#only it doesn’t really matter because the new pain and new nausea never went away

[autisticlenaluthor]

i feel like the universe is playing one big practical joke on me

[wearywinchester]

Found

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When the outcome of a hunt is less than ideal, Dean’s there to make it better.

Requested by Anonymous: “Would you be able to write a Dean x reader fic in which they get separated during a hunt and he finds her stabbed and bleeding in the basement?? Maybe she's passed out??”

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, fluff

You were quiet as you walked along the dirt path, dampened from the earlier drizzle. Dean’s hand was heavy in yours as he held it tightly, tugging you closer to his side the moment he’d felt you’d strayed too far away or walked too far behind. His mood was evident, clear in the way his jaw stayed locked in its tension and clearer in the way his cheeks were flushed a pale tinge of pink. He was angry, he was worried, he was scared.

He may have felt better now that you were with him again, that you were standing on your own two feet, but that fear still lingered there in waves each time he thought about what could have happened.

He knows he shouldn’t think like that, he knows it’s not good for him to dwell on things that could have happened instead of keeping his attention on what really did. Because you were here and you were alive and that was all he needed but still, that thought stuck stubbornly in his head and plastered itself in the forefront of his mind, having his stomach a mess of knots that wouldn’t let him forget it.

Your shoulder ached, numbing and throbbing partially from the torn fabric Dean had tied tightly around it to stop it from bleeding anymore than it already had. At least until he could handle it properly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, quiet and soft as he casts his gaze down at you.

You simply nod as you set your eyes on the ground, on your boots and his as you walk along towards the car. You can hear the underlying anger in his voice no matter how soft, anger that isn’t entirely directed at you but it was very much there and you heard it, heard the vulnerability mixed in there too.

He just hums, tugging you a bit closer to his side once more when the path narrows some, hand warm and calloused around yours. You feel the press of his lips on the top of your head as you walk, something that would never go unnoticed and something he’d always do no matter how upset he may have been with you.

He was upset and rightfully so.

In your life as a hunter, there were a lot of uncertainties in everything, and there was never a hunt you’d been on where everything went as expected. Never a hunt where something hadn’t gone wrong no matter how big or small it’d been. There was always something in every hunt that reminded you to keep your guard up, that reminded you to expect a change in plans and to prepare yourself for the very worst.

But even with that being said, you can’t be perfect every time, no matter how prepared you are.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to get separated, even on the easiest of hunts. But it was always something that bothered Dean, always something that had him nearly pushed over the edge each and every time it did happen. Because every time you get split up it makes him less happy with the idea of you hunting in the first place. It only adds to his incessant worry simmering in his stomach over the fact that he knows you won’t ever quit, not for a long while.

The mere thought of what could happen to you every time the three of you get in that Impala for a new case is something that makes his stomach twist into knots and churn. It doesn’t matter if it happened every time or just once in a blue moon, regardless of that it happens way more often than he’d like it too.

And it happened again.

You’d gotten separated back there, and the cause wasn’t lost on you. You were hunting a rogue pack of werewolves, there were just two of them left after the other had been snagged by another hunter. You’d heard one of them in the near vicinity, something Sam or Dean didn’t take notice to. Maybe it was a trap, surely it was—it wouldn’t be the first time you’d been outsmarted by a monster but you always came out on top in the end.

Regardless, you found yourself taking off in the direction of the noise, never having been one to do anything but throw caution to the wind. When you thought back on it now that you were in your current predicament, it wasn’t your smartest decision, not even close because it turns out it very much was a trap, one put together by a more than frightened werewolf.

They must not have been turned for very long, he couldn’t have been. You could tell by the way he acted, on edge as something akin to fear danced across his expression. You could see the way his nerves had wrapped around every move he made, and you could see his hesitancy before fleeing and giving in to the temptations one would have as a werewolf.

But you’d been alone, alone in a basement with a werewolf plenty stronger than you and your blade. You didn’t even try and compare your strength, knew it was comical to even think you had a fair chance. You gave it your all and put up a good fight, but you found yourself stuck in a vulnerable position when he’d knocked the knife right out of your hand.

He could see the fear flicker in your eyes just as much as you could see the very same in his, but you didn’t let that stop you in that moment. Not as you gave it another shot. In your own stupidity you took another shot.

He may have been riddled with nerves but his adrenaline seemed to outshine that by a million miles, taking the knife gripped tightly in his hand and taking a swing at you in his own self defense. Your yelp was unmistakable when the blade pierced your skin, sharp and unforgiving as it jammed into your shoulder without pause. Your agony was unmistakable as he looked in your eyes, panic sinking in the golden yellow of his own as he yanked it back out.

His panic was clear as day as he’d looked between you and the bloodied knife in his hand, chest heaving as that adrenaline continued to pulse through him. You could see that fear, the fear of the two angry hunters who’d surely come to look for you without an ounce of doubt. One especially furious hunter who’d take him out without a beat of hesitation.

He looked at you, at your widened eyes and startled expression before he dropped that blade with a seemingly deafening clatter, watching your face scrunch and contort in pain for a moment longer before he ran off in a hurried escape, leaving you alone.

You were left to fend for yourself in that basement should he choose to come back, left to double over in pain and sink to sit on the concrete floor. The injury wasn’t severe, it could have been far worse and you knew that. But the pain was still much more unbearable than you’d hoped for and that was what had stolen your attention. That and the sight of the blood on your palm when you pulled it away from your shoulder was enough to have nausea simmering and bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it wasn’t good when you felt yourself breakout into a sweat, your ears ringing. It was all there, all telling that you were about to pass out until you’d gone and done it.

That’s how Dean found you, slumped against the wall by yourself as a more than noticeable stain sat against your shoulder.

Now here you were, back with a less than thrilled Dean Winchester and Sam who’d kept quiet despite how relieved he was that you were okay.

The only sound was the occasional clear of a throat and the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves under tired and stomping footfalls. You noticed the way Dean glanced down at you every so often with all the concern in the world in his eyes, and you noticed the dimples by the corners of his mouth as he pursed his lips.

Despite that, you still felt the brush of his thumb across your knuckles as your fingers curled around the back of his hand. It was a tender action, one that comforted you more than you’d admit.

He opened the door for you as you got to the car, wanting you to sit up front with him this time. After that, he found that even having you in the backseat was farther than he’d like you to be even if there was no longer a threat for you to be separated any more.

It was quiet the whole way back to the motel—no classic rock on the radio, no nothing. The tension wasn’t quite as bad as you’d expected, not really. But it was quiet save for the rumble of the engine and the tapping of Dean’s thumbs on the wheel. The occasional clear of Sam’s throat and the grumble falling from Dean’s lips when someone cut him off.

He snagged your bag from you before you could carry it yourself, slinging it over his shoulder as he helped you out. The two of you went off into your room as Sam disappeared into his with a mumble of a good night, locking the doors behind you.

The first thing you did was kick off your boots as Dean shrugged off his jacket, lips pursed once more for a brief moment.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, a sigh leaving your lips and a look tossed his way as you wander to the motel bathroom.

The lighting was less than flattering as you turned on the light, Dean coming in behind you after having snagged his first aid kit from his duffel. He set it down in favor of bringing his hands up to the dirtied fabric tied around your shoulder, loosening the knot he’d tied before unraveling it completely.

That pressure had fallen away now that it was gone, that pressure that relieved some of the pain and now it started to seep back in as you scrunch your nose. The look on his face was less than pleased as he looked at your exposed shoulder, blood smeared on your skin and half dried.

You saw his frown and you saw the crease between his brows deepen, saw the anger simmering as he bit the inside of his lip.

“He’s lucky Sam found him first,” he mumbled, angry as he flipped open the lid to the kit.

He was careful as he wiped away the dirt and blood, pausing whenever you winced and lightening his touch every time.

“I’ve had worse,” you say softly, an attempt to make him feel better though it only made it worse.

“You were stabbed, Y/n,” he says, irritation in his words as he puffs a huff through his nose, nostrils flared. “You’re bleeding and it could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

“Well, it’s not,” you say, and your nonchalance has him less than pleased as he grabs a half used roll of gauze to wrap around your shoulder.

“Y/n, you passed out from the freakin’ thing and you still look like you might do it again. So stop acting like it wasn’t a big deal ‘cause it damn sure is to me,” he says, voice raising a fraction as his cheeks tinge pink once more his movements with your shoulder still ever so gentle despite it.

“I passed out because I saw the blood, Dean,” you try to reason, tone on the cusp of annoyance as you feed off of his anger.

He shakes his head as he looks away, his hand dragging down his face and over his mouth, lingering there for just a few moments. He clears his throat as his tongue swipes over his lips, jaw tensing when you brush past him out of the small bathroom and into the main area.

His gaze followed after you as you rifled through your bag in favor of more comfortable clothes, changing out of your jeans. You winced uncomfortably at the raise of your arm, immediately regretting it as a yelp leaves your lips.

He’s quick to stand at your side as he helps you take your dirtied shirt off, digging around in his bag and snagging a t-shirt of his. He always brings extra, he knows you like them far more than your own pajamas, knows they bring you a little more comfort.

“Could have asked for help, you know,” he says, brows still furrowed as he helps you put it on in a way that is far less painful than your stubborn actions.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, two words he knows is a lie and it has him huffing as you disappear into the bathroom.

You see the scrape across your cheek when you look in the mirror, can see just how tired you looked and you could see just how much it took out of you. You still felt faint, still looked like you could go for a round two with passing out. There was no hiding that, no way around it no matter how many times you told him you were fine. They were just words to him in moments like this, words he took with a grain of salt and rarely ever believed to be true when you spoke them.

Not when this kind of thing happens.

You sigh as you grab a washcloth, turning on the faucet and dampening it under the tap. You brush it along your cheek, wiping it clean of the dirt and debris before dragging the cold fabric across the rest of your face. It made your cheek look a little better, a little less scraped but it was still there, no matter how faint it’d been.

You draped it over the counter and switched off the light with a sigh, stepping back into the room. Dean had been in a change of clothes, sat against the headboard with the blankets splayed over his lap. His look was brooding and displeased as he flipped through the channels on the motel tv, and you saw the way he bit the inside of his cheek.

You’re quiet as you look at him for a moment, as you wait a beat before climbing into bed, tucking yourself into his side. He doesn’t react for a second, brief before he relaxes with a heavy sigh and tugs you all the more closer. He doesn’t care that he’s angry and doesn’t care that he’s frustrated, he’ll never push you away in moments like this.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the kind of quiet that isn’t uncomfortable like it had been earlier as your head rests on his shoulders. You merely hear the sound of the tv, the sound of his breathing as his heartbeat presses against your palm from where your hand rests over his chest.

It’s after a few moments that you lift your head once more and look at him, your gaze softer than before as it bounces across his face. Soon after, he’s turning his head, meeting your gaze and it has you biting your cheek for a moment. Just a moment before you lean up and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

When you pull back you see the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly, you see that crease between his brows smooth out just a little more. You see him settle down. You give him one more for good measure, lips lingering over his cheek.

“Thank you,” you whisper, forehead pressing to his temple. You can see his confusion when he pulls back, pulls back in favor of pressing his forehead to yours. “You always come ‘n find me. You’re always there.”

You hear the softness of his chuckle, you feel it brush over your mouth as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, moving upwards and pressing to your forehead before he looks at you once more.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he brings his hand up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing along that scrape you’ve got there. You can see he’s unhappy about it, can see the unease dancing across his face as he swallows thickly at the mere thought of it. But he looks at you, looks in your eyes with a certain fondness, a certain softness in his gaze for a moment more before he drops his hand and tucks you under his chin.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he says, words quiet as he kisses the top of your head.

He’d do it in a heartbeat, he always will.

Your smile is soft as you brush your thumb over his knuckles, nodding lightly against his chest. “Just try not to go runnin’ off like that.”

You laugh softly, looking up at him once more. You lean up and kiss him, tender as his freckled nose bumps yours.

“I love you,” you murmur, soft against his lips before you lay back against his chest.

He’s quiet for a moment as he lets out a breath, smiling to himself.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispers.

He knows you’re too stubborn for your own good, too independent. He knows you’ll wind up doing the same thing because that’s what you always do. It scares the life out of him but he’ll always be there.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho @lanea-1

[maiyami]

₳ⱠⱠ ØⱤ ₦Ø₮Ⱨł₦₲

𝓚𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓸 𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓶𝓲 𝓧 𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓸

𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰: 18+

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: 𝓢𝓶𝓾𝓽, 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯, 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮!

𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 18+

(I ended up going out of order of which fanfics were coming out. I got lost in writing this one. He cares Bakugou x female reader will be coming out. This ended being way longer than expected, sorry!)

You died, or at least you thought you did. It all happened so quickly, the accident. You were out on patrol one evening, that’s when it all went to shit. You were attacked, not by just one villain but three. Your quirk was strong but not strong enough at the time. You sustain major injuries, put you into the hospital for a good amount of time. Then it was off to rehabilitation, in the middle of nowhere by yourself until one day you weren’t alone anymore.

You had the ability to read minds, manipulate them, and get into deep lost memories. But since the attack, you haven’t been able to use your quirk. Your skull fracture made it so whenever you tried to read someone mind, you’d end up with blurry vision, an intense headache, and not to mention horrible nausea. You had a long road ahead of you, honestly you really didn’t think you’d make it.

The place the Commission had brought you too was way out in the country side. No one was around for miles, but funny enough this huge cabin in the woods was the only thing you’d find. It was cute you though, wasn’t anything to special but they made it seem enough like “home”. You knew you wouldn’t be seeing home anytime soon.

It was lonely, only being check on every few days to make sure you were okay. A PT specialist every two days, keeping you up and about. Then you saw a van pull up, you watched from your bedroom window. A man had come out of it, he looked so beaten down. Dark circles around his eye, hair a bit messy, and there was bandages wrapped all around his face and arms. He looked soulless to say the least, a shell of a human. He noticed you looking through the window, looking right back at you.

He was beautiful, you thought too yourself. That golden eye you could see was looking through your soul. Before you could stare any longer, you slipped away from the window. Trying to hide yourself from him, you didn’t want him to think you were looking at him because he was so badly hurt. You quickly went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Heroes get hurt, and you didn’t want him to think that you thought less of him.

When you came out of the bathroom, there was a knock on your door. You walked to open it, finding one of the caretakers there. He explained to you that the new patient is going to be in the room next to you. That he isn’t himself much lately, and that you shouldn’t take anything he says to heart. He was there to recover just like yourself, try not to be over baring. You nodded at the caretaker, thanking him for informing you.

After he leaves, you make your way to his door. You softly knock on it, stepping back a bit. The door slowly opened, you were met with that brilliant golden stare once more. It almost took your breath away, but you kept it together. “Hi, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You said softly, a weak smile on your face. The man stared back at you, narrowed eye. A loud hiss left his lips as he looked at you. Then he slammed the door shut, right in your face. You just stared wide-eyed at it, you understood that no one wants to be in the situation that you were both in. You sighed, walking back to your room and quickly shutting the door.

In the other room, Keigo was just fuming. He hated that he couldn’t be out being a hero. He hated that he let a villain get the upper hand on him, break him down like this. He thought he was going to be alone, he wasn’t told that someone else would be here. The time in the hospital really crushed his go lucky, happy attitude. He was never a rude person to people he had never talked too before, but seeing you there made him upset. You looked fine to him, like there was no reason for you to be there with him. You wouldn’t understand his pain, wouldn’t understand where he is coming from. He had heard your door shut, he sat on the bed thinking over how he was going to get through this.

As the moments passed, he heard your door open once more. Footsteps walking by his door, and off somewhere into the cabin. It had to been about an hour before he heard your footsteps coming back down the hall. Then he heard another knock on his door, apparently you didn’t get the picture from him slamming the door in your face. Keigo was up and walking to the door. Rage filling his heart as he opened it. But when he opened it, you weren’t there. However on the floor was a tray, there was some food on it, a glass of water, and a note. He picked the tray up slowly, his arms still weak from what he had been through.

He placed the tray on his dresser, debating if he should just leave it outside your room now. Then he grabbed the note, opening it up just to see what you could have possibly said to him. He half thought that maybe you decided to chew him out on a piece of paper but as he read the note, he felt a little bit of regret come to his stomach.

“𝐻𝒾, 𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃. 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓉𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉, 𝒾𝒻 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

-𝒴/𝒩”

“Fuck.” He said softly to himself. He doesn’t mean to be rude or shut out anyone but he just doesn’t feel like putting on the front of Hawks the number two pro hero right now. He knew he wasn’t going to not see you, he knows that your paths will cross at some point. Maybe he will try tomorrow to talk too you. He then decided he might as well eat the food you made. You did go out of your way to make him something to eat. It was beautifully made up, still pretty warm. Then he started to eat, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. It was so god damn good, the flavors were perfect. You really put the effort into cooking for him, even though he was a dick.

You were sitting on your bed, reading a book when you heard the door next to your room open. Then a little piece of paper was slipped under your door. You waited until you heard his door shut once more before getting up to grab the note. You leaned down slowly to pick it up, bringing yourself back up carefully making sure to not make yourself dizzy. You sat back down on your bed, opening the note to read it.

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉.

-𝐻𝒶𝓌𝓀𝓈

You smiled lightly to yourself, then you looked at the name again. “Hawks.” You said very softly, then your eyes widened. Number two pro hero Hawks? There’s no fucking way. Why would the Commission send him to a place like this, he’s a huge hero. You can understand why they’d send someone like you here, barely in the low teens. He really didn’t look like himself, but it didn’t matter to you. He was still very handsome, and you knew he was recovering a serious injury. You decided to play it cool, you didn’t want to make him feel like the only reason you wanted to get to know him was because of his status.

It was the complete opposite actually, you really couldn’t care how big of a hero he was. He is still human, and that’s how you were going to treat him. You put the note on your nightstand, turning the light off to drift off into sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day of PT and you knew that your mind needed to relax.

As the weeks past, you saw very little of Hawks. Most the time you’d see him when he was outside with the PT specialist, trying to get his wings back in order. Or you would see he when you dropped food off to him, he was opening the door now for you. Thanking you softly before returning into his room. Some notes exchanged here and there, some were just saying how great the meal was, while others were things he might want to try to eat now. It was peaceful for the most part, however some nights weren’t great. You could hear him tossing and turning in his room, the faintness of him waking up slightly horrified by a bad dream, and it was slowly breaking your heart.

Unknown to you, Hawks was hearing the same thing coming from your room. His hearing was still so keen, he could hear every toss you did, every sharp breath you took, and not to mention the soft no’s slipping past your lips in the middle of the night. He thought about asking you what had happened too you, but then again he hasn’t been the most welcoming person lately. He was going to try, he was going to put in the effort. I mean you seem to have been here longer than he has, maybe you really needed someone to be there for you.

It was later in the day, the sun was starting to set. Hawks was in the kitchen, while you were sitting in the common area reading a book. The sun was shining a beautiful orange across your face, that’s when Hawks noticed that you were wearing makeup. It was definitely trying to cover something, he could faintly see it. Then he saw how your e/c eyes were shining against the light, they were so bright and beautiful. Them seemed full of life, but something sad was hidden behind them.

As the color in the sky started to turn a bright red, you pulled yourself up from the chair. Slowly making your way outside, sitting on the front steps as the sun was setting. You were in a loose sweater, hanging slightly off your shoulder. Leggings along with some slipper, hugging your legs as you rested your chin on your knees. You were so lost in the sky that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

Hawks noticed that you had left your chair, hearing the door close. He walked out from the kitchen, he could see you through the glass door. Looking up at the sky, not a care in the world. As he walked closer, he could see some scars on your exposed shoulder. A slight frown coming to his face, he thought there was no reason for you to be here. But he was mistaken, he knew that you had been through something actually. He walked out onto the porch, looking at you. You hadn’t even notice he was there.

You only took your eyes off the sky once Hawks sat down next too you. You turned your head to the side on your knees, looking over the man. You gave him a soft smile, then turned your head back to the sky. “What are you doing out here?” He asked softly. You rarely got to hear his voice, it was a bit raspy from how little he used it. “I’m watching the sunset.” You said back at him. “Why?” He asked, which he thought was a stupid question. He loved watching the sunset while he was flying through the sky, deep down he just wanted to keep hearing your voice.

“Because I’m not going to live forever, I find it very peaceful and beautiful.” You said softly. Hawks just studied your face, how your eyes were lit up from watching the colors change before your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, so you decided to try and see if you could read him. You fixed your mind onto him, matched his breathing, and then closed your eyes for a little. But just like before, shooting pain came across the back of your head. You felt a little dizzy, you pulled your legs down quickly and put your arms out to stable yourself. You blinked a few times, and shook your head a bit.

Hawks got a little worried looking at you, he leaned in a little. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern laced into his voice. He went to put a hand on your back, but quickly took it away before it touched you. You looked at him, your vision a little hazy. You gave him a small smile, he could tell it was forced. “Y-Yeah, just a headache.” You said back. Slowly getting up to walk back into house. “I’m going to go lay down. Hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” You said softly, but as you started to walk to the door, you stumbled a little. Bracing yourself against the door frame.

