#don’t worry this was right outside a fire station

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

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“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry�� No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

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Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[cool-bloo-catts]

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Re-Do | Bucktommy

Buck and Tommy are standing just inside Harbor’s helicopter hangar. There’s a duffle bag in Tommy’s hand and Buck is looking pensively at the chopper waiting for Tommy. It feels eerily similar to standing outside the LAX terminal saying goodbye to Abby all those years ago. Even though Buck knows that Tommy isn’t leaving indefinitely; it’s just a special deployment to Vegas because there’s a wildfire that’s gotten out of hand. Two weeks tops, then I'll be back, you won’t even have time to miss me. Tommy said to Buck as they drove to the station.

“Baby? Did you hear me?” Tommy asks and Buck comes back to the present turning to Tommy.

“Huh? Sorry, I was lost in thought-” Buck sighs.

“Clearly,” Tommy laughs and grabs Buck’s hand. “I should be going, I’ll be home in no time, okay? Thanks for driving me.”

Dropping his shoulders in a slouch, Buck breathes out, “Yeah, yeah, okay.” He pulls Tommy in close by the hand to kiss him soundly. “Come back to me,” Buck whispers against Tommy’s lips.

“Always, baby.” Tommy smiles at his boyfriend and understands his worries - Buck is used to being left, but he also knows not to bring attention to it. “I’ll call when I land, okay?” Buck nods, there’s still tension in his brow. “Hey, I love you. Miss you already,” Tommy says and presses one more hard kiss to Buck’s lips.

“Love you too, be safe,” Buck smiles and Tommy makes his way to the chopper, his hand staying connected to Tommy’s as long as possible.

Stuck in horrendous LA rush hour traffic, Buck gets a call from Tommy just over an hour after leaving him at Harbor. “Hey, babe. You landed already? That was fast. I’m still stuck on the 5.”

“Oh yeah, the perks of having access to a helicopter. Just touched down at the Vegas airport. That giant LED sphere thing freaks me out. It has a face on it and its eyes followed my helicopter as I flew by. Did you see the picture I sent?” Buck sneaks a peek at his phone and sees a picture of the giant dome on the strip from Tommy’s point of view, and sure enough the eyes of the face were looking straight up at Tommy’s chopper.

“It knew you were flying and wanted to get a good look at the hot pilot,” Buck laughs and Tommy scoffs.

“I don’t like it,” Tommy says, totally deadpan. “Huh? Yeah, my boyfriend,” Tommy says to someone else and it still makes Buck’s heart flutter hearing the designation coming from Tommy so casually. “Garcia says hi,” Tommy turns his attention back to Buck. “I’ll text later, just letting you know I landed safely, don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I will,” Buck says, putting on a whiney voice. “Talk soon, baby.” He hangs up the phone with Tommy and feels lighter.

Tommy was right, Buck didn’t have time to miss him between work and taking up Maddie on babysitting requests. Also Tommy is in constant communication with him; they text more often than when Tommy’s home. Tommy texts him updates on containment of the fire and silly selfies and Buck will send pictures of him and Jee doing various things like tea parties or coloring.

Ten days in, Buck is at the station fresh off the phone with Tommy. “How’s that Vegas fire?” Bobby asks.

“It’s about 70% contained so they’ll be releasing the out of state firefighters first," Buck says, unable to contain his giddy smile.

Buck is still looking down at his phone so he doesn’t catch Bobby’s knowing smile. Tommy called Bobby about two hours ago saying he’s on his way back and wants to surprise Buck at the station so don’t tell him.

Bobby checks his phone, seeing a message from Tommy that he’s five minutes away.

Still here, Bobby texts back, willing the alarm not to go off. They’re all up in the kitchen relaxing. When the five minutes pass Bobby goes to the railing and looks down and sees Tommy walk into the open garage. He immediately spots Bobby and gives him a two fingered salute.

“Hey, Buck seems like you have a visitor,” Bobby shouts over to Buck standing at the sink. Buck perks up and jogs over next to Bobby and honest to god gasps when he sees Tommy downstairs. He flies down the stairs, taking them two at a time like he can’t get to Tommy fast enough. “Oh my god, you’re here! I thought you’d said at least one more day!” Tommy catches Buck in his arms and stumbles a few steps with the momentum.

“Well you said come back to you, so I asked to be released early and they let me go,” Tommy says laughing into Buck’s neck.

The smell and feel of Tommy’s arms locked around him makes Buck feel at home, feel more grounded. With an arm locked around Tommy’s neck, Buck kisses him a little less chaste than probably appropriate for being at work, but he hasn’t kissed Tommy in ten days and needs to make up for lost time.

They break apart and Buck rubs his nose against Tommy’s smiling until his cheeks hurt. “Come up upstairs, everyone’s here, at least until the next call,” Buck says and pulls Tommy up the stairs by the hand.

Tommy settles on a barstool at the kitchen island and tells everyone about the job in Vegas; recounts all the exciting bits with enthusiasm. All the while one arm securely wrapped around Buck’s waist and gesturing with the other. Buck’s eyes never leave Tommy and his smile never falters, asking questions that spark more details and exciting moments of the trip.

“It’s been almost nine months and they still look like they're in the honeymoon phase,” Hen notes to Chim.

“That’s what happens when you find your person. Trust me I’m sure I look like that with Maddie and you look at Karen like that too,” Chim remarks. He discreetly snaps a candid photo of them and sends it to Maddie. Guess who’s back early, he texts the photo to Maddie.

***

Buck’s sits heavily on the couch- today was a long day to say the least. A call came in at 3am, on his 21st hour of his shift and as he was lowering himself down on a rope he slipped and grabbed the rope at the exact wrong time, dislocating his right shoulder. He screamed out in the white hot flash of pain and fell until the harness caught him. They used one of the ambulances to transport him to the emergency room.

Two hours later Tommy escorts him from the car into his house and onto the couch. Buck’s arm is in a sling and even with the pain meds the pain still radiates from his shoulder. Buck groans and leans his head back on the couch, just another injury that will put him out of work. His mind flashbacks to his whole leg in a cast and him being couch-ridden as Ali told him she can’t handle the risk his job comes with.

As he’s spiraling Tommy comes into the living room with a mug of hot tea for Buck. “Pain that bad, baby? You look miserable right now. I thought they gave you a good dose before we left.”

Realizing that his face is being way too loud at the moment, Buck softens his brow and opens his eyes. “Oh no, it’s dulled pretty good, I was just thinking about- you know what it’s dumb. Forget it,” he sighs and drags a hand down his face. Tommy sets the tea down and sits next to Evan on the couch, lining up their legs.

“Hey, whatever it is, it’s not dumb. However big or small, I wanna know what’s going on,” Tommy says to him and waits patiently for whatever Evan is willing to divulge.

”I- uh. It’s just, remember Ali? I was with her when the ladder truck fell on my leg, scared the shit out of her apparently and the day I got home from the hospital she broke up with me. She couldn’t handle the stress and worry that comes with the job,” Buck explains. He reaches for the tea just to keep his attention on something other than Tommy for a moment.

“I see. And I’m guessing this situation reminds you of that?” Tommy asks and Buck nods minutely. “Well, I hope you know I’m not going anywhere. I hate to see you hurt of course, but the nice thing is I know exactly what the risks are. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dislocated something.” Buck finally meets Tommy’s eyes and sees a ghost of a smile on his lips. Something about Tommy’s unwavering steadiness and calm washes away any doubt Buck has.

Three days later Tommy catches Buck rubbing at the unkept beard coming in on his jaw. He wraps around Buck and quietly asks, “getting a little scruffy, I kind of like actually.” Buck laughs at that and reaches for his electric razor. The weight feels awkward in his left hand.

“It gets itchy like this,” Buck notes and frowns at the razor. Tommy releases him and opens the medicine cabinet and takes out a regular metal razor and shaving cream.

“Let me,” he says and maneuvers Buck so he’s turned around and leaning against the sink. Tommy spreads the foam gently and meticulously along Buck’s jaw, mouth, and chin. “The old fashioned way- always gets a closer shave,” Tommy says barely above a whisper.

There’s something so intimate about Tommy shaving him. Maybe it’s the way Tommy’s thumb and forefinger holding his chin, or the way his eyes are zeroed in on the path of the razor scraping down Buck’s cheek, or the way his eyes flick to Buck’s and causes him to smile or wink. It’s a simple act that makes Buck feel so precious in Tommy’s hands. Maybe he can stand the sling for a little while longer.

***

”Fuck him, Fuck him,” Buck spits out as he paces around Tommy’s kitchen. “That motherfucker thinks he’s above human decency!”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Tommy says calmly despite the rising anger in his chest. He’s never surprised now about Gerrard’s new slight, but wishes he could shield Buck and 118 from that.

“It isn’t anything that can be reported really, it’s all the microaggressions, all his fucking snide ass comments. It just gets under my skin and makes me hate work,” Buck sits heavily at the island and groans into his hands. “I feel like he singles me out because he knows you and I are together. All these homophobic-adjacent comments, like he wants to rile me up and just UGH. Fuck him.”

Tommy hates Gerrard, but even more hates that he’s making his boyfriend miserable. An idea comes to him.

“I‘ll talk to the fire chief, remind him why Gerrard got transferred out of the 118 in the first place,” Tommy suggests. Buck looks up in a panic.

“No-no, that’ll only make things worse, you know how long these complaints take to actually make a difference. Once Gerrard gets wind of the complaints, he’ll get even worse,” Buck rushes out.

“Babe, if there’s a way I could help I want to, I can’t just stand on the sidelines while he’s making your life hell,” Tommy tries.

Buck stands and walks to the other side of the counter and smooths his hands along Tommy’s shoulders, seeing the tension release. They’re silent for a few minutes, searching each other’s eyes, trying their best to communicate all their worries and needs.

“Don’t,” Buck says with finality. Tommy huffs and presses his mouth into a thin line. “I know you want to fix this, but I don’t want you involved with him. Again. So, I’m asking you to keep this here.”

“Okay,” Tommy says with a nod and a squeeze to Buck’s waist. Buck thanks him with a kiss to the nose.

A week or so later Buck walks through the door exhausted and irritable. He’s making it a regular habit of going straight to Tommy’s after work because he needs the comfort of his boyfriend.

Tommy envelopes him in a tight hug, “I can guess, but how was work?”

“Shitty is the new normal. Gerrard will never change and I have to just get through it. At least everyone else hates him too,” Buck mumbles into the soft fabric of Tommy’s t-shirt.

“Ah yes, nothing like strengthening a bond by the power of collective disdain,” Tommy replies scratching down Buck’s back making him hum in response.

Buck realizes that nothing has changed since his last rant about Gerrard to Tommy and leans back to look at Tommy’s face inquisitively.

“Nothing’s changed,” Buck says. “You didn’t do anything.” At first Tommy’s confused but he remembers the conversation they had.

“I didn’t. You asked me not to. Did you think I’d go behind your back?”

You asked me not to. Like it was simple, like Tommy didn’t need clarification or a deeper reason. Just because he asked Tommy not to do something, he didn’t.

“I-I, I’m just surprised I guess? So many people think they know what’s best for me and go around me to do what they think is right despite what I’ve said.” Buck looks shocked but pleased. Tommy just smiles at him,

“I can’t speak for everyone, Evan, but I trust you. You know what you’re doing. Yes I always want to help and be there for you, but I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. And I love you very much because of that.” Tommy pecks Buck’s lips.

“And I love you for listening and taking my word for it,” Buck grins, knowing that with Tommy he’s on equal ground. The irritation of the day is completely melted away and forgotten. Buck slides his hands up Tommy’s chest and shoulders to clasp his hands around the back of his neck.

”Now do you wanna listen to what I’m thinking about doing to you to let off some steam?” Buck quirks his left eyebrow and bites his lip, knowing Tommy’s eyes will follow.

Tommy leans in and noses along the jut of Buck’s jaw and says into his ear, “all ears, baby.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonelier in Misery

Part 2 of Lonely in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: After you first date with Tim, you decide to keep your relationship from Nolan and Bailey for as long as possible.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: Titles are hard sometimes. This is one of those times.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The morning after your first date with Tim, feigning your continued misery isn’t hard. You miss him already, even though it’s been less than twelve hours since he kissed you and turned your world on its axis. He changed everything, and you never want to go back to how it was before. Now your absent smile and downcast demeanor are because you miss Tim; you miss someone rather than not having anyone. It’s a nice change, but you’re still craving another kiss.

When you arrive at work, Bailey runs across the station to meet you. She pulls you into a tight hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her in return.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I thought it would work out with Tim.”

“Oh,” you murmur as you realize she’s still making assumptions based on your text from last night. “Right.”

“Don’t take this as a sign or anything, though. I promise I will do better next time! Just tell me what you did and didn’t like.”

“Bailey, you don’t have to set me up again.”

“No, you need someone. I hate seeing you like this. Being lonely sucks, and with our job, we deserve to have a person to go home to.”

“I agree, but a blind date isn’t-“

“You have to give me another chance. Nolan has more friends, plenty that aren’t cops, so I can find you the right guy.”

Bailey turns when the battalion chief calls her name, and you’re left alone again. You’ll have to convince her not to set you up on another date later. The problem is that you can’t tell her why, not unless you want her to insert herself into your relationship with Tim. Bailey is great, she’s your best friend, but she meddles.

You sigh as you pull your phone out. Tim has responded to your good morning text, so you send a quick warning: Bailey wants to set me up on another date since last night ‘didn’t work out’

Tim answers quickly, and his message brings a smile to your face.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle all the dates from now on.

While you avoid answering Bailey’s questions, Tim is dealing with his own line of inquiries about the date last night.

“How did it go? You like her, right? I know you’ve met before,” Nolan asks quickly.

“It was fine,” Tim answers.

“Fine… Is that it? I don’t get more details?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “It went fine.”

Nolan tosses his hands up in exasperation. Tim won’t elaborate, he already knows that, but he needs to know if he and Bailey were right about their idea that you and Tim would be perfect for one another.

“Sergeant Grey!” Nolan calls. “Bradford and I can deliver the safety brochures to the police station.”

“You want to do a rookie’s assignment for them?” Grey asks, his skepticism audible.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah. I know you’re just going to visit Bailey, though, you’re not smooth, Nolan.”

“Never expected to be. Thank you, sir!” Nolan turns to Tim to say, “Let’s go.”

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Because I want to hear from both of you. Fine isn’t good enough.”

Tim grumbles as he follows Nolan to the shop. “I’m driving,” he yells when he catches up.

You’re restocking an equipment kit near the open garage door when a police car parks outside. As you set your gear aside, you see Tim exit the driver’s seat. You smile at him, but he shakes his head just before you see Nolan on the other side. It’s not a friendly visit, then.

“Good morning,” Tim greets. “We are here to drop off these public safety cards.”

“Great. Thanks,” you reply as you take them.

Your fingers brush over Tim’s and you feel the same jolt as when he kissed you last night.

“Where’s Bailey?” Nolan asks.

“Kitchen, I think,” you answer.

He nods to thank you, then walks past the fire engines to find Bailey. You raise your brows and look at Tim, but he just sighs. It’s not far-fetched to assume Nolan gave him treatment similar to the one you got from Bailey.

“Alright,” Nolan calls. He returns with Bailey beside him, and you sigh with Tim this time. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“What happened last night, Tim?” Bailey asks. “You get to the restaurant, and?”

“She’s not who I expected,” Tim answers. He glances at you quickly, and you immediately decide to play along.

“Exactly,” you agree. “Blind date usually implies that you don’t know the person. We’ve met before.”

“Okay, but there’s no animosity or anything. You get along,” Nolan argues. “So, why’d you leave just as sad as when you got there?”

“Because I was still lonely,” you answer.

It’s not a lie. Neither you nor Tim will lie, but you’re going to answer the questions without admitting that they were right. They’ll never let you live it down if they can take credit for your relationship with Tim.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t enjoy yourselves,” Bailey says. “But your relationships are your decisions. And I already have another guy lined up that I want you to meet.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Tim winks at you before you speak. He told you not to worry about it, so you won’t.

“We need to get back to the station if you’re done with the interrogation,” Tim tells Nolan.

“Sure, yeah,” Nolan responds.

You wave discreetly as Tim leaves, and your internal countdown to when you’ll see him again resumes.

As you walk out of the fire station after your shift ends, your phone rings.

“Hi,” you answer.

“Hi,” Tim repeats. “Are you off?”

“I am. I’m leaving right now.”

“Then you should come over for dinner.”

“I’d love that.”

Tim texts you his address, and you smile for the entire trip to his house. When he opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you feel complete again.

“Whoa, it smells amazing in here. Are you cooking?” you ask.

“Maybe,” Tim answers. “That depends on if you have any stereotypical views that I can’t because I’m a man and a cop.”

“I think you can do everything and look good doing it,” you reply happily.

“Then, yes, I’m cooking. And thank you.”

You follow Tim into the kitchen and settle at his side as he finishes preparing the meal. Everything looks great, but you’d do just about anything as long as you were with Tim.

“I’m sorry if I pushed everything too far today. I know we don’t want them in our business, but if you want me to stop covering things up, I will,” Tim offers.

“You didn’t go too far. I thought it was kind of fun. Plus, I like being with you, even if we are lying to my best friend.”

“Lying,” Tim scoffs.

“By omission, yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes but tugs you closer to kiss you. His hands rest on your cheeks and as you move with him, you know that it is impossible to feel sad or lonely around Tim Bradford.

Two days later, you find yourself pacing beside your ambulance. Tim texted this morning, just: I won’t answer for a while.

There hasn’t been anything on the news or the radio channels about big police operations, so you’re left to worry about him with nothing more to go on. You try to convince yourself that he’s just in a meeting or on patrol with someone, so he can’t use his phone, but then your mind wanders to a dangerous situation where using his phone could get him killed.

“Oh no,” Bailey murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answer, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m just stressing. For no reason.”

“Get your stuff.”

“What? Why?”

“You need a distraction, and John Nolan is my favorite distraction. Tag along with me?”

You consider it for a moment. If you stay here, you’ll just be worried and alone. “Yes, please,” you decide.

When Bailey parks at the Mid-Wilshire station, you follow her inside and force yourself not to check your phone again. Tim will reach out when he can. Someone calls your name, and both you and Bailey stop.

“Hi, Detective Lopez,” you greet when you see Angela.

