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bluestar22x · 3 months ago

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The Shot Not Taken

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (Nickname "Sunny")

Summary: It was one last night in a cabin after a case; it wasn't supposed to end this way

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,400(ish)

Warnings: Sexual tension, yearning, violence, fairly graphic mentions of blood, angst, tragedy - Might be AUish since I don't know what time of year Marcus actually moved to D.C.

Author's Note: I wrote this for @almostfoxglove 's Angst Challenge, and I almost made myself cry, so prepare yourselves. (Moodboard was made by them)

xxx

"You wanna quit while you're ahead, Pike?" you questioned, a smirk on your face. "Before I take what's left of your cash?"

"You're bluffing," he said warily, his dark eyes peering over his hand of cards to where you sat across the table. "There's no way you're that lucky. You've already won five rounds tonight."

"Don't get mad at me when you can't afford breakfast tomorrow."

He flashed you a wicked smile as he placed his hand on the table. "Somehow I doubt that'll be the case." He nodded at his cards. "Four of a kind."

You glanced down to see that he indeed had four aces. You chuckled, surprising him. "Weak."

You dropped your cards on the table revealing that you had the ultimate hand. "Royal flush."

He groaned. "What the hell, Sunny?"

"If it makes you feel better, I'll share my breakfast with you tomorrow," you promised. "Now hand over the money."

A thin smile broke through his look of disbelief. "You should've been nicknamed Lucky instead of Sunny. I'm never playing poker with you again."

"Aw, but you just paid my rent for the month," you teased.

"Exactly."

He reached for his bottle of beer and took a sip before throwing the cash he owed you onto the center of the kitchen table. "I'm bailing before I can't afford my rent."

You pretended to pout but couldn't keep up the act for long. You were nicknamed Sunny for a reason. You hardly ever were in a bad mood. There wasn't much that could keep your spirits down. Which was a good thing, considering your job as an FBI agent for the art crimes department in Washington D.C. involved some very long hours and carried plenty of risk when out in the field.

"Chicken," you declared as you pushed your chair away from the table. "Fine. I wanted to go for a walk before it got too dark outside anyway."

Pike nodded at you as you sprung to your feet. "I'll pick up the cabin while you're out."

"How chivalrous of you, Agent Pike," you sang out. "I'll be back by sunset the latest. Send the hounds if I'm not."

It was a joke, but unsurprisingly the lines over your partner's brows etched in a little deeper. Worried at just the idea of you not coming back. It was sweet, considering you'd only been partners for four months. He'd just moved to the capital on a promotion.

Maybe that meant you were friends.

When he'd first been paired up with you Marcus Pike had been reserved around you, almost like he was afraid to become friends with you.

You'd been secretly hurt by it because he was fine with almost everyone else. His cheerfulness almost rivaling your own at times. He was one of the most good-natured agents you'd ever met, but he was quiet around you. Not necessarily cold, but strictly professional.

You'd wondered if someone had hurt him and if you reminded him of them somehow. He seldom mentioned his final months in Texas to anyone.

You'd thought you were reaching before Marcus came around, because he seemed as married to his work as you were, but your superior had revealed to you at a work party that Marcus had requested for his ex fiancée to have a job at the capital too but she'd never shown up. Marcus had simply told him they'd broken up.

"I doubt you'll need to," you assured him. "Last I checked the case is closed so no stolen art dealers should be stalking these woods. We cuffed our guy last night. Only possible danger out there now is bigfoot."

Marcus huffed. "I have a feeling you're more likely to run into a black bear. Not as many bigfoot sightings in upper New York as there are in the northwest."

You grinned. "Good thing I'm good at intimating anything bigger than me." You patted the holster on your hip. "And my gun's right here for backup."

You fled the cabin you'd been stuck in for most of the past month while you were working on your latest case and headed out on the dirt trail alongside the lake that bordered the back of the property.

There were trees on either side of the path, but you were close enough to the lake's border to be able to see the water the whole time you strolled along it.

It didn't take you long to settle into the peace that nature often brought you. You loved the city life, all the things you could do instead of being bored, but every once in a while it was nice to get away.

You couldn't really count one evening before your flight back to D.C. as a "get away" but you'd take what you could get before your next assignment.

It was autumn, after all, your favorite season. The air was crisp but not quite yet cold enough for you to bother with a jacket, and most of the trees were at the height of flaunting their bright, colorful leaves. In less than a month most of them would fall away, their remains scattered by the wind, leaving the branches bare, exposed, until the trees resurrected in the spring.

Though it wasn't quite yet jacket weather, there was enough of a breeze to compel you to slip on the sweater that you'd tied around your waist on the way out along with the fingerless gloves that had been stuffed into its only pocket.

It's perfectly pleasant out with the extra layer on, and you enjoy every second of the rest of your time in the woods. The loss of light from the setting sun was the only real reason you eventually wanted to turn back. After a raven startled you with its call you decided it was time to return to the cabin before your paranoia got the better of you.

You'd never liked being in the woods at night.

You didn't immediately go back inside the cabin though. Instead you chose to plop yourself down on a massive rock by the edge of the lake and watch the sun as it set.

It was so calming to observe that you zoned out and didn't hear Marcus approaching until he was already sliding onto the rock with you.

He offered you a green mug that clearly contained coffee, its smell filling your nostrils almost as soon as you'd spotted it in his massive hands.

"Decafe, milk only?" you asked. You hated drinking caffeine after six o'clock. You always tossed and turned in bed after.

"Of course."

You accepted the mug from him and tested it. It wasn't bad for cheap home brewed coffee from the local gas station and Marcus had got the ratio of milk right.

He was good with details even outside work.

"It's quiet out here," he noted, pleased.

"A little too quiet at this time of day," you told him. "The day animals are going to sleep and the night ones are just starting to get up. We're in the between."

"Spending time out here has got me thinking," he confessed. "I think I'm going to search for a cabin in Virginia when I get back. It would give me a place to unwind, a place where I don't hear an engine roaring and tires screeching every minute of the day. Would be good for the kids too when I have some someday."

You glanced at him, stunned by his casual mention of wanting to start a family someday. He'd never mentioned it before, but there he was beside you, a wistful look in his eyes, probably imagining his hypothetical future children playing in a lake similar to the one in front of you, splashing each other relentlessly or something as he watched them from the shoreline.

You couldn't help but shake your head at that. It wasn't meant for his eyes, but he noticed anyway.

"What?"

"Nothing," you mumbled, adverting your gaze from his handsome face.

"Tell me."

You shook your head. "It's nothing you'll want to hear. I don't want to ruin your night. Besides, it's none of my business."

"Tell me anyway," he insisted.

You sighed, not wanting to give in but knowing you were going to anyway. "It's just...we're both on the border of forty and we're on the wrong end of a gun at least once a month. The picket fence with the spouse and the two-point-five kids? That's not for us. We're not normal. This isn't normal. This isn't the way normal people live, Marcus."

"Plenty of other agents have families," he pointed out.

"And their families wait with baited breath every day until they come home," you reminded him. "And sometimes there's no relief. Sometimes their spouse, their parent, never comes back home."

It was Marcus' turn to sigh. "This is about your dad."

Your father had been an FBI agent too, in the National Security branch. You'd been only eleven years old when he was shot to death with twelve rounds by the suspect he'd been chasing down in the middle of the city.

"It's not fair to do that to anyone Marcus," you told him. "That's why I'm still single. Why I refuse to get married. It was that or get a desk job, and that's not me. But maybe, if you really want a family, a desk job is what you need. If you have a family, you should commit to them fully."

You were sure he'd be upset with you for everything you'd just said, but instead of getting defensive he scratched the top of his left arm and nodded.

"I've actually been thinking about that lately. The promotion's already given me more of a taste of what it would be like being in the office more often than not, and it doesn't disagree with me. Honestly, I think I'm over my risk taking days."

"What's stopping you then?" you questioned.

"Lately, you," he answered without really thinking.

You startled and stared at him. You noticed he was looking at you in a completely new way, or maybe you were waking up to something in his expression that had always been there. "What?"

"I didn't want to make our partnership a problem, but I also don't want to transfer without you knowing," he continued.

"Knowing what?" You were in complete disbelief. You already knew what he was going to say.

"I care about you, Sunny." He said your nickname so softly. "I want you. Have since we met. Tell me you feel the same."

They were bold words but you found yourself drawn towards him anyway, your lips crashing into his.

You had been yearning for him too. He was your friend, the best partner you'd had in a long time, and he was pretty to boot. You may have already had several dreams about kissing him like this...and more.

Despite all that, you pushed him away when he tried to deepen the kiss, as he cupped your jaw. "The picket fence isn't my ending, Marcus. I don't ever want a desk job. I don't want kids. You deserve someone who shares your dreams. I'm one night stand material, nothing more."

"That's alright," he said so surely the words made your stomach flutter.

You knew him better than that though. "No, it's not," you refuted. "You're not one night stand material, Pike, or else you'd be a lot more relaxed than you are lately. Have you ever slept with a woman you didn't love before? No matter how briefly you'd known each other?"

He stayed silent, answering your question.

You hopped off the rock for his sake, not wanting to be another of his relationships that ended in disappointment, and headed for the cabin to get in some extra hours of sleep.

There was nothing left to say. You couldn't be who Marcus needed you to be and you'd both get hurt if you gave into your lustful desires.

You dreamed of him in vivid detail that night.

The next morning Marcus stirred to the sound of slamming doors through the kitchen window, which he guessed you must've cracked open while going through your morning routine as you usually did during warmer weather.

You were the one making the ruckus, already packing your belongings into the black government issued SUV you'd been assigned while on the case.

After a bathroom break Marcus smoothed down his sleep mussed hair and headed for the kitchen where you'd left out a cup of caffeinated coffee you'd brewed for him after pouring yourself one. His lips quirked upward as he thought about your kindness and he snatched the cup up so he could take a sip. The coffee was on the cooler side of hot, but that was exactly how he preferred it.

You had gotten to know each other quite well during the few months you'd known each other, much more than just your coffee preferences. But he'd caught feelings for you early on, before that, despite not wanting to. Realizing he liked you had been a painful revelation. The last thing he'd wanted was another workplace romance, not even a month after his last had ended poorly.

He had tried to keep you at an arm's length at first, but that hadn't worked out. You'd seemed hurt by it, and that had eventually broken his resolve.

He'd tried to be satisfied with your friendship, but as soon as he could call you a friend, he'd started dreaming at night about you being more than that.

He'd thought maybe, just maybe sleeping with you would've been enough, but you were also right. He wasn't one night stand material. He'd never had casual sex in his life. There were always feelings attached to it.

And you wanted different lives. Like his last girlfriend, you were simply just not meant to be his.

That hadn't stopped him from restlessly tossing and turning in his bed the night before. Thinking about that kiss. How needy your response to his confession had been. How soft your lips had felt against his.

The memory began to make him aroused and he had to shift in his spot by the kitchen sink to get more comfortable.

Think of anything else, Pike.

He focused on the view through the window, a fog carpeting the rocky shores of the lake that cool, sunny morning. He was a city guy at heart, but he'd meant what he'd said the night before. It would be nice to get a cabin and spend some time in nature once in a while. It would be therapeutic.

He'd lost himself in the sight before him when two overlapping gunshots broke the peaceful morning.

Marcus jumped into action, scrambling for his work appointed glock and charging outside to the driveway with little thought for his own safety.

He froze when he turned the corner to the back of the cabin and his eyes found you slumped against the back end of the SUV, the trunk still raised, open.

You were wide-eyed, gasping for air, shaking, and you were holding your left hand over a dark patch of blood that was expanding alarmingly fast over your white tank top on the mid-left side of your chest. Your right hand still had a white-knuckled grip on your gun.

Marcus' heart nearly stopped at the sight. He barely noticed the body of the man laying only a few feet in front of you as he raced to your side to help you.

"Shit, Sunny," he hissed as he added pressure to your bullet wound with one of his own hands.

You coughed, and when you responded you sounded weak and pained. "It's bad." You looked scared.

Marcus brushed your cheek with the back of his hand comfortingly. "Shhh...save your strength."

He slipped his hand into the front right pocket of your jeans where he knew you always kept your cell phone and dialed 911. He later wouldn't be able to recall exactly what he'd told the emergency operator, only that he'd given them enough details to get the paramedics there fast.

"Hang on, Sunny," he murmured when he got off the phone. "They're on their way."

He was in complete denial of what was happening in front of him. If he hadn't been he'd have written you off as already dead. Because you basically were. You'd lost far too much blood. The bullet had most likely nicked a part of your heart. You were fading fast. Your eyes already falling.

"Marcus," you somehow managed to croak out. "Promise me you won't give up. You keep...looking for someone...to share that cabin with."

He shook his head at you, feeling desperate. "No."

"Please," you begged.

"Fine," he said, "But you're gonna have to be my wing woman. Keep me from moving too quick."

You almost managed a chuckle before the last of your strength slipped from you and you stopped breathing altogether. It was that abrupt.

Panic soared in Marcus. He carefully laid you out on your back in the dirt and pressed two fingers to your neck, searching for a pulse. Finding none he could palpate, he knelt over you and started to do chest compressions.

"Damn it, Sunny! Come on! Stay with me!"

Any civilian watching would've been horrified by the sight of your blood squirting out of your wound onto his hands and gray sleep shirt as he worked. It was a futile effort, keeping your heart going when there wasn't enough blood to pump anymore, but it wasn't until he heard the ambulance sirens that Marcus became aware of that.

The tears welled up then, his chest tightening as he went blind.

"Sunny, oh god," he sobbed out, taking in the gruesome sight before him. It seemed like the blood was everywhere.

He pulled your upper body off the ground and cradled it in his arms, pressing his forehead against your own, his lips grazing your closed right eye.

"Damn it, Sunny," he whimpered out before the full bulk of his grief hit him.

He nuzzled his face against your cooling one and finally wept.

Marcus wasn't sure how he'd managed to pull himself together enough to be the one to inform your sister of your passing, but he had.

He'd insisted on it. It was only right he be the one to tell her since he'd been your partner and had been there for your dying breath.

He'd promised your sister that it had been quick and that you hadn't died alone. And even though that made her cry harder, she'd promised him that it made a difference and thanked him for doing everything he could for you in the moment.

He hoped she had family to lean on the day of your funeral. He wasn't there when they put you in the hole. He'd been busy on another case, having buried himself in work to distract himself from his own pain, despite his superior begging him to take some time off to properly mourn you.

Witnessing the funeral would've made it too final. He hadn't been ready yet.

It wasn't until he finally met the one, someone who made him smile again, for real, who shared his dreams for the future, that his heart truly began to mend from your loss.

It wasn't until he had the wedding band, the cabin, and the kids that he completely stopped having the nightmares.

There were still nights though, usually around the anniversary of your death, when he'd lie awake wondering what would have happened if he had stopped you from leaving the rock by yourself that night.

Would you have woken up late, tangled in the sheets with him instead of being outside to face the secret partner of the illegal art dealer alone? Would he have harmlessly stolen back the painting hidden under the rear seat of the SUV instead of stealing your life?

Even though he was sure now that you were never meant to be his, he still couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a mistake letting you go back to the cabin without him. If you should've been his exception.

You would always be his biggest regret.

The shot not taken.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Marcus Pike #The Mentalist #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge #Marcus Pike Fanfic #Mentalist Fanfic #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #X Reader #Fanfiction #Mine #Queue Me

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not-a-big-slay · 9 months ago

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Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary:betrayal leaves some wounds behind, but even more questions when you can't figured out from whom it really came from.

warnings: violence, cursing

type: fluff

part: 12/13

previous part: part 11 masterlist

a/n: please, please, PLEASEEUHH im SO SO SORRY! it has been almost a FUCKING YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER?! HELLO?! WHO TF DO I THINK I AM? i need to keep myself in line cuz this aint normal! i have been hiatus for soo long i need to pull it together. anywayy, its finished finally. its long ahh hell and im gonna be working on another part immediately so it wont be another 50 years dw. dont mind any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language and i have written one half of this in 2023, so i really dont feel like redoing it lol. i dare you if you can recognize where exactly i picked this draft up again. anyway, pleasee enjoy!!

also, sike, its not the last part hehe, there will be part 13 AND an epilogue

taglist (hi yall :'))

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

@twlegit

@ravenmedows

@blathena

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She had lost again.

That would be the third time tonight. Her change was getting thin and she predicted it would take one more game before she had to go kill someone for free again. So much for making a ton of money with this job. The girl watched her opponent spoon the coins from the table with one hand, laughing: "One more game and I'll have to dig up another grave, Y/N." Others laughed, so she wasn't the only one thinking that after all. It was logical, she really had to stop playing with grown men, they wasted away their old nights playing poker at this very table and she had other, young people things to do. It would be wise to get up and leave, no one would judge her for that. They would maybe even cheer her on, finally making a rational decision, no one ever seen that before when it came to her. Yet the thought of doing so was being blocked by a high indestructable wall, one that never goes away and will only be built higher.

If she does leave, she has to go home.

Her mother is probably fast asleep already, it is possible she could go to bed unnoticed and leave early in the morning. This option she used very little as Y/N never wanted to come back there. A year ago, after her mother left her blood soak through the wooden floor, Y/N made promise into her scars that she will never lay eyes on mother again. She successed in that for a year so far, becoming a hitman that was quite infamous in town. But her fame started growing from mockery, as she was really addicted to poker.

Her eyes gazed on Tim, the cemetary worker, the buryer as she liked to call him. He was one of the granpas at this table, but one of the peaceful people in town. He never wanted her to kill, just to help him with his work, although Y/N hated it more than the murders, she didn't like the aftermath of her work. Tim, being satisfied, started organizing the coins on the table. No, she cannot go home tonight.

"So what's it gonna be, kid?" asked the other player, Miyka. Her green eyes stared on Y/N's face, her wrinkles scrunched in excitment. Oh, how she hated all of them. The girl faked thinking about it before tossing dramatically her last money onto the table. "I bet 20." It didn't sound as good when she started that low, but it was all she had left. Intstead of the usual giggle and witty lines and jokes they threw her way before following up on her bad choices, they sighed, almost in dissapointment. It frustrated her, it seemed like they cared what she does instead of what amount of money she holds. It seemed like they cared about her. A wave of fear pushed her like a tsunami at this thought. People that cared ended up hating her, hurting her.

"What!" she snapped. Miyka looked at Lios, her brother, in concern, while Tim silently reorganized his coins. She looked around the table, frown getting deeper and frustration blooming wider. What was wrong with them. "Well, Y/N" Lios began, "We are just kinda...worried about you. That's all." Miyka took the word next- her previous question has been an obvious tease, the girl was dissapointed. "You clearly have nowhere to go, so you are spending your time here which is.... we get it, but." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's not good." Tim helped her and smiled at Y/N as if it would calm her. It did not in fact, she felt more and more anxious about their care, anxious situations made her angry. She wondered why she didn't kill them all instead of those free targets, she would never have to pay another debt again, because there would be no poker players left to play and her addiction would dissapear. "So that's it, huh? You ain't gonna play because you are scared I could actually win?" she said in her defense. Nonsense, she knew, but her heart was sweating and she was glad it didn't blow up yet. "We just care, Y/N, that-"

"Care?! Remind me Lios of just how many people I killed for you, then talk about caring for someone's life!" she spat as she stood up. Lios was more than content to her way of paying, she had no idea why he apparently cared when he could have another enemy at his feet if he just played one more game. Miyka tried to calm her down, touching her hand softly only for Y/N to flinch, hard. Her vision began to blur, the floor shook beneath her and sweat poured on her face. It was like the room was on fire, but she was the only one feeling it. Other people at the pub, being entertainted by the game or simply just hanging ot there, looked worried, some even disturbed by her behaviour.

What was happening to her?

She leaned on the table with her palms, the wood trying to ground her as she closed her eyes to not feel theirs. Voices of the players echoed her head as sounds in a cave and they felt distant, but still could make her more nervous with their caring attitude. They soon fell in whispers, driving her insane. Then, she caught one voice that silenced all the muttering, it was clear, quiet yet she felt as if its breath was in her ear. "Why play, when you can take a life for the exact amount of money laying on this table?"

