#(but I am so RELIEVED after this grueling week)

[34saveme34]

Sever the Ties - another smg34 fic by yours truly

[Very excited to post this !!

CW: obviously angst, self harm (mainly once), in general a lot of death mentions, no actual deaths though

word count: 11243

Although SMG3 didn't like it when 4 helped him, he convinced him through endless whining to help clean the cafe after the chaos his USB caused (Why does that sound familiar?).

It took the whole day, both were way too exhausted. 3 sat down on one of the chairs guests would usually sit on. A lot of emotions were boiling in him.

“Whew, we’re done, finally!” 4 exclaimed, stretching his arms after completing such a grueling task.

“You didn't need to help” 3 said, contempt dripping off his words. But he was still holding back.

“It's my fault so I kind of did”

3 just sighed and got up, not wanting to further engage in conversation.

4 looked confused, but also upset.

“Dude! Not even a thanks?” he pouted

3 looked back at him, a sort of coldness in his eyes 4 didn't like to be subjected to.

“Thanks for fixing your own mistake. Now scram” he didn't yell, but he wasn't exactly calm either.

“I’m sorry… it wasn't on purpose I promise I… I hope you can forgive me, 3” 4 pleaded, looking 3’s way, his big eyes reflecting off all the sorrow he was feeling about the situation. 3 looked away but that face already made an impression on his mind. It was hard to stay mad at him.

“I know…” his voice was so gentle “This is just how it is with you sometimes, isn't it?” 3 joked, looking back at 4. 4 frowned.

“But! It shouldn't be… I’ve gotta make it up for you somehow…”

“Please don't…” 3 whined.

“I promise it's gonna be good!” 4 gave him a double thumbs up, as he left with an excited grin. 3 could feel a plan cooking up in 4’s brain, there was no way to stop him.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he spoke to himself, with a stupid grin he couldn't wipe off. As he was trying to cope with the idea that 4 could ruin him further, he felt his furry son greeting him by nuzzling his foot.

“Hey there, boy!” as if he was absolved of all worry, he lifted Eggdog in his arms, hugging him. He earned excited barks for it.

“At least I have you” he petted him then put him down. He still felt kind of bittersweet.

He left to his evil lair, and immediately hit the bed. He felt too emotionally unavailable for the shower right now. The bathroom in general. Walking by the mirror in there simply made him feel dread. He didn't think he could develop such a repulsion towards his own image. His whole living place kind of became hell for him for this reason.

He couldn't sleep, it just wasn't working. He got up. His clock read 2 AM. He sighed. Something was on his mind.

“I should get rid of them…” he stared at the statue of himself. Every second that passed as he stared at it, he felt he couldn't even get out of his own merch’s shadows. It all made him feel sick. He got up, and started throwing out everything that used his likeness. All the plushies, cardboard standees and other merch he still had on hand. Not the statue, not yet. He had something special for that.

He put all the merch in a pile and lit it all on fire. It was sad to see but he felt relieved in some way as well. They had been haunting him for weeks at that point. Although the amount of money he spent on these was kinda sad to see go. Just another financial mistake of his, these felt common for him at this point. And it started so well too, with how much he got his hopes up, he plummeted that hard. He barely even realised he started to cry. He wiped his eyes, trying to compose himself but he only started crying more, and not so softly anymore. His breathing wasn't calm either, his brain felt like melting. So much pain in him, trying to turn him into nothing. He looked up at the sky, wondering where he could have gone wrong.

It took him a bit to calm down. He was glad that everyone was probably asleep at this point. The sadness slowly turned into twisted anger. He got up, walking up and down beside his fucked up bonfire, trying to calm himself.

“What did I even do to deserve this? I’ve been trying so hard- I went through so much! I thought I worked enough on myself to have a good life now” he stared up at the sky, as if he expected the stars to have an answer. But they were deadly silent.

“GOD DAMN IT, GIVE ME A REASON” he screamed, still staring up, as if blaming some sort of god for the way he was now. He was once again crying. He harshly sat down. It hurt but at least he wasn't only feeling his emotions that way. The thought made him stop, as he slowly looked to the fire, perhaps bad things forming in his brain. The more he looked at it, the more the fire made an impression on his brain. The way it was so strong, going up but dissipating soon too. It kind of reminded him of himself. Would anyone miss him if he became one with the fire?... Or  was he too much of a coward? He pulled off one of his gloves, his expression still wore sadness. He pulled his sleeve slightly up, not wanting it to catch fire. He reached in. It was kind of overwhelming. His mind felt empty from the pain. He pulled back suddenly as the pain really settled in him,even if it hadn’t been there for that long, crying out again. He couldn't believe it, he was crying again… Why was he such a failure?

“...3?” he heard a soft voice come from behind him, all too familiar. His heart sank. He couldn't look.

“...3! What… What's wrong?” the voice came closer, it seemed he was not getting off the hook with this one.

“Why are you here?” 3 spoke, his voice was strained from the crying.

“I couldn't sleep because of our link… I could feel something was wrong…” 4 kneeled down beside 3, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 3 wasn't sure how to feel. His hand was hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Why did he have to be so fucking stupid?

4 grabbed his burnt hand. But he didn't say a thing. He was gentle too, he could see how much it hurt. 4 sighed softly and pulled 3 up.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing??” 3 tried to get away, pulling himself from 4’s grip.

“I want to help. This can't continue”

3 stared at him, so many thoughts attacking him. He felt awful.

“Like you could do anything, dipshit!”

4 was about to look offended but visibly held back.

“If you let me, I can. Please, 3… You know I care about you, right? It's awful to see you like… like this” he grabbed 3’s shoulder firmly, once again beginning to pull him back.

3 sighed.

“You won't let me go, huh?”

“Never ever” 4 smiled at 3, trying to be hopeful. 3 cared too… He really did.

4 took him inside then searched around everywhere he could to find something to treat 3’s burns. As he looked around, that's when he realised all the merch was missing. Their absence made him feel kind of uneasy. He thought for a bit then called Meggy.

“It's 4 in the morning” she sounded upset.

4 went outside, leaving 3 alone inside the cafe. 3 looked his way, but he didn't feel like going after him.

He was on the phone for a bit, probably about a few minutes. 3 didn't go outside but still stared the entire time. 4 came back inside after putting his phone away.

“I called Meggy, she has stuff for your burns”

3 frowned.

“You didn't need to-”

“What were you doing anyways?”

3 looked down, not wanting to look at 4 as he said those next few words.

“Burning merch”

4 was shocked. That's when he put together that what he saw then was all the merch burning.

“What?... What for?” 4 sounded so sad. It killed 3. He wished he could smile at him again.

“No one wanted them anyways, and I hated staring at them only catch dust”

“Still… I… has it really been this bad?”

“I’m surprised you didn't notice…. Then again, you're not exactly best at catching on things”

“Hey I-...” 4 looked down “I guess you're right”

Neither looked at the other. The tension…

Meggy stepped inside the cafe, which got both out of their sudden silence.

“Hey, guys, I brought some burn ointments, I came as soon as I could!”

“Why do you have it anyways?” 3 asked.

“You never know when you might need it!... And my time in the kitchen often leaves me with burns-”

“Fair enough” 4 commented, nodding. It made sense, Meggy is a shitty ass cook. 

4 and Meggy treated 3. 3 was kind of glad they stopped questioning why this even happened. He really really didn't want to talk about it.

“So” 4 started. Oh no.

“What?” 3 didn't dare look at either of them, playing with the bandage they put on his hand.

“What's wrong, SMG3?” Meggy folded her arms, looking concerned. 

“He burnt his merch” 4 told Meggy since 3 was rather silent.

“What??” even she was shocked. 3 was starting to feel like an utter clown, this was torture.

“Yeah… and I feel like it's my fault…” 4’s voice was filled with sorrow. 3 perked up for that, staring at 4 with an expression that was hard to read. It slowly turned soft though.

“It's… not actually” 3 sighed. It was his own fault. 

“I-... I think I still want to help… especially because I think I found something that could help your business out”

3 looked at him confused and scared. Whatever was in this man’s mind could only lead to bad things.

4 took his phone out and showed a picture of a billboard. It had the number on it to call if you wanted to rent it.

3 looked at the picture. Back at 4. Back at the picture, back at 4. He tilted his head. Meggy looked confused as well.

“You could advertise like this!”

“4… I hate to break it to you but I don’t have that kind of money right now”

4 shook his head.

“I’ll pay for it!” 4 pumped a fist into the air cheerfully. He was serious about this.

3 went so wide eyed, not even sure what he was supposed to say.

“THAT’S A LOT OF MONEY, YOU IDIOT???”

“3’s right, 4… that’s a rather big commitment”

“I don’t mind it!”

“The fuck you mean you don’t mind it??” 3 was rather flustered now. The grand gesture proposed to him made him feel all sorts of things.

“I wanna make it up to you, 3… for all the times I had mistreated you” 4 put a hand on 3’s shoulder. 3 was so flustered he didn’t even know what to say anymore. He wasn’t used to being treated so special. 

“Damn, that’s so sweet of you 4, I wish you cared about me this much” Meggy teased 4, 4 didn’t seem to get what she was going for. She didn’t feel like elaborating. 

“Are you sure?” 3 finally got some words out. Didn’t mean he looked any less flustered though.

“Yeah! You deserve it, man!” he patted 3 on his back then pulled him close by the shoulder. It seemed 4 was rather touchy today. And Meggy started to feel awkward about third wheeling. 

“So, guys, I’m gonna go back to sleep now, you’re welcome for my help” she waved them goodbye quickly. It was so interesting to see the 2 get along in their own ways but she still felt like she was intruding on something she shouldn’t.

3 felt like he was left to succumb now that he was left alone with 4. He couldn’t believe that he wished for Meggy to stay longer.

It took everything in him but he just couldn’t… he couldn’t keep it in. He hugged 4. It took a bit but 4 hugged back. They were silent, the hug was long. He wasn’t exactly a fan of affection but 4 got the best of him. He couldn’t help it at this point. 

“You sure are affectionate today” 4 teased 3 softly.

“Not my fault”

“Heh… is it mine?” 4 grinned.

“Yeah yeah” 3 pulled 4 away gently “And now it’s over”

“Thanks, your hugs are nice”

“You do realise how that sounds, right?”

“Well… Sometimes you’re a little gay with the homies, right?” 4 joked. 3 facepalmed. 

“Whatever…”

They stood around for a bit before 4 spoke.

“Say… will you be able to sleep like this?”

3 didn’t even think of that. With the way he got, he almost thought today would be his last day.

“Uh… I don’t know, I probably just… won’t”

4 squinted at him, having none of his bad behaviour.

“No way”

The 2 stared at each other, 3 looking kind of angry, especially since 4 didn’t budge.

“What are you gonna do, beat me to sleep or some shit?” 

“No… That’s mean”

“It’s not like you would cuddle me to sleep-” 3 said. He already said it and he couldn’t take it back. The words he didn’t mean to just put out there but now 4 knew. He knew that 3 considered cuddling him to sleep.

“Not a bad idea… then in the morning we can start on preparing for that billboard!”

3 grew so red.

“I DIDN’T SAY I WANT TO”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“And why are you so for it?”

4 blushed himself, now that he thought about it further… It was a pretty weird idea.

“This once?” 4 pleaded, with those loser puppy dog eyes. 3 sighed.

“Fine”

“Though… you should shower first”

“Being picky now, aren’t we?”

“I can help you with that too” 4 smiled, feeling kind of powerful that he could tease 3. He got slapped. He realised it was kind of deserved.

“Fine, I'll shower. Very VERY far from you”

“I was just joking! I swear!”

3 sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t believe he could be this close to this idiot.

3 showered and came back to 4 by his bed. It was kind of weird but he also sort of looked forward to it. In like a weird, twisted and awful way. He looked away from 4 to the statue he had of himself. It filled him with dread.

“Hey, 4, before we sleep… can you help me bring this out of here?” he pointed at the statue.

“Is it really necessary right now?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with it around”

4 got up, guess there was no other way. They moved it out of the room together, although they had to take it apart a bit so they could fit it out of the door. For the night, they left it in the cafe lounge, he would worry about it later.

Now came the time to sleep. 3 got kind of flustered at 4 opening his arms for him to sleep there. He didn’t even let him go far away, keeping him close, as if he didn’t want to ever let him go… Only 4 knew that that thought was kind of accurate. It was so so uncomfortably comforting, 3 fell asleep pretty fast. If it wasn’t so weird, he’d ask to do this more.

Next day came by, 3 was slow to stir awake. He kind of didn’t feel like getting up. The warmth of 4 was a bit too nice… What the the fuck do you mean? Get yourself together! 3 wriggled himself out of 4’s hold and went to the bathroom to splash his face with water. He had to get himself together.

But man… He still missed it. How could he even cope with this?

He went back to his room and sat beside the still sleeping 4. He still couldn’t believe 4 just cuddled him last night. He thought he would never do something like that. It kind of intrigued him in a way. He wondered if he made this side of him trigger with what he did last night. He frowned, thinking of the possibility. He didn’t want to hurt 4. At least… he hoped he didn’t want to hurt 4. The idea made him kind of sick. 

He only realised how intensely he was staring at 4 when he woke up, his eyes meeting his own. He suddenly turned away, as if he hadn’t been looking at 4 for who knew how long at that point. 4 smiled about that, he was glad to see that 3 cared. Although he didn’t speak up about it… It was still too early for him. He lightly tugged on 3’s arm.

“What?” 3 looked at him unamused.

“Coffee?” 4 requested with one simple word.

3 just stared at him. 4 frowned.

“Pretty please”

3 rolled his eyes, he got up and went outside to make one for 4. 4 took that time to still relax in 3’s bed. He didn’t think it would be so nice sleeping beside 3. Although the idea was spontaneous and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t have done it… But his need to see 3 okay won him over like this. 

3 was brewing the coffee, while it was going, he phoned some dude up, apparently from the dark web. As soon as he put his phone down, a shady dude came out from the floor and took the disassembled statue, leaving a few coins behind for a fair trade. 3 picked them up. At least he could get a little money out of his sudden spring cleaning. 

3 went back down to 4 with the coffee, made to 4’s liking, he knew his taste pretty well at this point. Even if he didn’t have a lot of customers anymore, 4 would still come every once in a while. 

4 took the coffee, taking a sip, he hummed with delight.

“Great as always” 4 commented, drinking more of it. 3 was glad that even if his business was dying, he still managed to make banger coffee that 4 liked.

“Thanks”

“No no, thank YOU”

“Whatever, you’re welcome” 3 smiled, folding his arms.

“Hey… don’t you wanna come beside me” the warmth radiating off of 4 was quite beckoning.

“What would I for? Not like I have business with you”

4 deflated.

“You kinda do, considering what we talked about yesterday…” 4 pulled out his laptop “I guess you don’t want to save your business?” 

3 went wide eyed. He accepted defeat and sat beside 4. 

“So… we should probably put together your ad!” 4 exclaimed “Now I uh… I had this idea for a while… and I made some mock ups!” 4 said and opened up a folder that held a few images.

They weren’t exactly well drawn and 4 didn’t have the most legible writing. 3 often had to lean in close to see them. After looking at them all, he looked at 4 and chuckled.

“I see graphic design is your passion” he teased.

“I did this for you!”

“They look like shit”

“Nooo,,”

“What were you even trying to write here?” 3 opened one of the images back up.

“It’s-! I… I don’t remember? Ahaha” 4 laughed awkwardly. 3 rolled his eyes, somehow not believing this idiot could make himself look even less smart. 

“Let’s start this again…” 3 got up and brought back a pen tablet. 

“Didn’t know you had one of these”

“I got it not too long ago actually! It’s great to use” 3 took 4’s laptop in his own lap and plugged in his tablet.

“Uh-” 3 started “ do you mind if I download the software for it? It works better that way”

“Sure, go on… just don’t get me viruses!”

“I’m not as much of an idiot as you are!”

“You sure like grilling me today”

“It’s just what I do” 3 laughed. 

After he downloaded the software and set it up, he started to mock something up in ms paint, aka man’s best friend. Nobody does it like you, my dear, Microsoft paint!

It actually looked better than what 4 did, although the tablet definitely played a part in making it better. 4 noticed it was an advertisement for a job.

“You want to hire?” 4 pointed it out.

“Yeah… I think it would be the solution”

“Huh… wait” 4 inspected it more “That’s… not a lot of money for this kind of job”

3 frowned.

“I… I know but I can’t currently offer more”

“Man.. are you really that broke? You can come stay with me if you wa-”

“No way. Never”

“Okay…”

“You’re really obsessed with me…”

“I… I’m just worried about you… yesterday made me realise how I could easily lose you if I didn’t well… yeah”

3 shut up for a bit.

“... I was afraid you’d say that”

The 2 stayed silent for a bit. Lots of feelings around the 2.

“I’m honest though, man, I care a lot”

“I know already ugh just… yeah… I’m sorry, I should be glad you’re helping me”

4 chuckled.

“I’ll still take constructive criticism, but ONLY if you’re not too mean”

“I can try” 3 laughed.

They continue to perfect the ad. It turned out pretty pathetic in the end but at least it got the message across.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since they put the ad out. The more time that passed, the more it felt futile. 3 felt worse than ever, not only did he have a dying business, he also had 4 spending so much money on him and for what? He felt like shit. It was hard to force himself to keep the cafe at least a little clean. And keeping up with daily routines had never been so hard either, as much as it was then. It was killing him from the inside. He wondered if it was even a good idea for him to move there and start this.

However each time he was slowly succumbing to the dark, 4 pulled him out and helped him. He sort of became an unofficial worker in a way. 3 hated that. Not only did he spend so much money on him, he also helped him around without asking for compensation. It made him feel weak, as even this much help didn’t pull him out of it.

It was especially an awful day. He didn’t even try to open the cafe, he just stayed in his room with the lights off. It had been weeks at this point and there still wasn’t anybody coming to help him out… He wished he could’ve done better. But maybe he was just destined to be a miserable shadow of someone better… 4, he was… great. 3 wished he had half the success. The jealousy in his brain had only been growing. He always tried to push it to the back of his mind for the sake of 4, he didn’t want to hurt him. 4 was too great for something like that. He didn’t want to further bury him in his own burden. 

“3? Are you in here?” he heard 4 call out to him from the elevator. He just couldn’t stay away from 3, no matter how many times it seemed reaching out to him wouldn't work out further.

“I’m fine” 3’s voice was muffled by the fact that he was underneath the covers, his face smothered in his pillow.

4 frowned as he walked up to 3’s bed. He sat beside 3. He hesitated for a bit but leaned down to hug 3. 3 didn’t want this… He loved it.

“3, c’mon man I’m…. I’m sure someone will answer your ad soon enough! It’s too early to give up”

“4… listen” 3 sat up, pushing 4 off of himself “I’m… I’ve failed. I don’t get why… you just don’t give up on me at this point. What’s the point of helping me if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”

4 could only stare shocked, not wanting to admit that those words were just uttered to him.

“You can’t say that…”

“I’m right, 4… I think it’s too late for me… just… just let me rot here”

“But… I don’t want to”

“Leave”

“3…”

“Why don’t you get it? It’s futile. I’m not worth it, 4. There’s so many better things and people you can put all this energy into”

“You’re.. you’re…” 4 was lightly shaking, he was really upset by that “You’re more…” tears slipped and streamed down his face.

“Look at you… I’m the reason you’re like this” 3 admitted “It.. genuinely might be better for you”

“WHY do you WANT ME TO STAY AWAY SO BADLY???” 4 got up, upset, crying, accusing, tired. Exhausted. 

“BECAUSE I DON’T DESERVE YOU AT ALL, YOU’RE STRUGGLING BECAUSE OF ME”

“I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO HELP FOR ONCE”

“IT WOULD HELP IF YOU LEFT ME ALONE”

“AND LET YOU ROT??” the tears wouldn’t stop coming, only becoming more intense.

“YES, IT’S WHAT I DESERVE”

“NO! NO! NO! NO IT’S NOT TRUE” he cried, not sure what to do or say anymore. 

“Just… leave… it will be better for the both of us. Make your funny videos”

4 felt almost betrayed, it seemed no matter how hard he pressed, he couldn’t get through 3 anymore. He left, feeling undone in a sense. Yes, the situation had been draining him quite a bit but he did it for his friend, his friend who he really really cared about! A friend he would give the whole world for if he could. And yet, here he was, leaving because he kept failing 3. He felt like shit. Of course when he wanted to be there for 3 fully and help him achieve his dreams, that’s when things would turn this sour. 

He might have gone back to his room now but the inspiration wouldn’t come. The thought that he failed 3 just occupied his mind too much. He knew how bad it was to miss uploads but he just… He couldn’t do this. He decided to release a community post, saying that there would be a bit of a hiatus until he was able to resolve something. He sighed, trying to look for a way to make things better. He wondered if he should really just stop. If 3 was right about the fact that he just needed to stop and leave 3. But the more he stayed away, the more it felt like the whole in his heart, the place 3 took for himself only got bigger. Like a fatal wound.

It had been days since he was told to leave 3 alone. He decided to check on him again, even if by force, he would make something happen. He entered 3’s lair, looking for him but finding nothing. His room looked as messy as ever, nothing was that out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that 3 wasn’t here. 4 started to grow more and more worried. 3 was gone. 3  WAS GONE. WHERE. IS. HE? 

He alerted his friends, who also came to help, though not everyone. Just Meggy, Tari, Saiko, Mario, Luigi and Melony when she wasn’t sleeping. They searched and searched, especially 4, it was almost like he never stopped searching. Day and night he would go to the cafe and look around, often he didn’t even sleep in his room if he would sleep at all. It was the only thing he had of 3 in that way, although it wasn’t as comforting as he wished it to be. But it was more than nothing and he should be grateful. Although it was kind of silly, he looked through the burnt merch, and while he found nothing in tact, he found a plush that was still recognisable. Just seeing it made him cry. He kept it. It turned into a charm for him, not his good luck charm, rather his charm of hope. Hope for the idea that 3 is still out there and that he would be able to find him.

He was reaching the end of his ropes, but then he realised. He could reach out to 1 and 2 for help! Yes, that’s it… He called the 2, scared, they could tell based on his voice that things were NOT good.

“So… you don’t know where he went?” 1 questioned.

“I… yeah… but I… I can still feel that he’s still alive… I know it”

“Alright, we’re gonna teach you a bit of a complex move to help you track down SMG3. You… really need to concentrate. And calm down” 2 looked concerned.

“Yeah, you look super tense” 1 commented, also concerned.

“Sorry sorry… I just really care about him”

“Yeah… He is your partner after all” 2 pat him on the shoulder “it’s only natural”

“He’s also… my friend” 4 could cry all over again. He didn’t think that one day he would be here, feeling dysfunctional at the thought of SMG3 of all people leaving him behind. And yet…

The 2 both grabbed 4’s hand, trying to channel for him. 4 tried to take a deep breath to concentrate. This was for 3… He would do anything for 3. He couldn’t fail him again. 

Suddenly, 4 felt sharp pain in his stomach, which made him fall to the ground.

“Are you okay??” 2 looked worried, 1 was too.

“I’ve never seen something like this happen…”

“Huh?” 4 looked up, shocked at the revelation.

“This shouldn’t be possible” 2 noted as well. This only made 4 more visibly worried.

“Not possible?” 

“Look… I think we should try again” 1 sighed, he knew it had to be done “As much as I’d rather not, I want to try and see… if we can figure it out”

4 nodded, not really fighting it. If it meant they could find 3…

They once again all held hands, and it happened again.

“Hmmm… he only wants you” 1 noted.

“How do you know that?” 2 looked at him, also puzzled.

“I was paying attention to the force stopping us. It was clearly pulling 4 away from us, not the other way around. It only wants you”

“But I- How do I do it on my own?”

“We’ll help from- from here” 2 tried to reassure 4.

“We can’t lose hope yet” 1 also tried.

4 had a headache coming on at this point but he persisted. He wanted to see 3 again and make sure he wouldn’t come to harm’s way ever again.

“Okay… yeah, you’re both right” 4 tried to concentrate. Linking his own hands kind of helped, almost like making a loop link. He closed his eyes. It felt like he was transported in a different place.

He couldn’t see anything much, beside a shadow resembling 3. The shadow knew he was there and that he wanted answers. It didn’t speak directly, only whispers but seemingly not coming from the shadow entity directly. The whispers were incomprehensible yet somehow 4 was still given an image in his head, it burned into his mind. The scenery of a castle that felt impossible. It felt familiar to him in a way. It bared resemblance to Peach’s castle that once stood proud and tall but missing important things, looking like an abandoned version of it. With dark energy emanating from inside.  But he could feel it… 3 was there. Waiting for him. He… He wanted him to come? But… Only him… nobody else… He would have to…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat up, he didn’t realise it before but he was put in a bed.

“Hey, you’re finally awake!” 2 said coming beside him.

“What… what happened?”

“The move drained you and you passed out” 1 said, also noticing that 4 woke up “What did you see?”

“It was a castle but… he wants me to go alone”

“What, alone?” 

“That’s just…”

“I have to” 4 stood up from bed “I think… I guess we have a score to settle”

“Are you sure about this?” 1 asked.

“I’m… I am, yeah. What’s the worst that could happen anyways?” 

“A lot can happen”

“At least I’ll see him again” 4 got up and left the 2 SMGs without another word. Both concluded that 4 truly grew desperate. 

4 left on his own, well… Not entirely. He had memes just in case something went wrong. Or if he had to escape a life or death situation. Anything felt possible at this point. He even started to make peace with the idea that he’d get badly hurt anyways. At least he’d be able to see 3 again… maybe with his last breath, he could hold him again… Although that might have sounded a bit too sad. His biggest wish was still to take 3 home and make everything work out again. Turn everything back to normal… What was normal anyways?

He arrived at the entrance of the castle. It was boarded up. He thought for a bit… How should he get through this? Although he didn’t like the trend, he summoned a tik tok, one of those where the food on a plate had bites taken out of it to the beat of a song and then the plate as well. The tiktok managed to chew off the boards to the beat. At least it was useful for once.

