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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 1 year

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I heard Hold On, We're Going Home on the radio on my drive home yesterday and this is what my brain supplied me with so 🤷‍♀️

"Edddd-he-he-he-heeeeee!"

The sound of Dustin's wail splits through the rumbling of The Upside Down as they were racing back to the gate.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Fucking idiots! What happened to not being heroes! Steve thinks as he picks up his pace, sprinting faster than he ever has, towards where he thinks he heard the sound come from.

He comes to a skidding halt next to the pair. Dustin, clinging to a lifeless Eddie, his tear-streaked face turned up to the sky, a guttural scream ripping from his little brother's lungs as he howls in agony. It threatens to break through his concentration, but Steve's training is stronger.

"What happened?" Steve asks, trying to peel Dustin off of Eddie so he can get a better look at his wounds. It's obvious it was the bats; they're either dead or writhing around them. But it's like Dustin can't hear him; he's just weeping and rocking Eddie back and forth.

"Dustin!" Steve snaps, finally gaining the boy's attention, his eyes snap open and the grief and heartbreak in their innocent depths are almost too much. Steve knows it would've broken him this time last year, it still could if he doesn't keep his head on straight, "Let go. Let me help!" Steve insists, trying again to get Dustin to let go.

"Steve," Nancy mumbles, sympathy lacing her tone as she reaches out for him and Dustin over their shoulders, but he just holds his hand up to silence her.

"No! He's not going!" Steve asserts, "Dustin, off!" he demands, wrenching the boy away and all but throwing him into Robin's waiting arms.

She's the only one who knew about the EMT course, she helped him read through some of his textbooks when he'd had to take the day off because he'd had the flu, she knows he's the only one that has a chance to fix this mess.

Steve reaches for Eddie's throat, but there's a gaping hole on one side, it's bleeding a lot but not squirting, so he's hoping that it's just superficial. Blood's pooling around Eddie but not enough to have hit an artery, he's bleeding out, but it's slow, he can fix this. He presses his fingers into the other side of Eddie's neck. There, a pulse. Barely, but definitely there, once, twice then nothing.

He wastes no time in starting chest compressions, "Robin! Count," he pleads, he knows it'll be easier if he doesn't expend all his energy trying to do both at once.

"One and two and three, one and two and three, one and two and three," she copies his movements, only stopping counting when he searches again for a beat before continuing when he does.

He half hears Nancy trying to get what happened out of Dustin, how it happened, how long ago, but the kid only knows half of the story. He explains how Eddie cut the rope and ran off, how he made it back through the gate by himself, how the bats dropped out of the sky as he wobbled out of the trailer and how he found Eddie.

"He was- he was talking," Dustin gets out between sobs, still shaking in Robin's grasp, the two of them watching Steve work intently.

"When?" Steve asks, still pumping Eddie's chest, half listening to Robin keeping count.

Dustin doesn't say anything for a second, then he splutters, "I- I don't…"

Except Steve doesn't have time for I don't know's, he needs to know, and he needs to know now, "Think, man!" Steve beseeches impatiently.

"Steve!" both girls snap, confusion written all over Nancy's face, fury on Robin's, mad at him for snapping at Dustin. She wraps her arms tighter, more protectively around the boy, pressing her chin into the top of his head, but she's still counting for him. Dustin's her favourite out of the boys and honestly, he can't blame her, he'd probably say the same if he had to choose.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Dusty, but c'mon, I need to know," he implores.

Dustin nods, breathes deeply and sets his shoulders, scrunching his brows in concentration, "I don't know, he was bleeding, but he was talking, and then he said… but then he was gone, and then you arrived," he recounts, thinking hard he nods to himself, "Seconds, fifteen, twenty? Maybe more, but definitely less than a minute," he decides.

Steve nods back at Dustin, "That's good. That's so good, man. I'm so proud of you," he tells him as sincerely as he can, but he's starting to get tired. He knows he can't do this much longer, his body is screaming at him from everywhere, but he won't stop. He can't. Not just for Dustin's sake but for his own.

Because honestly, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about Eddie since the boathouse, since he'd pressed broken glass against his neck and left a bruise at the bottom of his back that hasn't gone away, that has him thinking about that moment every time it twinges, and he's already decided that there's no way this is going to be it, he won't let it end this way, not if he can help it.

Nancy's found some fabric from godknowswhere and is doing her best to wrap up the worst of Eddie's wounds. It's only when she runs out of material that she stops working and feels at Eddie's neck, "Pulse!" she shouts. Steve knocks her hand out of the way to check himself and sure enough, weak but there, proof that Eddie's heart is beating by itself.

"Move! Gate! Now!" Steve demands, using every bit of strength he's got left to lift Eddie from the ground. The girls grab either side of Dustin and high tail it to the trailer, Steve moving as fast as his legs will carry him after them. "C'mon, Eddie, just hold on, we're going home," he tells him, holding him more securely as he waddles up the steps.

Dustin's holding the door open for Steve as the girls drag the dining table under the gate, Robin climbing up onto the wooden surface and boosting Nancy through to the other side. Dustin pulls the door closed behind Steve and Eddie, then grabs a dining chair, dragging it next to the table and using it as a step to wobble up on the table surface. Nancy's already clambered off the waiting chair that Dustin had used to launch himself through the gate and is dragging the table into its place, climbing back up to catch Dustin as Robin carefully boosts the boy through to the other side.

Robin jumps down and helps Steve climb onto the chair and then the tabletop with Eddie in his arms then she climbs back up, and hops a few times. It worries Steve given the way everything here is slowly decaying that the table will crumble beneath their feet, but it doesn't. She leaps at the gate, clinging to its sides and lifting herself until she's falling, landing ungracefully into Nancy's waiting arms, Dustin doing what he can to help them keep their balance.

Steve nods to himself as he watches them get situated, ready to catch Eddie. All he has to do is get them both through the gate and then they're on the homestretch. All his training tells him Eddie needs a hospital like yesterday but looking at the unconscious boy in his arms, he stalls, something deep in him just can't let Eddie go. Not again.

"Steve," Robin calls, his attention immediately snapping to her, and he just knows from the look on her face. She knows, she sees him, it'll be okay, he just has to trust her and he does. He sucks in a breath and lifts Eddie as high as he can and when he feels the pull from the other side he pushes him towards it, Eddie floating between worlds landing heavily and awkwardly in Robin and Nancy's arms. Steve sucks in a breath when they catch him and between the three of them manage to get back on the ground, laying Eddie down gently on the mattress on the floor.

Steve doesn't hang around to watch as they do their best to get Eddie comfortable, as soon as they're off the table, Steve grabs the dining chair, dragging it onto the tabletop, stepping up and through the gate, landing heavily on the surface before rolling off onto the ground.

Robin and Dustin have already disappeared and Nancy's screaming into the phone, "I know you can hear us, you bastards! Man down! Get a doctor to Memorial now!"

Steve crawls over to Eddie, kneeling over his patient, pressing his fingers back into his neck. He's still got a pulse, and he isn't bleeding too intensely from anywhere he can see, but Steve knows he won't be able to lift him again, his arms just won't take it. It doesn't stop him brushing gentle fingers over his cheek, wiping away some of the grime, "That's it, Eds, we're home now, man. You just rest, we'll get you the help you need," he mutters to him.

When he sits back on his heels, he looks up to see Nancy's already waiting with Eddie's legs in her arms. He smiles gratefully at her, but he's distracted from actually thanking her when a car honks outside. They glance at each other and lift, carrying Eddie out and into the waiting car.

Of course you taught Dustin how to hot-wire a car! Little shits, the pair of you! Steve thinks affectionately, as he and Nancy lay Eddie gently over their knees in the backseat. Robin's behind the wheel, thank god! She sticks her foot flat on the gas pedal as soon as the backdoors are closed, panicking and shouting "shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" as Dustin screams for her to "slow down!" as they peel out of the trailer park.

Steve's got one hand on Eddie's neck, holding a pile of napkins from the car's console to the open wound with his thumb, feeling the beat of this pulse through his fingertips, gently stroking Eddie's hair from his face with the other. "You've got some explaining to do when you get better, Eddie Munson. Don't think being a hero means I'm gonna forget about ignoring orders," Steve mumbles.

Nancy hears him, glances sadly over but doesn't say anything, just turns her face away and focuses on the carnage outside, seeing the way the gate ripped Hawkins apart.

"Just hold on, Eds, you're doing so good. Just stay with us, man. We've got you. It's still gonna be your year, just you watch! I swear we're gonna get you that diploma if it's the last thing I do. We'll have you back on your feet in no time, so I won't hear any excuses. I bet Dustin's told you I'm a pushover, and I am for that kid but don't think you're not getting out of it that easy. You might be cute, but you're not my kid brother," Steve rambles, because he can't do anything else to help, but he remembers reading in his textbooks that the unconscious can still hear, that talking to them can help bring them back to reality, and he's been knocked out enough times by now to know that it's true.

"And you're on babysitting duty too. Someone's gotta help me wrangle these damn kids, 'cause I love Robin, but she's useless at it! You and me we're gonna get this one's attitude in check before the big bad world comes to bite him in the arse," Steve tells Eddie knowing he'll know who he's talking about, knowing Dustin will too. He hopes a bit of levity will help, but instead of the protest he half expects, a quiet sob is the only sound that comes out of the front seat.

Robin reaches over and puts her hand over Dustin's where it had been white-knuckle clenching his seat, giving him the comfort Steve can't right now, and it's almost like they've switched roles.

She's even gotten used to driving, she seems almost as comfortable as he is when he's behind the wheel, and she's as good as he is too, if not better. Not that that surprises Steve. She's always been bigger, brighter and smarter than him, and he loves that so much about her.

"Then when you're all better, and you've finally graduated, you can go off and be a big rock star and shout to the nation instead of the school cafeteria," Steve mumbles, gently removing the tangles and dried blood from his hair. It makes him impossibly sad, but he says it because he knows that's what Eddie wants, what he'd wanted since that damn talent show.

It's not even close to what Steve wants, he wants Eddie to stay with him, to choose to rant to him about the state of the nation's politics and how anything is made better if you add cheese, but it's not an offer he's sure he could ever make and definitely not something he wants to admit aloud especially when Eddie's unconscious.

They're around the corner from the hospital when Eddie makes a guttural rumbling sound that Steve knows isn't good. Shit! Everyone in the car seems to pick up on the tension that automatically fills his body as he presses his fingers harder into Eddie's neck, his pulse is there, but it's weakening. Robin presses down on the gas, the car screeching to a halt outside the ER entrance, Dustin leaping from the vehicle before it's even stopped moving, screaming for help.

Robin pulls open the car door, grabbing Eddie under his shoulders, helping him and Nancy manoeuvre Eddie carefully out of the backseat, "We're here now, Eds, they're gonna fix you, okay? Just hold on a bit longer, baby, and we'll soon have you home," he tells him as he holds the bloodstained paper to his neck, barely noticing when two nurses arrive with a gurney.

The girls practically have to hold him up as soon as Eddie is safely laid on the bed.

The four of them follow him into the hospital as far as they're allowed anyway, a nurse pressing a firm hand into his chest. Steve wants to argue, he wants to go with Eddie, he wants to make sure they look after him properly, but as he looks at the nurse he realises immediately why he recognises her, it's Stinson. She doesn't say anything, just nods at him, but he understands that she's saying, I've got it from here, so he takes a step back, watching helplessly as the door swings shut behind her.

Dustin and the girls crowd into his chest, relief and grief and love, and all he can do is hold them tight and hope and pray he's right.

#i don't know what this is #is it a missing scene? is it just my endless rambling? who knows #i should probably focus more on my driving than turning songs into steddie fics but my brain does what it does 😂#so sorry about the grammar and the tense changes. i am terrible at this #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #platonic stobin #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ish #steve's pov #aj writes

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allthingsfangirl101 · 1 month

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ER Visits – Timothy McGee

I've worked at the ER for three years. I've known Timothy McGee for almost six months. We met at the coffee shop. He was sitting, trying to write and I had just gotten off a 12-hour shift. I was tired and accidentally spilled my drink on his notebook. I freaked out and started apologizing. He just laughed and told me not to worry. He reassured me that he hadn't written anything down anyway.