She recognized the voice, it belong to the fourth player, Haltt. His voice was known only in the game. Hearing him say a sentence was unusual and therefore very powerful. It was deep, low, hard. It had authority and respect and it didn't need to ask for it. He had everyone's attention, he controlled the room with only his silent voice.

Y/N's eyes looked into his dark ones, she had to find them in the shadows floating around him, as if he commanded to them as well. "What are you saying?" she asked carefully, not knowing why. Haltt observed the table, his salt-and-pepper- although more salt than pepper- short beard surrounding his mouth as it counted the cash, then let out a little chuckle that brought goosebumps to everyone close to him. "920 Neredi. Being a hitman, a respectful hitman, would make this amount your pocket change." He grabbed the rest of her money she threw on the table and looked over to Tim. The buryer shook his head hesitantly, knowing what Haltt wants to do, but all it took was the man's neutral gaze for Tim to fold. Y/N watched him slowly scooping the money and anger took over. She pinned his hand to the table, not looking away from his face. She could hear people drawing breaths in fear, but she was free from all the anxiety now, she was grounded by his scary presence, she liked it even.

Haltt's head slowly turned to her direction, his eyes creating a straight path to hers, his eyebrows climbing up as he said softly: " You want this?" When she didn't respond, he stood up, took her hand off of his gently, not letting go as his freed hand reached behind his back, pulling out a gun. She observed quickly, it was an older model, it was small and only one bullet fit into it- however she knew a man like Haltt would only ever need one bullet- he then rotated her hand and placed it in her palm. He released her only when she seized it. Y/N let her hand warm the handle before looking up at Haltt again. "Then go make it." he finished his statement and sat back down in the shadows. Y/N checked the inside of the gun and she confirmed her knowledge about it.

She scoffed. "One bullet" Haltt nodded as if he answered to her statement. "That's all you need, I know your skills." his glass clincked when his rings touched it, raising it to his lips. She waited until he drank the remainings of his whiskey, having the suspision he might continue. "You kill the target, you'll get double of this." Her surprise was voiced by everyone around her, gasping and unbelievably whispering. Lios looked at Haltt, telling him he cannot do this. But Haltt only looked at her. "No one here wants you to play. You made them care, something a hitman shouldn't do." She squeezed her free hand into a fist, knowing his eyes are reading her like cards on the table. He leaned in: "Take your reputation back, make them fear you instead." he said quietly and it seemed only she heard it. He retreated back into his seat, letting her simmer in his words.

She knew people stopped perceiving her as a threat, a force to be reckon with, a fearful killer, and started to look at her as a 15 year old that sometimes threw tantrums. People smiled at her, old men laughed at her when they drank beer at the bar, as if she was their granddaughter doing silly things. Once, she was feared, but now she behaved like an old woman trapped inside a teenage body with gambling addiction and alcoholism. Everyone treated her as a kid she never was, but Haltt seemed to remember who she was 6 months ago, to trust her potential, her skills she never lost, but used them to not drown in debts, not to her job. She suddenly became so connected to him, she was hypnotized. The sound of the chatty room blurred again as she explored the gray ocean behind Haltt's eyes. He let her, grinning as he watched her back straighten and her nose breathing in deeply. Then came the question:

"Who is the target?"

Halt's smile stabbed through his cheeks as he answered.

-----------------------------------------------

Inej didn't allow herself a break until she got the that exact building Y/N told her to. She was nervous to say the least. If everything goes right, Pekka Rollins will be dead. It was unbelievable to even think about. The moonlight caressed her back and the salty wind danced around her in excitment. Ketterdam is cheering for them, it will be better off without Rollins. She thought of ways how to carve his heart out, she wanted to make a heart-shaped hole, but it was too complicated making the curves, it would take too long and she didn't want him to die before she was finished. She needed something quick, but symbolic. After all, when the stadwatch will find his body, her work should be admired. Or Deln's work, she hated he will take credit for it, but it's definitely for the best.

Soon, the spider heard two sets of footsteps beneath her. She looked down carefully, confirming it's Y/N. In the dark, she couldn't much see her 'friend', but she could feel the disgust and fear Y/N had from above, suspecting he might not be an actual friend after all. Another secret of hers she wished to uncover after this is over. The way Jesper talked about this girl is riling up an interest in her. She wanted to get to know her better, her fate might not much differ from her own and she would like to hear her story, she would like to see why Kaz seemed to hate her so much. She also hoped Y/N will stay with them after this. For Jesper's sake and maybe for Nina's nerves as she looked worried about her.

As Y/N dissapeared into the alley, Inej grabbed her knife, Sankt Petyr, that she sharpened moments before. The wind picked up and she stood motionlessly at the edge of the building. She watched lightened windows in the Smeet Residence, hoping no one will think about looking outside tonight. The house reminded her of one she encountered at the southern colonies of Novyi Zem. It was in a horrible shape compared to this, but it was a haven for the citizens there, they admired it like people in Ketterdam admire The Exchange. It was luxurious given the state of the land.

Her train of thought stopped before it reached a station, because her ears picked up a subtle voice, then a laugh. The sounds got louder as they slowly approached her. Rollins must be pretty nervous of the meet-up if he talked to himself, or he was not alone. A slight panic rose in Inej's chest and she prepared to make the uninvited dissapear. If Rollins truly had some company, she would have to wait until he saw Y/N to take it out, otherwise he might see her and change his mind. If we won't do it, somebody else will brought out fire in her stomach. The girl was right, if they won't try the lovely dessert of revenge, others might eat it whole with no crumbs left. She suspected Pekka is the main character in many unfinished death threats and planned out vengeances.

The Wraith took a deep breath as her eyes closed, slowing down her rapid heartbeat filled with excitment. When she opened them, the bright windows from the residence, along with the dimmed lights on the streets aluminated two beings walking. One was definitely the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Ketterdam.

And so was the other one.

She silently gasped, panicking again, her heartbeat picking up. What the fuck is Kaz doing here? And why was he bent over with Rollins' hand around his neck. Even though they were right across her, Inej was oblivious to their conversation- well, monologue if she was more accurate- because she was way too busy feeling the plan fall apart. This wasn't supposed to happen, Kaz was meant to know nothing and then just cheer and celebrate once they'd be done. Why did he always took matters into his hands?.

When she came back to reality, they were almost in the alleyway. The spider quickly followed them, never taking her eyes off of Kaz's helpless form. Her hands always gently grazed any surface she incountered, her feet always landing on the tips of her toes, her moves inspiring every ballerina in Kerch, yet now her hands were sliding off roughly and she had to bent her knees to make the landing silent. Her fear of her friend manipulated her body and she almost fell over the edge when the sharp turn of the building made an appearance, luckily she awokened from the feeling and stopped herself.

She was above the meeting place now.

On her right was Y/N with the strange man. Y/N was anxiously pacing around, obviously worried as they all were, even the man next to her who stood still as a pole was taking almost unseeable shuttered breaths. When the girl faced her direction, Inej wanted to warn her of the unexpected turn of events, but she wouldn't be seen anyway. As it turned out though, she also wouldn't have the time to catch her attention in time as the target slowly showed up on her left side, Kaz still in his grasp. Up close she could see the knife he held to his neck, already cut into the flesh. The man on her right stopped breathing and tried to hide his widened eyes, Rollins smirked as he saw him, shaking his head in disbelief. But the tension really sparked up when Y/N finally saw them, her eyes instantly digging into Kaz, while his were already screaming at her. Only two words bound them all together as they appeared on every present mind.

Oh fuck.

---------------------------------------------

Silence started perhaps being uncomfortable for Deln, yet Y/N only cared about the boy 5 meters in front of her. He wore blood, a lot of blood. His face showed bruises for every Barrel rat and every drop of blood that fell next to his feet tore a piece of her heart. But the worst thing was his expression, it was no longer hateful, nor angry. His eyes sinked into her and they washed her with almost a relief-like feeling, like he was happy to see her, or maybe upset to see her here, in a dangerous street that will be painted red by more than one person. His gaze was soft, almost pleading her to either run away or get closer to him.

He was worried.

"I told you to come alone if my memory is still serving right." Deln began the conversation, dragging both of their attention to him. He earned a chuckle from Rollins and a response as he squeezed Kaz's neck, straightening him up: "Well, I thought I might get the lovebirds back together, eh?" The knife retreated back to his pocket, revealing a red line on the boy's neck. Y/N allowed herself to let one tear roll down her cheek as an apology to him. Pekka must have kidnapped him, because there was no other explanation on why was he present. Deln was confused, he didn't know Dirtyhands as far as she knew, nor about her time with Hertzoon. "Aw, look at 'em, already pining for each other." Rollins mocked and pushed Kaz off of his hand. Y/N had a hard time keeping it together.

Deln sighed annoyingly and the hitman was glad he kept the plan on track. It was hard to admit he was actually a big help to her. "Whatever, let's talk business shall we? It's cold tonight. Don't wanna be out late." he said offered and Rollins laughed in his face again: "What, gotta read the slaves a goodnight story?" If she wasn't still in shock from Kaz, the plan would skip to the killing part very quickly. "Well, not anymore since you took 'em all away, didn't you." the slaver stated and wiped the smile off of Pekka's face quickly. Y/N had to admit he played the role she made for him perfectly and let the conversation rest in his hands, as she continued to worry silently about the bloodied boy.

The Dime Lions' leader seemed to get upset about Deln's forwardness, he probably thought he could talk his way out of it with his disturbing charm. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "It ain't my problem you keep 'em in a dirty warehouse. I offered them a room with a comfortable bed and good money if they were willing to smile. That ain't no crime, lad."

"I'm not interested in your architectural opinion on my slave-keeping. I am upset you stole my property." Y/N was very invested in the conversation she almost forgot her role was against Deln. Her tied hands turned him to her side by the shoulder and pierced him with her eyes. "Don't speak of them like that." she warned and he simpy scoffed her off. It wasn't much, she must admit, but it was enough to voice her stand in this matter. "HA! And what do you think you'll be after we're done here? You will be lucky if I allow you to work in my brothel." the last sentence was a warning, he could be so much cruel to her, like he was in his house. She was present finally, all worry stepped aside to make space for the anger she held and the focus she held earlier tonight sat back down on her mind.

"You won't touch her."

Ready to speak, Y/N was taken aback by his raspy voice with scary undertone. He spoke to her like that, not long ago. It was almost unreal he was defending her. As much as it brought shivers down her body, Rollins was unfazed by the threat. "You can barely stand, boy. What can you possibly do to me." he stated the obvious and continued once he looked her way again. "Besides, she really isn't worthy of your protection." He put one foot in front of the other slowly, walking over to her. She was on alert, if she had the opportunity, she wouldn't wait anymore and strangle him with her tired hands and her desire to dig his grave. He stopped few steps from her and reached into his pocket again, pulling out something else than a knife this time. "Lost this?"

A thin, almost not visible in the dark, black string was held between his fingers. The bracelet she lost. The one Kaz gave her on the last day they saw each other. She lost it in Rollins' office. Her temptation to reach for it was unseen by Y/N as her first instinct was to look at Kaz, who also drowned in the vision of the string. She broke her promise, a childish one, sure, but it destroyed her still. It always served as a reminder of her failure. How she failed to warn him and Jordie, how she wrapped his heart around her finger without knowing it and allowed Hertzoon to shatter it. The girl promised herself to not mess up this promise, at least one thing she could keep. In the end, she lost it too.

How does she deserve to live after destroying all good in her life?

"Yeah, cruel isn't she? Do you really think she cares about you, or anyone for that matter?" he talked to Kaz that was still mesmerized by the sight in Rollins' hand. Deln was silently watching the scene, the situation out of his hands now, the plan off of track. "You don't know anything about her, boy-". " You're wrong." she interrupted him. He turned to her, waiting to elaborate, the string still lifted between his fingers as if he was trying to hypnotize them. "I told him everything." Y/N continued as she silently wished with the last bit of hope he would take the bait. He didn't:

"Everything, eh?" he echoed as he turned his back on her and focused on Kaz fully. As he reached his personal space, his hand streched to him, giving him the bracelet. The boy fixated on it, swaying with the wind due to his trouble standing on the one good leg for this long. Rollins watched him closely, feeling Kaz's hand taking it almost immediately. When his coffee-like eyes reached his snake ones, Pekka uncovered Y/N's lie:

"Do you remember Ms. Hertzoon?"

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"...You what?"

"Don't you dare be offended, you manipulated her and then left us. You're as bad as I am."

That made them punch her strongly in the stomach. Funny, Rollins wanted to watch her suffer, but was too lazy to torture her himself. They were on this for 2 hours now, or she at least thought so, she couldn't tell if the ringing was only in her ears. Rollins had her sit on a chair and then asked questions. The first were stupid and simple, almost like a small talk: Did she rob him, why is she back, when did she get back, etc. She earned 5 different punches in this round. Then the latter began. They wanted to know what happened after the con trick- as he called it- which resulted in her split lip and first blood drawn. Then another small talk, remembering all their time together and then, the truth. "Where is your mother?" it began and ended in countless of other painful things she couldn't be bothered to remember.

"How." he almost whispered, it was so dramatic that Y/N would laugh if she wasn't wheezing with every breath. "Oh, please. Like you care." she fully expected the hit for that one, though it still hurt like hell. "How!" he ordered her and watched her grow a grin with her painted-red mouth. She could still feel the little gun in her little hand, standing at the foot of her mother's bed. She watched her sleep for a moment before she truly aimed. Haltt was right, it did get back her reputation. He gave her the money and she counted every single coin to make sure it really was doubled. Fortunately, he was an honest man.

"One bullet was all it took."

To say she regretted it would be a lie, the biggest one in history maybe. She second-guessed it on her way home, sure, but she more doubted Haltt's promise than her actions. However, once she really saw her mother's chest rise and fall, nothing was easier than to pull the trigger. If she was a monster in her eyes, she would become one in her memory.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" was the last thing she heard from him, then her ears were filled with ringing and also pain when her nerves couldn't take it anymore. Everything went dark after a while, she was sure she couldn't breath and her eyes zipped themselves tightly, but even though she lost consciousness, she was sure she never stopped smiling while it lasted.

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He always suspected some part of her story was left out, it would be unwise to tell him everything and she was not stupid. While Kaz did predict that something happened with the mother, he didn't expect this. He answered her eyes as they asked for connection and tried to assure them of his unchanged opinion. So what? He also done horrible things, they all have, especially Rollins. Such a hypocrite, that man. When he finished re-telling the story of Y/N's torture, he retreated from the boy's space, fortunately for him, because Kaz would have no hesitation in twisting Pekka's neck. Everything was silent for a while, the wind whispered cold around them as they all studied each other. Kaz looked at the building's roof next to them, seeing only darkness, but feeling her presence. He hoped that whatever Y/N planned to do with Inej would be useful. And what did he know, maybe this situation is going extremely well for them.

"Well, that is truly shocking, but unfortunetely, Y/N's dead mom won't solve this conflict. So let's solve it ourselves, shall we?" The slaver spoke and grabbed the girl next to him by the bicep, dragging her with him closer to Rollins. Kaz took a small, unnecessary step forward as a move to help her. Seeing Deln's hand on her made the water rise around him, he could feel her discomfort and felt it himself. They stopped and he threw the girl in front of him lightly, so she wouldn't fall, but aggressively enough, so she would sway. "Pay me for the slaves and she's yours, as promised." the boy's fist turned white at that, wishing he could hang Deln's organs at the lamppost. "Hmmm" groaned Rollins in thinking. "How much do ya want?"

"3000 kruge."

"Pardon?"

Deln rolled his eyes. "It was 100 slaves you stole from me, every slave is expensive and believe me, I'm giving you a discount right now." Rollins nodded at his explanation. At this point, Kaz thought about getting out of there. He was being ignored and would be forgotten in a while. Rollins couldn't see him, Deln could, but he doubted he would care. However, she could too, and his heart radiated an unfamiliar feeling at the thought of dissapearing without Y/N. If this situation happened with anyone else, he'd be already at the Slat, drinking shots and drowning in silence of his room. Dirtyhands planned the escape, Kaz refused to go through with it. He refused to leave her. "Alright, alright. How about this." Rollins spoke his thoughts. "I'll give you half of what they make me from now on and if you ever wander in the Sweet Shop, you won't have to pay." Deln was silent, but he was clearly concidering it.

"Huh? Sounds good?" Smiling Pekka streched out his hand and waited for a handshake. Every set of eyes watched Deln's movement, from his step closer, closer to Rollins, closer to Y/N, until he squeezed Pekka's hand, reflecting his expression. "That's a deal, then." said the robber. "Deal." said the slaver. Kaz didn't know what that meant and from the girl's face, he could tell the confusion was shared. Although, he truly realized this wasn't part of their plan after Deln quickly reached for Y/N's belt with the same hand that just closed a deal, pulling out a small gun, one that could barely fit a bullet, and aiming it at the hitman. She was frightened, taking steps back, but she didn't got very far when Deln grabbed her by the collar, holding her close to his body.

"Like mother like daughter."

He was instantly on the move, as fast as he could, trying to prevent what was about to happen. The bullet was faster though. Before hearing the gunshot, they heard Deln's scream. Y/N felt to the ground and Kaz was at her side immediately. His eyes panicking, trying to find the wound while his heart sounded the alarms and awakened fear. Not like this. He couldn't lose her like this. He soon found the gunshot and without thinking threw his hands to press it down. They never made contact with it, Rollins' knife already found its way back to his neck, pulling him away from her. "You didn't think I forgot about you, did ya?" he laughed in his ear before Kaz threw his head back, hitting him in the nose. The grip got loose and he turned around, sending his anger and frustration in his fist. Rollins tumbled and he kicked him on the ground, getting him closer to the place he belongs.

Deln moaned in pain and the boy finally saw the reason. Below his bent over form, a puddle of blood formed and in it swam his thumb, right above Sankt Petyr. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit, he couldn't remember how did he survive all this time without Inej watching over him and the crows, it made him grateful she is back for now. His eyes were set to find Y/N again, but he only saw a red trace from where she laid. She must've gotten away. Good girl.

He couldn't follow her steps, because Rollins already got up from the cobblestones, ready to strike. He breathed heavily, supporting the place Kaz kicked him in with his hand. He couldn't understand why Rollins always came back into his life. He tried to avoid him all his time in Ketterdam, yet life always brought them together. Or death, he wasn't sure, maybe they were destined to destroy each other. Pekka Rollins was like a mosquito bite: itching to be noticed and when Kaz does so, he feels a brief satisfaction before the itch comes back and is worse than before. He was also as annoying. It needed to be finished right here and tonight

The boy braced himself and waited on the mosquito's move, straightening himself. Little did he know, the shadow from above already closed in on the man. Kaz watched as she kicked his knee from the back and caught his hair, stopping him from falling fully on the ground again. Sankta Lizabeta could be soon visible above his heart, the tip waiting to be pushed in. Only then, Dirtyhands quietly sighed in relief.

"He still can't do it without ya, huh? Tell me boy, when will you start being a man and do things on your own?" Rollins mocked them as he recognized the face, which currently held the future of his heartbeat. Kaz limped slowly closer, feeling Inej's eyes on him. He lowered his head once he entered Pekka's personal space dangerously deep. "When my brother will get his revenge in hell."

As soon as the menacing words reached Rollins, his lips twitched up at the sight of Sankta Lizabeta slowly painting an imaginery outline of the man's heart, being applauded by his blood-curling scream. Inej wasn't the one for torture, but he could see the bit of joy in her eyes and the relief on her face. She deserved to be the one that would free Ketterdam from this parasite and he let her have it, already searching for the bloody trail Y/N left behind.

His eyes alerted him when they caught it and he began to follow the path, slowly, limping as Deln's whines cheered him on.

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The stars were with her, sometimes changing their position or widening in her eyes as they waited to claim her. Salty waterdrops tapped her tired legs, reminding her of where she sat. She imagined death many times, it wasn't unusual for someone in her profession. She remembered Tim talking about the peace that comes with it, saying it is kind, so it would be easier for the soul to leave the body. For her, it was obvious. Everything would be kinder than life. However, nothing could prepare her for the last moments. Y/N realized that no matter how much you imagine it, it will always surprise you. The knowing that this is the last time she is going to exist in wasn't something her brain could comprehend. Maybe that was the mystery death held, that was the fuel for the fear in others, not understanding until it was too late.