He went inside, it was oddly dark, though he could tell it was supposed to resemble Peach’s castle to an extent. but rooms seemed to be missing, which made the main hall even bigger than it was before. The emptiness of it was slowly making 4 anxious… No, he had to keep moving! 

He didn’t have a flashlight with him, which made it a bit hard to explore. But he moved along anyway, concentrating. He could feel 3. He knew he had to be there. He felt infinitely close. As he moved around, he noticed eyes. Eyes were staring at him and only him. More and more of them. Paying attention to every little movement he was making. Not only that, they felt uncomfortably familiar. He didn’t like thinking about it… He didn’t want to go back to the day he lost so much. He felt more and more anxious. 

But the eyes would only stare. But  even if they were only staring, they had him surrounded. It felt like that day, feeling so isolated against your will. Being forced into solitude, something you never wanted in the first place.

He sat down on the ground. He didn’t know what he should do.

“Are you here?” 4 called out softly, his voice shaky. He was way too nervous from this.

He didn’t get an answer back. Only eyes that came closer and closer to him, closing in… Until it was all dark.

It was all dark until a screen was put in front of him. It was bright from being all white, 4 took a bit to adjust to it. There was text on it in black.

“Scared?” it read “Don’t be. It’ll be over soon”

4 looked terrified. Over soon? Will he actually die here? Sure it was a thought that crossed his mind but- but he wasn’t ready for this!

“I just want him back…” 4 sobbed, tears rolling down his face.

“How selfish” the text read. 

“I want him back so I can fix things… make it up to him”

The screen went blank for a bit. It left 4 more nervous.

“3… I uh…” 4 panicked, not knowing what to say “You know- we need you, man. The crew isn’t the same without you! You’re important!”

The screen still did not show an answer. 

“What should I do…” 4 didn’t know anymore.

“Leave” the screen showed simply.

“No… That’s the one thing I can’t do. Not anymore” 4 grabbed the screen, finding something within himself to keep going “I can’t leave without him”

the screen shone bright, covering 4 in brightness, pulling him inside. 

After a whole black room, he was inside a whole white room. Somehow it still felt the exact same, even if he could see now. 

4 thought about what meme could help him in this situation. His mind drew a blank. What was he supposed to do in a blank room? He got up and walked around. Maybe he can find a weakness to this room. He pushed around, finding the edge of the room. He pushed with all his might. Although he wasn’t very strong. Then he got an idea.

He pulled out Beeg.

“Grow, boy!!” 4 commanded him with a big, determined smile.

Now usually Beeg wasn’t one to listen but knowing what was going on, he grew bigger and bigger, pushing at the room more than 4 could ever. 4 cheered him on. 

The room collapsed, they were… they were inside the same room where… Oh. Memories.

Beeg shrunk and went back to 4. 

He walked up to the table in the room. It felt just like the one in his old home. It was furnished similarly, even with the demonic keyboard. He resented looking at it. The fact that he got it made him feel awful all over again. Maybe it really would have been better if he just died there… But 3 saved him. Now it was time for payback. 

“So, what do you want me to do?” he called out. 

He looked around, seeing no one around. Or that was what he thought until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around but he saw no one. He felt confused… Then he could feel a poke at his side. He looked, nothing. Another poke coming from the other side. He looked, still nothing. And then another. Then another. Faster and faster until he was more annoyed than scared or confused and was also starting to feel a bit dizzy. He swore he could hear laughing.

“Hey! This isn’t funny!”

The poke attack suddenly stopped, as the monitor on the table turned on, which caught his attention. It had his editing program opened. The clips, pictures and sounds that were in the library were all too familiar to him.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? You know I couldn’t make that video by myself!” 4 was rather annoyed again. Why did he have to relive this again? He sat in front of the computer but didn’t touch the keyboard.

“And why is this thing here? Do you really expect me to work with it? I… I don’t want to go back to my lowest point”

The keyboard emanated an energy that made 4 feel so scared. He forgot how it can… manipulate you. He was about to reach for it but- he had to stay strong! This could not be the end of his story. Not the end of THEIR story. With 3. He knew… There had to be a way. If 3 saved him before, he had to pay back. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it was his fault for 3 being gone. 

He grabbed the keyboard and broke it in half. It screamed in its eldritch ways, releasing black blood. There was a lot of it. The monitor turned off.

“You’re not getting me like this! I don’t want a perfect video, I want you!”

4 stopped for a second. Only after saying it did he realise how odd that sounded. But he meant it. No matter how uh… not so straight it sounded.

He got up, looking around the room. He couldn’t wait for whatever entity was around to mess around with him even more.

He noticed a camera following his movement. He got close to the camera, trying to see if he could find a source or reason for it. 

“You think I’m gonna feel shame for being broadcasted?” the camera turned around, instead showing footage it recorded. It had a lot of 3’s rants to himself. How many times he was stuck being the loser out of the 2 of them. How even when they turn out to be friends, he got the shorter end of it all. How everything around him only seemed to fall apart. Especially… when he and 4 got even closer. 4 felt shocked. He never knew he could feel this much emotional pain but… here he was… Being shown that he was only a source of failure for 3. 

The screen of the camera turned off after it finished showing everything.

4 didn’t know what to do with himself. He… He didn’t know he hurt 3 so much. He felt so miserable. And conflicted, would it really be best for them to… part ways? 

He stared at the turned off camera, trying to just… process everything.

The camera turned on again, although the screen was black but something seemed to move closer, like a dark shape, the dark shape reached out, in the form of a hand. 4 panicked and quickly backed away from the camera. The room went dark on the side of the camera, but the figure, although dark, was still noticeable through the dark. Especially for those red eyes. Those iconic red eyes… this was no doubt 3. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 4 cried. 

“I did now” 3 spoke, his voice echoey, coming from all directions.

“What… What happened to you?” 4 was so scared. So devastated.

“I embraced the shadows… If you don’t fit anywhere else, why leave?”

4 didn’t know what to say, all he could do was cry.

“I wish I could’ve been there for you more, 3”

“You only would’ve ruined things more”

“But-”

“Now leave… or I’ll do something awful”

“You-” 4 was having none of that “I… I’m standing by what I said. I’m not leaving without you”

“Well, if you say so” 3 walked up to him, grabbing his hand. It was cold… It felt uncomfortable.

“Huh- What happened to you? Why… is your hand so cold?”

“What, you miss soft SMG3’s warm little hand or something? You miss when I held back?”

“What- What are you saying?”

“I’ve always felt miserable. This” he held his hand, intertwined with 4’s hand “Has made my life hell”

“Our… Guardian link?”

“Exactly” 3 squeezed 4’s hand but it wasn’t comfortable. Somehow there was still something behind it. Something that gave 4 hope.

“What?”

“Well, it’s something we have to live with, of course it’s not gonna always be a great time! It doesn’t mean you need to destroy the world over it”

“It can be broken”

“Our link can be destroyed and I know how to do it”

“WHAT??”

“I CAN FINALLY BREAK AWAY FROM YOU”

“DO YOU REALLY HATE ME THIS MUCH???”

“THE OPPOSITE, YOU IDIOT”

“What..?”

“This link… This link gave me feelings I never wanted. I never wanted to feel nice about being close to you. It made me feel awful. Each fucking time. Yet I let you in, because this stupid fucking link made me weak about it. This stupid guardian link is at fault…”

3 gripped on 4’s hand even harder.

“3… no if- if you destroyed it- WE DON’T KNOW WHAT COULD HAPPEN, THIS IS SO SELFISH OF YOU”

“WELL FUCK, LET ME BE SELFISH SOMETIMES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT”

Some sort of red-black energy appeared around the 2, and familiar marks appeared on 3. The energy 4 could feel was familiar too… and scary.

“Anti meme energy..? Where-”

“You’re right” 3 laughed “In the end it’s truly the answer to all my misery!”

“No! 3! This is too dangerous! What if you got hurt??”

“I’ll take the risk!”

slowly, the marks appeared on 4 too. 3 was too strong… holding him back took everything in 4 and it still wasn’t enough.

The moment the link between the 2 was severed. It felt like 4 died. He didn’t but it felt like he did. Something beautiful inside him was gone now. the marks turned black, his hand was too.

He could barely stand, falling on his ass.

3 didn’t seem better. Even if he had the power of whoever was on his side now, it still didn’t change the fact that he got rid of something in himself that was deeply inherent to him. 

The 2 just laid there, facing each other. The pain they felt made it too hard to move. 

The emptiness 4 felt was unbearable. Even if he was able to get up, he didn’t know what he would do. He really didn’t anymore. He wondered if this was meant to happen.

3 took a while himself, he was clearly hurt, even when he got up. He moved slowly, pain in every step he took. He didn’t dare look 4’s way. He was wondering if it was only the pain or if he actually began to regret what he had done. He didn’t feel like figuring it out, so he left the room, leaving 4 by himself. 

4 just laid there. Maybe he should just… not do anything… What was it worth anymore?

He closed his eyes, thinking about everything that happened in his life. All the memories, friends he made. All the time when he thought he made amends with 3, only seemingly repeatedly stabbing him in the back instead. Honestly, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself anyways knowing that he did that. Maybe he was being dramatic but… Whatever.

It felt like an eternity when he heard commotion from outside. He didn’t really care to check. He kind of embraced death at this point.

“4!! SMG4” he heard a voice he did not care to check.

“OH NO!” another voice came right beside him “I think he’s still alive- let’s take him back”

He was too tired to protest, even if he didn’t want to go.

The journey home felt kind of dull. Knowing what 3 did, it just… it broke him. He felt like it wasn’t only their link… that even disregarding that, in general the fact that 3 chose to depart from him hurt him in many other ways. He… really came to like him over the years. Seeing how he became so selfless, so helpful, so amazing too… 4 still kind of felt bad that 3 couldn’t see that about himself. He wished he was less stubborn and told him more. Though he was sure that wouldn’t have changed a thing anyways. But still, he wished he could tell 3 more that he found him so amazing in ways he never did with anyone else… he… he loved him.

4 suddenly shot up, the realisation hitting him like a truck.

“Woa-” Meggy was one of the ones who carried him, momentarily losing balance from 4’s sudden movement.

Mario was on his other side, he seemed to take 4’s stupidity better. One could say he was used to 4’s antics.

4 took a bit to catch his breath as they all stopped.

“Are you okay?” Tari came running to him.

“I think I love him” was all 4 could say before starting to cry. Truly, today wasn’t his day. Lots of tears.

“As in… SMG3?” Meggy asked.

“Yeah…” 4 looked down.

Mario patted him on the back.

“Mario knew you would realise at some point”

“About time, these last weeks have been ridiculous” Clench came out too. He was rather annoyed with the 2 at this point.

“It’s not that unexpected, yeah” Meggy chuckled.

A lot of the others held a similar reaction, no one seemed surprised.

4 didn’t look too happy though.

“He left… he left me there” 4 spoke again, looking up at the sky. He still felt way too empty.

“What happened anyways?” Tari asked.

“He…” 4 tried holding back the tears. Not very successfully at that. “I… I’ll need to discuss this later with SMG1 and 2…”

Everyone left him alone. The rest of the road back home was rather gloomy. 4 was starting to feel like it wasn’t only him who felt 3’s painful absence. 

They helped him in his room to rest for a bit. After a while, 1 and 2 came into his room.

“We heard you wanted to speak with us” 1 said.

“Yeah… It’s bad”

“We could tell based on your black scars” 2 commented, pointing at how bad his face looked.

“He… He broke our link”

They both looked at him shocked, then at each other. The reaction made 4 feel even worse.

“That’s… how did he…”

“With… anti meme energy… I don’t know how he got it but… I have a bad feeling about this in general”

“Tell us everything” 1 had a determined look. 

4 proceeded to tell them about everything. The way he was approached by 3, the weird dark change of his appearance, his comment of becoming one with the shadows. It seemed to leave both 1 and 2 speechless.

“Whoever is behind this” 1 spoke “They know enough to be clearly dangerous”

“Do you… Do you think I could mend my link with 3?” 4 looked up at the ceiling. He found that not looking at people made it easier to not cry.

“We… don’t know” 2 sighed. Neither of them had an idea.

“We’ve never seen anything like this happen before… we can try to look around for information to see if we can find something”

“It’s only natural… especially because the world is weaker without your link”

4 looked at them, smiling softly.

“Thanks, I really appreciate that”

“It is?”

“Everyone is able to feel it” 2 said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s one of the pillars of a stable universe. Whoever told 3 how to break it must have done it to… oh no, 1, we should start searching right away!” the 2 ran out in a hurry. 