I bought him and me another cup of coffee and we spent the rest of the morning talking. At least until he got a call from his boss and had to rush off to work.

I went to that coffee shop at the same time every morning for the rest of the week. Unfortunately, he didn't show up. I went to that coffee shop the next Monday and was about to leave when Tim walked in. After that, we agreed to meet every morning for a cup of coffee before he went to work.

It took about two weeks of morning coffee dates before he finally told me what he did for a living. This was after I asked why we hadn't gone on a dinner date. He explained that his work schedule was hard to plan around and he didn't want to stand me up. After that, we kept to our morning coffee dates and had dinner dates rarely when they weren't working on a case.

I knew it was dangerous but it took a bomb at the Navy yard and a special patient for me to realize just how dangerous it was being an NCIS agent.

My heart jumped into my throat when I saw him being brought in on a gurney.

"Tim," I said but it got stuck in my throat. I ran over and started jogging with the gurney. "What happened?" I asked, switching back to my doctor's voice.

"There was an explosion at the Navy yard," the EMT said. "He's an NSCI agent or whatever. Some of his coworkers were brought in too."

"He's an NCIS agent," I corrected.

"How do you know?" Asked one of the other EMTs.

"He's my boyfriend."

With that, we rushed him into one of our free rooms. I wasn't sure who else was brought in with Tim, but I was more focused on him. He didn't have any serious injuries or burns. He hit his head so he was slightly unconscious for a little while.

When we got him settled all we had to do was wait for him to wake up. I quickly went to check on his team before going right back to his room. I stayed in his room, nervously pacing, as I waited for him to wake up. I sat up straighter when I heard him let out a small moan.

His eyes fluttered open and it took him a second to realize where he was. I waited for him to notice me. He slowly sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. When I couldn't wait any longer, I spoke up.

"Tim?"

He looked over at me and smiled.

"Hey, you," he said as he started to get up. I walked over and made him lay back down. He tried to stop me by saying my name. I ignored him and had him lay back down.

"I'm fine."

"You were in an explosion," I said with no emotion in my voice.

"None of us were in the room," he tried to rationalize as he sat back up.

"You were hurt," I said as I grabbed his file.

"Just a bonk on the head," he shrugged. "It could've been a lot worse."

"Can you not?" I sighed, slamming his file down on the rollable table.

"Not what?"

"Act like we're not in the ER," I snapped. My eyes filled with tears as I said, "You don't understand, Tim."

"Understand what?" He asked, the tone of his voice completely changing.

"This is my worst nightmare," I said, my voice breaking.

"What is?" He asked as he slid off the bed and walked over to me.

He gently took me in his arms as I explained, "You coming into the ER after a case gone wrong," I whispered, "and me not being able to do anything to help you."

"Y/N," he said gently, "you are the best doctor in town. I wouldn't want anyone else taking care of me."

"But what if. . . There are some people I can't help, Tim," I said, my sob getting stuck in my throat. "And I don't want one of them to be you."

Tim pulled me into his chest and held me tightly. I took a shaky breath as I tightly wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his neck.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered. "But I really am fine."

"To be fair," I mumbled, "you're an NCIS agent. Not a doctor."

I stepped out of his arms, grabbed his chart, and started to leave but he grabbed my hand. I sighed when he pulled me back so I was standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. He reached up and moved some hair out of my face. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. I let out a small sigh as I kissed him back.

"I know your job is dangerous," I said, breaking the kiss, "but I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," he said instantly.

"Next time you get hurt," I said, my voice shaky, "please don't act like it's not a big deal. Let me check you out so I know for myself that you're okay. I couldn't handle. . ."

Tim kissed me to stop me from spiraling again. He slowly broke the kiss and smiled down at me.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered. My stomach flipped when he said those words to me for the first time.

"I love you too, Tim."

* * * * *

When Tim finally sat down and let me check him out, I discovered that he had a minor concussion and nothing else.

"Care to take me home, doc?" He asked teasingly as he walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I got to finalize your paperwork," I explained, "but give me five minutes and I'm good to go."

Tim kissed my cheek before leaving. I filled out what I needed and left. As I walked out of the exam room, Gibbs was hugging Tim.

"I'm okay," Tim chuckled as they broke their hug. "Passed with flying colors, got a clean bill of health."

"I wouldn't say that," I said leaving the room.

"How is he, Doc?" Gibbs asked me.

"Mild concussion," I said. "I might be paranoid because I love him but give him a couple of days to recuperate and he'll be fine. In fact, you should all take a few days to recuperate."

I walked over to the nurse's station and finished filling out Tim's discharge papers but I could hear their conversation.

"Love?" Gibbs asked Tim with a small chuckle.

"Yep," Tim cleared his throat.

"Good for you, Tim," Gibbs patted him on the back. "Good for you."

#timothy mcgee #tim mcgee #NCIS #special agent tim mcgee #NCIS McGee

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 1 day

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The End of the World

First posted: October 6, 2019

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth

Tier: Closer to the bottom on all metrics because no one values Alfred.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

The Whumptober fics of 2019 continue apace, this time with probably my quietest fic of the year, because everyone says they love Alfred and yet no one seems to want to read about him. Fools.

When Bruce was nine, the world ended. Not in the same way it had when he was eight.

Please know that I don't even have to remember writing this fic to look at these two lines and know that what happened is my brain gave me a banger of an opening line and then immediately went "... wait."

Because I have to be correct and of COURSE the true world-ender was his parents' death, but also this needed to be, too. So then I had to spend another couple paragraphs explaining how and why so it all made sense, just so I could keep the opening line.

The engine rumbled soft and low in a way that was pleasant, and the sun was warm on the leather seats, and Bruce was tired from following Alfred through the grocery store.

Cars are so comfy. I have so many vague and indistinguishable but nice memories of just chilling and daydream in the backseat of the car as a kid. Not a Mercedes like Bruce (cue slight panic from me trying to figure out what Alfred's errand car of choice might be) but still. Samesies.

The car had flipped, rolling over once and then nearly a quarter again before rocking back to rest on its wheels.

Super frustrating to read my own writing, see what I was going for, and also be able to tell that that was inspired BY something... and I don't remember what. Like I KNOW that I was watching something, brain went "Yoink that for a fic!!" and I did, but I can't remember where from.

Shock someone pronounced, which seemed wrong. This felt nothing like touching a doorknob with socked feet. But then, he’d thought that the last time someone had said the same thing. The scratchy gray blanket around his shoulders was nowhere as nice as Lieutenant Gordon’s jacket.

I love playing with language, especially through super-literal kids like Bruce. I get to have fun with words and then make it sad for people. :D

He didn’t remember the ambulance ride, other than that it was loud and a lady with close-cropped hair like lamb’s wool held his hand the entire way. She sat next to him, both of them in squeaky purple seats with crisscrossing seat belts across the chest, while her partner monitored the lady in the stretcher opposite.

I am baffled by this paragraph because reading with 2024 eyes, I would say "Oh, I pulled this from that 9-1-1 show!" because how else would I know what color the seats should be and why would I describe an EMT somewhat similar to Aisha Hinds' character?

Friends, I did not watch a single episode of that show before 2021. I don't know where I got any of this. What scintillating insight I give you in these BTS posts.

Feeling Alfred pull from his grasp had been a true shock, like sticking a fork in a light socket, a blazing force that cut through the fog. He had been convinced as surely as any nine-year-old boy could be that if Alfred left his sight, he was never coming back.

I'm pretty sure some time before this we'd been talking in the group chat about Bruce's attachment to Alfred as his one remaining adult. This fic partly came from that. Poor Bruce has so much trauma from being an orphan and I wanted to, like, just skim the top layer of that and to play around with some of that tight trauma bond a little bit. Alfred is the butler and Alfred is his only adult and Alfred is it now. They're all each other has.

Bruce hadn’t screamed when his parents were shot, and in the days and weeks that followed, his grief had leeched away his speech until he had been left mute and numb. He hadn’t screamed when he was eight, but when he was nine, he had raged so loudly that his screams drowned out the chaos of the ER. . . . Alfred! Alfred! had ricocheted off the scuffed white walls and bleached linoleum floors. Bruce’s one word, his only word in over a year, ALFRED! And it had done him no good.

And THIS specifically is what I wanted to write toward. This right here.

Bruce was no longer nine.

Listen, when I figured out where this fic was going, that I would be able to explore not just what happened to Bruce when he was nine but also link it back to his ADULT SELF? I felt godlike. As far as I can remember, this was NOT planned. I just figured it out while writing.

Their waiting room was an actual room, a closed-off little pocket of private space rather than the larger undivided area that was the hospital’s true waiting room.

Usually when I write hospital spaces (like in Emergency Contact), I just write the hospital I used to work at, because it makes it easier for me to see the space and also to know I was getting at least some things right. I couldn't do that here, because it didn't make sense for a celebrity family to sit in the public atrium where my mom waited for my grandmother to get out of surgery. So I made it up whole cloth. ✨fiction✨

The nurse, a broad man with a goatee and kind eyes, had sat with him for hours.

Modeled after my old ER coworker, Banksy. 🫡

Off-white walls and patterned floors, the lingering funk of pee and vomit blanketed with chemical cleaners, stainless steel and faded hospital gowns.

In the ER, you can add coffee grounds to the list. For scent absorption. Fun fact, just for you. See, these BTS posts are educational after all.

“An accident,” Bruce repeated patiently. “You fell and I didn’t catch you.”

ALSO HAPPENED TO ME. I didn't fall, I fainted, and my cousin went to catch me and MISSED. Thankfully, I didn't break my arm, but I DID go face-first into the curb. I was NOT checked for a concussion.

“Like the Sixties have come ‘round again,” Alfred answered promptly, making Bruce laugh.

imo, if your Alfred doesn't have a sense of humor that he's willing to use, you're doing it wrong.

A cool thing, this one ended up getting translated into Vietnamese!

#fanfic bts brain dump #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batfic #fanfic

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mezzomorendo · 6 months

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Meet the Mun.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Zack has been a staple of my life since I first picked up Crisis Core wayyyyy back in 2009-2010 ish. Ever since I saved up every penny from chores and babysitting to get a PSP specifically to play it, I was obsessed with him and his story. I never played OG 7, so all I knew was Zack's life and his story and I loved him. I still do, and to this day he's a giant influence on me. I have an intense emotional connection with this character, and as an adult I see now why I connected with him so much. He was exactly what I needed as a lost, confused kid who didn't understand why I was the way I was. I picked Zack up as a muse a couple years ago, when I finally decided to try my hand at writing him. For the longest time he was just someone I admired, and now I get to infuse him with even more love. <3

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

I'm not super fond of a lot of action scenes? Fights are really hard for me to do. I also don't tend to do things like torture or other darker subjects like that because I'm just here to have fun and do character exploration LMAO.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

FLUFF!!!!!! SHIPS!!!!!!!!!!! Really whatever lets me explore him being happy and alive and a person outside of the narrative. He really is defined by his death, so I love to explore who he is outside of war and dying.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

Not gonna lie, quite a few are me projecting onto him LMAO. But usually the way I write HCs are from a handful of prompting questions. Some examples are below <3 "What are the realistic consequences of this part of his life?" This brought me to how long it would likely take him to heal after being riddled with bullets, what is mental state would be like, why he's no longer a combatant, and how he moved from "mercenary" to "EMT" "Would this explain why he is the way he is?" This is a lot of where I'm starting to extrapolate Gongagan culture/history as well as expanding on his family. It's also where i got him being poly and ADHD!