Hawks was quick to your side, holding onto your hip. His reaction time was still quick, but not fully back to were it once was. “You aren’t okay.” He said too you, guiding you back to your room. He walked slowly with you, keeping at your pace. Once you reached your room, Hawks brought you in. Letting you sit on your bed. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You said softly, pulling your legs up so you could lay down. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he looked at you he could tell you were so tired. “No problem, it’s kind of what I do.” He said back.

You smiled at him, nodding your head as you brought your covers up to your chest. “Of course, that’s why you’re a top pro.” You said back at him. He was a little shocked by that, he honestly didn’t think you knew who he was. He actually had a small smirk come to his lips, he said goodnight and was back into his room. A few hours went by, Hawks couldn’t sleep. All he heard was how badly you were thrashing in your sleep. Then he heard you scream, it was like you were dying. He quickly left his room, busting into yours and that’s when he saw you.

You were curled into yourself, light sweat covering your skin. Tears were coming down your cheeks, and you were breathing so hard. You were shaking, eyes still closed from your sleep. Hawks walks over, sits down onto your bed. He shakes you awake lightly, trying not to scare you any further. You woke up in a panic anyways, looking around as you pushed yourself against your headboard. Hawks hushed you, making sure you knew you were okay. “It’s just me, calm down. You’re okay.” He said softly, softly putting his hand on your knee.

You just broke down, crying hard as you looked at him. Hawks knew he hasn’t been the most open or nice too you, but seeing you like this just broke his heart. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you cried into his chest. He wasn’t going to ask what you dreamt about, he just held you. He was softly stroking your hair, hushing you as you shook in his arms. He let some time pass until he noticed that you had fallen asleep against him. He didn’t want to disturb you, he just looked over your face taking it all in.

That’s when the moonlight hit across your face, what he thought before was right. You did cover something with makeup on your face, it was a scar. You had a scar coming from top left of your forehead, all the way down across your nose to your jawline. He lightly ran his finger over it, thinking about what you had possibly been through. He didn’t understand why you would cover it, you’re gorgeous and a scar wasn’t going to take away from that. He pulled you down with him, letting you cuddle up to him while laying down. He rested his chin on top of your head, slowly drifting off to his own sleep.

You felt the warmth of the morning sunrise on your face, slowly fluttering your eyes open. You didn’t know how you were going to face Hawks after what happened last night. You turned over, you might as well start to get ready but you were stopped. Hawks never left you last night, he was still sleeping next to you. You looked over him, his bandages around his face came off a few days before. He was scarred like you, his a lot fresher than yours. You ran your fingers along his skin, you could feel the different textures in his skin. He moved a little bit from the touch, which you quickly took your hand back. He seemed so peaceful sleeping, you didn’t want to disturb him.

After that night into the morning, your relationship had gotten a lot better with Hawks. He came out of his room more, started to eat dinner with you, watched the sunset with you every evening, and even went out of his way to make sure you were doing better. He was slowly feeling like himself again, he was recovering pretty quickly. But as he started to recover more and more everyday, you seemed to be getting worse. Your headaches were getting worse by the day.

One day while you were outside with your PT specialist, Hawks watched from the common area. He had never seen your quirk, he wanted to see if you were progressing at all. He went into the kitchen quickly to grab a glass of water, when he came back to the window he was seeing red. You were on the ground, your hands holding your head as you started to throw up. Your PT specialist didn’t even move, didn’t see if you were alright. Hawks dropped the glass and rushed outside. You were crying, and your specialist was wide-eyes as Hawks came rushing at him.

“What did you do to her.” He said sternly as he gripped the mans shirt tightly in his fist. The man was studdering, saying this was part of her recovery and she needed to move past the pain. Hawks threw the man to the ground, his gaze was looking through him and he practically hissed while he spoke to him. “If you push her that hard again, I’ll end you. She’s done with PT today.” He said sharply, walking over to gather you up into his arms. He brought you back inside, bringing you to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet, taking a damp wash cloth to wipe your mouth and cheeks. He helped you back into your favorite chair, waiting for you to speak.

“Thank you.” You said softly then finally met his eyes. You could see the worry over his face, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You aren’t dying right?” He asked, you could see the concern in his eyes. You laughed slightly at him. Shaking your head as you kept looking at him. “No, I’m not dying Hawks. Sometimes it feels that way though.” You said softly. He moved his chair closer to you, holding your knee. “Tell me what happened.” He said. You sighed, leaning back into your chair.

“I was attacked by three villains, my quirk was strong but not strong enough. My quirk is the ability to read minds, control others thoughts, and even pull memories you didn’t even know you had. If I think hard enough I can even manipulate memories. But dealing with three people at the same time can put stress on my quirk. They over powered me, they decided to repeatedly slam my head into the concrete.” You started to trail off, rubbing the back of your head while recalling the memory. Hawks squeezed your knee, letting you know that it’s ok.

“I stayed in the hospital for months, in and out of it all the time. They fractured my skull in two places, broken several of my ribs, wrist, and leg. The Commission sent me here to recover by myself, that was seven months ago..” You said, a frown coming to your lips. “My bones healed, but my mind didn’t. After the accident, I couldn’t use my quirk anymore. Something about the nerves in my brain weren’t lining up anymore. They said it was going to be a long and painful recovery. I thought they were being extreme, but they were fucking right.” You started to trail off, getting lost in the fact that you weren’t whole anymore.

“I’m broken, and I don’t think I’ll ever be put back together.” You said softly, more to yourself than Hawks. But he understood what you mean, being without your quirk after having it since birth is scary. “I understand. I truly do, I thought I had lost my wings. Not being a hero ever again would probably ruin me. You’ll get better.” He said squeezing a little tighter on your knee. You sighed, looking out the window. “It wouldn’t matter if I ever got it back, I’m expendable. That’s why I’ve been here for so long, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” You said, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Hawks was slowly breaking on the inside, he could see how much this hurt you. He leaned in to wipe the tear away from your cheek, letting his thumb rub your skin a little more. You turned your cheek into his hand, just enjoying the tenderness he was showing you. Hawks noticed that the sun was starting to set, he pulling on your hand. “Let’s go watch the sunset.” He said, helping you up. As you sat together watching the sunset, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He smiled to himself a little, letting his head rest on yours.

As you watched the sunset together, you looked up to some birds flying together. Two little blue jays, diving down to just shoot back up into the sky. “What is it like to fly?” You asked him. Hawks smiled, looking at the birds as well. His wings shook a little, causing him some discomfort. They were still healing, but it was getting better. “It’s like having all the freedom in the world. To feel the rush of wind against your skin, the feeling of being so high, there is really nothing like it.” He said. You smiled, he seemed so happy to talk about something he loves to do. “Sounds like an amazing experience.” You said softly. Hawks nuzzled you a bit closer. “I’ll take you into the sky one day.” He said back. This made you smile brightly, pushing your head into his shoulder more. “I’d really like that.” You said back.

After the sun finally had set, Hawks helped you back up. You were a little dizzy, but he was there to support you. Bringing you back into your room, your walking wasn’t stable really. He waited for you to change, making sure you didn’t fall over. Once you came from the bathroom, you were in a tank top and shorts. That’s when he saw them, all of them. You didn’t just have a scar on your face and shoulder. They were on your arms, legs, and the little bit of torso that was showing. You got a little embarrassed, rubbing your own arms as he looked.

Hawks didn’t realize how hard he was staring at you until he noticed you looked so uncomfortable. All that was running through his head was that he wanted to hurt the people who hurt you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare for so long.” He said softly. You assured him that it was okay, you couldn’t hide them forever. You walked over to your bed, pulling back the covers so you could slip under them. “Could you stay?” You asked him quietly. He nodded, slipping under the covers with you. He pulled you close to him so your face was nuzzled into his chest. “Did they ever catch the villains that did this too you?” He asked bluntly.

“No. They never found them.” You said back. Hawks up held you tighter, rubbing the long scar along your shoulder. “I’ll find them, they will pay for what they did to you.” He said against your hair. You held onto his waist, letting your fingers slowly rub his skin under the hem of his shirt. “That’s okay, Hawks. You don’t need to bother yourself with that.” You said. Hawks brought a hand up to let his fingers rub through your hair. “Call me Keigo, y/n. And I will find them.” He said back. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be swallowed by his comfort. “Thank you, Keigo.” You said softly before drifting off into sleep.

This became a regular thing for the both of you, you quickly realize that sleeping together caused you both not to have nightmares anymore. Then it was time for the bandages around Keigos arm and ribs to come off. You helped him, pulling them off slowly to show the newly scarred skin. You rubbed his arms, letting yourself feel the texture. Everything was going really well, your relationship with Keigo was very peaceful now. Sadly you just had to put him through a huge scare.

It was getting around the time for you both to go out on the porch to watch the sunset. You walked into the kitchen to put the dishes from your early dinner into the sink. You could feel yourself become dizzier than normal, black spots coming to your vision. As you made your way back into the common room, you felt a little trickle of blood come from your nose. You looked at Keigo who was looking out the window. “Keigo-“ you said quickly and as soon as he turned around you fell to the floor. Keigo was right at your side. “Y/n! Wake up! HEY!” He yelled to you but the blood kept coming from your nose. He was quick to pick you up into his arms, rushing out of the cabin.

He stretched his wings out behind him, pain radiating through them to his back. He pushed that out of his mind, then he was in the air with you. This wasn’t the way he wanted to bring you into the sky with him for the first time. He flew to the closet hospital he could find, bringing you in. Doctors quickly took you into a room, a scan showed that you had a brain aneurysm. Bleeding into your skull, but luckily Keigo got you there just in time. It was still a few days before you woke back up. Keigo had to pay off the doctor so they wouldn’t let the news know about him being the hero he was. He knew if the Commission found out that he could fly while carrying someone, they’d make him leave.

He never left your side, constantly holding your hand as you were sleeping. So many thoughts were running through his mind, he couldn’t stop them. He thought what if you never woke up, what if you didn’t remember the beautiful memories that you both shared, what if you didn’t remember him. He gripped your hand a little tighter, soft tears running down his cheeks as he looked over your face. “Please wake up for me, Angel. You’re everything I need in this life.” He said lowly as he rubbed your knuckles. Soon he placed his face onto your bed, letting the sounds of machines put him to sleep.

You fluttered your eyes open, looking to the side to see Keigo sleeping. You smiled softly at him, slowly letting your fingers slip through his hair with little effort. Keigo slowly woke, letting his golden eyes meet yours. Tears started to come down his face as he looked at you, leaning up so you could take his face into your chest. You let him cry softly into you, cooing him to calm down while saying you were okay. “I thought you lied too me...” he said softly. You pulled his face up so you could look at him. “What?” You said.

“When I saw the blood coming from your nose, I thought this was it. You were dying and you just told me you weren’t so I wouldn’t worry as much. I thought I was going to lose you, someone that I lov-“ Keigo was cut off once your lips met his. His eyes were slightly wide, a little tension in his lips. But as you leaned in more to deepen the kiss, he relaxed into it. It was breath taking, like you were meant to be with Keigo. Everything just seemed to fit so well when it came to him. You finally felt whole.

You were released from the hospital, Keigo bringing you back to what you call home now. His wings were almost back to what they used to be, large and powerful. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the PT specialist would call Keigos handler to have him come back. You were way further from being “ok” than you ever were, but it’s okay. You were going to enjoy what little time you have left with him. Going back into the rhythm you both set before your scare.

It was a cool evening, snow was starting to fall from the sky. It was time to watch the sunset, you bundled up in a cozy sweater and soft pants. Keigo in a jacket with joggers, you were both silent as you watched the colors changed. Keigo just beamed at the way you looked at the sky, it filled his heart with pure joy. He stood up, standing before you with a hand out. You looked at him confused but there was a smirk on your lips. You took his hand, standing up. “Can I take you into the sky?” He said as he pulled you close to him. You nodded, slipping your arms around his neck.

He ascended into to the sky slowly, making sure not to make you feel nauseous. But once you were above the tree line, your smile was bright. Honestly it could rival the sun by how much it was glowing. Keigo enjoyed the pure happiness on your face, not taking his eyes off of you. “I love you, y/n.” He said softly against your ear. You kissed him sweetly, a soft tear trailing down your cheek. “I love you, Keigo.” You said back.

You had descended down to the ground, being pulled quickly inside the cabin. Keigo was pulling at your clothes as you pulled at his. As you made it into your room, you were both completely naked. Keigo pushed you onto the bed, kneeing in front of you as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. He leaned in, letting his tongue lick a broad stripe up your entrance. You threw your head back at the sensation, feeling a tingle through your body that you hadn’t felt in a while. Keigo softly moaned as he tasted you, letting his tongue repeat the motion. Then his tongue lapped quickly against your clit, making you buck your hips slightly at the feeling.

He pulled his face away, you whined slightly at the lost of his warm tongue. But you watched him suck on his middle finger before teasing it at your entrance. You were soaked, his finger slipped in with ease. He pumped his finger in and out of you a few times before slowly pushing in his index finger. You moaned, it was music to his ears. “So wet for me, Angel. Such a good fucking girl.” He half moaned before leaning back down to suck on your clit. That’s all you needed to be a twitching mess, moaning sharply before falling over the edge. You were panting, but you quickly pulled Keigo up by his face so your lips could meet again.

Letting his tongue invade your mouth, tasting yourself on it. It made you moan against the kiss, tugging on his hair. “Let me taste you.” You moaned against his ear, which Keigo gave you an approving nod. He quickly sat on the bed while you were the one slipping down to your knees. His cock is huge you though, admiring it before letting your tongue run along his shaft. Keigo bit down on his bottom lip at the feeling, not taking his eyes off you. Your tongue swirled around his head, then your lips took him. Inch by inch, Keigo watched his length disappear into your mouth.

Once you got to the base of him, he let out a loud moan. You came back up all the way to his head before slipping in back down your throat. Your hand came up to rub his balls softly, causing Keigo to buck into your mouth. He pulled you back, causing a loud pop from your mouth once his cock left it. You looked up at him, lust and love in your eyes. He looked back at you with the same eyes. “I need you now, Angel.” He mummers, pulling you up to place you back on your back. He was quickly over you, caging your head in with one of his arms. Letting his other hand guide his length into your hole.

He slowly pushed himself inside you, his fists gripped the sheet right next to your head. You gaped at him, mouth hung open while you felt him bottom out inside you. He held himself there for a moment, letting you get used to his size. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me.” He cooed, and you moaned out. That’s when he started to slow thrusts, slowly sliding in and out of you. The pace was slow but you could feel him so deeply inside of you, his head kissing your cervix. You wrapped your hands around his back, letting your nails softly scratch down the center between his wings. He nearly lost it when he felt you come close to the base of his left wing.

You could see his wings twitching behind him, shuttering with each thrust he put into you. “C-Can I touch them?” You moaned softly out to him. He whined as he felt you tighten around his length. “Please, touch my- ahh fuck.” Was all he managed to get out because you buried your finger into his wings right after “please” left his mouth. He was losing it above you, your release coming quicker as he moaned out to you. “You’re going to make me cum...fuck.” He moaned against your ear, you wrapped your leg around his waist. “Cum baby, please cum inside me. I want to feel it.” You moaned back.

Keigo hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came to his high. He slipped his hand between both of you, rubbing hard circles against your clit. It threw you over the edge once more, clamping down on his shaft. He shuttered, moaning as he felt you milk him for everything he had. He was panting, trying to keep himself up so he didn’t crush you with his weight. You placed a kiss on his cheek, smiling up at him. He was still fully inside you, looking over your face. “You’re everything to me, I want you for the rest of my life. I want you to have my children, be my soulmate until we take our last breaths.” He said breathlessly.

You smiled up at him, thinking about the life you can have with him. You nodded at him, pulling him down to kiss him. “Then give me your children, Keigo. I am already your soulmate, and I would love to bare your children.” You said against his lips. That’s all Keigo needed before he started to thrust into you again. The rest of the night was feverish love making, Keigo was going to go until there was nothing left in his balls. To make sure you were fully bred by him, marking you as his for the rest of your lives. You couldn’t think of a time you were perfectly happy with being alive.

Sadly a few weeks later, Keigo had to go back. The city was getting worse by the day, his wings and body had fully healed. He promised he was going to pull a few strings to get you out of the cabin, out of the Comission to bring you home with him. He visited as much as he could, always keeping in contact with you and making sure you were doing great. You missed him so much, but you knew that it was only temporary. You’d wait a thousand life times if it meant you could be with Keigo again.

Four months had passed, Keigo hadn’t been able to visit for a month. He was sent on countless missions, keeping him busy at all times. You understood, it didn’t bother you because he still called you daily. You were sitting out on the porch, softly rubbing your belly as you watched the sunset. Footsteps coming from your right, you looked over to meet those beautiful golden eyes for the first time in a while. You smiled, slowly standing up. Keigo looked over you, you seemed to be glowing. A bit a fullness in your cheeks, you had a oversized sweatshirt on but he heard it.

He hear a little heartbeat along with yours, tears coming to his eyes as he rushed over to you. You embraced him, holding him as he softly cried into your neck. You already knew he knew, he was happy that everything he ever wanted in life with you was coming true. He put his hand over your stomach, feeling how full it was. You looked up at him with loving eyes. Kissing him while the sunset behind you. He did it, he pulled the strings to bring you back with him. Even if he didn’t, he was going to bring you back with him regardless.

He was going to give you and his child all that he had, and nothing was going to stop him from doing this. He had his mate, the love of his life, and a child he was going to give the world. Keigo always thought he had something missing in his life, but he was complete when he found you.

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[tg-headcanons]

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[apocalypseornaw]

Walk Away-3

After so long apart you finally agree to see Sam and tell him the truth

You groaned as you sat back against the wall hoping this newest wave of nausea would pass.. It was normal according to the obgyn Tasha had helped you get into. You had just entered into your second trimester and found out the gender of the baby at your last appointment. She was growing perfectly and doing a number on your insides in the process. You heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see Max leaned against the doorway leading into the bathroom with a cup of tea in his hand. He held it out to you with a smile “Ginger tea with honey and lemon” You thanked him as you took the cup and allowed yourself a small sip of the warm liquid. 

He walked a little further into the room before sitting down next to you his long legs stretched out in front of him “Donna Hanscum called again” you nodded before saying “That doesn’t really surprise me..has Jody and the girls started their rounds again?” he let out a sharp laugh “Not yet, it holds them off when they can talk with you but I had to tell Donna you weren’t here considering you don’t want Sam to know you’re currently starting to move past smuggling a basketball into smuggling a beach ball” “He doesn’t need to know” you mumbled but Max shook his head “He loves you Y/N. I don’t know what happened but he wouldn’t be trying this hard to get you to talk to him if he didn’t”

You leaned your head back against the wall then rolled your head over to look at Max “If and it’s a big if but if I was to agree to see him and Dean could you put a glamour on me?” his eyes went to your ever growing stomach “Oh you mean to hide the bump?” you nodded and he scratched his chin in thought then nodded “I think I can manage that with Alicia’s help. I’ll call Erik too, he's better at stuff along those lines” “Thanks Max and thank Erik for me too” he stood to go call Erik who was his boyfriend of a little over three years. You’d known him for a while but had gotten to know him better over the last few weeks considering his mom was your doctor. “When are you going to call Sam?” he asked from the door so you shrugged “When Jody calls I’ll tell her it’s fine to give Dean my new number then go from there” he nodded then walked out the room.

------

Sam was sitting at the table in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee and trying to ignore just how much the bunker itself seemed to miss your presence. How had he messed everything up this bad? How had Dean been able to see just how much pain you were in but he couldn’t? Christ he was an idiot. If he could do it over he would have never gone on that very first hunt where all of you met Lila.

She didn’t hold a candle to you. You were...hell you were a force of nature. Everyone who knew you was drawn to you. You were caring but strong, courageous but smart. You would dive in feet first to help someone you cared about and even strangers. He’d seen you go toe to toe with more than one demon just to save a life. You were a soft touch when needed but also was the first to make someone shake off any self doubt and get their fire back.

When Alex had needed help paying for college you’d found grants seemingly out of thin air. When Patience would get upset about her broken relationship with her father she’d call you. You were one of the few people Claire would take advice from without rolling her eyes.

As for the way you’d changed not only his life but Dean and Cas’ as well he didn’t have the words for. Dean never got a chance to withdraw into himself with you around because you’d be at his door slipping new cds under it or bribing him out with food and western movie marathons. Cas always seemed to brighten up when you walked into a room because you never let a day pass without reminding him just how important he was to what you called your family group.