4 chuckled dryly at that. It really wasn’t funny to him, he just found it kind of ironic in a way. Destroying 3’s life meant he’d also destroy the world… It was kind of fitting how especially now, 3 felt like the whole world for him. He wished he knew earlier so at least he could’ve told him before they parted ways like that. 

~~~

4 didn’t do much for a few days. He spent the day coping. Healing. He could move around better after a while but his mental state didn’t get better. He couldn’t get 3 out of his mind. He thought that their link being gone meant that the opposite of this would happen but no. His friends tried to cheer him up with memes they would send him. Sure they got a chuckle out of him but these weren’t nearly enough to stop his sadness. 

He was watching his own videos where 3 appeared when 1 and 2 came in his room.

“WE FOUND SOMETHING” 2 jumped through the door.

“Yeah?” 4 asked, trying to put on a smile.

“Yes! Your connection isn’t necessarily lost forever!”

“R– Really??” 4 looked at them with colour appearing in his eyes. There’s a way after all!

“Yes- considering it’s still fresh, and you don’t seem to care any less, there could still be a way. But the catch… 3 has to want it too”

“Huh…” 4 thought out loud “I mean, that makes sense… I wonder if he would…”

“We’ll at least try our best to convince him”

“Right right! Even though I was told I ruined his life” 4 looked away. He still didn’t know what to do with all his feelings about that.

“Ruined his life?” 2 questioned.

“He said that… I only ever seemed to make his life worse… and that I only made things worse when I helped him”

The 2 looked at each other then back at 4.

“What do you exactly mean by this?”

“Uh… He said that his businesses always seemed to fail around me, no matter how much he tried, and that things that would ruin him further… connected right back to me”

The 2 shared another look.

“Now… don’t panic but” 1 started.

“Someone was disrupting your link!” 2 finished 1’s thought.

“Huh?”

“It sounds like it. As we were looking at all the information we could find on links, we found that in certain ways, outside people can interact with links that are not theirs.That’s how we also tried to help you find 3 but we were blocked out by some force. And it’s not a meme guardian exclusive thing. So… Someone must have got in and… yeah”

4 looked shocked.

“So… It’s not my fault?”

“No, it’s not” they both comforted him.

This actually managed to make him feel better. Finally, something that could help him fix everything. Even if it will take a while.

“I was thinking… can you guys… still train me, even if alone? I… want to be stronger when I see him again. Because I’m sure I will… It can’t end like this”

Both nodded.

“We won’t go easy on you” 2 joked.

“Better not” 4 laughed.

The 3 of them left to train that day, 4 trained until he was exhausted. He was glad to push himself considering how he had been for the last few days. He felt a little more free now. Just you wait, 3…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week since he really started training again. It was actually something that managed to make him feel better. He was wondering where 3 was at this point. On what point of the World he could’ve been. When he wasn’t able to sleep, he would look at places where he could be in. Making a list…

His cafe - he wasn’t

Internet graveyard - he wasn’t 

That castle where he severed their link - he wasn’t

Peach’s castle - he wasn’t

Any of the Anti cast’s own living places - he wasn’t 

Right by his side  - 4 wished he was

His list only got longer with all the wrong answers. Just yesterday, they put out an announcement that if anyone sees any trace of 3, they should alert the crew. Though 4 thought of it as a bit hopeless. 

He could only take his mind off it all with training. His days would be spent either training or sleeping. He left very little time for anything else. It started to worry the others, he realised as well but he just couldn’t stop. Not being whole can feel so devastating.

And he didn’t take it well in a more and more unhealthy way. He didn’t show it to anyone else, but he kept the burnt SMG3 plushie he found from the fire incident. From a beacon of hope, it went to something he would sleep with. It was starting to feel like he would never be able to sleep without it. He didn’t feel much shame in it anymore but he treasured it too much to just show it to anyone else. He needed to protect it at all costs. Sometimes he would talk to it, pretending like it was 3. Telling it so much. Telling everything that was inside his heart, all he wished he could actually tell 3. He truly felt like he reached a new low.

If that wasn’t already bad enough, he started having nightmares too.

Nightmares where he’d follow 3 but kept losing him. Nightmares that seemed to have a different face appear inside them as well. One he did not recognise yet felt familiar… Having a familiar painful feeling. He hated seeing the face. He would many times try to kill the figure but it felt as though they could read his mind, as they dodged his every move with a wide grin. But each time.. He would get closer… Surroundings would become clearer.

One time, it got so clear… He got an insane idea.

He searched up the place he saw… It was a real place. An abandoned studio. Weirdly fitting in a way.

“So, you want to go there because you dreamed about it?” Meggy asked. Some of the gang was gathered there.

“This entity’s influence must be strong if you’re getting dreams like that” 1 believed him. He had really no reason to lie.

“Wait, you believe him?”

“Yes, it is plausible. We already established someone interfered with their connection”

“So it could be that guy! And now they’re taunting 4!” 2 excitedly finished the thought.

4 smiled at the 2 of them.

“Thanks, guys. But yes… I want to go there. I need to… figure out what’s exactly happening”

“And save 3” Tari came up to him as well, reassuring him.

“Especially save 3” 4 smiled at her.

With the newfound determination, the squad, even with 1 and 2 included, headed for the studio building.

The building itself felt more than abandoned in a way. It looked like something went down inside there, a struggle of shorts. Walking in, they noticed the walls covered in gunshots, the place more dusty than would be usual for a place like this. And in some places, a disturbing amount of dried blood was spilled. What must have happened to this place was definitely sudden, quick and gruesome. Just staying in there made them all feel bad for the ex workers. They split up, searching the rooms in smaller groups since it wasn’t exactly a small building. 

4 was searching with 1 and 2. 4 tried to push on even into darker rooms. Although he didn’t have the link to help anymore, he listened to  3… his words burned into his brain. So he paid attention to the darkest places, not letting the shadows go unaddressed, even if it got increasingly scary. 4 kind of didn’t care about that at this point. He had already lost too much to care, though he didn’t exactly tell this to his friends. It felt a bit selfish to him but it was genuinely feeling like there wasn’t much to live for without 3. 

It was starting to feel kind of hopeless until a shadow looked weird. He looked at it, suspicions forming in his brain. He reached out but the shadow grabbed him first.

Before 1 or 2 were able to react, 4 was already gone, being pulled into the shadows.

4 was thrown  back into a dark room that felt all too familiar at this point. In front of him was 3, still as shadowed as ever. At least they could see each other. They stared for a bit, both trying to see what the other one was feeling. 3 pulled 4 closer, in a kind of threatening way, which felt weird and sudden. Something in 4 made him wonder if he was perhaps influenced by something to do that.

“I told you to stay away”

4 sighed, a smile appearing on his face, which weirded 3 out.

“It’s impossible”

“No it’s not just-” he looked away, seemingly thinking but it felt more than that.

“...Let’s talk” 4 had a soft gaze on 3. If he had to die, he didn’t want to spend his last moments arguing with 3.

“We… We already had that… you should go… I did it for you as well”

4 still kept the calmness but the light eye twitch gave away that he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“It wasn’t our fault actually”

3 looked at him shocked. Then thought for a bit.

“I mean I… didn’t mean to make you feel like you… I know that you didn’t ACTUALLY mean to ruin me-”

“No no, you don’t understand, we basically got hacked”

“Hacked? What the hell you mean-” 3 questioned but got stopped by immense pain as he grabbed for his head groaning.

“Oh no, are you okay?” 4 immediately jumped beside him, with a hand on his upper back for support.

“How can I believe you?” 3 looked at him weakly.

“We… actually found out outside forces can… influence guardian links”

3 took a bit to take that in, looking away from 4, seemingly staring into the dark. Very intensely at that. He looked back at 4, pretty pissed.

“So someone framed you?” he looked like he was about to blow up.

“We think so…”

“So I… I” 3’s face softened. 

4 knew what he felt, he hugged 3. He didn’t resist. Slowly, 3 leaned into 4’s touch.

“You know… it’s funny” 3 spoke again “I thought without the link if you came after me again… that I could just end you as soon as I saw you… but I…” he once again felt pain so he had to stop.

“3!!” 

“It’s… We… uh” 3 looked weak.

“We’ll help you, don’t worry! The others are here too… we… we will help, man!”

3 couldn’t help but smile at 4, even through the pain.

“But I already ruined it… I.. I did that to you… I was told how to do it and I…”

“I still care about you”

3 looked at him, something in him breaking with tears rolling down his face.

“How can you?”

“We… We’re friends… we’ve been through a lot… you think I’m gonna let you go when you once risked your life to save me? You didn’t need to. You could have left me to my perfect video but you didn’t. Didn’t it feel like I betrayed you? But you came back either way.”

“That… That’s true”

“It’s… just another thing I love about you, 3”

The word choice made 3 a little flustered. 4 chuckled at that.

“You can’t just say sappy shit like that”

“You think I don’t mean it or something?”

“No no… It’s obvious you do, don’t worry”

“But uhm genuinely I’ve… I’ve been thinking and-”

And just as soon as 4 thought maybe he could tell 3- 3 got grabbed by a hand before not seen. However at this point it was familiar to him. He stood up and went right after, it was no use though. 4 didn’t lose hope yet. He was more angry right now if anything.

“NOT EVEN GONNA LET ME TELL HIM I LOVE HIM??” 4 called out “WELL THEN DO IT FOR ME PLEASE, BITCH”

The figure he had been seeing in his dreams came out of the shadows. Much clearer now, he could still see their wide, unfeeling smile. He didn’t know a TV screen headed guy could be such a piece of shit.

“You’re a feisty one”

“YOU”

“Ah, what, came back because you weren’t satisfied with the service? Sorry, no refunds!”

They started to walk away but 4 grabbed them.

“SERVICE??”

“The keyboard”

4 stopped.

“The…keyboard…?”

Then he realised.

“And it’s not like I even forced it on you” they laughed “You were the one who chose to buy it. Even with SMG3, I didn’t force him! HE joined me HIMSELF and-”

“You think I’m gonna let you go with what you did?” 

They laughed.

“No… And that’s what I want!” the words scared 4 “With even all your friends! Such a great deal”

“WHAT are you?”

“I’m… oh there’s no fun in that, I’m only here to make a great show!”

“I don’t know if you noticed but I’m the show runner here!”

“It looked like you needed some help”

4 tried to punch them but then he was gone from the dark, right back beside 1 and 2.

“4!!! 4, you’re back!!” both hurried there beside him.

“Yes… I am'' 4 didn’t lose his anger a single bit. Those were the words of someone who is truly despicable. He only wanted to kill them more now. 

They only got one more calm moment before the building shook beneath them. It was loud, almost like the building was alive. 

“Oh no! We need to get out of here” 1 panicked, 2 and 4 followed behind, although 4 did so reluctantly. He knew 3 was in here. He didn’t want him gone.

Everyone evacuated. 4 stared at the building going down, he couldn’t just stand there, he had to run back, even if it would take him away as well.

He searched everywhere. Maybe it was the TV guy letting their guard down, but he was actually able to spot 3 in the real world now. He was still covered in those shadows though.

“3!!!” he cried out, running for the other who only then noticed him.

“4, you should get out of here”

“Not without you”

“Then we might not be able to get out…”

“I’ll… rather be going away with you than live knowing you died”

“You know- you’re pretty attached as well, even without the…” 3 looked away then back 4. He couldn’t help but smile at 4. It felt kind of nice in the end. It was easier to admit now.

“That’s cuz I love you” 4 reciprocated the smile.

3 looked away again, rather flustered at the words. But there was still a smile visible on his face.

“Like um… as in? Like that? Fuck, I’m sounding so stupid right now” 3 laughed at his own incompetence.

“Yeah uh… are you okay with that?” 4 returned the awkward laugh.

3 chuckled before grabbing 4’s face.

“What do you think, stupid?”

“I’m… glad” 

They both leaned in, just about at the same time. The kiss came naturally. But it was so much more than that. They pulled each other close, it all just felt… perfect. Complete. So complete, as the scar on both of their faces started glowing. They didn’t know when they linked hands but with both hands held, they could see white strings appear, glowing with immense power, more and more appearing, connecting the 2.

The sight mesmerised both so much, they pulled in for another kiss, which only made the light stronger, ridding 3 fully of his corruption.

The light grew so big, like an explosion. An explosion of so much emotion before unspoken.

The light grew so big, the crew outside noticed.

“They did it!” 2 jumped up “That’s a lot of meme guardian energy”

“Right on” 1 laughed “You know, I’m proud of them… they came so far”

“They really did” Meggy joined the 2.

“Will they be able to get out though?” Tari was concerned.

But then the light only grew larger and faster at that, basically taking in the whole building. It was strong enough to knock everyone on their asses.

As the light dissipated, the 2 hovered up from all the debris. Both looked unharmed, their hands linked.

Everyone came up to hug them. It had been a while since they had such a big and emotional hug.

“We’re so glad you 2 are safe”

“I can’t believe you actually made it out”

“You guys better not do anything this reckless ever again”

These were some comments the 2 received. But they were happy they made it out, made it out alive and together. There were a lot of things unanswered but none of that mattered now. At least not for now.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 34: Unable to cope

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Three weeks later

It was Monday, again, and you woke up to the soft light of dawn. The room was quiet and, just like every other morning, your breakfast was already waiting for you on the bedside table.

Your mother was downstairs, cleaning the kitchen and, every now and then, you could hear the faint sound of her humming to herself as she worked.

You sighed, stretching your muscles as you took in your surroundings before attempting to sit up in order to make your way to the bathroom.

Your wheelchair was waiting for you, right next to the bed. You had started to use it two weeks ago, immediately after you had been discharged from Liverpool Hospital and, whilst you were given crutches as well, using them was still too painful for you. 

"Fuck," you muttered as you carefully maneuvered your body into the chair, trying to avoid hitting any of your stitches, but your emotions got the better of you once again.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated at the limitations your injury had placed on you, at the grueling physical therapy that left you in a constant state of pain and exhaustion. At the fact that you missed out on your career, your dreams and aspirations to become a doctor for now, your life being put on hold.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you tried to compose yourself, to push through the despair that threatened to overwhelm you. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, rolling down your cheeks in quiet, steady streams.

Your body shook with the force of your sobs, but you didn't try to stifle the sound. You let yourself cry, letting out all of the emotions that had been building up inside of you for the past few weeks. It was a release, a moment of raw vulnerability that left you feeling both exhausted and strangely relieved.

"Sweetheart, hang on," your mother said, hearing the sound of your cries from downstairs and rushing up to see you. "What's going on?"

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "Nothing. I just...I am fucking sick of this. I don't want to do this anymore," you admitted, your voice trembling as you tried to keep yourself together.

Your mother nodded, a sad expression crossing her features as she took a seat next to you on the bed. "I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you need to be patient," she told you before helping you to the bathroom.

"You have therapy at noon, and you'll feel much better after a shower. Now come on," she reassured you, her voice soothing as she helped you on to the toilet which, in itself, was embarrassing enough for you to dread visiting the bathroom.

You sighed, nodding as you looked down at your hands, still trembling slightly from the force of your emotions.

"I hate this," you muttered quietly, not expecting your mother to hear you, but she did.

"I know you do, sweetheart, but it's going to get better," she reassured you, her voice steady and confident as, after you were done, she helped you into the shower where a small white chair awaited you.

"I am not going to therapy today," you told her, not wanting to endure it anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"Let me help you wash up first and get you dressed, then we can talk about it," she said, carefully soaping your body while trying to avoid touching any of your wounds.

"There is no need to talk about it mum. I am not going. I mean, what even is the point, huh?" you growled while looking at the large scar covering your abdomen  . "Why did this have to happen to me? I had it all and now, I'm left with this."

Your mother sighed heavily, her gaze briefly flicking down to your belly before meeting your eyes once more. "Y/N, you can still have a good life. There are so many people out there who love and care about you. And yes, it might seem like everything is falling apart right now, but trust me, you will get through this."

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to boil over as you fought the urge to break down in tears again.

You knew that your mother was right, that there were still people who loved and cared about you, but it didn't make the pain of losing your dreams any less acute.

"I know that there are people out there who still care about me, mum. I do. But I also can't deny the fact that I feel like a completely different person now," you whispered softly, the weight of your words heavy on your chest as you tried to put into words the turmoil of emotions that had been plaguing you since the accident.

"You know Cillian called for you yesterday, to see if you were alright," she told you, her voice gentle as she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself from breaking down in tears once more. 

"Are you going to call him back?"  your mother asked carefully as she wrapped a fluffy white towel around your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning against her for support as you tried to gather your thoughts. The mention of Cillian's name brought back a flood of emotions that you had been trying to suppress for the past few weeks. The memories of his touch, his voice, and the way he looked at you - all threatening to overwhelm you with a longing that you weren't sure you were ready to face.

"I don't know," you finally replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you looked away, unable to meet your mother's gaze and the truth was that, ever since you left the hospital in London, you were ignoring his calls and messages. "He should move on and find someone who isn't broken," you added, the weight of your words heavy in the air between you as you thought about the many interviews and media engagements on TV lately where he did well to pretend that everything was fine. He was promoting his new movie Oppenheimer again just before the upcoming Award Season and Oscars in three months, for which you now knew he received a nomination. 

"Y/N, that is not true. You are not broken," your mother said, and whilst she did not approve of your relationship with Cillian, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you as she saw the pain that lingered in your eyes.

"Then fucking look at me! Look at me, mum!" you demanded, your frustration and anger boiling over as you gestured towards your scarred body with a trembling hand. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up at your mother, pleading with her to understand the depth of your pain and confusion. You knew that you sounded harsh and unkind, but you couldn't help it. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn't find a way to make sense of it all.

Your mother did just that - she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and understanding while she helped you to get dressed. 

"I see you, Y/N. I see the pain and the struggle that you are going through, but I also see the strength and resilience that lies within you. You have always been a fighter and I have no doubt that you will overcome this," she said, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as you let yourself fall back into the wheelchair before searching for some valium.  You needed to calm yourself down, to take the edge off of the overwhelming emotions that had taken hold of you.

"Thank you, mum," you whispered softly, taking a deep breath as you tried to push down the anxiety and despair that had settled over you like a shroud.

Your mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to start making lunch now. Do you want anything in particular?" she asked, her voice gentle as she looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern.

"I am not hungry mum. I haven't even eaten my breakfast yet. I will just go back to bed, okay?" you told your mother, feeling utterly dejected. Your voice was small and barely above a whisper, but she heard you clearly.

"You need to eat something, sweetheart. And you need to go to your therapy sessions and treatment sessions. I cannot keep cancelling them for you," your mother said, her tone firm and unyielding, but you shook your head at her suggestions and demands.  "I do not want to go, mum. I am so fucking tired," you replied, your voice heavy with exhaustion and sadness. Your throat felt raw and sore from the force of your earlier sobs, but you refused to let your mother see you break down again. You couldn't bear the thought of her seeing you like that, it felt too vulnerable, too exposing.

You wheeled yourself away from her, back towards the bed and your mother simply sighed before, finally, giving up and heading back downstairs to call your father. She knew you needed space, that the past few weeks had taken a toll on you, but it didn't make her any less worried.

***

"I don't know what to do with her," she told him  later that day after he got home, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and frustration as she looked out at the rain beyond the window.

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking to where you were lying on the couch, your eyes glued to the TV as your fingers traced absentmindedly over the scar on your belly.

"She's been through a lot, love. Give it time," he said gently, but your mother shook her head.

"I know she's been through a lot, but this isn't like her," your mother explained. "She refuses to see the physiotherapist, she refuses to see the psychologist and she is taking too much valium," she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of worry and grief. 

Your father nodded, a frown etching itself onto his face as he watched you from where he stood, your eyes glued to the TV , lost in some drama you've probably watched a million times.

"Have you tried to confront her about it?" he asked, trying to reason with your mother and, of course, she nodded.  "Yes, I have. But she just shuts down and tells me to mind my own business. She has been isolating herself from us and from the rest of the world. She hasn't even had contact with..." your mother began to say, wiping away a rogue tear that had escaped her eye, just as your father interrupted her. 

"Don't you dare say his name in my house," he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked towards your mother. She recoiled at the intensity of his gaze before she continued. "If it wasn't for this man, she wouldn't be in this situation!" your father growled, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at your mother. "She needs time to heal and figure things out on her own. She doesn't need him complicating matters further," he added before pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his anger palpable in every line of his body.

Your mother sighed, shaking her head as she looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I know, but I actually think that she could benefit from his presence at the moment. He called last night, and it sounded like he's really worried about her, and I am worried too," your mother reasoned, her voice soft and understanding as she looked at your father with a mixture of pleading and hope in her eyes.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that your mother was right - Cillian's presence could be just the thing that you needed. But something in him rebelled at the thought of it.

He had always been the overprotective father, and the thought of his little girl getting tangled up in a rather messy relationship with a man who was even older than him, made his gut twist in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"Fine," he finally conceded, nodding his head in agreement before looking at your mother. "Call him and ask him to come up to Liverpool for a week. Maybe he can get through to her and make her take her treatments seriously," he told your mother, his jaw set firmly in determination as he looked at her. "But there is no fucking way this man is staying here over night. He needs to organize himself some accommodation in town," your father added, his voice firm and unwavering.

"We do have a guestroom, you know," your mother countered, her eyebrows raised in a challenge. "It would be good for him to be here when she has a breakdown again. Maybe it will help," your mother replied gently, knowing that she was pushing the limits of her husband's patience. She had seen the way Cillian looked at you in hospital, and she knew that he cared for you deeply. 

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking towards the couch where you were still lying in silence.

"Fine," he relented, his voice filled with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. "He can stay in the guestroom," he confirmed and your mother nodded, relief flooding her features as she moved towards your father and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you. I know it's not ideal, and that it goes against every protective instinct you have as a father and a man of faith, but I truly believe this is what she needs right now," your mother told him before, without your knowledge, making the call. 

Tags:

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[egrets-not-regrets]

Exchanges

Erriox gets a bit paranoid, but what the heck. The food is delicious. Who is he to deny his bonded human’s hospitality?

Words spoken in Gothic are in bolded italics

Author’s note: I like my Iron Warriors a little paranoid, juuuuust a touch. Also, this fic follows after “Finally Found You. (You Survived.)”. Some snippets are written out of order because it just depends on what inspires my brain, but I will make notes if certain fics are in some particular order. The fics will also be in chronological order on my masterlist.

OCs: Lenora; Erriox (Iron Warrior)

Tagged: @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

The first thing Erriox noticed as he entered Lenora’s home was the fact that a number of the larger furniture pieces were made to fit Astartes warriors. She seemed oddly prepared. He looked around warily, did another space marine already live there? Did he walk into a trap? The instinctual wariness and caution borne from battle-worn experience through countless warfare kept him alive thus far. She was far too calm about this and she also knew so much, definitely much more Gothic language than most other humans he had encountered. Perhaps he had been too hasty, too blinded by this bond? He couldn’t help but be cautious, though a part of him felt a pang of jealousy at the possibility of another Astartes sharing the same bond.

Lenora was already spooning rice and stew into bowls when she noticed the Iron Warrior’s hesitancy, “Are you alright?” she asked him with concern. 

“I am fine.” He eyed her for a moment, taking the next second to assess the scents in the air. The aroma from the food Lenora cooked made his mouth water, but aside from that, he could smell the thin presence of another Astartes, not current, probably from about a week ago. He wondered who it was and which legion they were from. If there were hidden enemy Astartes, Erriox figured he could deal with them. Fighting off multiple enemies wasn't new to him after all. He sat and took the offered bowl. 

That first bite of food filled his mouth with a rich and savoury combination of taste and texture, even better than he what imagined when its aroma hit his nose. It was a rather non-existent thing for the Fourth legion since his life was mostly in a state of siege warfare; nutrient-rich gruel or bars were the standard. Even here in ancient Terra, while cooking was more common among his battle brothers, having the skill to cook well was still limited; though individuals from certain legions seem to have a knack for it. Being able to eat such flavorful food was still almost sinfully indulgent. Even if it had been poisoned, it would be the most delicious poison he ever ate. 

Already three spoonfuls in her own bowl of stew and rice, Lenora watched Iron Warrior with amusement as his brows quirked at his first bite, then continued taking bite after bite of his food; inwardly relieved since he seemed so wary upon entering her home, a sudden change from his earlier boldness when they first met. Drinking a gulp of water to quell the giggle threatening to bubble over, she asked “Is it to your liking?”

Erriox shot her an almost bewildered look, breaking his stern countenance, “What sorcery is this?” his bowl, already empty. 

She couldn’t help but laugh then. Of all the Gothic words she knew, “sorcery” was one of, if not the first few words that she learned from Mithras, her friend’s Thousand Son Astartes. Her hand may have hid her grin, but her eyes and voice could not conceal her mirth, “It is not sorcery. It’s only a combination of meat, vegetables, and herbs.” 

“You can have as much as you want. I’ve made more than enough. Go help yourself.” Lenora gestured to the pots sitting on the stove. She had originally intended to freeze the leftovers, but it’s not everyday that the Astartes warrior that you had found almost dead months ago would drop by for a visit. It would be churlish not to feed her guest well. She could easily make more tomorrow anyway. 

Since she insisted, who was he to say no? Erriox went to fill his second bowl.

He finished his third when the thought occurred to him, “Who taught you Gothic?” Erriox asked her. It wasn’t an easy language to learn without assistance and practise, and she was able to speak and understand enough of it that he could tell that she had been learning the language for quite some time. He figured she would likely tell him which other Astartes lived there in answering that question as well. 

She swallowed her last bite of food then answered, “Mithras.” After a beat, she quickly added, “He is the Thousand Son that bonded to my friend. They visit pretty regularly. You’ll likely meet them if you st–” Lenora stopped herself from continuing, eyes widening at the realization that the Astartes just spoke English, “You know how to speak English?”

He nodded, making sure to enunciate his words clearly, “Yes, I can speak some English, but I am not fluent.”

“That is amazing!” She gasped in awe, eyes shining in excitement, “I don’t know how long you have learned it, but you speak it very well!” 

Heat rushed to his cheeks at her compliment, so unused to being praised so genuinely. Erriox hoped that his face wouldn’t show it, but inwardly he was a mess. His bonded was too good to be true. Inviting him into her home, feeding him this delicious food, and the praise? And not once did he feel that she was disingenuous about it. Was this just but a dream to lower his guard? But his soul felt the bond burn with a zeal he couldn’t explain. He stubbornly stomped down his muddle of feelings before answering quietly, “Thank you.”

Her gaze grew soft and kind, before suddenly straightening her posture, remembering something important that she had forgotten, looking abashed, “I didn’t even ask you your name. What is your name?”

“Erriox. What is yours?” he asked in return.

She smiled warmly, extending her hand in a handshake, “Lenora. It’s good to see you again.”

Erriox clasped her wrist, mindful of his own strength, his stoic expression slowly relaxing, “You as well.” 

“Erriox,” his name rolling pleasantly off her tongue, “Do you need a place to stay?” Lenora asked.

“Are you not housing another Astartes?” The Iron Warrior questioned, glancing at the furniture around her home. 

She laughed brightly, “No, Mithras and Iris visit regularly. I got tired of seeing him standing around and sitting on the floor for fear of breaking my furniture. I’m also anticipating my coworkers coming here during the summer that might come with their bonded Astartes as well.” She added, “You are more than welcome to stay if you want.”

Erriox felt a lot more at ease after her answer, but regretfully, he had to turn her down. Her offer was tempting, but he needed to sort out his thoughts first. He couldn’t stay, at least not right now. 

She nodded, understanding that space marines tend to have other things to do and deal with, “That’s alright, you’re always welcome to visit regardless.” 

Her voice turned playful and teasing, “I might ask you to teach me more Gothic in future visits.”

The Iron Warrior huffed, smirking, “Only if you teach me how to make this food.” Tapping his spoon in the empty bowl. 

Lenora stretched out her hand to him again, laughing heartily, “Deal?”

Erriox shook her hand, “Deal.”

[crispyjenkins]

