#yeah it's been a little sticky for the past little bit and Ive had a lot of things piling up unfortunately

[the-stars-forsaken]

Hey, is everything going okay? Noticed it's been a while

Hey, thanks for the little check in lol

I'm still working on pages and I definitely have no intention of stopping working on this so dw about that, I've just had a few personal things going on that've made deligating time toward TSF not as easy as I'd like it to be!

I'm currently in the works of trying to get a new phone after my old one keeled over, and with that having been the primary way I'd checked over the process of the page and gave updates outside of posting pages on comp it's left me a bit radio silent so apologies for that

I'm super close to being able to get that back though, and ideally once I've got that out of the way I'll be back to posting pages :D!

[applcrumbl]

pickled onion divorce papers.

Pairings: Ex! Dilf!Eddie Munson x F!Reader Warnings: Smut under the cut, 18+ Minors DNI, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, lemme know what ive missed! Author’s Note: okay i haven’t written smut in a long time, and ye i don’t get the title either i just liked it

Summary: Your ex husband is desperate to reconnect at your son’s 7th birthday.

Your son turned 7. A parade of young children flooded your small backyard on a bright summer's day in June, each excited to celebrate on the expensive bounce house you’d rented. Blown a good chunk of your savings on it. Some cautious parents hovered around the rainbow entrance, while most sat on lawn chairs, soaking up some rays themselves. You sat out another tray of assorted goodies on your kitchen island - a stack of napkins ready to be used by sticky hands and grubby faces. Truthfully, Oscar’s parties had been average at best, in the past. But this year you were determined to stick it to your ex-husband. Of course, you wanted the best for your son, as any mother would. But, there was no denying the excitement that escaped when thinking about how you’d remain the favourite parent for a little while longer.

“You did a good job,” Eddie said, leaning on the frame of the patio doors. A half-empty bottle of something in his hand, “Oscar is loving it”

‘No thanks to you’ You thought but bit your tongue instead. “Yeah, it’s been a tough time for him, he deserves it”

“And you?” 

Your ex-husband was insufferable when he got like this. He could read you like a book, but never when it counted. Which was part of the reason why you split in the first place.

“I think you know how I feel Edward-”

“Wow, Edward, huh” he laughed, “I see how it is,”

“Not today,” you warned. Fully aware of what was coming next. 

He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to talk about the divorce papers that had appeared through the letterbox of his uncle’s trailer a few days earlier. Where he had been staying since December when you split. He wanted to talk about how you were feeling. He wanted to talk to you, and only you. Just once.

“Then when?” He huffed, moving from his position and to your side of the island counter. The same long fluffy hair, even though it was wildly out of fashion now.

“When there's a solicitor present”

You swung the cabinet door open, nearly missing the gorgeous face of your ex-husband. Pulling a jar of pickled onions from somewhere up back. They were bound to be eaten by someone.

“C’mon, this can seriously be what you want Y/N” Eddie tried, watching as you struggled to open the tight jar.

“What I want is to enjoy our son’s birthday without another argument,” You reply, breathing out slowly as Eddie takes the jar from your hand and opens it with ease, “I had that.”

He smiles softly, “I know you did”

The conversation was dropped as 25 hungry little monsters crowded your kitchen, ravenous for chocolate and crisps. One of the mothers begged her twins to have something more substantial than a handful of party rings. Oscar - the absolute double of his father stood away from the group. Mouth full of cocktail sausage and big brown baby cow eyes.

In the commotion, Eddie had found himself next to you, serving up paper plates of various finger foods. You didn’t notice as his hands brushed your hips as he passed. It was such a natural thing so long ago. His grip tightened as the kitchen emptied again.

“I’ve missed this,” he confessed, whispering, unable to move from his spot.

A shaky breath, “Eddie, you’re only making this harder than it needs to be”

“Please don’t make me sign them,” he practically begged, lips pressed to the back of your hair. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew exactly what was splayed on it. “We can make this work, Y/N. I know we can.”

It was second nature for you to say no in this situation. It had happened enough times in the several months since your initial separation. And it was much easier to explain to Oscar that ‘mommy and daddy are never getting back together’ than it was to tell a 7-year-old that ‘mommy and daddy just aren’t quite sure’. Pretending for the sake of your son just wasn’t working anymore, and so quitting seemed like the easiest option.

It wasn't.

But if you were being honest with yourself. You wished you'd struggled through it, because anything would be better than being without him. You wanted the long nights of arguing, or the days without seeing each other because without them you were miserable. 

Minutes passed as you finally rest your head back on Eddie’s shoulder. He could practically see the contemplation in your mind, but he was scared of saying anything. Desperate to keep you in his arms a moment longer.

“We can’t tell him until we know for certain”

Your voice was just above a whisper but he heard you clear as day. His hand in yours in one swift movement as he pulled you off to a quiet room of your once family home. All thoughts of the party downstairs were gone as Eddie kissed you passionately. Months of built-up pining revealed themselves as the kiss deepened. Strong hands guided your back to the wall, careful not to be too loud.

Eddie practically moaned into your mouth as he stripped you down. Only breaking his lips from yours to trail them down to your lower stomach. “I still remember the way you taste,” He breathed as your fingers tangled in his hair. “And I never wanna forget”

His mouth attached to your clit immediately, knowing exactly where to go, and what he wanted to do. Eddie had dreamed of this for so long, that he was going to savour every moment. A skilled tongue delved through your folds. Licking a strong swipe up your slit. You shuddered at the contact, it had been too long since you’d been touched like this. Since he’d touched you like this. And it was like heaven. Rounded nose bumbled your sensitive clit as you wiggled in Eddie’s grasp, lean arms wrapping around thick thighs as he pinned you harder to the bed. Tongue exploring further down, closer to your asshole. “Oh god,” he grunts, relishing in the ecstasy he is giving you. His own hips rut against the edge of your bed, desperate to alleviate the pressure in his own underwear.

Soft lips attach once more on your clit, sucking gently as you felt your peak rising. “Eds, Wait I’m gonna-”

Words fell on empty ears as Eddie dove in harder. There may have been a buffet of sweet treats long enough to feed an army downstairs, but Eddie knew what he’d rather be eating. Your legs shook as you grew close, pressure building in your most sensitive spot, and Eddie could tell.

A voice called your name from down the hall, but the intonated sound mixed with that of your lover above you. You hadn’t heard it fully until much too late.

“Y/N do you want to do the cake? Liam’s mom says they need to leave soo- Oh my god”

Mortified, you pull the covers over yourself, unable to speak, husband still between your legs. Robin stood glued to the spot. Hand stuck to the door handle.

“Hello? We’re in the middle of something” Eddie states, head emerging from the blanket you’d thrown over him. A shit-eating grin peeking through his mouth, wet with your slick.

Your eyes blow wide as you apologise profusely, searching the room for your lost underwear and promising Robin you would be down as soon as possible. Shutting the door, you locate the skimpy lace in the back pocket of your lover.

You reach for them as Eddie turns, “Nuh-uh, I’m not finished with you,” he teases. Hands wandering down your sides, taking temporary residence in the dips of your hips. You attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, hands chasing his backside for your panties.

“Eddie, I am mortified. We gotta get back down there.” You lecture, hands coming to rest on his naked torso. When he took his shirt off? You weren't sure. But you didn’t mind anyhow, absent-mindedly tracing your fingers over the outline of the spider tattoo near his collarbone. “Hand em over” you almost begged.

Eddie hesitated, he wanted to follow your every word, he wanted to go downstairs hand in hand, or exchange flirty glances from across the garden. But he wanted to take you first. “Please?”  you tried again. But it didn’t work as Eddie had you pinned to the mattress in one fell swoop, kissing up and down your neck and chest.

“Normally I would say yes, be a good husband” He offered, “But baby, if not now. I know this will never happen again”

 Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“I have wanted this for so long, Y/N. and I’m not even just talking about the sex.” Eddie sighs, “I want the long nights and the arguments that never seem to end. I want to tuck Ozzy in together, not just see him every other weekend. I want to sit and have family dinners in front of the TV. I want the mundane chores. I want things to go back to as they were” 

“Things won’t go back to as they were Eddie,”

“I don't care, I just want you back” He whispers, “I need you to be my Mrs. Munson again.”

And then he had you. Lips colliding together in a passionate kiss. It was messy, and by far not the best kiss you’d ever had. But it mattered nonetheless, desperation oozing from your husband, and your lips worked in tandem. Wandering hands found themselves pulling at the loops of Eddie’s jeans, “Take these off,” you murmur, “We need to be quick”

The truth was that Eddie didn’t want to be quick. He wanted to take his time with you and savour every second. He wanted to bed you for hours as you screamed his name. Like you used to. He wanted to cum inside you again and again, and have you lick the substance from his fingers. He wanted to thrust into you like this for the rest of your lives. Alternating paces, slow and then fast, edging himself into lasting for hours. 

But the truth also was that he finished in 2 minutes. Not quite used to having you in his arms again. Hot ropes of white seed plant themselves inside you without a condom, as you muffled your own screams of pleasure into his shoulder. The long-haired man lay sweaty and on top of you. Almost embarrassed by how short it was, but he didn't care. You shoved him off gently, legs aching from being pounded into. “I still love you, Eddie” you confessed. “I want this to work.”

“It will baby,  I’ll make sure of it.”

[jupiterswlrd]

Spectacular- mark lee

mark never intended on getting bit by a spider on his was home in the subway, he also never intended on saving you from falling in front of the moving train car either. it was all just some sort of sick coincidence. mark had never believed in super powers, yeah what he saw on TV and comics book was cool but it was never realistic. ‘someone just can’t magically change over night’ he thought to himself all the time.

that was, until it happened to him. after his little run in with you he went home and took a nap, shook up a bit on how well his grip on your jacket was, almost like his hands were stuck to you. ‘crazy...’ he chuckled drifting off to sleep. when he woke up his found his upper part of he bunk covered in spider webs.

“ew” he said quietly trying not to wake his roommate haechan up. ‘maybe if hyuck would be a cleaner we wouldn’t have this issue’ mark struggled to sit up something making him stick to his bed. he flopped all around his bed, webs confining his arms to the bed. he finally broke one and somehow tripped off of his bunk. he prepared for his body to hit the ground but something caught him. a string of webs wrapped around his ankle and attached the top bunk. he was confused, but he was mostly relieved. “mark?....” haechan opened his eyes wondering why he saw his roommate dangling from what seemed to be the ceiling. with that the web snapped causing mark to fall on his head.

“dude...” haechan observed mark like he was some foreign species. “did you do that?” he pointed to the the webs covering marks bunk. “n-no!?!?” mark looked at the younger boy like he was out of his mind “do i look like a spider to you?” haechan stared at him for a long minute. “...there’s a fucking web growing out of your wrist right now....”

“HUH?” mark flung his hand somewhere, flinching in a way. haechan grunted loudly his head banging aganist the wall. his body was taped to the wall with one big web. “MARK” he yelled in amazement and extreme pain and discomfort. “I promise i didn’t do that....” mark didn’t know what to do with his hands, he stuck them in the pockets of his shorts fearing himself and what he’d do. haechan eventually broke free, examining the web pattern closely. He had a thing for spiders.

“this is completely unique...your webs have a little M in them. we should take to these y/n, you know shes a science freak” mark completely shut down at the thought of you seeing him shoot webs out of hands. what if you thought he was some kind of freak? “THATS NOT AN OPTIO-“ then you walked into their dorm room, unannounced and unwarranted. “i heard my name from outside the hallway, why are you all so l—“ you were confused to see that mark was no where to be found. “uhhh?? i thought i heard marks voice”

“you di—“ haechan did a double take “oh haha, yeah we were on the phone he’s in the bathroom— he got stuck in the toilet”

haechan shoved you out the room nervously. “yeah so y/n, we’ll see you in class okay?” once you were successfully pushed out the room, mark was sitting with his legs crossed his head in his hands. “bro what the fuck was that?” haechan slammed the door and locked it. “what was what?”

“i don’t know your little disappearing ac— YOU CAN TURN INVISIBLE”

“haechan are you on drugs? you have to be on drugs only people with POWERS can do that and that’s not possible be—“

haechan clamped a hand over marks mouth.

“dude you’ve done the impossible for like 2 hours now, you have powers” the younger boy slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. “where are you going?” mark asked laying back down. “you mean where are WE going” he threw marks slides at his head.

“we’re gonna go see what you can do.”

mark and haechan went out to a abandoned parking lot. haechan was good at making something out of nothing figuratively and quite literally. “okay mark pick up that big ass tire over there” mark walked over to it, absentmindedly picking it up “this one?”

haechan pulled a clipboard out his backpack “okay superstrength...check”

after many trials and errors. mark and donghyuck found out that he was very agile, very fast, and very sticky. mark couldn’t go 3 seconds with out sticking to something.

as mark and haechan were walking back to the dorms, mark heard something his ears turned up as he looked around. “do you hear that?” mark pulled his hoodie up and walked a bit faster. “no what do you hear? is everything oka—“ mark took off running in the opposite direction past the parking lot, leaving his backpack and a confused Lee Donghyuck behind him.

mark turned the corner the feeling that was rushing through his body, it was more than adrenaline it was like an itch that so desperately needed to be scratched. he had to find out what that noise was. he found himself in the subway again. the same place his was now 24 hours ago. his head was now spinning the same place he was bitten now stinging more than ever.

his balance was off and his body felt weak. mark blinked harshly, the itch slowly fading away. but everything was fading away he slipped into darkness, passing out on the grimy new york subway floor.

“mark” a familiar voice called out to him. “yes y/n?” he responded, a swirl of neon colors surrounded him, his skin was no longer slightly tan it was neon red with some swirls of blue. he was still in the subway but it was empty. dead silent his own thoughts, and spiders the only things in the station. you were in the form a beautiful pink tarantula crawling all over marks body.

“you know what you have to do right?”

“what do i have to do?”

“save new york” you brushed against his cheek lovingly “save our friends, save me, and most of all” you had somehow reappeared in front of him crawling down from her own line of webs. “save yourself.”

“how do i do that?”

“22nd street my love”

mark heard that laugh he always loved to hear, then a sharp pain in his arm again.

“FUCK” he yelled when he woke up, surprised to see that it wasn’t the “pink tarantula” that hit him, but an IV going into the underside of his wrist.

“calm down mr.lee it’s okay, you had quite a scare there” a nurse rubbed his forehead “anything i can get you? some water? some juice you had a pretty bad panic attack there”

mark sighed

‘how am i supposed to save new york with anxiety?’

☀︎☂︎☀︎☂︎

“hyuck” mark said as they walked home from the hospital. “yeah?” he responded taking one of his headphones out his ear. “have you ever been to 22nd street?” haechan shrugged “yeah i’ve been by there, it’s nothing but some apartments...why?”

“i think we have to go there”

that piqued haechan interest, not in a good way though. “you’re not tired i mean...i know you have super stamina but you just had such a bad anxiety attack you passed out” he blinked “i don’t see how you’re not exhausted, fuck— even IM exhausted” mark shrugged and walked in the other direction in hopes to catch a bus, “you coming?”

“so am i like your agent or something” haechan said smacking on the lunchable from his backpack loudly, so loud that mark couldn’t even hear himself think. between the homeless people, the bucket drum line, haechan obnoxious chewing, mark couldn’t hear himself think. “OKAY JUST SHUT UP” he snapped, all attention on him. “oh— uh not you guys i—“ mark quickly became flustered looking at haechan for some help. “OH— uhhh, my friend here has a disorder. sorry about that” haechan rubbed mark on the back, watching as heads turned back to what the were doing. “thank god” mark sighed in relief as they reached their stop. “i feel something...” the same ringing in his ears was back, becoming quieter as he walked in different directions dragging haechan in zigzags along with him

finally, mark and haechan arrived at their “destination”. all it appeared to be was just a regular apartment building. “what the fuck?” mark huffed slamming his fists aganist the wall, accidentally triggering something.

the small alley way they were in between revealed a door, the two boys looked at each other in pure amazement as they jumped through. “what is this?” mark said in awe staring down the walls. “don’t touch anything” an older man said swatting his hand away “you’re the new guy?” he looked mark up and down “the standards must be in hell”

“hi nice to meet you too!” mark sarcastically said. “i didn’t ask.” the man simply replied. “follow me though.” the boys did as they were told. “i believe that we were all put on this earth for one reason, to wreck havoc and help when havoc wrecks things” the older man laughed at his own terrible joke. “that’s why some people their genetic code is different, they’re products of some very expensive experiments, and my favorite” he chuckled “wrong place right time”

“so where do i fall?” mark wondered out loud. “the third one sweetheart” the older man bent down into a mini fridge and got out something to drink. “so basically what i’m saying kid.” he slurped it loudly in marks ears “help when havoc wrecks, whenever it does”with the snap of fingers, haechan and mark were back home and mark was dressed in a red and blue spandax suit. a black spider embroidered on the chest. “bro? you look—“ mark raised a brow, thinking he was still in his regular clothes. “you look like an actual superhero!” haechan danced around the room. “i do?” he stepped infront of the mirror “oh— I DO”

“what should i call myself. tarantula boy?—no too weird spider boy? no too immature”

“spider-man” haechan suggested

“spider-man...” mark said to himself in the mirror.

“i guess i’m spider man...”

[potionsprefect]

One Split Second

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: An incident in the hospital sends shockwaves

Rating: T

Category: angst/trauma (but there’s a happy ending)

Victoria Clarke walked the corridors of Bloom Edenbrook, smiling to fellow doctors and nurses who were attending to patients. She headed over to the admin desk to pick up a new patient chart, having previously discharged her last one.

“Hi Ines. Any interesting cases come in today?” Victoria asked as she approached the doctor.

“Hiya Victoria. Take your pick. The sooner we discharge these patients, the better. How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Ines replied brightly.

“We’re getting there. These last few months are stressful making sure everything’s in order. I’ve already fallen out with my sister-in-law twice over my nieces bridesmaid dress.” Victoria sighed.

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. What was it over? Angie had a similar problem with hers and opted for none in the end!” Ines laughed slightly.

“I wanted my niece Isabella to wear a headband on the day but my sister-in-law disagreed saying she would find it itchy. She wanted her to wear a flower crown but I’m not a big fan of those. This was two weeks ago and we haven’t really spoken since.” Victoria sighed.

Victoria loved her sister in law Erin but she really wished she had listened to what she was trying to point out. Erin was adamant that Isabella wouldn’t wear the headband but Victoria had said she had worn them before. Erin said she knew her daughter best and that she wouldn’t wear one and Victoria couldn’t persuade her. They hadn’t spoken since.

“Oh I’m sorry. Nine times out of ten the stress leading up to a wedding is usually always something to do with bridesmaids. But all of that won’t spoil your big day! I’m so excited for you!”

“Thanks Ines.” Victoria smiled.

“Instead of taking your pick, I’ve got one case here for you.” Ines pointed to the whiteboard. “It’s just been assigned to you which I found a little strange but I guess it’s nothing abnormal. Here’s the chart.” Ines handed Victoria a standard looking chart.

“Thanks Ines” Victoria smiled as she walked off down the corridor and into the elevator to see the said patient.

Her route to the patients room took her past her fiancé’s office. She saw him through the window, working away at the laptop in front of him. Victoria made a mental note to go visit him once she has assessed her new patient.

Finding the correct room, Victoria opened the door and noticed the curtains were drawn around the bed.

“Mr Embleton?” Victoria pulled back the curtain and froze in her steps.

“Well well well. Hello Victoria. What a nice surprise seeing you here.” A young man smirked from his bedside.

“George Embleton?! What are you doing here?” Victoria stepped back.

“What does it look like I’m doing here? I’ve injured my leg. I need stitches.” George pointed to his leg. “And you’re going to be the one to do it.”

“Why me?”

“Because I said so.” George replied.

Victoria eyed the young man she had once been at school with. He had always been a nasty piece of work. What was he doing in Boston?

Victoria grabbed the suturing kit and pulled up a stool and set to work on stitching George’s leg. Victoria could just see out the corner of his eye him watching her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake.

“So what are you doing here in Boston?”

“A simple hello would’ve sufficed. But as you’re clearly so desperate, I’m here for a conference. Not that it’s any of your business.” George replied.

“Part of my job is to make conversation to keep the patients at ease, whether I know them or not is irrelevant.” Victoria replied not looking up from her work.

“You always were a mouthy little cow at school, shame your attitude hasn’t changed.”

“And you’re still treating me like you did all these years later. And for the record, the Wilkinson School of Dancing thought I was amazing, no matter what your little friends told you.” Victoria looked up at him.

“Keep telling yourself that Clarke, I’m not the one who fumbled up a big performance.” George shrugged.

“Only after you shouted out that you’d seen less fat on a piece of steak than my thighs.” Victoria said eyes burning with tears.

Dance used to be her life. She thought about becoming a professional dancer instead of a doctor but that one performance shattered her confidence that she never danced in front of an audience again.

“Wasn’t lying though was I?”

“Not even your friends could persuade you to dial it down a bit. Did someone hurt you in another life and you were reborn so you could be hellbent on getting revenge?” Victoria hit back. He wasn’t going to come here and terrorise her. Not now and not ever.

“Shut your mouth.” George snapped.

“Luckily for you I will. Because I’m done. I’ll get you your discharge paper and you can get the hell out of here so I never have to see your face again.” Victoria said standing up.

As Victoria turned her back, what she didn’t know was that George had a lighter in his hand and a cigarette in the other. She also didn’t notice when she originally walked into the room that he had an IV in his arm.