She hugs you tightly as she says, “Stop, it’s Angela. Especially now that you’re dating my BFF.”

“What?” Bailey interrupts.

Angela’s eyes widen, and she whispers, “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone knew. He told me, so I just assumed.”

Bailey says your name and points at you, ready to accuse you of lying to her and keeping secrets. Before she can, Nolan yells, “Why?!” from somewhere else in the station.

A few seconds later, he walks into the bullpen with Tim following closely behind him. Tim is talking, sternly and meanly, based on his stance. Nolan sees you and Bailey and quickens his pace.

“Bailey,” he begins.

“I know!” she replies. “They’re liars.”

“Why would you lie about that?” Nolan asks.

Tim steps to your side as you answer, “Technically, we didn’t lie. We answered your questions.”

“You just didn’t ask the right questions,” Tim agrees. “Which is part of your job, Nolan.”

“No, no, no. Don’t make this about me,” Nolan argues.

“Wait, so then are you going out again?” Bailey asks.

“And did you actually consider that to be a date? Enjoy it and everything?” Nolan adds.

Tim takes your hand as they continue asking questions, and you wave kindly to Angela as he leads you away. You smile as you follow him blindly. Once he has you away from the bullpen and the endless questions, he stops and pulls you close.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry. I got called into a meeting to consult on a UC operation. Everything is confidential, so I couldn’t have my phone on me.”

“I’m not mad. I feel much better now that I know you’re okay.”

“It’s Friday,” he reminds you. “We have another date tonight.”

You nod, and Tim moves his hands, one on your waist and one on your jaw. He dips his chin and kisses you in the empty hallway, and you wonder what did it feel like to be miserable again?

[in1-nutshell]

Bulkhead's daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Buddy was a sparkling that would usually come around the construction sites to play around or look around for scraps.

Like Bulkhead, there were many bots that did have an optic out for the little one especially with the heavy machinery around.

He was not particularly fond of the kid being around.

Not because he didn’t like them, on the contrary.

He was quite fond of the kid.

She was a little genius and a nice bot.

Sure, they were a bit cold at first, but she was just a bit of a shy bot.

“Have you met Buddy?”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead shows Buddy to one of the new recruits,

Buddy just stares right into their optics.

“D-does she do that all the time? She looks like she’s going to rip my helm off.”—Random bot

“Buddy wouldn’t do that. She’s just a bit shy. Isn’t that right Buddy?”--Bulkhead

Buddy stares harder at the bot.

“…”—Random bot

“…Anyways, here is where the heavy machinery is placed.”--Bulkhead

When the team had to use some of the older equipment, she made sure to look at it before everyone else did, deeming which ones were safer to use than others.

How did she manage to sneak into the equipment shed before they did?

No one knows and she isn’t telling.

The kid slowly opens to the others.

But she never opened up about her living status or where were her guardians, they just knew they were never at home.

Bulkhead promised himself to look after the kid a bit more after that.

“Hey Buddy, did you fuel yet?”--Bulkhead

“Not yet, I still have to finish repairing Breakdown’s hammer, the blasted thing got cracked again… stinking Senate and their refusal for getting better equipment…”--Buddy

Bulkhead puts a servo on her shoulder.

“Let’s take a break. We refuel, maybe a walk around the site and then we come back to the hammer. I’m sure Breakdown wouldn’t mind.”--Bulkhead

Buddy looks at the hammer then at Bulkhead.

She abruptly stands up and grabs Bulkhead’s servo marching the fueling station.

Bulkhead just smiles and goes along with it.

The war breaks out soon thereafter.

Everything goes too fast for Bulkhead.

One minute he was waving bye to Buddy, the next he found himself an Autobot with the Wrecker’s.

He did his best to try and get in contact with Buddy, but he got no response.

Bulkhead doesn’t even know if she was even on the same side as him.

Breakdown running up to Bulkhead.

“Breakdown?”--Bulkhead

“You’re gonna want to see this.”--Breakdown

Both mech walk into the main room where Wheeljack was about to present someone to the rest of the Wrecker’s.

“This is our new equipment and weapons assistant of mine, Buddy.”--Wheeljack

Buddy looks around the group of taller bots until she spots Bulkhead and Breakdown.

“Bulkhead? Breakdown?”--Buddy

She fast walks to them both and hugs them.

Breakdown doesn’t get much of that first hug because Bulkhead practically scooped her up burying her in his arms.

Did her new position in the unit make Bulkhead worry?

Yes. Yes, it did.

But at the same time knew that Buddy wasn’t going to be seeing much action.

Buddy stayed mostly to herself in the workshop.

If she did go outside, she was mainly with Bulkhead, Breakdown and Wheeljack.

On the battle field…

“We need reinforcements!”--Breakdown

“We are the reinforcements!”--Wheeljack

“But we won’t last long with all this heavy fire—”--Bulkhead

The group sees a bunch of Con’s dropping at a fast rate.

The shots seemed to be coming from the bot’s side.

Wheeljack takes out some scanner and looks around.

“Did we have a sniper on the team? I don’t remember that…”--Breakdown

“Me neither.”--Bulkhead

Wheeljack’s optics widen with a smirk on his face.

“The kids really got some skills she needs to tell us.”--Wheeljack

Bulkhead turns around.

“You don’t mean—”--Bulkhead

“Look for yourselves.”--Wheeljack

Bulkhead and Breakdown take out their scanners and look where Wheeljack was looking at.

Sure enough, in a small nook, high above the ground was Buddy firing a rifle, taking out more Cons in the process.

“I don’t know how to feel about this right now…”--Bulkhead

“I do. Way to go kiddo!”—Breakdown

When Breakdown had defected, it was the same day Buddy heard that she would be moving to another department.

She didn’t want to leave everyone.

Especially Bulkhead, who had become her second father.

Bulkhead still remembered the night before she had to leave filled with tears finally getting out after a long façade of everything being okay.

Bulkhead made sure that he and Wheeljack were there to wave Buddy off.

Buddy giving her final good-bye.

“I’ll contact you guys as soon as I reach the other base.”--Buddy

“You better.”--Bulkhead

“Take care kiddo.”--Wheeljack

Wheeljack pats Buddy’s helm affectionately.

Buddy squeezes Bulkhead’s servo one more time before letting go and walking to the shuttle.

She turns around and gives one last wave.

The two Wrecker’s wave back sadly as the door shut.

The ship was off.

Wheeljack pats Bulkhead on the back.

“She’ll be fine Bulk. Buddy’s a smart one.”--Wheeljack

“Yeah… I’m gonna miss her though.”--Bulkhead

“Same Bulk, same…”--Wheeljack

A couple days later Bulkhead got a message saying that Buddy’s ship had been in the crossfires of enemy fire.

No survivors.

It tore the two Wrecker’s sparks hearing the news.

Bulkhead smashed so many things that afternoon…

Wheeljack couldn’t bear to look at Buddy’s spot in the workshop for the longest time.

Breakdown heard about the news the last time he was in combat with Bulkhead.

He had never seen the bot with so much hatred in his optics.

He yelled at him about what happened to Buddy, as if it was his fault.

Knockout remembers the somber face Breakdown had when he came back.

Meanwhile…

Buddy is not dead.

She managed to get into an escape pod before everything went Boom!

The pod landed on Earth.

There she was found by a small family.

The Fowlers.

The family decided to hide the poor scared bot and welcomed her into their family.

It was a rough adjustment, but they made it work.

Buddy in her alt mode in the garage.

The door opens.

“Mrs. Fowler? Mr. Fowler? William? What seems to be the trouble?”--Buddy

Mrs. Fowler has a bunch of blankets in her arms, Mr. Fowler has some small white machine in one arm and a sheet in the other, little William has a bowl full of popcorn and candy.

“Buddy, please, it’s Ma and Pa.”--Ma

“Okay, Ma? Pa? William? What is all this? Do you need a ride somewhere? Is there a playdate I wasn’t aware of?”--Buddy

Pa motions Buddy to move a bit.

She does move a bit to the side of the garage.

“William told us you’ve been a bit homesick lately. Missing your friends and family.”--Pa

“…Yes, just a bit…”--Buddy

“So, we decided to help that a bit.”--Ma

“How?”--Buddy

“Movie night!”--William

“Movie night? Here?”--Buddy

“You’re family to us Buddy, I think it’s about high time you join in on some of our human traditions, as a family.”--Ma

Silence…

“Buddy?”--William

“Sorry… If I was not in my alt mode right now, you’d see me crying and hugging you all.”--Buddy

William sets his popcorn and rushes to hug Buddy’s hood.

It feels warm.

The parents walk over and gently pat the alt mode.

Ma drapes a spare blanket on Buddy while the others grab their own blankets and wait for the projector to start.

Buddy made sure to protect the family with her spark.

She grew especially fond of the little boy, William.

William steps out of the house and into the garage where Buddy was in.

“William?”--Buddy

He just sits on the ground next to Buddy’s alt mode with his legs pulled close to his chest.

“…Do you want to talk about it?”--Buddy

William shakes his head.

“…You want to go out?”--Buddy

“But Ma said—”--William

“I’ll deal with Ma when she comes home with Pa. Right now, its you who I’m worried about.”--Buddy

Buddy pops the door open.

“What do you say, ‘special agent Fowler’?”--Buddy

The boy smiles a bit, wiping his tears and crawling into the back seat.

“Have I mentioned you’re the best sis ever?”--William

Buddy chuckles a bit getting ready to head out.

“Haven’t heard that too often, though I wouldn’t mind hearing it more.”--Buddy

Both laugh as they head outside the garage.

Years later…

“I guess I was right about that ‘Special Agent’ thing, huh? How are we going to celebrate today? Ice cream? Donuts? What about that Apple Pie you said you were craving earlier?”--Buddy

Fowler smiles a bit inside Buddy’s alt mode.

Buddy ended up becoming his vehicle throughout the years until eventually joining him in his workplace.

It was quite the story to tell.

Buddy was the one to suggest the silo as her new permeant place instead of the garage.

She started immediately making the place feel less hollow.

Working on devices that would help her try and contact her team as well as traps for any Decepticon dumb enough to land on Earth.

She had been at the ends of finishing a prototype for a groundbrigde when one of her receptors went off.

She quickly answered it hoping for someone she knew.

It was Optimus Prime himself.

She nearly leaped for joy hearing her leader on the other end.

When the team arrived, she nearly passed out seeing that Bulkhead was amongst them.

She held her composure welcoming them to Earth.

“Welcome everyone to—OOF!”--Buddy

Bulkhead had raced past everyone to hug Buddy nearly weeping in the process.

Buddy hugged back.

“Are we missing something?”--Ratchet

“That’s something I’d like to know too.”--Fowler

“What’s that?”--Ratchet

Much explaining to do.

Buddy was pretty much the human to bot relation expert having more years on the planet under her belt than they did.

The team is surprised at how a cold and calculated bot was someone Bulkhead considered a daughter.

But after a bit of time, they did see the dynamic and in a way it was nice to see.

[soaphawk]

bright blue, honey brown

w/c: 5.5k warnings: canon-typical violence, blood and injuries, hospitals written for ghoap soulmay 2024 <3 | posted to ao3

It’d been said that when you and your soulmate first touch, the colour of their eyes will bloom across your skin. Simon had seen it before, he knew it was real, but that didn’t change the fact that experiencing it for himself was infinitely more terrifying than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Soap, keep up!” Ghost barked, long legs propelling him forward. Occasional grunts would meet their stumbling footfalls as they fled through the treeline, relying on compasses to find their way back to relative safety. Thankfully, the sounds of barking and machine gun fire behind them had ceased, leaving the woods silent save for their laboured breaths and the whispers of the windy evening air. 

”Right behind ye, Lt,” Soap wheezed, his stride unsteady and slowing behind him.

“Y’allright?” Quickly surveying the area for hidden threats, Ghost slowed his sprint, giving his sergeant a moment to catch up. 

“Solid,” Soap replied, voice still strained in a way that had Ghost narrowing his eyes as he limped closer. One hand clutched his side, chest heaving with shaky breaths. Breaths that rattled in his chest, that set the hairs on the back of Ghost’s neck on edge with how… exhausted Soap sounded. “How much… further?”

”Half a klick. Come on, we’re both proper rank.” Ghost frowned under his mask as he watched Soap stumble forward for a few steps before tripping. He reached out, grabbing at his sergeant’s arm to steady him before he could fall. “Almost ‘ere, Johnny. Come on, put your arm around me.”

”Didnae take ye fer th’ touchy-feely type, sir.” Soap offered a cheeky smile as Ghost pulled his uninjured arm over his broad shoulders. 

Ghost suppressed an eye-roll while he slid an arm around the other man’s waist. “Yeah, well, you’re not gonna quit your wingin’ unless I fuckin’ carry you, MacTavish.” Not that I’d mind it one bit, holding you close like that. I’d make sure nothing else could ever hurt you. 

Together—with Ghost supporting most of Soap’s weight—they trudged onwards. No words passed between them, save for his sergeant’s pained grunts every so often. Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost watched him grit his teeth, face unusually pale. Soap’s silence worried him; the man barely stopped talking, even in the middle of an op. Nope, don’t like this, he thought, clenching his jaw. Usually can’t get him to shut the fuck up. Both lost in their own thoughts, Ghost’s kept tearing back and forth between the mission at hand and wanting those distressed noises to stop, because something hurt his Johnny.

”Almost there,” Ghost murmured, as much for his benefit as for Soap’s. The rattling breaths had weakened slightly, only reminding Ghost that he couldn’t slow, couldn’t falter, Johnny needed him. Thankfully, the safe house drew closer, hurrying their steps towards it as much as either man dared. Ghost left Soap stationed just outside of the front door, gun in hand while he worked to crack it open before sweeping the rooms one by one. 

Once he felt satisfied that the area was safe, Ghost finally helped Soap inside, settling him on a rarely used, dusty sofa, wishing for something more comfortable as Soap winced. He himself stayed standing a few paces away as a gloved hand reached for his comms.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7, how copy?” 

“Good to hear your voice, Ghost.” Laswell’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “What’s your status?”

”Made it to the safe house. Just need an ETA on extraction. Soap’s hurt, gonna get him patched up in the meantime.”

”Roger that. Stand by for ETA. I’ll get a bird out to you ASAP.”

”Gh’st…?” 

His heart fell as he turned, seeing Soap—no, Johnny—even more inexplicably pale. Slowly, too slowly, he followed the line of Soap’s newly exposed chest, all the way down to the red blossoming beneath his shirt. Forcing his eyes back up, Ghost’s gaze locked on his sergeant, noting with almost clinical detachment how fearful his bright blue orbs looked in this moment. No, Johnny… you’re not supposed to be afraid. You’re not supposed to be hurt! 

Ghost wracked his brain, every detail of the mission flashing through in overdrive until—

“Think ‘m bleedin’…”

That snapped Ghost back into action. Panic flooded his veins as the stain grew larger, crashing to his knees in front of Johnny in an instant. No longer feeling like everything existed in slow-motion, his entire thought process honed in on his friend, his teammate, his…

No, no. Focus on the task at hand. 

“No fuckin’ shit,” Ghost heard himself say before he fumbled single handedly with his comms. ”Watcher, we’re gonna need that evac sooner rather than later,” he rasped into his mic, pulling Johnny’s shirt up and exposing the bloody hole torn in his side.

The man in question went quiet, save for a pained whimper. “Soap, I need you to keep talking!”

Soap grunted softly as Ghost’s fingers probed the wound, already reaching for his emergency kit as crimson blood flowed like an angry tide across his fingers. Frustrated, he tore his skeleton gloves off, exposing his pale digits to the thick, warm fluid. 

“‘S nothin, sir. Dinnae need t’ fuss…” Soap groaned, eyes focusing and unfocusing. 

A low, pained whine fell from his lips as Ghost pressed hard against the gunshot wound, using his free hand to pack as much gauze as he could into the mess—anything to stop the bleeding—terror thrumming through his mind at the fact that, with the amount of blood pooling under his fingers, he may very well lose the man he’d inexplicably fallen in lov—

”Bloody hell, Soap!” 

Even with the wound plugged, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Everywhere he looked, Ghost saw red—blood red—and watched as discoloured marks bloomed over where their bare skin touched. Fear truly gripped him as Johnny gasped again, a pained noise but also—

—shocked as he grabbed onto Ghost’s bare wrist, holding on so hard he nearly crushed the bones. 

“Huh, that’s never… happen’d b’fore…” Ghost refocused his gaze, blinking down at where they linked in shock. Down to where the Scot’s hand gripped, as blue—bright blue, the exact colour of Soap’s eyes—spread across Ghost’s skin like ink. A shaky breath in and Ghost pressed his fingers against one of the few unmarred spots on Soap’s chest, watching with horrified fascination as honey brown bloomed across the pallor. 

The exact same way that, as a kid, as a teenager, as an adult, Ghost had been told people found their soulmates. The exact colour of their eyes blooming across the skin wherever they happen to meet.

My soulmate…?

Johnny… Johnny’s my… my soulmate?

But… this can’t be the first time we’ve ever touched, right? It can’t be, this has gotta be a dream, there’s no way Johnny’s bleeding out in my arms and I’m just now realizing he’s my bloody fucking soulmate—!

“Looks like yer eyes, Si…” Soap slurred out, lidded gaze trained on where Ghost still pressed against his ravaged skin. “S’nice. Like it… on…”

”Johnny—“ Whatever Ghost wanted to say next died in his throat as Johnny’s eyes rolled back, his body sagging against the cushions. “Soap? Johnny! Shit!” Scrambling for his comms once again, his hands shook as they depressed the button. “Watcher, we need medevac now! Soap’s down!”

— — — — — — —

While he swirled patterns over Johnny’s arm with his bare fingers, Simon did his best to not think about the marks left behind on his mother’s face.

Every time honey brown followed his carreses, images of father’s handprints leaving green splotches in their wake flashed through his mind. An almost perfect contrast to his mother’s stark white skin, covered in a collage of purple and yellow bruises. 

It had always been a distinct fascination. Something that most people craved—some even going their entire lives searching for it—yet one of the most terrifying things Simon could imagine. 

Riley’s didn’t do love, they didn’t deserve soulmates. Loving another in that way only brought pain and heartache. Especially in this line of work, especially because his bloody fucking soulmate just so happened to be Johnny Fucking MacTavish, the biggest and most wonderful pain in his arse he’d ever had.