dha kar'ta "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

am planning on starting up a wip wednesday sort of thing (maybe next week?), which will definitely be more than star wars related stuff, but i've also just exceeded a thousand hours on skyrim in less than a year and wanted to celebrate(?) (i actually hit a thousand a few days ago, but in true fixation fashion, kept playing instead of posting anything over here lmao) so here's a dha kar'ta wip 'cause jango is fighting me a little bit but new chapter soon!! i promise!!

 “As soon as Satine is unseated, the Mandalore System’s full neutrality nullifies, unless Jango chooses to reinstate it.”

  “And he’d rather die than do that,” Bosoloc pipes up helpfully.

  “Yes, and at that point, Mandalore can choose to pursue rejoining the Republic for the first time since the Kyr’am Turr’e, because New Mandalore never officially seceded to the Senate.”

  “Which Jang’alor would also rather die than do.”

  Obi-Wan acknowledges Ezovac with a nod. “The politics of sovereign states that exist within sectors technically under control of the Republic are a disaster at best, and almost no one in the Senate is willing to deal with it long enough for a planet to get the flimsiwork through.” Melidaan is a Republic planet now, but the Young didn’t always intend it to be, and Nield couldn’t read, so Obi-Wan had done a lot of that research between battles; and being on the run from Death Watch actually afforded a considerable amount of downtime during his year on Mandalore, and, well. A big part of that Obi-Wan had thought it was all information he’d need to know if Satine asked him to stay, and Obi-Wan still hasn’t quite learned how to let someone love him unless he can be useful to them.

  Actually, it’s rather convenient that he had done all this research for Mandalore specifically, if thirteen years too early — perhaps the Force was simply preparing him for this Mandalore, not Satine’s. 

  Across the mess table, Kal groans loudly and slumps his head down. “Fine, I’ll bite, kih’Alor: what’s any of that got to do with Duchess Demagolka?”

  “Theoretically,” Obi-Wan sighs again, pushing a grumbling Dha further into his mind so he can concentrate, “Mandalore does not actually have to declare itself as anything; there are plenty of planets in the outer rim that have sovereignty without officialising it with the Republic.”

  “But...?”

  “But, thanks to Satine, Mandalore is embroiled in Senate politics nine ways to Corellian Hells, and it’ll be even worse if she makes any headway with the beskar mines while we’re off fighting Vizsla. We simply can’t withdraw from those politics, not when Mandalore’s history is so entwined with the Republic’s, not unless we want to go full isolationist from the rest of the galaxy.” He glances at his other table-/councilmates, and is relieved to see they seem to be keeping up, if looking a bit exhausted by it; Obi-Wan shares the sentiment.

  Luckily, the mess is empty now with everyone returning to their increased post-battle duties, or Obi-Wan is sure they’d have had quite a few more complaints about the impromptu government lesson happening in the middle of the tent.

  Kal rubs his eyes, shaking himself before turning back to Obi-Wan, his frown as deep as ever, but at least he still seems willing to listen.

  “So, we can’t just go after the Senate’s pet Mandalorian without burning those bridges, unless we have proof she’s in league with a terrorist?”

  “Precisely. And technically, with Mandalore as a sovereign state, the Senate can’t do anything about the change in power, unless they plan to go to war with every Mandalorian in the galaxy, but proving she made the first move will give us significantly more support for instating Jango instead.”

  “I feel like my brains are coming out my ears,” Bosoloc whispers woodenly, staring down at the remains of the protein gruel on her tray. 

  “You don’t have ears,” Myles reminds her, chin in his hand, and she kicks him under the table. 

  “What I want to know,” Mij speaks for the first time, easily dodging one of Myles’ flailing arms, “is how you even know about the Kyr’am Turr’e, Obi-Wan.”

  Bosoloc turns away from tormenting Myles to add, “Yes, I was going to ask about that, because I have no idea what the Death Days are.”

-

[forgedroyalseal]

Ranger Gathering Day Six

Lead-

Horace was not a leader. He was used to being told what to do, and that’s how he liked it. He was a knight, through and through, happy to let others do the lions share of the planning and plotting. When he was with Will or Halt, they were always be able to see ways around a problem that Horace wouldn’t have come up with if you had given him a 100 years. His talent was in the midst of battle, not in the days and weeks leading up to it. He was a doer, not a thinker, and he had never had a problem with that.

Until now.

Becoming a knight had always been part of the plan. Becoming the Prince Consort of Araluen? Not so much.

He hadn’t thought about what it would really mean to marry the Crown Princess. He seldom thought of Cassandra’s title, to him, she was just Cassandra, the woman he was madly in love with. He proposed because he loved her and couldn’t imagine his future without her right there besides him. Their engagement bliss was short lived though. The moment it was announced, Horace was thrown into meetings and lessons about his future role in the monarchy. With each day that passed, he felt to pressure building up around him. He was painfully aware that every time a member of nobility looked at him, they could see just how inadequate he was to lead the country.

All of this doubt came to a head after one particularly grueling history lesson. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get the information to stick.

“This is important Sir. You can’t expect to lead a country that you know nothing about.” His teacher had said in frustration. Horace’s face had burned in humiliation, and he had sulked out of the study with his tail between his legs.

He spent the rest of the evening locked in his room, claiming that he was unwell when his valet came looking for him when it was time for dinner. It was late in the evening when there was nothing knock at his door. Assuming it was his valet coming back to check on him, he called out from his bed, “I’m alright Roberts. I just need some rest.”

“I’m sure Roberts will be relieved to hear that. I’ll make sure to past that update along, but I’d like to confirm that for myself.” The deep voice was unmistakable and Horace shot out of his bed and rushed to the door. He flung it open and ran his hand through his hair, in a fruitless attempt to make himself appear more presentable.

“King Duncan. Please come in. I’m sorry I wasn’t at dinner, I haven’t been feeling well this evening and-“

Duncan raise his hand, cutting Horace off. “Take a breath son, I’m just here to check on you, not scold you for missing dinner.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine, just needed a rest.”

Duncan nodded. “I heard you had a history lesson with Lord Barnaby. No wonder you’re exhausted, I struggle to listen to him for an hour, much less a whole day.”

Horace looked down at his feet. So that’s what this was about. King Duncan had heard about how spectacularly he was failing and he was going to tell Horace that he wasn’t good enough to marry Cassandra.

Sensing Horace’s discomfort, Duncan placed his hand on his shoulder. “I think we need to have a chat Horace.” He guided them over to a pair of chairs on the other side of Horace’s room.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say nothing, I can tell something is weighing you down.”

The warmth of Duncan’s words and the caring look on his face was all it took to open the floodgates. The words spilled out of Horace before he could stop them. “I know that I haven’t been doing a good enough job, but I promise I am trying best. I just, I was never born to lead. It’s never been the type of man I am. Will would have been way better suited for this job, or any other member of nobility for that matter, and I hate that I won’t be the husband Cassandra deserves, or the Prince Consort that Araluen should have. I can’t be the leader that everyone is expecting me to be.”

“I think that you are selling yourself short Horace. And I also think, that you don’t know what is the most important job of a Prince Consort. Your number one priority is and will always be to support Cassie. To give her the emotional and moral support she needs to rule over the country. She can lead, so long as you can support. I have as much faith in your ability to do that, as I have in her ability to be a great leader.”

Horace felt tears prick at his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to push them back.

“Look at me son,” Horace took a deep breath and met the king’s eyes, which were heavy with sincerity. “I promise, you would not be marrying my daughter if you didn’t deserve her. All her life, I have prayed for her to find a partner exactly like you. Not like Will, or a prince, or anyone else that you might think is better suited for the role. You. I truly believe that marrying you will be one of, if not the best, decision my daughter will ever make. And I will be eternally grateful to her for giving me the opportunity to have such a wonderful son.”

Both men were cry at this point. Horace had never felt so validated in his entire life. It was as if King Duncan had read his heart and knew exactly what he had spent his whole life looking for.

“I can’t tell you how much that means. Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me for telling you the truth. And if you ever, ever, need to be remained of it, you come to me, day or night, and I will be here.”

Maybe Horace wasn’t meant to be a leader, but maybe he didn’t need to be one after all.

[coco-bean-1218]

hi claire!! hope you're having a good day :) i am once again here to feed my obsession with your story by asking for a directors commentary thing! you can do whatever section or part... but if you can't decide maybe a scene with oc!claire and her brother?

Hello!! Thank you for the ask! So, Claire actually doesn’t have a brother, but she does have an older sister! Sean and Benoit are characters she meets once she gets to Europe, and Noah is someone from her past.

Let’s do a “what if” scene that may or may not make the final cut, starring Noah! I haven’t done too much with him.

Warning: this is kinda out of character, but like I said, it's just an idea I'm throwing out there.

My poor golden retriever boy runs into some trouble with Easy.

---

1943

After a particularly grueling week of training, the members of Easy Company were relieved to have been granted weekend passes. It was a well-deserved break, and the men were taking full advantage of the opportunity to let loose. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol as everyone was enjoying the night, drinking and laughing with their fellow soldiers.

"You see that Navy guy over there?" Grant's finger wavered as he pointed towards a man in a Navy uniform across the room.

"Huh? Which one? There's like a hundred of 'em," Liebgott shouted, swaying slightly from his own drunkenness.

"That one right there, with the glasses!" Grant exclaimed, poking Talbert in the eye with his finger.

"What about 'im?" Talbert asked, trying to steady his drink as he leaned back.

"That's the…um…guy that broke Claire's goddamn heart," Grant mumbled, his words slurring together.

Liebgott erupted into laughter, "What?!"

"'s what she told me," Grant slurred.

"What's his name?" Talbert prompted.

"Oh, fuck, what was it?" Grant scrunched up his face, trying to remember through the alcohol haze, "Noah…something."

"Noah's Ark?" Liebgott cackled.

Grant rolled his eyes, "No, you moron. Not Noah's Ark."

"Ooh, someone's getting jealous over here," Talbert teased.

"I should…I should punch 'im," Grant suddenly declared.

Liebgott's laughter subsided, and he looked at Grant in disbelief, "I fucking dare you."

Grant nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Fine."

Grant stumbled his way toward Noah, his mind clouded with alcohol-induced determination and a sense of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the man's calm demeanor- there was something about him that didn't fit the image of a heartbreaker. Yet, to Grant, he symbolized everything he heard about Claire's past.

At just a few feet away, his mind started to become clearer, and he realized that maybe punching the guy wasn't the best course of action. But it was too late to back down now.

He didn't even know what he was doing, and he felt an unfamiliar surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. But the thought of someone hurting Claire, his sweet, innocent Claire, ignited a fire within him. Grant's mind raced with thoughts of her- her warm smile, her laughter, and the longing in her eyes when she spoke of her failed romance. He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking her away from him, even if it was just a memory now. 

He clenched his fists, ready to deliver a punch that would make Noah regret ever crossing paths with her.

"Hey, Navy boy," Grant shouted as he was now face to face with Noah.

Noah adjusted his glasses and looked straight into Grant's eyes, "Yeah?"

"You think you're some kind of hotshot, huh?" Grant tried to sound tough but failed miserably.

Noah looked at his friends and then back at Grant. He arched his eyebrows and chuckled softly. "And what makes you say that?"

Grant struggled to maintain his composure, "You think you can just break my girl's heart and get away with it?"

Noah's brow furrowed in confusion, "Um...who?"

Anger flickered in Grant's eyes, "Claire O'Connor. She went to high school with you, and you know damn well who she is!"

Noah thought about it momentarily, and then realization dawned on him, "Oh."

Without hesitation, Grant's fist shot forward, connecting with Noah's cheek. The lens of Noah's glasses shattered, piercing the skin of Grant's knuckles. Noah stumbled backward, crashing into one of his friends who hastily tried to steady him. Chaos erupted within seconds as the sound of shattering glass, and grunts filled the air.

"What the fuck?!" Noah exclaimed, catching the blood that trickled down his nose in his hand. 

Grant let out a sharp breath as the realization of the pain hit him, feeling warm blood seep through his fingers from the cuts on his fist.

But Noah fought back, his Navy training evident as he landed a solid punch to Grant's jaw, splitting his lip open.

Blood and alcohol mingled together as the two men continued to trade punches, each inflicting equal damage on the other and unaware of the chaos they had created.

Liebgott and Talbert fought their way through the crowd of both Paratroopers and Sailors.

"Grant! What the hell?" Talbert shouted, trying to intervene.

Liebgott followed suit, his face a mix of concern and amusement, "Goddamn it, Chuck, you really went through with it!"

---

I'm sorry this was so bad! 😭

Please take writing privileges away from me.

[animecatoftheday]

Today’s anime cat of the day is:

America-Cat from Hetalia!

[poursomesunaonme]

Can you do gojo and nanami taking care of you when you start crying during seggs because you're stressed about work

NONNIE PLS FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG!!! but i am here now<3

wc: ~900

cw: lying (reader to partners), oral (fem receiving), threesome (mmf), praise, pet names (baby, darling, honey)

it’s supposed to be stress relieving, not stress inducing. ken’s hips slamming into yours are supposed to break down the tension in your body, not build it up. and satoru’s lips pressing into yours should be relaxing your body, not winding it up like a spring.

no matter what you do, no matter who you vent to, or how much you write, talk to a therapist, nothing works. nothing can ease the burden of your failed deal that could cost you your company. kento and satoru are no strangers to your demanding work. satoru doesn’t necessarily understand what it means to work in your field, but ken at least tries to be level with you.

but the days that he suggest you take off wouldn’t do any good to cushion the blow of your complete and utter failure. you had spent weeks preparing, staying long at the office and even sleeping there on some occasions. and not to mention you had been the rising star of the company. heaven knows how you’d be demoted after this catastrophe.

your feigned moans quickly devolve into sobs, something that the two men don’t pick up on until you start to shake so hard that you can’t even hold your body upright. you sink into the mattress, into self-pity, and into complete and utter despair.

ken’s hips still immediately, arms wrapping around you to hold you upright. but you resist him, curling into a ball to avoid the humiliation of having to tell the men that you loved the most that your dreams had effectively been crushed.

it takes both of them to turn you over against the pillows. you don’t like being touched when in distress, so they do their best to position themselves as close to you as possible to alert you to their unwavering presence.

it’s embarrassing, how they’d devoted their time to prepare a romantic dinner for you to celebrate your return from the trip that would have marked the closing of the deal, had it not fallen through. and what was most humiliating was that you had gone through the entire night lying to their faces about how happy you were to have finished the grueling work.

“honey, what’s wrong?” ken asks after a few moments of letting you catch your breath. a shuddering sigh rakes through your body before your head lolls back against the headboard.

“i…” your voice rattles out as a dry whisper. “i didn’t actually do it.”

“do what?” satoru’s hand rests on your thigh.

“the deal.” another tear slips down your cheek. “i didn’t close the deal.”

the two men are silent for a few moments. you know deep down that they aren’t really mad about you lying, but you can’t help but feel the disappointment behind their eyes.

“darling, why didn’t you tell us?” ken cups your chin, stroking your cheek gently. satoru lies down beside you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“i was just so confident and now… now i’m just disappointed in myself.” your hands run up and down your bare legs in an attempt to self soothe. the contact works only slightly, but getting your feelings out in the open did much better.

“you did all that you could, baby, and that’s all that matters.” satoru’s hand massaging your shoulder in the place of his head starts to melt away the tension that had been slowly building up over the past few weeks.

“and nothing that you do will ever change the way that we feel about you,” ken mutters, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. a small smile finds its way to your face.

“even if you fail at closing a hundred deals,” satoru affirms. kento’s face falls to scowl at the man’s uncouth comment.

“gojo…” the stern warning almost elicited a laugh from your lips.

“sorry, sorry,” satoru smiles, “but the principle still stands, baby. we’ll love you no matter what.”

“promise?”

“promise.” the men’s eyes twinkle with their undeniable truths.

“and let us show you how much…” satoru suggests, turning to nod at kento. together, they move to part your legs. their lips trail kisses down each thigh, sending a shiver down your spine. they know how frustrated you are, so they waste no time in getting down to business.

their lips lock on either side of your clit, fighting for dominance to please you. your legs start shaking in no time. your men know exactly what gets you going, know exactly which moves to execute to send you spiraling.

and in no time, the tension of your body, all the exhaustion and disappointment from the culmination of the worst work phase of your life, melts away and is replaced by the tingling warmth of an orgasm.

satoru’s tongue pushes through the tight ring of muscles, pushing into your velvety walls, while kento remains at your clit. he’s encouraged by the lack of inhibition that satoru was, now devouring you without any barriers.

your fingers entangle with the soft strands of their hair, pulling them in deeper, urging them to continue, to please you like they mean it. those sweet angels, they always let you feel supported, no matter what, but it’s different when it comes to the bedroom.

they have a different level of attentiveness, eyes flickering up from where their heads are bumping into each other. they drink up how your face contorts with their ministrations, how their hot breath ghosts along your cunt and inner thighs.

when your head lolls back, mouth agape in a silent scream, they know their efforts aren’t in vain. when they kiss you, you taste yourself on their lips, but you don’t mind it one bit. and they certainly don’t mind taking care of you all night long.

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

taggin: @leiriswhore @missyasma @pink-apples001 @the-princess-button @ob-levi-on

[sunshineseung]

Paperwork // Hyunjin

🍄 | genre: smut (18+ only) ☁️ | pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 5.1k 🌸 | includes: switch-dom!hyunjin, switch-sub!reader, oral (both receiving), PIV riding, pet names, begging, kinda goofy at first, cum swallowing, “sir”, a lil bit more but not too much

☀️ | synopsis: You’ve been working at this office for five painstakingly long years, but despite your best efforts, you never get a raise or promotion. When the CEO retires, his son takes his place, and seeing as you’re around the same age as his son, this could be your chance to get ahead. 

🌊 | If you want to skip to the smut, look for the [🔥] because there’s a lot of set up for this one, but I know some people just want to get off lol.

He has finally stepped down. After 60 long, long years, the CEO of the company you work at has retired, as if he didn’t have enough money to retire 30 years ago.

The amount of times you’ve been told off by that man is practically uncountable. It felt like at one point you were going into his office every week to ask for any sort of promotion, raise, or even kudos, but every time, he turned up his nose and shooed you away like some kind of stray cat. You’ve worked too long and too hard to not be given proper treatment. Despite everything, you stay at the company, knowing no where else in the city will pay nearly as well.

The company now belongs to his oldest son, Hyunjin. He’s never worked in this office, yet the old man still thought it would be appropriate for him to run the entire company (supervised by a few HRs, of course). Hyunjin looked like a complete fool trying to command the floors of burnt out office workers just trying to pay next month’s rent and put food on their tables, not that he would know what it’s like to work for anything. The first job he’s ever had and it’s the CEO of a multi-million dollar enterprise, who would have thought?

This is your chance. He’s right around your age, give or take a few months, and he seems marginally more friendly than his father. If you were ever going to climb the corporate ladder to finally move out of your studio apartment, it was right now.

Wearing the tightest, shortest skirt you own with the perfect button up to match, you step into his office after scheduling a meeting with his temporary secretary. When you sit down in the chair across from him, he just sighs and waits for you to speak your piece so he can get back to his grueling job of signing documents that he never reads.

“Good morning, sir. I was just coming up here to compliment you on how well you’ve been running the place since your father stepped down. It seems like company morale is at an all time high, and I can’t imagine thanking anyone other than you.”

“So you want a promotion, right?” He scoffs, grabbing a pen to click repeatedly as you struggle coming up with a response. You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on his feet considering he would stutter over every word talking at meetings. “I assume you didn’t come in here just to kiss my ass.”

“Alright, you caught me, but can I at least make my case?” He looks up from the pen to wordlessly incite you to keep talking. “I’ve been working here since I got out of college. This is really my dream, and it would mean the world to me if I could get farther, work harder, and, if you’re feeling so inclined, get a bit of a paycheck raise.”

“Well, you caught me on the right day, miss...”

“L/n. But you can call me Y/n if you want.”

“Y/n.” Hyunjin puts the pen down and leans on his desk, elbows propping himself up. “If you’re up for the task, I am looking for a new secretary.”

“As I’ve heard.” The rumor has been going around that his father left his secretary for Hyunjin, but all they’ve been doing if fighting, so they had to bring in a temporary one, the one you spoke with, to hold him off until Hyunjin finds a secretary he likes. “Not to be rude, but wouldn’t you rather have a male secretary like your father had?”

“No, no. I know what I want.” He runs his hand through his black hair, slipping out the ponytail that was holding the long strands out of his face. “I want you to be my secretary. No one else.”

He drags his fingers through a stack of papers on his desk, stopping at a five page contract booklet. He slides you the papers and the pen he was just fiddling with.

“If you really want this promotion, you’ll sign on that dotted line right now.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Working for Hyunjin wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Once he warms up to you, he’s actually really sweet. If you mess up his coffee or misscedule a meeting, he doesn’t fire you immediately, but rather just assures you that it’s okay and you’ll do better next time, a total 180 from what you saw that first time in his office. After a few weeks, you’re a dream to work with, and the job is a lot less stressful than you had assumed.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was beyond stressed. Meeting after meeting, signature after signature, decision after decision: it was all too much. The only time he smiled was when you brought him coffee in the morning, or when he’d hear your voice through the phone. He always looked forward to seeing you, even if it was only for a brief minute. You were really the only thing keeping his sanity together.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” You put the cup on his desk as he reads a random document. He thanks you, as usual, and takes a quick sip before immediately regretting his decision when he felt his tongue begin to burn. You quick go to his mini-fridge and pass him a water bottle, standing back as he gulps half of it down to relieve at least some of the pain. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to get that hot!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it.” He sits back in his chair and slowly turns to you, meeting your eyes in a light-hearted stare. He laughs before finally speaking again. “You’re holding this company together, you know that?”

You laugh right with him, rolling your eyes at his statement. “Oh please, I just forward emails all day.”

“No, I mean it.” He holds his hands out and grabs yours, interlocking your hands in a soft grip. You could easily move back, but you don’t want to. “Without you, I’d be losing my mind.”

“Aw, you’re too kind.” You stand in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say next. The silence isn’t awkward by any means, but you can’t help but wonder why you’re holding the hands of your boss. “You’re doing very well, though. You have some big shoes to fill, and I feel like you’re doing the best you can.”

“Of course you’d say that. You work for me.” Hyunjin lets go of your hands and leans back in his chair again, crossing one of his legs over the other and lazily putting his hands behind his head, lounging back. “Y/n, can I say something crazy?”

“Say whatever’s on your mind, sir. I’m all ears.”

“Ugh, drop the formalities. Just call me Hyunjin, okay?” You nod, letting him continue with his speech. “I really appreciate you, Y/n, and it’s no secret that my family is loaded, so I want to ask if you’d come live with me downtown.”

“W-what?” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head. Living with your boss sounds absolutely insane, but any chance to get out of your shitty apartment is promising. This is the opportunity of a life time, no doubt, but is it worth taking? “Sir, I...”

“For fuck’s sake, call me Hyunjin.” You’ve never heard him curse before. “Listen, I live in a penthouse on the top story of a high-security luxury apartment complex. I’m all alone in a five bedroom apartment with a full view of the town. Going home alone every night is wearing on me, and it would mean a lot to have someone else there, even just to talk to.”

“I need time to think.” You look anywhere but his eyes as he leans forward and looks up at you from his chair.

“Take your time and think it over. I’ll give you until the end of the day.” Hyunjin turns back to his desk and looks at the paper he was reading before he burnt his tongue. “Go back to your office for now, but right after your shift, I want you here.”

“Yes, s-... okay, Hyunjin.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Everyone is gone except you, finalizing one last email before heading up to Hyunjin’s office. An office with no workers is eerie to say the least, and as you take the elevator up to Hyunjin’s office, you can’t help but notice how nervous you feel inside.

This is the right decision. As difficult as it might be, you’re going to say no to his offer. It’s extremely unprofessional to have any sort of out-of-work relationship with your boss. Thinking back to the outfit you wore when you took the promotion, it’s no wonder you assume you’ve made Hyunjin think you want this. Your apartment may be shitty, but at least it’s yours. Living with Hyunjin would cause too many problems in your life, and the last thing you need right now is problems.

He was waiting for you. With his head in his hands as you walk through the door, he darts his attention to you as you sit across from him. While it was certainly a familiar sight by now, he was just glad you didn’t run away from him after such an intense morning.

“Hyunjin, I just want to-”

“Stop.” He holds his hand up, pausing you mid-sentence. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’m just stressed, and I’m not thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have offered you to live with me. That’s not who I am, nor is that something I should have sprung on you like that.” He reverts back to his former position with his head in his hands, staring down at his desk. “I just... I’m so lonely.”

You feel for him, you really do. He’s been thrown into this situation obviously not by choice, and he knows absolutely no one he’s working with other than you. With a stressful job and no one to turn to, it was clear why he was acting so rashly.

You pull his hands away from his head, holding them in yours like you did this morning. Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, you give him a gentle smile as he meets your eyes. The bags under his eyes are present, and his tiredness is visible. He looks so worn out to you. You really do feel bad.

“I’m not asking you to move in, but would you like to come back to my penthouse? Just for tonight?” He returns a smile to you, lowering his gaze blankly. “We can have a few drinks and talk. I just need someone with me right now.”

“Only if you’re paying for the taxi.” You two laugh together, appreciating each other’s presence.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drive us back to my place, and afterwards, he can drive you home.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Saying that Hyunjin’s apartment was massive would be an understatement. You felt like you walked into a penthouse from a dystopian future with shiny metal counter tops and black leather furniture. It didn’t look lived in, but to be fair, there was only one man living there. You felt cold even though it was room-temperature. 

“Follow me, doll.” Hyunjin takes your hand and leads you to the living room to sit on his L-shaped couch. If his pet name didn’t throw you off, you very well would have just walked there without his assistance, but you didn’t know how to react after being called ‘doll’ by your boss. “Want anything to drink? Wine? Vodka?”

“I’ll take wine, thank you.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

Hyunjin pours you both a glass and meets you back on the couch, lounging next to you, letting the soft silence fall over the room as you each take a sip of the expensive booze. As you drink a bit more, Hyunjin’s eyes are glued to you, and you start to break a sweat as the temperature in the room seems to rise. He’s just... staring at you. You feel uneasy, but this alcohol should help calm your nerves, right?

Hyunjin easily notices that you’re starting to slip into deeper thought, so he carefully puts his hand on your knee to bring you back into the moment. His gesture isn’t charged in anyway, but you still jolt at his touch. You dart your eyes towards his while looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin slides his hand up and down your leg only from your knee to mid-thigh. With his other hand, he puts his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of you so he can totally focus on your needs. Even though you hesitantly nod, he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “You want to know why I invited you here?”

“Sure, Hyunjin. Why did you invite me here?” The more he rambles on, the less you have to talk, so you gladly let him fill the silence. 

“Well, to put it simply, I’m interested in you.” You tilt your head in confusion. Was this a confession? “You’re a very intriguing person to me. When you walked into my office for the first time, you suffocated me with your aura. You truly do command a room, you know? That’s probably why you’ve gotten so far in your career.” His chuckle is awkward, and you don’t respond in any way to help his nerves. “You’re a woman that knows what she wants, and I admire that, especially since I don’t even know what I want.”

“How don’t you know what you want?” Your confidence was slowly coming back, although you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or your want to pick at Hyunjin’s brain. “You have everything anyone could ever want! Look at where you live!” You gesture to the room around you. The modern art-deco custom paintings, the abstract sculptures, the fake plants that looked too fake to even be considered plant-like. It was a dream, especially for those that lived in the city. “You have the perfect house and the job position people can only dream of.”

“I don’t want this, Y/n.” He stands from the couch, walking over to the wall of glass that separates the living room from the balcony. “This house means nothing. This job position means nothing.” He can’t face you, fearful that you’ll see how weak he is. “I want someone. I want you.”

Silence. You stare down at your legs, unable to even process what Hyunjin just said. Your thumbs rub against each other, fiddling so you can focus on anything else. Hyunjin sighs loudly and turns around, walking back over so he can tower over you. His shadow consumes you, shrouding your figure in slight darkness. A hand slips under your chin, pulling your face up to see him. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you as if he’s enamored by your existence. 