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Music for more intense scenes, but often time it's just whatever random youtube video is playing in the background for me. I do have an entire Zack playlist on Spotify I use when I really need to get IC though.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

Eh, wing them usually. Sometimes I do a bit of planning over discord by throwing around IC thoughts or plots, but usually it's very spur of the moment. Zack doesn't do a lot of pre-planning himself so I don't tend to either.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

HELL FUCKING YEAH I AM! I've elaborated on it in my rules but genuinely I love shipping with Zack. He's so full of love and care and it's hard for him not to catch feelings for people. He's also defined by the amount of love he gives - he loves so strongly, and all the time. I won't force ship, but even if you're like "hey i have a silly crackship" gimme.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Kei! :D It's the name I use in dating sims and it's stuck LMAO

ᴀɢᴇ?

25+

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

Soon, actually! Late April.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Blues and blacks <3

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

Depends on my mood tbh but right now it's like. 90% of KINGDOM's work lolol especially Last Flower - i am WAITING for the day they eventually release it to streaming ;w;

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Advent Children, actually! I got to watch it with my BF who had never seen it before and it was sooooo much fun LMAO.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Uhhhhh Apothecary Diaries I think? I think the last thing I watched was the finale for that.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

The Soda Wave on youtube's Pruno Faustino cover of Soleil by Tiara <3 I love that voicebank they made SO MUCH and it's so pretty

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

PASTRIES! Everything from Chocolate Lava Cake to croissants to mochi to whatever! I looooove pastries so much <3

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Fall. Bugs are dead and can't scare me and i'm not having issues with temperature regulation

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

Not really? I just have a lotta good friends :>

tagged by: well really stolen from @reapersxfolly (it's not letting me @ u gomenasorry)

tagging: whoever wants to do it!

#ooc; kei talks #reapersxfolly

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birdhouser3-blog · 1 month

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Dr. Conrad Hawkins x OC

Eventually

(In a world where Conrad and Nic didn't get back together. Takes place in mid season 1 stage.) This is my first fan fiction in ten years so I'm rusty to say the least and I have dyslexia. So if there are mistakes, I apologize. Hope it is enjoyable. 🙂

“Dr.Frost!” the nurse yelled down the hall of the ER. Alerting me as I was attending to a different patient. Turning to see a young man will have an obvious broken leg and unconscious from the shock. “What happened to him?” I yell. I knew the kid. He was about 17 and lived in the neighborhood with a skate park next to it. Shaking her head she said “I don't know what he was doing the EMT brought him and left pretty fast saying he was stable.” nodding at her and taking him to the room with the other patient.

Working to stabilize his leg in a sling till he wakes up and checking his vitals for any residual issues Conrad enters the ER seeming to take note of my existence. Nodding back at him as a greeting, I continue my work. Dr.Pravesh entered the room looking confused,” did something happen between you and Conrad?” “um not that i'm aware of, why, did he say something?” I whisper looking at him. Shaking his head and walking away, I thought he was just acting weird. Shrugging it off and finishing my chart, moving to the doctors lounge to get something to drink.

Sitting down for the first time in hours Conrad comes walking in with that smile on his face he uses when he wants something. (If you know you know) “yes?” I inquired, taking a drink from my bottle. He sits on the table in front of me awfully close, basically like knee to knee he was so close. “I need a favor,” is all he says. I look at him waiting for the rest of it, after a few seconds,” what do you need?” “Can you meet me after work?” he asked, looking at me, his hand touching my knee in an almost pleading way. I looked at him hand and back at him,” sure out front?”

Nodding he just got up and left like nothing happened. Baffled, I was trying to think of what he needed but nothing came to mind. We were close and had flirted on and off. He wasn't with Nic anymore but I never asked about it, not my business really. Leaving the lounge I made my way to check on the kid that had come in with a broken leg. I remembered his name was William. He had helped a few younger kids that had cancer at the hospital learn to skate. He was a celebrity of sorts around here. Standing in his room of course was Conrad being his loving and encouraging self with all our patients.

“William you have the best doctor looking after you, she is the greats trust me everyone loves her,” Conrad was talking to him and i just stood there behind him listening. “Greatest? First I'm hearing this praise,” chiming in on the conservation. William was looking between us,” you have a broken leg, lucky a cast in a few weeks off your leg will be enough for you to heal properly,” I reassured him. Conrad smiled at my explanation of his condition, put a hand on my shoulder and looked at William nodding,” see she will take care of you buddy.” Leaving the room he headed to help with the ER flow leaving me with William explaining his treatment plan and going over what will happen.

Leaving for the evening, I waited for Conrad outside in front on a bench looking at traffic go by. What would I want still rattling my brain, getting anxious, going through any possible scenario coming up with nothing. Suddenly there was a person on the bench next to me. Looking at him he was silent and seemed to be thinking.

“Do you wanna go out with me sometime?”

He said looking at traffic. Then glanced at me looking for a response. Breathing out, I didn't know I was holding my breath,”yeah that sounds fun actually.” He looked at me smiling,” I still got it,” laughing to himself. I smiled,” one of us was going to ask eventually.”

That weekend we went to a sports bar with some other colleagues and I ended up back at his place. I still don't know where my underwear went in that loft.

#conrad hawkins #the resident #conrad x oc #conrad Hawkins x oc

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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Not Your Average First Date (Male!Reader x Mike Monroe)

Requested by anonymous for a Mike fic where he and reader get really close after surviving the events of the game and end up getting together?

You could say your first real date with Mike Monroe was not a particularly ordinary one.

You had been friends before that, even if that friendship was tested to its limit by the events on Blackwood Mountain.

And it was hard to move past those events, particularly because of the nightmare right after the nightmare.

Namely, hours with the EMTs who took care of all of your injuries sustained through the night, and then hours after that spent recounting your stories over and over again for the police, kept separate from your friends.

ANd THEN, the months of media engagement hounding you for details about the Washington family, the disappearance of the twins and Josh, and ultimately keeping all this horror and trauma fresh in your mind.

It's hard to forget something happened when it keeps following you around.

So it isn't until around eight months after the night on Blackwood Mountain that you even see any of the friends in person again. Jessica and Mike broke up, as did Emily and Matt. Chris and Ashley got together but ultimately, it was such a horrible experience for everyone.

Mike had found it really hard to go back to college but forced himself back into work, but he got to you for some awkward tutoring sessions in which you both desperately tried to avoid even the most minor reference to Josh or the lodge or the sanatorium.

And one day you found a text from Mike waiting on your phone, asking if maybe you wanted to get lunch sometime.

It's been hard for all of you - something like what happened alienates you as much as it brings you together - your friends are the only people who could possibly understand you anymore, and what you've been through, but then again, they're reminders of what happened.

Mike's lost fingers are emblematic of this - when you meet again, you're both jumpy, but somehow... it's comforting. You're with someone who doesn't mind that you freeze and go unnaturally still when you hear a loud noise, that doesn't mind that you survey every exit in a room, secure as much as you can. And Mike appreciates the fact that he doesn't have to explain or see you looking at his fingers with macabre curiosity.

You spend almost an hour in near-total silence, the only sounds being you two eating. You pay your tab, and then sit in Mike's car, and words come tumbling out - talking about everything and nothing. What you've heard about the search for Josh, the achievements of your friends, the weird things you do now because you have nightmares about Wendigos every time you close your eyes.

You're not sure when your hand makes its way into Mike's, but by the end of the car ride, you're in his apartment and you're nearly in his lap, under a blanket.

"So... uh, I wanted to ask you something. I've been seeing a therapist, and uh, she thinks it's probably not the most healthy thing for me not to have any roommates. I'm kind of... on my own. Nobody else really... gets it, you know?"

And that was how Mike asked you to move in with him.

It's definitely not easy, but being able to acknowledge that you aren't crazy, that something freaky really happened up there, is such a comfort. The little behaviors Mike has developed are similar and different from yours, but there's very little need for explaining them, because you know exactly what it comes from, the thing you can't tell anyone else.

Mike initially means for you two to have your own separate bedrooms but it feels somehow safer to be in the same one, so with some moving, you just stick a bed on the opposite end.

And one night, maybe after a year of living together, Mike kisses you. You're not even sure why. There was some stupid boring show on, and Mike just turned to you, his arm around you, and moved in, and you moved towards him, and your lips met.

There's no fireworks, no blazing sunbeam illuminating you both. There's just a simple feeling of rightness - that this is what you both had been missing.

Things still aren't easy. There's nightmares, therapy, triggers. Real life getting in the way.

But somehow, the fact that Mike calls you stupid pet names like Puppyface or Sparkles or Honeybunch and the knowledge that you get to rest your head on his strong chest and hear his heart beat any time you want makes it feel just a little bit better.

#mike monroe x reader #mike monroe x male reader #x reader #x male reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn x male reader #until dawn headcanons #headcanons

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fckwritersblock · 3 years

Text

Protection Forever - William Lennox

Lennox x Reader

Description: Running into an old flame at the worst possible time.

Warning: nah. Bad writing? Kinda. Unedited because I was excited. I’ll not when it’s been fixed. Somethings may not be fully aligned with the movie but I tried 😩

Word count: 2500+

Dedicated to @merakiaes hey fren!

All gifs from @meragifs too!

You were an EMT.

The two of you pulled up to meet with the other Autobots, you exiting the vehicle before he transformed. You were in awe as he and the rest of the cars all changed.

The biggest one, their leader, gave a rundown of everything that was happening once he confirmed Sam’s identity. This was just a recap for you as Ratchet had already explained. The teenage boy just stood there stuttering not really knowing how to process everything and you frowned again. That was when you really took notice of two teens just standing there. Having known what was expected of Sam Witwicky you frowned slightly.

“I don’t know about this Ratchet, he’s just kid.” You commented to the alien you had formed a quick bond with.

“And who might you be?” The one called Optimus inquired.

You gave him your name before the other yellow autobot, who you’d later learned was Bumble Bee, uttered something through his radio. It was hard for you to hear but the other robots seemed to be use to it as Ratchet responded immediately.

“The human. I like her.” Ratchet sounding irritated.

Bumblebee made another comment and right before Ratchet could respond one of the others chimed in.

“Wait why do they get humans?” Jazz asked incredulously. “I want one too!”

“Enough! Humans are not pets.” The one call Optimus Prime stated sternly, clearly tired of their bickering. You held your laugh, highly amused.

They were like siblings. A family.

“Exactly I’m just here to help and be a better tour guide than these kids can be.” You confirmed practically forcing your services on them. “Besides they need adult supervision. From the looks of it, you all do.” You grinned at everyone around you. Optimus gave a nod, agreeing.

“She stays. Let’s move.”

In that short amount of time things moved rather quickly. You watched the Autobots accidentally destroy Sam’s backyard when attempting to retrieve the glasses, you were all arrested, you escaped thanks to the Autobots, only to be arrested again.

Fail.

Finally you ended it some secret base. How get you weren’t alone. The government had apparently been on a roll with kidnapping civilians who “knew too much “.

Things weren’t going great but quickly went left when the Decepticons, the Autobot rivals, came to retrieve Megatron.

A war from another planet had officially made Earth its battleground.

You were nervous, trying to figure out how to calm everything down before things started to escalate. Nobody was going to get anywhere with all the bickering. That’s when you saw him.

It had been what? Two years?

Still, without even knowing it, without even knowing you were present, he was still able to make your heart be slow and fast at the same time. The army had aged him, but for the better making him all the more attractive but you couldn’t focus on that right now. Especially when you heard:

“The cryogenic system is failing! We're losing NBE One!”

All the soldiers begin to pack everything that they could to prepare in a fight the way they always did. It was an mirable the way Linux game orders in his men took them without a second thought. The trust there.

“That’s good. Get all the ammo you got.”

“Everything you can carry. Bring it.”

Tearing your eyes away from your former lover you grab Sam.

“Come on, we need Bee.” You reminded him, nodding in Simmons direction

“You got to take me to my car.” Sam said, then repeated when he was ignored. “You have to take me to my car. He’s gonna know what to do with the Cube.”

“Your car? It's confiscated.”

“Then unconfiscate it.” You stared blankly.

“We do not know what will happen if we let it near this thing! -“

“You don't know.”

“Maybe you know, but I don't know.”

You rolled your eyes at the insufferable mans rambling.

This was really was more about ego who was in control more than anything. The guy running the ship, clearly was on a power trip. Unfortunately for him he was facing off against soldiers . The Captain who’s eyes you could feel staring at the side of your face.

