#a drop of blood on the doctor's bust

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙄𝙫𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Angst (Happy ending of course)

Warnings: Abusive father! Violence, Blood, Alcohol, Sick mother, Lots of cursing. Father is a real piece of shit and puts hands on reader multiple times. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags.

Just for another warning because I think it’s important. This has content that could trigger some people. Please please read the warnings. If any of them make you uncomfortable please don’t read. Also a reminder. You’re not alone. No one ever should be laying their hands on you. I love you. You’re loved. You don’t ever deserve anything like this.

Find The Request Here

-🖤

Changbin wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him. He kissed your neck tenderly nuzzling himself into your neck. You both were snuggled up on the couch watching a show. “My angel” he said softly before softly kissing your neck once more. When you were with him it felt like nothing else mattered like the world was alright. Your moment of happiness was short lived though seeing your phone buzzing. It was your father. Just seeing his name flash on your phone made you anxious.

After your mother had passed away your dad became an even bigger monster. He was always a good for nothing, But now not working as much as he did he stayed home drinking. Your mother had told you before the only reason she had stayed with him was because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her family was from another country, she didn’t have much money or friends. She was such a brave woman though. You don’t know how she dealt with him so long but I guess him never really being home helped. He had gotten fired from his big job because of his drinking and anger problems. Going to work one day hungover and punching a coworker so hard it broke his nose. He had to pay a hefty fine for that. Now he has a slow job where he only works a few days.

One of your earliest memories of him being his asshole self was him telling you how he hated that you were a girl. He hated that in his words ‘that useless bitch couldn’t even give me a boy.’ He wanted a son so badly and he made sure you knew that. He never really bonded with you however he’d be damned if you didn’t respect his authority. The first time he ever laid hands on you, you were 9. You accidentally knocked over a table braking the lamp that was placed on it. He grabbed you by the wrist smacking you across the face. ‘You stupid fucking brat! Look what you did, you’re just like your fucking mother!’ He spat pushing you away from him.

After that day it just kept going. Having to wear long sleeves at school to hide the bruises. At one point you had to stay home for almost a week. You had stepped in front of him to protect your mom when he hit you square in the face busting your lip. It stayed swollen and bruised for a while. Tooth slightly cracked from the incident.

You wanted so badly to tell someone. Confide in a teacher anything. You were scared to though. Scared they’d blame your mom, put her in jail and take you away. So you endured it. As your mom started to get sick he turned more of his attacks on you. Although a complete peace of shit he wasn’t stupid. He knew if he did anything to her the doctors would see it.

After she had passed you kept yourself from the house as best as you could. Not going home as much as you possibly could. You got a job at a cafe down the road and that’s how you met changbin. He was a regular who once you started talking admitted to only coming so much to see you.

You kept your home life a secret to him as much as you could but one day you were getting intimate you forgot about the bruises. When he had lifted your shirt his smile dropped. He looked at you with wide eyes “what the fuck? Who did this to you?” He said clenching his jaw. All you could do was sob he held you in his arms rubbing your back. “I’m sorry for raising my voice I just- y/n please- what happened?” He asked.

Through your sobs you told him, you unloaded everything in a word vomit of sadness. He would and wanted to go find your father. To beat him senseless, to show him how it feels but he knew you needed him more. He held you so tightly, feeling his own heart breaking from your words. Knowing a family member could do this to someone they were supposed to protect. To love and cherish just broke him. He was such a family oriented person and now he realized why you never wanted him to meet him. Never talked about him. He asked why you couldn’t just leave explaining to him how your mother wasn’t from here, how you had no family and no one else to rely on.

“Shit- it’s my dad” you said frantically picking the phone up.

“Where the fuck are you? He spat.

“I’m- I’m just at a friend’s house” you stuttered.

He laughed “sure, you’re probably slutting around. Get your fucking ass home.”

He hung up leaving you shaking. “I gotta go.” You said picking your keys up.

“Y/n you don’t have to” Changbin said with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You said before heading to the door.

Your brain wondered what was going on. Why he needed you home. As you pulled up coming through the door you saw him slumped in his usual chair. “About fucking time” he hissed. “Do something useful and go get me some more beer” he demanded.

You stood there almost dumb founded. Before he hissed again “don’t make me say it again!”

You nodded heading down to the store and getting it for him. When you got home again you sat the beer beside him. He gave you a smirk “glad you know how to listen” he chuckled. Your nose twitched at his smell, you hated being close to him. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and B.O. always radiated off of him. He motioned for you to leave and you did slinking back to your room to text changbin.

Him: Y/n! Text me back! I’m worried!

You: I’m fine. He just wanted beer

Him: I swear I’ll end him one of these days

You: I’m gonna go to bed ok? I’ll see you in the morning! Love you!

Him: Love you to beautiful. Text me when you wake up🖤

You fell asleep shortly after always finding peace in sleep. The next few days were the same old. Going to Changbins after work going home late when you knew he’d be passed out. Today though. You had to run home for your wallet. When you walked through the door your dad was in the kitchen. You took one look around and realized something had to have happened. Things were thrown around. Smashed. Your body froze before you could go to walk back out he saw you.

“Where do you think you’re fucking going!” He yelled. He made a bee line toward you.

“I’m- I’m picking up another shift at work I just came home to grab something.” You lied.

“Bull fucking shit!” He spat.

He grabbed you by your throat lifting you up against the wall. His eyes were dark, knuckles bloody from punching the wall. “I get fucking fired from my god damn job only to come home to see you running back out? For what huh? To go fucking whore around some more?” He said. “No! There’s gonna be some fucking changes!” He screamed.

He dropped you to the floor before grabbing you by your wrist dragging you to the kitchen. “You’re gonna get another fucking job, you’re gonna start paying the other bills!” He spat. “You got it!”

When you didn’t answer right away he slapped more like punched you across the face. “Answer me bitch!” He said gritting his teeth. All you could do was nod scared for your life. You felt a warmth running down, your nose was bleeding.

“You’re fucking pathetic you know that, just like your fucking mother! That bitch. That bitch fucking deserved what she got! I’m glad she’s fucking dead!” He spat. Something had come over you at that point. You shoved back making him stumble backwards. You made a dash to the door luckily in his drunken stupor he stumbled getting back up. You ran. Not even bothering getting in your car afraid it take to long.

So you ran. You ran as fast as you could until you couldn’t anymore. You hid yourself in the bushes at the park panting. Trying to catch your breath as you fumbled to call changbin. “Hey angel” he said happily but when he heard you breathing heavy his heart sank. “Y/n what’s wrong? Are you ok?” He asked.

“I’m- I’m at the- park down- down the road- please” you stuttered out.

“Stay there I’m just down the road!” He said before grabbing his keys speeding to you.

He gripped the steering wheel afraid for what had happened. “Angel? I’m here!” He yelled out.

You peaked your head out, when he got a good look at you anger filled his body. ‘That mother fucker’ he snarled. There was no time to be angry right now though. You needed him. So desperately needed him.

He sat beside you pulling you into his arms. He took his jacket placing it around you as he whipped away the blood from your nose. He noticed the handprint mark around your neck, he gritted his teeth seething. You sobbed, holding onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back “ssh sh it’s ok angel, I’m here, I got you.” He said.

He rocked you back and forth letting your sobs subside before asking you anything. “Does it hurt?” He asked lifting your face to him looking over your nose and neck. You nodded. It hurt to swallow, hurt to breathe, everything just hurt. “Can I take you to the hospital?” He asked. You were hesitant but you nodded.

The car ride there all he could do was watch over you. Scared something could seriously be wrong. Cursing at himself for not being there. He was in the process of finding a new place. A new place so you could move in with him. The only reason you didn’t live with him now was for the fact he had other roommates and if the tenant found out about you they all could be evicted. He was gonna surprise you today with the good news, that he found a place. Close to his work and close to a bakery you had wanted to work at.

When he had gotten to the hospital they all looked at him like he had done it. They checked you over asked him a million questions. The cops being called from below to ask him questions. They weren’t completely shocked when they heard your dad’s name. He was notorious for his anger outbursts and violence. He had a list of charges that had gotten one being the man he punched at his old job. They wrote everything down, took pictures of your bruises and wounds. Asking you lots of questions before leaving.

“Y/n did you know you had a broken rib at one point?” A nurse asking you.

You shook your head.

“Looks like it happened a while ago, it fused back but not properly. You ever have sharp pains?” She asked.

“Yeah, she use to complain about side pains but they kinda just stopped.” Changbin chimed in.

“How is she right now?” Changbin asked.

“Nothings broken however you’re lucky, the pressure he had around your throat bruised your vocal cords. Any harder you could be looking at serious damage”

The nurse had left to grab some papers changbin took your hand into his. He kissed your cheek softly rubbing his thumb over yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there” he said softly.

You shook your head “I don’t want him hurting you either” you said looking up at him.

“I’m proud of you though, pushing back and getting yourself out of there. Your mom would be proud” he said with a small smile. His words made you smile a bit. “She definitely would.”

“I had some news to tell you” he said hoping this would make you smile.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m moving. Well we’re moving” he said with a smile. When you looked at him a bit confused his smile grew “I got a place for the two of us. Wish it could have happened sooner but-“ he said.

You wrapped your arms around him hugging him tightly “we’re gonna live together? I’ll get to spend all the time with you?” You said eagerly.

“Yep! Got the keys today!”

When the door opened you thought it was the nurse however it was an officer. “Y/n we have your father in custody. Do you have a place to stay for the mean time?” He asked looking over at your boyfriend.

“I do, but can I go back and get something’s you asked.

The officer nodded “I’ll have to escort you because it’s a crime scene now.”

You nodded.

“Whenever you get discharged we can go alright?” He said before walking out.

After you went to the house grabbing your clothes, laptop and a few things you smiled saying good riddance to this place. You had the few things from your mom packed, having nothing more in this house for you.

Moving in with changbin was something to get use to. However he helped you every step of the way. You got into much needed therapy and after your father’s sentence you felt like things were going up. As a little house warming gift Changbin had surprised you with a cat. You had bonded with him with the many times he had taken you to the cat cafe. You always said how much you wanted him and now you had him. You had your little family now.

Changbin showered you in love as usual, never missing a chance to compliment you, praise you and tell you how much he loved you. You knew in your heart your mom wherever she was, she was happy. Happy seeing her little girl finally get out of the situation. To live her life to the fullest.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[mysouleaten]

DOC AND BOSS pt.one

mafia boss! izana x doctor! reader

summary ... finding an injured member of the tenjiku yakuza hiding in an alleyway beside your apartment you decide to help... not knowing he's the one in charge..

warnings ... blood, and bullets??

an ... sooo this was inspired by DEAD GIRL'S BEACH by @kokoch4n3l but this fic is a lot more fluff... lol and inspired by an undertake fic I read a long time ago Bedside Manners and Guns by @absurdmageart .... :)

tenjiku was one of the biggest yakuza's that ran tokyo they were second compared to toman

but still one of the biggest when it came to land and property and one of their properties was your apartment-- your home

most who lived in this apartment building paid their bill to tenjiku, as they were the ones who kept this building from being destroyed by the government and leading to you being homeless

you were very grateful for the fact they protected this apartment building... it was the cheapest and the closest to your job and university

around 8:45pm you finally were able to leave your job and drive back in the rainy night, ready to get in your comfort outfit and watch crime moves for the rest of the night and maybe order some yellow rice and soup to eat while you watch....

finally parked in front of your building and looking outside the window to see the harsh rain pouring down

you can only imagine how cold it is outside your warm car...

looking behind your driver's seat and reaching for your umbrella to fight back the pouring rain from soaking you

"alright.. let's just hope I don't get completely soaked through.."

quickly opening the car door and rushing to open the umbrella over you, shutting the door and pressing onto your car key to hear the 'beep!' of the car locking

blowing a breath you start to carefully walk towards the stairs that lead to your apartment, careful not to slip and bust your ass on the pavement

hearing a loud groan made you freeze in place and hearing another over the rushing rain made you tense again before you quickly walked up the stairs and ran into your apartment... you weren't risking any horror movie shenanigans..

putting your bag down onto the bench under your coat hanger

turning your head toward the door and the guilty conscience starts to eat you up

what if someone was in need of help? you're not a doctor for nothing..

you groan in annoyance and throw your white coat on the floor before taking the raincoat hanging on the coat hanger and quickly putting it on

slamming the door behind yourself and cussing out: "I hate being a damn doctor..!"

hugging your wait to fight the cold rain and carefully walking down the stairs

"hopefully it's just the fucking wind and no one is actually here so I can go take my ass upstairs and--" cutting your rant short when turning the corner and seeing someone laying on the muddy ground

drenched and shivering the person was also groaning in pain

"crap.." you whisper and slowly begin to walk toward the person still being cautious and mindful of who this person you were going to help was

crouching down, careful to not touch the muddy water below

examing the man who was shakily breathing through his mouth and scrunching his eyes shut

his white long hair was muddied up and drenched

you looked down to see him holding his abdomen--blood was soaking his uniform, he was wearing the uniform of a tenjiku leader... craaaaaap...

pulling your phone out of your pocket and covering it from the rain you dial the number but a hand quickly grabs your wrist and tries to shake the phone out of your hand "ACK!!"

quickly standing up and backing away, letting your phone drop near the man

his eyes were a beautiful shade of lavender and they were staring daggers right into your own eyes.. but they softened quickly

you swallow the built-up saliva in your mouth "you've been shot.. you need to go to the hospital" your voice a soft whisper

he shakes his head "no..." no? this man really wants a painful death?

"you-" "you..help me" the man cuts you off

"what!? wait- no! I can't! I don't have the-" your rambling gets cut off with a soft "try" from the man

were you really going to drag a muddy wet mafia man up the stairs and into your apartment?..

you sigh as the man has been staring at you for the past couple of minutes after his 'removing bullets' procedure

he was lying on his back with towels beneath him soaking up the dirty water that dripped off of him, bandages wrapped around his entire abdomen and he was facing his head toward you

he would shiver from the cold and you weren't sure if you wanted to get him a blanket.. and get it soaked.. maybe you should towel him off properly before getting him a blanket

you stood up and began to walk away from the white-haired man that occupied your other couch..

"[name]?... where are you going?.."

you froze, how the hell does he know your name?..

ughhhh i'm not sure how i like this... AHH I WISH I KNEW HOW TO WRITE MY THOUGHTS BETTER....

>:(

[hey-august]

Saw the cuteness aggression post you reblogged and would feel blessed if you ever wrote whump fic with Buggy because I would ALSO love to try and comfort a man who just staggered into the room bloody, beaten and bruised, clearly just thumbling over the threshold of “show no weakness” to “in so much pain he doesn’t even care anymore that he’s hiccuping and sobbing like a child while clinging to you” hurt comfort with heavy emphasis on the hurt? Yes pls

Anon, I'm so so sorry for how long it took me to get to this. I love me some angst and whump, and while I had ideas, the motivation to write was not working with me.

I don't want to keep holding onto this and leave you hanging for even longer, so I wrote out my idea in bullet point format.

I hope this still hits the spot!

WC: ~550 Warnings: buggy x gn!reader, mentions of blood and burn wounds

You and Buggy have an unspoken thing. A mutual pining. There's respect and some affection. A closeness, but still distance and a barrier that neither of you acknowledge.

You're the ship's doctor and the crew was in a rough fight. Lots of injuries, ranging from minor scuffs, to teeth knocked out, stitches, broken noses and broken bones, blood and tears - it's a lot in a short period of time.

You're doing what you can, and those who are less injured are helping where they can.

Once you get through those involved, the captain is the last one left needing your attention.

Maybe he's been sitting nearby the whole time, waving away anyone coming to triage or check on him, snapping that he's fine. Get the hell away from him.

But when the room empties, Buggy crumbles. It starts small, bit by bit as you assess him.

His busted lip is split and bleeding, the color mixing with his smeared lipstick. His right eye is swelling. His beautiful hair is singed. The affected tips are stuck in terrified curls from trying to run from the heat. The smell is clinging everywhere.

But the worst are the burns. You're not sure what happened - some of the other crewmembers had burns and scorch marks, but not like this.

Your captain has some rough wounds on his arms and torso, where the heat ate away at the fabric before feeding on his skin and flesh.

He's wet and sticky. Swaths of skin are weeping. Buggy's feeling exposed, tender, and hurt. Pain is radiating out while regret and fear are falling inwards.

All it takes is one soft comment from you. "You must be in so much pain." You were talking to yourself, but it's the acknowledgement that Buggy must have needed.

The eyes that had been avoiding yours, stopped holding back tears. His clenched jaw and tight lips quiver. He nods.

You can't fathom how much it hurts to move, but Buggy has his arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. His hands are clutching your clothes, pulling them taut. It's like he's a cracked vessel, losing liquid and life, but maybe you can keep him together. Maybe you could fix him. And if not, he wouldn't be alone as he breaks.

Hurting more is often part of getting better. You know this, and you let it happen.