What happened next, seemed to happen in slow motion. George flicked the lighter and Victoria found herself thrown to the floor, her ears ringing, vision blurry, she could just about make out an orange flame before everything went black

— — — — —

Ethan headed down the stairs, a small spring in his step. Life really couldn’t be much better. He was about to marry the love of his life in a few months and he was looking forward to starting a new life with her.

“Doctor Ramsey!” A voice called behind him. Ethan turned round to see Sienna walking towards him, chart in hand.

“Doctor Trinh.” Ethan nodded as she came and stood next to him.

“I just wanted to check that you are ok. Victoria mentioned she was having a slight disagreement with her sister in law over wedding planning and I wanted to check that you’re not caught in the middle.”

“That’s very kind of you Sienna.” Ethan chuckled.

“Just trying to be a better person every chance I get.” Sienna shrugged.

“There’s a lot of people out in the world who would be grateful for you checking up on them. I am definitely one of them.” Ethan smiled.

“Thank you. So tell me. Has the storm weathered or are the clouds still rolling?” Sienna laughed a little.

“To be honest it’s just raining at this point. They haven’t spoken since but the storm clouds have evaporated. William and I are trying to make peace but Erin is standing firm by her decision.” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sure she’ll come around. It’s Victoria’s and your wedding in the end. What Victoria wants should be the final decision.” Sienna said.

“I hope so. I just don’t want that to overshadow the big day.”

“It won’t. All that matters that day is you two and your happiness. Besides, we’ve all been planning a special present for the two of you so even if the wedding goes wrong, you’ll have something to cheer you up.” Sienna laughed a little.

“Thanks Sienna, although I hope-“

BOOM!

The noise was deafening. Everyone within a few feet of the blast were thrown off their feet. Glass shattered everywhere and there was the smell of smoke and a bright orange flame.

Ethan lifted his head and saw others slowly getting to their feet. He looked round and saw Sienna lying a few feet away, covered in blood.

“Sienna! Are you okay?” Ethan moved over to her, helping her get to her feet.

“Yeah I think so. Is that blood?” She felt her forehead and felt something sticky. “Oh god.”

“Go and get yourself cleaned up.” Ethan said.

“No no I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Sienna insisted. “Where did this explosion come from?”

“I don’t know. We need to open this door.” Ethan said.

He decided to break the door down not knowing what to expect behind it. Once he kicked the door off it’s hinges his heart stopped.

There on the floor, laid his beautiful fiancé. Ethan dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his hands, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Sienna cried. “I’ll go grab a gurney!” She hurried off and came back with two nurses who were pushing a gurney.

“Do blood work and get her vitals. And we need a head CT just to be sure.” Ethan barked as he picked up his soon to be bride and laid her gently on the gurney.

“Got it, we’ll look after her.” Sienna reassured him. She knew he wanted to stay but his anger was high. He needed to stay calm and seeing Victoria how she was wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Sienna-“

“No Ethan. She’ll be okay. She’s in safe hands. Help others who are injured and find out what the hell has happened.” Sienna instructed as she wheeled Victoria away to a trauma room.

Ethan watched her be wheeled away by the nurses, panic still rushing though his veins. His thoughts were interrupted by an object approaching him out the corner of his eye.

“I am here to help. Please do not interfere with my work.” Binx’s cheery voice echoed.

“Yes yes carry on you overgrown pile of nuisance.” Ethan huffed.

“You sound angry. I am trained to-“

Ethan punched him.

— — — — —

The bright lights were beginning to irritate her, voices swarmed around, not to mention the pounding as if someone was hitting her head with a hammer.

“I think she’s waking up!” A familiar voice said. Victoria opened her eyes to see a dozen pair of eyes looking down at her.

“Victoria? Can you hear me?” Sienna voice said.

“Yeah I... what happened?” Victoria said groggily.

“There was an explosion in one of the rooms. Luckily you’re not too badly injured.” Sienna replied.

“Shame about the other guy.” Jackie said.

“Other guy?” Victoria asked. Then it hit her. “Oh my god! My patient!” Victoria sat up.

“Woah Vic calm down! He’s okay. Well kind of. He wasn’t badly injured, but he was arrested.” Bryce said from the foot of the bed.

“What?!”

“Yeah it turns out the saline bags had ether in them, one spark and then everything just blew up. He apparently had a lighter in his pocket.” Elijah said.

“He said he knew you. Who was he?” Rafael asked from where he was sat.

“I... I went to school with him. He used to bully me relentless.” Victoria sighed.

“So how comes you were assigned to him?” Sienna asked.

“I may have an answer to that.” Jackie said. Everyone looked at her as she turned to Victoria, looking at her sympathetically. “You know the lab technician Eliza Fitzgerald? Turns out they’re cousins. She was the one who put the saline bags in even though he didn’t require them. And she put your name on the board at his request. They’re both in custody now.”

“But why?” Bryce said.

“Because he hates me. And he clearly wanted to step everything up a notch.” Victoria said tears rolling down her face.

“We’d never let anyone hurt you. You’ll always have us and Ethan.” Sienna put an arm around her.

“Speaking of Ethan why isn’t he round my bedside? And where’s Aurora?”

“Patching up your fiancées hand. He and Binx had an unfortunate encounter earlier.” Elijah chuckled.

“It was quite a sight to see.” Rafael laughed.

“He’s also barking out orders to the hospital board about employee safety. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Naveen look so wary of him.” Jackie said.

“I’ve made a mental note to never cross Ramsey’s path.” Bryce chuckled.

“I’ll page him, we’ll come by and see you tomorrow.” Sienna gave Victoria a hug. The rest of the group filtered out the room as Victoria gazed out into the dark sky, the city sparkling under the moonlight.

“You need to stop scaring me Rookie.” A voice suddenly said. Victoria looked towards the door to see her fiancée hurrying over to her bed, wrapping her up in his arms when he got close enough.

“I’m so sorry Ethan.” Victoria sighed leaning into his embrace.

“What on earth are you apologising for? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Ethan said kissing her cheek, running a hand through her hair. “Dr Varma explained everything to me.”

“I thought I could handle it. I had no idea what he was doing.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. He’s locked up, far away from you, he can’t hurt you again.”

“I know and I’m glad. Although from what I’ve heard, it sounds like I’m not the only one who ran into an old foe today.” Victoria chuckled slightly, picking up Ethan’s hand that was wrapped in a bandage and kissed it.

“That calculator made its final equation.” Ethan chuckled resting his chin on top of Victoria’s head.

“I wish I was there to see it.” Victoria smiled.

“You wouldn’t have stopped talking about it for weeks.”

“Of course. And I think everyone would be gossiping as well. I heard you went to the boards and gave them a tough time.”

“I did what I was obliged to do, not just as your fiancé but as your boss. Our doctors should be safe when they are in work, everything could’ve ended up so different tonight.” Ethan sighed.

“Luckily it didn’t.” Victoria smiled.

“Indeed. I love you, you know.” Ethan looked at her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to marry you.” Victoria smiled.

“And I can’t wait to marry you.” Ethan smiled kissing her passionately. The two began to lose themselves in each other’s kiss before the vibrating of a phone forced them to break apart.

“Who’s that?” Ethan kissed her cheek, nuzzling his nose there.

“It’s Erin.” Victoria said confused. “You were right, I’m sorry.” She looked at Ethan.

“Sounds like she’s willing to compromise about the headband.” Ethan chuckled tightening his arms around her.

“Sounds like she is.” Victoria stared at her phone.

“Come on, you need sleep.” Ethan took her phone and put it away and forced Victoria to lie down before he laid down next to her.

“Are you staying the night?” Victoria looked up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ethan replied.

“Good. I want a cuddle.”

“You always want a cuddle.”

“You give the best cuddles, I always want more.”

The couple drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

— — — — —

Well that was a ride! But we love a happy ending!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged

Tag list:

@ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @caseyvalentineramsey @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @anntoldst0ries

@choicesficwriterscreations

[king-finnigan]

5 times Geralt tried to propose to Jaskier and 1 time he didn’t

The last part of my 500 followers celebration! Once again, thank you guys so much! Masterlist!

I don’t know if modern AU deserves a content warning. But consider this a CW: Modern AU, I guess.

***

I.

He’s nervous. Really nervous. Wiping-sweaty-palms-on-your-shirt-nervous. Cannot-eat-anything-nervous. About-to-propose-to-your-boyfriend-of-four-years-nervous.

He bought the ring about a month ago, and spent the weeks after that planning this entire thing meticulously. They would go to the park where they had their first date, he would buy Jaskier ice cream, just like he did the first time, and he would propose at the bench next to the lake, where they had their first kiss. It would be perfect.

Of course, Geralt isn’t really one for big proposals and romantic gestures, but he knows Jaskier likes it, so he guesses he can bear doing it this once. And maybe every day after that, as long as it makes his love happy. But of course, first things first – the proposal.

The day goes swimmingly, and he can tell Jaskier’s having a good time. Of course, his love doesn’t really hide his emotions – not in the way Geralt tended to do, before he met Jaskier – so it’s not that hard to tell how happy Jaskier is.

And, when they finally reach the lake, he reaches into his pocket, ready to get down on one knee while Jaskier stares out over the water. This is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment he’s been preparing for weeks, the moment he’ll show the entire world how much he loves Jaskier and that he’ll always love him.

His fingers dig into his pocket. And find empty air.

He frowns, trying again, digging deeper. Huh. He tries his other pocket, which is also empty, save for his phone. Shit. His back pockets are empty, too, and he tries them all again, just to be sure. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit.

Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “You alright, love? Looking for something?”

He digs into his empty pockets one last time, before limply letting his hands fall by his side. “No, it’s alright. Just thought I’d lost my phone.”

Jaskier smiles, takes his hand softly, and starts pulling Geralt away from the lake. “Come on, let’s go home, it’s getting late.”

And suddenly this perfect day isn’t so perfect anymore.

He finds the ring in the pocket of his leather jacket, at home.

 II.

So the first time he tried to propose didn’t end well. That’s alright. It happens. Jaskier is still very unaware of Geralt’s plans, so he still has time to fix his mistake. So, he decides to take Jaskier on a shopping trip – because Jaskier loves shopping – and bring him to the Starbucks Jaskier used to work at as a barista, where they first met. Sure, it’s not exactly the most romantic spot, but he figures that maybe he can get their drinks for them, and slip the ring over the straw or something like that.

And the day goes well. Jaskier has a good time buying some knickknacks for their home and some decorative pillows because all respectable adults have decorative pillows, Geralt, and they’ll make a great Instagram post. When he insists on buying Geralt a forest-green sweater, Geralt rolls his eyes but lets Jaskier, anyways.

He’s nervous again, when they walk to the Starbucks, even though it’s the second time he’s trying to propose, and he’s sure Jaskier will say yes. Of course, his love notices his fidgeting, and asks him what’s wrong. Geralt just shakes his head, the knot in his throat preventing him from speaking.

And then they find out the Starbucks has been replaced with a McDonald’s. Fucking brilliant.

He’s not going to propose in a fastfood restaurant, thank you very much. The idea of it happening in a Starbucks was already pushing it, but no way is he gonna do it in a McDonald’s of all places.

So, they walk back to the car, Jaskier telling him it’s alright, and there’s no need to be disappointed, there are plenty of other Starbucks’ elsewhere, as the ring burns a hole in Geralt’s pocket.

 III.

He gives up on romantic gestures. Instead, he buys a bouquet of blue roses on his way home from work – Jaskier loves blue roses, he knows.

But when he opens the door to their apartment, he finds their home empty and dark. He frowns, turning on the light as he walks into the kitchen, seeing a sticky note on the fridge door.

Girls night with Yen. Be back before sunrise, it says, and Geralt lets out a sigh. He had forgotten about the fact that Jaskier and Yen would be going to a party today. And when those two go out together, bad things happen. Not bad bad things, of course, but he’s sure that Jaskier won’t be home before 7, will either still be drunk or already hungover, and will also probably bring back another traffic sign that Geralt will have to dispose of someway, somehow. Probably by taking it straight to the dump, like he did last time Jaskier came home with a stop sign. And the time before that. And the time before that.

Let’s hope he doesn’t come home with another stray cat, though, like he did two years ago. And a year ago. And about six months ago. And last week. Geralt’s tired of bringing animals to the shelter and having to leave them behind. Of course, it doesn’t help that he kept the first cat Jaskier brought home and named it Roach – now his love feels encouraged to take animals with him when he’s drunk.

He sighs, scratching the brown cat between her ears, before he lays the bouquet on the living room table and heads to bed.

Jaskier, in a bizarre move, brings home a goat the next morning, and – still very drunk – refuses to tell Geralt where the fuck he got it from.

 IV.

Alright, fine, so there’s no way he can plan it beforehand. So, he decides on a whim, to take the ring out of his pocket when they’re doing the dishes one day, after he’s pulled the plug out of the drain. Except his hands are soapy, and the ring slips out of his fingers, carried into the drain by the last bit of dish water.

He can’t help the loud ‘fuck!’ that falls from his mouth. Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “Everything alright, love? You look a bit pale.”

Geralt blinks, then nods, hurrying to get the tools from the storage closet in the hall. “Yeah, but I think the drain is clogged. Gonna have to open it up.”

Jaskier shrugs, walking into the living room, turning on the tv. “You need any help with that?” he asks, despite already scrolling through Netflix, as Roach settles into his lap.

Geralt shakes his head as he hurries back to the kitchen. “Nope, I can handle this!” he calls out, before slamming the door behind him.

He manages to get the ring from the pipes under the sink, luckily, but gets drenched in dirty water in the process.

 V.

Today is the day, he decides, as he makes his way up the stairs to their apartment. Today is the day he proposes. He’s gonna go inside, get down on one knee immediately, and ask Jaskier to marry him. There is no way it can go wrong this time. Today. Is. The. Day.

In his absentmindedness, he doesn’t notice the small puddle of rain water on one of the steps, and slips, hitting his head on the concrete. He curses, manoeuvring himself so he’s sitting down on the steps, clutching his painful forehead.

When he pulls his hand away, there’s blood sticking to his fingers. Well, fuck. He gets up again, making his way up to their apartment, letting himself in. As soon as he steps into the living room, Jaskier is pressing against him, looking at his forehead. “What the hell happened?”

“I slipped on the stairs.”

Jaskier tuts, shirt sleeve wiping away some of the blood that’s dripping down the side of Geralt’s face. “That’s gonna need stitches, love.”

Bloody brilliant.

They spent the rest of their evening in the ER, Jaskier grasping Geralt’s hand in both of his, Geralt pressing an old rag against the cut on his forehead.

 + I

A week later, he can’t say no when Jaskier begs him to take him to that nice restaurant a few blocks away. He decides not to propose, that evening,  because firstly, proposing in a fancy restaurant is incredibly cliché, and the last thing he wants is for it to be cliché. A weird proposal? Yes. An unromantic proposal? Sure. But a cliché proposal? Absolutely not.

Secondly, he decides not to propose because there are a million and one things that could go wrong. And, with the way his past attempts have been going, the lower the risk, the better. He’s fairly certain that, by now, if he were to try to propose tonight, the restaurant would likely catch on fire or something.

So, he just has a nice, lovely dinner with Jaskier. And it’s great, it’s a great evening, it’s a great restaurant, and he’s having great fun. Until dessert, when things go wrong.

Because of fucking course things go wrong.

Jaskier orders a moelleux for dessert, and Geralt notes in the back of his mind that the lady at the table next to them orders the same thing, but he pays no mind to it. After a while, the desserts arrive, almost simultaneously, and Jaskier crunches his nose in disgust when he sees a few mint leaves on his moelleux – he hates mint. Geralt laughs at his expression, though it falls when Jaskier takes away the mint leaves, revealing a ring underneath.

Firstly, he notices that the ring isn’t the one he bought for Jaskier, now several months ago. His is silver, with a light blue diamond that matches Jaskier’s eyes. The one on the moelleux is… hideous, in his opinion. It’s gold, with a large disc on it, full of little diamonds that sparkle obnoxiously in the low light of the restaurant, so bright it almost hurts his eyes.

Secondly, he notices that Jaskier’s expression turns from confused, to slightly disappointed, to a fake exhilarated. He can tell his love doesn’t like the ring, either. Which, under any other circumstances, would be a good thing – something to make fun of when they get back home. Except Jaskier understandably thinks this is the ring Geralt bought for him. After all, why else would it be on his dessert?

Thirdly, he notices the clatter of a fork falling on the ground at the table next to them. He looks to his side, and sees the guy staring at the moelleux in horror and confusion, while his girlfriend looks at it with jealousy. Ah. He understands the mix-up, now.

He sighs, plucking the ring – which weighs quite a lot, really – from the moelleux, handing it to the guy next to him. “I believe this is yours.”

The man takes it, mouth slightly agape, before shutting it with a snap, nodding frantically, before turning to his girlfriend. He and Jaskier watch as she takes the ring, practically screams her ‘yes, I will marry you’, and the guy slips the ring on her finger.

Jaskier smiles at him. “For a second there, I thought you were going to propose to me with that ring,” he whispers to Geralt.

Geralt scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no, I would never. That was definitely not my ring.”

Jaskier cocks his head, frowns. “That was definitely not your ring?”

Well, shit. He fucked up. Again.

He presses his lips together, fishes the ring with the blue diamond from his pocket, and slides it across the table towards Jaskier.

The whole restaurant stares at them when Jaskier starts laughing like a maniac. Geralt waits until his love is done laughing, until Jaskier has his forehead on the table, hiccupping out small giggles. “What’s so funny?”

He pales when Jaskier takes a ring out of his own pocket, handing it to Geralt. It’s silver, with a yellow diamond in the middle that matches his eyes. Almost an exact copy of the ring he got for Jaskier. He barks out a laugh, as well, laying his forehead against his palm. “God, what a mess.”

“So,” Jaskier whispers to him. “Will you marry me?”

Geralt can’t help but smile. “Will you?”

Jaskier snorts, taking the ring from Geralt again, slipping it on his finger. “I assume that’s a yes. And yes, I will marry you too.”

Geralt, in turn, takes the ring he bought for Jaskier, slipping it on his love’s finger. “Good, cause I’m tired of trying to propose to you.”

[harringtonstudios]

vegas run (IV).

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: CLIMAX!!!! i hope yall like pls let me know <3 ty ellie for the gif hunting ily

masterlist! (previous parts can be found there soz got too lazy to link)

Shuffling with the others was entertaining. You didn’t know any of these people but everyone seemed to follow one another, pointing out the fifth Elvis they’d seen or the dude standing in the middle of the street buzzing his hair off. 

The crowd had thinned out a little, people disappearing into the casinos and bars lining the streets. Colson was walking in front of you, fingers still stuck with yours as you trailed behind just a little bit, trying to match pace with the rest of the group around you. 

The weed seemed to be wearing off now, fading into the background as your view sharpened just a bit. You didn’t really know what time it was, or how long you’d been wandering the streets with Colson right by your side, but your phone was tucked into your back pocket and you hadn’t had the heart to check it yet. You knew by now the squad would have left the first casino, but these spontaneous moments were what the Vegas run was all about and you wanted them to last longer.  

Just then, Colson sidled up next to you. He let go of your hand before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You huffed at the loss of contact, wanting to feel his palm against yours again. Hesitating for a second, you raised the hand that was closest to where his arm was draped over you. He let out a little laugh and then his fingers met yours again. 

“Needy baby,” he mumbled, still smiling as you looked up at him. 

“Not a baby,” you uttered, scrunching up your nose but smiling at his words all the same.

“Mhm,” he hummed out, squeezing his fingers against yours to make a point. 

“I’m hungry,” he stated, and you realized that’s why he’d come back up next to you. 

“Yeah, time to break away?” you asked, turning your head to the side trying to spot some place to grab a bite. 

He didn’t even respond, just nudged his shoulder at the guys you’d been rocking with before creating a path out of the little group. You stumbled a little at the awkward positioning of your bodies, but you didn’t want to be the first one to break it up, so you quickly aligned yourself against him and followed his lead.

-

Ten minutes later, you guys had wandered into a shop called Bruxie. The lights were dimmed, soft glows barely lighting up the menu but Kells had spotted a powdered sugar covered waffle and immediately veered the two of you in. 

The spot was small, but metal stools lined the front, a countertop propped up against the full-length windows. It was amazing, you could sit and eat while watching the show that was Las Vegas at night. People were milling by, the ever-present lights highlighting the streets as the city bustled around you.

Grabbing two stool seats, you pawed at the menu trying to figure out what you were in the mood for. 

“Fuck Y/N, look at this,” Colson said, shoving a finger at the plastic menu, pointing at the waffle chicken deluxe. It was huge, covered in syrup and sugar from what you could see in the picture. The weed had left you both with the munchies and sticky syrup was exactly what you were craving right about now. 

The order came in a few minutes later, ringed up at the counter. Bringing it back to the table, Colson couldn’t help the smile taking over his face. He set the plate down, and then tugged a little at his hoodie like he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“It’s a waffle,” you chuckled, making fun of his reaction.

“It’s not just a waffle. It’s the waffle,” he scoffed as he pulled out his phone to take a picture of the drippy, sweet mess in front of you two.

You waited a second, and then grabbed your fork, tearing up the side to take a bite into the famed breakfast food. 

“HEY! Wait for me,” he shouted, and you groaned impatiently as he cut off another piece. 

“Count of 3,” he said, raising a finger towards you. 

“Nope,” you responded, and then shoved the waffle piece into your mouth. The flavors hit you immediately, and you looked at the plate in front of you impressed at the different tastes you were getting. 

The waffle was gone soon enough, and then Kells was hopping off the stool and striding up to the counter to order another one and a round of beers to keep you both happy as the food started flowing in.