A Captain and his soldiers. Ones that really dont like to lose and take serving their country seriously.

The guy who arrested you earlier continue to argue with Sam about getting him back to bumblebee when Lennox finally pulled out his gun sick of the back-and-forth.

“Take him to his car!”

As soon as he did so all hell broke loose and everyone from both parties pulled out a weapon.

“Drop it!”

It wasn’t until One of the sector seven agents pointed a gun at the back of Will’s head that you disable to another agent and took his gun and pointed it directly and held it directly at the one pointing the gun at your ex.

“I really wouldn’t.” You warned.

You were no soldier, but Will have taught you plenty before you broke up. So did your brother, before he passed away. He actually served alongside Will but died in combat. Biking. That’s part of why you were so hurt when Will re-enlisted. When he got promoted to Captain and chose the army over you. You were terrified of losing him the way you lost your brother. The break up wasn’t that messy but you both said things you didn’t mean. In attempts to mask your own pain and hurt one another.

You know. Hurt people, hurt people.

It’s still came to no surprise that you put a bullet in someone to protect him. Together or not you’d never let anything happen to him.

“I'm ordering you under S-Seven executive jurisdiction-“ Simmons ranted.

“S-Seven don't exist.” You interjected, earning a quick appreciative glance from Will.

“Right. And we don’t take orders from people that don’t exist.”

“I’m gonna count to 5. Okay-“ Simmons attempted to threat yet again.

“Well, I’m gonna count to three.” Will deadpanned.

You knew that look. God did you know that look and it was so wrong that you were so turned on.

Finally the Secretary of defense interfered telling Simmons to do what was being asked of him. Everyone relaxed slight, weapons lowering.

“Y/n,”

“Captain.”

The Captain and couldn’t help but watch you how do you get up and prepare to go.

“So that’s her huh?” Epps commented as Will watched you run off with Sam.

“Yeah..” Will answered, mind racing.

While he knew he’d eventually see you again, he didn’t think it would be like this. You looked breath taking.

“Damn. Shorty had your back that entire time.”

“Gear up,”

“What I’m just saying I thought she was gonna put a cap in his.” Epps shouted after his Captain receiving no response.

Will knew you had his back, you always would, the same way he would always have yours. He thought of you often, the break up between two inescapable, never feeling like he did the right thing. You were always not too far from the front of his mind. Him wondering how you were doing. If you were happy. If you found somebody else. There was no doubt he regretted what had transpired between the two of you. It was his fault. He knew that. You knew that. He had ample opportunity to fight for you and he didn’t. When he was promoted Captain he felt he had to choose between you and the army. He didn’t choose you the way he should’ve. In reality he could’ve had both. However hr so caught up proven himself to his deadbeat dad that he possibly let the best thing that ever happened to him go.

Not to mention trying to atone for your brothers death. It wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t shake it. So without talking to you he reenlisted. Needless to say where that got him.

Now hear the both of you were in the middle of an alien war. Yeah. This is the last place he thought he’d see you.

You were numb. The battle on the highway enough to freak you out. For mommy, just a moment you thought this might be a dream but no. This is all very real. One minute you guys were just entering the city trying to lay low, next thing you know - BOOM! The explosion knocked all of you over, injuring some, killing a few. Bumblebee’s legs were partially blown off.

Getting up off the pavement you waited for the ringing in your ear to subside as you stood up, trying to study yourself when you felt a pair of arms hold you still.

You knew it was Will just by the way he touched you, you blinked hard trying not to go down memory lane.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was enough to make your heart skip a bear.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Yeah I’m fine.”

Slowly you removed yourself from his grip and went to check on Sam and Mikaela. Ratchet on the other hand -

“Hmm. His pheromone levels are-“ you quickly turned on him and glared.

“Ratchet I’ll turn you into a can opener if you don’t shut the hell up.”

The robot nearly held his hands up in the surrendering position as he followed you. Will had arranged an aircraft to pick up Sam and the cube while everyone else defended themselves against the deceptive cons in a hurry to get the cube far far away before Megatron arrived. Sam was in a panic and so Michaela, you could see Will’s short fuse getting ready to exploded. It was then you decided to be an escort.

“Sam, you can’t do this alone.” Michaela fussed.

“He won’t be alone.” You commented, causing all parties involved to look at you.

“I’m going with you.” You declared.

“No.” Will didn’t even hesitated as he stepped closer to you.

“Captain Lennox-“

“No!” You grabbed him by the front of his beer and pushed him back.

“Do you see what going on out there?!” You continued to hold on to him and you yelled at him over there chose. “We’re at a war. One we are extremely ill prepared for. So get your shit together! Sam is my responsibility. I have to get this kid to safety.”

This time your hands slid up the side of his face forcing him to look at you.

“Y/n..” he breathed out leaning down toward you, and for the first time during all this madness you could visibly see he was afraid.

“I’ll be back, Will.” You assured him, briefly resting your forehead against his.

Gathering himself he pulled away, looking toward Sam then back at you.

“Go. Go!”

And then we were running.. With nothing but an M16 strapped to your back and the pistol in your hand, you ran faster than you ever have before.

The four of you were under attack once more, you and Sam doing what you had to, to avoid getting snatched up as a fight Ironhide and Ratchet defended you. Unfortunately you were too close to one of the cars that went up in flames and you were thrown into another car from the blast.

“Y/n!” You could feel the blood on your forehead as you slowly pushed yourself up. As you tried to stand you immediately stopped feeling the pain in your thigh. Looking down could see the damage that had been done. The blood surrounding the afflicted area.

“Wha- what, what do i do?!” Sam asked frantically once he took notice of your injury.

“You gotta keep going Sam. I’ll be fine.”

He stood fo his feet, unsure of what to do. When Ironhide told him the same thing.

“Go!” You screamed once more.

Sam left and continued to run without you as you, as quickly as possible, as you tore your focus away from him to pull the shard of glass in your leg out. Ripping a piece of your shirt off you tightly tied it around your thigh in order to stop the bleeding. There was no point in going forward now but the return back to everyone else and help them fight.

You just had to avoid getting killed in the process.

You seen a car steering wheel, a Mountain Dew vending machine and and Xbox all turn into one of those freaky ass robots right before your eyes. All of which you helped others fight off. It was so surreal. In fact, if it wasn’t for the constant ringing in your ear from all the explosions you definitely think you were dreaming. You almost made it back to Lennox and his men when another Decepticon stood between between you and your destinations. They were definitely taking a beating. You saw Epps shooting a green laser indicating the robot that doubled as a helicopter wasn’t a friendly and decided to do what you could to keep the Decepticon from getting any closer to them and hurting any more civilians. In an attempt to draw it away from everyone else, you begin to fire your weapon giving it everything you had.

Unfortunately, the side effective taking its attention off the others meant putting the attention on you.

You ran trying to duck and dodge a bullets now directed your way.

But Will. Will’s heart dropped. Seeing you there defending yourself alone. His pause was brief, the air forces plan already in motion, before he started the motorcycle and was speeding in your direction.

“William!” You screamed for him fearfully as he drove straight toward the robot.

The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You almost couldn’t breathe, you don’t remember the last time you ever felt so scared in your life. But it wasn’t your life you feared for was it?

He rushed forward and slid under the robot continuing to firing the launcher. All you could do was watch as he drove toward you. Toward the danger your mind wondering if he did that on a regular basis. Was this the life of a soldier? What he went through day after day when he was deployed?

Standing up he only spared the parts of the dismembered robot a glance before shouting and turning looking for you. In a matter of seconds he was standing directly in front of you and pulling you into his arms.

Relief.

There was nothing like physically being about to touch someone, hold someone to really know they were okay.

“So…” you began, suddenly feeling nervous. “...That was hot-“

Before you were able to get another word in, he captured your lips with his kissing you roughly and bringing you closer, hands on the small of your back. You couldn’t help it kiss him back just as fiercely put in every emotion you had into that kiss.

Every ounce of passion he had in body, put into this kiss, your lips just as soft, kiss just as pure as he remembered. When you kissed, he knew he was a goner and could never let you go again.

It has been two years since the last time you guys have been this close. This intimate. Reconnected. The feeling it gave you, the indescribable feeling, was one neither one of you ever wanted to forgo again. Pulling back slowly, you both had smiles on your faces, Will pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Excuse me,” Epps interrupted.

The both of you turning your attention on him.

“As cute as this shit is it’s highly inappropriate in the middle of the battle. I’m just saying we are trying to stay alive and shit.”

———————————————

Oh my fu- I don’t even know what this isssss

Couldn’t tell you what my original ideas was or nothing. I believed this was going to short-

I enjoyed writing it though! Shoutout again to @merakiaes for being on this lennox train with me lol

I’m just....I’m just gonna leave this mess here.

Bye

- Mo

—————————-

Tags: @merakiaes @lilythemadqueen

#transformers imagine #transformers #Captain William lennox #william lennox #Lennox x reader #sam witwicky #will lennox x reader #transformers x reader #black!reader #Sam witwicky x reader #optimus prime

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afterlifeoftheparty · 3 years

Note

🍓 hi bestie

kat my love!!! where to start. first of all i'm so glad that u joined emt way back when robin started it because you are one of my best friends in the WORLD and i can't imagine not knowing you!!! i love u dearly. you're such a genuine and kindhearted person and you just make everyone feel loved and appreciated and it does not go unnoticed!! i know ur always in my corner and i can literally only hope i've been there for you the same way you've been there for me these last few years!! u are so loving and generous but also like won't put up with any shit and i love that and am just generally so thankful for u all the time. i love talking to u every day and sending each other funny stuff and every time u send me a tiktok or tell me about ur little city council people or anything i smile :-) i'm also so grateful for the little deranged girl summer (now deranged girl winter) time that me u and robin have been having all of that has been so much fun and such a highlight of the last year. plus anything else we've watched/done together has just always been a fun time and u are so funny and make me laugh so much which adds to the experience. our after streaming breakdowns cannot be explained or rivaled and when it's dgs it's just that much more insane. ALSO i'm so glad that we basically got to experience playing dnd for the first time together and playing with u guys has been so much fun what i'm saying is i'm so glad you've been there for so much stuff that brought me joy these last few years (esp this year!!). even though rn we are separated by several thousand miles on GOD we will see each other in person sometime and i can't wait for that. i love u so much thank u for being u

#nickoflaherty #answered #kat #deranged girl summer live and in person WHEN

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agentnolastname · 4 years

Text

Half a Heart

An OH alternate universe where Casey Valentine got into Mass Kenmore Hospital's resident program instead, but she ends up meeting Ethan Ramsey anyway.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X Casey Valentine (MC)

Chapter 1

Summary: Casey runs into a car crash on her way to her apartment less than a day before her first shift as Mass Kenmore resident.

"A resident. At Mass Kenmore. I actually start my shift in a few hours." She says still not sure of how to continue speaking without stuttering.

"Oh, that's nice, I guess." Ethan says and hangs the chart at the end of the bed. "I'm gonna check on other patients. You can stay here as long as you want."

Casey nods at this and smiles. "Thanks, Dr. Ramsey."

"You're welcome." Ethan stops by the door and faced her again. "You did well. Be confident next time, Rookie."

Word Count: ~1.6K

Trigger Warning: Car Crash, Accident

Note: May contain inaccuracies

***

"Carl, we seriously have to go now, I'm running late!" Casey stumbles upon their porch as she hastily puts her boots on.

Tomorrow is her first day as a resident, and there's only one flight scheduled for Boston today. Missing it, means not being able to attend her first day. That's why she really don't want to be late. Somehow, her brother does not feel her urgency though.

"You still have a couple of hours away from your flight." He says with a straught face as he walks past her, entering the car and opening the engine. Casey enters the car immediately, closing the door off with a bang. Carl laughs at this. "You need to stop being so nervous. You'll make it, and you'll enter Mass Kenmore head up high tomorrow. You'll do great."

Casey just snorts, rolling her eyes, "Well, thanks for the vouch of confidence but the plane won't wait."

