#again: i had fic prepped where he left IMMEDIATELY like within seconds and then had to

[raayllum]

Callum knowing his home is likely actively on fire / worrying that something has gone seriously wrong but still hesitating to leave because "I don't want to be separated again" with Rayla is like

my buddy my guy

[tomthesoftie]

her hidden crystal tears

❧ synopsis: keeping a relationship under covers isn’t an easy feat. when a popular, successful jock of a college, who has many obsessive fans, dates an average student, they decide that it’s better to keep their relationship secret due to safety reasons, but when the jock starts to become more ignorant of how their s/o is feeling, what might happen to their barely stable relationship?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: angst

❧ warnings: lots of angst (?), petty girl fights technically harassment, crying, pent-up emotions, unhealthy coping

❧ a/n: this is an unedited fic, as always and I didn’t know how to end it because I had two endings in mind. I might write both endings (angst and fluff) or maybe I’ll let you guys suffer lmao I’m kidding I originally was writing a blurb about the reader hiding their emotions/hiding their tears by feigning happiness, but I ended up writing like a 2500+ word fic lmao. also if some shit seems wack, it’s because I posted this on my phone.

alternate fluff ending here: let them flow

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Swerving through the large crowd, you found yourself a seat on the filled bleachers, squeezing to fit in the front rows to spot your boyfriend. Looking about, you located your brunette partner jogging into the field arms raised in the air, pointing towards the crowd you were hidden in. He waved his hand mindlessly, eyes scanning the ocean of screaming schoolmates and “fangirls.” His gaze finally fell on you, and his face lit up, bringing a pink haze to your cheeks as he blew a kiss in your direction. The girls sat beside you screamed out, pretending to catch his kiss and sending one back. 

You and Tom decided to keep your relationship under covers, due to the overly obsessive “fangirls.” Both of you knew it would be the best option to keep you safe. If you were ever injured or threatened by one of his “fangirls,” Tom wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

Tom held the leather ball in the crook of his arm, with the other pushing his way through the attacking team. Calculating his success, he dove into a touchdown, scoring him and his team the winning point. 

The anticipating crowd jumped up, cheering loudly and hugging one another, whereas the visitor team’s crowd let out a loud, mutual sigh of disappointment. 

You jumped out of your seat, screaming out your lungs as you stared, wide-eyed, at your beaming boyfriend. His teammates had lifted him into the air, tossing him about. You giggled as he caught your eye, slyly winking at you. 

Lost in your own world, you almost ran down to where Tom was before you saw a hoard of girls jumping and reaching their arms out to grab at him. Frowning, you walked away from the crowd to retreat to the warmth of Tom’s car. 

You scrolled through the collection of images you and Tom had had together, warmly smiling at the memories. You let out a breathy laugh, selecting on one specific memory: Tom’s head laid on your lap, eyes shut, and lips puckered lightly as he let out even breaths. 

The car door beside you opened, shaking you out of your train of thought. 

“Hey,” your eyes were met with the blue pupils you weren’t expecting. 

“Haz?” You looked behind him, hoping to find your beloved boyfriend. 

“Tom — um — he told me to drive you back to the dorms, said he would be heading to the celebratory party,” Harrison explained, eyes shaking with concern and sympathy. 

“Oh, I understand,” your smile not quite making it to your eyes.

“He was being hoarded by his,” Haz hesitates, “fangirls. He didn’t want you to get involved.”

“It’s all good, Hazzy. No need to worry about me,” you let out a feigned laugh. 

You stepped into the warm building, waving Harrison goodbye. Another football victory, same schedule. 

You go to Tom’s game to support and cheer him on, Tom wins, you avoid him, Tom’s “fangirls” hoard him, you wait in Tom’s car, Harrison comes instead of Tom, Harrison brings you back to your dorm while Tom goes to his party, you fall asleep in your own arms: the ‘Tom’s football victory’ schedule, named and created by you. 

To say the least, you weren’t fond of the last half of the schedule. You always were left alone to celebrate Tom’s victory on your own, while Tom was doing who-knows-what at the afterparty. 

In full honesty, you were slowly growing tired of hiding your affection for one another. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold onto this style of dating. If the pair of you were going to date, you would date publicly and however you wanted, whether it meant risking your safety or not. Besides, you weren’t some helpless girl that doesn’t and can’t protect herself.

The next day, you woke up with an aching head and puffy eyes. Groaning, you looked into your mirror located at the corner of your room. You flinched at the sight of your pink, tear-stained cheeks and tangled, mop hair. Pushing yourself off the soft mattress, you stumbled into your bathroom, prepping a warm shower to start your day off fresh.

With your laptop and notebook resting in your arms, against your chest, you made your way to your next lecture. You walked sluggishly across the large campus, occasionally catching a glimpse of passing football team members. 

A specific group you walked past caught your attention. You saw the familiar brunette curls in your peripheral vision, immediately making you turn your gaze towards it. You saw his warm smile as he chuckled with his group of friends, some of his “fangirls” giggling along with the group. 

There Tom stood, laughing and joking about with his peers, radiating happiness. He was basking in the attention he received from his friends and “fans.” 

You tried to catch his eye, and you swore you did for a split second, but he only walked past you as if you weren’t even there. Not even a hidden smile or wink of acknowledgment was sent your way. 

Your walking came to a stop as you frowned at your boyfriend’s back. You wanted to shout out his name, call for his attention. You wanted to nuzzle into his chest, breathing in his scent. You wanted to look into his chocolate-pooled eyes, see the twinkle of adoration as he stared at you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything with Tom in public, for you were just another girl on campus, trying to get by, and Tom was the successful jock with a bright future ahead.

You walked into the large room, taking a seat, conveniently, in front of Tom. This time, you were the one to not spare him a single glance, albeit he probably wasn’t expecting or looking for one. 

You tried your best to listen and focus on the lecture, but the consistent whispers behind your back began to nag at your patience. You leaned your down further into your notes, as if it could fix the slowly kindling fire in you. Checking the clock, you saw that only five minutes of the lecture had passed, and your professor had barely said anything. 

“Five minutes? I swear it felt like half of the lecture had gone by. And the professor. I swear he had just said like tons of important information,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, catching a few students’ gazes. 

You gently pounded a fist into your temple, forcing your attention onto the lined sheets of paper on your desk. You expected to see notes, not illegible scribbles. You silently groaned, switching the sheet for a new, clean page. You took a deep breath and began jotting down the key points of the presentation that was being projected onto the large whiteboard. 

A feminine voice cleared their throat beside you, “Excuse me.”

You looked up from your work, a glare on your face as you were pulled out of your focus once again.

“Can I help you?” You asked, irritated. 

“Uh, yes, you can. You can help me by moving yourself to that seat over there,” she pointed at an empty seat across the room, “and giving this,” she placed her hand on the desk, atop you notes, “seat to me.”

You scoffed, “And why should I?”

“Oh, honey,” you cringed at the nickname, “Tommy, here,” she nodded towards Tom, “shouldn’t have to suffer by looking at your terrible hair. Like, honestly, do you even care for your looks?”

You were practically fuming in your seat, but to avoid trouble, you responded with a monotonous voice, “I’m sure “Tommy” can take care of himself. Spare us both the inconvenience, and go sit yourself on that empty seat because if you couldn’t tell, I’m occupying this spot.”

“Who do you think you are?” She shouted, hand crumpling your notes.

Furrowing your brows, you grabbed at your notes, hoping to spare them.

“Move your ugly ass before I kick you off this seat,” she threatened, pulling you by your hair.

The professor stopped talking, glaring at the pair of you. You took it as a sign to shut up and not fight back.

Fist clenching, nails creating red crescents in your palm, you stood up, pushing the girl off of you, ignoring her gasp. You grabbed your notes and laptop, turning to see if Tom would defend you, but when you saw his passive expression, you let out a quiet laugh of disappointment, carrying yourself to the back of the room. 

For the rest of the class, you stood in the back, writing your notes with blurry, tear-filled vision. Although you were still in shock due to the event that had unfolded minutes into the lecture, you wouldn’t let it falter how you were doing in school. 

As soon as you were dismissed, you bolted out of the room, heading to your safe haven on campus. 

Not many people, if any, knew about the hidden garden located within the campus’s vast park. You had only discovered it by accident when you were a freshman looking for your way around campus. 

The first thought you had when you walked in was that you were transported into a different dimension. Thinking back on it, you were naive to think that, but you were still justified. Anyone would think such a beautiful place couldn’t belong to the aggressivity and rashness of this world. The variant shades of light green and pastel pink flowers growing between the weeds of grass gave the place a heavenly feeling, followed by the mist that sparkled under the sunlight. 

You dropped yourself at the thick tree’s stump, letting your notes and laptop slip out of your grasp. You cried into your knees, pouring out all of your stresses. Your breaths were short and heaved, occasional hiccups bubbling from your lips. Your sobs slowly lulled you closer to sleep, emotional and physical fatigue catching up to you. That is, until you heard the recognizable clang of the door handle hitting against the wooden door.

“Darling,” the accented voice you longed to hear spoke up.

Quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling away any evidence of your sorrow, you stood up, “Tommy!” A feigned smile lay on your supple skin as you ran over to your boyfriend, embracing him in your arms, “What’s up?”

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t speak up for you during class. I should’ve told that girl to get her hands off you,” he stroked your hair, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?” 

Letting a pained giggle out, you shook your head, “Nope, I’m fine. You know how strong I am.”

“I really, really did want to speak up, but you know that we should keep our relationship under covers, for your sake,” he spoke gently, placing a kiss on your head.

You scowled into his shirt but kept up your cheerful facade, chirping, “Mhm, safety.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he sighed. His hold on you weakened, “I should get going, though. The group will start to wonder where I’ve gone.”

You frowned, pulling away from him.

“Don’t be like that, darling,” he cooed, “I’ll come over tonight. Don’t worry.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Of course, as you always do.”

His brows furrowed at your sudden mood shift, “What are you on, darling?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirp, hopping back to the tree, collecting your notes and laptop. “Go ahead, meet with your friends. Leave me behind like you always do,” you murmur the last half.

“Love?” His voice neared you, and you barely registered the stray tears betraying you, rolling down your peachy cheeks. 

Quickly bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness away, you keep your back facing Tom.

“Shouldn’t you be going? Don’t want your friends to worry,” you laughed, lightly. A hand placed itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact startling you. “You scared me, Tommy. You shouldn’t do that,” you giggle, hiding your true emotions, “You know how easily scared I am.”

“Darling, can you look at me?” He asked, quietly, concern lacing his tone. 

“What for, Tommy?” You inquired, nervously laughing.

“You’re acting quite… strange,” he explained.

“No need to worry about me, bubs. I’m as peachy as always,” you quipped, shoulders bouncing in emphasis.

“I’m giving you one more chance to turn, or I will do it for you,” he said, sternly. 

You stayed, unmoving, forcing Tom to turn you with his raw strength. At first, you tried to fight it, but you came to the revelation that there was no way you could overpower him.

When you met his warm, liquid eyes, you felt your own tear up, and suddenly, your shoes were an intriguing sight. 

“Baby, please look at me,” he whispered, hands rubbing up and down your arms.

You shook your head in denial, trying to keep your weakness hidden.

“It breaks me to see you this way,” he lifted your face with a finger to your chin. His thumb moved to wipe away your crystal tears.

“Then leave,” you hissed, weakly.

“W-What?” Tom stuttered at the unforeseen reply.

“I’m tired, Tom. I’m tired of hiding, of you ignoring me and me, you. How long are we going to do this? It’s so stupid, all of it,” you dropped your head again, this time of fatigue.

“B-But, you know why we’re doing this-” you cut him off.

“I know, and I can’t help but think that this was a stupid choice,” you motioned between the two of you, “You’re barely around me, and on campus, you don’t even acknowledge me. On the slim chance I do have you to myself, it can only last for so long. At this point, it feels like we’re not even together.”

“I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” Fear filled his eyes as the pit in his stomach became more and more noticeable.

“I think it would be better if-” you stuttered in a breath, “if we took a break.”

“Why? Just because we’re hiding our relationship? You know why I- we chose to keep it secret,” he rushed out his words, hands gripping yours.

“Do I? Do I really? Today was display enough that even though we act like we don’t know each other, I’ll still get harassed by those “fans” of yours. Not to mention, you saw it all unravel, and what did you do? Nothing. There’s no practicality to keeping our relationship hidden because either way, some “fans” will go overboard no matter who the person. Also, I think I showed that I can defend myself from crazy people when I pushed that girl off of me today,” you spoke, ferocity and resentment spurring you on.

“I know I messed up when I didn’t help you, but I thought about our relationship-” you scoffed.

“So what? Even if we weren’t in a relationship, you should’ve helped a girl out. Especially when she’s getting harassed because of you,” you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Tell me how to make it better. I want to make it better. Don’t end us, please,” he begged, gripping your hand tighter.

“Stop, Tom. I told you that I want to take a break. Besides, it won’t be any different to how our normal relationship is,” you laughed. Pulling your arm out of his grasp, you walked away, “Now, I won’t have to waste any tears on you anymore.”

[marjansmarwani]

maybe, I’m afraid 

3.8k || ao3

Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)

Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had. 

A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.

--------

Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see. 

Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown. 

“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.” 

Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”

“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”

“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily. 

Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”  

It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too. 

And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised. 

“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”

Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what. 

He almost believed it too. 

All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt. 

“I’ll go.” 

And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination. 

“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.” 

Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more. 

But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was. 

He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues. 

“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.” 

TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead. 

TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.” 

Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart. 

When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side. 

“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder. 

“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side. 

“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.” 

Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again. 

“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.” 

Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay. 

That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear. 

And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. 

When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances. 

Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…” 

“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.” 

They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more. 

If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment. 

“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin. 

Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.” 

“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm. 

“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”

Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again. 

It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak. 

He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this. 

“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder. 

But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.” 

And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before. 

He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.” 

He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…” 

Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.” 

TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?” 

Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”

TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.” 

TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing. 

“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?” 

TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.” 

“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?” 

“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled. 

“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, Carlos.” 

Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest. 

But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand. 

----------

“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.” 

Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned. 

TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.” 

“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.” 

TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.” 

“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.” 

TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.” 

His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence. 

“Sometimes I do.” 

“So why not go for it?” 

TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?” 

“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”  

TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?” 

He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did. 

“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.” 

Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.” 

That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it. 

“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?” 

“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.” 

“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?” 

TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”

“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.” 

“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?” 

He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response. 

“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…” 

He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested. 

TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?” 

“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.” 

Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.” 

“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice. 

“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”  

The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again. 

“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.” 

“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be. 

Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too. 

[rafael-silva]

heal me (with you I’m whole): a tarlos fic

“You’ll be sporting one hell of a bruise, though.”

Carlos nods. “Yeah, not my first rodeo,” he says through gritted teeth as he attempts to sit up.

“Easy, easy,” Mitchell reaches out, her hands on Carlos’s shoulders as she helps him move.

The sound of sirens start to fill the air around them as the ambulance gets closer and closer. Mitchell looks in that direction, seeing the ambulance park in the alley entrance.

“Hey, Reyes. Isn’t your man a paramedic now?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the bus.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he’s not gonna be happy about this,” she replies, the bold 126 numbers stuck on the ambulance her biggest clue.

Or: Carlos is hit with a bullet while he and his partner chase a suspect, giving him a nasty and painful bruise. Cue TK working through his worry as he takes care of his injured boyfriend, in more ways than one.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bruises 

established tk strand/carlos reyes, major character injury, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, angst, whump, fluff, team as family, hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, angst with a happy ending, comfort, paramedic tk 

5.4k | on ao3

*****

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20, in pursuit of suspect on foot, heading west on Sixth.”

“Copy, 363-H-20,” a female voice replies.

Carlos doesn’t have a second to spare to give dispatch more information because said suspect has turned to face the officers and started firing his gun in the direction of Carlos and his partner.

“Take cover!” Carlos yells as he and Mitchell dive behind a dumpster, hearing the collision of metal with metal echo against and through the steel.

He takes hold of his radio and presses down on the side button. “Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired. Requesting back-up.”

Carlos hears dispatch’s acknowledgment and starts studying the layout to come up with a plan to catch this guy. He carefully starts moving to get a better view of where the suspect was last standing, and when no bullets come flying his way, Carlos dares to move swiftly but cautiously into the open. He spots the back of the man running towards a nearby alley.

“Mitchell, I’ll follow him, you go around and cut him off from the other end of the alley,” Carlos quickly pieces the plan together.

Mitchell gives him a firm nod and starts moving, gun drawn.

Carlos starts jogging in the direction the suspect was last seen heading in, his vision and focus narrowed to just that.

Mitchell is about to reach the alley when a shot rings and bounces off the brick walls. She gulps, racing towards the source of the sound.

She freezes when she enters the alley. It’s only for a second but it felt like hours. Her wide eyes catch movement ahead and she diverts her gaze to see the suspect racing back in the direction he came from.

“Officer down! Officer down!” She screams into her clutched radio. “Suspect last seen fleeing on foot heading east.” She relays the information before dropping to her knees next to Carlos’s unmoving body. “Reyes!”

With a quick scan, she finds Carlos’s service weapon discarded on the ground next to him and a hand grasping at his chest.

“Reyes!” She tries again, moving to touch her partner but pulls back when Carlos startles.

His face immediately scrunches up in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and tries to catch a breath. Which doesn’t really work for him judging by the groan he exhales.  

He opens his eyes and looks up at her. “Go…after him.”

“Like hell I’m leaving you,” Mitchell replies. “Besides, he’s long gone. Maybe back-up will have better luck finding him.”

Carlos groans again, and she doesn’t know if it’s because of what she just said or if it’s the pain. Or both. Probably both, she decides.

“Requesting EMS to our location,” Mitchell calls into her radio. “363-H-20 last known position.” She releases the button. “Where are you hit?”

“Caught me straight in the chest,” Carlos pants.

After an inspection of his vest, Mitchell easily finds the tear where the bullet is lodged in the Kevlar. She pulls out the round, showing it to Carlos.

“You’ll be sporting one hell of a bruise, though.”

Carlos nods. “Yeah, not my first rodeo,” he says through gritted teeth as he attempts to sit up.

“Easy, easy,” Mitchell reaches out, her hands on Carlos’s shoulders as she helps him move.

The sound of sirens start to fill the air around them as the ambulance gets closer and closer. Mitchell looks in that direction, seeing the ambulance park in the alley entrance.

“Hey, Reyes. Isn’t your man a paramedic now?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the bus.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he’s not gonna be happy about this,” she replies, the bold 126 numbers stuck on the ambulance her biggest clue.

She moves out of Carlos’s line of sight and sees the moment his realization kicks in. And the groan he lets out then definitely has everything to do with the information and not his pain.

Carlos watches Tommy jump out of the back, shouldering the lifepak, and soon is followed by Nancy and TK, who’s holding the medkit.

The officer relaxes a little upon seeing his boyfriend, a sense of safety washing over him but that relaxing feeling is quickly replaced with dread at knowing how much TK is going to worry, and he already hates putting TK through that.

He sees TK and Nancy in a fast exchange, and TK laughs at something his partner said, making Nancy’s eyes light up at his laughter. Carlos wonders when he’ll get to see TK laugh that freely again. The team is still unaware of who is currently on the ground needing their help.

“What do we got?” Tommy asks once they’re near the officers and within ear shot.

“Mitchell?” TK frowns before anything else can be said, his eyes landing on her.

Confusion paints TK’s face for a few moments before all the pieces fall into place and with a pang in his chest, he realizes. He feels his face heating up and wills his eyes to start moving towards—

“I’m okay,” comes Carlos’s voice from behind Mitchell, speaking up before TK’s mind completely spirals towards the worst case scenario.

“Says the man who took a round to the chest,” Mitchell retorts, looking at the paramedics.

“What?” TK almost yells, his brain still catching up to everything happening around him.

“The vest stopped it,” Carlos raises his hands in defense.

“Still, not good,” Mitchell shrugs.  

With a sigh, TK drops the medkit and kneels next to Carlos. He works on collecting his breath and relaxes just the slightest at seeing his boyfriend sitting up, alert and talking.

“You’ve just shortened my life by five years,” TK mumbles.

“Oh, I’ve shortened your life by five years,” Carlos snaps back, but his eyes are filled with affection as he looks at TK and tries to lighten the mood.

TK rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “She’s right,” he says instead, his eyebrow raised as he tries to mask his worry.

But Carlos can see right through it. “I’m okay, Ty,” he whispers, his face soft but clearly trying to hide the pain.

“Let me be the judge of that,” TK replies and no amount of banter or gestures can conceal the concern radiating from the paramedic’s green irises.

Carlos nods, watching as TK opens the medkit and grabs the equipment he needs to start his examination. Meanwhile, Mitchell stands aside while Tommy and Nancy crouch in front of Carlos.

“Hey, guys,” Carlos gives them a small smile.

“Hey, Carlos,” Tommy smiles back. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

TK gently presses the head of the stethoscope to Carlos’s chest and moves it around as he listens. “Where exactly did the round hit you?”

“Right here,” Carlos points to the middle of his chest, a little above his bellybutton. “It hurts to breathe a little.”

“I’m hearing some wheezing, Cap,” TK speaks up.

Tommy nods, her mind gears turning. “Given the location you got hit and your breathing condition, I would say it’s a bruised lung. But the doctors at the hospital will confirm.”

Carlos drops his head at the mention of the hospital.

“It’s just to make sure it is what it is without any complications,” TK jumps in. “You know that, babe.”

Carlos nods.

“Help me get his vest off,” Tommy says to TK as Nancy preps to take Carlos’s vitals.

Carefully, TK and Tommy work together to peel the vest off Carlos without causing him any added pain. However, no matter how mindful they are, Carlos lets out a few pained breaths as slight jostling happens in the process.

“Sorry, sorry,” TK apologizes, his voice filled with sympathy.

TK knows what to expect as he watches Tommy lift Carlos’s shirt to unveil the injury. Yet TK can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the nasty red bruise already blooming across his boyfriend’s chest.

That small, round piece of metal had left substantial damage in its wake, and TK finds himself praying that Carlos hasn’t also suffered bruised or fractured ribs from the impact. Or worse: internal bleeding.

“It’s okay, Ty. Not the worst I’ve had,” Carlos says, reading the worry and the reaction on TK’s face.

TK knows Carlos is trying to help make him feel better, to comfort him and decrease his worry, but that wasn’t particularly the comfort TK was searching for.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” TK sighs, his voice filled to the brim with emotion.

TK extends his arm and takes Carlos’s hand into his own.

TK squeezes. I’m right here.

Carlos squeezes back. I know.

“Everything is okay, but respiration is a little low,” Nancy reports after checking Carlos’s vitals.

Tommy nods. And then to Carlos: “I’m going to check your ribs, okay?”

Carlos nods, sucking in a deep breath as Tommy starts adding pressure around and over his ribs. His grip on TK’s hand tightens as Tommy continues her exam, hot pain flaring through his nerves at the contact.

His eyes water a little and he lets out a shaky breath as Tommy retreats her hands.

“Good news is nothing appears to be broken, but they’ll want to get x-rays done, too.”

TK lets out the breath he was holding at Tommy’s words while Carlos’s ears are still ringing from the wave of pain still coursing through his body.