---------

You could feel the drinks you downed earlier hit you all at once. You hadn’t gotten drunk in so long, busy with getting your store on its own feet. Sipping on warm beer in your empty apartment just never gave you the same feeling as you had now. It was like there was something warm wrapped completely around you, lighting you from the inside. You could feel the flush on your own cheeks, the way your head felt kinda full.

It took you a minute to realize that there actually was something wrapped around you, a chin coming to rest on top of your head, grounding you down. Two arms covering your front as you shifted a little, trying to figure out exactly where you both were. 

“Stop shifting,” Colson mumbled from above and you pouted at that, tilting your head up so he had to lift his chin off of you. 

Your eyes met his as he looked down at you, and you could tell he was just as gone as you. His eyes looked blurry as if he was gonna cry and moved your gaze downward focusing on the scar at the bottom of his chin. It was an old one, but it still raised against his skin, standing out so close to your vision. 

Pulling your arm from out of his hold, you lifted your finger trailing it against the puckered skin. You’d been tilted back too long, could feel the blood rush to your head in a way that made you feel dizzy. Closing your eyes, you pulled your head back, licking your lips as the blood settled back into your veins again. 

“Where are we?” you mumbled, not sure how’d you both ended up on the corner of the street, facing a bright pink wedding chapel. 

“I have no idea,” he murmured into your hair. 

The light turned from red to green as a car turned the corner, driving past where the two of you stood on the curb. There was a neon heart pulsing on the window of the chapel, a blue arrow running through it and you watched the light switch on and off as he rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. 

Two people stumbled out of the chapel, flowers in hand laughing as they walked off into the other direction. You watched the girl stop, throw her bouquet backwards before he picked her up in his arms. The flowers landed on the floor, petals breaking apart against the cracked cement. 

“Wanna get married?” came a whisper above you. 

Your breath hitched, the pink heart pulsed again. 

“Yeah,” you nodded slightly, feeling something pull oddly tight at your heart.

-

A minute later, you both were crossing the street. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest, feel the way Colson’s own heart was beating steadily behind your back. You stopped in front of the entrance, feeling the tips of his Converse against your heels as he abruptly paused right behind you. 

Picking up one of the roses from the trashed bouquet, you turned around, holding it out towards him. 

“For you,” you murmured, feeling the faint warmth of a blush rise up on your cheeks again. 

“Why thank you,” he exclaimed, exaggeration dripping as he bowed down before plucking the sole flower out of your hand. 

You smiled up at him before stepping aside, trying to hint at the fact that he should take the lead. You weren’t used to this at all, and even though you knew he’d never been married before, something told you this was more in his wheelhouse than yours. 

He raised an eyebrow up at you, and then took the first step into the already open door. 

Following behind, you were immediately struck with the absurdity of it all. There was a woman sitting at a counter, dressed in all pink with a feather pen in her hand. There were chairs lining the lobby, and you spotted the door towards the chapel part of the room. A wooden heart was carved right above it, and you tried to stifle your laughter as you spotted a treasure chest in the corner overflowing with different costumes. 

“We’re here to get married!” Colson proclaimed, walking towards the counter as you moved towards the golden chest. 

You laughed at the words, spotting an Elvis wig thrown in and a cow onesie right underneath. You could hear him discussing things with the lady at the desk, but you were so enamored with the eccentric outfits that you tuned him out. Shifting through the clothes, you laughed at the red cowboy hat, paired perfectly with the one ruby studded cowboy boot tossed in. 

You got caught up searching for the other one, moving through the chest at a record pace before realizing that someone was calling your name. 

“Y/N!” Colson shouted again, and you whipped your head up seeing him lean against the desk. He was grinning, arm up in the air waving you over and you suddenly flashed back to a couple hours ago at the casino, the way he’d pulled you in from across the room. 

Fuck, only a couple of hours ago you’d been wandering around with another guy, aching for some action and now you were going to get married? The sentiment suddenly hit you, and you let out a breath, sitting down on your knees.

 Married? To one of your closest friends? To the guy you’d swore you felt nothing about until a couple of weeks ago? 

Lost in thought you didn’t really notice when his smile dropped as he caught sight of you staring into space. He pushed himself off the desk, coming up to you before getting on his own knees right across from you. 

“You okay?” he asked, hand going over to where you were clutching the sole ruby boot with a tight grip. 

You blinked once before coming back to your senses, “Yeah, no? I’m good.” 

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured, eyes meeting your own. He seemed so sober at that moment, words dripping out of his mouth with ease. Your gaze caught on his chin again, the scar sticking out. 

At that moment, it really hit you. You did want this, wanted everything that came with it even if you both didn’t exactly know what that was. The alcohol in your system craved this more than anything and you smiled up at him, dropping the boot back into the chest as you got up off the floor. 

“I want this if you want it,” you announced, dusting off your jeans. 

“I want it,” he declared right back at you, and you grinned before extending your hand to pull him off the ground. 

The lady at the desk clapped pulling you both out of the moment and you laughed a little as you walked over to her. 

“Great idea sweetie! He’s a looker that one,” she chipped as you got a hold of the papers that she had laid out. 

“Yeah Y/N I’m a looker,” Colson repeated, leaning back against the desk, smirking at you. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, catching the raise of his eyebrow as the words came tumbling out of your mouth. 

And then all of a sudden, you were leaning in to where he was, softly kissing the bottom of his chin right on the scar.

“You missed,” was all he mumbled and you flipped him off as he laughed, signing your signature right next to his. 

“You’re all set lovebirds. Go pick something crazy to get pictured in and then you can walk in. Father Michael will be waiting for you,” she smiled, stapling the sheets together as you handed her the feather pen back. 

You wandered back to the treasure chest, this time feeling Colson’s gaze on you as you reached back down for the red boot. 

“I wanna find its twin,” you said, turning around to show it to him.

He was smiling at you, and you felt a sudden warmth build up in your chest at the way he was looking at you. Pulling the boot out of your hand, he held it up to his face, turning it around as he inspected it. 

“Nope,” was all you got before he tossed it back into the chest.

“Hey what the fuck,” you scowled slightly, turning back around to pick it up. 

He stopped you before you could, arm pulling at your wrist. You paused, moving back towards him, pulse speeding up at the way his grip felt against your skin. 

“If we’re gonna do this,” he started, and you couldn’t meet his eyes at the sound of his words and how close they sounded to a promise, “I want it to be us.” 

“Us?” you mumbled, teeth biting down on the edge of your lip. 

“Yeah, no gimmicks, no costumes. Just us,” he responded, and you looked up at that, seeing the smile hidden in his eyes. 

“Okay,” and a grin spread across your own face. 

“Okay.” he nodded and then you were both crossing the room to the chapel entrance. 

- 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyths​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @hnbtx​​  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​​ @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @whyisgmora​ @oopsiedoopsie23

[lajulie24]

D for hanleia pre esb!! ❤️

Thank you kindly for the prompt, and for your extreme patience with the long time I took to finally fulfill it! This idea ended up racing past drabble and well into fic rather than ficlet territory, so think of this as part 1 of a two-part fic. Also, this will be a long post since Tumblr seems to deal poorly with “read more” links in asks these days. Title is a reference to a line in Abra Moore’s “Four Leaf Clover.”

D. Subtle kindnesses.

Let go of all the big deals

Damn it. Leia really wished Evaan were still here.

I wish Mama were here, her thoughts continued, before she could stop them. Or Winter, or Aria. Papa. Memily. Even Aunt Rouge, Aunt Celly.

It was easier when she didn’t let herself go there at all, but apparently she’d opened the floodgates simply by thinking of Evaan—who was still alive, just elsewhere with the rest of her people, keeping them safe, leading them in the way Leia couldn’t right now.

Evaan would know what to do with this, this mess that had become of Leia’s hair. She would’ve laughed, wielded the comb, helped her work out the little bits of resin that lingered in the strands. A few washings with Chewie’s shampoo had actually done a brilliant job at getting out most of the sticky sap that had exploded all over them, but it couldn’t work miracles.

Leia worked the comb through her hair slowly, wincing as she hit another tangle.

“How’s the grooming goin’, Your Worship?” Han called from outside the door. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t sent out a search party for her, given how much time she’d been at this already, but perhaps he had enough experience with Chewie to understand that this was no simple job.

“Fine,” she called back. “Just great.” She took up another section and began working the comb through it, gradually, carefully. This was honestly the longest her hair had spent fully down in quite some time; normally she took it down, brushed it, and put it into her sleeping braid, or pulled it out of the sleeping braid long enough to put it back up in her familiar crown braids. Now that she had spent so much time with it, she noticed not only the tangles and remaining bits of sap, but the split ends.

She hadn’t cut it since Alderaan. She’d been neglecting it, frankly; it had been this length for years, but regular trims helped maintain its health and texture. When she was home, she and Winter would trim one another’s hair. Or she’d get Memily to do it. TooVee could do it in a pinch, but normally cutting hair wasn’t a task you would give to a droid. It was too personal, too intimate for that.

TooVee would’ve claimed it contrary to her programming, anyway. A stickler for protocol, that one.

“Need anything?” Han called. He was actually being surprisingly considerate about this whole thing; somehow he seemed to have caught on to hair = private and had made sure to keep everyone else out of the crew quarters while she tended to this.

There was one tangle that didn’t want to come out. A little nest of hair that defied her, no matter how carefully she worked to unwind it, her efforts achieving nothing but a sore scalp. Such a sad little knot, she thought. A little snarl of hair and resin twisted all within itself, about two inches from the bottom.

She tried again. Nope. It wasn’t coming out.

Surely Han had something she could use. What did Chewie trim his fur with, anyway?

“Han?” she called. “You still there?”

“Yeah, you need something?”

“Do you have a scissors? I’m going to have to cut this bit out.”

“Sure thing.” Footsteps left down the hall, and Leia busied herself trying the knot again. Just like her, continuing to work at something even while it was hopeless. Optimism? Stubbornness? A little of both?

The footsteps came back, and then the hatch opened enough for Han’s arm to slip in, a beard- and pelt-trimming scissors in his outstretched hand. Leia took it. “Perfect, thank you.”

The door closed again, and after a slight pause—

“Ah, you need any help with that?” Han’s voice sounded tentative.

Leia considered that for a moment. She’d figured she would probably have to just cut out the offending knot for now and figure out how to fix it later, because she definitely was not going to be able to even it out all the way around by herself. But she also knew from experience that having one bit of hair that didn’t match the others would be a real pain. And it did desperately need a trim—

You could ask Han to do it.

“Uh, maybe?” she answered, stalling for time while she thought this through.

She wasn’t sure why she felt so weird about asking Han to help trim her hair; she respected her culture’s hair traditions, but she’d never thought she was personally all that attached to them. Certainly she’d had it down in front of others before. She’d even had it down in front of a man before.

Yeah, a man you were involved with. And it was kind of a big deal when you did that. And that had been before, when her planet and her culture were not in danger of extinction.

But also, that had been before. She had been doing a lot of things lately that she hadn’t done in her life before.

Like asking random men to cut your hair for you?

Except Han wasn’t some random man, not at all, as much as some of her colleagues on High Command might think of him that way. As casual and as brash and as infuriating as he could be sometimes, he was her friend. And he had seen her at some of her worst already—narrowly escaping death by being crushed in a wet trash compactor could do a lot to help you bond, right?

Then she remembered the other thing he’d done that day, the thing that told Leia that there was more to the man than swagger and bravado and a frequently professed love of money. The thing he’d done quietly, and without ceremony.

It was after they’d escaped the TIEs, after he’d scoffed at her assertion that the Imperials were surely tracking the Falcon to Yavin IV, after she’d dismissed him as a mercenary and strode off, leaving him and Luke to gossip or whatever it was men did. They’d all stunk of garbage, so later Han had offered use of the real water showers and the autovalet.

After Han had gotten Luke set up in the ‘fresher (with Luke still both fascinated and terrified by the newness of cleaning with a continuous spray of water), Han had quietly approached Leia.

“Hey,” he’d said, “you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Yes.” That was an understatement, one she was trying not to think too much about.

He’d beckoned toward the corridor. “We got a medbunk. I c’n help you get fixed up. Might not be much time for that once we land.”

“I’m all right,” she’d said.

“Yeah, I know,” he’d agreed. “But who knows what was in that garbage. Don’t want those wounds to get infected. Really drag down your revolution.”

She’d stared at him for a moment.

“If you want, I can get Chewie to, uh, chaperone or whatever,” he’d said, obviously misunderstanding her silence as mistrust of his intentions. Honestly, she’d just been surprised at his mention of the wounds hidden by her white dress—how did he even know they were there?

“No, that’s all right,” she’d said. “This way?”

It was unexpected, how gentle he’d been as he’d cleaned and applied bacta to her injuries, somehow knowing exactly which spots would have been hit by the droid and other devices. At the same time, she’d been relieved to find him casual and matter-of-fact about the whole thing. No pity or patronizing, just care, like they were comrades in battle. And when she’d asked him—how did you know? he’d answered simply. Used to be one of ‘em. Long time ago. Another life.

“Another life,” she’d repeated.

If she could trust him with the wounds from the worst day of her life, when they barely knew each other, she could certainly trust him with this.

“Uh, yeah, could you come help?” she called, and a moment later, the door slid open.

Thank you for the ask!

[randomsevans]

The truth was hidden there all along.

"IZZY , JAMES GET UP NOW !" You shouted from the bottom of the stairs . This is the third time you have called for them your patience is wearing thin

"YOUR GOING TO BE LATE FOR DAY CARE !"

You took a deep breath and hung your head low as you rested against the handles of the stairs

"CHRIS IS GOING TO BE HERE ANY MINUTE AND HE WONT TAKE YOU IF YOUR NOT DOWN HERE BY THE TIME HE WALKS THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR "

That line works most times , considering your children love your partner more then there love you . Funny how the fun one gets more love then the person who brought them into the world .

"YOUR MOMS RIGHT JELLY BEAN IM WAITING " a deep voice boomed from behind you making you jump

"Oh shit !"you placed your hand over your heart

"Watch your languages darling " chris smirked

"Dont scare me then " you turned to him slapping his chest .he caught it and pulled you into his chest and slammed his lips fo yours .

"Ewwwee " followed by tiny stomps down the stairs

"Chris !" A high pitched squeal from your three year old daughter Izzy as she run down the stairs

"Izzy dont ... "chris panic voice came through allows for the air in his chest it he punched out and izzy jumped into his arms squealing

"Chris ! Chris ! Chris !" She did a little wiggle in his arms

"Oh I see some one is now awake "you shook your head

You turned your head and looked up at the top of the stairs to see your 7 year old son james standing there with his arms across .

"Come on james . I need to take you to school while chris takes izzy "

"You too finished " he snarled stomping his way down the stairs

"Finished what?" You scrunched up your face turning to chris , who just shrugged, dragging izzy upside down as if it was nothing.

James was the final steps and narrowed his eyed at chris and pointed his finger at him. Making chris instantly stop what he was doing and paying full attention to the little boy

"You mister .... I never want to see that again " his voice was stern but still high pitched

Chris looked at you with scared eyes "do what son ?" He asked

You just looked at the two of them ,as james browns hair was sticking all over over the place . Your heart fluttered when chris "son " but was replaced by guilt quickly

"Kissing my mamma with out asking " his voice was stern and very serious

Chris looked shocked upon the young boy and turned to you .

"Yeah chris you should of asked first " you teased

"But ... baby .." Chris looked like a kicked puppy as James made his way down the final steps and stood in front of Chris who was still holding his sister as she played with hair in her small hands

"You need to ask next time . You got that mister "

Chris nodded still shocked with his mouth open

"Good !" And with that he made his way into the kitchen , as Chris put Izzy down to follower her brother .

"Wh..what just happend?" Chris shook his head making his way to you ,placing a hand on the small of your back .

"You just got a scolding form my son" you grinned up at him

"Yep that boy is 100% your son " chris chuckled placing a kiss on your cheek . And there was the guilt eating up at you again . Always parizling you from the truth . And it hurts, it eating at you but you dont know what the outcome would be if you told the truth

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY! "

Chris put his hands up in her air and started walk over to the kitchen

"Now who wants porridge " he clasped his hands together

"Ewwwwe no PANCAKES " Izzy screamed the last part at the top of her lungs. You simple stood there at the side lines and watched

You were so thankful to have chris in your life . You and him have been friends for years at least a decade, you've had your ups and downs, your fazes through out your friendship . In the time you had James he was not around busy with life as yours being to change . But when Izzy came around and you were all on your own he came back in and become a permanent part in your life .

You remind sticky friends during your pregnancy and first few months of Izzy being born .

But as you spent more time with him, the feeling you always had for him were become stronger and in no time you and him were together. Officially. Not like it used to be in the past . When you were just friends with extra when it suited him .

And Chris was fine with you being a single mom . After Izzy "and " James father left you for someone else after months of cheating .

Chris adored your children . Chris is the only father figure Izzy know . Hell he even named her Isabella he wanted to use the nickname Bell but Izzy just stuck more .

And that what made the guilt even stronger as your past is strong and complicated your so scared it will effect your future you would not dare tell a soul. It could either make your family or tear it apart. 

“baby you coming ?” chris snapped you out of your thoughts

“oh yeah “

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

chris pov 

i was driving , taking Izzy to her pre-school , who was currently in the back seat , quiet , unusal quite . if theres one thing ive learned over watching that little blonde princess grow up ,is that the moment she learnt how to speak she never shut up , oh I wonders where she got that from ? i chuckled little at the memory of you yesterday over the phone , not shutting up complaing about one of James teachers .i looked up in the mirror to get a glimps of the little girl , 

she was seat there in her car seat stairing out at the window with a little pout .

“whats the mattter Jelly Bean ?”

she let out a dramactic sigh , always dramctic that one ,wounder who else is like that ?

“chris ?” she softly whispered still looking at the moving trees 

“yes Izzy ?” i asked trying to look at her while also looking at the road ahead 

“why dont we call you daddy ?” 

the questsion caught me off graud , 

“umm i ..” i didnt know what to say , this is the first she has ever asked anything like this and your not here to have an answer. I dont want to say something that will upset you .

“ what makes you ask that ?"i  questioned 

she final looked up “its just i heard emily yeasterday getting picked u , by this man and she called him daddy , and i asked Ms Smiwth and she saiw that every littlw gurl and boi has a mamma awd a daddy “ 

my heart pumped first at her confession as her little doll eyes glassed over , along with her being adorable not being able to speak quite right yet 

“awd i aswed her what a daddy does , awd she saiw that a daddy looks after you and does everthing a momma does . And you do that , so why do we callw you Chris awd not daddy ?”

now my eyes were glossing over , i looked over at the clock on the dash bord and saw we had a bit of extra time before she needs to be at school , so i pulled over and switched the engine off . i undone my belt and turned to face the little one . 

“jelly bean .. i “ i began to chock on my words 

“its just that i may be here but im not you daddy , not properly  “

her lip began to trembel as a small tear escaped her little blue eyes 

“soo your ... your pretenting !”she whispered , my heart stopped 

“what no ... no bean not at all . i Love you and James as if i was your daddy “

“but your not ?“she titled her head 

“yes .. you see there some one else out there , who is  but ...” god this was so diffuclt with out you “but you have me and mommy and thats all you will ever need , i will always be here for you and for James “ i said slowly hoping to avoid a moring melt down , but if it was from her or me was unknown at this point . I love those kids like there are my own , there came from you how can i not . ive been around Izzy since she was born i was with you through out most of your pregnancy , since that dick head who is meant to be her father pissed off , i will never understand why that waste of space never saw you as enough . You are more then enough for me , your too good for me , i dont desve you speical the shit i put you through our younger years , it took me so long to open  my eyes to see you were all i ever wanted and in that time you had already had two children with some twat . But im thank full of what i have and i love those kids and you more then anthing , 

“so if you .. dow if you look afwter us why dont we callw you daddy ?

“ do you want to call me that ?” i asked 

i was offical dead when she nodded her head with the widest smile , making me tear up 

i took a deep breath , turing to contol my emotion , i cant explain it , its all ive ever wanted . 

“okay missy lets get you to school "

[mangobilorian]

Desert | (mature) iv

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Words: 6615

read chapters one, two, three 

check out my AO3 here 

You’re sweating. Which shouldn’t be concerning, but space is cold. The Razor Crest becomes especially cold, the metal walls cool to the touch. You move a bit, and find that you’re trapped under a heavy arm. Mando. With a grunt, you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only pulls you tighter to his chest. 

“Where are you going?” His voice is… so attractive like this. Deep, raspy, unfiltered.  

“You’re heavy,” you say, still trying to free yourself. “Why aren’t you flying? Did we land?” Mando groans. 

“Yeah. We’re on Tatooine already.” Oh. That’s why you’re sweating. Of course, the extremely hot bounty hunter contributed most of the heat, but it’s usually not this warm in the Crest. 

“How long-” Mando cuts you off by loosening his hold, only to roll over and brace himself on top of you. He supports the majority of his own weight, but your chests still touch.  

Mando leans over and presses a kiss to your lips and you reciprocate with fervor. You feel a hand caress your sides, drawing slow circles across your waist. 

“You up for another round?” The idea is arousing, but… no. 

“I’m too sore,” you pout even though he can’t see. Already, the ache between your legs is noticeable and annoying enough that you don’t want to worsen it. When Mando said that Tatooine wasn’t far, it was an understatement. The trip took about three and a half days. Most of which was spent underneath (and sometimes on top) of Mando, learning about how your bodies worked together and figuring out what you liked. It also meant that while your experience increased tenfold, you were now extremely sore and needed a little break. 