They both shared a laugh as the car starts zooming through the highway.

***

It was a seven-hour flight, but it went by fast. She didn't even know they were landing, only realizing it once they actually did. As soon as she got off the plane, she yawns and stretches. Looking around, the thought finally sinks in.

She is indeed in Boston. Alone and about to spend residency in one of the city's most promising hospital. She wasn't sure if she is ready for this, but standing there right now at the Boston Logan International made her realize one thing. It's now or never and the only thing she wouldn't be able to accept is failure. She smiles to herself capturing a picture to send to her family before getting an uber.

It wasn't long before a black sedan stops in front of her. She immediately puts her bags inside and steps inside the car, giving her apartment address to the driver before she eases back into her seat.

Boston, I hope you're ready for me.

***

The drive was supposed to be a short one, considering that her apartment was just minutes away from both the airport and Mass Kenmore. However, her car stops in the highway, just a short distance away from what seemed to be a crash. She immediately got out of her car and walks towards the scene being cleared by paramedics. She stares out in shock.

Sure, they were warned about things like this before, but even during her internship, she never experienced something like this. She scanned the area assessing how bad the situation is. Two long school busses are completely toppled over, and with only a couple of paramedics out, she's sure they aren't gonna be finished anytime soon.

She sighs, running to the triage tent where she saw a paramedic furiously going through materials.

"Are there any doctors present yet?" She asked, the man just looked at her for a brief moment, continuing what he had been doing as he answered her question.

"None. They're on their way though."

She nods as she moves out of the tent again, scanning the area. She saw a little boy not too far away, desperately trying to move his fingers. She immediately runs to where he is.

The kid is stuck in a limbo, two pieces of metal are piercing him, one on the chest and on the abdomen.

"Code red! Someone get in here!" She shouted waiting for a paramedic. One of the EMTs run to her direction pulling a gurney along with him. Another paramedic helps to remove the metal from the boy, slowly lifting it up. The EMT carried the boy carefully into the gurney. Casey follows suit, since the boy had his hand wrapped on her finger, looking at her with tears in his eyes. "You're gonna be fine."

They rode the ambulance and starts making their way to the hospital. The EMT had attached an EKG on the child.

She leans back on the seat, sending a quick text to her uber asking him to drop her things at her apartment. Then she watched the kid closely and noticed how his breathing became rapid, his jugular vein distended.

"How many minutes before the nearest hospital?"

"Edenbrook is atleat 10 minutes away."

"He's tamponading, i'm afraid we can't wait that much." She bites her lip, unsure of what to do. She's an internal medicine resident, performing anything on the boy might cause her license. However, if she does nothing, he'll have no chance at all. "I need a needle and a catheter, I'm gonna do a pericardiocentesis."

"Are you allowed to do this?"

"Do you want this kid saved?"

The EMT did not speak again, instead he handed her the needle. Which she immediately took.

"We don't have an ultrasound, you're gonna have to go in blind." Casey nods at this, shifting her gaze into the young boy's chest.

"Tell me if there's even the slightest ST elevation."

Here's to praying it'll all goes well.

***

It felt like the longest ride. The pericardiocentesis went smoothly, the kid's breathing seemed to normalize after she did it. Pericardial fluid is still draining when they arrived at the hospital. The kid had held her hand again after she finished doing it.

I have to stop being attached to people this fast.

She shakes her head as the doors opened, they were immediately greeted by a couple of hospital interns.

"Carter Thompson, a nine-year-old male, with multiple metal puncture wounds obtained from the bus crash." The EMT nods at Casey hoping she'd explain the situation further.

"His BP is 100 over 80, he went under a cardiac tamponade on the way so I had to perform an emergency pericardiocentesis. One of his arms looks obviously fractured."

"Who are you?" One of the residents looked at her, confused.

Right. Who am I. A kid is dying, Karen.

"I'm Casey Valentine. I was on my way when I saw the crash." She said. The interns just nod despite the still confused faces. She watched as they pull the gurney away, walking towards the hospital.

"I think you've made quite the call." The EMT says suddenly.

"I hope so." She smiled at him. "By the way, I'm Casey. I guess you've already heard earlier. I believe I haven't gotten your name, though."

"I'm Rafael."

"Nice name." She says as he went inside the ambulance to fix the equipments inside, letting another EMT replace the equipments taken earlier. "I think I'm gonna head inside to check on him."

"I think you should." Rafael nods and offers his hands. Casey takes and shakes it. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too. Looking forward to see you again, soon." With that she enters the hospital.

***

She was waiting for an update for a couple of hours. She sat on the lobby checking in on her work groupchat every once in a while. She's tired from the flight, and the fiasco earlier, yet she can't find herself leaving. She would just like to make sure the boy is okay.

"Is there anyone here who knows Carter Thompson?" She sat still, waiting for someone to speak. A few seconds after, no one did. So she stands instead and approaches the nurse.

"I was the one who took him in earlier." She says. The nurse nods leading her into a room where a doctor stands, busy writing on a chart while Carter lies on the bed, still unconscious.

"Dr. Ramsey, his guardians aren't here." The nurse said the moment they got inside the room.

"We're gonna have to wait for them then."

"There's someone who is waiting for an update on him though."

Casey shifts uncomfortably as the attending looks up from his charts, his eyes landing on her.

"Who are you?" He asked, voice stern. Casey couldn't help but stare.

How is this hospital filled with good-looking people?

She clears her throat when she noticed that the man still looks at her with a straight face.

"I brought him in earlier."

"Oh, you performed the pericardiocentesis." He says and puts the chart down, turning to face her. "A good call, I must say. He is doing fine now."

Casey looks at him expectantly.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more."

Right. Confidentiality protocols.

Nodding, she speaks. "I just want to make sure he's alright. I'm not sure if I've done the procedure right earlier."

"You're a rookie?" Ethan is not one for small talks yet he found himself wanting to have a small conversation with the woman that is standing before him.

"A resident. At Mass Kenmore. I actually start my shift in a few hours." She says still not sure of how to continue speaking without stuttering.

Casey what did your brother tell you about simping?

"Oh, that's nice, I guess." Ethan says and hangs the chart at the end of the bed. "I'm gonna check on other patients. You can stay here as long as you want."

Casey nods at this and smiles. "Thanks, Dr. Ramsey."

"You're welcome." Ethan stops by the door and faced her again. "You did well. Be confident next time, Rookie." He says as he turns to leave. And then he walked away, leaving Casey with a big smile on her face.

***

Note: Hello! This is my first attempt on writing a chaptered fic, this is also my first time to write something OH-related. I hope this is atleast okay to read;-; that's the end of chapter 1! I'll update as soon as I finish the next part!

Taglist: @mvalentine @anotherbeingsworld @starberrybliss @nikki-2406 @clowneryme @drariellevalentine @lillylavander20

#choices fic writers creations #choices fic #open heart fic #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan jonah ramsey #casey valentine #choices open heart #open heart choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry choices #fics of the week

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hellchilde · 3 years

Text

The Thing With Feathers

wow it feels like ten million years since i posted a real fic

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén, Song Lan | Song Zichen & Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen & Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei

Characters: Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Disabled Character, Blindness, Blind Xiǎo Xīngchén, Lack of Communication, Established Relationship, brief scene with blood, Recreational Drug Use, (but it's just weed), Alcohol, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Cock Warming, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation Vibes

Words: 8970

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to throw your life into sharp focus it to stumble over a dying criminal in the street and let it consume your life.

Or: Xiao Xingchen finds Xue Yang injured alongside the road and the rhythm of the carefully constructed life he has with Song Lan no longer seems entirely stable.

It happens when he's walking home from class.

This time, the reason for Xiao Xingchen's loss of vision is not so noble or meaningful. Sometimes things happen for a reason, but sometimes things just happen and it's shit luck and you have to make due with the cards you're dealt. Sometimes you're too young when your vision deteriorates to nothing, but at least that means you don't have to see their pitying looks in the encroaching darkness. But sometimes, there is a good man who is there for you and can help you pick up the pieces when your life changes too quickly for you to deal with. That is a spot of good luck, because this man is someone you love and could picture a life with, even if it's not the life your parents had intended, or the life you set out to start back when the possibilities were endless. This time, Xiao Xingchen learns the lines of Song Lan's face with his fingertips before his sight is completely gone, and lets him reshape their lives to accommodate this unforeseen obstacle to what could have been a story of happily ever after.

With a white cane in hand and a determined set to his face, Xiao Xingchen walks the increasingly familiar path between home, subway, school, subway, home. Never did he plan on learning a new language in his late twenties, but that language is braille, and he refuses to be totally helpless in a world designed against him. Audiobooks help, but he can't listen to them while he walks, has to stay vigilant with his remaining senses or let himself be pummeled by people who won't see him. Shame the onus has to be on him. So it might be dark, but maybe it's not, when he trips over something and sprawls inelegantly, embarrassingly to the ground. His cheeks and ears are burning, he dropped his cane but finds it quickly. Stupid, stupid, he should have felt it.

He reaches back to feel what he tripped over, and feels fabric, flesh. He gropes his way up, increasingly concerned when the person doesn't move or make a sound, and he smells blood. Then finally he feels the blood, sticky and warm but cooling, and is worried he is feeling a corpse until he feels the chest rise and fall and hears the wheeze of breath. He snatches his hands away, worried, and scrambles for the phone in his pocket. It has a voice-to-text option, and that makes up for the lack of buttons. He's never had to dial 9-1-1, and he thinks his voice on the line to the operator is nervous and panicked. He can't even tell her for certain which street he's on, except that it's five blocks from the campus where he had class.

That must be enough. The EMT's arrive and take stock of the situation, and they reassure him, and when he asks them if he can ride in the ambulance, they agree without too much argument. The ride to the hospital is horrible, though, because he has no idea where he's going or how far away and every turn makes him motion sick. He still doesn't consider leaving behind the man he found. The emergency room is chaotic, but one of the EMT's spares the time to lead him out to the waiting room, and someone eventually gets him some water.

“He's in surgery, and then they'll be admitting him for observation,” one of the staff says to him. He's already given his report to the police, explained his innocent side. He's not a suspect for what appears to be a violent crime, but they took his contact information. Otherwise, Xiao Xingchen doesn't know much. “You don't know him, so … you can go home if you want. I'm sure he would appreciate the kindness of a stranger.”

“Were you able to find an emergency contact?” he asks. So far, he has been the only visitor present.

“No,” the staff says. “Don't worry, the police are looking into it.”

“I would prefer to stay with him,” Xiao Xingchen says, because he does always try to be noble, even without a sword in his hands.

The staff member, maybe a nurse or a receptionist but probably not a doctor, reaches out to touch his hands where they're clasped protectively around his cane. He makes a face because he wouldn't have accepted the touch if asked permission, but at least it's kind. “You're a good man,” the staff member says. “We'll help you to the waiting room near where he'll be resting.”

At some point, someone gives him a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a cup of coffee. The sandwich is ham and soggy, but he eats a little of it, and the coffee tastes old and watery. At some point, Xiao Xingchen sleeps in his chair. At some point, someone informs him that the man made it through surgery and is sleeping. At some point, Xiao Xingchen awakens to the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“You didn't come home,” Song Lan's voice says, strained. “I was worried.”

“I'll be home soon,” Xiao Xingchen replies. “I have to make sure he made it through. I'm the one who found him, it's my responsibility.” He doesn't like the hospital, which is cold and antiseptic, and his chair isn't comfortable. He's still going to stay. He has to, even if he has to rely on the kindness of strangers to find the bathroom.

Song Lan sighs, too familiar with this side of him. “Call me to come pick you up,” he says quietly. “The hospital isn't far.”

Xiao Xingchen says goodbye and hangs up and only resents a little that the offer makes him feel helpless. He rubs at his eyes, which feel gritty and sore, and locates the remains of his soggy sandwich to at least get something in his stomach. He listens to the sounds of the hospital around him, beeping machines and ringing phones and quiet voices and people rushing by in non-skid shoes. He seems to be politely ignored, or perhaps forgotten, but he doesn't know how long it's supposed to take until he learns what happened.