His ears clear as Tommy asks another question. “Can you get up?”

“Yeah,” Carlos answers, his voice a little unsteadier than he’d like.

And then Mitchell is by his side as he drapes an arm over TK’s shoulder, Mitchell taking his other arm and guiding it over hers. Together, they share Carlos’s weight as they get him to his feet. Supporting him, they slowly walk over to the ambulance and lowering him on the gurney before he stretches on it.

Carlos closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh at the softness underneath him, heaven compared to the hard asphalt where he was lying slash sitting for a while.

He opens his eyes again when Mitchell speaks. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. And Reyes?” She looks at Carlos. “They caught him.”

He gives her a grateful smile.

After pushing the gurney into the ambulance once Tommy got in, TK wordlessly follows, Nancy shutting the doors and heading to the driver’s seat.

Tommy is attaching some wires and equipment to Carlos while TK grabs the oxygen mask and places it over his boyfriend’s face. “It’s gonna help.”

Carlos accepts it, because breathing really does hurt right now and he’ll take all the assistance he can get, but still, he’s about to say something before TK interrupts.

“You’re okay, I know,” TK gives him a small smile and leans in, brushing a kiss to the officer’s temple.

Carlos finds TK’s hand and gives it another squeeze.

“Just relax, babe.”

TK feels better after Tommy’s examinations and her prognosis, yet a part of him can’t stop the worry and concern that flood his own chest. He can’t get rid of it or push it to the side, not until he’s a thousand percent sure that Carlos is fine, scans, tests and all.

He knows how badly and quickly things can escalate with injuries like Carlos’s. Patients go from sitting up, talking and laughing to needing emergency surgery in a matter of minutes if something went unnoticed. And that thought alone scares TK to his core.

No. TK expels the thought, Carlos is okay, he’s gonna be fine. He trusts Tommy and her judgment, her experience. And they’ll make sure Carlos gets all the tests and scans he needs at the hospital to rule out any underlying injuries or problems. Or if there are any, to catch them early before they get worse or become life-threatening to Carlos.

TK is torn from his thoughts when his hand is squeezed again. He zones back in and looks at Carlos, who’s giving him his own concerned look with slightly creased eyebrows. He sensed where TK’s mind had gone.

TK gives Carlos a smile to reassure him, or attempts to, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Once they arrive at the hospital, the ambulance doors are pulled open the moment the bus comes to a halt. There’s a doctor and two nurses helping lower the gurney which Tommy pushes out of the ambulance while relaying information about Carlos, his injury and vitals. TK’s hold on Carlos’s hand remains firm as he quickly moves alongside the gurney.

However, they’re forced to pull apart when the nurse stops, stopping TK in his tracks with her.

“We’ll take him for some tests and scans, you can wait there,” she says, pointing to the waiting room.

“Can I stay with him? He’s my boyfriend,” TK replies, his eyes speaking volumes.

The nurse’s face softens at his words, and she nods after a moment. “Just until we take him up for the scans.”

He steals a quick look at Tommy, noticing Mitchell now standing nearby.

“Go,” she says immediately. “We’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” TK gives her a small smile and with a nod from his Captain, he jogs in the direction he saw the nurse walk in.

He finds Carlos easily, and his boyfriend is lying back in a hospital bed as another nurse wheels the gurney out. TK steps aside to let her pass and then directs his attention back to Carlos.

“Hey, babe.”

Carlos opens his eyes and they land on TK. “Hi, baby. I thought you had to go.” TK shakes his head, approaching Carlos. “Not right now. The nurse said I can stay until they take you to get the scans done. Tommy and Nancy are waiting and Mitchell is here, too.”

TK takes hold of one of Carlos’s hands while the other finds its way to Carlos’s hair, where TK runs his fingers through the officer’s curls, the gel he uses to keep said curls in place almost completely gone now.

Carlos is about to say something when TK cuts him off before he starts.

“Carlos Reyes, if you’re about to say you’re okay one more time…”

Carlos sighs. “I hate to see you worrying.”

“Well, I’m gonna worry. It comes hand in hand with loving someone,” TK says and leans in, planting a kiss to Carlos’s forehead.

Being close to Carlos and being able to touch him helps calm TK’s racing heart. Carlos’s warmth and scent an indication that he’s here, that he’s okay.

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Carlos teases with a small chuckle.

Whatever was going to be TK’s response stops short on his lips when his radio crackles to life.

He squeezes his eyes shut, titling his head backwards, that feeling of calm he had moments ago is now replaced with dread.

“Maybe I can talk to Tommy—” TK is already planning before even opening his eyes again.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Carlos’s collected voice guides TK back. “Go.”

TK hesitates. “I don’t wanna leave you, not yet, I’m sure Tommy—”

“Ty, baby,” Carlos continues, slightly shaking his head. “Go. I’m okay, really. They’ll probably send me home after the scans. Mitchell will drive me to the station and I’ll go straight home from there. It’s okay, I promise.” He knows his boyfriend all-too well, and hopes his words will lift the feeling of guilt he knows is currently setting in TK’s gut.

“Okay,” TK finally nods, but his eyes still carry concern. “But if anything changes or if the scans show anything—”

“I’ll call,” Carlos gives him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll see you at home, baby,” TK whispers before pressing his lips gently against Carlos’s.

Carlos’s smile widens into the kiss as he returns it. “I’ll see you at home, babe.”

With one last look at Carlos, TK reluctantly leaves, repeating he’s okay he’s okay over in his mind, a mantra to keep him calm. He meets Tommy and Nancy by the rig and jumps into the passenger seat without a word.

*****

Owen meets them in the bay when they return to the firehouse after the call. He’s frowning, eyebrows drawn together as he watches TK close the door.

“Carlos,” Owen states, the concern evident in his tone. “Is he okay?”

TK nods, running a hand through his hair. “Had to leave the hospital for a call before his scans but he texted a while ago. He’s waiting for the results, his partner is with him.”

Owen pats TK’s back as he walks past him and walks towards the stairs.  

After a quick shower, TK heads into the common area. He tries sitting on the couch, but the bouncing of his leg starts to drive him a little up the walls, so he opts to stand instead. Which leads him to pace around the room, checking his watch for the time every thirty seconds as the black screen of his phone taunts him.

He starts fidgeting with his hands as he moves around, radiating nervous energy and he’s so caught up in his own thoughts of Carlos should have the results by now and what if something is wrong and I’m not there that he doesn't hear someone enter the space around him.

“He’s gonna be okay, man,” Paul’s voice seeps into TK’s ear through the fog engulfing him.

He turns to look at his teammate, and Paul’s face soft and carrying empathy.

Slowly, the rest of the team start filing in, dispersing into the room as they fall into easy conversations about anything and everything. And TK finds himself sitting down, too. They don’t make a big deal about it, but TK knows what they’re doing. He knows they’re here for him, physically and otherwise and to keep him company, knowing he can’t bear to be alone right now. Not with his leg bouncing again and his hand playing with a loose thread sticking out of a couch cushion. As much as he appreciates it, and he does, he ends up tuning out all their voices and movement around him, Carlos the only thing on his mind.

What brings him back is his phone pinging in his pocket.

He jumps to his feet in a heartbeat, fishing it out of his pocket. He sees its a text from Carlos and unlocks his phone with shaky hands.

The room falls silent as TK reads the message, holding his own breath as his mind catches up with his eyes.

Carlos: Everything is okay, babe. Scans are fine. No bruised or broken ribs and no internal bleeding. The bruised lung will heal on its own. Heading back to the station now.

TK rereads the text for good measure, to make sure his brain isn’t playing any cruel tricks on him. Once he’s satisfied that there are no tricks involved, he finally allows himself to relax and breathe.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispers, the first audible reaction to the text. He looks up at his family. “Carlos is okay. He’s gonna be home soon.”

The collective tension is suddenly lifted, along with the weight sitting on TK’s shoulders.

“That’s great,” Paul gives TK a wide smile.

“Hey, TK,” Owen calls for his son.

TK turns towards the doorway to see his father and Tommy standing side by side, both wearing small, soft smiles. Owen nudges his head in the direction of the bunk room and TK gets the hint. He follows them in there.

“You should go home, Strand,” Tommy starts. “You should be with Carlos and I know he’d want you there. We only have a couple of hours left for shift, we can hold down the fort here.”

TK nervously shifts his balance from one foot to the other. “Are you sure? Because it’s just a couple of hours, like you said.”

As much as TK wants nothing more than to be with Carlos right now, he also doesn’t want to skip out and leave his team shorthanded.

But Owen joins in the conversation, bringing any more of TK’s thoughts to a halt.

“Go home to your boyfriend, son,” Owen fondly claps TK on the back. “A bruised lung is painful, and like Tommy said, I’m sure Carlos would want you there. We got it covered here.”

And TK doesn’t need to be told again. With a quick thank you! and grateful looks given to his father and his Captian, TK is rushing to pack his stuff and order an Uber.

He was counting down the minutes and seconds until he went home to Carlos, and now instead, he’s making his way out of the firehouse with promises to pass on the crew’s well wishes to the officer as he gets into the awaiting car.

He’s using his key and pushing the condo door open less than thirty minutes later.

The living room is dark, save for a small side lamp that is left switched on near the couch, which casts a soft yellow glow.

Moving his attention up the stairs, TK notices that the hallway light is on.

“Carlos?”

A beat.

Then, “TK?”

Carlos’s tired and slightly strained voice has TK ascending the stairs two at a time and then steps into the bedroom.

The moment his eyes land on Carlos, he learns the reason behind his boyfriend’s fatigued tone.

Carlos is halfway through taking his shirt off, his movement paused as it sends waves of pain down his arm and rattles against his bruise.

TK drops his duffel bag at the foot of the bed and walks over.

“Hey, babe. Here, let me help,” TK says.

“Can’t really move my arm without it hurting,” Carlos sighs.

TK hums in understanding and helps ease the shirt off Carlos’s shoulders and down his arms in the least painful and uncomfortable way. He then throws it into the laundry basket to be dealt with later.

“I was gonna hop in the shower,” Carlos speaks after the waves of pain are over. “The hot water helps,” he adds, speaking from experience.

TK picks up on that, and he wants to know more about what exactly happened to Carlos before, but he holds back. He knows it’s not the time for it, and he can eventually revisit the subject when Carlos is feeling better and not sporting a gigantic bruise on his torso.

“I’ll join you,” TK decides.

“Then that shower will definitely help,” Carlos smiles, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. And then he realizes something, which makes his smile fall a little. “Hey, I thought your shift ends in a couple of hours.”

“It does,” TK confirms. “Cap and dad sent me home early. Told me I should be with you, and they got it handled. The whole crew send their well wishes and love, too.”

“I’m honestly just so glad and relieved you’re here that I can’t conjure up enough to feel guilty that your team is shorthanded right now,” Carlos expresses. “And also very tired.”

“There’s no reason to feel guilty,” TK assures Carlos. “I promise. They say they have it covered, then they have it covered. Besides, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.”

Carlos gives him a small, but genuine smile. TK kisses him softly. It’s a kiss filled with love, reassurance and safety.

“Come on, that shower awaits.”

TK runs the water to reach the perfect temperature as he helps undress Carlos the rest of the way and gives him a hand into the tub. After quickly removing and discarding all of his own clothes, TK steps in behind the slightly larger man.

Carlos closes his eyes as the warm spray collides with his battered body, running down his skin.

TK eyes the large bruise and his breaks at how painful it must be, and he hates that Carlos is experiencing that pain. And his heart also starts racing at the mere thought that Carlos is hurt to begin with. But he reminds himself that Carlos is here, he’s okay, and he’s going to heal.

“Relax, I got you, babe,” TK whispers when he notices Carlos tightening his back muscles. He reaches out, running his hands gently up and down Carlos’s back.

“You always do,” Carlos whispers in return.

TK drops a kiss to Carlos’s shoulder and cards his fingers through his now-messy curls, the product Carlos used that morning long gone.

He retrieves the shampoo and pours a good amount in his palm, lathering it up and then moving to run his hands over Carlos’s hair, gently scratching against his scalp, massaging it as he went just as the officer likes and the action has Carlos leaning into the paramedic’s tender touch.

After rinsing out the shampoo, TK reaches around Carlos again and grabs the peach scented body wash. Once it’s foamy in his palms, he carefully glides his hands up and down Carlos’s body, mindful of his injury as he washes the day’s sweat, pain and hospital visit off of Carlos’s skin.

Carlos lets out a satisfied hum, letting himself get lost in TK’s delicate ministration. This is everything he wanted all day, everything he longed for. To feel TK’s touch, to be in TK’s space.

TK doesn’t apply pressure on or around the bruise, his touches light as he works the soap over the wound. Looking over the contusion, TK can spot the point of contact between the bullet and his boyfriend’s body. The small circle is darker than the rest of the bruise, and TK has to swallow against his suddenly dry throat at that realization. The vest had protected Carlos, stopping the bullet, but the energy had to go somewhere and so it spread over and through Carlos’s chest.

TK shakes it off, focusing on Carlos in the here and now.

Once they’re done and smelling fresh, TK turns off the water and steps out. He wraps a towel around his waist as Carlos climbs out, letting TK wrap a towel around his middle.

“Better?” TK asks.

Carlos nods, looking into TK’s green eyes through his wet lashes.

“And your chest?”

“Doesn’t throb as much.”

A the edges of TK’s lips pull up in a small smile. He frames Carlos’s face with his hands and closes the distance between them with a chaste kiss, which Carlos happily reciprocates.

Carlos’s own sorrow starts to brew in his gut at the memory of a fleeting thought he had earlier in the day: for a second, he thought he may never get to kiss TK again.

TK taking hold of his hand brings him back to this moment, standing in the warmth of their bathroom and Carlos is thankful for the distraction. He pushes the memory to the side and follows TK as he leads them back into the bedroom.

They slip on sweats and comfortable cotton t-shirts, TK momentarily going downstairs to get two bottles of water before retreating back to their bedroom. He finds Carlos pulling the duvet back and carefully climbing into bed, letting out a content sigh when he rests his injured body on the soft mattress.

Carlos grabs the prescribed non-opioid medication he got from the hospital pharmacy and pops the dosage into his palm, gratefully accepting the opened water bottle TK hands him.

Carlos’s phone pings as TK makes his way around the bed to his side, watching as Carlos unlocks his phone, a smile immediately decorating the officer’s face at what he sees.

“My mom is coming over tomorrow,” he tells TK after a moment. “She’s gonna make us food.”

TK chuckles as he gets comfortable. “Sounds very much like Andrea Reyes.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees.

“Tell her I say hi,” TK smiles as he watches Carlos type back.

After responding, Carlos plugs his phone into the charger and a small wince escapes his lips as the movement hurts his chest.

“Easy, babe,” TK reminds him from behind.

Carlos settles back, taking deep, even breaths as the wave of pain trickles away. He slowly moves down the bed, until his head is even with the pillow but instead of using it, he gravitates towards TK’s open arm and pillows his head on his boyfriend’s chest.

Usually it’s the other way around, with TK’s head on Carlos’s chest, save for a few times Carlos would have bad days and want to be held. And right now, all Carlos wants is for TK’s arms to be around him, and TK happily obliges. Plus, adding pressure to Carlos’s battered chest is not a good idea, making the only other option for them is staying apart, which both men are highly and most definitely against. They need to in each other’s embrace.

They settle with careful maneuvers until TK feels Carlos relax in his hold when he finds a comfortable position. His arm is thrown across TK’s waist, his head resting above TK’s steady heartbeat, which is Carlos’s lifeline.

TK’s hold on Carlos is firm and gentle, with enough pressure to reassure his boyfriend that he’s safe but not enough to cause him any hurt. He runs his hand up and down Carlos’s back, to help ground and anchor him.

“I was really scared for a moment today,” Carlos whispers. “When the bullet hit my chest, all I could feel was white, hot pain. I didn’t know if it had gone through the vest, sometimes they do, and for a second, I was scared I’d never see you again. That I’d never kiss you again. I was so scared that we were out of time,” Carlos’s voice builds with emotion.

TK’s touches don’t slow or stop, he keeps the movement going, also knowing Carlos needs it.

“And there’s still so much I want to do with you, so much for us to do together,” Carlos continues.

TK nods along with Carlos’s words. He, too, feels the same in his heart.

“You know I’ll always fight to come back to you. I’ll always fight for us,” Carlos states, his voice wavering a little.

“I know, babe,” TK replies, dropping a kiss to the top of Carlos’s head. A moment of silence passes between them. “I was scared, too. We had no idea who was down and then when I saw Mitchell and you were nowhere in sight, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over me. And all I could think was the same thing, there’s still so much for us to do together that this can’t be the end,” he confesses. “And you know what?”

“Hm?” Carlos moves his head to look up at TK.

“We’ll make every second count,” TK says with a soft smile.

Carlos studies him for a couple of moments, his eyes roaming over TK’s face, taking in his micro expressions, the way his green eyes sparkle, the worry still etched into his forehead that’s slowly fading away.

“We will,” Carlos promises back.

“You know it’s okay,” TK speaks, slicing through the quiet that settles in the air once again.

“What is?”

“For people to help you,” TK clarifies. “You always take care of everyone else, you’re always there for everyone, for anything they need. It’s only fair you get the same treatment in return. And I know you can take care of yourself and all, but it’s never a burden asking for help, or accepting it,” he pretty much reads Carlos’s mind.

Carlos tightens his hold on TK.

“And I know you haven’t been fighting me on helping you and taking care of you since I came home because you hate seeing me worry. And helping you has been helping me, too. Knowing you’re okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time, babe. I admire your strength, but you can get help sometimes, too.”

Carlos lifts his head again and looks at TK, his brown irises swimming with unshed tears. He doesn’t need to speak, TK understands.

“Oh, ‘Los,” TK murmurs. “I promise I’ll always be here.”

Carlos nods and closes his eyes when TK brushes a kiss to his forehead, a tear rolling down his cheek which TK wipes away with his thumb.

“I love you, Ty,” Carlos voices. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, ‘Los. I love you, too, baby. Get some rest.”

TK extends his arm and clicks the light off, the moonlight shining through the blinds takes its turn to illuminate the room. Carlos closes his eyes, focusing on TK’s steady heartbeat. He’s lulled to sleep, basking in the warmth and love of TK.

Yeah, everything is going to be just fine, Carlos thinks as he drifts off.

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 3) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2]

hello sorry for the wait my brain just be straight up farting sometimes

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 3)

When Lumine woke up, she was back in her bed at home, with Aether taking a damp towel off her head. The morning sunlight shined in through the window. 

“Did I sleep through the entire night?” Lumine asked, her voice hoarse. 

Aether hummed out a ‘yes.’ “I think your body was absolutely exhausted.” He sighed sitting down next to the bed. “Sis, you have to stop overworking yourself; I worry—we all worry.”

She gave a small nod. “I know. And I’m sorry.” 

“Just take the day off to relax, okay? I promise the whole world isn’t going to blow up.” He stood up. “Also, mind telling me why Childe of all people brought you back here?” he asked, eyeing Lumine’s hands. 

She hadn’t even realized it; her hands were set atop a red scarf—Childe’s red scarf—and only then did she vaguely remember him wrapping it around her as he carried her home. Clutching it, she answered, “About that...he may or may not have found out I’m Outlander.” 

Aether’s eyes widened. “He found out? And he didn’t tell the whole school?” 

“I’m surprised as well. He actually seems...nicer ever since he found out.”

“Maybe he’s trying to mooch off your earnings. Or blackmail you.”

“See, I thought that too, but he hasn’t done any of those things.” She gripped the scarf again. “In fact, he offered to be my coach.”

“Your coach? What, he does the underground fighting too?”

Lumine shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently he has ‘connections.’”

“Are you going to accept?”

She looked out the window. “I told him, ‘no.’”

Aether silently regarded her, looking like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head. “Well, remember to relax today. Your work has been taken care of, so just take it easy, okay?”

He left the room, and Lumine turned onto her side, eyes cast out the window. Without thinking, she brought Childe’s scarf up to her nose, breathing in. She was caught off guard as the scent of salty beach shores filled her senses. 

Her face flushed and she thought, How do I even pay him back?

* * *

Lumine pushed open the door to the school’s rooftop, taking in a breath of the gentle breeze floating by. Sitting near the edge of the roof was Childe, his orange hair ruffling slightly in the wind. Lumine took a moment to observe him; he looked so serene, and suddenly Xiangling’s words intruded into her mind: He’s so handsome. 

“So, Pres, did you call me up here just to stare at me, or did you actually want something?” he asked, not even turning towards her.

Lumine felt a vein pop out on her forehead, and she proceeded to stomp towards him. “I was not staring,” she argued. “Here.” She harshly held out a little paper bag which contained Childe’s red scarf. 

His eyebrow raised an inch, and he took the bag. “You could have just left this in my locker, you know?” 

“Why do you have to make everything I do so difficult?” 

A chuckle. “I’m just teasing you, Pres. Thank you for returning it.” 

She gave him a stiff nod, then sat down next to him. “I...I also wanted to say thank you. For helping me.”

Childe tilted his head, regarding her curiously. 

Before he could say anything, she continued, gazing out at the city. “And thank you for not telling anyone. I don’t know why, but really—thank you for not saying anything.” 

From the corner of her eye, she saw his lips turn upwards in a small smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t want anyone else enjoying our little secret, now would I?” 

“This is fun to you?” she grumbled. 

“Very much so.” 

Lumine sighed. “Anyways, I don’t like to be indebted to people, and I couldn’t think of a way to pay you back—so please think of something.”

“In that case…,” he said almost instantaneously.

“You already have something in mind?”

He leaned towards her. “Let me be your coach.” 

...

...Of course he would say that. 

* * *

“And you’re sure Childe is trustworthy?” Aether asked Lumine as they walked through the bustling city of Snezhnaya, located in the next city over from their hometown of Mondstadt. 

Lumine readjusted the strap of her gym bag on her shoulder. “I mean...he hasn’t said anything yet, right? And anyways,” she muttered, “I owe him for saving me.” 

Aether frowned, crossing his arms. “I guess you’re right…It’s just...He’s been a constant pain in your ass for the better part of your council career, and now he just suddenly wants to be your best friend?” 

“He’s not going to be my best friend. Maybe he just felt sorry that I have to do all this for the sake of money, so he’s helping us out,” Lumine tried to reason. “If he’s my coach, we’ll get better conditions and pay.” 

Her twin nodded, looking around at the modern, high-rise buildings surrounding them. “Snezhnaya is really a rich city, isn’t it?” 

“I guess that’s a good sign.” Lumine stopped in front of a building labeled “Zapolyarny Palace.” She glanced down at the business card Childe had given her. “I think this is it: the gym he told me to go to.” 

The two of them took in the building before them: a gym with large windows through which they could see many members training intensely within. The building itself was made of sleek, silver materials, making the gym look like a glittering gem in the sunlight. Definitely an upgrade from the concrete basement of Kaeya’s establishment. 

Lumine was first to climb the steps, Aether following closely behind her. She pushed open the heavy glass doors, and immediately noticed everyone inside watching her from the corner of their eyes. 

“Lumi, these are some real scary looking people,” her twin whispered. 