Simon Riley-MacTavish. Nice ring to it.

Fuck, Johnny deserved better than him. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny wouldn’t be lying broken in this bed, relying on a machine to breathe for him. If he had just been faster, kept his finger on the trigger and kept firing even as they ran for their fucking lives—

Simon’s parents had been soulmates. Their relationship ended in tears and bloodshed, bruises in the shape of hands that were supposed to love and nurture and not break and destroy. In blood on the floor and broken bones, shattered as easily as glass. As easily as a heart.

A lone tear beaded in the corners of Simon’s eyes. He had those same hands.

How many things—beautiful things—had he destroyed with these hands?

He couldn’t stand to look at them, knowing how much pain and fear and hurt and anguish they caused. Slowly, carefully, he pulled the gloves back on, waiting for his body to stop shaking. He didn’t want to look at the bare skin anymore, the scars and the bruises and the crooked finger that broke and never healed correctly under his father’s boot.

Tommy and Beth were soulmates, too. And while Tommy never laid a hand against her or their son in anger, he knew those demons haunted his brother like they stalked Simon himself. One of the few things they could bond over as adults, something they maybe could have recovered from together until…

Every good thing in Simon’s life disappeared. How many more things could he lose before he lost the rest of himself? Before Simon Riley finally gave himself over for the Earth to swallow whole, until there was no point where Ghost ended and Simon began anew?

Simon rested his head on Johnny’s chest with a soft sigh. Soulmates were for good people, like the man laying stone still in this bed. Not for people who destroyed every good thing in their lives.

It wouldn’t stop him from loving the man before him, though. It hadn’t, in any case. Simon had loved Johnny from the moment the annoying, pain-in-the-arse Scot managed to worm his way into Simon’s life. 

Fucking hell.

Simon watched the slow rise and fall of Johnny’s breathing for a few long minutes. This would be as close as he ever got to the man he’d inexplicably fallen for ever again. He’d already failed to keep Johnny at arm’s length, instead working to pull the man closer, to protect him under his mask. A silent shadow, daring anyone to come close to the man he so desperately wanted to be his. The man he loved more than anything he’d ever loved before.

Simon had promised himself he’d just… love from afar, that’s all. It’d be enough.

He could stay out of Johnny’s life, but still keep him safe.

And yet here Johnny lay, straddling the barrier between life and death, all because of him. Simon had been foolish to believe he could be the knight in shining armor, whether as Ghost or not. But he couldn’t deny being helplessly caught in Johnny’s orbit, like a moth to a flame every damn time.

He hadn’t been fast enough. Maybe if he could have stopped the bleeding earlier or at least realized something was wrong—

“I’m so sorry, Johnny.” Simon whispered.

The silence didn’t respond.

Simon didn’t deserve a response, anyway.

I love you, he longed to say.

He couldn’t.

It wasn’t safe to be loved by a man like Ghost.

— — — — — — —

Honey brown flashed across Soap’s mind and his skin in his dreams. Every time he felt like he tumbled further into the abyss, warm eyes and a gentle touch pulled him back. A deep, rough voice with words he couldn’t make out played over and over, but the emotions were clear: fear, urgency, care, love…

“…hear me? Soap?”

Head swimming, Soap only groaned and tried to bat the presence away. His hand seared when he lifted it, eyes blinded by the bright white light as he hissed in pain and screwed them shut tight.

”Sorry, son,” the voice gained some clarity at the same time the light shining through his eyelids dimmed, making way for a familiar beard and kind blue eyes when he dared crack his open again. Disappointment speared his gut for a second. For a moment, he had been convinced that Simon was sitting silent vigil beside him. ”Still with me, lad?”

”Yessir,” Soap slurred, tongue heavy and dry in his mouth. Without needing to ask, Price tipped a straw in his direction, allowing him to take long, greedy sips of ice cold water. He gasped as soon as it pulled away. “Thanks.”

”Gave us quite a scare,” Price fake-scolded, voice and expression betraying the fear he clearly tried to push away with a joke. “I told you boys to not break yourselves.”

”Aww, wasnae intentional!” Soap pouted at his captain, pulling a quokka-like smile from the older man. 

“Sure it wasn’t. Danger magnet,” an affectionate hair ruffle followed the captain’s words before his voice dropped to a more serious tone. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I…” Soap trailed off, scouring his thoughts. All he could find were disjointed memories and fragments of the op after everything had gone to shit… “Not much. I—fuck, where’s Si? Is he okay?!”

The heart monitor next to the men beeped louder as Soap fought to sit upright, only stilling when Price physically held him down, pushing his shoulders as deep into the bed as he dared. “He’s fine! He’s fine, John. Battered, but he’s fine. I promise.”

Soap breathed a sigh of relief at that. Price wouldn’t lie to him, not at the same time he called him by his actual name. Ghost’s—no, Simon’s?—face flashed through his mind, so ridiculously expressive even behind the mask, but only to those who really took the time to understand.

And Soap did, because he loved the daft bastard. Simon, without a second thought, saved his life yet again… someday maybe he’d get to repay the favour. At the very least, though, he could tell his lieutenant—the man he loved more than anything—thank you with a round of drinks once he was free. “Where’s he at?”

“Sent him to his room to rest. Same thing you need to be doing, ay?” Price replied gruffly. Soap laughed as he leaned over to ruffle his hair again, leaning into the contact with a barely restrained sigh of pleasure. As much as he wanted to see Simon, to beg Price to drag the man to the medical wing… Soap couldn’t deny how tired he felt, eyelids drooping steadily as his captain’s hand radiated warmth into his skin. 

“Just sleep, son. I’ll tell Simon you’re up. Kyle, too. We’ll be back soon enough.”

Soap nodded, mumbling something soft and unintelligible under his breath. He drifted to sleep with a smile, the memory of his lieutenant’s beautiful brown eyes front and centre in his dreams. Simon would be here when he woke up, and he’d reach out and hug the big bastard and pull him close, finally brush their lips against one anothers…

— — — — — — —

Soap—once he finally escaped the clutches of the medical wing—seethed his entire way back to the 141’s barracks. 

Soldiers all but leapt out of the way as he barrelled down the hallways, flinging the doors open and stalking outside. Sunlight kissed his skin, rare warmth radiating across his body after weeks of sterile white lights, but he couldn’t give a single shit. 

After weeks of seeing nothing but scrubs, blue masks, physical therapy… his best friend, his lieutenant, the man he bloody fucking loved, hadn’t come to see him once. 

More than just angry, Soap’s heart ached like someone had taken a vise to it and squeezed. Price and Gaz had stopped by more times than he could count, preventing him from going entirely insane in his room, but never once did he see the man in the mask. 

Every time he asked after Simon, their smiles faded, heads shook as they told him we tried and he’s not talking to anyone and he hasn’t been back to his room in days. 

Furious, Soap’s feet brought him all the way to the lieutenant’s office… but he couldn’t bring himself to knock, to shoulder his way in, to demand the man’s time. His radio silence made it obvious; Ghost didn’t want to see Soap.

Except… Soap saw Ghost. Saw flashes of Simon on base every single day. In the mess, in the showers, training recruits, sparring… 

And every day that passed had the pain in his chest taking root, expanding through his veins, twisting his smile into something ugly. Something venomous to hide the hurt festering in his heart. Something far, far from the roses he’d assumed would bloom once he finally got off his dumb arse, stopped waiting around for Simon to be less oblivious, and told the man he loved him. 

Oh, the roses grew all right. Except no flowers could be seen, instead the thorns grew bigger and bigger until they choked his life from the inside out.

Johnny missed Simon. 

He wanted Simon.

Needed him, really. Just needed to know it was all okay.

Except Soap also wanted to clock the man. 

Seriously, not a single visit? Not a single word from the man every time Soap begged Price and Gaz for information? What, did Ghost think him weak and pathetic, was that it? Had Soap done something wrong, something so heinous that ‘the Ghost’ couldn’t stand to be seen with him?

Those thoughts plagued Soap’s restless nights. He already struggled with turning his brain off enough to sleep, especially without the exhaustion of running ops and coming back bone tired. Instead, he tossed and turned, ruminating after the sting of his nightmares faded enough that he could focus on anything aside from the sting of rejection. 

Why didn’t Simon want him anymore? Was he that angry about the op? Disappointed in Soap for fucking it up? Did he discover how Soap truly felt about him and became too disgusted to even be seen near the other man? 

At first, Soap thought he’d just imagined the whole thing. That the bright blue across Simon’s wrist had just been a trick of a dying man’s thoughts. Some fucked up mainfestation of his dreams and fantasies to soothe him to the other side. Or maybe that the honey brown across Soap’s belly had just been dried blood captured at a different angle. 

The thought plagued him, so much so that sleep became nothing more than a fleeting thought, a passing entity in the night just out of reach. Just like Simon.

After Soap’s fourth night in a row storming through the 141 barracks towards their small gym, bloodying his barely healed knuckles over and over on the punching bag, Price caught up to him. He didn’t resist as the captain peeled him off the floor, leading him back to the office with the promise of some (decaf) coffee and conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Price finally asked, voice thick with sleep.

“I…” Soap audibly gulped. How could he even say what he needed to? That he was a lovesick puppy whose owner kicked him to the curb? “Ma heid’s mince. Did I do summat wrong? ‘S that why Si won’t look at me?”

Price sighed softly, offering a kind smile. “You did nothing wrong. Simon’s… struggling.” Soap rolled his eyes hard in response.

“Am too! Fuck, am the one who’s bin in t’ hospital!” He managed to grind out. “I dinnae understand… jus’ wanna know how I can fix… whatever ah did. Wanna ken why he… won’t talk t’ me anymore. Hurts.”

“I know. But beating yourself bloody isn’t going to fix it,” Price replied, taking a drag from his cigar. “I’ll talk to him when I see him again, ay? See if I can figure it out?”

“Sir…”

“Let me do this for you, son.”

“I… I think he might be my… my soulmate, sir.”

Price didn’t seem surprised, only humming softly in response. “What makes you say that?”

“I cannae remember much, but in t’ safe house… he was jus’ patchin’ me up. Coulda sworn I saw blue on ‘is hands. Like mah eyes. More ah think on it, though… Dunno. Maybe it was jus’ a dream. A hope.”

Silence spanned the room for a few minutes. “Get some rest, Johnny,” was all Price replied, though the knowing look in his eye reassured Soap slightly. “We’ll sort this out.”

With nothing to do the next day, Soap sat in his room. At first, he’d tried sketching, but photos of Simon’s handsome face stared back up at him. He slammed the book closed in disgust.

Movies were out, no way he’d be sitting still long enough to focus.

Training was still off the schedule for the most part, Price adamant that he rest and not strain himself any further, lest the stitches holding his guts together popped.

Soap glared at the wall as the same anger from the past weeks welled inside of him, fidgeting enough that it didn’t matter what he did, he just needed out. 

At first, he walked aimlessly, picking a direction and letting the cool air soothe his mind. It didn’t matter where he ended up, so long as he found a spot where he could sit and scream and fall apart with no one there to witness it. That way, when he went back, he could smile again and pretend like everything was fine.

That’s how Soap found himself on a scarce path leading towards the edge of the forest. A spot Simon himself had taken him to, the same place where he knew the man would sit to have some quiet. And seeing the lone figure on the ridge, clad in all black with his blonde hair exposed—

—Soap saw red.

”Oi, ye bloody bawbag!” Soap screamed, watching the figure jump with a sadistic kind of glee. He already had the upper hand if he’d startled the man. 

“What, ye think ye’re so bloody fuckin’ special, ‘s that it? Made it oot in one piece, no thanks to yer eejit of a sergeant?! Are ye so bloody ashamed of me that ye couldnae once come t’ visit? Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell, sir, am I that much of a burden to ye?!”

Drawing closer and closer, Soap kept hurling his anger and hurt at the man, reaching out to grab at the lieutenant as soon as he could, intent on bowling the man over and over into the dirt until the aggression worked its way out of his system. He ground his teeth as he watched Ghost’s shoulders shake, the sound coming from the bastard almost like a laugh.

“What, not gonnae turn an’ face me? ‘S that it? ‘S this fuckin’ funny t’ ye?! Seein’ me loose my bloody fuckin’ mind?!”

Close enough to the man, Soap all but slapped down onto Ghost’s shoulder, the feeling of skin on skin reverberating up his arm as he gripped as tight as he could, trying to force the larger man to turn and meet his gaze. 

Ghost—no, Simon?—curled in on himself, flinching away with a harder shudder.

He wasn’t laughing at Soap. He was sobbing.

Simon was… crying? Startled, Soap dropped his grip in an instant, reeling back. 

”Si?” Soap voiced hesitantly. “I—“

”Johnny…” 

All of his anger melted away at the fear and despair in the man’s voice. Days, no weeks, of built-up frustration drained from his bones, leaving weary exhaustion in its wake. Johnny crossed to crouch in front of Simon, angling so he could see his face. “Simon, what—can ah hug ye?”

Simon pulled away the moment Johnny reached forward, as soon as his fingers brushed the man’s chest. “You’re still healing, I don’t—“

“No, ye don’t get t’ do that!” Johnny barked, momentary softness forgotten as he grabbed for the taller man, ignoring his shaky, fearful breaths. “Why’d ye fuckin’ leave me?!”

God, how he hated that his voice broke on the last word.

Finally, Johnny grabbed Simon’s hand, his pale skin nearly glowing in the waning light without his usual skeleton gloves on. Part of him wanted to marvel at how rough Simon’s fingers were, but didn’t get the chance as time slowed, a belated gasp falling from his mouth as the skin beneath his turned bright blue—

—and where they touched, Johnny’s own turned honey brown.

The world went silent and still. Both men locked eyes, staring at each other, souls laid bare. So much swirled through Simon’s expression: fear, desperation, hope, terror, love…

”Si?” Johnny breathed. “It… it wasnae a dream… ye’re… ye’re my—“

”I’m sorry…” Simon whimpered out, cutting Johnny off with a voice so small and scared it cracked his heart. “I… you don’t… I’m so sorry!” 

Johnny didn’t move, didn’t react as Simon curled in on himself, pulling his limbs away to tuck them into safety. He sounded so scared, breaking Johnny’s heart. His soulmate… scared of him?

Had… had he actually done something wrong? Why was Simon afraid of him?

Shit, shit, shit shit shit—

”What are ye on about, love?” Johnny asked, wanting to reach his free hand across and gently grasp his soulmate’s chin. He couldn’t, though, not when tears cascaded down Simon’s cheeks, weak gasps punching from his chest as he screwed his eyes shut. Not when the taller man shuddered and shook and made such unhappy noises, like the thought of being touched was more harrowing than torture.

“You don’t… want me…” Simon managed to sob out, crying openly now. “I… you deserve… more…!”

”Oh, Si…” Johnny sighed. He teared up too, reaching out to rest a hand on his soulmate’s knee. He frowned as Simon flinched again. Definitely fear. My poor bonnie lad… I knew he’d had a tough go of it, but this… my poor bonnie lad. “Can I hug ye, please? Promise, jus’ wanna hug. Not gunna yell, am so sorry, Si…”

Simon didn’t respond for several moments, long enough that Johnny nearly asked again until he found himself with a lapful of anxious, upset, bloody fucking brilliant bonnie Manc. Didn’t matter that it hurt, that the strain on his body definitely popped a few stitches, Johnny took it in stride. 

He wrapped his arms around Simon’s body, pulling the man as close as he could. Wishing he could draw his soulmate into his body, to settle him within his ribcage right next to his heart where Simon belonged, protected and loved and wanted forever. One hand drifted up, carding through the short blonde hair as Johnny guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” Simon sniffled, trembling in Johnny’s arms. 

“Simon Riley, I’ve spent my entire life searching for ye, an’ ye were here all along? Beautiful bastard,” Johnny breathed out in awe. “Why are ye sorry? Ye’re so bloody perfect for me already. My bonnie lad—”

“No…” Simon sobbed, “No, you… you deserve… better…! Not… broken… worthless…”

“Shh, love. None of tha’, now.” Johnny stroked his hair again, relishing in the feeling of Simon slowly relaxing against his chest. Cradling the man close, brushing his nose across the ridge of his hairline. “Ye’re bloody perfect, baby. How could I want anyone else, knowing I got lucky ‘nough fer someone as bonnie as ye?”

Simon’s struggles faded and fell away under Johnny’s soft words, now clutching him so tight he knew for sure both would be sporting bruises. It didn’t matter, though. He had his soulmate in his arms, the man he’d pined after for so long now… chest swelling with love and care as Simon fell apart.

Despite it all, Simon trusted him enough to fall apart like this.

Johnny wasn’t sure how long they spent there, Simon crying until no more tears came out. His sharp, shuddering breaths eased off, and he didn’t pull away or flinch as Johnny cupped his face, wiped his bright red cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, that same fear and guarded hope simmering in Simon’s eyes. “There ye go… such a bonnie lad. Please… Simon… please tell me ye want this too…”

”Yes,” Simon whimpered, squeezing tighter as if Johnny would disappear into thin air should he let go. “I’m so scared…” He didn’t need to say anything else for Johnny to understand. He’d known the man long enough to know some of his dour history, able to fill in the blanks even without the added context. 

In that moment, Johnny silently vowed to never, ever become another facet of Simon’s nightmares. He breathed that promise into the air, holding the man just a little bit tighter.

”I know, m’eudail. Ye dinnae need t’ tell me anythin’ noe, just… lemme hold ye? Waited so long for ye… hoped ye’d look in mah direction someday…”

”Don’t let go…” More tears brimmed in Simon’s vulnerable, bonnie eyes, threatening to fall until Johnny leaned in to press a soft kiss to his soulmate’s forehead. “Always wanted to… hold you like this. Couldn’t… didn’t deserve it. Don’t… don’t let go please Johnny, I can’t—”

”Never. We’ll figure it out together, aye?” 

Simon nodded at Johnny’s words, pulling away slightly to look at him again with barely disguised wonder. 

Johnny smiled in response, the edges of his lips tugging up into the most genuine, loving smile he’d ever worn. ”I’ve got ye. Not gunna let go, not noe tha’ I finally get t’ have ye.”