When you’d come into Sam’s life you’d knocked him flat on his ass metaphorically speaking and literally speaking. He’d ended up catching a punch from you on accident. Dean had teased him that your right hook was what made him fall in love with you. Looking up to see a woman as beautiful as you were apologizing but calling him an idiot for getting in your way at the same time did help matters. From that day forward you were all he could think about. The day you finally moved into the bunker was the happiest day of his life. 

The dreams of a so-called normal life was behind him but with you a new normal started to form in his mind. He never felt more whole than when you were in his arms. Waking up to you curled against his chest or with his arm around your waist was the most peace he’d ever felt. He loved you more than he ever dreamed possible to love someone after losing Jess. He felt like such a failure because he had apparently not shown you that. When you started to talk with Donna, Jody and the girls at least he knew you were alive,healthy and indeed staying with the Banes twins. 

He knew they lived near a small town on the upper west coast but that was all he did know. He wanted nothing more than to track them down and beg for the chance to see you but for now at least knowing you were ok was the best compromise he was going to get. He sighed and looked down at his laptop. He had a few news websites up but his heart wasn’t in trying to find a case, his heart was wherever you were. He could hear Dean talking to someone in the library and thought maybe he had a case until he heard Dean say your name. 

He quickly moved around the corner to see Dean pacing across the floor as he spoke on the phone. He caught a few words of what Dean was saying “Are you sure?...Yeah I promise...look you have my word...I will...ok...and sweetheart it’s good to hear from you” Was Dean talking to you? Why had you called Dean? Was something wrong? Were you hurt? He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t realized Dean had not only hung up but had called his name three times.

“SAM!” Dean spoke harshly and he blinked a few times glancing at the phone still in his brother’s hand “Was that Y/N?” Dean nodded “Yeah she told Jody it was ok to pass her new number on to me..She’s willing to see you but she has a few conditions” “Anything, I’ll agree to anything” Sam answered quickly his mind going into overdrive at the thought of seeing you. 

Dean nodded again then said “Grab your stuff. I’ll text her and let her know we’re hitting the road. I’ve got to call Max when we get close enough and he’ll come meet us to lead us up to their place”

------

“Are you sure you can’t tell?” you asked Erik for the sixth time since he’d finished the glamour. He sighed and shook his head “I’m sure. I’ve hid entire buildings, your little baby bump isn’t even a challenge” you smiled then smoothed the shirt you were wearing self consciously. 

“Alicia why did I agree to talk to Sam again?” She walked in behind you and held out a bottle of water “Because you’re still in love with him, it’s blaringly obvious no matter what happened he’s still in love with you because they’ve made the trip from Lebanon in record time. Even if today doesn’t go well at least you know you tried” you took a deep breath and nodded. She was right of course. When Erik’s phone went off you nearly jumped out of your skin but his hand on your arm kept you in place “Calm down Y/N, that was just Max. They’re coming up the driveway”

No sooner than the words came out of Erik’s mouth you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine. Any other time that was music to your ears but now it made you a little queasy. Erik shot you a smile before grabbing his jacket “Me and Max are headed into town but when you want to lower the glamour I showed Alicia how ok?” you nodded “Thanks again Erik” “Anytime”

------

You took a deep breath when you heard the boots on the porch so Alicia moved to answer the door. You weren’t in direct eyesight so you heard Dean first say “Alicia, good to see you” she greeted him then said “Hi Sam” you felt your heart flip when he said “Hey Alicia, I um thank you for being a place she could come to” “She’s always welcome wherever me and Max are and we make sure she knows it” that was one of the many things you loved about Alicia. Her words and tone of voice was friendly but the underlying venom of having comforted a hurt friend was still very much there.

“Y/N?” Alicia called out as she shut the door behind the boys as if she didn’t know for a fact you were hiding in the small hallway between the front door and kitchen. “Right here” you replied stepping around the corner. Dean smiled when he saw you “Well you’re a sight for sore eyes” you were glad when he just hugged you with one arm around your shoulders on the off chance of him brushing against your stomach.

“I see you’ve actually managed to stay alive without me which is a miracle in itself” you teased with a tense smile trying to calm your nerves before meeting Sam’s eyes. God those fucking eyes of his. You stood there for a second staring at each other before Dean turned to Alicia “You got something to drink? Alcoholic or otherwise. I’d settle for tea or coffee” she gave him a small smile before winking at you and herding him towards the kitchen.

Once the two of you were alone you both started to speak at the same time. You laughed nervously “You want to go first?” he nodded then let out a harsh breath “I’m sorry. I know that probably falls flat but I am. You are the most important person in my life. I love you with everything in me and I failed to show you that. I failed to realize how much my actions were hurting you. I made you think I wanted someone else and I pushed you away. I don’t expect you to forgive me and I don’t expect you to come back with me but I’m grateful you chose to let me come here and tell you that face to face”  You should’ve known with pregnancy hormones on top of everything else that you’d end up in tears. You wiped them away before they could fall before saying “Sam..god just tell me why? Why did you act like that towards her? Was the attachment to me the only thing stopping you? The fear of all our friends taking my side? Of your brother siding with me?” 

“Baby no” he breathed and took a step towards you but when you quickly crossed your arms over your chest and stepped back he froze in his tracks. “I guess it was the feeling of losing someone you love to a demon. I’ve been there before then with what happened to her husband. It got me thinking about what happened to Jess happening to you. That’s not an excuse because you told me that you wanted other hunters backing her and I didn’t listen but please baby please know I have never wanted anyone else since the day I met you” 

“But you didn’t listen to me Sam. That’s why I left! That’s why I came here and got them to ward me so you couldn’t find me. I couldn’t sit around waiting for you to break my heart and I’m not coming back with you no matter how much I want nothing more than to jump into your arms right now. If you want us...If you want a second chance before I tell you something I need a promise that you’ll be ok with it taking time, with me being here and you in Lebanon. I need you to actually think about it before you answer me Sam” you were trying so hard not to cry because you knew for a fact Dean and Alicia were standing just on the other side of that kitchen door waiting to intervene if you needed them to.

“I’d do anything for a second chance for us, to prove to you just how much you mean to me” you nodded slowly then called out “Alicia can you and Dean come here?” the door swung open quickly to both of them nearly stumbling over each other. “Yeah sweetie?” she asked so you braced yourself then said “They need to know” “And you’re sure?” she questioned so you nodded “Yeah I’m sure” 

“Need to know what?” Dean asked but Alicia was already repeating the words Erik had told her would drop the glamour. The moment it faded and your stomach was back visibly rounded Dean’s eyes widened and poor Sam looked like he may faint or puke. “Is that why you left?” Sam asked quietly and you shook your head “I didn’t find out until about a month after I left. That’s why I came here”

Dean recovered quicker and held a hand out “Can I?” you nodded “She is your niece after all” “Niece, so it’s a girl?” he asked with a grin. Your hand came to cover Dean’s so you could place it on the light movements but your eyes never left Sam’s as you said “Yeah I just found out last week” a light kick made Dean’s grin get bigger “Look at that. She’s strong already” “Just like her mom” Alicia replied then reached for Dean’s arm “Let’s give them another minute” Dean nodded and kissed your cheek before saying “I love you kid and I’m gonna love her too” then followed her back into the kitchen.

Sam had remained silent so you finally looked up at him “Are you going to say anything?” a slight smile slipped onto his face before he quietly said “Can I touch you now? Because I really want to hug you and feel our daughter move” you moved towards him and he pulled you against his chest without hesitation. One large hand held your back while the other rested on your stomach “I love you Y/N. I’ll prove to you that things will be different. Nothing means more to me than you and her” you smiled up at him through the tears in your eyes “I love you too Sam” 

Tags: @delightfullykrispypeach @fofisstilinski @chengukargbo @rosalynshields @hunting-the-grievers @spngirl05

[hazellvesque]

your wounds; my sutures

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians/The Trials of Apollo

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace

Summary: When Will Solace, Camp Half-Blood’s greatest healer, is the one who gets hurt in battle, the son of Hades has to step up to the plate and put the skills he learned in the infirmary to good use. 

Word Count: 2,572

Warnings: graphic descriptions of cuts, blood, stitches, and questionable amateur medical practice.

Read on Ao3

* * *

The second he caught sight of the gaping wound in his boyfriend’s shoulder, Nico almost blacked out. It was hard to believe Will was even still conscious with so much blood seeping out.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Will’s voice was strained, yet somehow calm, as if he hadn’t just taken a direct hit from the dangerous end of a sword. He was sitting on the ground, using his good arm to keep himself propped upright. The wound slashed across his shoulder blade, beginning just a few inches to the right of the base of his neck. The weapon had cut straight through his shirt, leaving tattered scraps of fabric as the only discretionary cover for the graphic injury. 

“Nico? Are you still with me?”

“You’re bleeding,” Nico said lamely, snapping back to reality, still not quite believing what he was seeing. 

He’d seen much worse in the past. Hell, he’d caused much worse. But this was Will Solace. He was Camp Half-Blood’s greatest healer. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who got hurt, ever. 

If Nico could, he would resurrect the monster just to kill it all over again. It deserved a punishment far worse than evaporating into golden dust, but at least the satisfaction might quell Nico’s anger a bit. He couldn’t stop staring at the wound. Fortunately, Will was faced away from him. Nico imagined the pained expression on Will’s face, how he was probably fighting to keep his lopsided, reassuring smile bright despite it all. 

“What do we do?” Nico spoke quietly, but desperately. 

The two boys were utterly exhausted. The fight had taken nearly everything out of them. Will’s own healing abilities couldn’t possibly work well right now - he was so weak he could hardly sit upright on his own. Nico thought of shadow traveling to Camp or even to the nearest hospital; he’d have to do some quick thinking to explain the situation to a mortal doctor, but the idea was quickly shut down by the black fuzziness already creeping into the corners of his vision. He probably wouldn’t be able to move himself ten feet without passing out. 

They’d have to solve this the old-fashioned way. 

Will gestured with his head towards his bag. It lay a few feet away, discarded early in the fight and no doubt now containing a few broken supplies and squished ambrosia squares.

“Grab some supplies for me? I don’t want to move too much and make it worse.” Will said, his breathing labored. “You’re going to have to help me clean and close it up.”

“Right.” Nico nodded a little too fast, hardly processing Will’s words at all. 

Nico dashed over to Will’s backpack and tore it open. In moments, the grass was strewn with miscellaneous bandages, ice packs, and burn creams that would be utterly useless in helping solve the problem at hand. He searched for the vial of nectar he knew should be there, and swore under his breath when he found it shattered, the pieces of broken glass nicking his fingertips and the golden liquid seeping into the canvas fabric, causing an utterly useless sticky mess. Reaching further, Nico pulled out everything he thought would be useful - gloves, cloth, peroxide, and the small suture kit box at the very bottom of the bag. 

He rushed back to Will’s side, fighting the wave of nausea that hit him, both from sight of the cut and from standing up too fast. He quickly pulled on the latex gloves, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

“You remember the first step in treating a wound?” Will asked.

“I have to clean it. And apply pressure to stop the bleeding,” Nico recited mechanically. Then he paused, head tilted, mouth scrunched in annoyance. “I can’t believe you’re turning this into a medical lesson.”

“Never a bad time to brush you up on your basic skills.” 

“This is anything but basic.” Nico’s hands trembled so hard that he nearly dropped the tools in his hands. “I can’t really see the whole thing. I’m going to have to-“ he gulped, silently chiding himself for how stupid he felt for asking, “-to take off your shirt. Cut it off, I mean. To get to the, uh...” 

Even through what must have been some of the worst physical pain of his life, Will chuckled. “If you want to prevent me from bleeding out, then yes, unfortunately, you’re going to have to see me shirtless. Did you grab the scissors?” 

“No,” Will’s shirt was already torn nearly to shreds, and precious time was slipping away. Biting back his mortification, Nico took hold of the already torn collar of Will’s orange camp shirt and ripped straight down, letting the cotton fibers fall apart in his hands. He quickly tore in two other places, removing the blood-stained fabric entirely. 

Any embarrassing implication of his actions was immediately shut down by the now clearer sight of the dark red stickiness quickly streaking down the right side of Will’s body.  

“Talk to me, Nico, what’s going on?”

Nico half-consciously began soaking the cloth in peroxide. “Isn’t this going to sting?” 

“Like hell,” Will made a hmph sound under his breath, then he laughed, “I know it was super common back in your day to do this-”

“I’m going to forgive you for that because you’re hurt right now.” 

“But peroxide on deep wounds can do more harm than good, so really, this is a last resort, since we don’t have any nectar. Even just clean water or soap would be better, but that doesn’t matter now. Just…don’t use a lot, just enough to make sure nothing gets infected. Give me something to hold on to?” 

With his right hand, Nico held the folded, peroxide-soaked rag precariously close to Will’s injured shoulder. His left hand silently slipped into Will’s and squeezed tight. “Do you want me to tell you when?”

“No, just go for it.” 

He went for it. 

Three of Nico’s senses sparked to life all at once: the sound of Will biting back a scream ringing in his ears, the gruesome sight of the cut bubbling from the peroxide chemicals burned into his eyes, and the feeling of all of the bones in his left hand being crushed by Will’s iron grip as he squeezed in desperation from the pain. 

“I’m sorry!” Nico cried. He twisted the already red-soaked cloth in his hand so that he could use the clean side to put more pressure on the cut. He could feel the heat radiating off Will’s body, which sent an odd shiver down his spine. 

“Don’t be,” Will said, though the tone of his voice would suggest otherwise. “You’re doing everything right. You should be more sorry about the stitches you’re going to have to put in.”

If he hadn’t been so focused on stopping the bleeding, Nico’s arms would have dropped uselessly to his sides in shock. Instead, he let his jaw do the dropping. “The what I’m going to have to put where? Will, I can’t-“ 

“If I can pull a baby out of a cloud nymph, you can learn how to properly stitch someone up.” Will hissed through gritted teeth. 

“But-”

“I can’t be the only one reattaching limbs at Camp, I need help sometimes so you may as well get practice now.”

“I’m not exactly the best at healing people. Quite the opposite, actually.” 

“I’ll talk you through it,” Will squeezed Nico’s hand, which Nico hadn’t realized he was still holding. “If it were practically anywhere else on my body I would just do it myself, but I got hit in the worst possible spot.”

Nico dropped the bloody cloth and sat back on his heels, dumbfounded. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Will reassured him. “I promise. I trust you.” 

The bold statement made Nico flush, his heart rate increasing even more, though by now he thought that would have been impossible. With his new determination, he opened the small box from Will’s bag. Inside lay a small, curved needle already threaded with a thin black cord, two differently shaped pairs of what looked like fancy tweezers, a small pair of scissors, and a tiny blade Nico hoped he wouldn’t have to use. 

“How do I do this?” Nico steeled himself, swallowing down his doubts. 

Will quickly explained the basic process: Nico would need to use both of the “tweezers” - one of which was actually a needle holder - simultaneously. One would be used to hold the skin in place and the other, as the name suggested, was to push the needle through. Then, he’d have to tie off the thread like a knot and cut off any excess. Rinse and repeat all the way up, until hopefully the cut would be closed well enough to not reopen on the way to get professional care. 

Nico delicately traced his gloved hand across the bottom of the cut, right where he’d need to start stitching. The bleeding had subsided, but Will’s skin was still too warm and bright red. 

He got to work right away. 

The first stitch was the most difficult. Nico had wielded swords as long as he was tall, but the intimidation of putting a tiny, intentional hole in someone was somehow worse. His hands trembled as he pushed the needle through one side, out the other, and knotted the thread tight. 

“Does that hurt?” Nico asked timidly. 

Will hesitated before answering: “Not as much as getting myself slashed open in the first place.” 

Glad to see he still had a sense of humor, despite it all. 

Nico continued his diligent work, taking about a minute to complete each tiny stitch. He’d probably need to do about 20 more to get the wound closed entirely. 

“This...reminds me,” Will said, his voice sounding far-away and dreamy. Whether it was blissful reminiscing or exhaustion, it was difficult to tell. “Of Manhattan. And Annabeth.”

“What about Annabeth?” 

Will was rambling now, taking his mind off the pain in the only way he could. “She was hit in the same place. Protecting Percy. During the battle against Kronos. I was the one who healed her back then. We were all looking for my brother Michael when Percy dragged me out of the search party and said he needed a healer. He was really freaked out, it was kind of scary to be honest. I’m pretty sure that was the first time anyone outside of my own cabin even acknowledged my existence,” Will took a deep breath, and after a heavy pause, he muttered, “I was made head counselor as soon as the battle was over.”

With all the losses they’d faced over the last few years, it was sadly almost too easy for Nico to forget that Will had lost at least four of his siblings during the Battle of Manhattan. Everyone coped with trauma and loss differently, but you wouldn’t look at Will Solace and think that he was hurting. Then again, Will’s optimism and willingness to constantly help others may very well have been a way to disguise that hurt. He hadn’t been able to help the people he’d lost. 

Nico had been about to express his condolences when Will asked, “Where were you during all of that?”

“Convincing my dad to let me borrow his dead army,” Nico laughed humorlessly, the memory rushing back to him. “And helping protect Percy’s parents.”

Will’s head tilted. “What were Percy’s parents doing on the battlefield?” 

“Sally Jackson is a powerhouse of a woman and will stop at nothing, not even a Titan. Plus, I felt like I kind of owed it to Percy after...everything I’d done.” 

Will made a humming sound, as if to say that’s fair. Over the past few months, Nico had opened up more about his early years at Camp Half-Blood. Even now, he felt a pang of regret for how he used to behave towards the people who were only trying to help him. Will didn’t know all of the details, of course, but he knew enough to understand. 

“I remember seeing you out there,” Nico continued, his voice a whisper. “We hadn’t even spoken before, but I knew who you were.”

Will responded just as quietly. “I knew you, too.” 

Not in the ‘I’d heard the whispers about the reclusive son of Hades’ way, or the ‘I knew about the boy who had lost his sister’ way. No; he’d said it like a confession. 

“You-,” Nico swallowed hard, “you did?”

“You kind of fascinated me,” Will murmured. “Can you believe it only took me another year to actually speak to you?”

Nico felt his heart jolt in his chest. Why hadn’t he known this before? If he knew any better, he’d think Will was only confessing this now because of his delirium. Or maybe he’d wanted to admit it for a long time. Nico knew exactly how that felt. 

“And you initiated conversation by asking me to touch your hands that had just birthed a baby. Real smooth, Solace. No wonder I liked you so much.” 

With that, Nico tied off the final suture, cut the excess thread, and carefully placed the tools back in the box. 

“I think...I think it’s done?” Nico exhaled, finally letting his hands tremble freely, begging for the pent up anxiety to somehow release through his fingertips. 

Slowly, carefully, Will reached back behind his head with his left arm, tracing his hand across the delicate stitches, checking for error. Nico stared intensely, only just now taking the time to notice the details of his own work. It was nowhere near perfect. Hardly satisfactory, even. His handiwork was messy, uneven. But it would keep the wound from reopening at least until they got back to Camp. 

“Not bad for a trainee,” Will said finally, dropping his hand and turning to face Nico. “Thank you. Really. You know I never would have asked you to do this if-”

“Don’t apologize,” Nico cut him off. “I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I...” 

Nico frowned, his brain finally catching up to the scene in front of him. Without the distractions of the blood and sharp objects, the sight of Will Solace shirtless suddenly brought a rush of warmth to his cheeks. He unconsciously leaned back, all too aware of how close they were sitting, but that undeniable tense energy still radiated between them. Speaking of heartbeats…

“How were you so calm through all of this?” Nico asked. 

“Because I had to be. I always do,” Will shrugged without thinking, then winced from the pain. “All in a day’s work, you know? Someone’s got to step up when there’s an emergency.”

“That someone shouldn’t always have to be you.”

“No. You’re right. It shouldn’t,” Will said softly, his gentle eyes locking with Nico’s. 

It wasn’t meant to be a cruel comment, but Nico felt the weight of the words press down on him. He didn’t have the time to come up with a retort before Will spoke again: “Maybe we both have a thing or two to learn about helping others. Or helping ourselves.” 

Will reached out and took Nico’s hand. 

“You’re still shaking,” Will said. “You don’t have to be nervous, you did a good job.”

Nico felt his face grow hot. He stared down at their intertwined hands, then back up into Will’s eyes. 

“That’s not why I’m nervous,” he said. 

[lemonpeter]

Secrets Kept pt 2

Part 1 here

Sorry for the wait everyone but here it finally is 💕 I hope everyone enjoys (and doesn’t hate me too much :)) 💕

Warnings: manipulation, abuse, noncon elements, blackmail, angst

————

A bitter taste flooded Tony’s mouth as he saw the headline.

‘Stark’s Ex Moved On.’ The heartless caption was paired with a picture. A picture of his Peter with some blond asshole with his arm around Peter’s waist. Definitely cozy. Couldn’t have been the first time they’d done this.

Tony couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same guy that Peter cheated with.

The thought was painful and unwanted, but it stuck in his mind like it was pinned there. It circulated through, latching onto his insecurities and hurt as it went.

