, P. Good job.’’ Mike slammed the door shut, leaving James all by himself. The chemist just rolled himself in a burrito of bed sheets, ready to sleep, even though it was high noon.

[whereisstevethestove]

21 with Prinxiety?

Prompt:   #21: “How are you feeling today? A little better, hmm?”  with Roman and Virgil for the 200 follower special (x)

Roman walked into the room, taking off his name tag and collapsing into the chair by the hospital bed as he looked up at the heart monitors that were currently connected to the small figure that was sleeping.

It had been a long night, ER shifts were the worst, and as a nurse working in the same hospital that his boyfriend was staying in, he tended to get a bit overprotective.

“Hey Ro.”

Roman snapped out of his thought to look at Virgil, putting on a smile to hide his worry.  “Hey yourself Virge.”

Virgil scooted over in his bed and waved Roman over, letting him clamber in.

“You look tired.”

“Mmmm.  Work was long.  Kept wanting to sneak up here.”  Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil, a bolt of worry crashing through him at how cold the smaller was.

“What was the worst?”

“Probably the sheer amount of idiots that came in with firework burns.  I don’t see why people celebrate the forth of July, it’s fucking loud.”  

“Yeah.”

“How was your night?”  Roman asked as Virgil shrugged, already drifting back to sleep from being awake for a short time.   Roman hates the way that they medication does this, stealing away Virgil’s mind most days, even if it was to just clear away the pain for a few hours.  He let’s him sleep though, it’s needed considering he only can last a few hours before his brain jolts itself awake.

It’s one of the many problems.  The inability to sleep, heightened anxiety, and eating problems had first lead them both to just believe that certain chemicals were imbalanced and could be fixed with proper medication and therapy.  But after treatments failed and tests were taken, it was assumed that Virgil had a tumor on his brain.

The MRI came up clean.  Roman lost count of the amount of specialists that they went to.   Every test came back negative, after almost a year of looking for answers, and after a last ditch biopsy, results came back with something that didn’t exist.

Roman still remembers the conversation.

“Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad news?”

Virgil nervously grips Roman’s hand and squeezes it once before speaking.  “The good news I guess.”

“Well, Mr. Tempesta-Sanders, you do get the option of having a disease named after you.”

“That’s fucking peachy I guess.”  Virgil had laughed out as an attempt of a joke before freezing.  “Oh, you’re not joking..”

Thus began the in and out hospital stays.  What could be determined was that somehow, probably through Virgil’s unvaccinated childhood and a mix of a few other things, the chemicals in his brain had shifted from their proper functions to go haywire and start attacking the body.

In theory.

No one could really prove anything without digging around in the skull and that was illegal while Virgil was still alive.

Roman smoothed the bangs out of Virgil’s eyes as his boyfriend cuddled closer in his sleep, shivering slightly at the contact.

Roman falls asleep in his scrubs, on top of the covers, too tired to worry about himself.

When he wakes up a few hours later, the sound of the shower is running and the bed is empty, a good sign, maybe today was going to be one of the better days.  Roman swings his legs off the bed, and stretches, yawning as his spine cracks, sounding like a glowstick that was just pulled out of the freezer.

“Good morning.” 

Roman opens his eyes to see Virgil leaning against the bathroom doorway, hair slightly damp and dressed in grey sweatpants and a hoodie.  

“How are you feeling today? A little better, hmm?”  Roman stifles another yawn as Virgil carefully walks back over.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“M’fine.  Do you need the nurse to come and reattach the IV?”

“Probably. I have another check in today, we might go home before the end of the week.”  Virgil joins Roman in sitting down, with the exception of his legs not quite reaching the ground as he swings them nervously.

“That’s great news!”

“yeah.”

“Well, whatever happens, I’m still here for you okay?  Want me to go get some actual coffee today?  Or I could bring in paninis from Logan’s place?”  Roman slips his hand into Virgil’s, running a comforting thumb across the knuckles.

“I don’t know... I kinda just want to sleep..”

Roman frowns as a nurse comes in, helping put the IV and heart monitor on, shooting a pitying smile at the pair before leaving again.

He hates the pity looks that the other workers give him.  Most of the nurses here, aside from the ones in the theater that are never seen know each other from long shifts and most of them have met Virgil at some point or another and all of them had talked with Roman about his choice of companion.

There are even a few whispered rumors about them, about how it’s just a hoax, how Roman is doing it for a stunt.

Even the medical world is prone to gossip.

...

Virgil ends up staying another month before a combo of medication, diets and physical therapy deem him ‘stable’ enough to go home again.  

They’re both relieved.

But it’s not the last hospital trip, it won’t ever be, but at least it’s a nice hiatus, a good break from the 24/7 medical smell that the pair have been stuck with for the past three months.

Roman holds Virgil close that night, and for the first time, they both sleep for longer than just a few hours.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.

[storybookhall]

The Journey Pt.3- Through Open Eyes

No smut YET just slight fluff. I’m working up to it, i want it to be about more than just the smut. <3

A/n- Today is a LONG one, fitting all of this into one chapter was intense. I wrote in some wlw content to celebrate the LGBT community (which i am a part of (: and proud). So enjoy the 3rd part of this series. Instead of a few from each season i am just going to take bits and pieces and use them.

TW- Strong Language, violence, slight gore.

You shoot straight up panting and sweating heavily, trying to calm down you rub your eyes to adjust to the bright morning sun. You slightly jump at the sight of Daryl sitting in the doorway to your tent. 

“ Did I wake you?” you say sheepishly already knowing the answer

“ I think you could’ve woken the dead.” he slightly chuckles at that, because it's no longer a joke like it was before.

“ I’m so sorry” You feel your face get hot with embarrassment.

“ Ain’t never gotta be sorry, you have been through hell.” he gives you a smile.

You’ve been with this group or the past 2 months, and you seem to have fit right in. Carol teaches you first aid, Shane helps with your gun, Daryl teaches you to shoot your bow, and Carl keeps you on your feet. You get up and stretch, Daryl's attention catching on your stomach as your shirt rides up. 

“ Hey Y/N! We’re going on a run, do you wanna go?” Rick says as he rounds up the others.

“ Hell yeah I do!” you exclaim as you push past Daryl and put on your boots.

Turns out the run was to look for Sophia, or at least some meat to bring back to the base. You, Rick, Shane, and Carl all go and begin walking through the forest. You hush the group as you see a buck in the distance. Taking carls’ hand you walk towards it slowly reaching to pet it. You look down at him and see the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Then time slowed down, you heard a bang, and was on the ground knocked out. Rick sprints over to you and starts trying to wake you up. You were completely out. A hunter comes running and apologizes as Rick yells at him trying to find out where to get help. He picks you up and runs in the direction the hunter told you. Rick arrives covered in your blood as a woman yells to someone inside. After stabilizing you, you were able to say one thing.

“ Where’s Daryl?” you groggily say looking around the room wincing in pain as you try to move.

As if he read your mind Carl and Daryl came running into the bedroom and Daryl sat next to you. Feeling calmed by his presence you let yourself drift into unconsciousness. 

“ Shane! I need you to pin her legs down, Rick, you get her arms, this isn’t going to be fun for her.” Herschel barks orders at the men and they comply.

As soon as Herschel starts digging out the bullet fragments you jolt awake with a blood curdling scream. Daryl quickly took one of your arms from Rick and held your hand as you continued screaming and sobbing in agony.

“ Fuck!! Please stop, please make it stop!!!” You continue screaming until you lose consciousness.

“ What did you do?! You’re killing her!” Daryl says as his voice shakes.

“ She’s fine, she just went into shock. Good news is, I got one out.” herschel says grimmly

“ and the bad news?” Rick says looking at his concerned face.

“ There’s 5 more pieces and there's no way I'm getting them out without the correct medical supplies.” Herschel looks over at Otis as he clears his throat.

“ There's a high school we could check, they will most likely have what we need. I’ll even take you.” Otis says quickly, stumbling over his words.

“ Let’s fucking go then!” Daryl half yells as he stands up, Rick puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

“ She’s going to need you here when she wakes up.” Rick says sympathetically

“ I’ll go, Rick needs to stay here with Carl.” Shane says as he pats otis as a way of saying ‘let’s go’

------

You wake up groggy and hooked up to an IV, you look to your left and see Daryl sleeping in the chair, starting to wake up at the sound of you moving.

“ Hey. You’re awake!” He says trying to hide his excitement and joy.

“ Damn they gave me the good shit.” you say watching the room spin. This gained a laugh out of Daryl.

The next few days the rest of the group showed up to the farm. Daryl never left your side, which you didn’t mind at all. Rick starts watching Daryl while he is around you, and one day when Daryl finally fell asleep he snuck in.

“ That boy loves you… you know that?” Rick whispers nodding towards Daryl asleep in the chair beside me.

You felt your face getting hot, there’s no way. Although the thought of it made you smile thinking about the Daryl Dixon loving you. You shook your head and let a little giggle slip out looking back at rick.

“ You think so?” you say almost smiling too wide to be real.

Rick just smiles and nods as he leaves the room. Today you got a lot of visitors, your family at this point. As people came in and out quietly, Daryl slept in the chair. You look over to him and feel something you haven’t felt in a long time… Love. You continue staring and watching him sleep when the sound of someone clearing their throat brought you back. Carol stands in the doorway smiling.

“He’s finally sleeping, he deserves it” Carol says looking over to him.