At some point, another member of staff approaches him and sits beside him, clearing her throat softly. “I have some news, Mr. Xiao,” she says, accented Mandarin. He tries not to be insulted that they think his English isn't good. “The police have found out the identity of the man you found. Apparently … he's wanted for murder, and some other crimes. He works for some very bad men.”

Xiao Xingchen frowns, the information hard to take in. A criminal? He saved a criminal?

“You did a good thing,” she continues. “They'll bring him in to face justice. They wanted me to thank you.”

He manages to nod, trying not to reveal how shaken he is by the news. Why should it bother him so much? He doesn't know this man and has no connection to him other than finding him mostly dead on his walk to the subway. And yet he still feels betrayed. He did something good, he saved a man, and he turns out to be a criminal. It doesn't feel fair, but so little in his life feels fair.

His intentions have been to stay until the man wakes up and introduce himself, get to know him, but he no longer wants that. Instead he digs out his phone as soon as the nurse leaves and dials Song Lan's number to request a ride and pulls himself to his feet, legs feeling stiff from a long night spent in an uncomfortable chair. He still has that feeling that he should at least peek in on the man that he saved, but then, what's the use in that when he hasn't peeked at anything since his vision gave up on him?

It doesn't take very much help from others to make it down to the front of the building and out the doors – the elevator had braille, and the flow of traffic was relatively logical. He takes a breath of fresh air and stands by the curb to wait for Song Lan, his cane clasped in his hands. He hasn't bothered to ask the time, but by the temperature outside and the birds and the angle of the sun he can feel on his skin, he guesses it's midmorning. He's been out all night. No wonder Song Lan was worried.

He hears the car, and the door opens, and there's Song Lan's voice instructing him to get in. He reaches out to feel the edge of the car door and then climbs inside, settling gratefully into the familiar passenger seat to let Song Lan pull away from the hospital.

“Did he wake up?” Song Lan asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don't know,” Xiao Xingchen replies, collapsing his cane back down to make more room in the footwell for his legs. “They told me they found out who he was. A criminal wanted for murder, with mob connections. I didn't want to stay after that. I'm sure they'll arrest him.” He's still not sure how he feels about that. Bad, bad, like there's rocks in his stomach.

Song Lan thinks about that, his driving much smoother than that of the ambulance, mindful of not taking the turns too quickly. “Well, it's a good thing he's off the streets,” he says at last. “And good that you didn't let him die. It's best that he faces the consequences of what he's done.”

Xiao Xingchen nods and chews on his bottom lip, turning towards the window to feel the sun on his face. He's tired, more tired than before, and he thinks he'll sleep all day even if it'll totally throw off his sleep schedule. He feels depressed, for no reason he can put a finger on. How had he been the one to stumble on that man?

He takes Song Lan's help here and there to get inside, finding it reassuring to always reach out and find him there, and then they are safely behind a door and he finds the bed and collapses into it. When he wakes up again, Song Lan is stretched out beside him, breathing deep and even in sleep. Xiao Xingchen sighs, rolls over, and scoots unobtrusively out of bed to find the cigarettes he has hidden in a corner of the closet in case of emergency. He secludes himself on the fire escape to smoke in peace and rub his temple while he attempts to figure out what he's feeling.

He hasn't figured it out by the time he's finished one cigarette, and he has just enough self control to cut himself off after one, then retreats back inside to at least pretend to do some work.

The next time Xiao Xingchen hears about Xue Yang (which is the name of the man he saved, that murderer and mobster and … rapist, for all he knew) he is on the news. He emerges from their bedroom one morning in search of the coffee pot and some breakfast, and Song Lan actually has the TV on, a rare occurrence this early in the morning.

“... released from City Hospital this morning, in custody of the police,” the reporter says. “Xue Yang has known connections with alleged crime lord Wen Ruohan, and charges against him include murder, arson, assault, armed robbery, and fraud. Yang will be facing these charges in a court of law, following investigation into the listed charges, and is currently being kept in custody at an undisclosed location. Yang was found two weeks ago by a civilian on the street following a vicious stabbing, supposedly an attempt on his life carried out by a rival gang. The investigation into Yang's attack is still ongoing with no suspects.”

Xiao Xingchen feels his face fold into a frown, and he steps forward until he finds Song Lan, letting him press a bowl into his hands and starting to eat without really tasting.

“I guess he can walk now,” Song Lan comments with a dry voice.

“What does he look like?” It doesn't matter. Xiao Xingchen still wants to know, to satisfy some perverse curiosity about that evil man he happened to save from bleeding out on the street.

“Like a punk,” Song Lan says. “Like a smug little punk. Like he's going to get away with all of it.” He sets his bowl down and leans in to kiss Xingchen's cheek, running his hand over the other as if he can smooth out the frustration there. “Don't listen to too much of this. I'll be back tonight.” And then he leaves, the sound of his footsteps circling the kitchen island, pausing to pick up his coat and bag, pausing to slip on his shoes, and then the sound of the front door.

Xiao Xingchen takes a few more bites of the food – it's oatmeal, and it's alright, but it's not the way he would have prepared it – and the news is still on in the background, now on to some other story that he cares less about. He puts the bowl down and goes for coffee next, still half the pot left and soy creamer set out nearby. Thoughtful. Song Lan takes care of him.

He doesn't follow the direction. He gets his tablet and sets it up to search for this Wen Ruohan guy. He doesn't keep enough track of the news to have any idea about organized crime, but once his tablet understands what he's asking of it, it pulls up some articles. The text reader's voice renders the shocking events dry and bland, but at least it's something. It makes it sound like Wen Ruohan has fingers in pretty much every bit of crime in the city, maybe further out too. Not surprising that a criminal like Xue Yang would take up with him, do some of his dirty work. The top of the pack never lets that kind of thing touch him. That's why they can't make anything stick when it comes to bringing charges against him. The movies get that much right.

His next search is for Xue Yang himself. Most of what pulls up is the recent stuff about him being in the hospital, the stabbing, the murder charge they want him for this time. Few of the articles he finds come with image descriptions, so if there are pictures, he doesn't know what they are. He can access the public parts of Xue Yang's criminal record. People keep getting his name wrong, calling him “Mr. Yang.” He listens to the text reader list the dates and bare-bones facts of the previous charges. Some of them he had been arrested for, served time. Others seemed to disappear too quickly.

When Song Lan comes home, he is still on the couch, bent over his tablet, hair uncombed and falling over his shoulders and still wearing the loungewear he had put on that morning, which doesn't really count as clothes. He startles when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, too wrapped up in what he had been listening to and thinking about to pay attention to the sound of the door opening or Song Lan saying his name.

“What are you … oh,” Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen feels the presence of him reading over his shoulder. “I see you didn't follow my advice.”

“I wanted to know more,” Xiao Xingchen says, feeling oddly defensive. He switches the tablet dark so Song Lan can't read over his shoulder. “Maybe he's a smug punk, but I saved him. I want to know what kind of man I saved.” Why he's weirdly obsessive about this, he still doesn't understand. Why he wants to know more of these dark details. It isn't like it gives him a thrill – well, not a good thrill, that would be kind of sick. It isn't like he's ever even interacted with Xue Yang. Except that he spent a good portion of one day covered in his blood and waiting for him to wake up at the hospital, and for some reason that made it feel like Xue Yang owed him something.

Song Lan sighs so it stirs the hairs on the top of his head, then pets them down again. Not the first time Xiao Xingchen has forgotten to comb his hair, especially on days he stays in. It's a worried kind of touch. “Will you please turn it off for a little while for dinner?”

Xiao Xingchen considers being contrary and refusing, but his stomach rumbles as a reminder that he only broke away long enough to eat some pickles and crackers in a lunch that required minimal effort but could hardly be counted as real food. He submits, then, pulling Song Lan's hand down from his head to kiss his inner wrist. He rises to his feet to follow Song Lan to the table, sits beside him and takes the prepared plate. Song Lan must have guessed some of his mood that morning, because a couple of the dishes are among his favorites from this particular restaurant.

That softens him, and he feels a little bad for considering being contrary or brushing off Song Lan's worry as being patronizing. Guilty, even. Doesn't Song Lan have enough to deal with without his boyfriend being bratty? It's the unfortunate truth of their circumstances that Song Lan shoulders more of the financial responsibilities, more of the housekeeping, more of the cooking. Xiao Xingchen does what he can, and he's gotten to be a pretty fair hand at cooking even without being able to read labels. It's still more for Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen finishes up his pad see ew, wipes his mouth clean, and gets up to drape himself over Song Lan's lap. His chopsticks clatter lightly on the edge of the plate, and then his hands settle on Xiao Xingchen's waist. Xingchen feels a smile spread over his face, and his hands slide into Song Lan's hair, and he leans in for a kiss.

Being intimate like this has changed. As his sight faded, his other senses sharpened. In some ways it's useful, like being able to so distinctly smell the differences between spices, but his skin is now also more sensitive. Every touch, every brush of lips or teeth, has the potential to be overwhelming. It had caught him off-guard at first, the sheer electricity of it lighting him up more vividly than any lit room. It had been intense enough to scare him, and hence to scare Song Lan, and since then his touches had grown increasingly light and gentle, wary of startling him again. Or perhaps it is that Song Lan is no longer so certain of sharing himself with someone who can no longer see him. He has never been the most touchy-feely person, and Xiao Xingchen wouldn't blame him if the shine of their relationship had faded by now. Occupying that strange liminal space where he was part caretaker, part boyfriend – that can't be easy.

So how can Xiao Xingchen ask for that firmer touch, the way they could get so carried away with each other the way they used to when they were younger and more carefree? What right does he have to demand even more?

He still kisses Song Lan wild and reckless, soft lips and sharp teeth catching at Song Lan's mouth, kissing the flavor of Thai food off his lips. Song Lan sighs against him, hands slipping up under Xiao Xingchen's oversized cardigan and the t-shirt underneath, circling against his waist. There are calluses on his fingers, just rough enough to feel, and at least while they're kissing Song Lan isn't protesting. Xingchen squirms slightly, trying to get his hands to slide down, as if he could wiggle them down. They stay where they are, though Song Lan's grip tightens, starting to dig into his skin.

Xiao Xingchen breaks the kiss to pant softly against Song Lan's lips, only now realizing that he has one hand tangled up in his hair, the other pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady thud of Song Lan's heart beneath his skin. His own heartbeat feels like it's echoing that beat, knocking up hopefully against his ribs. Maybe this time … maybe this time it would work out. Maybe this time he could somehow convey the kind of attention he was craving, and maybe Song Lan would be amenable to fucking his brains out.

Sure enough, Song Lan shifts his grip, finally down even if it is over his yoga pants, cups his ass and stands up with him clinging koala-style. Xiao Xingchen has no intention of letting go, pressing kisses into Song Lan's jaw, his throat, over his lips, wherever he can reach, his arms settling around Song Lan's strong shoulders and his back arching to press closer against him. This is better, this is closer to what he wants.

Song Lan deposits him on the bed, doesn't drop him, just setting him carefully on the mattress like fine china. But still he crawls over him, whispers kisses into his skin, teeth scraping lightly down his throat. The light touches make Xiao Xingchen gasp and writhe, his skin feeling so oversensitive that he can't even stand still wearing his clothes. Song Lan hovers over him, on his hands and knees, still barely touching him except for the brush of his lips.

“Zichen,” he breathes, needy, eager.

Song Lan pulls back, and Xingchen can just weather the feeling of being watched, breathing and trying not to feel self-conscious beneath the weight of Song Lan's gaze. His fingers are still in Song Lan's hair, twisting and trying to pull him back down. He bears it for a few moments, then stretches up to try and find his lips.

But before he can make it, Song Lan's hand takes his own, unpeeling his fingers from his hair and kissing his palm before pressing his hand to Xingchen's chest and sitting up. The gesture has an air of finality to it, and Xiao Xingchen can't help it, he covers his face with his hands. It's like being blind has erased any ability he had to control his expression, and he can only imagine what his face is doing right now, because it certainly feels all twisted up and hurt and mad and frustrated.