“Don’t… don’t wanna hurt you…” Simon rasped pitifully, glaring down at his hands when he pulled away to settle back on the ground. He remembered, back when they’d first become close, how Simon told him about his ‘father’s’ hands. Johnny had only been teasing when he said something along the lines of Ghost having talons instead of fingers to explain why he always wore the gloves… An idea sparked in Johnny’s head at that, making a soft noise to get the blonde’s attention.

“Can I see yer hands, Si?”

Simon cautiously extended them out, frowning as Johnny took them in his. “Ye always cover them, no matter what.” Turning them over, brushing the pads of their fingers together, tracing the veins and tendons and muscles… he pressed a soft kiss to every spot he could before holding them tight to his chest. 

And how bloody fucking beautiful the colours blooming across their bodies were as Johnny laced their fingers together, gripping tight. “Bonnie hands, attached to mah bonnie lad. Ye’re a gowk if ye think am not gunna love these hands when ye’re always protectin’ me with ‘em. Strong an’ soft an’ so fuckin’ braw, mo ghraidh.”

Simon’s gaze shifted, softened. Slowly, he reached out, pulling Johnny close again and nuzzling against his head, still sniffling, but calmer. Johnny petted at the blonde locks once more, feeling Simon hum in appreciation against his skin. There’d be plenty more time later for discussion. For declarations of love, promises of support, lazy mornings spent in bed until they needed to face the world again. For now, he had Simon in his arms. Exactly what Johnny needed, and—by the feeling of the blonde sagging against him, nuzzling his shoulder now before shyly planting his own tender kiss to the skin to watch the colour blossom—exactly what Simon needed too.

“Come on, m’eudail. ‘S gettin’ cold oot, an am ready t’ coorie in a bigger bed.”

Simon chuckled softly, wiping away tears as they both stood. “It’s not that much bigger.”

“But ‘s gunna have ye in it.” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows, pulling a genuine laugh from Simon as they walked together, hand in hand. He took the lead in bringing them to the barracks, catching a quick glimpse of a smiling Price before the captain disappeared. Pushing Simon into his room, Johnny kicked the door shut and made sure it locked before crowding Simon against the bed, watching with wide eyes as the blonde melted under his hands.

After so long waiting, Johnny finally bridged the distance between his and Simon’s lips, brushing them tenderly at first before diving in for more. Intent on searing his name, his touch, his love into Simon’s skin one kiss at a time.

Their bodies melded together as they curled up, hands grasping everywhere they could reach. Tangled together, Johnny kissed away each and every one of Simon’s lingering tears, a smile on his lips as he whispered every single loving word he could think of to the man he loved beyond all reason.

Finally, when the night began to draw to a close, when they yawned more than spoke, they crowded together on a single pillow. Their twin breaths mixed in the space between them, eyes filled with wonder and joy. 

For once, even if just for a moment, the stars had aligned to make everything perfect. Even knowing they had jobs to do and a world to face when the sun rose again, an unspoken promise filled the air between the two soulmates. They had finally found each other, the rest could come later. 

Nothing mattered to Johnny in this moment except for the—no, his—Ghost. 

His bonnie, braw, pure dead fucking brilliant Ghost.

[jpitha]

You have to understand.

At least at first, I didn’t mean to do it. I had just gotten out of College, a kid with a degree in History and an eye watering amount of debt. I made the mistake of telling the professor I did early 21st century historical reenactments for my summer job and he let me take on a titanic amount of debt for historical realism. I’m not sure who I owe the money to, since we live in a post scarcity society, but I sure worry about repaying it, so I have that going for me. Extra points for realism.

After I graduated - with an ulcer from stress worrying about the debt, another point for realism! - I was bumming around the orbital looking for a way to earn some quick cash and I realized how I could put my degree to use. Everyone has everything provided for them by the government because - after the Unpleasantness - we figured out that was easier and cheaper than giving everyone on the planet a gun.

But that means that everyone has mostly forgotten how to keep an eye out for scams. Who is going to scam you anyway when you all have the same access to cheap and easy housing, food, and Space Cocaine?

People who have mountains of debt due to historical accuracy, that’s who.

I set up shop right outside the exit from Customs on the station. Rubes-er People from all over the Galaxy would come, hellbent on seeing the sights of my planet and before they could hit up the Cøffee Haüs they would find me.

I started small; ran a couple of three card monte tables, but without a partner, convincing people they could win without them actually winning was tough. I hacked a janitorbot into being my assistant and soon enough I would have a crowd watching.

This, while effective was incredibly boring, so I changed to my plan B and just started making fake supplements. For maximum compatibility across all of the galactic species, mine were pure carbon (to absorb toxins you see). This increased who I could sell too without worrying (too much) about inadvertently poisoning anyone.

A few people were sad I moved away from scamming people with cards, but they became my first ‘partners’ in selling my supplement. I had to actually explain how a Ponzi scheme worked though, nobody remembered. I told them about how so long as they found more suckers underneath them, they wouldn’t be left holding the bag and it took off like an oxygen accelerated fire.

There was also an oxygen accelerated fire, but that can’t be traced back to me.

Three weeks later, I was the richest human in the Galaxy. Honesty, I didn’t even know where everyone even got the money, I thought we had eliminated it, but here I am, rich as hell. I feel a little bad about it, but if I admit the whole thing was a ploy to pay off my student loans, I worry that they’ll turn on me.

I still haven’t paid off my loans either. I don’t think I can swing the payments and the payments on my Super Dreadnought. Did you know they’ll build anyone one so long as you put the deposit down?

Anyway, do you want to get in on an incredible deal on the low effort world of supplement sales?

[lex-hj0519]

My priority is to ensure your safety

I often see Sirius positioned as the irresponsible godfather who "constantly" encouraged Harry to break rules, be reckless, and get into trouble. But when you look at the bigger picture and look at all of his interactions with Harry, that's far from the real story.

The times Sirius told Harry to be careful, to not be reckless, and/or to keep his head down and stay out of trouble:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar.

Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual.

Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open — particularly when the person we discussed is around — and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

“Now listen . . .” He looked particularly hard at Harry. “I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.”

Harry — what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed. Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out-of-bounds again.

If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore’s protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.

Sirius, at least, seemed to understand how Harry was feeling; admittedly his letters were just as empty of proper news as Ron and Hermione’s, but at least they contained words of caution and consolation instead of tantalizing hints: “I know this must be frustrating for you…” “Keep your nose clean and everything will be okay…” “Be careful and don’t do anything rash…”

Arthur’s just told us what’s happened. Don’t leave the house again, whatever you do.

“Don’t lose your temper,” said Sirius abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts.”

versus

The times Sirius encouraged something that could be considered reckless (at least one of which was for justifiable reasons, in my opinion):

“When’s your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn’t we? I thought I could —”

[Re: the DA] “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!”

Sirius spent far, far more time encouraging Harry to be on the watch, stay out of trouble, and not be reckless than he spent time encouraging Harry to be reckless and break rules. Harry's safety was his priority, and it shows in all of his letters to Harry. I'm so tired of seeing him judged entirely on one interaction (when he wanted to visit Harry in Hogsmeade in OOTP) rather than on the full scope of all of his interactions with Harry.

[avocadoguru]

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 1 (word count: 4.1k) / alternatively, read on wattpad

“Ready to head out for patrol?”

Y/N looked up at her colleague before switching off her laptop for the day “Yeah, let’s go. Finished for the day, anyway.”

“Good. Eager to get home early, I never sleep well on a full moon, I’ll just toss and turn the whole night, least I can do is try and turn in early.”

“Really? Thought that was just a myth or something. Just close the curtains.”

Nick shrugged as he locked up the station behind them “It’s not that, it’s not even shining directly through my window. For the longest time, I didn’t even make the connection until an ex of mine figured out I could never sleep through full moons.”

“So then why aren’t you the one on watch duty tonight?”

He furrowed his brows at her as they started going down the trail they usually took when they started their nightly patrol “What, like you don’t sleep while you’re on watch duty?”

“I do, but the bed in there is awful. So it’s not a good sleep anyway. You could’ve taken one for the team.”

“I mean, I’ve been stationed here long before you came along, so I did actually spend quite a few full moons while on watch duty, thank you very much. It’s guaranteed no sleep. At least at home I maybe get 2-3 hours in.”

“Awh you poor man, you,” Y/N teased as they ascended an area of the trail where it became steep.

“Right? Speaking of. You’ve been here almost 2 months now. How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s… definitely not what I was expecting. But in a good way, I think. The only thing that I’m most phased by is how secluded this place seems most of the time when it’s not even that far outside town. I was expecting a bit more… action?”

Nick laughed lightly “Action? Like what?”

“I dunno. More wildlife interaction, for one.” 

“God, Y/N. You’re such a rookie” he snickered. “You’ll get your fair share of wildlife, don’t you worry.”

Y/N wouldn’t call herself a rookie in general. Maybe for this particular job, but she was confident in her skills. A trained survivalist and ranger. She could identify species of birds, reptiles, mammals, and plants from sight alone. She knew how to build a fire, climb a tree, make a shelter from only what the forest could provide, and forage for food. She could do it all, despite being a newbie to the team. She felt like she was probably even more skilled than Nick. But as much confidence as she had in herself, she knew the forest, mountains, and wildlife were due respect. Especially during the night.

“I mean, don’t you find it odd that the bears are so few around here? Like ok… boars and rabbits and what have you, but where are all the bears? I’m convinced they’re hidden somewhere in the deeper parts of the forest.” 

“Haven’t you patrolled deeper in? With Karl, maybe?” Nick asked with brows raised.

“No, I have, but we hardly saw anything exciting. You can’t really believe we only got the 3 bears we’ve spotted this year around here. I mean, the place is massive,” Y/N's breath was slightly labored as they continued along the steep path, "The highest points are so difficult to access, the few times we actually get up there can’t really give us that great of an insight.”

“Bears are nosey. They’d have come down to explore way more had they really been cooped up high up there. I know it’s odd, but there’s just not that many. I’m sure there’s more than the 3 we’ve inventoried, definitely. But I wouldn’t expect many more deeper in.”

“What does Karl think? He’s not much of a talker.”

In all honesty, Y/N preferred patrolling with any other of their colleagues. She wasn’t big on small talk, which Nick seemed to have a penchant for. She much rathered be vigilant and actually do her job whilst patrolling instead of listening to his mindless chit-chat. Or maybe it just irked her ‘cause she had a feeling he had a thing for her and was worried he’d try more one day.

“He’s on the same page. He’s been here the longest and has seen most of this forest, but it’s always been like this. I’d say we’re lucky not to be handling that many bears. Maybe look for excitement outside of work.”

Y/N let that comment at the end slide. She got the vibe that Nick might have been trying to flirt with her once or twice but she wasn’t about to entertain any workplace romance. Especially not with him, since that would definitely not amount to much excitement if she was being honest.

“Maybe if we were stationed at the highest point we’d have a better understanding of what really goes on in the deepest parts…”

“Yeah, no. You’ll see once we hit winter, there’s no way to make it to the top, no SUVs or ATVs are gonna get you there unless we hiked up there and stationed for longer periods of time. And that’s definitely not in the job description for me, I didn’t sign up for ranger life full time.”

“Suppose you’re right… It’s a difficult climb even when dry. I don’t think I could’ve driven the 4x4 on my own up there. Karl definitely knows the trail like the back of his hand and we got stuck a few times anyway – what was that?” 

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that?”

They both perked their ears up and listened intently but there was nothing to be heard except for the usual forest noises. “Sounded like a wounded pup.”

They kept on listening for a while and then slowly resumed their trek, “Well if it was a pup, you know what that means. Where there’s a pup, there’s a she-wolf guarding it with her life. Honestly, I’d have much rathered had more bears on our hands than all these wolves.”

“At least they keep their distance, not as nosey as bears are, as you put it.”

“Unless you get in their way,” Nick cautioned.

Y/N knew the story, knew who she'd replaced when she got this job, and what had happened to him. Safe to say, she didn’t want to stumble upon any wolves while patrolling on foot. Whenever they were inventorying fauna they would take their jeeps for a reason.

“But the pup sounded like it was hurting…”

“Virtually impossible. They’d never let a pup stray from the pack. You’re just not used to hearing them up close. It’s deceiving, even the young are quite feral. And never by themselves.”

Y/N was not convinced, she knew what she’d heard, but then why wasn’t the pup crying out again? Maybe she’d imagined things. And Nick was definitely right about not going near a wolf pup.

After finishing doing their nightly rounds, Nick got in his car and drove away, leaving Y/N to peace and quiet. 

She filled her water bottle and turned the radio on. The radio station Y/N usually listened to began crackling and the fuzzy noise was more annoying than silence, so she turned it off. She wondered if the moon was affecting the equipment at all. Normally she had no issues listening to the station. It was one of the few that typically came in crystal clear. She shrugged as she sipped her water.

The night shift wasn’t all that bad. It could be a little creepy. The dark, dark night, the noises coming from the forest, the chill in the air, the silence inside the station… She tried to ignore the strange feeling she had in her chest. Something felt off. Perhaps it was because it was her first night shift during a full moon. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was just that she couldn’t listen to a little bit of music while she did her paperwork. The music made things feel lighter.

The tiny station wasn’t anything special, but it did have some very high-tech equipment, medical-grade kits, room for a bed, a table, a bathroom, a desk, and an entry area for any wandering humans. The daytimes are for people. During the day shift, she was used to encountering a person here and there. People would occasionally come into the station with a question during daylight hours. But at night, it was animals. They’d usually run off before she could spot them. She’d hear them, she’d take notes and infrared pictures, and use the data to compile for inventorying and informational purposes.

Finishing half of her bottle of water, Y/N locked up the room with the computer and turned the sign on the window to the station so it read ring bell for help just in case anyone were to wander toward the station. After dark, the forest park was closed, except to registered campers, but that didn’t always stop people from finding their way inside anyway.

She was about to settle in with her book when she heard the same wail as before, much fainter this time due to how far away she now was from the place she’d heard it initially. And even then, she registered it would’ve been across a clearing that was most probably amplifying it and making it sound way closer than it actually was. 

Her keys in her hands, she debated what to do. What if it was hurt? It sounded like it was hurt. After all, part of her job as a ranger was to ensure the wildlife’s safety, and poachers were unfortunately hard to keep at bay. 

It didn’t necessarily have to be a wolf. There were all sorts of pups that sounded about the same at an early age. Could’ve very well been a stray dog even, not unheard of, and actually much more probable to roam on its own than a wolf. Maybe it was attacked by a wolf and left to suffer, maybe it wasn’t poachers at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The possibilities were endless.

She thought to call Nick back in, after all, how far could he have gone? But she felt a sense of urgency taking over her, well, if worse came to worst - she was armed and knew her way around the woods.

Wolves travel in packs. There’s no way there was just this one pup and maybe its mother - no, she’d have heard them from afar. And especially with the full moon, they were bound to be vocal. 

Just to be safe though, she took the Jeep. Making sure to keep a low profile - after all, the moon was up and was definitely aiding her way around the forest without having to turn on the headlights - she knew the general direction she was going in, but couldn’t help but wish the pup would make some noise so that she’d be able to locate it more easily. 

She kept her window down and her engine revving to a minimum as she made her way as close to the clearing as possible. She’d have to go on foot soon, but she would leave the car close enough to make a run for it if needed. 

The cracking of twigs underfoot and the bright moon rising above made her feel grounded. The moon gave her a sense of direction, while the dried twigs let her know she was stepping on solid ground. Though it was only visible when the curtain of leaves opened every ten feet or so, it was the moon that would help guide her back toward the path.

Y/N stopped and closed her eyes. She wanted to hear it again, the noise that she’d heard earlier. It could have been a wolf. It was very likely a wolf or stray dog. But she wanted to hear it once more and then she’d turn back, she promised herself. With her eyes closed and the sounds of the wind blowing through the brush and the tree limbs, the scent of pine and wood all around, she felt calm. These moments were the ones she considered a perk of the job. Being in nature, still, and quiet with a cry of an owl or a small peep of a fox.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Her heart rate had calmed considerably. The silence of the moment (though not without the noises of nature all around) had made her feel peaceful. Y/N shook her head and laughed at herself. She was silly to wander off the path in this off-limits zone. It was dangerous at night. It was time to head back to the trail.

And there it was again! The whimpering of the pup, but this time around, she could also hear muttering. Human muttering. Poachers, then. Just her luck. She knew she had no choice but to call in reinforcement in this case - there was no way she was gonna arrest people on her own, even if by some miracle there was only one person, which was never the case anyway. She went for her walkie-talkie and then fumbled for her phone instead, realizing yet again she was alone at the station for the night. Nick was gonna have to make that u-turn after all.

But just when she was about to make the phone call, she stumbled upon a very peculiar scene. 

There was just one man - oddly enough, probably an amateur since he didn’t know this was definitely not a one-man job, and he was holding the pup close to him, while he was kneeling on the ground in front of it. 

She couldn’t tell the exact breed of the pup. She was too far away and it was too young to tell, but the man was the one she was casting all her attention upon now. He seemed to be in some sort of physical pain, he was contorting and grunting, which was what was making the pup whimper. It didn’t seem to fear the man, but it was clearly compassionate to his suffering. 

Still - what the hell was this man doing? Had the pup been the one to cause him harm, he’d have hurt it by now, she’d seen her fair share of human cruelty. But the pup was not budging. Also, the man was speaking to it, whatever he was muttering was more than just grunts of pain - he was actually speaking to the animal.

She took in the appearance of the man, or at least as little as she could make out of him from a distance. He had long hair, he was definitely a tall person, even knelt on the ground, she could tell. His appearance was overall very… unique. Certainly not your average Joe the poacher. 

An idea came to her that made her grasp her rifle more tightly than before. What if he was some sort of hippie weirdo, some sort of witchcraft enthusiast that was looking to perform some sacrifice on the pup? With the way his body was contorting, and the chants he was seemingly performing, his overall appearance, the dark clothes, the long hair - it all added up. He was gonna sacrifice the pup for some pagan ritual and she wasn’t about to sit there and watch him take out a knife or something right before her eyes, hurting the pup before she could intervene!

“Stop right there!” 

The man’s eyes darted toward her immediately and she could’ve sworn they shined a bright yellow hue when they made eye contact. Clearly, her imagination was running wild with this whole pagan ritual scenario she’d been envisioning just earlier because the closer she got the more the man looked as normal as any.