------

You take sharp breaths as you walk back and forth in your room as Daryl holds your arm and shoulder helping you along. He has been such a help in getting up and walking again. It’s been about 2 weeks and you’re basically good as new, besides a little pain in your side. You and Daryl have gotten so much closer over the past few weeks, there’s chemistry there neither of you know what to do with. So after a few more days you are back to walking around and helping around the farm. 

“ Hey you?!” you say as Glenn comes up to you basically sweating buckets.

“ There’s walkers in the barn, Herschel keeps them.” he blurts out, not able to keep it to himself any longer.

You inform Rick and begin to devise a plan, this is dangerous and has to be dealt with. After days of back and forth you end up talking to Herschel. Shane loses his cool and busts down the door to the barn. Carol, Daryl, and you all stand with guns drawn. After you thought you cleared the barn you heard another faint growling. Out walks Sofia, you run to Carol and just drop to the ground as you hold her while she cries. The noise attracted a herd that everyone is unaware of. Until night when Shane and Rick were out in the forest and Carl followed them. Carl and Rick saw the herd from across the field and came sprinting back as you duck behind the barn and grip your knife.

“ It’s time to be brave Y/N” You whisper to yourself and brace for the hardest fight of my life…

—-

Daryl’s perspective

“ We need to go right now” Rick yells to you as you look for Y/N.

“ There’s no fucking way I’m leaving without Y/N” you yell as anxiety swells in your body. 

“ Daryl you need to come on, we don’t have the ammo!” You hear carol bark the command at you as you keep shooting the walkers.

All of a sudden you feel a hand grip your arm tightly and pull you backwards towards your bike. You finally give in and run to your bike as everyone drives off. Looking over your shoulder you see the place you once almost called home, go up in flames. As you sit by the fire all you can think about is y/n and where she is. Praying what you taught her will keep her alive until you’re able to see her again. 

-----

                              Your perspective

“ They left us… They fucking left us” you hear Andrea as she stabs a walker in the head.

“ They needed to, there was no way of knowing that we got out” you say, shuffling over to her and kicking rocks.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months as you do all you can to survive. Andrea got extremely sick and taking care of her was nearly impossible. She passes out while walking to your next location and you try to pick her up, but you could barely carry yourself. So you lie down next to her, and listen to the woods. Crunching leaves gains your attention, you groggily point your weapon and see a woman walk up to you with 2 walkers behind her. She helps you and picks up andrea. She is a very quiet woman but teaches you to use a sword, you teach her the different plants daddy taught you about. Almost a year after losing Daryl and the others, you give up hope. 

After a particularly hard day of work you come “home” to see Michonne had left to gather more food. Walking in Andrea sees you covered in blood and grabs a rag. The blood has soaked your shirt so she lifts it off to clean your stomach. You shudder at her touch, she notices the goosebumps prickle your arms.

“ It’s a little cold..” you say, trying not to be obvious about your thoughts of her.

“ Mhm.. Okay.” she snickered and smiled at you as you looked to the floor sheepishly.

She drops to her knees and motions for you to unbutton your shorts, so you did. She washes your legs of all the blood and mud and makes her way back up to your face. Cleaning off the rag you stand there in just your bra and underwear sinking into yourself to hide your embarrassment. She uses the rag to wipe the dirt off your face and looks into your eyes for a moment.

“ There’s the pretty girl I know.” she says, smiling and memorizing all the details of your face.

You feel a sudden urge and don’t know what came over you but you just cup her face in your hands and pull her into a kiss. Quickly stopping and taking a step back, shocked at yourself.

“ I’m so sorry… I… I don’t know what that was..” you stammer, not even being able to look her in the face.

“ I do” she replied matter-of-factly and walked towards you pulling you into her hard.

You pull apart and start laughing together. Sitting on the floor looking at each other.

“ Who says you need college to experiment.” she laughs and scoots over to you and lays her head on you.

“ You're giving me the college experience right here.” You say laughing and shaking your head.

“ Loneliness is really getting to us I guess.” she gets up walking to start making dinner

“ Well loneliness can keep getting to us for tonight can’t it?” you shyly ask walking up behind her.

That night you and Andrea were tangled up together for hours, holding each other closer than you've ever been. Listening to her heartbeat as she plays with your hair. Drifting off to the best sleep you've gotten in a long time. 

You wake up to Andrea coughing wildly and barely breathing. Michonne walks over to get you up and fill you in on what needs to happen.

“ We need to go find her medicine, she won’t survive much more of this.” Michonne says looking over at Andrea.

“ Okay we can head out in an hour. I’ll pack.” you reply turning towards your bags.

That was that, as soon as you were packed you started walking. Andrea at a slow pace and needing to sit every few yards. You start to worry about if she will survive or not. You hear a loud crash and start heading to the scene. As you Arrive you see men walking and sit Andrea down next to a bush, Michonne joins you and starts to grab her sword as a voice booms behind you. That voice, that fucking voice, you stare forward trying to calm yourself.

“ ah ah ah, easy does it girl. Mines a whole lot bigger than yours, now, put down your weapons.” Merle orders 

Michonne slowly obeys looking over to you and Andrea, you place all your weapons on the ground in front of you looking to Michonne slightly frantic.

“ That’s it nice and easy. Let me see your hands. Now spin around. That’s it, nice little twirl around.” Merle says watching your every move.

You begin to turn knowing as soon as he sees your face he’ll recognize you. Scared shitless you slowly face him.

“ Oh, holy shit.” Merle says as you make eye contact.

A walker begins to walk up behind him and you get slightly scared at the fact that he isn't killing it.

“ y/n. Damn. You look… good.” he says as he whips around and kills the walker.

You watch him as he turns around, a disgusting smile on his face.

“ Now, how’s about a hug for your old pal Merle?” He says, staring at you with his arms open.

“ Fuck you” you spat the words at him, wanting nothing more than to slap him right then and there. 

“ Now don’t be so hateful, we’re bringing you home.” He smirks at you.

After a slightly long drive, you arrive at this beautiful community with high walls and armed guards. It looks like a real neighborhood, kids playing outside, parents chatting and enjoying the weather. You almost forget that this monster is holding you hostage for a moment. You tear up thinking back to the first time you met Daryl and how he had saved you from his brother. You hop out of the car and look around.

“ Welcome to woodbury, I hope you find your stay here enjoyable.” a man says brightly lifting his arms to gesture to the beautiful place you were at.

“ I’m not staying, I’m getting a good night's sleep and leaving as soon as I can” you snap back to him.

“ Well alright, that’s your choice. Just know that you are more than welcome to stay for as long as you want.” he calmly replies to your outburst, throwing you off guard.

“ Who the hell are you anyways?!” you question as you look him up and down.

“ Well I have many names, but you can call me… The governor” he says with a smile. A smile that looked off in so many ways.

“ Now, Merle will bring you to your rooms. If you need anything, and I mean anything, just ask and if we are able to we will provide.

Andrea and Michonne decided to stay in the same room. You walk around after placing your bags in your room. Andrea seems to warm up to the place quickly. An hour goes by and it starts to get dark, the governor walks up and brings you to dinner. Then Andrea and Michonne walk you home as you talk.

“ Meet us tomorrow for breakfast?” Andrea yells to you as she begins walking away.

“ Of course.” You reply closing your door.

You strip your sweat soaked clothes and hop in the shower. A real shower. You haven’t had one of these in what seems like years. As the water covers you in bliss you hear the front door open. “Probably just Michonne or Andrea coming to get something from my bag” you think to yourself. You scrub your body and enjoy the feeling of clean hair and skin. Once you’re done you hop out of the shower and dry off, changing into the clean clothes they provided. You never heard the door shut again, which is strange. Not as if you were actually paying attention while you were enjoying the warm water. You walk back into your room to head to bed. As soon as the bathroom door shuts you hear a gun cock behind you, and you freeze in place.

“ It’s playtime little girl” you hear Merle say with malice and ill will in his voice.

A/N- Sorry this part was so long, i had a LOT to fit in this part to set it up for Pt. 4. What do you think is going to happen? I’d love to hear what you think of this series so far. And don’t forget that I post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday 3pm EST. Stay safe and healthy. <3

@aquariusfangirl​ @mysterious-398​ @onlydarylnormanfic​

[justlightlysedated]

Alex lasts a lot longer than Michael was expecting.

The second he woke up in a room surrounded by people, who all wanted to touch him in some way to reassure themselves that he was there and alive, Michael had seen the way he was subtly pulling closer and closer into himself.

Alex had been missing for weeks (five weeks, four days, fifteen hours, forty-two minutes and thirty-three seconds) and had been found unconscious and barely breathing.

It had taken Max exactly sixteen seconds to heal him, and it had taken Kyle five minutes and forty-six seconds, to do a preliminary examination and deem him suitable for travel.

Michael had frozen for an unspecified amount of time when he had seen Alex, pale and gaunt covered in cuts and bruises, chest barely moving, and had only started moving again, when Kyle had pushed him into the driver's seat and demanded that he drive.

Liz and Maria had set up the corner of Liz's lab (which had turned into their home base) into a comfortable nest, with blankets and pillows stolen from Alex's bed, and Kyle had hooked him up into an IV to treat his dehydration, and he had slept, while Maria and Liz watched like they were afraid he might disappear again.