Mando sighs disappointedly and kisses you again. It’s comforting to have his body pressed against yours, just kissing slowly and languidly like you’re two people in the galaxy who like each other.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Mando pushes off from you, and gets off the bed. You hear the clang of clothes and metal. You close your eyes again, content to stay on the verge of sleep. With Mando gone, the oppressive heat from before lessens, and you let the relief wash over you. The lulling pull of sleep sings at you, and you’re tempted to accept. 

Except the lights in the Razor Crest turn on, and your sleep is shattered. Mando steps into view, his underclothes and helmet on, but nothing else. He stares at you, and you realize that you’re still naked. You fumble to cover yourself—a useless endeavor—when he turns around to give you some privacy. 

“I’m heading out soon. Want to come?” What? Mando never asks you to tag along with him, always claiming that it’s too dangerous. And it is dangerous. Tatooine is in Hutt space, and for him to invite you along is suspicious. However, the idea of seeing another planet is alluring. You realize that Tatooine would be the second planet you’ve ever been on, another step into finding out about your brother. And while the odds are slim that you’ll get any clue at all, you have a good feeling about the whole trip. 

“I asked because you had cabin fever. Now come on,” he gestures in mock irritation, not waiting for a reply. You smile and reach for some clothes. 

*****

Tatooine is a brutal place. Sand gets everywhere—in your hair, your clothes, even in your eyes. You have to pull the top of your shirt over your lips to stop sand from entering your mouth and nose too. For the first time, you envy the Mandalorian. His helmet protects him from the slap of sand that rides the winds. However, wearing all that armor in the heat evens it out. He’s probably baking underneath.  

Mos Eisley is both exactly the same and completely different from your home city. The familiar feeling of crime and villainy permeates the air, and there’s a buzzing tension in your bones. Call it nerves or excitement or maybe fear, but you feel different. Like something big is about to happen or the status quo will snap and the galaxy will be upturned. The first time you had this feeling, you received news of your brother’s death. The second time, the Empire collapsed.

Upon arriving at the spaceport, rows of bloody Stormtrooper helmets impaled on sticks greet you. The visceral sight reminds you, for a brief second, that violence and bloodshed are very real in the galaxy, and they’re very real on Tatooine. If you pay attention, you notice the small collars around young women, the scarred faces of old men. Slaves, you realize. Tatooine still had slaves— all Hutt planets did. Of all the planets Mando had to drag you to, did it really have to be this?

You enter a cantina, and Mando ushers you into a booth. He talks to the bartender for a little bit, probably gathering some information. The place reminds you of your parents’ bar, much dirtier and cheaper but the concept stands. If you squint, you can see hands ready on blasters, women whispering in men’s ears. Mando looks like he belongs, his very stance screaming confidence and threat. Everyone parts for him, fear evident in their eyes, and you realize that this is the first time you’ve seen him working. Granted, your first interaction involved spilling information about Ras Drun, but the Mando then is different from the Mando now. At least you think so. 

The band plays some jaunty tune, one you haven’t heard since you were young. People chatter about, already drunk despite it being midday. The air smells musty and feels slightly sticky. But right in the midst of it all, you can feel the stringy tension of anticipation. 

Mando slides in next to you with a drink in hand. He pushes it over, and you glance at it. It’s some orange drink— bubbly and cold. Hesitantly, you bring the glass to your lips. You try not to cringe, but… it tastes awful. Bitter and salty at the same time. It tasted like something pissed in your mouth. At least it’s cold. 

“How much did this even cost?” You sputter, pushing the drink away. Mando chuckles. “Please tell me it wasn’t more than three credits?” Paying any money at all for the drink seems like a bad idea. 

“Imperial credits don’t work here. Besides, it’s cold. Enjoy it.” He grabs the glass and sets it directly in front of you. You give him the biggest pout you can muster and take another sip, wincing the whole time. If you ignore the taste, you can enjoy the cooling, refreshing effect. Except the taste can not be ignored, so you were stuck with a piss drink. Despite the atrocious taste, part of you relishes in the fact that Mando bought the drink for you. 

“Thank you,” you say, wishing you had shown some gratitude before you insulted his gift. The bounty hunter simply snorts, the sound distorted and tinny, looking away to observe the busy cantina. “What about you? Are you gonna get something?” 

“Helmet,” he says, and points at his head. Oh. Right… 

Your face grows even hotter, and a traitorous bead of sweat slides down your spine. You laugh off your mistake, and Mando places an arm around your shoulder, helmet tilted away from you. The weight and added heat of his body would be enough for you to complain, but you don’t. You… kind of like it. It feels comfortable to be like this— pressed against the bounty hunter’s side, protected by the most dangerous man in the cantina. He looks so intimidating and strong that it hurts your chest. You decide to pity his enemies; you can’t imagine having to face him on a hunt. 

Without any words, you survive another sip of the disgusting drink and press further into Mando. He jolts for a brief second and tightens his grip around you. A flicker of confidence surges through you, and you place a hand on his armor-plated thigh. He tenses under your touch, a small sound of surprise filtering through his helmet. 

Emboldened, you drag your hand upwards— to the space above the armor plate where thick fabric is the only thing between you and the bounty hunter. Just as you touch him, Mando shoots out and grabs your hand. 

“What are you doing?” You turn your head away from Mando and towards the wall. His fingers still grip your wrist, but he lets go when you don’t respond. Once your hand returns to its initial position, you squeeze gently. 

The strong muscle is still tense, and you don’t think anything you do will make him relax. Slowly, you curve your hands inwards, toward the apex of his thighs. You see Mando raise a hand, preparing to stop you, but he doesn’t.

It’s exciting, you think, as you edge closer to the fabric covering Mando’s cock. The idea of touching him, stroking him in a place as public and dirty as a Tatooine cantina should be embarrassing and disturbing. But it’s not. The idea excites you very much, and it probably excites Mando too if his lack of complaint is anything to go by. You wonder what he would do if you slip underneath the table. Would he stop you then? Or would he tangle his gloved fingers in your hair and watch as you graze a tongue over his head and suck his length into your mouth? 

For now, you settle with gentle touches. Mando doesn’t move, even when you squeeze a little bit. His cock hardens under your touch, and he drops his arm around your shoulders to nestle around your waist, gloved fingers tracing circles and random shapes. 

This feels right, you realize. As dirty as it is—really, you would never entertain the idea of giving Mando a handjob in a crowded cantina— you enjoy the ordeal, the teasing. You apply harder pressure on his cock, not enough to hurt but enough to show that you were eager. It’s a Mando thing, you decide. He’s the reason you’re acting so different from the girl he found a month ago. 

You sneak a look at the bounty hunter, fingers already reaching for his zipper. Your hand touches metal, and you’re ready to pull down. But something catches your eye, and you look past Mando. There, sitting in a booth on the opposite side of the cantina, is a man. He’s handsome in a dark, rugged way, probably a local. And he’s staring at you with open recognition, and you shiver despite the heat. 

You take your hand away, deciding to look elsewhere and rub your arms for some warmth. Mando jostles around and looks to where you were staring at moments ago. You expect to see the man sitting there and hope his gaze is somewhere else. But he’s gone. As if he was a figment of your imagination. 

“What’s wrong?” Mando asks, squeezing your waist. “Everything all right?” You nod, eyes transfixed on the now-empty booth. The drive to pleasure Mando is completely gone now as well as your budding arousal, and you hope he isn’t too put off by being teased. Thankfully, Mando takes your silence and doesn’t push. 

Something in your gut tells you to move. Tells you that the anticipation in the air is so close to reaching a conclusion. You take one last sip of the drink and shimmy away from Mando. 

“Going to the ‘fresher,” you say, as normally as you can. Mando nods and gestures at the refresher’s direction. He starts to step out of the booth, but you stop him. With careful movements, you manage to squeeze between Mando and the table. After one last look at his helmet, you head to the ‘fresher. 

It’s down some dark hallway, illuminated by one flickering light source embedded into the wall. You want to run away and go back to Mando, but you need to figure something out. You need answers. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

You whip around and see the man from earlier. He’s older than you by a few years probably, but he would still be considered young. Yet he looks like someone who suffered through war and other tragedies. You should be scared, you think. You’re a girl by herself and he’s an older man yet… 

“Who are you?” He shakes his head, lips set in a grim line. 

“A friend of a friend. I… I never would’ve expected to see you here.” You frown. Who is this man? Scared or not, you’re creeped out by the fact that he knows you. 

“What do you mean?” He sighs, and walks forward. You realize that he’s been walking ahead the whole time, and your back almost touches the back wall. He looks dazed, staring in your direction but not exactly at you. “Please. I don’t know who you are.” 

Over his shoulder, you see Mando’s looming silhouette. He storms over and grabs the man by the back of his shirt, a blaster pressed to his head. 

“Who are you?” Mando growls. The sheer aggression makes you back further into the wall. You have to remind yourself that Mando is not here to hurt you. He’s here for-

“Wait! Mando, don’t-” But the bounty hunter doesn’t listen, and he slams the man into the wall. Before Mando can do anymore harm, the man gasps, forced out of his earlier daze. 

“I knew your brother!” He says, and everything stills. The air crackles like static, and the string of anticipation snaps with fervor. At your paralyzed state, Mando releases the man who sags against the wall. “He is- was a good friend of mine. I know who you are because he showed me holos of you. I never thought I’d see you. H-he always talked about you. He loved you very much. He was my best friend,” the man blabbers. The words wash over you. He knew your brother. He knew your brother.

“Were you there? When he died?” The man stops talking and looks at you with a certain kind of heavy sadness. 

“Yes,” he whispers. “I was there when the Empire shot down your brother. He sacrificed many things for the Rebel Alliance.” Your brother… was a rebel? The Empire killed him? No, that’s not possible. He was just a simple pilot who traveled for fun or carried cargo sometimes. He wasn’t a rebel. 

But he was, a traitorous voice whispers. And this man knew him.  

*****

When the man, Crix Kilis, brought you and Mando to his house, you didn’t expect it to be a farm. A moisture farm actually. The idea boggled you for a bit—you’ve never thought about planets where people had to harvest water from the air. The farm itself is quite small, with architecture you’ve never seen before. 

The ride to his farm was uneventful. Mando had glared at Crix when he suggested going to his place and even dragged you aside for a moment. 

“You really trust this guy?” 

“He knew my brother. Our meeting wasn’t a coincidence.” He grumbled something that you couldn’t hear, but you weren’t really paying attention. Most of your mind was set on the fact that you finally had a clue to your brother’s life. Granted, you weren’t searching very hard. You thought you’d know how to fly and be out of Mandos’s care before you would start searching. And on your first stop, you met Crix. Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe the galaxy is being weird. 

Crix offered for you a ride on his speeder bike, but Mando refused and rented one for the both of you instead. The rebel shrugged and carried on. The trip was spent in silence, Mando driving the speeder right behind Crix. The rational part of your brain told you to be more cautious. But your brain was a little too frazzled to be thinking rationally. 

“Here, sit down. You want some tea?” You nod, and Crix rifles through a cabinet. Mando sits next to you, legs spread wide, one arm over your shoulder. He doesn’t look at you, electing to observe the small house instead. As he watches Crix, you watch him. Mando’s been tense since Crix arrived in your life. Of course, he’s a bounty hunter; it’s part of the job to be suspicious. But he keeps touching you, on your shoulders, back, waist. You don’t mind. It feels good to have his attention on you. A small part of you considers that he’s being protective. After all, this is the first time you’ve been off the Crest in weeks, and you suddenly meet your brother’s rebel friend? But no, you’re not important enough to him for him to protect. Right?  

Crix sets the tea on the table, and you take a sip. You expected something hot, so when the cold liquid touches your lips, you almost choke. 

“What did you do?” Mando growls, and Crix backs up. The hand on you tightens, and you wave the question away. 

“It’s fine. I thought the tea would be hot, not cold.” His helmet turns to you then to the drink. 

“She’s right. Why have hot drinks on a desert planet?” Mando relents and slowly relaxes his hold, but the tension doesn’t fade all the way. You hear a hiss from outside, and Crix looks up in mild alarm. He gestures for you to relax; it’s just a piece of farming equipment that got loose. He exits the house with a bag of tools in hand. 

You and Mando sit quietly, and you sometimes take sips of the cold tea. It’s refreshing and a welcome upgrade from the nasty orange drink in the cantina. Sighing, you lean your head to rest on Mando’s shoulder. Your cheek grazes his pauldron, but the majority of your face nestles into the crook of his neck. He jolts at the contact then reigns you closer. The position is slightly uncomfortable since your head is pressed into his neck. He’s in full armor and wearing heavy fabric and his body heat alone makes you sweat. But he warms you up in another way—in a cheesy, jittery, totally ridiculous way. 

“Do you feel… safe here?” You burrow deeper into his embrace. 

“Yeah. I had this feeling earlier that something big was gonna happen. And it did.” It’s comforting to have your instincts be right. You don’t know what you’d do if you never got answers for your strange feeling. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.” You hum in response and trace a gentle circle into the armorless part of Mando’s thigh. If Crix hadn’t been watching, how far would you have gone with Mando in the cantina? Surely, you wouldn’t have actually given him a handjob or blowjob right? The hornier, dirtier part of you disagrees. And Mando, for all his conservative clothes, would enjoy your boldness. Did enjoy your boldness. 

“I have to go soon.” You break away from his hold to peer into his visor. “I came here for a bounty.” Right. You forgot you’re on Tatooine because it was Mando’s choice and not because of fate. 

“So you want me to go back to the Crest?” He sighs, and you can feel the movement through the armor. 

“If you want to, then yes. If you feel safe here, then you can stay too.” You try to reply but he cuts you off. “Look, I don’t like the guy. But if he knows your brother, then you deserve to talk to him.” He turns away from you, but you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Thank you,” you say. “I think I’ll stay then. When will you be back?” He shrugs. 

“Once I get the bounty. Tell the guy that I can pay him for his services.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Crix says from the doorway. There’s a strange look on his face, and you realize the position you’re in. You clear your throat and separate a bit, but Mando doesn’t bother to move.

“She’s my best friend’s sister,” he addresses Mando. “And you are here as a guest,” he nods at you. “I’ll be back in a few,” he says heading out the way he came.

“When are you leaving?” 

“Now.” Oh. All right.. You both stand up, and you take a moment to register just how big he is. In the dark, you can map out every muscle, every scar, every imperfection through touch alone. But with the searing Tatooine suns, you wonder if you even know him. If you’ll ever know him. That won’t stop your feelings though, however foolish they might be. 

You expect him to walk out right away, but he pauses and lays a hand on your shoulder. You want him to hug you. You want him to hold you tight and whisper sweet words in your ear. 

But he doesn’t hug you or whisper anything. He simply rubs your shoulder. It should be comforting. Instead, it’s a reminder of how close you can be to him, but he’ll always put himself farther away. 

“Stay safe,” you say, wishing one last time for him to hug you. He gives you a single nod, releases your shoulder, and heads out. You watch his back disappear through the door and hear the gentle roar of a speeder. A minute later, Crix enters with his tools. 

“Hungry?” 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes still trained on the door. 

*****

Tatooine has beautiful sunsets. The suns cast a certain glow the neon signs on your home planet could never hope to achieve. Crix sits next to you, hands propping him upright. With an almost empty glass of cold tea in hand (your third cup since arriving), you let yourself relax. You didn’t think that being off the Crest would make a difference, but you definitely feel better. The atmosphere of relaxation does wonders for physical and mental health, after all. 

“Tell me about my brother,” you say, breaking the silence. Crix releases a wistful sigh, still staring ahead.

“He was amazing. A pretty darn good pilot too. He was so good that Luke Skywalker complimented him once.” He glances at you, but your lack of response at the name makes him frown. “You don’t know Luke Skywalker?” You shake your head. Why would you? Your planet wasn’t too affected by the Empire, so there was no difference when it fell. What’s one rebel to you? 

“Skywalker is the pilot who brought down the first Death Star. He’s actually the best pilot in the rebellion, maybe the galaxy,” he chuckles. “There were also rumors that he was a Jedi.” He whispers the last word, still waiting for some sort of reaction. You give him none.

“Seriously? You don’t know anything?” You shrug.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been off planet. What is a… Jedi?” Crix moves a bit, and settles into a more comfortable position. 

“Before the Empire, the Jedi were the peacekeepers of the Republic. The Empire purged all Jedi when it came to power. It’s rumoured that Skywalker is a Jedi because he’s so amazing. The things he does, the things I’ve seen him do… are nothing short of miracles. Even if he’s not a Jedi, it’s poetic. A Jedi restoring the Republic and ending the Empire’s oppression. Now that’s a good campaign,” he smiles softly. Right. Like any of those words meant anything to you. You barely register what he said. 

“What do Jedi do exactly?” You ask for the sake of it. In actuality, you want to get away from the off-topic situation and back to your brother, but Crix seems too appalled at your lack of knowledge. 

“They can move stuff with their mind, plant suggestions in people’s heads, and use lightsabers.” It sounds like a whole bunch of magic. “At least, that’s what it said in the secret volumes at the Great Library of Alderaan,” he trails off, glancing away from you.   

“You’re from Alderaan?” You’d heard the news years ago. The whole tavern had watched the news show Alderaan’s destruction. All channels coming from Alderaan ended, no evidence left behind except for space debris. An entire planet wiped from existence.

“Yeah,” he smiles bitterly. “That’s where I met your brother actually. Seven years ago.” You straighten. “He really was a simple cargo pilot. I was a lousy rebel pilot in disguise. We became friends, and he grew more interested in the Alliance. A month after meeting him, he pledged allegiance to the cause in the backroom of a bar.” 

“My brother died seven years ago. You said the Empire killed him.” None of this makes sense. He must have a rebel for longer than that. You remember the news reaching your family. You remember the little slip of paper saying that your brother died. 

“No he didn’t.” You also remember that there was never a body. The small hope of him being alive always lingered. If there was no body, there was no proof. You always imagined finding him, happy and whole, living on some nice, temperate planet. Maybe that could still happen. But if Crix is here and your brothers isn’t then- 

“So he’s alive?” Crix turns and takes your hand in his. The gentle squeeze tells everything.

“I’m sorry. He died defending Beta Group. He- do you want to know the story?” You nod. Your chest hurt like battery fuel on fire. Your tiny hope crushed before it could grow any further. “We were in the Beta Group under Commander Lajaie. The ships were in the Mako-Ta Space Docks. I remember it like yesterday,” he chuckles without humor. “The ships failed when we tried to enter hyperspace, and Vader arrived with the Death Squadron.” He glances at you, but you look away, staring into the bleeding suns. “The Commander told us to go to the escape pods, but Vader went to attack those first. Your brother, against orders, led enough of Vader’s fighters away from the escape pods. He saved many lives, sacrificing himself in the process.”  

“When?” 

“Three years ago after the Battle of Yavin.” 

Everything stops. The slight wind, the hot sand, everything. You thought he was dead for seven years. You lived with the grief of losing your best friend, your confidant. You cried for so many nights, aching for him back. You had centered so much of your kriffing identity around your brother that- 

“He didn’t want to endanger you.” You jerk your head to Crix. “If the Empire knew he was a rebel, they might go after his family too. It’s happened before. Better to pretend that he’s dead than risk your life. I faked my death too.” You don’t understand. The Empire never affected your life very much. Why would your brother even join the rebellion? Why? His life, your life, your parents’ lives: the Empire never mattered as long as you had each other. As if he can see the questions on your face, Crix speaks up. 

“He believed in the cause. In the Republic. In democracy.” 

“Fuck democracy,” you seethe. He says your name, but you yank your hand away from his. “Your damn democracy is the reason my brother died! Fuck the rebellion, fuck Skywalker, and fuck you. You probably didn’t even care-”

“You don’t know me,” he says calmly. But you don’t listen. You don’t want to listen. “He was my best friend. He was there when I realized the Death Star vaporized my planet,” he continues and you stay quiet, heart still fuming. “I was there when he talked about his family, about you. He loved you. And I loved him,” he says. You freeze and he looks at you with such raw, vulnerable eyes. 

“Were you…”

“Yes. We were lovers,” he whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” You try to search for something to say, anything to say. But the words die on your tongue and you reach for his hand. So much grief to process in so little time. 

“I was a scholar on Alderaan,” Crix says after minutes of silence. “The Empire destroyed most texts about Jedi but not all. They gave me hope to join the Alliance. I never thought I’d be a pilot. I wanted to help in other ways, but they needed more pilots, even bad ones. I considered dropping out. But your brother convinced me to stay in the same way I convinced him to join.” 

“Why Tatooine?” 

“I had a feeling. Besides, Luke and his father, Anakin, were from here. If this planet can produce two heroes, why not settle here? Of course, slavery and Hutts aren’t very good, but… I had a feeling. Maybe the Force knew I’d meet you,” he shrugs. After a few beats of silence, he stands up and brushes the sand off his pants, hand still in yours. “Let’s get some food then sleep.” 

“Thank you,” you squeeze his hand, “for everything.”

*****

After eating some classic bantha steak for dinner and drinking it down with blue milk (an odd but tasty treat), you settle down on the couch with Crix in front of you on another chair. 

You tell Crix about life back home. About your parents working hard to provide for you. How they loved you and cared for you, and you were too blind to see it because all their attention was spent on their business, their employees. Because if you learned anything from staying with Mando, it’s that some people show their affection silently or roughly, but it never detracts from the intent. 

You ask Crix if he would like to come to your home planet and meet your parents. He says he’d love to. 

Crix tells you all about the adventures he had with your brother. How a simple Alderanian scholar like him became a rebel pilot— the story involved espionage, betrayal, and gambling—or how their first mission together failed. Or even how your brother first reacted to being kissed.

“It was like the concept of a guy kissing another guy was foreign to him,” Crix says. 