Well. Maybe that wasn’t quite the right way to describe him. Aiming the rifle at him and advancing slowly, she couldn’t help but take in his appearance more closely. His eyes were in fact piercing, but they were a very light shade of bright green. His complexion seemed quite ghostly but that was surely due to the intensity of the moonlight that was shining brightly upon them in the clearing. His hair was unlike anything she’d ever seen on a man before. Long, silky curls, reaching slightly over his shoulders, it appeared to be wild and soft at the same time. She couldn’t make up her mind, because his mouth kept catching her eye the most, his large mouth with luscious, almost feminine lips that shone temptingly in the moonlight along with his irises. She had to stop inspecting his appearance as soon as her eyes landed on his cross pendant that hung low on his torso, his shirt open to his ribcage. She’d gotten close enough, and also, she was getting distracted.

Yes. He was unusual looking for sure. She was probably not far off in her assumptions since there was an eerie vibe to him, but what really confirmed it was the intensity of his stare.

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. But she felt incredibly vulnerable under his scrutiny. She barely had a chance to glance at the pup, which, at a closer inspection, she still couldn’t quite tell whether it was wolf or not. It was weird how it just stood there next to the man, though. Like it was his pet he’d trained for years and years, and the pup couldn’t have been more than 7 maybe 8 months old judging by its build. 

The man was still panting heavily, his jaw slightly set, but whatever was happening to him before - pain or him performing a chant or whatever it was - had seized. She made sure her demeanor and voice were unwavering “What are you doing with this animal here? Are you aware you are trespassing in a prohibited area?”

“Officer. I was not aware. I’ll be out of your hair, and back on the trail.”

“Stay put.” she gestured with her rifle, discouraging him to get up as he was about to. “Why didn’t you log into the station if you were going to camp overnight? You are violating a number of laws here, sir. Is this animal yours?”

She tried her level best to read him, but his eyes weren’t giving away anything. It was like looking at a psychopath, oddly enough, that was the only comparison that came to her mind. She’d never seen anything like it.

“I wasn’t planning on camping… the pup is my pet. He wandered off a while ago and I’d been looking for him ever since. Now that I’ve found him, we’ll be leaving.”

“Sir, I will not warn you again. You are to stay put until I give you clear instructions otherwise.” She looked at him some more, scanning him head to toe as best she could. He was wearing chelsea boots. Heeled chelsea boots. Velour, heeled chelsea boots… to go for a hike? “Did you drive here?”

“Yes, my vehicle is parked at the southeast entrance into the forest.”

“That’s the furthest exit. A long trek over here, at least a 9-hour walk. You’re telling me you made it all the way over here dressed in those?” she pointed her rifle to his boots and for the first time she saw a hint of a reaction on his face, if only for a split second.

A smirk.

The man had smirked. 

Was this entertaining to him? 

“I stopped for a quick walk, just to get some fresh air. I wasn’t planning on spending the whole day here. My pet wandering off left me no choice, I’m afraid.”

“What’s the dog’s name? Why isn’t it collared? What breed is it?”

The man looked over to the pup who was just standing there dumbly. This was the oddest dog she’d ever seen. If she didn’t know any better she could’ve sworn he’d placed some spell on it to stand so still - she’d never seen a dog behaving like this in her whole life.

“I don’t know. Haven’t had him long.”

“Sir, have you stolen this dog?”

There it was again, that smirk, only this time, it seemed like he was doing it with his eyes somehow. They sparkled with mischief. “No.”

“Do you have any means to prove this is, in fact, your pet?”

“He obeys me.”

Y/N whistled and tried to make the pup come to her, but it didn’t even budge. 

“I’m his owner.” the man reiterated.

“I’ll have to take it in until you can make proof of ownership, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Y/N scoffed “Sir, you are in no position of bargaining. Let me see some ID.”

“I don’t have any on me.”

Y/N pondered the situation. Did she really want to take him into the station? She wasn’t prepared for that, she didn’t call in for reinforcement as per protocol, and she would’ve just gotten herself into unnecessary trouble. She could easily just take the pup - the sweet little thing was obedient and well-behaved, check its chip to see if it was in fact stolen, and have the man bring in proof the next day. Yeah. That sounded a lot more reasonable.

“I’m taking the pup into the station until you make proof of ownership tomorrow. You’re lucky I’m not fining you for trespassing.” She unclasped a key from her keychain and threw it at him, he didn’t budge to catch it so it hit him square in the chest “That’s for the tourist cabin down west from here, it’s a 5-minute walk. You can’t miss it. Stay on the path, and don’t try and take any shortcuts. This area isn’t tourist friendly. This is why you should log in at the station when you plan on camping. Make sure to check for snakes, otherwise, it should make do to get you through the night,” she also threw a flashlight in his direction. “Use that.” She whistled again, trying to get the pup’s attention “Come here, boy, c’mon.”

The pup wasn’t budging, if anything it began whimpering. The man looked at it and without having to say a word, it unglued itself from him and made its way toward her reluctantly.

This man was definitely into some dark magic at the very least. The whole thing sent shivers down her spine. It was as though he had the dog hypnotized or something.

She tied a makeshift lead around the pup’s neck and secured it to her belt, as best she could while still aiming the rifle at the strange man. “You may get up now.”

He didn’t even bother picking up the keys and the flashlight in doing so. He stood at an impressive height, even taller than she’d originally assumed. He was clearly concealing his displeasure with the way he had to give up the dog, that perpetual scowl on his face was the only thing trading any kind of emotion, though she suspected that was his default expression.

“I expect you tomorrow at the station with proof of ownership. If you don’t show up it’s considered a federal offense. Am I understood?”

“Understood, officer.”

She nodded and lowered her rifle for the first time since coming upon him. “Be safe.” 

She waited for him to start towards the cabin, but he was just standing there, staring at her. “It’s that way,” she gestured the rifle in the direction she’d indicated earlier.

He reluctantly took a step back, and then another, and then turned and disappeared into the woods. It was as if he’d never been there.

She looked down at the puppy who was seemingly distressed, looking after its owner “It’s alright, boy. You’re safe,” she whispered at it and then tugged on the lead to make their way back towards the jeep. 

It wasn’t until she got inside and secured the pup in the crate she had in the back that she realized the man hadn’t picked up the key and the flashlight from the ground.

Oh well. His problem. She’d done her duty.

The drive back was much shorter now that she could use the headlights and not worry about being as silent as possible. Just as she was about to unlock the station though, she heard a wolf howling. She’d not heard one as close in the whole 2 months she’d been stationed there. It made all her hair stand up on her body.

The last thing she expected was for the sweet little pup by her side to start howling in return. 

“Guess you’re not exactly a dog, are you, boy?”

She knew it. That man was not its owner. And whatever hold he’d had on the pup was not exactly human either.

Chapter 2

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[rotworld]

21: Fellow Traveler

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

a visit to a remote haven for scoundrels on the fringes of the imperium leads to a fateful meeting with a kindred spirit.

->warhammer 40k. original aeldari outcast character/reader. contains graphic descriptions of violence, gun violence/combat situation, murder.

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The scrap metal sign hanging in the entrance corridor doesn’t say anything helpful like which way to the marketplace, nor does it even give a perfunctory greeting like “WELCOME TO SINISTRA STATION.” The collage of old pipes, ship wreckage and station detritus all stuck together shape the words “LOST AND FOUND” in Low Gothic. That’s how a lot of people come to know this place. Sinistra is a galactic dumping ground, the shore where vanished things wash up again. Deserter Capital of the Sector, some call it. If you can’t find it, it might be here. Some things came here by being stolen, traded, lost in a bet, sold to some unscrupulous sort. Some came because they had to.

If the bar has a name, only the locals know it. It’s an unmarked blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hole in the wall. There’s a fire hazard of a bootleg augmetics shop with more whirring, overheating machinery and sparking cables than a crashed voidship, and a self-service booth advertising forged ID chips, and a rickety flight of steps up to the next eye-burning level of humming neon and contraband. The bar is right there, tucked under the stairs. Awash in shadows and flickering light in burnt orange, it’s dimmer and moodier than what’s right outside. People come here for discretion. To find what they’re looking for and be left alone.

It’s a dangerous crowd tonight. You see a lot of weapons, holstered but clearly displayed in a wordless threat, a lot of tense shoulders and suspicious glances. You make guesses for every pinched, scowling face; a smuggler? An Inquisitor in disguise? Ex-Administratum with sunken, despairing eyes? Another deserter from another hopeless frontline meat grinder? You order something at the bar just to blend in. While you’re leaning against the counter watching cloudy swill pour into a glass, you see him.

There, standing in the shadows at the far end of the bar—someone different. Someone you can’t quite place. He’s wearing a long cloak with the hood up, like just about everyone else here, but he’s unusually, eye-catchingly tall. Positioned in the corner with his back to the wall, it’s clear he’s being cautious but he doesn’t look worried, either. Expecting trouble? About to start some? Both of his hands are concealed beneath his cloak. 

His head turns slightly and you feel like you’ve been spotted by some slinking, prowling thing in the underbrush of a forest, moments from feeling bestial fangs in your throat. Your breath hitches. You wait for something to happen, but it never does. His head lowers like he’s lost interest but you can still feel him watching. He turns again, feigning a glance to the side and a cough. His index finger lifts, making a subtle but pointed motion at you, and then at the seat closest to him at the bar. 

You’re not sure why you don’t leave. You don’t know him, but you feel like you could. Something about his self-imposed isolation, noticeably distrustful and distant in a room full of people feeling the same way, calm rather than bristling with fearful energy. Hiding in plain sight. Maybe you relate, or maybe you admire him.

You’ve barely sat down when he asks, “Where are you from?” 

“Ursalis-III,” you say. 

“No, you’re not.” 

You watch him come slightly closer, leaning against the bar and looming over you. You can just barely make out a few details beneath the shadow of his hood—smudges of black greasepaint around dark green eyes, the hard edges of a mask covering his mouth. “I’m not?” you echo. 

“Ursalis-III is gone. Consigned to oblivion for treachery most foul against the Emperor’s holy design—that is to say, centuries of skipped tithes culminating in an attempted uprising. The entire populace was conscripted or shipped off to labor camps. A fresh batch of loyal colonists was lost in transit.” He has an accent you can’t place, something subtle and only noticeable on a few words. 

“I’m well aware,” you say wryly, plucking a pair of jangling dog tags out of your shirt. 

“Those aren’t yours,” he says. “You traded for them when you got here. Some rations for an easy ID.” 

“Have you been following me? For how long?” 

“Off and on since you landed at the starport.” The admission comes easily and without shame. He doesn’t feel like a threat.

“And what did you think when you saw me?” 

“I was curious, mostly. Your ship is very distinctive. I’ve never seen one like it.” He studies your expression for a moment, head tilting in interest. “You look disappointed,” he notes. “Were those codewords? I’m sorry I’m not whoever you’re looking for.” 

“I’m not looking for anyone,” you say. You don’t like how intently he’s looking at you. If he can tell you’re lying again, he doesn’t mention it. “So where are you from?” 

“Nowhere you’ve heard of.”

The bar shakes slightly, a gentle quake rattling the bottles in the back and tipping some glasses over. There’s a moment of tense, breathless silence before the lights stabilize and everything settles back in place. The stranger is watching you when your gaze returns to his. “Frequent visitor?” he asks. “You don’t look alarmed.” Neither does he.

“I know about the star,” you say. Sinistra orbits dangerously close to an unusually active stellar body infamous for its frequent and violent stellar flares. Most of them fizzle out harmlessly against a state-of-the-art atmospheric shield, a precious and poorly-understood relic that tech-priests travel from across the galaxy to observe, but a big one sneaks through every now and then. “Have you lost someone recently?” you ask him.

You’ve caught him completely off guard. He straightens out of his casual lean and narrows his eyes. “What a strange question,” he says. 

You shrug, taking a testing sip of your drink and deciding immediately that you’ve had enough. “I won’t push. I was just trying to figure out why you looked so familiar when I know we’ve never met.” He’s grieving. That must be it. It’s the numb kind, past the stage of open-wound rawness, the empty feeling that comes when you finish weeping. Maybe it was a recent death. Maybe a distant one that casts a long shadow, or something even more difficult to explain. He looks at you like he’s only just started to see you for the first time.

“Would you walk with me?” he asks. 

You push your glass around absently, looking down at the bar counter. “Your turn to ask strange questions, huh?”

He nudges your glass out of reach, laying his hand on top of yours. He’s wearing gloves; some kind of soft, flexible leather, his fingers long and spindly. You can just faintly feel warmth through the material. “I’d like to speak with you more. Elsewhere.” He closes his hand around yours, threading your fingers together. It really seems like he’s propositioning you—or planning to kill you—but he sounds so solemn and urgent that you aren’t sure what to think. Nobody pays you more than a passing glance when you stand up and follow him out of the bar.

Back on the bright, busy streets of Sinistra’s labyrinthine markets, he draws far less attention than you expect. Everyone is suspicious here, you suppose, rushing around and concealing their faces, but your stranger towers above both you and the crowd. He walks in a practiced graceful manner that reminds you of trained dancers or extremely skilled soldiers—no movement wasted, everything precise. 

“This station doesn’t have much time left,” he murmurs, so quiet you barely hear him over the rattle of machinery and exuberant voices. “Imperial authorities have swarmed the system in increasing numbers, preparing to seize Sinistra from the current administration. Many of them are here now, biding their time for a signal. They mean to take the station by force and care little about how many fall along the wall.”

“How do you know?” you ask him.

“It’s my gift. I see what will come. I advise you leave as soon as you’re able.” 

“Thank you for the warning. Are you going to be alright? Do you have a way off the station?” 

He’s quiet for a while. You look up and find him staring at you again, his gaze softened. “You’re from out here, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Out here?”

He hunches slightly, lowering his voice even further. “Far from the Emperor’s light. So far, perhaps, it has never touched you.” 

“There isn’t a world in the galaxy untouched by the Emperor’s light,” you say carefully. The station shudders again, buffeted by harsh solar winds. Steel creaks and rumbles. You stumble but the stranger catches you by the forearm. 

“If I could have one honest answer from you, it would be how you came into possession of your ship,” he says. “But I think I already know.” 

“Why?” you ask warily. “It’s nothing special. A few mods, sure, but—”

The next tremor is stronger and far louder. There’s a flash in your peripheral vision and then the acrid smell of smoke floods your nose. Not a flare, you think. An explosion. The stranger moves while your mind is still reeling, dragging you down behind the protective bulk of a forgery kiosk and crouching beside you, a hand on your shoulder tugging and urging you to keep your head down. Bolterfire scours the street where you were standing mere moments ago, blowing holes through rusted walkways. Someone is shooting; someone else is shooting back. You hear alarms and shrill, mindless panic.

“You need to breathe,” he says. 

You didn’t realize you’d stopped until you inhale shakily, one of your hands tangled in his cloak. You’re frozen, remembering all the stories that had been passed down, generation after generation, to you: of the steady, constant advance of inhuman soldiers who feared and felt nothing, and the deafening roar of weaponry in cramped corridors, and the end of everything come with swift, bloody cruelness. You were taught to run. Always run. If you can run, you can survive. If you can get to the safety of your ship, you can slip away into the vast dark. 

“Breathe,” the stranger urges. He cups your face in his hands and you realize you’re trembling. “Listen to me. You are alive. Your heart still beats. And you must keep living. You must, no matter what happens. Do you understand?” 

You nod weakly. It suddenly occurs to you that you’re seeing him clearly, no hood or shadows in the way. His brows are furrowed. He has dark hair and he wears it in a low ponytail. His ears are elongated, pointed at the ends. The dawning confusion on your face makes his eyes arch in amusement. 

“Do you have a weapon?” he asks. 

Breathe, you remind yourself. You feel for the small pistol holstered at your waist. A last resort; you can’t recall the last time you’ve had to use it. “Yes,” you say. 

“Do you remember the way to the starport?” 

“Yes, but—” 

He shrugs, his cloak parting to reveal strange, carapace-like armor underneath. The smooth, flexible plates clinging to his body are a startlingly bright, sunny yellow. He was concealing a rifle, a slender, long-barreled weapon, strangely elegant and studded with small, circular crystals. “You’re going to run. Take advantage of the chaos and stay out of sight,” he says. He speaks quietly and calmly, even as he turns and raises the rifle, lifting the scope to his eye. “I’ll provide cover.”

“But I—” 

“Don’t say you can’t. You can. You’ve survived this long. You will keep surviving.”

You hear pounding footsteps and the shriek of lasfire. “What’s your name?” you ask him.

Someone comes around the corner—soldier, Imperial, heavily armored, finger on the trigger. He dies in an instant, head and helmet blooming apart like the unraveling of a scarlet flower. The stranger’s weapon makes no more noise than the soft hiss of wind when it fires. He looks at you only briefly before he returns his full attention to the rifle, waiting for something else to stray into his line of sight. 

“Murai’ethlienne,” he says with quiet surprise, as though the sound of his own name has become unfamiliar. 

Sinistra is falling apart. Every district you run through flickers red with dying neon and raging fire, combustible ammunition igniting chemical pools and faulty electronics. Shredded metal grates and missing floor panels open into bottomless chasms and an alarm somewhere is warning that the gravitational stabilizer is losing power. The dead and dying are everywhere. The Imperials have superior numbers but Sinistra’s resistance knows the station better. You see the grisly aftermath of firefights and explosive traps. Bodies lie bleeding from hundreds of shrapnel wounds and unidentifiable lumps of flesh litter the narrow lanes between market stalls. 

Sometimes, you’ll hear a soft sound—the rush of waves up a beach, or the long breath of a sigh—and something in your path will collapse in a burst of red mist and splattered flesh. You can’t see him but he keeps reminding you he’s there.

There were stories like this, too. Not just of the end but of the wonderful beginning; a world that was not a world. A galaxy that was not so lonely. 

The “LOST AND FOUND” still hangs where it always has, clattering ominously as another blast rocks the station. The starport is carnage. Hundreds have already fled this way and the floor is slick with blood. The air is thin and your movements are sluggish as the shielding and stabilizer arrays separating you from the void of space falter. A blockade of Imperial warships lurks in orbit, surrounded by a glittering ring of splintered metal—all that remains of those who tried to escape. Sinistra’s star is a blinding behemoth in the sky, surface churning with arcs and ripples of stellar plasma.