He stays unconscious for almost twelve hours (eleven hours, forty-eight minutes and fifty-three seconds) and wakes up violently, a burst of motion as he sits up, gasping and searching around to see where he was that had almost everyone still in the room jolting back in their seats.

Michael watches as Alex calms down marginally as he recognizes the people in the room as non threats to his safety, and lies back down in his makeshift bed. 

Liz calls Kyle who seemingly drops everything to rush to the lab and check him over.

Michael stays in his position sitting down on top of the counter, and he watches the room, watches Max leaning against the far wall and watching the scene with a furrowed brow like he's confused about something, watches Isobel sitting on the chair right by Alex's bed, back straight, hands clenched on top of her lap like she's stopping herself from surrounding Alex like Liz and Maria and Kyle are doing.

Liz, Maria, and Kyle, were all buzzing around Alex like an intense and overly friendly swarm of bees.

He watches as Alex starts to seem like a trapped wild animal, and sees him reach his threshold. He still lasts a few more minutes before he fakes a yawn and Kyle hustles everyone out of the lab and to the cafeteria.

Michael is expecting it when they go back inside to find that Alex is gone.

He's the only one who is.

Liz turns to Max immediately, "Can you feel him? Is he hurt?"

Max immediately tries to soothe her. "It doesn't exactly work like that."

Liz just frowns up at him, but relaxes as he puts his hands on her shoulders, rubbing her shoulders gently.

Michael leans against the door as Maria turns to Kyle with narrowed eyes. "Could he have gotten out of here on his own?"

Kyle purses his mouth, "He was severely dehydrated, and weak from being held captive, underground and maybe a little sensitive to sunlight, but he is Alex."

Maria sighs like she concedes the point, and Michael tries not to smile.

Isobel catches sight of his face, "What are you so happy about?"

Michael tries really hard not to roll his eyes, "I'm not happy, just highly amused."

"Where do you think he went?" Maria asks him, narrowing her eyes, like she's challenging him for a game on who knows the most about Alex.

"Somewhere small and quiet where he feels comfortable and safe enough to lower his guard down."

Everyone turns to him, giving him various looks of disbelief and skepticism.

Michael rolls his eyes.

"Look," he says pushing away from the door. "You can waste time looking for him and come up empty, or you can wait until he decides he wants to face the real world again. If you text him, I'm sure he'll answer."

At that moment, everyone's phones beeps, the short dot dot dash sound that notifies a new message in their group chat.

Michael tries not to look as smug as he feels when they each check and see a message from Akex, probably something along the lines of, I'm fine, talk to you soon.

Liz turns to look at him eyes narrowed, “What else do you know?”

Michael shrugs, “If he says he’s fine, then he’s fine.”

Liz gives him a slightly exasperated look. 

“But you know where he is?” Isobel asks, raising an eyebrow when Michael turns to look at her, like she’s daring him to lie to her.

“No,” Michael says, because he actually doesn’t know where Alex goes to lick his wounds in peace these days.

But then again, it hasn’t been this bad in a while.

"Then how do you know that he's safe?" Maria demands.

Michael makes a face at her, "Because this isn't the first time that he's done something like this."

Michael feels a little uncomfortable as everyone else shares several knowing glances, but sighs out in relief when Isobel nods before moving forward and grabbing her purse.

"You owe me lunch," she tells Maria as she walks past her.

Maria scoffs and follows after her protesting that technically Alex was awake before the sun had risen, so Isobel was the one who owed her lunch.

Kyle starts composing a text message that Michael knows lists all of the things that Alex should be doing to take care of himself since he insists on not being in the hospital.

Liz goes to pack up her things and get her back, while Max leans back on his heels and gives Michael a speculative look.

"I can barely feel him," he comments like it's brand new and interesting.

Michael doesn't tell him that it's because Alex has had a lot of practice in blocking the bond from his end.

He just shrugs a little, "Alex has always been a little bit thick skulled."

Max just looks at him like he doesn't believe him and leaves the lab with Liz.

Michael walks over to the makeshift hospital bed and grabs the fluffy white and blue sheet from the pile and then leaves the lab as well, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him.

*

Michael makes a quick stop at the pharmacy as a text message lets him know that he was right about what Kyle had been doing, and by the time he makes it home, night has already fallen.

He finds Maria's truck parked in front of the Airstream, because Alex knew where Maria kept her extra key, and parks right beside it, grabbing the two plastic bags from the pharmacy and getting out of the truck.

He hesitates at the door briefly, and then tells himself that this is his place and if Alex really wanted to be left alone, he wouldn't have come here.

He walks inside of the Airstream, pulling on the door a little too hard, and even though he had already figured out that this is where he was, it was still a small shock to see him asleep in Michael's bed, a half empty bottle of gatorade cradled in his arms.

He's wrapped up in at least two of Michael's sweaters (the only two good sweaters that Michael owns) and all of the sheets and blankets Michael had in his closet.

Michael vaguely remembers Kyle saying that his internal temperature was really low.

He keeps walking inside, closing the door behind himself absently and dropping the bags from the pharmacy on top of the counter.

He bends down and puts several new bottles of gatorade into the fridge and then walks over to the bed.

Almost like he felt Michael staring at him, Alex’s eyes flutter open, and he focuses immediately on Michael.

Michael can practically feel the way his heart beat speeds up and slows down at the sight of him.

Michael just crouches down beside the bed, close enough that he can reach with one hand and feel his forehead.

He’s slightly clammy, but feels almost cold to the touch, which Michael knows cannot be good.

He makes a deal with himself that if Alex’s temperature doesn’t go up by the morning, then he’ll let Kyle know where they are, but right now, he thinks that they can get this under control and keep it just between the two of them.

“What do you need?” Michael asks, ready to leave if Alex needs to be left alone.

Alex swallows hard, “I need you-”

He stops speaking, coughing a little like his throat is dry, and Michael waits as he leans up a little and drinks from the bottle in his hands.

He screws the top back on the bottle and then sighs leaning his head back into Michael’s pillows. He looks at Michael a little pitiful, and it tugs at all of Michael’s heart strings.

“You need to me do what?” Michael asks urging him to finish speaking.

Alex gives him a half smile, “I just need you.”

Michael feels his cheeks go a little warm, but gets back up to his feet and urges Alex to move over.

Alex does, grumbling a little to cover up the hiss of pain from moving with his strained ribs.

Michael bites down on his lip knowing from experience that Alex will deny all pain and probably actually tell Michael to go if he mentions it.

Michael gets into bed with him, careful to not squish Alex too much, which was inevitable in his bed.

Alex doesn’t seem to mind it as he moves, wrapping Michael’s arms around him, pulling him close, until their legs are twined together and Michael’s face is pressed to the back of his neck.

Michael tugs Alex in closer, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, right behind his ear and slipping his hands beneath Alex’s shirt, spreading his fingers out against his trembling stomach.

Alex presses his hands down on top of Michael’s and inhales shakily, pushing his face into the pillow. 

After a few seconds, Alex’s shoulders begin to shake, and Michael wraps him up tighter, pressing his face into his shoulder and holding on tight.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Alex sobs, voice low and cracked, and just barely heard.

Michael presses another kiss to the back of his neck.

“I really thought that he was going to kill me this time,” he says next, and Michael shakes his head.

“I would’ve found you first,” Michael promises, fingers digging into the smooth skin of his stomach. “Even if you had died, I would’ve found you in the afterlife and brought you back.”

Alex just presses his face into the pillow and goes tense in Michael’s arms for a moment, before he relaxes all at once, pushing back into Michael, and inhaling shuddering breaths.

“I’m so cold,” he whispers then, and Michael leans even heavier against him, covering him up, pulling the sheets around their cocoon.

“I got you,” Michael says and presses another kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m right here, and I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go.”

Alex whimpers low in his throat, and pushes even more into Michael like he’s trying to fuse their skin together.

Michael presses his forehead to the back of Alex’s neck and exhales, humming low in the back of his throat.

Alex starts humming the same song with him, until exhaustion pulls him under and he falls asleep.

Michael just holds on tighter to him, and keeps humming low and soothing until he falls asleep as well.

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 13 - Chemical Pneumonia

Fandom: Jedi: Fallen Order  Characters: Cal Kestis, Prauf and Fisher (OC)  Word Count: 1,946  Warnings: Vomiting, mentions of blood, pneumonia and needles.  Cal ignores safety precautions on Bracca, luckily he has friends to look out for him. 

It’s early morning when Prauf wakes. It’s too early to get ready for work but too late to go back to sleep. He decides to suck it up and get out of bed, swinging his legs over the side and standing up. The Abednedo stretches his back, grimacing as he feels the clicking and popping of his joints. 

Prauf creeps past Cal, sleeping on a mattress in the corner. He knows he needs a bed but the pair don’t make much money between them and Cal doesn’t complain. He hears the soft snores coming from the young redhead, only it’s not the usual sound he’s used to hearing. Cal sounds congested, he hopes he isn’t getting sick; it’s the last thing either of them needed. 

Being sick on Bracca wasn’t ideal; the planet wasn’t known for its healthcare but if it came to it Prauf knew he could take the kid to Fisher. Fisher was an older woman who had adopted the role of medic for the scrappers, finding ways to legally and not so legally obtain medical supplies. She’s managed to fly under the radar for the most part and the stormtroopers who knew about her ignored her. After all they weren’t paying for the supplies and as far as they were concerned she was keeping business going. 