“We were very sheltered growing up despite owning a… prostitution bar.” He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Sheltered alright. He became a rebel and you’re dating a Mandalorian bounty hunter.”

“We’re not dating.” Crix gives you a sure, yeah sure look. You yawn in response. 

You know you should sleep, but the buzzing excitement of questions stops you. Mando said you deserved to talk to Crix, so you will. Besides, conversation with Crix flows easier than a tap of beer. In the same way your brother was your best friend, Crix could be too. If they loved and trusted each other enough to consider marriage after the Empire collapses— a revelation that stings and bites and makes you cry— then you can love and trust Crix too. 

Of course, the Empire and Rebel Alliance’s role in your brother’s death still haunts the back of your mind. If he had never joined, he wouldn’t have died. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The galaxy is too large and too dangerous to ever guarantee someone’s life. In this galaxy, a Queen of Alderaan and her planet were vaporized, and a Tatooine farm boy destroyed the Empire. Crix told you that ‘it was the will of the Force’ but you don’t really believe it.

How could you believe that an order of wizard monks that were purged to almost extinction?  But if your brother believed in Luke Skywalker— something that Crix made sure to tell you often—then maybe you could too. Except-

A large part of you feels betrayed. Sure, faking his death was for your safety. It still doesn’t erase the years of mourning and grief. It doesn’t erase how you poured so much of yourself into the idea of tracing his steps and living his journey. Finding clues about your brother was supposed to be your big adventure, your ‘coming of age’ tale. Yet… 

He should’ve told you. You would’ve joined him too. You would become a rebel if it meant being with your best friend despite being a young teenager. You’d be by his and Crix’s side, helping to save the galaxy. Maybe he knew that you would follow. You were young and impressionable and idolized him too much. 

“It’s getting late. You can sleep in the bedroom; I’ll be out here.” 

“This is your place, Crix. Not mine.”

“And you’re my lover’s sister. He would smite me,” you both laugh. It’s comfortable and soothing. You can imagine living here, on Tatooine, and helping Crix farm water. Crix would definitely welcome you. Your brother would like it too. The two people he cared for, taking care of each other. 

But you know your place is with Mando. At least for now. When you think of home, it was always the tavern. The Crest isn’t comfortable. It isn’t a home. Yet, being around Mando feels right. Like it’s meant to be. Of course, the cheesy romantic side of you swoons and does all the talking. The rational part scoffs. A life with a bounty hunter doesn’t seem like the life you want or could enjoy. Besides, you have your answers. You’ve accomplished your goals. There’s nothing left to learn from Mando.  

“Let’s just share the bed, yeah?”

“Your Mando won’t mind?” You shrug. 

“It’s not like we’re together, you know. And you’re basically my new brother now.” Crix smiles, a wide, happy, smile. You return the favor. 

When you wake up, hours later, Crix has already left. Groaning, you stretch your arms and back. A real bed did wonders for your physical state. Of course, Crix’s warmth was nothing like Mando’s. Sleeping next to Crix was like cuddling alongside your brother. Familial. Platonic. Mando, on the other hand, made you think sinful, unutterable things. 

A glass of milk waits for you when you emerge from the room. You glance around at the empty living room, and conclude that Crix must be outside. You decide to lounge on the couch with the cold milk and take little sips. There isn’t anything for you to do; when you tried to help yesterday, Crix shooed you away with fervor. Your skills also don’t apply to farming; you’re better off with managing finances.  

You settle for stretching on the floor, taking the time to hold the positions. It’s hot as usual, and you already build up a sweat. You stretched regularly at home, more out of boredom than a desire to stay healthy. There’s room to exercise on the Crest; you see Mando doing it when he has the chance, but it’s still a little awkward for you to stretch around the ship. The Crest isn’t yours, and you don’t know how long Mando will allow you to stay. The thought of your temporary status makes you feel… a little inadequate, so you push that to the back of your mind.

After an hour or so, Crix invites you outside. He asks if you’ll join him on a little trip to Tosche Station since he’s missing some parts he needs for repairs. You agree, excited for a mini adventure, and strap into the speeder bike. Hopefully Mando won’t get worried if he arrives at an empty house. Some part of you wants Mando to miss you and get worried, as selfish as the thought is.  

Anchorhead is quite boring. Aside from leering males and brute criminals, nothing exciting happens. Of course, you and Crix were mistaken for husband and wife—something the both of you laugh at— so you pretend to be in-laws instead which isn’t that far from the truth. After Crix buys all his parts and some extra supplies, you head back to his homestead. 

The rest of the hot day is spent talking about your brother. How he was a great pilot and an even greater friend. How he had to be an absolutely amazing person to catch the attention of a Jedi. Crix seems to hold an idol complex for the near-extinct wizard religion, so your brother talking to Luke was momentous for him. He offers to tell you stories about the Jedi Order, but you’re not really interested. It’s probably your poor, uneducated, Outer Rim self speaking, but the Jedi of the Republic are so fantastical that it’s hard to believe they’re real. Besides, why would you listen to tales about them when you can learn more about your brother? 

The day passes quicker than you realize, and the gentle chill of the night arrives. Like the previous night, you and Crix sit outside to watch the suns set. It’s calming, and you find yourself getting used to the routine. You can see a future, a life here with Crix. A simple life, far from the dangers of space and accompanied by your brother’s lover. 

“He likes you,” Crix says, nudging you out of your thoughts. At your confused face, he continues. “The Mandalorian.” You scoff.

“As if. I don’t even know his name or face.” Crix shakes his head. 

“It wasn’t like that before. My mom told me that Mandos could take off their helmets and say their names anytime they wanted. I think yours is just super strict,” Crix shrugs. Huh. You’ve always wondered about the Mandalorian culture and how strong warriors are hardly seen anymore. Maybe they’re like the Jedi: from a time before the Empire, forever hiding in the shadows, content to lay low and survive. 

“Maybe,” you say and turn to face the lowering suns. From the corner of your eye, you see a dark figure speeding closer. Crix notices too and squints at the approaching speeder bike. The person parks right in front of you and hops off. Mando. 

He drags a gagged and blindfolded person off the bike and onto the sand below. The human male struggles for a bit, but Mando presses a button on the vambrace, and the man shudders before falling unconscious. It’s a disturbing sight, and you shiver. You can’t imagine the feeling of getting electrocuted to sleep. 

“Well, he’s a bounty hunter for sure,” Crix mutters. You jump to your feet and approach Mando. He looks tired. The tension in his shoulders, the stiff stance of his legs, and the heavier breathing point to growing signs of fatigue. A pang of guilt stabs your heart.

 While you were lounging around, drinking milk, and watching the sunset, Mando was working his ass off for a bounty. For just a few credits to fuel his ship and feed himself while providing for you. You haven’t even done anything useful except cleaning and providing a warm body. 

Maybe that’s all he needs you for.

As excited as you are to see him, you also feel a little dread. Crix nods at Mando, and they enter the house along with the bounty. As Mando passes the threshold, he holds a hand out towards you. The little action makes you smile, and you scurry over to take his hand. Together, you go inside the house. Despite the air being hot as usual, you relish in the warmth of Mando’s gloved hand, in the heat his metal armor retains. 

You’ll talk to him later about ways you can help out and ease the burden of his job. Possibly figure out what your relationship really is. If it even needs a label. You need clarity eventually, some even ground at least. 

For now, you settle next to Mando on the couch as Crix prepares some food. Mando will have to eat in a separate room and clean his armor and blasters there too. And you’ll be waiting for him when he’s done.  

read chapter five

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2&3 - 81

If you didn’t see my earlier post, I’m splitting HB2 into 2 books and extending book 3 a bit. HB4 starts in a few chapters.

Honor Bound 2&3 - 81 (Hurts to Breathe) @badthingshappenbingo​

Requested by anon & the bit at the end by @endless-whump

~

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound. 

AO3

Cw: surgery, gore (non-graphic), death mention, brief noncon mention, amputation mention, dissoci@tion tw, blood, ketamine, needles, self-hatred

~

Watching Finn do surgery was like watching a nightmare happen in slow motion. Isaac kept his hand firmly on Sam’s leg, but his eyes kept drifting to where Finn was slicing Sam’s arm open over the bullet wound. Below the tourniquet, Sam’s arm was a mottled purple-and-white that made Isaac think of corpses. I guess that makes sense, he thought. There’s no blood happening in there.

He shook his head. No blood happening. He could barely stay on his feet.

He’d barely slept at all the night before. He’d been too busy solidifying the plan with Gavin and when their whispers had faded away to silence, they just laid together, breathing together. Isaac wasn’t sure if Gavin had been asleep for any of it. Isaac had been awake, burning, agonizingly aware of every inch of skin that was pressed against Gavin. Aching, from what Gavin and Leo had done to him. Fighting down the tears, knowing this would be the last time he’d get to be in bed with Gavin, knowing after this it would never happen again. Knowing he’d never get to touch Gavin again, after what he’d done. Knowing he didn’t deserve to, after what he’d asked for. Begged for. Maybe he slept. He could just barely remember dark punches of sound in his dreams, muzzle flashes, blood. Death. Maybe he’d slept, if he dreamt of his family dying.

Maybe he was still in one of those nightmares now.

Behind him, he heard someone stumble through the door. He tore his eyes away from Sam and turned to see Gavin and Vera walking in. Behind the hospital mask Gavin looked paler than usual, but better than before. Gavin stopped just inside the doorway and leaned against the wall across the room, his eyes fixed on Sam. He wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered.

Vera crossed behind Isaac to Lucy where she sat huddled in the opposite corner, watching her husband. Slow tears rolled down Lucy’s cheeks. Vera murmured something to Lucy. Asking for something, maybe. Isaac couldn’t hear, and didn’t want to try. He only wanted to see Sam, see them getting better. Lucy left the room.

Finn cut carefully. The bullet had gone clean through Sam’s arm. Hadn’t cavitated. Just straight through, with a small hole on either side. Sam’s eyes were blank, rolling slowly in their head, drifting, landing on something in the room, moving again. It was like their body was vacant. It was like Sam was miles away.

Finn breathed slowly as they concentrated, and cut. Trying to reach the bleed. Trying to reach the thing that would tell Finn if Sam was going to lose the arm.

I don’t think Finn can do an amputation here, Isaac thought, the words coming and meaning nothing. Amputation. Nothing meant anything right now. Isaac was here, and not-here, with Sam, and somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn’t describe, just felt. Somewhere distinctly empty.

He’d seen death before. Seen blood. Seen the wounds bullets could leave when they tore through a body and left shredded flesh behind them. He’d seen how a knife could lay someone open when it was being wielded to kill, not just torture. He’d seen what the body looked like on the inside. He’d seen what it looked like when something went so wrong that the pieces couldn’t be put together again.

Watching that on Sam was agony he’d never felt. I was supposed to protect them.

His chest ached with every breath, with every heartbeat. The pain had to be from the bullet. It had to be. The crushing feeling in his ribs, the feeling like he was being punched every single moment, it all had to be from the bruise that was still forming on his chest. There was something deeper, though. Something tearing deep inside him, deep inside the core of him. Something that surpassed any anguish he’d ever felt. Am I watching Sam die? Am I watching Sam die?

NO. They couldn’t be dying. They were getting blood, Tori’s blood. Gavin’s already ran through their veins, pumping through their heart. The blood would save them. And Finn. Finn would save them.

Finn cut deeper into Sam’s arm. More blood ran over the table and dripped onto the floor.

“I think I’m almost to the bleed,” Finn said softly, almost as if to themselves. “There’s, ah… there’s a nerve in the way, I think. I d-don’t know what that… shit…” Finn adjusted their hands. Sam shuddered and groaned softly.

“F-Finn?” Isaac croaked. “I th-think it’s… I think it’s starting to…”

“Fuck.” Finn looked at their gloved hands, covered with Sam’s blood, then looked over at the counter. “Isaac, can you… just bring the whole vial, and the syringe. Yeah. God, fuck. Topher, do you… are you alright if I just have that syringe needle out? I normally wouldn’t, but…”

“That’s fine,” Topher said weakly. Looking away from the wound in Sam’s arm.

“Okay.” Finn rasped as they took the vial and syringe from Isaac. Their fingers instantly left smears of blood on the glass and plastic.

As quickly as the ketamine had set in, it was wearing off. Sam’s skin went pale, paler, as tears rolled down their cheeks. They whimpered, and their right arm shifted on the table. Their wounded arm.

“NO!” Finn screamed, dropping the ketamine on the table and grabbing onto Sam’s arm. Sam’s mouth fell open in a twisted scream.

Isaac lunged forward to pin Sam’s arm down. Pain flared in his chest. “F-Finn,” he gasped. “Finn. You… get that… get that in them.”

Finn’s hands shook as they drew out more of the drug into the syringe. Sam strained against Isaac’s hands.

“I-Isaac,” they slurred. “Isaac, please, what’s ha-happening, what’s… ahh it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts…”

“I know,” Isaac whimpered. The blood congealing on Sam’s arm was sticky on his hands. “F-Finn’s gonna, gonna fix you up. Finn’s got more of the, of the ketamine…”

“No,” Sam sobbed, pulling harder on Isaac’s arm.

Ellis’s hand went behind Sam’s head, keeping their head turned so as not to disturb the needle in Sam’s neck. Their pleas rose to a wail, then a scream. The sound stabbed into Isaac’s ears, burned in his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Finn,” Isaac whimpered. “Finn, please…”

“I got it,” Finn gasped. They didn’t bother asking Ellis to move, just reached past them and stabbed the needle into Sam’s arm. Finn retreated with the syringe, breathing hard. Tears shown in their eyes. “I’m sorry,” they whispered.

Every single second flared in Isaac’s chest as he waited for Sam’s pain to go away. Every breath hurt. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat ached as Sam stopped begging with words and just screamed. Isaac’s knees buckled and he staggered. He looked up and Finn wasn’t even standing at the table. They had their bloody gloves off, standing at the counter, fiddling with something in front of them. Isaac couldn’t see it.

Isaac’s mouth was dry. “Finn, what—”

“Ketamine drip,” Finn snapped.

Isaac swallowed. “What—”

“Ketamine drip. To give them ketamine slowly, so th-that—” Finn threw their hand in Sam’s direction and their voice broke “—doesn’t happen again.

“Uh…” Topher looked up at Finn with his own gloves smeared with blood. “Do you want me to—”

“Start another line, please,” Finn said weakly. “Hopefully their veins are better now.”

Isaac threw a glance at Tori. She looked dizzy. Pale. Sam still screamed under his hands. Vera stepped forward as if reading Isaac’s mind.

“Babe?” Vera said tightly, her hand going to Tori’s shoulder.

Then, finally, Sam began to relax. They stopped straining against Isaac’s hands. Their head dropped back against the table and their eyelids fluttered shut.

“Ugh,” Sam mumbled. Slowly, their eyes opened again. “Wh-why is there, um, the, the air looking like that?”

“Like what, Sam?” Isaac said hoarsely.

“Um…” Sam gestured weakly with their left hand, waving it through the air. “Like… uh… whoa.” Their eyes focused slowly on their hand. “Uh… is that really there?”

Isaac glanced nervously at Finn as they injected a bag of fluids with more of the ketamine. He wet his lips. “Finn, what—”

“I can’t let that happen again,” Finn said with a sob. “C-can’t. So. Ketamine drip. 250 migs of ketamine in 250 mils of saline, one mig per mil, Sam needs thirty migs per ten minutes be, because, because that happened at around twelve. So, um… drip set of twenty drops per mil, twenty drops per mig, Sam needs, um, three migs per minute, so, um… three migs per minute with twenty drops per mig is…” Finn’s voice trailed off into silence. They stood frozen for a moment before they bent over the counter with a sob. “I… I can’t think, it’s… god, fuck, I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna do this…”

Ellis lurched towards Finn then stopped themselves short, their hand staying on Sam as if glued there.

Finn pressed their fists against their forehead. “Wh-why can’t I, I think, this is basic fucking math and I can’t do a, a simple goddamned med calculation and I… fuck, no…”

“Finn,” Topher said softly.

“…I can’t do this,” Finn moaned. “I’m not a fucking surgeon, I’m just a fucking idiot with ten fucking months of medical training and I… what if I… no…”

“Finn,” Topher said a little louder.

“…oh, god, what if I—”

“FINN!” Ellis barked from their spot at Sam’s side. Finn jumped and spun to look at Ellis. Ellis nodded at Topher. “I think he—”

“It’s sixty drops per minute, Finn,” Topher said, his voice shaking. “One drop per second. It’s a good calculation.”

Finn stood staring at Topher for a moment, trembling. Tears rolled down their cheeks. They gasped in a breath and turned back to the counter. “You’re right,” they whispered. “God, I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“No problem,” Topher murmured. He tied an IV tourniquet around Sam’s arm and looked for another vein.

“You think we could get a regular stick on Sam and let the blood go in from there so they can turn their head?” Finn said, still at the counter gently shaking a small bag of fluids.

“Sure. Wide bore. They’ve actually got a good AC now.”

Lucy walked back into the room carrying bottles of water under her arm, and a plate of sandwiches. “I… um… they’re PB&J.”

Vera crossed to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“Y-yeah.” Lucy’s eyes went first to Gavin where he leaned against the wall, shivering. She tentatively held out the plate to Gavin. Gavin took a sandwich with shining eyes, and left the garage to eat it.

Isaac turned back to Sam. They stared at him like they were looking at the ceiling through his head.

“Isssaac,” Sam slurred. “What’s…” They giggled weakly. “What’s going on?”

Isaac forced a smile. “Hey, Sam. How you doing?” It hurt to talk.

“I’m, I’m good,” they said. “I feel better. Did Finn fix it? Is it done?”

They’re going to be in so much pain when this finally wears off for good. “Not yet. Almost there.”

“Can I see?”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut. “N-no, Sam. Not yet. You can’t turn your head.”

“Oh.”

Isaac opened his eyes and looked down at Sam. His sibling, his sibling was bleeding out on the table, their arm torn by a bullet that was meant for Isaac. It should have killed him, but Sam had been standing in front of him, unprotected, and he’d been in a vest. He flinched as the memory took him over for a moment. The bang, the spray of blood, the punch to his chest, the feeling of Sam falling against him. They hadn’t even screamed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced away from Sam. Lucy stood at his side, holding out the plate of sandwiches and a bottle of water. He dipped his head and took the bottle, and a sandwich. “Thank you,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to eat anything. She nodded and moved on to Tori. He took a bite of the sandwich. Then another. The sandwich was gone so quickly Isaac wondered for the briefest moment if it had disappeared.

Finn returned to the table with the bag and some IV tubing in their hands. “How’s the line going?”

Isaac looked up dizzily and saw Topher finishing the IV in Sam’s arm. “Good,” Topher said.

These are all good things.

He stopped trying to pay attention to what was going on around him. He just looked at Sam. He looked at Sam as the new line was attached to their IV, blood and ketamine going in at the same time. He looked at them as the needle came out of their neck. He pushed down on the spot when Finn told him to and held the blood in until it could clot. It did. That was good, too. He looked at them as their eyes lazed slowly around the room, the pain as absent from their body as Isaac had ever seen. Sam looked like they were barely there, their mind hanging onto their body by a thread that could be cut. Sam looked like they were drifting farther and farther away.

I’d rather them be gone than in pain right now. Finn got back to cutting. Then stitching, pulling the muscle and skin of Sam’s arm together that had been torn, obliterated. Isaac tried not to look as Finn smeared superglue over the repaired tear in Sam’s artery. He tried not to look when Finn had Topher hold Sam’s arm up so they could repair the other side.

Sam heaved a deep sigh. Isaac’s eyes snapped to theirs, having wandered to watch Finn fix Sam.

“Isaac?” Sam asked thickly, as if their mouth was moving with no instructions from their brain.

“Yeah?” Isaac put his hand on Sam’s knee and squeezed.

“Do you still hate me?”

A chill rocked through Isaac, burning, freezing, tearing him apart from the inside, so much worse than the simple bruise on his chest. “What?”

“The things you said. About hating me and wishing I died.” Sam’s face was blank. Not from holding back emotion, but from there not being any emotion at all.

Isaac could feel eyes on him. His own eyes burned with tears and spilled over before he could stop it. “I…”

“I think they had you say that during the whipping so I would, um, believe it. So I wouldn’t be able to think that you don’t. But… do you?”

Isaac looked away, desperate for a minute, a fucking minute, to hold down his sobs, push away his agony, so he could answer Sam the way he wanted to. With calm words and gentle reassurances. Not screaming in guilt and fury. Not falling to his knees. Not disappearing within himself, where those words would surround him and punish him and insulate him from ever hurting Sam like that again. He needed a fucking minute, so he wouldn’t break. He needed some time.

His gaze landed on Gavin where he still stood slumped against the wall. Gavin had his hands to his mouth and was shaking with silent tears. Gavin saw it, too, and he was the one who drew Sam’s blood as I said those things. He’s the one who heard every single one of them. He’s the one who took Sam away from me in the first place.

Isaac fell back a step from the table, shuddering. He wrapped his arms around his chest and squeezed. He gasped at the pain. Welcomed it. I said those things because I was weak. I broke. I…

If I’d protected them from the beginning…

If I had died rather than beg them to come for me…

If I had been strong enough to kill Gavin when I had the chance…

If I…

If I…

If I…

If I…

Something in his chest cracked. Shattered. Was that a rib, or something else? Did it matter? He was broken, he was broken, and it was his fault Sam was broken, too.

“Isaac?” Sam’s voice held a perfect innocence. Concern, weaving gently through his name.

A second wave of agony rocked through him, deeper. Raw. Cutting into the core of who he was. I hated myself before I ever loved them.