“I'm sorry,” Song Lan says, because he isn't good at reading people but he isn't blind, and he sounds regretful. “I'm sorry, it just wasn't...”

Xiao Xingchen rolls away, taking a moment, then sits up, his back facing Song Lan. “It's fine,” he says, as though merely saying the words will make it so, and he knows his voice sounds too tight. “It's fine,” he repeats. He wishes there was a switch in his body that he could just turn off, rather than having to sit with the coiling warmth still lingering in his stomach, refusing to dissipate just because Song Lan is no longer touching him.

He feels Song Lan touch his hair lightly, then the shift of the mattress as he stands up. The ensuite shower turns on shortly after, and entertains the vindictive thought of forcing his way in and pushing Song Lan up on the shower wall and just...

He doesn't know what. Song Lan had already made his “no” very clear, and Xiao Xingchen has no intention of crossing that particular boundary. He knows there wouldn't be any coming back from that. Taking care of himself feels equally out of the question. It's not what he craves, and doing it alone feels empty.

He goes to clean up after their dinner, finding some comfort in scrubbing off the plates and plunging his hands in the soapy water. It doesn't perfectly redirect his energy, but it takes the edge off. Then he steps out to the fire escape again, retreats, cowardice. The cold, damp wind slaps him in the face, and he takes a lungful of the foggy air, pressing his back into the wrought iron to feel it dig in.

He should tell Song Lan. There are things he should say, explanations, verbalizing his desire and upset and love and frustration. How it feels to be treated as an invalid, even when Song Lan does it so soft and gentle. Song Lan will tell his part too, the part where his desire can't always keep up with Xingchen's and that particular quirk where touching makes his skin crawl, where he treasures Xingchen and wants to protect him by wrapping him up tight in bubble wrap, kept and sweet and placed high on a shelf never to be touched.

He kicks the fire escape, just to make himself feel a little better, and wedges himself in. He should have brought his tablet. He could have done more research. Without it, he just listens to the sounds of the city at night, traffic and ambulances, someone singing, a baby crying in the distance. He lets it all flow and melt around him, lets his body relax into becoming the ambient temperature of the fog, cold and misty and amorphous.

By the time Xiao Xingchen retreats back inside, his thoughts are as cool and calm as the air outside. He slips into bed, fitting into the space behind Song Lan, slotting in, his knees in the crook behind Song Lan's knees, his cold nose tucked against the back of his neck. Song Lan smells clean, and Xingchen feels sorry for earlier, silly for letting himself get carried away. He's happy here. He is happy.

That thought circles his brain as he drifts off to sleep.

Time passes. Xiao Xingchen dials back his research to what he thinks is a normal amount of interest. There is always news to follow – Xue Yang seems to be at the same time the media's darling and their favorite villain. The tabloids keep commenting on how he looks, calling him angelic and sweet-faced while at the same time condemning him for what seemed like an ever-increasing number of crimes. Song Lan quickly learns to simply leave him to it, and in return Xingchen can moderate himself so he doesn't lose entire days to sitting on the couch and burying himself in news and police reports.

Life is pretty much normal. There's a routine, a rhythm, comfortable and familiar. Xiao Xingchen further adjusts to life in a world that isn't built to accommodate him, his steps ever more certain on his path. He can visualize his future stretching before him, and none of it looks bad. No surprises, no tragedy. He figures losing his sight is bad enough to fulfill the quota for drama for this lifetime.

Xiao Xingchen listens to the trial when it starts. From what he can tell, this is apparently very fast, but he doesn't know enough about the American justice system to confirm that. There's plenty of media coverage on it, but despite their efforts to highlight the most exciting parts, the trial itself seems to be fairly dull, nothing like the TV shows. That doesn't decrease Xiao Xingchen's interest, but it does help to prevent him from focusing too much on it.

Song Lan has a launch party for work. Xiao Xingchen doesn't know enough about computers to know what it's really for, some piece of software or another, something Song Lan has been working on for months. It's a cause for celebration, and while Xingchen doesn't relish the need to dress up, he lets Song Lan help him with it. Most of his wardrobe is in interchangeable shades of neutral, white and black and gray – he made sure of that before his sight was gone. But it's better to be safe than sorry and accidentally choose something inappropriate or clashing. Anyway, he knows Song Lan quietly enjoys dressing him, making sure he looks nice. It suits the same part of his personality that's so good at the nitty-gritty details of code, a fierce, strict streak of perfectionism.

Xiao Xingchen has no doubt that they make a sharp picture when they arrive. He left his cane at home, since it would be too cumbersome in a party setting, and thus holds Song Lan's arm to navigate their way inside. It's a club, it smells like a club, alcohol and bodies and several layers of perfume and cologne, and there's music playing with a low bassline that reverberates in his ribcage. It's probably dark, which means that people will be asking all night long why he's wearing his dark tinted glasses. Hopefully sticking close against Song Lan's side will decrease the need to explain.

Parties like this are always a little awkward. Xingchen is friendly and willing, but he doesn't speak the same language as these technology prodigies. Maybe he could have wandered and found other partners of Song Lan's coworkers, but he was always wary of losing track of Song Lan in an unfamiliar place. And Song Lan is good, he's considerate, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in whatever conversation he gets involved in that Xingchen falls by the wayside despite being attached to his arm.

It's still fun and interesting to be out of the apartment, chatting with people, picking canapes off the trays, accepting the drink that Song Lan passes to him. It's one of the fruity ones that he likes, but strong enough that he can taste the alcohol under the juice. He's playing the role of arm candy tonight, but he lets it be fun, lets himself be the sweet and sparkly juxtaposition to Song Lan's dry, serious demeanor. Song Lan's coworkers forgive him easily when he doesn't know the more technical details and humor him by talking about other, more accessible topics.

Inevitably, though, they turn back to talking shop, and Xingchen tries to follow but it all starts to sound like gibberish. He sighs and ceases to pay much attention to the conversation since they're not really paying attention to him, and he sips his drink, wishing the music were better. Though, of course, the inevitable result of sipping a drink all evening is that he has to use the bathroom. Xingchen realizes it with some dismay. There's no good way to bring it up without sounding like a complaining toddler, but he doesn't even know which way to point himself to find it if he were to just wander off. So he just … waits. Song Lan will have to go eventually as well.

Except the situation is steadily growing towards urgent, and Song Lan shows no indication of breaking away from his conversation, focused the way he can get sometime. Xiao Xingchen starts to fidget anxiously, hoping to somehow telepathically convey what he needs. Unfortunately, he doesn't magically develop psychic powers. He's inches from giving in to the embarrassment of asking to be escorted to the bathroom when he feels another hand on his free arm.

“Hi,” a female voice says, one that he doesn't recognize. “Song Lan, do you mind if I borrow him for a minute?”

Xiao Xingchen could curse, and desperately hopes that Song Lan makes up an excuse to keep him from being pulled to another conversation with strangers. He can't focus on being friendly when his body is screaming at him. He feels Song Lan look up in surprise, finally breaking from his own conversation.

“Oh, right, of course,” he says, gently taking Xingchen's hand from his arm to pass him over to the woman. “Xingchen, this is Wen Qing. She's a doctor and a friend.”

“Alright,” Xingchen says, voice cracking, shooting Song Lan what he hopes is a desperate look before Wen Qing tugs him away. He's panicking, he thinks he might die, he wants the earth to swallow him up. He clears his throat and touches Wen Qing's hand, her pace never slowing. “I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, but...”

Before he can finish, she pulls him through a doorway. Their footsteps turn echo-y, and he feels a glimmer of hope. She continues pulling, then places his hand on what feels like the handle of a urinal. He makes a sound, desperate still, and feels for the edges of the porcelain before letting go of her entirely so he can relieve himself.

“You looked like you were suffering over there,” she says, only far enough away to give him the space he needs to get the job done. “I know how Song Lan can get too intense in his conversations and forget the world around him.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, shooting a small smile in the direction of her voice. “Unfamiliar places are always a little difficult, especially without my cane. I hope it wasn't too obvious.”

“Not to the tech nerds,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder to help lead him over to the sinks after he gets his slacks fastened up. “They might be geniuses, but they're oblivious to any kind of subtlety. Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Xiao Xingchen says again, washing his hands and then relaxing a hip against the sink. He isn't in a rush to go back out to the music he doesn't like. “So you're a doctor?”

“Cardiac surgeon,” Wen Qing clarifies. “I normally don't get to see below the belt. But don't worry, I'll remain professional.” It sounds like she's smiling too. Xingchen isn't surprised to find that she's friends with Song Lan, with that dry kind of humor.

“I wasn't too worried about it,” Xingchen says. “Do you come to a lot of these things?”

“A few. I was dating one of them for a while, made some friends. They keep inviting me, and the appetizers are good, and every once in a while I get to help somebody's poor boyfriend find the bathroom.” He feels her pull his jacket straight, adjusting his collar slightly. “So. Been together long?”

“Since college,” Xingchen tells her. Maybe she isn't very close with Song Lan, to have not heard the story before. “Actually, we met in the airport when I arrived in America. I was so lost and overwhelmed, and he stepped in to help me find my way in a new country and a big city. It was just a happy coincidence that we ended up going to the same school while he was getting his graduate degree. And then from there, it's basically just history.”

Wen Qing laughs and touches his shoulder again. “Somehow, I doubt it's 'just history,' but we can leave it at that, if you want,” she says. “That's very sweet. I'm just glad you look as lost by all their talk as I am. Do you smoke?”

“Ah...” He doesn't want to lie, but also isn't sure about how likely it is his answer would get back around to Song Lan.

“Doesn't matter,” she says quickly, taking his arm again to lead him out. “Come hang out with the wives. We're all the wives, regardless of gender.”

Together, they wind through the party, past snippets of conversation and a speaker rolling out bassline in waves. Wen Qing pulls him out of a door, and the sound of music is dampened. A comforting cloud of cigarette smoke wafts around them, and there's a soft hum of conversation.

“Hey, wives,” Wen Qing crows. “I bring fresh blood.”

“One of us,” someone chants, and Xiao Xingchen grins and gives an irreverent salute.

The wives are apparently the company he was craving. He no longer has to pretend to understand or be interested in the technobabble, and instead he can pluck crackers smothered in cream cheese and prosciutto off of the platter that they stole from the catering staff and sip from the bottle of wine that they had also stolen. He can listen to one of them chatter about a thesis project on Emily Dickinson and steal drags from cigarettes and blunts passed to him. It's closer to the way he and Song Lan operated in college, parting for their own friend groups before drifting back together, and the wives are closer to the kind of people he would choose for friends, free to be bohemian while their significant others take advantage of the tech boom and bring home the bacon.

Xiao Xingchen hasn't bothered to check the time on his phone, but it feels late by the quality of the air and the conversation. They've stopped talking about anything of substance, and he's leaning on Wen Qing's shoulder. He's a little drunk and a little high and feeling soft and easy. Song Lan's touch doesn't even startle him when it comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Let's go home,” he suggests in a low murmur, and Xingchen peels himself up. The wives moan and complain, and someone reaches for him, fingers catching on the edge of his jacket with a soft cry of, “Chen-chen, don't leave us!”

Xiao Xingchen gives his goodbyes and makes his promises to stay in touch – his phone is full of their phone numbers. He leans on Song Lan to make their way out and down to meet their car. They slide into the back seat, and their hands find each other on the seat, fingers folding together in the most intimate touch Song Lan would allow in public.

“Time's it?” Xiao Xingchen asks, sleepy and smiley and soft.

“Close to one,” Song Lan replies. He sounds a little drunk too, and his thumb runs over the space between Xingchen's thumb and index finger, fitting into the hollow. “Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums and smiles more. “They were nice. Wen Qing was helpful, and you know how useless I am when you talk shop.”

“I should have known you'd get along with them. I should have introduced you earlier. I'm sorry you were bored with me.” He snorts softly. “Chen-chen.”