Prauf moves towards the kitchen, grabbing himself a cup of Caf to start the morning. When he eventually finishes he heads to have a shower and get dressed for the day before waking Cal up. 

He doesn't need to however, as he hears shuffling coming from the other room followed by a harsh hacking cough. “You okay pal?” Prauf asks as he moves through the apartment seeing Cal awake and moving in the small kitchen drinking a glass of water. He hides another small cough, clearing his throat before nodding, “yeah I’m good” he smiles. 

Cal feels rough, but he knows there is a big shipment coming in today that needs to be broken down and if they want to get the best picks. It’s not long after that the pair are on their way to the scrap yard. Although Bracca was not a place for a child, Prauf enjoyed working with the young boy, he was quick and able to squeeze into small places that he wouldn’t be able to. 

By the time they get there Cal is out of breath and exhausted but Prauf is relying on him so he pushes it to the back of his mind. 

Cal starts uncontrollably coughing once more, feeling the phlegm rising in the back of his throat before spitting it onto the ground next to him, the red stains alarming him. He kicks dirt over it, trying to ignore it once more; he can get Fisher to check on him later. Thankfully the loud noises around him cover the sound of his heaving and Prauf doesn’t see it. 

The day sees the pair going about their normal business, breaking down the scrap ships that had come in and helping other scrappers break down their loads too. Prauf did notice the increase in coughing coming from the younger man, but he knew if Cal wanted to rest or needed to go home that he’d tell him. Until then, he’d just be sure to keep an eye on the younger man. 

Near the end of their shift, Cal was rigged, with Prauf spotting removing the last bolts on the ship they were breaking down. Cal can feel himself growing weaker and more tired, he’s unaware of what’s happening until he feels himself slipping. If it hadn’t been for Prauf watching his every move, he would have surely fallen. With the jolt shocking him awake, he decides that’s enough for today. 

When he’s on the ground, Prauf approaches him, “what was that Cal?” 

Cal rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed at what had just happened. “Just tired I guess” a cough interrupts him, this time he can’t hide the coughing fit that ensues. “Think I might be coming down with something.” 

When the pair arrive home, Cal heads straight to bed. Prauf offers him dinner but the younger scrapper declines. He’s glad it’s the pair's day off and he has the chance of a lay in, in the morning. 

Prauf decides to stay up later than usual, watching reports on the old holoprojector he had in the apartment. When he eventually heads to bed, it’s late. Prauf does his usual checks, making sure the door to his apartment was locked before checking on Cal, he has a bad feeling after what had happened earlier that day and wants to be sure nothing is wrong. 

The abednedo is glad he listened to his instincts as he looks in on Cal, he’s asleep but it’s restless. The younger man is breathing hard and in the dim lights coming through the window, he can see the sweat on Cal’s brow and the congested sound coming as he struggles to draw breath.  

Prauf leaves the boy sleeping, against his better judgement but he can’t risk moving him in the state Cal’s in and he’d only be gone for 10 minutes at most. Prauf dons his poncho, pulling his hood over his head and makes his way outside and towards Fisher’s apartment. 

Fisher, a medic on Bracca, knows Cal well. She’s looked after him many times before and has come to care about him greatly. 

Prauf bangs on the door awaiting a response. After a minute when he hears nothing he bangs again, this time louder with growing anxiety for the sick child at home. “Kriff’s sake, I’m coming!” He didn’t think he’d ever be glad to hear that tone of voice, in all honesty it usually scared him. Fisher opened the door, half asleep wrapping a jacket around her. “This better be important” she scolded. It was only when she looked up from the visitor she knew exactly who was in trouble. 

“It’s Cal,” is all Prauf manages to get out before Fisher is grabbing a bag of supplies and her own poncho before closing her apartment door and is making her way to Cal and Prauf’s accommodation. 

They arrive in record time, Prauf explaining Cal’s symptoms along the way. She’s sure of her diagnosis but can’t be certain until she’s seen him for herself. 

The pair enter the apartment and Fisher wastes no time in rushing to Cal’s side where he’s laying in his bed. He’s pale and sweaty and by the way he’s breathing, Fisher can tell it’s not easy for him. She places the back of her hand against his forehead and shakes her head as she feels the heat coming off him, she removes the blankets earning a whine from the younger man. 

“I know, sweetheart. You’re burning up, I need to get you cooled down,” she coos gently. She turns to Prauf asking him for a cold flannel which he brings, not needing to be asked before placing it gently on the younger man’s forehead. 

The medic grabs his wrist in her hand, her finger tips finding the pulse point there, alarmed at the racing beat she feels. She leans her ear against Cal’s chest, listening for the telltale crackling noises she’s expecting. After a few more questions to Prauf and her assessment she’s confident. 

“He’s got pneumonia. Likely aspiration pneumonia from the shit he’s been breathing in. Has he not got a respirator?” She asks incredulously. 

“He mentioned he’d need a new one soon, come to mention it, I haven’t seen him carrying one on his belt lately.” 

“Shit,” Fisher exclaims. “Stupid, stupid boy, when he’s conscious we’ll be having words.” 

Prauf has been worriedly pacing the floor of his apartment since Fisher has arrived, “so what can we do?” 

Fisher is already rummaging through her bag, “I’ve got antibiotics that will help, but rest and fluids are the only real healers here,” she says as she pulls out a large capped cannula, tourniquet and a bag of fluids. She’s quickly able to set up an IV, shhing Cal gently as he moans when the needle goes into the back of his hand. Fisher injects a liquid Prauf is sure is the first dose of antibiotics because attaching and hanging the bag of fluids. 

Fisher decides to stay, she’s better able to help Cal if she’s close and if she were telling the truth, she feels better keeping an eye on the boy she’s grown to care for like a son. Prauf keeps her company, thankfully it’s the pair's day off but he’s dreading having to tell the empire of Cal’s condition and the pay cut they’re going to face this month. Still, he’d rather have Cal safe and well. 

A few hours pass when Cal finally stirs, the fluid’s having perked him up somewhat. He wakes in a fit of coughs, groaning at the ache in his chest, but already the headache he’d had before is fading and he feels better already. The first thing he feels when he wakes is the tug in his hand as he spies the IV taped to the back of his hand. Next he feels a small hand helping him to sit up, turning his head he sees Fisher. She helps him sit up, supporting him with a hand on his chest while the other gently rubs his back. 

“That’s it, cough it up.” 

After he’s done, Fisher grabs his pillow, fluffing it up so Cal could be elevated in his bed, gently lowering him back. 

“How’re you feeling?” She asks, gently smoothing back his hair, relieved that even in a few hours his temperature has gone down, the strong antibiotics clearly doing their job. 

“What happened?” 

“You’ve got aspiration pneumonia, you’re going to be out for a few weeks while you recover.” 

Cal attempts to sit up, shocked by that announcement, but Fisher is quick to lower him back down. “I can’t…we need the credits? Prauf?” 

Prauf coughs, making his presence known, walking over to where the pair are. “We’ll sort it Cal, I’ve got savings for a reason.” 

Cal opens his mouth to argue, but one look from the abednedo has Cal holding his tongue.  

“We’ll get by, we always do.” 

The three sit in silence for a while before Prauf speaks once more, “now, do you want to tell me what happened to your respirator?” 

Cal lowers his head, shamed that he’d been found out. His breather had broken a few weeks before, he didn’t have enough credits for a new one, so he thought he’d be fine until the next pay day. Clearly he was wrong, and now he’d be losing out on more credits due to his mistake. His expression and unwillingness to look at either Fisher or Prauf says it all. 

Fisher smacks the younger man’s knee lightly, “you fool, do you have any idea how seriously ill you could have got? If you need credits for equipment to keep you safe, you come to me,” she scolds. 

“Or me,” Prauf announces from next to the medic. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to bother either of you.” 

Fisher shakes her head, “get some rest Cal, I’ll be back to check on you later,” she says as she stands to leave. “Might even bring some of that soup you like so much, if you behave.” 

Cal smiles lightly at that, he knows he shouldn’t have put his health on the line like that but he’s glad no permanent damage was done. He’s even more grateful that he’s found kind-hearted friends, no, family on the planet he so cruelly found himself on all those years ago. 

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Thirty

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Trigger warning for excess grieve, alcoholism, allusions to self harm and eating disorders, mentions of past suicide

It was closing in on midnight when Cameron decided to burn down his club. The burning blue and white flames reached the night sky and warmed his skin. Zareth was standing next to him with his arms folded over his chest, watching the destruction of his current occupation.

Cameron could tell that Zareth was fighting the urge to say something about this, but Cameron didn’t really care, but despite this, he found himself saying, “Will you just spit it out. I don’t have all night to watch you bite your tongue.”

Zareth somehow relaxed and stiffened up at the same time. “I… I understand why this needs to happen,” he finally said, “But… am I still… employed? Should I be looking for another job, because if so it’s going to be interesting finding someone that is as, uh, well paying.”

“That would be difficult,” Cameron said, drly. “Lucky for you, I have no intention of firing you. Finding competent bartenders who can keep Nik in line when I can’t babysit him is hard to do.”

Zareth finally relaxed all the way. “Thank gods,” he muttered under his breath.

Cameron rolled his eyes. “As long as you don’t abuse my generosity, you’ll keep being employed.” And alive.

Zareth side-eyed him. “You still got that guard locked up in that dungeon of yours?”