Wind played softly with her hair while it kissed the bruises of her now untied hands, and she tried hard to feel everything at the same time. The clothes touching her skin, the numbness in her feet, her shaky breath as it entered and left her system, but mostly, she tried to memorize the pain in her stomache and the bullet inside her body. It was an intense feeling, so she wanted to feel it as much as possible, before it would fade and with it her heart.

The hitman got hit.

This is how her victims probably felt. She brought this feeling to numerous lives. Her mother felt this way too. Y/N couldn't decide if dying felt good or disgusting, but she could be certain it was lonely. Even if people surrounded her, it wouldn't be better. It was an experience for her soul, no one from the outside could empathize.

She wondered where her grave would lay as the slow footsteps got closer. Y/N heard him limp next to her and it seemed like the stars noticed him too, because they stopped moving once he sat down, as though they only wanted to be seen by her. He was visibly tired, still bleeding from his neck.

Maybe he was feeling the final presence too.

Maybe her starts would take them both.

Silence and the waves crashing made the space between them comfortable, maybe too comfortable for her liking. His breath was disrupting hers as it naturally tried to match the rhythm. The moment became so peaceful, she almost forgot about their history. It felt like nothing happened between them, they were just kids, sitting by the port, watching stars and listening to the ocean. They weren't Dirtyhands and Saskia. They weren't the Bastard of the Barell and Snowflake.

They were Y/N and Kaz. As they were always meant to be.

"Do you believe in faith?"

It felt like yesterday since he asked her that question. Every shared memory of them felt so close to her now, as if time was all messed up. Maybe death was already doing its job. Kaz was taking his time with the answer, breathing heavily, as if the air had to fill his words first before she could hear them.

"Yes...I do."

He exhaled, his low empty voice responding. Her lips lifted into a messy smile, her muscles were losing their power all over her body, but that didn't stop her from reaching into her coat and pulling out a folded, bloodied paper that her fingers swiftly grabbed from her slaver's back pocket before he could shoot her. It was almost bizzare, how a small, easily rippable piece made her revisit the demons of the past. She wondered if Deln wanted this all along. Maybe he wanted Rollins to kill her, so he could make his deal with him. Or maybe it was just faith, wanting to see how far she would go for a false sense of freedom.

"It doesn't mean anything." Y/N stated as she felt Kaz looking at the release paper. "I just needed proof that I'm not under anyone's influence anymore, but..." her eyes followed the ongoing waves. They looked like on a leash, as if someone released them, so they could explode onto the harbor's walls, only to pull them back again shortly after, reminding them they were still being controlled. It seemed torturous, humiliating. It looked like her. "...I will never be free of him."

Y/N couldn't look at the boy, even if his burning gaze could only be extinguished by an eye contact. He was right, she was a monster. She could see it now and she wouldn't hide from this fact. She would accept herself before her heart would stop singing. It was the least she could do with the very limited time, coming to terms with her own self.

The stars started moving again slowly as Kaz spoke: "He can't control you anymore..." His tone showed certainty. Inej had to claim her souvenir of revenge by now, but he still managed to squeeze out a scoff from the hitman. She couldn't believe he allowed himself to be so naïve. Rainbow won't repair the damage done by storm, same as killing Pekka Rollins won't erase his actions and the following conciquences. His influence made her do things beyond his leadership. It scarred her for life, and those scars bled onto others without the possibility to heal. She bled on him too. She killed his brother for fuck's sake.

"The things he caused precedes him." Y/N finally looked at Kaz, his eyes seemed to be glowing in her hallucinating mind. "I can't be changed." She whispered, knowing he would hear every single letter. The moon illuminated him perfectly. His features casted a soft look under its light and Y/N was glad this would be the appearence of him she would take to her grave. She was happy to become one of the stars that would continue to shine on him.

Suddenly, death seemed very pretty.

The girl saw his hand on hers before she could feel it. It was weirdly warm, even though he barely touched her. His eyes demanded her ears' attention as he spoke, slowly, so she could feel the words. "You don't need to be changed."

Her mind was confused. How could he even speak such things?

"I am a killer." she reminded him.

"Not by choice." he argued.

"I killed my own mother and enjoyed it." she was restless in making him hate her.

"Your mother's conciquences of her own actions." he dodged her attempt.

"I killed your brother." was when she knew she would win. It wasn't excusable. Nothing could possibly erase this from Kaz's mind, no apology was enough, she was certain. That was the reason she couldn't understand why Kaz's hand began to hold hers more tightly as his eyes studied the wound in her stomache, covered by her arm that desperately tried to prevent the blood from pouring out, but it became more and more hopeless. "You're dying and not doing anything about it." he aknowleged. Y/N smiled briefly, from pain and also from his slow understanding of her plan.

"I deserve it." she spoke weakly, every word felt heavy on her tongue and she was about to give in to their weight. He only observed her, as her body was slowly losing the ability to move, as her energy was being sipped by the waves below. It suddenly felt a bit scary for her, she was in the process of dying and it strangely ignited the last bit of her will to live.

Kaz did nothing, he only asked: "Why?" She looked at him, her eyes shooting fear. She guessed she would engage with every emotion before turning off. Maybe the nature granted this privilege to every person, so they would get to have the proper goodbye to their body.

"I never done anything good, I only brought pain." her lips responded, making Kaz nod slowly. Y/N gasped softly as the fear intensified. This feeling was unlike any before, like her life was slowly slipping through her body, through the wound. Her arm pressed tightly, as much as she could to slow down the inevitable, but it was too late. "Maybe it's time to change that." Kaz spoke. She wouldn't be able to change her ways if she died, the only thing she would remember about this life was how she made it difficult for everyone else.

Y/N sighed, death was almost touching her, heart was losing its music. She no longer felt the waterdrops on her legs and the stars dimmed their light. "It's too late."

The port beneath her began to sway, as if it would tip over to the ocean anytime. She gripped the concrete edge, slipping her hand from Kaz's to do so, trying to stop it from moving, only for it to sway more. She picked her eyes up at the sky, seeing only her five stars in the black treacle sky, as her body pushed closer to the waves.

Death awaited her.

Like those waves, Y/N was suddenly pulled back by someone's hands, feeling her body lift up from the port, supported in the air. Her form bounced with every other step and another warm breath kept mixing with hers. She imagined those arms were of an angel, bringing her to heaven. Or a devil, bringing her to hell. She gave into its touch nonetheless.

"I know you're not very good at keeping them, but would you promise me one last thing?" a voice asked her, a low and a tired one. One that could only belong to an angel the way it kept her dying heart beating. The girl could only hum, agreeing to the angel's request. The voice sounded serious, threatening almost, but she could hear the worry hidden behind it, as it spoke.

"Don't make me lose you."

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Nina whined, having trouble with breathing as her hands shook from the need to be put down. She saved the Dregs numerous times from a certain death, yet Y/N exceeded her expectations. The heartender tried her very best to wake her heart up, while Jesper and Wylan panicked to pull out the bullet and seize the wound, so no more blood would be lost. What wasn't helpful, though, was Brekker, constantly yelling at them for trying harder. She understood that his anger was powered by the fear for that girl, but that didn't put out the urge to fill his face with more wounds, maybe a broken nose even.

"I swear, Nina. If she dies.." he exclaimed again, not helping the situation in any way.

"It will be on you!" Nina barked at him, frustration clearly visible not only on her tone, but her tired features. Her eyes shot to Jesper and Wylan an apologizing look as she saw their hands bloodied and faces worried. The door swinged open behind her, revealing Inej. Nina felt relief wash over her as she saw her. Kaz would maybe stop being such an asshole in her presence.

"Is she breathing?" Inej asked and immediately moved to Y/N's lying form, putting her cheek above her nose. "Barely." Wylan answered stressfully. Kaz's worry shifted to fear, Nina could sense that, even when her full focus was on the hitman's weak heart. She was barely alive, but the heartender was still surprised it could beat. She was strong and Nina hoped she would continue to fight.

Jesper gasped heavily and looked at her. "The wound's sealed!" he sounded so hopeful and it brought Nina some strenght to see him like this. She had to take quick breaths before tightening her hands in the air one more time, fastening Y/N's heartbeat. Fortunetely, it worked. "She's breathing again!" Inej said with a small smile, causing Kaz to limp closer to see for himself. His own wounds weren't yet treated, but Nina didn't even try to convince him. He had trouble looking after himself when one of them was hurt, she could imagine how much worse it was in this case, where his heartbeat's fire was on the brink of death.

She could feel the heartbeat pick up to a slow pace. It wasn't yet normal, but at least she didn't have to control it now. Nina put her hands down and fell down on an armchair beside her. Everyone in the room fell victims to exhaustion, Nina closed her eyes for a moment, just focusing on her breathing. Wylan was the first to stand up and slowly make his way out of the room with the words she'll be alright, Nina, you did a great job. Jesper followed, squeezing Nina's shoulder and nodding shortly at Kaz, before the door closed after him too.

"You either let me treat your wounds or you will go and get some sleep." she offered to the man, her eyes fixated on Y/N. She was glad he, at least, wrapped his neck in a bandage during this hard time, but he had other quite serious wounds she had to treat sooner or later. Kaz allowed himself to be predictable as he stared at the hitman and then slowly limped out of the room. Before he did though, he surprised her after all.

"Thank you."

Nina's head snapped his way and watched him leave, she didn't expect that. Inej sat next to her on the armrest, following her eyes to the laying girl. "You should rest as well, I know how tired you are." the heartender studied her features with a caring look. Her friend fought the sleep well so far, which she hated to see. "I'm not leaving you alone." the spider said with a decisive eyes connecting with hers. She knew the heartender couldn't sleep herself, as she had to look out for Y/N's heart. Nina flashed a defeated smile. She was grateful for her presence, she missed her a lot, but it would ease her mind if she went to sleep. However, knowing her stubborn mind, she scooted over to the very side, creating a tiny space for Inej to sit, which her friend accepted with a smile.

"Alright then. Tell me how you killed Rollins and DON'T spare any details."

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wackybuddiemewbs · 2 years ago

Text

Something I'm still not really over... and probably won't ever be

Like, others have already pointed this out, but it's just soooooo *chef's kiss* that I will swoon over this forever and always:

That the show is driving the point home HARD that Buck and Eddie are the ones who get each other best. That they are each other's safe space.

The interviews after the last episode confirmed that Eddie took Buck along to the secret poker club to support him and basically get him out of his head. Buck just went through a very traumatic experience (okay, there's been a few... but that one's the most recent!). He admitted to Eddie that he doesn't really know how he feels (or what to do with those mixed feelings, also embodied by Buck wondering about what to do with his math skillz). So Eddie took him out for some good-natured fun. He gave Buck a safe space to enjoy himself, boost his confidence, and forget about his troubles for a while.

Further to the point: In the previous episode, Buck escaped to Eddie's house. Because as well-intended as Maddie's efforts were, they weren't really what Buck needed to put his mind at ease. In the end, he went to the place he needed to be, and that wasn't his sister's, it was Eddie's. That is where he found himself enough at ease to let go, to sleep, and to calm down. Which then created an opening for Eddie to ask him how he truly is - and got a more genuine, deeper reaching reaction than anyone else did.

It was such a neat callback to Eddie telling Buck that he may have to accept that Chimney understands Maddie in different ways than Buck does. And that Chimney thus better understands what she truly needs (someone to come get her, instead of giving her space). It later turns out that Eddie was right: Maddie needed Chimney to come find her, so she could come home again.

Now they are turning that back around this season, and it's so damn neat in terms of storytelling and so damn wonderful to watch, espeically as a shipper. Because Maddie, much like Buck in the previous season, doesn't really know what he needs. Buck himself doesn't know consciously. But he eventually follows his impulse to seek out Eddie. Because Eddie understands him in a way that no one else does, not even his sister.

Side note: I also find it interesting that they make an effort to show that Buck's and Maddie's relationship is changing in a lot of ways. Like, they began as this unit of "us against the rest of the world" and re-established that special connection, when she sought him out in L.A. Buck and Maddie were often shown to get each other best (and will continue to, in a lot of ways). But the narrative also wants us to see that there are facets they don't know about each other, as siblings. Because those are the ways in which only their (romantic) partners understand them, hence Chimney and Eddie. And I do think that's purposeful.

It's not just because Eddie shared a similar experience (near-death experience) that uniquely enables him to understand Buck and his needs. It's not just that Eddie is Buck's best friend. Eddie's very nature, his personality, his temperament is what makes him most apt in helping Buck deal with this. It's how he's interacted with Buck from the very beginning of their relationship.

Like, we often joke about it or read it in fanfiction, but it really is like that with Eddie and Buck. Eddie gets Buck. Buck gets Eddie.

In most instances, it's Eddie who understands what's really going on with Buck, even without anyone giving him a hint. He understands what Buck needs to hear after the tsunami, or after the shooting. He understands those inner turmoils in a way that maybe even Buck doesn't get it, until Eddie says it. Eddie's basically a natural at gearing his interaction with Buck to fit that need. Very often, it's about just being there, about showing up (or giving Buck the opportunity to show up), letting him know that the sees him and takes him seriously (callback to what Buck appreciated about Abby much!!!).

And this season, we see it yet again. Eddie was not part of Maddie's agenda. He didn't do the check-ins the way the others did. But when Buck was finally ready to talk, when he needed him to be there, Eddie was there, to listen, to offer perspective. Like, he nudged a bit during the conversation in the kitchen, asking if he was now allowed to ask Buck how he is (which shows that he really wanted to ask before, but chose to hold that back - because Buck wasn't ready yet). But he didn't push. Because that's not what Buck needed him to do. Buck needed to calm down, to have a safe space to talk about it, without anyone pushing him too hard. And that's exactly what Eddie did.

Someone very clever whose post I can't seem to find (I need to better order my drafts and all, I know, I know...) pointed out that it's the other way around for Eddie. Eddie needs someone to push him. And that is what makes them such a perfect match for each other.

Last season, Eddie needed someone like Buck to keep pushing, to be insistent, to not let this go. Be it about staying in a dead relationship or addressing his PTSD. Buck didn't just show up. He was there for him and for Christopher, especially since the shooting (even momentarily moving into Eddie's house to look after Christopher). Eddie knew he could always rely on Buck to jump in. And the moment Eddie hit his personal rock bottom, it was Buck who broke down that door - and stayed. He stayed and didn't let this go until Eddie saw that things couldn't go on like this. He actively sought out ways to support Eddie and Christopher (equine therapy), and kept forcing the conversation, because he knew that Eddie wouldn't speak up otherwise.

And this season, we are reminded yet again that Buck and Eddie are that unit for each other. They complement each other, on this very personal, very intimate level. Where one needs a push, the other will push. Where one needs space, the other will give it. And it always goes without saying. It really is something they can take granted from each other. They don't have to ask for help, the other will help. They see each other and understand what needs to be done to offer the support the other one needs.

Like, it's just... it's just so wonderful.

*cries in weewoo*

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 spoilers #911 season 6 #911 season 6 spoilers

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the-loveliest-lotus · 11 months ago

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I got inspired yesterday and wrote this little interaction between @raddouchebag's OC Bastian Kitzler my OC Lucy Desmond (she has a sideblog now @lucyskyedesmond). These two have some kindred spirit vibes and I ran with it (and I adore Bastian). 🖤

Word Count: 1,676 words

Note: Has some potential spoilers for The Wicker Man (my mtl fanfiction), but super minimal.

~~~~~

Lucy was standing outside on one of Mordhaus’ balconies, watching the sunset. Normally she’d be up on the roof, but she wanted a change of pace and something in her intuition had told her to come down here tonight.

As if on cue, Dethklok’s new producer walked outside, lighting a cigarette and not quite paying attention. When he noticed her, he stopped, as if he was wondering if he should find somewhere else to have a cigarette. Lucy spoke up with a playful smirk on her lips, “I won’t bite you unless you ask me to.” Then she got slightly more serious, “Unless you were hoping for some solitude in which case I can go to my usual spot up on the roof.”

He debated for a second, trying to ignore how flustered the initial comment had made him, and then shook his head, “No, you’re fine. I just didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

She smiled a little, “Fair enough.”

He walked over and stood downwind of her so as not to get the cigarette smoke in her face. Lucy appreciated the little gesture. She raised her joint that she was smoking slightly, “You want a hit?”

They were done working for the day, so he figured it couldn’t harm anything. “Thank you,” he said as he took the joint and took a little hit. He held it for a second and exhaled, passing it back to her. Bastian felt an instant wave of calm wash over him. The weed was strong, but it was pleasant, like a heavy weighted blanket being pulled up over his soul.

She took another hit herself and offered it back to him, but he refused, “This is the perfect level for me.” He smoked his cigarette, wondering how she wasn’t on her ass with how strong that hit had been for him, but she broke the silence before he could ask about it.

“You know, I don’t think I could ever get tired of watching the sun set or rise. No matter what stays the same, no matter where you are, you never see the same one twice.”

Bastian raised an eyebrow at her, the thought was so much deeper than he had been expecting. From what he had seen of Lucy so far, she was very bold, a little brash, and extroverted to the nth degree. To see her so calm and enamored with something as simple as a sunset was surprising. “You watch them a lot, I take it?”

She nodded, “There’s something peaceful about it.”

Bastian looked at the small woman, she was so different when she was alone than when she was with the rest of the band. She seemed less intimidating like this. “You know, I’ll admit, when I first met you, I thought you were somewhat intimidating.”

She looked up at him with a little smirk on her lips, “Excellent, my façade is working.” Her blue eyes looked him up and down, “Really though?”

He nodded, but made a joke to keep things light, “Maybe it’s the jacket.”

Lucy smirked, she could tell something had happened to him in his past that was the real reason that he had said anything at all about her being intimidating. People always seemed to give her a flash of their cards even when they were the best of poker players. Even still, she barely knew Bastian yet despite having worked with him for a while, so instead of getting too deep, she said, “It usually disturbs people a little. That uncanny valley effect that the basilisk skin gives off does that.”

His eyebrows raised, “Basilisk skin?”

She nodded, “Perks to having the Blues Devil among my lovers. He has been very protective over the years, far beyond the duties of our initial contract. He wanted to give me a jacket that was almost like armor in case a fan ever tried stabbing me again.” Lucy looked at the jacket fondly, the rainbow iridescence of the scales glimmering in the fading sunlight. “Sometimes love is more about what they do than about what they say, you know?”

Bastian couldn’t help the little pang of envy, he had seen her throng of lovers. Even the ones that she was only intimate with on a more casual level seemed to care about her deeply. Though, something that he had wondered about stumbled from his lips before he could think much about what he was saying, “How do you handle not being some of their number one choice?”

Lucy looked back at Bastian, there was something in his eyes. Gods, this man just wanted to be loved and she could see it written on his face. He was pining after someone, and she had a good feeling she knew who it was, but she wasn’t about to get too specific. So instead, she answered honestly, “I’m my own number one. After I killed my abuser, I made myself a promise, and that’s why even with Pickles I put myself first.” She saw the face he made about Pickles and made a mental note of it, but continued, “People come and go. Life changes, and the only consistent thing we have in life is ourselves. I make me my priority. If people don’t like that, then they’re not meant for me. It makes life a lot easier to navigate.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he said, a sadness in his voice that she wondered if he was even aware of.

She shrugged, “I’ve had a lot of practice. Really, I was like this even with my abuser, it was just… a hot mess.” She had a bitter little smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, and Bastian could see the pain on her face. It was a pain of sorrow where you wonder what your life would have been like if you had never met the person that caused you emotional damage. He knew that pain all too well.

He put a tentative hand on her shoulder, and he could feel her relax at his touch. It almost surprised him to see someone relax that quickly at his hand when they hardly knew each other outside of work. “At least he didn’t seem to dim that light inside of you.”

Lucy blushed a little at his words, a softer smile forming on her lips, “Your light is brighter than you think it is too, Bastian.” She turned back toward the sunset and leaned against him. Lucy could feel him tense up, but then he relaxed and put an arm around her, leaning back into her a little. It made her smile a little more. The man was like a feral and frightened cat, but he seemed willing to open up with a little patience and kindness. It reminded her of herself in some ways, even if she did express it differently than he seemed to.

They didn’t speak again until the sun was completely down. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, by the way,” Lucy said, glancing up at him, neither of them having moved. He raised an eyebrow at her and she continued, “Would you sign my copy of the Play Girl that you were in?”

He chuckled, “I assume you got it for the articles?”

“Of course, I’m an avid reader of… Oh who am I kidding, absolutely not. I don’t have a whole lot of them by any means, but I collect the ones that really catch my eye, and yours happened to.”

That got a full laugh out of him and Lucy decided she liked that sound and wanted to hear more of it. “Only if you’ll sign my copy of the Play Boy that you were in,” he said.

She laughed a little, “Did you get that one for the articles?”

Bastian smirked, “Normally I don’t get them, I’m not really a fan of how they treat models, but it was an attempted apology from Murderface and Toki for something over the line that they said about a month ago and the photo set was pretty creative.��

“That sounds about right.” She would hazard a guess that Murderface had been an insensitive jackass and Toki had been along for the ride. The fact that they were using her Play Boy issue as an apology token was somehow fitting for them. “I’m surprised they still had a copy that was intact and not covered in questionable fluids at this point, to be honest.” Bastian made a face at the thought and she snickered a bit. “I’ll have to tell you all about the shoot. Charles negotiated full creative control within certain parameters for me, so I’m sure I didn’t have the usual shoot experience.”

“You’re lucky. My shoot…” He trailed off, “I have stories, not all of them pleasant.” Bastian changed the subject a little, trying to keep the mood light, “Believe it or not, I did actually read the interview. It was pretty good. The fire fans were a nice touch too.”

She grinned, it was nice seeing him slowly let his walls down, “Thanks. I loved being able to really express myself.” Lucy wanted to know a bit more about him if he was feeling open right now, “I’d love to hear some of your stories while you’re signing mine too, if you’re up for it, at least. Hell, doesn’t even have to be from the Play Boy shoot, I’d love to hear some of your industry experiences that don’t suck.”

Her good mood was shockingly infectious. Or maybe it was just the weed. ‘Maybe it’s both.’ “Alright, we’ll swap some stories,” he said, laughing again.

Lucy smiled at the sound. She was glad that they had an excuse to hang out tonight, she was hoping to hear a lot more of that laugh. “Why don’t you go grab your copy and meet me in my room?” she asked.

He looked down at her, a sparkle in his eye, glad that this night was taking such an interesting turn. “Sounds like a plan.”

#lucy skye desmond #bastian kitzler #metalocalypse oc #mtl oc #my writing #just two feral cats watching the sunset

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ghostykai · 9 months ago

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Mi fai schifo but now we're friends

Angel Dust & Kaire (Platonic)

Trans: You disgust me but now we're friends - sounds bad Ik but it's a reference on the text

This is the story of how Angel Dust and Kaire started to become friends, and of how the Hotel found out about Kaire's demon form.

More of Kaire: Kaire info, Kaire pt. 2, Overlord! Kaire: Fortuna

And remember, my Asks are open. Might offer some x reader and maybe some more Kaire stuff