You let Buggy cry against you. You let his tears, snot, spittle, and worries seep into your clothes. You hold the back of his head and put a hand on his back, and rub. You let your own stinging tears fall.

Noises get caught in his throat and Buggy fixes his hold, as if he's trying to wrap himself around you even more. As if he's trying to squeeze every drop of comfort and care from you.

His hands are detached, fingers stretched and probably barely connected, all so he can hold more of you. Even his feet are shuffling, seeking contact against yours. His knees knocking against your legs.

Buggy continues until he's hiccupping and coughing. Until he has a headache and his eyes are bleary.

You should have stopped him sooner. Some of the oozing wounds started to crust and are clinging to the fabric of your clothes.

Buggy whines and grunts as he literally peels himself away.

You still need to clean and dress the wounds, so another round of pain. One could argue that you should have gone ahead and done that right away, but no.

Despite the visible injuries, there's invisible damage that needed to be soothed.

You can almost see Buggy picking up his broken pieces and putting them back together. Recreating a wall, a mask, a barrier.

You know what's on the other side, though. And you will be there whenever he needs you.

[skipper19]

Just imagine...

Yandere!Keigo knew you were his good girl. It had taken months of training and gaining of one another's trust, but he just knew he could trust you.

Yandere!Keigo drops everything he's doing when he sees (via cameras) that the window to your shared bedroom opened. He rushed to his penthouse, expecting to find that you escaped once again and he would have to find you. That Keigo would have to drag you back to his penthouse and punish you. It had been months since he last punished you, but he would do anything necessary.

Yandere!Keigo feels his heart stutter in his chest when he busts through the front door and finds your motionless body sprawled out on the floor. There was a gash in your head, and blood stained the expensive wood beneath you. Your face, once full of life, is now pale and dead looking.

Yandere!Keigo sends all of his feathers to search the home and the source of this incident as he quickly rushes to your side. He doesn't know what to do. He can't take you to the hospital. You've been deemed missing for months, the doctors will alert the police of you, and the police will question him. On the other hand of that, Keigo didn't have any clue how to help a head injury. He's sustained multiple injuries throughout his career as a hero, but how the hell would he deal with a head injury. Especially on another person.

Yandere!Keigo decides he knows what's best for you. He won't let anyone take you away from him. No matter what.

Yandere!Keigo spends weeks treating you, and the hero commission is getting irritated with his disappearance from the public. People are getting worried and suspicious. First Hawks' sidekick goes missing, now Hawk's himself? The hero commission knew they couldn't let Keigo keep hiding away with his little secret (that they helped him keep hidden as long as he was happy and did his job).

Yandere!Keigo shows back up to work a few weeks later. He finally recovered from that awful stomach bug! And would you look that? The guy that broke into his apartment was found and arrested by an unknown source. Not even a week later, and that same burglar disappeared.

Yandere!Keigo, who is just happy that the hero commission has a really nice private doctor to take care of his mate.

[edgessunflower]

🌻Rhea Ripley with this prompt 💀 (meaning near death experience)

Otherside

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader

Description: You end up in a bad accident and Rhea is afraid you won't make it back to her

Rhea was waiting for you at home when her phone rings smiling when she saw your picture and name only for her heart to drop when she answered to hear Jey who was with you when the car accident happened and he was yelling almost screaming into the phone as he told her what had happened leading to her almost bursting out of the house as she ran to her car. She immediately ran to jey who was sitting on the side walk choked up with his arm cut open and his nose busted but it was when you were rolled out on a stretcher that things became chaotic with jey holding rhea back as she cried begging to see you before begging to go in the ambulance with you not wanting you to be alone even though she was crying uncontrollably the EMT allowed her to ride in the ambulance, she held your hand the entire ride and as you were strolled into the hospital before being taken towards the OR leaving rhea in a ball against the wall quietly sobbing as she called Damian while jey sat next to her who finally broke down saying he should have been quicker to help you even though he was dazed and clearly hurt himself and he kept apologizing to rhea who shook her head and hugged him then he kept apologizing to damian when he arrived who knew that you were in bad condition by the look on rhea's face which broke his heart with how close he was not just with rhea but with you as well even before you and rhea got together. The three waited and waited hand in hand right outside the OR as doctors worked on your injured, bruised, and truly broken body from the accident and how badly you had been hurt even to cause you internal bleeding in your stomach which had to be drained out in between them slowly removing your gallbladder, stitching your spleen and stomach up, and carefully removing a piece of your rib that had broken off and punctured your lung which filled up with blood but despite the odds they helped you leading to the doctor telling the three you were stable but now it was up to your body and system to heal over the next few weeks as the three walked in your room finding you on a ventilator covered in bandages with drains over the bandages around your stomach as you barely woke up and stayed awake being completely lethargic and fatigued until the fourth morning slowly waking up and having the vent taken out as you come out on the other side of the near death which you were shaken up by even after being discharged from the hospital and then fully healed after another six weeks but rhea was by your side through it all from the nightmares and panic attacks to the scars from the accident and surgeries to the mental and emotional aftermath and slowly moving forward with life knowing that even despite what happened that your life was wonderful and more beautiful than it already was before the accident.

[playbucky]

Speak of the Dead.

You manage to escape from your attempted kidnapping, an unexpected person shows up when the doctors call your emergency contact.  Characters – Reader, Reacher, Neagley, Chris, Karla Word Count - 1k.

‘Neagley -,’ you stopped when the larger person stepped into the room, ‘what’s he doing here?’  ‘He was with me when I got the call.’ She told you, you moved in your bed.  ‘Coulda dropped him off somewhere.’ You grumbled.  ‘I would’ve but you know he’s like a stray, always finds you.’ Neagley replied, you arched an eyebrow.  ‘What happened?’ Reacher quizzed.  ‘Pretty sure you’ve already asked the nurse.’ You told him.  ‘Y/N.’ He warned, you glared at him.  ‘Three busted ribs, fractured eye socket, broken nose, serve blood loss and a brand-new scar. It’s like Christmas.’ You replied sarcastically, you lifted your arms and shook them.  ‘Well at least they never took away your best quality.’ Neagley commented, you arched your brow the best you could with the swelling.  ‘Oh wow, tryna piss off the injured, real nice.’ You joked, she smiled and glanced to Reacher.  ‘You know who did it?’ Reacher quizzed, his brows were drawn together, you shook your head.  ‘Wore masks, generic height and build.’ You listed off your attackers.  You watched Neagley and Reacher share a look, you moved in your bed, a hiss escaped your lips. Reacher moved quickly, the space he had kept between you vanished, you raised a hand for him to stop which he did and glared down at you.  ‘I know how to draw them out.’ You breathed out as you got comfy.  ‘We’re not using you as bait.’ Reacher said quickly, you dropped your hand onto his forearm, his warmth spread over your palm.   ‘Good to know that’s where your brain goes but we are, or rather my body.’ You patted his arm.  ‘They’re after the team, so let’s give them the team.’ You suggested, you looked at Neagley who hadn’t moved from the bottom of the bed.  ‘Y/N.’ She said, head tilted as she had a rough idea as to where your thoughts were going.  ‘Pretty sure I was pronounced dead, so someone can work their magic and I can stay dead.’ You suggested.  ‘You’d want to be dead?’ Reacher asked, you sighed.  ‘Being alive hasn’t really lived up to what people have told me is should.’ You leaned back into the pillows to look up at him.    ‘You look like shit.’ Karla commented as she entered the motel room, you chuckled and moved from the bathroom to the chair. Reacher's arm moved at his side, Karla’s brows pinched slightly as she looked at him.  ‘Yeah, nice to see you guys again.’ You grumbled, a hand wrapped around your chest to try and ease the ache.   ‘Been up too much?’ Karla asked, you scoffed and shook your head.  ‘Just dying.’ You commented, you lowered yourself into the chair, she chuckled.  ‘Heard the pair of your got married?’ You said, Reacher looked to her and O’Donnell, his brows furrowed deeply as Neagley chuckled at his shook.  ‘Yeah, he’s had two kids as well.’ Karla commented.  ‘Oft, I'm surprised she’s put up with you for so long, two kids and an adult one?’ You said, an eyebrow arched as you looked at him.  ‘One on the way as well.’ He added happily, you smiled widely.  ‘Well congrats, boy or girl?’  ‘Don’t know.’ O’Donnell commented, he shrugged.  ‘Are they safe?’ You asked.  ‘Yeah, she knows what to do.’ He said, you nodded.  ‘Good, your husband?’ You asked Karla, she nodded which eased you slightly.  ‘He’s safe as well.’  ‘Looks like we’re set.’ You said, they all nodded, ‘Anyone fancy dinner?’ You asked and moved to get out the chair, Reacher held a hand out to stop you.  ‘Reacher and I will get it, you need to rest.’ Karla said, you looked at her annoyed, ‘Still the same toppings?’ She quizzed, you nodded.  ‘Keep -,’  ‘The door locked, we know.’ You, Neagley and O’Donnell said, Reacher looked defeated before he followed Karla out and shut the door behind him. Both their silhouettes walked past the window, Neagley slid the lock over.  ‘They’re the reason we never worked out, right?’ Karla turned to Reacher, who arched an eyebrow, ‘Y/N, you’ve always been focused on them.’ She continued, he didn’t reply.  ‘I don’t blame you, I guess I was naive for thinking anything would show between us.’ She added, Reacher focused ahead of him. 

‘What you doing back?’ You quizzed as he marched into the room, he set the carrier bag onto the small chair that sat at the window, he continued to walk towards you.  ‘I think I might stay awhile.’ He stated, you watched as he lowered himself into the bed next to you, his hand landed next to your knee, his finger twitched slightly.  ‘Reacher settle down? We must be at the end of the world.’ You joked, he looked at you over his shoulder.  ‘Not the end, just until you’re healed up.’ He said, your eyebrows jumped up.  ‘You’re staying for me?’ You asked, your hands moved from your crossed legs to your chest, he nodded.  ‘Shoulda stayed a long time ago.’ He admitted, you shook your head.  ‘I’m capable of looking after myself.’ You replied, his hand landed on your knee before he squeezed it.  ‘You shouldn’t have to be, I’m gonna be here.’ He told you, he didn’t break eye contact with you.  ‘Reacher.’ You breathed, you placed your hand on top of his, your thumb stroked across the back.  ‘Don’t try and convince me, I’m staying.’ He said, his gaze dropped to your joined hands.  ‘I was going to say thank you.’ You informed him, he looked up to you before you both smiled at each other. 

Tags (you all commented on my post) - @mariahill2001 @redpool @wolflover384 @jayblackpanther @incognito2252 @charmed-asylum @erajoie07 @midnightstar-90 @yourlocalnegroko @honestlysublimecherryblossom ~@annacavillsblog @cynic-spirit

[catsoupki]

CHP. FOUR | WHAT RECONCILIATION REALLY MEANS (NSFW)

SUMMARY: Katsuki has settled into a routine-like dance with you ever since your debut as a hero. He takes care of you like harmonious clockwork, but as he peels layer after layer, he’s caught up with his own tantalising feelings when he finds your blood staining his hands. You teach him, slowly, of what it means to fall in love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, smut (piv, unprotected, breeding, aftercare)

CHAPTER LENGTH: 3,990 | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHP.

The first few weeks of January don’t really seem real. You’ve claimed your spot as number three, pushing Shouto down a rank for the time being. You chuckle a bit, was it worth it? 

Your schedule is far from normal, your manager has forced you to be on rehabilitation leave, all of your patrols are being taken up by the sidekicks in your agency, and the only work you’re allowed to do is paperwork, records and organising. 

The first day that you came back was hectic. It was the sixth of January, villains caused more ruckus than usual, probably running high on those New Year’s Eve emotions. 

(But does that mean you can rob a bank too?)

On doctor’s orders, you are not to do any extreme sports and get any more major injuries in at least 2 months. It’s nice, sometimes, you're given a long-awaited breather, heroes who occupy the top 10 ranks know that they never really get a day off. Even when you’re on vacation, if that place needs a hero, you’re still a hero. 

Every day becomes softer, your morning jog is cut to a mile only, and you get to drop by the cafe near your agency for some breakfast before you head to the office. Your hand still instinctively reaches for the locker door that houses your hero suit after your morning showers, and you wince everytime.

Bakugou has been texting you less, maybe that's what the emptiness is. You check your phone more, you see dozens of texts and emails from companies, sponsors and coworkers, but the cavity eating away at your heart doesn’t stop. You’re waiting for something, maybe it’s Dynamight’s picture of the neighbourhood cat, maybe it’s the picture slyly taken of Red Riot helping an old lady cross the street– no more everyday tragedies. 

The Herald: Metal Gear’s Rise and Fall — Why Was the Quirk Ring Bust-In Such a Controversy?

By the second week of January, time starts passing by a little too fast. You still attend the physiotherapy lessons you’re assigned, you still complete the paperwork in your office, you’ve grown accustomed to eating out alone and not Katsuki’s meals too– it’s light work but everything feels so heavy. 

You don’t get a chance to slow down, you blink and sunrise becomes sunset, you rest your eyes and when you open them once more, you’re greeted with your bedroom ceiling and you're awake again. Every day you have something to do, and now it’s your opportunity to take a break for the night– January's group hangout is hosted at Eijirou’s.

You don’t think about anything on your way to his apartment, you don't remember whether you were standing or sitting during the subway ride, you don't remember the colour of the sky, it’s odd because you usually have such a good memory, you can remember Bakugou’s birthday, you can remember all the names of Mina’s cats, what happened?

You don’t notice until you’re about to knock on Kirishima’s door, you let the cold air bite down your throat, it stings, your sinuses hurt, but you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself together otherwise. 

You don’t smile when Mina opens the door, she has this look in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t, maybe she’s doing you a favour by not saying it aloud, yet it somehow still feels a mockery. 

You don’t greet everyone in the room, they still return friendly and worried smiles, all except one. When you were just about to say ‘Hey Bakugou’ he walks out the door, mumbling something about picking up the food, and when his shoulder brushes yours, he flinches like it hurts, and you try not to wince at the stab in your heart. 

You don’t participate in conversation much either, you don’t laugh as hard at the punchlines, everyone notices, even Katsuki, but no one says anything, too nice to point it out, and too tired to meddle with it. 

The movie continues playing, flashes of black and white occasionally breaking through the haze of your mind, dialogues are but a background noise that fails to distract you from your thoughts. You had looked forward to this, being around friends has always been soothing when you spiral too deep into your own head, but now that you and him aren’t talking, you think that maybe it wasn't your friends that had ever calmed you down to begin with, just him.

They all take turns trying to start a conversation, but the silent tension between you and Katsuki has also dwindled everyone’s mood, you feel sorry, you don't know how they put up with you two sometimes. 

Time starts passing by in a blur again, you’re watching a movie on the couch, you’re eating takeout, you're drinking beer, you're putting on your shoes, Mina is talking about something, Bakugou doesn't ask you to stay with him, Bakugou doesn't look at you when you're turning around, Bakugou doesn't shout some reminder regarding safety when you begin to walk away, Bakugou– forget it. You're already on your way to the subway station, and the air is cold when his arms aren’t wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Can’t you just let it go?” Kirishima leans onto the balcony beside him, a beer in hand. He doesn’t look at him, after all, having been friends with him since they were mere teenagers has given him instincts, he knows that by looking at him Bakugou will only be more shameful, so he does him a favour and looks at the sea instead. 

“This is for her own good.”

@alpha-deku: MG is.. falling off, i think if the quirk ring thing happened a year ago she would have done it smoothly without any hiccups at all, not being able to foresee the extension of quirks and to put yourself into danger so that other people around you have to pick up after you is.. kinda dumb for a top 4 hero lol you would assume that she would’ve had a plan B and not just fall out of the sky to take a bullet for somebody who was clearly more powerful in terms of skill compared to her 

“That fucking cunt..! Wha- who does he think he is? You can’t just drop in and out of my life just because I’m convenient, asshole…” You mumble, drunk, steps crossing haphazardly as you stomp the curb with anger. Your friends struggle to hold you up as you fling your arms around in vexation; some weeks of bottled emotions finally clawing at the edges of the jar, overdue. The blaring music from the clubs all around you and the filth that comes out of the mouths of low-lifes can’t be drowned out, why don't they have airpods for his voice? 

You look at the flesh of your thumb, fingers dancing over the bumpy patch of scar, it’s weird what grief does to people.

(What grief? For what?) 

Every scar has its own beginnings and endings; you got that scar after tripping over a rock while playing hide and seek with Katsuki as a child. When you landed on the rough asphalt with your palms open to break the fall, you had actually slid a few inches. 

Tears were left unspilled behind your glossy eyes, gaze landing on your bleeding thumb, lips plumping into a pout as you held in the sobs that were bouncing inside your skeleton. 