“What do I have to do?” Hyunjin ponders, leaning in closer to you. The scent of his cologne clogs your senses, and all you can think about is Hwang Hyunjin. “What do I have to do to have you?”

Your hand goes to his chest, grabbing his tie. You pull him into you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Hyunjin puts all of his emotion into this kiss, promising himself that he’ll show his love through his actions. 

Pulling away, you both catch your breath and enjoy the brief silence. For once, it isn’t awkward; the silence is welcomed. 

“Hyunjin,” you twirl his tie between your fingers, “if you want me, then prove it.” 

[🔥]

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, pulling you off the couch. He drags you up to his bedroom without saying a word, assuming you know what’s about to happen. His sheets are all black, neatly made without a stain in sight. Hyunjin sits on the edge of the bed, tapping on his lap to invite you to take a seat. 

You straddle him, feeling heated the second your thighs come in contact with his. It feels unreal, but you want this now more than ever. You didn’t drink even an entire glass of wine, so you can’t blame this decision on any ounce of alcohol. 

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” He wraps his long arms around your waist, pulling you into him so your body is pressed against his. “I need to hear you say you want this.”

“Yes, Hyunjin. I’m sure I want this.” You shoot him a smile that never fails to make his heart melt, and he can’t help but kiss you again, his lips perfectly fitting against yours. When you open your mouth to allow his tongue to slip in, he feels like he has reached nirvana. Hyunjin was been wanting this for so god damn long; he could bust in his pants just thinking about it. 

His mouth moves from your lips to your jawline, not leaving any hickeys because he knows you have work tomorrow. His kisses along your jaw and neck make you moan quietly, and your hands slip behind his head into his hair. You curl your fingers into his hair, pulling it ever so slightly. He grunts against your neck, sucking harder than before, accidentally leaving a red mark. 

He pulls off of your throat, breathing heavily, looking into your half-lidded eyes. Your hands rest on the back of his neck, holding him close to you. Hyunjin smiles lightly and pecks your cheek, making you both giggle from his cute gesture. 

“I know I told you not to call me sir, but... maybe just for tonight, you can call me that.” Oh, he’s like that? You kiss him for a moment before pushing him back, his body falling against the sheets. Your body hovers over his, and you roam your hands over his chest and abs, feeling him from over his shirt.

“Alright, sir.” You smile innocently, leaning down, kissing his neck to test his dominance. He doesn’t fuss at this. He accepts your kisses, throwing his head back to give you better access to kiss his neck. Your hands roam all over his body, paying special attention to his chest, or more specifically, his nipples. He groans quietly, biting his lips as your fingers rolls over his nipples. “Oh, you like this?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Sit up. Let me take your shirt off.” He laughs at your commands as he raises his body from the bed and unbuttons the top of his shirt before you step in and unbutton the rest. The slow reveal of his torso his haunting, causing your eyes to dart every which way across his body. He really looks like a Greek god. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” 

“Oh please, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, doll.” There it was again. That damn pet name. He really was going to be the death of you, so you might as well enjoy this. “I’ve had dreams of bending you over my desk and fucking you during work, but that wouldn’t be very appropriate, would it?” 

You gulp out of nervousness, unsure of where to go from here. You were in control for the moment, but now that Hyunjin was letting his emotions out, you keep getting flustered, wishing he would take the reigns over this situation. 

“Aw, is my little doll getting shy?” He brushes his hand across your hot cheek, making you stutter out nonsense. “You’re so cute, baby. I could flip you over and ruin you right now, but we should take our time, right?” 

You nod, tracing your hands on his chest again. Your thumb and pointer finger grip his nipples and twist, causing him to arch his back and fall against the bed once again. He’s putty in your hands again, so you up the ante by pressing your heat against his painfully large bulge in his tight work pants, teasing him just enough to make him weak. The sounds he’s making can only be described as sinful, and you love every minute of it.

You dive your head down to his chest, sucking hickeys into his defined pecs. Your tongue around his nipples makes him keen from pleasure, his hands petting your back up and down. When you lean up to look at all the marks you’ve made, he’s desperately trying to catch his breath. 

“I was supposed to be showing you how much I like you, not the other way around!” He giggles through deep breaths, running his hands down the sides of your body. “Lay back, baby. Let me take care of you, alright?”

You shrug in agreement, dramatically throwing your body back on the mattress for Hyunjin to pin you down under his lean figure. His gaze eats you alive, skimming over your skin like he was about to devour you. 

“You’re absolutely stunning, baby.” He kisses you on the lips, short and sweet, before unbuttoning your dress shirt and revealing your bra, feeling your tits over the fabric. His hands perfectly cup your tits, moving your bra down to play with your hardened nipples. You arch your back into his touch, relaxing and letting him worship your chest. He’s a master with his hands, making you moan and whine just enough for him to get even harder under his tight pants. “Can I take your bra off?”

“Of course, sir. Take it all off for me, alright?” You wink up at him, stirring a fire in his heart. He wants to take you, all of you, inciting him to rapidly strip you of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the side. His lips attach to one of your nipples while his hand goes to the other, playing with the bud between his fingers. His other hand snakes down your body and unbuttons your pants, sneaking down to play with your cunt over your panties. His middle finger pushes your panties into your pussy, saturating them with your wetness. “Please finger me, Hyunjin.”

“Oh, needy already?” He leans up from your chest, sitting between your spread legs as he unbuttons his own pants and pulls them down enough to see his bulge under his tight boxers. He looked so big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. Your cunt becomes drentched in a second of you imagining his cock going inside you. “Staring isn’t polite, you know?”

“S-sorry, sir.” He pulls your pants down your legs, leaving your panties to be the only thing covering you. His hands hug your hips, pulling you right up to him. You feel his bulge against your cunt, making you bite your lip.

One of Hyunjin’s big hands comes down to your cunt, a finger hooking around the bottom of your panties to move them to the side, allowing him to check out your sopping heat. His fingers feather through your folds, circling your needy hole just to tease you. He smiles as you whine and buck your hips up, physically begging him to fuck you dumb.

“My baby’s pussy looks so pretty. I can’t possibly fuck her before I get a taste.” You watch Hyunjin as he scoots down the bed and leans down to be eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before diving in, sucking on your clit and running his tongue through your pussy. One arm hooks around your leg while his other comes up to play with your pussy, his fingers teasing your hole before sliding in just enough to make you whine for more. “You’re so sweet, princess.”

“T-Thank you, sir.” You throw your head back when he bends his fingers inside you, curling into your g-spot. Hyunjin hums as you moan loudly, hinting to Hyunjin that you’re close. “C-cum, sir. Need to cum.”

“Aw, my baby’s ready to cum?” Hyunjin teases, going right back to sucking on your clit and mercilessly fingering your tight hole with two fingers. His tongue flicking over your clit is making you so close, your legs shaking as he continues to assault your cunt. “Cum on my fingers, babe.”

Your legs violently shake as you reach your orgasm, all your nerves on edge as waves of pleasure drown your brain. You moan Hyunjin’s name over and over, holding his hair in an iron grip. As you come down, his mouth slowly detaches from your pussy, fully lapping up all your juices.

“Open your mouth.” With your eyes still closed, you open your mouth wide open and let your tongue out, letting Hyunjin do whatever he wants to your mouth. His wet fingers dip into your mouth, pressing against your tongue to make you taste your cunt. You suck lightly on his fingers, tasting yourself before he slips his hand out of your mouth, separating his spit-coated fingers to admire your hard work. “Good girl.”

Your eyes goes back down, staring at the outline of his cock in his boxers. He notices your stare, pulling his waistband down to reveal his long, thick cock, leaking with precum, ready to be stuffed inside you. “W-wanna feel you inside me~”

“Aw, but baby, I’ve fucked you dumb just from my fingers. You think you can handle my cock?” He presses the tip of his cock against your hole, pushing it in just enough to make you whine loudly. He smiles, seeing how fucked out you are so easily. He leans down to your ear, holding your hips in his hands. “Do you really want it?”

His voice is so deep and quiet that it makes you shiver, biting your lips before you can even speak. You breath for a moment to collect yourself. “Yes, sir. I want it.”

“Alright, baby.” Hyunjin gives you a peck on your lips before laying next to you, putting his hands behind his head. You look over at him puzzled, still collecting your breath. “Ride me.”

Hyunjin takes a condom out of his nightstand while you whine and breath more, trying to bring back any feeling to your legs. You regain your strength as he rolls the comdom onto his thick shaft.

You huff and sit up, wobbling before getting balanced on the soft bed. You finally pull off your panties before straddling him. Hyunjin throws his head back as you start to jerk his cock, feeling him twitch in your palm. With your free hand, you pull his pants down more to let you comfortably straddle his hips. As you lower yourself into him, you both groan loudly, you from the stretch and him from the tightness.

Hyunjin’s hands hold tightly onto your waist as you fully lower onto him, halting your movements to allow your cunt to adjust to his size. He bites his lip and stares at your face, admiring your beauty despite your messy hair and sweaty forehead. You slowly raise your hips, gripping Hyunjin’s cock with your cunt as you lower back down.

“You’re so tight, baby- fuck.” Hyunjin’s groans are loud as hell, echoing through the bedroom as you ride him, establishing a slow pace. You feel so full, his tip reaching deep inside you, and you love it. The stretch doesn’t bother you anymore, speeding up slightly. He watches your tits bounce on your chest, teasing him with their perky nipples and forming hickeys.

“Is sir close?” You feel him switch inside you at your question, his eyes squeezing shut as he nods and whines. His grip on your waist looses before his hands fall next to his head. You lean down and pin his wrists to the bed with your hands. Having your tits right in his face makes it even harder to keep his cool.

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s hips buck into you, fucking up into your tight cunt while you force yourself to stay still so he can let out his energy... and your legs were getting tired. He hits your spot with every thrust, desperately fucking you so he can release into the condom. You feel him inside you, his cum ballooning the tip of the condom, making you moan as he whines, saying your name like a mantra. He looks so hot under you, you can’t help but lean down and kiss his pretty, plump lips while he sits inside you.

“I thought I could last longer.” Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow as he pulls out of you, pulling off the condom, tying it, and tossing it towards his trash can. “You really know how to break me.”

He doesn’t realize that you’re still on top of him, moving down the bed to take his cock into your mouth. He winces when your hot tongue hits the tip of his cock. You lick up his shaft before taking him into your mouth, testing your gag reflex as you take him down your throat, your nose hitting his pelvis. His hands find home in your hair, pulling tightly as you bob your head on his member.

He’s totally speechless, his brain empty as you suck his cock like a pro. Your tongue feels like heaven on Earth, quickly making him fully hard again and bringing him close to another orgasm. He’s never been over stimulated like this before, whining like a cat in heat as he watches his cock disappear down your throat. You stare up at him, keeping eye contact even if he doesn’t look at you.

He twitches in your mouth, his cock spawning against your tongue as you increase the pace. He bites his lip harsh enough to draw blood as he cums again, your head raising so only the tip is in your mouth while one hand jerks his cock, milking him dry. His vision is fuzzy, mind even foggier. He can’t believe you just did that without a word.

You swallow his cum, wiping the drool off of your chin as you hop up and lay next to him, nuzzling into his chest. He puts an arm around you while you two cuddle in silence.

“You’re really good at that, Y/n.” He huffs, smiling as he looks down at you who’s drifting off to sleep. “Are you gonna sleep over?”

“I was hoping I could. And who knows? Maybe we can fuck in the morning before going to work.”

“Fuck, work.” Hyunjin sighs loudly before groaning from the reminder of all of his stress. “This won’t change our relationship ship at the office, will it?”

“Not publicly, no, but if you ever need to releive some stress during the day, just invite me up to your office and I’d be happy to help you, sir.” You both laugh, finally at ease in each other’s arms. As you drift to sleep, you can’t help but be excited for the proceeding weeks at your work.

This is exactly the raise you needed.

[kevyfanfics]

Remembering You

From @kevyfanfics to the @opal-earrings for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange event!! I hope you have fun with it because it was an absolute blast :) <3000

AO3 Link

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker & Peter Parker, May Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Stephen Strange, Helen Cho

Summary: All Tony can do is stare at the pale, unmoving form of Peter as hands force his heart to beat and air is pushed into his lungs. This time it’s different. There's no beeping to prove he's still alive as he lies there, no steady rise and fall of his chest. Nothing. Tony doesn't realize he's on his knees until hands are gripping his shoulders.

“No. No no no no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please, don't go, I'm so sorry, I still need you, kid, I didn't-” He's cut off by his own sobs, vaguely aware of the steady arms that keep him up as he curls in on himself. I didn't mean it, he desperately repeats in his head, begging in a way he had never begged before.

Or: Peter gets amnesia after a grueling fight, forgetting who he is to Tony.

Possible TW // Temporary character death

Have fun and stay safe🖤🤎❤️️🧡💛💚💙💜

---

Tony sits with his head down, palms digging his eyes as he waits. And waits. And waits… God, he's so sick of waiting. It’s been weeks. Too many weeks to keep track of when all Tony can think of is the lifeless, comatose kid beneath pristine sheets and surrounded by get-well-soon gifts. The only thing that keeps him sane these days is the constant beeping from the heart monitor, but even that’s beginning to grate on him. It taunts him. The beeping never changes its pace, reminding him every second of every minute of every day that it’s the only proof he has that Peter’s alive.

“You should get some food.” Tony drags his half-lidded gaze to May who walks to Peter’s bedside. His eyes, surrounded by dark circles, follow her as she does so. He doesn't have the energy to respond. May expects the “what if he wakes up while I'm gone?” like every day…but it never comes. Instead, he stands and leaves without so much as a word. She worries that he's finally reached his emotional limit. That he’ll start to distance himself and detach from his emotions. That he’ll give up on them. On Peter. And god she can't go through this alone.

Tony walks down the empty hall, steps echoing against the linoleum floor. The LED tube lights above him only make everything seem more bleak then they already are. They flicker slightly, but he keeps his eyes downcast. Through pure muscle memory, he makes it to the medbay cafeteria and sits at a table. He doesn't get food, just…sits and glares at the metallic surface.

Don't fucking drag it out like this, he thinks with indignation. He just can't take it anymore, going in and seeing nothing change. He's at his limit. It’s too much. If you're gonna leave, just do it already. I can't keep seeing you like this. You already look dead. Just get it over with. All he can see is Peter’s bright, brown eyes lit up with excitement, his wide, lopsided smile that lights up the whole workshop. A soft sob forces its way past his lips as he tightly grips his hair in both hands. Stop it already. Stop it. Stop-

“Tony!” His head snaps up, eyes wide with a sudden panic that assaults his system. At first he thinks it was in his head, his mind already buzzing with voices, but then a crash cart is rushed down the hallway. No. He gets up so fast that the aluminum chair crashes to the floor, forgotten behind him. His shoes squeak as he sprints down the hall, breathing fast, heart in his throat, blood pumping through his ears.

When the flatline reaches him, he swears he could cry right then and there.

He skids to a stop, frantically scanning for something, anything to relieve his anxiety… But what he gets is a room of nurses doing too many things at once for him to discern.

“Baby, baby please don't do this,” May begs off to the side, one of the nurses doing their best to comfort and hold her back at the same time. All Tony can do is stare at the pale, unmoving form of Peter as hands force his heart to beat and air is pushed into his lungs. This time it’s different. There's no beeping to prove he's still alive as he lies there, no steady rise and fall of his chest. Nothing. Tony doesn't realize he's on his knees until hands are gripping his shoulders.

“No. No no no no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please, don't go, I'm so sorry, I still need you, kid, I didn't-” He's cut off by his own sobs, vaguely aware of the steady arms that keep him up as he curls in on himself. I didn't mean it, he desperately repeats in his head, begging in a way he had never begged before.

“One milligram epinephrine and a twenty milliliter flush!” a voice shouts over the chaos, barely reaching Tony’s ringing ears. Everything is moving too fast and the whole scene blurs in his vision, but the asystole rings true. He can't take this.

“You've never given up a day in your life! Don't you dare start now!” Tony screams at the top of his lungs, but then he feels himself being dragged out of the room. Peter’s bed gets farther and farther away as he begins to thrash. “Let go! Get the fuck off me!” But the arms easily keep him at bay even as he fights against them.

“Tony! Tony, you gotta let ‘em work! C’mon, man! It’s okay!” The voice finally fills his ears and he whips around to see Rhodey. It’s been a long time since he’s seen tears in the man’s eyes, but they don't spill over. “It’s okay,” he repeats, “Peter’s strong. You know that.” Tony grips his forearm like a lifeline, pleading look never wavering.

“We’ve got a rhythm!” Tony’s attention snaps back to the room so fast it makes the walls tilt. More medical jargon is listed off but all he can focus on is the beeping. The beeping that annoyed him a mere fifteen minutes ago now filled him with hope and an indescribable relief as he continued sobbing silently.

He never complained about the monitor again.

His stare, however, still hovers over the bandages protecting the burns Peter endured all those weeks ago. Thousands of volts and the ear piercing scream of pure agony was almost more than Tony could handle. He still hears it echoing in his nightmares. Peter’s vitals have been stable for a week now and Cho said he could wake up at any moment, but the wait was still putting everyone’s nerves on edge…because there was still the chance he could never wake up. And that just wasn't an option.

Tony continues to sit in that damn chair, day after day, waiting like he isn't the most impatient person on the planet. He’d always wait for Peter.

Then the sheets shift under his touch, making him flinch at the sudden movement and sit up with his back straight as a rod. Peter’s moving. His eyes are squeezed shut and his white-knuckled fingers are gripping the blankets, but he doesn't move more than that. Tony can hear his blood pumping through his ears, searching for some, any, sign that this is it. That he's waking up.

“Fri, get May down here,” he gently calls, hoping to not jar Peter with the volume. He practically holds his breath in anticipation as the kid stills, color draining from Tony’s face and hope leaving his body in waves. No, he couldn't have just called May for a false alarm. He can't handle their hopes being drowned in despair again. They've waited too-

Those bleary, dravite eyes, that haven't opened for far too long, drag themselves open. Tony immediately presses the call button on the bedside railing before taking Peter’s hand carefully in his own, gingerly working on relaxing the fingers in his hold. The glazed-over look drags down to where their hands are connected, then back up to Tony’s face, finally acknowledging him.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greets with a watery smile, tears on the verge of falling. “You with us?” Peter’s stare bores into him, not quite lucid but more aware than moments prior. But he just…stares. His hand doesn't tighten, yet it doesn't pull away either. The tense atmosphere isn't what Tony expected.

“Peter?” The kid’s head lolling towards the wavering voice of his aunt.

“May,” Peter lets out in a relieved breath and his hand slips from Tony’s grasp to reach for her. Tony ignores the pang of disappointment in his chest, quickly shoving it down when he reminds himself that she actually raised the kid. The bandages pull at the unhealed burns, but Peter doesn't so much as flinch. Since he was comatose, his healing had been slowed along with his metabolism, going into a hibernation-like sleep that Cho assured was par for the course.

“Hey, baby.” May grasps his hand in a heartbeat, doing her best to reassure him with a smile. However, Peter swallows nervously and looks between her and Tony, a borderline panicked look in his eyes.

“Am I dying?” he chokes out, finally settling on asking May. Of all the things May expected her nephew to say after waking up from a coma, that certainly wasn't on the list.

“What?” Tony questions, completely lost and trying to keep up.

“I-” May cuts herself off, searching her kid’s face. “What do you mean?” She glances up at Tony, a hint of a threat if he kept anything from her, but he shakes his head.

“Is this some kind of Make-A-Wish thing?” Peter elaborates as his voice cracks. “‘Cause Tony freaking Stark is in here and if I’m dying I kinda wanna know what's going on.” The tension bleeds into thick silence, Tony’s wide eyes glued to the back of Peter’s head. He frantically starts pressing the nurse call button over and over. They're all saved from delving into the sudden jostling of their realities by Helen Cho rushing in.

“Peter,” she greets with a pleased nod, “you're awake. It’s good to see you again.” If Peter was confused before, he sure is now.

“Why- how am I- I don't-” His gaze flickers around the room in search of answers, then a squeeze of his hand pulls his gaze back to May. Tony feels like he's a third party to an emotional moment that he doesn't deserve to be a part of. Especially since Peter…

“You're okay,” May comforts with as much conviction as she can muster. “You're not,” she's quick to rephrase it, “you aren't going anywhere. Do you remember what happened?” Peter instantly opens his mouth, but it’s at a disconnect with his mind. Nothing comes when it’s called and having a now very obvious blank spot in his memory doesn't help with his anxiety. His fists grip the sheets at his sides, making the bandages pull at wounds he didn't even know he had. Wounds he doesn't even know how he got. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

I’m not gonna freak out in front of Tony Stark, I’m not gonna freak out in front of Tony Stark, I’m not- His fists shake, pins and needles enveloping them as he tries to keep his breathing under control. Despite his best efforts, tears gather and blur his vision as he fights for control.

Tony recognizes the signs in a heartbeat, but May’s hand is rubbing circles on Peter’s back before he can do anything. He has to sit there, watching as May talks Peter through a panic attack like Tony’s done countless times before. He should be helping. He should be able to tell the kid that he’s there, that he’s going to fix everything like he has before, but now…it feels like an empty promise. It goes against every fiber of his being to not hold his kid and rock them back and forth and do everything he would've done before.

Once Peter is calmed down, looking more exhausted than when he was actually asleep, Dr. Cho does a thorough physical and psychological examination to gauge where they’re at. The only thing that stands out physically still is the burns, otherwise his body did a great job of regulating itself. Psychologically, on the other hand…

“Amnesia?!” Peter squeaks out, staring at Dr. Cho like she’s grown another head.

“Simply put, yes. More than likely some form of memory repression,” she sighs, setting down her notes and crossing her legs

“But I don't- what am I even forgetting?!” He remembers May, he remembers Ned, MJ, all of Midtown High, so what else is there?

“Peter, the…voltage you sustained posed a number of problems. We’re lucky we got your heart back into sinus rhythm.” Tony tenses at that, knowing the grueling, arduous process of whether or not Peter was gonna make it, whether it was a shockable rhythm or time for CPR.

“Do we think it’s from the electrical shocks or…” the trauma dies on May’s tongue, worriedly glancing back to Peter.

“I'm thinking it could be a combination,” Dr. Cho answers honestly, catching her double meaning. “Any electrical shock from 120 to 52,000 volts can cause neurological damage. On a psychological level, what you went through was also traumatic.” She does her best to broach the topic slowly, but Peter’s anxiety is already kicked into high gear.

“Traumatic?” He knows it’s Spider-Man related, it has to be, but why would she know about it? God, he can't keep up. He just has to keep it cool. Yeah, cool. “So, like, I can't remember ‘cause something bad happened and now I have a Sam Beckett swiss cheese brain?” he clarifies, hiding his fear behind a façade of humor. Surprisingly, Tony snorts despite himself and the situation.

“You remember an arbitrary Quantum Leap reference but you don’t remember who I am?” He knows he shouldn't push it considering all the red flags, but since when does he keep his mouth shut? Peter might cope through humor, but Tony copes by shoving his feelings down far deeper than he needs to. Even though tears burn at the back of his eyes. Even though his throat aches with emotion. The bandaged teen’s head swivels back to look at him, his face looking caught between going pale and flushing.

“You're Tony Stark, I'm pretty sure I said that,” Peter says slowly, and suddenly Tony wishes those familiar, brown eyes weren't on him. Because he knows those eyes by heart, but they don't hold an ounce of recognition anymore. “It’s, it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Stark,” Peter shifts his gaze back to May for help, “but shouldn't he…not be here for this kinda stuff? It’s embarrassing and there's sensitive topics and-” Just as fast as his ramblings, he looks back to the billionaire. “You're…you’re not here for Make-A-Wish…” Slowly, Tony shakes his head with a seemingly nonchalant sniff. He’ll never admit it’s from the unshed tears.

“No, kiddo.” He doesn't mean for the term of endearment to slip out, but it’s so natural after all this time that he doesn't even think to hold it back. The confusion shows in the way Peter’s eyebrows pull together. There's a warm hand threading through his fingers, and he welcomes the assurance.

“It’s okay,” May’s soft voice tells him from behind. “He helps with a lot. Especially Spider-Man.” This time, Peter’s face does pale several shades and he whips around to see her in shock. She couldn't have just said that. There's no way she just said Spider-Man. Oh god, she, she-

“You know?” he looks around the room, suddenly feeling like he's in the Twilight Zone while everyone else seems so frustratingly calm. “You all know?! Why do you know?! How do you know?! I-” Then, his features slowly relax as he makes eye contact with Tony once more.

He holds the gaze this time, not shying away or brushing him off. It takes every bit of strength Tony has left to not squirm under the stare.

“You're what I forgot,” Peter realizes in a whisper, not sure how to feel. “Why?” ‘Cause I'm like my father, Tony’s mind supplies him with, but this isn't about him and his insecurities. Instead he clears his throat, not exactly sure how to answer. Luckily, Cho saves him.

“Since it was an incident related to Spider-Man, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility to theorize that your brain did what it did to protect itself,” she summarizes as best she can. “The build up was too much, so it eliminated that pressure by removing the memories involved entirely. Including Tony and I. We don't know how far that spreads right now.” May nods along with her words and Tony tries not to bite through his cheek. I traumatized him so much that he-

“At least I can't remember that lecture,” Peter chuckles lightly, veering off on a tangent as he looks down at the sheets. “I bet you ripped my head off when you found out about Spidey.” May smiles fondly and brushes his cheek with her knuckles. “I'm sorry I, uh, forgot you, sir,” he finishes sheepishly. What Tony would give to run a comforting hand through those curls, but the “sir” is like a punch to the face.

“We’ll figure it out, bud,” he settles for, instead. It’s then that he stands, knees popping, and shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the trembling. “I actually know a neurosurgeon, so you're in luck.” He smiles tightly and makes his way to the doorway. “Let me make a few calls.” And finally he's out of the suffocating room, able to freely clench his fists even though he’d much rather punch a wall.

He's losing Peter.

Instead, he channels that frustration into something more productive, yanking his phone out and typing as fast as his shaking thumbs will allow. Within moments, a portal of orange and gold sparks appears in front of him.

“What's the emergency?” Stephen questions purposefully, still dressed in casual clothes due to the distressed S.O.S. message. Something about having someone part of their misfit family here, someone he’d trust his life with, makes his carefully placed walls crumble. The tears swell, his face turns red, and his breathing picks up.

“Peter woke up.” He had kept the doctor in the loop throughout the process, but this hadn't been the reaction Stephen was expecting when the kid eventually woke up. Before he can even ask for clarification, Tony is barreling forward. “He, he doesn't, Helen said-” A firm, grounding hand is placed on his shoulder. Stephen takes an overexaggerated breath for him to follow and nods encouragingly. Tony returns the nod, grateful for the man, and rakes a hand through his hair. “He doesn't remember me. Us. Everything before Germany is repressed because of the trauma. God, I was such an idiot bringing a fourteen-year-old kid into this.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes, despite the ever-present tremor in it, and he reminds himself to stay calm for Peter.

“We’re going to work this out,” Stephen promises, eyebrows set together in determination. “I'm not a psychologist,” he reminds, despite his copious amount of knowledge when it comes to the brain, “but it sounds like dissociative amnesia. Caused by copious amounts of stress and trauma that the mind can't handle, in Peter’s case evidently leading to localized amnesia.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters, followed by a deep breath. “Okay, alright, what can we do?” His voice is borderline desperate, but at this point he doesn't care how he sounds. All he cares about is Peter being okay.

“The good news is that dissociative amnesia tends to be relatively short,” the sorcerer is sure to point out. “Memories can be triggered by familiar surroundings, a phrase, anything, but it’ll likely come back all at once. All you have to do is get him comfortable and wait. I know patience isn't your biggest virtue, but I'm sure you’ll manage.” The snarky jab and slight smirk tagged on at the end helps things feel a bit more normal. Tony mirrors the smirk as much as he can muster

“Do me a solid and talk with May?” Tony requests, knowing it’ll be more succinct coming from him Over the weeks, Stephen has also become acquainted with May. They've been practically taking shifts with Stephen occasionally forcing both of them to rest. The doctor gives a curt nod, but doesn't release Tony’s shoulder when he turns to walk away. Tony looks back at him with an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“He’ll remember, it’ll just be a matter of time. Be there for him, Stark,” Stephen urges and Tony instantly gets what he means: don't run from the feelings. Tony huffs while waving him off, yet not denying it.

With that done, some semblance of a plan is put into place: Peter stays in the penthouse to help encourage the suppressed memories to resurface. It could be anytime from here on out, they just had to trust that it would, somehow, work itself out when surrounded by things he knows. Or should know. All in all, Peter seemed surprisingly unaffected. Aside from the obvious, buzzing excitement of staying with his childhood superhero, he didn't appear all that bothered. Awkward, if nothing else.

“So you're telling me I’ve been in your personal workshop? Me. Peter Parker,” Peter reiterates with disbelief. “This is insane!” He turns in a circle, looking at every corner and taking it all in.