~~~~~~~~

Charlie had called the Residents of the Hotel down to the Lobby again. The activities she set up always varied and attendance wasn't mandatory but almost no one dared not to show up. As much as sometimes it could be a bit ridiculous, Charlie meant well, so no one wanted to let her down.

"So..." She started, sinners sitting all around her, "Today we will share what our main sins and problems are and how we are trying to better ourselves towards redemption. I thought since we have had a couple new faces, this would help everyone get to know each other better."

The tall spider sinner Kaire knew as Angel Dust scoffed dramatically. He took up a whole couch on his own. Kaire sat on the ground opposite to it. Husk, a sinner that looked like a winged cat, who was the bartender of the hotel, shoved Angel's legs off the couch and set down, grumbling something.

Kaire had come to learn those two were somehow close, although they didn't know exactly what their relationship was. In the three weeks of living at the hotel Kaire had often seen them sat at the bar talking about something Kaire didn't care enough to listen to.

The round started with the people that had been here the longest. Getting clean from drug addiction, alcoholism, the works. Other residents spoke, some who Kaire hadn't gotten to know yet. Dread started welling up in Kaire's stomach. Their turn was next. They saw the quick glance Husk and Angel shared, the latter with a little smirk.

"Kaire, it's your turn." Charlie whispered from the couch next to were they were sitting on the ground.

"Oh... Well I don' know," Kaire trailed off, "Not really anything in particular, I guess."

"Aw, c'mon yer in hell, ya must have done somethin'," Angel spoke up, now propping his face on his hand as he looked at Kaire, "Don't worry, we don't judge."

Kaire shrugged, their nails raking against the wood floor.

Charlie butted in quickly, "If Kaire doesn't feel comfortable sharing that yet it's fine as well. They are new to hell after all."

Angel spoke up again, "Lemme guess, ya did drugs. Not hard shit tho, ya don't look like the type." He shot another look to his feline friend.

"Nope. Never got into that shit. Didn't get the hype," Kaire replied simply and shrugged again.

Husks finally spoke up with his gravely voice, "Gambling, then. Or alcohol, that's always the one."

"I don't like to drink, alcohol tastes like ass." Kaire's claws were starting to leave marks on the wooden floor, "I do enjoy a good game of Poker but I don't play with money. Do y'all wanna keep interrogating me? Have you been entertained enough yet?"

Angel basically cut them off, "Oh no I get it, Sex addict. It's always the innocent ones, ya know?" He chuckles.

Kaire stiffened, their close stopped scratching the wooden floors. Their gaze dropping to the floor.

"Oh. My. God. Don't tell me, yer a virgin?" Angel spoke with a smile a bit too big, sitting up slightly.

There was a silence, then a laugh.

"Fuck, man. A virgin? Ya don't drink, don't smoke or anythin, don't gamble, don't even get laid and end up in hell." Angel laughed some more, "Shiiiit. Can't believe it. Ya must have been one boring bitch when ya were alive."

Kaire tried to chuckle with him. The wood creaked as their claws sunk deeper into it.

He didn't stop laughing, "Fucking hell, that's some shit. A fucking virgin bitch in hell, that's a joke."

He kept talking, Kaire's nails kept digging. Charlie had started her attempt at making Angel stop laughing. Kaire's heart was racing, teeth clenched and grinding against each other. They tried to keep it together but his laughter filled their brain like fog. Then something snapped, they stood. They suddenly felt different. A yellow smoke filled the edges of their vision.

"Fuck you! You bitch! You find it funny? Ti fa ridere, heh?" (Trans: Does it make you laugh, huh?)They clenched their fist and stepped closer to Angel.

He stilled, the whole room did. Everyone was looking at them, differently than usual. Even Charlie shut up.

Kaire's heart was pumping, they opened their mouth to say something, then they closed it again, not sure exactly how to express what they were feeling.

"Mi fai schifo!" (Trans: You disgust me!)Was the last thing they said before walking away. Storming towards they stairs they noticed something in the shadows, eyes and whispers, they stepped closer and disappeared. Swallowed by the shadows.

All they wanted was to get back to their room and that's what happened. Kaire popped out of a shadowy corner of their room.

Kaire was not ready for what they saw in the mirror when they turned around. Another set of eyes on their face, Nine eyes floating around their head like a crown, four of which were sown shut, all glowing yellow. A yellow smoke emanating from their hands. It took some deep breaths but the extra eyes and smoke soon disappeared.

They had told them that some sinners have different demonic forms but they couldn't have guess this is what theirs looked like.