She nodded, but continued walking forward to the front desk. The receptionist looked up at her; her name tag read Ekaterina. 

“How can I help you?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t friendly, but Lumine suspected that was the nicest the woman would sound. 

“I was told to come here by a friend,” Lumine answered. “By, uhm, Tartaglia?” 

Ekaterina looked her up and down, then stood. “Follow me.” 

The three of them walked through the gym, heels clicking against the dark slate flooring. The gym was huge, all of the high-tech equipment greatly spaced out, machines Lumine hadn’t ever seen before. 

The group made their way towards a boxing ring, elevated off the ground, and even from far away, Lumine could tell it was made from very expensive materials. 

“Tartaglia is up ahead,” Ekaterina said, gesturing towards the boxing ring, then went back to her desk.

Currently, there were two people sparring in the ring. To her surprise, Lumine recognized them both. 

“Is that...Kaeya? And Childe?” Aether asked.  

Lumine didn’t even answer, finding herself speeding up to get closer and watch the fight. 

She had only heard of Kaeya fighting from others in his arena, and that he was a fierce opponent due to his training in the military where he had actually been a high ranking captain. Childe, on the other hand, she had only seen in schoolyard scuffles, and never as an actual fighter in the ring. She was mesmerized by the two. 

Kaeya’s moves were very sharp and sneaky, while Childe’s style was lighter and much faster—until he struck, which he did so with great force, like the sudden crashing of a powerful ocean wave. Despite the huge gap in years of experience, it seemed like Childe actually had the upper hand in the fight. 

Childe threw a jab at Kaeya’s face, which the captain easily blocked. But then, Childe quickly switched his footing, twisting his body around to prep for a spinning heel kick to Kaeya’s unprotected side. As he turned, Lumine made eye contact with him for a split second. 

His foot would have slammed into Kaeya’s face, but suddenly, Childe stopped short, his leg still in the air, foot hovering right by Kaeya’s face, who regarded the near hit with wide eyes. Stopping a powerful kick like that took a lot of strength, Lumine knew, and she could see it in the way the muscles were flexed in Childe’s leg. 

“It was fun, captain, but it seems our guest is here,” Childe said, relaxing his leg and setting it down. 

Kaeya let out a shaky laugh. “It was indeed fun. Though, it seems like I need to get back into proper shape; it’s been a while.” 

Childe ducked under the ropes, sliding out onto the ground. “I look forward to that rematch then.” He picked up his water bottle and looked at Lumine. “You made it! Good job not getting lost.” 

As he drank his water, Lumine couldn’t help but look him over, at his exceptionally well-toned body. Usually his long limbs were covered by their school uniforms, but now he wore a gray tank top with gray sports shorts. It didn’t help that he was practically glistening in sweat. 

She cleared her throat. “So can you tell me why Kaeya is here?”

Her manager walked up to them, offering his signature smile. “Why wouldn’t I follow my dear Lumine to the next step in her career?” 

“I invited him,” Childe said. “I figured you’d want to keep him around.” 

He wasn’t wrong; it was nice that Kaeya was there as another familiar face. She wasn’t really sure what to expect from Childe now.

“I see you brought a guest as well,” Childe noted, his blue eyes on Aether. 

Aether subtly put his hands on his hips, defensively. “I’m Aether. Her twin.” 

The ginger tilted his head. “Ah, the Vice-President. How cute.” 

“Okay, so you’re my coach,” Lumine said. “Now what?” 

He held out his hand. “Where’s your Outlander mask?”

Lumine blinked at him, but then pulled the mask out, handing it over. He flipped it over in his hands, then chucked it behind him. Both her and Aether gasped. 

“You won’t need it anymore,” Childe said. 

Lumine glared at him. “What do you mean, I won’t need it anymore?” 

“Are you trying to get her arrested?” Aether spat. 

Childe held up his hands. “Relax. The reason I wanted you to join me is because we’re no longer going to have you fighting illegally. So no need for the mask.”

Kaeya nodded. “Yup. We’re bringing you into the world of legitimacy.” 

Lumine crossed her arms. “Kaeya, you know the reason I came to you in the first place. You get me way more money, much faster, than any legitimate competition. Especially at the beginner levels.” 

“And that’s why you’re here now,” Childe interjected. “Fighting here will give you even more money without having to worry about the cops busting in and arresting you one day.” 

“What if people from school find out?”

“No one from our school is going to come here to Snezhaya, much less to a gym.” 

Lumine and Childe stared at each other, unyielding. 

“Excuse us,” Kaeya said, pulling Lumine and Aether away from Childe. 

“Kaeya, you know it’s dangerous for her not to be in a disguise,” Aether hissed. 

“It was dangerous when she was fighting in my arena,” Kaeya said. He put a hand on Lumine’s shoulder. “Look, Childe is trying to help you, not hurt you. He knows you need that money, and that you’re good at this. He, like the rest of us, doesn’t want to see you get arrested for just trying to help your family out.” 

Lumine bit her lip. “What makes him so qualified though?” She turned towards Kaeya. “You guys are always talking about his ‘connections,’ but you haven’t really talked about who he is in this community.” 

“All you have to know is that, despite you guys being close in age, he is a known professional in this field. He’s fought and won many competitions.” He sighed. “I mean you saw him earlier: he almost handed my ass to me in that little spar. And I was a captain in the military.”

Aether sighed as well. “Lumi...as much as I dislike Childe...I think they’re right. I’ve always worried about you in those illegal fights. You’ll be safer here.”

As scary as it was that she was no longer concealing her identity, a part of her relished at the freedom. And they were all right. It was safer here, down this road. 

Lumine nodded before leading them back to Childe. She stood in front of him, arms crossed. “When do we start?”

* * *

[part 4]

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

One, Two Punch

Pairing: Ben Miller x Reader, kinda. Flirtationship more than a relationship Rating: Somewhere between T and M? Summary: After knowing Ben for barely two months, you’re invited to attend one of his fights. Length: ~2k words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, vague descriptions of legally sanctioned violence, vague mentions of masturbation. Taglist:  @firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @the-bird-suit @mapache-lector @skylyknightly (let me know if you want to be +/-) Note: For the anon from yesterday. If you see this, I love you and if you want me to keep posting old fics, please let me know.

The day you’re invited to watch one of Ben Miller’s fights, it feels like a rite of passage.

The boys go quiet when he drops the question. So quiet, in fact, you wonder if you mistook the invitation for a marriage proposal. Suddenly extremely interested in their respective drinks, they sneak glances in your direction in the moments following. Ben’s eyes, clear and bright and… have they always been that blue? They root you to the spot, pinning you without him needing to lift a finger.

“Sure,” you say, shrugging off the odd looks and your own uncertainty. “Sounds fun.”

The fight isn’t for another three weeks, but Will practically has to drag Ben out of the bar by the collar whilst claiming that prep starts now. Once the door is soundly closed behind the Millers, Santiago and Frankie take turns explaining that Ben has never invited anyone to his fights. Well, not for a while, at least. They run you through what you’re sure is an abbreviated version of their last experience with this.

Long story short: he invited one of his previous flings to a fight, she left before the match ended with nothing more than a text letting him know that she didn’t think it would work, and they never heard from her again.

You swipe a finger down the glass–it’s started sweating condensation since they started talking. You rub the moisture between your fingertips, then take a sip, welcoming the burn as the tequila warms its way down your throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s a big deal,” Santiago says. “A big fucking deal.”

You get it, they’re more than friends to Ben. They’re his teammates, the people he trusts more than anyone in the world to watch his back. You suppose that’s precisely what they’re doing, now. You suspect that if you were to bail out like the previous girl did, they wouldn’t let you off so easy.

Not that you would. It’s just… a lot to take in.

“I get it,” you say with a smile. “I break his heart, you break my neck, right?”

Frankie lifts his glass in a toast. “I knew you were a fast learner.”

–

The following Tuesday evening finds you knocking on Ben’s door for your usual burger run. It’s probably too early to call it a tradition, but you’re relationship with Ben, thus far, is comprised primarily of spontaneous adventures such as this. Every Tuesday for the past three weeks you’ve gotten together to eat greasy foods and talk and laugh together. So it’s worth a shot, right?

Except when Will opens the door.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says cordially, if not a bit bewildered.

“Y/N!” you hear Ben’s unmistakable voice call from further within. “Come in!”

Will steps aside, vacating enough space for you to pass. You step over the threshold, your eyes immediately landing on the small dining table to your right. And the… grain bowl he’s eating?

“I see you’ve already got dinner taken care of,” you note with a small laugh. You’re more entertained by the sight than you are upset by the fact that burger night will have to wait.

Ben’s face falls, and his fork clatters to the table. “Shit,” he scrambles to pull his phone from his pocket. “Shit.” He unlocks it, hits a few buttons, then slides it back into his jeans.

A few seconds later, your own phone’s screen lights up with an unread text. You open it and read:

have 2 take a rain check on burgers 2nite. wills got me on this ‘clean eating’ diet before the fight.

You hold up the phone for him to see, “Got it.”

Ben says a bit sheepishly, “Forgot to send it. Selective memory. Sorry.”

As much as you want to be sad that your night out has been postponed, you’re more touched by the fact that of all the things on his mind, that was one of them.

“He needs to get into work mode,” Will fills the silence as Ben shovels a heap of quinoa and chicken into his mouth and makes a show of gagging on it. “Gotta keep him focused on eating better and training.”

You think about the pack of beers you’d bought and stored in your fridge. “I take it that means no alcohol, either.”

“Nope,” the brothers answer in unison–Ben with notably more disdain than Will.

“I was winning fights before you put me on this diet, you know,” Ben grumbles around his food.

“Doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be taking care of yourself when your putting that much wear and tear on your body.” Will points at his younger brother. “Eat.”

“You’re worse than mom.”

“Eat.”

Ben groans and heaps some more food into his mouth. “I’m not worried,” he says half to himself.

You see it then. In his eyes, he’s focused and somewhere that isn’t quite here. You look at the hard lines around his mouth and suddenly wish you could take your thumb and run it across his lower lip, card your fingers through the unruly hair he dutifully keeps under the protection of his hat. One look at his face, and you know his mind has wandered somewhere similar.

Want, need, desire, call it what you will. All that and more churns in your gut.

Will clears his throat, pulling you two back from where you teeter on the edge of the gutter and back to the present. “We’ll worry about it when it’s time to worry about it. There’s nothing we can do right now except prepare. It’ll turn out how it turns out. And if Ben does what he’s supposed to, it’ll turn out well.”

“Win that fight, Benjamin,” you tease, turning back towards the door. “And we’ll get those burgers.”

You feel his eyes burning into your back long after the door shuts behind you.

–

You don’t feel ashamed of the moment you and Ben shared. That nagging in your chest is a far cry from shame. You’d outgrown that long ago. The look you’d shared, the thoughts you had and knew he had were mild in comparison to what you knew you wanted.

You knew the look in his eyes, that unspoken promise for something more–something you completely, unabashedly craved–and your carefully placed tethers would fray and fray and fray until there was nothing to hold you back. He didn’t need distractions right now, you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t make it any less miserable.

It only takes three days before it grows so unbearable that you take matters into your own hands.

Overheated and nearly frantic, you toss and turn in bed that night until your tank top and short clink and chafe against your slightly sweaty body. You try counting the minutes until sleep takes you. But minutes turn to hours with no sign of relief.

Need crawls over you, slithering under your skin. It doesn’t take much to imagine his face, that it’s his hands on your skin, inside–

But that release only leaves you hollow–unsatisfied.

You make a point to keep your distance for the remainder of that week. Until the day of the fight, actually. By then, the tether is pulled so tight that you fear it might snap at one wrong move.

Later, you remind yourself. That unfinished business will come later.

–

The air is thick with the mingled scents of liquor, body odor, and several variants of cheap cologne. And it’s so hot. People move around you in groups, and the floor beneath your feet is sticky from some spilled drink that hadn’t been properly cleaned. The heavy beat of a rock song slam against your chest, and as you look around you think you see more tattoos than skin, more leather than jeans, and more filled cups than empty hands.

You’re not scared. Far from it, actually. The energy of the crowd feeds your own, the music heightening your excitement as you follow Frankie and Santiago through the crowd and squeeze yourselves into an open spot right in front of the cage. One of them, you can’t tell who, shoves a drink into your hand and tells you its on them.

You hold the beverage, but don’t partake as the referee begins to announce the next fighter. The first thing you see is a flash of red shorts.

Perhaps it’s for show, watching Ben make his way from the door to the cage, swaying his shoulders with each step, his eyes locked on it and nothing else as heavy metal blasts around you. You don’t exist to him. Not right now. Regardless, heat pools in your stomach. 

He takes is sweet time peeling off his shirt and stretching his shoulders. He turns away from you so Will can help him into his gloves, allowing you a full view of that gloriously muscled back. You admire each line of muscle, each movement he makes as he turns and enters the ring. To hell with all the people around you. You want that. You want that over you, under you, all around you. You could touch him everywhere at once and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you–

His eyes find you in the crowd, and he winks.

If it was socially acceptable to swoon, you might have.

Maybe you did, anyway.

–

The fight itself doesn’t last long. At one point you set your untouched drink down, then promptly kick it over when you leap to your feet to cheer.

Even then, you can’t help but clinch every time someone lands a hit, skin reddening and bruising, breathing labored and shallow until a hand is being lifted in the air in victory. It’s Ben’s.

–

You wait outside the lockers with the guys. Santiago is weaving a tale from his days in Brazil that you’re only half paying attention to. You remain standing off to the side, sipping a lukewarm water, watching.

It takes a while for Ben to come out. The blood has been cleaned from his face and, remarkably, the only lasting mark is a purple-blue bruise above his cheekbone. But he’s grinning ear to ear, and he pulls first Santiago, then Frankie into a bear of a hug. You see his face over their shoulders, how hie eyes still veritably glow with the same energy you’d seen in the ring.

You push yourself from the wall you’re leaning against, and step up to them. Ben’s eyes meet yours as if by gravitational pull.

You’d felt drawn to him since the day you’d met. But this is like meeting him for the first time. A dim hallway. The crowd slowly draining out from the gymnasium. You, holding a cup of piss-poor excuse for water, and him.

The boys quietly let Ben know that they’ll catch up with him later, and melt into the meandering crowd.

The shift in his expression makes it achingly clear what Ben wants. His gaze lingers, now. His shoulders seem broader as he steps towards you, his gym bag over one shoulder, his other arm extended for you. 

“Let’s go.” His voice is different in the aftermath of the fight. You can see the adrenaline still pumping in the way his eyes lock on you.

You find your way to his body, and let him guide you outside. His hand sneaks around your waist and under your shirt, his fingers digging into the skin above your hipbone. He guides your steps with a fierceness, and as soon as you make it back to his car, his hand wanders lower, lower.

He tosses his bag into his car, refusing to let you go. Another swift motion has you pinned between the heat of his body and the side of the car.

He’s in front of you, caging you in, his fingers lingering at the waistband of your leggings, his shirt damp from the shower he just took, hair dangling over his forehead. You clamp your hands down on his biceps, digging your fingers into skin and muscle and him.

You barely have time to register it all before his lips crash into yours, and the empire of your longing comes crashing down.

Yes, you could stand to be with this for a little longer.

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[moipale]

Scientist’s Curiosity

This fic was written for Ectober Week 2020 Day 2: Bones/Pulse and can be found on AO3 and FFN as well as here!

You can find me on this blog or on my main @faedemon

Maddie is alone when she catches it.

Jack is out of town visiting a convention, and she still hasn’t managed to rope either of the kids into coming out on these little patrols, so it’s just her and the whistle of the empty street that bears witness to Phantom’s fall.

It hasn’t even been weakened by another ghost—it’s been a peaceful night, quiet, and what allows Maddie to bag the ghost boy is nothing more than luck. Luck, and a lapse in judgement on Phantom’s part.

Maybe it’s a good thing Jack isn’t with her—his lumbering, bless him, surely would have given them away by now. But Maddie is quiet, and she creeps into range with a stealth she didn’t realize she could still maintain, well into her forties. The weapon she’d decided to carry for this particular venture is perfect: an electric net-thrower, and Phantom, sitting casually on the edge of a rooftop, its legs dangling off the side, is well within shooting distance.

She readies the gun, looking up at its silhouette. If it were human, she wouldn’t be able to see its facial features this late at night, but the ghostly glow that emanates from its form lights it up like a beacon, and as she steadies her aim, her eyes scour its face, studying it.

Phantom’s facial features are soft. Its body holds that look of someone who’s just about to lose the last of their baby fat, but hasn’t reached that point quite yet. It looks young. Childlike.

It’s really too bad that Maddie knows enough to check Amity’s death records, because no one matching Phantom’s rough age, description, or the name ‘Danny’ has died in Amity Park since its founding.

Ghosts truly are evil creatures, to play the part of a child.

She pulls the trigger, her aim true, and the net flies toward Phantom faster than it can react to. It wraps around the ghost, glomming onto its limbs as the bolas bond themselves to its ectoplasm—a nice touch Jack had thought of, she should really thank him when he gets back—and effectively immobilizes it.

Phantom starts struggling immediately, its eyes going wide as it tries desperately to wriggle out of the net. Maddie has to fight back a titter of amusement when it wiggles its way off the roof, falling the two stories down to the pavement. It can’t fly, either—good to know the power nullification agent in the net works as intended.

She approaches, and Phantom catches sight of her quickly enough. The look in its eyes goes through a peculiar flash of emotions—fear, a pause of confusion where it relaxes slightly, and then fear again, almost like it had forgotten for a moment who she was and what its capture meant.

No matter. Maddie will be able to study all its “emotional” responses up close soon enough.

She’d gone out tonight without the van, which is a shame—she hadn’t been expecting to collect a sample tonight, so she’d wandered a fair distance away from home. It’ll be hell to carry Phantom all the way back. She’s not willing to risk leaving it there to go grab the van, though, so lugging the ghost back it is. At least ectoplasm is fairly light—most of the weight she’s carrying comes from the net.

“Hey,” the ghost says as she hoists it onto her shoulder. “Mo—Maddie, listen, you don’t want to do this. Please put me down.” It pleads, quite pathetically, as she adjusts her grip and starts walking. It’s late at night, so she’s not particularly worried about anyone seeing this little spectacle, but even if they did, she isn’t expecting anyone to stop her. It’s not like she’s carrying around a person.

“Maddie—” it says again, but she interrupts it.

“Ask again and I’ll turn my taser on you and I won’t turn it off,” she warns in a sharp voice.

There’s a beat of silence before it mutters, “Oh, yeah, tase the guy who died from electrocution, that’s nice,” and then falls silent.

Well, that little tidbit has given her an idea for a whole new line of experimentation. The thought puts a little pep in her step, and she starts to walk a bit faster. Phantom seems to sense this, and it starts to wriggle again, trying to worm its way out of her grip. She holds onto it more tightly and continues on.

Fentonworks comes into view about fifteen minutes later, and she darts up the front steps, more giddy than she’s been in a long while. There’s a keypad next to the lock, and she punches in the numbers that will disable the anti-ecto array inside—it wouldn’t do to have her specimen polka-dotted with holes before she can even get it onto the examination table. Once she hears the whine of the machinery powering off, she lets herself in, beelining for the lab.

Normally, if she manages to capture a specimen while Jack’s not around, she’d call him to let him know what she’d picked up and then hold off on examination until he returned. This, though—this is big, and Phantom is a known escape artist. She can’t wait and risk losing it, not even for a phone call.

She deposits Phantom on one of the clearer tables before making quick work of all the junk on the floor, shoving it to the sides or, in the case of more fragile pieces, putting them away where they won’t be touched. After she’s confident the lab is clear enough for her to move around without danger of tripping, she takes the table Phantom is steadily trying to wiggle off of and drags it to the center of the room, directly beneath one of the overhead lights and well within range of any of the tools she may feel necessary to pull out. The fluorescent light above Phantom has the added bonus of partially blinding him, and making her look like little more than an indistinct silhouette.

As convenient as built-in restraints would be, ghosts’ forms are too variable for her and Jack to have ever installed any that would be universally effective, so she goes back to the old tried-and-true: paralytics.

Maddie preps a sterile needle—sterilized more for her benefit than Phantom’s, in case of an accident—and fills it with a concoction she and Jack had developed fairly recently: a paralyzing agent made from a mix of chemicals that would be frankly concerning—if it were meant for humans.

Phantom’s eyes are locked onto the needle as she turns around and approaches the table. It looks almost surprised, and Maddie wonders if it’s only now that the true reality of the situation is dawning on it. If ghosts can even have that kind of emotional realization, anyway. She hasn’t quite determined where the threshold is.

“Hey, what are—what are you doing?” It had stopped talking on the walk back to Fentonworks, but now it starts up again, babbling protests and pleas. “Please, don’t—I have a responsibility, I have to—” Maddie stops listening after a moment, not bothering to even respond.

Phantom begins to wiggle more fiercely, to which Maddie sighs quietly, reaching out to physically hold him down with one arm. It takes a moment, but she manages to slide the needle in just below the elbow, pushing down the plunger without any real regard for how fast she’s injecting. It’s not like it even matters where she inserts the needle—the entirety of Phantom’s body should just be ectoplasm inside; its not like there are any particular veins she’s trying to hit. Its body does give a good illusion of blood vessels from the outside, though. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re green.

After a few seconds, Phantom’s movements slow, and within a minute its fully immobilized, save its eyes, which dart back and forth rapidly. Its thrashing had left it sprawled in an unlikely position, and Maddie has half a mind to leave it like that for the humiliation before her thoughts catch up with her and she realizes how unscientific the impulse is. Pursing her lips, she arranges Phantom’s body to her convenience: on its back, legs and arms extended, both sets of limbs pulled slightly out from the body. She also closes its mouth, which had been hanging open dumbly, but not before spying how humanlike the inside of it looks. She makes a note to examine it more thoroughly later, after she’s gotten the samples she needs.

Seeing Phantom laid out like this, immobile, entirely at her mercy, is far more vindicating than it probably should be. The ghost boy has been the source of so much of the Fentons’ ire, and now she finally, finally has it where she wants it. A lesser scientist would probably take advantage of this situation, but Maddie is a professional. No matter how eager she may be to get her hands on it, she will keep her composure.

Maddie and Jack have had two goals since they first laid eyes on Phantom: to study and understand its obsession and its physiology.

Phantom’s obsession has been a thing of curiosity for them since the beginning. Something in Phantom compels it not only to avoid attacking humans, but also actively try to prevent other ghosts from attacking humans. Maddie has hesitantly labeled the obsession as ‘protection,’ but the notion is a vague one—what, exactly, is it protecting? An individual? A group? Or not a person at all, but the town? Why Amity Park, of all places?

And aside from that, Phantom’s unusual physiology is obvious even when observing it from afar. It’s not like the other ghosts—its ectoplasm is denser and less malleable, it seems to activate powers consciously rather than subconsciously, and its appearance mimics a human’s almost concerningly well. In regards to the latter, Maddie would assume Phantom is a recently-formed ghost, and the human body is not too far of a memory for its form to retrieve and recreate, if not for the research she’s done. Phantom, whatever it is, has appeared as far back as ancient Rome, and has made multiple appearances in the 1600s and in the 20th century.