When Katsuki kneels in front of you, he’s as much of a gentleman as he is now, holding your arm tightly, inspecting your wound carefully, wiping your tears away, he brought you to his mother, where she immediately assumed the worst: ‘Katsuki! Did you do this? I raised you not to hurt girls! What’s wrong with you–’ your hiccups interrupted her, ‘I’m sorry Mrs. Bakugou, but it wasn’t him, I tripped myself, Katsuki helped me up.’ It was a miracle that she had understood you through your sniffles, but her expression immediately changes and she starts bandaging you up right away. 

You two stopped playing hide and seek after that, none of you realised that that accident would be your last time playing hide and seek until years later, when you’re reminiscing in your rooms late at night. 

The scar is ugly— the skin there is patchy, uneven, discoloured, the shape is rugged and asymmetric, its origin is as childish as it can be, but you love that scar. It’s weird when you find love in violence. 

(You love it because Katsuki showed you his treehouse afterwards to cheer you up, not even Izuku knows about that.)

That night, when you lay in bed with your run-down makeup washed off, when you have changed out of the revealing and uncomfortable fabrics and into an oversized hoodie that doesn’t belong to you, you wish someone was there to listen through your sniffles and wipe your tears away. 

Your lives have been so deeply intertwined that everything and anything he sees, he’s reminded of you. The neighbourhood stray cat you named Hummus, the hot potatoes sold on the side of the street by that old lady you love talking to, the bus stop advertisement campaign you did with the local animal shelter, he can never truly escape you, even when he’s making the active effort to. Maybe he never grew out of his own cowardice. 

You don’t make it to the February hangout. 

@shotoswife: #mg_overparty it’s so unfair that shes up a rank while shoto is pushed down to fourth??? What did she even do in the mission that the HPSC is selling as a GLORIOUS triumph, shoto literally saved 14 kids from that avalanche in hokkaido, why is that any less impressive compared to that absolute fiasco

The Spring Hero Gala is rolling around the corner, with one month remaining, your stylist has taken advantage of your still freed up schedule and sent you to nine different fittings over the span of a week. It gets tiresome, from taxis to studios to taxis to studios, from itchy and restricting fabrics back to your breathable and flowy hoodies, but it distracts you from the overt absence of Katuski in your life, so you welcome it with open arms. 

After some discussions, your stylist settles the deal with Balenciaga, and your dress for the Hero Gala in March is decided, a maroon silk dress that shapes your waist and chest, it’s flattering on you, the staff had said, you thank them with a humble smile.

(Unconvinced, much like how the internet would feel, you think.)

You return to hero work at a slow and steady pace, increasing the hours of patrols day by day, the abilities of the sidekick accompanying you slowly decrease week by week, and by the time March chases itself into your back, you’re once again a regular occupant on the ranks of the latest villain captures on the official HPSC website. 

Life is moving on, with or without Bakugou, with or without his lunches, with or without his good-mornings, you don’t want him to be your biggest what-if. 

Top 10 Most Scandalous Paparazzi Photos This Month: No.1 Metal Gear Seen Leaving a Gay Bar With a Man Draped Around Her Shoulders! view entire article 

Bakugou has been twisting and turning in his bed for the past hour. He’s always had a good sleep schedule, when his head hits the pillow, it’s lights out within five minutes. He’s not used to this, this unending cycle of thoughts spiralling in his head, he can’t seem to shut off his brain, is he really avoiding you for your own safety? Or his own cowardice– no. Not his own cowardice. Never his own cowardice. 

It’s been exactly three months since you got out of the hospital. Bakugou, like many, has thrown himself headfirst into heroics as a means to not think about you, not that it’s been of much success. Every day and every waking hour, he spends it thinking of you, your hair, your gentle but firm touch, your ringtone, your ‘did u eat yet’s. 

His manager has already chosen a suit for the upcoming Hero Gala, he didn’t have a say in it, he hasn't even glimpsed at what he’d be wearing that evening. These days he just spends them scrolling tabloids on his phone, the latest scandal regarding Metal Gear, recent paparazzi pictures of you. He spends them far away from you, yet still paying close attention to your life. And so unlike himself, he drowns in his own self-pity before his alarm blares him awake, signalling another exhausting day of hero work, filled with villainy and bloodshed. 

Bakugou recalls his teenage years, and even the years he spent in the Genius Office, he has never thought that he’d ever stop being friends with you, he remembers making a vow at the ripe age of 22, promising himself and his friends that he’d never tell you just how much he wanted to have you in his embrace if it could preserve the state of his friend group back then, harmonised and synchronised like it’s their job, but seemingly Bakugou has a knack for fucking things up, he never meant for this to happen, but maybe forever was a word meant for memories, not people.

2X51 Spring Hero Gala Name List: Missing Plus-Ones from Dynamight and Metal Gear? Catch Up On the Latest Hero Drama from THE EVENING STANDARD

When Dynamight first sets foot on the red carpet, he is greeted with a myriad of flashes and shouts. Paparazzi, fans and the like all vie for his attention, the stuffy March air makes his skin sticky, his scowl is in place when he fights his way across the room. He’s tipsy, he has made sure of it, he knows he won’t be able to deal with you in public, let alone sober. 

He used to be a lot of things, sometimes he was your questions and other times he was your answers, but right now he wants to be a comfort that doesn’t quite require either, but he thinks he might end up as your greatest I’ll-never-know. 

When he sees you arrive, his heart skips a beat. Did your stylist do this on purpose? It makes his palms sweatier than usual when he sees your dress, the same hue of red as his eyes, he thinks you look dashing, as you always do, he’s meticulous in the study of you, he’s skilled in reading your expressions, the slightest twitch of a brow and the smallest tick of your lips, maybe the cameras won’t be able to pick out the tired dread that sits on your face, but he knows your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, yet he still can’t look away.

“You look stunning.” He finally admits.

“Oh you're talking to me again?” He winces, he’s been ignoring you, he knows that, you know that, the entire friend group knows it, even the public is aware. He feels like a schoolboy with the way he pretends your existence doesn't matter, some hypocrite he is, he thinks, who was he to criticise your coping mechanisms when he avoided you to protect himself? 

He’s spent three whole months convincing himself that he’s cutting contact with you for your own good, that maybe without him in your life, maybe you’d lead a peaceful one, one without peril, but he knows now, he’s been avoiding you out of his own fear, he never grew out of own cowardice.

“I’m sorry I’m in love with you.” The way he looks at you conveys everything that you need to know, his eyes are filled with something you don’t see in Bakugou very often.

(Fear, fear of losing you, again.)

Your silence is uncanny. It makes him wonder what he’d do if you were to answer with a ‘I’m never talking to you again’, your lack of a response is perhaps more infuriating than that, but he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. If you were to block him and refuse to ever see him again, he’d feel sorry. If you were to move from the city and to somewhere else to avoid him– no, you won’t do that, he’s sure you won’t give up everything in your life right now for him, for pitiful him, but it does make him think how he’d do just about anything to see you again. He’s taken that right for granted so far, it never struck him as a privilege to be able to lay his eyes on you, but right now it’s all he’ll ask for, because your absence doesn’t get any quieter even when he conditions himself to it. 

You look beautiful, you look like the one thing he'd love to look at for the rest of his life. 

Somehow your smile is still blazing, like the sun. “Did you miss my rage?” 

(You always knew you’d put down your ego and everything else to talk to him again if he asked for you once more.)

@bkgpackets: i think metal gear has done a lot, i think she’s done enough, for musutafu and for our boi katsuki too, it’s time for them to reconcile, they've been through so much tgt, i'm sure they’ll be able to make amends within a few words spoken

“Let’s welcome our top five heroes this year, they have done plenty in guaranteeing the safety of our neighbourhoods, some have risked their lives, some shared their blood, sweat and tears with us, for the sake of our livelihood. So let’s give them a round of applause, a standing ovation, for their courage and dedication towards protecting our reformed society. Welcome to the bright stage, Tsukuyomi, Shouto, Metal Gear, Dynamight, and Deku!”

Your ears are filled with a sore ringing, eyes blinded by overwhelming blinks of flashlights as you’re greeted with a warm welcome back by the hero society, the most powerful and influential part of civilization standing up to clap for you while you accept your award. You don’t glance down, afraid to fall, you look up and into the cameras, head-on with determination in your gaze and kindness in your grin, you’re Metal Gear. 

+++

When you call your manager to tell her that you won’t be attending any after-parties, she merely agrees with a knowing chuckle, and tells you ‘good luck’. 

After the five-course meal, you’re stuffed when you see Katsuki’s text on your lock screen, meet me behind the hotel garden, it said. Your purse is fluffed with congratulation cards from your coworkers and acquaintances, you clutch onto it as the wind sweeps beneath your dress, heels clicking across the marble floor as you look around and ask star-struck workers where the garden is. It took some extra effort making sure that you stayed away from front doors and cameras, not wanting your meeting with Bakugou to be interrupted by the paparazzi or obsessive fans. 

His back is turned towards you when you push the door open. You know he knows you’re here. He looks up, like troubles are weighing heavy on his shoulders, you can’t help but want to walk up to him to massage them, to strip his layers and take away his worries. 

You take your time walking up to him, you look at the flowers that surround you two, the moon that gives light to his shadow, you let the wind mess up your hair before you are finally shoulder to shoulder with him. He sighs, and you smile.

“I never got you out of my head. I don’t want to either, but I already think about you every hour of every day. I think about how if I were smarter with my emotions, I’d be able to kiss you and love you right every second of the year, of my life. Give me one more chance and I won’t fuck it up. Please.”

You continue glancing down the city while he twists his head to look at you, but when you look back at him, he stutters on his breath, the way you look at him has never changed, through the thick and thin, it is all so gentle.

“I’ll– can I make it up to you? I’ll make this our first date, I’ll make up for the time I lost, so– eyebrows, will you go on a date with me?” He’s blushing, you realise, to your absolute delight. And when you say yes, Bakugou thanks the Gods for the first time in his life. 

He takes your hand as he leads you to his car in the parking lot, it’ll take some time to get used to these gestures of affection. 

(He’s learned his lessons, every second spent by your side is precious, and he’ll learn to appreciate and accept that fact.) 

He opens the car door for you before getting on himself. When he drives you back to his home, he gives you the aux; the windows are rolled down, the air isn’t as humid anymore, it’s cool and it slightly nips at the exposed skin under the jacket he offered you earlier in the night. The journey is smooth, with just a few cars on the road as the clock ticks past 3, he pulls into his driveway, a view you haven’t seen since the last hangout hosted here. 

He doesn’t let you undo your seatbelt, he insists on doing it for you before he gets out of the door and walks over to your side. His touch is soft when he laces his fingers between yours, he guides you to his door as if he’s bringing a valued gift home, like you don’t already know the ins and outs of this apartment with the hours you’ve spent here, you’re sure you can navigate it blindfolded. 

The click of the lock is loud in the quiet of his apartment. You still see your mug sitting lonely behind his cupboards. He takes your purse from you and sets it gently on the cabinet before bending down, with his calloused fingers, he takes off your heels carefully, as if they’re made out of glass and would shatter on impact. When he stands to his full height again, he’s one breath closer, you can count the scars that dust across his countenance this way, you’re shameless in the way you let your eyes meander over his face, the delicate skin that have seen so much tragedy, right at your fingertips, smooth but rugged at the edges of his blemishes, his stories. 

His hands snake around your waist and land on the small of your back, pulling you near, until not even a sheet of paper can separate the two of you, the way he looks at you– it makes you feel nervous, shy, and just like every other aspect in his life, he meets your eye with courage, dedication, to prove himself to you once again. 

It’s you who kisses him first. You go on your tippy toes, just reaching his lips in time that he scoops you tight and close, your hands begin to make their way up his nape and into his messy locks, ashy and for you, its scent familiar. His big and rough hands cloak their way under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly before setting you down on that corner of the kitchen island. 

His breaths taste like liquor and you’re addicted. His lips are soft, even, in a way that you know he takes good care of himself, but his kisses begin to get a bit more desperate. Teeth begin to clatter, he begins to nip, like the wind and like you’d get away otherwise, and maybe you will. The grip you have on his hair grows needier, like you’re begging. 

He picks you up, and a small noise escapes from your lips that he swallows greedily. He’s waited so long, been so patient for so long.

Katsuki decides that he’s been a gentleman long enough. He slowly walks towards his bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip before he puts you on the bed with as much tenderness a starving man could have. 

He doesn't hesitate in stripping you when he sees the same desire glinting in your eyes, the silk dress slips off like butter. Despite it being you two’s first time, you all but work together like a well-oiled machine, harmonised and synchronised. Somehow, he knows that your whine means you must want his shirt off as well. He’s generous in taking off his suit and dress pants, his belt leaves his waist with a clip before your hands take its place. You swear your mouth waters at his slim waistline, his eyes glimmer when he lays them on your breasts, spilling from behind your lingerie. 

“I’ve waited so long for you, my love,” He whispers with his nose tucked beneath your jaw, you shudder when he licks a long and teasing stripe up to your ear, your nails scratch his shoulders in tandem, a silent plea for him to do something. He hears your prayers and begins to make his way towards your clothed heat, you’re embarrassed as he looks at you directly when he kisses your clit. His fingers go up to your hips before sliding your panties off at a terrifically slow pace.

Bakugou thinks he’s in nirvana when he sees your wetness clinging to the fabric, his eyes are far rolled back into his skull, he suddenly thinks he’s a man dying of thirst. The way your core glistens under the soft moonlight shining through from his windows makes him weak in the knees, “Please, Kats, I don’t need prep, I just need you,” 

He smiles when he hears you before complying. Even in your haze, you can still clearly recognise the wet spot on his underwear, his boxers seem uncomfortably tight, but you’re not in a much better state, when his cologne drowns you in his bed, you think you’re in limbo. 

Katsuki’s body must be shaped by the Greek sculptors, you think. His abdominal muscles are nothing short of a breathtaking sight, he chuckles when he hears your sharp intake of breath. The way his fingers slip into your wet cunt earns you a place in hell, but you feel like you’re in heaven when you see him wrap his digits, coated with you, around his cock, pumping up and down until his pink tip is leaking and waiting. He’s out of breath before you even begin. 

“Fuck, baby, you ready? ‘Cause I can’t wait anymore,” Your nods are overzealous, but his chuckles are cut short when his tip slowly pushes past your hole and into your pussy, he’ll die happy now, he thinks, you’re nothing short of perfection. 

Your moans are sacrilegious when he sinks his entire length in, his arms are caging you in, and you’re forced to look at him, dazed and eyes lidded. It’s not long before he starts moving, and then your hands are gripping the sheets, he gets up close and personal, so he can listen to your moans right at his ear while he sucks a bruising hickey onto your neck, so that no doubt you’ll be his by the end of tonight. His pace is set fast, but it becomes erratic soon enough, “Kats–! Hnng, fuck! Baby I need you so bad, give it to me, oh god!” He grimaces once, his fingers intertwined with yours before bringing them above your head, “Don’t beg god for mercy, he won’t save you now, beg for me, scream my name instead baby,” he grins, swallowing all of your sobs of his name possessively. 

His hips snap towards yours faster and faster and you swear he's reached an undiscovered spot when he brings your legs atop his shoulders, his grunts grow in volume, he begs for you now, and you’ve never felt more powerful having Dynamight appeal for your love and mercy. “Oh, oh, love, you want me to fill you up? Pump you full with my cum, you want it, don’t you?” The grip he has on your hips is brutal and you’re sure they’ll leave a mark but you can’t be happier, you scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and by your third promise he’s already painting your warm walls white, he doesn’t stop for your sake, his fingers go around your clit in small but fast circles, and you’re quickly thrown over the cusp and left twitching as his cum is pushed into the deepest crevices in you before he collapses on top of you, panting, sweaty, and sweet. 

Your eyelids become heavy, threatening to close when he pulls you close to his chest, the familiar aroma of his nitroglycerin sweat mixed with his shower gels flooding your nostrils brings you comfort; you grip onto his pillow case, you’ll pretend to fall asleep, anything to keep your tears in, and dare they ever fall over your cheeks, you’ll face into the soft cushion and inhale what you can now call home. 

A leap of faith, they call it, a dive into the uncertainty of what Katsuki will bring to you.  

“Eyebrows? We need to take a shower,” He whispers while cradling your head in his calloused palms, voice soft and gentle, you don’t want to open your eyes, wishing they’ll remain shut for as long as he allows, “come on, we’ll sleep afterwards,” but with a promise that you two can spend the remainder of what is left until dawn together, when the two of you will have to suffer the violating scrutiny of the public eye once more, you follow him to the bathroom, to the edge of the Earth if he asks, because it won’t be everyday that you get to preserve this kind of unbreached privacy, the kind of seclusion spent with you tangled in his limbs and tucked beneath his sheets, safe and sound, away from the rest of the world. 

[evilfloralfoolery]

Daggers and Deception - Part I

Being shot is a real pain in the ass, especially if you're coming down with a cold. And that's exactly what's happening to this perpetually surly mercenary who has been forced into seclusion while he recovers.