Something shifted in him. Something he’d never even realized until that moment. I hated myself before I ever loved them. He took a step towards the table. His hand went back to Sam’s leg.

“No, Sam,” he whispered. “I never hated you. Not even once.” I said that to save their life. I was going to break, to let them live, no matter how much it hurt me.

“Good,” Sam sighed, their eyes fluttering shut. “I thought so.”

This time Isaac did stagger and drop to his knees. He reached across Sam and clutched at their opposite shoulder as Finn kept working beside Isaac. He felt a small hand cover his and squeeze. He looked up. Sam looked at him and smiled.

Continued here

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[chikkou]

someone probably asked this already but would u feel like writting on your thoughts on dingalings opinions/statements about buddy? i never got to around to play the lisa games after the first one but im getting the context both from the stuff uve written on it and my gf who played the game and she seems like the best character in the game imo

well im glad u asked.... (does a gay little walk over to the keyboard)

ok so as was mentioned by the last lisa anon i got, buddy is austins least favorite character. i cant recall if he ever specified why exactly in public, but i have seen an interview that he did shortly after the painful came out, so i think i have a LITTLE more context for his thought process (and please remember this is all conjecture, i literally dont know this man LMAO)

so first, for some background: buddy was adopted by brad when he found her abandoned as a baby, but her birth father is dr. yado, the man who created olathe (with buzzo!). she bears a notably striking resemblance to lisa, especially as she gets older - in fact, i think thats part of why brad chose to keep her. for reference, heres lisa, and heres buddy. obviously these are sprites and not indicative of their exact appearance, but this should make it pretty obvious what i mean. note that, even though brad knows how unsafe it is for buddy to “look like a girl,” he still keeps her hair long like lisas was. buzzo noted the similarity between them in the joyful as well. brad also treats her in a similar (but NOT the exact same) manner that marty did to lisa, but i will get into that in another ask i got LMAO

now, as to why austin doesnt like her. so, this may be reading into things a little too much, but i know for a fact that brad is austins favorite character, AND that austin based brads character and experiences on that of his own father, whom he had a sort of mixed relationship with by his own admission (and i believe his dad was also named “bradley” skjfsds). i dont know any details about this at all, but to my understanding, austins dad also wrestled with addiction, and had a bit of a “rough” personality like brad. austin mentioned in that interview dealing with resentment toward his father for a long time, but that he eventually realized that his father was doing the best that he could in spite of his own upbringing, and even though it didnt excuse the shitty stuff hed done, it made austin somewhat more understanding of the difficult position he was in. so, if brad is austins dad.... well, its not that far of a leap to speculate who buddy likely represents. and it colors a lot of the way he depicts her actions.

the painful, for all its amazing content, sort of dropped the ball on showing why buddy hated brad so much. the only things we know about buddy and brads relationship in that game come from the intro or directly from buddy, and since she never goes into detail (which is fair in-context since brad clearly knows the intricacies of their relationship LMAO), it makes it seem like the worst thing brad has done is forced buddy to stay inside and occasionally passed out from substance abuse. however, as we learn in the joyful, that is not true at all. brad insulted buddy (called her an idiot for asking about brads estranged son), forced her to kill at least two innocent men because, and i quote, “my daughter will not be weak,” and tried to isolate her from the only other people in her life (her uncles, rick, sticky, and cheeks) after they DARED to tell her a small tidbit about brads past. brad may not have been anywhere near as abusive as marty, but if i described all of these things together and asked a random person if they considered them abusive behaviors for a parent, i think id be likely to get an affirmative response.

now, this is not to say that austin doesnt make it a point to show brad mistreating buddy in the painful proper - in the marty scene, brad literally punts buddy across a room because she begs him not to kill him, and then when she throws herself between marty and brad to get him to stop, brad doesnt hesitate to beat the fuck out of her until she has to withdraw. remember too that buddy is not an adult, by any stretch of the imagination - austin confirmed on twitter that she is nowhere near 18. i personally put her age in the 10-12 range, but ive seen people go as high as 14 or 15. in either case, though, this is a fucking CHILD, and beating her like he did is no different than what marty used to do to both him and lisa.

even in spite of this stuff, though, fans are so much more willing to forgive brads behavior than buddys. there are a few reasons for this, but in a more meta-sense, theres a pretty clear reason why buddy is less sympathetic - because we spend WAY less time with her. in the painful, buddy is not on screen until maybe 5-10 hours into gameplay, and we dont even get any real time with her until the games second half. the joyful, in addition to that, is an EXTREMELY short game; the painful is about 20-30 hours, but the joyful runs about 5 hours max. it was a kickstarter stretch goal, and i honestly wish austin hadnt made it a stretch goal and had spent more time working on it, because while it does some really interesting stuff story-wise, it is severely lacking the run time to make buddys story as compelling as brads.  

primarily, though, i believe its because brad gets freudian excuses that at least EXPLAIN his behavior and also show just how many demons he has been fighting. while buddy has just as good of a reason to be the way she is, we never really get to SEE this stuff point blank like we did with brad. we witness him being hurt and mistreated as a kid, and more still as an adult in flashbacks. we get almost nothing from buddy, even though it is obvious that she is suffering in a very unique way. 

so, circling back to your question - why is buddy austins least favorite? i think, quite simply, he seems to identify with her character in the context of buddys relationship with brad, and that actually makes him like her LESS because he has the benefit of hindsight and experience-based wisdom to empathize much more with the brads character and experiences than buddys. so even though brad and buddy are the same in many ways, where he can see brads actions as understandable (if a bit extreme), he cant see buddys in quite the same way. it would be fine if he just felt that way privately, but unfortunately it leaks into the games themselves and leads to many fans not being able to see her perspective and empathize with her, either. and it really does suck bc buddy is definitely one of the most interesting video game protags ive ever seen LMAO

tl;dr austin probably dislikes buddy because brad is based on his own father, and the relationship between brad and buddy is very likely based on his own relationship with his father. there also wasnt enough time in buddys game for her to become more sympathetic, so if ur not really paying attention, it seems like shes just being a bratty teenager instead of, u know. a victim of abuse on a massive scale. so yeah 

[sylveondreams]

now that i think about it i should actually pretend im writing bc ive been on a bit of a kick this past week (not that yall would notice... i am so bad at Finishing Things)(also i say A Bit Of cause i worked half the days and i get tired) so here’s a list of my current wips and their status. the sheer number of them is a red flag. i should probably do these more often to get me off my ass and pretend i’m a fic writer. ask me about them if you want! lol. in no particular order:

- fairy fic (currently untitled i had an inkling of an idea for the title but i FORGOT IT) - it’s got a start and i keep writing Scenes but since i changed the setting i need to rewrite one of them and i’m dreading making people Meet each other! gerard and mikey are fairies and have a frank who tags along with them and they’ve met ray who is unhappy with the direction of his life and he sorta falls in love 

- vampire fic (currently untitled) - i’m having a bad time with this one i . am having a bad time with this one. i might just write out scenes i was excited about and post those but i didnt make a plot and that was a mistake. so it’s probably going to be abandoned with just those scenes ever seeing the light of day (metaphorically...) what is it? its about vampires. surprise!

- curse breaker fic (currently untitled) - this has a whole plot and i love it. i came up with it one morning while listening to maya the psychic. now i just have to write most of the thing... this one is going chronologically apparently! so there’s still a lot left to write. gerard is a curse breaker. ray has a really sticky curse. yep

- ‘so say goodbye to all my friends, i fell in love with her again’ - I JUST FINISHED THE PLOT OUTLINE this one is again, looking good plot wise. however i keep thinking about it and not actually writing it. first mistake. this is jennifer’s body fic! alternate movie ending! it’s a sequel to ‘darling, tonight could be a beautiful night to die’ but much longer

- rocky horror fic (currently untitled) - this one is actually looking like it will get posted at some point! wow! i’m at a Bump right now but i’ll get past it next time i’m not ace. yeah its pwp whaddya want. polyamory occurs.

- sequel to ‘a motel in the middle of fucking nowhere’ (currently untitled) - this one i think is going to get dumped... it’s been in my drafts for a year and i havent worked on it....

- ‘errare humanum est’ - this has literally been a wip for 5 years so dont expect it anytime soon! it’s dan and phil fanfiction cause i was into them the most 5 years ago when i started it. cyberpunk. very cool. has a plot but i dont have braincells xo

- secret 1 (currently untitled) - it’s going poorly but i want to finish it. again next time i’m not ace it’ll hopefully get picked up. ive been ace for at least 2 months though...

- secret 2 (currently untitled) - going better. still not so great. the main problem is that i actively don’t want to finish it. if i do finish it it will be published anonymously so i will simply not share it <3

- original work - i literally dont even have an outline but i keep daydreaming about their fucked up little town. i came up with the pov character’s name 2 days ago. i need to write an outline bc i still cant figure out who killed the group’s mentor who also doesnt have a name. im deeply in love with these characters and their world though i want to finish this SOMEDAY 

[earthspirit10]

Ninjago Angst Week: Day Three - Bleeding

@ninjago-angst-week Again, really late. (I’m sorry!) But it’s finally here!

Trigger Warnings: Gore, blood (of course), and slight mention of abandonment issues

---

“Watch out!”

Kai whirled around just in time to block the oncoming sword with his own. The harsh clang of metal was nearly deafening, making him wince. With a flick of his wrist, his katana sliced through the air, nicking his opponent neatly on the arm. The guy facing him hissed. Whether it was in pain or anger, Kai couldn’t tell.

The entire ninja team was in the middle of a battle against a couple of daring thugs, trying to mug a poor woman late in the evening. Jay had found them and called the team for backup, and as it turned out, the stupid criminals had been trying to lure the ninja here. For what, Kai didn’t know.

Whatever the reason, the ninja were here to take them out. And sure, the thugs were pretty impressive fighters, and there were a lot more than even Zane had accounted for, but they had faced way worse odds than this and still pulled through with minimum injuries. So, Kai was confident that they would easily win this.

Still, the thought of any one of his family getting hurt was too much to bear.

Using the butt of his sword to knock his current opponent unconscious, Kai twisted around to survey the scene. The others seemed to be doing just fine on their own, so he shouldn’t need to worry much. Not yet, anyway.

There was a sudden whistle of air, and Kai dodged out of the throwing knife’s way as it sped past him and embedded itself into the arm of one of the bad guys. He winced slightly. That really had to hurt, though Kai was forced to quickly turn his gaze away as the one who threw the knife came at him again with another knife.

Kai waited at the last second before stepping to the side and sticking his leg out, causing the thug to trip and fall flat on his face, the knife slipping out of his grip. He knocked that one out before turning again, his katana up in the air and already slamming onto another guy’s head.

A flash of metal caught the corner of his eye, and Kai raised his sword to block it, only to find that it wasn’t aimed at him.

One of the criminals was charging toward Lloyd, who was currently occupied with two people at once and wouldn’t be able to see his attacker from behind.

Kai didn’t think. He just acted, slamming his body into Lloyd, the breath knocked out of him as he felt something— something foreign rip through him, something that really shouldn’t be there, and then pain, sharp and cold and white-hot all at once, erupted in his stomach.

He blinked once, slowly, staring down at the blood (his blood), at his stomach, at the sword which was still embedded in him, not entirely sure if he was dreaming or not. The pain had kind of dulled, which was really strange, because last he checked, getting stabbed was supposed to hurt like hell.

Suddenly, the sword was pulled out of his stomach, drawing a gasp from him.

He crumpled. Oddly enough, the ground was wet and sticky. And warm. Really warm. Was that normal? He didn’t know.

“Kai!” Lloyd’s panicked voice swam into his consciousness, and Kai felt something—or rather, someone—press a hand to his stomach. He groaned, trying to desperately block out the pain. Vaguely, he could still hear sounds of battle near him, but it sounded far away, as if he’d been immersed in water.

Maybe he could . . . just . . . close his eyes for a bit. . . .

“Kai, no, don’t— you gotta stay awake—” Kai felt someone shake him. “Hey, stay with me, please!”

Blearily, he blinked his eyes open. Everything looked hazy, and there was a green blob above him, and then there was a face—Lloyd’s face—looking worried and panicked, and there were tears in his normally bright green eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Kai croaked, lifting a bloodied—bloodied—hand to touch his brother’s cheek.

Sirens wailed in the background, and he was suddenly aware of the burning sensation in his stomach as he felt himself being carried, and then there was someone screaming, which really hurt his ears. Oh, yeah, his stomach hurt too. Probably should mention that, except his mouth hurt too and his head was swimming, black spots dotting his vision.

“I know it hurts, Kai, I know it does.” Another voice—this one sounded feminine—reached his ears. He wasn’t sure who it was, but it sounded soothing. Kai focused on it. “Just— hang on, okay? I—” The voice paused as another scream ripped through the air, and Kai realized that it was him screaming. “The ambulance is here. You’re— you’re gonna be okay.” Whoever was speaking seemed to choke a bit, as if holding back sobs. “You gotta be okay, you idiot, or— or else—”

Kai couldn’t hear what happened after that, because his vision was suddenly swept in black, and then he was falling, falling, falling. . . .

⸺

Everything hurt. His head hurt, his whole body hurt, and his eyes hurt especially when he finally and painstakingly pried them open, only to be met with blinding white light.

Kai groaned, instantly squeezing his eyes shut. He heard someone gasp near him, some startled shuffling, and then the door opening and closing. Soon, there was nothing except for the beeping of a machine and the antiseptic smell of . . . a hospital?

Slowly, Kai opened his eyes, blinking multiple times to adjust to the light. He was met with the white walls of (definitely) a hospital, which he wasn’t sure how he got into. His arm was in an IV, which was dripping blood into him through a needle. It was then that he realized that his abdomen were wrapped in bandages, and then everything came rushing back to him—the fight, pushing Lloyd, getting stabbed—

Lloyd!

Kai sat up abruptly, which he instantly regretted. Pain flared in his stomach, and he couldn’t help the hiss that escaped his lips.

At that moment, the door opened, revealing a kind-looking doctor with a clipboard in hand. Kai watched curiously as he started doing some . . . doctor stuff, occasionally jotting some things down on the clipboard. After a while, he glanced up, opening his mouth, and Kai, knowing very well how hospitals worked (due to a few . . . unfortunate visits before), braced himself for a series of health questions.

And the questions came. Kai could barely keep up, he was tired already, and he just wanted to see his family before sleeping for eternity, but the doctor seemed to understand because soon, the questions stopped and he left with a, “I’ll leave you to rest.”

Kai sighed, resting his head back on his pillow. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he struggled to keep them open because he needed to see the others, to make sure his brothers and sister were okay, to make sure Lloyd was okay because all of this couldn’t have been good for the kid—

The door opened as Lloyd peeked through, his face showing a mix of emotions, all of them not good. Kai managed a smile before he was instantly tackled as Lloyd buried his head into the red ninja’s neck.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kai said quietly, rubbing his little brother’s back. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But you weren’t okay!” Lloyd protested, pulling back a little so he could look at Kai. “You— you were stabbed, and you were bleeding, and you couldn’t— I couldn’t even do anything—” He choked, raising his arm to wipe at his eyes. Kai reached out a hand to comfort him. “I didn’t— I thought you were dead, I thought you were going to die, and I can’t— you can’t do that to me, Kai, you can’t do that to— to us.”

Kai’s heart hurt seeing his baby brother hurt like this, but he clenched his jaw, remembering how he had shoved Lloyd out of the way because some stupid guy tried to stab him.

“You were about to get stabbed,” Kai said firmly. “I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch you fall at the hands of some stupid guy, knowing there was something I could’ve done.”

Lloyd took a shuddering breath, looking away.

“I don’t regret what I did,” Kai continued, his eyes squeezing shut, trying to block out the image of Lloyd, instead of him, having a sword ripped through his stomach. “I know that I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’re my baby brother, and it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. I’m not going to apologize for that, for getting stabbed and keeping you safe in the process.”

“You shouldn’t have to take the hits for me,” Lloyd hissed, his eyes flashing a brighter green. “You’re— you’re not some expendable tool, you’re my brother, and I can’t— I can’t watch you die because of me, I can’t watch someone else leave me because of me—”

Oh. Kai’s chest tightened. This wasn’t about protecting the green ninja, nor was it really about Kai getting stabbed. It was about another person abandoning Lloyd, even if they didn’t mean it, because Kai sure as hell would never leave Lloyd like that, unless—

Unless he died.

“Lloyd—”

“Why does someone have to take the hits anyway?” Lloyd continued, tears flowing freely down his face now, showing no sign of hearing Kai. “Why can’t we all just— dodge them or something? Why didn’t you warn me?” He rubbed his arm over his eyes again uselessly. “Why can’t we all just get out fine, for once in our lives?”

Silence filled the air after that outburst, unpleasant and stifling. Kai stared at Lloyd, who looked away as if embarrassed.

Kai exhaled heavily, before scooting over to the side, even if it did make him wince slightly in pain. He patted the extra space. “Come ’ere.”

Lloyd blinked confusedly at the bed for a moment, before realization dawned on his face. He shook his head furiously. “No, you’re the patient here. It’s your bed, that wouldn’t be comfortable for you—”

“Oh, for FSM’s sake, Lloyd,” Kai said, exasperated. “Just get on the bed, will ya?”

Clamping his mouth shut, Lloyd tentatively sat down next to his brother, laying himself down and resting his head on Kai’s chest. He seemed careful to not jar the stomach wound, which Kai was secretly grateful for.

“I’ll— we’ll try,” Kai said softly, stroking Lloyd’s head. “We’ll try to get out fine. All of us.”

He could feel Lloyd swallow and nod. A moment later, his breathing slowed and deepened, his body relaxing as he fell asleep. It wasn’t long before Kai’s eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep with him.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Four

***IMPORTANT: This was too long to put into one post apparently, so this is part 1 of this chapter, and the link for part 2 will be at the end of the chapter. Thank you and have good night/day***

Words: 5.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, sexual situations

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“Damnit, bp is 183/111.” A nurse says after they get me on a gurney and she takes my blood pressure, twice. “Mrs. Sixx is your head or chest hurting, vision blurring?” She asks me and I nod my head, my eyes closed, still struggling to breathe, my skin beginning to get sticky with sweat. 

“My head.” I tell her.

“Okay, I need you to keep your eyes open for me just for a little bit, so you can tell me if things start looking fuzzy, alright?”

I nod and she smiles reassuringly at me.

“Just stay as calm as possible and we’ll get your blood pressure under control.” She states, beforing looking at the nurse walking on the other side of the gurney. “I need an IV of Beta-blockers.” She tells her, and in what feels like seconds, she's scrubbing at the crook of my elbow with an alcohol pad, before I’m feeling the pinch of a needle sliding into my skin.

“Where’s Duff? The guy I came in here with?” I ask, trying to calm myself down, but I don’t think it’s working.

“He’s filling out some paperwork for you while the desk contacts your emergency contact to let them know the situation and then he will be right here with you as soon as we get you stable.” She informs me and I feel panic in my chest, as I try to sit up, only for them to gently push me back down. “Vivian, you are in a hypertensive crisis. You need to lay still and avoid getting yourself worked up even more.”

“My emergency contact is my husband and he is the last motherfucker I want to know about this!” I argue in between breaths. “Now tell the bitch at the front desk to leave him out of it or I will stroke out just to fucking spite you because I’ve got nothing to lose at this point!”

I sound pathetic, struggling to breathe, gasping out the words in the best scream I can muster, and she raises her brows at me.

They tried to stop Nikki from being contacted, but he was...well, they left a message to the machine at our house, which he ended up checking from his hotel room later that day.

They get my blood pressure down within a few minutes and keep me under watch for several hours, before my doctor finally decides it’s time to tell me what the hell happened, although with how many times I’ve heard the word “hypertension”, I’m assuming it’s not good.

“You had a transient ischemic attack, which, when you take the complicated sounding name away, is basically a ministroke.” He explains, and my eyes widen. “It’s not as major as a stroke, especially since this was caught before it could develop into something worse, but your brain was still not receiving the amount of oxygen needed in your blood because it’s pressure was way too high, but good news for you is that your brain isn’t showing signs of damage that can affect your mind like a stroke would. That being said, this does increase your risk of having a major stroke down the line. No one in your family has a history of stroke or high blood pressure, which typically suggests, more times than not, it is either something you took--medication, alcohol, drugs, etc. or it’s your environment. Is there anything you took, or drank, prior to experiencing your symptoms?”

“I took Nyquil...four doses worth in less than six hours.” I tell him and Duff looks at me, confused. “I couldn’t sleep.” I add.

“N-Nyquil?” Duff asks me, quietly, as if in disbelief. “You had a ministroke...because of an over the counter cold medicine?”

The doctor flips through my chart before pursing his lips.

“Are you still taking Nardil on a daily basis?” He asks me and I nod.

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s where things went south.” He confirms. “There is a warning on the back of Nyquil syrup, stating that the way MAO Inhibitors, which is a class of antidepressant that phenelzine--Nardil--falls under, interact with the dextromethorphan HBr and the doxylamine succinate in Nyquil, has a high chance of causing hypertension--very high blood pressure-- which can really hurt the brain and the heart, and since you took eight tablespoons of it, it really is miraculous that you didn’t have a major stroke before you even got in the car to come here.” He adds and I feel shitty for being a complete dumbass. “I will give you a sheet of over the counter medicines to avoid before we get you checked out here in a couple hours.” He assures me before heading to the door of the tiny room.

“Thank you.” Duff says as he leaves, and he turns to look at me, trying to hide a smile. “Nyquil.” He states, raising his brows. “You can’t take Nyquil. Without--”

“--Shut up.” I state, trying not to start laughing because I could’ve really been in trouble.