She meets its eyes again, though she’s sure it can’t tell through the red sheen of her goggles. It watches her, terrified, the slightest hint of resignation creeping in.

She’s always wondered where the line is between mimicking emotions and feeling them. If you can force your heart to race and tears to fall, even if you made it happen, is the adrenaline spike any different? The choked throat?

She’s always wondered why, even when caught or observed alone, the ghosts never stop emoting. Muscle memory? Habit? Truth?

She and Jack had agreed long before now on what samples would be taken, should either of them manage to capture Phantom: five ectoplasm samples at intervals leading toward the core from the extremities, a sample of the core material while active and one while inactive, a piece of the hazmat suit, hair (and nails, should it have them), and anything else of note.

She gets to work immediately, taking up a pair of scissors from one of the nearby tables. This, too, she sterilizes, and then wastes no time in cutting her way down Phantom’s suit, first down the torso and next down each of the limbs, so that the suit falls away from the body, exposing its form beneath. She snips off a sizable chunk of the garment’s chest and stores it in a specimen bag, setting it aside for later examination.

It’s as she moves to begin carving out chunks of ectoplasm that she notices something she really should have noticed far earlier. As the scalpel she’d picked up moves closer to Phantom’s skin, its panicked breathing picks up.

Its breathing.

Maddie slowly turns her head to look down at Phantom, watching its chest rise and fall rapidly, enough so that it would be considered hyperventilation in a person. It watches her back, eyes flicking between her face and her hands, unable to do anything but lie there.

Does it have lungs? she wonders, detached, her scientist’s curiosity getting the best of her as she reaches with one hand to lay her palm flat on the ghost’s chest. If it has lungs, what else does it have?

There’s no reason I can’t dissect it, she reasons, already unable to redirect her thoughts, curiosity burning within her. Just to find out. It’ll only take a little longer than what I’d initially planned.

She was going to remove chunks of Phantom starting at the calf and working her way toward the center of its chest, where the core should be, and the terror it had shown at that prospect was quite acute. It has nothing, however, on the terror that mounts in Phantom’s eyes as her scalpel redirects, moving toward the center of its chest.

Maddie reels herself back in as she does so, stopping herself from making any unplanned incisions. Instead, she carefully puts the scalpel down before moving over to the desk in the corner to retrieve a permanent marker. She uses it to draw careful lines down Phantom’s chest: two branching down from its shoulders, then meeting in the middle and heading straight down the chest. The ‘Y’ of an autopsy.

Phantom is dead, after all.

Before she picks up the scalpel again, out of pure curiosity, she rests her hand flat on its chest once more. She can feel the low hum of its core, as expected—you can feel it in all ghosts, provided you get close enough—but she can also feel something else. Something familiar.

Beneath her palm, through the rubber of her hazmat suit, Maddie swears she can feel the tha-thump of a heartbeat.

Phantom has a pulse.

She looks it in the eye once again, almost trying to memorize the flickers she sees in its gaze. Terror, hysteria, desperation. She feels so strangely detached from them. Maybe a long time ago it might have stirred something in her, some sympathetic belief that perhaps ghosts do have the capacity for feeling, for thinking beyond following the program of their obsession—

but not now. Not this Maddie, who feels a heartbeat beneath her hand in a creature long dead and feels curiosity grip her with a fervor she can’t shake.

She takes up the scalpel and begins to cut.

[turtletimewriting]

Bonding

Summary: A soulmate au’s perspective on tickling! 

Note: A tickle fic if you couldn’t guess! Also, still somewhat new to writing for Sanders Sides so prepare for some shoddiness haha! 

_._._

Virgil woke up feeling his chest almost glowing with emotion. A warmth that settled in front of his ribs that made his eyes flutter open and a smile naturally curl on to his face. The quiet warmth tried its hardest to lull him into sleep again but his slowly wakening mind was starting to ask questions. What were the others doing that meant they was radiating with happiness? 

He had stumbled upon his soulmates just a little under sixth months ago. Tracking down soulmates had always felt like an impossible task. Hell, it took years before he even realised that he had three of them! Feeling their emotions obviously doesn’t make them easy to find- he could be having the happiest day of his life but that wouldn’t mean he’d be dancing down the streets or smiling proudly. He had found Patton first. He suspected him when they were partnered together for a project at work. The sinking heavy feeling in his chest to the rapid glow of excitement matched Patton’s expression when the project was announced and then when he realised that Virgil was his partner. Thankfully, Patton had found his other soulmates and so saved Virgil the heart attacks of trying to find the others. 

Virgil slowly and quietly crept out of their guest bedroom and peered through the stairs. He wasn’t surprised by the sight of them all piled on top of each other, like a bunch of spilt over kittens, it was a familiar sight. The surprise was the frantic laughter. 

Logan’s laugh was distinct. It was somehow both squeaky but also bellowing loud. Like he was throwing his whole self into his laugh. Roman was laying across him and was giving him the most sickening love sick eyes to his upturned laughing face. Roman’s hands were squeezing his sides leisurely, squeezing  followed by quick poking. Patton was lying underneath Logan but his hands still had access to his armpits and occasionally his neck. 

“Rohohoho-Romaaaaanahahaha!” He uselessly cried out but his flailing hands never seemed to push Roman away. Patton never even faced any opposition. He was free to tickle away at whatever was free to him. 

“What, Specs? I’m right here! No need to yell, what do you want?” 

“I bet he needs some more tickles! Look! He’s not even blushing that much, he definitely needs some more tickly tickly tickles!” Patton squeaked with his own giggles escaping. 

“No no nahaa! Hahahaha, tickleeeeehehehehahahaha!” 

“So what’s going on here?” Virgil smirked as he dramatically leaned over the stair banister as he menacingly tapped his fingers. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh when all three heads immediately whipped round to face him. 

That laugh quickly died though when he felt that warmth in his chest freeze over. It was now sharp and settled into a dull ache. Three sets of dread, fear and worry. 

“Woah, wait. I didn't interrupt anything did I?”

“No! We just didn't expect you to be up yet,” Patton chuckled as he looked over at the others.

“Yeah! You’re up! Like, before ten o’ clock? I’m honestly impressed!” Roman gasped as he flounced off the sofa and approached him. “What’s the special occasion? Big plans for the day?” 

“Roman,” Logan warned as he sat back up while scrubbing at his mused up hair. His face burned red already but he felt extra squirmy at the thought to having this conversation without any planning or prep. They were going to have this conversation at some point! When Logan had carefully constructed a script! But he had to do it now. He could feel Virgil’s anxiety. The familiar burn had erupted into an all consuming fire. If they tried to hide this away then Virgil would only just spiral. 

All this worry caused by tickling. This was just illogical. 

“Virgil, don’t worry. I... have a particular fondness for t-tic... tickling. For some unknown reason!” Logan grimaced as he spoke, that was immediately unclear, unspecific and defensive. His mind scrambled for more words before reviewing them, “But, Patton and Roman also revealed that they shared this fondness and so it’s been present within our relationship for a while,” 

“Oh,” Virgil hummed with a sickly sweet tone. His own thoughts racing with a small glow of anticipating excitement. 

“We didn’t hide it from you for any reason! We just know that some people can find this weird... We know you wanted to go slow,” Patton smiled as he stood up and walked up to Virgil. He gently held his hands. 

“You all shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry that you felt the need to hide that! You shouldn’t have to hide parts of yo-”

“No! Virgil, none of us are wording this adequately. We were embarrassed, yes. And that’s why we hid this. Not because we didn’t trust you or because you gave us reason not to. This is a problem on us. Not you.” 

“Ok. Ok, thanks for telling me that. Even though I kinda just walked into it. I-I don’t have a problem with... that.” Virgil hinted.

The room seemed to stop as they all took a deeper breath. Virgil’s fiery intense anxiety settled back into a smaller burn like normal. The others’ emotions had settled back into a normal neutral presence. 

“So... does this mean you want to help us tickle Logan to pieces?” Roman cheered. 

Logan squeaked but sat still as Virgil rigidly sat down beside him. He slowly reached his hands out as if Logan was going to flinch away but seeing no complaints... Virgil broke out into an evil smirk. 

That same rigid worry wasn’t present at all the second his hands reached his ribs. Logan didn’t have much time to think about that though as Roman quickly followed his lead. Virgil skittering all over his ribs and Roman’s squeezing thigh tickles only felt all the worse when Patton’s whispered teases joined the lot. 

After thoroughly tickling Logan to pieces, the others got up to finally start breakfast while Logan was left frantically giggling on the sofa. The others were practically glowing with the brand new intense warmth and happiness nestling in their chests. “So is Logan the only lee?” Virgil asked as he finally sat down at the table. 

“Oh, I think we all tend to switch,” Roman responded without too much thought but the other two had frozen in their tasks. 

“Wait, you know what a lee is!” Patton squealed. Logan himself was standing with his own powerful evil smirk. Virgil was now frozen himself. He wanted to hint at just how fine he was with their... fondness. But he never wanted to outright say it!

“Uh...” 

“Unless you absolutely don’t want this, I would encourage you to flee,” Logan smirked before running up to the table. 

“Too late!” Roman cheered as he caught Virgil round his middle before he could even flee from the table. His immediately curled his fingers into his sides. Smiling wider when Virgil’s excited anticipation blossom in chest. Excitement! Logan leaned down at them and tauntingly raised his wiggling fingers to Virgil’s tummy. 

Once they touched down, Virgil tried his best to school his expression into something resembling nonchalance. But... it had been awhile since he was last tickled and he had forgotten what it felt like. He immediately squealed and so the dam broke instantly. Logan’s fingers danced gracefully over his tummy leaving trails of tickly tingles. It felt like the longer he tickled, the more tickles Virgil had to just take. 

“Logaahahahaha! Ahahehehehaahaha! Rohohoahahahaha!” Virgil simply folded in half as if that would protect his tickly tummy but Roman kept him balanced upright. 

“Aww Virgie-poo! Are you a little lee yourself? A little tickle craving lee! Oh, if only we knew earlier! You deserve all the tickles you can take! All of the tickly tickly tickles! Soft tickles, hard tickles, feather tickles, tummy tickles...” Patton cooed from the kitchen while keeping an eye on the eggs. What, someone has to be responsible and make breakfast! 

Virgil had yet to put on his make up and so his blush was on full display. His rarely heard laugh rang and echoed through the house. But his laughter had a wheezy quality. Plus, he was barely awake as it was. They couldn’t really tickle him for long. 

“How about this! If you admit where you fit into the tickle community, we’ll free you!” Roman cooed as he pulled Virgil into his lap as he sat down himself. Logan caught on and slowed his tickling down to simple tracing around his belly button through his pyjama shirt. Like he was playing a silent game of round and round the garden. 

“Eheheheeeee! Noooooo!” Virgil now started to flail but he knew that no judgement would come from his newly revealed switch boyfriends, “Ehehahahaha, I’mmmahehehehe a leeeee I think hehehehe!” 

And it was since that morning that their relationship evolved to be a lot more tickly. 

The switch comment Roman had made was quickly debunked. Patton and Logan were typically the lers of the household with Roman and Virgil lees for most of the time. Logan and Patton were both comfortably switches but they were more often than not the ticklers thanks to how tickle hungry Roman and Virgil typically were. Not that Virgil and Roman didn’t get their fair share of revenge! But... it was usually them who would start not so obviously hinting for tickles. 

But their soul link and their new tickling was going to drive Virgil insane.

If he felt his chest explode in playful dancing warmth then he knew that he should run and hide. That special feeling belonged to Patton alone. For when he was in the most evil tickle monster mode. Any time he felt that emotion, it would soon be followed by someone’s frantic bursting laughter. Sometimes it lingered until Patton would give in and hunt someone. Sometimes it would erupt suddenly. Like if he saw Virgil standing on his tip toes with his arms outstretched to reach the highest cupboard. Or if he saw Logan sitting with his feet resting on the coffee table which no one was allowed to have their feet on. Both times, neither one could react to the emotion quick enough before they felt the tickle attack. 

He was walking home while failing to hide his wobbly smiley. That same playfulness had been shining for the past half an hour. And none of the others were home. 

Meaning Virgil was walking home to a frustrated Ler who’s been wanting to tickle someone for the past half an hour...

And Patton famously preferred to tickle Virgil.

Even just that soul link emotion was enough to have Virgil practically giggling down the streets. That feeling was becoming worse than any whispered tickly teases. He couldn’t school his expression so this was made all the worse because that meant Patton and the others could also feel that Virgil was in a lee mood. Virgil’s excited anticipating lee moods felt like a mix between his anxious burn and the most joyous warmth. The others were all smiling knowing that his lee mood started shortly after Patton’s ler mood started. 

Patton had harnessed all the patience in the world to stop himself from immediately attacking Virgil as he walked in. He waited carefully ducked behind the living room door and as his lee walked through with a confused frown. Then he struck! 

“Pat? I’m back- oh goaahhahahahahahAHAHAAAA!” Patton’s hands latched on to his sides to then guide him to the sofa. 

“Hey Virge! Sorry but Patton’s not here right now, guess who’s here in his place though?” 

“PAAAATTON! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! No! You’reeehahahAHAHAA you’re ahaha! You’re not ahahahahaha! Patton!” Virgil threw his head back once he was sat on the sofa. Patton was now just holding his sides with a teasy grin! The gentle pressure enough to spark endless giggles. 

“No guesses? I’m not who? You can’t even say my name? My name is...” Patton leaned down close and Virgil flinched anticipating neck tickles, “My name is the tickle monster!” 

In a flash, he turned around to Virgil’s socked feet. His ultimate tickle spot! And boy did it look like they needed some good old tickles after such a long day at work. 

Virgil desperately curled up but was blocked by Patton’s back. It almost looked like Virgil was cuddling into him as thanks for the tickle monster’s tickles scuttling over his soles. Patton was just tickling over his socks but it felt just as bad as bare soles. 

“PAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA! NOOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Roman and Logan had to spend the next hour awkwardly avoiding their co-workers questions about their own proud wobbly smiles. Their soul link was bursting with such joyful happiness. 

[cg29]

Because of link issues with this site I’ve decided to paste my WIPS onto here as well as AO3 & FFNet. Starting with the 1st 3 chapters of the fic I’m currently working on, and have also most recently updated.

Reflections

Set after Virgil's crash during the original series episode of 'Terror in New York City.' (Season 1 episode 4) Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son.

Thank you to @janetm74 for the Beta on C3.

Chapter 1: Scott.

Italic/Bold speech is not mine and comes from the original episode.

“The wheels have gone; I can’t hold her… I’m… I’m going to crash!”

Scott’s heart lurched at the pure panic emanating from Virgil’s voice, but there was nothing he could do as he watched Thunderbird Two squeal across the runway with dark heavy flames springing forth. Finally, and thankfully she came to a stop and the pure white foam rained down on her distinguishing the blaze… But his little Brother was still inside… “What’s going on,” he yelled over his communicator, “why is no one getting him out?”

‘T…They’re on their way Scott,’ Brains replied, ‘I’m h…here to a…assist you with l…landing.’

‘I don’t need any damn assistance, get the med bay prepped for my brother!’

‘FAB!’

Okay, a bit harsh maybe, but Virg was in there… He’d attended too many fire related incidents, he knew the consequences if someone wasn’t rescued quickly… God damn it, they had to get him out… Finally, bringing Thunderbird One into the hangar, Scott unbuckled and shot out of his chair. The further procedures he was required to run through could wait… Virgil needed him more.

…

“How is he?” He puffed out, racing over to his father just as his two brothers were bringing Virgil out of his singed bird.

“Unresponsive… Head injury, smoke inhalation, possible broken ribs,” Gordon reeled off.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Jeff said, allowing his two youngest to go ahead with Virgil before looking back to Scott, “are you coming?”

Scott heaved out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming!”

…

A few days later…

He stared down at his sleeping brother, it could have been so much worse, and the words from that moment still danced in his mind…

“Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in Virgil... Virgil are you okay? Virgil, pull her up… Can you hear me? Come in Thunderbird Two... Virgil, you’re crashing… Pull her up… Virgil, get a grip on yourself, you’ve got to pull out of that dive!”

If his brother hadn’t dragged himself out of that dive at the last second, he wouldn’t be here… And to be honest, he didn’t know if he would be either. He would have dived Thunderbird One in after her sister ship, and tried everything within his power to pull Virgil out, but it wouldn’t have worked, and both of them would have gone down…

“You did good son.”

“Ha?” Scott mumbled, looking to his father who was standing beside him.

“You did a good job. You talked your brother through a very severe situation, and you got him home. You saved his life Scott, and because of that he will be back to himself before we know it. Now, stop thinking about the alternatives.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Jeff nodded towards Virgil who was shifting in his bed, “looks like he’s waking.”

Virgil groggily forced his eyes open.

“How, are you Virgil?” Jeff questioned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Scott added.

Virgil sat himself up. “What happened to Thunderbird Two?”

‘TYPICAL!’ Scott inwardly chuckled while his father went on to answer. If his brother was already worrying about his bird, then his dad was definitely right… Virgil would get better, and soon they would both be out there together again.

Chapters 2 & 3 featuring John & Gordon below the cut.

Chapter 2: John

“Thunderbird 5. My home away from home. I love being here, the solitude suits me and because of that I’m the one who is up here the most. Don’t get me wrong I adore my family and I enjoy spending time with each of them when I’m on leave but being here amongst the stars that I’ve gazed up at in wonder since I was a small boy makes me feel so peaceful. Four days ago, that tranquillity was shattered, and for the first time ever I am finding myself wishing that someone could replace me, someone could come here and take me home.

You see my first younger brother, the one who holds us altogether with his natural calming and added creative abilities was nearly killed while I was sleeping. I know, I know, me sleeping didn’t cause his crash, but if I had been awake then maybe I could have done something to help him, like hacking the Sentinel and stopping them from firing on his bird. Instead, I was on ordered downtime after two back-to-back missions which had kept me awake for over forty-eight hours. The first required Thunderbird fours assistance, the second was in space with Alan. After I called in the third requiring just Scott and Virgil my dad, believing it was a rescue that wouldn’t require my expertise, ordered me to communicate any vital information I had to my brothers, then relay Thunderbird Five’s communications to Tracy Island so I could spend the next ten to twelve hours asleep. I managed the full twelve and after a shower and food I was ready to return to work. Except, the reply I received when contacting base wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

Ten minutes it took for me to make contact, I can’t begin to explain the thoughts that had rampaged through my mind when no one was responding, Alan finally answered looking slightly pale and very tired. Immediately I demanded to know what was going on, the answer drained me completely. The Sentinel had fired missiles at Virgil, thankfully dad had been able to reach Washington and stop the meaningless attack, but the damage that had already been received was great and my little brother was extremely lucky to make it back to the island. Well, I say lucky… Head injury, smoke inhalation, broken ribs, several cuts, and bruises. Yet, it wasn’t until the following day that he regained consciousness… But he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.

After a long chat with the youngest to make sure he was coping I signed off and instantly logged into our islands security feeds so I could see the crash. Yes, I know it sounds a little morbid, but the reality was probably not as dramatic as what was playing through my mind. Thankfully, although extreme, it wasn’t. However, what seeing that crash didn’t do was alleviate the need that I still have now to see and talk to Virgil.  What it did do was produce another need, one that I could do something about, and that was to make sure that the man who recklessly fired at the kindest person you could ever wish to meet receives some sort of justice. Nothing too malicious of course, we are in the business of saving lives and not taking them, but maybe I’ll put my hacking prowess to use and make sure he gets discharged from his position. Whatever I choose though won’t be pretty but will be fully deserved…

…Oh, one moment, I seem to have a call coming through from home - - - - It’s Virgil… Sorry, but I have to go, he still looks really groggy and probably won’t be able to talk for too long, but I’ve desperately been needing this chat… Catch you guys later, Thunderbird Five out.”

Chapter 3: Gordon.

The ocean before him was calm, the turbulent thoughts raging inside his heart were not. All caused by his current location. The Sentinel… Gordon had arrived two hours before and introductions had immediately been made between himself, the crew, and the Captain. The same Captain who had given the damn order to shoot Thunderbird Two down. Yes, they had presumed that an attack was possibly imminent. Nonetheless, they should have done a comprehensive check before going all gung-ho. Then they would have realised that it wasn’t a strike vessel, it was an International Rescue aircraft, and a person was on board. A person who was loved. Loved by a family who had already been torn apart by the loss of a mother and wife. A family that didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.

They had been reckless, and even though most on board had asked after the wellbeing of his teammate, the Captain, the idiot who had ordered them to fire had not made any queries. He had approached him, introduced himself, and then begun immediately filling him in on their trajectory and any further details he might need. After he had contacted Scott, the Captain had ordered one of his officers to assist, then sheepishly made his excuses and left, guilt plastered all over his face. Five minutes later Gordon was being shown to the sleeping quarters where he could get some shut eye in between any updates he needed to make.

He would probably take some downtime soon. For now, he just wanted to gaze at the ocean. The sea made everything better. Here he could switch his attention from the surface to air missile launchers that had taunted him with their sickening capabilities upon arrival, and instead concentrate on his mission. A mission that would normally be routine. Instead, two men who were trapped and injured had to wait just over twenty-four hours. Two lives might be lost because they shot his big brother down. Gordon gripped the rail and slowly breathed out while focussing on the rhythmic pulse from the ocean waves, and the fact that Virgil, although severely injured and definitely needing some time to recuperate, had survived the atrocious crash.

However, it had come so close to being a different outcome and the gut-wrenching, mind-swirling sickness at the thought of ‘what could have been’ had buried itself deeper and deeper into his heart and refused to release its grasp. Needing to go inside to retrieve Virgil had made those feelings more horrific. Sure, he had saved countless lives from fires, but to have to rescue a brother, a member of his own family, ‘that’ he wasn’t used to. His brother had been crumpled over, a deep cut on his head was bleeding, and his eyes were tightly closed. For a horrible moment, both himself and Alan had stood there before moving forwards. He thought he had lost Virgil, that his big brother was already dead. Thankfully, upon reaching him a pulse was discovered. Virgil was alive. Professionalism immediately kicked in, and he and Alan worked together to get him on a stretcher and out of there as quickly as possible.

Since then, Alan had avoided Virgil. Obviously, the kid was still in shock and processing what had happened. Hopefully, by the time he returned his little brother would have gone to see Virgil, otherwise he would need to drag him in there. Of course, he had done the complete opposite and had not wanted to leave his brother’s side. He needed to ease up though. Virgil knew what his game was and had tried to reassure him several times that he wasn’t going to disappear on him. Yes, he would need to step back a little when he returned, after he had once again checked that his kind-hearted, generous brother was still alive and well.

His ever-forgiving brother, who never held a grudge, had even suggested that they use the Sentinel to save lives. Okay, that made sense, the two men were trapped; their lives were what mattered, not how he felt about the Sentinel. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn’t that big of a person, and boy was he stewing over his feelings right now. A yawn emitted from him, and he looked at his watch. There was still just over two hours to go before he needed to check-in with Scott. Plenty of time for a power nap in the quarters. He certainly needed one. During the past week he’d either been helping out with two, doing his usual maintenance checks or sitting by his brothers’ side and he hadn’t managed a lot of downtime.