He shook his head like that would help it leave. It didn’t.

He sighed softly, looking over the picture one more time like the masochist that he was. Yep. It was still there. Peter was definitely cuddled up to that guy.

Well, good for him.

———

“Come on, I’d rather just stay here,” Peter argued, gently cleaning himself up so that he didn’t have to look at Skip as he talked. “I’m perfectly okay here with May.”

The blond sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe you think you’d rather stay here, but we always have to be so careful here. I’d be able to be gentler and slower and all that if we didn’t always have to rush like we do here.” He quickly got dressed, leaving silence for Peter to think about his proposal.

It wasn’t really true and he knew it, but he didn’t feel like taking Peter kicking and screaming. He could at least try to convince the man to come willingly.

Peter paused, thinking through it as he gently pulled his clothes back on once he was clean. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, he didn’t really want to live with his abuser. But maybe he’d end up with less bruising and overall pain if they didn’t have to be so quick when they got together.

He couldn’t believe that he was actually considering it.

Skip sensed the younger man’s indecision and grinned to himself. “I know, Einstein. Doesn’t that sound better? Going slower, not having to rush things?” He slid his hands over the man’s arms, ignoring the way he shuddered. “Plus we could really be together. Have the whole boyfriend experience.”

It felt like ice water had been dumped through Peter’s veins. “You are not my boyfriend. We’re not together.” He was only Tony’s. He was supposed to be Tony’s forever. He didn’t want anyone else. But especially not Skip.

“Right.” He huffed softly. He gripped Peter’s arms gently, but enough to get the point across. “But I say we are. The tabloids say we are.” Possessive kisses trailed down the younger man’s neck. “And we’ve already determined that you go along with what I say.”

It wasn’t true. At least...Peter didn’t want for it to be true. He didn’t want to go along with anything Skip wanted.

A hard bite to his neck caused him to whimper when he didn’t answer. Skip didn’t like when he didn’t answer. “I know,” he whispered. He hoped that was answer enough.

When he didn’t feel teeth sinking into his flesh again he figured his answer was acceptable.

But then he felt greedy hands pushing up his shirt and feeling over every individual muscle they could find. He’d thought their last round would be the last for the day. But apparently Skip had other plans and was already ready to go again.

Nausea clawed at Peter’s throat but he did nothing to stop the other man, standing still and not helping or stopping in any way. He just wanted it over with. At least it never lasted long.

But suddenly the hands stopped and all weight pulled away from his body.

“I’ll help you start packing,” Skip told him. It was clear that there was no room for argument. Peter was moving again and that was that. He got no say.

“I don’t have any boxes,” he said weakly.

“Then we’ll only take what you need. A bag of clothes, toothbrush, phone charger. Whatever.” The older man waved a hand, effectively brushing him off.

Peter’s stomach clenched. He didn’t want to go with Skip. Everything else was bad enough. But at least he had his own bed to sleep in at night. And he had things around that reminded him of Tony.

He wouldn’t get either of those things anymore.

As he carried his too-small bag of things out to Skip’s car, tears streamed down his face and he had to stop halfway to try and breathe through his choked sobs. He didn’t want to go. Terror shredded his heart as he thought about how much worse things could be if Skip had constant access to him.

The older man gripped his arm when he stopped, yanking him close. “You’re causing a scene,” he hissed. “If anyone saw you, they’d call the cops. And you know what’ll happen if that goes down.”

Peter didn’t want to care. He wanted to just say fuck it and let Tony see the pictures. Hell, let the whole world see the pictures. He didn’t want to care.

But he didn’t want anyone to know how he’d been used. How much he’d been through. How disgusting and dirty he was. Tony wouldn’t want him if he knew. No one would want him if they found out.

So he couldn’t fight.

He put his bag in the car and then went back to May’s to leave a note.

He wanted to beg for help. To tell her where he’d be and to call the police.

But Skip was over his shoulder, watching every word he wrote. So he couldn’t do anything.

He left a simple note. Nothing that would cause his aunt to worry. He’d caused her enough stress during his life and he didn’t want to add any to it.

‘Hey, May. Going to live with Skip for a while. I’ll be sure to visit. I love you.’

His hands shook as he set the note down, vision blurring as his eyes filled with tears again.

————

The last person that May expected to have knocking at her door was Tony Stark.

Well, maybe not the last person. But he was up there.

Her jaw set as soon as she saw him, instantly moving to close the door again. “You’re not welcome here, Stark.”

“I know you don’t like me. I know. And I know I fucked up. But I have to see him, Mrs. Parker. Please.”

The desperation in his voice was something she’d never heard from the man. This was far from the confident, cocky person she usually saw. This man sounded every bit of heartbroken that Peter did.

Although Peter seemed to have moved on a lot quicker.

She sighed as she opened the door, arms crossed. “He isn’t here. So unless you have another reason you’re here, you should be on your way.”

Tony had never been someone she completely approved of. She didn’t believe that he’d changed all that much from being a playboy. But he’d made Peter happy so she tried to push down any bias.

Once he’d broken her nephew’s heart, however, she was okay with being harsher towards him. But the man she was seeing wasn’t the man she disapproved of. So she didn’t know exactly how to react.

Tony’s face fell as she told him that Peter wasn’t there. He’d expected a reunion, a conversation, maybe even Peter coming home.“When will he be back? I can wait.”

“He doesn’t live here anymore.” She sniffed, obviously disapproving of the situation. “Moved in with his new boyfriend a few days ago. No warning, nothing. Just gone.”

“He doesn’t...he doesn’t live here?” It had taken Peter months to be convinced to move in with Tony. Just how long had he known this other guy that he was willing to go so quick?

May shook her head. “That’s what I said. He’s gone. Hasn’t even visited yet. Called yesterday but not for long.” She shook her head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him. I thought he’d finished with the rebellion shit when he finally told me about Spider-Man. But no, had to get with you, had to find this new-“ she cut herself off, sighing.

“You don’t like the new guy?” Tony asked. “Is he the one in the pictures?”

“The pictures...Stark, don’t tell me you’ve been looking at tabloids. You have to be above that. You’ve been in the spotlight how long?”

Tony didn’t look at her. “I haven’t talked to him, I couldn’t help it. It’s all I’ve seen of him in...too long. But you didn’t answer the first question.”

May snorted. “You should just come in and sit down. You look weird just standing in the hallway.”

She ushered him in, sitting on the couch and tucking her legs up beside her as she sat.

Tony sat across from her, fingers feeling at the worn fabric of the couch.

Sitting in May Parker’s apartment felt like home in a way that he couldn’t describe. Because it wasn’t like he’d ever lived anywhere like it.

Maybe it was just because it was where Peter came from. And wherever Peter was was home.

The man had broken his heart. Cheated on Tony for god knows how long and admitted to it. But he was still everything to the man. And he couldn’t help but feel like there was still something he didn’t know. Because Peter wouldn’t just do that.

May started speaking again, pulling Tony from his spiraling thoughts. “To answer your question, no. I don’t like him. He just...god, don’t tell Peter I said this, but honestly he creeps me out.”

“Really? How?” Tony asked curiously, looking at her.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. He’s just weird, constantly watching Peter. It feels like everything he does or says is fake, but he’s a really bad actor. Maybe he just has a weird personality, but I don’t know. He just gives me the creeps.” May shrugged. “But Peter likes him so there’s not much I can do.”

“I guess so,” the man mumbled.

“I didn’t think it would hit you this hard,” May told him. “Since you were the one that kicked him out and all.”

Tony winced. “Of course it hit me hard. Do you even know what happened?” He didn’t mean to snap, but he didn’t like her acting like he was the one that had done wrong. He regretted making Peter leave but obviously it didn’t hurt the other man too much.

The woman stared at him. “Don’t you snap at me. And no, I don’t. All I know is that my nephew came home crying so hard he couldn’t breathe and told me that you had kicked him out and said it was over. I didn’t ask for more because he didn’t give me more. I have the information that matters.”

“No, you don’t.”

Is this really what Tony wanted to do? Ruin Peter’s image to his last living family?

He hated how she was treating him. He hated how she thought that he was the one that had broken Peter’s heart. When Peter was the one who’d fucked everything up.

But he couldn’t do something like that. He couldn’t taint the way that she looked at him. Every time he saw them together she looked at him with such pride. He couldn’t ruin that, even with the truth.

“Then what is so important that you have to yell at me for?” She crossed her arms.

Tony sighed, posture wilting. “Nothing. Just- yeah. Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Maybe you can ask him when you next talk to him. But I’m not- no. I’m not getting involved. That can be between you and him.”

May watched him closely. She wanted to be angry at how he snapped at her. But he looked so broken that she just couldn’t. Instead she held her arms out. “Don’t make this weird. But you really look like you need a hug. So just...come here.”

He almost didn’t. It would have been so odd, hugging his ex boyfriend’s aunt who was easily five years younger than he was.

But it had been too long since someone had looked at him like that. And it had been too long since someone maternal had offered such a thing to him.

So he moved to the couch she was on, letting himself be wrapped in her arms.

She held onto him gently, rubbing his back.

It shocked her when she felt a tear fall onto her shoulder. But she just held him closer. He clearly needed it.

He shook with sobs before long, unable to stop it. The last month without Peter had been so hard and it all hit him at once.

May didn’t comment, just keeping her arms around him and doing her absolute best to soothe the man.

Maybe she didn’t like him all that much. But clearly something in him had changed.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Peter had done to have that effect on him.

————

Peter curled in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. Maybe if he got small enough he would disappear.

Fingers pinched the already-bruising skin on his hip and he straightened out again, face contorting in pain. But he couldn’t make a sound or it would only be worse.

Skip pressed his bare body against Peter’s back, holding onto him.

Anyone else would have called it cuddling but Peter didn’t want to consider it that. Cuddling was gentle and nice and enjoyable. Skip had defiled him and then wanted to act like he’d done something to deserve affection.

It wasn’t cuddling. It was silent time after sex where Peter fantasized about escaping as he tried to ignore the body behind him.

Maybe one day it wouldn’t be only a fantasy.

Because even with the awful situation, as dirty and worthless as he felt, he dared to have the barest hope that he could get out.

And maybe...just maybe Tony would take him back eventually. But that wasn’t even something he dared to dream for yet.

————

The final part, part 3, is coming soon 💕

Tags: @lokitonypeter @nayamasters @puppypeter @softstarkerstuff @notfor-temporaryuse @bittersweetbeneath @nogenderpotato @venomondenim @haysend @awimespo @prettyunki @ikneelbeforemygod @noellemaldonado @jordanparker @preciouspeterbparker @virideer

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 58

Title: Scared.

Warnings: angst, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @ocfairygodmother, @ocappreciation​

Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/80937475

She finds him in the kitchen. Standing in front of the coffee bar in a pair of Under Armour sweats that sit impossibly low on his hips and his hair and the back of his shirt visibly dampened by sweat. She’d been stirred awake by the profound need to vomit; morning sickness hitting her hard and quick and finding her throwing off the comforter and rushing for the washroom. For forty minutes she’d stayed there; on her knees in front of the toilet with her cheek resting on the cold porcelain of the lid. It had taken longer than normal for the nausea to pass; accompanied by profuse sweating and the horrific dizziness. And she’d just begun to return to normal and had been in the process of splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth when she’d heard the front door click open. When he hadn’t come upstairs, she’d gone in search of him, shoving her feet into a pair of slippers and one of his hoodies.

“What are you doing up so early?” Tyler inquires, when she wraps her arms around him from behind. “ Not like you to be up before the kids.”

“Woke up to an empty bed. Thought I’d come down and check on you.” Her hands slid around to his stomach and slip up to his chest; lingering briefly on broad, hard muscle before retreating to his hips once more. She rests her forehead against his back; enjoying his familiar scent -mixed with the slight tinge of perspiration- that clings to the slightly dampened cotton of his t-shirt. “You worked out? Already?”

“And went for a run.”

“Must have been pretty damn early when you got up.”

“Still dark out. Tried to fall back asleep and when that wasn’t happening, decided to get up and start the day. I didn’t want to wake you up; all the tossing and turning I was doing.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Her hands move to his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles as she presses a kiss to the middle of his back. “ You’ve been getting up crazy early every day for a week now. Don’t you think maybe you’re going a little too hard? With the heavy lifting and the running and…”

“My body feels fine. Couple extra aches and pains and some stiffness, but nothing major. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve felt worse, that’s for sure.”

“I just don’t want you pushing it, okay? Don’t go past what your body will let you do. I know sometimes you get really into it and you’re in a zone and it’s really hard to stop, but…”

“Didn’t we talk about this?” He turns to face her; leaning back against the countertop as the coffee brews and the kettle boils. “A week and a bit ago? About me not pushing the limits? I said I’d listen to my body. And I am.”

“I just worry. I know what you can be like; when you really start going hardcore with things. I mean, I get that you feel like you need to be bigger…”

“I WANT to be bigger. I don’t feel I need to be. We talked about this.”

“I know, and I’m just reminding you that your skills and your ability to keep us safe? They are not tied to how big you are. I just want you to realize that, okay? Before you totally start busting your ass because you think one has everything to do with the other. It doesn’t. At all. And I don’t want you forcing yourself to get bigger and hurting yourself and…”

“Esme…” He smooths her hair away from her cheeks; looping wayward strands behind her ears and then cradling her face in her palms. “...I’m fine. I’m just trying to maintain. That’s it. You know how hard that’s been; trying to keep weight and muscle on. Ever since...well, you know.”

“I do know. It’s been a challenge; getting back to where you were and staying that way. And I am totally onboard with that; you maintaining how you are right now. Because it’s the healthiest you’ve been. In years. I just don’t want you feeling that you need to be different. Bigger. I don’t want you thinking I want you to be that way.”

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. I know you don’t give a shit; big, small, muscles, no muscles. I know none of that matters to you.”

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter. It does, in a way. Because I want you to be the healthiest you can be. But I love you ALL ways. Your size means nothing to me.”

A grin plays on his lips. “We’re talking over all size and not below the waist, yeah? Because I seem to recall you saying...many times...how much you enjoy the fact I have a huge…”

“You just HAD to go there. You just had to turn around and make this weird. You damn well know what I was talking about.”

“I make it weird when I start to get uncomfortable. You should know that by now. It’s only been twelve years and…” he consults his watch. “...one month…”

“And thirteen days,” she finishes. “What? I keep track too, you know. You’re not the only sappy one in this house. And why DO you get uncomfortable? Shouldn’t YOU know by now that you don’t have a reason to get like that? That I’m the last person you should be that way with.”

“I do know all that.” Pushing his hands through her hair, he allows the dark, silky stresses to slip between his fingers; palms skimming over her shoulders and down her upper arms before sliding around to the small of her back. “ Just sometimes I can’t help it. Guess it’s just years of being that way with other people. Sometimes the past comes back. No matter how far I feel I’ve gotten away from it. What’s the saying? Old habits die hard?”

“I was thinking more ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” she teases, then gives a yelp when he brings his palms down on her ass cheeks in a ringing slap. “You know, that shorter hair? How blond it looks? Totally hides all your gray. My old man doesn’t look so old anymore.”

“Fuck you, Esme.”

“I wish you would actually. The one morning I wake up really wanting it? You’re nowhere around. Sadly, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“You didn’t.”

“I so did. I’m sorry, husband. I didn’t have a choice. You have no idea just how badly I wanted it. And when I woke up and you weren’t there…”

“You’re kidding me right now. You’re not being serious.”

“One hundred percent serious.” She gives a dramatic pout. “Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to be! Some things can’t wait. A pregnant woman’s hormones? They can’t wait. Sorry.”

“You’re bullshitting me right now.”

“There’s two things I for sure never lie about. Sex and orgasms. And seeing as you couldn’t give me the sex…”

“I could have given it to you when I got home. But you couldn’t wait, so…”

“I think you’re underestimating just how bad my hormones are right now. I know it’s been a while, but do you remember how bad things got? During my first trimester with Brookie and Takota?”

“Just with them? You were brutal with all of them. And with them and Millie, I couldn’t really do much about it because Dhaka kicked the ever loving shit out of me. Twice.”

“You held your own. You found ways. But let’s put it this way; combine all my pregnancies together and that’s pretty much how out of control my hormones are.”

A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Really? ‘Cause when you’re not pregnant, you’re pretty out there with how much you need and want. I’m older now. I don’t know if I can keep up with pregnant lady hormones.”

“Why do you think I have a whole drawer of sex toys? Take some of the strain and pressure off you.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

She remains stone faced for several seconds, then bursts into giggles when he scowls and attempts to step away. “I’m kidding! I’m totally kidding, babe. Totally. No!” She wraps both arms around his torso when he tries to side step her. “You’re not going anywhere! I was joking! I didn’t mean to insult you. Or your penis.”

“You hurt it’s feelings.”

“Want me to apologize to it?”

“Do you want to apologize to it?”

“Would it offend your penis even further if I said ‘not right because I’d probably puke all over it’?”

“He acknowledges that as a perfectly acceptable reason. But he also says once you’re feeling better…”

“Once it passes, I promise I’ll be very nice to him. But right now? Right now I need the penis owner to hug me.”

“I don’t know…” he chides, and wraps both arms around her much smaller, slighter frame. “...I guess I could do that.”

“You DO love me.” She perches herself on the top of his feet and curls her arms around his neck. “Although the way I’m feeling? It doesn’t feel like love.”

A palm moves to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest. “I take it you really didn’t wake up horny?”

“No. I didn’t. I woke up to puke. A lot.”

“I’m sorry, Me. That you’re feeling like shit. And for being the reason you ARE feeling that way.”

“You should be sorry. You and your penis and your talented sperm. And your stupid handsome face and your stupid blue eyes and your stupid voice. All the stupid things I can’t say no to.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

“Both,” she admits, and then giggles against him when his hand slips from the small of her back and travels down to gently squeeze an ass cheek. “I’ve never been able to say ‘no’ to you. It’s a blessing AND a curse, I swear.”

“Well, for what it’s worth…” he drops a kiss on the top of her head, then crooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face up towards him. “...I’m sorry you’re feeling like shit. And that it’s my fault you are.”

“Technically, it’s both our faults. I can’t hold you solely responsible. And I guess it’s a small price to pay; for bringing beautiful little humans into the world. If you ask me, we’re doing society a favour by sharing our genes. We make really cute kids.”

“I can’t argue with that. But is it really a surprise? We’re not exactly hideous.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the looker in the family.”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing when you’re looking in the mirror, because when I look at you? Hideous does not come to me. You are definitely the hot one.”

“I think you underestimate just how good looking you actually are.”

“I think you overestimate how ugly you are. Wait….that did NOT sound right.”

“No, it didn’t,” Esme laughs. “But I know what you were trying to say. I think.”

“Let’s just agree that we make awesome looking kids and that it’s scientifically impossible for us to have ugly ones.”

“I can definitely agree to that.”

“And I am sorry.” Once more cradling her face in his hands, he presses a soft, brief to her lips, followed by one to her forehead. “That you’re feeling like crap. Any better now?”

“A little. I don’t feel like I should be taking up permanent residence in front of the toilet. And I meant what I said; about not caring about what you look like. And how your size has no correlation with the skills you have and the things you can do. You do know that, right?”

“I’m trying. To force myself to realize that.”

“Just be careful,” Esme pleads, as she runs her fingernails along his forearms as his hands linger against her cheeks. “Don’t over do. I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’m not nagging. I’m just worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assures her, and kisses her a final time. Much deeper and longer; fingers locking together at the base of her neck as she stands on her tiptoes and leans her body into his. “I’m fine,” he promises, and pecks the end of her nose. “If I feel like I’m pushing things, I’ll stop. I’ll even give you permission to give me a kick in the ass if you think I’m going too hard. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin before retreating to the island and sliding onto one of the barstools.

“I’ll make you some of that tea. Maybe that’ll help. Think you can handle eating something?”

“Maybe. What are you going to make me in my delicate condition?” Reaching for the Ipad that sits on the countertop, she slides it towards her; pressing the home button to bring the screen to life and immediately checking her email.

“I’m not a rookie. I know what you can and can’t handle.”

“We’re not talking about sex, Tyler. We’re talking about feeding a horrifically nauseous pregnant woman.”

Grinning, he places a steaming mug of tea down in front of her and then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you say my mind is always in the gutter.”

“We don’t have seven kids and one on the way for no reason. Save to say your mind isn’t the only dirty thing you possess. Anything interesting happen while you were on your run? Anything exciting?”

“If you’re asking if I saw Mark, no, I didn’t. And it’s probably a good thing because I definitely would have killed him.”

“Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m glad you didn’t see him either. Last thing I need is you in jail for the rest of your natural born life. I don’t quite feel comfortable bringing my children into that kind of environment.”

“You could always come visit me alone,” he chides, and drops a mixture of crackers onto a plate. “You know, for conjugal visits.”