But he's not the only one stuck in the middle of What Kind of Fresh Country Fuck Hell Nowhere. Someone is in the apartment next to his. Someone who knows something he shouldn't . . . and is obviously allergic to air.

Neither man is what they seem to be.

____________________________________________

The driveway is as long as a damn subdivision block, but the house at the end of it sure as hell isn't like his place.  Tall and shaded by trees, the rambling, archaic property sits by itself with no neighbors, no sidewalks.  No nothing.

When the boss said "the middle of nowhere," he wasn't even kidding.  

Goddamn it.

"Let me carry that."

Max's gruff voice at his side.  Not an offer, really.  More like he was going to do it and there wasn't room for discussion.  Typical.

Grimm grunts.  "Yeah. Whatever."  

Not like he can't manage with his good arm.  But Max isn't having any of his shit today, or any other day, for that matter.

"You're upstairs on the right," Max says as he falls into step beside Grimm, bag in hand.  "I tried to get you space on the first floor, but they're remodeling the--"

"It's fine," Grimm interrupts.  "It ain't my leg that's broken."

Max hefts the bag over his shoulder and fishes through his pocket for a key.  "You're still going to take it easy. Behave yourself or I'll see to it that we extend your stay."  He flicks icy blue eyes to Grimm.  "I mean it, Amadis."  

Oooo, resorting to surnames. So fucking terrifying.

"Yeah, yeah."  Grimm waves his good hand in a dismissive gesture.  

Not like he has a choice.  Couldn't be out in the field with a busted shoulder, much less with his arm in a sling.  The wound had been clean enough not to fuck up anything permanently.  He hopes.  At least, that was the line the doctors had fed him.  But damn, there had been a lot of blood. Lucky as hell that the bullet hadn't ripped through both sides of his body.

If one could call that a silver fucking lining.

He follows Max up the questionable facade of a staircase, the wooden slats complaining beneath his footfalls with every step.

Definitely a death trap in the making. 

"How old is this place?"

Max glances over his shoulder.  "Old."  

Grimm rolls his eyes.  

By the time they reach the third story, sweat has begun a steady trickle down the back of Grimm's neck, the small amount of physical exertion taking an unpleasant toll.  Which is stupid.  And annoying.  Fuck, the stab wound across his chest hadn't hurt as badly as this.

Max sets the bag down in front of a door that looks like it might cave in if Grimm breathes wrong and holds up a set of keys.

"The black one is the front door.  Silver is your room.  You've got a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, all of it.  We'll have groceries delivered to you once a week, but if you need anything, call Rex.  He'll make sure you get it."

"And if I wanna leave?"  

Max levels his stare at him.  "You won't."  

Hmn.  Grimm hooks a loose strand of his dark hair behind one ear as Max finagles the keyhole and convinces the door to open, carting his bag inside and dropping it in the middle of the living room area. 

"Fridge and cabinets are stocked.  Clean sheets on the bed.  Towels in the bathroom.  There's a curator on the property who takes care of all that, so she'll be by to check on you now and then. She's also a nurse and she'll help you with dressing that wound and repacking it.  Be nice to her."  

Grimm rakes a hand through his hair with sniffle.  "I'm nice, dammit."

"Uh huh."  

Max reaches into his pocket and produces a bottle with a white label.  "Take these."

Grimm eyes the label with a look of marked disdain.  Opioids. Not a fucking chance. "You know I'm not taking that shit."

 Max shoves the bottle at him.  "Take it anyway."  

He sets the bottle on the nearest piece of furniture and folds his good arm across his chest.  Too bad the damn sling ruins the effect.

"I'll be in touch," Max says.  "Rest, Grimm."

Like he has a choice. 

"I can't believe you're making me do this country isolation bullshit."  

Max's expression doesn't waver. "Believe it."  He pats Grimm's shoulder with one hand.  "And change your shirt.  You're about to drip sweat all over this ugly-as-hell rug."  

Mother. Fucker.

 "Smartass," Grimm says.

Max cracks a hint of smile. "Take care of that cold, too."

Grimm narrows his eyes. "What cold?"

Max doesn't respond, but takes off instead, leaving Grimm standing in the middle of his new quarters with a whole lot of silence and weird-ass furniture.  Floral couch with a high back and wooden feet.  A carved, pockmarked end table with wooden feet.  Mismatched coffee table with some kind of folded flaps on the side.  With wooden feet.  

"Somebody got a damn foot fetish around here or what?" Grimm mutters to no one in particular.  

Max is wrong about the "cold," but is right about his shirt.  A combination of a bumpy ride and a short stair climb has him sweating bullets.  He hefts the bag onto the couch and paws through it until he finds a black tank top.  A hell of a lot easier to manage than a T-shirt.  At least his target had the decency to shoot him on his non-dominant side.

He slips the sling over his head and pulls his arm out of the thing, grabs the back of his T-shirt with his good hand . . . and hisses with a wince.  

Fuck, fuck, fucking FUCK.

A deep breath.  A struggle.  The material peels its way from his damp skin with far too much effort, leaving him sweating and panting as if he's run a good ten miles without a break.  A shock of cold travels down his spine and he fights against a sudden wave of nausea that forces him to take a seat on the floral fuckery of a couch.

The bottle sits on the coffee table.  Beckoning.  Mocking. He flips it the middle finger and tosses the tank top back into the bag.  Fuck this whole shirt-wearing shit.

After securing his arm in the sling once more, he meanders into the kitchen, takes a quick inventory of the food.  

Chicken, veggies, some ground beef . . .and an entire shelf of instant ramen.  The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.  Max knows him too well.

Not to mention, it's easy as hell to make with one arm.  A few minutes of boiling water, some frozen stir fry veg, and a little soak later, dinner is served.  Grimm sits at the table, palms a pair of chopsticks, and settles in.  

From the stairwell comes the sound of footsteps, a jingle of keys, and the protesting creak of a door.  A rustle of bags.  Footfalls on aging hardwood.  

Grimm tilts his head.  Max had mentioned the house was sectioned into apartments, but he hadn't mentioned other visitors.  Who else even knew about this place, anyway?  It's not like it was on the map. 

And man, are the walls thin as hell.

Pretty much every move his neighbor makes is audible from dropping the keys on the table to moving into the kitchen to put away whatever it is that they're carrying.  Or maybe Grimm's hearing is just too finely tuned for his own damn good.  Not like it didn't come with the job.  

It is not until his neighbor retires to the back of the apartment that Grimm stops being able to hear him walking and moving around.  The soft tinkle of piano keys wafts from the other side of the wall in place of movement, a wistful and almost sad melody.  Was it being played or just listened to?  Not like Grimm knows enough about music to tell.  Still, whatever it might be is oddly soothing and he finishes his "dinner" and drags himself to the bedroom for a rest.  Or maybe just some tossing around and growling.

At least the bed is enormous and inviting enough, all carved with huge spiraling posts and some kind of bars connecting them.  Maybe for a canopy or something at one time.  But whatever, all he cares about is if the mattress is comfortable.  He eases himself onto the duvet and sprawls out as much as his damn shoulder will allow.  The sling isn't exactly comfortable, but he makes do with it via a few propped up pillows and little bit of shifting around.

His eyes drift shut, the whir of the fan a comfortable, lulling nuance that nearly drags him into sleep immediately.  Or at least until the abrupt sound of a sneeze from the other side of the wall snaps him out of it.  A bitingly sharp “EKSSCH!”  And another.  And another.

“EKSSCH! EKCHISSH!”

Well, damn.

A fourth follows less than a minute later and Grimm tilts his head back, eying the wall with a raise of one eyebrow.  

He raps his knuckles on the aging sheetrock.

“Hey,” he says. “You dying or what?”

Silence. Guess the guy didn't realize he had a neighbor, either.

“Yes,” comes the curt response after some time.

Grimm chuckles. Obviously male.  Deep voice, but not as deep as his rumbling bass. Some kind of posh-ass accent, too.  

“-iihEKSSH-uuuh!”

An irritated frustration of a sound that is clearly a “stop this shit right the fuck now!” level of annoyance.

“Bless you,” Grimm says, more out of amusement than anything else.

A pause he can almost feel follows before a quiet "thank you" is issued from the other side of the wall.   

His neighbor opens and closes a drawer or two and wanders back to the other side of the house, accompanied by a few more sneezes and what sounds like a well-placed curse at one point.  

That gets another round of chuckling.

Somewhere from inside the apartment, the piano music resumes and Grimm is now certain it is, in fact, not a recording.  The man is definitely playing whatever it is himself.  With a sigh, Grimm closes his eyes again. Maybe the guy will keep playing long enough for him to ignore his throbbing shoulder and pass the fuck out.  

The fan whirs, the plaintive strands of whatever the guy is playing a nice counterpoint to the white noise.  Grimm takes a deep breath. Exhales.  Repeats.  Sweat beads his brow, threatening to trickle into his ear and the ramen feels like a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.  A hint of a groan escapes him.  The first few days are always the worst with a wound like this.  It'll pass.  Eventually. 

(TBC . . .maybe)

[hbyrde36]

Chapter Two

Ch 1 <-

WC: 4574 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 2/10 | AO3

One week to the day after Eddie Munson narrowly escaped an almost certain death, he woke up from a coma brought on by major blood loss.

Not that he knew that at the time, but later on he’d overhear a few chatty nurses talking about him when they thought he was asleep, and eventually he’d be talked at by a doctor who looked like he’d rather be treating anyone else. 

Eddie came to gradually at first, and then all at once, as if the hand on the dial of reality had slipped, going from one, to two, to one hundred without warning, leaving him squinting up into a painfully bright light. His thoughts were syrupy slow, and it felt a little like his limbs weren’t quite attached to his body… or maybe his body wasn’t quite attached to his brain.

Blurry fractured images flashed through his mind. Rows of small sharp teeth, the spokes on a bicycle wheel, blood—so much blood. 

Nothing that made any sense.

For a hysterical moment, when his eyes finally managed to adjust, he thought he was in school. The drop ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights reminded him of the classrooms he’d been rotting away in for the last too-fucking-many years. But just when he was starting to wonder how the hell he’d managed to fall asleep on the floor in English class, and why anyone hadn’t woken him up, he finally registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

Oh. 

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

One realization led to another, and more sounds quickly began to fill his ears. The whoosh and whir of other unseen equipment around him, the heart monitors incessant beeping becoming faster and faster as he took it all in, broadcasting the rate of his heart as it raced inside his chest—a chest housing a dull ache that was becoming sharper and more insistent by the second.

A broken rib. He'd put money on it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but how had he gotten a broken rib?

Eddie swallowed hard, or tried to, anyway, but only managed to choke on the tube he’d only now realized was jammed down his throat. In a panic he went to reach for his face, fully intent on ripping the thing out himself, but he couldn’t move more than a few inches before his wrists caught, the bite of metal into his skin and the clang of handcuffs rattling against the rails of the bed telling him everything he needed to know about his current situation.

Namely, that he was fucked. 

It all came back to him in a rush. Chrissy, Vecna, Dustin, the bats.

A face swam into view as he continued to struggle against his bonds, a familiar man looking down at him with concern coloring his features.

“Relax, Munson. You’re gonna hurt yourself. I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you can. You're okay. Someone will be here any second to get it out, I promise.”

Eddie might not have known it from the face alone, and the guy looked completely different than the last time he’d been busted for speeding, but Eddie’d been chased out of enough house parties to know that voice anywhere. 

Former Police Chief Jim Hopper. 

Former, because he was dead.

And Eddie, well—the last thing he remembered, he’d been dead too, or in the process of getting there at least. Is that why he was seeing the late chief now?

No, that didn’t make any sense. If he was dead why would he be in the hospital—or handcuffed to the bed for that matter?

So what the hell had happened? 

This was literally a nightmare come to life. Worst case scenario shit. To somehow have survived being torn apart by a swarm of demobats, only to end up shackled to his own hospital bed, in a town that hates him and thinks he’s some kind of devil worshiping serial killer.

A nurse in blue scrubs arrived seconds later, just as Hopper had promised, gently removing the tube and shutting off the ventilator while Eddie was still busy trying to wrap his brain around it all. The woman, apparently unfazed by the resurrection of a well-known dead man, attempted to stare the chief down over Eddie’s bed in some kind of silent standoff, but eventually conceded. She gave Hopper a shallow nod before taking one last glance at the various monitors, exiting the room with a quiet, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Eddie tried to speak but the only noise his wrecked vocal cords could produce was a harsh croak. Hopper was right there yet again, bringing the tip of a bendy straw up to Eddie’s mouth without a word. Eddie glared over the cup as he took a sip. The cool water was like heaven and it was only out of sheer spite that he managed not to moan at the feel of it soothing his painfully raw throat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Eddie finally choked out.

The ghost of a smile crossed Hopper's lips. “Do I look dead to you?"

“No, but you do look like shit.”

“Could say the same thing about you, kid.”

Eddie had so many questions, beginning with how was Hopper even there right now? And why? 

Was he there to interrogate him about Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick? If so, then why was he being so... nice? Hopper had always been kind-of a dick to him if he was honest, but that was to be expected when you were a small town drug dealer. And Eddie had definitely heard the saying ‘death changes a man’ before, but he didn’t think this was what they meant.

Hopper sighed heavily and dropped down into a chair next to the bed. "How about I talk and you just listen for now?”

Eddie scowled reflexively, but his sore throat was grateful.

"First, if it isn’t obvious, I’m not here in any official capacity. Powell let me in to see you as a personal favor. I don’t think he would have agreed to it under normal circumstances, but coming back from the dead has its perks. Look, we don’t have a lot of time, but I know you didn’t kill that girl, or any of the others. I know all about Henry Creel and the half-baked plan you knuckleheads came up with to go into the Upside Down and kill the bastard.”

Eddie's eyes went wide, it was so far beyond anything he’d been expecting to hear that his brain just short circuited for a second.

"Don’t look so shocked. I know all about the otherworldly dimensional shit, my kid’s the one with the superpowers, though I guess you probably haven't met her yet. So, did I miss anything?"

Something finally clicked, and Eddie felt a little slow for not having figured it out sooner.

He vividly remembered the news reports, and the chief’s picture in the paper. He’d died a hero, rescuing others in the fire at Starcourt. But Eddie knew now that the incident at the mall had been no simple fire. He didn’t really know the details, only that it had to do with all the rest of the weirdness, and he’d definitely overheard Robin make some vague references to Russians.

“Did they?” Eddie asked.

Hopper tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Did they, what?”

“Kill him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they got him.”

Eddie let out a long breath, nodding mostly to himself. 

Good. That was good at least.

"A-and how am I—” he stuttered out, gesturing to the all of himself, wrapped up in bandages, and hooked up to monitors and an IV drip. “How did I get here?" 

"You almost didn’t. Steve… he found Dustin sitting with you and they thought—” Hopper trailed off, clearing his throat. “But, he started CPR and somehow they got you out of that place and into the back of an ambulance. Honestly, the whole thing sounds impossible. It’s a miracle you survived."

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and the sound of the heart monitor, which had begun to even out as they talked, picked up speed again as the implications sank in.

So he had died, or close enough. It’d been over, curtains, time to pay the riverman and all that, and Steve fucking Harrington had taken it upon himself to reach through the veil and drag him back?

Eddie’s vision swam, the room around him spinning, and suddenly far too bright. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

This was not supposed to happen, it was supposed to be over.

Eddie was so lost in his anger at the fucking audacity that he didn’t notice the nurses barging in until they were practically hovering over him. 

“What’s going on in here?” One of the new arrivals asked, shooting an accusing glare at Hopper.

“Nothing, we were just talking.”

“Well I’ve got alarms going off in the nurses station that tell me maybe that’s enough talking for today.”

Hopper grit his teeth but didn’t argue, meeting Eddie’s eyes over the nurses heads as they poked and prodded him. "I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, and I'm sorry about the cuffs, but I swear we’ll figure this out and get your name cleared. Just hang in there."

Another week passed, the time going painfully slow now that he was conscious and had absolutely nothing to do, and no way to distract himself from his thoughts.

Apart from a few kind souls, most of the nurses gave him a wide berth, popping in and out, completing their tasks with cold clinical efficiency. The doctors weren’t much better, telling him he was healing well without going into any specifics. They didn’t volunteer any information, and Eddie didn’t ask, only speaking when he absolutely had to.

None of it mattered.

His body may have been healing, but inside Eddie had never been more shattered.

He was increasingly surprised with each day that passed, that no one had shown up to interrogate him yet. He supposed he probably had Hopper to thank for that one, and not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he was grateful. He wouldn’t have had the first idea what to say anyway, even if it would break up the monotony. No one would believe the truth, and he had no way of knowing what cover story the others might have come up with.

On the seventh day post coma Eddie received his first and second visitors. 

First, in a surprising turn of events, was officer Callahan. Who, after a stilted and insincere apology removed Eddie’s handcuffs, informed him that he was no longer a suspect in any of the murders, and rushed right back out the door without waiting for a reply.