Tomorrow would bring a tough rescue and he needed his full alertness to save the two men, especially with the lack of time they would have left. There was also Virgil’s ‘big brother’ voice inside his head yelling at him to get some down time. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing the knowledge that he would continue hearing his brother’s nagging to engulf him. A smile formed. That’s what mattered, not his infuriation towards the Captain, or his current location. Virgil was alive. Thunderbird Two would be restored to her former glory. His eyes switched from the azure sea to the vastness overhead. Then, one day soon she would be soaring with her pilot, his best big brother, through those illustrious oceanic blue skies.

chapter 4 Here...

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 18

First  -  Previous  -  Next

More Patton today! I wasn’t a big fan of writing Pat before this fic lol, now I love seeing him. Hope you enjoy!

cw: hospitals, angst

~

“Say it again.”

Logan sighed. “Patton broke the Prophet's nose.”

“He had it coming!” Remus crowed. Logan tried to not smile, but judging by Remus's continued snorts of laughter, he failed.

It was two days after the successful mission that resulted in the takedown of the Haven. Patton was asleep, still in the hospital. The doctors were mostly concerned about what seemed to be melted portions of his ear canals, once they were certain that he was going to recover from his starvation.

Patton was dreadfully thin, little more than skin and bones, and yet he still smiled whenever he was awake, conversed excitedly with him, exchanged a few stilted signs with Remus, who was only just learning ASL. Right now though, in his sleep, he seemed less than content. He shifted regularly, the blanket curled in his fists, his brows drawn in a frown. The jacket he refused to let leave his sight was draped over the foot of the bed, smelling much nicer than it had earlier—Remus had taken it upon himself to smuggle it out of the hospital and wash it, only having just returned.

This was only Remus's second visit with Patton. Patton recognized him from the cult, and was thus not incredibly open to him, but he was polite, which was more than Logan could hope for. Patton being here, being alive, was more than Logan could hope for.

-

The mission had been stressful. Logan had been prepared to leave with two day's notice, yet it seemed that everything that could go wrong did. Logan wasn't superstitious, but he found himself thinking back to the night before leaving, when he'd told Remus that the plan was simple, and that they would have to try to mess it up. He should have knocked on wood.

First, nobody had bothered to tell him that they were fairly certain the cult had been relocating for the past couple of weeks. In small groups, people were exiting the settlement and only one person was coming back. Nobody had set foot inside the laboratory for days, instead, all residents were meeting in the communal dining area in the morning, and randomly moving to the church. For all anyone knew, Patton was no longer even in the Haven—and Logan knew, perhaps better than anyone, just how possible it was that the cult had 'disposed of the latest experiment'.

There was an entire squad sent by the FBI, as well as far too police and forensics workers, a handful of lawyers, two detectives, and several rubberneckers. For a stealth takedown, that was not exactly the team that Logan would have brought. They were too noisy, and visible from a mile away.

When they were halfway to the settlement, two tires blew. Logan had had to bite his tongue in order to not scream in frustration, but there was nothing to be done. Forty minutes later, they were back on the road.

Until a civilian's engine stopped.

Two hours later, they reached the Haven. It looked much like Logan remembered, except with the beginnings of a paving project for walks up to houses. There wasn't time to look around, though—Patton was possibly somewhere around, and he had to be found as soon as possible.

That ambition was quickly shut down, however, when they were confronted by the Prophets, backed by what seemed to be half the men in the Haven. What followed was a long discussion of rights, which only served to make Logan more and more anxious. He happened to know quite a bit about laws and rights, having been studying them over the past year—he was back in school part-time as a law major. He shared his insights and opinions with the only person he knew here: the detective who had been handling the case since the beginning. The man brought Logan's words into the argument, which, against his hopes, did not speed up the process.

Eventually, the Prophets became hostile, and some of the Haven men began to threaten with physical violence, which gave the police officers more than enough reason to arrest them. Logan was honestly surprised they hadn't acted immediately. He'd received the impression that the police force acted with very little (if any at all) evidence and responded violently to retaliation.

It didn't take too long to find Patton. Remus had told him in advance (rather sorrowfully, knowing he wouldn't be able to accompany the group) what cell his son was in, and Logan knew the halls of the laboratory very well. He'd been rather detached from his actions all day, even more so when they entered the Haven, and he finally realized that he was disconnected so as to not become violently ill. This was where he'd lived, imprisoned, for years. The people here had caused the death of his wife, had tortured his son. Logan was barely holding himself back from destroying everything he passed.

Once found, Logan didn't let go of Patton for an hour at least. The boy was shaking, his skin was cold to the touch, the bones that formed his face were clearly visible under taut skin. Still, he was alive, and Logan couldn't be happier.

The scientists hadn't stopped feeding Patton out of any seriously malicious intent. The cultists had abandoned all work in the lab in their preparations for escape, neglecting every experiment—including Patton, the only human experiment there.

Patton could walk, by some miracle, and was finally able to leave the building, Logan just behind him to catch him if he faltered. His son looked so happy, letting the sun hit his face. A lump formed in Logan’s throat, and he looked away from his bright eyes after ruffling his hair lightly, marveling at how long it was.

Seeing Patton punch the Prophet brought a smile so wide to Logan's face that he'd had to pull his bandanna back up, chuckling lightly in a way he thought he could pass off as a cough. All mirth vanished, though, when Patton's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

There was a flurry of activity, but Logan was the first to reach Patton. He gripped his son tightly, pretending that a tear did not slip out of the corner of his eye. He was going to be okay, he had to be okay, they had just been reunited!

Patton didn't respond to Logan's shaking of him. An animalistic sound tore from Logan's throat as he let the tears fall. The world closed in, smaller and smaller, until all that existed was him and his unconscious son who was certainly dying. Logan's hands were fists curled into the back of Patton's faded blue shirt, and he hugged his son to his chest, shaking off anyone who got too near.

Someone managed to tear them apart, and Logan fought. He kicked and yelled, tearing at their skin with his fingernails, trying to keep Patton is his sight as he watched several people lift him onto a stretcher and place him in the back of a van, before driving away.

Logan slumped against the officer holding him, hearing the man say something about stress and trauma to someone else. He managed to get control of his tears after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping his eyes on the inside of his sleeve. The detective was watching him pityingly, and Logan rolled his aching eyes. He didn't need this, these feelings. He had to focus.

The detective approached him cautiously, asking if he needed to leave to be with Patton sooner. Logan waved him off. They needed him here, he was the only one with insider expertise.

As he provided his opinions and knowledge, though, his thoughts were with a black van, speeding across a dusty desert to the nearest hospital.

-

Patton was still on oxygen, but it was no longer a tube down his throat. Just a small tube poking into his nostrils, and it looked like he would be off it very soon. He was going to need to meet with a psychiatrist, a physical therapist, and a nutritionist for at least the next six months, likely extending to a year. Patton was severely underweight and was having trouble keeping down food at the moment, but the doctors were all hopeful for a full recovery. In fact, they thought he would be able to go home within the week.

Logan had been busy prepping a space for him in the spare bedroom of his apartment. Remus had graciously offered to move to a sleeping bag on the living room floor—not that Logan was going to let him stay in the bed once Patton was home.

Remus eventually left the hospital room, muttering something about work. Logan continued to stare at his boy, constantly reassuring himself that Patton was indeed still there, and was not going to disappear.

They'd have to look into school, and Patton would be so confused. Of course, he did not need a higher education, but Logan had always had aspirations of any child of his becoming wildly successful. His love did not depend on this, though. As long as Patton was happy, he would be.

Still, if Patton desired to attend university. . . . Logan had homeschooled him as well as he could, and Patton could almost certainly attain a high school diploma. After that, what were Patton's interests? Helping people? He could become a teacher—it would be hard, but perhaps at a school for the deaf? Patton had always enjoyed his job working in the Haven kitchens, so perhaps a chef or a baker? Logan's mind spun as he thought of all the things Patton could do, a pleasure he'd always denied himself of in the past. Patton's world was open now, he could move up, he could do whatever he wanted. He was no longer restrained by the cult's strict set of rules and limited options.

Logan felt like a new father all over again—Patton's liberation seemed to have led to his rebirth. All the joys that had been missing from watching a baby grow up were now available, and Logan wiped away a tear as he imagined all the things his baby boy would grow up to be.

-

Patton woke with a start, pulling Logan out of his thoughts. Patton looked around frantically, only calming when his eyes fell on the purple-patched jacket laying at his feet. Before he could even ask for it, Logan had leaned over and handed it to him.

Patton pressed the jacket to his face, then froze. Logan waited patiently for him to bring it down, his veins filling with ice. Was there something wrong with it? Was Patton recalling something traumatic? What was wrong?

Patton sniffled, then let the jacket fall to his lap. His lip trembled as he clumsily signed, impeded by the IV in his hand, “Did you wash it?”

“Remus did.” Logan was still not sure what was wrong, but knew he did not want to have Patton upset with him already. “Is something wrong?”

Patton shook his head, but his face crumpled. It had to have something to do with the quality of the jacket before it was washed.

“Patton,” Logan tried to reason, “It smelled like that place.”

Patton shook his head more fiercely, tears spilling from his eyes. “It smelled like him!” he insisted. His hands shook as he signed.  “It was the only thing left! You took it away!”

The heart monitor beeped as Patton cried harder. Logan was frozen, not sure what to do. Should he hug him? Turn away and let him cry? He still felt that he was right to wash it—it had smelled horrible—but he felt inexplicably guilty. He didn't want to see his baby boy cry, especially over something he'd done.

A nurse bustled in, and Logan stepped back hurriedly. The nurse checked Patton's vitals, tried to get him to calm down; Patton sobbed into the jacket, which he had brought back to his face, as if to try and find vestiges of the old scent. Logan felt utterly helpless as another of the hospital staff entered. He tried to look anywhere but at Patton's watery, accusing eyes, his own eyes falling instead down. As they were kept trained on the floor, he saw in his peripheral vision Patton tracing something, over and over, into his own arm.

Somewhere, deep down, Logan's healing heart broke a tiny bit more.

~

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[ladyartemesia]

▨ Lady Artemesia’s Milestone Message and Milestone  Fic Preview ▨

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Dear Mutuals and Followers,

When I started this blog nearly six months ago(ish?) I never expected to fall so in love with the lovely people in this community. You have been wonderful and supportive and I have truly enjoyed getting to know you, and talking to you, and loving BTS proudly alongside of you. Thank you for every moment, I have so many truly incredible moots - ALL of whom are SIGNIFICANTLY cooler than I am - and if I attempted to list you all, my perpetually scattered brain would no doubt forget someone and I’d have to fall apart dramatically about it. So...to all of you - thank you for following me. I am so bloomin thrilled that you do. To my amazing mutuals - each and every one of you are brilliant creators and supportive members of our community and I benefit every day from the art and positive energy you bring to my dash. Thank you so much...

to my hearts... 

There are a few of you who have been much closer than others and you I must recognize with only these inadequate words...

I utterly adore you. Thank you for being my friend.

▨ Amazing Ana @xjoonchildx​  ▨ Wonderful Lindy @ppersonna​ ▨ Sweet Sunshine Donna @taetaewonderland​ ▨ My First Friend and Angel Jahni @glossyfever​  ▨ Fabulous Lemon @lemonjoonah​ ▨  and my fellow Thirst Queen Reese (there is a line in this fic I wrote just for you - you’ll prolly know right away) @luxekook​ ▨

Honestly there are many more names I could put on this list, Many more people I have grown close to and I will continue to grow close too - believe me when I say - I luv and appreciate you all, but there are 7 members of BTS and these 6 ladies are - in many ways - my “other 6.” The roles they have played in my growth as a writer and a creator have been significant. They read my work, encourage me, hype me up, share my finished products, and - most importantly - share their friendship. I am blessed to be a part of their world.

Thank You All... My Lovlies...

- Viola

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Heart of the Storm

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• FIC PREVIEW •

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Genre: Fluff • Smut • Hint of Angst • Secret Feelings/Strangers to Lovers

Word Count: 4kish (preview 1kish)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort • Hints of Classism • JK is Soft and Strong (full fic has more warnings)

Rating: Explicit/18+ (for the full fic)

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is the handsome RA that you could never quite bring yourself to talk to, and you are the ice princess whose status kept you far out of his reach... But a selfless act of kindness in the midst of a terrible storm forges an unexpected bond between you - one that could break your guarded heart... or finally set it free. 

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This is the song JK sings...

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You’re afraid of storms. 

Born to privilege (at least so you’ve been told), but money could not buy the love of absent parents, nor could it purchase any sort of freedom from the kind of fear that gripped you now. 

You shouldn’t even be here...

Alone in a dorm while everyone around you caught planes and trains and buses back to their diverse points of origin. 

The girl who usually slept in the bed across from yours is your roommate and  best friend since sophomore year of high school. She was a scholarship case at the elite private prep where the obscenely wealthy dynasties of Southern California sent their entitled spawn. 

A lone pair of Chuck Taylors in a sea of Jimmy Choos.

And a breath of fresh air.

Her father worked in stores; your father owned them. Yet you had become sisters in the truest sense of the word.  

When the storms came, she climbed into your bed and held you till the thunder died down. 

But she and the comfort of her familiar embrace were 30,000 feet above you now; well on the way to celebrate the spring holidays with her chaotic tribe. 

You could have escaped for the week - like the majority of your peers - but your father was on vacation with his new wife (who graduated from high school a mere four years before you did) and the dorms were infinitely more inviting than the sterile halls of your family’s real estate holdings. 

So here you were. 

Alone in a storm.

Or so you thought...

Being an RA looked good on resumes and paid better than most work study jobs, but for Jeon Jungkook, the obligation to stay in the dorms over spring break (when he could be chasing music festivals along the California coast) was a definite downside. 

He heard the sobs on his way up from the laundry and dropped the basket of clean clothes on the stairs. 

Only one person signed up to stay over the holidays - the only person who managed to spark shivers down his spine without effort or awareness. 

The princess. 

That’s what they called you when they thought you weren’t listening - an unoriginal label laced with jealousy and petty bitterness. 

But it fit you, nonetheless. 

Elegant even when you were clumsy. Distant even in a crowd. Reserved in ways that spoke of intensive social training and endless expectations. 

And you were screaming. 

His hand wrapped around your doorknob in a matter of seconds, but you could not hear him calling out to you over the thunder and the ringing in your ears. 

You did not hear the lock splinter when he slammed his body against the frame like his father taught him to do in case of a fire or an emergency.

Jungkook saw you often in and out of the dorms - yet you never really spoke to him, never offered him more than the occasional pleasantry or disinterested smile. 

He was out of your orbit and you were out of his league. 

But the princess was nowhere in sight now...

Now you were just a terrified girl curled up on her bed and Jungkook felt his heart wrench painfully at the sight of you so untethered. 

You could not see him - even though he stood right in front of you. It wasn’t till his hands connected with your shoulders that you finally registered the presence of another human being and slowly brought your eyes up to meet his.

There was a moment of silence as your gazes melded together in a strange intimate haze unlike anything either of you had encountered before. 

Then you reached out - curling your hand into the loose fabric of his shirt as you yanked him down on top of you. 

“Please,” you whispered into the firm plane of his chest, “please hold me.”

Strong muscled arms wrapped around you.

And for the first time in so very long...

You felt safe.

He smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of vanilla.

But oh...

He felt like home.

Not the many houses you grew up in - but a home. The kind you only ever heard of.

“It’s ok,” he whispered, lips pressed intimately to the sweet softness of your hair, “I’ve got you.” 

Thunder shook the room again and you burrowed impossibly closer to him, too frightened to notice that you wore only a t-shirt and nothing else, too terrified to care that the haven you sought was the beautiful man you passed by countless times in last few months, but could never quite work up the courage to speak to. 

Now your body tangled desperately with his, drawing immeasurable comfort from his solid warmth and the soothing circles he traced over your back. 

Jungkook was profoundly aware of both your state of undress and the soft curves of your body pressed insistently against his own, but that awareness paled in comparison to the fierce wave of protectiveness swelling up within him. 

You were no damsel in distress. You were brilliant, beautiful, and president of the self-defense club. He’d seen you flip a linebacker over your shoulder like a pancake during a demonstration once (which had given him an immediate boner for reasons he deliberately never explored).

But right now - right here - in this moment - you needed him... and holding you close - keeping you safe was the only thing on his mind. 

The tremors came and went sporadically as the storm raged on around you. His arms were an anchor each time the fear threatened to sweep you away. 

It took a few minutes for your scattered senses to identify the new sound braiding hypnotically in between the rolls of thunder and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing. 

Jeon Jungkook was singing to you. 

Another time it might have amused you to consider that a man whose face and form bordered on sinful possessed a voice that was utterly angelic. The notes he sang curled through the air, piercing effortlessly past the fog to wrap over your heart like a warm blanket. 

“I see you getting sad... I see it running through your blood...”

Your muscles began to relax. The pounding in your chest began to slow. 

“Let it run like water out of mud...”

Your breathing gradually evened out.

“Yell the sadness loud... Throw it up against the wall...”

Sensation crept back into your limbs. Awareness returned. 

“See what stays then go and put it on... It keeps you warm…”

And suddenly you were in his arms - truly in his arms for the first time that night. 

“I will love you anyway with all your demons in the way… Nothing can keep us apart...I walk through walls into your heart…”

His warmth was everywhere. The gentle comfort he brushed over your skin swirled around you till the sound of the storm faded away. 

Till there was only him. 

“I don’t mind… I don’t mind… I don’t ...mind…”

He felt the change in you, the incremental return from disconnected terror to tentative presence of mind, but you made no move to disentangle yourself, content to let his touch and his voice chase away the last trace of your nightmare. 

You would stay in this moment - safe and surrounded and so unexpectedly content - forever if you could. 

Jeon Jungkook had found you adrift and pulled you back from the edge. He’d done what no one else could..

What no one else (save your best friend) had even bothered to try.  

And he’d done it selflessly.  

As a corporate princess, you were worth millions in assets, but so often left begging for pittance when it came to genuine care. 

You would have paid millions to be held like this just once. 

The adrenaline raging through your body finally began to dissipate, and in its immediate wake, exhaustion crashed over you heavy and hard. 

Sleep tugged insistently at the corners of your mind, but one last coherent urge burned so brightly that it could not be ignored or overtaken. 

Your fingers twisted into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, drawing him down till you felt the soft press of his lips against your own. 

You had never kissed like this; intimately - languidly - as if the brush of his mouth against yours was familiar across worlds and lifetimes. The small intake breath before he gave in to your gentle exploration was the loveliest sound you had ever heard. 

He was the song that drew you - not like a siren to your doom - but like a lighthouse to the shore. 

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FULL FIC POSTING TUESDAY 6/30

COMMENT ON THIS POST IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

Ask My Muse: Have a question for the characters in this work? Send it to my ask box and hear their side of the story.

Endnote: Please let me know what you think so far? Theories? Ideas? Anything really... Feedback is really the only compensation I will ever receive for producing this content. I swear I treasure each word like the gold. 

Masterlist: I got more where that came from...

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[aelaer]

The Blood in My Veins: Pt 4

Heyyyy I'm back. Now that one of my big fic projects is done/being rolled out I can concentrate on getting this finished (as well as other prompts). Here are the earlier parts if you can't remember what happened in this long-running prompt fic, since my last update was like, the summer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Prompt (via @ironstrangeprompts that I can’t tag for whatever reason qq): Kidnapped to play doctor for a still unseen other prisoner; Stephen realizes there is only one person on the planet who would have palladium in their blood.

The Warnings: Okay guys, I want to cover all bases for this part and all parts henceforth. The bad guy I've written here really really sucks. He's a complete asshole. Part of his assholeness can include behaviors such as racism, sexism, homophobic remarks, religious bigotry, and overall just being a terrible human being. This terrible human being is not a typical representative of his nation/culture and is very thankfully fictional. There's plenty of Canon-Typical Violence around, too. All of the above are not be in this specific part but could be in future parts (I'm writing this as I go so I truly don't know, I just know he’s a dickwad). I didn't know this section was gonna happen until I finished Part 2, for instance, otherwise I'd have put a note at the beginning. I'd consider the fic a heavy teen fic, if you're looking for a rating, so it shouldn't get to graphical violence beyond what you'd see in high teen rated content. Also, there's going to be Medical Procedures in the future, though more clinical rather than graphic. Hopefully that covers everything, please ask me anything if you have a question.

I always put these longer writings on tumblr into "read more" cuts, but the mobile app does not always work correctly if you're looking at the original post from my tumblr, so I apologise for the length if you're on the app and viewing the original and said cut is not working. Still unbetaed, all errors are mine.

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Part Four: Seeing Red Again

Another three days passed with little change in Stephen’s schedule. He went for his sleep shift at 12:30 a.m. New York time, and was woken up by one of the others between 5:20 to 5:30 a.m. It wasn't enough time for even two full complete sleep cycles, but everyone there—perhaps with exception to Steffen Baar, who was a chemist—had gone through grueling schedules during medical school and residency. So they were, in some ways, used to it.

After waking up, he had fifteen minutes to shower, shave, and change into the clothing about his size, provided for by his captors. From there, he then got to work. His sleep shift ended about three hours before dinner came—about 8:30 a.m. New York time—and a small snack arrived at what he assumed was this place's midnight, but was 2 p.m. according to his watch. Breakfast came twelve hours after dinner, at 8:30 p.m. in New York, and he went to bed again half an hour after midnight. Apparently while he slept, another snack break came for those awake.

The one small blessing in all of this was that the people holding them realized the power of caffeine and provided black tea and coffee every time they brought them food. He didn't think there were any cameras in the showers or toilets, either, which was—hopefully true. There was nothing obvious and, truth be told, he didn't really want to look much further for evidence.

Throughout his waking day, Stephen largely helped prep samples for blood analysis. He tried to strategize with Summer about how to best utilize their resources, should a surgery be required, but they had little to go on. They had yet to receive better X-rays of their patient—of Tony Stark, which still baffled Stephen—so much of their planning was about logistics.

"Doctors in the United States are required to complete a surgical rotation in their third year of med school," Stephen said, "so Jada will know basic surgical procedures. Do you need to do the same in the UK?"

"Yes," Summer answered. "All doctors go through the two-year Foundation Programme which always includes training in general surgery. So Dr Mahajan will be able to assist us as well."

"They can serve as our nurses and techs," Stephen muttered. "But what about Dr Baar?"

Summer pursed her lips together. "No medical training—but I would rather have him on hand than not. If we said we can't use him…"

Stephen grimaced and nodded. "Point. He can certainly hold a retractor." He blew out a breath. "We'll need a heart-lung machine. Those aren't easy to come by."

"None of this machinery is," she pointed out, jutting her chin to the advanced machinery scattered around the room. "I don't think that will be an issue for us. Whoever these people are, they have resources."

He pursed his lips together. "We also need an anesthesiologist."

She paused at that and sighed. "Yes. Yes, we need one of those. Unfortunately, I think we're going to be working with someone on their team if the surgery happens."

Stephen made a face. "What makes you think that?"

"When they first showed me the X-rays, I told them I would need another surgeon for the spinal area—you—and an anesthesiologist. They only spoke about finding me a surgeon, so they must have their own medical team that includes one."