“Yep,” Cameron said. “Not done yet.”

“Will you ever be?”

“Doubtful, but we’ll see.”

Zareth snorted softly. “Good.” Zareth’s eyes lingered on Cameron’s frame long enough, Cameron cut him a cold look. “Have you lost a few pounds?”

“And if I have?” Cameron asked, mildly.

Zareth wisely closed his mouth and turned back to the club. The fire was burning so brightly, so wildly, most likely because of the alcohol Cameron hadn’t cared to remove before lighting the place on fire. Despite so much heat coming off the fire, Cameron still felt cold creep over his skin.

They stayed there for hours, watching the club burn to nothing but ash and fading memories before Cameron decided to go home and make sure Nik had made it into bed. He still couldn’t shake the chill from his fingers when he found Nik passed out on the couch, several bottles of alcohol on his glass coffee table and wings spread out around him. It was the first time Cameron had seen those dark red wings in months. The feathers were almost in a disarray from being hidden for so long.

Cameron went to haul Nik up and carry him to bed, silently thankful for angel bones being hollow. He once again peeled the blood and booze drenched clothing off the omega and threw them away before wrapping the idiot up in a blanket so he didn’t catch his death. He seemed to still be cold.

Nik made a small mrhp sound before opening his eyes just enough to look at Cameron before rolling over and promptly passing out again. After a few minutes, Cameron had heard Nik mumble Lev’s name and he tried to not sigh.

Too much of this felt so bone deep familiar and Cameron was trying to ignore the toll it was taking on both his brain and his body. He debated on getting in bed with Nik, but decided to back out of the room and go to the nearest room, but first stopping the nearest sentry and saying, “If Nik wakes up, or if he gets too restless, knock on my door and I will deal with it.”

The sentry nodded, and Cameron moved into Lev’s room, shut the door and began peeling out of his clothes. He stared at the large bed, perfectly made before shifting and climbing up on the mattress and moving to the top of the bed to the pillows. He kneaded the pillows, trying to not shred them and buried himself deep, wrapping his tail around him and closing his eyes.

A shiver jolting down his spine was the last thing Cameron felt before letting sleep pull him under.

----

Silas closed his eyes. Nope, nope, he did not want to be awake. Not that he had much of a choice. He could only sleep through so much of the day before he lost the ability to sleep at all. Which was bullshit, but his option was to accept this, or take the route of getting very very drunk, and he’d never been one to turn to alcohol to solve his problems before, so why start now?

He damn near fell off the bed when someone knocked on the door. Loudly. Two options. Bay, or Ash.

Silas groaned under his breath and rolled to his feet. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants just to be decent before he opened the door. Not Ash, because he had to look down to see Bay standing there.

“Yeah?” he asked. Bay looked utterly done, and the ridiculousness of the whole thing was only magnified by the fact that he was holding Lucas in his arms. “Shouldn’t you be in bed or something? Didn’t they cut you open?”

“You would know this how? You've been in your room for over a week.”

Silas blinked slowly. “I’m not in the mood to get chewed out, Bay. Bad enough I see Dad judging me in the mirror. Don’t need it in front of me too.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Bay’s face closed off, going stony and cold in a heartbeat. “You are not the only person who has lost and grieved family and you are a damned adult who does not have the luxury of burying your head in the sand. You have responsibilities, even if you lost someone. I gave you a week. time to get your shit together.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve ever grieved before,” Silas said without thinking. He grimaced. “Listen. I- I don’t know- I need more time. I just- I need more time, Bay.”

Guilt pricked at him. Bay looked so damn tired. Lucas seemed unbothered though, giving a little yawn. “You. Have. Responsibilities,” Bay enunciated. “You can multitask like the rest of us.”

Silas didn’t know what to say. Eventually he just sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he finally said, if only because he knew he wasn’t going to win this argument. Bay leveled him a look, one Silas chose not to interpret, and then turned around.

Silas followed him into the kitchen, swallowing his bitter grumbling like the good little soldier he was.

He slumped into a chair, rubbing his face. He grunted at Nate’s greeting, even if he felt bad about it. Nate wasn’t doing anything wrong. He had his hands full, cooking breakfast. The little demon baby they were currently...what, fostering? Whatever. She was happy enough, meat spread across her face and tray as she wiggled away.

After dropping a kiss on Eden’s head, Nate set a plate down in front of Silas. “Food helps.”

Silas had to admit it looked a lot more appealing than the snacks he’d been munching at midnight when no one was up. He scooped up a fork, mumbling a thank you. He shot Eden a look as she started babbling around her fist, a never ending mantra of “Dadadadadadadada,” that was hard to ignore.

“She been doing that all morning?” Silas asked, trying not to be annoyed. She was just a baby, demon or not.

Bay shot him a dry look. “She’s a baby. That’s what they do.”

“Don’t see why anyone would want one.” Silas flushed, glancing at Bay, who was feeding Lucas. “No offense.”

Nate hummed. Bay said, “Do you ever think before you open your mouth, or is it just automatic for you?”

Silas shrugged. “Dad always said I had more mouth than sense. I don’t mean to say shit without thinking. Just pops out.” He drummed his fingers on the table before taking another bite before he said anything else stupid.

“I don’t know how you managed to stay in your room this whole time when you can’t stop moving,” Bay said, looking pointedly at Silas’ fingers.

Silas stilled, looking down. “Sorry,” he said automatically, before adding, “I slept.”

Bay returned his attention to Lucas. Silas took that chance to go back to eating. He had a few minutes of peace to eat his fill (apparently going a week eating nothing but snack foods and whatever leftovers he could scrounge up at midnight wasn’t particularly filling) before Bay’s phone rang. The only reason Silas knew it was Bay’s and not Nates, despite the fact that Nate was the one that pulled it out of his pocket, was the fact that the cover was a distinct green color.

Nate still waited until the fourth ring to bother answering. “Yes?” Nate asked pleasantly as he tricked Eden into taking another bite.In the next moment his face flattened. “What do you want?”

Silas perked up curiously, setting his fork down. It took a special person to make Nate lose his smile. “Who is it?” Silas asked curiously.

Nate’s expression became resigned, and looked to his mate. Bay didn’t even look up, just held his hand out for the phone. Nate passed it over wordlessly, leaving Silas to put together who it was.

Silas sighed, and poked at his plate, rather than ask again.

“What the hell do you want, Cameron? I'm in the middle of feeding your kid.”

Oh. Silas made a face. Eden, for her part, gave an excited shriek, slamming her little hands on the tray like she knew exactly was on the phone, before starting up her little mantra, yelling “Dadadadada,” at the top of her lungs.

Bay listened silently to Cameron, before exchanging a look with Nate. “He’s busy. Helping me.”

What in the world could Cameron need help from Nate for? Silas flicked a look between them, before getting up to put away the dishes.

“I... could go...?” Nate offered.

“Why should you help that bastard?” Silas asked, with more sharpness to his tone than he intended.

Bay’s annoyed expression confirmed Silas had been too hasty to snark. “Silas will be on his way shortly,” Bay said, before hanging up.

“Excuse me?” Silas said flatly. “What makes you think that is a good idea?”

Bay smiled a bit and said, “It is because I said so. Now go get ready. I'm sure you're accustomed to babysitting.”

“Your logic is flawed,” Silas muttered, heading for his bedroom. “And I don’t think Cameron needs babysitting.”

He pretended to not hear how Bay and Nate both snorted at his retreating back. He had to go searching for a clean pair of jeans, but he had far too many t-shirts laying around. He snagged a jacket, deciding to put on his shoes as he went down the hall. By the time he made it to the kitchen, his mood hadn’t improved, but he highly doubted that would change Bay’s mind at all.

“Why exactly am I going over there again?” he grumbled.

“I thought you already knew. You seem to think you know everything since my logic is apparently flawed.”

Silas shot him a look. “You don’t have to be a dick.”

“Pot meet kettle. You're keeping an eye on NIk since Cameron has things to do and Nate is helping me.”

“They’re more of a dick than you are,” Silas complained, even as he grabbed his car keys off the counter.

Bay ignored him, taking care of the fussy baby in his arms. “Thank you,” Nate said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Silas said, and walked out the door.

---

Nik hummed pleasantly while stumbling through the house towards the knocking on the door. He almost fell through it when he opened it, trying to lean against the doorframe. “Well, well,” He said, “Another one of Lev’s ex’s as I live and breathe. Are you wanting the next best thing?”

“Ew.”

“What? Not submissive enough for you?” Nik asked. “Whatever, your loss. I’m sure Cameron is around here somewhere.” Nik turned around and almost walked straight into a wall before making his way to the kitchen. He went for a bottle of tequila, well aware of Silas trailing after him. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods,” he said, working the lid off the bottle. He pressed his back against the counter, mouth quirked to the side as he looked Silas over. “New tats?”

“Babysitting you.” Silas siad, before holding out an arm, showing off the display of new ink. “Almost every day.”

“Babysitting me?” Nik downed a steady drink of the booze, letting it burn on the way down. If he tried hard enough, he could make out two of Silas. Really was unfair how gorgeous SIlas was. Apparently Lev had a type. “I guess Nate’s too busy to come see his lonesome baby brother.” He nearly tripped over the words, but still barely managed to get them into a coherent sentence.

Silas looked uncomfortable. “Maybe you should slow down?” he suggested, trying to steady Nik.