“Oh, c’mon, Viv, you had me freaking out worried something horrible was wrong--which it was, really--but Nyquil?”

“I have seen idiots mix drugs with all types of mess and their bodies not even acknowledge it, but I take Nyquil…” I trail off, not being able to stop laughing. “...and it’s too much for me? Hell, at this point if I have one taste of a hard drug I’m just gonna croak over immediately.”

The two of us keep laughing for a couple minutes, until I’m sore in the stomach, and my watering eyes from laughter, are watering because the reality of everything that has happened to me in the past four three days, hits me.

Duff just sits on the tiny bed next to me, holding at my hand, wiping at my tears, giving me a big, encouraging smile.

“I love you.” I tell him and he nods, kissing my cheek.

“I love you, too.” He tells me. “This will blow over before you know it, Viv.”

Once I get checked out and we head back to Duff’s place, I quickly realize something I haven’t even thought about.

“Your album is coming out.” I say, looking at him and he glances at me, chuckling.

“Yeah.” He confirms. “In like, two days.”

“Holy shit.” I mumble. “I gotta take you guys out to dinner or something.” I rub my tired eyes and he shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s fine, Viv.”

“No, it’s not. This is a good time for you guys and I just came home all gloom and doom and shit all over it. I need to do something for you guys.” I explain.

“You’re not ‘gloom and doom’, you’re hurting. Which is normal for what you’ve been through, and being that we helped hide it from you, you don’t need to be worried about inconveniencing us. At all.” He argues.

“It’ll help me get my mind off of things.” I suggest.

“You don’t really need to get your mind off of it. You need to be processing everything and figuring out where you wanna go from here.” He politely tells me.

“I can’t go anywhere from here, Duff. Not until the tour’s over.” I laugh humorlessly and he furrows his brows.

“What?”

"Doc doesn't want us to split until the tour's over. Not that it should even matter. People don't give a damn about our marriage as much as Doc is convinced they are. It's not like the second fans hear we're filing for divorce they're gonna go on a strike over it." I roll my eyes. 

"They won't care." Duff tells me.

"Exactly." 

"...Do you want a divorce?" He asks next and I lick my lips. 

"I don't know." I admit, tears coming to my eyes at the thought of it.

“Does he?”

“Duff, I don’t know, alright? We’ll just figure it out when the tour ends.”

“Vivian, that’s nearly a year from now.” He states.

“Well, then, I don’t fucking know! Okay?! I don’t fucking know!”

“I’m trying to get you to think about what you want to do because you’ll just end up putting it off and ignoring it like you do with all of your problems you’ve got with him.” He explains, keeping himself calm.

“I’ll deal with it later.”

“Viv--”

“--Duff. Please.” I give up, and he lets out a breath.

“I’m dropping it.” He mumbles.

After a few more minutes, he’s glancing at me again.

“We’re having a listening party for the album tomorrow night, by the way.” He tells me. “We’d really like for you to come, if you’re up for it.” He adds and a small smile comes to my lips.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Yeah?” He asks, mimicking my smile.

“Yeah.”

The next day, I decide to go home and visit with Karen, trying to convince myself not to completely wreck the place the second I walk in.

She’s sitting on the couch with the TV playing in the background.

When I walk in, she looks up at me and gives me a soft smile.

“Hey.” She tells me, nervously, and I roll my jaw and look around.

I never noticed how many fucking pictures Nikki and I have up together from our wedding.

“Doc told me to keep an eye out for you, I was kinda worried when you didn’t come home.” She adds.

“I was staying with Duff.” I tell her, and she still tries to keep her smile on her face.

“Oh, um, you’ve got some mail, and Doc called and wanted you to call him back, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when the hospital called. I just checked the messages late last night but Doc said Nikki had already heard the one the receptionist in the ER left.” She tells me and I let out a sigh.

“Great, something else to hear Doc bitch me out about.” I grumble, stepping to the phone in the kitchen, seeing the mail on the counter next to it.

I see she scribbled down the hotel phone number that they’re at now, and Doc’s hotel room number, on a paper pad and I punch the number in and request it to be put through to Doc.

Before I can get a breath out, I’m hearing all of it.

“Are you fucking out of your mind, Vivian? ‘Bless their hearts’?! I told you repeatedly what to tell the press and you don’t listen to a word of it?! And then you go home and end up in the fucking emergeny room?! What, did ya try to kill yourself or something, what the hell happened?!”

I raise my brows and blink a few times.

“I wasn’t paying attention to the warning label of some Nyquil and I took some to sleep, and it didn’t react well with my antidepressant. I’m alive, I’m fine, I wasn’t trying to kill myself, and would you rather me have said, ‘Vanity and Nikki fucked me over and everyone who was supposed to have my back, let them’?”

I hear his heavy breath exhaling on the other end of the line.

“Alright, Viv, alright. Just don’t say anything else to the press, please. The journalist at Rolling Stone is gonna be here in a couple of days, just please, please, please, be on your best behaviour. I’ve already talked to Nikki and he’s agreed to play nice, please, do so too.” He begs.

I didn’t want to “play nice” but I decided to so I wouldn’t make things harder for everybody, including myself, but just being blatantly hateful.

“Fine, Doc.” I agree and he sighs out in relief.

“Thank you, Viv.” He tells me and I roll my eyes.

“Yep.” I reply before hanging the phone up.

When I pick up the pile of mail, an envelope falls to the floor and I reach down to pick it up, seeing it’s addressed to me, from Playboy Enterprises.

I furrow my brows and open the envelope, grabbing at the paper inside and unfolding it before I read it.

“Dude.” I say to myself, furrowing my brows.

Someone had seen me half naked, demonstrating my flexibility, in the “Girls, Girls, Girls” video and a cover shoot for Playboy and a 12 page pictorial was on the table for $40,000, if I was up for it. Of course any other time I wouldn’t have thought twice...but this time, it was being considered.

“Forty-thousand?” Sharise asks me on the other end of the line later that day.

“Forty freaking thousand.” I reply.

“Who the hell wants to see you naked so bad?” 

“I don’t know  but I’m not mad at it.” I reply.

“Are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know. Should I?”

“You just found out Nikki’s been cheating on you with one of your friends, Viv, I think you should take some time to think about it in case you make the decision to do it and then realize you shouldn’t have agreed to it, ya know?”

“I don’t have any money of my own, Sharise. If he leaves me, he’s not gonna leave me anything. I’m gonna be out of luck. I could use the money.” I explain. “And they didn’t say whether I had to be nude or not so I’ll look into the details and just go from there.”

“You are the absolute last person I would ever expect to take up an offer from Playboy.”

“Desperate times.” I shrug.

“More like, ‘what can I do to piss Nikki off’, times.” She points out.

“Vanity’s posed in Playboy before. Maybe he would've liked me enough not to cheat on me if I would've been more like her to begin with.” I sarcastically say, but there is a smile part of me that really feels that way. 

"Don't compare yourself to her, Viv." She argues politely. 

"I'm not." I lie, setting the letter from Playboy down. 

I hear Skylar screaming and crying in the background and Sharise sighs out. 

"I gotta go, Viv, I'll call you back later. Skylar just fell." She tells me.

"Alright, I'll come visit you guys before I leave." I assure her.

"Okay. We love you and we'll see you then." 

"I love you, too, tell Sky I love her." 

"I will."

"Bye."

"Bye." 

I hang up and let out a soft breath, glancing at the number on the letter once again, rubbing my lips together before deciding to start getting ready to meet the guys for their album listening party before it drops.

For the first time in a few days, I look at myself in the mirror, taken back by how shitty I look.

The dark circles under my eyes are more prominent than usual, my eyes themselves look nearly dead, my hair is kinda nappy since I haven't brushed it in a couple days, and my mouth feels gross because I haven't bothered to brush my teeth.

I get in the shower, hoping it'll make me feel better.

The only thing it does is make me want to call Duff and tell him I can't make it tonight, but like I always do, I persist and finish getting ready, nearly fooling myself when I look in the mirror and make myself smile. 

My doorbell is ringing within the next thirty minutes, and I'm spritzing on perfume as I hear Karen open the door to let the guys in. 

I'm pulling my heels on, stepping into the living room.

"Hey." I greet Duff and Steven, and Steven's immediately hugging onto me. 

"I'm sorry." He says, apologizing for the part he played in Nikki's bullshit. 

I hug him back, not able to help but smile at how tightly he's hugging me. 

"It's okay, Stevie." I tell him, genuinely. 

He kisses my cheek and gives me one last tight squeeze before letting me go. 

"Are we ready?" Duff asks me and I nod.

"Alright, we'll have her back home at a reasonable time." Steven tells Karen, and she chuckles.

"Stay out of trouble." She tells us as we head to the door. 

"We will." I assure her as we head out the door to get in Duff's car. 

All of their friends are there, everyone of them giving them wide smiles and big hugs as I hold onto Duff's hand as we weave through the crowd to the bar.

“Hi.” Slash says to me, sunglasses on, hat low, and I raise my brows at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.” He replies, sipping from the Jack bottle in his hand, pulling out a cigarette.

“Can I have one?” Duff asks him.

“Yeah, if you’ve got a light.” Slash replies with a little grin and Duff pulls the lighter from his pocket and lights Slash’s cigarette before his own.

“You want a drink?” He asks me next and I look up at him.

“Water.” I tell him with a nod, suddenly feeling an arm slip over my shoulders.

It’s Izzy, and he looks like he’s been on cloud 9 for a little bit now, a loose smile on his lips as cigarette smoke flows from his mouth with his exhaled breath.

“Hey, you.” He tells me, and I lick my lips.

“Hey, asshole.” I shrug his arm off, remembering him yelling at me the other night.

“Ouch, am I on your shit list, too, now?” He asks me and I glance at him, making his smile widen, his eyes crinkling slightly. “I forget you’re sensitive, Viv.” He adds.

“Maybe me shoving my foot up your ass will remind you.” I state, Duff turning to hand me my water.

Izzy looks down at the clear liquid and frowns slightly.

“That’s why you’re sad.” He motions to it. “You need the strong stuff.”

I know what he means, but I try to play it off by saying, “what, sparkling water?”

“Izzy, man, she doesn’t drink.” Duff cuts in, lightly, but I know he’s being serious. 

“Just making a suggestion.” Izzy shrugs, his eyes on a pretty blonde that passes. “I’ll be right back.”

He follows after her and I roll my eyes, taking a sip of water, as “Welcome to the Jungle” starts playing over the speakers.

Everyone starts cheering, all the guys stop what they’re doing, all of them sharing the same, proud smiles.

Once I’m done with my water, Duff, Slash, Izzy, Steven and Axl are all together, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions to their album so far.

Everyone seems to really like it.

“I’m gonna get another water.” I tell Duff, and he nods. “Do you need a refill?” I ask him, motioning to his cocktail.

“No, thanks though.” He tells me and I head to the bar, Izzy’s suggestion echoing in my mind as my eyes fall on the array of liquor bottles on display on the back wall shelf behind the bar.

My mind drifts to what would happen if I were to have a cocktail.

I step to the bar and order the last alcoholic drink I had, although accidental at the time.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m throwing back my shot of Tequila, nearly choking at the burn of it before feeling warmth radiate throughout my chest as it goes down.

Next thing I know, I’m seven shots in starting to feel less tense...even less tense when I try to walk and nearly faceplant, laughing instead of feeling embarrassed before walking as best as I can to the guys.

“Where’s your water?” Duff asks me, and I look at my hands, furrowing my brows.

“I don’t know.” I reply, honestly, and his brows raise and his eyes widen when he gets a whiff of my breath.

“Oh, shit, Viv, you smell like--”

“--Tequila!” I finish saying it in the way it’s said in “Tequila” by The Champs.

He’s stunned for a moment, and I’m trying to keep from looking him up and down.

“H-How much did you drink?” He asks me politely and I squint my eyes as I try to remember.

“I lost count after four.” I admit.

“Viv, I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking with your medication.” He tells me.

“Doesn’t matter when the shit isn’t making me feel better anyway.” I reply without a thought, my speech starting to slur, my gaze focusing the best it can on the bottle in Slash's hand.

It reminds me of Nikki.

"I want Nikki." I say next and Duff can probably sense a storm coming, turning around and seeing the guys aren't paying attention. 

"Hey, she's not feeling too good so I'm gonna take her home." He tells them. "I'll be back." He assures them. 

"Alright, dude." Steven replies and Duff sits his drink down. 

"Let's get outta here." He tells me, grabbing at my hand and leading me to his car, causing me to be sidetracked by the payphone. 

"Gimme some change." I tell him.

"Viv, c'mon, you need to go home." He tries to guide me away but I refuse. 

"I miss Nikki. I wanna talk to him."

"He's probably asleep right now, Viv. You can call him tomorrow." He suggests.

"He won't talk to me anyway. He hates me." I reply, stumbling to the passenger side of the car and he helps me stay balanced, opening the door for me and helping me get in before he shuts the door and walks around to the passenger seat. 

It's a quiet drive home.

I miss Nikki.

He punches in the code of our gate and pulls into the driveway, helping me out.

I take my heels off and toss them down on the concrete, causing him to reach down and grab them for me as I clumsily make my way to the door. 

"Here, here, I got it." He assures me when I try to open the door, singling out our house key from his car keys. 

"I'm sorry for ruining your night." I tell him. "It was suppose to be a fun night--"

"--It was fun, Viv." He promises. "I'm going back anyway when I make sure you're settled here." He adds, opening the door. "I'll let Karen know what's up and--"

"Karen's out tonight, Duff." I cut him short, remembering that she told me earlier today about going out for one of her girl friends' birthdays, not able to keep my eyes off of him. 

"Oh." He says. "Well, I can stay here until she comes back." He tells me. "I'll go ahead and get you some water." He heads to the kitchen, and a sick plan twists itself into my skull. 

When he comes back with my water and hands it to me, I just sit it on the coffee table in the living room before turning to look at him. 

"You need to drink that, Viv." He politely says, but I just step closer to him, and apparently he can tell what I'm thinking based off my expression because he's gently grasping my hand in his when I reach out to pull him closer to me. "We can't, Vivian."

"Why not? Because of Nikki? As if he gives a shit."

"But I do. I give a shit. And you're drunk. And you're heartbroken. And I'm not adding to the damage before you even process what's already been done." He states. 

"You've wanted to fuck me for how long and here's your shot, and you're turning me down to spare my feelings?" I scoff out. "Where the fuck is Vince Neil when you need him?" I say to myself outloud, irritated with Duff, about to push past him to go to my room. 

"Somewhere in the midwest, believing Nikki is still right for screwing Vanity." He argues, frustrated that I'm not understanding that he's trying to do the right thing. 

I stop for a second, and turn to look at him, again. 

"Vivian, I want to, but I can't--"

"--You didn't tell me about Nikki and Vanity, either." I remind him harshly. "So, when you think about it, you owe me, Duff." I hiss.

"I was protecting y--"

"--If you were protecting me, you would have told me!" I outburst, tears in my eyes. "You wouldn't have put me in a position that allowed me to be humiliated like that! Nobody would have if they were really looking out for me!" 

He's got tears in his eyes now, and he exhales. 

"I'm not gonna stay here and let you badger me for doing what I thought was the best thing to do." He says, walking to the door. 

"Yeah, just leave me like Nikki! Just go get shitfaced and pout and end the night on top of another girl because that's how everybody else solves their fucking issues!" 

He snaps around, causing me to bump into him from where I'm following at his heels.

"I'm not Nikki." He says through his teeth.

"You didn't tell me." I repeat weakly. "Nobody told me."

His frustration dissipates, and he takes a couple of steps to me, before leaning down, suddenly taking my lips with his. 

The numbing effect of being kissed and held is potent, and a sick part of my mind pictures I'm with Nikki, and not Duff. 

I try to keep my eyes closed the best I can to keep the illusion alive, even when clothes start being torn off, even when my legs are wrapped around his bare hips, my naked back against the wall and his tongue and mine dancing as adrenaline and ecstasy course through me. 

With each thrust, I'm growing more sober, more conscious to the fact this isn't Nikki.

He stops abruptly, pulling away from me, furrowing his brows. 

"Viv?"

"Yeah?" I ask, still not opening my eyes. 

"Look at me." He says softly and I gently shake my head. "Viv--"

"--Just keep going." I tell him, my voice cracking, as a lump forms in my throat. 

"Are you crying?" He asks next, and I finally look at him. 

He looks horrified and guilty, as if he's screaming at himself internally for being shitty.

He's not shitty. I am.

"I'm sorry." I say next.

"Jesus Christ." He lets out, a single tear falls past his lashes and he's pulling out of me and putting me back on my feet as fast as he can.

"Duff." 

He ignores me, pulling his clothes on.

"Duff, please." I grab at his arm and he shakes me off, putting his boots back on, sniffling, wiping his eye quickly, picking up his jacket and getting his car keys. "Duff, I'm sorry--"

"--I'm not Nikki." Is the last thing he says before slamming my front door shut. 

"Vivian?" I'm snapping out of my daydream, seeing Steven furrowing his brows, the loud verse of "Mr. Brownstone" blaring in my ears from the club speakers.

"Yeah?" I reply to him. 

"I was coming to get a refill, Duff wanted me to come check on you." He tells me and I look down at the empty water glass in my hand. 

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I assure him with a smile. 

"Okay, just making sure." 

.

.

.

-> Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Four (pt. 2)

[dargonpoop]

its been a WHILE since ive written any fic but i rediscovered some old stuff and figured id post it?? so. have a cute lil soriku one shot under the cut

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts) Characters: Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Pence (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Mentioned Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Beach Trip, Fluff, Pining, Yearning, Crushes, THEYRE SO CUTE, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, mentioned locations are just... normal towns, roxas and sora are twins, sora and riku are dummies but mostly sora, sora and riku are also saps but mostly riku, One Shot Summary: Sora wants to go to the beach, and Riku is a sap.

Muggy, humid days always came after rain on Destiny Island. The ground wasn't even wet anymore, as if the air had sucked all the moisture up into itself. Riku wished it would take his sweat too.

Even the shade of the tree he and Sora sat beneath provided little relief. There was no wind, only sun and water and heat. And sweat.

Sora leaned back, closing his eyes against the sun. His arm rested against Riku's, tan against white, hot and slightly sticky.

"We should go to the beach."

Riku turned his head, cheek against Sora's hair. "We practically live on a beach," he murmured, and the corners of his lips curled up.

"Yeah," was all Sora replied. He absently picked at blades of grass, ripping them out of the ground one by one. Riku ached to twine their fingers together.

"If you want to go to the island—"

"No, no." Sora sat up suddenly, turning to face him. His eyes twinkled, an idea dancing behind them. "I mean another beach. Somewhere else."

"Somewhere... else?"

"Yeah!" He hummed thoughtfully, tracing patterns on the ground. "I think there's one near Twilight Town. Roxas told me about how he and Hayner, Pence, and Olette went a few weeks ago. The water there is colder than here, too. What do you think, Riku?"

Riku plucked a strand of grass off the other boy's shirt as he turned the suggestion over in his head. Why would Sora want to go to a beach in a town several miles away when they had one right here? Maybe it wouldn't be as sweaty.

"Twilight Town." He'd go with it for now. “Okay.”

Sora's face lit up. "Twilight Town it is, then!"

Riku hoped it'd be worth it.

~•~

Sora was many things, but he was decidedly not a good planner.

He congratulated himself on at least finding a way to Twilight Town in the first place. He'd managed to remember the route thanks to his visits with Roxas to see Hayner and friends. And he'd remembered to bring enough munny for gas in case they needed it—which they did—and for the train tickets.

But apparently, that was the end of his luck, he figured as he glared at the "Closed for Maintenance" sign hanging on the Central Station door. Riku stood next to him with his arms crossed, trying to hide the amusement in his eyes. It wasn't working.

Sora sighed in defeat.

"Bummer, right?"

He perked up at the familiar voice behind him. "Pence!"

"Heya," said the pudgy boy, waving a half-eaten stick of ice cream and grinning. "What're you up to? And who's he?" He pointed his stick before slipping it in his mouth.

"This is Riku," Sora introduced, hopping down the few steps from the Station doorway to be level with Pence. "Riku, Pence."

Riku nodded in greeting but stayed where he was.

"We were planning on going to the beach," Sora continued, "but.…"

"Ah, yeah. They do mandatory checks every now and then, make sure everything's in working order."

Sora deflated. He felt a twinge of guilt for dragging Riku all this way for nothing.

"Hey, don't look so down. Let me tell you a secret," Pence said quietly, leaning closer. Sora mimicked him, turning his ear, and Riku snorted behind him before turning it into a cough. Sora kicked him in the leg, gently. "See that gate over there?"

Sora followed Pence's outstretched hand to a large doorway in the corner of the lot, squinting his eyes in the sunlight. "Uh huh."

"It leads to the Underground Concourse. You see, it's this underground passageway that connects all of Twilight Town together." Pence spread his arms in demonstration. "If you know how to navigate them, you can go straight to Sunset Terrace. The trains there should be working, but I haven't checked." He stood straight again, adjusting his headband. "Better than nothing, right?"

Sora stood straight and grinned. "Thanks, Pence! You're a life-saver."

Pence sucked up the last of his ice cream. "You know it."

Riku laid a hand on Sora's shoulder. "Are you sure we'll be able to find it?"

"Oh, it's easy," Pence said before Sora could respond. "There are signs everywhere. You can't miss it."

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Sora agreed, tugging Riku's jacket playfully. "I can figure it out."

"You can figure it out? I think the word you’re looking for is we—or maybe just Riku—"

"Hey!"

Riku laughed, tilting his head back. His hair fell away from his face, and Sora found himself smiling too, leaning towards him. He took Riku's hand and tugged, catching him off guard, and shoved him towards the tunnel.