Which was fine. Eddie had nothing to say to a man that had allowed him to be hunted down like a fucking animal anyway.

His second visitor, and the one person on the planet that could make Eddie crack a smile despite it all, was his Uncle Wayne.

“My boy,” Wayne spoke softly, leaning over Eddie to draw him into a gentle hug. “For a while there I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said, as Wayne settled himself into the visitor’s chair that had sat empty since the day Hopper left.

He meant it too, even if the apology was woefully inadequate for the amount of worry he’d caused the older man. He might have wished things had turned out differently, but he still didn't like the idea that he’d hurt his uncle. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault that he was so fucked up.

“Wayne, I swear, I didn’t…”

“I know you didn’t, son. I didn't believe it for one second no matter what those two yahoos with badges said.” Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “Good thing about Hopper though, hmm? I still can’t believe he was working undercover. Imagine faking your own death like that. He really went to bat for you, y’know. Not sure why it was even necessary, mind, what with the injuries you came in here with. It's not hard to believe you were hurt by the same monster who killed those poor kids.”

Eddie’s heart jumped up into his throat. “Monster?”

“They can call him a serial killer all they want, but people can be monsters too. Word’s not only for those things in your dice game.”

Eddie sagged back against his pillows in relief. For a second there he thought someone had told Wayne the truth. Not that the old man couldn’t keep a secret, but he didn't need to be burdened with the brutal reality of what Eddie and the others had faced down. Not now that it was over.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s called Dungeons and Dragons, old man.”

“I admit nothin’,” Wayne chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Eddie threw him a questioning look. Were visiting hours over so soon? Did his uncle have to go back to work already?

"It’s good to have you back, and much as I’d like to keep you all to myself, there’s a lot of other people wanting to see you too if you’re up for it,” Wayne offered in answer.

Eddie blinked up at him. "Huh?" 

“What’d you think, Ed, that they’d all just left you here to rot? You’ve got a waiting room full of folks down there who seem to care about you a whole lot. Between 'em all checking in on you and that red-headed girl, those poor nurses at reception haven’t had a moment’s peace.”

Actually he kind of had thought that, to be honest. It was hard not to when he'd been stuck in isolation like this. The red-headed girl could only be Max, and Eddie felt like such an ass. He’d been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he hadn’t considered if anyone else had been hurt.

Something must have shown on his face, because Wayne reached out and took his hand, squeezing. “She’s okay, went home a few days ago. It’s been a little quieter around here since then, until today at least, but I swear that little fella Dustin sleeps here some nights, and Steve hardly ever leaves.”

Dustin he almost understood. They were close. He loved that little shit, and death-bed request or not, he could think of no one better to watch over his sheepies when he was gone, sorry Gare.

But Steve.

Eddie’s jaw tightened just thinking about it. 

What was Steve playing at? What right did he have to sit here day after day. Hadn’t he played the white knight enough to boost his own ego, or asswage whatever misplaced guilt or whatever the fuck had made him think Eddie needed, or deserved, or even wanted saving?

He’d spent the entirety of the last week sinking further and further into himself, drowning in despair, self-pity, hopelessness. Finding out he was no longer a suspected murderer had done very little to make him feel better. He was still stuck here in this shithole of a town, in his shithole life, with even less prospects for the future than before. 

He’d be a high school dropout now, because let’s face it, even if Higgins would be willing to let him repeat his senior year for a fourth time, Eddie was done. Surely all these days he was missing would push him over the edge. Those hard fought D’s becoming F’s in the blink of an eye. There was no point in trying anyway. Diploma or not, no one would hire him now. Hopper might have gotten him off the official hook, but Eddie knew how the world worked. Memory for hate was long and though he was innocent, though he would never spend a day in jail, the god-fearing people of Hawkins would always treat him like a murderer.

That was the life Steve had condemned him to by interfering, by taking away his only way out, and Eddie was so fucking angry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive the other boy for what he’d done.

He wouldn’t have minded seeing Dustin. He probably owed the kid an apology for bleeding out in his arms and maybe causing him a lifetime's worth of trauma, but didn’t know how he’d manage that without the others tagging along. 

“I don’t know, Wayne. I’m pretty tired,” Eddie said eventually, and didn’t even have to fake a yawn. This was the most excitement he’d had since he woke up, and he was still on a lot of drugs that made his bones feel heavy and his eyelids droop.

His uncle gave a sympathetic nod, releasing his hold on Eddie’s hand. “That’s okay, I’ll just go tell them you’re not up to it right now. They’re used to waiting around anyway, maybe later we can—”

“Can’t you just tell them all to go home?!” Eddie snapped, cutting him off. Instantly feeling terrible for raising his voice at the last person in the world who deserved it.

Wayne’s eyebrows flew up. “But… Ed, they’re your friends, aren’t they? They’ve been worried about you. I’m sure they’d like to see with their own eyes that you’re—”

Eddie looked away, dropping his gaze to stare down at the place where his IV disappeared into his skin as if he was suddenly fascinated with it. 

“Listen, I don’t know the half of what you’ve been through, but I’m not stupid,” Wayne went on with a sigh. He rounded the bed, perching himself near the end of it where the rail was down. “I know it’s not as simple as that story Hopper’s pushing out. And those kids down there? They’ve seen some things, and I got a hunch that you have too. Don’t push 'em away now. You’re gonna need each other to get through this.” 

“I don’t care,” Eddie said softly, still not looking up, eyes burning with unshed tears desperately trying to escape. 

“Ed.”

“I’m sorry. I just—I can’t see them, okay?” The first tear rolled down Eddie’s cheek, hanging on to the end of his chin for a moment before splashing down on his chest, absorbed instantly into the thin material of his hospital gown. He didn’t even know why he was crying. 

“Maybe after I get out of here, but for now, I—” Eddie cleared his throat roughly, but still couldn't force the rest of the words out.

“Alright, son. It’s alright.“ Wayne patted his leg and stood, making his way over to the door. “I doubt they’ll listen, but I’ll try and convince them to go on home.” 

Wayne visited every day until Eddie was discharged about another week later. If anyone else continued to hang around the waiting room day-in and day-out, his uncle didn’t mention it, and Eddie didn’t ask. 

The broken rib would still hurt like a bitch for at least a few more weeks, but his stitches had all been removed, and his wounds were healing nicely, or so he was told.

The wounds that could be seen anyway. 

He’d have one hell of a scar on his stomach, among others, and one side of his mouth would always pull a little funny when he smiled, but he would make a full recovery. The doctors sent him home with nothing more than instructions on keeping the various areas clean and a mild prescription. 

Read: non-narcotic.

He supposed he’d have to find some other way to try and numb himself then. 

The trailer was new, a bit bigger, and boasted two whole bedrooms so at least neither of them would have to sleep in the living room anymore. Their old home had been taken into custody by some “shady government types”, according to Wayne, but he’d salvaged as much of their belongings as he could before they’d hauled it away. 

Eddie's new room looked almost identical to his old, if a little cleaner and sadly lacking his sweetheart hanging in her place of honor on the wall, lost to the Upside Down.

It must have taken hours, days even, for the old man to get it set up like this and Eddie knew he should have been grateful—should be thanking his uncle profusely for this and everything else he’d done for him since the moment Eddie had been dropped on his doorstep.

But he didn’t feel grateful. 

He didn’t feel much of anything, and prayed it would stay that way.  

“How’s he doing?”

Eddie woke to the sound of voices speaking quietly nearby. He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV again. He remembered finishing the last drops of cheap vodka from the bottle, stashing it under the couch cushions before blacking out at some point during a rerun of The Twilight Zone.

He remained still. Too tired to move anyway and not wanting whoever was there talking to his uncle to know he was awake. 

“I don’t know, Chief, “ Wayne whispered, the obvious worry in his voice making Eddie’s stomach roll, or maybe that was the hangover. “He won’t talk to me, hardly leaves that couch. I got these kids calling day and night and he won’t talk to them either, flat out refuses to come to the phone. He’s drinking—a lot I think. I don't even know where it’s coming from. He must be running out when I’m asleep, or maybe he’s getting it from someone here in the park. I’m sure he thinks I don’t know, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Wayne. What he’s been through, it’s…” Hopper trailed off, blowing out a soft breath. “Maybe he just needs some time.”

“Yea, maybe,” Wayne agreed, but not like he believed it. 

“I did want to check on you both,” Hopper went on. “But that isn’t the only reason I stopped by.”

“I had a feeling.”

“I’m trying my best to get the story out there, to let the community know Eddie is innocent, and now that I've been reinstated I can promise he won’t get any trouble from my guys—” Hopper hesitated. His voice sounded muffled, and it wasn’t hard for Eddie to imagine him rubbing at his face with tired hands.

“But?” Wayne prompted.

“But, public opinion is hard to sway. There’s been a lot of… pushback. It’ll die down eventually, and I’ll see if there’s anything more I can do, but it might be best for him to keep laying low for a while.”

“I hear ya.”

“You call me if you run into any problems around here or in town. Either of you.” Hopper said.

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps coming closer, as if the two men were walking towards the front door. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe even as he continued to pretend to be asleep.

“Thanks, Jim, and thanks for helping my boy.” 

The door creaked as it opened, and a bit of sobering fresh air blew gently over Eddie’s sweaty face.

“If even half of what I hear is true, he’s a good kid. I’m sorry if I gave him a hard time before.”

Wayne chuckled softly. “Not like he didn’t deserve it.”

There was silence in the air for a beat, and Eddie thought maybe Wayne had gone outside with the chief, until Hopper spoke again, his tone solemn. “He doesn’t deserve this though.” 

“No,” Wayne breathed, “no he doesn't.”

A few days after Hopper’s surprise visit, Eddie finally took one of Dustin’s calls.

He wasn’t exactly feeling any better about things, but he was tired of the looks Wayne was giving him whenever he refused to come to the phone. He didn’t know what the look was exactly. There was definitely disapproval in the set of the old man’s jaw, but his face also carried worry, sadness—even pity. 

It wasn’t a great combination. 

Eddie had also smoked the last joint from his own stash, drank himself out of booze, and ran out of cash to buy more. He couldn’t afford so much as a six pack.

He was growing restless, bored, and with no way to medicate himself he was no longer immune to the crushing guilt that had been steadily building since he’d refused visitors at the hospital.

“Eddie?”

“Hey, Henderson.”

Eddie braced himself, expecting to get shit for almost dying and then falling off the face of the earth, but Dustin was—careful.

“H-how are you?” The kid asked. 

Eddie pulled the receiver away from his face and let his head thunk against the wall, thinking he’d have preferred getting yelled at.  

“Oh, y’know… getting there. Healing, day by day, all that jazz. I’m—I’m alright.”

God, he sounded like an idiot.

Dustin let out a whoosh of air on the other end of the phone. “Good, that’s–that’s good. It’s really great to hear your voice.” 

“Yeah, you too, man.” Eddie smiled to himself, and even though this entire thing was making his skin crawl a little bit, he found that he really meant it. “Listen, Dustin, I'm sorry about everything, and going MIA like that. It wasn’t fair to you.” 

There was a beat of silence in Eddie’s ear, a muffled sniffle. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Dustin said finally, his voice a little thick and nasally. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Which couldn’t have been further from the truth, but the kid didn’t need to know that.

There was a rustling noise in Eddie’s ear, and something like a horn, but was probably the kid blowing his nose. And Dustin sounded a little more like his usual self when he spoke again. “So, I know how tired you’ve been, but—”

“What?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“You’re usually sleeping when I call, so I just thought—”

“Yeah—yes, right.”

Not the most graceful save, but spending days on end drinking, only to be suddenly involuntarily sober had left Eddie’s brain feeling like cotton candy.

“Well, now that you’re feeling better, I thought we could finally have our, we saved the world, party.”

“You say that like it’s a thing. Is that a normal thing you-all do?”

“Of course! You gotta celebrate your victories.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please? Will’s back in town too. We have so much to fill you in on! I was thinking maybe we could even play a quick one-shot now that we’re all back together. Steve wouldn’t mind if we took over his dining room table. He might even watch!” 

Well, that answered the question of where this godforsaken event might be occurring. 

Eddie remembered Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all raving about Will the Wise, and in another life he’d have been thrilled to finally meet the kid and play, but for one thing, he was in no condition to run a campaign yet—or maybe ever again.

And for two…

Steve.

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddieeeee,” Dustin drew his name out, long and whiny.

“No.”

There was no way Eddie was voluntarily getting within a five mile radius of Harrington or his stupidly big house. 

“Come on, forget the game then. Just say you’ll come to Steve’s on Friday.”

“I’m sorry, but the answer is—”

“Please?” Dustin begged, his voice taking on a watery quality again. “I really need to see you.”

And fuck, how was Eddie supposed to say no to that? He should have never picked up the phone. 

“Alright, fine. Tell me what time this shindig is and I’ll be there.”

Chapter 3

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[blossom-works]

Scared to Lose You

"We live in a scary and uncertain world. I know you say that you won't know what to do with yourself if you ever lost me, but I cannot promise that I will outlive you. Instead, I promise that I will find a way to tell you that I love you every single day of my life. Up until I can no longer walk on this earth. I will make you feel loved when you walk out that door, and I will make you feel loved when you come back home."

When Leon got that call, his heart stopped. He felt the organ in his chest stop beating. His blood ran cold and his brain went blank. Leon wanted to drop to his knees and wail. He wanted to curse the world. He wanted to burn it down. Leon wanted nothing more than to go back to five hours ago and lock you in your shared home. He would beg you not to go on that mission and to stay home with him. Leave everything to your colleagues so you can be in the comforts of his arms, and he, yours.

Everything feels more real when Leon rushes inside the hospital. He does not even care to check in with the front desk. A couple of nurses have to stop him from barging through every door.

"My wife is here! Tell me where she is!"

The nurses are asking Leon to tell them who it is he is looking for, but all he can say is "My wife". Leon needs to see you. He needs to know that you are okay. You have to be okay. You just have to be. You became his reason for living. You taught him how to navigate the world without getting lost in its darkness. You become his reason to live. If he lost his sun, his light in the world, Leon would be consumed by the darkness of the world.

"Leon!" A banged-up woman comes running down the hallway. Dirt covers her face and she has a slight limp to her.

"Tina, where is she! Tell me she's okay!"

Your co-worker and best friend tell the hospital staff that she will handle this. Tina tells them who it is Leon is looking for and they tell him what floor you are on. Leon immediately sprints to the stairs. No time for the elevator. Tina runs behind the man, asking him to slow down but it falls on deaf ears. How can Leon slow down when his wife is on the brink of death? He needs to be by your side as fast as he can.

Leon sees the double doors to the to the surgery wing but Tina blocks off the door before he can bust through them.

"What are you doing Tina? I need to get to her!"

Tina shakes her head. "You need to calm down, Leon."

"Calm down? Calm down! My wife is about to die and you want me to calm down!"

More of your colleagues hold Leon back, but he fights. He is fighting because he needs to see you. He needs you and there is no way he is going to let anyone take you from him, not even death. Leon is your husband. It is his job to protect you and here you are, in surgery, fighting for your life! Your colleagues have to lock Leon in a room away from the other visitors for fear that he may hurt someone or himself. Given his training, it was hard to overwhelm the DSO agent.

"Enough of this, Leon! You can't go batshit crazy, right now!"

"And why not? My wife is fighting for her life and you expect me to just sit and wait!"

"Yes! There is nothing you can do Leon! Let the doctors do their job so they can save her life and you can bring her back home!"

No words leave Leon's mouth. Tina is witnessing a man at what is potentially his lowest. The room they shoved Leon in is a staff lounge room. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs, Leon paces the floor with his hands behind his head.

"What happened, Tina? What the fuck happened out there?"

"Are you going to sit?" Leon glares at your friend. Tina holds her hands up in defense. "Shit went wrong. It was supposed to be an in-and-out type of mission, but we didn't realize that they had rigged the building with explosives. During the raid, they triggered the bombs. She barely made it a couple of feet outside before the bombs went off."

Tina further explains that you collided with a nearby vehicle from the explosion. The blast resulted in a total of thirty-two casualties, thirty-three fatalities and counting. Before you were wheeled off into the surgery ward, the doctors said that you had multiple shrapnel wounds, broken ribs, and potential internal bleeding. Maybe even a collapsed lung.

As Leon hears all of this, he does not care about the dead cops, agents, or civilians. As horrible as that sounds, all Leon cares about is you. You were in that blast and Leon has no idea what your current condition is. When Tina told Leon about your injuries, he wanted to throw up. He wanted to rip someone's face off. Leon felt his skin starting to burn. The air felt suffocating. Leon feels like he is the one dying, not just you.

Oh, God...you are dying. Are you not? You are on a surgical bed being cut open because it is the only way to save your life. Is Leon really going to lose you? No. Please, God, no. Anything but you. Take him! Take his life! Not yours! Not you!