“Sure have,” Tony confirms, sauntering in behind the kid with a brief smile. “You have your own room here, too. Personalized and all that shizz.” He vaguely waves his hand in the air as if it explains everything. However, Peter turns to him with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights. And for a faint, fleeting moment, Tony has hope. Hope that the mere mention is enough to make everything normal again.

“Personalized? Ned’s gonna freak!” Hope is a dangerous thing. Tony bites back the comment about how Ned already knows. To drown out the thoughts, he clears his throat and continues.

“We can do anything you want, kid,” he prompts as he leans on the nearby counter and crosses his arms. He wants to give Peter control over the circumstances. Still, the teen’s eyes flit from his surroundings to the ground.

“Um, what would we usually do?” he wonders, suddenly feeling out of place. It’s like meeting someone who knew you when you were a child but you, for the life of you, can't remember. With such simple words, Tony can't help but think of all those late nights in the lab, ordering pizza and talking for hours on end. What he would give to have that back.

“Well,” Tony starts, voice a tad too tight, “we could start in the lab if you want.” His suggestion is met with enthusiastic nods and, despite the slight discomfort between them, head down the elevator.

“What if,” Peter nonchalantly sniffs, something he doesn't know he got from Tony, yet Tony is painfully aware of, “what if I don't remember?” The insecurity and fear seeps into his voice without shame, something that rarely happens with the kid. Tony can't hold back the hand he clamps on Peter’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

“You will,” he says with a surprising amount of confidence. “Knowing your flare for the dramatic, it’ll happen when we both least expect it.” Peter snorts at that, but returns the smile he's offered. Because deep down, he knows Tony’s right.

And that's exactly what happens. They both know it can take up to days, weeks, rarely even months, but Tony sure as hell wasn't expecting it within the first few hours. They're sitting at Tony’s workbench, going over some of the Spider-Man suit schematics they left off on a few weeks prior to the incident.

“It was a choice between sacrificing tensile strength and compression because the nitrile-”

“It hurt.” The words violently rip Tony from his train of thought. It’s said so casually that it throws him for a loop before he snaps his gaze onto the kid. Peter’s staring straight ahead, through the hologram, as silent tears stream down his cheeks and drip off his chin.

“Bud-”

“It hurt a lot,” Peter continues, throat constricting this time as the emotion starts to show on his face. “It felt like I was being burned from the inside out and I couldn't- Electro he-” His own sob cuts him off and his arms curl protectively around his middle, the burns somehow flaring up at the onslaught of memories that hit him like a freight train. Tony isn't sure if he can touch the kid and comfort him the way he has so many times before because fuck what if he remembers the fight but not him? His hesitation is thrown to the as soon as Peter hunches in on himself and his breathing picks up.

“Hey, I've got you,” he gently says as he wraps careful arms around his kid, mindful of the bandages. “I know, kiddo. I'm so sorry,” he whispers while Peter’s brain catches up. It’s like the memories were never gone, and he doesn't feel any different, but being forced to process the fight with Electro so suddenly with his lungs on fire feels like torture all over again.

“I, Mr. Stark I thought I was gonna die and, and all I could think about was you and May and- you! How could I ever forget you, I'm so sorry-” He cries harder, burying his face in Tony’s chest and pulling his arms closer. “It was like, like looking at you but not seeing you and it, I just, it was awful.” He feels like the biggest disappointment on the planet, but Tony won't let that happen.

“Look at me,” Tony kneels, “let me see those eyes.” Slowly, Peter pulls himself from Tony’s sweatshirt, looking entirely like the piping hot mess he feels he is. “There is nothing that would ever stop me from loving you, Peter. You got that? You could forget me every day for the rest of your life and I would still call you my kid. Nothing’s gonna change that.” Peter presses his lips together to keep his face from crumpling further as more tears glide down his face, and nods.

“Okay,” he whispers with his whole heart. “I missed you.” He dives right back into Tony’s chest, desperately seeking the comfort they both need. Tony welcomes it and hugs the kid back, placing a kiss on the top of his head and holding him close.

“I missed you too, kid,” he reciprocates into the curls. Like he had wanted to when Peter first woke up, he gently rocks them back and forth, taking in the moment. They have each other back, and they sure aren't letting each other go anytime soon. Then, Peter tenses. Tony pulls back to see Peter has gone slightly pale. Of course, already on edge, he starts to panic. “What’s wrong?” he questions, looking over the kid desperately.

“I remember May’s lecture…” Peter says with wide eyes as a chill runs down his spine. Tony chuckles breathlessly in relief, bringing Peter back in to rest his chin atop the kid’s head. This kid might be the death of him, but he’d welcome it with open arms if it meant he’d have this.

---

Thank you for reading!🖤🤎❤️️🧡💛💚💙💜

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 4

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while, but here’s part 4 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). This is me ignoring s17!!! Sorry for the delay, this has been repeatedly deleted from my drafts for the last week & then i didn’t even edit or make changes SO idk what all that was for. anyway thank you for sticking with this story! Previous parts here: part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Or, you can read on ao3.

_______

And so it starts, you switch the engine on

We set controls for the heart of the sun

One of the ways we show our age

_______

She has no idea how she got here. Or more specifically, how she could be pressured into something like this. Maggie typically prided herself on standing firm; standing her own ground and refusing to be swayed by others. But none of that self-proclamation holds true right now.

Because she’s here. Driving Winston’s car. Trunk filled to capacity and two of her roommates squeezed into the backseat.

The hypocrisy of it all is almost infuriating. Because Maggie hates camping.

“I hate camping,” she voices her detest out loud.

An apologetic sigh can be heard from Winston next to her, where he sits passenger side. But ultimately, it’s Amelia’s voice that grabs her attention, the bewilderment making itself known from the backseat.

“Oh, come on,” there’s an element of disbelief to her tone, and Maggie locks eyes with her through the rear-view mirror.

“Step out of your comfort zone a little, Maggie!” She raises her eyebrows, beginning to gesture with her hands. Link shuffles in his seat, where he’s squeezed in tightly beside Amelia, in an attempt to free up a little space for her body language. Some of the camping supplies had ended up packed over half of the backseat, and Maggie can’t help but chuckle at the proximity of Amelia’s hand to Link’s face as she gestures absentmindedly. “It’s camping. It’s adventurous, it’s-”

Maggie has since focused back on the road, but the sudden pause in speech makes her feel uneasy. Amelia’s focus shifts from the packaged tent next to her, to the back of Winston’s head, and then back to Maggie.

“It’s sleeping in a tent,” she continues, a spark of gleam in her eyes as she scans the couple in the front seat. “Or, maybe it’s not sleeping. Hey, I mean, whatever the two of you-”

“Amelia,” Maggie cuts in, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as Winston’s hand comes to rest on her knee, giving it a soothing squeeze.

“Come on, babe,” Winston murmurs. “It’ll be fun. And plus, Karev would definitely be proud of us.”

Maggie grins a little, despite herself.

They’d been a bit all over the place, as a group of interns. A little bit too chaotic and never fully on the same page. As their resident, Karev was constantly voicing his impatience about the dynamics of the group. She partly thinks that yes, Alex would be proud of the bonding journey that they’d chosen to embark on, but the more realist part of her brain can’t ignore the obviousness that being roommates was probably bonding enough.

Maggie peeks in the rear-view once more, this time checking to make sure that Lexie and Jo are still following in the car behind them. She catches Amelia’s stare again and consequently feels the need to brace herself.

“Babe?” Amelia bites her lip, repeating the pet name Winston had just used. “What happened to ‘we’re just friends?’”

“We are friends.” Maggie sighs, trying her best to ignore the amusement that radiates from Winston at this specific call-out.

“And Link and I are friends,” Amelia’s quick with her rebuttal, tilting her head towards Link. “I don’t go around calling him babe.”

Link sucks in a breath, and then another one, with the addition of Amelia’s afterthought. “But maybe I’ll start.”

It’s subtle. The way Link’s face changes. He hides it just as quickly as it surfaces. But it’s there, she hasn’t imagined it, and it’s the first thing to make Maggie genuinely smile for the length of the trip so far.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia nudges Link with her shoulder. “I can come up with a better nickname than that.”

“Okay enough,” Maggie suppresses the grin she feels spreading across her cheeks. She reaches forward for the knob on the dashboard, turning the music up.

Link’s relief at the diversion tactic is almost palpable. Maggie can practically feel it from the backseat. She thinks maybe the feeling rising in her chest equates to sympathy.

She loves Amelia. She really does. Which is saying a lot, especially for her. It takes effort for her to grow comfortable with people, or to even relate on any level. She’s always felt a step ahead of most people in life. But Amelia really challenges her. It’s only been a couple of months since they’d met, and somewhere along the way, things changed. Amelia’s unpredictable nature had shifted from something Maggie initially feared, to something she appreciates. Like the human embodiment of the push she needs. The push she needs to take things less seriously, or the push she needs to open up and be spontaneous. Whatever the case, it’s never felt more necessary. Like she’s been missing out on it for too long. So, she tries to embrace it at every turn.

“Are we almost there?” Amelia pipes up again from the backseat. “I have to pee, and believe me, I’m down for a little side-of-the-road action if that’s what it comes down to-”

Maggie groans impatiently. But then she remembers about embracing it. So decidedly, her next words sound gentle. “We’re almost there, hold it together.”

_______

It ends up taking two full hours for six surgical interns to figure out how to set up a campsite. And even though the task is grueling, the level of teamwork somehow exceeds what they normally display during a typical hospital shift.

The sun starts to set as the second of the two tents finally stands on it’s own and everyone takes a moment to finally relax.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Link sits back against the tree on the outskirts of their surrounding area.

Jo huffs out a breath as she joins him, rolling her eyes. “That was two hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”

“What’s next?” Amelia steps out of the larger tent, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Does anyone know how to build a bonfire?”

_______

She has no idea how it got to this. How six grown adults could resort to immature party games around a campfire and feel so content about it. Maggie had been relieved when the game of ‘truth or dare’ ended as quickly as it started. She’d been hoping for something a bit more intellectual. A little less high school.

Unfortunately her hopes were never granted.

“Wait, I feel like the stakes aren’t high enough.” Amelia had tossed the observation out flimsily.

But the observation had its impact.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And then the ideas had piled on.

“Loser has to cover my scut work in the ER all week.”

“No way.”

“Loser has to make us each a s'more.”

“Nah. Stakes not high enough.”

“Loser has to jump in the lake.”

Amelia had voiced the last one, resulting in a surprised type of silence. The type of silence that could raise stakes.

It was the ultimatum they were looking for, apparently. And to much of Maggie’s dismay, they hadn’t moved on to an intellectual game. Nothing worth raising the stakes over, at least.

Because they’d settled on a game of ‘never have I ever.’

“Okay, okay. My turn. What have I not done…?” Amelia trails off, deep in thought, and it earns some chuckles from the group. “Oh! Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Suspectful eyes dart around the bonfire, and Link’s attempt to conspicuously fold down a finger fails.

“Link!”

Jo giggles hysterically.

“You have?” There’s surprise in Amelia’s voice, and it corresponds with the way her face lights up.

“You haven’t?” Link bites back.

“Well, almost, I guess. But-”

“Okay!” Jo interjects. “No need for context! That’ll just slow us down. Link, your turn.”

“Okay,” Link grins determinedly across the bonfire, eyes landing on Amelia. “Never have I ever almost had a threesome.”

Amelia scoffs, dropping a finger.

“Wait!” Maggie fast-tracks her disapproval. “Are we singling people out now? The game will end too quickly if we-”

“Never have I ever been named after an iconic literary figure.” Amelia jumps in again, completely ignoring Maggie’s objection.

Link drops a finger, rolling his eyes. Too easy.

“Never have I ever slept with Mark Sloan.”

He sounds proud of this one. And all focus drifts to Amelia, whose eyes narrow only slightly as she drops another finger.

“You did what?” Maggie seems skeptical.

“You did what? When?” And Lexie’s voice sounds strained.

“Shit, sorry. Too far?” Link’s pride genuinely replaces itself with worry.

“I never meant for it to be a secret.” There’s something distinct about Amelia’s tone as she jumps back into the game, clearly with the intention of going after Link again. “Never have I ever-”

“No!” Maggie seems to be the only one intervening at this point. “No, stop. My turn. If we play it your way, this game will be over in two seconds.”

Amelia and Link shrug dismissively amidst the general hums of agreement.

“Never have I ever…” Maggie pauses, taking a moment to truly think on it. She racks her brain for ways to prolong the game. “Never have I ever been arrested!”

Amelia slowly drops her last finger, a grimace consuming her face, and Maggie’s mouth opens wide in shock.

“Amelia, what,” she breathes. “I was trying to keep people in the game. What-”

“We agreed on no context!” Amelia is quick to refute, forcing a grin as she repeats the request spoken earlier.

“Okay….” She draws out her response, and the next part of her sentence sounds quiet, or laced with secondhand defeat. “But you lost the game already.”

“That’s fine,” Amelia is just as quick to stand from her chair, shrugging casually at what that entails.

“Amelia-”

“To the lake? Or am I doing this without witnesses?”

Maggie’s brows furrow at the bitterness that exists in that question, but then Amelia turns, walking away from them, and Maggie is the first to go after her.

_______

"Amelia, you’re the one who made the rule. You can’t back out now.”

They’re all huddled together at the sandy area near the dock that edges out into the dark lake, and Maggie can’t hold back her impatience. She’s a rule-follower, after all. She's also cold. And she just wants to be by the bonfire again.

“I know, I know. I’m….” Amelia trails off, exhaling harshly. “Just give me a minute.”

There’s momentary quiet. The kind of quiet that nearly gives room for everyone to re-think what’s about to happen. But, if anyone's thoughts were the loudest, they were Amelia’s.  

“The sun was still out when I made up this rule!”

That’s true. Maggie can give her that. It’s late now, purely dark outside except for the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake.

“We don’t know what’s in there…” Amelia adds, eyes focused on the body of water before them. “We don’t know if it’s safe to swim here.”

“It’s a state park,” Winston chuckles.

“And there’s a sign right there,” Lexie adds matter-of-factly, nodding towards the edge of the sand. “No lifeguard on duty. Swim at your own risk.”

“Amelia, it's a swimming beach.”

There’s an element to Amelia’s expression that Maggie sees herself in. It provokes that feeling. The heart-lurching feeling that comes with the awareness that you can’t bring yourself to do the thing you intend to do. The restlessness that rises with the opposition of your mind moving miles a minute but your feet remaining frozen where you stand. It takes place in the nervous system. And it’s like the physical manifestation of not being able to rip the bandaid off, or not being able to take the plunge, to be more literal in this scenario.

Suddenly, Maggie’s hit with the fleeting recognition that everyone’s the same deep down. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

The revelation almost makes her feel sympathy. Almost.

Because Amelia’s version of hiding it was turning out to be displaced over-confidence.

“I knew you were all talk and no-”

“I’ll jump in with you,” Link interrupts, nudging Amelia, who shakes from her daze as she turns away from the lake, locking eyes with Link.

“Shit, I’m down, too,” Jo shrugs. “I’m right behind you guys.”

A look of pure skepticism crosses Amelia’s face, and Link just starts to grin, hugely.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No, no, no.”

Because she knows what this is about to turn into. And then it’s all happening, fast.

Link is stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a pile on the grass just left of the dock. And then he’s running. His feet clamber against the wood paneling as he takes off over the structure that extends along the shore and into the body of water.

There’s a huge splash. And then he resurfaces, gasping.

“It’s not that deep, come on!” He yells. “And it’s warm, too. Like a hot tub!”

The next thing Maggie registers is that Jo is following suit, peeling off her sweatshirt and tossing it towards Link’s pile of clothes.

She feels Winston’s hand grip her shoulders, gently pushing her towards the dock as he murmurs “Come on, babe.”

There’s another splash somewhere, and then Jo resurfaces, giggling hysterically. "Link!” She gasps dramatically, “You liar, this is fucking freezing!”

And all Maggie can think is this is so unfair.

_______

It’s so unfair.

The fact that five people have somehow endured jumping into this lake and yet, Amelia remains unscathed. Secure, on dry land, a smirk on her face that can only signify that she thinks she’s won.

“Amelia!” Maggie yells once again. “You have thirty seconds to get into this water.”

“Maggie-”

“No way,” Maggie cuts her off before the smug tone can set her off even further. She lets go of Winston’s shoulder, which she’s been holding onto for dear life since she jumped in, and she swims closer to the dock. Closer to Amelia. “I won’t let you play us like this.”

Amelia grins further, dipping just her toes in the water. “Maggie, I’m not trying to play anyone, I-”

“Get in the water, Amelia!” Maggie shouts, but her impatience only leads to more smugness on Amelia’s behalf.

She almost gives up. Accepts defeat. But then Link is joining her, inching towards Amelia on the dock, whose expression falters only slightly as they approach.

“Should we splash her?” Maggie tilts her head towards Link, inquisitive edge to her voice. “We could splash her.”

The threat seems to be the push Amelia needs. She shakes her head incessantly as they make their advance, and she takes a deep breath before she goes to remove her jeans, adding them to the pile of clothes that everyone else has stripped off.

Jo whistles from somewhere further out into the lake and Amelia’s smirk returns, a complete result of the knowledge that she has an audience. Her classic Harvard sweatshirt gets added to the pile and then she’s on an even playing field with everyone else, dressed down to whatever underwear she’d thrown on this morning.

They continue their approach, and Amelia looks down just as a burst of wind forcibly shakes the branches of a tree above, thus causing her to wrap her arms around herself.

“You’ll warm up faster if you get in, Shepherd.” Link says in a low tone.

“I know,” Amelia’s tone is just as low. “But I’m not jumping.”

“What happened to adventurous?!” Maggie mocks her. Not harshly, but more so aiming to re-inspire the fearlessness that previously had been.

“I’m not jumping in,” Amelia repeats as she sits at the edge of the dock, letting the water hit her up to about mid-shin. “I’m just gonna kind of slide in….” She trails off as Link pushes forward, now in shallow enough water to stand. And when Amelia goes to wrap her arms around herself again, Maggie swears it’s out of modesty this time.

“It’s harder that way,” Link smiles up at her. “But okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats his sentiment, but doesn’t make any move to get into the water.

“Okay,” Maggie interjects, directing her next words at Link. “As apparently the only rule-follower here, I give you full permission to do whatever it takes to get her into this water already.”

Her instructions result in a mischievous twitch of Link’s lips, and conversely, a look of complete betrayal from Amelia.

“Your rules.” Maggie quietly defends herself.

Link turns back to Amelia, who meets his gaze with pure panic in her eyes. But he steps closer anyway, placing his hands around her shins and pulling her a couple inches closer to where he stands in the water.

She gasps. Her hands fly out, landing on his shoulders. “Wait wait wait!” She cries, the alarm in her voice matching the frantic action of her nails digging into his skin.

Link stops his movements, placing his hands on her knees as he tries to read her facial expression.

Her eyes dart between his. “You swear it’s not too cold?”

“It’s not cold, Amelia,” he murmurs, moving his hands underneath her bare thighs and pulling her forward an inch more.

Maggie looks between the two, suddenly feeling out of place, or like she’s witnessing a private moment. But, she can’t tear her eyes away. She feels transfixed by the eye contact happening between the pair, and she lets out a stunned chuckle.

“It’s not cold,” Link repeats, and now Maggie scoffs. Because this moment is becoming almost unbelievable with tension. But then Link’s expression changes. Just as quickly as flipping a switch. The facet of mischief returns to his eyes and then he’s opening his mouth again.

“And I’m so sorry for this!” He shouts as he finally pulls Amelia into the water, throwing his head back with laughter as she resurfaces before him.

Her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders in a viselike grip. “Alright, screw you for that!” She laughs as she comes to her senses, consequently letting go and distancing herself from Link. “But thank you, I guess."

“My pleasure.”

Maggie watches, eyes burning with curiosity, and she’s not able to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips as the pair move as far away from each other as possible. The interaction is way too amusing, and part of her feels like, if she were the menacing type, this would be the perfect opportunity to pay back some of Amelia’s relentless teasing with some of her own.

“Can we get out now?” Lexie swims up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m kinda over this.”

“I just got in. Was that for no reason?!”

“And whose fault is that?” Maggie snickers. But it doesn’t sound harsh at all, as she offers Amelia a comforting smile.

When they eventually leave the shoreline, Maggie feels a sense of fondness course through her. Or maybe protectiveness. Whatever the feeling, it was definitely the stark opposite of her previous annoyance with the way the evening was turning out.

She carefully observes as Amelia slows behind the group, and she slows with her, matching her pace.

Amelia offers her a small smile, before a shiver takes over her body, interrupting her guise. It makes sense, Maggie thinks. Because soaking wet hair and the sun going down in the middle of nowhere might just bring on that sort of involuntary action.

But she can’t ignore the shift in energy. The sudden vanishing of the confidence and even the playful competitiveness.

“You okay?” She eventually asks.

“Tired.” Amelia only offers a shrug, her thumbnail nearly reaching the corner of her mouth in a restless action. But it’s like she catches herself, as Maggie’s stare burns into her, and instead she drops her hands to her sides.

“Me too,” Maggie’s voice is soft, and an impulse rises in her that screams comfort. Suddenly, her arm is wrapping around Amelia’s shoulder tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get some sleep.”

_______

It’s a known fact that Maggie hates camping. She can think of several reasons for that. One of the side effects she’d fail to consider, though, was the consequent lack of rest that would come with it.

It couldn’t be any later than 5am, she concludes, as she unzips her and Winston’s tent and steps out into the dark campground.

To much of her surprise, she’s not alone. She’s not the only one experiencing the unwanted side effects of sleeping in a tent.

“Hey,” Amelia’s voice sounds gravelly, as she perks up from the chair she’s seated at around the empty bonfire. “Good morning.”

“How can it be morning?” Maggie groans. “Does it really count as morning when you didn’t get any sleep at all?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

Maggie frowns. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Link snores. And Lexie talks in her sleep….” Amelia weakly attempts a smile, and it just makes Maggie’s frown deepen.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, just wish I’d slept better.”

Maggie squints, because there’s detail there that she can’t quite decipher. She scans Amelia’s face another moment, before an idea strikes.

“Do you want to go on a hike with me? Watch the sunrise?”

“You don’t really seem like the hiking type.”

“You’re right. I guess ‘hike’ is a strong word. But anyway, how about it?”

Amelia stares blankly at her for a long moment, before eventually she nods, standing up.

“Alright,” Maggie grins. “Let me tell Winston where we’re going first.”

_______

They take a marked path. Signs at every turn highlight for them which way to go. It’s a few minutes into the hike before either of them speaks. It’s Amelia who opens up the conversation.

“Ready to be home?”

Maggie laughs. “Absolutely. I’ve been ready since the moment we got here.”

“Well, hopefully they have the cars all packed by the time we get back.”

Maggie nods, then reaches for the water bottle she’d brought with her, taking a few sips.

“Do I tease you and Winston too much?”

The question completely catches Maggie off guard, and she harshly swallows her sip of water.

“Huh?”

“I can be….a little overbearing sometimes. But,” Amelia offers a quick side-glance. “At least I’m self aware about that.”

“Not at all. I mean, honestly, Winston gets a kick out of it so-”

“Yeah, but do you?”

Maggie stops walking, her face muddled with confusion. It takes Amelia a moment to realize she’s stopped, and she turns around, meeting Maggie’s stare expectantly.

“Amelia….If it bothered me I would tell you.”

Amelia nods at this information, and then turns away, continuing on the path.

“Was I too harsh last night? About the rules of the game?” Maggie quickens her pace, catching up.

“No,” Amelia laughs under her breath. “We needed the discipline, I think.”

“Yeah but you didn’t need to jump into that lake. I can be a little of overbearing sometimes, too, so-”

“Nah. We balance each other out.”

Maggie squints, a little surprised by that observation. She’s taken aback by the accuracy of it, and it’s evident in her inflection.

“We kind of do, don’t we?”

Amelia beams at her, before her gaze returns to the path below. “I’m glad we came to that realization.”

Comfortable silence falls between them, and there’s a few minutes dedicated purely to the hike, before Amelia clears her throat to speak again.

“Although, I am trying to jump less. So maybe I need you to balance me out just a little more.”

“You lost me,” Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking about the lake still?”

“Metaphorically. Maybe.”

Maggie’s expression just grows more perplexed, urging Amelia to continue.

“I’ve been….historically known to jump into things. Or people. Or habits, or…” She cuts herself off with a harsh breath, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’d like to do that less. The whole….jumping blindly and hoping I’ll land, thing. So. Maybe I need you to balance me out a little more.”

Maggie nods, slowly grasping the explanation. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no,” Maggie frowns. “I’ve never been one to….do anything, really, without weighing the pros and cons first. But, I do get what you’re saying, though. Even if I can’t personally relate.”

Amelia keeps her eyes glued to the path ahead, and the lack of response forces Maggie to attempt filling the silence with her own self-reflection.

“I’ve been thinking of taking a note from you, in that way, actually. Sometimes I really need to think less.”

This makes Amelia smile. “Maybe we can try to meet in the middle somewhere.”

“Yeah, that might be good for us.”

As the conversation trails off again, Maggie can’t help but question what specifically Amelia is referencing. She doesn’t want to push, especially given her recent self-proclamation as overbearing. But part of her thinks that one last inquiry won’t hurt.

“You and Link seem to have fun.”

Amelia’s eyes snap up to Maggie’s face before the sentence is even finished.

“What makes you say that?”

There’s not an ounce of emotion in Amelia’s expression. It’s probably the best poker face Maggie has ever seen. And so she’s careful with her next words, her voice slow and questioning.

“I just mean....you know….the banter?”

“Banter?”

“Yes the banter, Amelia,” she lets out a stunned chuckle. “I don’t know how else to put it! It’s like you’re constantly play-fighting. It’s like….it’s like this weird, alluring competitiveness that’s almost uncomfortable to watch. It’s being at each other’s throats over a stupid game of ‘never have I ever.’ It’s the craziest form of flirting I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s-”

“Link and I are friends.”

“Winston and I are friends.” She bites down on her grin, trying to contain the pride that radiates as she uses Amelia’s own pointed claims against her.

“Okay, don’t pull that on me.”

“I think it’s perfectly fair-”

“Maggie.”

“Amelia.”

Two pairs of eyes tighten upon scrutinized contact.

“Amelia,” she softens her expression a bit. “All I’m saying is….despite it being weird to watch.” She releases an awkward exhale.  “I think it works. I think you’ve kinda met your match.”

“There’s no match to be made, Maggie! I’m-”

They’re both a little caught off guard by the frustration and volume of Amelia’s tone. And Amelia takes a moment to breathe before she continues, an octave lower this time.

“I’m jumping less, remember?”

Maggie wants to frown. She wants to disagree. She almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

But they’re edging towards the outskirts of the campsite. She can hear voices, and the distinct sound of car trunks slamming shut. Which signifies that they’re nearing the end of the hike, so she bites her tongue instead, because Amelia looks too exhausted to argue it more.

They clear the trees, entering the campground, and Winston watches them approach.

“Hey! Cars are packed, but it’ll be a tight squeeze again,” he smiles sympathetically. He walks forward to rest his hands on Maggie’s shoulders in familiar reassurance. “And you get to sleep in the car, because this time I’m driving.”

_______

Maggie doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

Her lack of sleep the night prior results in Winston’s refusal to let her drive. Which only bothers her a little, because the exhaustion outweighs her requisite for control.

Her eyes feel heavy as she rests her head against the window. She tries to focus on the road ahead as Winston drives; doesn't want to give up being a second pair of eyes as she sits passenger side. But her fatigue gets the best of her. Although it’s difficult to separate her overtired brain from certainty, she doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

She hears it first. Link’s chuckle.

It’s enough to shake her from her reverie. She lifts her head and tries to be conspicuous as she turns, glancing into the backseat.

Amelia’s sat in the middle seat again, squeezed tightly between the camping supplies and then Link on the other side of her. Her eyes are fighting to stay open, and she's doing that weird head bobbing thing. That subconscious move that happens quite literally before falling asleep.

“Hey. Here.”

The sound of Link’s voice causes Amelia’s eyes to widen, quickly becoming aware of herself. She continues to blink, fighting off a bout of exhaustion that Maggie completely sympathizes with.

When Amelia locks eyes with him, Link simply pats his shoulder, indicating a potential landing spot for her head.

She frowns tiredly at him.

“Just do it,” he shrugs, patting his shoulder again. “I’m a better option than that boxed tent.” He nods past her. “As far as pillows go, at least.”

Amelia seems to fight it for a second. She really does. Her eyebrows pull together as she continues to stare blankly at Link.

Maggie diverts her attention because once again, she feels like she’s intruding on some private moment. But she remains listening. She can’t help it. There’s some shuffling around and then-

“Hm.” She hears Amelia hum. “You do make a decent pillow.” It’s followed by a murmured “Thank you.”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Link’s response is barely a whisper, but Maggie can hear it still, even over the general hum of the highway below. She doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

What are friends for?

It’s enough to make her turn in her seat again, an incredulous stare plastered on her face as she raises her eyebrows in Link’s direction.

He seems not to notice her interest, or rather her disbelief. Because his focus is consumed by the dark head of hair resting against his shoulder.

Amelia’s eyes are shut tight, her expression revealed when she adjusts herself slightly against him. And then Link smiles to himself, still unaware of the scrutiny descending from the front seat.

Maggie allows the doubt to flood her mind as she turns to rest against her own window again, and she fights off a smile as she lets her eyes finally close.

Friends. Right.

//

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

A Leap of Faith (Fellowship x Reader)

This is the result of binging macha tea, Lilo and Stitch and Brooklyn 99 simultaneously. Another crackpost. Enjoy.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader—if you squint, and consider pulling on his pigtails as “romantic”, which I, personally, do. Some nice paternal! Aragorn x Reader energy going on in there too, for your comfort. 