Your ship is still here. The shields are rippling like a heat haze, a telltale sign that they’re about to fail, but that means it’s still undamaged. The electric thrum of fight-of-flight adrenaline surges through your veins, overshadowing your fear. 

“I’m a fool.” You didn’t hear anyone approach but Murai’ethlienne is mere steps behind you, rifle clutched in one hand. His shoulders are heaving with labored breaths but he looks uninjured. He looks up at the dark, imposing shapes in orbit with jutting prows and enough artillery to obliterate a planet. “Of course they’d blockade the station,” he mutters. “And after everything I said to you before…”

“I can get through,” you tell him. The certainty in your voice visibly startles him. “Do you have a ship? You can come with me.” He hesitates, glancing up again. “Murai’ethlienne,” you say. It’s a slightly clumsy attempt at the sounds he made before, consonants bumbling into each other. He looks at you with a bittersweet expression, something like misty-eyed acceptance. “Come with me,” you insist. “You saved me. Now I save you. We’ll figure out the rest later.” 

“What have I done?” he says hoarsely. “This galaxy will tear you apart someday.” 

You take his hand. He looks down and watches as you lace your fingers with his. “Look at me,” you urge him. “My heart is still beating, isn’t it? I’m alive right now, and so are you.” You squeeze his hand. “And we have to live.” 

You see calm wash over him. Not slowly but all at once, like a flipped switch. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, he’s just as composed as he was when he pulled you to safety in the marketplace. He nods curtly and squeezes your hand back. 

Once, there were many ships like yours. Sleek and beautiful with gentle, organic-looking curves and a flexible surface of interlocking, membranous protective plates. There were large ones drifting through the cosmos with the slow, majestic grace of ocean giants, whole fleets of city-ships were children were born and hybrid plants from a thousand worlds blossomed. There were small ones, narrow and minnow-like beside the slow-moving giants, stinger-sharp guardians and mandible-prowed scanner-gatherers and—just like yours—winged explorers. 

You know this ship better than you know any planet you’ve ever landed on. You slide your fingers over the pilot interface with precise, muscle-memory movements, activating emergency takeoff protocols. Murai’ethlienne is visibly startled by the sight of a chair beside yours, sharing space and even a swath of controls. You direct him to sit down and hold onto something. The engine hums to life. The navigation program comes online with a warble and proposes several different launch trajectories. You study them briefly before making a decision.

You can feel Murai’ethlienne watching in silent fascination. “This is a family ship,” you explain. “All the ones that are left are like this.” 

He does not ask the obvious question—why is it empty, then, if it is meant for a family? “Is it old?” he asks. 

“Very. It was my mother and father’s. They inherited it from their parents, and so on.” 

You think he’s smiling under his mask. 

Takeoff is smooth. You ease into a rapid acceleration that makes Murai’ethlienne inhale sharply and rocket straight for the Imperial blockade. Their tight formation is jostled by the stirring of Sinistra’s star. It’s slight, nothing like the quakes that affected the station, but the subtle drift will affect their aim on a small, fast-moving target. The ship’s wings—solar sails, veined membranes that pulse and shimmer as they soak up electromagnetic bursts—unfurl. Murai’ethlienne clutches the armrests of his seat as you veer straight for the largest ship in the formation. He mutters something that might be a prayer or a curse, but not in a language you recognize. Defensive systems warn you that the ship is being targeted. You see enormous turrets and void cannons swiveling towards you.

You’re sure the naval captains staring you down have had a fair amount of training and practical experience in the Imperium’s constant wars, but their ships are a means to an end. Yours is everything. They don’t know the arrhythmic pulse of stars. Their gargantuan beasts could never hopscotch between gravitational wells like yours can. The opening volleys, spears of sizzling light, miss you entirely. By the time the next shots are fired, you’ve spun into the narrow, thorn-lined gap between warships, voidshields crackling so close you can feel them like turbulence. Smaller Interceptor vessels briefly give chase but they turn to small silver dots in the void behind you.

Murai’ethlienne hunches over in his seat. You dispense a sick bag from the ceiling for him and set the ship to autopilot, setting course for another active star. You don’t need any more fuel, but the shields need to be recharged. “I’m from here,” you tell him, nodding to the serene, glittering darkness beyond the window. “That’s what my parents told me. I asked them once if we were from nowhere, and they said it wasn’t true. We’re from everywhere. To the Diasporex, all of this is home.” You relax in your seat, suddenly fatigued now that the danger has passed. You look over and find him staring again. 

He’s taken his mask off and set it in his lap. You see his lips for the first time, pursed into a thoughtful frown. “We’re very much alike,” he tells you. “My home is…well, it feels reductive to call it a ship. An ark, maybe. An ancient, scarred place where the dead outnumber the living.”

“Is that where you want to go?” you ask.

“No,” he says. He doesn’t even think about it. “I’m going wherever you’re going.” 

“You are?”

“Is that not the way of your people? Unity, or something like that?” 

His smile is pretty, you think. “It was,” you say. “But that’s how we were found in the first place. The fleets were too big. Now we have to stay away from each other.” 

He nods. “I understand. If you’d rather be left alone—”

“I didn’t say that.” You extend your arm into the space between your seats, palm up and waiting. Murai’ethlienne looks at it with surprise and amusement. His hand is so much larger than yours, easily engulfing it. It feels nice. Warm, you think, and safe. After everything, you finally give him your name. The sound of it on his tongue, the way he stops to savor it, makes your eyes fill with tears.

Alarmed, Murai’ethlienne asks if you were injured on the station. He’s even more confused when you smile and laugh through the tears and when you insist that, for the first time in a long time, everything is fine.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Provider Discretion (LU in Healthcare)

(Lots of technical jargon in this one, lovelies, hope you don’t mind)

Something wasn’t right.

The patient herself was… okay. Mostly. She had called 911 because she’d had back pain that had just been getting worse, and she’d said she couldn’t even get around anymore.

Mo and Hyrule often exchanged a somewhat exasperated look when someone called an emergency line for something that had been an ongoing problem, but today this… was different. She just didn’t look well.

“I’m really sorry,” the patient apologized for the fourth time as Hyrule and Mo loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

“It’s okay,” Hyrule quickly reassured her. His heart ached a little at how much this woman wanted to seem to shrink into oblivion. Even Mo, who, despite his big heart, often came across a little standoffish, had tried to make her smile multiple times. “This is what we’re here for.”

With a chief complaint of back pain, there wasn’t much to do outside of check vital signs. Mo could easily take this call. But Hyrule just… this felt wrong.

“Let’s get a 12-lead,” he said, already grabbing the cables for it while Mo got vitals. His partner didn’t argue, helping him place the leads in the right positions.

Vitals looked mostly fine. The patient’s blood pressure was high. She said she had a history of hypertension, so perhaps between that and her pain that would explain it. Though 180/98 did not make Hyrule particularly happy. But he couldn’t treat that.

The 12-lead showed normal sinus rhythm. Nothing wrong there. But something just didn’t feel right.

Grabbing the blood pressure cuff, Hyrule checked it again, but on the opposite side.

There was a discrepancy.

Hyrule and Mo looked at each other, eyebrows pinching. Mo took a manual on the left. Hyrule took a manual on the right.

They still didn’t match.

Feeling dread fill him, Hyrule told Mo, “I’m taking this call. Let’s get going. We don’t need lights but… just drive expediently, ok?”

The transport was blessedly uneventful. But the discrepancy remained. Her blood pressure was high, but higher on one side than the other. Coupling that with back pain…

Her aorta. Hyrule was worried about her aorta. The biggest artery in this woman’s entire body could getting ready to tear apart.

When Hyrule texted Warriors later, he got his answer.

Dissection. They rushed her to the OR. You pointing out the BP difference really tipped off the doc. Good catch.

Mo whistled. “Good thing she didn’t rupture in our truck.”

Hyrule blew out a breath. He was just thankful he trusted his gut.

XXX

The dispatch information had been for diabetic emergency. Fire had gotten there first, which Aurora was thankful for since she and Dawn were coming from the hospital and therefore farther away than if they’d responded from the station.

When they arrived, the house was a nightmare. The street was so narrow that the ambulance and fire truck blocked the road entirely, the stairs were so narrow Aurora felt like she had to squeeze her arms in just to climb up them, and the turns were so sharp she wasn’t sure how any kind of equipment could get up there. The patient was lying on his bed, altered, and unable to move.

According to the patient’s friend, he’d heard him fall and came up to check on him. He knew he was a diabetic and figured his blood glucose had to be low. Fire had already checked it, saying it was over two hundred. As the firefighter paramedic gave information to Aurora, he said, “He could be acting like this because of his sugar. Could be a stroke. We’re not sure.”

Honestly, Aurora couldn’t see the patient all that well from her vantage point. Dawn had already walked in and started assessing, they’d handed a reeves stretcher to the firemen, and they were working on loading him on to it. The girl went downstairs to prep the stretcher for their arrival. Once they managed to get the patient into the ambulance, Aurora stared.

This man’s entire right side of his face was noticeably drooping. He was moving his head a little to the left, eyes somewhat moving, pupils equal. Aurora quickly asked him to look at her, to follow her finger. While he could stare at her, he couldn’t track at all, and his eyes wouldn’t move to the right. He blinked once while attempting, and was only able to blink his left eye.

Who the hell thought this could be his sugar??

Once Dawn got in the truck, they were quick to get vitals and a 12-lead. He was hypertensive, all other vitals fine.

“We need to stroke alert this,” Aurora immediately said.

“But he was last seen normal three hours ago,” Dawn said uncertainly. “Isn’t that outside the window? Or is the window four hours now?”

“I think it’s four,” Aurora answered. “And it doesn’t matter either way. This is absolutely a neuro issue. Drive us hot, okay?”

Dawn nodded, heading to the front. She drove to the hospital with the lights and sirens on, allowing them a faster transport time, while Aurora called it in to the hospital. As they progressed, she tried to get the patient to follow commands, but he couldn’t. He held up his right arm but couldn’t hold his left up at all, and he still didn’t really track any movement.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were placed in a major room, transferring him quickly to the hospital bed. Warriors was charge that night, working on coordinating all the help they’d need for this patient. The ED physician entered, looking the patient over, and then turned to Aurora, asking, “So what makes you think he’s having a stroke?”

Aurora stopped in mid motion, looking at him with the most enraged and bewildered expression. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you think he’s having a stroke?” The doctor repeated.

“What makes you think he isn’t?!” Aurora snapped, completely mind blown that this was even a debate. “His face is drooping so low it’s hitting the earth’s fucking crust, he’s altered, not tracking movement, blinking with one eye, down on one side, is hypertensive, and you’re asking why I—do you even know what a stroke is??”

“Let’s just alert it,” Warriors said calmly as he walked into the room, clearly sensing that the paramedic was about to explode. “It’ll get us a CT to rule it out.”

Aurora was fuming, and she stormed out before she could hear a response. Dawn tried to gently check on her, only to be subjected to her ranting for the next hour.

Later, Warriors texted Hyrule, who relayed the message. “You were right.”

“OF FUCKING COURSE I WAS!”

XXX

Legend wasn’t particularly a fan of working triage.

There were aspects of it that were exciting - he was the one to make first contact with patients who didn’t come in via ambulance, and he determined their acuity. But there was also a public relations aspect to it, a patience dealing with impatient people, a kindness and sympathy for those who were genuinely hurting or needing help but had to wait anyway. It was understandable, but public relations… was not Legend’s forte.

There was a reason he was put in triage, though.

It wasn’t always obvious, what was wrong with someone. But there were times when a patient just didn’t look right. Legend saw the man limp over, listened to him as he explained that he had some leg pain that had been going on for the last few days, how he thought maybe he’d strained a muscle but the pain hadn’t improved.

There were always signs to look out for. Little things, cues that something was off. The man looked resigned, reluctant; he clearly had been talked in to coming to the hospital, and he commented that his wife insisted on it. Legend saw the clothes he wore, heard the accent he spoke with, saw his muscles, and pieced together that he was probably a farmer.

Farmers never came to the hospital.

“We’ll get you back as soon as we can,” he finally said after completing his assessment. Usually, this patient would be low on the acuity scale—a muscle spasm or strain was not nearly as important as a heart attack, pneumonia, sepsis, strokes, traumas—but Legend made him a yellow rather than a green. Just to be sure.

That higher acuity score got him a room far faster. That faster room made a doctor assess him and notice that his left leg was bigger than his right. That doctor made sure he got an ultrasound of his leg, found clots in his leg. She also learned the man was short of breath sometimes, which his wife insisted was new, and got a CT scan.

Legend glanced at his chart later to see him being admitted. Confused and curious, he did some digging.

The man had a pulmonary embolism.

Huffing with a small smile of satisfaction, Legend closed out of the chart as another patient approached.

XXX

Time had to admit, he did not spend as much time assessing his patients as he should. His hours were stolen away in the OR, unpredictable and chaotic as his line of work was. So sometimes he didn’t get to round, sometimes he didn’t have a chance to walk in and chat with the patients and the nurses and the licensed independent providers who took charge of their care.

Today he was glad he did.

The patient was actually calm and pleasant, had little complaint of anything except for some lower back pain. In the world of uncomfortable hospital beds, it wasn’t a huge surprise.

But Time saw something. Some staining, bruising, around the patient’s groin. He peeked around their gown, turned them a little, and saw it.

Their groin was purple. He asked the nurse, who said they were told this had been baseline for a day or two, and that the independent providers over them had acknowledged the finding and moved on.

Time walked into the doc box where the providers were. “I want a CT abdomen for room 3. She’s got some bruising that’s concerning. Her H&H has been down trending steadily.”

“Her JP drains haven’t put out much,” the physician assistant noted, looking over the patient’s chart.

“She might have a retroperitoneal bleed,” Time pointed out. “Let’s just be sure.”

Years of education and even more years of experience had taught the trauma surgeon well. The war was especially humbling and educational. So when he got a text from the PA that the patient did indeed have a retroperitoneal, he wasn’t surprised. But he was disappointed that he had to be the one to notice it.

Sometimes, he supposed, it took the leader to point out the problem.

XXX

Four… didn’t like this.

Report had been bad enough. The day shift nurse spoke of how the patient had been previously septic and was recuperating well before her pressor demand had gone up during the day. She looked… not great. She was so edematous they were constantly changing the sheets underneath her arms because her body was leaking fluid from every inch of itself - they had dumped fluids into her over the last few days just to maintain her blood pressure. She was on a lasix drip to get her lot o pee off the fluid as best as possible, and her kidney function was… decent, but not great.

As Four assessed her, the clenching his chest only worsened. She was alert, oriented, a little miserable but trying to be in good spirits, bless her. She was peeing a decent amount, her pulses were present despite the swelling, her lung sounds were a little coarse but overall mostly clear. Her abdomen was soft and non-tender, her pupils were equal and reactive, and she didn’t have much complaint of pain aside from being sick of laying in bed, which Four could understand.

But still. This just… didn’t look great.

As the night progressed, the woman’s pressor need climbed. Four continued to increase epinephrine, increase norepinephrine. He tried not to increase the vasopressin too much as it had such a profound effect on vasoconstriction that it could cause necrosis. Also, the woman had a history of heart failure and had a pretty weak heart.

Four eventually went to the resident in charge of the patient for the night. “Hey. Can we maybe give 11 some albumin? She has plenty of fluid to give, but clearly it isn’t in her vasculature - she’s peeing ok but her pressure isn’t tolerating it. I feel like it could help.”

The resident shuffled on his feet uncertainly. “The surgeon really wants to make sure we can get this fluid off. I’d rather keep her negative and not give her more fluid, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Four greed before continuing, “But albumin is only 250mL, and if it helps suck in the fluid that’s third spacing, it’ll still help. We’re dumping fluid in her through the pressors anyway.”

The resident continued to waffle, before the night attending asked, “She’s on vaso, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just go up on that.”

Four stared a moment longer, starting to doubt himself. He hadn’t been a nurse for long, and if an attending physician was saying this, then… it had to be true, right?

Sighing, he went back to the room and did as he was told. The patient’s blood pressure improved well enough, and the night progressed fine.

The next night was not as fine. At rounds, Four suggested that perhaps she should be lined for CRRT, a continuous dialysis that would allow for Four to control how much fluid they were pulling and would likely be better for the patient to tolerate. The night doctors shrugged, saying they’d mention it to the day team.

Again, the woman’s blood pressure was tanking. Again, Four had to increase pressors. Vaso had been turned down and was told to be left alone because the woman’s systemic vascular resistance was so high the attending was worried about her heart. (Four couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about it, because he knew that was going to happen)

This time, though, she went into atrial fibrillation as well. As Four called the resident and attending into the room, they deliberated the matter, muttering, “Maybe we should line her for CRRT.”

Four blinked. Stared. Was he… losing his mind?? Was he invisible? He’d suggested this earlier!

Ultimately, Four had managed to keep the patient stable enough so that it wasn’t needed. Ultimately, the shift ended uneventfully.

But when Four came back for his third night, he could hear the woman’s breathing from the door, he could hear how she was drowning in fluid because she couldn’t tolerate losing fluid but had too much for her lungs and heart to handle. The day team had lined her for CRRT, but her pressors were almost maxed out at their dosage, and she was so hypotensive that the renal nurse who had set up the machine was hesitant to start it up, saying it would further bottom out her pressure.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, the provider in charge of making decisions and orders was a nurse practitioner, someone who was used to this unit. She walked in, saw the issues Four had seen, and she walked right back out, making a call.

Four struggled to keep the patient alive long enough for the ECMO team to arrive as the patient fell apart. He felt frustration boil his blood as he had to hand off her care after fighting for her, had to watch as the CV ICU nurse came in to take over while surgeons put large cannulas into the patient’s body to redirect blood flow around her heart so she could still perfuse her organs. He watched as they wheeled her out of the trauma ICU to go to the cardiac ICU where she would remain while on such extreme support, and he threw his pen on the desk, burying his face in his hands, fuming.

They should have listened to him.

[smellystars]

Storm Warning

You’ve finally made it, after a years of hard work you and your boyfriend Lucas have saved enough to take a vacation to Miami.