“How romantic. Getting railed with a guard right outside the door. What’s more of a violation of privacy? What ruins the mood more? That or knowing one of your seven children could come running in any second?”

“For the record…” he opens the fridge and pulls out a block of marble cheese and a bag of grapes. “...my mood is never ruined.”

“That’s because when you’re in the sex zone, everything else ceases to exist. You practically forget you even have kids.”

“My dick forgets I have kids. He’s running the show. I don’t get a say in it. My brain shuts down. I just go along for the ride. And boy, can give you an awesome ride.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes the ipad away and reaches for her mug; clasping it in both hands and blowing a stream of steady air onto it hopes of cooling it down. She watches him as she sips cautiously at her drink; noticing the way the muscles in his arms twist and bugle with even the simplest of movements. The veins more pronounced and the sleeves of his tee -once fitting with room to spare- now tight around his biceps and through the chest and shoulders. Within the past two weeks alone he’s stepped up the frequency and intensity of his workouts; no rest days and the weights much heavier and two hours in the gym now partnered with an hour run along the river. And while she admires not only the view and his consistency and commitment, it also worries her; the fallacy that his skills and his ability to protect his family are directly tied into his size. Mark’s appearance has only fed into things; turning Tyler’s need to be bigger and stronger into near obsession.

“You know…” she carefully broaches the topic once again. “....you’re built exactly like you were when we first met. And that was a good look. A VERY good look.”

“I put on that five pounds, And more. Nine in total. Doesn’t sound like much, but…” he slides the plate of food in front of her. A mixture of various crackers and cheeses and a handful of grapes; the lone breakfast she could tolerate and stomach during the beginnings of all her pregnancies. Until medication became the only thing that helped with keeping any water and liquid down. “...it’ll take a lot to maintain it.”

“Just have to keep eating like you have been,” she says, and selects a piece of cheese from the plate, nibbling at it as he moves to the coffee bar and begins preparing a mug. “You’re up to what? Five meals a day? High calorie, high protein?”

“Probably go up to seven soon. Maybe add in a few smoothies throughout the day.”

“That’s a lot, don’t you think? That’s what you were during back in Colorado; after we got back together. And you went into that whole lumberjack stage.”

“For the record, you called it that. Not me. And you didn’t complain about it at the time. You said you liked that look; me being thicker.”

“I did. I DID like it. It was a change. But things are different now.. YOU’RE different. You’ve been through a lot since then. Your BODY’S been through a lot. Not to mention you’re older. That was a long time ago. Millie wasn’t even in school full time yet.”

“So because I’m older it means I have to just let myself go? Get fat and out of shape? A dad bod? You should know that’s not me; I’m not the type to just around on my ass and not do anything. I’ve always kept in shape. Even when I was a fucking mess and living in that shack.”

“I know it’s important to you; keeping in shape and being healthy. And I’d never stop you from doing it and I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t stay with it. . I just…” she drums her fingernails against the countertop. “...it sounds like you’re going into a bulk.”

“Maybe a little bit of one,” he says with a shrug, and slides into the stool across from her; coffee mug raised to his lips as he regards her. “Why? Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s not a problem. It’s just…” Sighing, she takes a bite out of one of the crackers. “...I am trying so hard here. To navigate this as carefully as possible. Because I don’t want you thinking I’m nagging or attacking or…”

“Just say what you want to say. What are you worried about? I’m not going to lose my shit. We can have a conversation without that happening, can’t we??

“Usually. Eight times out of ten.”

“Just say what you want to say, Me. I won’t get pissed. Just say it.”

“I’m worried about you. I’m worried that Mark showing up is somehow putting it into your head that you need to be different. That you need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I do need to be stronger.”

“You’re already strong. More muscles does not equal strength. You know that better than anyone. You’re the gym lover, right? You know more about this stuff than I do. Muscle mass does not equal physical power. Look how strong you were in Dhaka. The first time around. You were built EXACTLY like you are now. Look at the things you were able to do. Especially in that apartment. You were there all by yourself and you had to take down all those guys on your own.”

“I was armed.”

“Until you weren’t. Then you had to rely on your physicality, right? You didn’t have a choice. You had to trust in your skills and the strength you had. And it worked out really well, don’t you think? You got rid of all of them and got Ovi out of there.”

“That was all skill, Esme. Not strength.”

“It was a mix of BOTH. You were strong, Tyler. You were insanely strong. I saw what you were capable of. And you were built exactly the same way you are now. So if you didn’t need to be bigger and bulkier then…”

“I was also younger than. Almost thirteen years younger.”

“And at the risk of pissing you off, you were also an alcoholic and addicted to Oxy-Contin. Wouldn’t those have hampered you? Made you even a little bit weaker? You’re clean and sober now. That’s all out of your system. So if you’re just as big now as you were then and you don’t have addiction issues now….”

“I’m almost fifty fucking years old. You really think I’d stand a chance in that apartment now?”

“Yeah. I do. I do think you’d stand a chance. Probably even a better chance now. Because your mind isn’t all fucked up on booze and pain meds.”

“No it’s just fucked up in other ways.”

“That has nothing to do with this. You had PTSD then, you just didn’t realize it. Or maybe you did and you were just ignoring it and self medicating yourself. Numbing everything. Tyler, you already had the problems you do now. They were already there, babe. It just took a lot of extra fucking trauma to bring them out. Do you really think you didn’t have PTSD already?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ve always had it. You’ve had it since you were a kid. Just no one ever gave a shit to get you help for it. And then Austin got sick and…”

“We’re not talking about that. We’re not talking about him.”

“I’m just saying other things happened. And they kept piling up and piling up and it took that fucking prick Nathan to really bring everything out. Those things were always there. It just took something to bring them to the surface.”

“Yeah, it only took getting shot in the back and getting fucking tortured. Hell of a price to pay, don’t you think? To make everything come out? Some fucking psycho slicing my face open and sticking his fingers in the bullet hole in my back. Threatening to rape my wife and my little girl and kill my entire family.”

She frowns. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned that before. Threatening to…”

“I remember, Esme. I remember what happened in that storage locker. Everything he did, everything he said. Everything he told me he’d do to you and the kids.”

“When did this happen? When did you start remembering all that?”

“Couple months ago.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you say something? Why would you keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want you to know. The details. I figured it was just better to keep it to myself. What good does it do? You knowing that stuff? Why should we both be fucked up because of him?”

“What? You think I wasn’t already fucked up? You think seeing you that way didn’t screw me up? I was the one that was there. In the hospital. I was the one that was there when you got out of surgery and I was the one that got you the help you needed and busted my ass to get you sent back home where you’d be more comfortable and you’d heal quicker. That was all me. You don’t think that didn’t fuck me up?”

“I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry…”

“No,” she holds her hand up in a plea for silence. “ I don’t want you to be sorry because you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault Nathan was a total fucking sociopath. But I WAS there, Tyler. I was going through it with you. Who HAS been going through it with you. And you should have told me. That you were remembering. You owed me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Esme.”

“Really? So everything I did and everything I went through and all the times I fought for you meant absolutely nothing? Is that what you’re saying? That that meant fuck all to you?”

“I never said that. That’s NOT what I’m saying.”

“It’s been twelve years and in some ways you’ve changed, and in some ways you’re still the same. One day you’re a totally different person and the next you’re right back to who you were. When we first met. You go right back to being that guy that put all those walls up to keep everyone out. It’s like two steps forward and a whole bunch of steps back. Why? Why do you do this? Why do you go back to being HIM?”

“Because that’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. You’ve just been so caught up trying to make me something I wasn’t to make yourself feel better. Had to change me right? So you could live with yourself for making the decisions you did when it came to me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I didn’t change you. You wanted to change. I didn’t force you. I didn’t demand that you change for me. I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you become a family man. I didn’t…”

“You were pregnant with my kid. What did you want me to do? Let you walk away? Take my kid with you? Did you really think I’d let you do that?”’

“Holy fuck,” she scoffs, and pushes the mug away with enough force for tea to splash over the rim. “So this is what it took, huh? Almost thirteen years for you to finally tell the fucking truth. I asked you. After Dhaka. I asked you if it was what you wanted. If I was what you wanted. And you were so fucking convincing. I bought it. When you said it was. I actually fell for it. And in the end it WAS all just a bunch of bullshit.”

“No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t bullshit. I wanted you to stay. I wanted a life with you.”

“Because I was pregnant. Because you felt it was the right thing to do. Because you were trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped. And it wasn’t because you were pregnant. I wanted you to stay BEFORE that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why did you wait? Until I told you about Millie. Until I said I’d leave and never bother you again? Why didn’t you before that if I was what you wanted?”

“Because I almost fucking died and I was trying to heal and I was fucked up. I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind. And maybe I was scared. Because I was feeling all the things for you. Because I’d just met you and suddenly I’m feeling shit that I’ve never felt for anyone in my entire fucking life. I went from wanting to kill myself to having something...someone...to live for. I’m sorry if I was a little fucking overwhelmed.”

“You? You were overwhelmed? I put my ass on the line on that bridge and stuck my fingers in your fucking neck! I stayed there! I stuck around and did everything I could to keep you alive! You were overwhelmed?”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have just got your ass on the helicopter and left. Like everyone else did.”

“Yeah…” she slides off the stool, and angrily shoves it against the island. “...maybe I should have. Considering you just spent the last twelve years building a life based on a FUCKING LIE!”

“That’s not what I did. That’s not true. That’s not…” he captures her by the wrist when she attempts to stomp away, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. “...where are you going?”

“I need to be away from you. I can’t be here. In this room. With you.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t walk away. If you walk away...”

“Let go of me,” she orders, and struggles in vain to yank her hand out of his grasp. “Let go. Now.”

“I’m not letting you walk away. Not until you listen to me. Not until you…”

“I’m done listening to you. You’ve said enough, don’t you think? What do you want to do? Hurt me some more? I don’t think that’s even possible. Because what you just did….what you just said...what you just admitted to…”

“I never lied to you. Ever. Not about us. Not about you.”

“You just did! You just told me that the only reason you even had me stick around was because I was pregnant. Because you felt obligated to keep me around. Because you felt some sense of duty.”

“I never said that. That is NOT what I said.”

“I asked you!” She manages to yank her hand free, and instead of fleeing the room decides to confront him. Standing between his splayed thighs and jamming her finger into his chest as tears coarse down her face. “I asked you so many times in the past twelve years! I asked you to tell me the truth; I asked you to tell me if you only wanted me to stay because I was having Millie. How many times have I asked you that? Tell me.”

“A lot.”

“Every time you said ‘no’. You said that you asked me because you loved me and you wanted a life with me. You wanted us to be together and have a family.”

“And that’s exactly why! That’s exactly why I asked you to stay.”

“It was a fucking lie, Tyler! You said I wanted to hear. What you knew would keep me there. You never meant a fucking word of it. It was all a lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of that was a lie. It’s the truth. I never lied to you, Esme. Not about that. NEVER about that.”

“You just told me! You just said ‘you were pregnant with my kid, what did you want me to do?’. Those words just came out of your mouth!”

“But I didn’t mean them. I just lashed out. All I heard was you say that I haven’t changed and I was still the same and I lost it. I snapped. And unfortunately that’s what came out. But it wasn’t the truth. Everything I said to you back then….about wanting to be with you and wanting a life with you and wanting a family...THAT was the truth.”

“Twelve years. Twelve years and seven kids. And it was all built on a fucking lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of it was a lie. You? Us? None of that is a lie. Stop…” He once more grabs her in an attempt to keep her from leaving; fingers curling around her bicep. “...I’m not letting you walk away. Just stop.”

“Leave me alone,” she pleads. “Please. Just leave me alone. Just let me go. You need to let me go, Tyler.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“You have to. You have to let me go..”

“Esme….”

“Please,” she begs, and tries to peel his fingers away from her arm. “Please just let me go.”

He finally relents; releasing his hold on her and holding his hands up in a show of surrender. Struggling to hold back a flood of tears of his own as he watches her flee the room; heart breaking just a little bit more with every step that takes her further away from him.

******

Tyler gives her a chance to cool down. Nursing his coffee while counting down the minutes on the digital clock on the stove; time passing agonizingly slow as he fights the urge to rush upstairs and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Then drop to his knees and grovel for forgiveness. He calls Desi and asks him to come and take the kids for a couple of hours; giving very little details but letting the uncharastically frantic tone of his voice do all the talking for him. And when he finally lets himself into the master, he finds her standing at the side of their unmade bed; an open suitcase and a pile of messy clothes sitting in the midst of the rumbled and tangled sheets.

He closes the door behind him, then cautiously approaches. Resisting the urge to stand behind her and place his hands on her shoulders and instead retreated to the dresser; leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest and fear quickly spreading through his entire body. “What are you doing?”

Esme doesn’t look up from the task at hand. “Packing.”

“I thought you were going to leave that stuff until the night before we leave. We’ve still got four more days.”

“You’ve still got four more days. I’m leaving. Today.”

His top teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip; biting back a ‘like fuck you are’ and instead offering, “Where are you going?”

“Home. There’s seats on a flight that leaves in four hours. I’ll call Andy on the way to JFK; see if he can pick me up at the airport.”

“Andy left Australia about three hours ago. He’s flying in for the wedding, remember? Your son’s wedding.”

“Then I’ll take a cab. Or I’ll call Estelle. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

His palms rub at his forearms, attempting to fend off the chill of dread that travels through him. “It’s kind of hard not to. You’re my wife. You’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Just let me worry about that, okay? It’s kinda my body. Not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed mean?”

“It means it’s my body. I’m the one carrying this baby. Not you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it as in make sure it’s okay or take care of it as in…”

She angrily tosses a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I would NEVER do that to you. You think that little of me? That I would do something like that?”

“No. Of course not. I just…”

“Where’s the kids?”

“Desi came and got them. Took them out for breakfast.”

“How’d you convince him to do that?”

“I told him that some shit was going down and I needed to take care of it. That I needed to bust my ass and make things right.”

“I’m surprised you were so honest. What happened? Use up all your bullshit over the past twelve years? Had nothing left to give? Must have been tiring; keeping the lie up all this time.”

“Esme, stop. I never lied to you. Not about you. Not about us. Not about our life. I’ve never lied about any of that.”

“Our whole marriage has been a lie! Every year, every month, every week, every day. Even every fucking hour.”

“You can’t tell me you actually believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s kind of hard to trust anything you hear after you’ve found out your entire life...or a huge part of it...has been nothing but bullshit..”

“None of it was bullshit. I didn’t mean what I said. Downstairs. I didn’t mean….”

She finally turns to face him; hands clutching a t-shirt. “Was any of it true? Any of the last twelve years?”

“It was all true. Every day. All of it. It was all true, Me.”

Giving a derisive snort, she tosses the garment into the suitcase. “Don’t call me that. Things were good when you started calling me that. Things were great, actually. And I loved it; that you had this little nickname for me. Don’t ruin it, okay? At least give me one thing to hold onto.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You got seven beautiful children out of your lie, Tyler. At least something good came out of it.”

“Okay, you know what…” He finally approaches the bed, snatching the sweater out of her hands and dropping it into the suitcase; picking the latter up and angrily tossing it into the corner of the room. He’s desperate. Frantic. Needing to make that last ditch attempt to keep everything together. He won’t survive if things fall apart; at least not mentally. Losing her means he loses his entire world; the person who taught him what love TRULY is. It’s patience and it’s acceptance and it’s sacrifice and it’s sometimes painful as hell. And it tears him up inside; the thought of his world without his entire world in it. “...you’re going to listen to me. Whether you want to or not. Because I need you to hear what I’m saying. Esme…” he lays his hands on her shoulders, squeezing as hard as her body will allow him to. “Look at me. Please look at me.”

She shakes her head; chin remaining dropped to her chest.

“Please,” he begs, as his hands move to her cheeks; palms cradling her face and fingers pressing into the delicate skin as he tilts her head up towards him. “Just look at me. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He’s never heard her voice like that before; tiny and broken and lost. The hurt that he’s dealt her has struck extremely deep; the devastation and the heartbreak profound and reaching right into her very soul. Not even in the worst of times had he seen her like this; when she’d kicked him out and they’d spent six months walking on pins and needles around each other while desperately wanting to fix things and not knowing where - or how- to begin. She’s cried many times in front of him; tears of joy and anger and frustration and fear and horrendous grief. And he’s always been able to comfort her and ease some of the pain; his arms able to give her the solace and the escape that she both craved and needed. But it’s far beyond that; no lingering embrace or stroking of hair or whisperings of love will do the trick this time. It’s him that’s caused this; the shimmer of tears in her eyes and the trembling of her body and the look of pure devastation and loss that registers on her face.

“I don’t know either,” he admits. “And I don’t even know what to say. I just know I need you to listen to me. To whatever I DO say. Can you do that? I need you to do that. Please, Esme. Just listen, okay?”

She offers a feeble nod.

“I love you. I have always loved you.”

“No. Don’t you say that. Don’t make it worse. Don’t screw things up even more by keeping up the lie. If there was ever a time for you to be honest with me…”

“I AM being honest with you. I have never...EVER...lied about this. About you. About us. About our life.”

“I asked you, Tyler. More than once. Even after you brought up getting married. I asked you if it was because you actually did want me, or if you felt obligated to be with me. Because of Millie. I ASKED you.”

“And I told you the truth. I didn’t want to get married because of the baby. If there’d never been a baby...had you not gotten pregnant...I STILL would have wanted to be with you. I wanted to get married because I loved you. In a way I’d never loved anyone. That I didn’t even think was possible.”

“So you’re saying Millie had nothing to do with it? The fact I was having your daughter?"

“I mean, yeah, she did. In a way. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted it to be you and me and our kid. Because I knew we could make something of it. Don’t you think it was some kind of sign? If Dhaka couldn’t kill us, maybe things were meant to work out.”

“So if I hadn’t been pregnant…”

“I would have still wanted to marry you. I didn’t ask you to come to Australia because of Millie. I asked you because I didn’t want to lose you. I’d just found you. I wasn’t going to just let you walk away like nothing ever happened.”

“I gave up everything for you,” she snarls. “My entire life as I knew it. I gave it all up. And for what? For you to lie to me for twelve years? To base our entire life together on bullshit?”

“That’s not what I did. I didn’t lie to you. Our life hasn’t been bullshit. What I said downstairs? I didn’t mean it. THAT was bullshit.”

“Then why did you say it? If you didn’t mean it…”

“Because I lashed out. Like I’ve always done. Because all I heard was how I’m still the same person. I’m still the guy I was when we first met. The enormous alcoholic, drug addicted fuck up.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re that person at all. You haven’t been him in a long time. I didn’t mean…”

“You think what I said hurt you? How do you think that made me feel? I have busted my ass to give you a life. A GOOD life. I changed everything about myself. For you. And yeah, I needed to change; I needed to get my shit together and clean myself up. For once and for all. No more slip ups, no more going back to bad habits, no more running. And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past five years! I have done whatever I could to be the man you needed. That you DESERVE.”

“You are that man. I didn’t mean to say you’re not. That’s not what I meant; that you’re the same guy you were.”

“But that’s what I heard. You weren’t the only to give things up, Esme. You’re not the only one who had to adjust to a whole new life. I know the way I was living was pretty shit, but that’s all I knew. The job, the booze, the pills, hating myself, wallowing in my own fucking self pity. Do you think it was easy for me to just stop being that way? To just give up everything I knew for something else? Something totally different?”

“No. I know it wasn’t easy. I was there. With you. We went through all of it together. We helped each other adjust. I mean, we started living together and we barely knew one another. We were having a baby yet we were still learning about each other and trying to make a life together.”

“And that was pretty fucking scary wasn’t it. Jumping into all that and not even really knowing one another.”

She nods in agreement.

“ Everything said it shouldn’t work. That it WOULDN’T work. We were both pretty messed up. Some ways it was the same, some it was different. All the cards were stacked against us. All of them. And we somehow made it...US...work.”

“We had to put the effort in,” she reasons.

“And it was hard, wasn’t it. Nothing was easy about it. We pissed each other off, we disagreed on a lot of things, we had to get used to living with another person. It was damn hard. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She finally reaches out to touch him; running her fingertips along the neckline of his t-shirt; intently focused on a single loose thread in an effort to keep her emotions in check. And he immediately feels the change in the room; the pronounced shift from having to beg and plead to save his life to having to do damage control. The tension in her body releasing; shoulders relaxed and the tears in her eyes not as prominent and the way she finds it easier to look at him.

“Do you really think if I was lying that I would have put that much work into things? That I would have given everything up for you? For US? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have run? Like I’d run from everything else before?”

“I never thought of it that way,” she admits.

“You came into my life and turned my whole world upside down. Second I saw you on my porch, I knew that was it. That things were going to change and that there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to stop it from happening. And you know what? I didn’t want to. Stop it. And that alone? That should have been enough to send me running.”

“Why didn’t it? Why didn’t you run?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“It would have been so easy. All you would have had to do was tell Nik you’d take the job and then not even show up. Although, I guess that would have made no sense; you would have lost out on a pretty big pay day.”