Nik shoved his hand away. “Maybe you should take that edge off,” he countered. “Aren’t you still pining after your murdered ex boyfriend? Stars knows I am. There’s plenty to choose from. I suggest getting something strong and something Cam won’t notice missing.”

“I don’t drink when I feel like shit.”

Nik gave him a mock salute before downing another swig. “And thus you are the better man than I.”

Silas grunted. “You’re as bad as Amara.”

Nik’s brows flicked up and he eyed Silas from head to toe. “Did she peg you, too? She does love putting that strap in men’s asses. And as I understand it, you let Lev put his cock in yours, too.”

Silas snorted. “We haven’t fucked in years, and no, she didn’t peg me.”

Nik smirked. “I guess that does make me the better man then.”

Silas just shook his head, apparently not agreeing with Nik’s assessment. “We were better drinking buddies than fuck buddies.”

“Well,” Nik said. “We were both.” He took another long drink from the bottle before sliding down onto the floor.

“Congratulations,” Silas said, dryly.

Nik dropped his head back against the cupboard doors, blinking tears from his eyes. “And now she hates me. Which, fine. It’s fine. Whatever. It was going to end badly anyway. It always does.”

He could have sworn Silas gave him an odd look. “I doubt she hates you.”

Nik tossed the half empty bottle to the side, letting it roll across the floor, getting tequila everywhere while he pulled his knees up to his chest to drop his head on his arms. He ignored Silas’ sigh and movement to pick up the bottle.

“Wow, they really meant babysitting.”

Nik’s head snapped up so sharply his vision blurred. “Fuck you. I am a damned adult. I don’t need your pity or anyone else's. Just because they all can’t handle me drinking a little doesn’t mean I need my hand held. Apparently I’m the only one that can’t seem to actually hide the fact I have feelings.”

Nik stumbled to his feet after a few tries, nearly smacking his head against the counter. He pushed his way past Silas down to find Cameron. The sentries’ eyes followed after him and Nik smacked a palm against Cam’s office door. “Hey, bastard. You want to tell me why you sent Lev’s ex boyfriend to come babysit me.”

He didn’t give a single damn that Silas followed after him.

The door opened and Cameron stood on the other end, looking unimpressed, but somehow gaunt too. Though, that was probably because Nik was shit faced. “I have things to do,” Cameron said, mildly, “And I don’t have the time to hold your hand.” He flicked a look at Silas over Nik’s head. “I trust you can be competent with my omega.”

Silas made a face. “Not the first drunk I’ve wrangled. Won’t be the last.”

“Hm. For the sake of your kneecaps I do hope that is the truth.”

Nik could almost imagine the way Silas rolled his eyes. “I’ve spent enough time with Amara, and she’s yet to marry the ground despite her apparent love story with it.”

“Difference is,” Cameron said,’ “You break my omega and you can sit next to Sage down in my basement.” Cameron looked to Nik. “Go get in bed,” he ordered. “Sleep your idiocy off.” When Nik didn’t move fast enough for Cameron, Cam said, “Take him to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

---

Just because Silas could take care of drunks didn’t mean he liked it. He somehow got Nik to what he assumed was the right bedroom, though he kept his hands off Nik the whole time, unless Nik was close to face planting. Something told him Nik wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You gonna actually sleep it off?” he asked Nik, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Nik shuddered into the bedding, curled up on the edge of the bed. Silas didn’t ask, just shuffled into the bedroom and picked the chair at the desk.

Just in time to see Nik start crying.

Oh for fucks sake, Silas thought tiredly. He didn’t have the emotional intelligence to deal with this. This wasn’t his omega, and he didn’t know the right way to deal with this situation. If it’d been Lev, he could have pulled him into his lap, but this wasn’t Lev. Because Lev was fucking dead.

Silas bit back a sigh, and scooted the chair over to the side of the bed. He cleared his throat, and then admitted, “I don’t know how to help.”

It was the voice of a broken man that came from Nik. “I don’t want your help, I want my fucking boyfriend.”

“Don’t we all,” Silas muttered, rubbing his face.

He didn’t expect the alarm clock chucked at his face, and only Nik’s drunken aim and sheer reflex let him catch it.

“No one asked you,” Nik said.

“You’re not the only one that lost him, you know,” Silas shot back. “I’m not gonna pretend to understand Cameron one bit but he did too. And his goddamn family. You don’t have to take it out on everyone around you. It’s no one’s fault but the man who killed him.”

“Are you saying you’re his family? You, who let Remiel have him?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Silas snapped. “I meant his grandmother. His cousins. I wasn’t once talking about me.”

Nik turned to look at him, the gold of his bloodshot eyes contrasting sharply with the dark brown of his pupils. His expression was eerily blank. “Sure you’re not.”

Silas leaned back in his chair. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lay out my own grief for you? I’m a little out of practice, but this isn’t the first former lover I’ve lost. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Nik rolled onto his back, laughing ruefully. “Did your former lover kill herself? Because mine sure did.”

So apparently they were exchanging traumas now. Lovely. “No. My dad sent two into the front lines, declared a third a traitor so he could cast them out, and straight up executed the fouth. Those are the ones that died, at least. The rest got out alive. At least from dear old dad.” No, Lev’s death wasn’t on Silas’ hands. It was someone else’s family that had gotten him killed.

Maybe that was too far. Nik was quiet for a bit, before rubbing his eyes. Silas’ gaze was drawn to his wrists, and a frown twisted on his face, but he didn’t say a damn word. Wasn’t his place. Hell, wasn’t his place to tell Nik off, and he’d already flubbed that.

“I told him I was sorry,” Nik said without warning.

Silas blinked. “What?” He blinked again. “What for?”

Nik rolled to face the opposite wall. “Doesn’t matter. He didn’t believe me, and he left.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lev,” Silas said, mostly to himself, before adding, louder, “Why’d he leave? Last I talked to him he was head over heels. With both of you, and that baby of yours.”

“I made him mad.”

Silas snorted. “Lev doesn’t get mad.” He paused, and then corrected himself. “Didn’t. Didn’t get mad.”

“Yes he does. I made him mad, and he left me.”

“What did you do?” Silas asked, genuinely curious now. “Must have been something big, because I’ve never seen Lev angry before.”

Nik’s “I don’t know,” was a pathetic, broken sound, and then he started to shake with sobs.

This time Silas couldn’t stop his sigh. He leaned over, hesitantly brushing his hand through Nik’s hair. “I don’t think he was mad at you. Knowing Lev, he was scared of something.”

That didn’t stop Nik from crying, though he did seem to ease up a bit, curling in on himself as Silas awkwardly pet his hair. Silas swallowed around the lump in his throat, and tried for a light tone.

“It wasn’t your fault. And it’s not likely Lev was angry with you. I know- knew him well. He doesn’t get mad. He gets scared, and he goes to find somewhere he can curl up and feel safe for a little while.”

Nik mumbled, “I didn’t make him feel safe.”

Silas gave an unsteady laugh. “No one could, sometimes. Not me, not Amara, not his grandmother. He had issues, and I don’t care how well he was doing with you both, they were bound to come back around eventually.”

Nik didn’t even respond. After several minutes, Silas realized he’d cried himself to sleep. Only then did he pull back, slumping in the chair, and wiping his eyes. The fuck did he do to deserve this?

---

Cameron had stuck around just long enough to make sure that Nik had fallen asleep before starting for Bay’s house. He folded Nik and Silas’ exchange and put it in the corner of his mind while he went to knock on Bay’s door. Eventually Nate answered it, face resigned. “Your baby is in the kitchen.”

Cameron didn’t bother responding and shouldered his way past and went for the kitchen. Eden perked up, hands smacking the highchair tray as she gave him a sharp squeal. The little terror started bouncing in her seat, her “dadadadadadada” grating on Cameron’s nerves. But he still went to pick her up despite her incessant wiggling in his arms.

“See, she’s not dead,” Bay said, dryly. “Even followed your schedule so you wouldn’t bitch at us about it.”

Cameron ignored him and pressed his lips to the top of Eden’s head, inhaling her scent. It was mixed with the faint smell of lavender shampoo. “You need out of these gaudy clothes,” Cameron said, completely ignoring his idiot brother’s remark.

“Those are the clothes you gave us,” Nate said, from the doorway.

Cameron shouldered his way past the angel and down the hallway to the nursery where he made quick work of changing the wiggling baby demon out of the pastel outfit and into something far more palatable. Eden squealed loudly when Cameron picked her up again, her incessant ‘dadadadada’ annoying him to the point he lodged a pacifier in her mouth. “Shush,” he hissed against her ear.

Eden giggled at him around it. But when Cameron had gone to settle into the rocking chair, Eden was already suckling at it and was melted against his chest. He ran his fingers down her back absently, feeling her ribs, her skin, her breathing. He stayed in the nursery, relishing the quiet until she was deep asleep. Cameron was jerked back into focus so he could put her back in her crib. Not a second later, Nate appeared in the doorway. Face drawn, Nate said, “Everything okay?”

“It is now that she’s in decent clothes,” Cameron said, walking around him. “Does no one in this house have decent taste.”

“You gave us those clothes,” Nate said, flatly. “They’re from your house. Maybe get a snack and you’ll calm down.”

Cameron halted to a stop and looked over his shoulder at him. “I am being perfectly calm,” he said, coolly.