He sighed. "Of course they do. He better be competent."

Summer shrugged. "Not much we can do about it. And there's not much more we can plan on this hypothetical surgery until I have better X-rays."

And so that ended that discussion and, three days later, there were no changes on that end. No new X-rays had come in, so both he and the other surgeon were stuck helping prepare samples and input data. And Stephen hadn't been so bored in years.

One wouldn't think that being captive would be boring, especially if one was doing medical work during that time. But when said medical work was repetitive lab work he hadn't done since med school? And doing it for about fifteen hours a day for three days straight with no music, no reading, no nothing to help bring some distraction or variety to his work? It was absolutely mind-numbing. A small part of him wasn't entirely sure if he could survive like this for—how long did Jada said Stark had to live without a cure or intervention? Two months? He couldn't do this for two months. He was going out of his mind after three days.

It was about halfway through his shift on the fourth day that he regretted ever thinking that he was bored.

He was typing up results from various tests performed by Jada when the door to the room was suddenly slammed open. Startled, Stephen immediately turned towards the sound, only to see five men enter, all of them with guns pointed to the rest of the room. Beside him, Jada immediately threw her hands on top of her head, and he quickly followed suit.

"Come quietly! Do not fight!" said one of the men. Stephen couldn't even begin to guess his accent; maybe it was Eastern European? Russian? Former Soviet bloc in Asia? Somewhere in that rather wide region of the world, which wasn't particularly helpful information considering there were some twenty to thirty countries there.

Summer was the doctor currently asleep, though looking over his shoulder, Stephen saw that she had woken up to the sound and was pushing herself up. But he couldn't look at her or the other doctors long as he was grabbed by one of the men and forced to walk. The gun the man carried quickly negated any ideas of retaliation.

They were led down a hall; he could see Steffen, Meera, and Jada in front of him, all being led in the same rough manner he was going through. The walk itself wasn't very long, perhaps a minute, but to Stephen it felt like every second was dragging. Despite his best efforts, his heart was starting to race at this new development.

The man with Steffen finally stopped in front of a door and unlocked it, then shoved the chemist inside. Within seconds, Stephen was at the door and being pushed forward himself. He took a quick look around, as much as he could without moving much: a large room with concrete walls and no windows, just like where he and the other doctors were being kept. Cot in the corner. Table with a computer and covered in bits of wires and electronics that he couldn't begin to label. Two other men armed with enormous guns—some sort of automatic rifles—and then one man who was crossing his arms and staring at him and his fellow doctors with a look that immediately put Stephen on edge. This man, this man radiated the air of a person in charge.

And then there was him. The famous Tony Stark, or Iron Man as he was calling himself these days. He looked like a former shadow of himself, being several pounds thinner and bearing a sickly pallor that Stephen immediately noticed, even during these circumstances.

A look of surprise was upon Stark's hollow face, but even as Stephen focused more upon him, it was quickly replaced by the cool anger of a man biting his tongue.

All five doctors were maneuvered to face Stark in a line before being forced to their knees. Stephen bit his lip to hold back a grunt of pain from his knees hitting the concrete floor.

"You say you are 'calling my bluff' with your medical team," said the man. He pushed himself off the wall and passed out of Stephen's line of sight. "Here they are." He started at Stephen's right as he went through the doctors. "Steffen Baar, chemist." A step closer. "Jada Ferguson, hematologist." Another step, and he heard Doctor Mahajan inhale sharply. "Meera Mahajan, pathologist."

Another step, and the man was behind him. To Stephen's utter horror, he felt cold metal press against the back of his head. "Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon." The metal then left his head and he heard another step. "Summer Weston, cardiothoracic surgeon." Another step, and he could see the man in the corner of his eye again, this time on his left.

Tony Stark kept his lips pressed in a tight line as their captor went through the line. When he finished, the billionaire swallowed and looked at them all. "Good job keeping me alive this long, docs," he said.

"Not good enough, Stark," the man snapped. "Their solution is only a band aid. They give you but a few more weeks. They are called the best doctors in the world, and they cannot yet make a cure?"

Stephen forcefully held back his retort regarding the man's utter ignorance. It was an outright miracle they found any sort of solution as quickly as they did to delay the spread!

Stark, it seemed, agreed with him, and had no such reservations with holding back. "That's insane, Yusifov. It takes teams of doctors months, if not years to create what you're looking for."

He couldn't see it, but Stephen could almost feel the sneer from their captor, this Yusifov. "In that case, you don't need this many doctors, do you?" A couple steps and he was again behind Stephen, further to the right. "I'm no doctor, but as far as I can tell, these two both look at blood and try to fix the problem. Neither of them fixed it, not fully. So who do you want to keep, Stark? The black American or the Indian Brit? One less woman won't make a difference."

Stephen dared a glance to his right when he heard quick breathing. Doctor Mahajan was visibly shaking and starting to hyperventilate; to her right, Doctor Ferguson was quiet, but her lips trembled and tears pricked her eyes.

Stark stepped forward, and several guns rose at the action. He stopped but held his ground, raising his hands. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" the man retorted. "You refuse to work because you are dying. They have failed you and one will pay the price. Perhaps both; they are both from lesser races."

As Stephen processed the fact that he heard a comment like that in fucking 2010, Doctor Mahajan's breathing accelerated into full on hyperventilation. His medical mind noticed it immediately.

But another was quicker to the draw. "Breathe through your nose, Meera," Summer said lowly. "Try to inhale for one-one thousand, then exhale through pursed lips. You can—"

"Shut up!"

Doctor Weston was smacked on the back of her head hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

And Stephen snapped.

Now, if one were to ask Doctor Stephen Strange, he would by no means consider himself heroic or noble. His role as a doctor was one of service, but even within his relatively short time as a neurosurgeon, he had already gained a prestige that recognized his rising star and already people in the medical community were considering him in the top ranks of neurosurgeons. Soon, demand for his expertise would be large enough for him to have the option to turn away those who weren't worth his time, and he felt not a lick of guilt for that. His skills were valuable.

But to hear this brute of a man first throw slurs at two of the most brilliant women—no, the most brilliant doctors—in their fields followed by an outright assault on the other caused a protectiveness Stephen hadn't felt since his sister's death to completely overtake him. He saw red.

He leaped up at Yusifov in a fiery anger, no particular idea in mind except stop him from hurting anyone rushing through his head. At this point there was little thought, only adrenaline and a near primal fury running through his veins. It wasn't like him to be so hot-headed; he was a man who kept his cool under the most stressful of circumstances. But perhaps several days of poor sleep combined with the stress of the situation finally got to him. When he thought about it in the aftermath, even he would admit he had no idea what he was thinking.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision he would come to regret.

In one moment he managed to knock the pistol out of Yusifov's hands and punched him in the face. He recognized screaming, shouting, fighting in the noises behind him, but he was focused on his own target.

Stephen hit him twice more before someone threw an arm around his neck and dragged him back and began to choke him. He clawed at the arm, which did nothing, but then he aimed his heel down right to the sensitive part of his attacker's instep. The man grunted in pain and the grip around his neck loosened. 

A shot shattered through the enclosed space, causing Stephen to freeze in surprise—and that proved to be his downfall. He saw Yusifov raising his pistol just before he was whipped across the face with the weapon. The hit threw him off balance and he fell to the floor and lay there for a second, stunned. He felt wetness on the side of his head.

As Stephen attempted to push himself up, a kick to his back sent him back to the floor. An involuntary grunt of pain escaped him. He closed his eyes, pausing for breath, but was given little time to recover as he was grabbed by both arms and dragged up to his knees. From his new position, he could see the rest of the room once more, and Stephen's heart skipped a beat at what was before him.

There were several alarming sights: Tony Stark on his knees just like him, nose bloodied. One of the gunmen near Stark with a screwdriver sticking in his neck and very much dead. Summer in the corner of the room, holding a shaking Meera against her chest.

And Doctor Steffen Baar on the ground, bleeding out from his stomach as Jada desperately tried to stem the blood flow with her sweater. The red dripped through the fabric and onto the concrete.

Stephen felt ill. He instinctively reached forward towards Steffen, to try and help, but the grip on his arms tightened and kept him in place.

Stark was the one to speak first. "Let them help him. I won't fight further. I'll do what you ask."

Yusifov came back into Stephen's line of sight as he stepped in front of him, though his gaze was on Stark. He said to the engineer, "You killed one of my men. A life for a life—that is fair, wouldn't you say?"

"He did nothing," Stark hissed, pulling against the hands that held him down. Stephen could see the men pull him back and tighten their grip in response. "And he's needed. You wouldn't have brought him here otherwise."

"He didn't do anything," Yusifov agreed, then turned to Stephen. "This one did." He then sent a sharp kick into Stephen's stomach, causing him to double over in pain as far as the men holding him  allowed. He almost missed the next statement. "And I should kill him for it. But the surgeon will be needed. The chemist, though? He failed to make a cure for your ailment with a month of time, and you don't have much longer to live, Stark. The chemist failed, and at this point, he's a waste of medical resources."

Then Yusifov nodded at one of his men, and he grabbed Jada by the arm and yanked her up to her feet.

"No—please, no, don't do this!" she shouted as she was dragged away from Steffen. Their captors ignored her and Yusifov walked up to the wounded man. He aimed his pistol at Steffen's head.

"Don't do this!" Stark shouted.

A shot rang through the room. A loud sob came from the corner before it was muffled. Stephen's ears rang, half deafened from the sound. His stomach churned; he felt like he was going to vomit. He hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to breathe slow breaths through his nose.

All he could smell was blood. He forcefully suppressed his gag reflex. 

Stephen missed whatever conversation came next, too busy trying to calm his breathing, trying not to throw up, and not having the energy to make out the words beyond the ringing in his ears. But then the world was moving as he was pulled to his feet and shoved out of the room, leaving behind Tony Stark and the body of Doctor Steffen Baar.

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I was stuck on what I wanted to do with this part with a handful of ideas and consulted my beta for ideas. She suggested death which I wasn't even thinking of because I'm very bad at killing off characters. I blame her fully :P

Tag list (just let me know if you want to be added/removed with a comment - still not on AO3!): @sobeautifullyobsessed, @tashacumberbitch, @babywarg, @nishtha3012, @ragingstillness, @walkin-in-the-cosmos (I think the reason I can’t tag you is because you’ve flagged your tumblr for sensitive media, possibly), @lafourmii20, @asexualchemist, @iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife, @oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo, @animefanfreak45, @rulerofthefandomsnow, @killaspyglass, @renlybaratheon-tyrell, @symmetria42, @kay-lock-key-lock

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Two

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry. (No smut yet, getting closer though.)

Part One

Harry drove straight to Niall’s apartment, and banged on the door as soon as he got there.

“Good thing I didn’t have a woman over!” Niall says to him, letting Harry walk in. “So, how was the date?”

“It was great, actually.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I wouldn’t set you up with some idiot.”

“Well, you have before.”

“And yet you still trusted me.” Niall’s phone buzzes, he check it and smiles.

“Is that her?”

“Oh no, I’m not stayin’ in the middle of this. Did you give her your number?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, so text her.”

“It’s too soon. Maybe in a little while I certainly won’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Did anything happen between you two?”

“She kissed me on the cheek before she got into her car. I would have liked to do more, but I didn’t want to push it.”

“Good idea. I won’t fill you in on too much because it’s not my story to tell, but she’s been burned in the past, so taking it slow with her is smart.” Harry plops down on the couch.

“She’s so smart, and funny. There was never a lull in conversation. And she complimented my nails. Like, she genuinely liked them.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know, you know how some people can be.”

“When do you think you’ll see her again?”

“No idea. I don’t want to seem too eager.” Niall’s phone buzzes again. “It is her! What is she saying?”

“Nothing, she just thanked me for setting her up with such a nice guy, and that she had a really nice time.” Harry smiles a toothy smile.

“We really did have a nice time. Ugh, the dress she wore, it was breathtaking.” He slaps his forehead with his palm.

“What?”

“I’m such an idiot, I never even complimented her appearance.”

“That could be a good way to start a conversation over text later.”

“Brilliant! I’ll give it an hour or so.”

Harry left Niall’s after an hour. When he got home, he settled into a pair of sweatpants, and got cozy on his couch, flipping the TV on. He grabbed his phone and texted you.

“I had a great time tonight. I forgot to tell you how beautiful you looked.” He awaited your reply nervously. Within five minutes, you responded.

“I had a great time too, and thank you!” You had sent along the smiling emoji with the blushing cheeks.

You two texted back and forth for about an hour, until you passed out. He figured as much when you stopped responding, and put himself to bed. The next morning you frantically texted him.

“So sorry, I fell asleep!”

“G’morning beautiful.” He promptly responded. This sent butterflies through your stomach and made you squeal. Suddenly you were in high school again, getting excited over as something as simple as a good morning text. “What are you up to today?”

“Just the usual Sunday routine, cleaning, grocery shopping, meal prepping. All that fun stuff ;)”

“Sounds about the same as my routine, lol”

The texting dwindled by midday. You both got busy with other things. Sunday evening you decided to do a little self-care, and put a clay mask on while watching TV. Just as you were settling in, you heard the buzzer for your apartment, and saw a missed call from Niall.

“Is it just you down there?”

“Of course, who else would be with me?”

“You know who!”

“Would ya just let me up?!” You rolled your eyes and buzzed him in.

He immediately burst into laughter when he saw your face. You swatted at him to stop. You went into the bathroom to wash everything off.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked, coming back into the living room. He was now seated on your couch.

“I wanted to hear about your date.”

“It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You asked, sitting down next to him.

“No because we would just get interrupted with work. He came over last night right after.”

“Really?” You perked up.

“Mhm, he had a great time. Did he end up texting ya?”

“Yeah we talked all night, and he said good morning to me today. It was so sweet.”

“Oh good, he was nervous it would be too soon to contact you.”

“You don’t have to do this y’know.”

“Do what?”

“Become this middle man.”

“S’not what I’m doin’. I just wanted to see how you were. I’m your friend, and I never want to see you how were like that last time.” A flash back to your horrible appearance from your depressive episode plays in your head.

“That was over a year ago. I’m much better now. I saw a therapist remember? I wasn’t treated right, and I blamed myself, but I don’t anymore. That guy was just a jackass. Harry seems really sweet.”

“He is, he’s one of the nicest guys I know.”

“He told me you became really good friends because you both don’t like wearing clothes.” You can’t hide your laughter.

“That asshole.” He laughed along with you.

The next day at work, you brought Niall a coffee. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. You hadn’t texted anymore, but you didn’t think much of it. Around noon, just before you went to meet Niall for lunch, you got a call. You saw Harry’s name, and closed your office door.

“Hello?”

“Afternoon beautiful.” You blush and silently squeal to yourself.

“Afternoon, handsome.” You hear a small chuckle. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’, I was just wonderin’ when I could see ya next.”

“Oh, well, how about Friday after work?”

“Too long from now. Do you not go out on school nights?” He teased. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Something like that. I like to go to the gym after work, and by the time I get home I eat dinner, shower up, have a little time for TV, and then go to bed.”

“I suppose Friday could work. Honestly, if I met you for lunch or something I don’t think I’d be able to let you go back to work.” He said in a playful tone, trying not to sound controlling.

“Did you have anything in mind? Dinner again?” You didn’t mind going out to eat again.

“Sure, we could do that. Something less formal though.”

“That sounds good to me.” There’s a knock on your door. “I gotta go, but I’ll text you later to flesh out the details.”

“Alright, talk you soon.”

You hang up and open your door to find Niall, he sighs with relief.

“Christ, I thought you left and I was going to be forced to eat with those old biddies.”

“I would never do that to you.” You grab your lunch box and head with him to the break room. “Harry just called, we’re going out Friday after work.” You say, both sitting down at a small table.

“That’s great! Where are ya gonna go this time?”

“Don’t know yet.” You shovel some food into your mouth. “Somewhere more casual. I’d love to go like one of those adult arcades or something, maybe I’ll suggest that.”

“Oh he’d love that. But be careful, he tends to get competitive.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” You smile at your friend. You know he means well, and you appreciate him looking out for you.

That night after work, you decide to be bold and give Harry a call after getting home from the gym.

“Good evening.” He says.

“Hey, sorry for not getting back to you earlier, I had meetings all afternoon, I barely got anything done.”

“S’no problem, love.” Must be a British thing that he keeps calling you love.

“I thought of something fun we could do Friday.”

“Oh really? Lemme hear it.”

“How about going to one of those adult arcades? Like Dave and Busters?”

“Oh, that sounds like great fun. They have dinner and stuff there too. I don’t think there’s one around here though.”

“There’s a place like it, sort of an off brand version. I’ve been a couple times with my girlfriends, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Sounds good to me. Good way to blow off steam at the end of the work week.”

“For sure.”

The place you suggested was called Pinz. It was this massive adult arcade that also had bowling. There were two giant bars, and plenty of places to sit and have a meal. You had been for a bachelorette party and it was so much fun. There’s something for everyone to do.

You and Harry text and call each other throughout the week. By the time Friday rolls around you’re extremely excited to see him face to face again. You pack everything you’re going to wear that night in your work bag as you agreed to meet around six. The day went by surprisingly quick. You locked your office door so you could get changed. You put on a dark pair of skinny jeans, and a pair of black booties. Next you put on a red short sleeve top. You changed necklaces, and freshened your perfume. Your hair was in a high, wavy pony, and you liked the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, so you kept it like that. As you walked out, you bumped into Niall.

“Well don’t you look lovely?” He said.

“Aw, thank you. I’m so excited to see him.”

“He’s excited too.”

You exchanged goodbyes as you made your way to your cars. You fell a little nervous driving up to the bar. You had second date jitters for sure. You got there a little before six. You wanted to have a drink before he got there, or at least start one. Around six fifteen, half way through your drink, you get a text from him saying he just parked. You smiled and told him you were inside already. Moments later you see him walk in. He was wearing black jeans, which were slightly ripped at the knees. He also had on a pair of boots. He had a green t-shirt on, and smiled the minute he saw you.

When he got over to you, this time instead of a handshake, he took you in for a gentle hug. He noticed the drink in your hand.

“Starting without me I see?” You look down and your face goes red. “Teasing.” He orders himself a drink. “Cool place, it’s massive.”

“Yeah, there’s definitely plenty to do.”

“Would you mind if we ate first? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starved. I had to skip my lunch today.”

“Of course!”

You two are seated in just a few minutes. Harry frowns when he looks at the menu.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, just a lot of like chicken wings and ribs and stuff. Not sure what I can eat is all.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I figured we’d get some apps like mozzarella sticks or spinach dip, I completely forgot you don’t eat cheese. If you want we can leave and come back.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll get a salad or something. Look here, chips and guac. Do you like guacamole?”

“Love it!”

“Then we can split that if you like.” He gives you a smile, and you feel at ease.

You both get a garden salad, and the chips and guac. Once you’re both properly fed, you get two more drinks, and head over to the arcade section. You start off the with basketball game. Usually Harry would be competitive, but he gets distracted by the way your shirt subtly lifts up when you shoot, just barely seeing your midriff. He notices your belly piercing and smirks. He makes up his baskets, and ends up beating you at the game.

Next you go to ski ball, which you end up beating him at, not that either of you were keeping score. You both shied away from the games that were literally just for winning tickets. You share many laughs, and before you know it, you’re drunk. How did you manage to get drunk at the arcade? Salad. You literally ate the lightest thing on the menu. He seemed to be a bit buzzed, but doing better than you.

“Mind if we sit for a bit?” You ask him. Music was starting to play. The DJ must have just gotten there. Oh yeah, there’s a dance floor here too, you remember.

“Sure thing.”

You find a high top to sit at, and Harry gets you both some water.

“Thank you, I’m parched.” The cold water slaps the back of your throat, careful not to drink too much in fear of throwing up.

“This place is great.” He smiles at you.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time. I never asked you earlier, why did you skip lunch?” A little hiccup comes out, and you cover your mouth.

“Just a busy day shootin’ pictures. We had a tough time getting the lighting just right. I’m too picky for my own good sometimes.”

“Do you ever travel for work?”

“Sometimes, not as often as I used to. I don’t quite like traveling anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well for work at least. I mean, I’m about to turn twenty-six, it was getting old barely spending time at my apartment that I pay way too much rent for to not actually live in it. I’d rather travel on my own time, and take pictures that I want to take. Not just follow a shot list.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” You say nodding along to his story. He looks at his watch. It’s already nine.

“Not to sound too forward or anything, but would you care to get outta here? I’m not much one for dancing, and it’s getting louder in here by the second.”

“Sure!”

You stand up, and he puts his hand on the small of our back to help guide you through the people. As you walk outside the fresh air hits you, and it feels amazing. You look up at him concerned.

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m too drunk to drive.” He laughs.

“Don’t worry, love, I can drive us.”

“You’re okay to?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have that much, remember you were a whole drink ahead of me.” He winks at you. “I can always pick you up tomorrow to get your car.” You appreciate that he’s clear about not spending the night together.

“That would be great. We can go hang out at my place if ya want?” You slur. “Might be easier if you already know where I live.”

“That works.”

He walks you to his car, and opens the door for you. You give him your address and he puts it in the GPS. You sober up a bit on the drive, but definitely still feel a buzz. You walk up the steps of your apartment, and open the door for him. You key in, and thank god you had thought to clean up.

Your apartment was cute and simple. It was a one bedroom, and you had an en suite bath. There was a half bath next to the coat closet as you first walked in. That was partially why you rented this specific place. You loved having a bathroom right there in case you really needed to pee. As you walk in to the main area there was an open concept kitchen and living room. You used a futon on as your couch so guests had a place to sleep if need be.

“This is a nice place you have.” He says looking around.

“Thanks, it’s definitely a big girl apartment. It’s nice to finally make enough money where I don’t need a roommate.”

“I know the feeling. It was nice living with Niall for so long, but after a certain point you just want your own space.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask walking over to the kitchen, he follows and sits down on one of the stools at your island.

“Just some water would be great, love.”

You fill up two glasses of water, and hand him one. You guzzle yours down, and fill up another immediately. You realize how much you need to pee.

“Pardon me, I’ll be right back.”

You go use your bathroom, and freshen up your makeup. When you walk back out Harry has made himself comfortable on your couch. You see him scrolling through his phone. He smiles up at you when he notices you. He pats the spot next to him, and you sit down, tucking one leg under yourself.

“What’s your apartment like?” You ask, trying to think of something to say.

“Sorta like this actually. Only mine’s a studio.”

“Oh, you don’t mind just having your bed out?”

“I don’t have guests over often. I work a lot on the weekends sometimes. It’s enough space for me.” He gives you a half smile. “I’m sure eventually I’ll get something bigger, but for now it works. Less to clean too.”

“Good point. I started out in a studio when I first moved out of my roommate’s place, but I felt like I was in an oversized dorm. Once I saved up some money I got this place. Been here a little over a year now.”

“It’s a nice neighborhood too.”

“Yeah! No creeps in this building either. I feel really safe. Plus Niall doesn’t live too far away either.”

“Definitely nice to have a friend close by. Where do your girlfriends live?”

“A couple of them live together on the other side of town. My best girlfriend just got married about six months ago. Her and her boyfr-husband live in the suburbs in their house.”