“Honestly, the money wasn’t even the first thing on my mind. It was there, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Which is weird, considering that’s all that job ever really meant to me. The pay out.”

“So why did you show up? If the money wasn’t the most important thing…”

“I wanted to see you again. I guess I wasn’t that annoyed about it after all; Nik bringing someone there.”

She manages a small smile.

“You were different. You didn’t give a shit about where I lived or what it looked like. You didn’t seem to care about the booze all over the place and the pain meds right out in the open. You didn’t seem to notice I was huge fucking mess.”

“You weren’t a mess. You were hurt. You were holding onto a lot of things. A lot of pain. I could see it; in your eyes. I’ve always said that; you say more with your eyes than you do with your mouth. I knew it when you looked at me; when we were talking after Nik went outside. I knew that people didn’t really know you. That they didn’t really ‘see’ you. That they never took the chance or the time to.”

“You did. You took the chance.”

“I guess I realized you were different too. From everyone that I’d met while on the job. You weren’t like the rest of them. You weren’t loud and obnoxious and bragging about your kills the second I met you. I couldn’t handle it; guys proud of all the lives they’ve taken and not shy about sharing the gruesome details. They GLOATED about that stuff. And the worst part? They thought I’d be impressed by it. That I’d somehow find it attractive and throw myself at their feet.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring out my kill sheet right after I met you,” he chides.

“You’ve never been like that. You’ve never taken pride in what you’ve had to do. You’ve never killed because you wanted to. You killed because you had to. I guess I got that impression right away; you were quiet and soft spoken and like I said, your eyes. They gave a lot away. About who you really were.”

“And that didn’t scare you?”

“There was nothing to be scared of. You may have had your demons, but you were pretty good at keeping them contained. I knew they weren’t something I had to be worried about. You weren’t going to hurt me. You didn’t have it in you.”

“And you could tell all that just by my eyes?”

She shrugs. “You have very expressive eyes. Why did you show up, Tyler? In Fitzroy Crossing. If it wasn’t really the money…”

“Like I said, I wanted to see you again. Girls like you just show up on my doorstep. Figured that was a sign; someone like you just walking into my place like you owned it. And when you didn’t pay attention to the disaster it or I was…”

“You weren’t a disaster. If you were, I never would have gone along with Nik’s plan. I would have ran long before you did, believe me. Had it been anyone else? Any other merc? I wouldn’t have taken that job. You were different, Tyler. In a lot of ways. And especially didn’t hurt that you looked like you did.”

“You would have been really disappointed if Gaspar had still been in the game. Nik called him first.”

“I for sure would have ran. That...HIM...that would have been a ‘no’ from me. I guess I’m lucky. That you even came home that day.”

“I actually briefly considered killing myself. About half an hour before. Something told me not to.”

“I’m glad. That it did. Because if it hadn't…” she looks away, tears once again brimming in her eyes. “...we wouldn’t have any of this. This life, Our kids. Us. We wouldn’t even have existed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we do.”

Smiling, he loops strands of hair behind her ear. “So am I.”

She turns her tear filled eyes back towards him. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I never meant to hurt you. When I said what I did, about you going back to who you were, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I didn’t mean to say you WERE him. I just mean that you always go back to certain things. Like hiding stuff from me. Because you think you should protect me from it.”

“I should have told you. About Nathan. Remembering the things that happened. I don’t know why I do; revert back to keeping things from you. I guess I am trying to protect you. I guess I figured one of us was already fucked up because of what happened, why should the other one be?”

“But it’s not protecting me. When you hide stuff. It does this. It causes problems. Way more problems than what would exist if you just told me. After everything I’ve been through in the past twelve years, there’s pretty much nothing I CAN’T handle. And I was there too. Five years ago. The aftermath of it. I was the one there with you. And believe me, I’m just as fucked up as you are. Seeing you like that? Seeing you in Dhaka seven years BEFORE that? You have no idea what it’s done to me. The things that are STILL in my head. I can’t get them out of there. And I need them gone. I need them out.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into his embrace. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist and her fingers tangled in her hair as she buries her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry. That you had to see what you did. That you had to do those things.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sobs. “It’s never been your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have stopped what happened. I chose to stay. I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. I couldn’t. I wasn’t leaving you on that bridge.

He attempts to gently shush her; palm moving to the middle of her back to rub in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. Everything’s alright now. YOU’RE alright.”

She turns her face up towards him, tears spilling down her cheeks as her entire body violently trembles. Voice terrified and frantic. “I’m not alright. At all. I am so far alright. And I need to be. I need to be alright.”

“You will be,” he assures her, and uses gentle fingertips to clear away the droplets glistening on her skin. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be okay. Right now, I need you to calm down. I need you to calm down and just breathe.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes you can. And you need to. For that baby. You need to settle down and breathe and…”

“I need help. I need help, Tyler. I need to get rid of this. This Dhaka stuff. In my head. I want it gone. You need to help me. Please help me.”

“I will. You know I will. As soon as we get home, I’ll call Doctor Klein and I’ll get you to see him, okay?”

She nods.

“It’s going to be okay. YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“I can’t breathe. I can’t…”

“You need to calm down. You’re thisclose to a panic attack and you need to settle down. Just breathe.”

“I CAN’T! I can’t breathe. It hurts...my chest…”

Muttering a string of profanities, he forces her to sit on the edge of the bed and then clasps her face in his hands. “Listen to me, you’re having a panic attack. I need to try and breathe, baby. Just breathe. I’m going to get you some meds, okay? You’ll be alright.”

“It really hurts...I can’t...take a breath.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He presses a kiss to her sweat slicked brow. “I’ll be right back. Just close your eyes and try to breathe. Can you do that?”

She nods.

Hurrying into the ensuite bath, he tosses open the medicine cabinet and begins violently rummaging through the contents. Various items tumbling off shelves and landing with a clatter in the sink; his own hands trembling and his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. The blame and the guilt already screaming in his ears; silently berating himself for being the cause of not only her pain and her anger, but kick starting her ‘fight or flight’ response. Had he never said the things he had...had he never lashed out and even insinuated that he’d kept her around solely because she’d been pregnant with Millie...if he’d only…

He clutches the edge of the sink with enough force to crack his knuckles and turn his fingers white. And he drops his chin to his chest and briefly closes his eyes; forcing himself to push all of his own fears and worries and guilt and regret out of his mind. Needing to hold it together for her; be the shoulder to cry and the steadfast support and ‘the rock’ that she needs him to be. And when the sobbing and the gasping for air in the next room becomes even louder and incessant, he locates the bottle of anti-anxiety meds and asthma inhaler -prescribed to her for such events- and rushes back into the bedroom.

“It’s alright now,” he attempts to comfort her, and drops to a knee in front of her and shakes the inhaler before popping the cap off. “Here….take this...take it…”

Her hand covers his as he holds the device to her lips and she inhales shakily when he administers the dose.

“You need to take some meds, okay?” His hands tremble as he fights to open the bottle. “Just a couple. They’ll help. They work quick.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, you're having an anxiety attack. You’ll be okay. Just…”

“No!” she interjects, and when she grabs his arm it’s with enough force that her nails cut into his flesh. “Something’s wrong. With the baby.”

The invisible vice tightens around his lungs. “What?”

“Something’s wrong, Tyler.” Her face contorts with pain, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “Something’s really wrong. With the baby.”

“Okay we’ll get you to the hospital and we’ll get you checked out. We’ll get you looked and the baby looked at…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence; both of her palms now covering her stomach as she cries out in agony.

[pinkjeanist]

“the luckiest.” || shouta aizawa

     ⇥ It took you three tries to tell Shouta you were pregnant. [1.6k words - f!reader]

a/n: this song makes me sob. catch it playing at my wedding. [navigation]

“You said you’ve been experiencing fatigue, nausea, and vomiting...do you know when your last period was?” 

“Uh…” You pulled out your phone to check your health app for the date, even though you knew well enough that you were long overdue. “Over a month ago, by a couple weeks.”

“Is there any possibility you could be pregnant?”

You’d known the question was coming. You were asked about it at almost every visit to the doctor’s, and the answer was always “yes,” but that answer seemed a little too close for comfort, now. After reading article after article online about what your symptoms could mean, just hearing Recovery Girl ask the question cemented the conclusion you’d now come to in your mind.

Your hand gripped the arm of the chair. “Yes.”

She looked over her visor at you, pausing in her typing. “You seem especially worried about that. Do we need to do a test?”

“I mean…” You sighed, breath quivering. “...I guess that’s the only reasonable thing to do.”

She fished out a test after a while of searching around her office and gave it to you to use the next morning. You held the box in your hands, but couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Recovery Girl came to sit next to you.

“I have a feeling you don’t want a baby?”

You sighed and shook your head. “No, I do, I just...I don’t know if Shouta does. We’ve never really talked about it, so I don’t know…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “I want a baby. I’ve wanted one with him even before we got married. But he’s always had enough kids on his hands to satisfy any want for one of his own, I think…” 

“Well, you can never know for sure unless you ask him!” You gave another long sigh at that. She set her cane aside to take your hand in both of her own. “There are always options. Even if you both aren’t ready now, that doesn’t mean you won’t be ready later. And you never know- you might not even be pregnant to begin with!” 

You stilled for a long moment, then nodded with a swallow. “You’re right. I just need to talk to him.”

“Have the conversation with him even if it comes out negative. Doctor’s orders.” She slid down from the chair and grabbed her cane, moving to sit back at her desk. You didn’t even know if she was a certified nurse, but you trusted her. Well, you trusted her enough, anyway.

The next morning, you slipped out of bed before the sun to take the test. Shouta didn’t think anything of it when you slipped back into bed and held him close. You didn’t cry until he’d gone off early to work.

Yeah. You were definitely gonna have to have the baby talk with him. 

-

It took you three tries to tell him.

The first time, you may or may not have chickened out, even though you knew the time you had left to make a decision about whether to keep it was running out. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous; you knew he would love you and support you no matter what, and you’d rehearsed your little speech over it a million times in the mirror that morning. But when you finally found a good time to tell him, you were at a loss for words.

It had been after work when you’d both come home with the intent of having a quiet, slow night in. Shouta said he’d make dinner for you, since there weren’t many nights lately where he’d had the chance, and you sat at the table with him in a painful silence. You were usually quiet when you ate, seeing as how you were trying to eat, but he noticed something off right away nevertheless. 

“What happened?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his own.

He poked at his food but kept your gaze. “You’re upset. Did something happen?”

Yes, you wanted to say, something did happen. It was a happening that he should very well know about, and was of utmost urgency, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. So instead, you told him: “I just...I’m a little tired. The kids took a lot out of me today.” 

It wasn’t completely untrue, you supposed, but you still felt bad, and you could tell that he still didn’t believe you. But he didn’t press, and you didn’t tell him what was really wrong. And so you ate in silence.

By the second time you’d tried to tell him, you had finally found the confidence to do so, but Shouta was called on an emergency job after work when you’d both planned on talking. He wasn’t home until late that night, and was too tired and beaten to do anything more than go to bed, so you went to bed with him and kept to yourself.

When you actually told him, though, it was by accident.

It was a few mornings after that night, and a week after you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d immediately gone to the bathroom to vomit upon waking, and then proceeded to the kitchen to eat half a breadloaf’s worth of toast. He woke up some time after you and stood in the doorway, watching you take another piece of toast from the buttered pile on your plate.

“Good morning, Grumpy,” You called him by his nickname, then chugging some water. His brow furrowed at you.

“That’s an awful lot of toast.”

“Yeah. This baby has me starving.” 

He blinked. You looked up, blinked back, and then froze.

“You’re-”

“I’m pregnant.” 

He stilled. “Oh.” 

You furrowed your brow. “What did you think I was gonna say?” 

“That you’re having cravings?? I don’t know, I thought you meant “baby” figuratively.” He came to sit down next to you and stole a piece of toast from your pile. He bit down into it and swallowed before he finally realized: “Oh fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“I said that!” You hit his arm gently as anxiousness climbed up your throat. You felt like you were going to vomit again, but not so much because of morning sickness, now. He looked at you with an expression you didn’t recognize, and becoming impatient, you asked, “I mean...what do you think?”

“Well...you’re the one growing it. I want to have it. I don’t think I could tell you how much I’ve wanted to have a baby with you...but it’s up to you if we’re keeping it.”

“You say “growing” as if it’s a melon or something.” 

“It’s gonna look like one in a few months.” You hit him playfully again, and felt a million times better when he smiled. He took your hand and ran his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean, It’s not a bad thing. You’re gonna look amazing. And then you’re still going to look amazing with a baby in your arms.” 

You felt your breath escape you as your eyes grew wet. “So you...we’re really doing this? You want to be a dad?” 

“Well now that you’ve told me...I don’t think there’s anything I want more.” 

You didn’t think about what his reaction would be when you told him. You already knew he wouldn’t be one of those people that jumped up and down and started screaming the news to the world, but you also hadn’t expected him to be so calm. You didn’t mind his cool about it, though.

Well, he had his wits about him until he started to cry, anyway. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.” You started to cry with him, feeling all of the stress and nervousness from the past week finally overflow. It felt good, though, crying with him. It was like you were turning all of that panic into joy- a joy that he chipped into with his own emotion. “You’re gonna be a mom.” 

“We kind of already are. You basically adopted Eri and your entire class.” You sobbed, squeezing his hand with a smile. You talked as if you weren’t weeping. 

“They’re all going to want to be godparents…” He choked with a smile. “...I’m not ready for that conversation with them…” 

“Oh, they’re gonna be so happy, Shouta, I’m so happy…” 

“I’m happy, too.” You couldn’t even comprehend the level of agreement in his voice. You knew what he was saying was true, and you didn’t even know why you’d been nervous. Of course he wanted a baby. A part of you felt like you’d known that all along.

He sniffed, but let his tears stain his cheeks. “How far in are you?” 

“I don’t know. I should probably go to the doctor to see.” You scooted your chair closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, and you sniffled as you did the same. “Will you come with me?”

“You already know I will.” He grabbed at your body to hold you impossibly closer even still. You breathed him in as the last of your full-blown sobs simmered into hiccups. 

After a while, he murmured into your hair: “Thank you.”

You huffed with humor. “You should thank my birth control for totally beefing it with this one.” 

He pinched your side, making you giggle and hit his chest playfully back. You spoke up, “We should probably go to work.”

“God, no. We’re staying home and cuddling.” The aggression in his response made you giggle again. You kept an arm around him as you went back to eating your now-cold toast, and he kept his side pressed against yours as he made a quick call to Yuuei before eating with you. 

It would have felt normal were it not for the literal being festering in your belly, but not-so-normal was okay, you supposed. Shouta seemed content with the not-so-normalcy as well, which was all you needed for comfort. Well, the toast was pretty comforting, too. 

-

taglist: @keigos-dove @hanniejji @knifeewifee @bvnnyclouds @wesparklebitch @katsukis-sad-angel

- dm/inbox to be added or removed from a taglist. 

[sicjimin]

love ur fics, they’re always amazing! could you write a namkook one with 6, 9, 16, 32, with joon as the sickie and jk as the caretaker? maybe make it rly awkward bc Namjoon is the hyung and doesn’t want jk to see him but jk is the only other one home and jk doesn’t like seeing his hyungs in pain and thinks he can’t comfort. it ends up fine and jungkook wants namjoon to sleep with him (just in case) and joon secretly does too? please only do this if u have time, thank you!

6. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

9. “I think it was something I ate.” 

16. “I can’t throw up…”

32. “Your belly is really sick, isn’t it?”

A.N : AAHHH my first sick!namjoon !! thank u for requesting hehe i love this idea so much, its so adorable :( and i hope this does justice to your expectations? I'm sorry this took way too long T.T i hope you like this one :D

TW : emeto, graphic descriptions of vomiting

Jungkook perked up from his phone and slightly lift his head when he heard the door opened, followed by a tall figure walk in —a little bit too sluggish, Jungkook afraid that he might trip.

"Oh, Namjoon-hyung ! You're home already? i thought you said you were gonna stay up late with Yoongi-hyung?", Jungkook greeted the older happily, finally he's not the only one at this big dorm, he started to get bored. The older just hummed as the answer while putting on his winter coat on the hanger and slowly toss his shoes, " Yeah, it went faster than I thought too so I figured to catch some rest. Do you mind if I go to my room and clean myself a bit? I will join you here later"

"Sure hyung, do you want something?", Jungkook lifted himself to walk to their fridge, rummaging for some snacks and soju. He heard a loud " No" from upstairs, but he still decided to grab two can of soju and a big bag of chips. He sets himself back to the couch, when he heard his phone ding with notifications.

Yoongi-hyung : 2 New Messages

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows, all 7 of them were not too fond of texting if it's not for a really urgent matter. They preferred to talk in person or do it on the gc. That's why when someone is messaging him personally, his mind grows alerted.

Yoongi-hyung : Jungkook

Yoongi-hyung : Is Namjoon already get home?

Jungkook : Yes, he just arrived few minutes ago

Jungkook : Why hyung?

Jungkook already sees Yoongi typing, not even a minute after he pressed send. He once again feels a little bit surprised.

Yoongi-hyung : Watch him for me, he's sick. That's why he gets home earlier. I still need to finish this song, I will get home as soon as possible.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows deeper. Hyung is .. sick? but he looks f—. Jungkook clicked his tongue, Jeon Jungkook you dumb. He steals a glance upstairs after replying to Yoongi . It's been 10 minutes and there's no sign the older gonna out soon. An ugly anxious feeling starts creeping up as his brain starts to make the worst scenario ever. What if Namjoon-hyung faints inside and he couldn't scream for help. What if hyung get dizzy and fall and—

"Earth to Jungkook, hello?"

Jungkook blinked and meet Namjoon's tired eyes waving his hand in front of him before plopped himself on the couch along with a sigh. Jungkook gulped, he's trying to act all cool and natural since he knows the older ones didn't like to be coddled too much but he just can't help to be worried. Damn, this gonna be hard for him.

They decided to watch some dramas that airing, but they know none of them paid attention to the storyline. One is too busy stealing glances to make sure the latter is fine and the other one is too busy calming down his stomach that has been rolling up and down since he stepped home. Jungkook takes notes on how Namjoon hands never leave his stomach, buried under the baggy sweater he wears— he always uses that when he's not feeling well— and how his other hands occasionally moved to stifled a quiet burp. Jungkook is itching to ask but he feels awkward too if he suddenly drops the question. He knows that the older gonna say that he's fine.

"Jungkook, I need to go to the bathroom, okay?", Namjoon says a little bit too quickly, not even waiting for Jungkook to mustered a response. Jungkook's train of thought got cut off as his eyes watches the older walk away until he hears the sound of the door closed and later, the water running. He diverts his eyes back to the TV, maybe Namjoon hyung is fine.

Jungkook has already finished his snack but Namjoon is still not back from the bathroom. It's been more than 5 minutes. The worries spiking inside him. He walks to the bathroom and knocks, "Hyung .. are you okay? You've been in there for a long time"

Silence.

"Yeah Kook, I'm fine", Namjoon answered from inside. He tried to sound convincing but his throat has another decision for him as a harsh and quite loud gag escaped. He squeezed his eyes shut because of the force even though nothing come out from the gag—just like how it goes the moment he kneeled there 5 minutes ago. He coughs, his throat feels itchy and it just triggering his gag reflex more. He keeps opened his mouth wide along with his tongue arched, touching his palate, delivering another series of gag. But still, nothing comes out except a trickle of thick saliva. Namjoon wants to cry, there's nothing worse than incredibly nauseous but you just can't throw up. He leaned back from the toilet, placing his back on the wall, and buried his head on his knees. Hands still aggressively rubbing and pressing his stomach, urging the rollercoaster of food inside it to just finish their business and out of his body. Namjoon lift his head when he hears the door opened and feels a hand awkwardly rubbing his shoulder

"Kook, what are you doing there"

"Um ..." the younger trailed off, it supposed to be an adorable sight for Namjoon on how Jungkook can't meet his eyes when he's talking nervously, if his mind isn't clouded with waves of nausea that keeps going on and off in his body. "I just want to check up on you hyung", he adds shyly. Namjoon mustered a strained smile, " I'm fine Kook-ah. Just feel a little bit sick, but I will be fine. Don't worry"

"A-ah, is that so? Um .. I-", Jungkook stuttered. Damn this situation is so awkward, Jeon Jungkook man up! Namjoon hyung need you, just offer something that could make him feel better maybe—

Jungkook's train of thought got cut off once again, changed with a spike of his heartbeat as he sees Namjoon scrambled to the toilet, the older body leaned forward followed by a series of empty gag. Jungkook stunned. His body finally managed to react when Namjoon's gagging stop, leaving the older cough and let out a pained hiss, "Fuck, it hurts"

Jungkook stands up silently and brings a glass of water, seated himself beside his hyung again, "Hyung, try to drink this. Your throat might hurt and maybe this could trigger your stomach"

Namjoon was too out of his mind, taking the glass with his shaky hands and gulped it quickly. His stomach starts to make loud rumbled noises, he's sure Jungkook could hear it, "I'm sorry. This is so gross", he mumbled shyly, gaining giggles from Jungkook, breaking the awkward air between them, " Woah, your belly must be really sick hyung"

"Mhm, it is. I've been so nauseous since lunch. That's why Yoongi-hyung sending me off because i keep dry heaving in the office too. I think it must be something i eat but i don't know what. God, Jungkook, i just want to throw up and get over this", Namjoon practically rambling now but he doesn't care. He's tired of holding himself back and maintaining the hyung image, his body is aching for comfort, and he gonna get it from Jungkook.