You were so excited to finally take a break and relax with your handsome boyfriend. The best part is that you are always going to be outside so you don’t have to worry about Lucas’s constant powerful gas. When you both started to become serious you went through the normal stages but one thing that Lucas always avoided was farting in front of you. You never really thought about it, you let rip in front of him and he would laugh and say, “hahaha good one”. You thought that maybe he didn’t feel comfortable enough but that was wrong, “my gas can be uhhh kinda strong” Lucas said nervously. You insisted that you could take it and that he had nothing to worry about. He begrudging accepted what you said and let one rip. A stream of gas 40 seconds long excited his ass

BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

You fell to the ground from the shaking caused by his gas. The smell filling your apartment in an instant. Furniture, cabinets and loose objects shaking and moving. “Ahhhhhhh not too bad for a small one right?” Lucas says while looking at you nervously. You pick yourself up, “oh it’s not that bad, wow you weren’t kidding about them being strong huh?” You both laugh and from then on he would give you a warning before letting rip so you could prepare yourself but most of the time just let rip after work for an hour so nothing would get damaged.

You sit on the beach soaking in the sun as Lucas runs right in front of you wearing a blue, white speedo. You can’t help but just stare at your boyfriend well trained body. While staring you hear a loud groan, “oh I’ll be right back babe.” Is all you hear as Lucas runs down the beach in the opposite direction. You wonder what that was about but remember that sushi he had ate before coming to the beach and started to worry about the effects that would have on Lucas.

You don’t have to wait as you feel the ground shaking, and then hear an extremely loud deafening sound

BBRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBLLOOOOOPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH

Sand castle topple, beach towels, bags and umbrella are sent flying all the way to the other side of the beach. Gale force winds hit you and everyone else in the line of fire. Some people get blown down the beach other dig their feet into the sand to try and make their way to one of the buildings lining the beach. a literal sandstorm created as a result of Lucas’s destructive gas. The smell of a gas station bathroom spreading across the beach and surrounding area that not even the outdoors could dissipate. As the fart keeps going for 5 mins there was a pause. You wipe the sand from your face and make a b-line for where Lucas should be. You find him on all fours panting from the extreme amount of gas that just exited him.

“LUCAS ARE YOU OKAY?” you yelled as your ears were still ringing. “Yeah sorry babe I didn’t know it would be this bad”Lucas says while panting a brownish haze now all over the beach, some people unconscious and those who weren’t are uncontrollably coughing.

“Well at least it’s over. Let’s………” you were interrupted as Lucas stomach gurgles again. You yell, “GET INSIDE, GET EVERYONE OFF THE BEACH”. The beach goers scramble grabbing those unconscious and running inside of the closest buildings. Lucas then gets up and runs towards the sea and starts to swim a bit out. You follow him swimming behind him watching each glistening wet cheeks move with each stroke. Once a bit out Lucas floats with his back facing you, he hold his stomach and tells you to get in front of him. You listen and swim to front of him and hold him by the side. He looks at you and says “I’m sorry”. In an instant the area around you was turned into a hot tub, bubbles rising constantly not being able to see into the water. Fish start to rise from the depths dead and then you hear Lucas grunt.

BBRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBLLLLOOOOOPPPPHHHHHHHTTTTTTTT-VVRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTT-FFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBTTTTTTTPPPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH

A giant wave is formed behind Lucas, as big as a tsunami. The wave makes way towards the beach hitting land and destroying the buildings along the beach and making its way into the city a bit destroying the closest buildings to the beach and spraying smelly water halfway ingot the city. You look at Lucas“Whew I feel so much better” he says as you both look at the destruction left in his gassy wake.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Another one for your I love you 3000 Bonanza 🙈💙

Johnny Storm, Emergency Service AU, "I said I'd take care of you"

Thank you for sending in an ask! I couldn't resist the irony of making the human torch a firefighter!

Something there - Firefighter!Johnny x Reader

Summary: after a somewhat rocky start you begin to wonder whether there was something between you and Johnny

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Mention of injury! Mention of Fire emergency! Minor Angst! Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

You took a deep breath as you looked up at your new station, your new home whenever you were on shift. A quick glance told you that you didn’t have any more time to admire the station before you were late. 

You shouldered your bag and made your way inside to find one of your new colleagues reclined back in his chair at the front desk, feet up on the desk. A lopsided smile grew on his face when he spotted you, sitting up to rest his forearms on the desk instead.

“Probie?”

“Pardon?” You arched a brow at him.

“You’re the new recruit right, Probationary firefighter aka Probie?” He said mimicking your expression.

“Right… well I’m looking for Captain Rogers? Can you point me in the right direction?” You asked.

The smile on the man’s face, an annoyingly handsome face, grew as he stood up from the desk “I’ll do you one better, I’ll take you there myself, I’m Johnny by the way” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

You shook his hand “Y/N” 

Johnny nodded in acknowledgement “C’mon Probie, this way” he then said nodding his head towards the corridor.

You rolled your eyes but followed him down the corridor towards the captain’s office. Your Captain was thankfully more welcoming even if he seemed far too used to Johnny's antics.

“Storm, can you give Y/N a tour of the station?” He asked once the meeting was over.

Johnny who had been leaning against the wall outside the office stood to attention and saluted “Aye aye captain” 

Captain Rogers just responded with an exasperated sigh before disappearing back into his office.

“C’mon Probie let me show you our castle” Johnny smirked as he waved his hand for you to follow.

You rolled your eyes at him again “How long is this probie nickname gonna stay?” You asked

“Until you’re promoted, or if you do something so stupid enough to earn another” Johnny smirked over his shoulder.

“What’s yours then?” 

Johnny stopped and turned to face you “Why’d you assume I have one?” 

“I’m good at reading people and you’re cocky there’s no way you haven’t earnt a nickname from doing something stupid” you stated, arms crossed over your chest.

Johnny remained silent long enough for you to worry that you’d crossed a line. His eyes just studied you, dipping for a second before they returned to your face.

“Human Torch” he finally said before you had the chance to apologise.

You swallowed as you looked up at him “That sounds like an interesting story”

“It is, but one for another time” he winked, the cocky attitude returning like it never left, he turned and walked off “You coming probie?” He called when you didn’t immediately follow.

You remained silent as he showed you around the station, pointing out your locker, where you’d sleep on overnight shifts. He introduced you to the rest of the crew, all very friendly faces. It was only at the end of the tour when he took you back to the locker room to put away your stuff that you felt brave enough to talk to him again.

“So are there any other probie things I should look out for, like pranks or something?” You asked.

A lopsided smile grew on his face as he shook his head “Nah don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” 

Your brows rose in surprise “Really?”

“Sure it’s what crewmates do for each other” he shrugged with that lopsided smile still on his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious “You’re not saying that so I lower my guard right?”

Johnny smirked as he backed away tapping the tip of his nose “I’m not one to give away my secrets” he said before he turned and left you alone.

Despite the somewhat rocky start, you and Johnny formed a quick friendship. He was the crewmate you felt closest to out of them all and you quite often found yourself working with him whenever pairs were required. 

You were so close that you began to wonder if there was something more between the two of you. A question that rattled through your mind when he was the first one to come to your rescue when you hurt your ankle on a call out.

A question that you had a lot of time to ponder when you were signed off for two weeks to recover from your sprained ankle. 

You were sat on your couch, your foot propped up on the coffee table, an old sitcom on the TV that you were barely watching. A knock on your apartment door brought you back to the real world.

You grabbed your crutch and hobbled your way over to the door. You were surprised and excited to see that it was Johnny on the other side with a lopsided smile on his face and hands full of bags.

“Johnny… what are you doing here?” You breathed.

“Injuries can be boring so I thought I’d keep you company” he grinned nodding for you to move out of the way so he could step inside “You have a bath right?” He asked as you stepped aside.

“…yeah,” you said slowly.

“Good because I don’t think this bath shit will work in the shower,” Johnny said as he marched on down to your bathroom.

“Johnny- I- What?” You stuttered as you hobbled after him.

He didn’t answer you, he just carried on in his mission, setting down the bags before beginning to run you a bath.

“Johnny, please can you just tell me what’s going on?” You pleaded.

“I’m running you a nice relaxing bath, then I’m gonna sort out dinner and then we’ll just relax together, watch a movie” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“But-but why? You don’t need to” you muttered in disbelief.

“I said I’d take care of you remember?” He smiled.

You tilted your head in confusion trying to recall when he said that. You were about to question him when the memory resurfaced, your first day at the station. He’d said he’d look after you when you asked him about pranks. It was only now that you realised you never really got pranked, there was no hazing it was pretty smooth. You had expected Johnny to forget but he didn’t.

“So I’m gonna leave the bathroom now so you can relax in this nice hot bath, just shout if you need me and I promise not to look unless you ask me to” he winked before slipping past you out of the bathroom, leaving you with the bombshell of a realisation you just had.

The only reason you were able to move and get into the bath was that you didn’t want it to go cold. As soon as you slipped under the warm, soapy, bubbly water you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. This was the best bath you’d ever had, you swore as soon as you got out of this tub you’d do whatever you needed to do to get whatever bath secrets he had. 

Once you were done and re-dressed in a fresh set of comfies you found Johnny in your living room with bowls of snacks laid out in arms reach. 

“So how exactly are you sorting dinner? Because we both know for a fact that you can’t cook” you said as you settled back down on the couch. 

Johnny instantly moved to help lift your ankle up onto a pillow that he’d set up on the coffee table to keep your ankle elevated, he then picked up a selection of takeout menus that you hadn’t noticed “Take your pick” he grinned as he held them out to you. 

You grinned up at him “I thought a healthy diet was good for recovery” You smirked as he sat back down next to you. 

“True, but you also deserved to be spoilt, so whatever you want I’ll get” 

“Anything?”

“Anything”

You bit your lip and pondered what you could get him to do for you. Your mind went back to what he said as he was running your bath, you wanted the confirmation that maybe there was something there but you just weren’t brave enough to outright ask. You did think of something else you could ask that could get you the same answer though. 

“How did you get your nickname?” it was the one secret that you still had yet to find out yet, it was a card he kept close to his chest so if he was willing to tell you then maybe, just maybe it would be the confirmation you needed.

Johnny blinked the playfulness disappearing from his eyes for a split second before he looked away. You were about to back out, tell him that he didn’t need to tell you especially when he shifted so his back was to you. But then he moved and took off his tee to reveal a large scar down his back, one that looked like a flame. 

“The crew was off duty, getting a couple of beers after our shift” Johnny started keeping his back to you “We were walking home when a fire broke out at a tiny bistro, the whole place was already engulfed and there wasn’t a truck or crew nearby… we helped control the crowd and evacuate, but then in the corner of my eye I saw someone run into the building, no one else did so they all thought I was crazy when I ran in after them” 

“But you didn’t have your gear” you whispered. 

Johnny shook his head, his back still to you “Another reason they thought I was crazy, but I went in and I found this teenage girl, she must have slipped on something as she was trying to make her way back out, she was holding a frame in her arms as she lay on the floor” he continued “I picked her up and carried her back out but the back of my shirt caught fire as I left, it was agony but I kept going, I get the both of us out and got this scar, once the guys saw it they called me the human torch” 

“What happened to the girl?” you asked. 

“She was fine, just a minor concussion and a couple of burns on her arms, she was the owner’s daughter and went in to grab a family photo” Johnny sighed as he pulled his tee back on and finally turned back to face you “so that was the stupid thing I did”

“No” you muttered shaking your head “it was the heroic thing you did”

The smallest of smiles tugged at his lips “Thanks” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shifted on the couch so you could rest your head on his shoulder “No… thank you” you whispered, knowing you had your answer there was definitely something here now it was just a question of who was brave enough to break first.

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[cozzzynook]

Dratchrod headcanons

1. Who says I love you first?

2. Who makes their energon?

3. Who is the early bird/who is the night owl?

4. Who is the big spoon/Who is the little spoon?

5. Who loves to cuddle?

6. Who hogs the blanket?

7. Who wakes the other one up with kisses?

8. Who usually has nightmares?

9. Who likes sweets?

10. Who likes horror movies/who likes romance movies?

11. Who is small/who is tall?

12. Who is considered the scaredy cat?

13. Who is the most affectionate?

14. Nicknames?

15. Who is most likely to carry the other?

16. Who asks for oney/Who has money?

17. Who proposes?

18. Who is top/Who is bottom?

19. Who is most ticklish?

20. Who brings an animal they found home?

21. Who wants to stay in bed just a bit longer?

22. Who cooks best?

23. Who needs reassurance?

24. Who comms inappropriate things to the other during inappropriate times?

25. Who cries during certain films?

26. Who tells their friends/family about the relationship first?

1. drift says it first to Ratchet when he is still Deadlock and Ratchet to Drift during the exile. Rodimus feels undeserving of it and so he tells them not to. That its okay. They want to say it and so does Rodimus but he feels its not right yet.

2. Drift can barely boil milk and water energon let alone cook. He’s more of the ready meal energon that you reheat or drink from a semi plain cube. Ratchet can actually cook he just doesn’t feel like it most of the time. Rodimus is surprisingly really good at cooking and using spices. Ratchet cooks for special occasions and Roddy cooks most. Drift is not allowed near the fuel station save for putting away leftovers or getting a snack.

3. They all are night owls when needed because of the war but Ratchet and Drift can go the longest. From his days as Deadlock, Drift would stay up late. Ratchet can be up the earliest and latest because he’s a medic and Roddy is best staying up late but he’s decent getting up early. He just won’t talk to anyone.

4. Drift and Ratchet take turns but Roddy usually stays on the outside as big spoon because of his spoiler.

5. They all love to cuddle. Rodimus loves cuddling in berth, Drift on the couch or on the floor much to Ratchets dismay and Ratchet in his office chair with either of his speedsters in his lap.

6. Drift oddly kicks the blankets off and Ratchet stays still in his sleep while Roddy either cocoons or accidentally sets it on fire while in a cocoon, though it doesn’t happen often its happened enough to keep a fire hydrant in their hab.

7. Ratchet kisses them in the morning when he’s leaving for a very early shift. Roddy kisses them when they fall asleep on the couch and Drift kisses Ratchet in his office and Roddy when he’s asleep in some odd corner hiding from everyone. They all wake up a slowly from the kisses.

8. They all do. Drift goes for his gun thats not there anymore then he eventually wakes going for his swords. Ratchet jerks awake and it frustrates him because now Roddy and Drift are awake worried about him. Roddy wakes but his fear is quiet and consumes him. They wake to him dead staring with bags under his optics and thats how they know.

9. Drift likes sweets on occasion, something he’s learning to love now that he is free. Ratchet loves sweets, he’ll try any sweet once. Roddy can’t have anything sweet because it makes his tanks hurt and then he gets sick. His life on Nyon is thanks to that.

10. They all like both genres but only certain types. They’ve seen real horror so its easy to shrug off the fake stuff. Ratchet loves old fashioned love stories set in older eras while Drift loves star crossed lovers who get their happy ending. Roddy oddly prefers reading romance stories and he can’t handle watching them on screen. He refuses to say why. They leave it alone because he almost cried real tears watching a love story about two mechs who don’t end up together and one watches the other fall in love with another and move on. They think they understand why.

11. They’re all the same height i believe but all different weights and widths. Ratchet is the heaviest with Drift coming very close and Roddy is surprisingly kinda light.

12. They can all be surprised but none of them are scaredy cats.

13. All affectionate in their own way. Ratchet with how he looks at them. Drift with acts of service and Rodimus with his em field.

14. Ratchet - kid, sweetspark

Drift - roddy, ratty

Rodimus - rarely uses nicknames (outside of ratch) oddly romantic - my spark, my star

15. This is usually reserved for private moments or in the berth but they all like picking each other up. Ratchet learns to like it and Drift is used to Roddy lifting him up in hugs while Roddy is oddly not a big fan but he learns to like it too.

16. Drift is filthy rich while Ratchet is wealthy as well. Roddy makes decent money but he’s practically a sugar baby to a mech who has a lot of dirty money and a well known top medical officer. His little captain check is nothing compared to theirs.

17. Ratchet proposes to Drift when he was Deadlock and again when he is Drift. They’re conjunx, have been for a very very long time. Roddy doesn’t feel he deserves that from them so he avoids the topic and when he can’t, he tells them they’re better off married to each other, there’s no need to include him.

18. They all switch but Drift mostly sub tops with Ratchet. Ratchet valve doms Drift and Roddy while Drift spikes Roddy. Roddy will sub for them in a klik. He has no problem spiking though.

19. Ratchet is super ticklish in one spot but guards it well. Drift doesn’t get tickled because it hurts and Roddy surprisingly isn’t ticklish.

20. Ratchet will bring an animal home to heal them and end up attached with two partners who said, “i told you so,” while laughing and putting cute outfits on his rescue friend.

21. They all do. Ratchet likes to stretch and wake slowly with the two’s em field wrapped in his own, while Drift likes to meditate laying down between his two favorite mechs and Roddy loves the warmth and safety of being in berth with the two.

22. Roddy cooks best with Ratchet coming in super close. Drift can’t cook to save his life.

23. In the beginning it’s Deadlock and Ratchet who both need reassurance and a lot of it. As Drift and Ratchet they need it but not to the same degree. They still need it but its so much easier to ask and accept it now. Roddy joins and makes sure its no question. He wants to make up for what he did so he always opens his em field open for the two. He gets his constant reassurance by being with the two. He’s not sure how long it’ll last but he takes it while he can.

24. They all do. Drift gets them on his shift and when talking to bots. Roddy gets them in meetings and when instructing his crew while Ratchet gets them after finishing on a patient.

25. Ratchet will cry to a scene of a close friend dying but deny it. Drift will cry if it reminds him of his time on drugs or his home. Roddy gets a really sad look if its a movie about home and will just leave before crying. If its a movie on watching their lover move on with someone else, he cries out right and if they have a sparkling, he disappears for a full day. They’re terrified to find out why the sparkling makes him so hurt.

26. They let it come out naturally. Drift and Ratchet aren’t a secret but when Roddy joins they don’t broadcast it but don’t necessarily hide either. Ratchet tells Optimus and thats when he learns his friend isn’t very fond of Roddy. Rodimus already knew and told him its because he’s a disappointment. He was not a good prime and failed at every turn. He immediately tells them to leave it at that, he can accept the truth.

Can you tell i like to hurt Rodimus?

[sashaisready]

I'm Still Here - Chapter Four

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

In late 60s Meade, you’re married to Sheriff Bodecker, pregnant with your first child. On paper you’re the perfect couple – the respectable Sheriff and his homemaker wife. This should be one of the happiest times of your life…so why are the two of you living like ghosts? And is it too late to bridge that gap? Especially when your husband is playing a dangerous game.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, guns, mentions of crime - robberies etc, mentions of traumatic childhood, injury. This is the penultimate chapter, next part is the last!