Nate leveled him a long, far too knowing look, but elected to drop it and just followed Cameron back to the kitchen where Nate sat a plate of food right in front of him. Cameron looked at it and then pushed it to the side before looking to his brother. Bay was already looking at him, with a far too old look. “How long are we keeping her?” he asked. “I assume until the threat is resolved?”

Cameron drummed his fingers against the counter and thought about it. “Until I decide to bring her back,” he finally said. “I don’t want her anywhere near Nik right now.”

Both Bay and Nate were gauging him with long looks before wisely dropping this current line of conversation. Bay looked at Cameron’s untouched plate before pulling it over to himself. “If you’re going to waste food, then I’ll eat it since Ash cannot be found.”

Nate nipped at Bay’s shoulder, only to get a gentle face-push to back away. Nate sulked, but not before placing a kiss to Lucas’ head and a quick kiss to Bay’s cheek and scurrying to the opposite side of the counter. Cameron felt vaguely disgusted. “I’m going to leave, I think.”

Nate hummed. “You know where the door is.”

Cameron ignored his quip and found his way to the car before going to meet with contractors about wiping clean the slate and rebuilding his club from the ground up, wiping traces of blood and ruin and beginning anew.

tagging: @idreamonpaper @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @mis-lil-red

[resetmypatientviolence]

Labor & Delivery [TRH LI Headcanons]

Pairing: Liam x MC, Drake x MC, Hana x MC, Maxwell x MC

Word Count: 3,787

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language

Description: A glance into some head canons of TRH LI’s during labor and delivery for their bundle of joy. 

Author Note: Fluff! All fluff! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy a look into all four LI’s during labor and delivery. Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/drakewalkerwhipped Masterlist is found on my blog bio.

You should have known it would happen like this: water breaking in the middle of a ball. This child has already given you a run for your money, after all. The cramps throughout the day were nothing of concern, just something you could brush off while getting ready, your one and only watching you move around with equal bits worry and excitement.

Earlier, you laughed and twirled in your gown—one that finally didn’t feel too tight and uncomfortable. You were in a great mood, really, ready for the evening to unfold. “We have a week to go!” You said in your bedroom, gliding over to your expectant partner. “Stop being such a worrywart—let’s enjoy our last ball as a couple, and not parents, shall we?”

And of course, they swept you up into a kiss, their hands sliding along the very slightly cramping round of your stomach, and said, “As you wish.”

But they were right to be worried, for now you’re in the middle of the ballroom with a ruined dress because somebody couldn’t wait.

Well, you think, locking eyes with the only other person in the world who matters right now, it’s now or never, isn’t it?

Liam

Immediately, upon the realization that this child was coming, Liam calls upon the guards and holds your hand while you laugh at the situation. He finds it no laughing matter, however. “Are you in pain, my Queen?” When you give an answer he accepts (that isn’t any variation of no, but he will accept, “It doesn’t hurt much”), you’re whisked off to the hospital surrounded by a horde of guards. On your way there, you tighten your grip on Liam’s hand when the contractions make their appearance. Liam gives you a tight smile and glances at his watch, keeping time.

At first, he’s perfect. How can he not be? Liam packed the hospital bag a month ago. He had the birth plan memorized forwards and backwards. All you need to do was play on your phone, groan when the contractions strike, and sneak food from Liam’s snack stash while he handles the handpicked team of nurses, doctors, hospital staff, and constant media requests for an update on the baby. It’s bliss. Your labor couldn’t be more… relaxing, if that’s a thing.

Liam paces an inhumane amount while you wait, labor taking its sweet time. It’s cute to watch how scrunched up his face gets when he’s worried about something. You smile for the first few hours about that.

When you take laps around the hospital halls to urge this little royal heir along, Liam holds your hand when he doesn’t have a hand on your lower back, helping you waddle. “Are you hanging in there, love?” You throw your head back and laugh. “I’m hanging is as much as this stubborn baby is, dear. You worry too much. Be excited!” He kisses your temple, creases disappearing from his forehead for the meanwhile.

He refuses to leave. Even if your legs are up in the air for all to see as the doctors make sure things are progressing as they should be. You’ve had more flattering angles and days. “Liam, you can nap, go to the palace for a few hours, they said--” But he shakes his head and kisses your forehead. You wince at the cool metal against you. “I’m not leaving your side. I’m not missing a minute of this.” And you smile, kissing him back. “You’re lucky you’re so sweet.”

Liam’s never been one to nap. A king doesn’t have time to nap, he reasons. And there’s no exception here, jolting awake every minute or so while sitting next to you, waiting. Hell, even when you manage some sleep, he’s there by your side, eyes darting between the monitor, belly, and face, the creases back.

Once active labor (finally) kicks in... you’ve only seen Liam rare form like this a few times.  This is one of those times. Gone is his kingly composure and before you— or behind you, rubbing your back as you moan in pain— is Liam, stripped of everything except for himself. His hands are a comfort when you beg for a massage, fingers gently feeding your ice chips, replacing the washcloth on your forehead or rubbing the cool cloth on your face and neck and chest as the pain is all you feel.

Why did you agree to a natural birth? It sounded so nice on paper. The doctors can’t talk sense into you while you demand for an epidural, but somehow, Liam does. You look into his eyes as he says. “Love, it’s too late. Our baby will be here any minute—all you need to do is push. Push a little bit and it’ll be over, I promise.” His words soothe and you calm, gripping the bedside bars with a renewed energy to get this out.

Liam’s perfect. Almost… too perfect. So perfect in fact, you’re annoyed. You shouldn’t be annoyed. He’s just telling you everything the birthing classes discussed, holds your hand (even when you’re sure you’re going to break it), but dear god, if you hear, “Count with me, breathe,” “Push down and they’ll be here,” “You’re almost there,” (When you’re decidedly… not almost there), you’ll lose it. He’s done nothing wrong but yet—“Liam, I love you, but I need you to be quiet until this baby is born otherwise I’m going to step down as Queen.” You don’t mean it, of course, and he raises an eyebrow but holds out an ice chip. You take it, grumbling thanks.

Liam didn’t plan to leave your side while you push, but when the doctor asks if he wants to help deliver his child, well, there’s no doubt what Liam does next as you give the final pushes. Sleeves rolled up, you meet your husbands’ eyes and he smiles, looking more sure than ever, as if he was always ready for this. But of course he was, you think, then give one final yell and push.

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Liam’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Drake

You’ve never seen Drake turn that pale. And you should have expected that he’d drop his glass of whiskey and rush over to you, other nobles grumbles about the whiskey staining their clothing. “It’s time? Is it really time?” He says, breathless, taking your hands. You smile and nod, squeezing his hands in time to the contraction. “Mmhmm. Are you ready?” He shakes his head. “Is anybody every ready?” And Drake shoos away the crowd as you leave, well wishes to be had, but none of that matters as you hold tight onto him, ready to venture into the unknown.

“Drake, you can’t tell the media to fuck off and ignore them.” He huffs, handing you his phone. You roll your eyes—this isn’t unexpected. You type out a quick message for Madeleine to send to the press and hand it back. “Though… it would be satisfying,” you add. There’s no denying that.“But we’re literally having the heir to Cordonia… so we can’t have things completely private as we want.” Drake says nothing, but he walks over and rubs your back, eyeing the IV in your hand.

He has an odd habit of peeking out the window. At first it’s cute but then it’s annoying hearing the blinds chatter together. You’re trying to read while waiting for this baby to appear. “Drake…” You groan. He instantly turns to you, blinds making that godawful sound. “Why are you looking out the window like we’re on a spaceship?” His answer is no surprise. “There’s more and more media outside…” “You do realize that we are in a very private wing of the hospital where nobody can access us, correct?” He takes a long while to answer. “…Yes.” You nod, motioning to the blinds. “Good. Because the next time you touch those blinds, I will request that you be thrown out the window. Got it?” Needless to say, he doesn’t look outside again.

Drake turns out to be an amazing ice chip getter. In fact, he knows to get them before you even know you need more. You’re always about to ask for more, but he has a full cup with a smile and a brightness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

There’s a period of time while you’re dozing that Drake leaves. You told him to, anyways, because despite the water breaking making a dramatic display for all of Cordonia to see, this child is as stubborn as their father. You expected he’d get some breakfast, maybe a nap, but what you didn’t expect was to wake up to a full bouquet of flowers and a new stuffed animal for whenever this baby arrives. You also didn’t expect to cry so hard.

Good god, his foot rubs are to simply die for. And all you need to do for one is to point your foot and give a little whimper. Score.

His hair is an utter mess as the labor goes on… and gets more intense. You’ve never seen him run his hand through it so many times. He mostly does it when the doctor provides an update, when he paces in boredom, or when you’re in the middle of a contraction. One hand holding yours and urging you to squeeze his and the other in his hair, watching on with concern. It would be funny if you weren’t in so much pain.

There’s a shock when you want to walk around yourself and Drake almost doesn’t let you. However, the glare you give him shuts up his worries and he follows you around like a lost puppy, ready to catch you if you fell. He’s jumpy, too, the squeak of a gurney making him jump and stumble into a nurse’s station. The laughter that follows is what makes you realize— “Shit, it’s actually time.”

“When you said it’s time…” He trails off while you glare daggers, throwing him the finger. The nurses chuckle. “Would you sincerely like to trade places, Walker? I can assure you I’m more than willing.” He glances to the stirrups and the group of doctors and nurses observing you as you wait for the next command to push. “… I’m good. Here,” he says, taking your hand. “You can break my hand if you want to for that. I deserve it for that comment.” Despite the anger, you only smile and squeeze lightly until you push.