Kaire threw themselves on their bed, "Fuck Angel. And fuck Husk too, I'm sure those two must have been talking about me behind my back at some point." Kaire mumbled into their pillow.

~~~

A few days had passed and Kaire refused to go down in the lobby. Charlie came to knock a few times a day to make sure Kaire was doing fine and that if they needed to talk, she was there for them. Sometimes she brought food and left it in front of their door.

Today they heard whispers from outside. Multiple times. Once Kaire was sure it was Charlie and Alastor. All the other times it was harder to tell. It was later into the day that they could tell someone was pacing in the hallway outside of their room. Always stopping near their door, then going again.

Kaire scoffed, letting their pencil clatter onto their desk. "I swear on the nine circles of hell, whoever it is I'll cut their legs off," they sighed, contemplating whether or not they should open the door and see who was causing all this noise.

Then, someone knocked. "Kaire. Can we talk?" The accent gave it away immediately.

"Fuck Off, Angel," Kaire replied.

"C'mon, at least open this fuckin' door. I just wanna talk."

Kaire stood up, "What part of Fuck Off do you not understand?" They swung the door open, "I don't wanna talk to you, Angel." He looked... Oddly miserable. Not in a way that's easy to notice. More in a 'I know what he usually looks like and that's not it' way. "You have one minute," Kaire rolled their eyes.

"I'm sorry, ok? I don' do the whole apologizing shit usually but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made fun of ya, I was being a jackass." Angel rattled off in one breath.

Kaire raised a brow.

"It's just that... I dunno. We all have shit to work through and then ya just say ya don't really struggle with anything and that's kinda weird too, ya know?" He kept on rambling.

"Just cause y'all didn't guess my shit correctly doesn't mean I'm pure and don't have my reasons to be here." They said flatly. Then they sighed, and stepped to the side to let Angel in.

He hesitated for a second to long.

"Come in, mi sembri un anima in pena così in piedi fuori dalla porta." (Trans: You look like a tortured soul, standing outside of my door like that)

Angel finally stepped inside. He sat down in a bean bag Charlie had gifted to Kaire to liven up their room since they had no possessions. Kaire sat on their bed. There was a long since which Angel broke, "So you speak Italian, what a coincidence."

"I'm Italian so... Kinda my thing."

"How did you know I'd speak Italian too?" Angel tried to keep the ball rolling, sitting stiffly.

"You cussed someone out in Italian, so I guessed," Kaire said, "You don't have to be so stiff, Angel, I don't bite... Unless you like that... Actually on second thought you're very much not my type so don't ask for a bite."

The slightly dirty innuendo seemed to both surprise him and put him at ease.

"Maybe ya don't bite, but those eyes and the weird smokey shit and disappearin into shadows doesn't really help the friendly persona, ya know?" He chuckles a little.

"Did Charlie send you to apologize?" Kaire changed the topic.

"I mean not only Charlie. Husk and Vaggie got on my ass too. Tho mostly Charlie"

Kaire hummed in agreement, looking off to the window.

"Tho I do feel like shit. I didn't just do it for them," Angel added.

"Don't worry you're fine..."

"Kay, but really, Kaire, why?"

"Why what"

"Why in hell, ya seem... Nice enough"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Ah come on. Yer being mean, toots"

"Toots?"

"I call everyone toots"

Kaire hummed again.

There was a short lived silence between them.

"So is the virginity thing a choice?"

"Angel..." Kaire said in an admonishing tone.

"Just curious, it's not every day we get someone like ye down here."

"Not a choice"

"Then why? Like ya seem... Ok."

"You don't fuck people cause their 'okay', love"

"Love?"

"I call everyone that, sarcastically." Kaire finally looked back from the window to Angel. He was now looking out too.

"Whatever. I mean why not then."

"Just didn't go out much. People like me don't do the partying and the clubbing and the hooking up, I guess."

"Wait wait wait, ya never went to a club?"

"No."

"A bar?"

"Like not to hook up."

"A house party?"

"No." They replied, "Ma che è, 'n intervista?" (What is this, an interview?)

"Nope. We gotta fix this." Angel completely ignored their question.

"Fix?"

"Yes. We're going out. Me, you... Husk and maybe Cherri." Angel stood up from the bean bag.

Kaire's hands raised in front of them, inching backwards on their bed, "Whoa whoa whoa, calm it Spidey. I never said- Hey!"

Angel was much stronger than Keire had anticipated, or maybe it was that he was 8 feet tall. He grabbed their wrist and forced them to stand, walking to the chest Keire was using as a closet.

"Ya comin' and yer gonna have fun. End of discussion." Angel was now rummaging through Kaire's few possessions, "Toots, ya need some clothes, stat. Like what is this? Two shirts, three pants and a pajama? Nah, this won't do."

Kaire didn't know what to say, or even if they should feel offended. They hadn't been here for long, of course they wouldn't have clothes.

Angel slammed the chest closed, "Well, since ya have nothing nice and since ma clothes would neva fit on ya," he sighed, "we'll have to get ya somethin to wear before I bring ya to experience life."

[To be continued?]

BONUS:

(Ik angel is missing a pair of arms but this is a doodle and I'm lazy)

#hazbin fandom #hazbin hotel oc #hellsona #hellaverse #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel fandom

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ihaveatheoryonthat · 11 months ago

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But Who's Keeping Score?

For good, and for bad, I don't have nearly as many unfinished pieces this year, but there are still a handful that I'd like to move off the burners, so here's a last-minute WIP before the year ends. As per usual, it's got placeholders all over and isn't in a finished state.

Just in case you're sensitive to the subject matter, it focuses pre-transition characters, who use their birth names up to a point. It's not coming from a place of malice, it's just because they don't identify as men at that point in the story.

(As a side note, I somehow ended up basing this in the same continuity as Keep Making that Face, but you don't need to be familiar with it to read this.)

---

Somebody had submitted Irma’s name to the annual Nimbasa [?] poll. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t upset about it-- it was just a silly popularity contest-- but if they were being realistic, it was all about appearances. Under different circumstances, Irma wasn’t the sort to wring her hands over how attractive others did or didn’t find her, but…

But throughout her entire adult life, over and over, she’d been told how much prettier she’d be if she smiled like Emma.

Irma tried. She really, truly did. If people paid enough attention, they could see the way her eyes narrowed when she was happy, and she did her best to make her voice dynamic and expressive to show others how she felt. It just… wasn’t enough. People always took her at face value, and one thing Irma physically could not do was smile like her sister.

It wasn’t the idea of people finding her unattractive that bothered her; it was the fact that she’d have irrefutable proof that people simply didn’t understand her, and didn’t care to try.

She tried to put it from her mind and focus on work but, inevitably, someone would make a comment about her expression and she’d be forced to confront the problem again. Emma had started taking it personally. It would have been a nice gesture, but it always ended in Irma having to swoop in and intervene before she could say something that would get her fired. She loved her sister, but the extra responsibility of dragging her away by the collar every time she heard the word ‘smile’ was the last thing she needed right now.

It made sense; Emma had felt responsible for the facial paralysis ever since diagnosis, no matter how emphatically Irma told her it wasn’t her fault. The guilt of it had lessened for awhile-- once Irma made enough progress with physical therapy to emote from the nose up, and Emma relearned to read her twin’s face-- but when they’d gone on to find employment with the United Unovan Railway, people started making pointed comments. Ironically, Emma never had possessed much of a poker face, and it was plain to see that it struck her every time she happened to hear.

Some days, Irma wished she could just be a man instead. No one would lament her “resting bitch face” then-- or, if they did, then maybe the “bitch” part wouldn’t sting so much. It was a fleeting-- if frequent-- thought that she passed off without any deeper consideration.

In the end, the voting period wasn’t actually so bad. She’d tried to tell herself that, even if she came in at dead last, it was still a lot to have been nominated at all… regardless of the fact that it did feel like a cruel prank, when she was being honest; she’d never know if it had been a legitimate submission or a mean spirited joke. Surprisingly, she landed just under the median. It was still a good two dozen spots behind her sister and entire light years from someone like Elesa, but she could live with that.

What hurt the most was the discussion in the aftermath. Irma didn’t go out seeking commentary on the poll, but having been an unwilling part of it, it found her-- people lamenting that she’d somehow placed ahead of them or saying that anyone who voted for her over their preference didn’t have any taste. There were some whose talk wasn’t even negative, just incredulous. Somehow, it didn’t feel any better to be told that someone had been surprised to see her rank so highly, but congratulations!

She took to wearing a face mask during work hours, sick to death, but only of the subject matter. If people couldn’t see her lips, they might mistake her for Emma and spare her the unsolicited interjections. Emma hated that she had to resort to such measures, but couldn’t offer any other solution-- save for ripping into anyone she caught making noise.

When Elesa had caught wind of the situation, she’d taken a different track. The reassurances that it was a stupid poll to begin with, and a mid-tier placement wasn’t bad at all weren’t anything Irma hadn’t already told herself, and as much as she’d tried to be grateful for the fact that her friend cared enough to encourage her, Irma only found it exhausting. It was over now, and she just wished they could move past it. She understood that they wanted to make her feel better, but why did they have to keep revisiting the topic?

Irma had forgotten that, while the general public had proven they couldn’t read her, Elesa certainly could, and she recognized that her input was only making things worse. Instead, she took to sending Irma messages throughout the week, showing her those comments that highlighted her enthusiasm and geniality-- and even several that framed her not as distant and aloof due to her frown, but intelligent and alluring.

It was kind of her, and her efforts did actually help. Irma didn’t really know what to make of being called “alluring”, but could… appreciate the compliment? She guessed?

The years after that weren’t so bad-- it was just the first time she’d been on the board that people had seen fit to approach her about it. Frankly, the only time thereafter that it had been of any interest at all was the year a particularly nasty strain of the flu ran rampant through the city; it became commonplace for people to wear face masks in public and, with only the upper half of her face to judge by, commuters were able to recognize when Irma smiled at them in her own way. Strangely, it even reflected in that year’s poll: instead of twenty places apart, Irma found that she landed just under Emma.

It still didn’t mean anything in the long run, but it was… nice to feel like people could begin to see her for what she was, rather than what she wasn’t.

The year after that, he’d come out to his sibling and they’d drawn up rough schematics for a train car that could withstand the wear and tear of battle. Both of them had been somewhat absent from the public eye as they brought the idea to both the head of the UUR and the Pokemon League, then subsequently been made to prove the concept. Surely polling happened that year, but both of the twins were too caught up in their project to pay it even the slightest bit of attention. It meant even less than usual that time, when they’d only be put in the wrong category.

Which brought them to this year.

The battle cars were perfectly functional and the system was promising. They’d debuted the mini-battle facility using different names from what people knew, and hosted only multi battles-- it set the subway apart from the gym challenge, and it also let them focus on their specialty, honing it to perfection. The somewhat dramatic coming out hadn’t had any bearing on that; it had just been convenient timing.

So far, the Battle Subway was a hit. They’d had coworkers express an interest in joining up, and had successfully proven the concept to the League; while it wasn’t guaranteed at this point, there was even talk of broadening the system to include more common battle styles.

With the prospect of expanding the services on the table, Ingo had been focused on how to make it work. There was a fair amount of interest in battling for a living, but so far, no other trainers who could serve as the final milestone for a line dedicated to single or double battles. While he and Emmet were certainly capable of filling those gaps, he needed to figure out how to make the timing work; using a win streak kept them from being swamped so far, so maybe it was just a matter of tweaking the existing system? How many wins could they reasonably expect a trainer to achieve? It was difficult to say. Not everyone was as… enthusiastic as he and his twin were, but if they’d boarded looking for a battle, then it wasn’t unfair to provide a certain amount of challenge…

He heard the lock turn, snapping him back to reality, and belatedly pulled a [blob] of accumulated fur from the comb he’d been moving on autopilot. It was the interruption of the pattern that caused Excadrill to look up, disturbed out of the doze it had fallen into.

On the other side of the front door, two muffled voices chattered back and forth, but went strangely quiet when they finally crossed into the apartment. Ingo sighed internally and braced himself for whatever trick would eventually be leveled at him.

#submas #ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #writing scraps

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itsdappleagain · 2 years ago

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being late for cs weekly is just gonna be my thing now, yeah? im just fashionably late always <3

anyways, its time for: the duke of vermeer caper!

aka the zack messes up and has to cover his ass caper lol. just kidding- he does a pretty damn good job. i also love seeing chase and julia acclimate to acme in this ep! ONTO THE NOTES!

going to talk about the intro being soo hot forever

pls they try so hard to pretend for a minute that the duchess isn't carmen. her first moment onscreen plays carmen's theme song

i like how it goes from our usual personal camera angles to the security cam footage!

it is carmen sandiego, actually

"we had no record of her existence until she showed up here. but we do know what she's called somehow"

fuck you devineaux i love learning about vermeer. good on chief for throwing chase under the bus

i always think of julia as veyr bookish, but she's extremely tech savvy. she's on a tablet or a phone pretty much the entire first episode, she nails acme tech immediately...

blue is totally ur color girl you can rock anything girl

love how they just have that painting out. no protection, bare fingies all over it. carmen "all history is a treasure" sandiego, yet again

it totally is ivy you could rock blonde i think

carmen "here's what we know but i'll explain it to everyone again for the audience's benefit" sandiego

love mime bomb breaking the 4th wall jhgdsajgsh he would

you can compare girl with a pearl earring here to the real one i used for my header. considering they had to animate the paintings, i'd say its a job well done translating them to cs style! maybe somewhat less vibrant, but again- style.

Fun fact: the Dogs Playing Poker wikipedia page mentioned CS

and also calls cleo a princess

player's so proud of his terrible light pun i love him

what a fucking crime that zack deprived us of a high-stakes undercover episode with one of the faculty and a hoarde of dangerous operatives all while carmen was dressed like THIS

quality is terrible sorry but you know. actually what a crime

i love the terror on everyone's faces when everything immediately goes to shit

the thought process zack went through to think that he called, they made and delivered the food within five fucking minutes,,

EVERYONE HIDING IS SO FUNNY TO ME poor ivy has to go back in the closet </3

dash haber is fucking stupid (affectionate)

CARMEN POPPING UP FROM BEHIND THE BAR AND JUST STARING AT HIM IS SO FUNNY SHE'S LIKE Z A C K i also like how zack immediately goes "UH GOTTA THINK OF A COVER UH WE'RE MARRIED" the thought process was just. good job

zack's facial expressions in this episode are so good honestly

i also love how zack went "yeah im from boston" and immediately covered up his boston accent he's so silly

poor carmen wheeze

she went "NO DONT LET HIM DO THAT" and zack threatened murder

imagine only have 33 of vermeer's paintings and not 34 what a loser

the tiny eye flutter dash does when he hangs up is so funny pls

HIS GRIN BEFORE IVY WHACKS HIM WITH THE WIG IS SO

carmen is so chill about what just happened khzghsdgh

idk thought it was interesting i never knew what that was

player what do you think the not so good news is. really and honestly what do you think

the grimace on carmen's face progressively getting deeper as zack fails to not be bostonian is so funny shes just like. eugh

also what did moving his chin possibly help to accomplish

they did zack so dirty with that monkey suit joke shdfjsagsh

carmen is REALLY calling on her cleo childhood for this one. also. poor zack actually

the obsession with making him eat fish please just let him tell them he's allergic

CARMEN IS SO FUCKING HARSH WITH HIM IM SORRY she's like "cleo's going to fucking feed you to her dogs" and then zack works overnight to make this happen and when he comes out all ready she's just like 👁️👄👁️ showtime

its literally 7am i feel so bad for him

"park the fork in my mouth" plays in my head constantly i dont even know why

LOOK AT HIM HE DID SUCH A GOOD JOB THE GRIN WITH THE EYEBROWS AND EVERYTHING. NICE JOB ZACK

they didnt go over zack not wearing a tracker before or

pls neither of the girls can drive

girl i know it is impossible to look behind you with the side mirrors in the passenger seat nuh uh no way in hell did she even see devineaux well enough to turn it. also you just took away one of ivy's mirrors nice job carmen

shes so

DIDNT I DO IT FOR YOU...

i wonder, considering carmen's other aliases, what carmen and the crew registered as. did julia see "rogue scarletina" and go hmm might be the duchess

poor julia this season wheeze

"old admirer" youve known about him for one singular week

a "klick" is apparently a kilometer. who knew. its also apparently a military term.

LITERALLY POOR IVY carmen is not treating her crew well this time around

"ahh a drawbridge" WHAT. OTHER KIND OF BRIDGE CAN YOU HACK INTO you wouldn't download a bridge

ivy has some good expressions too actually

i laugh every time at how outraged chase gets between the second and third slo-mo shot of him turning around in the car

THEY LOOK SO SHOCKED HHAHAHA

ARE YOU?? UNDERWATER??

the direction you wish to eject is so funny to me. ejecting out the bottom <3

i love how theyre just standing there like "hmmmmm is devineaux drowning??"

oh my god ivy's driving stick i would be terrified too

i would kill someone to have heard haber say "the hostess with the mostest" pls also he looks so sad about being cut off

okay so.. zack actually can speak italian and i totally forgot about that. he says "good evening, my beautiful countess" which. everyone probably knew already

he's just vomiting back up what carmen said in the hotel jhdgsgsh

the dogs ARE so cute

DASH IN THE BG OFFENDEDLY LOOKING OVER ZACKS SHOULDER AS THEY WALK AWAY

i love dash he's such a rightfully petty bitch about everything

HI LADY DOKUSO AND COUNTERFEITER FROM S3

the cleaners do everything

PLS IVY KNEELING IN THE HALLWAY TO GET THAT VERY CARTOONY SHOT OF THEM POKING OUT FROM BEHIND THE WALL

not the three digit code for the room containing 34 vermeers

have i mentioned that they FLY through this dinner party because holy shit

OKAY NOW IVY WEARS GLOVES WHERE THE HELL WERE THOSE WHEN THEY WERE HANDLING THEM BEFORE

or i wonder if its because zack and ivy are registered citizens and if their fingerprints were found on the vermeers they would be put on wanted lists??

why ivy isn't three centimeters away from the stand with the replacement i will never understand

zack you're literally on the edge of the table you have the easiest water glass to remember

that naughty comment 😭

pls that very polite chuckling around the table

love that they switch from ivy putting the fakes down to carmen doing it. makes. more sense

YEAH OKAY IF THEYRE DOING ONE SWAP A MINUTE THE DINNER PARTY BLOWS THROUGH EVERY COURSE IN LIKE 20 MINUTES OR LESS

also the shape of the vermeer room changes??

cleo glares at her champagne thats so funny

JUST. I KNOW EVERYONE IN THE FANDOM HAS SAID IT BUT JUST SAY YOURE ALLERGIC

they were so wrong for that closeup of dash's lips

ooomg so suspiscious...someone has a different taste than urs??? what the fuck augh

dash is saying the word puke but im staring at his eye makeup its so good. look at that eyeliner and mascara

cleo the worst hostess ever doesn't tell her guest to stop when he looks like he's about to vomit

THE CRIMINAL IN YOUR MIDST LINE IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IM CRYING THE DEADPAN STARES

the meat cleaver contrasted with the rolling pin

ZACK AIMED RIGHT AT DASH'S FACE SJKFDSSGH

something about how silent that button was is so satisfying

acme has blue gas, vile has green gas, damn carmen needs something

also love how they had the masks at the ready. nice. i wonder what it would have done. knock out or more sinister?

WAIT I NEVER NOTICED DEVINEAUX SKIDDING ON THE ICE AS HE RUNS OUT HAHAHA

yes i believe the phrase is actually implying that two MUST dance that tango

duke of vermeer bad ending: chase gets mauled by dogs <3

love how chase went: hm yes. the woman who just stole 34 paintings is probably on that snowmobile, which has no cargo

lmaoo the calling card

scarlet ski demon

IVY IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IN THIS BIT IM SO IN LOVE WITH HER SHGJHSGHSGDK

RED BRINGS OUT MY EYES AND COATS ARE WARM

at least she sort of offhandedly told him he nailed the role but thats literally the only praise he gets this episode

THE SHOT JUMPING TO THE CHATEAU BEING BURNT TO THE GROUND IS SOOO FUCKING COOL

chief is so disappointed wheeze

i wonder if this case is especially aggravating to chief, considering the last time she watched a vile member's property go up in flames was dexter's house

carmen's already gotten around the world with those puppies

i thought the public wasn't supposed to know that vermeers were even gone hgdashgdsgh

i would have killed for a s4 moment where julia was like "ah your allies! a pleasure to meet you! is the duchess still among you" and everyone just kind of is like. whos gonna tell her

transition sentence <3

this is set up so much like a weekly release show its hard to believe its a netflix exclusive. that cliffhanger with grey is such a week-to-theorize thing

SHADES OF GREY. LIKE. GRAY. GRAY HAM CRACKER?

GET IT

anyways aur naur its crackle

okay yeah. solid episode, not my favorite, some shining moments just like i started with. sweet! sorry its so late anddddd see you next week for the opera in the crikeycore caper

#carmen sandiego #cs weekly #csweekly

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cambriancruelty · 9 months ago

Text

CAMBRIAN: digging a pit in the ground on LoCaS. I find myself feeling oddly nostalgic. I do not miss my former life or the person I used to endeavour to be, not at all, but I do feel a sense of longing for the times when the most monumental part of my life was doing stupid little things like this. Just pointless activities to stave off the boredom of the void, following through on terrible jokes I made in the hopes that somewhere someone I love would be smiling because of it. It was not a good life to live, before things changed, but it was easy, and maybe parts of it were beautiful.

CAMBRIAN: in related news and on a less wistful note, I’m stood in a ditch that is deeper than I am tall, trying to teach shrimp poker without cards, and life is strange

#quoth the thief

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serendipitouswasteland · 2 years ago

Text

So Put on Your Best, Boys, and I'll Wear My Pearls

Note: This was transcribed from my AO3.

ship: buddie pov: third person written: March 25, 2022 first published: March 26, 2022 word count: 7,926 - summary: Buck has always wanted a daughter. He loves kids, that's a fact. He loves Christopher, also a fact. He loves being a dad, fact number three. Still, he wants a daughter. He always will, but he knows that what he has is enough. That is, until a family of three is involved in a car crash and a newborn baby girl is the sole survivor, causing Buck to reflect a lot on the life that he has. - A/N: There's some minor detail covering the adoption process, which I'm basing off my own family's experience with it and from the understanding of it that I have within my state, so if it's not exactly how it works in California, then that's why.

Buck leans over, kissing Eddie on his lips slowly, smiling as he pulls away. He goes back in, only giving him a small peck this time. Being with Eddie is one of the three greatest joys in his life. First is his job. That's a no-brainer. Second is Christopher. That kid is his pride and joy. Never is there a moment where he questions his role in Christopher's life. That's his son, through and through, just the same as he is Eddie's. Third is Eddie. Buck's never loved anyone quite the way he loves Eddie. Something about it is so much stronger, so much deeper than any love that he's felt for anyone else. He's so glad that it's reciprocated.

"Buck," Eddie says just as Buck is about to walk away.

"What is it?" Buck asks, getting on his knees next to Eddie, who's sitting in a chair at the table, so they're at a more even level.

"I think we should go out."

"What, like, tonight?"

"No, not tonight. I wouldn't want to spring babysitting on Carla or Maddie or Hen– anyone, really– at such short notice. After our next shift, maybe. Soon."

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" Buck asks, but then lights are flashing and alarms are blaring, and their conversation is cut short.

Eddie sighs, giving Buck a kiss on the cheek as he gets up, the two jogging off the rig together. They sit next to each other in the truck, holding hands as they lean close to one another. They are so attached, not only to each other but the love that they have and that they share. Chim raises his brow at them, then turning to Hen, giving him the same defeated look she always does when it comes to Buck and Eddie.

"Why do you two have the same look on your faces as when you decided you were getting married?" Chim asks, and Eddie and Buck look at each other before looking out opposite windows.

"Oh, you know, just planning our next date night," Eddie says, Buck giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, speaking of," Buck says, "you never did say where you wanted to go."

"How does poker sound?" Eddie asks, and Buck grins as big as he can, shaking his head.

"No way," Buck says, leaning close to Eddie. "That's reserved for special occasions only."

"Mmm, like what?" Eddie asks, giving Buck a cheeky grin. "'Cause last time I checked it's been two years since that night and we still have yet to go to a poker game again."

"Exactly. You have to be like Taylor Swift. Use it as your dating pool and never go back. Only hers was with the Met Gala."