Wordcount: 3.1k

Back in the past…

“Looks like we have ourselves an old-fashioned standoff here, Honeybee”. He told you stoically as he kept his eyes on you. If he was at all anxious, he didn’t show it.

“Sure seems that way” you smiled back. 

The two of you remained still, pistols drawn and cautiously trained on each other. Both waiting to see what the other was going to do.

“Maybe you should put that down and come with me, Honey” Lee said softly.

His voice was smooth like molasses. Not like the other cops you knew. And you’d known many. You were intrigued by him, most of the rookies you got your hands on either trembled like schoolboys or went in too aggressively as if trying to overcompensate. Lee…he just seemed…interested? Amused?

Maybe you were interested, too.

You shook your head. “Sorry Lee, you know I can’t do that” you sighed. 

“I know Honey…but the boys are outside with your friends right now, roundin’ them up…and it’ll be better for you to come quiet. Don’t you think?”

You grinned. “I never come quiet, Deputy Bodecker”.

He just snickered at your double entendre. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged at him teasingly. 

“I meant it” he continued. “If you come willingly, it’ll look better for you. The judge might go easy on ya. You could tell him you were coerced…vulnerable…just a girl who got caught up in the wrong crowd and didn’t know what she was doin’. It happens all the time”.

A hollow laugh escaped you. “Nice try, Lee. But do you really think the judge and jury are gonna buy that the girl firing at cop cars during high-speed chases is vulnerable and clueless?”

“Mm. Worth a shot” he snickered again and narrowed his eyes.

“They’ll be okay, my gang. They always are. They’re slippery”.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that…but they only need to slip up once. Hubris is dangerous, Honey.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lee”.

“Well, I am worried. You strike me as the kind of girl who didn’t have no one worryin’ ‘bout her for a long time” he told you.

Your breath hitched. You knew this was a common cop tactic, them trying to empathise with you and lure you in with empty platitudes about how well they ‘know’ you…but his insight caught you off guard for a second just the same. You shook it off.

“I have Billy. And the gang. I do just fine” you replied curtly.

Lee nodded, studying you carefully. He kept the gun trained on you as his eyes bore into yours. “Mmm…if you say so, Honey. But I’ve met a lot of Billys in my time, and we both know he wouldn’t hesitate to sell you down the river if it meant saving his own ass. So maybe you should get the jump on him”.

That stung. You loved Billy, and he loved you too. This cop didn’t know you. Either of you. He knew nothing about you or what Billy would do for you. What you’d do for each other! He was just another pig.

Your face became an ugly scowl.

Lee watched, realising he’d pushed you too far. He felt a twinge of regret, not just at losing the opportunity to take a member of the infamous Cypress gang into the station, but strangely, he also didn’t like that he’d upset you.

“I told you, Bodecker, I do just fine” you told him angrily.

Before he had a chance to respond you fired the pistol, sending a warning shot into the wooden doorframe just above his head. He flinched and recoiled at the sound, and you took that moment of confusion to speed out of the front door.

Lee regained his composure and yelled after you, breaking into a run and pursuing you. He sprinted with his gun in hand just in time to see that damned VW bus belt it out of the property, with you sliding agilely inside through one of the windows.

The Cypress gang were loose once again.

Lee stood helplessly as Finlay and the squad approached behind him, some muttering obscenities and radio-ing back to the station. A couple of cruisers catapulted out of the driveway to follow the bus, but they all knew they were licked. Finlay clamped a paternal hand onto Lee’s back, assuring him that he’d get them next time.

Lee just nodded, staring thoughtfully out to the road.

That was the first time you met.

*

You met lots of times after that day.

Sometimes during busts. Sometimes on the road. Once even during a bank robbery. You and the gang always manage to evade them in the end, but there had been some close calls.

You and Lee always exchanged little looks or nods when you found yourself together again. Small waves. Eventually pleasantries. One time Lee surprised you in a barn you were laying low in after a particularly tiresome chase. He pinned you down against the dirt and the hay and you gasped a little at the feeling of his weight on you as he held you down and told you to be a good girl. You did your best to ignore the surge of electricity it sent through you. He even got one of the cuffs on you before you headbutted him and managed to speed away. Later, Cosmo had to cut them off using a saw and a file he’d stolen from a carpenter. Not your finest hour.

It was always nice to see him. You would feel a weird tingle in your stomach when he appeared. You’d find yourself searching the faces of cops during any showdowns and you’d feel a strange relief when you found him. You knew these feelings couldn’t mean anything good. You knew you had to move beyond it. But you couldn’t help yourself. As time rolled on you saw Lee grow from a rookie to eventually becoming Finlay’s right-hand man. He held himself more confidently, moving with more authority than before. His middle had softened, and his cheeks filled out as he rose through the ranks, but that was okay. He was still handsome, and there was something about his sturdiness that you liked.

You once had a blazing argument with Billy about him putting his own needs above the gang’s…it seemed to be happening more and more…and you’d stormed off to the gas station across from the sleazy motel you were staying in, eyes brimming with tears and jaw clenching in anger. You thought about how tiring this way of life was, how weary you were becoming.

You’d grown up with nothing, drifting between orphanages and group homes without so much as a doll of your own. You’d grown hard and distrustful, careful not to let anyway get too close lest they leave you again. You became tough, taking no shit from the other kids and establishing yourself as a figure not to be messed with. You stole from grocery stores to subsidise the measly food portions you were given, and that graduated to stealing more – a comb from the pharmacy, a make-up compact, a radio from the electronics store…and, eventually, cars. You found it all quite easy. You just had to push down any guilt you felt and remind yourself that you were the only person you could rely on.

You’d met Billy after you tried to pick his pocket on the street. Rather than turn you in, he pointed out where you’d gone wrong. You had thought he was beautiful with his blonde hair and intense eyes. He’d taken you under his wing and you followed him gladly. Of course you fell in love with him, how could you not? It was as if someone was seeing you for the first time, someone who saw the ugliness within you but didn’t flinch – if anything he welcomed it. He taught you everything he knew and introduced you to the others, and thus the gang was born. You had a warm bed every night, even if you moved around a lot, plus your belly was always full and you always had money in your pocket. Never before had these things been your reality. Yes, some of the stuff you got up to made you queasy, you remember the first time you’d shot a man and the sickening thwump of the bullet as it pierced his skin, but he was coming straight for you and it was you or him. And that’s what you told yourself. It was them or you. And you had to survive.

Billy had saved you and it was your job to save him too. So you looked out for him, had his back. You learnt to shoot and you got good at it, too. As long as you had each other you would be okay.

But after that argument, as you marched into the gas station with your heart pounding, you wondered if you were cut out for this life. Sometimes you questioned if you should just turn yourself in and give it all up. Hope for a sympathetic judge like Lee said. Jail would be tough but at least you wouldn’t have to keep running.

But it was too late. You’d gone too far now.

As you paid for a soda you caught a glimpse of yourself on the Wanted poster displayed behind the register. Billy’s was next to yours, then the others along from his. Fortunately, your hair looked a little different now and the picture quality wasn’t great. Still, you could never be too careful. You pulled your hat down and disappeared back out into the night. A ghost, like always.

*

Lee was dealing with his own confusing feelings. You were a felon, the opposite of everything his job stood for. It was his job to catch people like you and put them away, to protect the world from your kind. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He so enjoyed the cat and mouse game with you, the excitement of catching you off guard and seeing the mischief across your face. As much as he wanted to capture you, he knew he would be slightly disappointed when that day came because it would be over. Strangely, he knew he’d miss you. Plus, the chase had ignited something in him, something primal and predatory. That day in the barn when he caught you, trapping you between his thighs as he watched the ‘o’ of surprise on your face as you realised, he’d bested you. He watched the glimmer of excitement in your eyes when he told you to be good. He felt the warmth of your body beneath him and imagined what it would be like to feel you properly. His rational mind screamed at him to stay away but he couldn’t help himself. Like a moth to a flame, you brought him back every time.

Of course, everything must end.

*

The shoot-out at Manville’s Farm had been bad. Really bad.

The cops had cornered you there after a robbery went wrong, it wasn’t a good spot to hide out, but it was the only option. Cosmo had been killed in the chaos and Violet had been captured. There was nothing you could’ve done to help them.

You and Billy were cornered in a woodshed, and you were bleeding from a bullet wound in your leg which you’d poorly dressed with a handkerchief. Billy was clutching onto the suitcase of cash he’d salvaged and was staring at it as if it held the answer to all your prayers. Things had been tough between you for a while now. You knew he was pulling away from you.

“Billy…” you uttered meekly.

“Shut UP, Honeybee” he barked. “I’m trying to think…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you both heard the heavy steps outside drawing closer. You exchanged a look, and you knew this was it. At least you’d go down together.

You turned to reach for his hand but to your horror he leapt to his feet and began to climb to the little window at the back of the shed.

“Billy!” you squeaked, unable to grasp the betrayal as he shimmied himself through the gap.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry…Really, I am…” he shot you a glance of regret and then he was gone.

You gawped at the window in horror, your heart in so much pain you thought it would burst. A few moments later you heard a wail of pain somewhere in the distance followed by a series of curses, but you didn’t have time to really react before the door swung open. You already knew who it would be.

“Hi Lee” you said glumly.

He stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, eyeing you carefully. At the very least, you were glad it was him who would be taking you away. He looked handsome, as always. His hair was shorter. His middle a little wider. But he was still Lee.

“That must smart” he said quietly as he looked to the wound on your leg. “Guess that’s why you ain’t runnin’ no more”.

You nodded.

“But I’m guessing Lover Boy abandoning you hurt even more”.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you nodded again.

He sighed, dropping to his knees and tenderly moving some hair from your face. He moved to reveal Billy’s suitcase of cash behind him, giving it a tap.

“If it helps…we got him”.

You scoffed. He betrayed you, and for what? To suffer the same fate anyway? What a waste. All of it had been a waste.

“He got caught in a bear trap Old Man Manville had put out to catch the stray dogs who go after his livestock. He’ll live, just in a lot of pain. The boys are with him now waitin’ on a medic. They’re all so excited to have caught Billy the Kid that the heat’s off you for now, Honey”.

“Idiot” you scoffed. Although the fact he suffered was a small comfort to you.

“So…it’s finally time huh?” he said kindly, his voice softening.

“I guess so” you said tearfully. “I’m sorry, Lee”.

“It’s okay, Honey” he cooed. “You’re okay”.

“I just…I don’t want to do it anymore. You know? I’m so tired…”

He nodded. “Well…you don’t have to, not anymore”.

“Can I tell you something, Lee?” you whispered.

“Anything, Honeybee”.

“It’s silly but…I sometimes dream about having a normal life. You know? Just being somebody’s wife…somebody’s mother. Keeping a home. Living simple. Is that dumb?”

He shook his head. “Not at all, Honey. I think that’s what most of us want”.

You both sat in the silence for a little while before he sighed.

“You know…I been offered a job over in Knockemstiff, Meade. Few hundred miles from here. They want me to be their Sheriff” he told you.

You furrowed your brow, unsure what this had to do with you. “Uh…okay”.

He took your hand, gingerly.

“Honeybee…come with me”.

You scoffed in disbelief. “What??”

“You heard me. Come with me. Marry me. Start that normal life you’ve always wanted…”

You laughed out loud. This had to be some weird joke. But you looked into his deep blue eyes, and he wasn’t laughing. He stood once more, his hands on his belt buckle as he watched you with utter sincerity.

“I can take care of things here” he said gravely. “You can start over. Both of us can. Nobody will ever know. We’ll be far enough away from anyone who might recognise you”.

You blinked at him. “You’re…serious?”

“I’ll take care of you, Honey. I know we don’t know each other well, yet, but we can. I think…I know…we can be happy”.

“I don’t…what? We…We can’t”.

“You know we can. You feel our connection. I feel it too”.

He must be insane. But clearly you were just as insane as him because you found yourself actually considering it.

“If I did…if we did this…they’d find me…”

“They wouldn’t. I’d make sure of it.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Even if we could…I’ve done bad shit, Lee. Real bad. Don’t you want a nice little wife who knows how to make a good casserole? Not some crazy bitch who knows how to hot wire a car”.

He laughed. “No. I want the crazy bitch”.

You scoffed again. “And even if I agree…how do you know I won’t just run out on you?”

“You won’t” he said confidently.

“I…I’m not a good person, Lee”.

And then he leaned over and kissed you. And you kissed him back. And the world was still for a moment. Your leg didn’t hurt and your heart wasn’t broken and you felt alive and right. He held your face as his tongue found yours and his big hands clung to your waist and everything sang, and everything lit up and something within you awoke in a way it never had with Billy. You found yourself clinging to Lee and never wanting to let go. There was something safe, just something right about it all.

Maybe it was because you were crazy. Maybe it was because it was the only option other than jail. Maybe because your heart ached from Billy’s betrayal. Maybe it was because you and Lee kept finding your way back to each other. And maybe it would just be nice for someone else to take care of you for once.

As you pulled away, you held his face in your hands and told him your real name.

And you said yes.

*

And so the story goes that the notorious Honeybee of the Cypress gang died that day. She hid in a woodshed on the Manville property which unfortunately exploded when she lit a match for a cigarette without spotting the leaking gas can just a few feet away. They didn’t find much of her, just her jacket and her shoes and not much else. A tragic end to the troubled runaway, who got caught up in the wrong crowd after her difficult childhood. So much promise, snuffed out in an instant. She would later become a cautionary tale told to wayward girls threatening to go off the rails – don’t end up like the poor, tragic Honeybee!

Sheriff Lee Bodecker moved to Meade shortly after his success with the Cypress bust and subsequent investigation of Honeybee’s death. He married a pretty, young woman he met at a diner, and the two became pillars of the community. A few years later they were reportedly expecting their first child, and happier than ever.

*

Present Day…

You heard the men coming up the stairs and you knew it was time.

Here’s hoping you remembered some of your old tricks…

*

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I had great fun with it. As always I'm grateful for any reblogs or comments ❤️

[she-karev]

Maya Meets Andrew DeLuca (Maya x Carina Sweet Imagine)

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Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Three

Fandom: Station 19

Ship: Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca

Canon Episode: Season 4 Episode 3

AN: Here it is for real guys! What we were robbed of when they killed DeLuca. At least on Tumblr I can correct this mistake so enjoy and let me know what you think. Like and reblog below.

Summary: Maya meets Andrew DeLuca with Carina as a witness.

Words: 788

April 6th, 2020

“Does this look okay?” Maya asks Carina for the third time today coming out of their bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and dark jeans. Carina makes French toast in the kitchen for three people since her brother Andrew DeLuca is coming over to officially meet Maya.

The day he went into treatment Carina told Maya that once he’s better she wants them to meet. Maya was nervous but happy that Carina is moving their relationship forward by introducing Maya to her family. From what Carina told her Andrew is nice and told her the other night he already liked Maya based on Carina’s word alone.

Despite this Maya is worried on how she’ll present herself to her live-in girlfriend’s brother, citing that brothers normally detest her, including her own. Which is why she is trying on a third outfit for this occasion.

Carina chuckles at Maya’s nervousness, “Bambina you look great, just like you did two outfits ago. He’s going to love you don’t worry.”

Maya exhales, “You know I hate it when people tell me not to worry, it makes me worry more. It’s the first time I’m meeting my girlfriend’s family and it’s during a pandemic so my neurosis are on fire.”

“Breathe Maya breathe.” Carina recites and Maya follows breathing in and out, “Good. Now listen normally my brother doesn’t like the people I date but it’s not the case right now. When I told him about you, he was happy and excited to meet you. And that was before he even saw you.” Maya calms down at this assurance, “Once he sees you and knows you, he will be happy that you are in my life. I promise.”

Maya grins at her love, “Okay.”

The doorbell rings and Maya inhales deeply before Carina moves to open it and throws Maya a smile, “It will be fine.”

Carina opens the door and Maya stands behind Carina in her outfit that she is criticizing already but grins behind the mask she has on at Andrew DeLuca. Andrew stands outside the door in his brown jacket, red shirt and jeans with a black mask for protection.

“Negative covid test here’s the proof.” Andrew holds up his phone with the results from the tests they all took last night.

“We’re clean too, come in come in.” Andrew follows Carina and keeps a respectable six feet distance from Maya who stands there nervous but composed. Andrew looks at her happy to meet the woman who made his sister happy during a difficult time in both of their lives. Maya relaxes slightly as she can tell Andrew is smiling behind his mask.

Carina starts introduction, “Maya Bishop this is my brother Andrea, but he goes by Andrew. Andrea this is the love of my life Maya.”

Maya smiles at the endearment and looks at their guest, “Hi it’s nice to officially meet you. I would shake you hand but you know.”

Andrew grin, “It’s nice to officially meet you too. Carina has told me a lot about you.”

Maya looks flattered, “All good I hope.”  

“It was.” Andrew clarifies, “And it’s probably the most she told me about a woman she’s dating and believe me there has been a lot.”

Carina admonishes her brother’s teasing, “No do not listen to him.”

Maya chuckles at the sibling quarrel before spotting the gift bag in DeLuca’s hands, “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh right.” He hands them the bag with Maya taking it, “It’s a housewarming gift, I didn’t want to show up empty handed.”

Maya looks surprised, “Oh that’s really sweet of you thank you.” Maya takes out the flat white top pillar candles packaged in a set of three to her confusion.

Andrew explains, “It’s a flameless candle. I was an EMT before I went to college, so I know how superstitious firefighters are and how they don’t keep lighters at home. So, I got you something in case the power goes out, batteries are included.”

Maya chuckles, “I have a fireplace but thanks for this. You can never be too prepared that’s my motto.”

“It is.” Carina clarifies with a grin, “She practically carries a checklist everywhere she goes, at first it was annoying but then it was sexy.”

Andrew winces at that, “Okay before my sister makes me lose my appetite we should probably eat.”

“Yeah, good idea, I have a shift in an hour, so I need some replenishment. Kitchen is over here, and coffee is by the pantry.”

“Great I’ll serve us.” Andrew walks by her to the kitchen while Maya looks at Carina with a grin who grins back before caressing her arm as they head to the kitchen to continue this meeting.

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