If you thought Drake losing all color when your water broke was funny, you didn’t expect to see him literally turn green as you push, bearing down to urge this miracle into existence. Actually, the nurses seem concerned that he’s about to pass out, but he shakes his head and looks again, greener than ever, but eyes shining with tears as you push one final time.

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Drake’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Hana

She’s like an angel, gliding over to you in the middle of a crowded ballroom. She plants a kiss on your nose, a smile breaking out on her face. But… you know she’s nervous. It’s in her eyes. There’s no doubt. But, like throughout all of this pregnancy, Hana is a picture of peace and serenity. It’s a balancing act for you, her calm the perfect offset to the stress of carrying the heir to Cordonia. “Are you ready to do this?” she asks, folding your hands in hers. You nod and offer a shaky smile. Hana touches her forehead to yours, a soft smile on her lips. “Don’t worry… I’m nervous too. But… I think we’re more than ready. Don’t you?” You nod and let her guide you away from the chaos of the ballroom. She’s right, after all. You are.

As planned, the hospital room is a cozy and calm. After you’re hooked up to machines left and right, Hana hums while she sets up twinkle lights. When the doctors don’t need to check anything, she flips off the light and the room goes from cold, stark, and sterile to warm, cozy, and peaceful, Hana’s face shining in the low and familiar light. “This was a perfect idea,” you whisper, looking around like a child on Christmas morning. Hana grins and gently sets a hand on your stomach, looking at it fondly. “I saw it on one of those birthing tips lists.” You smirk, touching her hand. “And how many of those did you read?” “… I stopped counting after fifteen.”

Hana’s more prepared than you for this. No, it’s the truth. It makes sense to you, as you observe the questions she asks your midwife and doula, or the suggestions she offers you to make your labor more comfortable, helping you get into a position… that does actually alleviate the pain. From the moment you started IVF, Hana was preparing. Reading everything, taking notes, and offering any help she could to make morning sickness go away or to ease your back pain. She packed and repacked the hospital bag at least a dozen times, finding something new that offered other suggestions and tips. You’re grateful for it, really. Easiest pregnancy ever with a wife like her.

Hana refuses—utterly refuses—to leave your side. Maxwell turns out to be her errand boy… at least until you’re unable to speak. Then it’s only you, Hana, and the women who are going to help bring this baby into the world.

“I’ve been practicing this,” Hana says, dabbing your forehead with a washcloth. You raise an eyebrow. “And I think it might help this baby come by focusing on your body.” You touch Hana’s warm cheek, smiling slightly. “Hana, I love you, but I don’t think meditation while in labor will make this baby come, nor distract me from the pain.” Hana laughs, touching your hand on her cheek. “I know. But… it’s worth a shot, right? What else do we have to do?” You blink. “You brought cards though…” Turns out, the meditation was helpful. Calming, even through a contraction. But you still preferred playing cards with her over meditation. Something about how ruthlessly she made you draw four even if you’re the one in labor made you grin and forget about your worries.

She knows how far apart your contractions are before the doctors say it. Also, you don’t have to speak as to how you’re doing for you give Hana one look and she knows, relaying everything to whoever needs to know that yes, it hurts, and when will it be over.

She snaps a picture when you’re not looking, standing up and pondering what’s about to happen. Hana comes up and shows you. The past few weeks you’ve refused pictures because… well, look at you… but this moment is somehow beautiful under the low light and cradling your stomach, looking out the window. “You have never been more beautiful to me,” Hana says, chin in your shoulder. Your face gets warm. “Even if I’m a giant beach ball?” She chuckles, bringing her arms around your waist. “The miracle of birth is one of the most beautiful things in life… and the strongest, most visceral thing a human can do.” You can’t help but notice the twinge of sadness there. You grip her hands, nuzzling your cheek against her head. “Therefore, you are the most beautiful thing in the world right now to me…. Oh no! Don’t cry!”

There’s only one time when Hana leaves the room. It’s when—somehow—a rouge paparazzi got into the hospital wing. You could hear her yelling from down the hall. Your doula snickers. “Never let me get on her bad side.” You snort and nod. “You’d never survive.”

Hana gets in the water with you as you moan low, leaning on your arms. You both agreed on a waterbirth, and you have to admit that the water is a relief to sink into as the final parts of labor pick up and delivery is near. She wastes no time shedding her clothes and jumps in in only her underwear to rub your back and to pull your hair back and out of your face. “Hana…” You mumble, almost in a meditative state. “Is the baby here yet?” Her hands feel so, so good on your back. “Soon,” she whispers, chatter picking up around you. “Very, very soon. Just a little bit more and I promise they’ll be here and in our arms.”

The only time Hana breaks her composure is when you’re pushing. She’s out of the water, but she’s right behind you in the tub. You hold her hands as you yell, and she yells alongside you, tears streaming down her cheeks as she—and the midwives and doula and doctor—watch your long awaited child be born and you bring them to your arms and out of the water, Hana’s happy sob in your ear.   

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Hana’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Maxwell

There’s only a moment of panic before Maxwell smiles and dances his way over to you. “Alright! I told you dramatic entrances were part of the Beaumont genes! Let’s have a baby!” You’re taken aback by his enthusiasm… and apparently, so are others, everybody staring at him. Maxwell looks around, the wraps his arm around your waist. “Why the long faces? The heir to Cordonia is about to grace the world!” “…They’re not coming now….” “Well, then why stop the party because we’ve got to leave? DJ, play something good!” And you exit to Apple Bottom Jeans, bopping your head. 

“Andddddddd smile!” You flash Maxwell a grin and a thumbs up. He looks at the photo and shows you. “Even more beautiful than earlier.” You laugh and lay back in the bed. “I’m not wearing make-up and my hair is a mess.” Maxwell tucks his phone away—for now—and kisses your cheek. “I said what I said. And besides, what’s more beautiful than my wife having a baby?” You arch an eyebrow. “Many things.” “You just aren’t looking hard enough.”

It’s not very comfortable having a handful of people inspect you, but Maxwell’s the perfect distraction. He’s currently doing a magic trick that he just learned and you laugh so hard you sneeze.

“Maxwell… are you… are you livetweeting this?!” The answer is there in your hand: yes. Yes he is. 5 centimeters down, 5 more to go!Maxwell shrugs. “The people want to know. Why have Madeleine give a stuffy statement when we can make birth… fun.” You consider this… and he has a point. “Well… when you put it that way, even I don’t think birth is fun… it makes sense.” And livetweeting is still a go! Stay tuned for my world record ice chip run.

You both agreed that you wanted some footage of the labor for the baby. Though, you didn’t expect Maxwell to walk around and point out everything in the room for them… you do appreciate it, oddly enough, watching him explain everything in detail. Though he has a smile on his face, you know that this is his nervousness rearing its head. It’s endearing, honestly, and when you’re not grimacing in pain when another contraction comes, you watch him with a smile. “And know, even if your Mom yells really awful things at me, we love each other but most importantly, we love you.”

You’re pretty sure Liam, Hana, and probably Drake would be appalled at the state of your hospital bag. Even the doctors look judgey but… whatever. You don’t care. You have mostly everything you need. Maybe Maxwell could have done without the yo-yo… but, to be fair, the baby is making a surprise appearance. “Maxwell… did we agree on a take home outfit?” You ask between increasingly close contractions. “And did we pack it?” “Um…” He walks over to the bag and rifles through it. He doesn’t answer for a minute, then taps his phone and slowly brings it to his ear. “Hey, Bertrand… I need you to do me a big, big favor. I promise the next bash won’t have peacocks this time.”

How many selfies can one man take throwing up an open mouthed smile while you glare in the background in half of them? The limit does not exist, apparently.

Maxwell keeps a smile on your face the entire time—only when he doesn’t, the damn phone up in your face while you start pushing. Oh, and he’s narrating the entire moment for the baby. “And now, your Mom is trying to get you out so we can meet you. As you can see, it’s great—” “Maxwell, I will shove that phone up your—” “Andddddd the next time you see us on the screen, you’ll be in our arms. We love you!” He doesn’t touch it again, but to be fair—he doesn’t have time to.

Maxwell clings to you, his smile slowly fading with each push, eyes wide as can be, watching this process… from your view. He hasn’t dared peek at what’s happening below. You hold tight onto his hands but he doesn’t wince once, only watching with his jaw dropped at your effort. “You’re doing amazing,” he breathes. “Almost there… right? Is she almost…?” The doctor glances up. “Do you want to see for yourself?” He grins and Maxwell pales. “I… I…” “See—see for me,” you huff and nudge him forward. “Please?” Maxwell gulps and squeezes back. “Okay…. I’m about to see my baby be born… totally normal thing to see….” When he gets in place, jaw dropping, you give one final push--

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Maxwell’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

That, and the fact that Maxwell faints a second later.

You jolt awake, heart pounding, looking around. Where were you and what—

But then you remember… and your eyes settle on the sight next to you. You smile at the moonlight falling on your sleeping partner with a perfect little bundle in their arms, sound asleep too. You brush a tear away in the quiet, in the peace. Life’s perfect, no matter how long or hard it took to get here. And they’re perfect.

The both of them.

Disclaimer: All characters and rights belong to Pixelberry Studios.

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