Xiao Xingchen's giggle is significantly less dignified, but at least it's not too loud out of consideration for their poor driver. “You know I can't help if they think I'm cute!”

Song Lan doesn't protest, but he doesn't have to. They're back home, and he thanks the driver, and comes around to help Xingchen out of the car and back into their building. They're quiet due to the late hour, so the sound of the keys feels like it echoes in the still night air. Xiao Xingchen lets himself inside with a sigh of relief and kicks his shoes off, and opens his mouth to suggest they go to bed only to have Song Lan's lips and teeth and tongue providing an effective gag.

Song Lan backs him against the wall in the entryway, and his hands span Xingchen's waist, broad and solid. Xingchen can taste the alcohol in his breath, but he probably tastes the same. His head spins, his stomach flips, feeling simultaneously over- and under-fed on those canapes, but thrilled with possibility. The kiss is rough, with teeth, not like delicate good morning kisses or gentle good night ones that he's gotten used to. This kiss demands, and expects him to answer – and so he does.

Xiao Xingchen moans into it and grips back at Song Lan's shirt, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Sleep is no longer on his mind. Instead, he has to get his hands on Song Lan's skin or he might just evaporate. He tugs until he can get Song Lan's shirt out of his slacks and he can slide his hands underneath, flat against the skin of his stomach. His skin is warm, solid, and he can feel the frantic rate of his breathing beneath his touch. It feels like a dream, like it's so much that it can't be real, and at the same time it's so real, so perfect, everything he wants.

It feels like Song Lan needs this as badly as he does. With hands tight around Xingchen's arms he pulls him away from the wall, further into the apartment. Xiao Xingchen assumes they'll go to the bedroom, to the bed as usual, but he finds himself bent forward over the couch instead, the familiar fabric under his fingers and the back digging into his stomach. Song Lan presses against him, rubs against his ass, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his back. Xiao Xingchen lets out a shaky breath and pushes back against him, just as demanding and desperate.

Finally, finally Song Lan reaches around to get his slacks unfastened, pushes at them impatiently, and locates the zipper to shove it down. Xiao Xingchen squirms to help get them down his legs and winds up with them stuck around his knees, but at least it's some relief. Song Lan seems to think that's enough; his fingers grip into the flesh of Xingchen's ass, squeezing and massaging and spreading. He pants into the couch cushions, his breath coming back hot and wet against his cheeks and the sensitive tip of his cock bumping up against the back of the couch in a way that isn't altogether pleasant but at least it is some sensation. He's hard, he needs it, his skin feels like it's sparking with heat at every brush of Song Lan's fingers.

He remembers with some despair that they don't have any lube in the living room and is just about ready to straighten up, drag Song Lan back to the bedroom so they can do it properly. Then he hears something tear and feels slick fingers slide against his ass. Song Lan came prepared. Such a good, thoughtful boyfriend, even if it is frankly out of character for him to anticipate sex like this. When it happens, if it happens, there's so much delicate kissing and foreplay and it's consistently in the bed or the shower where they're prepared. But he can't even speculate on it, Song Lan's fingers feel too good, pushing the lube inside him fast, impatient. He wants to spread his legs but he's trapped by his slacks and can only pant helplessly against the couch cushions.

Thoughtfully, Song Lan's clean hand reaches down to brush his hair out of his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The fingers inside him spread once more, then slide out, and that's all the warning he really gets before he feels Song Lan's cock press steady and inexorable inside him.

The sound he lets out would be embarrassing under any other circumstance, low and broken and wet. It's been long enough that he almost can't handle the stretch. It's almost too much and makes him choke. His knees feel weak. His spit is making a wet spot on the couch cushions. Song Lan still doesn't stop, not until his hips are pressed flush against Xingchen's ass. His breath is coming heavy now, ragged. He's thoughtful again when he pauses to let then both get used to it, his hands resting on Xingchen's hips, one of them tacky with drying lube, and he pets soothingly at one hipbone like Xingchen is a skittish horse.

Like that, Xiao Xingchen remembers that he's supposed to breathe, and he takes a deep, shaking breath before letting it out loudly, and he can feel it relax down his spine. Song Lan pets him again, approvingly, then eases out of him only to slam back inside. Xiao Xingchen chokes on another cry, and that seems to encourage him, the pace rough and quick.

Time ceases to exist. Xingchen can't see, obviously, but the pleasure feels like starbursts of color in his mind. The apartment is very quiet, except for the wet slap of skin and too much lube (Song Lan was always careful like that) and their labored breathing, punctuated with moans and whimpers punched out of Xingchen's throat. It is so rough, he knows he is going to be sore, aching and remembering this for days. But it's so good too, Song Lan's cock stretching him and hollowing him out, making a space inside him. He's so hard it hurts, and his own cock is leaking. Song Lan's hand reaches down to cup it protectively, preventing it from smearing over the back of the couch. The pressure is maddening without friction to go with it, and Xingchen sobs out his pleasure, trembling and pushing back on him.

When he cums it's a punch to the gut, fingers white-knuckled against the couch cushions and a cry ripping out of his throat. His heart feels like it's hammering so hard that all he can hear for a few moments is the whoosh-whoosh of his heartbeat. But he realizes quickly that Song Lan has felt it. He drapes himself over Xingchen's back, fucking him hard and fast, racing towards the end. It must crash into him too, because he grunts and transforms into a heavy, shuddering weight, pressing him into the couch, his cock twitching inside.

Time still doesn't really exist. They might stay draped over that couch for hours, for all Xingchen can tell. His ass is sore, he can barely breathe, he's going to have bruises where the couch is digging into his midsection, and he feels like he hasn't been this happy in months. It's not just the sex – though, to be fair, the sex is amazing and a big part of it. It's what comes with the sex. He feels connected to Song Lan like this, special, needed. And then, taken care of, because eventually Song Lan straightens up and helps him up, drops down to help him work off his shoes and slacks so they can walk back to the bedroom. His arm supports Xingchen around the waist because he's for surewalking with a limp right now. He helps him get his shirt off and brushes his hair back over his shoulder and kisses his cheek, so sweet.

Xiao Xingchen makes to go to the bathroom. He still smells like smoke and wine and sex, and Song Lan won't want that in their bed. But before he can pull away, Song Lan pulls him back in close, nuzzles his hair and kisses him again in a way that makes his heart feel soft and warm, honey in his chest. He lets Song Lan lead him to bed, even though he has the distinct sensation of cum slowly starting to leak out of his body.

“Here, keep it in,” Song Lan rumbles low, curling up behind him and pressing his fingers into Xingchen, pressing it back inside. Xingchen sucks in a breath, his body feeling oversensitive and raw but good. It's not too much. Then there are some sounds behind him, and then he feels Song Lan's cock press into him again. That is almost too much, and he makes a small sound, not sure if he could handle a second round.

But it's not to fuck him. Song Lan settles, their bodies pressed close, fitting perfectly. Song Lan's nose presses into his shoulder, and he kisses there a few times. Without too much preamble, they fall asleep.

The next morning, of course, they are stuck together. It's a little disgusting, but there isn't a thing that Xiao Xingchen would have changed about the night before. He stirs a little, then makes a sound of complaint, his body protesting the movement from the waist down. Song Lan wakes up next, and Xingchen can practically hear his grimace when he remembers the position they were stuck in.

He's as careful as he can manage when he pulls away from Xingchen's body, pressing a gentle hand to his arm to indicate he should stay still. There are some bathroom sounds, water running, and then Song Lan returns with a warm, wet washcloth to gently wipe him clean. Xingchen has to bite his knuckle; his ass feels raw, sore and swollen. He can feel precisely how hard they went. He still doesn't regret a moment.

Song Lan treats him soft and sweet that morning, brings him breakfast in bed and combs his hair. They're both quiet, Xingchen because he's hesitant to say anything that will break the spell, and Song Lan because he seems exhausted from socializing so much the day before. Sometimes it's harder than others. Then to recuperate, he's quieter than usual, minimizing his interactions, sometimes even with Xingchen himself. Xingchen doesn't take it personally, and usually uses the time to indulge his own inner introvert and work on his own projects.

Nothing wrong with that, except that they continue to not talk about it. Xingchen can't make the shape of his desire into words, the way Song Lan's touch lights him up, the way he craves the desperate way they came together after the launch party. Song Lan's touches feel apologetic, half guilty, wary of pushing too far, like he's afraid of his own attraction. They haven't had to navigate anything like this before, where before they were coasting on instinct and now the waters feel choppy.

Xiao Xingchen finds it a welcome distraction to turn to the trial. There's no shortage of material – Xue Yang continues to be the media's darling or scapegoat by turns, sometimes both in the same article. He figures out how to find the best news channel to listen to what he can, certain amounts of testimony from witnesses and arguments from lawyers. He thinks its a small blessing that he himself was such a useless witness when it came to the stabbing incident, so he hasn't been called to court. In any case, that's how he first hears Xue Yang's voice, surprisingly young, always irreverent and teasing, even when he's supposed to be taking the court show seriously.

And it really does seem like a show. The prosecution is fighting as best they can, but the defense is barely working at all, their questions lazy and confident at the same time. The judge doesn't seem in any kind of hurry to help the prosecution when the defense steps out of line. Everything is played to the media like a huge circus, and everyone is marching towards a foregone conclusion.

Then, as quickly as it started, it's over. The media coverage disappears overnight. It's not old enough to be old news, but that's how it's treated. Xiao Xingchen has to search and search to find anything about the conclusion, and all he can find is basically a footnote stating that a settlement was reached, which sounds frankly preposterous. The charges against Xue Yang included murder! He hadn't thought it was possible that a settlement could be found against a potential murderer, especially when the prosecution had brought witnesses and evidence galore. It feels profoundly unfair, a sincere lack of justice, and he wonders how natural-born Americans feel about their supposed “justice system.”

His dissatisfaction with the finale of the trial makes it hard to put it all behind him. He struggles with sleeping and focusing on his projects and his studies, he's snappish and short-tempered and withdrawn from Song Lan. Even if Song Lan asked what is troubling him, he has no confidence that he could articulate it to any understandable degree. So Song Lan can't help, and Xiao Xingchen doesn't know how to help himself.

It's on a random day when Xingchen hears a knock on the door. That's unusual – Song Lan left for work, but he would have texted if he forgot his keys, and Xingchen doesn't think they're expecting any deliveries. He debates just leaving it, pretending he's not home, but the knock comes again, more insistent.

Heaving a big sigh, he picks himself up from where he had been lounging, attempting to read and feel somewhat productive but mostly just feeling listless. It crosses his mind that Song Lan might have gotten it in his head to do some kind of gesture, getting him flowers or something – not that flowers aren't thoughtful, but he thinks the gesture is now lost on him since he can't see them. He doesn't think he brushed his hair this morning, but this delivery man will just have to tolerate him looking a little messy. He finds the door and opens it, trying to put a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asks, and waits for a response.

None comes. He waits a few moments, then frowns. Was something dropped off? He considers bending to check for a box, but there's a feeling rising, a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that tells him he's being watched. But if there's someone there, why aren't they speaking? Why aren't they telling him why they're there? Belatedly, he realizes this might be some kind of burglar who could take advantage of him. He doesn't have a weapon, but there's an umbrella in the stand next to the door and knives in the kitchen, and though it's been years he still has his martial arts training. How much that will help, he doesn't know, he hasn't even attempted to fight anyone even to spar since he lost his sight, and he doesn't think running through the exercises and stretches in the morning will really help if someone actually attacks him.

Whoever is at the door still hasn't spoken, and it's making his nerves go haywire, his heart pounding even though he hasn't even moved. Maybe he's being stupid and getting freaked out over nothing. Maybe there's no one even there, and there's no reason for his skin to feel nervous cold/hot. “Hello?” he says again, this time significantly less confident, his voice giving out halfway through.

There's another few moments of silence, then a wild cackle, not an attractive laugh at all. It feels familiar, somehow, though it's not until Xue Yang speaks that Xiao Xingchen recognizes him.

“Wow. I guess you're real, huh?”

#xiao xingchen #songxiao #song lan #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #my fanfiction #cql

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