“Wow, a house.”

“I know right? He’s an oral surgeon so he makes a ton of money. I think he covered their entire down payment.”

“Did she marry him for that fact?”

“No, they were friends for a long time actually. One day they both went out, got drunk, and hooked up. Next thing we all knew they were a couple.” You look down for a second then back up. “It really changed the group dynamic if I’m being honest. We all stopped hanging out as much, it was hard. But I’m happy for them. Then I met Niall at work and things got better too.”

“Can I ask, did you and Niall ever go out?”

“Oh, god no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the accent had me swooning when we first met, but he’s more like a brother to me than anything. I wouldn’t survive that job without him. I’m not sure why he and I became such fast friends, but I’m glad we did.”

“He raved about you for a long time, and I always told him to just ask you out, but I’m glad he didn’t.” He lets out a nervous laugh.

“He’s just sweet like that.”

“He mentioned one time that you had really been through it, and he knew you were better off having a friend.”

“Yeah, um, a little over a year ago something happened, but…”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even brought anything up.”

“No, it’s okay. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time, but not tonight.”

“Fair enough, sorry.” He gives your bent knee a little squeeze, and takes it away. You miss his touch immediately.

“It’s okay, really.” You smile. “Sometimes I just don’t have a great judge of character I guess.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What made you agree to a blind date?”

“I don’t know exactly. I was sort of getting sick of the online dating thing. Most of those things were just for hook ups anyway. I know twenty-four isn’t old, but I just felt like I was getting too old for it. I have to say, I wanted to cancel with you.”

“Why’s that?” He says, fake offended.

“Because I couldn’t find you online anywhere! I found your Instagram, but there was no picture of you. I practically stalked Niall’s Facebook, but I couldn’t tell which one you were in any group photo. And he wouldn’t show me a picture of you.” Harry laughs at your sloothyness.

“When I finished grad school I got rid of my Facebook, and turned my Instagram into my brand for my freelance work. I do have a private Instagram though, but it’s under a completely different username.”

“Hm, maybe you’ll show it to me?”

“Perhaps another time.” He winks at you. “I found you online, although I couldn’t see much.”

“My privacy settings are tight.”

“I noticed.”

“So, you saw my face then?”

“I did, and I still wanted to meet you.” You scoff and nudge his shoulder as he laughs at his bad joke. “Teasing.” He puts his hands up. “I saw your picture and couldn’t believe such a beautiful woman was single.” You roll your eyes with a smile.

“You know exactly what to say don’t you?” He shakes his head no. “What made you agree to a blind date?”

“Same reason as you, I guess. Although, I almost didn’t agree because that bastard has set me up with some real stinkers before.”

“Well I’m glad I wasn’t a stinker.” You laugh.

“Me too.” He puts his hand over yours and gives it a squeeze. You slump further into the couch, feeling relaxed by his touch. He furrows his eyebrows for a moment while he looks at you. He reaches his hand up, and swipes his thumb across your cheek bone. You nearly flinch. “Sorry, eyelash.” He holds it up so you can see. “Make a wish.” He smiles. You nearly melt. You close your eyes and blow softly on his thumb.

When you open your eyes back up to look at him, you notice his pupils have gotten larger. He leans in close, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“Is this alright?” He says in almost a whisper. You nod your head yes.

You close your eyes, and feel his lips brush against yours. He kisses you lightly, almost tender. You kiss him back, and lean into him. He puts his hands on your back to pull you a little closer. Your hands press flatly onto his chest. You both sink into the kiss. His lips tasted like mint from the gum he had chewed in his car. You want to part your lips for him to let him in and explore, but you’re also afraid to move too fast. You break the kiss and look at him. His eyes pop open and gives you a concerned look.

“Something wrong, love?”

“No, it’s just, I don’t want this to move too fast.” You try to keep a soft expression to assure him it’s more of a you thing than it is him.

“Alright.” He smiles at you. “Should I be going then?”

“That might be for the best.” He gets up, and you follow him out the hallway. “It was a really nice kiss though.” You say, surely blushing.

“I’d very much like to do it again sometime.”

“Me too.”

“What time should I grab you to pick up your car?”

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that. What time works for you, I’m on your schedule.”

“How about around ten? We could go for brunch if you like?”

“Oh I would love that Harry.” You beam at him. “Thank you for being so understanding tonight.”

“Don’t thank me, (y/n). You told me to stop so I did.” He smiled and shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight.”

You pull him in for a hug, and quick kiss on the lips, which surprises him. He sighs happily when you finish your hug. He leaves and you sigh as well. You could kick yourself. You wanted more of him, you wanted to see how he actually tasted. But you were so scarred from the last time you started seeing someone that you just couldn’t do that to yourself again.

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Always and Forever 

Summary: The entire team knows that (y/n) is a vampire, but what happens when the very family that turned her shows up? Especially, the notorious flirt that is Klaus Mikaelson. Can Loki handle a little competition, or will his jealously get the best of him?

Word Count: 6600

Rating: v spicy, deff 18+

Warnings: sexual themes, blood, dirty talk, violence 

Authors note: this is honestly a fight I'd pay money to see because both men radiate lethal amounts of big dick energy 

♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡

As you turned to face Loki you noticed he had a weird look in his eyes. While continuing to listen to him you secretly focused on the sound of his heart beat, the longer he spoke the faster it went.

“Loki is everything okay?” you asked while raising one of your eyebrows. You’d been sitting next to him in his room. You both were talking about what you normally talked about; everything.

You could hear his heartbeat quicken before he thought of something to say, and then it was calm again. He smiled, “Yes love, you don’t have to always worry about me”. Rolling your eyes you got up from the bed.

“Someone has to Loki, god knows you don’t”. Loki shook his head before getting up as well. Over your shoulder, you said, “I’m gonna go get us something to eat and then when-”. You tried to walk out of his room but you ran into…..something ...what was it?

Taking a step back you tried again, “Then we can talk about what’s really bothering you-what the hell?”. When you tried to walk out again you’d been hit by the same nothing, an invisible forcefield.

“Loki if this is some trick it’s not funny” you said while continuing to test the forefield. Loki shook his head and followed you to the door. He tried to move his hand out into the hallway but was stopped too, “This isn’t me”.

As he turned to face you he saw your expression change, “Love are you okay?”. You nodded your head, but you were seeing double. You felt your body going numb, “Loki listen to me-”.

Reaching forward he held onto you, “I’m listening darling what is it?”. He tried to sound strong but even with all his practice he couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. You knew what was happening, or at least you knew who to call.

“Get Bucky and tell him Klaus” you said while feeling everything get heavy. Loki held you tighter hoping it would somehow make your pain go away. He was confused, “Klaus?”. The last thing you did was nod your head.

Slowly you fell to the floor in his arms, the both of you resting against the ground. Louder than he ever had he yelled, “BROTHER!”. Loki looked down at you, scared out of his mind.

None of it had made sense; one second you were joking and now you were passed out in his arms. Things got even more confusing when he remembered that some spell was keeping you both from leaving his room.

Within seconds Thor came running, and he ran right into the forcefield. His voice was stern, “Loki lift you magic and let me in! What’s wrong with lady (y/n)?”. Thor continued to smash against the unknown force, thinking he could break it.

For the first time Loki took his eyes off you, “This isn’t me brother, you need to get James”. Thor was confused but after he saw the fear in his brother’s eyes he knew not to waste any time.

After another minute or so he’d returned not only with Bucky but nearly every single avenger. Loki lifted his head, “There is some spell keeping us in here, I don’t know what happened but you need to get whatever Klaus is”.

Bucky and Steve turned to each other before looking back at Loki. Holding his gaze he asked, “She specifically said to get Klaus?”. Loki nodded his head, wondering what the hell that was.

Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder, “I’ll get the quinjet ready and we’ll be in New Orleans in under a half an hour”. Both men rushed out of the hallway and went to prep the launch. Loki shook his head, “Why is this object in New Orleans?”.

Tony pulled out some gadget, “It’s not an object, it’s a person”. Immediately he stepped away asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get him on the phone with Air Traffic Control. Before Loki could ask anything else he felt you starting to stir.

He held his breath as your eyes darted open and he felt your body tense. He spoke softly, “It’s okay love they’re going to get Klaus”. Loki was surprised as you got up quickly and pushed away from him.

“Loki you need to get out of here” you said while clutching your sides. There was an indescribable hunger running through your veins, something you’d never felt this intensely before.

Picking up on your body language Wanda tried to break through the barrier but it just created a wall of red. Loki slowly got up, “You and I both know that can’t happen, so tell me what's wrong”.

You started to feel like you were losing control of yourself. Shaking your head you looked up at him, “What’s happening is that I’m starving and I’m trapped in this room with you”. The rest of the avengers looked to each other in panic.

Loki held your gaze before rolling up his sleeves, “Then feed from me, I trust you”. Everyone nearly gasped, you’d only ever fed in front of Bucky and Steve. You shook your head, “Loki I can't ...you've never seen my true form and-”.

He took a step closer to you, “What if I showed you mine?”. Thor smiled to himself knowing that if Loki was prepared to do that then you meant a great deal to him. Still you wouldn’t budge, “Loki-”.

You were torn; you trusted him and you knew he trusted you, but this was much more complex. Feeding on a person was intimate, not to say that you didn’t have intimate thoughts about Loki, it was just that you didn’t want this to be the first time you acted on them.

“I don’t want to hurt you” you said wincing in pain, both emotional and physical. Before you could say anything else you head multiple footsteps coming down the hall, and then the familiar sound of a light gust of wind.

“Well love, good to see you still look ravishing after all these years”. Turning your attention you walked towards the barrier. Still holding your stomach you said, “Well you sound like Kol Mikaelson, but you don’t look like him”.

He took a step towards the barrier as well, “I’ll explain it all later, you know not while you’re about to suck your friend dry”. You and Loki looked to each other quickly, suddenly aware of the danger.

Loki tilted his head to the side, “I beg your pardon?”. Finally Steve and Bucky joined you all, clearly out of breath. Steve explained, “We got to tower security when F.R.I.D.A.Y. explained the Mikaelson’s were already here.

Then you saw him, “Hello love, wish it could be under better circumstances but you know how things go in our family”. It had been a year or so since you’d seen Klaus last. Instantly you perked up, “What’s a reunion without a little death?”.

Elijah, Klaus’s brother, stood next to him, “Not terribly fun I’d imagine”. You smiled, it felt good to be around them again. Suddenly Sam spoke up, “Alright I’ll bite; who the hell are these guys”. You opened your mouth to speak but you suddenly started coughing.

Bucky spoke for you, “They’re the family that turned (y/n) into a vampire and she’s known them for hundreds of years”. All the avengers eyes widened, they never realized how old you were.

Thor asked again, “Hundreds of years?”. You nodded your head and looked back to Loki, knowing you were both thinking the same thing. His voice was soft, “So you live as long as gods?”.

Kol interrupted the moment, “Not if she dies right here with you mate”. The Mikaelson’s moved into action, and the avengers stood there feeling out of place. Elijah rolled up his sleeves, “I know you all are self proclaimed superheroes, but this is out of your realm I’m afraid”.

Loki stood a little taller as he made his way over to you. He stood beside you, “I’m a god”. All you could focus on was the sound of his heart beat, making you think of all the blood flowing through his veins.

Kol pulled various objects out of a bag, “That’s all well and good mate but still ain’t gonna help here”. When you noticed the smirk on his lips you rolled your eyes. Shaking your head you said, “Yep that’s really you Kol”.

He winked at you while starting to lay out his ingredients for what you assumed was a spell. Tony joined you all, “If you don’t mind me asking; what the hell is going on?”. Everyone seemed to nod their heads, just as confused.

Klaus spoke up, “Our other brother Finn seeks to destroy us, including our dear (y/n), and this is all his doing”. Sam looked to Nat while mouthing the word brother, making sure he’d heard that right.

You looked to Loki, “And you thought your had family problems”. When you watched his lips curve into a smile it made everything much harder. You took a step away from him, “So what’s the plan”.

Klaus winked, “Eager are we?”. You were too busy to see Loki and Thor exchange glances before Loki tensed up. Klaus continued, “My lovely, non psychotic, brother Kol here will lift this spell”.

Elijah picked up where Klaus left off, “Time is of the essence and his spell can only hold down the wall for less than a minute”. You looked to Loki wondering if that would be long enough for you to stop yourself from hurting him.

Steve placed a hand on his hip, “But that doesn’t explain what happened to (y/n) and what’s still wrong with her”. If these people didn’t mean so much to you Klaus would not have responded so nicely.

He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “You see my brother thinks that I hate (y/n) and that Elijah loves her, which is why he’s made the cure my very blood. He thinks that I would let her die, and finally my brother and I would be divided, making our family weak and vulnerable”.

Klaus now stood in front of you on the other side of the barrier. This invisible force field is the only thing separating you, “But I would never let any harm come her way”. As you looked into his eyes your smile grew.

Kol chimed in, “I’ve started the spell now, when you see the flash of red light Elijah you pull Loki out of there and Klaus you jump in”. Both men nodded their heads, and Loki felt a pang of jealousy for feeling so useless.

“Klaus you’ll be stuck with her in there until sunset”. Loki’s jaw nearly dropped. He hated the idea of some man from your past, who had no trouble flirting with you, spend the night with you.

Klaus responded to his brother without looking away from you. He continued to hold your gaze, “I could think of far worse punishments”. You laughed softly before going into another coughing fit.

“Kol start the spell ...I can’t hold it” you looked to Loki with fear in your eyes. He swallowed hard, it was obvious how hard you were trying to restrain yourself. You felt the hunger only growing, and it was so bad you cried out in pain.

Klaus pressed against the barrier, “KOL NOW”. Kol had already started the spell, closing his eyes he repeated various incantations. Everyone else in the room fell silent, unsure of what else to do.

They couldn’t avenge their way out of this situation; Thor’s hammer wouldn’t smash the barrier, Loki’s magic couldn’t lift the spell, Clint couldn’t shoot an arrow through it, not even Bucky’s arm or Steve’s shield would break the barrier.

Kol’s eyes darted open, “NOW”. There was a puff of red smoke, and there was also red in your eyes. Before Loki was whisked away to safety he saw your face, and he was shocked. Using their superspeed Elijah grabbed Loki bringing him out of the room, and Klaus pinned you against the nearest wall.

He pinned your arms above your head, “What do you think love? Shall we drag out the plencentries or get right down to it”. You had felt a shift inside of yourself, and you knew your hunger had taken over.

You didn’t care anymore that all of your friends would now see this side of you, you didn’t care that they’d see your true form. All you could focus on was the sound of Klaus’s pulse, and how badly you wanted to sink your teeth right in.

Using your own super strength and speed you pushed him back into one of Loki’s chairs. Straddling him you smirked, “I think for once you should shut that pretty little mouth of yours”. All your friends were shocked, and they looked to the Mikaelson’s for help but were only met with their smirks.

Klaus licked his lips, “I almost forgot this side of you my little wolf”. Even Steve and Bucky turned to each other in confusion. Elijah filled them in, “Our lovely (y/n) is not merely a vampire; she is a hybrid. Both werewolf and vampire, and the first Klaus ever created”.

Loki’s eyes widened, wondering why you’d keep something like that from him. It was hard enough to see you acting like this, but only because he wished you were doing this with him.

He didn’t care if it was dangerous, or even taboo, he loved you no matter what you were. The problem was that these were thoughts he kept to himself, too terribly afraid to ever act on them.

Rolling your eyes you raised Klaus’s arm, bringing his wrist to your lips. As you felt your lips graze his skin you closed your eyes. After nearly moaning you said, “Well now you’ll remember it”.

The entire team still had a perfect view of you; fangs and all. Loki studied the features of your face; how your eyes were now a mixture of red and gold, the veins around your eyes black, your fangs as your lips curled into a smirk.

He was confused by the arousal he felt while looking at you, and fixed his shirt while trying to compose himself. The sound of Thor’s voice almost startled him, “She still looks beautiful somehow doesn’t she”.

Loki was unable to see the look on his brothers face, but he knew there was a smirk there. Thor was the only one who knew about Loki’s feelings for you. Loki’s arousal grew as he watched you pulled your head back while trying to catch your breath.

Your voice was breathless, “God that tastes good”. The rest of the team picked up on how obscene that sounded too, leaving them even more confused. Loki felt a nudge at his side and as he turned he saw it was the man named Kol.

“If that was you mate she wouldn’t have stopped drinking until there wasn’t a drop left” he said with a small chuckle. Elijah adjusted his tie while turning away from the show infront of him.

He pulled out a handkerchief, “Yes our brother Finn is a malicious one, if (y/n) fed on anyone but Niklaus she would’ve fed until her insatiable hunger ate her alive”. Loki turned back to you, his eyes filled with concern over what could’ve been.

Klaus let his hand trail up your body before grabbing a fistful of your hair. His smirk was enemorous, “My turn love”. Loki gritted his teeth as he watched another man pull your head down so close to his face that your lips had grazed his.

Klaus spoke softly, “This isn’t part of the spell, but we can pretend it is”. You didn’t pull away, in fact you just smirked right back at him. Delicately Klaus turned your head to the side, exposing your neck fully to him.

As you felt his teeth sink into your vein you closed your eyes in pleasure. Tony adjusted his glasses, “Okay am I the only one getting kinky vibes from this….”. There was a unanimous grunt of agreement from every avenger.

Elijah nodded his head, “Feeding is...intimate...especially in circumstances like these”. Loki felt his own anger start to build, he was so upset with himself.

First he felt like he was useless to you, then as he watched you turn he’d felt even more connected to you, and now he felt like you were falling in love with someone else right before his very eyes.

Finally he spoke, “Well then I guess we should give them the privacy they need”. Without saying anything else, or waiting to see what anyone else would say, he made his way to the library.

Klaus pulled back from you, “I suggest you all do the same”. Thor was grateful his brother had already left the room or else he clearly would’ve lost it. Knowing exactly where to go, he made his way to the library.

Coming down from your blood high you looked out the window, surveying the city down below. Klaus had walked to the enormous bookshelf in Loki’s room, “You’ve always loved a man who reads haven’t you”.

Looking over your shoulder you chuckled, “And who says I’m in love?”. You could still see the smirk on his face from across the room. Klaus pulled out a book, “While you were too busy dying I was looking at the chap and well..”.

He’d gotten your attention. Turning around fully you asked, “Well what?”. Finally he looked at you, mischief in his eyes. Klaus held your gaze, “If killing me didn’t mean killing you, he wouldn’t have hesitated”.

You laughed, “A lot of people want to kill you Klaus, do you already forget why we’re trapped here”. Klaus laughed softly too, walking towards you. He held up a finger, “Okay I also might’ve read his thoughts”.

“Klaus that’s an invasion of privacy!”. As he stood before you he was smirking more than ever before. He leaned closer to you, “If you don’t want to know what I’ve found than why is your heart beating so fast?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to admit he was right. Klaus spoke softly, “First admit how you feel about him to me”. Shaking your head you couldn’t believe how juvenile he was being.

He shrugged his shoulders, “When the sun sets this spell will lift, and you’ll no longer be able to hide away in this room. I know we have much more time than humans do, but that doesn’t mean we should waste it”.

You let out a sigh, “Fine you’re right okay? I….I….oh fuck I love him”. It had been the first time you’d ever said that aloud before. Klaus rubbed your upper arm, “It was bloody obvious before I read his thoughts”.

You’d been on this earth for a long time and you’d never felt something as strong as your love for Loki. He’d awoken something inside of you that you thought you’d never feel again. You loved him more than you thought you ever could, or ever had in your hundreds of years.

“And of course he loves you too...madly in love if I’m being honest”. Klaus watched your entire face light up. You smiled from ear to ear, “Let’s hope he still does after what he saw”.

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows, “He’d be insane not too, you were utterly ravishing earlier”. You rolled your eyes before the both of you started to laugh. Together you decided to kill time by catching up, after all he clearly had some family issues right now.

Thor stepped lightly, “So brother you appear to be in a good mood”. Thor was met with Loki’s best version of a death glare, which was pretty good. Looking back down to his book Loki said, “Oh I’m just positively ecstatic”.

Loki heard the desk legs creek while taking his brothers weight, but he still didn’t look up. Sitting on top of the desk Thor said, “Why do you do this to yourself?”. Thor had seen his brother allow his most insecure thoughts to eat him alive countless times.

While flipping a page Loki asked, “Do what brother?”. Thor shook his head, this had obviously been the worst. He grabbed the book from Loki’s hands, “You know exactly what”.

Loki reached for the book, “The only thing I am trying to do is read, but you’ve not so graciously stolen my book!”. Thor knew Loki’s anger was completely misguided. He stood on top of the table and as Loki lunged toward him jumped down.

“Look at this! You’re so hurt that you’re fighting me for a book!”. Still Loki continued, not wanting to accept what was really hurting him. He flipped his hair back, “I can assure you I’m not fighting...yet”.

Both men stopped when they heard the sound of footsteps. Looking up they realized it was one of the vampires, the one named Elijah. He walked slowly, “I don’t mean to interrupt but I wanted to explain a few things from earlier”.

Loki gritted his teeth at the sight of a Mikaelson, making him think of how Klaus had acted with you earlier.  Thor smiled, “Of course, my brother would love to hear it”. Loki rolled his eyes after seeing how Thor looked at him, as if he were a child.

“I’ll begin by saying that (y/n) was not completely herself. She was driven by a hunger so intense it can be bone crushing, and once she fulfilled that need she experienced a sort of high”. Loki hadn’t expected him to say that, sitting down he began to listen.

Elijah continued, “Feeding is euphoric, you see for vampires everything is heightened. Hunger; anger, sadness, lust, love”. Loki couldn’t ignore the fact that Elijah had looked directly at him while saying the last two words.

“However, do not misinterpret her reactions to my brother Klaus for any of those other than hunger. Her love lies somewhere else I’m afraid”. Once again he’d looked directly into Loki’s eyes. Elijah smiled, “Goodnight gentlemen, and Loki the spell should be wearing off any second now”.

Loki looked to the window and saw that the sun was setting. Thor was smirking from ear to ear, “Thank you Elijah for everything”. Elijah nodded his head, leaving as quickly as he had come.

“Shut up” Loki said while placing the book down. Thor could see the smile on his brothers face out of the corner of his eye. He smiled too, “I’ll wait here while you go finally tell (y/n) you’re madly in love with her”.

Loki couldn’t fight it, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. He’d finally gotten the push he’d needed, and he’d be damned if he wasted another second. He was going to tell you everything he’d always wanted to.

“And with that note, I’ll finally be on my way love” Klaus said while getting up from the bed. You rubbed your eyes, sleepy from all the catching up you’d been doing. Looking to the window you saw the sun had finally set.

You followed him to the door, “Let’s hope Kol’s spell worked”. For a moment you both held your breath as Klaus went to walk through the door. Effortlessly his foot hit the ground, making you both let out a sigh of relief.

Joining him you hugged him, “Thank you for everything Klaus”. He held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you. He spoke softly, “Always and forever my little wolf”. When he pulled back from you, you noticed Loki.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the moment” he said almost sheepishly. You felt your stomach drop as you saw him standing there before you. Klaus patted his shoulder, “You weren’t interrupting anything”.