“Cartography” is the study of maps, btw. 

Peering eyes and stolen glances, both riddled with skepticism and doubt—that was all to be found among Aragorn and Gandalf.

They each sat on a log, and warily observed the Fellowship as a whole. Both were situated within the dimmed forest by the glowing and flickering campfire.

Each of the eight fanatic Fellowship members before their eyes all naively gallivanted about in their usual bickering antics—nothing short of tomfoolery.

Merry and Pippin snickered loudly, as they each used their smoking pipe's spouts to press in a snoring Gimli's nostrils. He abruptly woke with a snort, and a Dwarvish shout of anger. 

As Merry and Pippin each ran away with boyish giggles—a stumbling and yelling Gimli hot on their tails—Sam and Frodo were sat against the thick trunk of a tree.

The raven-haired Hobbit wistfully sighed, and spoke of the Shire, whilst Sam adamantly comforted the sentimental Ring-bearer. 

Y/n and Legolas stood by the crackling fire, bickering, as usual. 

The girl held out a dirty worm towards the recoiling prince, who shouted at her to stay back. Thoughts of germs and his hygiene were on the forefront of his alarmed mind. 

As Y/n grinned and continued handing the wriggling, pink worm out towards a disgusted Legolas, Boromir bemusedly watched on.

"It's just a mere worm!" Y/n chuckled, eyes alight, and brows raised. 

"Stop touching me! Stay back!" Legolas squealed.

He promptly brought his closed fists in close to his chest, as he trained his wild eyes on the wriggling worm. 

"I'm not touching you!" Y/n childishly countered, moving the worm closer and closer towards the prince's chest. 

Fanatically gesturing both hands out at Y/n, Legolas pleadingly turned to a staring Boromir, and shouted in alarm.

"She's touching me! She's TOUCHING me!" 

"I'm not touching you!" Y/n laughed, waggling the worm back and forth. 

"AH! TOUCHING ME!" Legolas yelped in alarm, pointing one finger, held above the worm, down in gesture. 

"NOT touching!" Y/n corrected in a taunting tone.

"TOUCHING ME!" Legolas adamantly replied.

"It's free air!" Y/n countered, throwing the wriggling worm at a gasping Legolas' chest. 

The prince frantically swiped at his tunic with both hands, before he snapped his enraged eyes back to Y/n. He then took to chasing after her with a large stick—promptly leaving behind a guffawing Boromir.

Aragorn and Gandalf both winced their eyes, and curled their lips in disdain. 

These were the comrades they were tasked with to the save the world? They might've quit and let Sauron win right then and there, just to save the headaches alone. 

"It is as apparent as the hidden conditioner within Legolas' satchel," Gandalf began to muse, capturing Aragorn's idle attention, "that not all among us, though I'd much prefer to believe otherwise, can be trusted on this journey."

With a prolonged sigh past his nose, Aragorn lowered the spout of his wooden smoking pipe from his mouth, and responded. As he did so, he continuously dragged his wearied eyes along each and every member of the Fellowship—each one now a suspect. 

"You are worried one of them will try to take the Ring," Aragorn lulled, his voice more knowing than curious. 

"Worried? Indeed," Gandalf drew out, paying particular attention to Boromir. "I cannot dismiss the warning in my heart, or that of Elrond's."

As Aragorn slowly ran his calculating eyes along the Fellowship, paying particular attention to his apprentice, Y/n (of whom still cackled loudly with a fleeing Merry and Pippin—both an angry Elf and Dwarf hot on their tails, as they ran rings around the fire) he took a moment to respond.

"What would you have me do?"

Inhaling in a wearied manner, Gandalf lowly spoke. He threw a heedful glance down at the ranger sat beside him, who in turn met his urging stare.

"We are to conduct an investigation," Gandalf began to declare. “In my stead, you shall thoroughly examine each and every member."

"Every member?" Aragorn repeated, raising his brows, before his conflicted gaze ran on over towards Y/n.

Catching the ranger's torn visage and trusting eyes, as he studied his younger cartography apprentice, Gandalf flickered his own attention on over towards Y/n.

She was now barricading herself behind a log with Merry and Pippin, laughing, as she and the two Hobbits threw worm after worm at a shouting Legolas and Gimli. 

"Well..." Gandalf lulled in amusement, "perhaps not all are to be investigated."

"Perhaps not all, indeed," Aragorn gently smiled, huffing in amusement, as he studied the girl's questionable antics. 

Slowly studying Pippin next, who bore similar qualities to the chuckling girl sat beside him, Aragorn quirked a brow up in Gandalf's direction, and spoke in a slightly bemused tone. 

"If we are following that logic, then Pippin, too, should be exempt from the investigation."

"No, absolutely not. I want him thoroughly investigated. In fact, examine him first."

~

A few grueling weeks had passed the Fellowship by, and a few more taxing days afterwards had since also passed. This was all following the harrowing ordeal within the Mines of Moria, of course.

Gandalf was now gone, which left a wearied Aragorn alone to conduct the investigation. 

As the Fellowship trekked in a silent line through the thick, mossy forest, Aragorn spotted a small clearing up ahead.

The meadow in question allowed sunlight to finally stream down in open rays—a much needed privilege for the wearied Fellowship.

It was also the perfect location to thoroughly examine each and every member of the Fellowship. 

After Aragorn had pushed the Fellowship a little further, so that they all emerged into the grassy, wild flower-strewn clearing, he had called for them all to stop and take a rest.

In response, Boromir and Gimli seized the chance to light a small fire, and prepare a stew.

As the Hobbits all collapsed onto the ground in a sighing heap—relieved to grant their shorter legs a break—Y/n, too, made a move to join them on the floor.

"Not you, Y/n," Aragorn gently instructed, inspecting his sword within the glinting sunlight. 

Sharing a glance with the Hobbits, Y/n knitted her brows. She nonetheless obediently rose once more, and walker across the grass to meet with the ranger—her teacher. 

"You're in trouble..." Legolas teasingly sung out.

"I know where you sleep at night," Y/n, in turn, sung back, mimicking his melodic tune.

As she strutted by the Elf, whose face contorted in fear, she steadily made her way on over towards Aragorn.

"What is it?" Y/n questioned him. She now stood a few yards away from the rest of the curious Fellowship.

Sheathing his sword, Aragorn placed a hand in the small of Y/n's back. She was the only person there he trusted above all else, as he and her had stood the test of time together—the ranger having been training the young cartographer since she were merely ten. 

With their backs now turned to the indiscreetly glancing Fellowship behind, Aragorn quietly spoke to Y/n. 

"It has come to my attention that someone within our company is not to be trusted with the Ring," he warily began, paying a skeptical glance backwards at the seven curious members. “They could be leaking information to Sauron. The entire Fellowship is under investigation."

Knitting her brows, Y/n lightly recoiled her head, responding. "That's ludicrous! No one here is a traitor!"

"Do not take this the wrong way," Aragorn began in a wince, half over what he had to say, and half over the girl's louder than necessary voice, "but you are a cartographer...what makes you so sure of their intent?"

"Ah!" Y/n started, holding up one finger. “But it is BECAUSE I am a cartographer that I am so sure!" 

Knitting his brows dubiously, Aragorn took a moment to respond. He was quite used to her antics.

"I don't like where this is going—"

"You see," Y/n interjected brightly, "because I am good at reading maps—”

"Please don't finish that sentence-"

"I know how to find my way into someone's heart!" she finished, drawing a love-heart with her fingers.

Aragorn winced his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath.

Studying his mannerisms, Y/n pressed on—panning and open hand out behind her at every Fellowship member.

"Look, what I'm trying to say," she began defending herself and her friends, "is that I know these gentlemen—I know everything about them."

Seizing the moment to teach his apprentice a valuable lesson in the ways of being a survivalist ranger, Aragorn threw on his lecturing face—one she knew all too well.

"Well, you're a poor ranger if you don't think that people can surprise you," Aragorn tutored. 

"Not these people!" Y/n affirmed.

Finding that Aragorn merely, and rather doubtfully, quirked a brow, Y/n tutted her tongue. She turned to the side, so that she once again faced the Fellowship.

They, in turn, quickly averted their eyes—some striking up lazy conversations, and others idly whistling.

"Here, watch this," Y/n started again, scanning her eyes along the Fellowship, causing Aragorn to do the same. “I know what EVERYONE is going to do tonight."

As the Fellowship warily glanced between each other—concerned over their nightly antics being exposed aloud—Y/n began gesturing towards each and every member, demonstrating that she indeed did know her friends quite well. 

"Frodo is going to go to sleep early, so that he can wake up first," Y/n began rattling off, raising her brows at a gulping Frodo. “Simply because he enjoys having five minutes alone."

As Frodo lolled his head from side to side, considering her words—ultimately deciding that she was correct with a hum—Y/n pointed at Sam, promptly continuing on. 

"Sam is going to count each strand of rosemary within his herb container, as a way to fall asleep," she pressed on, earning a slow nod of concord from Sam. “Reminds him of home.”

Dragging her hand across to Merry and Pippin, Y/n spoke again. 

"Merry and Pippin are going to whisper weird things into Gimli's ears, because they're trying to subliminally teach him to give them both piggyback rides—”

"I'm sorry, what?" Gimli interjected. He snapped his glare across at a sheepish Merry and Pippin, who each rubbed a hand at the back of their necks.

"AND Gimli will say he's going to take the nightwatch, but promptly fall asleep," Y/n pressed on, dragging her pointed finger away from Gimli to land on a very wary Legolas. 

"Legolas is going to sneak off, and crack open his conditioner he thinks we all don't know about," Y/n exposed, causing the prince's gaze to widen. “And then he's going to douse all his locks in it to collect moisture overnight."

Humming in begrudging agreement, Legolas flickered his gaze up towards the sky in loving thought of his fragrant conditioner—nodding his head once in admittance. 

"That is correct," Legolas shamelessly confessed. 

As Boromir stoked the fire, he began lifting a silver pot of stew from the ground, so that he could place it over the fire on the suspended wooden spit. 

"AND," Y/n brightly began in conclusion, pointing at a preoccupied Boromir, "if I run, and leap at Boromir, he will most certainly catch me in his arms."

Before anyone within the temporary camp could comprehend the girl's words, she had immediately begun sprinting on over towards Boromir, who still held the pot of soup in his hands. 

"COMING IN!" Y/n hastily announced, darting towards an alarmed Boromir with fast movements.

"NO, I'M HOLDING THE STEW—”

With a crash and a clatter of the stew falling to the grass, Y/n had promptly leapt from the ground, and landed in Boromir’s arms, bridal-style.

Grinning, as Boromir stumbled backwards, Y/n sent her beam on over towards Aragorn.

"See?” Y/n began in glee. “I told you! I know each and EVERY member inside and out!"

As Aragorn bit down on his lower lip, Y/n patted Boromir on the chest thrice.

"Nothing to worry about at all! This Fellowship is legitimate!"

Promptly scurrying out from Boromir's arms, like a skittish cat, Y/n met the ground below again with a soft thud. She dusted off her hands, ignoring the sighs from her mentor.

Possessing all the confidence in the world, Y/n placed her hands on her hips and spoke one more time.

"We're going to be just fine!"

If only her words remained true. 

[theimpossibleg1rl]

Can’t Sleep? | Bucky x Reader

Warnings: smut...it’s smut

It had been a long mission.

Too damn long for your liking and you returned to the tower just past one AM. The place was quiet, just the way you preferred it, everyone fast asleep. So you decided to do something for yourself.

Hitting the button for the 35th floor, you sighed softly as the elevator made its way up. The soft dinging signaling your arrival pulled you from your thoughts. Stepping out, the smell of chlorine hit your nose.

The lights overhead immediately switched on and you looked around, the beautiful, crystal blue pool gleamed. This was a safe haven for you on the nights you couldn’t sleep, or the nights you got home early.

You skimmed your fingers over the surface, the warm water bringing a smile to your weary face. You loved the feeling, it always soothed your aching muscles, especially after a grueling mission.

Pulling your shirt off, you tossed it to the floor, working on your bra. Pants and underwear went next, making a messy pile. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel the warm water envelop your body.

Slipping in slowly, you sighed softly at the feeling.

Taking a few laps, you decided to just float for a few minutes, relaxing your tired mind. The ding from the elevator made you panic, dipping back into the water in a rush. Who in the hell was up here?

Oh god.

No.

“Hey,” Bucky smiled and you tried to hide your bare body. This was absolutely the last thing you needed. Not Bucky. Anyone, literally anyone but Bucky Barnes.

“Uh, yeah, hey,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as he made his way closer. That strut he did made you weak. But he didn’t know that. And you definitely preferred to keep it that way.

“Can’t sleep? Or just getting in?,” he asked casually, sitting down to dip his feet in over the edge. You could tell he was trying to be respectful, keeping his eyes on your face only.

“Just getting in,” you told him, clearing your throat. He hummed in acknowledgment, looking out the expansive windows for a moment before his gaze landed on you again.

“You, uh, mind if I get in?,” he asked carefully and your eyes widened a bit. That was a terrible idea.

“It helps sometimes,” he told you, still keeping his eyes trained on your face. “You know? ‘Specially when I can’t sleep. The water, it soothes me, I guess,” he admitted and you nodded. You certainly understood.

He took that as an answer and slowly began stripping his own clothes, your eyes widening again when he tugged at the ridiculously tight black boxers. “Buck…,” you choked out, shielding your eyes.

You could not look.

That would be a terrible idea.

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest and you had to fight to suppress a moan. This man was so dangerous. The epitome of a wet dream...ones that you’d had more often than you’d like to admit.

“I’ll be good,” he promised, but his voice dropped an octave and you visibly shivered. God damn him. “I’ll stay on my side, and you can stay on yours, Y/N. Deal?”

You nodded a bit reluctantly. Also a bit relieved. Maybe this would be okay. You could survive as long as he stayed way over there. Definitely not anywhere near you. Definitely not.

“What’s on your mind, Doll?,” he asked, tilting his head a bit as he leaned against the side of the pool. You hummed, too distracted by his bare chest to have heard a word he said. He definitely noticed and he chuckled again.

“Hey, Y/N. My eyes are up here.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head to clear it, meeting his steely blue eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he hummed, a smirk playing on his lips. “I know I can be a bit distracting sometimes.”

What?

“Oh come on,” he laughed at your expression. “I see how you look at me. Glancing just a little too long. Laughing a little too loudly at my jokes. You got it bad, don’t you Y/N?”

Busted.

Might as well roll with it, right? Why the hell not?

“You’re awfully cocky, Barnes,” you teased, raising a brow.

“Cocky, hmm?,” he asked, using the word as emphasis, making you squeeze your thighs together. And he definitely noticed. “Do you like that? Hmm? Do you like a confident man, sweetheart?”

“Someone who’ll take charge?”

You definitely moaned that time and nodded. Another deep chuckled came from him and he narrowed his eyes, looking at you like you were prey as he made his way slowly to you.

Before you knew it, you were pinned against the side, caged in his strong arms. He was looking down at you, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “What do you want?,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and it made you shiver.

“Tell me,” he demanded, lifting your chin with his finger, bringing your lips to his. They brushed over yours softly and it was his turn to moan. And it was literally the sexiest sound you’d ever heard in your life.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“You, Bucky. I want all of you.”

His hands were on you in an instant. Touching every part of you he could reach before two fingers slipped inside your aching core, making you cry out his name. “God, I love when you say my name like that,” he grunted, “wanna hear it like that for the rest of my life.”

Your hands gripped his metal arm as he pushed his fingers in deeper, searching for that little spot that would make you scream. His lips were pressed against your neck and he was panting. You swore you’d completely lose your mind.

“So tight,” he praised, “bet you feel like heaven around my cock, little girl. You want that, hmm? You want my cock?”

You nodded furiously, not trusting your own voice in that moment and he chuckled, biting down on that spot just below your ear. “Come,” he whispered, “come and I’ll give it to you, Y/N. I’ll give you everything you want.”

You nodded again, your body tensing as you shattered around his long fingers. “Good girl,” he cooed in your ear. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?,” he asked as he lifted you up, practically slamming himself inside you.

It was rough. And it felt like absolute heaven, better than all the fantasies. So much better. It didn’t last long, you could feel him twitching and you dug your nails in his back, up and tugged harshly on his hair, making a strangled moan escape those perfect lips.

Never mind.

That was the sexiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Come,” you moaned and his eyes opened, locking onto yours. “Come on, Buck. Let go. Let me feel you. And make sure I’m still feeling you next week.”

That was it. His resolve completely broke. He fucked into you harder and harder, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy. His moans grew louder and louder, finally coming with a loud shout, echoing off the walls.

He let you down slowly and kissed you, almost sweetly. A stark contrast from the way he just fucked you. He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled away. “What?,” you asked with a laugh. “Nothin’,” he replied.

“Just glad I couldn’t sleep tonight.”

[stubbychaos]

Let These Words Set You Free

Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.

Rating: T 

Word Count: 7,900

Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3

You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.

Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.

You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--

Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.

As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain. 

You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you. 

The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.

Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.

You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.

“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”

You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.

You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”

Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.

Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.

“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”

You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”

He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”

“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.

Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”

“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”

The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”

Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.

“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”

“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.

For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.

“I could only wish to be better.”

His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.

It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.

The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.

"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."

“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”

“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”

“How long has it been?”

His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”

The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.

He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”

“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.

He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”

‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’

You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.

“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”

“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”

“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”

“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”

You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.

Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.

“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”

He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”

“M-May I ask why?”

His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”

“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”

He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.

You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.

He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."

You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.

"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.

"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."

You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.

"About what?"

He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.

 "I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."

Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.

"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."

You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation. 

You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.

It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.

“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”

You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.

“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”

You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.

“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”

“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”

Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”

“And I am not that kind of man.”

“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”

“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.

“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”

“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”

“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”

Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”

The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.

“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”

“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”

With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.

“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”

You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.

“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”

“But your helmet--your creed?”

“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”

You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.

A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.

He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction. 

After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.

“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”

“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”

The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.

You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.

“What if he--?”

“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”

“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”

You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”

“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”

“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”

“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”

You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.

“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”

“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”

Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.

“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”

He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh. 

A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.

“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”

His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”

You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.

“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."

“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”

He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.

For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.

You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.

“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”

“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.”

“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”

“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.

“Even your name?”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”

The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.

You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.

His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.

“Paz.”

His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.

Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.

"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself,  "Paz. I… think it suits you."

He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"

You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”

“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”

Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”

Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.

Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.

“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”

You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”

“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.

“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”

He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”

“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”

“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.

“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”

Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions. 

“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”

“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”

He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.

You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.

“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”

“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”

“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”

You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.

“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”

You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.

Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.

You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--

The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.

Ner= My, mine

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Saviin=Violet

Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*:  @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok​

[alolowrites]

The Helpful Elf

Summary: The Hippity Hop Cat toy is the toy on every kid’s wish list this year, including Eri’s. With the toy flying off the shelves, you desperately ask Mirio, the Helper Elf at Hazuki’s ToyLand, for help. And Mirio doesn’t give up, especially when it comes to you.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone!!! Real life is being a pain right now, but I’m so glad I managed to finish this story right on time! It’s pretty long (for me lol) and it’s my first with Mirio so yay!! I also wrote it for the BNHASanctuary discord server’s winter collab (first time I ever participated in any collab), so I’m very excited about this. I’ll link and share the masterlist once it’s up. I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories :D 

Please enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5K+

With October long gone and December in full swing, it meant one thing—the official start of the jubilant holiday season. Every year, Japan’s most iconic department store in Tokyo, Hazuki’s, transformed its ten floors into a magical winter wonderland. Around the country and around the globe, customers ushered through the doors to catch a glimpse of the glamorous store glittering with festive decor. 

Dazzling lights twinkled around the window displays that stretched around the block. Vibrant ornaments hung high above the ceilings like luxurious bubbles. And pine garlands peppered with red berries wrapped themselves along any rails that ran off forever. 

Hazuki’s was the place to kick start the holiday season and the one place to find everything and anything on one’s holiday shopping list. Especially the highly coveted toy of the year—the Hippity Hop Cat. 

Or so you thought. 

“Mirio!” 

“Huh?” Said man’s elf hat jingled when he looked away from his display. His blue eyes beamed at the sight of you. Mirio chirped out your name as you rushed forward, nearly knocking him over. “Whoa, you alright?” 

“I need your help,” you blurted out, catching your breath at the same time; those pesky escalators were no use at all. Mirio offered to get water, but you waved him off. “No, no…no time for water. I need your help. It’s urgent!” 

“Uh, sure, what can I do?” 

“I need a toy, but not just any toy.” Mirio blinked when you suddenly inched closer to him. You scanned the area as though someone was lurking around to eavesdrop on your top-secret conversation. “It’s the Hippity Hop Cat, you know—” 

“The cat whose hops are out of this world?” 

“Yes, that one!” You clung to his shoulders like a desperate parent trying to find some shred of sanity in this chaotic store. Shaking the blonde man, you begged, “Please tell me you have one in stock?”

“Oh man,” Mirio scratched his forehead as he recalled the inventory from this morning. He glanced at your hopeless eyes and tight fists curling on his work uniform. There was no way Mirio could leave you hanging like this; it didn’t feel right. So he flashed you his famous smile that outshone the star twirling above you both. “Come with me. I’ll check in our system.”

“Gosh, you’re a lifesaver.” 

Mirio humbly rubbed his neck as he led the way to the backroom. You eyed the uproarious floor covered with thousands of toys that rivaled Santa’s Workshop in the North Pole. It was like walking through a child’s dream. Every toy imaginable—dolls, electric cars, robots, board games, you name it—was here. Hopefully, that stayed true with the Hippity Hop Cat. 

The door closed, muffling the sounds of frantic parents buzzing through the aisle. Mirio typed away on the keyboard as you paced behind him. You cursed yourself for procrastinating this long to buy the prized toy. Christmas was in less than two weeks!

“So who’s the gift for?” 

“Oh!” His deep voice pulled you back to the present. You walked forward with folded arms, anxiously hugging yourself. “It’s for Eri, a sweet little girl my next-door neighbor, Shouta, adopted earlier this year. She had a rough upbringing, but fortunately, she’s living with someone who cares for her deeply.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled softly at Mirio, making his fingers freeze above the keyboard. That smile of yours took his breath away; he nodded but secretly tried controlling his heart that beat like a bass drum. It was difficult since you were so close to him. “This will be Eri’s first Christmas, and she wants the Hippity Hop Cat; I told Shouta I would buy it for her, helping ease some pressure off his shoulders.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you.” Mirio admired everything about you. He was absolutely smitten with you ever since you started working in the perfume department. Mirio sometimes strolled through the floor during his breaks just to catch a glimpse of you. After scrolling through the computer, the blonde man frowned. “Hmm…looks like we’re out of stock. And the next shipment won’t come until the twenty-first.” 

You groaned. “Man, that’s cutting it close; you think you can hold one for me? I can buy it during my break or after work.” 

“I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks, Mirio.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he shuddered at the touch. Glancing at your watch, you said, “I gotta go before Nemuri wonders where I am. But thanks for helping out!” 

“Sure!” He saw you slip out the door in a hurry; you throw an apologetic smile for good measure. Pushing the elf hat further up, Mirio chuckled, “No problem.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Okay, so maybe there was a slight problem.

Santa Claus was still around town, and Mirio was placed on “elf duty” to help out with the pictures. Don’t get him wrong, the sunshine man adored children as much as the jolly old man who lived in the North Pole. However, Mirio realized he couldn’t guard the Hippity Hop Cat for you. All he could do was pray that one miraculously stayed on the shelf until you bought it. 

A flash went off, snapping Mirio back to his job. He smiled brightly, guiding the kid off Santa’s lap and ushering the next one to the chair. Nearly every parent in Japan was here today, the line looping around the store. Other customers, not visiting Santa, shopped as well, making the place extra crowded today. Yet, none of them were you, and that worried Mirio. 

“Ho, ho, ho, it was nice meeting you, sweetie!” 

Oh right! Mirio needed to focus, but it was hard knowing you weren’t here yet. All Mirio wanted to do was make people happy, especially you. After the sweet story you shared with him, he was more determined than ever to get you that toy. His blue eyes glanced at the bearded man in the red coat—could he help? Who knows. 