Jungkook shifted his body, hands moving to the older backs, giving a slight massage on shoulders and nape, "I'm sorry you're so sick hyung. Do you want me to rub your stomach, it might help"

Namjoon shakes his head. "It didn't work .. i still cant throw—", his words cut off as a sudden splash of liquid hitting the back of his throat and quickly rushing out of his mouth, making some of it spilled on his sweater as he didn't prepare with the commotion. His stomach clenched again as a stream of water he just takes earlier keep spilling from his mouth with such force. As he goes and goes, the clear liquid morphs into a pale-colored and thick liquid. He could feel the sashimi he eats earlier on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut while his stomach and throat working on getting out everything in his body.

"That's it hyung, let it out all", Jungkook murmured beside him, hands never stop rubbing and massaging his back.

Namjoon finally managed to catch a breath when the heave tapered off. He flushed the almost full toilet and wipes his lips and nose.

"You're done hyung?"

He shakes his head, eyes trailed on the swirling of the murky liquid below him. He could see the remnants of whatever he took earlier and it's setting his stomach off again. His body bent forward as nausea dragged another stream out of his stomach. Namjoon coughs and winced few times when there's no more lingering taste of food— but a bitter one now. Oh, only bile left, he thoughts while his stomach keeps spasming.

"Hyung, you're empty", Jungkook speaks. Namjoon nods. It took him a few dry heaving and trickle of bile until he finally sagged his body back. Jungkook quickly flushes the toilet before Namjoon could open his eyes, not wanting the older to see the toilet again in case it might set the older off.

"Kook-ah, 'm exhausted", Namjoon hoarse voices trickling Jungkook's ears.

"I know hyung, let's get you to bed, okay? it's more comfortable there"

Namjoon let his body dragged by Jungkook to his room. He's practically half-conscious and moving like a robot right now as he just moves his body as Jungkook pleased. The younger managed to make Namjoon changed his wet sweater and tucked the older into bed. He's halfway to stand up and leave the room, figured that Namjoon wants to have time alone and rest, before a clammy hand grip his wrist, "Stay here"

"Huh?", Jungkook short-circuited.

"Stay .. until I fall asleep, please? I don't feel like being alone", Namjoon mumbled sleepily, but hands still tightly gripping Jungkook's wrist like he is afraid that Jungkook might suddenly disappear.

"Uhm ..", Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly. " Okay hyung .. rest well. I will stay here", he adds gaining a soft hum from Namjoon.

"Thankyou, i'm sorry you must take care of me like that", Namjoon says softly almost like whispers if Jungkook didn't manage to catch it well.

Jungkook could feel his cheeks heated before breaking into a smile, "that's my job too hyung, get well soon"

[imaginetonyandbucky]

(Give Me A) Reason To Live

Chapter 4

by @dracusfyre

Suddenly Tony felt as if he was 18 again, scared and alone, staring at Stane over kitchen table while his parents were laid out at the local morgue. His fingers went numb and he dropped the suit case at his feet, acutely aware of the pistol in Stane’s hand. It was currently resting on the table but definitely pointed right at Tony. “Come on in,” Stane said when it was clear that Tony couldn’t find anything to say. “You know, you’ve got a lot to answer for you fucking brat.” He gestured with the pistol towards the chair across from him. “Sit. You're a hard man to get alone these days, Tony. I’m going to guess that Barnes and Rogers are long gone, am I right? Probably had a real heartfelt reunion after that shit you pulled in New York. Are they planning to come back here or have they run off together?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said as he came closer, his knees going weak and dropping him into the chair. He was pathetically grateful that his voice was even, though his limbs felt like ice. God, he prayed that they would just disappear together, but they’d made a plan and he knew James would stick to the plan, even if he was walking right into a trap.

Stane just laughed. “You’ve turned into quite a liar, Tony. Once upon a time I thought you were too chicken shit to try to lie to me. But it doesn’t matter, they’re not here right now and that’s what matters. You’re all alone, Tony. Just me and you.”

“What do you want?” He wanted to ask how did you find me? but it felt too much like begging, and he refused to do that again.

“You know what I want,” Stane said. He gestured towards the suit still sitting in the open doorway. “I saw all the ones downstairs, too. Impressive. A lot better than what Hydra has, though you made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Here it was again, Stane’s twisted game of cat and mouse conversation, full of traps for the unwary. Fear was still a rock in his stomach, but anger made his hands ball into fists. “Get to the point, Stane,” Tony snarled. Stane was sitting in James’ chair, in their kitchen, their home, and that felt like an unendurable violation.

The affable grin fell from Stane’s face like the mask it was. “The point is, your little jaunt here is over. You’re coming with me, and when Barnes and Rogers show up, Hydra will be waiting for them. You’ve cost me a lot with your little stunts – the faked death, putting Potts in charge, even trying to set your friend Rhodes against us – but you’re going to help me earn it all back now.” Stane took a syringe out of his pocket and pulled the cap off before setting it on the table between them. “Inject yourself with this.”

“The hell I will,” Tony said.

“Inject yourself with this, or I shoot you,” Stane said, waving the pistol a little as if Tony had forgotten about it.

But living with James had done many things, and one of them was to make Tony a lot less afraid of people waving pistols around. Moving slowly, like a man twice his age, Tony picked up the syringe and dropped it on the floor, crushing it with the leg of his chair. “Then fucking shoot me,” he snarled.

“You little pissant-” Stane growled. As Tony had hoped, he lunged over the table to grab him; Stane had always liked using his hands to punish Tony, and this time was no different. Except that this time, Tony wasn’t just scared: he was mad, and he was ready.

Tony shoved himself out of Stane’s reach by putting his feet on the table and kicking it hard; as he’d hoped, it pushed him backwards and also drove the table into Stane’s stomach, knocking him off balance. As Stane grunted with pain, Tony went for the gun, twisting it out of Stane’s meaty hand just as James had taught him. Stane grabbed his arm with his other hand, but Tony swung at his head with the butt of the pistol. Flinching backward, Stane lost his grip and Tony took two big steps back out of his reach, leveling the pistol at him. Stane had been with Hydra for decades but had never bothered learning how to really defend himself, too confident that he was smarter and stronger than everyone else. Tony, on the other hand, had been living with James for almost a year and had used that time wisely.

Stane took one look at him, both hands steady on the pistol, and laughed. “You know this won’t end here,” he sneered. “Cut off one head and-”

Tony cut him off by shooting him in the chest twice, one-two in quick succession; another lesson from James. Stane’s face went slack and he swayed against the table, sliding it across the floor with a screech as he slowly went to his knees, then slumped to the ground. It wasn’t a slow death, but it wasn’t particularly fast, either, and Tony stood over him and watched until the last breath went out of him.

Once he realized that Stane was dead, really dead, the shock hit, and he barely managed to get to a chair before his legs gave out again. He swallowed thickly against nausea as his empty stomach threatened to rebel and concentrating on breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth, until he felt like he could stand. He made his way around Stane’s body and got a can of soda from the fridge, chugging it for the caffeine and sugar and holding the cold can against the back of his neck until the shakiness subsided. He gave himself ten minutes more to freak the fuck out, then splashed water on his face and got to work.

“JARVIS, did Stane come alone?” Tony asked as he searched Stane’s pocket, finding another needle, his wallet, and his phone. He hadn’t noticed anyone on his way in, but he had also been too exhausted to remember to scan the area before he landed.

“Stane approached alone and on foot,” JARVIS said. “So far I have detected no unusual activity along the perimeter.”

Tony sat back on his heels and thought about that. Had Stane really thought that he could take Tony, James, and Steve back to Hydra by himself? Impossible. Syringes indicated that he had planned to keep Tony sedated for a while, but not for long enough for Steve and James to get here from New York.

A ping from Stane’s phone pulled him from his thoughts. Tony had to use Stane’s thumb to unlock it, but it was a coded message. Tony sat back on his heels as he puzzled it out, then he slumped against the cabinets as he figured it out. ETA 0900Z 2HAT4STR. “Fuck.” He had – he glanced up at the display on the microwave – 6 hours to get ready before Hydra descended on the cabin. That explained a lot; Stane had likely gambled on Tony getting back here first with the suit and planned to take him in alone, then leave Steve and James to Hydra’s ambush.

“Arrogant fuck,” he muttered. He and James had planned for this, over and over and over, so Tony knew exactly what he needed to do next, but first he was going to get this man’s corpse out of his kitchen.

As Bucky pulled into the driveway of the cabin three days almost to the hour of setting eyes on Steve, he could only sit in the car for a long moment and stare at the scene in front of him.

“This is the guy you’ve been telling me about?” Steve said after a long moment, pointing to Tony in his suit, and James could only nod. “Are there normally this many dead people around your house?”

“No, that’s new,” James said as Tony dropped the body he’d been carrying and waved at them. They both climbed out of the car and looked at the massacre around the cabin. “What the hell, Tony?” James said. “What happened?”

“Well, Hydra happened,” Tony said as if it should be obvious. He took off his helmet, hair adorably mussed, and nudged a body with the toe of his boot. “I got back here and Stane was waiting for me, then these guys showed up.”

“Wait, Stane?” Tony nodded. James scanned Tony's face, relieved that he seemed fine. “Then, what...at least two Hydra Strike teams? And you killed them all?” James scanned the cabin and surrounding forest and noticed a thin trail of smoke in the trees. “What’s that?”

Tony followed his gaze and frowned. “Shit, I thought I had put that fire out. That was a helicopter. There’s another one somewhere over there,” he said, gesturing towards the west. “I wanted to have it all cleaned up by the time you guys got here, but I got tired of digging holes.” Just then Tony must have noticed that Steve was staring at him because he held out a hand, still in the suit. “Hi. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said, shaking the gauntleted hand with the barest hesitation. “Bucky has told me a lot about you.”

“Same,” Tony said, flashing a grin. James realized he was staring; something about Tony had changed since they’d last seen each other. He seemed lighter, his smile brighter. James wanted to feel that smile against his mouth and was swaying towards him when Tony turned away. “Come on inside, the inside is clean. Though that took a while, too. ” Tony stepped out of the suit and led the way to the cabin while James gave up counting the bodies after he got to a dozen.

“I like him,” Steve said as they followed him. “I can definitely tell it’s Howard’s kid though.”

Tony told the story as he scraped together some spaghetti and baked some garlic bread from the freezer. The strike teams had assaulted the cabin in the middle of the night and had, fortunately, not been expecting resistance. “We had assumed that they wouldn’t do an air assault because they would get caught on radar, but I guess they had a way around that,” Tony said with a shrug. “But it’s fine. The suits have a sentinel mode where they shoot anything that moves, so they took care of the ground team while I took care of the helicopters.”

“Nice work,” James managed, which was horribly inadequate but he was so turned on right now that he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Seeing in Tony in action had always had that effect on him, and it had only gotten worse with time. Thankfully, Tony didn’t notice, but judging from his smirk, Steve knew James’ predicament and thought it was hilarious. James kicked him under the table.

“Thanks,” Tony said with wry smile, which didn’t do anything to help James’ situation. “But I don’t know if we can stay here, now that Hydra knows where we are.”

“I think we are safe for tonight, at least,” Steve offered. “If they sent two helicopter strike teams and no one came back, they are going to think of a new plan before coming in again.” James nodded helpfully and tried to focus on the spaghetti so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

Tony was finished eating first, as usual, so he took the first shower while James and Steve polished off the pot of spaghetti.

“Guess I should have known you were sweet on him, since you had so much to say about him,” Steve said with a low voice when they heard the shower start. His mouth was ticked up at the corners in a way that was achingly familiar, and looking at it, James was swamped by how glad he was to have him back. “I haven’t seen you like this with anyone since Dot.”

James shrugged self-consciously, feeling like maybe his face was hot. “Don’t think he’s interested though.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve asked curiously.

James stabbed at his spaghetti. “I’ve been trying to flirt with him for months now, and he hasn’t taken me up on it. I didn’t want to push too hard and make it weird, so I backed off.” Steve made a noise at that, and James narrowed his eyes at him. “What?” Steve just shook his head and shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth instead of saying anything. “I know that noise. Out with it.”

“Just remembering how much you heckled me about not giving up on Peggy,” Steve said, swallowing as James menaced him with a fork. The mention of Peggy’s name made a shadow flash over Steve’s face and he looked down at his plate. “Don’t waste the time you have if you might be able to get what you want.”

They both went back to their food and then Steve helped James wash and dry the dishes; by the time they were done, Tony was out of the shower, pink-cheeked from the heat. His hair was curling over his forehead and there was still water on his eyelashes, and Steve took one look at James’ face and hastily claimed the shower next.

James poured Tony a cup of coffee – Tony technically liked an espresso after dinner, but James hadn’t mastered the fancy machine in the corner of the kitchen yet – and sat down with him at the table.

Tony took a sip of coffee and looked like he was bracing himself for something. “So I guess this is where talk about we splitting up,” Tony said in a rush, staring down at his mug.

James’ stomach dropped. Whatever he had expected Tony to say, it wasn’t that. “Split up? Why?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve have Steve now, so…” Tony trailed off and James just raised an eyebrow.

“So…” He prompted.

“So you two will want to be together.”

“Since when are two people better than three-oh.“ James barked out a surprised laugh as he realized what Tony was trying to say. “Steve and I aren’t together. I mean, we make a good team, but we’re not…no.”

“Really? I mean, you were telling me all those stories about the stuff you two did together,” Tony started, then trailed off when must have realized he was basically trying to argue with James about whether he and Steve were a couple.

“It wasn’t like that. I’m not interested in him,” James said, looking at Tony meaningfully.

“Okay,” Tony said cautiously. “That’s…good.”

James sighed and went for broke. “Let me say that again. I’m not interested in him.”

“Oh.” Now Tony looked confused, so James waited for that big brain of his to circle around to the obvious. “Wait, you mean me?”

James bit back a curse and the urge to bang his head on the table. Thank God Steve was in the shower or he’d be laughing his ass off. “Yes, you. You sound like that’s hard to believe.”

“But you…really?”

“Really,” James said. “For a few months now, even. Why did you think I would take so many opportunities to be naked in front of you? I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

Tony paused and James could practically see the past few months rearranging themselves in his head. “For few months? Since when?”

 James sighed and pressed his fingers to his eyes. “You had just made dinner one night and you were clearly pleased with yourself, but it was horrible. You seemed so disappointed that I made myself eat my whole plate and got seconds so you would stop looking sad. Since then.”

Tony blinked rapidly. “Oh, yeah, that fucking pot roast. But that was months ago!”

“That’s what I just said!”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been over here -” Tony bit his lip against whatever he was going to say and James saw his face get red.

“Yeah?” James felt a smile bloom on his face and the tension drained from him as a giddy feeling bubbled in his chest. “Been over there, what, Tony?” But Tony just shook his head stubbornly, face still red. “Fine, I’ll go first. I’ve been over here making you breakfast every morning because you stay up too late working and I worry about you.” James leaned forward and kept his eyes on Tony’s face as he took his hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “I’ve been over here taking you out to the woods because you like to look at the stars but for some reason you won’t go outside to look at them by yourself. And I’ve been over here looking for excuses to touch you because I want you so much that sometimes I can’t think straight when you’re around. How's that for saying something.”

Tony’s smile was blinding, brown eyes dancing. “I didn’t take you for a poet, James,” he said teasingly, and James hooked a finger in his shirt and started pulling him closer.

“Just get over here and fucking kiss me already,” James said, and Tony did.

[eliemo]

Should Have Known Better

Summary: It all happened at once, too many people talking, too much anger and hatred and fear, and it was his fault his fault- Virgil felt himself fall backwards, landing hard on the kitchen floor

CW: Panic attacks, arguing, angst with a happy ending. virgil wrongly assumes he’s going to be hit but his family loves him

Read on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703804

Really, the fight was ridiculous to begin with. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, and Virgil definitely should not be feeling the vaguely familiar churn in his gut, the sickly tightening of his chest.

It was a simple disagreement about a new idea Roman had come up with, something “new and spectacular” the creative side had colorfully put it. And of course, Virgil had voiced his concerns. Because that was what he did.

It was easier now- now that he could work with the others rather than against them, a voice to be listened to rather than feared and chased away.

And it wasn’t like they didn’t argue among themselves constantly. As Logan had pointed out, their bickering was usually what got them to any kind of conclusion. And sure, it would get heated sometimes, fingers pointed and name-calling would occasionally occur (usually from Roman) and on certain days it would be more difficult to handle, voices too loud and too much, but it had gotten easier. There was no more malice aimed at him specifically, no more ganging up and refusing to listen, no more hate or scorn from the people he cared so deeply about protecting.

Today, however, maybe things were a bit different.

He’d been a bit too harsh, snapping too quickly and escalating the argument faster than was necessary. It hadn’t been a good morning- or a good couple of days if Virgil was being honest with himself.

He was still reeling after the incident with Deceit, a harsh reminder of how easily the Dark Side could slip into their lives, pulling Virgil right back into the memories of how things used to be.

He hadn’t slept much, and when he did there was nothing but nightmares and flashes of the past, and the last few days that familiar anxious feeling had been steadily building up, making him more jumpy, his paranoia skyrocketing.

The other sides had become accustomed to recognizing the signs of a bad day, especially if it only continued to get worse. This last week, however, everyone had been understandably preoccupied, and Virgil had no right to put his own issues above more pressing matters. It would go away, it always did.

Now, he wondered if he was imagining just how aggressive this argument had become.

“Why do you always do this?” Virgil froze at Prince’s shout, his definitely louder than normal shout, a brief burst of panic clawing at his throat.

He should stop. He should deflate and duck out, give in and let Roman have his way. The other side was angry, on edge, and fed up with his bullshit, and Virgil knew all too well what happened when he pushed an issue with someone blinded by rage.

But Virgil couldn’t stop himself, and the fear and nausea building up in him made him defensive, mouth moving without his brain’s permission.

“Because I’m the one who has to protect Thomas from your stupid ideas! Unlike you, I’m not in this for my own ego!”

Guilt coiled in his gut when he saw hurt flash across Princey’s eyes, but it was quickly drowned out by another wave of fear when the look morphed to anger.

Patton cut him off before he could yell again, but there was no relief in the interruption when the words managed to be somehow even worse.

“Hey, come on Kiddo, that doesn’t seem...Roman’s just trying to help Thomas, you know that.”

The words were laced with disappointment, something that felt like knives to his chest when it came from Patton- the first person to ever see him as anything other than a useless hindrance, especially when it came with the underlying suggestion that Virgil didn’t care about Thomas.

Everything he did, every time he argued, he was just trying to protect him. All of them. Patton knew that, didn’t he?

“I am too!” He said, ignoring the way his voice had become just a bit quieter than before. “Patton, you think I do this just for the hell of it? I’m just trying to make sure Thomas doesn’t--”

“Doesn’t what?” Roman interrupted, too loud too loud too loud. He was angry, all Virgil ever did was make people angry. “Doesn’t live a happy worry free life?”

It wasn’t hard for Virgil to pick up on the unsaid. Thomas would be better off without you. We all would.

Virgil’s throat felt tight, the panic now cold and all consuming. He could feel his heartbeat growing dangerously fast, breaths coming too quick and shallow. He opened his mouth to shoot something back, to keep them from seeing how scared he was, blinded by Roman’s glare and Patton’s irritation.

It was almost a relief when Logan raised a hand to cut him off, stoic and impartial. Virgil wasn’t sure he would even be able to force coherent words out right now.

But then Logan raised an eyebrow at him, not the careful look of concern he gave when he noticed Virgil was having an attack, but something that seemed to be a reflection of both Roman and Patton’s anger.

You made them all mad, you made them mad, they hate you, they hate you they hate you. You’re the outcast again, they don't want you here.

“Virgil, you know we all...appreciate your input-” he hesitated, he’s lying he’s lying “-but logically, this shouldn’t be an issue. You’ve blown this all out of proportion, Virgil. More so than usual.”

He didn’t miss the irritation in the Logical side’s voice, the way all eyes in the room were on him, glaring at him, hating him.