Seeing her best friend's husband about to enter a panic attack, Tina carefully brings him out of his mind. "Leon, she's going to be okay. We both know she's a strong one. She isn't going out like this." Tina keeps talking to Leon, trying to coax him out of his head. Your friend and colleague really hopes that her words are not empty promises. Tina has witnessed your and Leon's love story since the beginning. Your relationship went by fast, but the two of you love each other. You fought the world together, head-on. You fought for each other, not against one another.

Tina manages to shift Leon to the waiting area. She leaves the man to himself as she gets him a cup of water and a snack from the hospital cafeteria. She doubts he will have the appetite to eat something, but it will not hurt. You and Leon took care of Tina when she went through hell, so it is only right to return the favor. Looking at the time, Tina tells Leon that she has to go home to her family. Leon did not acknowledge her, but Tina knew he heard her. Patting his shoulder, she lets him know that she will have her phone on her.

For eleven grueling hours, Leon sat in that waiting area. He only left his seat when he had to use the bathroom or make a brief call. He sent a quick text to Claire, asking her to take care of Shiloh until further notice. Leon refuses to leave this hospital without the knowledge that you will live. When Claire and the rest heard about you, they rushed to the hospital. None of the doctors or nurses have told Leon about you or your condition. No one had answers and it is quickly killing your husband.

'I didn't feel loved this morning so you can't die. You didn't make good on your vow.' Leon lies to himself in desperation.

One person from your mutual friend group would drop food off for Leon. He would only eat a couple bites of the food though. Leon feels that if he eats more than six or seven bites, he may just throw up. He swears that his heart is about to burst out of his chest at any moment. Finally, when the clock reaches 8:34 a.m., a surgeon walks out the double doors.

"Kennedy?"

Leon immediately jumps from his seat and almost corners the medical expert. He demands to know your condition and where you are. If he has to wait any longer then he may just burst through those damn doors himself.

"Your wife is stable, but her condition is still critical. We're going to keep a close eye on her for the next seventy-two hours. We lost her twice during surgery." Oh, Leon wants to throw up so bad when he hears that you died not once, but two times. "She lost a lot of blood and she has bruising all over her body. Internal and external. Her ribs fractured when she collided with the car, but those are actually minor compared to the rest. Your wife had a total of fourteen shrapnel pieces lodged in her body, mainly her back. With your permission, we would like to run a CT scan to ensure that there is no more internal bleeding or organ damage."

Leon immediately nods and signs the stupid papers. Anything for you. Anything that will make sure you will be okay.

"You can see your wife in about ten minutes. I do have to warn you though, she won't look the same." The surgeon pats Leon's back and goes somewhere in the hospital.

The long hours Leon had to wait do not compare to the ten minutes he has to wait until he can see you. These ten minutes feel like ten days. When a nurse escorts Leon to your room, he wants to yell at her to pick up her pace. Why the hell is she walking so slow?

"She's in here."

Leon practically chokes on air when he sees you on that hospital bed. So many tubes are attached to you that are attached to more machines. He has no idea what any of this does, but if it is to keep you alive, fuck it. Attach all the damn tubes and machines to you. Hesitantly, Leon touches your hand. Contrary to your pale complexion, your body still has warmth to it. That piece of knowledge gives Leon some sort of comfort.

The doctor was right though. You look different, and it does not help that you are hooked up to so many machines. Leon stood there, by your bedside. Just holding your hand and caressing the hair on the top of your head, hoping that you get to come home.

Leon spent an entire week at the hospital. Since Claire was caring for Shiloh, she took the liberty to pack him a bag of clothes and toiletries. Everyone knew that Leon would not leave your side even if you asked him to. It takes you about four hours to wake up after your surgery. Your husband swears that his heart was about to burst when he saw your eyelids flutter.

"Hey, gorgeous," Leon whispers sweet nothings in your ears. He tells you how much he worried for you and how much he misses you. He tells you to never scare him like this again. His heart will not be able to handle such panic again.

Your body hurts and it feels stiff. Your throat is dry too. It takes you a couple of minutes to be able to talk, but when you do, your throat is hoarse. You want to sit up but your body is so exhausted after being blown up and rushed into surgery. Leon does everything for you. Need some water? He is lifting the cup to your lips. Are lights too bright? He will adjust the dimmers. Hungry? Let him check with the doctor first. Kiss? No argument here.

This kiss is desperate. Like Leon wants to make sure that you are alive and well. He wants to make sure that it is you he is kissing and not a corpse. So much love transfers from the kiss. Leon kisses you with his fiery heart that burns only for you. When the doctor deems you okay enough to run more scans, Leon is behind the glass watching you. If he could have it his way, he would be in the machine with you.

You suffered a concussion but with some pain relievers, you will be fine. your scans show no sign of internal bleeding or organ damage. Bruising, yes. Lots of bruising and even down to your bones. Your body also suffered small fractures, but nothing life-threatening. In conclusion, you are lucky to be alive.

When the nurse took out the tubes so you only had an IV drip and your heart monitor attached, you wanted to drown yourself in your work. The sons of bitches blew up local officers and federal agents and innocent lives. Lucky for you, your husband already has the information. The people responsible have been caught and will be tried on multiple, federal accounts. Leon tells you about the memorial being held for the people who died in the explosion.

You touch your husband's face. Your thumb traces the bags under his eyes and his hallowed cheeks. His stubble has also grown too. He looks tired.

"You should sleep." Leon shakes off your concern. "I'm okay."

You both know he is not, but a man will not talk if he does not want to. Even if the person who wants him to talk is his wife. When you are cleared to finally leave the hospital, Leon refuses to let you walk. He has your papers and his bag in one hand, and with his other, he carries you like a toddler. Later the same day, he picks up your prescriptions when you fall asleep on your shared bed.

At night though, Leon refuses to fall asleep. He is scared to close his eyes, only to open them and you are not there. He is scared that your being back home is an illusion his mind made up to cope with your death. Every ten or so minutes, Leon sits up so he can watch your chest rise and fall. He gently touches you so as to not wake you up. You catch onto this behavior after being home for three days.

"Leon, you really need to sleep. Your bags are getting heavier and you can barely stand up without wobbling."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I need to make sure you're still alive."

Limping, you bring Leon to your shared bed and shove him to lie in the middle. You lay down next to him, maneuvering his arm to wrap around your waist. Your head is on his chest and your left hand is around his waist.

"I'm here Leon. I'm right here." You whisper this repeatedly until Leon's eyes get too heavy and he finally goes to sleep. Deep sleep. Not the "let me shut my eyes for a few minutes" sleep. And you stay there, lying next to him until he wakes up. You know that if he wakes up and you are not there, it will tear at Leon's heart. Making him believe that you were really a figment of his imagination and his wife of only nine months is dead.

It is your turn to watch your husband sleep. To know that he is okay. A part of marriage is caring for each other until you physically drop. Leon did his part, and now it is time you do yours. For the next couple of weeks, maybe even months, the two of you will take extra care of each other. You will make sure to love each other a little more than you usually do. To say it more often. Hugs are tighter and cuddles are longer.

Truly, if Leon loses you, the man might as well die then and there. A part of him would want to crawl into the casket with you and lie with you until he joins you in the afterlife. Nothing would save Leon from that hell, not even alcohol. A downside of being with you is that Leon is dependent on you. You are his reason to live. You are his light in the dark tunnel he often adventures in. You have your claws sunk into his heart, soul, and body. Everything that is Leon is yours. He is yours to claim and yours to love.

Please, do not make Leon fall into the pitless well. Please, stay with him until he takes his last breath. Cheat death. Run away from it. Fight it. Do whatever you have to do to stay alive because there is no world or universe out there where Leon can live without you.

[sondheim-girly]

@outsidersweek submission for day six!! Here's the masterpost for this fic

September 1967

Marcia 

Marcia had never been in an east side house before. It was very small, but for some reason she liked it. It felt lived in, whereas soc houses were so pristine they seemed as though they were only there for display. She sat Two-Bit on the worn down couch, and he grunted in pain as he tried to adjust himself into the most comfortable position.

“Will your parents be home soon?” Marcia asked, the weight of her situation starting to dawn on her. She wasn’t a doctor! How was she supposed to help him?

“My ma’s off with my sister, and well, that’s what we’ve been asking about my dad for the past 7 years, isn’t it?” Two-Bit joked,

“Are there any friends I can call?” Marcia asked anxiously,

“Why? Don’t wanna deal with me yourself?” He teased.

“I took a class on medical health with Cherry last year so I know some basics, but I’m not sure if I’m the most equipped for the job.”

Two-Bit grinned, “I’ve been busted up like this tons of times, I know what you need to do. I think my ribs are bruised, and there isn't much for that other than pain meds and icing it, and there are supplies in the bathroom to clean and bandage up cuts.”

“Alright! I uh…”

“Bathrooms there,” He said, pointing down the hall.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, before scurrying away. 

Once she reached the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and took a moment. What the hell was she doing? Here she was, in an east side house, helping some greaser who she hardly even knew, to try and heal all the damage her friends caused. Trip would kill her if he knew what she was doing. Bev would- god she didn’t want to think about them right now. Cherry would be proud, Marcia realized. Cherry would know that this was the right thing to do. Even if Cherry probably hated her right now, as she should. Besides, it was much too late to turn back now.

Two-Bit

If someone had told Two-Bit Mathews that he’d be sitting in his living room, waiting for a soc girl- and not just any soc girl- but Marcia from the drive-in whose last name he didn’t even know, to come and patch him up after being jumped? He would have laughed in their face. Maybe he’d even have joked that it was ‘a nice fantasy.’ But while in all this pain, he struggled to believe that there was anything about this that could classify it as ‘nice’ or ‘a fantasy.”

But when Marcia walked back into the room with bandages, ice packs, and a wet cloth in hand, he decided there was definitely something fantastical about her. Because god he needed those ice packs more than anything.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a slightly forced grin.

“Here,” she said as she handed him ice packs to put on his chest. He pulled the remaining strap of his overalls off his shoulder, and peeled off his dirty tank top before pressing the ice to his bare chest. He looked up at Marcia, and golly her face was red. He smiled in spite of himself.

“You just gonna stand there?”

Marcias cheeks somehow turned even brighter, but she cleared her throat and said, “no. Can you scoot over?”

He shifted, and they managed to find a position so that she could use her cloth to try and clean up the bloody wound on his cheek. He studied her sick expression, and remembered that it had been her boyfriend who had given him that specific wound. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again she went to work, doing the best she could to wipe the blood away. God she was beautiful, he thought. He watched the way she bit her lip, and how her brow furrowed in concentration. And he realized how she was much more than just beautiful. She was brave. She’d abandoned all of her friends to help someone she hardly knew. He didn’t know many people who would do that. 

He was still gazing up at her when her eyes dropped down to meet his, and suddenly Two-Bit wasn’t entirely sure if his heart had stopped, or if it was beating way too fast. Then her eyes flickered down to his lips and her hand was brushing his cheek and they were leaning into each other and Two-Bit could probably think up a million reasons about why this was the worst decision of his life but hell, he thought, he’d made a thousand bad decisions, so what was one more?

He was saved from that decision however, by the door crashing open. Marcia practically jumped five feet in the air to get away from him, and he glanced over to see who had entered. It was Steve, standing there with his jaw on the floor.

“Heya Steve,” Two-Bit greeted, wondering how his voice came out sounding so normal, his heartbeat still felt all messed up. He glanced over at Marcia, and she had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. She turned to him, her eyes terrified. She was trying to say something, but there weren’t any noises coming out of her mouth. 

She finally managed a “bye!” Before pushing past Steve to get out the front door, and practically sprinting down the street to get back to the west side. He remembered then, that it didn’t matter what her friends did. It didn’t matter what he did. Marcia was gonna go running back into Trips arms every time.

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Prologue: Zemra

Corazon x gn!reader word count: 3.2k a/n: I'M BACK BITCHES. here's the mafia au i've been dying to do. hopefully y'all like it lmfao. also, i think i'm just going to keep text normal size this time around.

“You can’t keep running forever, y/n.” A voice rang through the empty warehouse, making you grimace.

You were currently crouched behind a crate, holding your arm with one hand; gun in the other. A bullet went clean through your arm. It stung like hell, but you didn’t exactly have time to stitch it up right now. Quickly, you ripped off your sleeve, tying it around your bicep to at least try to slow down the bleeding. You were lightheaded, but you couldn’t let yourself pass out. 

You’d already taken down two guys. How many were left? You weren’t sure. There was only one voice but the other’s could be keeping quiet for all you knew. Your eyes closed and you took a deep breath to calm yourself down so you could listen. One set of footsteps. One person breathing. Good. Just one left. Now…where was he?

Bingo.

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes. “You’ll bleed out at this rate. Just give in.” Man, did this guy ever shut up? His voice was like nails on a chalkboard to you. You moved, twisting out from behind the crate and aiming your gun. “If I’m going down, I’m not going down alone,” you said, firing your gun and landing a shot right in between his eyes. At least if you did end up bleeding out, so would three of their men.

The man dropped and you let out a long sigh that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. You leaned against the crate, closing your eyes. How the hell did you get in this situation again? Right. Your father sent you here to try and negotiate with the Donquixote family. Turns out it was just an ambush and three men had jumped you. They were pretty low level men, but an ambush nonetheless. You were almost slightly offended they’d send such weak people, but you were also glad. You tried to tell your father it was a dumb idea, but he didn’t listen.

Fuck, you didn’t even want to be here. You didn’t want to fucking do this anymore. You just wanted to focus on your studies and become a doctor. You were tired of death and destruction. You wanted to help people. You hated every bit of this, but your father was the head of your family and you didn’t want to disappoint him. You felt like you had no choice. He never said anything like that, it was just something you told yourself. You loved your father and just wanted to make him proud.

You’d thought about leaving several times before. Something told you that your father would probably let you. He wasn’t an awful man and he knew this life wasn’t for everyone, however you were his only heir. A fortune you didn’t fucking want, but you felt like you had to do it.

You closed your eyes once more, taking a deep breath before heading out of the warehouse. You needed to head back. This was a bust and your father was going to be pissed. After all, his only child was injured because of his own decision. He truly held too much trust in people - even if they were his rivals.

The Donquixote family was your father’s number one rival as he was theirs. There were other mafia families around, yes, but your two families were the strongest and most influential. As well as had the most territory. It was only natural for you to rival one another. You also didn’t typically go on runs like this. Since you were your father’s child, you were usually well protected and out of harm’s way to ensure the safety of an heir or whatever the fuck have you. Your father was trying to get rid of the bad blood and reach some kind of truce. He was never one to really be involved in turf wars. He just wanted to be left alone to do his thing but the Donquixote family made that difficult. 

You were his olive branch and they had tried to metaphorically snap you in two. Physically? They just tried to riddle you with bullets. You weren’t doing this shit again though. This was the one and only time. Your father wouldn’t put you in a situation like that again, not that you’d ever agree either.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you headed out of the warehouse and down an alley. You were worse for wear - you just needed to make it to your own hideout, then you could take care of yourself. Everything would be fine.

Just as you were turning a corner, you ran smack dab into someone, sending them toppling backwards. You stumbled as they crashed to the ground. “Oh shit, I’m sorry I-” You froze as you looked at who was before you, eyes widening.

Donquixote Rosinante. 

You pulled out your gun, pointing it at him and backing away from him. Your arm was long forgotten at this point as your adrenaline picked back up. What the hell was he doing here? The last you heard, he was missing. How was he here? Were those rumors a lie? Was your information false? So many questions swam through your mind as your anxiety rose. Was he part of the ambush?

He finally gathers himself, locking eyes with you as he sees you; moreso the gun you were pointing at him. You’re glad that you were wearing a face covering that masked half your face. There was no way he could be able to tell who you were. 

He doesn’t look scared that you’re pointing a gun at him as expected of someone in a family like yours, but he slowly lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want to fight.” He spoke slowly, watching you like a hawk. His eyes glanced to the injury on your arm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, grimacing. “And how do I know that? How do I know you weren’t about to ambush me like your buddies did?” 

Confusion consumed his features as he looked back at your eyes.. “Ambush? Buddies? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. Why the hell else would you be lurking around in an alley?”

He looked at you for a long moment, but still didn’t try to make any sudden movements. “Well, it seems you know who I am, so I suppose you also know that I’ve been missing? I’m in hiding. I don’t want any trouble.” 

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t be on the ground before you if this was planned would I?”

You opened your mouth to respond when a small voice spoke out. “C-Corazon? Is it safe to come out now?” You went rigid as you heard a child’s voice. Panic rose in Rosinante’s eyes as the voice rang through the alleyway. He looked at you, silently pleading. Is this why he had went missing? He had a kid? Well, if he had the kid, he’d probably call him ‘dad’ not ‘Corazon.’ What was going on? 

Immediately, you uncocked your gun and hid it away. You weren’t about to let a child witness any kind of violence. The man before you looked surprised by your actions, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t uncommon for some families to indoctrinate children at a young age to be a part of the ‘family business’. You were a prime example of that. For as long as you can remember, you were taught the ways of the family. That didn’t mean you thought it was right.