Leaning in closer he whispered, “And if you ever hurt her I can assure you I won’t cease until you wish for something as sweet as death”. Pulling back Klaus smiled brightly. You said your last goodbyes, “Always and forever Nik”.

Loki stepped casually into his room, “Well he was…..interesting”. You followed Loki into his room, surprised you felt safe enough to stay after almost dying there. You played with your hands, “I’m sorry for earlier….It was-”.

He smiled, “It was wonderful”. You raised one of your eyebrows in confusion before joining him on the edge of the bed. Wearily you repeated, “Wonderful? You saw me nearly rip someone's arm off their body”.

Loki nodded his head, “I’ve always admired strong women”. For a moment you looked into eachothers eyes, the room filled with your laughter. Still holding his gaze you asked, “You aren’t afraid of me?”.

Not as bravely you asked, “You don’t find me ugly?”. To your surprise you felt his hand on yours. He spoke with passion, “You are the most beautiful woman I have met, far more stunning than any goddess I’ve ever encountered”.

You could feel your desire building up, more intense than before. Nervously you said, “Loki I...I don’t know if it’s safe for me to be around you”. He didn’t flinch, didn’t take his hand back.

In fact he held your hand tighter, “I am not afraid, and I am not going anywhere”. Your body was trying to turn, you wanted to feed. He moved his face closer to yours, “If I show you my true form will you show me yours”.

You tried to look away from him but you couldn’t deny the way you felt for him. Slowly you said, “Loki if I show you I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself”. To your surprise there was a smirk on his lips.

“Who said I’d want you to?” he told you. Letting go of your hand he stood up from the bed. Slowly he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were red. He spoke softly, “It’s no secret I am from Jotunheim, which means I am a frost giant”.

As he spoke you saw his skin start to turn a pale shade of blue. Your jaw dropped as you saw the patterns across his skin all in a deeper shade of blue. He looked beautiful, every inch of him.

“I assume you like what you see” he teased while sitting back down onto the bed. Leaning forward you went to trace one of the patterns on his face that went down to his neck. As you got closer to his jugular you swallowed hard.

His voice was welcoming, “Darling don’t fight it”. Your chest heaved up and down before you opened your eyes again. You looked into his eyes and searched for any bit of doubt, but then you finally realized…

Loki had been told he was a monster just like you had. People thought he was filled with darkness because of what he was, but it had nothing to do with who he truly was, just misguided labels formed in ignorance.

He could never hate you because he was you. Flawed, confused, battling within himself, but nonetheless beautiful, wise, happy, and selfless. Maybe this was meant to be, maybe he was the happiness you’d always dreamed of.

Finally you let your body turn, showing him your true form. Just like you had done he’d brought his hand to your face and traced the veins beneath your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched a smile form upon his lips.

He moved his hand beneath your chin while softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Loki spoke softly, “You’re still beautiful to me, if not more now”. Laughing softly at his remark you found yourself blushing.

Loki’s smile only grew, but the look in his eyes changed as you brought your head up again. He could feel the tension, the desire so thick in the air you could see it like fog. Trying to reassure yourself you listened to his heartbeat, it was faster than ever before.

“Maybe now I should finally admit something I’ve kept to myself,” he said while still looking into your eyes. You felt your entire stomach drop as if you were on some amusement park ride and you’d just done a loop-de-loop.

Breathlessly you nodded your head, your eyes pleading him to continue. His smile turned into a smirk, “I find you incredibly sexy like this you know ...I love it…..and you”. If your emotions weren’t hightned enough before they were going crazy now.

With a little more confidence he repeated, “I love you”. You swore you could see a glimmer of light in his eyes. You were word vomiting, “God not only do you find me sexy like this you also love me?”.

He laughed softly while nodding his head. Finally you inched closer to him, “I love you too Loki ...more than I ever knew you could love someone”. Loki took that as the go sign, inching forward too he cupped your face.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, and your lust and hunger only growing. Using your superabilites you moved him to rest against the headboard, his back hitting it with a small thud.

You were straddling him now and pulling back you said, “I’m sorry-”. Loki cut you off by shaking his head. He had a new look in his eyes, “I love it..I want you to let go...feed from me”.

Knowing you couldn’t fight it anymore you listened. As you brought your tongue to lick across your teeth, fangs included, Loki felt himself getting harder. He couldn’t explain it, but he was so drawn to this side of you.

You went to grab his wrist but he shook his head. Breathing deeply he said, “No darling, my neck”. If it hadn’t been for the look of pure lust in his eyes you would’ve hesitated, but you knew it was what he wanted.

Slowly you kissed down his jaw, licking over the spot you wanted to bite. As he felt your tongue flick over his skin he gasped from anticipation. Moving your hand to hold his head in place you finally sank your teeth in.

You had fed a thousand times in your life, but it had never felt as euphoric as this. Despite how indulgent you were, you still listened to his heart so you would know when to stop.

Loki had never felt anything like this before either. As he closed his eyes he could feel himself getting a little lightheaded, but in the same way as if you’d drank too much. Maybe he liked knowing how much he trusted you, his life was in your very hands.

Whatever it was; it was oddly euphoric and he didn’t want you to stop. As he felt your fangs leave his skin and your tongue lick over the place again it sent shivers down his spine. He’d never had someone make him feel pleasure like this, normally it was the other way around.

Groaning you pulled back, “Fuck that was good”. Again he cupped your face, holding your head in place. Leaning forward he licked the little trail of blood flowing down from your lips, surprising the both of you.

You were starting to feel a sort of blood high again, Loki was a god which meant he could handle losing much more blood than the average man. He saw your eyes were glassy, “My my pet, someone’s enjoying themselves”.

Leaning back you rested your hands against his chest, “I think I’m not the only one”. There was a smirk upon his lips, Loki knew you weren’t the only one with special powers. He was a frost giant afterall.

“Lie on your back” he demanded. You raised your eyebrows at his sudden tone of voice, but your own curiosity made you listen to what he’d said. He propped himself up with one of his elbows so he was hovering over you.

He started to kiss down your neck, “I’m afraid you’ve awoken something in me that I had thought had been long gone”. Loki paused for a moment, making sure to leave love bites all over your skin.

“I have not felt desire like this in ages my pet. All I want to do is feel you quiver beneath me while you cry out in pleasure”. Between his lips and his words you closed your eyes in pleasure.

His laugh was so low it was almost a growl, “You do realize you are dealing with a god ...a god who knows how to be so bad it’s terribly ...sinfully...good”. While moving his hands down your body he pulled up the fabric of your dress.

While his hands traced the hem of your panties you felt it, the cold. It sent shivers down your spine and made your eyes dart open. Loki smirked, “You’re not the only one with powers darling”.

You mirrored his expression, you’d never felt anything like this before. Slowly he pulled down your panties, and finally his fingertips skimmed over your clit. The slight touch made you arch your back, “Loki please”.

As Loki realized he could drive you mad like this, with barely even touching you, he found himself getting more turned on. His hands grazed your clit again as he purred, “Please what pet?”.

You shook your head, “I want your fingers inside of me”. He groaned at how forward you were being, and how desperate you sounded. Licking his lips he finally started to massage your clit.

The feeling of his ice cold fingers made your hips jerk. Loki clicked his tongue, “Am I going to have to hold you down darling?”. While talking he started to massage faster, knowing it was bringing you even closer to orgasm.

“Loki I don’t know if you could”. You were fully in transition now, and all the pleasure you were feeling made it impossible to control yourself. Loki moved both of your hands to be pinned above your head.

He hovered over you completely, “I am a god (y/n), you have no idea how powerful I am”. You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips. All you could think about was what would happen next, and how good it would probably feel.

Loki was smirking too, letting go of one of your wrists he snapped his fingers, using his magic you were both fully naked. His eyes trailed down your body, “I’d love to take my time exploring every inch of your skin, but I think you need to be reminded about who you’re dealing with”.

“Do I now?”. Loki shook his head, you testing him like this brought out something inside of him he’d forgotten he’d had. His voice was stern, “I want you on your stomach”. You rolled your eyes in defiance but listened to him.

Without hesitation he pulled your ass towards him, making your knees bent now. Your head pressed against the mattress, and when you turned it to the side you could see him. Loki grabbed one of your arms and pinned it behind your back.

“You’re already soaking wet for me love”. Loki trailed his cock up and down your wet slit before finally sliding it inside of you. His cock was just as cold as his fingers had been, and it was a completely new sensation.

Wanting more you arched your back, pressing against him. Loki groaned, “I want you to let everyone know whos fucking you like this”. He started to slowly thrust his hips forward, building up a rhythm.

You moaned his name loudly but that wasn’t enough, “Again”. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm just by how demanding his voice sounded. Closing your eyes you moaned, “Loki”.

He went faster, “Good little pet, now whose cock is filling you up?”. This time you screamed his name even louder, and Loki threw his head back while moaning. Loki gripped your hip with his other hand, using it to slam into you.

“Whos gonna make that pretty pussy cum?”. You had never felt a sensation like this in your entire life, the coldness of his cock was amazing. Breathlessly you screamed, “Loki...fuck Loki please!”.

He was just as close, “Cum around my cock (y/n), cum for me right now”. His words pushed you over the edge, sending your body into an almost euphoric shock. The coldness was tingling your clit, making this orgasm unlike any other.

Your senses as a vampire were heightened enough, but now you were also a little blood high on top of feeling a new sensation. All these things together sent wave after wave of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Loki was right along with you, this had been the first time he’d ever had sex in his true form, and it had been like nothing he’d ever felt before. As Loki felt your walls clench around his cock, he released inside of you.

Holding on tightly to your hips, he let his orgasm take over. Loki closed his eyes, threw his head back in pleasure, and let his body succumb to the most intense feeling of euphoria he’d ever felt.

Together you rode out your orgasms, both of you shocked by how amazing this felt. Loki held onto your hips, unable to move his cock because it was still so sensitive. Smirking you started to rotate your hips knowing it would drive him wild.

“Fuck darling...oh fuck”. Finally Loki opened his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. Slowly he pulled out of you, laying down next to you on the bed. Turning to face him you could see the proud look on his face.

He shook his head, “I’ve never felt anything like that before…”. Moving closer to him you rested your head against his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, and it was the calmest it had ever been.

“I love you”. It felt so good to finally say it out loud, and to know that he felt the same exact way. Loki brought one of his hands to run through your hair, “I love you too darling”. Leaning closer to you he placed a light kiss on your forehead.

Softly you told him, “Always and forever”. Loki had heard that repeated many times earlier, and he wanted to know why. Loki became a little more serious, “I heard what you said to them earlier, always and forever, does it mean something more”.

You smiled, it was more endearing than saying I love you. It had held the Mikaelson’s together for the past century, and the day that saying extended to you you’d known you were officially part of their family.

“It means that no matter what happens, and no matter what I’d have to do, I will always be there for you”. Loki held your body a little tighter, he had never had someone promise him something like this. Softly he repeated, “Always and forever”.

In his entire life all he had wanted was love, but over the years he had constantly been denied it, making him think it was the last thing he’d ever have. But now….now as he looked down at you and thought about everything you had just shared with one another, he felt those words with every fiber of his being.

Always and forever...it wasn’t just a promise he’d made to you but one you’d also made to him...always and forever.

♡ thank you for taking the time to read this, you’re a babe♡

Forever tags: aka some amazing people: @moonlessnight14 @sexyvixen7 @angieptt​ @painkiller80 @becca-dolan @team-heichou @thatpeachybandgirl​ @allthesesonsobitches @buckybarneshairpullingkink @couldabeenamermaid​ @taeeemin​ @littleredstarfish @nali67​ @only4wakingup​ @mcenziehughes​

*if there is a line through your name that means that for some reason it won’t allow me to tag you*

*forever tags are always open*

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (5)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m so sorry it took way longer than it should :((( Work got me close to a burnout and my laptop’s sometimes a lil bitch ;-; I should pick up the pick soon, but thank you for still reading this fic! I really appreciate it ❤

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions | Trigger warning: Graphic bodily descriptions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

Cal reluctantly left the structure with his companions. Throughout the entire exit, the Jedi never spoke a word, Larki and Morzen could do nothing but glance at him every once in a while until they mounted their speeders again.

Not even BD-1 himself could get a response from his owner.

Throughout their exit from the structure, Cal spoke nothing. Larki and Morzen could only catch a glimpse of the Jedi, neither of them can say something of value to him—perhaps nothing at all. The three of them mounted their speeders and without even waiting for the two, Cal revs up the engine of his bike and sped out. Fortunately, Larki was able to catch up as soon as his own speeder sputtered to life.

The small search party returned to the temple ruins, as they were told by Cere via comlink in the middle of their drive. Cal’s entrance rattled some of the rebels loitering within the ruins’ vicinity, Cere included; when she saw that the headcount remained the same as they left, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

“Cal, where is [Y/N]?”

Silence. Cal’s eyes drooped, avoiding eye contact with Cere.

“Cal, where is [Y/N]?” Cere spoke through her clenched teeth while her fists shook with a confusion of anger, worry, and fear.

“T-This…” Cal stammered, unfolding his fingers to show the bracelet to Cere, which she instantly recognizes to be yours.

“That’s all they found?” the woman’s voice cracked.

Cere covered her gaping mouth with trembling hands, in full shock of the discovery, and her breathing became shaky. Her hands fell to her chest, as if her heart’s about to burst through her ribcage. Eventually, Merrin and Greez were drawn to the scene, quickly, the Nightsister spotted the trinket in Cal’s hand; she held her gasp and her eyebrows furrowed, she brought her hands to her mouth but they stopped at her chest.

Greez worriedly uttered your name.

Cal was given time to be alone. He stayed in one of the chambers of the temple that served as a sleeping quarters. For the rest of the day, Cal was exempted from strategy conferences by the grace of the empathetic Jax. The grief-stricken Jedi never let go of your bracelet, however, he was unresponsive even to the little boy staring at him as he sits on the floor in the far corner of the room.

BD-1 chirps and beeps from time to time, trying to fish a word out of Cal, but he would speak very little.

“She’s not gone, BD… I know it. So, why don’t they believe me? They look like they don’t,” Cal’s eyes trailed, aligning it with BD who’s nestled on the space between his crossed legs. “I’m not crazy, aren’t I?”

The little droid shook its head in reply, BD-1 nudged your bracelet with his head’s visor, followed by a sad, long beep that faded out. The hours felt like only minutes to the boy, he leaned his head against the cold, cobblestone wall and eventually dozed off.

That night, Cere personally went to the Cal’s room with a tray of food. Cal has lost track of the time that he didn’t wake in time for dinner. It was BD-1 who sensed Cere coming into the room, a quiet chirp emitted from the droid, and the woman carefully walked into his bedroom to set the tray down on a podium. Even upon her presence, Cal didn’t wake up; Cere’s eyes wandered to his open hand, one cord of the bracelet dangles out of his palm. She took a deep sigh and didn’t bother waking up to remind him to eat.

“Keep an eye out for him, BD, please…” she softly pleaded and then left. “And tell him to eat when he wakes.”

A good chunk of minutes passed after she left the room and Cal finally wakes. He blinks several times until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room in the moonless night; the first thing he notices is the power lamp sitting next to his futon built from straw, animal hide, and mismatched pieces of cloth sewn together.

“Hey, BD… dozed for a long time, haven’t I?”

“Boo!” BD nodded and then gestured to the tray that Cere had left.

Cal’s stomach ferociously growled when his nostrils flared upon picking up the scent of the food—albeit having gone cold for a time. The rations weren’t exactly a culinary art, neither was it a cuisine, but it was enough to sate an empty stomach—the adrenaline from earlier had dulled Cal of his senses and awareness of the goings-on in his body, only then was he starting to realize just how hungry he is.

Cere had sneakily doubled the servings for each food type she’s prepared for Cal: three scoops of Lemus corn, a bowl of bone broth nearly filled to the brim, and two turkey drumsticks—instead of one as imposed by Jax to conserve rations per headcount.

“Looks like the fighters must’ve looted the Imps’ storehouse, huh?”

“Woo!”

The Jedi scrambled towards the food and helped himself, however, he didn’t exactly scarf down whatever’s on the platter. He only ate what he wanted and had some leftovers. He dismissed it and returned the tray on the podium.

—–

The Inquisitors, Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, charted a course to one of the Imperial medical outposts and also their satellite fortress—a smaller likeness of their stronghold like that of the one in Nur—in Mons Golotha, a moon situated in the Outer Rim.

“We are bound to Mons Golotha in T-Minus 35 minutes, Seventh Sister,” reported the command ship’s admiral.

“Good, have them prepare a medical capsule for the bodies we’ve recovered—for immediate transfer.”

The admiral bowed in compliance and returned to overseeing the cadets on their computers.

The pair strode in exit of the bridge and to the command ship’s cramped medical bay. The Fifth Brother sensed the Mirialan’s thoughts dwelling on you.

“What’s on your mind, Sister?”

“The girl’s an intriguing subject. She’s going to be very busy in her interrogation when she wakes,”

“If she wakes,” reiterated the Fifth Brother.

There was silence between them as they marched through the corridors. Crew members avoid eye contact as much as possible from the Inquisitors in any way doable—tipping the rims of their uniform caps downwards so their eyes are obscured, others would maintain eye contact while speaking even though they caught the Seventh Sister giving them a passing glance when she entered their periphery.

The pair didn’t mind their fear of them, it was insignificant of them to pick up every single thought and feeling flooding this corridor.

Upon their arrival to the moon, Mons Golotha, they were instantly given confirmation to land and instructed whoever’s capable to transfer the patients from the medical bay to the shuttle for their descent to the surface. A couple of medical specialists assigned in the medbay helped in settling both you and the Second Brother in your own medical capsules, the 2-1B medical droid meticulously configured the control panels of both pods to the optimum setting for each one’s survival from the descent until the complete transfer.

From one medical specialist to another, you and the Second Brother were handed over. While being escorted to your rooms, the doctors and nurses were performing their SOPs in bringing in emergency patients.

“Both of them are in a vegetative state, but he’s in a more critical state. I want an operating table prepped for him and a Bacta tank filled to the brim—infused with antibiotics for his second to third degree burns. This surgery is strongly required pre-Bacta treatment.” Barked one of the doctors who led the way while the Inquisitor pair flanked them.

“The girl’s vitals are stable. I have a heartbeat! Blood pressure is low though, she’s suffering from minor concussions and burns,” diagnosed a second doctor who stood close to your own gurney. “Prepare a Bacta tank for her as well, infuse it with a mild painkiller and antibiotics for her burns so they won’t infect and blister.”

The nurses rushed to comply with the doctors’ orders. Your doctor was astounded with your body’s physical resilience, he wagered it was your fight-or-flight response or your self-preservation instincts despite lying down on the brink of unconsciousness—seconds before the Fifth Brother picked you up and spotted you. He may have not seen what happened to you, but he was sure that you were a fighter—perhaps even more of a fighter than the Second Brother, dare he thinks!

“Alright now, you little darling, let’s get you patched up.”

The female nurses strip you off of your soiled and scorched clothes, washed off the grime and soot that stuck to your skin and face, and attached the apparatus necessary for your body before submerging you to the vat of Bacta.

“How long will they be submerged?” asked the Fifth Brother to the Second Brother’s attending physician.

“That depends on their case, really. In his case, since he’s the most severely injured, it may take him weeks to recover fully—better if he regains consciousness in the middle of his treatment,”

“And…” the gray humanoids jerks his head to you in the tank. “What of her?”

“Well, evidently, her wounds are less fatal compared to the other patient. However, we are detecting some signs of internal bleeding. Recovery may take weeks as well, but perhaps it’ll be shorter for her.”

“Will she have regained her strength when she wakes up?” the Mirialan interjected.

“All of that will be determined on the amount of time she’ll use for rest and recovery,”

The Mirialan hummed and dismissed herself to the doctors. She contacted the Grand Inquisitors in private, reporting the diagnoses of the doctors for both you and the Second Brother, and your involvement with the rebel cell that they’ve encountered in Pevera.

“We found one of the Jedi helping the rebels, m’lord,” reported the Seventh Sister. “But she’s still being taken care of here.”

“Good, let her body relish the remainder of her days where she will not yet feel any pain and anguish,” the Grand Inquisitor snarled through the small hologram projection on the Seventh Sister’s holodisk. “She will answer to us the moment she opens her eyes.”

“The girl is a survivor—a better one than the Second Brother, he didn’t have it easy. I sense something in her, something familiar,”

“Oh? How intriguing,” the Grand Inquisitor took the bait. “I should like to hear what you have to say about this girl, Seventh Sister.”

“Yes, m’lord,”

“See to it that she recovers in her treatment, she has a lot to answer for us,” the Grand Inquisitor added before his hologram fizzled out.

The doctors and their companion medical droids worked on the Second Brother’s surgery meticulously and tirelessly. They picked up a pulse from him and then began their procedure. It was a gruesome image, even for the droids.

For one, a large patch of burnt flesh stands out from the Second Brother’s scarred, olive skin. It covered his left shoulder down to the left half of his torso. Shards and portions of his clothing—both the undershirt and the armor plates—have melted and stuck to his skin, tools were required to separate debris from the flesh. A string of viscous pus connected the removed shrapnel and his blistering, black and red skin. Bodily fluids oozed out from every orifice conceivable on his wounds—throughout the operation, he’s partially conscious, flinching on particular moments where the droids would prod their syringes and quite-delicate mandibles on his skin.

“I sense his hate, even in his dormant state,” the Fifth Brother commented as they watch the operation.

“Likewise. Last I heard, these two were fighting. I’m certain he’ll be most hostile towards her,”

“I checked the database,” the Fifth Brother huffed, and a curious Seventh Sister craned her head to face him. “I found her in the records: [Y/N] [L/N]. Another Jedi survivor, in hiding until she apparently joined the rebels with the other Jedi—Cere Junda and Cal Kestis—and then the Second Brother engaged her while trying to infiltrate the stronghold with the rebels.”

“They’re all the same,” the Mirialan scoffed.

The Inquisitors watched the doctors do their work until the surgeons have finished their job on the Second Brothers and then he was dropped into the tank. The two of you were being observed by the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, she watched the two of you bobbing in the liquid substance like apples in a bucket.

“Doctor, do whatever it takes to speed up the girl’s recovery period. We want her conscious as soon as possible,”

“B-But… Seventh Sister, we haven’t even carefully observed her wounds and their fatalities on her body!”

“Unless you want to be the one strapped to the Imperial torture chair, I suggest you do your job faster,”

“Y-Yes… m-madam.”

The Fifth Brother has gotten the hint of the Seventh Sister’s other plans for you. He’s been sensing it running in her mind ever since.

“Do you think she’ll get the Grand Inquisitor’s attention—even Lord Vader?”

The Mirialan girl turned to the gray humanoid, having to tilt her head back to emphasize their height difference, she smirked.

“I don’t doubt it,”

“And if she refuses?”

The smirked retained. Seventh Sister seemed to be amused to answer his question.

“Well, I think we can persuade her,” she pans her head to your tank: sections of hair floating about like soft tendrils, closed eyes yet bursting with life the open they shoot open, and a weakened spirit that she perceives as a blank slate. “One way or another.”