"Thanks again for the help, Pence. See ya!" he said over his shoulder, and the other boy nodded and waved as he began walking off.

"Have fun, Sora, Riku!"

~•~

By the time they finally stumbled out of the tunnels, Riku was sweating. Summer in Twilight Town was brutal. He shrugged off his jacket and hooked it around his arm, the open breeze drying his skin.

"I thought it would be cooler in there." Sora wiped his brow, leaning against a nearby lamppost. Seagulls squawked above their heads, circling just above the buildings. Sunset Terrace stood quietly, the sun casting short shadows on the alleyway road.

"It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd actually asked for directions," Riku pointed out.

"Pence said there'd be signs!"

"Which you didn't stop to look at."

"We made it through fine either way," Sora said, waving his hand. "Next stop: the beach!"

Riku scanned the courtyard for the train station as they walked. A tram rumbled across the bridge above them.

"Look over there," he said, nodding to his left. Sora followed his gaze, past the brick steps and beyond the gate.

Sora took Riku's hand as he ran and Riku followed closely behind, warmth flooding from his palm to his arm and to the rest of his body and eventually fluttering in his stomach. The wind picked up as they bounded up the stairs, and Riku wondered what the beach here was like, if the water sounded the same and if the sand was soft, and he felt giddy with excitement like he was a kid again on another adventure with his best friend.

Well, Sora might be a bit more than that, Riku thought airily.

And then it wasn't airy, and his face heated up and he let go of Sora's hand but Sora didn't notice as he handed his munny to the old lady at the ticket counter, that stupid grin on his face like always. The sun seemed to wrap around his body, setting his tan skin aglow and his spiky hair on fire, and now Riku wondered how Sora would look with his shirt off and his hair wet with sea water. How Sora's skin would feel against his own.

He erased those wonderings, scribbling them out of his mind before they wandered into dangerous territory.

Sora turned and handed Riku his ticket, his sky-blue eyes narrowing.

"Exhausted already, Riku?" he teased, elbowing the other as they boarded the train. "Your face is red. Don't tell me you're already out of shape."

Riku sputtered. "Of course not!"

Sora giggled, honest-to-God giggled and Riku's stomach flipped and danced and Oh god he's so cute.

Riku figured he was fucked. Gay, and fucked.

~•~

Sora curled his toes into the warm sand, watching the waves crashed against the shore twenty feet away. He closed his eyes and breathed, breathed in the salty air and the smell of seaweed, almost like home but not quite. No two beaches ever smelled the same.

"I assume we're claiming this spot?" Riku said behind him. Sora could practically feel Riku’s eyes on him, eyes the color of the sea and the waves.

Riku didn't wait for an answer, and promptly stuck a rented beach umbrella in the ground, twisting it secure. Sora turned and watched him lay a blanket in front of it, beneath the shade.

A small moment passed as Riku stared out at the horizon, a brief smile flickering across his lips. "It's nice."

Sora nodded lazily and lightly leaned against Riku, arm to arm. Long silver wisps of hair tickled his chin as they floated in the breeze, and he tucked them back behind their owner's ear. He let his fingers trail down the side of Riku's neck before pulling away, his heart dancing.

"Ready to swim?" he asked merrily, an eager grin spreading across his face.

Riku smiled lopsidedly. "Thought you'd never ask." He threw off his jacket and dropped it onto the sand before pulling his tank top off, pausing to smooth down his hair.

Sora wasn't sure he remembered how to breathe. His mind seemed to freeze, stop, while his heart did the exact opposite and threatened to cartwheel out of his chest. Heat flared in his cheeks.

He was stunning.

Sora tried not to stare, tried not to look at Riku's perfectly chiseled arms and the light tan on his chest and the curve of his back. He tried, really tried to turn away when Riku bent over to wrap his tank top into his jacket and put them away, but it was too late and Riku was all muscle and his back was so smooth and Sora just wanted to touch it, to touch him, to glide his hands over Riku's skin and pepper it with kisses and oh god his face was on fire.

Riku apparently chose that moment to glance up at Sora, who promptly squeaked and shifted his gaze down, rather horrified both at being caught staring at Riku and at the sound that just escaped his throat.

"What?" Riku's voice turned teasing and he put a hand on his hip, the other reaching up to flip back his hair. "Worried you won't look as good shirtless as I do?"

Sora opened his mouth and quickly shut it, nearly biting off his tongue, and attempted to melt into the sand. He'd been so busy staring at Riku shirtless he'd forgotten to take off his own shirt and now Riku was laughing, and while the sound made Sora's heart do even more rather advanced gymnastics, it did absolutely nothing to help his situation. His mind swirling, he quickly undid the buckle on his shirt and pulled the shirt up. It managed past his neck before catching, half of it up over his head and the rest stuck somewhere between his nose and his chin, because god dammit he'd neglected to pull the belt off first and now he was trapped with his arms dangling awkwardly in the air and his eyes covered by red fabric. In front of Riku.

Who had the audacity to laugh even harder.

"Help," Sora demanded weakly, muffled.

"Hold on—I'm sorry, but—hahaha!" A thump as Riku dropped to the ground, and Sora kicked him, using sound to guide his angry foot. "Ow! Okay, alright, c'mere." Sora could hear the smile in his voice.

Calloused hands tugged Sora by the arm before reaching for the belt, slipping it out of its loop. The shirt loosened around Sora's face and he pulled it off at last, ran a quick hand through his hair to fix the spikes. Despite everything, his lips tugged upwards into a sheepish grin.

"Sorry about that."

Bright green eyes met his, crinkled with laughter. "Shirt troubles? Really?"

Sora chucked the clothes at Riku's face, morphing his face into a pout. Riku caught it deftly and tossed it next to his own clothes.

"In my defense," Sora said, "I still need Roxas's help putting that thing on."

"That's supposed to be a defense?"

"Well, at least you know it isn't totally my fault!"

"Sora…"

"What?"

Riku paused, his head tilted down a degree and his eyes watching Sora through his bangs, still twinkling. "You're… cute." He blinked and backtracked, his cheeks tinged pink as he stuttered without forming a sentence.

Sora was definitely floating, he figured without looking down; he was too light and he couldn't feel the sand anymore, and the wind wasn't blowing but if it did he was sure it would carry him along with it. He struggled to speak, to form a coherent response to Riku's words.

You're… cute.

Instead, his body decided to act of its own accord, and he sprinted towards the water.

"Race ya!"

~•~

The sun hung low in the sky, barely brushing the tips of the waves reaching up towards the two boys lying back on the sand, sea salt ice cream in hand. The summer heat had dissipated and the wind had picked up, brushing past Riku and Sora as it crossed the beach.

Riku watched through his hair as the other boy finished his ice cream, digging the stick into the dirt idly. His eyes reflected the entire world and the setting sun, like blue mirrors. He's beautiful.

As he finished his own popsicle, Riku recounted the day in his head, backwards. Heat poked his face as he recalled their earlier conversation, just after he'd freed Sora from his shirt, and the words he'd let slip. You're cute. He mentally slapped himself in the face.

He was surprised Sora hadn't picked up on anything yet, that he'd continued on like it was nothing. They'd run into the frigid water and splashed each other and played around like usual, laughing until they cramped and couldn't swim, salt water stinging their eyes. Just like they did back at Destiny Islands.

"Hey, Sora?"

A hum in response.

"Why'd you take me here?"

Why, when we have our own perfectly good beach? Why, when it took half an hour to drive to Twilight Town and another to find a working train station? Why, when we could have easily turned back around to save the trouble?

Sora's lips curled up in a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Well?" Riku asked.

"I wanted to spend time with you is all," came the quiet reply.

He turned his head to face Sora, met his eyes. "Why not at home?"

Sora shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to do something special. With you."

Riku felt heat crawl up his neck and his stomach curled in on itself. Sora's eyes never left his.

"And why's that?" he said, his voice tilting playfully, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a smirk.

Something danced across Sora's eyes, flickering for a split second before Riku could no longer see it, could no longer see anything but Sora as Sora's lips pressed against his own, sliding between them, and Riku immediately melted into the kiss, his hands reaching up to cup Sora's face. Sora tilted his head and the kiss deepened, and the world spun and then disappeared. He tasted like ice cream and the sea, and Riku's arms tingled where Sora's hands were before they moved down to wrap around his waist and a part of him wished they were still shirtless but this was fine, everything was wonderful and made of Sora.

They pulled apart slightly and Riku breathed a sigh of 'Oh, the entire day clicking into place. And now he was surprised he hadn't picked up on any of the hints Sora had been dropping. He leaned their foreheads together, his eyes closed, and Sora giggled and pulled him closer, tighter.

"So…" Riku murmured, his mind numb in perfect happiness, "was this supposed to be our first date?"

"Well, it definitely ended up that way."

Riku hummed, placing one last kiss before pulling away and opening his eyes. Sora was absolutely glowing, and Riku was sure he must've been the same.

"Let's do it again sometime."

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Like a Building Fell on Him

winterhawk

~2.7k

Pacing is not easy in a hospital room, even in the oversized versions they have in the Tower, but Bucky manages to do it anyway. He’d started out sitting in the chair by the bed, but that had lasted about four minutes. He couldn’t sit still.

Clint is still enough for both of them.

How had this happened? No one could tell Bucky. No one had been there to see. Bucky had been on the other side of the building, dealing with some sort of robots. Tony thought they’d been remotely controlled, but they’d been enough of a pain in the ass, no matter if they’d been AI or not. Bucky and Steve had been knocked around plenty...but neither one of them ended up in a hospital bed.

Clint though… He’s got a bandage wrapped around his head, although the nurse who keeps coming in to check on him keeps reassuring Bucky that there is no concussion. The “this time” isn’t spoken, but is evident in her pursed lips. He’s got a bruise under his right eye, his right arm is broken, he’s got several cracked ribs, and his right ankle is broken too.

And there are so many cuts and scrapes. He looks like a building fell on him.

Which, of course, is exactly what had happened.

*

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Steve says from the doorway.

“Are you kidding? Have you ever heard one of Tony’s ‘superior materials’ lectures? Even I couldn’t damage this floor just by walking on it. Not in a single afternoon, at least.”

Steve stops his restless pacing with a hand clasp to the shoulder. “You really should get some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, Buck. But he’s got good doctors and nurses to take care of him. It’s hardly your responsibility--”

“I promised Natasha I’d have his back while she was gone.” There’s a hollow quality to his voice, even he can hear it.

“Bucky. This wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky waves him off. “I know. But I can at least be here when he wakes up. Nat would be, if she was here.”

Without a word, Steve walks out of the room. Bucky looks through the empty doorway, surprised. But he shouldn’t have been. In three minutes Steve is back, carrying another chair and a deck of cards. “You can at least let me keep you company for awhile.”

*

Bucky is asleep in the chair when Clint wakes up.

“Bucky? ’ssat you?”

Clint’s voice is weak and his words slur together, but he’s definitely awake.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice is rough as gravel, sticky with sleep. “Hey, Barton. Was starting to worry. Too much beauty sleep and you might beat me out in the next Prettiest Avenger competition.”

Clint starts to smile, then grimaces. “Fuck, tha’ hurs. Ow. It all hurs.”

“Shh, don’t try to move, alright? I talked to the doctor, you’re going to be fine. You just need time to heal.” He’s already pushing the call button when he says, “I’ll get a nurse to give you some more pain meds and you can go back to sleep.”

The smile starts to creep across Clint’s features again but Bucky holds up a finger. “None of that. You can do all the smiling you want in a day or so. For now, just rest.”

“You gon’ ssay?”

Clint’s looking up at him like a puppy waiting for a scratch behind the ears. Something flutters in Bucky’s chest, and he suddenly wonders why Natasha asked him in particular to have Clint’s back.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and Clint’s face relaxes into an easy smile. Bucky’s not sure if it’s his answer or the pain meds the nurse just pushed into his iv, but Clint looks genuinely happy. The pain meds seem to be working, anyway, if he can smile without pain. “Yeah, I’ll stay,” he says. “Just go to sleep.”

Clint nods, his face solemn once again. Then he yawns, says, “I nee’ta sleep now. An’ you ‘ave pretty eyes. Like ’em.”

Bucky just stares, unsure how to react to that. He keeps thinking, Yeah, but so do you, but he’s not sure if he can just say that. In the end it doesn’t matter; while Bucky is arguing with himself, Clint drifts back to sleep.

*

The next time Clint wakes up he’s a bit more coherent, but not much.

“Nat?” he says. Then slightly more frantic, “Nat? I can’t--”

Bucky tries not to startle him, but he’s got to get his attention somehow and obviously talking won’t do it. He takes Clint’s grasping hand as gently as he can, but the man still jumps and tries to pull away.

Understandable.

But Bucky doesn’t let go. He carefully unfolds Clint’s fingers and drops the aids into his palm. Making sure Clint is looking at him he says and signs at the same time, “I took them out after you fell asleep. Figured it was probably more comfortable.”

Clint nods, then slips the aids into place. He winces at the pain on the right side of his head but doesn’t make a sound of complaint.

“Where’s Nat?” he asks.

“On a mission. Has been since last week. You don’t have a concussion, it must just be the drugs muddling your thoughts.”

He nods, grimacing again. “Yeah. Brain isn’t too clear.”

“How’s the pain?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the non-answer.

“What’re you doing here?”

Bucky shrugs. “Drew the short straw.”

Clint’s eyes flutter closed before Bucky can parse out the look he sees in them.

He stands up to start pacing again--this room is just too small--when he hears a whispered, “Thanks,” from the bed.

“Anytime,” he says, but Clint is already asleep.

*

“You’re still here? I thought you guys worked in shifts or something.”

Bucky looks up from his book, a smile on his face. “Nah. They all figured I don’t need much sleep, so I got the full time job,” he says as well as signs.

Before Clint can ask he sweeps the aids from the bedside table and sets them in his open palm. Clint’s look is thankful and genuine.

“Feeling better?”

Clint shifts his body around on the bed, trying out various muscles and body parts. “Still hurts, but it’s better. Head’s not pounding quite so bad.” He lifts his right arm and glares at the cast. “Fuck. I hate when I hurt my arms. Messes with my practice schedule for weeks.”

Suddenly every worry, every frustration Bucky’s had for the past twenty or so hours bubbles to the surface. “That’s what you’re worrying about? What the hell were you doing down there anyway, Barton? That area had been swept and cleared. None of those weird robots, no threats at all. And we were both on the same comm link. You knew as well as I did that the building was unstable. We were all warned away from there. What the hell came over you?”

Clint recoils a bit at the force of Bucky’s words, surprise on his face. “There was--”

“This had better not be an excuse.” Bucky’s voice is tight, cold. He’s not sure why everything’s coming out as anger.

Clint looks Bucky square in the eyes. “There was a kid down there. A little girl.”

“A kid.” It comes out of Bucky in a whoosh, like he’d been punched in the gut. “Is she...did you save her?”

And then Clint has the nerve to fucking grin. “Look at me, Barnes. I used my body to shield a kid from a falling wall. Pretty sure I’d look better than this if I’d just let her get hurt.” Seeing Bucky’s glare, he softens his look and his tone. “She’s fine. I took the brunt of the debris. She had a few scrapes, and I may have bruised her when I grabbed her and braced myself over top of her, but she was okay enough to run for help after everything finished falling. Though she may have just gone home, she was plenty scared. She was only nine or ten. What was she doing out on that street alone anyway?” He stares somewhere past Bucky’s shoulder, lost in thought.

“Barton!” Clint’s eyes snap back to Bucky’s. “Have you lost your damn mind? You jumped in front of a falling building. You could have died!” Bucky doesn’t understand why he’s so angry, why he’s yelling at Clint for saving a child’s life. Of course it had been the right thing to do. But still he keeps going. “Did you think at all? Did you even consider--”

He sees Clint’s eyes then, surprised and hurt and confused.

And then he can’t be confined in the hospital room any longer. There’s nothing to say to salvage the mess he’s made, so he just closes his mouth and storms out.

*

Clint spends the rest of the day trying to sweet-talk the nurses into letting him leave. Unfortunately, after all his escape attempts, successful and otherwise, they’re on alert and immune to his charms. They bring him a crutch when he needs the bathroom but are careful to take it when they leave, and he’s not getting far on a broken ankle. Not without help.

So when Steve shows up after dinner he thinks maybe his white knight has arrived. He grins and says, “You here to bust me out of here?”

“Sorry,” Steve says. “I brought you coffee, though.”

“Coffee,” Clint says, holding the cup under his nose and breathing in the scent. Those are not tears in his eyes. His eyes are watering from the steam.

They sit together for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft noises of the hospital machines and Clint sipping his coffee. After a bit Steve says, “He didn’t leave this room the whole time you were unconscious.”

Clint doesn’t say anything.

“He says it was because Natasha asked him to watch your back, that she would have stayed if she’d been here.” He gives Clint a long look. “I don’t think that was it, though. At least, not entirely.”

Still Clint just waits, unsure what Steve is getting at.

“You really scared him,” Steve says. “More than he expected. More than he understands.”

Clint swallows.

Steve looks at him, his gaze level. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Clint says. His voice is unexpectedly rough. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Relaxing a bit, Steve says, “Good.” Then he smiles conspiratorially. “Wanna get out of here?”

*

When Bucky hears the knock he glares at the door. “Go away, Stevie,” he growls. “I’m not in the mood for your lecture. I’m not going back down to medical and nothing you say will change my--”

Even though he tells him to go away, he opens the door. Because it’s Steve, and they’ve been friends for too long.

Only it’s not Steve standing outside the door. It’s Clint.

So he trails off mid-thought, and finishes the only way he possibly can. “Fuck.”

And there’s that grin again. “I thought maybe we could just talk,” Clint says. “And maybe I could sit down? I snuck out of medical--”

“Again? Dammit Barton--”

“Don’t start yelling at me again, Barnes. Just let me in and give me a place to sit. And maybe some coffee?”

Bucky makes a show of looking at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost eight at night. I am not giving you caffeine.”

The face Clint makes almost changes Bucky’s mind. Almost. Instead he says, “Water. Or juice.”

Clint makes another tragic face, but says, “Water please.”

Bucky turns and walks into the apartment. After two steps he hears a crash behind him.

Clint is a tumbled mess on the floor just inside the doorway. “A little help?” He looks up at Bucky, a smile on his lips but pain in his eyes. “When Steve busted me out he forgot the crutches.”

Laugh or scream? Honestly, it could go either way.

Instead, Bucky growls, “You should be in that hospital bed.” But he belies his words by gently scooping Clint into his arms.

“Hey, I can walk,” he squawks.

“Yeah, you did real well with that. Just shut up and let me carry you.”

He shuts up.

After Bucky deposits Clint (softly, even though part of him wants to drop him, because he fucking deserves it) on the sofa he goes to the kitchen for some water. When he comes back Clint is smiling at him--that laid back, easy smile--and Bucky nearly dumps the contents of both glasses onto his smiling face. But again he controls himself, and silently hands Clint his glass. Clint takes a drink, dramatically sighs at the “not coffee-ness” of the water, then looks up at Bucky.

“Aren’t you going to sit down? My neck is going to hurt worse than it already does if I have to look up at you looming over me.”

Bucky sits down on the far end of the sofa. “You should still be in medical,” he says.

“You’ve already made your feelings on that pretty clear,” Clint says. “But Steve and I thought this was more important.”

“Steve. Always meddling,” Bucky mutters.

“Sounds like Nat,” Clint says. Bucky can’t tell if he’s laughing or commiserating.

There is about a minute of uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable on Bucky’s end, anyway. He won’t even let himself look at Clint. He doesn’t want to start yelling at him again. Yelling at him when he wants to be…

But that’s the problem. He’s too muddled around those clear, bright eyes that see so sharply and that always smiling mouth and…

Oh.

And then Clint interrupts his racing thoughts. “Steve told me--” He stops, abruptly. “No, that’s not what I want to say. Can I start over?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice broken and strained.

“I’m always gonna jump in front of a wall to save a kid. Or anyone who needs saving, really. It’s what I do. It’s what you do too, right?”

Bucky grunts. He wants to say that he’s got accelerated healing and other enhancements, but he knows this isn’t the time. He just listens.

“But...maybe next time I’ll call for backup first. Or at least call in to let everyone know what’s going on. If, ah, if there’s someone on the other end who wants to know.”

His mouth suddenly dry, Bucky takes a drink of his water before trying to speak. “There is,” he says. He finally lets himself look at Clint. The easy grin is gone, replaced by a look so open and genuine it almost frightens Bucky.

“I didn’t realize,” Clint says.

“Neither did I,” says Bucky.

Without taking his eyes from Clint’s, Bucky takes both glasses and puts them on the coffee table.

He scoots across the sofa, angled towards Clint, close enough that they’re almost touching.

“The first time you woke up, when you were really gone on painkillers, you told me I have pretty eyes.”

Clint reaches up with his not-injured arm and tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “You do. I don’t remember saying it before, but you do.” His hand continues on through Bucky’s hair, and he grips the back of Bucky’s head, pulling him closer. When their mouths are just a breath apart, he says, “Okay, Buck?”

Bucky’s brain, his body, his every nerve ending, is screaming yes. His traitor mouth says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And then Clint is laughing again, and Bucky is falling. Not physically--his body is still on the sofa--but his heart flips over and his stomach lurches and he knows before their lips even touch that he is well and truly gone for Clint Barton. “I don’t remember injuring my mouth, Bucky. We’ll just have to save anything more strenuous for later.” And then he fucking winks. But before Bucky can say anything about it their mouths are pressed together and every other thought disappears, because oh, this is what he’s been missing.