Virgil was suddenly painfully aware of how close they all were, knees practically brushing under the table they’d gathered at in the mindscape’s dining area. In Thomas’s living room, during these arguments there was usually a good amount of space between them.

The only one who could really reach him without crossing the room was Logan. If he was angry enough, he could easily reach through the stair railing and grab Virgil by the hoodie, holding him still while Roman approached, Patton standing to close him in-

But they wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t.

But...it would be so easy now. They were so close together, and he’s made them so, so angry. He would deserve it anyway, he’d only pushed an issue that didn’t matter, been the bad guy again and pushed the only people who cared about him to the point of-

“Anxiety, are you even listening?”

Virgil flinched at the use of that name, the memories of hate and bitter loneliness rushing back all at once, the annoyance in Prince’s voice burning like acid.

No one seemed to notice, anything Virgil even tried to breathe out overshadowed by Logan’s biting remark. “Virgil, we do expect you to at least listen to—“

“Are you ok, Virge?”

It all happened at once, too many people talking, too much anger and hatred and fear, and it was his fault his fault-

He had barely even heard what Patton had said, unable to comprehend the concern building when he was so focused on Roman, who hadn’t stopped ranting.

The creative side raised his hand- and it was just a gesture, just a dramatic gesture, Virgil knew that.

Roman often spoke with his hands when he was worked up, always flamboyant, always moving. Virgil was used to that, it had never bothered him before. It was harmless.

But all of that went right out the window the second he saw Roman raise his arm up, still consumed with anger, and everything after that was a blur of panicked instinct.

He jerked backwards, eyes squeezing shut as the chair tipped over, stumbling on suddenly unsteady legs, everything spinning and far away.

He thought he heard voices, angry no doubt, angry at him for being such a baby, for making such a big deal over a problem he created, but the blood was rushing to his head, heart pounding in his ears.

Virgil felt himself fall backwards, landing hard on the kitchen floor. Without thinking he brought his hands up to block his face, to protect himself as much as he could, whimpering despite himself when he heard approaching footsteps. He curled in on himself, tense and waiting.

“Virge?”

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Virgil flinched back so fast he didn’t realize he’d slammed into the wall until a flare of pain shot up his back.

“Virgil! What’s wrong?”

He was fairly sure it was Patton talking, voice muffled by Virgil’s own out of control breathing, the panic attack building up faster and faster.

Through the haze of fear, Virgil thought that maybe Patton was the one side who wouldn’t hurt him for this. Patton was kind, he wasn’t one to get angry easily, despite how impulsive and protective of Thomas he could be.

The other two could often be swayed by their anger, but Virgil knew they wouldn’t do anything drastic to him if he didn’t deserve it.

Only, Virgil did deserve it. He’d been stupid and unfair, and some anxious part of him had driven him to tear apart the family he’d waited so long for. They had every right to lash out however they saw fit.

And yet here he was, cowering on the floor like a child, unable to stop the string of please that barely translated to breathy, shaking words.

“I- I’m sorry, I sorry guys, we- we can do w-whatever...whatever you guys want I was just- I was just…”

“Hey, Virge it’s ok,” he heard Patton say, and Virgil thought there was a hint of confusion in his voice. “It was just an argument, honey. What’s wrong?”

Slowly and cautiously, painfully aware of how badly he was trembling in his little heap, Virgil glanced up from the floor, face burning when his vision was blurred with hot tears.

Patton was crouched on the floor a few steps away, looking like a deer in the headlights, eyes brimming with his own tears behind his glasses. A spark of hope ignited in Virgil’s chest. Patton wasn’t angry anymore. Patton didn’t look like he wanted to hurt him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil could see Roman and Logan where he’d left them at the table. They’d both stood up at some point, frozen at their chairs, but Virgil didn’t let himself look long enough to see their expressions, pushing himself back against the wall at the cruel reminder of how angry they’d all been.

“Virgil,” Logan said, and Virgil flinched before he could stop himself. “You need to breathe. 4, 7, 8, remember? We—“

“Can’t—“ he gasped out, the uncertainty mixing with fear only making his panic worse. “Can’t breathe, I can’t-- I--please I’m- I’m sorry I’m sorr--”

“Hey kiddo, it’s alright,” Patton said, Virgil latching desperately onto the kindness he could pick up on in the words. “It was just a little argument. I think we all got a little carried away, right guys?”

“Of course!” Roman agreed, still too loud, too close to becoming angry again. “I apologize, I was not acting very...princely, I suppose. If I had known it would…” he trailed off, and Virgil could practically see the crestfallen look in his eyes at the anxious side’s reaction to his voice.

But Virgil couldn’t help it. Because no matter how loud the rational part of his mind screamed at him that everything was fine, it was just Roman and Roman wasn’t angry, Roman would never hurt him, it was buried under the relentless waves of panic.

He would hate himself for the reaction later, he was sure, guilt bubbling somewhere beneath the fear, but the sound of Roman’s voice only made him cry harder, chest squeezing out what little air he could get, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably on the floor, still waiting for a blow that he knew would never come.

“Oh kiddo, oh no we...Logan what do we--”

Patton’s voice faded as Virgil’s breathing got worse, rocking himself slightly, gasping desperately for air he wasn’t allowed to get. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. He shouldn’t. They were his family. They wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how pathetic or annoying he was being, no matter how much a nuisance he was, no matter how much he held Thomas back.

Because that's what he did. That was all he did, no matter how hard he tried to be good, to help and protect, to get the people he cared so much about to just understand. They knew in the long run, they were better off without him. They only put up with him because they had to. If they had an excuse to get rid of him-

What if this was a good enough excuse. He’d made them all pointlessly angry, right after Deceit had tried to manipulate them. He was a Dark Side. They knew that. What if all of Patton’s love wasn’t enough to convince the others not to treat him like one?

What if--

“Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open at the calm, carefully calculating voice of Logan, who had somehow managed to kneel by his side without the other noticing his approach. The logical side had begun to reach forward, hand hovering over Virgil’s knee but not touching.

Virgil froze completely, gasping breaths coming to a halt, eyes glued to the unmoving hand. The hand that could so easily grab for him if it wanted to. It wasn’t like he could do much in this state, weak and dizzy, easy to overwhelm.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, that familiar gentle tone he took when Virgil was having an attack. “You’re safe. You’re with us, you’re ok. You’re suffering from cognitive distortions. I assure you, whatever is happening is not--”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

Virgil hadn’t even realized he’d spoken until Logan’s reassurances were abruptly cut off, his hand disappearing from view, the room deathly still and quiet.

And suddenly it was so much worse. Because he couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn’t see the look in Logan’s eyes, couldn’t see where he put his hand-

Virgil’s eyes went to Patton, wide and desperate and clouded with so much irrational fear.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he stuttered, not even sure why he was apologizing anymore, definitely unsure of what he was even afraid of. They weren’t going to hit him or send him away. They wouldn’t. “Sorry, sorry I’m sorry I argued I-I shouldn’t have-should have...should have stopped I’m sorry, you guys can—“

“Virgil.” That was Roman, and there was something about the creative side so easily using his name again that made him stop his rambling. “You don’t need to...you’re not in danger, Virge. Nobody’s upset with you.”

Virgil blinked, glancing wildly around the room at the three sides, his thoughts battling with reason, aching chest struggling to take in shaky breaths.

“But…” they weren’t going to hurt him, they weren’t going to hurt him, “But I...you were mad. I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have kept arguing.”

They argued all the time. It shouldn’t have been any different. But Roman had never...shouted at him like that before, the others were usually able to reign him back in. And they all hadn’t been against him like that, treating him like the antagonist since...since before things had gotten better.

And then he’d been called Anxiety. A slip up that usually would never have been a problem, but today- when things had only been building up with no release, reminders of Deceit and dark sides, it had all been too much.

“Virgil,” Logan said softly, and Virgil winced, everything just a bit too loud. “Can you look at me, please?”

Virgil swallowed, throat still dry and tight, breathing still too fast and painful. But he obeyed, tense and trembling, raising his head to meet Logan’s gaze.

The logical side, though his worry was still evident, gave a small, reassuring smile. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, Virgil.”

And that undid something in him. Because he’d known that, he’d known his family would never hurt him. But hearing it said aloud for him, so simple like it was never even a question, that was all he needed to finally take a full breath, shoulders dropping their defensive stance.

He took in shuddering breath after shuddering breath, unable to stop the hiccuping sobs that escaped in between.

“Oh, kiddo.” Patton was beside him now, hands still hovering, tears welling up in his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

Virgil nodded, refusing to be ashamed of how desperately he needed the physical reminder of safety. He leaned forward, shutting his eyes as he slumped against Patton’s chest, the other side quickly wrapping his arms around Virgil’s back.

“Hey, hey you’re ok,” Patton whispered, holding him close. “Copy my breathing, ok? I’m right here. Hold for four…”

It took some time, as it usually did during a bad panic attack, Patton guiding him though his breathing exercises, breaths slow and exaggerated, voice quiet and soothing.

Virgil almost fell back into a fit of panic when it dawned on him just how stupid he’d been, how tired everyone must be of him doing things like this.

But then Patton kept talking to him, Logan offering gentle reassurances, Roman sending him guilty smiles every time he catches Virgil's wandering gaze, and everything slows down again.

He’s beyond exhausted by the time his breathing slows enough for Patton to be satisfied, his lungs no longer screaming for air. He was too weak to even sit up on his own now, still shaky and sore, eyes heavy and drooping.

He barely even felt himself being lifted off the floor, held in steady, safe arms and carried away from the kitchen. When he did manage to open his eyes, it was to a white suit and Roman looking down at him like Virgil was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Virgil swallowed, guilt rising up in his chest at the reminder of how he’d acted, how the sound of Roman’s voice had driven him deeper into a senseless panic. He could only imagine how bad he’d made Roman feel for something that wasn’t remotely the creative side’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” he slurred, his mouth refusing to cooperate with his muddled mind. “Didn’t...didn’t mean to make you--”

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Roman said, smiling softly like it was as simple as that. “I should have seen you were having a bad day.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it was nearly impossible with a body that felt like lead cradled against Prince’s chest while they made their way to the couch.

“It’s ok.”

Roman slowly lowered Virgil onto the cushions, hesitating briefly before settling down next to him, giving the anxious side plenty of time to protest or move away. Not that Virgil would, Roman a welcome distraction from the shivers still racking his body.

“Patton’s getting you some water,” Prince explained. “And Logan’s running to find extra blankets. Do you...want to be alone?”

Any other time, Virgil might have been embarrassed by how quickly he shook his head, and later he would definitely deny the way he leaned into the warmth of Roman’s touch. But he didn’t miss the quiet sigh of relief that came from the other side, or the fond smile he couldn’t quite shake.

Roman hummed under his breath, carding his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he gradually drifted off, vaguely aware of someone draping a blanket over his shoulders, two more weights settling on either side of him.

Virgil was fading before he could even think to try to make out what any of them were saying, the distant sound of their voices lulling him to sleep, still aware of the protective hold Prince had on him.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.3 (spicyhoney)

Summary:   Stretch asked Edge where his newest acquisition came from. Time for explanations.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

That Morning

The first task Edge had to accomplish was trying very hard not to vomit. No matter how he tried to brace for it, going through one of his brother’s shortcuts always sent his equilibrium into a tailspin that left him retching on his knees at the other side.

Red only stepped to the side, mouth curling in distaste. “bro, you ever gone get over that? seriously, it’s embarrassing to have you yakking on your boots whenever we need a quick exit."

"Fuck off,” Edge rasped out, gagging back another heave. He took a slow, deep breath, another, and then staggered back to his feet, “If you’d care to quit bitching about my issues with motion sickness and tell me why you brought me here, we can get this over with. Where are we, anyw—” He paused, for the first time getting a good look at their surroundings.

That morning, Edge wasn’t halfway through checking the traplines when his brother appeared, stepping out from nowhere directly in front of him as he never did. For once, his sharp, careless grin was absent and in its place were clenched teeth and grim words. “got something i need to show you, boss.”

Edge hadn’t hesitated to go with him. Much as his brother appreciated a terrible joke or a worse prank, Edge trusted him with his life and that unusual seriousness left him equal parts reluctantly intrigued and worried.

A few hasty steps, a shortcut, and a bout of nausea later, and Edge was beginning to rethink that trust.

He whirled around and asked in a furious whisper, “Have you lost your moronic little mind?”

“nah,” Red shrugged, rolling his shoulders lazily and turned to walk down a long, dimly lit hallway. “no more than usual, anyway. c’mon, this way.”

There was little choice but to follow him. Overhead, the fluorescent bulbs sputtered and flickered, flashes of lightning from a manufactured storm illuminating the trash and filth that lined the walls, giving them a setting that was perhaps better suited for the horror movies that Papyrus was so fond of. The comparison wasn’t far off; no sane Monster came anywhere near Alphys’s lab, which would certainly explain why his brother brought them here. It must be something like insanity on both their parts, on Red for coming and Edge for staying.

Edge followed after his brother with carefully silent steps. He wasn't worried about Alphys seeing them on her cameras, they never seemed to work around Red, but that wouldn't help them if she walked right in on them as she investigated some careless noise.

Red didn’t seem to have the same compunction; his sneakers trod heavily, untied laces dragging through the filth. His rough chuckle seemed to echo around them, carrying them along, “heh, you know what’s funny? i still know my way around in here. can’t remember where i put my fucking wallet most days, but an internal map of this shitheap, i got no problems. funny how some things stick.” He kicked aside a moldy ramen cup, a fouled plastic spoon skittering out of it. “i keep tabs on ol’ al, you know. i ain’t sticking my neck out, but i like to keep my nose hole poked into whatever she’s been gettin’ up to down here. just lately, she's been going through the old scientist’s shit, tryin’ to recreate some of his old experiments.”

“She’s been doing that for years,” Edge said, low. “What changed?”

Red stopped outside the door and an unexpected shudder went through his small frame, the rattle of his bones muffled beneath his heavy jacket. He straightened before Edge could so much as lay a concerned hand on his shoulder, twisting out of his reach with a casual indifference that was almost believable. “yeah, well, it ain’t the core she’s been workin’ on.”

Behind that door, the room was lit by a single bare bulb and in its incandescent glow, Edge could see several large, glass tubes filled with some sort of thick liquid lining the back wall, with wiring and pipes spidering out from them and across the ceiling. Beneath the bulb itself was a long steel table, starkly empty except for the unremarkable heavy cardboard box sitting directly in the middle of it. Red gestured sharply at it, though he didn’t approach it himself, and warily, Edge stepped forward to peer inside.

He caught his breath against the raw, painful lurch in his soul, a brief moment of sharp pain that left behind a peculiar numbness inside him.

Inside the box was a skeleton, so small that the perfect curve of its skull could easily be held in the palm of a hand. Its bones were bare, gleaming a soft ivory in the garish overhead light, its sockets were closed—no, her sockets, from the revealing arch of her pelvis. A female, a girl, a child, sleeping naked and alone in a dank room in a hidden, underground lab.

Edge’s gaze drifted over her, absorbing every detail, from the tiniest fingerbones and their delicate joints to the breadth of her small feet. His gaze caught on her lowest rib and held there, frozen. There, engraved on her tiny, fragile bone, was a number, fresh and chalky-white, particles of dust still clinging to it. Unthinkingly, Edge reached out to touch it with a shaking fingertip, his glove whispering across the bone, and he could nearly hear her screams of pain as an indifferent scientist carved their mark into her, as if she was nothing more than another piece of equipment, something new to break.

She stirred, her tiny face scrunching and her little legs drawing up as she mewled a protest, perhaps against his touch on the still-raw wound or perhaps against her callous nakedness, considering that there was a blanket carelessly tossed over the side of the box.

Edge picked up the blanket and something fell out of it as he did, landing at his feet. He bent over to retrieve it, saw what it was. A dingy little gown, thin from repeated washings, one that had surely been used before years ago,

(please let it be years ago)

The numbness in his soul was fading and what it left behind was something else entirely. Edge gritted his teeth hard enough to taste dust and gingerly slipped the gown on the baby, covering her bareness. Then he cautiously wrapped her in the blanket, swaddling her tightly, and gently settling her, still asleep, into the curve of his arm.

Behind him, Red shifted uncomfortably, his shoes squeaking on the tile floor. “boss? what are you do—?”

He broke off on a shout, jumping back as the first attack swept through the room. Heavy glass shattered, as loud as a gunshot, a flood of foul liquid gushing from the broken tubes even as Edge summoned another attack, another, equipment sparking and shrieking beneath the onslaught of jagged, blood-red bones.

“what the fuck are you doing!?" Red screamed, but Edge wasn’t listening. He couldn’t, all he could hear was the child screaming in his head as a number was carved into her, scarring her permanently, marking her as not her own.

‘S-3’

In one corner, a curl of rising smoke turned into a flame, yellow tongues licking at the trash surrounding them greedily. Smoke was filling the room, alarms beginning to blare as Edge turned on his heel and walked out.

“boss,” Red moaned out, nearly jogging to keep up with Edge’s long-legged stride. “you’ve lost your everfucking mind.” But his mouth began to curl, a savage grin spreading across his face as he summoned his own attack, bones flying through the air and there was nothing but broken glass, the alarms, and the steadily growing fire.

"we're gonna fucking die," Red grumbled as they made their way through the long hallways. But he followed along, wreaking his own destruction along the way.

~~*~~

“…and then we came here,” Edge finished. He didn’t look at Stretch, not at all sure what he would see in his face. Disgust, perhaps, for his lack of control, or horror that he very nearly led that world right here to the Swap brother’s doorstep. Better to look at the child, who was sleeping soundly in her little pillow nest. None of this was her fault, least of all her own creation, but it was all because of her, nonetheless.

What came from Stretch was a question so far from his expectations that at first, Edge couldn’t quite comprehend it. “so what’s her name?”

Edge’s head jerked up and he could only look at him blankly. He didn’t even realize his mouth was open until Stretch reached over and gently closed it with a nudge to his chin. He didn’t pull away, only looked at the baby out of the corner of his socket, her rounded little face relaxed in sleep and her small hands closed in lax fists. Nothing like a name came to him, she was only the child, a baby, how could he possibly…?

Perhaps his growing agitation showed on his face. The knuckle on his chin turned into a light touch on his cheekbone, drawing his gaze back to Stretch. “don’t worry,” Stretch said lightly, “there’s no rush on that. we’ll put our heads together and think of something.”

“She's my responsibility,” Edge blurted thoughtlessly, “This was my choice.” He winced even as he said it; it was true, but it wasn’t what he meant, he didn’t know how to say what he meant. This was his responsibility, his burden, but to call an innocent child a burden aloud was too repugnant to consider.

Stretch only nodded. "yep, she’s all yours, no one is taking her away.” Those simple words eased some of the agitation rising inside Edge, even as Stretch tilted his head to the side, offering him a lopsided smile, “that doesn't mean you have to slap away any helping hands, edgelord.”

“I…yes. You're right,” Edge exhaled shakily, reminding himself that he already owed Stretch a great deal, with more debt to come. “Thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me for this. in fact, i really wish you wouldn’t,” Stretch climbed to his feet with a groan, pressing both hands into the small of his back as he lived up to his namesake, his joints letting out a satisfying series of pops. “c’mon, you should lay down. get some sleep, you look like hammered shit.”

Edge couldn’t help a faint chuckle. “Flatterer.”

“sexy hammered shit,” Stretch amended. “Come on.”

To Edge’s surprise, Stretch gently scooped up the sleeping baby, who never stirred, only snuggled into his arms as Stretch made his way upstairs to his bedroom. It was suspiciously clean; before all this Edge had been planning on visiting tonight and he could only look at the crisp, clean sheets with a sort of exhausted wistfulness that they would not be used as intended.

Stretch didn’t seem bothered to see his hard work go to waste. He flipped back the top blanket and settled the baby on the mattress, close to the wall. “hop in, edgelord, naptime.”

Realization that Stretch intended him to sleep with the child came slowly, and when it did, Edge took half a step back, balking, “What if I roll over on her? I could hurt her!”

Stretch snorted and shook his head. “you? don’t think so. me, maybe, but i so much as wiggle my big toe when we sleep together and you snap to attention. you’ll be fine, we’ll figure something else out later. c’mon, big guy, strip,” Stretch said teasingly, sweeping a hand across the sheets, “time for bed.”

“Don’t talk like that in front of the baby,” Edge grumbled, but he hesitantly obeyed, kicking off his boots and stripping down to his trousers. He left those on, it felt strange to sleep naked in someone else’s bed when they weren’t in it. His glare begged for Stretch to comment but he said nothing, only helped tuck the blankets around them as Edge settled in, being sure to keep a wary safe distance from the sleeping child before closing his own weary sockets.

“sleep well,” Stretch said, softly, and there was a soft brush across Edge’s forehead, like the shadow of a kiss. Soft footsteps made their way across the carpet, but Edge didn’t hear them. Despite his fears, he was asleep before Stretch even made it to the door.

tbc