"I'm sorry, why do you know that?" Hen asks.

"May is a big fan," Buck says, and Eddie laughs a little. "What's so funny?"

"It's just that our house isn't exactly 'Taylor-free'. I've caught you listening to, what's that one? The one about blood and war and..."

"It's called Great War, and I wouldn't be listening to it if you hadn't gotten yourself shot, so this is kind of your fault."

"Oh? We're making jokes about that now?" Eddie asks, both men smiling big and wide.

"Someone has to."

"Well—"

"Oh my god, stop it," Bobby says, and Hen and Chimney both laugh. "We get it. You're married. Move on."

"Hey now, that's not very nice of you Bobby," Eddie says, and Buck quirks his brow at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Buck says with a tight-lipped smile.

"Well it's certainly something. 'Nothing' wouldn't have you smiling like that."

"It's just that—"

"You sound like Buck," Hen, Chimney, and Bobby all say at the same time, and Buck swallows.

"Yeah. You sound like me."

"I blame the fact that I both live and work with you now. I can never get a moment to myself. You're always talking and going on about something. What was that thing you were talking about last night? Uh, it had the– the thing with those girls that were dancing, and this one lady was super bitchy from the way you described her, and competitions, and—"

"Dance Moms," Buck says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, that. You were going on and on about how the one girl deserved to get a higher placement or whatever but that the bitchy lady or whoever shouldn't have been going so hard on the girl for not doing good enough. Oh, what was her name..."

"Abby Lee."

"Right, right. Yeah, you were just going on and on, and I was just...I was so frustrated with Abuela because I told her already that I would come by after this shift ends to fix up her railing that broke on her steps, but then the phone call didn't end. I mean, I love my abuela, but sometimes I just need her to stop talking. She was just talking about everything, and so my mind needed a break. That's why I decided to go to the kitchen and make Christopher's lunch for today: so I could have some peace and quiet for a few minutes, but of course Buck came in and was talking my ear off after having put Christopher to bed, and—"

"You still sound like him," Hen says, and it's Buck's turn to laugh.

"What? No he does...huh. Do I really sound like that?"

"Yes," They all say, and Buck smiles.

"Good to know."

They arrive at the scene. A four-way. Three car pile-up. There's a man helping a woman out of the passenger seat of one of the car's both seeming to only have minor injuries from afar. By another car, a man is on the phone, and Buck assumes that he's yelling at either his insurance company or a 9-1-1 operator. He'd have to check in with Maddie later. Then, he hears it. it's faint at first, but then it becomes so glaringly loud and clear. A baby's cry. Buck runs straight to the third car, which no one has gotten out of. It's upside down, the baby strapped securely to it's carseat. Buck's heart almost stops.

The baby is wearing a white beanie, white shoes, a white jacket, and white stockings, while having on a dark pink tutu and a long-sleeved, light pink shirt to go with. She's crying, and she looks terrified. Buck's hands immediately go to unclip her from the carseat as he inhales the scent of leaking gasoline. Thankfully, the mechanisms on the carseat still work and the baby comes out with ease, falling into Buck's arms. He holds her close as he makes his quick getaway, the car catching fire not a moment later.

Buck stops short just in front of Eddie, who's staring at the baby he's holding in his arms. They look at each other, Eddie's hand coming up to caress Buck's face and then the baby's. There was an unspoken understanding between them already. Buck has always wanted a daughter. He loves kids, that's a fact. He loves Christopher, also a fact. He loves being a dad, fact number three. Still, he wants a daughter. He always has, and he always will, no matter how much he knows and feels just Chris and Eddie are enough.

"Go help Bobby," Buck says, and Eddie nods, leaving Buck's side and going into firefighter mode.

Buck takes the baby over to Hen while Chimney goes to Eddie and Bobby's aide. Hen checks the baby for anything that could possibly be wrong, but there's nothing. The baby is as healthy as can be. Still, she's crying, so Buck picks her up again and begins to rock her in his arms. He stays at the ambulance with her for the entire call, even refusing Athena's offer to take over when she arrives to take statements. Bobby approaches him when they're about to leave, and Buck doesn't want to hear what he's about to say.

"You and babies," Bobby says, and Buck tries to smile, but he can't. Not when this baby no longer has a mom or a dad.

"What are we gonna do?" Buck asks, looking down at the baby as she lies, now asleep, in his arms.

"We are going to do nothing. The baby will go into the system, and—"

"No," Buck says, holding the baby close. "No. No, I won't let them– they can't– the system is messed up."

"I know it is, but Buck, it's the law. That's not something that we can interfere with."

"So I just leave her?" Buck asks, a sadness in his voice. Bobby shakes his head, leading Buck back to the firetruck.

"No. We bring her with us back to the station, and some time during our shift Child Protective Services will come by to talk with me, and then we'll hand the baby over to them and they'll do their thing. That's how this works, Buck. You should know that by now."

"No. No, I do. I do know that, it's just—"

"Buck?" Eddie asks as he finishes putting his gear away. "Hey, babe, are you okay?"

"I'm– I'm fine, it's just—"

"He's not fine, Eddie," Bobby says, climbing into the engine.

"Buck?" Eddie asks, and Buck only then looks away from the baby.

"I want a daughter so bad," Buck says, and Eddie does his best to give Buck a hug without squishing the baby.

"I know. I know you do," Eddie says, patting Buck on the back after hugging him. "How about we go back to the station, wait for CPS to arrive, and then go from there, okay? Can we please take it one step at a time?"

"Yeah," Buck says, nodding as he holds back tears. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Buck is with Bobby the entire time he recounts the incident to the CPS lady. He sits there, still holding the baby in his harms, having been the one to watch over her the entire time they waited for someone from CPS to arrive. She had woken up during the ride back to the firehouse, and was awake the entire time they were there until a few minutes before the woman had arrived to take her away. Now, she's asleep in Buck's arms again as Buck sits in one of the extra chairs in Bobby's office, simply listening.

"Really, Buck here is the reason this baby is alive. He heard her crying and didn't waste a second in going and saving her. He's been with her since, not once having left her side."

"Well, I've given her to Eddie when I've had to go to the bathroom, and when I helped you cook, but yeah, pretty much."

"Still. Even when you were cooking with me, you made Eddie sit right across from us at the bar counter. I'm pretty sure I heard you 'threaten' him."

"You threatened your coworker?" The CPS lady asks, and Buck is slightly startled by her presence, or moreso the fact that she actually realized he was there.

"He's not just my coworker, he's my husband," Buck says, and it takes him a second to realize that's not the part he should be focusing on, adding, "Also, I did not threaten him. I told him to sit at the bar counter with the baby or I wouldn't give him any kisses until our shift ends."

"His exact words were 'Eddie, if you do not sit your ass at that bar counter, so help me god, because I will walk out of here with that baby in my arms faster than you can recite our vows word for word– which I know you have memorized– and you won't be getting any kisses until we get home'."

"Well..." Buck says, shrugging his shoulders a little.

"You clearly already have a clear attachment to her," the CPS lady says, and Buck nods once, looking to Bobby for encouragement.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I've sort of always wanted a baby girl, so any time there's one involved, I just– does she have any family left? I know that's who you guys go to first, so if there is then I'd– I'd like to be there when they take her in. You know, just to make sure that she's okay."

"Uh, Mr. Buckley—"

"Diaz. It's Buck Diaz. I don't go by Buckley anymore."

"Oh, I just thought since your nametag—"

"Yeah, uh, my new one just hasn't come in yet."

"So you're first name is Buck, then?"

"No? I mean, I don't ever get called my real first name except for when my parents come around. Everyone else just calls me 'Buck'. Well, except for Eddie and Chris. Chris calls me Pops, and Eddie sometimes calls me Pops when he's talking to Chris or when the three of us are in a room together. Other times he'll call me a random pet name. The first one he ever called me was 'cowboy'. That was right before I got struck by lightning. Then when I came out of my coma he called me 'sir'. Now that I think about it, those should have been my first sign. Huh. Anyways, why do we care what my name is?"

"It's just that, legally, I'm not sure that the system allows for what you're asking," the CPS lady says, and Buck nods, swallowing harshly.

"Right. Yeah. No, I mean, it was a silly thought anyway...um, I guess I should hand her over to you, then?"

"If you would, yes, please."

Buck looks down at the baby as she lies in his arms. He sucks in a deep, shaky inhale, blinking back a few tears as he hands her over to the CPS lady. He has to look away for a moment when he gets out of his chair to leave.

"Uh," he says, clearing his throat, "make sure that her living family is good people."

"We always do."

Buck nods, clearing his throat once more before leaving Bobby's office. He goes straight to the locker room, pulling out his phone as he sits down on the bench. He dials Maddie's number, trying his best not to cry. She answers almost instantly, knowing that Buck wouldn't be calling her while they're both on shift if it wasn't important. The second he hears the worry in his voice, he breaks down, unable to hold back his tears any longer. At the sound of his sobs, Maddie's voice immediately turns to soothing him, saying the perfect things to calm him down and actually get him to talk to her.

"There was a baby," Buck says, sniffling. "She was in her carseat and her parents were in the front seats. There was a three-car pile-up. Their car rolled. Both of her parents died. She's the only one who lived."

"Oh my god, Buck...is the baby alright? What are they going to do for her?"

"Uh, she has some family left in town. Her grandparents. She's lucky," Buck says, putting his phone on speaker as he sets it on the bench next to him, but Maddie can see right through him.

"You got attached, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Mads, I did, and it was so stupid because I knew this was going to happen, but—"

"Hey, no, Buck, it's alright. You being you is not stupid. I'm sure that baby appreciated it, right? So what's really going on here?"

"He wants a daughter of his own," a voice says, and Buck turns to find Eddie leaning against the doorway.

"Is that Eddie?" Maddie asks.

"Y– yeah. Yeah, it's Eddie," Buck says before turning his words toward Eddie. "What– what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eddie says, coming and sitting by Buck's side. "Hey Maddie, mind if I steal your brother off the phone?"

"Not at all," she says, hear smile being able to be heard through the device. "Call me later?"

She says it to Buck, but he doesn't answer, opting for silence, so Eddie responds instead. "I'll make sure he does."

The call ends, Buck not looking away from where the lockers meet the floor. Eddie intertwines their fingers, clasping their hands together. There were so many things that Buck could say. Any number of them, though, he knows would sound selfish in some way, and he doesn't want to spring that on Eddie. He's kept it inside this long, he can keep it in longer. Even at death's door, he'll keep it with him.

"So," Eddie says, and Buck looks up, waiting for him to continue, "are you going to talk to me?"

"No," Buck says, and Eddie laughs. He fucking laughs. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because, Buck. Your refusal to talk to me about this is kinda funny. I mean, you would think that me being your husband and all and having a kid with you that you'd trust me enough to talk to me about it, but you don't. I don't get it."

"That's the thing, Eddie. I do trust you. I just don't want to make you feel obligated to fulfill my wants and my wishes. Bringing a newborn baby into this family, Eddie...you'd be restarting the clock."

"No I wouldn't," Eddie says, but Buck isn't having it.

"Yes you would. You've been doing this four fourteen years, even if some of those were while you were away and overseas, okay? Fourteen years, Eddie. You're almost done. I'm not letting you hit the redo button—"

"Buck, you're not listening to me. I wouldn't be redoing anything, alright? Fact is, you're never done being a parent. Just because your child turns eighteen and becomes an adult doesn't mean that you're 'out'. It doesn't mean that you're done. They will still always be your child. Adding another only means adding the amount of years you'll have spent raising children, but I'm not redoing anything. I'd just be starting something with you."

"Eddie—"

"No. I don't want to hear it, Buck. We are in this together, alright? If you want a daughter, then we'll look into it," Eddie says, resting his head against Buck's. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The adoption process isn't easy. There's lots of trainings that both Eddie and Buck have to go through, causing the next several months of their lives to become absolutely draining. With their jobs, it makes it even more difficult to sign up for the different trainings that are required before a child can be put in their care. There's at least one night each week where they have to call Carla or drop Christopher off with Maddie and Chim or Karen and Hen or Bobby and Athena. There's background checks, fingerprinting, TB tests, interviews– even Chris has to go through those. Then there's the paperwork. There's so much paperwork. Within six months, though, they get it all done.

Chandler. An eight month-old baby girl who was put into the system the moment she was born. She's never had an actual family of her own. Granted, she wouldn't remember if she had, but the thought is enough to make Buck nearly break when he first holds her in his arms. Legally, they have to wait another six months before being able to officially adopt her into the family, with monthly visits from a case worker, and then once all the paperwork is done for the adoption to become legalized, nothing. Just their family of four.

When the date arrives, Buck is nervous. He wants so desperately for it to just be done already so he can go back home and hold Chandler in his arms while he cooks Eddie, Chris, and himself dinner. He wants to hold her in his arms while they sit down to have dinner as a family. He wants to hold her in his arms all the time and never let her go. Despite it only having been six months, Buck already knows that his love for Chandler outweighs anything else. Eddie knows, too, and so does Chris, but it only makes their love for him grow.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks as he take's Buck's shaky hands in his, finishing buttoning up his shirt for him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Buck says. "I just hope nothing goes wrong."

"I'm sure that everything will be fine. We've had her in our home for six months with no problems whatsoever. Besides, it's clear that you love that baby more than anything else in the world– even by some miracle, our job."

"I don't know about that."

"Buck, you have never called off of work a day in your life for anything, yet you called off today and made me call off too so that we didn't have to wait any longer since this was the soonest the adoption could be legalized. You're telling me you love the job more than her?"

"Okay, so maybe I do love her more than anything. Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Eddie says, smoothing out Buck's collar and giving him a kiss. "No it's not."

Just as Eddie said things would, everything goes exactly right. Chandler is officially, legally, a part of their family. Buck sits in the back of the car with Christopher, playing with chandler in her carseat while Eddie sits alone up front on the drive home. He cradles her in his arms as they go inside, checking the time and going straight to the kitchen to start working on dinner. He can hear Eddie and Christopher having a conversation, but can't make out the words. Then Eddie is pulling two beers out of the fridge, popping them open and setting it on the counter, keeping the other to himself.

"Full circle," Eddie says, taking a sip from his bottle.

"You mean because today marks one year since the pile-up?"

"Yeah. I didn't realize it until you started crying in the courtroom earlier. That's why you called off, isn't it? That's why it had to be today?"

"Are you going to tell me that I need to talk to my therapist about this? If you are, then you should know that she actually encouraged me in all of this. She said that she can tell that I love Chandler more than anything else in this world, and that even if she didn't think it was a good idea for it to happen today that she knows I wouldn't have listened."

"And what was your response?"

"I said 'I don't know about more than anything', which led to her reading me talking about you and Chris and the job versus Chandler, which then made me sad and I had a mental breakdown, which she helped me through, and I was just a mess because I do love you, you know? I haven't ever had a romantic love for someone the way I do for you. You are my one true love, Eddie. She even agreed with me on that. She said there was no doubt about it. She also said, though, that every parent has a favorite, even if they don't voice it, and sometimes that favorite is their partner, and others it's actually one of the kids. Case in point, me and Chandler. You know, she's a real wise woman."

"Expensive, too," Eddie says, and they both laugh.

"Hey, you can't talk. Frank isn't exactly cheap, either."

"Cheaper than yours," Eddie says, giving Buck a kiss on the cheek as he goes to look at some bills sitting on the table.

"Speaking of expenses," Buck says, flipping the pancakes that he's making, "do you think we'd be able to buy a house?"

"Uh, yeah, if you can win the lottery."

"What about rent to buy?"

"We'll look into it," Eddie says, and Buck smiles.

"Last time you said that we ended up with a baby."

"She's fourteen months, Buck. I hardly think that counts as a baby."

"You see, that's where you're wrong. Ages zero to one are considered infants, while ages two to three are considered toddlers. She's not a toddler yet, therefore she is still a baby."

"Uh-huh," Eddie says, smiling and taking a sip of his beer. "Just know, she's not going to be little forever."

Eddie was right. Chandler wasn't a baby forever. From the time she was first placed with the Diaz family and for the next sixteen months, Buck would dress her up in the cutest outfits imaginable. Then, on her second birthday, they started giving her options of outfits. All still highly adorable, but she never chose Buck's favorite. He didn't mind, though, because on the days he and Eddie didn't work he would spend all day with Chandler, spoiling her rotten.

When she turned three, Buck had saved enough money at that point to make a family trip to Disneyland. They were eligible resident offer, but with them also getting park hopper tickets, it was still fairly expensive. Thankfully, the three days they used the tickets were during Buck and Eddie's mandatory four day off-period. Buck too Chandler on every ride that day that she wanted, not saying no to a single one unless she wasn't able to because of the park's rules. He bought her all of the things that caught her eye, burning a hole in his pocket, but at the time he didn't care. The only thought on his mind was putting a smile on Chandler's face.

Once a week, their family gets together with the Grant-Nash household and the Buckley-Han household, having a family dinner. Those nights, Buck wants to go play with the kids just to be around Chandler, but he doesn't, watching from afar with everyone else. The thing about that, though, is that he watches Christopher with Chandler, and he leans his head on Eddie's shoulder every time, whispering to him to look at their kids and the love they have for each other. Every time, Eddie simply kisses Buck's forehead, running a hand through his husband's hair as his arm is wrapped around his shoulder.

Chandler's first year of school is Christopher's first year in college. While Eddie watches Buck struggle with letting Chandler go to school for the first time ever, Buck watches Eddie struggle with not being the one to take Chris to and from campus every day. They watch as the other just wants to hold onto their children as long as they possibly can and never let them go. Every day after school, Buck gives Chandler the biggest hug ever. During dinner every night, they facetime with Chris just to give Eddie piece of mind, even if Eddie is hogging the phone almost the entire time, barely letting Buck and Chandler get two words in (not that Chandler says much, anyway, being slightly camera shy).

For Chandler's tenth birthday, Buck throws her the biggest party ever. Chris helps a ton, just having graduated college. He and Buck just keep getting closer, and Eddie revels in watching his two favorite boys bond over their favorite girl. The pre-teen years are rough. Middle school is rough. Chandler spends a lot of time with Maddie, going and getting their nails done and going shopping together with her and Jee-Yun who are, really, just two peas in a pod. May comes over a lot and Eddie and Buck can sometimes hear Chandler telling May about her most recent crush. There's one night, though, that Chandler's door is cracked open, and Buck goes to tell them dinner is ready when he sees Chandler crying in May's arms. He knocks on the door lightly, opening it all the way when May nods him in.

"Hey, angel," Buck says, getting down on his knees at the foot of her bed. "What's going on? Why are you crying?"

"I don't want to tell you," Chandler says, and May frowns a bit.

"She's just had a rough day, Buck."

"Okay, well, what happened?"

"Nothing," May says, shaking her head. "It's not that something happened. Not to her, anyway. It's just...she'll tell you when she's ready, okay?"

"Okay, well, dinner's ready."

As it turns out, that was the day she saw her crush holding hands in the hallway with someone else. Buck didn't find out until two weeks later during dinner when Eddie brought it up. It stung.

"Wait, is this the same kid you saw holding hands with someone else?"

"No, Dad. That was someone else."

"Wait, what?" Buck asks, confused. "You never told me about that."

"She didn't?" Eddie asks, and Buck shakes his head.

"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," Chandler says, and Buck frowns.

"Sweetheart, I could never be disappointed in you. You are my sweet angel, and I would never think poorly of you at all, ever. Okay?"

Chandler simply nodded at Buck's words, leaving him slightly baffled. As she got older, she only kept things about her love life from Buck even more. Half the time he felt like she didn't trust him. One night, climbing into bed with Eddie, Buck finally voiced his concerns.

"Do you think Chandler trusts me?" He asked, sitting upright.

"Uh, yes? Why do you ask?"

"It's just that, you know, she's always going to you and May and Maddie and even Chris about her relationship stuff before me. I mean, what advice do you guys give that I don't?"

"Buck, hun, I think it has less to do with her not trusting you and more with you not trusting any kids at her school."

"What?"

"Do you remember the first dance her sixth grade year? The date she had?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"He ghosted her after the dance, and when she found out why it was because the poor kid was scared of you. Now, I'm not saying that you weren't right to be concerned, because I didn't quite like him either, but if we don't let her have the experiences without our interference, how is she ever going to learn what's good for her? Who is good for her?"

"Huh. I guess I never thought about it that way before."

"Clearly."

Eddie gave Buck a kiss on the lips before turning off their bedside lamps and pulling him close. Buck wouldn't be able to sleep that night. He'd be too focused on the fact that his favorite person in the world wouldn't talk to him about the important things going on in her life.

One day Buck will never forget is Chandler's first day of high school. She refused to let anyone other than Christopher take her to school, claiming that he had the best understanding of what was going on in her life and would be best equipped to help her through any first-day anxiety that she might have. She ended up being right, because she came home happy as a bee, kissing Buck on the cheek the second she stepped in the house and giving him a big hug.

"I take it your first day at school was good?" Eddie asked as she came and gave him a hug, too.

"It was alright. I have something I want to tell you guys during dinner, but right now I'm going to facetime Aunt May. Bye!"

Then, she ran off to her room, leaving Eddie and Buck in the kitchen together, stunned. Dinner started out normal. Chandler didn't lead on that anything had happened earlier at all. It made Buck worried, like perhaps she's changed her mind and didn't want to tell them anymore. Then, she got up to get seconds, and both Eddie and Buck stopped her.

"First," Eddie said, "what did you have to tell us?"

"Right," Chandler said, and Buck could see her instant anxiety.

"It's alright, angel. Whatever it is, you can tell us."

"No, I know, it's just...I mean, I know you guys are friends with Hen and Karen," she'd said as she began to ramble, and Eddie and Buck gave each other a look that told them they both knew where this was going, "and they're married and whatever, which is cool, but that's different, you know? They're your friends. That's a choice you're making. With me, you don't get a choice. You're stuck with me. That's why it's so hard to say."

"Uh, sweetheart, whatever it is, whatever you have to tell us, we'll still love you the same," Buck had said, taking her hand in his. "We– I– will always love you, no matter what."

"I have a girlfriend," she says plainly, sitting back in her seat. "Can I have seconds now?"

"Uh, yeah," Buck said, letting go of her hand. "Yeah, go ahead."

"So," Eddie said next, not wanting Buck's sudden quiet demeanor to get to Chandler's head, "are you a lesbian or bi, or...?"

"Hm. That's a good question. I don't really know. I haven't really felt the need to label it yet, you know? I mean, I know I like guys. That's for sure. I mean, have you seen my posters on my walls of Harry Styles and Zayn Malik? How could somebody not like them? Then you have girls, though, and...it's different. I mean, I feel so much attraction for them, it's kind of wild. Also, Taylor Swift? Hot damn."

"Language," both Eddie and Buck said at the same time, and Chandler apologized.

"Look, my point is that I sort of just don't think about it. Plus, there was that person last spring that I liked, and they're non-binary, so," Chandler said with a shrug.

"Okay, so you don't want a label it. There is nothing wrong with that," Buck said.

If his words didn't sound sincere, he didn't mean for them not to. He meant his words fully and completely. There was nothing insincere about them. The thing was, this was the first time Chandler had opened up to him in a while, so it was taking him a minute to comprehend that it was actually happening.

"Dad?" Chandler had asked, an almost sadness in her voice.

"Yeah? Is something wrong?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Hey, no, everything is fine. I really do love you and support you, sweetheart. Remember, you are always my angel, no matter what."

"I know, Dad. What do you say we go to that ice cream spot you used to take me to when I was little? It can be just like old times. I'll finally have an excuse to wear my tutu, and we can talk about this more. How does that sound?"