“N-Not quite, kiddo. Just wait a bit longer, I’m still checking.” Not once did he take his eyes off of you, wary of your presence; even without the gun. You didn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly on the same side and you had just pointed a gun at him. As far as he knew, you were enemies and you could pounce at any moment.

“I’m surprised you’re not trying to hold the kid against me,” he said to you tartly. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, scoffing. “I’m not a monster. Kids don’t need to see the ugly side of things.” Your voice softened slightly without really realizing it. Rosinante’s face seemed to mirror yours as it softened as well. 

“At least we agree on something.”

You stuck out your hand and he flinched, making you roll your eyes.“I’m trying to help you, moron.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re no longer in this life, why would I hold your past against you? At least one of us got out.”

Rosinante looked at you for a long moment before tentatively reaching out, taking your hand. You helped him up, the man quickly towering over you. Fuck, you heard that some of them were fucking tall, but it was different being next to someone of such stature. He looked like he wanted to ask you something before the two of you were interrupted.

Coughing rang through the alleyway causing the man before you to go into a small panic as he took off. “Kid! I told you to stay inside!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Is he sick?” you asked, following the other.

“What does it matter to you?”

“I can help. I’m a doctor,” you said with resolve in your voice.. Well, you were technically still in school, but you were his best bet in this situation. You weren’t about to let a small child die on your watch. He stopped, looking at you for a long moment. The coughing started up again along with the child weakly calling his name causing him to run over at a faster pace. 

You felt your body move before you could process what was going on. Rosinante went down but you caught him right before he smacked his face on the pavement. “Careful. You can’t help him if you’re down for the count,” you lightly scolded. He just looked at you, shocked that you caught him. You helped him up once more and he stopped in front of one of the alleyway entrances.

You gasped at the sight. The child looked so small and frail - it was clear that he was very sick. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he was older than he looked. “What are his symptoms?” Rosinante quickly knelt down, catching the small boy as he fell from his coughing fit. You saw the bright red contrasting with his pale lips.

“We need to get him to the hospital. We can go to the one I work at I-”

“No, no hospitals. No one can figure it out anyway. I’ve taken him to every doctor in the region. I also don’t want anyone looking into us too much.” A deep frown set on the man’s features and you shook your head.

“You didn’t bring him to me.” You looked at him with determination in your eyes. “I will find out what’s wrong with him and I will help him.” Rosinante blinked as he looked at you. “Why?”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to let an innocent child die. It’s against my whole oath as a doctor.” The child coughed again, whining softly in pain. He looked from the child in his arms back to you before nodding. “Please help him.” The desperation in his voice hurt your heart, but you nodded back. “Let’s go.”

--

Once at the hospital, you were able to immediately check them into a room. The hospital you were currently at wasn’t the busiest hospital and it was currently slower hours anyway. Not to mention it also wasn’t flu season, so you didn’t have to worry about that either. It was a run down close to a shack kind of place.

It also helped that you were somewhat of a star pupil - you could do just about anything you wanted and no one would bat an eye. 

After settling down in a room, you looked at Rosinante. “I’m going to need to run several tests. I’m going to have you wait in the waiting room.” Panic rose in his eyes and he was about to protest when you held up your hand. “If I wanted to kill him or use him against you, I would’ve done it already. I would never hurt a child, know that if nothing else about me. Also, I don’t need a hovering parent. It drives me fucking insane.” You rolled your eyes at the last part. Nothing annoyed you more than helicopter parents. You were the doctor, not them.

He seemed to mull over your words before finally resigning. 

Now you could do what you needed.

--

You gathered all the samples you needed and began to run tests. While you waited for results, you let Rosinante back into the room to sit with the patient. You never asked his name, planning on erasing all evidence that they were here to begin with. You didn’t need anyone coming around and snooping. The cameras around here were broken anyway; that worked in your favor.

As the results slowly came back, trying to figure out what was wrong with the child accompanying Rosinante was like an impossible puzzle. He would have symptoms of some things and when you thought you had your answer, another test result would prove you wrong. You were pouring over different case studies of less known illnesses. It was something you did in your pastime anyway. 

Then you finally connected enough dots for a diagnosis. One result you had in reminded you of a case you had read not too long ago. It was a specific disease that attacked small children and could be deadly if not caught in time. There were only about a dozen or so cases pertaining to it too. You could only hope that it wasn’t too late.

“Can I talk to you in the hallway?” You looked at the tall man who hadn’t really left the small child’s side. He looked between you and him before nodding. He joined you in the hallway.

“I have some news.” 

The blond’s face fell. “You couldn’t figure it out, could you?” He sighed. “It’s fine. I expected as such-”

“Pessimistic much?” You let out a small laugh and he looked at you, startled. He didn’t even let you so much as say a word before he started talking hopelessly. Though, you didn’t blame him. If he went so many places and they couldn’t figure it out, how could he have hope?

“Does that mean?” His eyes widened, hope shining through. You smiled at him, nodding. “I pulled two all nighters, but I figured it out.”

He scooped you up in his arms and spun you around. Your face immediately heated, starting to feel dizzy. “Oh this is wonderful! Thank you so much!” 

“O-Okay, please put me down!” You felt sick being spun in circles like that. “Oh right. I apologize.” He set you down, beaming at you. “I can’t believe it. I had lost all hope. We traveled to all kinds of hospitals near and far. No one could figure it out. How did you do it?”

You shrugged. “My specialty is knowing too much about cases that have small numbers. You never know when you might need to know it.” You looked at him. “Seems my weird hobby came in handy, huh? Now, let’s talk treatment plan.”

--

Back in the room, you started administering the right, and very specific, medications, a certain diet while he was on said medication, and having Rosinante do certain exercises with him as well. Though, the tall man was clumsier than anyone you had ever met in your life. You ended up having to make sure you moved them to the small gym whenever they did the exercises because he kept running into everything. Sure, this hospital might have been run down, but you weren’t about to let him make it even worse.

It wasn’t long before there was improvement in his behavior. Color was returning to his face, he was coughing less and less, he seemed to have more of an appetite. And before you knew it, he was just fine. 

You never once asked for the child’s name in the month you worked with them, knowing Rosinante wanted to keep this all under wraps. He wanted to be able to get out of here cleanly and you didn’t blame him.

Today, you were looking over his charts in the desolate hallway and the man peeked his head out of the room. You looked up at him, blinking. “Can I help you?” He slipped out, closing the door. “I just…want to thank you again.” 

“You really don’t have to-”

“But I want to. You’ve done nothing but help me despite how we met. You’ve done so much for us without asking for anything in return. Even going as far as letting us get out of here without a trace.” 

“You’re out of that messy lifestyle and I’m determined to help you with that. If I can’t get out, at least someone else can.” You made a face, shaking your head. If you couldn’t get out of this, you wanted to make sure someone else did. A small idea sparked in the back of your brain, but Rosinante quickly drew your attention from it.

“Before we go, am I allowed to know the name of our savior?” 

The entire time you were working with him this past month, you never once gave him your name. You also kept your face hidden behind a facemask and hair in a bonnet. You just didn’t want to risk it. Your colleagues also steered clear as you pretty much threatened them all. You told them not to answer any questions about you either. At least no personal information. You didn’t want him to know who you were, not that you were even sure he would if you showed yourself. 

Though, if he knew your name, he’d definitely know who you were. 

“I think it’s best if you didn’t.” You shook your head. “It’s easier that way.”

“Fair enough.” He let out a long sigh, looking through the window and to the boy who was currently sleeping on the bed. 

“You’re good to leave as soon as he wakes up if you want. We’re done with his treatment and he seems to be stable.” You paused. “I have one request.”

Rosinante nodded eagerly. “Anything.”

You shot him a look that read that you weren’t messing around. “Keep him out of that lifestyle.”

He blinked at your words before nodding. He smiled. “Of course. That’s the plan.”

You smiled through your mask, nodding back. “Good.”

He looked at you for a long moment before looking at your arm. “How’s it healing?” he asked.

You blinked, looking from him to your arm. You shrugged. “As good as a bullet wound can be, I guess.”

“Was that from the ambush you mentioned when we first met?” You nodded with a sigh.

“Who was it with? My family I assume? Why?”

You just looked at him, shaking your head. That was too much information still. He pursed his lips together, nodding. “Gotcha. Well, I’m glad you’re better. Thank you again for everything you’ve done for the both of us. I mean it.”

With that, he headed back inside.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

AN APPLE A DAY

《 READ ON AO3 》

Joker teaches Jason some manners.

《RATING》 Mature 《WORDS》 839

《CHARACTERS》 Jason Todd/Robin, Joker, Harley Quinn, Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Whump

《WARNINGS》 Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage, Teeth Pulling, Torture, Blood and Gore

《SERIES》 Part 1 of My Arkhamverse, Part 1 of Ruined

《TAGLIST》 @aaliyah-wayne @ladytauria @betty-1880 @deans-spinster-witch @hlg8 @plantixst

《NOTES》

If you enjoy the read, please consider reblogging 💚

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are much appreciated!)

When the pliers clamp down around his front tooth, Jason shatters.

“Thank you sir! THANK YOU SIR!” he screams a blood-sputtering scream, his words slurring around the cold, pitiless metal that’s shoved into his pried-open jaws. His heart’s pounding fists against the cage of his chest, pumping fear through his veins. He prays that’s enough as he shakes like a puppy on the fourth of July. He gave the psycho what he wanted: he called the man “sir,” like some fucked-up sex roleplay. 

Joker has been punishing him for running his mouth. Again. For laughing in his pasty white face when the Party City Clown informed him that he’d be calling the freak “sir” from now on. “You can take your ‘sir’ and shove it up your ass,” were his exact words. The old Jason may not have regretted those words—that kid probably would’ve thought this agony was worth it. But that kid’s gone now, murdered by a photo. Batman had bitched at him many times for his loud mouth while on patrol. Probably yet another reason why Bruce picked a new kid for the job; why the rejected kid now has eight throbbing holes in his swollen gums.

Warm, coppery blood dribbles from the corners of his mouth, coating his busted lower lip in crimson gore. His breath’s coming in frantic pants, on the edge of hyperventilating. His armored chest full of broken ribs heaves beneath the heavy braided ropes that bind him to the wooden chair, ropes that squeeze his lungs like a giant’s fist. Nailless fingers dig into the material of his gloved palms as he balls his fists behind his back. No more, he silently prays yet another useless prayer as tears roll down his scarred cheeks. Please no more…

He’s a dumbass for holding out so long. Ten teeth—at least—gone from his mouth now. Two from the fucking crowbar, eight from the Clown’s pliers. And for what? To impress the man who left him here to rot? The man he considered his father. His partner who picked a new kid rather than bother finding the old one.

The gloved fist twisted into his matted black hair tightens, tearing at his scalp, then wrenches his head back even further, so those slime-colored eyes can bore down into his pale blue ones. “Be more specific,” Joker says casually, as if they were discussing the weather over a cup of coffee and not the eight bloody teeth scattered on the table in front of him.

“Thank you for…” His shattered mind races in circles, groping for the right words through the immense drumbeat of agony that’s consuming him.

“I think the patient needs another extraction, Doctor J,” Harley suggests in that screechy voice of hers that’s like a cheese grater over his ear drums. He cuts his eyes at her, bent in half with her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, grinning from ear to ear like some sadistic schoolgirl.

“Excellent diagnosis, nurse!” Joker exclaims, tightening his grip on the pliers.

Jason's heart drops out of his chest as molten panic engulfs him. He sucks down a gasp of air. “Thank you for torturing me!” he wails desperately, words tumbling free of his raw throat. “Thank you for yanking my teeth out!”

A heavy silence settles over the room, smothering him. He can feel his eyes snapping back and forth in his skull, futilely searching for an escape. Seconds pass like hours as he waits, terror mounting with each whimpery wheeze. Then Joker pulls the pliers free of his bloody mouth, releasing his fistful of hair.

Jason chokes out a sob as the panic loosens its grip; as relief floods in, carrying the awful pain back with it. He blinks away the stars that whitewash his vision. His jaw aches from being forced open for so long, his neck aches as he straightens. He coughs up the blood pooled in the back of his throat.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it pumpkin?” Joker croons, mussing his sweat-soaked hair before stepping in front of him. Blood red lips skin back from rotten yellow teeth. “Such a well-mannered boy deserves a nice reward, doncha think?”

No, please no… His insides twist into tight knots, dreading this “nice reward,” which probably includes more torture. He sucks in a fearful gasp as Joker pulls something from his coat, tosses it in the air once, then plops it down in front of him. His reward? An apple. The freshest, reddest, juiciest, crispiest looking apple he’s ever laid eyes on. Drool mixes with blood and trickles down his cracked lips. His hollow stomach growls and aches. After months of being fed nothing but rotten, sometimes maggot-infested food, the Clown’s giving him an apple. And the thought of biting into that delicious apple with his broken teeth and throbbing gums is enough to tear a miserable sob from his throat. 

Jason bows his head as helpless tears stream from his red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you, sir,” he whimpers.

[quietwingsinthesky]

for your "f*ck with my muse" thing: 4, 7, 27, 34, 36, 39, and/or 40 with the Doctor

For you, anon, for waiting so patiently, you may have a drabble for each <3 and a multitude of Doctors for them.

4 - 11 & River

He tells the Ponds that River’s brainwashing broke with her sacrifice, clean and simple.

Rule one: the Doctor lies.

River’s hands are already bloody when she beats him to the ground. Not his blood, but soon, it is.

“River Song,” he forces from a busted lip, “you’re River Song-” Another crack, knuckle against bone. “Your mother’s Amy-” Harder, his vision blurring. “You’re my-”

He has to believe she’s fighting, or she’d have gone straight for the kill.

She raises her fist again.

“I trust you.” He cups the hand at his throat. “I trust you, River.”

And River wakes up.

7 - War

“I’m here to help,” he says, reaching for the girl as she shrinks back. “The Daleks are gone. You’re safe.”

He catches her dress. Her eyes go wide, terrified, and before he can move, she barrels out at him. Pain shocks through his side. He shoves her back instinctively.

Her hands are wrapped around a shard of metal, her only protection. It’s coated in his blood.

She’s shaking.

He takes the metal from her, scoops her up, and carries her as he bleeds.

He’ll have to hope he can get her to safety and still have time to help himself.

27 - 12 & Clara

His plan to have all their attention on him, away from Clara, begins to fall apart the minute he hears, “Toss him out an airlock. He’s getting on my nerves.”

“You don’t want to-” He starts, before he’s yanked backwards by his hair, his body twisting until he’s being dragged across the floor.

“Doctor!” he hears Clara yell.

“Her next! When we’re done with her!”

He has to think. His scalp is on fire, his arms bent the wrong way by the handcuffs holding him, and Clara is in danger.

He’s been in worse situations. He’ll get them out. Somehow.

34 - 10 & Martha

“I know where she is,” the Master says, gleeful for the opportunity as the Doctor forces himself not to respond. “Of course you don’t believe me. Here. Take a look.”

The pictures he scatters before the Doctor are unmistakably Martha.

“Wandering up through Canada… I bet you miss her, Doctor. Her family misses her. I should have her picked up.”

Martha’s clothes are dirty, her eyes wary. The Doctor needs her to be free more than he needs air.

“Or, if you beg, I could forget where she’s been.”

Without hesitation, the Doctor falls to his knees to protect her.

36 - 10 & Rose

He should have noticed sooner, before the conscious light behind Rose’s eyes blinked out into something hungry and feral. Before she was on him, knocking them both to the floor and the antidote he’s been working on for the rest of the ship rolls from his hand.

“Rose!” She can’t understand him anymore. He knows that, and he tries anyway, hoping he can reach her.

She stills.

“Rose,” he breathes, “you won’t-”

She lunges down at him. Her teeth sink into his neck. He can feel her jaw clenching, the hot release of blood as his skin tears. He screams.

39 - 10 & Donna

The package is large, a mystery, and exciting until he opens it. Inside, there’s a much smaller box. He turns it over in his hands, but there’s no more indication of its origins than the one it came in.

He looks over his shoulder, ready to ask Donna-

She isn’t there. She never will be again.

He forces his attention back on the mystery.

He opens it. It’s empty.

He frowns, brushes his fingers along the bottom, and feels… something. He pinches it and draws it out.

It’s one long, red hair. The Doctor drops it.

No sender. No information.

40 - 9 & Jack & Rose

His veins are burning with poison. He’s trying to tell them what to do, but his tongue feels thick and heavy. Jack’s carrying more and more of his weight as he hauls the Doctor back to the TARDIS.

Rose is crying. “Don’t let her cry,” the Doctor tries to tell Jack, “tell her I’ll be alright.” His words are incomprehensible.

He has to be, for Rose to smile again, for Jack to complain about this later rather than whisper to the Doctor now how he can’t leave them now.