As Mirio waved goodbye to each kid, you stumbled off the escalator, face flushed as though you ran fifty flights of stairs. You glanced around the packed floor, dodging an airplane that whizzed by and brushing against the sea of customers to find Mirio. The blonde elf locked eyes with you and flashed a relieved grin; the grueling wait was over. 

And so was his duty with Santa Claus, what luck! Mirio marched over to you, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you to the aisle. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a robot’s arm. “The perfume department was swamped with tourists and other people. I practically had to beg Nemuri to let me slip away for a few minutes so I could buy—” Turning the corner, you gasped in disbelief at the empty shelves before choking out, “—the toy.”

Mirio blew a low whistle; people were snatching these toys off the shelves like no tomorrow. Still, he wouldn’t give up just yet. “C’mon, maybe there’s some left in stock.” 

“You sure?” 

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” Mirio flashed you a boyish smile, blue eyes brimming with determination. You nodded and followed him through the elaborate maze of this chaotic toy store. 

However, just as you both passed by the cash register, someone bellowed out: “That’s the last Hippity Hop Cat, sir. Thank you for shopping at Toyland; have a nice day!” 

No! You screeched to a halt. Your eyes watched as the man grabbed his bag and left the store with an exhausted but relieved face. Without thinking, you slammed against the counter, scaring the young green-haired employee who clutched his uniform. Leaning forward, you desperately half-whispered, “Please tell me what you said wasn’t true!” 

“I-I’m sorry?”

“The toy!” You frantically gestured to the exit, the man now long gone. “Please tell me you have another Hippity Hop Cat for sale!” 

“U-Um, I, uhh, well,” Midoriya stammered until his eyes spotted a familiar face behind you. The nervous man sighed in relief, knowing he was saved. “Mirio!”

“Hey, Izuku, sorry about that,” Mirio bashfully chuckled and clasped your shoulder to calm you down. The blonde man quickly introduced you to his co-worker, adding, “They’re trying to buy the Hippity Hop Cat, but are you sure that was the last one in stock?” 

“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh…oh, okay…” Your shoulders drooped like a sad puppy; you were too late. After saying a quick apology, you numbly dragged your feet toward the exit as a gray cloud formed over your head. A warm hand stopped you from going any further, and you blinked up. “Huh, Mirio, what’s wrong?”

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” you dismissed his concerns, but he wasn’t convinced; your eyes told a different story. Still, you mustered a brave face with a faint smile. “Listen, I appreciate everything you did. I knew it was a longshot getting the toy, so don’t sweat it, really.”  

“I know, I just,” he sucked in a breath, “I just wished I could have helped you out more. Especially since you wanted to make Eri happy.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get her something else.” You squeezed his bicep when Mirio opened his mouth to interject; he faltered slightly at the brief touch. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure Eri will love any toy for her gift; I promise.” 

Mirio nodded, watching you leave the store and disappearing within the crowd. You said everything was fine, but he knew that wasn’t true. That fake smile of yours spoke volumes. There has to be a way to get that toy, Mirio pondered, rubbing his chin and staring at the floor with furrowed eyes. 

Suddenly, an idea popped inside his head just as a jingle bell chimed behind him. A white smile stretched across Mirio’s face. The idea was crazy, maybe a longshot, too, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Mirio whipped out his phone and searched through his contacts until he landed on a specific name. 

The line started ringing...and ringing...and ringing when—

“H-Hi, Mirio.”

“Hey, Tamaki!” The blonde man beamed like the sun. He lowered his voice, cupping the phone for secrecy while walking away. “Listen, buddy. I know you’re busy and all, but I got a huge favor to ask…” 

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“…you think you can do it?” A small puff of breath floated out of your lips as you stepped away from the revolving doors. You stood beside a colorful window display of tiny elves grinning from ear to ear, their eager hands holding toys for the good boys and girls. One elf balanced himself at the tippy top of Santa’s mountainous red bag, his green gloves clutching the pointy hat for dear life. 

You smiled, appreciating the creative design before saying, “I can close the following week...yeah...okay, awesome, thanks again!”

Crisis one averted. Crisis two was up for debate, mainly because you held a shopping bag with Eri’s gift. It wasn’t the Hippity Hop Cat, but a nice small plushy cat toy instead. You bought it just a few minutes ago after wandering through the aisles at Toyland. The plushy cat toy wasn’t a bad second choice; it was adorable and incredibly soft to the touch. But it wasn’t the toy you wanted to give for Eri’s first Christmas. 

Oh, well, you sadly thought, biting the inside of your cheek. You stared at the elves again, realizing that their costumes matched Mirio’s work uniform in Toyland, down to the funny little hat. Mirio somehow pulled it off well thanks to his bubbly personality and warm heart that could melt the North Pole's snow. 

At one point, you wondered if Mirio was even there since you didn’t see him at the store today. You assumed he was doing inventory, but Midoriya said Mirio took the day off after a last-minute “personal obligation” came up, and it was too important to ignore. Must have been serious, you sighed as the shopping bag rustled against the wind. 

You braced your coat, hissing as the cold air sliced across your cheeks. Yup, it was time to go unless you wanted to freeze out here. Shuffling away from the window display, you stopped when someone screamed your name. Glancing over, you saw Mirio running toward you with one arm waving high in the air. 

“Hey!” Mirio finally caught up to you, his face flushed and nose redder than Rudolph’s, yet he kept on smiling. “So glad I found you!” 

“Whoa, you alright?” Now it was your turn to be concerned, just like he was when you rushed into the store to ask about the Hippity Hop Cat toy. Mirio nodded enthusiastically, squashing your worries away. “Midoriya said you were busy with a ‘personal obligation’ today. Is everything okay?” 

“Oh yeah, everything is great!”

“Well, that’s, um, great.”

“So, listen, about the Hippity Hop Cat toy—” 

“Mirio, I told you not to worry about it,” you butted in, shaking your shopping bag with the plushy cat. “I went ahead and bought something else for Eri and—”

“Ta-da!” 

You went radio silent, staring in disbelief at the surprise. Sitting in Mirio’s hands was the one and only Hippity Hop Cat toy. The number one toy that was on every kid’s wish list, yet rarer to get than Willy Wonka’s Golden ticket. That toy was now only a few inches away from you. 

“B-But how?!” The words finally fumbled through your lips, flickering your gaze between the toy and Mirio while stumbling forward a bit. “It’s sold out everywhere!” 

“Let’s just say I pulled some strings with Santa’s workshop,” Mirio cheekily grinned like one of the elves from the window display. You choked out a laugh, dropping the shopping bag so you could hold the boxed toy; it felt wonderful in your hands.

You looked up with eyes softer than freshly fallen snow. Mirio continued talking up a storm, his arms flailing wildly like an excited kid who discovered something new. The delicate holiday lights flickered around you both, casting a lovely glow that was as bright as the joy twinkling inside Mirio’s eyes. 

They were always so welcoming that, without thinking, you gave him a crushing hug. Mirio froze, his arms hanging mid-air as he slowly processed what was happening. After a few seconds, his shoulders relaxed, and his strong arms eagerly wrapped around you, holding you in place. Even with that thick coat of yours, you felt very soft that his heart soared to new heights. 

“Thank you, Mirio,” you whispered near his ear, giving him another squeeze. But you didn’t stop there. A sudden urge came over you, and in a bold move, you planted a sweet kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, you bit back a laugh at his flustered face. “You really are the best Helpful Elf I know.” 

“Well, you know me,” he shot you a grin, “I’m always here to help.” 

“Is that so?” You tapped your cheek with your gloved finger. “Think you can help me gift wrap this toy, say tonight at my place?” 

“Luckily for you, I’m a whiz with wrapping paper.” 

Mirio’s hand wormed its way into yours, giving you a loving squeeze before joining you on your long walk home. The Hippity Hop Cat toy was the toy on every kid’s wish list this year, including Eri’s, whose first Christmas was officially saved. And it was all thanks to Mirio, the one and only Helpful Elf at Hazuki’s Toyland.

Thank you for reading!!

FicMas Fest 2020 Masterlist

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back ch. 5

First  -  Previous  -  Next  -  Read on AO3!

yo once again giving you guys a chapter how’s everyone doing? My posting dates will never again be on tuesday lol expect wednesdays or fridays when possible <3

anyways other business if you see an A/N in here somewhere (it’ll be between brackets) lmk and I’ll edit it out

Enjoy :)

cw: food, eating disorders, discussion of injuries

~

Jack didn’t leave to sell papes the next morning, instead bringing a cup of coffee and some porridge to Crutchie, then settling in beside him with a real fancy sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

The coffee wasn’t that great, but Crutchie drank it all, hoping the energy would distract him from the uncomfortable tightness of his fresh bandages. Only one of the cuts that had split open was one that had needed stitches (Katherine had snipped the thread and pulled it out three days ago), but they would all probably scar. At least he already liked to wear long shirts and pants.

The porridge was fine, but rich. After about four bites, Crutchie rested the bowl on the windowsill. Just weeks ago, he would’ve been able to scarf down twice that amount in a matter of minutes, but now he could barely handle eating enough to feed a baby. He was sure he’d get better faster if he’d just eat more, but he just--couldn’t.

This wasn’t even the first time Crutchie had seen kids have trouble eating. At least half the newsies who did a stint in the Refuge came back uneasy around food, too accustomed to there being too little to go around. A lot of food was a trick, just the right amount was too much to stomach, and the little bit that they felt they needed wasn’t enough to keep them going.

So Crutchie knew that what he was going through with his food aversion was normal--expected, even. The frustrating problem was that Crutchie knew how to fix it. He had seen the others go through this, had watched Jack and Race and Specs help others, had even guided Tommy Boy through recovery himself just a few months ago. He knew the signs, he knew how to work through it, and yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t snap himself out of it.

Just the thought of food made him queasy, scared, uncertain of what was to come. When the guards brought food, it meant the respite was over. It meant scraps shoved down his throat as quickly as possible, followed by a day of grueling, pointless work with no breaks. He didn’t have the time to finish this bowl of porridge. More than a few bites and he was going to be tardy, the guards were going to beat him and he would fall and he wouldn't be able to get back up, not again not again not again--

“Crutchie, you gonna finish that?”

Crutchie looked up from his lap to see Jack, concern creasing his brow. He shrugged, not sure if he could even pretend to smile. “I didn’t see you eat, wanted to save some for you.” He didn’t need anyone’s help. He knew how to handle this.

Jack frowned. “Nah, I ate on the way up, nicked a bun. Is there some . . . other . . . reason?”

Stupid Jack Kelly and his ‘subtle’ prodding. Crutchie stretched his arms out a bit, affecting a casual look. A bandage rubbed against a raw patch of his chest, but instead of burning, it . . . itched.

That meant he was starting to get better, right? Or was it infected or something? Whatever it meant, it was a good excuse.

“Not really, just been itchin’ all mornin’, so I ain't all that hungry,” he explained, scratching his stomach for emphasis. “Bit bothering, y’know?”

He was sure he didn’t quite have Jack convinced, but it was enough for him to drop the matter. After all, Jack was under the impression that Crutchie had eaten a whole apple the morning before, and he’d been fairly good at emptying bowls of soup all week (not necessarily into his mouth, but Jack didn’t need to know that).

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack smiled. “Hey, itchy, huh?” He lightly punched Crutchie’s knee, which also didn’t hurt like he expected. “That’s good, means stuff is startin’ ta close up and heal.”

Crutchie nodded, feeling something in his chest try to jump excitedly. Even after falling so badly last night, he was getting better. That meant that maybe soon, he could be right back out there, hawking headlines and getting enough pity from his regulars and strangers to make twice the amount he usually did.

Thinking of it-- “Jack, why ain’t you out sellin’?”

Jack looked away--ashamed? Guilty? What? Had he gotten in trouble with the bulls again already? Jack muttered something, then buried his face in his new sketchbook, the tips of his ears burning red.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” Crutchie said incredulously. “Who d’ya think I am, Race? I ain’t distracted that easy.”

Jack huffed, but didn’t drop his sketchbook. In a barely audible voice, he said very quickly “I soaked the Delanceys yesterday and the fellas think I oughtta stay away from ‘em and maybe take a day off ta give ‘em time ta forget about it.”

Okay, but attacking the Delanceys was something Jack did on a weekly basis. The Delanceys weren’t bright enough to carry a grudge overnight, and they were in a constant state of goading Jack, so what was different about this time?

Then Crutchie remembered their argument last night, what Jack and Davey had told him about how Oscar and Morris had been talking.

“Have they, uh,” Crutchie started, quiet, “been talking about . . . uh, ‘bout me . . . all week?”

Jack stiffened from behind his sketchbook, but nodded jerkily. “Tha’s what Specs said, anyhow.”

“Right.” Crutchie swallowed, looking away out the window. Buttons was out there, looped around a fire escape, calling something through cupped hands. The Delanceys were somewhere out there too, and could be talking about him that very moment, maybe even making plans to come after him. There was no way he could stop them, no way anyone could stop them. After all, Jack couldn’t be here all the time, and Kloppman was old, wiry but feeble compared to Oscar and Morris. They could take the man down in no time, then be up here and Crutchie would have nowhere to go and no way to escape.

Crutchie was suddenly very glad that Jack was here.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Crutchie continued to watch Buttons. His grin was visible even from this distance, growing wider any time he managed to sell a paper or two. Buttons had been having trouble selling lately--he was a little timid, too shy when it counts--so it was nice to see him having some success.

The lady talking to him now seemed nice, by the way Buttons was nodding and had fully disentangled himself from the fire escape to converse with her. The lady turned slightly, her face visible under her sun hat, and--hey! That was one of Crutchie’s regulars! She bought a paper on her way to visit her mother-in-law every other day, and always passed Crutchie’s selling spot on purpose. It was nice to see her again, almost . . . sentimental. Crutchie never thought he would feel almost misty-eyed over some lady whom he briefly interacted with a handful of times a week, but here he was. More than miss her, he missed being out there, he supposed.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie startled out of his thoughts. The woman was no longer there, Buttons once again attaching himself to the fire escape. Jack was watching him, a carefully disguised look of something on his face. Crutchie raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, so, I missed a union thing, what with last night,” Jack said. “So I’m gonna hafta do it today sometime. That cool with you?”

“What sorta thing?” Crutchie asked suspiciously. If it involved reporters and pictures and all that, Crutchie was not going to allow it to happen in here.

Not that you could stop it, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Jack could do anything to you right now. He was pretty angry last night, after all. You know what anger leads to.

Crutchie swallowed drily. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Oh, just a guy I gotta meet with,” Jack said, far too casually. He made a show of scratching his head. “He might bring another couple o’ fellas with him, so I’s just . . . lettin’ you know.”

Okay, so this wasn’t something he could stop. Great. That calmed him down so much. Crutchie gripped the blanket over him tightly, trying to not show that his hands had begun to tremble. He was fine, he didn’t need Jack getting all worried over nothing. It was just some . . . unknown guy. With bodyguards. Coming into the room to have a discussion with Jack.

“Hey. Hey.”

Crutchie pulled himself from his spiral to see Jack laying his hands over his. “It’s okay,” Jack said seriously. “I can chat with ‘em in another room, or outside. You don’t oughtta have guys in here that you ain’t know.”

Crutchie released his grip, more to assuage Jack than his nerves. He nodded, not sure what he was even expected to say. What if a fight broke out? And Jack was all alone, against three or four guys? He couldn’t let Jack be alone.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Crutchie said hoarsely. Wow, he needed something to drink. He hadn’t noticed his throat drying up. “I uh, I can be your second?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Of course Jack didn’t want him as his second! He was just some stupid, useless, injured cripple, and Jackhad to still be mad at him for last night. He’d want Davey there, probably--Davey was one of the union heads too, right? And Davey was so good at talking things through and being all smart. All Crutchie could do was make people laugh or feel bad for him--great for selling papes and living on the street, terrible for union business.

“Would ya?” Jack asked. He almost looked a little bit relieved, which took Crutchie aback. “You know how I can get. It’s--it’s nice, havin’ somebody backin’ me up. ‘Specially you, Crutch, you’s real good at talkin’ to folks.”

The air left Crutchie’s lungs. Was he? He was pretty good at selling to just about anyone. Jack used to joke that he would be able to sell a pape to Pulitzer himself for a dollar, without the man even realizing it was his own paper or too high a price. Jack would say that to just about anyone who would listen, actually.

How had Crutchie forgotten that?

“Who’s these folks, then?” Crutchie asked, shifting a bit so that his head was almost level with Jack’s. He liked to think that he was pretty accustomed to the broken ribs at this point--they hurt, but he could now sit up without even breathing heavy. After the week he’d had, Crutchie counted that as a win.

Jack’s carefully casual air was back, clear in the stiff lines of his body and the forced half-grin on his lips. “Just some guys who got a say in newsie union stuff, y’know? From one o’ the other turfs.”

That made sense, actually. The Manhattan newsies weren’t the only ones in the union, after all. In fact, if what Elmer had excitedly told him was true, Davey had shook hands with Spot Conlon and led him straight to Pulitzer’s office, after Conlon had spoken at Davey’s rally--

Oh.

Oh no.

“You’s bringin’ Spot Conlon to the place we sleep?!”

“It was--”

“No no no, lemme get this straight,” Crutchie said, incredulous. “Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn borough, is comin’ here. To Manhattan’s lodging house. Now I know that Brooklyn joined the strike, but there is no way we’s become friends with Brooklyn in the two weeks I ain’t been around, and ya don’t show allies where ya sleep.”

“They already knows where we sleep, there’s a huge sign on the buildin’!” Jack shot back. He dropped his work and gestured widely. “Manhattan newsboys lodgin’ house, in big ol’ letters, smack on the front! Was it s’posed ta be a secret? Or do ya think they just can’t read?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Crutchie replied stubbornly. “Ya don’t invite them into your home, you hold ‘em at arm’s length for when they in’vitably scab!”

“Well, that ain’t no way ta treat your allies,” a voice said from the doorway.

Crutchie and Jack both looked up to see the man himself, an unimpressed Spot Conlon, with two lackeys--and also Racetrack. Race waved casually.

“Hey Jack, hey Crutch!” Race said. “Spot’s here ta meet with ya.”

Jack strode across the room, spat and shook with Spot, anxiously adjusting his hat with his other hand. “Nice ta see ya, Conlon,” he said, the geniality in his voice a stark contrast from his heated arguing moments before. Crutchie snorted. Jack shot him a glare.

“So, what’s sayin’ we get straight ta business, Kelly?” Spot suggested, walking further into the room without invitation. Race tipped his hat at them all, then stuck his cigar in his mouth and took off. “This here’s Hotshot, and the other’s Sharpshooter,” Spot threw out, gesturing at the two guys with him. They each nodded in turn.

“Right,” Jack said, “This is Crutchie, he’s my second.”

Spot turned a piercing gaze on Crutchie. Crutchie felt his face heat up as Spot’s sharp eyes took in the patchwork of yellow-brown bruises on his face and throat, the scabbed-over gash on his temple, the splint wrapping his left arm. Finally, he turned away to face Jack.

“You met with Joe of late?” Spot asked. Jack nodded.

“Saw ‘im yesterday. No complaints from his side--he’s sayin’ they’s already noticed circulation goin’ up. You’s been meetin’ with the Journal and the Sun, yeah?”

Spot gave an affirmative nod. “We got ‘em where we want ‘em,” he said with a chuckle. Crutchie waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

Jack seemed sort of disconcerted--Crutchie wondered if Spot could tell. This was all happening so suddenly. Moments ago, Crutchie hadn’t even known anyone was coming. Now there were three Brooklyn newsies standing over his bed, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself or make them leave. Brooklyn was always angry, always jeering, doing nothing to strengthen the tentative peace they had come to a few months ago.  Really, Crutchie had good reason to be wary. Brooklyn newsies had more than once kicked his crutch out from under him.

Spot and Jack were talking about something, but Crutchie couldn’t really pay attention to them. The one called Sharpshooter was staring him down, in a way that said both I’m-trying-to-intimidate-you and I-don’t-need-to-intimidate-you-weakling. Hotshot was doing the exact same thing to Jack, but Jack seemed unbothered. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn’t pulling that off near as well. He hadn’t been stared at like that--like he was a piece of dirt that stubbornly remained as you scrubbed at a window--since he’d been . . . there. The Refuge.

Crutchie turned his gaze to the window. Buttons was out of sight, the fire escape likely blazing hot in the sun. There weren’t very many people visible whatsoever--it was stifling out, which was probably why Brooklyn was already here. Selling would have to be done in a very particular fashion today--morning, at the coolest, when everyone was headed for work, then around the lunch hours, then the last few in the evening. Crutchie felt bad for the likely sunburned newsies, frantically trying to sell all their papes in those short windows of time, clothes sticking to them with sweat and the hot air weighing them down.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie looked back to the conversation. Jack was watching him expectantly, as was Spot. Crutchie tried to not look clueless--he had really been zoning out, hadn’t he? How much time had passed? Why was everyone looking at him?

“D’you mind answerin’ any questions Spot has? I’m gettin’ us all some water.”

Crutchie nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had totally lost track of the conversation, but he knew a fair bit about what had happened and what was going to happen with the union, mostly from Jack rambling in the afternoons when the silence became too much for one of them.

“So,” Spot said brusquely as soon as the door closed behind Jack. “All that from the strike?”

Crutchie blinked. All what? He needed a bit more context. He should’ve been listening. He opened his mouth to ask, then saw Spot vaguely waving at his body. Oh.

“Nah,” Crutchie mumbled, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Some of it, yeah. Mostly the Refuge, though.”

Spot sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Hotshot turned away. “Looks like you was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crutchie said bitterly. He almost laughed. “By the end there I was ’lucinatin’ so bad I thought I’d been buried already. Probably I was hours from bein’ gone forever.”

Silence. He’d made it awkward, hadn’t he? Crutchie tried to come up with some useful purpose for Spot Conlon to know this, like maybe he’d get pity or sympathy or something and the Brooklyn newsies would leave him alone, but it honestly sounded worse than Conlon straight up hating him. Crutchie was tired of being pitied. He was tired of being a charity case.

“How long?” That was Sharpshooter, his voice pitched a lot higher than Crutchie expected. It didn’t quite match his height and dark eyes.“Was you there, I means.”

“A week, I think. It’s sorta blurry.”

Spot whistled. “Snyder musta had it out for ya. All that in just a week? I’s had boys in there for months come out lookin’ better.”

Again, Crutchie almost laughed. “Everybody has it out for the crip,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his hands as he twisted the blanket between his fingers. “Throw in my personal connection ta Jack Kelly union leader, and a week is a long time ta be lastin’.”

Crutchie looked up. Spot was giving him a strange look--it wasn't pity, like Crutchie expected. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even shock that he was still alive. It was--he didn’t know. And then it was gone.

“Crutchie, right?” Spot asked, glancing out a window aloofly. Crutchie nodded. “You’s a good kid. If you ever finds you in some sorta trouble . . . you’s welcome in Brooklyn.”

What?

He understood that they were allies, but allies did not mean that anyone from either turf was allowed to just go wandering over. The only person who had ever been allowed to was Race, who sold in Brooklyn--why, Crutchie didn’t know. Crutchie didn’t think anyone knew. There were plenty of good spots in Manhattan--why did Race trek all the way to a hostile turf just to sell papes? The point was, this wasn’t something that just happened. Ever. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been on bad terms for as long as Crutchie had been a newsie, and before that as far as anyone could remember.

Crutchie didn’t have much more time to think about it, though, as Jack reentered the room, balancing three glasses of water carelessly enough that it made Crutchie tense up, as if ready to catch one when it dropped. One he handed to Spot, one to Crutchie, and the last to Hotshot. Sharpshooter rolled his eyes and swiped it, half-draining the glass before handing it back.

“Crutchie clear anything up?” Jack asked. Spot continued to stare at Crutchie, a slight crease between his brows.

“Yeah, a few things,” Spot answered absently. “A few.”

The discussions continued for another ten minutes or so, Jack eventually convincing Spot that they were not currently trying to lower the price even further (“I’ve already got Bill down ta fifty-two per hundred, why should I stop?”), and got him to agree to work closely with Davey when Jack wasn’t available. That seemed to be all they could resolve for the time being without attacking each other, which was probably the most that had ever been done by a Manhattan newsie and a Brooklyn newsie working together. When Spot went to leave, though, he turned to Crutchie.

“Ol’ Jack ever oversteps, ya know where ta find us,” he said with a firm nod. “Any guy from Brooklyn will bring ya to me, jus’ say the word.” With that, he was gone, Sharpshooter and Hotshot marching after him.

Jack froze, halfway to gathering the two glasses from where they’d been set on the floor, his mouth agape. “Wh--” he tried. Crutchie could have laughed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. “Did Spot Conlon jus’--” he whipped around to stare at Crutchie. “What’d you talk about?” he demanded. “How’d ya get Spot Conlon ta make you an honorary Brooklyn boy?”

Crutchie shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what had passed between them himself, and he also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he’d done anything. Spot barely knew who he was. The first time they met had been today.

“W-well, if you isn’t gonna eat that, hand it to me.”

The change in subject took Crutchie by surprise, but he passed the partly-eaten bowl of porridge to Jack, who gave him one last suspicious glance before leaving the room.

Crutchie hated being alone these days--the only things worth doing were sleeping and practicing walking. The second one was off the table after yesterday, and he was sick of sleeping, but when there was nobody around there was nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but fall deeper and deeper into a dark chasm that yawned open in his mind. Nothing to do but slowly become more and more paranoid. . . .

He wished he had asked Jack for some more water before he left. Not that Jack wasn’t coming back or anything, it just would’ve been nice to not force him to make another trip.

When Jack returned some ten minutes later, though, he was not alone. Holding his hand was Katherine, laughing at something Jack had said before they entered the room. Crutchie shrunk away. He didn’t want to see Katherine--she would try to pay for a doctor to come see him or insist on checking each of his wounds or something equally mortifying.

“Look who turned up!” Jack said brightly, and Crutchie tried not to frown too obviously.

“Hi, Katherine,” he said politely. “How’re you?”

“Oh, Crutchie, you look so much better!” Katherine exclaimed. Crutchie examined her face carefully. Mostly the truth, but something in her eyes told him that she was still worried about him. “Look at you, sitting up and everything!” a pause. “Have you, um, been eating well?”

There it was. Crutchie hadn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while--every time someone carried him to the washroom, he’d resolutely avoided it. He knew that his face was still multicolored from the various stages of healing his bruises were in, but he hadn’t even thought that he might look malnourished. Elmer’s bracelet was pretty loose on his wrist, now that he was thinking about it. His unwrapped elbow practically jutted out of his skin.

Great. He’d spent a week in the Refuge and had come out looking like the most pitiful creature ever. He was so weak--it had been such a short amount of time! And now he’d been in bed for just as long, when he should’ve been recovered by now!

“Been workin’ on it,” Crutchie managed, trying not to let his thoughts show too obviously. “Hard ta get back up ta where it’s s’posed ta be, y’know?”

“Yeah, he’s been eating less,” Jack added. “It happens, but he’s been tryin’ ta eat most everything I bring him.”

Crutchie resolutely did not blush or look away. There was no reason for Katherine to believe anything to the contrary. Still, she and Jack watched him carefully for a few moments, then exchanged a look. Was he supposed to say something?

“Jack said there was quite the scare last night,” continued Katherine. “Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

Crutchie nodded. He wasn’t lying, actually. He did feel better than he had all week, even if all of his injuries felt raw from falling. Nothing was hazy anymore, nor particularly sharp. It felt almost normal, if the pain could be ignored. He was getting better.

“Why’re you here, Kath?”

Katherine’s smile strained. “Can’t a girl check up on her best friend?”

Crutchie leveled a stare of his own at her. This was the first he’d heard of being best friends. She had to have some sort of ulterior motive--a doctor or a medicine or something stupid like that. He hated to think it, but couldn’t she just leave him alone?

“Okay, I came--of my own volition, by the way--to ask you if you’d be willing to be seen by my family doctor--”

“Nope, thanks,” Crutchie said loudly, glaring hard enough to bore a hole in Katherine’s head. “As you can see, I’s healin’ up just fine.”

“It wouldn’t cost anything, my father--”

“I won’t be botherin’ your father, if it’s all the same ta you,” Crutchie retorted. “Nor no one. I’m gonna be out there sellin’ again soon, an’ if I decides I need a doctor, I’ll save up the cost myself and see ‘im when I feel like it.”

Katherine and Jack exchanged another look, one that told Crutchie they thought he was being stubborn. And so what if he was? Stubbornness had kept him alive countless times. His particular brand of stubborn had been considered both adorable and inspiring in the past. Maybe he was being annoying, but so what? Was it why they wouldn’t listen to him? Did acting annoying really mean he was stripped of his worth to them, his autonomy?

After a long staring contest with Jack, Katherine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered, turning away from both of them. Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The lines of Katherine’s shoulders were sharp and tight, radiating tension that was echoed in Jack’s nervous stance.

Crutchie picked at the blanket. Why did every conversation seem to turn into a fight lately? He just wanted people to respect his choices. Heck, maybe he would take Spot up on that offer. It sounded nice to be around people who had no history with him, a fresh slate, a new standard to set. He would get to prove he was strong to them, instead of being cooped up because they were too afraid of how broken he was.

“Well,” Katherine said, straightening her shoulders and facing them again, “take off your shirt, then.”

Crutchie choked. So did Jack. “Uh, what?” Jack sputtered.

“Buy me dinner first,” Crutchie managed.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “You want to be back out there, don’t you?” she asked Crutchie. He nodded, a little scared of where this was going. “I need to make sure you’re healing well enough, if you won’t see a doctor. Then I’ll tell you when you can continue to sell newspapers. And Jack? Get us something to drink.”