"I think it sounds wonderful," Eddie said. "You two really do need a father-daughter date. It's been a while."

"Yeah," was all Buck had said in response, but in his head he was thinking 'four years'.

Eddie had to practically drag Buck out of his seat at the table and shove him into their room to get him out of his own head. From there, Buck was on autopilot. He wore the same outfit that he would any time he took Chandler to the ice cream shop when she was little. He found Eddie right before they left and gave him a big kiss on the lips followed by one on the cheek, just like he used to every time he took Chandler out. The difference now, though, is that he had to wait on Chandler to come out of her room. When she did, she was wearing a dress that, while not quite the same as the one she used to wear when they went, it was strikingly similar, and Buck felt like he might cry.

"Hey, angel," Buck said, standing up from the couch where he and Eddie were sitting together, talking on the phone with Christopher. "Dad and I are on the phone with Chris. Do you want to say hi?"

"Chris!" Chandler shouted, practically throwing herself over the back of the couch and tackling the phone out of Eddie's hand. "Pops and I are going out to get ice cream."

"Just like you used to when you were younger."

"Yeah! I'm super excited. Um, thank you for taking me to school today. I think your advice really helped. I love you so much, bubba!"

"I love you too, Chandler. Have fun with Pops."

"I will!" Chandler handed the phone back to Eddie then, jumping off the floor and grabbing Buck's hand, pulling him out of the house. "You know, Pops, soon enough you're going to be teaching me how to drive."

"No I will not," Buck said, shaking his head adamantly as they got in the car. "We'll leave that to your father."

"Technically you are my father, so..."

"How about the one who hasn't been crushed by a moving vehicle teaches you?"

"Hm, I don't know. I think it might be a fun bonding experience if—"

"Hey. That's not funny," Buck said, and Chandler shut it down quickly.

"Sorry, Pops."

"It's fine, it's just not funny," Buck said as they drove down the street.

Things got quiet then, neither one saying anything until they got to the ice cream shop. They sat outside under the gazebo, just like they used to, getting the exact same flavors as they always did. Then, Buck sighs, deciding that if he was going to expect Chandler to be completely open and honest with him then he owes her the same thing in return.

"You know," he said, focusing on his ice cream cone, "there's a lot about me and Dad that you don't know yet."

"Like what? I know about the ladder truck, I know about the pulmonary embolism, I know about the tsunami, I know about the lawsuit, and I know about the both of you getting struck by lightning but only you getting severely hurt...what am I missing?"

"A lot, angel. You're missing a lot."

"Like what?" Chandler asked, her eagerness making it that much harder.

"Well, first off, Dad and I did not get along well at first. I thought he was going to replace me. Turns out that wasn't the case, huh?"

"Obviously," Chandler says, and the two share a small laugh.

"Well, we became the best of friends. Then, as you mentioned, everything from the ladder truck crushing my leg to the lawsuit happened. After that, Dad was in a well saving a young boy when it collapsed. I thought I'd lost him that night. I didn't though. Next was when he got shot."

"Dad got shot?" Chandler asks, nearly choking on her ice cream.

"Woah, hey, it's alright. He is alright. I mean, he almost wasn't, but thanks to your amazing dad– I'm talking about me, if you haven't guessed that yet– pulled him to the safety, then I was the one who took care of him on the way to the hospital. I was the one who took care of Christopher during that time...he was in a coma. Uh, then after that he told me that in his will it says that if he were to die I would become Christopher's legal guardian."

"Woah. You guys weren't together yet?"

"Nope. We didn't get together for another two years. Can you believe that?"

"That's wild."

"Yeah, it is. Well, then after he got shot...what happened next? Oh, well, Dad left the 118 for a while because he was going through something, but I think he should be the one to tell you about that. The next thing, I guess, would be when we both got struck by lightning."

"Did it hurt?"

"Hell yeah," Buck says, and Chandler squints at him.

"Language," she says, and he laughs.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, it did hurt. A lot. Dad was thrown off the fire engine, but I was hanging from the ladder, completely lifeless. Anyway, I went into a coma after that. It was bad. I had a coma dream and everything."

"Oh, what happened in your dream?" Chandler asks, and Buck just chuckles and shakes his head.

"Uh, you know, looking back, nothing good."

"So what happened next?"

"Well, we started dating a while after that, and then after a year of dating got engaged, and then another year later we got married, but you already know all of that."

"Uh-huh. So why do I feel like I'm still missing something?" Chandler asks, and Buck smiles and laughs again.

"It's because you are. A few months after Eddie– Dad and I got married, there was this call. It was at a four-way intersection. A three car pile-up. In one car was a family of three. A newborn baby was the sole survivor. I was the one who got her out, I was the one who handed her off to the CPS lady...I got attached. That was when Dad and I decided to adopt you. That is why I got so upset earlier when you made that joke about getting into a car accident.

"It's because that's the reason I'm here in the first place," Chandler says, and Buck sighs, knowing this is going to cause some change. "Do you still love me?"

"What? Of course, angel. I wanted a daughter for my entire life, not just after that baby survived the car crash. That was just mine and Dad's deciding moment that we were actually going to fulfill that want of mine. So we did, and we have had an amazing time raising you."

"I love you, Dad. You're my favorite person in the entire world. I mean it."

"Dad trumps girlfriend? That's new. I don't even think Christopher—"

"Then you don't know Chris as good as you think."

"Oh, really?" Buck asks, and Chandler nods, giving him a big, cheeky grin.

For Chandler, she loved having two dads. Sure, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have a mom, what it would be like to have someone she can go sit with at any given point in time so she could talk about all of her girl problems. As she got older, though, she realized that she didn't need a mom to do that. If she needed it to be a woman, she could call Maddie, Jee-Yun, or May, sometimes even Athena, Hen, or Karen. If she just needed to get things off her chest, though, as much as she loves Buck, Eddie was her go-to.

"Okay," Chandler says, sitting criss-crossed on her bed, Eddie sitting on her desk chair across from the foot of her bed. "So there's this guy, and I think he likes me."

"Wait, what happened to, uh...oh, who was it—"

"Irrelevant. This guy that I'm talking about now has a girlfriend. Guess who that girlfriend is?" Chandler asks, and Eddie's jaw drops.

"No way."

"Yes! Like, how much worse could my life get? Why does she have to be his girlfriend? God, she's such a bitch!" Chandler shouts, and Eddie gives her a pointed look, Buck popping his head into the room a moment later.

"Language," both Eddie and Buck say at the same time.

"Hey, are you two having a gossip session without me?" Buck asks, all too familiar with their seating arrangements.

"Sorry, Pops. It's just that Dad is less judgemental."

"No, he's more judgemental, which is the exact reason he's perfect. He judges the people the way you want him to. I am like Switzerland. The middle ground. The neutral zone."

"Which is the problem. I'll tell you about it later, okay Dad?" Chandler suggests, and Buck nods in agreement.

"I don't see why not. I love you both, and don't stay up all night chit-chatting. There's still school and work tomorrow, and I don't need my partner dozing off during a 24-hour shift."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie says, yawning. "I'll be fine."

"Sure you will."

That's where they are now, with Buck lingering in the doorway for a moment longer, his daughter giving him a knowing smile over Eddie's head, and then Buck is gone to clean up from cooking dinner. He washes the dishes vigorously, having become his way to expel himself of any negativity he's curated over a 24-hour shift. After a while, a pair of arms wraps around his middle, holding onto him as Buck finishes with the final dishes and setting them on the drying rack to the left of the sink. Eddie tells their Alexa (something that he's still not entirely on board with) to play some music, one of his favorite songs coming on first. The two sway together to the music, Buck turning around as they hold each other close.

"You know she's gonna want you to walk her down the aisle one day, right?" Eddie asks once the chorus has come around once, and Buck simply hums in response. "She loves you more than anything in the world."

"I know that."

"Sometimes it seems like you don't."

"No, I do. I do, it's just...remember when she was little? How she would spend every waking moment with me that she could?"

"Buck—"

"No, don't say anything yet. When she was little, I was so attached to her, and she was attached to me. She's my angel, you know?" Buck says, and Eddie nods and hums, Buck's voice always having been one of soothing nature. "She still is. The only difference is she chooses to love me from afar."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says, and Buck makes a confused sound that Eddie can't quite make out if it was an actual word or not. "When we're having dinner, she always sits where she can see you. When we're watching something as a family, half the time I don't get to cuddle with you because she is. Not that I'm complaining. I get you to myself all night anyways. In the car, you've stopped being the one driving because it gives you more of a chance to focus on talking with her. Do you know the last time she said goodmorning or goodnight to me first?"

"No," Buck says honestly. He really doesn't.

"The answer is never. Sometimes, she gives you a second goodnight after me."

"That doesn't...bother you, does it?" Buck asks, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No. It doesn't. You know why?"

"Hm?"

"Because Chandler is your Christopher. I am to Chandler what you are to Chris, and I am to Christopher what you are to Chandler."

"I think that's just further proof that we make a great team," Buck says, and Eddie smiles and laughs a little.

"Yeah we do."

Eddie yawns, and Buck knows that he's beyond tired. He turns off their Alexa, taking Eddie's hand and leading him down the hallway to their room. They're both already in their pajamas and didn't turn the light on, so all that's left for them to do is climb into bed. They slip under the covers, Buck immediately rolling over to wrap one arm around Eddie's torso, the other pulling his pillow against his side that's hitting the mattress still. Eddie has one arm keeping the covers pulled up over them, the other wrapped around Buck's shoulders, keeping him close. He turns his head, kissing Buck on the top of his. Eddie begins whispering sweet nothings into Buck's ear, yawning more and more frequently as he does so until he's fallen asleep, Buck's eyes fluttering shut as silence overtakes the room. They made the right decision those seventeen, nearly eighteen years ago, and he's so glad that they did. He has everything he's ever wanted, and he couldn't be more content.

#buddie #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #original character #married buddie #buckley diaz family #christopher diaz has two dads #give buck a daughter initiative

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mystery-star · 2 years ago

Text

Boredom – Ben Wade

Pairing: Ben Wade x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: PDA, making out in public

Words: 1122

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day. Whether you’re single or not, I hope you enjoy the day!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

You couldn’t even say who had first had the idea. You had just complained that you were bored. Ben had suggested a game – poker. That led to people – especially ladies – in the train wagon throwing glances at you. So Ben had the idea that another bet besides winning the game could be if someone would complain about you playing the game. That, however had not happened, except for some looks and women whispering to each other. Neither Ben nor you were really focused on the game but more the others, so you had made a joke about stepping it up a little. And Ben had the glorious idea that you could turn the game into one where you just found out who would complain about you first.

“Complain about what? Are we gonna fight over who won?”

“Nah, the contrary”

“Contrary?” he gave you a smirk

“Of fighting” you frowned “Well, I thought how much love these folks here can endure” it clicked

“We cuddle, kiss and stuff and see how long it takes until someone complains about that?” with an even broader smirk he confirmed. So you had put the cards away and sat next to Ben to discuss the game parameters. After studying the people around you for a while, each of you gave a guess who would say something first and at which point they would speak up. Although you weren’t too sure about it and in a way didn’t like to bother the people around you, you still found it a great idea. After all, you needn’t to do anything that were really embarrassing. Just some rather ‘harmless’ stuff. And you even were in first class, the people here surely would tolerate less and maybe even got fed up with a single kiss. Once both of you had made the guesses, you just wanted to lean against him to start the game but he stopped you, saying you could buy some food and even use that to add to the shenanigans.

“You mean like feeding each other? Or to throw it at the people?”

“The first. Latter can be used if someone gets actually insolent” you chuckled

“Alright. Let’s get food at the next station”

Once you had the food and the train went chugging on, the game started. Ben made the first move with wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. Placing your hand on his chest, you leant against him as his hand was stroking your hair. As it seemed no one even reacted to that because he lifted your head to kiss you and rub your noses together. From the corner of your eye you could see that some people, especially ladies, were already watching you and didn’t seem pleased.

“At least they’re looking already” you whispered against his lips before kissing him again

“But we sure can get more” he said, kissing you deeper. The two ladies in the department next to you quietly started talking to each other but you didn’t know if it was about you or something else. Ben’s hand slid along your side, coming to rest on your bum and pulling you into his la, not even breaking the kiss. You let out a childish giggle and raked your fingers through his hair before leaning your head against his chest. After all, you didn’t want the people to think you’d have sex right here and now.

“I could use some food” you said instead, making him grin and then starting to feed you tiny bits of the bread and dried meat, you doing the same. When you threw a small glance to the side you noticed that many of the other passengers were watching you in shock, while others demonstratively looked the other way. But since no one spoke up yet, you decided to drop the eating for a moment and make out again. You ran your lips along his jawline and lightly nibbled on his earlobe “God, why’s no one reacting a little more? I can see they’re totally fed up. Why don’t they just say something?” you muttered in his ear, making it look like your words were lewder than they were.

“Maybe they enjoy the show” Ben replied, lifting your chin and pulling you into another kiss. His hand ran along your back, then to your hip before placing it on your thigh. The simple touch was enough to make you moan against his lips and after a short grin, he moved his hand up your leg

“Fuck” you groaned, digging your hands into his shirt “Not that far, Ben” you hissed when suddenly someone cleared his throat next to you. Both of you looked up, glancing at the man in innocence.

“My wife… uh asked me to tell you to… you know” while he stammered, he toyed with the hat in his hands.

“Why ain’t your wife coming herself if it bothers her?” this seemed too much for the poor man and his face turned red. “Ain’t like ladies got a problem with telling people their opinion”

“Yes but… this particular situation… please understand that it is not… uh… entirely appropriate for the setting. And well… therefore it upset my wife. I’m sure that also other travelers have felt… not too comfortable”

“So you’re the one that had to bite the bullet for the rest of ‘em huh?” as it seemed now there was even more attention on you because everyone was following the conversation with great interest. Ben looked around and seemed to notice the same thing “’Sides, when looking around I see many interested faces. Maybe what we’re doing ain’t that bad. Some might even enjoy the show” someone coughed and some ladies looked away again. Unwaveringly, Ben continued “But please, do tell me what your wife whishes ‘cause we don’t want to inconvenience or disturb anyone”

“Perhaps you could… pare your affection down to a minimum. I mean, at least displaying the affection. Just for as long as you’re in the train. Or public”

“Yeah no, I totally get that” the outlaw said with an earnest nod “You needn’t worry ‘bout us and our antics anymore” letting out a relieved sigh the other man nodded, wished you a great day and left to return to his wife.

“Pity” you said quietly. “Neither of us bet on that man. However” you patted his shoulder sitting down next to him again and leaning your head against his body “I was the one who thought his wife would protest. Which she did in a way, just that she didn’t come herself”

“Alright” Ben said, nuzzling your hair “You win then” he chuckled “But mind you, next time, I’ll win”

Taglist: @woman-with-no-name

#ben wade #3:10 to yuma #ben wade x reader #ben wade x you #ben wade imagine #russell crowe

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patrick-flanagan · 12 days ago

Text

my childhood spat out the monster that you see || midge & patrick

WHO: Midge Wilde @mir-iamwilde & Patrick Flanagan

WHERE: Patrick's apartment

WHEN: The 29th of October

WHY: Patrick and Midge get to know each other better emotionally, rather than just physically

WARNINGS: Slightly smutty, but it's light

PATRICK:

Patrick lay back against the headboard, the cool air contrasting sharply with the lingering warmth between the sheets. His hand rested behind his head, the other idly tracing the curve of Midge Wilde’s bare shoulder. Talking wasn’t his habit; he preferred to leave the intimacy at the door, to keep feelings contained and the lines clean. He’d built a life out of reading people, finding their weaknesses, and turning them into opportunities. But Midge wasn’t exactly a weakness. A complication, maybe. A wild(e) card in a game he thought he’d mastered. “Do you do this with a lot of people?” Patrick finally asked, shifting his head slightly to look down at Midge. He didn’t care what the answer really was, whether it was ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It wasn’t about him being one of many, or the only one. He was just curious. He decided that after that little pause, he’d follow it up, a smirk growing on his lips. “I mean, fall into their bed, and give them a hell of a ride?”

MIDGE:

Midge wasn’t exactly embarrassed by her sexual history, she enjoyed sex, she enjoyed it with different people, and she was safe about it and went to the doctor regularly, so why should she be ashamed. But sometimes when she was asked about it she could hear her father’s voice in the back of her head, calling women harlots and whores. Normally, she’d ignore that but it was on her mind more often lately. Still, she knew he didn’t mean the question with judgement and shrugged. “I’m not sure what you’d consider a lot, but I don’t spend very many nights lonely.” Midge pushed herself up on an elbow so she could meet his eyes, her own hand drawing circles on his chest now, “What about you? You do this a lot, or are you abour to tell me you’ve fallen deeply in love and I’m the only one for you?” She teased.

PATRICK:

Patrick watched Midge closely, weighing her words as she spoke. There was a flicker in her eyes, like the punchline of a joke she wasn’t sure he’d get. His gaze stayed steady, giving nothing away, but he took note of the slight tension behind her casual tone - the lingering echo of whatever memory she was trying to mask. He let her question linger between them, like a poker hand waiting to be played, before finally speaking up. “Love isn’t my area of expertise,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. He let the words settle, watching how she’d react to that first move. A half-truth, enough to steer the conversation where he needed it to go without shutting it down completely. Her question about his experience hung in the air, and he decided to indulge it just a little. “I’ve seen my share of company,” he admitted, his fingers resuming their idle tracing along her arm. He wasn’t the sort to boast, but he wasn’t about to lie to her either. Midge didn’t seem the kind to care about that stuff anyway. “It's nice to meet someone who's on the same wavelength.” He shifted slightly, meeting her gaze fully, before moving in to kiss her lips deeply and passionately, his hand pushing her body closer into his. Patrick wasn’t in the habit of leaving doors open for deeper conversations, but he didn’t quite close this one either, as if he was testing the limits of where she wanted this to go.

MIDGE:

“In my experience, the people who fight love the hardest are also the ones who have fallen the hardest in the past.” She stated plainly, though she really knew nothing about him, she was sure there must be something in his past that made him guarded. She nodded when he spoke again, “I figured, most people don’t have that high a skill level naturally.” Midge didn’t care how many people he’d been with, or who, she only cared that he was clean, that the things he did felt good, and that he knew what no meant, all of which she was confident in already. She kissed him back eagerly, she could easily stay here for the next few hours, going round after round with him, and she generally wasn’t one to push someone to talk, but something about him made her pull away. She wanted to get him talking, she didn’t care about what, she just wanted to know about him. Midge ran a hand through his hair, placing another kiss on his lips, but softer and quicker this time before sitting up, her bare body facing him and she wasn’t shy about letting her eyes linger on his, “tell me something,” she whispered, one finger following the line down the middle of his abs to his lower stomach before she looked up to meet his eyes again. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.” It sounded like more of a challenge than she’d intended, really she was just curious, curious about him and about how much he was willing to share. “I’ll tell you something about me that no one knows, I love giving blowjobs. I mean, not in that I’m such a cool girl I love to suck dick, pick me kind of way. I really love it, makes me feel powerful. The first time I ever gave one, I was awful at it,” she laughed, remembering the awkwardness of it all, “But it was the most powerful id ever felt. I think if I told most people that it would freak them out.”

PATRICK:

Patrick felt the shift in Midge’s demeanor, the way her curiosity lingered like a challenge unspoken. Her words about love barely registered at first; he’d heard variations of it over the years, people making assumptions based on the walls he kept in place. Midge’s assessment hung in the air, but Patrick chose not to touch it - there were enough ghosts in his past, and he wasn’t inclined to invite them into the room tonight. He could sense the real question in her tone, the invitation to share something beyond the surface - something most wouldn’t be able to see. She was waiting for him to give up a secret, like laying a card on the table in a game she didn’t realize he’d been playing long before she joined. There was something both disarming and calculated in the way she spoke, an odd blend of earnestness and provocation. He appreciated it. He listened to Midge’s laughter, feeling the ease with which she navigated her own story, the openness that seemed almost foreign to him. But she’d laid a challenge at his feet, and Patrick wasn’t one to back away from those, even if it meant skirting territory he didn’t typically share. He let his fingers trace the line of her arm, a subtle distraction while he chose his words. “Alright,” he said quietly, a hint of something almost daring in his voice. “I’m afraid of heights,” he said, voice low and matter-of-fact. “When I was twelve, my uncle thought throwing me into a harness and making me scale a fifty-foot wall would toughen me up. All it did was make me hate being off the ground.” He hadn’t talked about that in years. And the ‘uncle’ in this situation wasn’t even his uncle, but was he going to tell Midge that it was some gang member trying to teach him a lesson? Absolutely not. Patrick let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s ironic, considering I owned a twenty-story casino,” he added, voice light again, the walls creeping back up. "And for the record," he added with a grin. "I'm still not freaked out."

MIDGE:

She didn't know what she had really expected from Patrick, but it certainly wasn't that. Midge raised an eyebrow at him, feeling sad for the boy he used to be. "Were you afraid of heights before he made you do, that or only since then?" She asked, her curiousity getting the best of her. "Because, I've never really understood the point of exposure therapy, I've been terrified of my father my whole life, and the more time I spend with him, the more afraid I get, so I think the whole idea is bullshit." She didn't know why she'd shared that, but it seemed like keeping all of her baggage to herself was becoming harder and harder lately. "I didn't know you owned a casino," She said, relaxing a bit when he said he wasn't freaked out, "That must have been a lot of work. How'd you end up here, instead?" She asked the question simply, not realizing that maybe that was too personal of a question, but she was sure that Patrick would dodge it if he felt the need. "When I was 15, I started selling my used panties online." She said, moving one of her legs so it draped over him now and she could get more comfortable, "My dad took me out of public school when some stupid drama went down and put me in one of those all girl catholic schools where you have to wear the plaid skirt and the black maryjane shoes with the ruffly white socks. Anyway, people are sick online, I posted all of these pictures of myself from the waist down, and looked like a little girl, and creeps went nuts for it. I did it for a few years, but I got bored, but I saved up a decent amount of money from it. I mean...I was 15, so I guess I kind of was a littel girl, but that's not the point."

PATRICK:

Patrick let his hand trace idle circles on her thigh, almost as if the motion helped him sort through the memory that he had to dig out, in order to answer Midge's question. “No. Before that, I just never thought much about heights. Didn’t have a reason to.” A slight pause, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He gave me one.” He left it at that, the barest acknowledgment of a wound he wasn’t willing to open completely. He could see the sadness in her eyes, though, and the anger when she spoke of her own father. He could relate to that particular brand of pain. He almost said something about it, a rare impulse to connect, but she shifted the conversation, and he let it slip away. But it stuck with him. When she mentioned the casino, Patrick’s expression shifted, a flicker of something in his eyes - amusement, maybe, or a calculation. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It was a lot of work, and a lot of risks.” And a lot of crime. He considered her next question carefully, the way she asked without realizing it might cut too close. “It got sold to a hotel chain,” he lied, not wanting to get into the fact that he’d spent the last two-ish years in federal prison. When she draped her leg over him, shifting closer, Patrick took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what she’d just shared about her past. The image of her, fifteen and trying to navigate a world that saw her as prey, stirred something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Anger, perhaps - directed at a world that could turn a girl’s desperation into currency, and at the people who let it happen without a second thought. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She wasn’t looking for pity, and she wasn’t looking for him to play the hero. So he focused on what mattered, offering a quiet acknowledgment instead of judgment. “Fifteen’s too young to be dealing with that kind of attention,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the back of her leg in a gesture that was almost comforting. “People are sick.”

MIDGE:

She let her eyes fall away from his when he explained that the uncle had caused the fear in him. She wanted to pry him open and see everything that he wasn't saying, but she could tell that he wasn't interested in that. She hated being pushed into talking about the things she wanted to bury, and she respected others enough to let them keep their secrets unless they wanted to share. "Well, you're not a little boy now, maybe you should drop him into a pool of sharks and see how he likes being toughened up." She offered, a playful smile on her lips, hoping he'd take her joke lightly. Midge understood taking risks when it came to making money, with the way her father reacted to a single picture of her kissing a man, if he knew about the the ways she made money, as a kid and now, she don't think he'd be able to control his anger. Nodding when he said it was sold, "Must be hard to be away from all of that excitement." She offered, her hand roaming freely over his abs now, up to his chest, and back down again. She caught a brief flash of something on his face when she brought up her past, at first she worried it was judgement for the things she'd done. His words eased her, though, and she nodded. "Yeah, unfortunately most girls have already learned to navigate it by that age though, or at least they know the basics of how to keep themselves safe." She sighed, not really sure why she'd turned the conversation in this direction. It wasn't exactly normal pillow talk. Instead she let her hand glide lower on his stomach, only stopping when she reached where her own leg rested over his body. Midge leaned forward, leaving a trail of kisses that followed where her hand had just been, then back up to his chest. Resting on her elbow again so her body was against his, "Okay, so tell me, when you bring people home, do you like to take control, or just go along for the ride?" She asked, "You seem like a guy who likes to be in control, and like you're not afraid to put in the work. Like you want to pin a girl to the bed, tell her if she makes a single sound you're going to stop, and then do the most insane things to her until she can't help but to scream, and then watch her struggle and beg for more underneath you." She grinned, placing a few more kisses along his chest, "I mean...if I had to guess."

PATRICK:

Patrick let out a short chuckle at her joke about dropping his uncle into a pool of sharks - it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that. But he appreciated that she didn’t press him further, didn’t dig into the raw wound she’d sensed. It wasn’t often that people took his silence as a boundary instead of an invitation to pry. Midge seemed to understand the difference, and that alone made him consider lowering his guard - just slightly. When she commented on the excitement of the casino life, he caught the flash of something in her eyes, a spark of recognition perhaps, or an understanding that extended beyond her words. “It has its moments,” he admitted, a gentle smile creeping up on his face. “Being on the floor, seeing people excited about winning enough to pay off their mortgage or afford college tuition for their kids is always an amazing feeling. And the excitement of a slow-burn poker game is extremely satisfying.” He drawled, his voice cracking at the end, as he felt her touch move across his abs, tracing a deliberate path that drew his attention back to the moment. The softness of her hand contrasted with the edge of the conversation, like she was trying to pull them both back from the dark waters they’d been treading. When she leaned in to press her lips against his skin, he took a steady breath, keeping himself from reacting too quickly. Control was his default - always deliberate, always careful - but Midge had a knack for throwing him off balance, even if she didn’t realize it. Her next question, however, made him pause. She was good at turning the conversation back on him, making him question just how much he was willing to give away. Control - it was something he rarely surrendered, not in the casino, not in the boardroom, and certainly not in bed. Midge’s description of him was uncannily accurate, but what really struck him was how easily she saw through the façade he wore so comfortably. He smirked. “Not a bad guess,” he murmured, voice calm and controlled, though there was a glimmer of something darker beneath his tone. He let his fingers trace her spine absently, a light, teasing touch that mirrored her own explorations. “I like to take control, yes,” he admitted, meeting her eyes without flinching. “But it’s not just about making someone scream.” His voice dropped lower, more serious now as he continued, “It’s about knowing exactly where their limits are, and pushing them just far enough to make them question everything they thought they knew about themselves.” There was a certain intensity in his gaze as he spoke, a glimpse of the man behind the mask, the one who thrived on reading people and playing their weaknesses like an instrument. “It’s about trust,” he added, his fingers brushing the curve of her hip, “and knowing that if they break, it’s because they chose to, not because I forced them.”

MIDGE:

She didn’t know how simple words strung together like that could have such a physical effect on her. Patrick hadn’t even mentioned a single specific of what he liked to do, not really, and yet she could feel her cheeks growing hot at his words. Goosebumps appeared all over her at the feeling of his hand on her bare back and then hip, and she felt the urge to look away from him, wondering, for the first time in a long time, if she was in over her head with this man. Still, she didn’t look away, it wasn’t just that she liked a challenge, which she did, but it had been a long time since felt out of her depth, and she was never one to shy away from pushing her boundaries. “Trust is a tricky thing,” she finally spoke, leaving it there for a moment as she let her eyes travel down to his body again, lingering there as she continued drawing a lazy path along his midsection. “I mean, what level of trust are we talking about?” She finally spoke again, her eyes meeting his. “I mean, if you told me you wanted me to stay here for an entire week and I had to do every single thing you told me to do, I’d trust you not to do anything that would actually harm me and I’d trust you to still respect my boundaries.” It was true, there was nothing about Patrick that made her afraid in terms of him trying to do anything she wasn’t completely okay with, but that wasn’t the only kind of trust. “But if you’re talking about the kind of trust where you let someone in to your mind to see all of the dark corners where the worst version of yourself lives, keeping all of your darkest memories locked in their cages?” She paused, her hand pausing, too. “I’m not sure it’s possible to really trust someone with that, do you?”

PATRICK:

Patrick watched her closely, noting every change in her expression, every slight hesitation. Midge’s words felt like more than just a question; they were a probe, an attempt to push through the carefully constructed walls he had spent years perfecting. And yet, she wasn’t bluntly charging in, demanding he tear down those defenses. She was inviting him to choose whether or not he wanted to let her in. That alone was different. “I think,” he said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative, “trust really is a subjective matter. I enjoy knowing that I can keep you here for a week long sexcapade.” He smirked, but it was so much deeper than just the sex and he knew it; she trusted him. Patrick didn’t often share his thoughts so openly, but there was a strange kind of liberation in it, like he was testing the weight of each word as he let it out. He took a moment, letting her question hang in the air between them before continuing. “As for whether it’s possible… I think it depends on what you’re willing to risk.” He reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “The hardest part isn’t trusting someone with your darkness,” he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “It’s trusting them not to turn the light on too suddenly.” A faint smile ghosted his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaned back slightly, studying her reaction, curious as to whether she’d see his words as an opening or a carefully veiled warning. “So tell me,” he said, voice steady once more, “what kind of trust are you willing to risk, Midge?”

MIDGE:

She let out a breath of a laugh when he mentioned the sexcapade, though she was serious, she was sure it would be a hell of a week, she didn’t see that happening any time. It seemed that the more they spoke the more questions she had about him, but she still wasn’t willing to push. Midge shook her head at his words, “Not for me,” she whispered, “I don’t think I could ever get that far, worrying about them turning on the light. I think if anyone got that close…Well, they probably wouldn’t hang around for long to see what lived there.” She watched him at his question, “I used to think that there were very few things I was afraid of, but it turns out I’m afraid of mostly everything.” She sighed, stretching closer to kiss him, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek, fingers tangling into the edges of his hair. “Trust goes both ways,” she smiled as she pulled away, “So maybe the question is what kind of trust are you willing to risk?” She knew a non answer and turning the question on him was probably cowardly, but she didn’t like feeling so exposed by the question. Yet still, it echoed in her mind, taunting her, and she resisted the urge to climb on top of him to get her mind to shut up. “I think you scare me,” she admitted, biting her lip, “I never feel like I’m out of control, I always know what to expect and where the right buttons are on most people.” She smiled, “If all else fails usually climbing on top of someone brings things back to my comfort zone. But I feel like if I did that with you I’d be further out of my depth than ever.” Midge shook her head slightly, “Like you could destroy me if you wanted to.” She knew that sounded dramatic, but it didn’t feel it. It was incredibly rare for her to make a switch from a physical relationship with someone to wanting more from them, and she didn’t know him at all, yet she found herself questioning what more than sex would be like with him, and that felt dangerous. “I don’t think I’m ready to risk total destruction just yet.”

PATRICK:

Patrick let her words settle between them, feeling the weight of her honesty. It was rare to see someone acknowledge their fear so plainly, and there was something in that vulnerability that made him uneasy. He wasn’t used to this kind of openness - not in himself, and certainly not from others. People usually kept their fears hidden, like a card held too close to be seen. But Midge was laying hers on the table, almost daring him to match her honesty. When she admitted that he scared her, Patrick felt a faint twitch of guilt. He knew he was the kind of man who could be dangerous in the wrong circumstances, not because he wanted to be, but because life had shaped him that way. Her words were a warning, whether she intended them to be or not, and Patrick couldn’t help but appreciate her awareness. The easy thing to do would’ve been to laugh it off or dismiss it, but Midge wasn’t one to shy away from difficult truths. He reached up, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low and careful, “that’s the first kind of trust worth testing - letting yourself feel afraid and seeing if anything bad really happens because of it.” He let his fingers trace a line down her cheek, lingering on the edge of her jaw. Patrick wasn’t one for comforting words or grand reassurances, but he could offer this small gesture, an acknowledgment of the fear without trying to erase it. Patrick shifted, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips as he looked her over. “You say I scare you,” he murmured, “but you’re still here, still talking, still pushing the boundaries to see what happens next.” He paused, brushing his thumb lightly against her skin. “That tells me you’re not running away just yet.”

MIDGE:

Midge let herself sit in the silence for a moment, letting his words sink in before turning her face slightly towards his hand. Her own hand reached up to gently hold his in place, before placing a kiss on his palm. Did she want to let herself try trusting him? Her brain was screaming at her to run away, run away from this bed, and this room, and this guy and never ever look back, but he was right, she wasn't running away yet. She'd had every opportunity, to change the subject, to throw herself at him again for a round 2, to do anything but have this conversation, and yet here she was, feeling more naked than she had in a long time. "And how do you propose I do that?" She finally asked, "How would you suggest I test that trust with you?" She wasn't sure if she even wanted the answer, or if he'd have one, but she certainly knew that she wasn't ready to shut this door yet, but she was lost in the darkness of unfamiliarity and all she could really do was reach a hand out to Patrick and hope he would pull her into the light so she could figure out where she was.

PATRICK:

Patrick watched her, sensing the internal struggle she wasn’t fully voicing. He knew that look - saw it in the mirror often enough to recognize when someone was wrestling with their own instincts. When she kissed his palm, something tightened in his chest, and he wondered if she felt as disoriented by all this as he did. Intimacy was supposed to be simple, transactional even, but this - this felt like standing on the edge of something unknown. When she asked how to test that trust, Patrick paused, considering his words. It wasn’t a question he often faced, and he didn’t have an easy answer. Most people never bothered to push for more, and he liked it that way. But Midge was different; she wasn’t satisfied with the surface, and he found himself wanting to offer something real in return. “You've just done it,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. “By letting yourself be open to whatever happens, even if it’s uncomfortable or uncertain; this conversation, for example.” He shifted his hand slightly, so his fingers entwined with hers, anchoring them in that connection. He leaned in slowly, his nose softly brushing against hers as his eyes closed, and he pressed his lips onto hers in the most gentle way he could afford to right now. This. This was also a test of her trust in him.

MIDGE:

This really wasn't what she was expecting from Patrick. When she'd decided to come home with him, she never would have pictured this happening. Her asking him how to test her trust in him, him holding her hand, gently kissing her, it was all shocking. And yet, she was enjoying it, enjoying the unknown and stepping towards something that scared her rather than away. Midge kissed him back, not deepening the kiss, not wanting to run away from their talk by resorting to sex. She knew she used sex as her first line of defense in almost all situations, so maybe part of this whole thing was trying to resist that when it felt like an easy way out. Midge pulled away while she still had the strength to, "Maybe we should talk sometime with our clothes on." She suggested, "Somewhere public, so I can't throw myself at you if I get scared." She smiled, wondering how he'd take this, it kind of sounded like she was asking him on a date, and maybe she was, she didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted more of him.

PATRICK:

Patrick hadn’t expected this either. He was used to keeping conversations neat and detached, revealing only enough to keep people intrigued, never too much to be vulnerable. He was good at controlling the narrative, at steering things to where he wanted them, but this time, the conversation seemed to be steering him. And yet, he wasn’t fighting it. When she pulled away, he let her, not moving to close the distance again, which was a first for him. Normally, the silence after a kiss was an invitation for more, but Midge seemed determined to resist old patterns, and he respected that. “Somewhere public, huh?” Patrick echoed with a faint smirk, his eyes studying hers. The idea of meeting her outside of this context, where seduction wasn’t the easy fallback, was surprisingly appealing. It was bold, almost like she was throwing down a challenge, and he couldn’t help but appreciate her audacity. “You realize you’re suggesting that we act like normal people, right?” he said, the playful tone in his voice underscoring the rarity of such a proposal. “I think I can handle that,” Patrick replied, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand, testing the waters. “We can meet somewhere crowded, make it harder for you to escape if the urge to run gets too strong.” His smile was teasing, but his eyes were serious, as if he was acknowledging the weight of what she was really offering. “I’m curious to see if you’ll make a break for it.”

MIDGE:

She didn't fight her laugh when he mentioned acting like normal people, "I'll do my best for you." Midge smiled at the idea of somewhere crowded, resting her forehead against his chest for a few seconds, just taking in the scent of him. "Those are my options, aren't they?" She smiled, looking back up at him now, "Either I make a break for it, or you push me far enough that I choose to break?" Taking in a deep breath, she didn't know what this meant, and she was too afraid to ask for clarity right now. Was this a date? After all, she was the one that had asked him, so if she didn't know what it meant, how was he meant to. "Maybe I should go," She said as she sat up, "I mean, unless you wanted to go again, but I don't think I can handle anymore conversation for today." Maybe this was her running away already, but it didn't feel like it, it just felt like she'd reached her limit for now.

PATRICK:

Patrick felt the weight of her words settle between them, and he almost smiled. She had an uncanny way of disarming him without realizing it, or maybe she did realize it and that was the point. Either way, he found her honesty refreshing - even if she was inching towards the exit in the only way she knew how. When she sat up, the shift in the bed felt like a cold rush of reality. He watched her carefully, weighing her words as she offered a possible escape with a casual mention of another round. He let her talk out loud about her thoughts, but a part of him didn’t want to end the encounter just yet. So he sat up, leaning back against the headboard, reaching out for her, his hands grabbing onto her waist, and moving her so she could straddle him. “I wouldn’t hate going again,” His Scottish accent thick, and his lips smirking slightly. He couldn’t figure out if it was his dick, his brain or his heart that wanted more of Midge. But everything - including this uncharacteristic exchange had him wanting to find out what part of him it was.

#thread #midge #thread004

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ofmoonlitmagic · 10 months ago

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"Something ought to," he quipped, before shrugging, "you can always change it. Vaughn was never a legacy I was going to be proud of, no matter how much time passed."

"Sorry, I know that's..." He didn't finish, just let the sentence fade because he really had no way to finish it that was anything pleasant. It wasn't something to be proud of exactly. He shrugged off her apology, "don't worry about it. I've said worse in mine probably." It wasn't the ideal way to find that out, but he didn't have any right to be mad about it. He had no one to blame but himself in that situation. "She'd definitely want you to be."

His lips twitched up, shaking his head as she gave more details. "Then don't. You don't have to marry anybody you don't want to," he reminded her, "nothing wrong with getting married later or never getting married. It's not a reflection on your value at all." Another reason her dad was not his favorite person, grilled it into her head that her worth was dependent on a spouse. "You're doing just fine on your own, got your job at the hospital, school, your place. The right guy enters that picture, comes alongside what you've already got going, not the other way around."

"Connect with somebody?" He summarized, giving an exaggerated shiver like that sounded awful and making a joke of it instead of acknowledging anything about that. "But I'm such a good poker player." Her groan earned her a quizzical look and a very confused, "what did I say?" The fictional character answer only made his brows furrow deeper, not sure he was buying it. There was something up with her, but he wasn't going to pry. "Right."

"Yeah." He had some freedom growing up, simply because his father didn't care most of the time, but it was still something he craved having, like it could never be satisfied. "That's some bullshit."

"Let's take baby steps there, but maybe someday." Though he couldn't quite imagine Nova getting into what they got into, nor was it safe to do so right now.

He laughed, "we'll have to work on that one."

There were so many unknowns it was impossible to make promises or have a lot of hope. He was so different, his life was, but maybe. He could always say someday. "If the OEA loses, yeah, maybe. Anything's possible." It was hard to put any conviction behind it because though he did have hope that they could win, he knew another threat would likely come in behind. "Ask me again when they lose."

"Whatever let's you sleep at night." Nova said. There was a grin. "Someday I hope I can feel the same about my last name." Nova said. The Abe felt like a weight on her shoulders.

"I see." Nova said with a slight grimace. The truth hurts. That's they always said. But even Nova knows shes a softie. There was a sad smile. "That was uncalled for on my end. I shouldn't have broke the news in my anger-" Nova said looking at celing letting the tear drop dance across her cheek. "But she would want us both to be happy."

Nova found herself confused at her expression. Did she like him? She wasn't the type to fall for someone. But his smirk haunted her thoughts for a brief moments. She shook her head. "I really don't want to marry that guy-" She looks around. "I think his name is Ly-something and I think he's a bit of a manic." Nova whispered. "Of course! He's just stuck in traffic." Nova joked with a cheeky grin.

"James Bond should consider taking it easy and walking with person before-" Nova shyly grinned. "Doing the strip poker." Nova said quickly."Yeah." Nova said with a smile. Then the certain cop came into her head again and she groaned. How much sake did she have to be thinking TJ!! "I imagined the fictional wrong character-oops." Nova said with a hand wave.

"Freedom." Nova repeated. Nova nodded. "The guy tried to steal from the tip jar so I said not to-"Nova said. "It was apparently against store policy to fight back." Nova said.

"I hope she does imagine all three of us being the best of buds."

"Nova the Rock Abe. Coming to the nearest wrestling ring." Nova said flexing her seomewhat existant biceps. "Changing my name doesn;t sound cool."

"I hope we do." Nova said in a semi-sad but hopeful tone. It was hard to gauge it at this point. She didn;t want to get her hopes up but with Briggs there was always hope. She just didn't know if the wait would drive her insane. Nova gasped in surprise. There was a sad smile. "I missed you too." Nova said. There was a pause. "Will we ever have it again-" Nova asked. "Like before. Living next to each other." She closed her eyes feeling silly for even asking.

#( thread | nova abe. )#( nova 001. )#( briggs & nova. )#// just heartbreaking tbh

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mugunghwc · 2 years ago

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unprompted ask / always accepting

@endhell said: "Seems like it's your lucky day," Akira sighed with a smile, throwing his cards on the table and revealing his destined loss; Idachi winning the final round with a nice sum as prize. "Perhaps with that, you can finally offer a proper dinner for your future wife." Mocking, yet keeping his tone casual as before. "Why don't you simply find someone else?" Raising an eyebrow, as he personally could not understand the hassle around this underling of his, especially since he seemed to fail since a while to get her interested in him.

any fleeting sense of victory was soured by the comment that followed—something that, he was almost certain, that was done on purpose ; eyeing akira with a dubious look, before deciding not to think too much about it. his own cards were settled on the table, revealing his winning hand. when the stakes were high, it was always good to have a hidden ace under your sleeve, taking your opponent by surprise. he applied that kind of thinking to his every day life. his fingers were figuratively dipped in different waters, testing whichever would bring him the most. while his poker companion had chosen a straight-forward path, idachi’s own wasn’t as well-defined ; filled with all these detours that all lead to one goal, they both shared: success, power, wealth. albeit, achieved through different means, both men were driven by ambitious. honour did not matter among men such as them. the end, would always justify the means—& while the man had nothing against akira, that could possibly prove he was no different from the rest, the fact that he still indulged in a little bet between ‘ friends ‘, gave idachi a clear image of him. a double-faced liar, like another man he knew.

a subtle knit of his eyebrows gave away his annoyance over that comment, though it was concealed with a curl of his lips, as he leaned back with arms crossed over his chest. hos body language showed he wasn’t as receptive of this topic, as he’d be with anything else.

“maybe, but i can’t let this one get away.” not with the amount of time he had spent. not when his ego & pride, had been bruised by that woman. her constant rejection was like a knife digging deeper into his chest, but luckily for him, there was no heart being hurt. he was not the sentimental type. still, matters remained, that she had insulted him by pushing him away. a woman her age, should be thankful that someone like himself, even paid her some mind. let alone, bother this much to finally catch her by that ponytail, like a hunter would with a wild rabbit. time was running out, & his patience was slipping from his grasp. fingers drummed against the table before he pulled out a package of cigarettes, pushing it towards the other, in case he’d want one, after he had taken one for himself. his lighter came next, lighting fire to the end. a deep inhale was taken.

“shouldn’t you be concerned with that matter? or are you waiting for your status as a single man, to get you places before settling?” surely, a man with his kind of appearance, would benefit from that. some people were shallow like that. “anyway, you must be joking if you think this is something worthwhile, compared to what i earn. don’t make me laugh, & let’s see if you can make your money back.”

#endhell #.ic / way too many people tryna take the crown — npc #verse 01. theory of beauty / main #.ask / never have any regrets after the game

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular,

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers,

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

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