He wouldn’t ever leave them, if it was up to him.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Forty Eight

Six weeks had passed since you had been rescued, but one question still lingered in your mind – ‘Where’s Michael?’ You remember going through the house and seeing bodies dropped to the floor while the once grey walls were repainted a deep crimson, but not one sign of Michael or Graves for that matter. You weren’t too concerned on Graves. You figured he would go after Michael to collect the money he had already ‘paid for you’.

               Ghost and Soap hadn’t even attempted to touch you, sexually. A part of you was grateful and didn’t know how you would have reacted, but the other part hated it because you wanted their hands over your body to replace the ones that were once there. You loved it when they rubbed their hands over your swollen belly – feeling the baby kick their hands. Tears would fall from your eyes as feelings overwhelmed you with how happy you were to finally be HOME. With each tear that fell, they held onto you until you would fall asleep in their arms.

               Most nights, you would lay on Ghosts chest with your leg draped over his and Soap would spoon you from behind. You felt warm either way and a whole new meaning of love. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and it was overbearing at times. You felt vulnerable and there were times you questioned it because it had been so long – it was foreign, but their softness and tenderness brought your spiraling mind back to reality.

               No one had been on a mission since your rescue, and everyone remained in Mexico at Alejandros base. Price thought it would be wise to lay low for a while until they could get a trace on Michael. So far, there was nothing. You didn’t complain about it because no missions meant Ghost and Soap were right there with you and you knew you were safe.

               Eight months was coming up from your pregnancy and you had been to the medic to get tested and treated when you arrived back. The doctors had asked if you wanted to find out the gender and you declined. You wanted it to be a surprise. You knew Ghost was nervous, but you also reassured him that he was nothing and going to be nothing like his father. Soap on the other hand was excited as could be. Him and Ghost, both helped you shower – even though you could do it yourself, they weren’t taking no for an answer. Soap would apply lotion to your belly and rub your legs and feet while throwing baby names out. He was determined that the baby was going to have a Scottish name, but all the names he was giving, you just looked over at Ghost and you both busted out laughing.

               Each day was becoming harder to walk. You were waddling and your back was killing you. You had to walk with one hand propped on your lower back as your swollen belly felt like a ton of bricks. It was no doubt that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was massive, but this baby was going to be just like its father…massive. Contractions would come and go, but they weren’t anywhere near like they should be – as much as you wanted to go ahead and get it over with.

               Today was just like any other day here at the base, you still attended the briefs with the rest of the crew – even though they all decided you shouldn’t to regulate your blood pressure; but they should have known better with your hardheaded self.

               “Laswell found a lead that could potentially be Michael,” Price said. Nobody got their hopes up anymore. It was the same every week – possible lead that went to a dead end. Soap, Ghost and you sat in your usual seats at the back of the room. Behind your head were holes in the wall – nobody ever told you, but you knew they came from Ghost whenever you were captured. No one else has the temper like he does.

               “What about Graves?” you ask to Price.

               “Quiet as a mouse,” he replies. You throw your head back and rest it against the wall letting out a breath of air.

               “Has anyone thought about possibly going back to the house to see if maybe he left anything there that could help us?” Your question towards anyone, not just Price.

               “Its too risky,” Rudy says back.

               You lift your head up from the wall, “How so?”

               “Captain feels like it would be a suicide mission to send someone back there. The house is probably rigged with explosives,” Soap turns and says to you.

               You divert your green eyes from his ocean blues and scan over the few faces in front of you, “But we don’t know that.”

               “Harley, I’m not sending my men back where you were held prisoner just for them to open the door and get blown to pieces,” Price responds. His voice a little colder than usual. You knew it wasn’t from you, but from lack of intel.

               “He wouldn’t do that,” you bite back. Your pregnancy hormones taking effect. Price glares his eyes at you. “That house means too much to him. Him blowing it up would be like us retiring.”

               “I’m not following. What the fuck does your parents house have to do with Michael Gravely?” His tone now unforgiving.

               You take in a deep breath to try and calm yourself, “That is his ‘base’,” you say air quoting base. “I remember overhearing him and Konig talking in my room when they thought I was asleep,” you see Ghost and Soap tense out the corner of your eyes at the mention of room and Konig. “They talked about how important that house was, and they couldn’t relocate because the house was off grid. All the other houses that Michael owns are public record, but not my parents.”

               “As it looks, your parents died, so therefore the house and everything with it went to you and you haven’t changed it. So, its still in your name,” Gaz says trying to connect the dots.

               “Not exactly,” you counter. Gaz and Price look at you confused. “Everything went to me, yes, but I put everything in Traywick thinking I was starting something from the ground up, but it had been there the whole time.”

               “Traywick was off grid,” Laswell says interrupting you.

               “Correct.”

               “Wait, so your parents house was never public record?” Gaz asks confused.

               “Correct. In the eyes of the State of Montana, it doesn’t exist,” you reply to him.

               “Impossible,” Price intervenes. “What about taxes? Land Records?”

               “Land records are there. My dad bought hundreds of acres, but the house,” you chuckle. “He paid someone a nice amount to erase any sort of details pertaining to the house. If you try to look at the property online, it just shows fields and mountains. Not a house in sight. That’s why all transactions done at my parents were always under the city and state – not their names.”

               “The address was given to me privately years ago when I visited your father,” Price tells you.

               “Exactly. To the world, my parents’ house doesn’t exist and the only way to know about it, is if you are told about it,” you confirm.

               “Can’t Michael do what your dad did to get one of his properties like that?” Rudy asks you.

               You shake your head, “Nope. Father made sure to pay the man who did it and then once it was confirmed, he had him killed and then took his money back – so technically he got his security clearance for free.”

               “Damn,” Soap says out loud.

               “Yeah. Father was under the radar,” you say to everyone. “I’m telling you; he isn’t going to have that house rigged. If he did, he’d be a fool. Also, him blowing that up would cause an uproar. The News and social media would be blowing up – which would lead to rabbit holes and then a lot of shit would get exposed on him,” you pause, “And not in a good way. Remember, he’s probably hiding from Graves. That would put a target on his back.”

               “She’s right Captain,” Ghost spoke. Price nodded his head softly as he stroked his thick beard – taking in the words and realization around him.

               “Alright fine,” Price says after a few moments. “Rudy, Gaz and Soap. You three go,” Price pauses, “And keep your damn radios on. Watch your backs,” he says as he points to the three of them.

               You bounce your right leg in anticipation as the sudden feeling of your bladder becoming full hits you and the baby kicking it doesn’t help you either.

               “You okay love?” Ghost asks you as he gently places his hand on your thigh.

               “Yes, I just have to pee really bad,” you tell him.

               “You just pee’d right before we came in here?” Ghost says but it comes out more like a question.

               “Simon Riley, I don’t know if you are aware of your size, but our child weighs a ton and likes to sleep on my bladder. I have to go like right now,” you say through clenched teeth as you squeeze your eyes tight. Your bladder getting tighter by the second.

               “Captain, can we take five?” Soap asks before Ghost had the chance.

               “Uh yeah, meet back here in five,” Price says as he places his hands on his hips and turns towards Laswell.

               Ghost stands up and you reach out for him so he can help you up. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my child?” he says teasing you and trying to distract your mind from your overbearing bladder.

               You snort as he helps you out of your chair. “If someone would have told me a year ago that I would be madly in love with the Lieutenant of 141 and carrying his baby, I probably would have laughed and shot them in the face,” you reply back with a laugh.

               “Hey! What about me Lass?” Soap says as he places both of his hands over his heart and looking at you with ‘puppy dog eyes’.

               “Obviously Johnny,” you smile as you roll your eyes.

               “God, I love it when you say my name,” he grins wide back at you.

               You stand up straight as you place your hand on the lower part of your back and take a few steps.

               “Uh baby?” Soap says to you.

               You furrow your brows at the sudden name of ‘baby’ coming from Soaps lips. You turn to the side to look at him and his eyes go from yours to the floor. Slowly, your eyes travel down to the floor, and you see yourself standing in a puddle of liquid. Your eyes scan the area around you fast. Your bladder was still full, so you knew you hadn’t peed yourself.

               “Gho-,” you tried to whisper out as your hand still clung to Ghosts arm, but the sudden pain in your lower back sent you to your knees. You yell out and go to collapse, but Ghost and Soap both caught you.

               “The hell?” Price says out loud walking over to you all.

               “Its baby time!” Alejandro yells as he runs out of the room to go get someone.

               Tears filled the brim of your eyes as the pain was becoming unbearable with each minute that went by. “Breathe for me baby,” Ghost says to you as you tightly grip the shirt he was wearing and clench your teeth at the sudden contractions.

               “Can you walk?” Price asks you hastily.

               You go to take one step and scream out in pain. “We got to get her to the other base so she can deliver with the doctors,” Price says to you all.

               Price runs out of the room to get one of the vehicles ready. The drive to the other base wasn’t far at all, but it was the pain that concerned everyone with you. They needed you awake and not passed out.

               “I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Ghost says as he wipes the sweat from your forehead. You nod and Ghost quickly picks you up in his arms. You yell out and he quickly makes his way behind Price.

               “Stay with me baby. Stay with me,” Soap says as he quickly walks beside Ghost carrying you. You stare up at the base and then to the bright blue sky. The same bright blue as Soaps eyes as you feel yourself being put in the back of an SUV with Soap and Ghost hopping in the back with you. Just like the time in the bedroom, you laid in Soaps lap while Ghost watched over you and made sure you were okay.

               The SUV took off up the road to the other base and the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted him to be like his father and what you and Ghost were going to name your son.  

[thelavendercatalogue]

@dagmartoons here ya go :D _ _ _

The leg has always been their worry. . .the broken hip, busted knee, possible broken femur from his leg getting crushed in the car. Femurs are hard things to break. Their also the most at risk when they break due to potential issues that can occur with to all the major blood vessels and muscle networks and nerves and such. The leg had always been their worry, always been the main goal to save cause god forbid Lupin loose it and really have his life screwed up. . .Jigen can deal with rehabilitation, but he cannot deal with the outcome that may occur if Lupin looses the leg

Doctors are worried when infection sets in, but so much shit is wrong with the guy that it’s not surprising. . .what IS surprising is when the infection gets worse and suddenly Jigen is in a room surrounded by a bunch of people in white suits all discussing the idea of the most dreaded word Jigen has ever heard in his life and as they try to convince him that maybe it would be more beneficial for the leg to go

Infection isn't something to mess around with. For his leg to be so badly mutilated to the point of his blood essentially poisoning him, a discussion of possibly amputating the limb must be had. Jigen probably would fight as much as possible against the idea, imploring and even begging them to try every other possible route because he knows just how much Lupin needs both of his legs

like lupin is good at robotics

he could make a new leg

could deck it out and make it work as good as he can

but it's still the idea

not to mention the phantom pain would be nearly unbearable at times

Bit of a gut punch given the choice to attempt to continue treatment for his leg or to simply amputate it altogether, But Lupin asked for Jigen to help him make the decision.

But once again, Jigen finds himself freezing.

He has no idea what to say,

So he tells Lupin that he has to think about it for a little while. Which he has time to do, but he's still on the metaphorical clock, so to speak

But he doesn't "think"

At least not right away

Instead he just dips to cope and put it at the back of his mind for a while by hopefully spending some "time" with fujiko

Of fucking course he quickly learns that that isn’t going to work and he just has to say it to her

Him randomly just walking into Fujiko’s hotel room after dealing with this whole debacle for a few hours and originally he came here for a little “stress relief” but obviously Fujiko notices something is up by how he’s sitting on the end of the bed with his fingers steepled against his mouth and how cold and stone like he looks in his eyes.

Looks that she’d know by now mean that he was internally debating with himself and not liking the outcome of the argument

She asks him what’s up and oh imagine how bluntly he says the next words to her

“They wanna take his leg”

fujiko's heart dropping when she hears it, part of her hopes she misheard him but she knows what he said all she can think to respond with is a soft and fearful "what?"

Jigen chuckling as if in disbelief

“haha. . .yeah not the best news I’ve gotten all week”

Fujiko stopping everything and being like "ok we need to get everyone together and talk about this" bc it's literally pt 2 of that whole 'what would we do if Lupin couldn't thieve anymore' discussion

Jigen just taking a deep breath and nodding when Fuji says they need to talk about this. That all of them need to talk

No amount of "stress relief" would be able to fix this It's too somber, too severe

So they get dressed or whatever they have to do to get themselves situated and start making some calls

Fuji calling up Goe, jigen calling Zeni

Time passes and they all convene in Fuji's hotel room

Zeni probably shows up last, but they tell Goe and Zeni the news at the same time

They feel horrible having this sort of discussion without Lupin here with them-- but at the same time, it's one that they couldn't have if he were here, either.

so HERE are the Oppositions

Jigen and Zenigata: Amputation

Jigen's undecided ofc, that's kinda the whole point

And it doesn't matter if it's majority, they'd all decide pretty early on that the decision needs to be unanimous

Zeni would say amputate. Not because it'd mean Lupin can't be a thief anymore (or that it'd be a while until he figures out how to thieve again), that's the last thing he wants, but because it's the safest option. The best guarantee of recovery and the greatest avoidance of the unthinkable.

Considering how jigen might be frantic to fix it and for things to finally calm back down, he'd probably be leaning towards amputation for the same sort of reasons as Zeni. But the idea of Lupin losing a leg is absolutely terrifying to him, not to mention Lupin counting on him to decide whether to make the call or not.

Fujiko: No Amputation

Fujiko could reason that Lupin doesn’t do well with change and would be on the side of Non-Amputation. Not in the regular sense of people not doing well with change but in the sense that he has so very few constants in his life and he leans on those so heavily even if it’s not noticeable to outsiders. He has those few constants and without those tethers he loses himself. And right now things are already changing so much she doesn’t want him to have to lose anything else.

Fujiko won’t admit it, but Jigen knows how much she cares for Lupin, he’s come to accept the notion, especially in the weeks that have followed since this shit started.

Much like him, she has not handled the stress very well. The reason why Fujiko tends to stay is suave hotels attached to casinos

lots of big headed blue-bloods making it big, lots to swoon over her and lots of idiots she can steal from.

Because Lupin was everything to them. Without him they're drowning in how much they miss him and coping in ways they know

But Jigen is smart because also knows deep down that anyone riding the wave will eventually have to get off or fall

Fujiko just seems to end up falling more often now. Much like Lupin and Jigen, her tethers are snapping and if it makes her feel miserable

god what is it gonna do to Lupin

Goemon: No Amputation

Goemon's a bit tricky, but I'd say he'd be the most against it. He's very into self-improvement (shit way to put it but idk how else to) and would wholeheartedly believe that Lupin would be able to power through whatever sort of recovery might be necessary, no matter how much time it might take and no matter the risk to his health (bc lets be honest, Goemon tends to do the same thing to himself).

Honestly I just really like the idea of Goemon getting the chance to go off for once ;;;

Like, he can't fking believe that zeni and jigen are even considering amputation, it's completely unfathomable to him and he just digs into them for it

They've all been injured severely at some point and this has never been offered up as an option before, he doesn't understand how this scenario would be different from any of those other time

but imagine Jigen digs into the fact that Goemon hasn’t even been up to see Lupin since this happened and questioning him as to why everyone else has been up to see him besides Goemon

………goemon snapping back that jigen never gave him the chance to

which leads to

Jigen and Goemon Argument

Jigen actually ends up getting into a shouting match with Goemon on how dare he judge their decisions when he hasn’t even had the stones to go UP and see Lupin. And how he refuses to allow Goemon to use the fact he’s been guarding his sister as a excuse cause even MADDIE has pushed him to visit but Goemon refused

Jigen saying that Goemon never needed his permission to visit lupin,

but Goemon saying that he had no way of knowing that when he's been avoiding him ever since that fight he had with lupin in pt 5

Jigen railing into him over what he did. Because tbh this fight has been a long time coming and Jigen didn’t want to say anything about it but tensions are high and Jigen is on a trigger

He won’t say things he regrets though he’s close to it, but he will mention that Goemon has a lot of nerve considering what he did

And if Goemon tries to use the excuse that he has never been the only one to try and kill each other of the group, and that they’ve done it all the time and what makes the difference now

Only for Jigen to point out how no one has EVER actually tried to kill each other and that’s what Goemon doesn’t seem to get, they have always pretended but no one except Goemon has actively tried to KILL someone from this group and not only that nearly succeeded in doing so

However before he can continue, too Jigen’s surprise, however, Zeni steps into the ring in Goemon's defense for one simple reason

Zeni would probably say that jigen hasn't seen the full extent of Goemon's regret, and the fact that Goemon gave up everything when he believed he had 'defeated' lupin is proof enough that Goemon isn't making some kind of 'excuse' for what he did.

At the end, I'm sure they're all aware that Jigen is just snapping under stress. He's upset, he wants Lupin better, he doesn't want to have the conversation about his leg, he doesn't want to make these choices, he just wants to wake up beside him in bed and this is all just a bad dream

but thats not gonna happen any time soon. . .